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witchywithwhiskey · 7 months ago

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the alpha next door

pairing: alpha!steve rogers x omega!female reader

summary: you and your neighbor are harboring feelings for each other, but both of you think the other is too sweet. then, things take a turn when your first heat since moving in hits, revealing the depth of your feelings for the alpha next door—and his for you.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), omegaverse AU tropes (heats, knots, purring, mating, scenting), piv sex, breeding kink/pregnancy kink (reader's on birth control tho), accidental voyeurism, masturbation (m + f), dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, little bit of mommy kink, size kink, pet names (baby), mutual pining, idiots in love, dual pov

word count: 8.9k

a/n: here's my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420's Cum Together Extravaganza!!! i used the A/B/O AU and breeding kink prompts—and this is my very first omegaverse fic!!! so uhhh please be kind because i don't know what i'm doing 😅 also loosely inspired by "too sweet" by hozier!! anyway, this ended up a lot longer than i thought it would be....whoops!! hope y'all enjoy!!!

When you first moved into the little pink cottage next door, Steve Rogers decided that you were too sweet for an ex-soldier alpha like him. An omega like you was filled with sunshine and gentleness, and you deserved an alpha who would treat you like the precious thing you were.

The kindest thing Steve could do for you was stay away. The thoughts you inspired in his alpha hindbrain had him hating the rough and greedy animal side of himself. He wanted to dig his fingers into your plush hips and bend you over, make you present your pretty little body in the way the alpha in him craved.

But he reminded himself you were too sweet. Too sweet for the obscene thoughts that plagued his mind. Too sweet to be defiled by a big alpha like him. Too sweet to be swollen and round and glowing because you were carrying his child…

Still, you were his neighbor and Steve couldn’t avoid you entirely, even though everything he saw only reaffirmed his belief that you were too good for him.

The little pink cottage beside his house had come with a front garden filled with pink roses and all manner of other pink flowers that Steve couldn’t even begin to name, but you tended to them like you’d planted them yourself. Steve would get home from work, park his truck in his driveway—which had a perfect view of your front garden. He’d watch you from behind his tinted windows as you took care of your flowers, looking like a garden fairy come to life.

When Steve eventually grew uncomfortable with how long he’d been watching you, he would get out of his truck and call a gruff hello to you as he made his way inside. Your melodic voice returning his greeting would follow him into his house, where he’d close his door and lean against it, panting like he’d just escaped a warzone while his cock strained against his jeans. But Steve wouldn’t stoop to jerking himself off to the thought of you—at least not while you were just outside.

On weekends, Steve would work in his backyard, mowing the grass and tending to the shrubs that ran along the line separating his property from yours. When the weather was nice and pleasantly warm, you would sit out on your small back porch, curled up in a wicker chair reading some book or another.

Steve would offer to mow your lawn, just for an excuse to stay outside longer, and be a little bit closer to you. You’d let him, and thank him for his efforts by giving him some ice cold lemonade, smiling up at him while he drank it. Steve wasn’t the least bit surprised the lemonade was more sweet than tart.

As the weeks and months passed since you’d moved in, Steve couldn’t help but feel his desire for you growing, becoming a living thing curling around his heart, making it beat for you. You were the sweetest and prettiest omega he’d ever met, and he’d be lucky to be your alpha, but he kept his distance, certain you could do better than him.

That is, until your first heat after moving in next door changed everything.

That was when Steve learned you were far more than the innocent little omega he’d determined you to be—you were a creature of sex and desire, made to take an alpha’s knot and be pumped full of come in the hopes that their seed would take root in your womb. When your heat hit fully, your keening wails echoed from your cottage, and they were a siren song that called directly to Steve’s alpha heart.

But he kept himself away. After all, there were polite ways of going about these things, and he’d never even asked you out on a date, so he certainly wasn’t going to assume you wanted his help to get you through your heat. Besides, you hadn’t asked for him to join you, anyway.

That didn’t stop Steve from keeping an eye on you, though.

He’d noticed the slight change in your scent a few days before your heat truly set in, his cock reacting even more to your perfect omega body than normal. Steve felt like he was walking around with a constant bulge in his pants after getting a single whiff of your scent, but he ignored the niggling feeling telling him he needed to be close to you and did his best to hide his reaction. He knew you had other things to worry about than the comfort of the alpha next door.

Even though something in him compelled him to go to you, Steve couldn’t bring himself to walk over to your cottage. It occurred to him that even if you didn’t want him to help you through your heat, he could offer to go to the store to get the food and provisions you’d need. But he didn’t. He was worried about what he’d do if he looked into your home and saw your nest and smelled your sweet perfume.

So Steve kept his distance, watching you from his truck and the windows of his house as you brought home a week’s worth of provisions—protein bars and sports drinks that would keep you nourished enough to make it through your heat. Steve wished he could carry the heavy-looking bags into your home, but his cock was pitching a tent in his sweatpants, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with the way his alpha body reacted to your omega scent.

Finally, as your heat drew closer, you locked up your cottage, closing all the windows and drawing all the curtains. Steve couldn’t help but notice, though, that you left the skylight in your bedroom cracked open a tiny bit. Steve’s alpha hindbrain itched at the thought that you’d only left it open because you couldn’t close it yourself, and he had to hold himself back from going over to your cottage to offer to close it.

Steve knew omegas liked to keep their nests dark and warm and locked up tight. They wanted to keep all the scents created during a heat trapped in their nest, at least until their heat broke. So it was curious that you’d left the skylight open, even a little bit.

But when your heat hit in earnest that evening, your pitiful whimpers and desperate moans filtering through the open window and directly to Steve’s ears—through the window of his bedroom that he’d thrown open the moment he’d heard you—he forgot about what omegas typically wanted. Instead, all the blood in his body rushed to his cock, making him harder than he’d ever been in his life.

Steve stood at the window of his bedroom, which overlooked your cottage, his eyes glazing over as he listened to you pant and whine and cry out for an alpha that wasn’t coming. Because of course Steve had noticed that no alpha had arrived to help you through your heat. He assumed you were using any number of the toys that were sold precisely to help unmated omegas get through their heats without an alpha’s help.

But it meant you were alone, in your nest, riding out your heat on some silicone knot. That thought nearly made Steve storm from his house and barge into your cottage to demand you let him help you, but he reminded himself you were too sweet, too sweet, too sweet for him. So instead, he fisted his cock and listened to your raspy pleas fill the night sky.

“Need your knot, alpha, oh god, please,” you babbled, your voice beautifully melodic to Steve even when you were desperately begging for something he knew he shouldn’t give you. “Fill me up, daddy, I need it—need your knot, alpha—daddy, daddy, alpha, please, please, please!” Your moans grew louder and Steve could only imagine the thick silicone knot that was filling you up the way he should be filling you.

One of Steve’s hands gripped the frame of his window tightly, using the feel of the wood digging into his palm to keep himself grounded as he physically fought with his alpha instincts. He wanted to break into your cottage and rip your toys away from you so he could help you through your heat. Like he was meant to. It should be him inside you, sinking into your warm, welcoming cunt while you looked up at him with those beautiful eyes of yours.

Steve’s other hand gripped his cock, pumping his hard, stiff length with a fist so tight, it was nearly punishing. It helped a little, but his fist was a far cry from your perfect cunt, which would be gushing with wetness and so hot, Steve would feel like he was sinking into heaven and hell at the same time. And when he came, it wouldn’t be anywhere near as satisfying as emptying his balls right against your cervix, pumping your womb full of his seed while knot locked your bodies together so it would be almost certain he’d knock you up.

That is, if you weren’t on birth control. Which most unmated omegas were, Steve reminded himself.

Still, the alpha in him was a beast barely caged—he wanted to breed you.

Steve wanted to see you impaled on his cock and his knot, so bloated from how full you were with his come that he could see it in the way your belly bulged, giving a preview of what you’d look like growing with his child. He wanted to knock you up, he wanted to see you swollen and round with his pup.

He wanted to keep fucking you even as you carried his child, watching you bounce on his knot, your tits swollen with milk and your belly big and round while he tried to fill your womb with another before you’d even popped out the first. Steve wanted to keep you pregnant all the time, your pretty little omega body always ripe and swollen with his pups, taking his knot and his come every moment of the day so he could make sure you were always glowing with the radiance of motherhood.

It was that image of you—beautiful and knocked up, your eyes hazy with pleasure that came only from being impaled on his cock, and being locked on his knot—that made Steve come.

He grunted as the pleasure of his fist and his thoughts of you finally became too much, wrapping both his hands around his thick length, one squeezing his knot while the other pumped the rest of his shaft. His come erupted from the tip, streaming over the windowsill and dripping down to his bare feet on the wooden floor of his bedroom.

A growl tore from Steve’s lips while he came, a deep, dark part of his alpha hindbrain responding furiously to the fact that he was wasting his seed. He should be emptying his balls deep in your fertile cunt while your slick walls gripped his knot and milked every drop of his seed into your womb, where it belonged.

Steve’s release seemed to last for ages, longer than he’d ever experienced before, and if it wasn’t for the fact that his head finally started to clear when it abated, he would’ve been worried he’d gone into rut. But finally, Steve surfaced from the depths of his pleasure, and winced when he remembered the thoughts that had made him come.

Steve was appalled by the direction in which his imagination had gone, and felt guilty for imagining you in such a state as pregnant and bouncing on his cock—even as the reminder made his cock leak one last spurt of his release. Cursing and castigating himself, Steve moved away from the window to clean himself up and wipe down the spot where he’d been standing.

The entire time he was cleaning up after himself, Steve felt off-balance. He’d never felt such a pull toward an omega before you, and he’d never been so close to going into rut just from listening to an omega whimper and moan. If he didn’t know better, he would think you were his mate—the one omega in the whole world who was perfect for him.

But Steve pushed that thought aside and reminded himself you were too sweet for an alpha like him. You might’ve sounded desperate and needy while you suffered through your heat alone, but you deserved better than an alpha who could think of nothing else besides pumping you full of come and knocking you up with his child.

Steve felt disturbed all over again when he thought of the vivid, obscene things he’d imagined while he’d jerked himself off. He’d never been the type of alpha to get off on the idea of breeding, let alone pictured anyone swollen with his kid while they were impaled on his cock. Steve felt so far out of his depth, he swiped his clean hand down his face to try to regain the equilibrium that had been shattered by your pretty omega sounds.

Thankfully, you’d gone blessedly quiet at some point when Steve had been coming all over his windowsill. He tossed the rag he’d used to clean up his mess into the laundry and flopped down on his bed, knowing he wouldn’t be getting any rest that night. It was a good thing he’d called out of work on heat leave.

Even as Steve lay in his bed, the refrain that you were too sweet for him repeating in his mind, he couldn’t help hoping that you were getting some much-needed rest. He’d never been one to worry over much about whether someone was sleeping or eating, but he wondered if you’d had a protein bar and drank a sports drink before falling asleep. He knew you needed to keep up your strength if you’d make it through your heat.

His thoughts spinning around in his mind, Steve fell into a light, fitful sleep, his alpha hindbrain remaining alert and attuned to the sounds coming from your cottage. Little did he know, it wouldn’t be long before everything would change. Something would happen that would force Steve to finally give in to the connection between him and the omega next door.

When you woke on the second morning of your heat, it was to a burning need cutting through your core, urging you to roll onto your knees and sink down on the silicone knot toy that had slipped from your pussy while you slept. Unbidden, the face of the alpha next door, Steve Rogers, popped into your mind and you sobbed through another wave of aching desire, wishing desperately that he was with you to help you through your heat.

You hadn’t met the alpha until after you’d moved into the little pink cottage next door to his much larger home, and you were instantly smitten with the former soldier. He was big—so much bigger than you—with broad shoulders and bulging biceps that were barely hidden beneath the tight t-shirts he always seemed to wear. But it was Steve’s thighs that were always so distracting to you, so thick they made you want to ride them until your slick was drenching his jeans.

A pitiful moan fell from your lips as you reached between your thighs, grasping blindly for the toy you’d discarded in your sleep. With your face still shoved into a pillow and sleep still clinging to the edges of your consciousness, you slid down on the thick silicone cock, pretending it belonged to Steve.

The alpha next door was just so…sweet.

It hadn’t taken you long after moving into your cottage to learn your neighbor’s schedule, and you made sure to always be working in the garden in front of your home when he got back from work. You lived for the growly greetings he would call to you, and the faint blush that would graze his cheekbones, like he was shy around you, his harmless omega neighbor.

And on the weekends, when you knew Steve wasn’t working, you sat on your back porch reading—though you were more often ogling the fit alpha’s shoulders and arms as he worked in his backyard. The sun would shine on Steve’s blond hair and make him look like a golden god, with sparkling blue eyes that would occasionally flick in your direction, though you didn’t think he was really looking at you.

Of course, when he’d offer to mow your lawn, you’d let him. Then, to show the alpha your thanks, you’d make him some nice refreshing lemonade. If that meant you could watch him quench his thirst while you imagined his sweet mouth on your body, drinking your slick as eagerly as he drank your lemonade, then that was just a bonus to being a good neighbor. Right?

It had become abundantly clear to you that you harbored a crush on Steve, and it was nearly excruciating living next to him when he didn’t seem interested in making a move on his omega neighbor. After all, it had been months, and he’d been nothing but friendly and respectful and sweet.

It was obvious, at least to you, that Steve was too sweet for you—too sweet to be the rough, dominant alpha you craved. Too sweet to bend you over and impale you on his thick cock with one stroke. Too sweet to shove his knot into your cunt and make you come so hard you saw stars. Too sweet to knock you up over and over again, filling up that big house of his with pups that you’d created together.

You’d told yourself it was for the best that Steve kept his distance. If he couldn’t be what you needed, then you didn’t want your crush to develop into unrequited feelings. But your heart didn’t listen, so you kept putting yourself in situations where you’d get to see your neighbor—working in your front garden when he got home, sitting on your back porch while he was in his backyard.

Then, you began to feel your heat coming on, and your thoughts about the alpha next door only worsened. It wasn’t uncommon anymore for unmated omegas to ask alpha friends or acquaintances to help them through their heats, but the prospect of asking Steve for his help, getting to come all over his knot for days on end, and then trying to go back to the way things were sounded torturous.

Instead, you went about your heat preparations as you always did, gathering supplies from the grocery store and stocking up the minifridge in your bedroom with sports drinks while you piled your bedside table high with protein bars. You closed and locked all the doors and windows of your cottage, drawing the curtains tight to keep out the sun.

You knew you were a bit of an odd omega, and you didn’t like total darkness in your nest, which was why you had been the only one interested in the little cottage. It had a skylight in the bedroom that any other omega would want closed and covered during their heat. The window itself was covered in a film that dampened most of the direct sunlight and you enjoyed the natural light, even when you were deep in your heat, so it was perfect for you.

It occurred to you, as you were preparing your room, that if you cracked open the skylight, the sounds you made during your heat would filter out from your cottage. Your desperate cries for a knot might even be heard by the alpha next door…

Later, you’d blame your decision to leave the skylight open on the dangerous combination of your pre-heat brain and the exquisite agony of your crush on Steve. But by that time, the little decision you’d made in the urgency of your heat preparations would’ve irrevocably changed your life—for the better—and you wouldn’t give a thought to regretting what you’d done.

Still, on that second morning of your heat, when you were woken by the need to be knotted and flooded with come, you didn’t even remember that you’d decided to leave the skylight open. So you had no idea whether it was working or not, whether Steve could hear you—but he wasn’t far from your thoughts as you rode your silicone alpha toy, trying to slake the need that burned through your body.

Your heats were always a little hazy, like most omega’s, with desire and need pounding through your blood so insistently, you couldn’t form any coherent thoughts. Your mind could only focus on getting a cock inside you, then a knot and, if you’d had an alpha to help you, the gush of their come. Since you were so mindless, you uttered words that you’d forgotten the second they fell from your lips.

The first night of your heat, when you’d had a moment of clear-headedness enough to gulp down a sports drink and scarf a protein bar, you’d hoped you hadn’t cried out anything that would embarrass you—like Steve’s name. You’d had a vague memory of calling out for an alpha, which was normal for an unmated omega, and a daddy, which was normal for you, given your desires when you weren’t going through your heat. But you’d breathed a sigh of relief when you didn’t remember calling out for Steve specifically.

You couldn’t imagine what would happen if you cried out Steve’s name while in heat. But you were about to find out.

The silicone toy in your cunt wasn’t cutting it. It had been just fine that first night, though you hadn’t felt as satisfied as you normally did, and you hadn’t slept as long as you typically did in between waves of your heat. Something about this heat felt different. You weren’t just desperate for an alpha’s knot and come, you wanted more…

You wanted a pup. You wanted an alpha’s cock shoved deep in your cunt, unloading their come against your cervix, filling your womb with a seed that would take and knock you up. You wanted to be bred—and not just by any alpha. You wanted the alpha next door to breed you.

Steve. You wanted Steve. You needed Steve.

“Please,” you gasped, the word leaving your lips as you thought of your big, sweet alpha neighbor. His face came easily to your mind, those sparkling blue eyes and soft lips, that strong jaw and the way a blush turned his cheeks the most perfect shade of pink. “Please, alpha, need your knot, need your come,” you whined, speaking to the image of Steve in your mind.

You pushed yourself up onto your knees, grabbing one of the many pillows from your bed and shoving it between your thighs, forcing the silicone alpha cock deeper into your cunt. Still, it wasn’t enough, even as you tried to make due.

You rocked your hips, trying to replicate the feeling of fucking yourself on an alpha’s cock, but it paled in comparison. A desperate whine worked its way up your throat, filling your room and slipping from the skylight into the morning air.

“Please, daddy, wanna have your baby,” you cried, your hands going to your tits and tugging on your nipples so roughly, pleasure and pain swirled through your body, creating a tornado of sensation that only fed the need burning in your core. “Wan’ you to knock me up, alpha, wanna give you pups, wan’ you to suck on my milky tits while you fuck me, daddy.” You groped your breasts, pinching your nipples like you were milking yourself, the sensations making your cunt gush slick all over the toy inside you.

The pleasure was gathering in your core, making you more desperate to reach the pinnacle of your climax. Your hips worked, humping the pillow and cock between your thighs, shoving yourself down against the knot at the base of the toy, knowing it was what you needed to come, but your pussy was still too tight to take it.

“Oh god, I need it, alpha, I need it, I need it,” you babbled mindlessly, fucking yourself furiously on the toy and still wishing it was Steve’s cock.

You pictured him beneath you, his cheeks tinged pink, not with a blush, but with the flush of his desire for you, his blue eyes nearly black from his pupils blowing wide as he stared up at you. His soft mouth parted as he groaned, his thick cock buried in your tight cunt, twitching as you squeezed him.

It was with that image in your mind that the fateful words spilled from your lips. You cried out desperately, “Knock me up, daddy, gimme your pup, please—please, breed me, Steve!”

So close to the edge of your release, you barely heard the distant crashing sound that echoed between your little cottage and the house that belonged to the alpha next door. All you heard were your gasping breaths and mindless moans, the toy shoving into your cunt making low squelching noises that only managed to turn you on more.

It was only when a much closer smashing sound preceded the swirl of cool morning air infiltrating your home, and flooding into your nest, that you were able to drag your attention away from your own desperate frustration. Your omega instincts were going haywire, part of you telling you something was wrong, while another part unfurled and shifted, like a flower blooming toward the sun.

Blinking your eyes to clear away the haze of your heat, your mouth fell open in an ‘o’ of surprise at the sight of the alpha in your bedroom doorway.

Steve’s big body filled the doorway, his hands clutching the wooden frame while his chest heaved with heavy breaths. It looked like he was trying to hold himself back, his grip so tight on your doorframe that a distant part of your mind worried it might splinter beneath his palms. But you couldn’t think too closely about that, not when your neighbor was staring at you with a crazed look in his eyes, like he wanted to fill you with his knot as badly as you wanted to be filled.

Your too sweet alpha neighbor’s mouth—which was normally curved in a soft, friendly smile—was twisted with ferocious lust, and when he spoke, his voice was a rough growl like nothing you’d ever heard from Steve.

“Invite me into your bed,” he rumbled, the order clear in his voice even if he didn’t use his alpha command. “Ask me to help you through your heat, tell me you want me here,” he went on through clenched teeth, an edge of desperation in his tone that called your heart—and your cunt. “Tell me you want me, omega.” His fingers gripped the doorframe tighter, and you heard the wood creak beneath his strength.

Your pussy spasmed and your heart lurched when Steve called you by your designation, but it was when his scent hit you that you felt something inside your being shift and lock into place. Steve smelled like home—like safety and security and love. He smelled like a future of wrangling children together and making love together and sitting on a porch swing together and growing old together.

In that moment, you knew what your instincts had known from the moment you met Steve—he was your mate. He was the one alpha in all the world who was meant for you, just as you were the omega meant for him. And once you knew that, it was the easiest thing in the world to part your lips and beg him to join you in your nest, in your bed, and help you through your heat.

“Please, Steve—please, mate, please help me,” you begged, your voice breathy with need and excitement, tears of joy shining in your eyes.

Something shifted in Steve’s expression when you called him your mate. You watched as he took a deep breath, scenting you the way you had him. A riot of emotions swirled in those beautiful blue eyes of his—disbelief, acknowledgement, acceptance, satisfaction, pride. You saw the moment he realized what you’d only just discovered, a smile flickering at the corner of his mouth.

“My omega, my mate,” Steve growled, finally letting go of the doorframe and launching himself at you.

Finally—finally—Steve was coming to you, closing the distance between you, and you’d never been happier in all your life. The alpha next door was your mate, and you hoped that meant he would be more than willing to knock you up and breed you like you needed.

Steve had woken from his fitful sleep to the sound of your sweet cries that morning, though they sounded much more desperate to his ears. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not, but you sounded less than satisfied with whatever toy you were using and Steve slid a hand down to his already hard cock, thinking you should’ve been riding him instead of some silicone dick.

He’d lazily stroked his cock, trying to restrain himself from coming all over his stomach, while listening to your increasingly desperate cries. Steve had fisted a hand in the sheets of his bed, hoping it would be enough to hold himself back from storming over to your cottage and taking your heat into his own hands.

Then, Steve heard you cry out his name and something in him snapped. Before he even knew what he was doing, he’d thrown on some boxer briefs and stormed out of his bedroom, leaping down the stairs and throwing open the front door of his house so ferociously, he’d ripped it off some of the hinges.

Not even caring that he was leaving his door open, Steve charged over to your cottage, taking a little bit more care with your front door when he broke the lock and pushed it open, flinging it closed behind him. He knew it was likely stuck closed thanks to the broken lock, but Steve only cared that it would prevent anyone else from getting into your home. He’d deal with getting out later. Much later.

Finally, Steve got to the doorway of your bedroom, your nest, and he’d stumbled to a stop at the sight that lay before him.

You were perched in the center of your big bed, a pillow wedged between your thighs, the knot of a toy barely visible while you humped futilely on the fake cock. Your delicate fingers groped your tits, squeezing your soft flesh and pinching your nipples like you were milking yourself—that thought making even more blood rush to Steve’s cock. Desperate whimpers and whines fell from your lips, more pleas to be knocked up and filled with pups, and they were nearly his undoing.

At the last second, Steve gripped the doorframe, holding himself back from pouncing on you, as he tried to remember why he shouldn’t be there. You were an unmated omega, in heat, and he hadn’t gotten permission to be in your nest, let alone help you through your heat. And you were too sweet for him…

God, you looked sweet, though. Sweet enough that Steve’s mouth watered with the thought of how slick you were, how good you would taste on his tongue. Even from the doorway, he could see the way your wetness had soaked the pillow between your thighs. He wanted to taste you, to scent you, he wanted you.

Steve was seconds away from launching himself at you when your gaze finally landed on him. It was the delighted surprise in your eyes that urged him to ground out a desperate plea for consent to enter your room and help you through your heat. Blessedly, you seemed coherent enough to answer—but you didn’t only answer and beg for his help, you called him your mate.

That word struck a chord in Steve’s chest, his heart pounding even harder at the impossible prospect that you were his mate—that you were meant to be his. But he took a deep breath, taking in the scent of you and opening himself up to the possibility that you were his.

You even smelled sweet, like the pink roses in your front garden—or, rather, the peace Steve felt when he came home to find you tending to your flowers. You smelled like the warmth of a gentle fire and the giddiness of butterfly kisses. You smelled like life, like the time unfurling before the two of you, years and decades spent with each other, making each other happy.

It was as if Steve truly came alive for the first time when he scented you, and the last tether of the self-restraint holding him back from you snapped.

“My omega, my mate,” he rumbled in a low purr, a voice he’d never even heard himself use before. But he didn’t have time to think about that too closely—he only knew he needed to get to you.

As quickly as he could, Steve surged into your room, tearing off his boxer briefs—the only clothing he’d had the presence of mind to put on, and he was thankful for it, since it saved him the grief of a public indecency charge—in the few steps it took to get to your bed.

By the time Steve tackled you into the tangle of blankets and pillows, he was naked as the day he was born, his cock throbbing with need and brushing against swaths of your soft, bare skin, leaving his precum behind. The alpha cradled your body in his strong arms as he rolled you beneath him, his narrow hips slotting perfectly between your plush thighs, his hard length resting against your mound.

But there was something in his way, something that shouldn’t be inside you and Steve couldn’t help but growl, “Get that fucking toy out of my cunt, ‘mega.” He softened the fury in his voice with light, fleeting kisses to your cheeks and temple and forehead, greedy to taste the sweetness of your skin.

“Yes, alpha,” you gasped, fumbling between your bodies to wrench the silicone dick from your tight hole.

The sweet submission in your voice was too much for Steve—he had to taste it. Slanting his lips to yours, Steve kissed you for the first time, groaning into your mouth at the wondrous feeling of your mouth beneath his. You tasted better than you smelled, like radiant sunshine bursting on his tongue and casting a golden glow over his entire body.

Deepening the kiss, Steve plundered your mouth, stroking his tongue against yours and nipping at your lips until you were gasping and panting beneath him. Your entire body trembled with unslaked need, your fingers clinging to his bulging biceps as you cried out for him, all of which stroked Steve’s alpha ego so much, his cock twitched and leaked against your belly.

“Please, Steve—daddy—alpha—I need you inside me,” you wailed in a broken voice and Steve’s instincts took over.

He shifted his hips back, the tip of his cock finding your slick hole and he pushed forward, sinking his hard length into your cunt with one thrust. Steve’s entire world realigned, his heart stuttering in his chest at the feeling of your tight heat consuming him, overwhelming him. An animalistic groan left his lips, and he buried the sound in your neck, breathing in your scent as he tried not to come immediately.

With Steve’s cock finally buried inside you, he felt your body relax beneath him, your moan of pleasure dissolving into a sigh of relief. Steve’s hindbrain felt a deep satisfaction at the way you melted in his arms, your submission to him apparent in the loosening of your muscles. Finding your lips again, Steve kissed you sweetly, cherishing the moment of calm before your heat urged the two of you to move.

“Thank you, alpha,” you whispered, your voice soft and blissful and the most content Steve had heard it since your heat began in earnest the day before. “The toys weren’t working.” You pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek on your way to burying your face in the crook of his neck, breathing so deeply he could hear your inhale, making his cock twitch in the depths of your pussy.

Then, your words pierced through the haze of pleasure in Steve’s mind and he purred, smiling into your neck when you relaxed further beneath him, responding to him.

“You needed your mate, didn’t you, baby?” Steve cooed, lavishing your neck with kisses until you were whining and squirming beneath him. “Needed your daddy to pound your needy little cunt like only your alpha could, huh?” He started rolling his hips in tight circles, grinding into your cunt, his knot rubbing your clit in a way that had you clenching deliciously around him. “Needed me to pump your sweet little womb full of come, huh, needed me to give you a pup?”

As soon as the heated words fell from Steve’s lips, he wished he could take them back. He’d heard you beg him to breed you, but that was when you were riding a silicone alpha dick, not when you were seconds away from taking Steve’s knot.

Mentally, Steve chastised himself for letting his mouth run away from him so soon. He’d barely gotten his cock in you and he was already talking about knocking you up. He didn’t want you to think he was that kind of alpha, one that only wanted an omega to pump out babies for him—even though the thought did make Steve rock hard.

“Sorry, ‘mega,” Steve mumbled, shifting his arms beneath your body so he could cradle your head in one hand, holding you still while he rocked his hips into yours, kissing your cheek and jaw and neck and anywhere he could reach.

“Sorry for what?” you asked on a gasp, hooking your legs around Steve’s sides and clinging to him so you could grind on his thick cock.

Thankfully, you didn’t seem turned off or scared by Steve’s breeding talk. If anything, the way you arched your spine and shoved your cunt down on his dick made him think you liked it. But surely that couldn’t be true.

“Didn’t mean to mention pups so soon,” Steve said gruffly, hiding his face in your neck so you wouldn’t see the blush that he knew was turning his cheeks pink.

“Oh god,” you moaned, your cunt squeezing Steve’s cock as your body writhed beneath his. “Wanna give you so many pups, alpha,” you cried, humping up from beneath Steve’s big body, riding his cock harder than you’d been riding your toy when he’d walked in.

Steve went cross-eyed at the assault on his senses. Between the perfect heat of your slick pussy gripping his cock, teasing his knot every time you rocked against him, and the sound of your sweet voice confessing you wanted him to knock you up, Steve’s body shuddered with the effort it took not slam his knot home and flood your womb with his seed to give you exactly what you wanted.

“You like that idea, huh?” Steve rumbled, hungry passion and desire coursing through his body and urging him to move faster, to fuck you harder. He pulled out of your fluttering pussy and slammed back inside, relishing the desperate cry that left your lips and the way your fingers dug into the muscles of his arms. “You like it when your alpha tells you how much he wants to breed you?”

Despite his best efforts, Steve could hear the thread of insecurity in his question, and he wasn’t surprised when you cupped his face and moved his head up so you could look into his eyes. What he didn’t expect was the sheer amount of pleasure and desire in your hazy gaze, or the mixture of sweetness and depravity in the little smirk you gave him.

“I do, daddy,” you said, your voice breathy but no less firm in your resolve. “I want to hear everything you’ve thought about doing to your little omega—want you to breed me, alpha.”

Everything else in the world melted away as Steve focused on you—his omega, his mate—and the fact that he was going to try his damndest to give you what you wanted. After all, that was his duty as your alpha. You were his to take care of, to provide for, to protect, to cherish—to fuck and to knot.

You were his to love—you were his to breed. And Steve planned on loving you and breeding you plenty.

You’d never felt anything so good as Steve sinking his thick alpha cock into your weeping cunt, and you nearly sobbed in relief as the edge of aching, burning need finally abated. This was what you needed—not a toy or any alpha’s cock, but your mate’s. Your body and omega instincts had known something was wrong, and it had taken a slip of your tongue to fix it.

Even if it had been an accident to cry out Steve’s name, you couldn’t feel embarrassed about it, not when you finally felt something like satisfaction. The need of your heat still burned bright beneath your skin, but for a moment, you could revel in the feeling of being so intimately connected to your mate, your Steve—the alpha next door.

The words of thanks had slipped past your lips before you could stop them, and you loved the teasing way he responded. But then you felt a shift in Steve. He’d seemed to feel guilty for mentioning pups, but even his apology turned you on, making your arousal burn hotter. Your body had been unable to still when you needed him so badly—needed to give him pups, needed to grow round with his child and know that he had claimed you in the most primal way possible.

Your brain had short-circuited when Steve had said he wanted to breed you, but you’d still heard the anxiousness in his tone and you’d guided his head up so you could look at him. The uncertainty and guilt in Steve’s beautiful blue eyes nearly broke your heart. He was too sweet for words, wanting to make sure you were comfortable with even the words he said in the heat of the moment.

Between one breath and the next, you fell in love with Steve Rogers. He wasn’t simply the alpha next door, he was your mate, and he was yours. A fierce possessiveness filled your chest as you smirked up at your alpha, determining to show him exactly how much you wanted everything he’d said.

“Want you to breed me, alpha,” you begged on a moan, your hips rising up off the bed to meet the brutal thrusts of your mate. “Fill me up with your pups, daddy, please, I need it!” You held Steve’s gaze, letting him see the pleasure on your face, hear the genuineness of your words.

You saw the moment Steve’s insecurity and guilt melted into desire and determination. His blue eyes darkened and his face twisted into a mask of sinful resolve. He looked like a fallen god, with his golden hair and tanned skin, framed perfectly in the little bit of morning light filtering in through the skylight above your bed. Your pussy clenched around his cock, fluttering as he thrust inside you, teasing your hole with his knot.

“Don’t worry, ‘mega,” Steve rumbled, ducking down and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss that left you gasping for breath. He pressed his forehead to yours, staring deep into your eyes. “We’re making a baby today.”

“Yes, alpha,” you cried, spreading your legs wider in an effort to let Steve fuck you deeper. He grinned, shifting his hands to your thighs and pushing them up against your chest, folding you in half and pounding you into the bed.

“Gonna fill up your perfect cunt with all the seed in my balls, and if it doesn’t take today, ‘m gonna fill you up until you’re overflowing with my come—until your belly’s bulging with it,” Steve growled, rutting into you with a ferociousness you never would’ve expected from your sweet alpha neighbor. But Steve’s sweetness was never far from the surface, and he proved it by lowering his voice to a deep rumble that you felt in your belly, asking, “Mm, ’s that what you want, baby, want daddy to give you a pup?”

You were pinned beneath Steve, his cock fucking you so hard, your room was filing with the wet squelching sounds of your soaking cunt and the sharp rhythm of your alpha’s thighs slapping against your own. But still, it was his words that seemed to have the most effect on you, turning you into a writhing, needy creature who’d only be satisfied when Steve emptied his balls deep in your cunt.

“Yes, alpha,” you cried, your fingers clinging to Steve’s shoulders, digging into his warm, golden skin while he fucked you into oblivion. “Want you to knock me up, wanna give you a pup, wanna grow big and round with your child and feed you both from my milky tits,” you babbled, throwing your head back and screaming when Steve’s cock hit against your cervix, pleasure and pain swirling like an inferno in your body. “Please, daddy, god, I need it, I need it—knot me, breed, me, Steve, please!”

“Baby,” Steve groaned, capturing your lips in another kiss while he rutted into you faster and harder, his knot pressing against your tight hole with every thrust and teasing you with the stretch of it. “You’re gonna get a pup, alright,” he growled when he pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re gonna pop out a kid for me and then I’m gonna fill you right back up.” Steve moaned, his body shuddering and you knew he was close. “Wanna watch you bounce on my cock with your belly ripe and swollen with my pups, your tits heavy with milk—the prettiest mommy and mate an alpha could ask for.”

“Steve,” you sobbed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to hold him close, kissing him and thrusting your hips up to meet his. “Please, make me a mommy, alpha—wanna be a mommy, please, daddy, daddy, please!” Then your lips were too preoccupied with Steve’s, kissing him messily in between desperate moans while he fucked you hard and fast.

Finally, Steve pulled back and thrust forward with so much power, his knot pushed inside your tight cunt and you screamed in pleasure, the feeling of his thick bulge stretching your tight hole sending you over the edge into the most earth-shattering release you’d felt in your life. It was a transcendental experience, coming on your mate’s cock, your alpha surrounding you and filling you up in every way possible.

As your body squeezed Steve’s cock, he groaned loudly in your ear, burying his face in your neck while his hips stuttered against yours, trying to fuck you with his knot but unable to move because your bodies were locked so tightly together. Then, with a moan of, “my mate,” you felt the moment Steve began to come. His cock twitched deep inside your cunt, a warmth filling you as he shot rope after rope of come against your cervix, filling your womb.

For a long time, the two of you stayed locked together, riding out your releases in each other’s embrace. Giggles and moans filled the room, each of you kissing the other wherever you could reach while you basked in your pleasure together. You breathed in the scent of Steve, your lips dragging up and down the column of his throat while he kissed your neck and shoulder and just beneath your ear, making you shiver.

Eventually, when the squeezing of your cunt was reduced to a flutter and your body had milked every last drop of seed from Steve’s cock, the two of you settled. Your heat had abated for the moment. Though need still burned low in the core of your body, reminding you it wasn’t over just yet.

But you had a bit of a respite, and you took the time to revel in you newfound mate. Turning your head, you pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek, which was flushed pink with pleasure.

You felt Steve’s smile against your skin and then he was rising up so you could see the full blush that tinged your alpha’s cheeks. He looked so sweet and ruined, his blond hair a mess, his blue eyes bright with satisfaction, a deeply smug smile on his plump lips.

“Feeling better, ‘mega?” he asked, though there was so much male satisfaction in his tone, you were certain he already knew the answer.

Still, you liked seeing this side of Steve. Typically you didn’t like cocky alphas, but Steve looked so hot when he was confident, your pussy fluttered around his knot at the sight of his smirk.

“I am, daddy,” you said softly, smiling up at your alpha, enjoying the way his smirk deepened as you confirmed what he knew. You couldn’t help but stroke his ego a little more. “Now that you’re here to take care of me.”

Steve’s eyes softened and he pressed a heated kiss to your lips. “Good,” he said when he pulled away. Then his arms were wrapping around you and he rolled onto his back, dragging you with him until you were splayed across his broad chest, your bodies still locked together by his knot.

It would deflate soon enough, but you reveled in the feeling while it lasted, snuggling into Steve’s arms. Sleep called to you, but Steve was still moving and you when you opened your eyes, you found him reaching for your stash of provisions on your bedside table.

“Gotta eat and hydrate, baby,” Steve murmured as he unwrapped a protein bar and began feeding it to you. Even though you were exhausted, you knew he was right and you let him feed you, only sitting up when it was time to gulp down some of the sports drink he offered you. “Good girl, ‘mega, doing so well for your alpha,” Steve said, praising you while you ate and drank.

When you were done, Steve tossed the empty wrappers and bottles back onto your bedside table and relaxed into the many pillows on your bed. You settled down on his chest, your body sated in every way possible, muscles going loose when your alpha began to purr.

“Thank you, alpha,” you mumbled, the urge to sleep more insistent since you were fed. Steve’s hands smoothed down your back, tracing your spine lightly with his fingertips in a way that made you melt even further into him.

“Don’t need to thank me,” he grumbled, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple. “You’re my mate, ‘m gonna do everything I can to take care of you—and our kids.” He added the last bit like it was an afterthought, but you knew Steve meant it, and your heart warmed at his protectiveness.

You smiled into Steve’s warm skin, nuzzling into his neck beneath his jaw, breathing in the scent of him—the scent of home—but his words made you remember something you should tell him.

“Steve, ‘m on birth control,” you murmured sleepily, pressing a lazy kiss to the thick column of his neck. “Thought you should know.” You snorted a little, laughing at yourself for the silliness of your last statement, even though it was true.

The rumble of Steve’s purr changed as he chuckled, his strong arms tightening around your waist for a moment before he grabbed a blanket and pulled it up over your cooling bodies. “Figured, ‘mega,” he rumbled, his voice so warm, you could hear his smile. “Doesn’t mean ‘m gonna stop picturing you round with my pup, even if it’s a while before that happens.”

“Mm,” you hummed in acknowledgment, then pouted as you processed his words. “As long as it’s not a long while,” you muttered, hardly listening to what you were saying because you were so close to sleep.

Steve chuckled again, his hands squeezing you lightly. “It’ll be as long or as short as you want, baby,” he assured you in a gruff voice that was thick with just as much tiredness as yours. “I’d give you a pup today if I could.”

You smiled, your heart filling with emotion, and pressed your lips to your alpha’s neck. You might’ve been exhausted, but it didn’t stop you from murmuring the words your heart urged you to say, “I love you, Steve.”

Steve’s purr deepened, and he held you close, no hesitation in his voice when he said, “I love you, too.” Your alpha brushed a kiss to your cheek and smacked your ass very lightly. “Now rest, omega, we still have to get through the rest of your heat.”

You fell asleep with a smile on your face, feeling safe and protected and satisfied in the arms of your mate, your bodies still locked together by Steve’s knot. You never would’ve expected anything to come of your crush on your neighbor—and you never would’ve expected he’d be a perfect fit for your desires, let alone your mate.

But, you knew the two of you were going to live a happy life together—and you couldn’t wait to spend every moment of it with the alpha next door.

6K notes · View notes

luvergirl-866 · 4 days ago

Text

something like love

part - 6

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 4.7k

c/w - language, tiny bit of angst (this is only the beginning i fear.)

a/n - is it cringe of me to ask for live reactions? bc i want live reactions sb. anyway, sorry ik i said this chap would be long and juicy but i decided to hold off on the juicy part, i needed a lil more plot development! also ty to everyone who sends me asks, even if it’s just things like “when’s the next part😫” i love it sm lol. hope yall like this one!!

The next two days are—at least compared to the first two—almost peaceful. The weather is nice, just warm enough and not too humid, which Azzi’s hair appreciates. She got goddess braids done just before the trip and even in protective styles, her hair gets frizzy at the very notion of moisture.

The peacefulness largely comes from the fact that Paige is avoiding her parents like the plague, instead spending all her time with Azzi and her siblings. The third day they spend almost entirely at the local park, shooting around at the court there under the hot sun. Lauren even reluctantly joins for a few games, and she may be adamant about not wanting to play basketball but the talent for it must be genetic because she’s a natural. And if Paige and Azzi spend the whole ‘competition’ brushing hands and flirting, nobody says anything. (Though Ryan does wrinkle his nose at them a few times.)

The fourth day starts out warm, and so Paige and Azzi sneak the kids out bright and early (Azzi, of course, ends up with the job of waking all three siblings up—not one of them is a morning person whatsoever) and go to an ice cream shop, where they eat their cold, sweet breakfasts on the curb while they chat. Both Ryan and Lauren may have argued that they were too old to be excited about ice cream for breakfast anymore, but they both end up with matching, chocolate-covered grins when they’re done.

The weather turns for the worst before noon, though, and the kids want to go home but Paige insists they go to the arcade instead. When she says she’ll pay for as many games as they want, they’re easily swayed. Of course, Paige and Azzi make a competition out of the day, deciding to keep a tally of all their points so that whoever has the most wins by the end has to buy the whole group prizes.

Azzi gives it a fighting go but Paige plays way more video games than she does so she very nearly beats her—but then, when they’re almost out of game tickets, Azzi pouts at her about the whole situation, and suspiciously, she ends up making an incredible recovery, easily beating Paige at almost every game after that.

Lauren picks a koala plushie, Ryan picks some new shoes, and Azzi gets this shiny plastic tiara.

“You didn’t have to get the cheapest prize,” Paige says as Azzi adjusts the tiara on her head. “I got money.”

“I know,” Azzi replies, smiling at her reflection in the mirror. “But I had to. As the princess.”

Paige gives her that stupid fucking look again—the one Azzi still can’t figure out even though she knows Paige like the back of her hand, which is just driving her crazy—and that look shows up so often Azzi should really just start referring to it as The Look at this point.

But then Paige smiles, previous odd expression gone, and the way she does that,—slips out of it like she doesn’t even realize it was there in the first place—drives Azzi even more crazy than The Look itself.

Now, it is the fifth day. And Azzi reminisces on these past two blissful days to try and distract herself from the fact that Paige and her parents are having a heated argument right in front of her and her scrambled eggs.

“No, Paige,” Amy is saying. “Absolutely not.”

“You can’t do that!” Paige replies, throwing her hands into the air. “I’m an adult, I make my own money, I can do—“

“It’s stupid.”

“It’ll be fun!”

“It won’t, because it’s not happening.” Amy is unpacking a load of groceries, and Dean is lingering in the corner of the kitchen being absolutely useless. That seems to be his brand.

“Yes it will, Mom,” Paige replies, voice lower now but still obviously frustrated. “I wasn’t asking for your permission. I was just seeing if you wanted to come with us. I was tryna be nice!”

“Well it won’t be nice when you crash and we all drown, Paige.”

“Jesus, Mom! I ain’t gonna go around crashing!”

Azzi feels very uncomfortable, wishing she were literally anywhere else, but at the same time this is sort of amusing and she has to hide a smile in a bite of eggs.

This argument is, out of all things, about a boat. Paige wants to rent one and have a lake day, and though she didn’t want to, Azzi convinced her to invite her parents—she figured they’d decline but that they’d be offended if they weren’t at least invited.

She wasn’t really expecting a lecture to come out of it, though. But by the tired look on Paige’s face, she knew exactly what was coming their way.

“You don’t even have a boating license,” Amy continues, placing a new jug of milk and some apples in the fridge. “This is illegal. If you won’t listen to your mother, at least listen to the law.”

That very nearly gets a giggle out of Azzi. She chokes it down.

“This is a private lake, I’on need my license.”

“Well that doesn’t sound shady at all.”

“It’s not, it’s super legit!” Paige makes for her phone in her back pocket. “It has its own website and everything, I looked way into it.”

Amy stares her daughter down for a few seconds, hands on her hips, before she lets out a resigned sigh. “Like you said, Paige, I can’t tell you what to do. You’re an adult, do what you want. But you will not be taking your siblings on that death trap.”

“Wha…” Paige flounders, eyebrows furrowed, and her voice raises again, “that was the whole point of this entire thing!”

“Well, that’s too bad. It’s dangerous.”

“I’ll make them wear life jackets!”

“They’re teenagers,” Dean points out rather unhelpfully, and it’s the first time he’s spoken around her in days but Azzi is already sick of him again. “Neither of them are gonna wear life jackets.”

“I’ll force them, I swear.”

“Paige Madison,” Amy snaps, and Paige may be an independent adult now but she still straightens her back subconsciously at her mother’s warning tone, “no means no. They are my kids.”

“They’re my siblings!” Paige replies—rather boldly, Azzi thinks, because if Azzi were in her place she would’ve given up by now.

But Paige, as most daughters do, knows exactly how far to push her mother to get what she wants—apparent in the way Amy massages her temples with her fingers before saying, “You know what, Paige? Fine.”

Dean is jumping in immediately. “What? No, she can’t take my kids out on a boat.”

“She’s right, Dean,” Amy says, though she looks a little pained to be siding with her daughter for once. “They’re her siblings. She wants to do something fun for them.”

“It’s dangerous!” Dean motions sporadically at where Paige and Azzi are sitting at the island. Azzi’s eggs are gone now and so she has nothing to put her awkward energy into. “Neither of them owns a boat, and they are practically strangers—“

“She is my daughter,” Amy says, and it’s so quiet Azzi almost doesn’t hear it, but she does, and it sends shivers through her. Because there’s something dangerous, something protective in her tone, something only a mother who loves their child could convey. And it sends a flicker of hope through her. “She is my daughter and I trust her with her siblings.”

Dean flounders for something but comes up empty, instead storming off all red-faced like a child. Amy doesn’t look either of them in the eye when she says, “Let me know if you kids need anything today,” before leaving the two best friends alone in the kitchen.

Slowly, Paige turns to look at Azzi, something like disbelief in her expression. “Did that—actually go well?”

“Yeah,” Azzi responds. “I think it did.”

Things may just be looking up.

———————————————

Dean may be an asshole, but it turns out he was right about one thing: Ryan and Lauren will not wear life jackets.

“C’mon, guys, it’s the law,” Paige insists, thrusting a pink life jacket at her sister, who scrunches her nose in disgust.

“No way! That’s so ugly, Paige.”

“The color wont matter when you’re drowning.”

“You sound just like Mom!” Lauren sighs, and Paige’s mouth falls open.

“You did not just say that.”

Lauren gives Paige a smug smile, which amuses Azzi because it’s the same smile Paige gives her whenever she wins an argument. “And I meant it too.”

If Lauren were not much smaller than Paige, she would be tackling her right now, based off the look on her face. But instead she composes herself and turns to Ryan, who is sitting at the front of the speedboat on his phone. He feels his older sister’s gaze and looks up at her, then at the life jacket in her hands. “You’re funny.”

“I’m being so for real.”

“There’s gonna be hot girls in bikinis on the lake,” Ryan replies, as if this is the most obvious thing ever. “No way I’m wearing a life jacket.”

Paige sighs and rubs her temple with her fingers, and Azzi would never say it out loud (for fear of being pushed into the lake) but she does kind of look like her mom in this moment.

When Paige turns on her with a warning look, Azzi startles, wondering if she’s somehow read her mind. But instead, Paige picks up another life jacket and says, “Will you at least wear one?”

Azzi smiles, a little puzzled. “Paige, I don’t need a life jacket. I can swim.” Which is obvious considering she and Paige have spent various lake days at her family’s cabin.

“Yeah, but for my peace of mind, though!” Paige shakes the life jacket in Azzi’s direction.

The truth is, Azzi wouldn’t mind wearing the life jacket. But ever since she put on this bikini—pastel purple in color—Paige has been swallowing thickly and averting her eyes constantly. So Azzi thinks she has other reasons for wanting her to cover up.

And Azzi can’t let her get away with that, can she?

“I don’t need it.” Azzi steps forward and takes the life jacket out of Paige’s grasp, tossing it aside before reaching to trail her hand down Paige’s bicep, squeezing the hard muscle a little bit. “And besides, won’t you save me if I’m drowning?” she asks, smiling coyly.

Paige’s throat bobs, eyes landing respectfully on a spot past Azzi’s shoulder. “Well, that’s not really how that works.”

Azzi blinks, and she knows just how big and brown her eyes are when she looks up at Paige through her lashes. “No? Thought you’ve been in the gym?”

“I have,” Paige says defensively.

“Hm.” Azzi lets her hand trail off Paige’s arm, resting it on Paige’s side before dancing her fingers dangerously over Paige’s exposed abs. “You wanna prove that to me, baby?”

Paige’s eyes widen, and Azzi loves the way she can not only see but feel her stomach tense under her fingers. But the moment is broken by a gagging sound nearby.

Lauren—who has sat beside her brother and pulled out her own phone—is now looking at them with disgust. “You guys are so gross.”

“You shouldn’t be making sexual innuendos in front of Lauren,” Ryan adds on, though his eyes don’t leave his screen.

“Yeah!” Lauren agrees, then furrows her eyebrows and starts tapping at her phone. Azzi guesses she’s probably searching what sexual innuendo means.

“Hey, yo, don’t blame me,” Paige says, putting her hands up and taking two big steps away from Azzi. “She started it.”

“Azzi’s a freak,” Ryan says.

“Whoa, chill!”

“Hey, that’s actually offensive,” Lauren says. She has picked up a habit of defending Azzi with her life these last few days they’ve spent together, and Azzi has decided she would do the same. “That’s like calling her a monster or something.”

Ryan smirks, finally looking up at them. “I didn’t mean that kinda freak.”

“Okayyy!” Paige jumps in before Lauren can do any more Googling. “Let’s get this show on the road. Imma go untie us real quick, then we’ll head out.”

For the first time, nerves bubble in Azzi’s tummy. “Paige, you sure you’ll be able to drive this thing?”

Paige looks almost offended at the question. “Yeah, duh.”

“It’s just, you’ve never driven a speed boat before…”

“Trust me, mama,” Paige says, nodding cockily to herself. “I got driving skills like you’ve never seen.”

Fifteen minutes later, Azzi realizes Paige was telling the truth. She has certainly never seen these driving skills before.

Paige is an—erratic driver, to put it mildly. This lake is private, huge, and though there are plenty of other boaters out Paige drives as if they’re the only ones on the water. At one point, she gets to such a high speed that even Ryan grasps onto Azzi a little bit.

When Paige very nearly runs into a cruising party boat, Azzi finally gets up from her place between the kids and marches over to Paige, who glances up at her with a sheepish smile. “Whoops.”

“Lemme drive,” Azzi demands, beckoning for Paige to get up.

“No!” Paige says stubbornly. “I’m doin’ good!”

“I thought I was going to die!” Lauren pipes up angrily.

Azzi motions to her. “See? You’re scaring your brother and sister.”

“Whoa, who said I was scared?” Ryan says.

Azzi decides against bringing up the fact that he kept clinging to her arm. “This is scary, I wanna drive.”

“But babeee,” Paige groans, bringing the boat to a stop so she can properly argue, “you drive like a grandma.”

“I drive like a sane person, is what I think you mean to say.”

“It’ll be boring.”

“Paige.”

Paige stares her down for a moment before sighing like a stubborn little kid. “Fine. You can drive.”

Azzi nods, pleased, and shoves at Paige’s shoulder when she doesn’t move. “Get up.”

A slow smile creeps over Paige’s face and Azzi doesn’t like the look of that at all. “I gotta show you the ropes.”

“I don’t need you to teach me how to drive this thing,” Azzi says as if it’s obvious, because really, it is. The thought of Paige trying to teach anyone her…unique ways is downright scary. “I got it.”

“Nah, I think you’ll need some help.”

“P, for real, stop being difficult and move.”

“I’m not about to—“

“Can we go?” Lauren says loudly, getting both girls’ attention.

“Yeah, I’m getting hot as hell just sitting here,” Ryan agrees.

“I wanna get to that diving cliff Paige was talking about!”

Before Azzi can turn back to Paige to continue arguing with her, Paige has her hands on her hips and is pulling her firmly into her lap. Azzi squeaks, grabbing onto the wheel for leverage.

“Paige!” she exclaims, turning to glare at the smug-looking girl underneath her.

“You heard them,” Paige says simply, shrugging her shoulders as if her hands are tied. “Let’s go.”

“I don’t—“ Azzi starts to argue once again, but then Lauren is sighing dramatically in that teenage-girl way of her’s and saying, “Seriously, come on!”

So, almost in a daze, Azzi turns back to the front and moves her hand to the shift, getting the boat moving slowly again. She tries desperately to ignore it when Paige leans up close to her ear and murmurs, “Atta girl,” but she can’t help the goosebumps that erupt over her neck and Paige must spot them because she chuckles lightly before leaning back, letting Azzi do her thing.

Trying to shake off the feeling of Paige’s hot breath fanning over her skin, Azzi amps up the speed a little bit, determined to show Paige that she can be fun and safe, as promised.

After a few minutes of skimming over the water, Azzi calls over the wind, “Thought you were gonna ‘show me the ropes’?”

“Looks like you got it,” Paige says, sitting straight so she’s pressed up against Azzi’s back again, and her hands find their place on Azzi’s waist.

“Why’d you make me sit on your lap, then, P?” Azzi asks, and her tone lilts teasingly but she is sort of freaking out on the inside because moments like these—moments where Azzi hardly bothers to hide her feelings for Paige and Paige, instead of shying away, responds—are becoming a little too common for comfort.

Paige rests her chin on Azzi’s shoulder, lips brushing her cheek when she says, “Think you know why, hm?”

Yeah. Definitely far too common for comfort.

Ramping up the speedboat a little bit—enough that Ryan whoops and Lauren leans over the side to touch the water—Azzi shifts her hips. She moves out of discomfort, almost subconsciously trying to get away from this buzzing energy between her and her best friend, but Paige lets out a huff of air at the motion and, curious, Azzi does it again.

A full-on gasp this time.

A flush creeps up over Azzi’s cheeks all the way down her chest, and she’s not sure if it’s from pleasure or shyness, though likely it’s both. But she can’t let Paige have the upper hand, because Azzi can’t even imagine how quickly she’d fold if that happened. So instead, she turns her head to the side and says, “All good, Paige?”

The problem with this is Paige’s face is still turned toward her when she says it. And when Azzi moves to reciprocate the angle, their lips are so close that they brush on the last word. On the utterance of Paige’s name.

Azzi jerks back as soon as it happens, putting a couple inches of distance between their faces, and she’s sure the flush is noticeable by now. She tries for a lighthearted laugh, “Oh, sorry, didn’t realize you were so close—“

She doesn’t see it coming when Paige kisses her.

It pulls a gasp out of her, lips now pressed against Paige parting slightly in surprise, and her eyes don’t even close until she feels Paige’s tongue dip inside her mouth.

It’s a quick swipe, her tongue against the space between Azzi’s teeth and upper lip before she’s pulling away—only enough to make the kiss much more chaste.

Her hands slide from Azzi’s waist to her stomach, and Azzi grips onto the steering wheel for dear life when Paige moans ever so quietly into her mouth, the sound barely heard over the wind whipping around them. And then the wind is whipping Paige’s hair into their faces, a few strands getting in Azzi’s mouth, which she takes as her opportunity to pull away. Paige stares at her—The Look again—for only a split second this time (Azzi much prefers that over the lingering one) before her face is breaking into a smile, not cocky or smug or teasing but just bright, and Azzi can’t help but laugh with her as they pull Paige’s hair out of her mouth.

“Keep your eyes on the lake!” Lauren yells at them, and when they look at her she’s got her nose wrinkled. “What is it with you guys and PDA today?”

“Maybe someone put viagra in their coffees this morning,” Ryan suggests, looking equally as disgusted as his little sister but also twice as amused.

“What’s viagra?” Lauren asks.

“Yo, Ryan!” Paige snaps, her hands moving tantalizingly from Azzi’s tummy to rest low on her hips instead, and Azzi forces herself to look back where she’s driving. “Keep it PG, dawg!”

“I could say the same thing to you,” he replies, and Azzi isn’t looking at him but she can picture the smirk on his face—she knows the look all too well by now.

The three of them bicker for a few more minutes, and Azzi tries really hard to focus on where they’re going rather than the implications of that kiss and all the questions that follow it.

Paige is the bad driver, but when she leans forward and mimics her—“All good, baby?”—Azzi worries she may be the one to crash this boat.

———————————————

“Sunscreen time!”

“No, what?”

“We just put some on!”

“Az, I’m never gonna tan at this point!”

Shaking the sunscreen into her hands, Azzi motions the three siblings towards her. “C’mon, you need it.”

“I don’t burn,” Lauren insists as she steps up in front of Azzi, lifting her arms dutifully anyway.

“You’re already getting a little red,” Azzi points out, applying an extra-thick layer onto Lauren’s rosy nose.

“This is lame,” Lauren groans, though she still lets Azzi work in silence and mumbles a thank you before she turns back to the lake.

Ryan is next, and he doesn’t complain about it but he does stare down at his phone the entire time, his head only falling back down when Azzi tries to push it up. “Ryan,” she sighs.

He tears his eyes away from his phone, only to look around subconsciously. Azzi knows he’s trying to see if the gaggle of teenage girls along the rocky beach have noticed him getting his sunscreen done.

“Hurry up,” Paige complains, nudging her younger brother in the back, and he turns around to shove her.

Azzi fights back a smile. “You can put it on yourself if that’s better.”

“It’s good,” he says nonchalantly, but he hasn’t quite mastered acting like he doesn’t care.

Azzi finishes up quickly, ending the torture with an encouraging smile, watching him run up to join his sister where she stands on the ledge above the lake, sneaking up on her. He pushes her in and Azzi laughs at the way Lauren screeches before her eyes drift to Paige, who is now standing right in front of her, looking awfully petulant.

“You really don’t want me to tan, huh?” she says, wincing as Azzi rubs the cold lotion over Paige’s sun-kissed shoulders.

“Your white ass is gonna burn if we don’t do this every thirty minutes,” Azzi says, reiterating what she said the past five times Paige complained about the sunscreen.

“I got a little melanin in me.”

Azzi looks at the way Paige’s blue eyes are squinting against the summer sun, the way her pale skin is already tinted pink, and raises her brows.

Paige holds her hand up. “Just gimme the sunscreen.”

Chuckling, Azzi squirts some into her hand before giving the bottle to Paige, who turns around and starts doing her front while Azzi does her back. They’ve done this maybe a hundred times, before countless sunny fair days and hot boat rides, but today it just feels a little…off. Everything feels a little off about them recently.

Azzi worries it may be her fault. She has always been good at hiding her feelings for Paige, good at making sure her attraction doesn’t show on her face just like she knows all her other emotions do. But recently, ever since they began this facade—and more so ever since they arrived in Montana—she knows she’s been slipping up. She thought she’d be okay but she wasn’t prepared for the way Paige would look at her like she wasn’t pretending, the way Paige calls her pet names even when they’re alone, the way Paige told her she liked kissing her and wants to do it again.

The way Paige did do it again.

And there lies the burning question: why?

Azzi knows Paige doesn’t have feelings for her. Azzi knows that she’s the only one who lies awake thinking about having Paige in every sense of the word, the only one who wakes up in the middle of the night thinking of Paige with an uncomfortable stickiness between her legs. She is the only one, of course, who is in love.

Then why do Paige’s eyes and hands wander nowadays? Why does she call her baby in quiet moments? Why did she kiss her when she really didn’t have to?

Could she be—attracted to Azzi? Maybe through playing this role, she’s seen Azzi in a new light, and realized her best friend is no longer dorky and fourteen but rather a tall, pretty twenty year old with a great ass. (And yes, Azzi knows she has a great ass.)

She could be attracted to her and not be in love. She could be attracted to her and have no other attachment whatsoever. The two things can be true at once, can’t they?

The thought flatters her but it mostly scares her, because she’s barely surviving this unrequited love as it is. But with her best friend having any level of attraction back? How is she supposed to continue on like that?

“Azzi?” Paige asks, and the tone of her voice implies she’s already said it a few times.

Azzi hums, blinking. “Sorry, yeah?”

“Uh,” Paige says, and it’s then that Azzi realizes her hands have stopped rubbing lotion into Paige’s back and have sort of just come to rest on her waist—like it’s instinctive. Like it’s natural. “You done back there?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Azzi says, but for some unknown reason she can’t find it in herself to let go.

Paige glances over her shoulder. “Azzi?” she repeats.

Azzi can’t really take it any longer.

“Why’d you kiss me?”

Paige’s sides tense up under Azzi’s hands, and then she’s stepping away, out of her grasp, and turning to face her.

The look on her face is guarded, almost closed off completely. This is dangerous territory and Azzi has barely dipped her toes in the water yet.

When Azzi’s hands fall helplessly to her sides, Paige says, “I was pretending.”

As much as Azzi doesn’t buy it, the words—and the flat, cold intonation of them—sting. “Didn’t feel like it.”

“Why’re you being weird about it?” Paige asks, eyes dancing nervously away from Azzi’s face.

“I’m not, Paige. I just—I wanna know. For real.”

“You agreed to do this for me,” Paige reminds her, as if that has anything to do with this. But, of course, it has everything to do with this, and Azzi hates how easy it makes it for the both of them to hide under a facade, a lie.

“I know,” Azzi says carefully, also taking a step back if only to get away from Paige’s chilly stare. “But you didn’t have to kiss me this time. There wasn’t a reason.”

Paige shrugs, and Azzi hates to admit it but she is much better than her younger brother at acting nonchalant. “We’re s’posed to be a couple. I don’t want my siblings getting suspicious. They know I’m a touchy person.”

Getting the sinking feeling that Azzi won’t get anything out of this conversation other than a fight, she nods slowly, looking down at the ground. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Paige, as usual, thaws at the slightest hint of weakness, taking a tiny step forward. “Did it make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” Azzi is a little too quick to say. The kiss caught her by surprise, but they’ve only done it two times and Azzi is quickly coming to find that kissing Paige is the most comfortable thing in the world—it’s natural, and right, and like curling up in bed with a book and a warm cup of tea—and Azzi also knows they should never do it again.

Despite the earnest answer, Paige looks at her suspiciously. “You sure, ma? Don’t ever wanna make you uncomfortable.”

Azzi does her best to fix her face, which she worries may be showing a little too much. “Yeah, yeah. I’m sure.”

“Aight,” Paige says, but she still doesn’t sound very convinced. Azzi’s just glad she’s letting it go.

“Sorry for bringing it up,” Azzi says. She’s not.

At this, Paige sighs, reaching out to bridge the gap between them, running a gentle hand up and down Azzi’s arm. “Nah, don’t be, I get it. Sorry for getting a lil defensive.”

A little? Despite the fact she doesn’t believe Paige one bit, and that she doesn’t like anything about the interaction they just had, Azzi manages a smile. “You’re good.”

Paige nods, and her smile at least seems to be sincere. But as they jump into the lake, and as Paige talks Azzi’s ear off while Azzi floats around lazily in a donut floatie, things feel even more off than before.

Azzi can’t quite place what it is until late that night, when they’re both going to sleep and Paige is, for the first time in ages, strangely quiet. She glances over to find Paige lying on her stomach, face turned away, breathing too quickly to be asleep.

And that’s when Azzi notices it. The gap between them, the sheer amount of space from Azzi on her side all the way to Paige, who is almost on the edge of the bed.

Paige always sleeps close to Azzi.

And she always sleeps with her head turned towards her.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334 @makethemhoesmad @the-other-half @rosemariiaa

lmk if u wanna be on my tag list btw!!

#pazzi #pazzi fics #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #wbb #wcbb #fake dating #paige buckets #the people's princess #wlw

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javierpena-inatacvest · 26 days ago

Text

Chapter 2- Awakening

Summary: There was once a time in his life where knocking on your front door was the best part of Frankie's day. Now, the thought of having to ring your doorbell to face you makes him sick to his stomach.

Word Count: 4.1K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (no use of y/n, reader has a name/nickname)

Warnings: (the tiniest hint of) smut (18+), illusions to masturbation (m), angst/regret, fluff, awkward adolescent yearning (I have quickly come to learn this is my favorite thing to write whoops), Frankie realizing he's caught a case of the ✨feelings ✨ and doesn't know what to do

A/N: Less than 10K word chapters?!? Posting a series on a schedule?!?! I don't even know who I am anymore?!?! AH, thank you guys for all your sweet words about this series so far. Writing this has sparked such a joy inside me, and it means so much that y'all are willing to read my silly lil story 🥺💛 This chapter is from Frankie's POV- I know the first chapter had both reader and Frankie, but as I've been writing, it seems like it fits the story better if some are both POV's and some are just one!

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

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Frankie, Present

“Bring these next door.”

His mother doesn’t even ponder the idea of phrasing it as a question when she practically drops the plate of chocolate chip cookies into Frankie’s lap.

“Ma, it’s 7:30 in the morning.” Frankie looks up at her dumbfounded.

“And? You’ve never eaten a cookie for breakfast when you’re sad? Go now, they’re still warm.”

There’s no way he’ll be able to head anywhere but straight out his front door, but Christ, he at least hoped he would have been able to buy himself a little time before having to face you.

“I just got back from a run. I smell like shit. Can I at least shower first, por favor?”

“Fine,” she groans, reluctant to give in so easily, “but be quick. Don’t think I won’t turn the hot water off, mijo. I don’t want these getting cold.”

She knows her son would take an hour long shower if he could. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’s spent way too long in the bathroom, over analyzing every inch of himself before going to see you. His mom isn’t sure if she should thank you or not for her son’s dedication to hygiene. She could barely get him to shower for the first 10 years of his life, but after you moved in, a few days before the start of 6th grade, bathing had magically no longer become an issue.

Frankie understands her threat of an ice cold shower is very real, and a very effective way to finally get him four doors down. He lets the hot water wash over his skin, turning it to a temperature that’s almost too painful to stand. He hopes that somehow, it’s hot enough to wash away all the sins he’s prayed you’d forgive him for, that the regret of every poor decision he’s been plagued by washes down the drain, disappearing never to be seen again.

He wishes it was that easy. That a simple shower would grant him the forgiveness he’s not sure you’ll ever give him. He wouldn’t blame you if you never did.

He forces himself to put on the first pair of shorts and t-shirt that he pulls out of his suitcase. If he doesn’t, he’ll be stuck in his room for the rest of the day trying to figure out what to wear to bring a plate of cookies to your doorstep.

“You should apologize, you know.” It’s the first thing his mom has to say to him as he makes his way down the stairs, barely three steps into the kitchen before she’s at his throat again.

“For bringing them dessert at 7:30 in the morning? I was planning on it.” Frankie huffs, trying to deflect the plan for the real apology he knows he should be making.

“Dios mio, Francisco, you know what I mean. I hope you’ve thought about how you’re going to explain yourself to her. You owe that girl an apology for the hell you’ve put her through.”

Frankie can’t blame his mother for the way she’s twisting the knife that’s stuck in his gut. He’s the one who put it there in the first place.

“I know. I’ve thought about it, believe me.”

They both know that’s the truth. Frankie’s spent more hours than he can count thinking about what possible combination of words he can string together that won’t make you hate him anymore than you already do. In fact, he’s spent so long thinking about it, replaying the million and one things he could say to you over and over in his head, that he’s convinced there’s nothing he could tell you that would buy him even a shred of forgiveness.

“Fuck you, Mackenzie. Fuck you for ruining my life. It’ll be better off without you fucking in it.”

Three years ago, he disappeared out of your life and those were the last words he left you with. He's spent three years of letting the last thing he had to say you haunt him like some sort of ugly ghost he can't forget.

At this point, there's a part of him that's not even sure he's worthy of forgiveness.

“Mom?” Frankie asks, eyes peeled to the ground, trying to keep his voice from breaking, “Am I making a huge fucking mistake coming back here?”

“Well mijo,” She pauses, gently cradling her son’s face, lifting his chin enough to let his tired, worn eyes meet hers, “That, I cannot tell you. Some things you have to figure out on your own. I think this is one of them. But what I can tell you,” she stops again, ensuring Frankie is listening, really listening to what she has to say, “is that you have never been one to leave things unfinished. I think there are still things left to finish here for you, Francisco.”

The slow nod of his head in her palm tells her he’s heard every word. He knows he needs to finish what he’s started.

“You also need to finish bringing these cookies to the Andersons, sí? Don’t think I forgot.”

“Didn’t think you would.”

Frankie’s not sure the walk to your house has ever felt this long. Every step against the pavement makes his feet feel heavier, weighing his body down, its final attempt at keeping him from showing up at your front door. It takes every ounce of strength he has left to get him there, but he does. He won’t himself fail you again. He can’t.

When he knocks on your door, he’s suddenly 11 years old, palms sweating and heart racing as he rings your doorbell for the first time, hoping the cool girl who moved in down the street still wants to play football with him.

Right now, he’d give anything to be that 11 year old boy again. God, what he’d give to grab little him by the shoulders and shake all of the stupid decisions he plans on making in the years to come right out of him. He’d give anything for someone to come shake the stupid out of him now.

Seconds pass like hours as he waits for someone to answer his knock. Maybe it won’t be you who does. Maybe he’ll get lucky and it'll be your mom. Maybe your dad, who is sitting on his literal deathbed, will be blessed with some divine miracle that grants him the strength to get up and answer the door instead of you.

“Be right there!”

He’d recognize your voice anywhere. It’s been three years since he’s heard it. Even with all the time that’s passed, there’s not a doubt in his mind he knows it’s yours.

Fuck, he’s missed the sound of you more than he’d ever like to admit.

He braces himself as the lock clicks on the other side of the door. The knot in his stomach tightens as he watches it open.

His heart wants to burst out of his chest when you finally appear on the other side.

“F-Frankie?”

“Hi, Mackenzie.”

Frankie, Fall of 2002, Age 14

It’s been 3 years, and Frankie still rings your doorbell every time he’s at your front door. Both you and your parents have been more than adamant he’s welcome to let himself in, at this point, they leave the door unlocked just for him.

As much as he wants to just slip through the front door unannounced to see you, he knows his mom would kill him if he didn’t wait to be let in and make his presence known.

“Francisco, I do not care how often you are over there, you are a guest in their home. If they are gracious enough to let you over, the least you can do is use your manners and greet them at the door.”

Frankie’s always been polite, but the world would stop spinning before his mother would let anyone else even have an inkling of thinking otherwise.

Truth be told, he doesn’t mind. He’d be hard pressed to find any 14 year old who didn’t have some sort of complaint about their parents, but you never really do, and he can see why.

They’re your parents, and he loves his mamá more than life, but the Anderson’s had taken Frankie under their wing from the moment he had crossed the threshold from their patio to their living room and never looked back.

It didn’t take long for the three toned chime of your doorbell to become the favorite part of his daily routine.

“Hi Frankie! Come on in, honey.”

Mrs. Anderson has that soft kind of sweetness that would make anyone’s day brighter, the kind of gentleness that a gardener has when tending to a field of their favorite flowers. She’s the type of person that would put anyone before herself, to a fault. It’s no wonder that given the circumstances, a house that should be shrouded in sadness is one of the places that Frankie feels the happiest.

“Thanks Mrs. Anderson. Can I put this in the freezer for Kenz? I figured she may want it when she gets home later.” Frankie gestures down to the chocolate chip cookie dough Blizzard he’s holding, trying to keep it from melting any further.

It’s become a sacred ritual that every Friday night, you and him ride your bikes to the Dairy Queen two miles down the road. He always gets an Oreo Blizzard, you, a chocolate chip cookie dough one. On the few Friday nights you can’t spend together, it’s an unspoken agreement that a Blizzard will still end up in the other’s freezer for the next day. It’s only happened once that a cookie dough Blizzard hasn’t been found in your residence within 24 hours of the start to your weekend- the one time Frankie was out of town to visit his family, you were pleasantly surprised to find not one, but two Blizzards in your freezer on Monday night upon his return.

“Frank the Tank! How’s it going, buddy?”

It’s always nice to see your dad up and around the house. His cancer has taken a lot of things from him, but his personality certainly isn’t one of them. Some bouts of chemo and treatment are worse than others, but it never ceases to keep Mr. Anderson from being the happiest man Frankie’s ever met. You always tease Frankie that he comes over to your house so often just so he can spend time with your dad. While of course it’s not 100% true that Doug Anderson is the only reason Frankie finds himself at your doorstep nearly every day, he also won’t deny the sense of comfort it brings him that your dad treats him like his own son.

“Hi Mr. Anderson!” Frankie smiles, shoving your Blizzard in the top left corner of your freezer between the ice packs and frozen vegetables.

“Another Blizzard for me? Always so generous, Frank. I’m convinced you might start running a Dairy Queen out of our kitchen pretty soon.” Mr. Anderson teases, giving Frankie a light punch to the shoulder. “How’d your algebra test go the other day, bud?”

“Pretty good, I think.” Frankie shrugs, trying to play off his confidence.

“Think you got a higher score than Kenzie?”

“I think so. But don’t tell her that.”

“Oh believe me, I will. Smart kid like you has gotta put her in her place every once and a while.”

Frankie blushes. School has never been his strong suit. He’s smart in the way he could fix just about anything from the time he could barely walk, but sitting in a classroom trying to absorb information through reading, taking notes and test taking has always made him feel like an idiot. You, on the other hand, could graduate in your sleep with straight A’s. He’s not sure how you do it, but it’s enough motivation to make him want to at least try. He thanks his lucky stars that this year, math is finally starting to make sense, and he’s got the upper hand on you for now.

“Is Kenz upstairs? I know she’s got her soccer banquet tonight, I just wanted to hang out for a little before she has to go.”

Normally he wouldn’t mind staying longer to talk to your dad, but on days he knows he’s working on a limited time table, efficiency is of the essence.

“Should be. If not, we have a problem on our hands.”

Frankie scurries from the kitchen and through the living room, up the familiar and well traveled path to your bedroom door. His heart always races a little faster every time he reaches the top step to the second floor.

Normally, it’s three long strides to cross the threshold into your bedroom before he plops himself on the edge of your bed, but as he takes a left turn at the top of the stairwell, he’s surprised to find your bedroom door is closed, and locked.

“Kenz! It’s me! Open up!” Frankie raps his fist on the back of your door, knuckles thumping against the wood.

“Not now, Frankie!”

He’s taken aback by your protest, scrunching his brow at your response and the distress in your voice through the other end of the door.

“What? Why? What’s wrong?” He asks, now a little more concerned.

“It’s just- Ugh! It’s nothing! It’s stupid, okay! I just don’t have time for this right now!”

You and him both know that’s not enough to get him to leave. Frankie is persistent. He’s not going anywhere until you open that door and he gets an answer as to what’s making you so upset.

“C’mon, MacKenzie.”

He only pulls the full name card for serious occasions, because he knows it’ll work. It’ll work every time. That’s why he can’t help but smirk at the click of your door handle unlocking, giving him permission to step inside.

Except he can’t.

“Kenz, get off the door and let me in!”

“I’m not on the door! Ugh, hold on.”

With the force Frankie was using, he nearly falls flat on his face as the barricade you’d built on your side of the door is removed, stumbling into your room and landing face first in a pile of clothes. As he looks up, he’s greeted with a sight he’s never once seen before in your room, and he has no idea what to make of it.

“Jesus Christ, dude, what happened in here?!”

To say a bomb had exploded in your closet would have been a polite way to put it. Every piece of clothing you owned was now a casualty on your bedroom floor, down to every last pair of shoes. You could barely stand to have a singular, stray sock on the ground, your bedroom always the near picture perfect scene of immaculately neat. So to see the disaster your room had become, Frankie knew that something had gone very, very wrong.

“I don’t have anything to wear for tonight!”

“Yeah you do, have you seen all the clothes on your floor? I think you have enough clothes for a small village.”

“Francisco!”

If she’s already pulling the full name card on him too, it must be serious.

“Sorry! Is this because of the end of the season soccer party tonight? I thought you said you were just gonna wear like, a skirt or something?”

Frankie’s never even contemplated the idea of you being upset over an outfit. You’d always been amicable in the wardrobe department- t-shirt, shorts, sneakers, same has him. This is uncharted territory for the both of you.

“Yeah, but then at lunch today Katie and Morgan said all of the Seniors want to dress up, like, really nice, and now I’m freaking out because I don’t know what to wear and I don’t wanna look like an idiot Freshman who shows up in something dumb.”

Frankie knows you’re stressed from how intensely you’re picking at the skin around your nails, leg bouncing furiously while your eyes dart around the room at the heaps of clothes stacked around the floor.

“You’re not gonna look dumb, Kenzie. You’re the only Freshman that’s made the Varsity soccer team in like, a million years. Hard to look stupid if you’re that good.”

It may not be much help, but it’s at least enough to bring you off the brink of tears.

“I guess,” you pause, too stubborn to admit that he’s right, “It’s just- all the other girls on the team are so pretty. When we’re playing it doesn’t matter ‘cause we’re all sweaty and gross, but- I don’t know, I feel like I’m gonna look so awkward next to everyone.”

But you are pretty.

It’s the first thought that pops into Frankie’s brain. He’s not sure how it got there so fast. All of a sudden he feels a hundred degrees hotter, hoping you won’t notice the way he visibly tries to shake the thought out of his head..

Where did that come from? She’s your friend, Frankie. Your best friend. She’s not pretty, she’s just MacKenzie.

“You won’t look awkward, you’re gonna be fine. I promise.” He’s relieved his response doesn’t seem to raise any suspicions, like you would have been able to read his mind and watch his thinking play out in real time.

“If I um- If I- Never mind, this is stupid! Ugh, this is stupid.”

You’re pacing now, arms crossed so tightly over your chest, he’s worried you’re going to squeeze your own eyes out like one of those little squishy toys you win from a claw machine. That’s if you don’t burn a hole in your carpet first.

“What?”

“If I-” You stammer again, scrunching your face at your own frustration, “If I try on what I think I should wear, will you tell me if it looks dumb or not?”

You’ve asked Frankie plenty for plenty of favors in the three years you’ve known him- being the one to lead the two of you home on a bike ride in the dark, opening your pudding for you at lunch because it exploded on you once and you’re terrified it will again, catching the giant spider that makes a recurrence in the top right corner of your bedroom and throwing it out the window- He’s not sure why out of all those things, this is the most terrifying favor you’d ever asked of him.

“Y-yeah. Okay.”

The two of you quietly nod at each other for a moment, Frankie hoping that he’s not the only one who’s wondering why the air has all of a sudden seemed to have gotten thicker.

“Okay. Well, um- turn around.” You point for him to take his usual spot on the edge of the bed, ensuring that his back’s to you and eyes only have the choice to roam the floor or the wall above your desk before he hears the shuffling of clothes behind him.

It’s then that everything starts to move in slow motion, like a flip has suddenly switched in Frankie’s brain as a wave of unsolicited thoughts begin to flood his head, feeling himself drown in the panic and confusion that’s washing over him.

What if he did turn around? You’re probably taking off your clothes right now. Are you in just your underwear? What color is it? Maybe you’re all the way naked. What would you look like? Why does he all of a sudden want to know so bad? What’s wrong with him?

In his manic state, his eyes are darting everywhere, trying to find something to lock onto that will shake him from whatever obscene cycle of thought he’s caught himself in. He instantly regrets when he lets his gaze fall to his feet, because peeking out of the pile of clothes beneath him is the better part of a bra.

Your bra.

He feels so awful that he can’t stop looking at it. So guilty that he can’t help the fact he’s trying to commit every detail of it to his brain- the teal and green polka dots, the thin lace that covers the shoulder strap, the little bow that sits in between the two cups where your breasts would go. He can’t stop staring. He can’t stop thinking about what you would look like in it. The only thing that stops him is hearing your voice from over his shoulder. And somehow, your voice only makes his chest feel tighter.

“You promise you won’t make fun of me if I look stupid?” Your words are so soft, delicate and fragile in a way he’s never heard you use them before. However scared you are, right now, Frankie would be willing to take that feeling and triple it for himself.

“Promise.”

His eyes are still closed when he swings his legs over the other edge of the bed. He’s too afraid to open them.

“You’re gonna have to open your eyes, unless you’ve suddenly obtained x-ray vision that you haven’t told me about in the last thirty seconds.”

The way you tease him grounds him enough to give in. It doesn’t ground him enough from leaving him speechless the moment he opens his eyes.

“Kenz… You uh, you- um-”

He’s stumbling over his words, trying to find them fast enough to stop the disappointment that’s flooding over your face because you think he hates the way you look. That couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“I look dumb, don’t I? It’s fine, Frankie, you can just say it.” You’re back to pacing again, storming around your room with a desperate, crazed look in your eye. “Ugh! This sucks! Why is this so hard, I just wanna-”

“You look really pretty.”

It stops you dead in your tracks. He can almost hear how hard you gulp, looking back at him like a deer in headlights.

“W-what?”

You ask it like you didn’t hear exactly what he said. He knows you did. You always do. It doesn’t stop him from trying to twist his words to help him out of the hole he’s already dug himself into.

“Your- Your dress. It looks really nice. You should wear it.”

He’s not sure how much time passes as the two of you finally lock eyes. Thirty seconds? Ten minutes? An hour? The way you’re looking at him right now is enough to make his world stop turning. It only makes it worse that he swears he can see your lips trying to fight the smile that’s slowly curling in the corner of your mouth.

“MacKenzie! We need to go, sweetie! Dad and I will meet you in the car!”

Frankie doesn’t know if it’s divine intervention or a devilish curse that your mom is calling for you from the bottom of the stairs. Whatever it is, it’s enough to snap both of you out of the strange spell that had overcome your bedroom and make Frankie feel like the only appropriate response was to race out of your house and hide in embarrassment for the next forty-eight hours.

“I should um- I should go, too. Santi’s probably waiting for me at his house. Have fun tonight, okay?”

“Yeah, o-okay. You have fun, too. Tell Ding Dong I say hi. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

Frankie’s in a trance the rest of the night. Physically, he spends the next few hours in Santi’s basement, glued to the couch while his friend yells at him that he’s not using the right combination of moves to max out his points in Tony Hawk Pro Skater 3. Mentally, he’s convinced he no longer exists on the same planet as anyone else around him.

When he gets home, all he can do is stare at his ceiling. If he closes his eyes to try to fall asleep, the only thing he can see is that teal and green bra laying on your bedroom floor.

He wishes the thought of you in it didn’t make his stomach churn. He wishes it wasn’t you he was picturing when he lets his hand creep below the waistband of his sweatpants. He wishes it wasn’t your name he was muttering under his breath as he makes a mess in hand, hips stuttering into his grasp.

He wishes it wasn’t you.

At least that’s what he tells himself. Maybe one day, it’ll work.

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog @itsokbbygrl

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

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@witchofthedeepwoods @ericamarie093 @readingiskeepingmegoing @whimsiwitchy @whoaitspascal87

@vickie5446 @katw474 @ravenpoe67 @inthedarkestnight @brittmb115

@harryscherrysugar @wonderpillar @sunnytuliptime @pasc4lfuzz

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year ago

Note

Hello, I'm so sorry that you're having a mopey day today :(( But honestly I'm having one today too... I would love to read some fluffy fic, maybe some teenage!Rhys×reader where they are acting like stupid teenagers in love. Or maybe something with Az where reader is a shadowsinger too and they are fooling around and using their shadows to prank the IC. I don't know, these are just some ideas that popped randomly in my head so don't feel pressured to write anything. Anyway wish you best and I hope you will feel better soon 💗

Thanks, lovie! 💕Hope this is okay and cheers you up a little! I feel like I’m not very good at fluff but I did my best 🤣 thank you for sending it in! Enjoy 💕

Forget Me Not — (Rhysand x Reader)

"You'll be High Lord someday."

"I will."

Rhysand rested his chin on your leg, violet eyes peering up at you. In the balmy evening light, he looked resplendent, the sun offsetting the golden hue of his skin. You found your fingers absentmindedly tracing the shape of his lips, the brush of his lashes.

"Things will change when you're High Lord." You brushed his floppy hair from his eyes. "We will change. Our relationship."

At just nineteen, it was hard enough to navigate such a serious, intense relationship. You hadn't expected to fall so madly in love a year earlier, when your court — the Summer Court — had received the High Lord of the Night Court and his son as guests; a plan, you'd learned, to strengthen the relations between the Solar Courts and Seasonal Courts. The High Lord's son, Rhysand, had been nothing but charming and chivalrous. But you hadn't expected him to so much as notice you, as a mere a servant to the High Lord of Summer. When you'd served Rhysand a drink, and those violet eyes had met yours like they were staring into your soul, you knew immediately — you would never want anybody as fiercely as you wanted him.

Too bad that he was a future High Lord, and you a nobody.

It had been unexpected, to say the least, that he'd sought you out. Asked you to show him around the court whilst his father and your High Lord engaged in dull meetings. He'd made you laugh and seemed genuinely interested in knowing you. And when he'd returned to the Night Court, he'd promised to come back and see you again.

Which he had. And thus had begun a year of secret meetings and the thrilling adventure of falling in love. You knew Rhysand's father would never approve. You knew Rhys would one day be in a charge of his court, and not have the luxury of sneaking off to see you for a few hours, sometimes an entire night.

There was a time limit on your relationship, and that thought had begun to plague you more and more recently.

Rhys reached out, pressing your hand against his cheek. "Change doesn't always have to be bad."

"It will be the worst kind of change if we can't see each other anymore."

Rhys sighed softly, rolling onto his back. You knew he didn't want to spend your precious time together talking about such things; neither did you. You wished you could stay like this forever, sprawled out in the sweet-smelling meadow that had become your place to meet him. The thought of this place being empty of your love, your laughter, your conversation, made you teary.

"Please don't cry, my love." Rhys scooted closer. He tugged you until you were slotting between his legs, his front pressed to your back. "Why are you letting this bother you now?

Tears dropped onto your lap as you glanced down. "This past year is the happiest I've ever been."

A kiss was pressed to your shoulder. "Me, too."

"But you will be a High Lord. And of a court I don't even live in. You will be the most important member of your court, and I'm nothing but a servant. I feel like soon enough, you're just going to forget me. That you ever loved me."

You felt the way his body went rigid against you. After a pause, his warm arms slid around your waist, his face burying into the crook of your neck. He seemed to inhale your scent slowly. Desperately.

"Do you truly think I could ever forget you?" He murmured. "I remember the first second I caught a glimpse of you. You were the most beautiful person I'd ever seen. Still are."

You gave a watery laugh. "So beautiful in my old, ratty clothes."

"Your hair was in a loose braid, and when you leaned down to serve me my drink, a strand came free of the plait. I felt so compelled to reach out and tuck it behind your ear. And I thought your eyes could give this court's sunrise a run for its money. So bright and brilliant. Your cheeks were flushed, and you smiled at every single person, despite most of them straight up ignoring you. You were the most exquisite person in that room, and I couldn't look away from you."

You turned slightly in his arms, just enough to meet his gaze. "You noticed all of those things?"

A lopsided smile tugged at his lips. "Why do you think I tried so hard to get a message to you that I wanted to meet with you? I couldn't let you walk away. At least not without learning your name first. I certainly didn't think I'd ever be lucky enough to have you love me back."

You studied his remarkable face, noting every emotion, every thought, that he wore freely. For nobody other than you. You'd memorised that face as much as you possibly could so that when he wasn't around, you could close your eyes and picture him. His brilliant smile. The way his eyes roved happily over you. Sometimes, you could lay in bed and hear his laugh.

"Just...just promise me." You pressed your forehead against his. "Promise me that one day, when you're High Lord...even if you can't be with me anymore, you won't forget me. I couldn't bear you forgetting me."

Rhys's strong hand moved up to cup your jaw. There was no chance to read the look in his eyes before he was leaning in and pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss started out gentle. Soft. The kind of tentative kisses you first shared in the early days of your relationship. Rhys's thumb brushed the line of your cheekbone, his mouth caressing yours.

But then his tongue was parting the seam of your lips and sliding into your mouth to intertwine with yours. Your mingling tastes had you sighing softly in satisfaction and angling yourself towards him further, one of your hands naturally reaching up to twine within the strands of his hair.

Somehow, you ended up in his lap, his lips working feverishly against yours in a hungry kiss. It was just the two of you in that meadow — the two of you and your love, that nobody — not even the High Lord of the Night Court — could take away from you. You would love him forever and always, no matter the distance, the social standing, the outside opinions.

Only when you were both panting for breath did Rhys tear his mouth from yours. You breathed heavily against each other's lips, your foreheads pressed together.

"Here." Rhys murmured deeply, quietly. "This is for you."

You pulled back just enough to glance down at the hand he held between you. You frowned down at the two tiny, blue flowers he pinched between his fingers. When he'd picked them, you weren't sure.

"A flower?" You were still battling to catch your breaths. "For me?"

"One for you and one for me." Rhys said. "They're Forget-Me-Nots. I'll spell them to forever stay fresh. And as long as we both have these, we know we'll never forget one another."

You blinked away tears as he tucked the flower into the strands of your hair, before leaning in to kiss you again.

"Always and forever, my heart." He whispered.

You nodded vigorously, cupping his cheek. "Always and forever."

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 4 months ago

Text

Errand of Mercy

Summary: Y/N is miserable from head to toe. Can the boys coddle her back to good health?

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Nothing really. All fluff.

Pairings: No romantic pairing. Jensen Ackles x teen!reader, Jared Padalecki x teen!reader

Word Count: 1,467

A/N: I got a request from the dear @kayyay1219

...my request is another J2 x teen!reader where the reader doesn’t show up one day for work and Jensen and Jared are worried and they go to her apartment and see that she’s really sick. So they take care of her because she has a high fever and they try everything to get her fever down, like an ice bath or something. They call her cute nicknames are just being so sweet.

I said I could do it but it might be a while. Then the poor thing sent me this message this evening:

Hey I know you said it will take a while to get to my request, but I had a bad day and got diagnosed with Covid and really need a J2xteen!reader. It doesn’t have to have the reader diagnosed with Covid just J2 taking care of the reader, getting her fever down and calling her sweet nicknames. Thank you!❤️

So, needless to say, I got my butt in gear to try and give her some Jensen and Jared comfort. I hope this helps sweetie! Feel better soon! 😘

A/N 2: As always, this story is about a Jensen and Jared from a different part of the multiverse and doesn't reflect anything to do with their real life. This is a complete and utter work of fiction. 😊

Y/N wandered through her apartment door, exhausted beyond belief. Her body ached, she was sweaty and hot while also shivering. She was bundled up in a scarf and jacket even though the sun shone brightly and the breeze was light and warm. Her whole body ached from the tips of her toes to the top of her head.

Even her hair ached.

The day had been miserable from the first minute she'd been forced to crawl out of bed and go to work. She'd had every intention of staying tucked up in bed and had called in to say she couldn’t make it. But her boss had insisted. They were already short staffed, and they couldn't manage without her. At least that had been the gaslighting, guilt trip her boss had gone with.

And since technically she was an adult now, she figured forcing herself into work when she felt like death, just came with the territory. Though the way she saw it, if the word "teen" was still part of her age she shouldn’t have to be a grown up yet.

But she'd gone in. However, she was pretty sure the only thing she'd accomplished during her four hours at work was making all of her coworkers sick and spreading her plague throughout the population like she was Typhoid Mary. Between her coughing and shivering, she'd been useless and eventually her boss had very reluctantly sent her home.

So now she was back in her tiny apartment and ready to go pass out. She knew she should make herself eat something, and probably have a shower just to wash the ick away. But she just didn't have the energy.

As she stumbled her way to the bedroom, there was a knock at her door. She moaned pathetically and slowly hauled herself back there. She didn't bother to look and see who it was; maybe it would be someone there to shoot her and put her out of her misery.

But it was so much better.

Standing on the other side of the door were her two favorite people in the world. Her adopted big brothers, Jensen and Jared. Her aunt had worked in the props department for Supernatural from the very first season, and Y/N used to visit her there all the time.

She grew up hanging around the boys, who treated her like a little sister from day one, and that hadn’t changed just because the show ended. They teased and tormented her from time to time, sure, but they were also fiercely protective, the way big brothers should be.

When Y/N's boyfriend had broken up with her a week and before prom, she was heartbroken and had planned on just staying home. But Jared and Jensen wouldn't hear of it. Instead they arranged a limo for her and three of her closest friends and escorted the whole group of them to the dance.

While she and her friends had danced the night away, having an amazing time, the boys stood on the sidelines with most of the other adults all night, acting as incredible celebrity chaperones. Needless to say, Y/N was a big hit.

So, considering their track record for being there when she desperately needed them to be, it wasn't that surprising to see them standing outside her door with a bag full of snacks, delicious chicken soup from her favorite restaurant, and a bag full of medicine.

God, they’re amazing, she thought, as relief coursed through her.

Despite her protests that she was going to make them sick, they tramped into her tiny apartment, looking too big for the space as usual. Within minutes they had her out of her jacket and scarf and were pushing her into the bathroom.

Jared pulled a small Eucalyptus plant out of one of the bags and hung it in the shower, turning the taps on super hot, so that steam was rolling through the bathroom.

"Climb in, kiddo. And stay in there for at least 20 minutes. Sit down on the shower floor if you need to." He told her as a billow of steam followed him out the door.

She did what he said and twenty minutes later she was feeling a little better. Her chest didn't feel as constricted and heavy and her nose was a little less plugged. Plus the continuous, intense heat finally got rid of her inside chill.

When she went into her bedroom she saw that one of the boys had laid her comfiest, and fluffiest pair of pajamas on her bed and she pulled them on gratefully.

She went out to the living room and immediately sighed when she saw what they’d done. The glaring overhead light was off and her soft lamps and just a few candles lit up the room. They had peppermint tea sitting on the coffee table for her and a bevy of snacks were lined up beside it. They jumped to their feet as soon as she came in, and ushered her over to the couch.

Jensen pulled her down beside him, tucking her under his arm. He kissed the top of her head while Jared laid out the assortment of medicines they'd brought. She described all her symptoms and he picked out the ones he thought would work best and handed them out to her like her own private nurse. A very giant, very hairy, incredibly sweet, private nurse.

After she was medicated, Jensen picked up her remote and clicked on the tv before passing it to her.

“You get to pick, sweetheart.” He held up a finger. “But just remember that you love us and we’re here on an errand of mercy. So…maybe we can forgo Bridgerton?”

Y/N chuckled. “How about a space opera?”

Jensen raised a questioning eyebrow, but Jared clapped his hands together “Yes, bring on Luke, Leia and Han!”

So they slipped into a galaxy far, far away and Y/N watched for a while before falling into an exhausted doze. She roused a few times, coughing a little, but quickly fell back to sleep when her subconscious reminded her she was cozy and safe.

When the boys were halfway through The Empire Strikes Back, Y/N woke up for real. The boys paused the movie and brought her some of the warmed up chicken soup and another cup of peppermint tea. She sipped at the warm, steamy liquids and listened to the boys arguing over the best movie of the original trilogy. Jensen said Return of the Jedi, Jared said Empire Strikes Back, and she told them they were both wrong, and nothing beat the original. The debate was on.

But as they agreed to disagree and get back to the movie, she set down her tea and began to feel the shivery achy feeling return. Jensen noticed and pulled her up against him again, covering her with the fleecy blanket from the back of her couch.

Jared put his big hand on her forehead and frowned. “You’re really warm again.”

He pulled out the thermometer and put it under her tongue. When he checked it, his frown deepened. “A hundred and two. Shit.”

He gave her two Tylenols and then got a pile of cloths and a basin of cool water. He put a wet cloth on each of her wrists and then handed one to Jensen, taking yet another to begin bathing the bottom of her feet. Jensen had her lay her head in his lap and then slowly ran the cloth across her forehead and cheeks, as well as along the back of her neck.

For nearly a half an hour they continued, just soothingly running the cloths across her feverish skin and murmuring words of comfort. As the fever fell and her shaking stopped, she found herself dozing once again.

She woke as Jensen was carrying her to her bedroom. She opened her eyes and he smiled down at her.

“It’s okay, baby. We’re just gonna tuck you in. Your fever is under control now, but we’re gonna crash on the couch and keep checking on you through the night.”

Y/N just nodded as she saw Jared pulling back her covers. Jensen laid her down gently and smoothed back her hair from her forehead, before kissing her there. He held up her phone and then tucked it under her pillow.

“You text us immediately if you need anything and we’ll be here in a jiffy to get it for you, okay?”

Jared bent to kiss her forehead too and then scrunched up his nose. “Unless you gotta pee, in which case, there’s really nothing we can do to help.”

She laughed softly at his silliness.

“Thank you both, so much” She said as she yawned wide enough to swallow her own head.

The boys blew her a kiss and waved from her bedroom doorway.

“Just get better.” They said in unison.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@globetrotter28

@suckitands33

@alwaystiredandconfused

@evznackles

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@spnwoman

@deans-baby-momma

@luvr4miya

@arcannaa

@viviwatchestv

@winharry

@ladysparkles78

@waywardcheshire

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67

@slut-for-evans-stan

@sexyvixen7

@nancymcl

@hobby27

Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@k-slla

@leigh70

@eevvvaa

@kickingitwithkirk

@foxyjwls007

@notinthislife50

@roseblue373

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@avanatural

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@deangirl96

@stoneyggirl2

#jensen x teen!reader #jared x teen!reader #jensen x reader comfort fic #jared x reader comfort fic #request fic #jensen ackles fluff #jared padalecki fluff #jensen ackles #jared padalecki

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lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom · 9 months ago

Note

I’d love to request a fic with a female reader and a angsty/comfort storyline with the Bad Batch.

For a broad storyline I was thinking something by along the lines of a female reader joining the Bad Batch (per Hunter’s idea) and Crosshair and/or Echo not being very happy about it. However they eventually they come around to having another girl in the group.❤️

Winning Approval

Clone Force 99 x Platonic!Reader

Summary- You felt as if you were living a purpose-less life, so when Hunter asks you to join his crew, you say yes! Not everyone on the force is as happy though... Takes place during and after Season 1, Ep. 2.

A/N- Thank you so much for requesting! I appreciate it so much, but I think I'm done writing platonic xD. This was sooo hard for me to write. I love the challenge, but i'm not sure how great my platonic writing skills are!

Word Count- 1,454

Growing up, helping people seemed natural. You remember discovering this when your old friend Kaiya fell and scratched her knee. It was second nature to dress her wound and comfort her. You were nine at the time.

Your mother enrolled you in medical classes as much as she could, you learned how to set bones, stitch holes, and treat infections. Amongst many other skills.

The city you lived in was soon taken over by the empire, but you found a way out before it was too late. That's where you found yourself- living with Suu and her husband Cut. The two had taken you in when they found out your home had been destroyed.

It didn't hurt when you found out you and Suu's parents knew each other in their youth.

When you had stumbled onto Hunter- he and his crew had set off a trap you had set in the fields. Your gun raised at him was lowered by Cut, claiming he knew them.

Things blurred together since then, everything moved so fast. Having to relocate away from the empire again was not something you fashioned. You were tired of running, and expressed your concerns.

Hunter initially suggested dropping you off at the planet of your choice, (a repayment for taking care of one of Omegas wounds).

Crash landing on a moon wasn't on anyone's roster, but it happened nonetheless. It did, however, give yourself an opportunity to prove yourself to them.

You helped Tech repair a part of the hyper-drive, earning his favor.

You shared your rations with Wrecker, earning his approval.

You played and entertained with Omega, earning her and Hunters trust.

Last was Echo. You wanted him to like you, as you enjoyed everyone's company. They were so kind to you, and didn't pay any mind to flaws. They knew themselves that they were defective- what was one more defect?

Maybe you were in over your head, would they really accept you as a member of their squad? They just met you a week ago. For all they knew you were an Empire spy... You couldn't deny that you wanted to stay though. You felt like you belonged- finally.

When Echo still avoided you like the plague and the ship was ready to fly again, you felt like you had run out of time. You sulked around the ship for awhile, waiting for Hunter to ask where you wanted to be dropped off.

That was until you noticed- he hadn't asked you. It had been hours and he had said nothing about you leaving.

This made you crack, anxiety like ice through your veins.

"Hunter, I mean this in the least selfish way possible. But, why haven't you asked where I wanted to go yet? What planet?" You thought you messed up when his face fell. He looked dissapointed?

"Well, we were hoping you would want to stay. We were going to formally ask, but Wrecker and Omega are still making the poster." He rubbed the pack of his neck and chuckled a little bit. "Would you like to join us? If not, that's completely understandable. Just name the planet and we will be headed there." He stated, making sure you knew you had options.

"R-really? You guys want me to join you?" You wanted to smack your head at how cliche you sounded. Though, you didn't have time to think on it, as Hunter started talking again.

"We don't have an official medic. While Tech possesses all the knowledge needed, he doesn't have a, uh how do I put it? A steady hand when it comes to medical means." He reasoned.

"You are more than capable as we've seen, and between Wrecker and Omega we need a medic- bad." You smiled at this. You felt a purpose. Someone needed you! You would be able to help your squad and civilians you came across on any journey.

Before you could respond, Omega and Wrecker barreled through the mid-section of the ship. Omega held a small banner in her hand, and Wrecker a large sheet of paper. It was full of colorful pictures, drawn by the two.

Your heart warmed at the effort they put in, all to make you feel welcomed.

"How could I say no? You guys have been so perfect to me, and I want to help you guys as much as I can." You smiled up at Hunter, he patted you on the shoulder. His way of officially letting you on the squad.

After that day, things started to move more smoothly. Yeah, you had some bad run-ins, almost got captured a few times, and had many near-death experiences. But, you were with your family through it all. The only problem was Echo.

Maybe 'problem' wasn't too nice of a word. Echo never did anything wrong. He just, never seemed to like your company. You guessed he didn't have to like you, not everyone would. Because of this, you pushed back your guilty feelings surrounding him. That was until you over-heard a conversation between him and Hunter.

"Something feels off about her." Echo told Hunter. You couldn't see either of them, and didn't want to expose your position by moving.

"Yeah, and what's that?"

"I can't place it. I don't understand how everyone can just accept her, no questions asked." Echo sounded confused.

"She's shown us many times that she can handle herself. Plus, Omega needs another female on the ship.'' Hunter defended you, but still wanted to hear Echos concerns.

"She's not a clone. She doesn't think like us!" Ah, so that's why he's been so put-off by you. It was because you weren't a clone. You assumed he was so used to clones, that of course you were an odd piece in their clone family.

You slowly moved back to your sleeping cot. You sunk down slowly. It wasn't your fault, really. You can't control where or how you were born. Thoughts surrounded you. Was it that obvious? Were you that different from them?

As much as you wanted to pack your bags and not burden anyone else, you decided to talk to Echo first.

After landing on a planet to resupply, you asked to speak to Echo alone.

"Uh, sure." He replied, skeptical. You both exited the ship, though keeping close.

"Echo, I didn't really know how to bring this up. I figured I should just get straight to the point?" You asked, not wanting to waste his time.

He nodded, looking straight to you.

"I overheard you and Hunter talking last rotation..." You nervously picked at a nail. He still stared, not wavering.

"I can't help that i'm not a clone. I'm not sorry either, but I do want to know what I can do. To gain your trust." You dropped your hand, eager for his response.

He licked his lips, thinking. "I'm sorry you heard that..."

"Echo, I don't care. I just- I want to be a part of this family..." You mustered out. Now or never!

This surprised him, "What are you talking about. You already are!"

He seemed, mad? Was he really that disgusted by 'normal' humans?

"I can't help that i'm not a clone!" You regrettably yelled, throwing you arms up.

"That doesn't matter, everyone accepts you anyways!" His words were strained, like he didn't want anyone to know.

"Why don't you?" You whispered.

He sighed and took a step back. "When I first joined force 99, it wasn't as easy."

You couldn't imagine what he was referring to. You knew he was a regular clone before joining Hunter, but what did that have to do with anything?

After seeing your confused look, he continued. "I wasn't born a defective clone, I became one. It took a lot of time to understand how to use this. But you fit in so easily." He gestured to his mechanical arm.

"I had no idea you felt that way... I wasn't trying to mean anything-" He cut you off.

"I know, and really, we do need a medic. I was just being resentful, I'm sorry."

"I'm not trying to take anyone's place. The team wouldn't be the same without you. Besides, Omega adores you, and I think Hunter will do whatever it takes to keep her happy." You laughed, he luckily gave out a chuckle as well.

"Thanks. I think It'll just take some time to get used to the difference." He said, honestly.

"I get that, just let me know if there's anything I can do... Ya know, to speed things up?" You smiled up at him. It was then that you knew everything would be fine. That you really had found your family, and nothing could take you from them.

A/N- Thank you so much for reading! I am sorry if this isn't what you had in mind! Feel free to send in another request if you would like a more specific plot! Again, sorry that my platonic writing skills aren't that sharp! Tags- (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss

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heartthrobin · 2 years ago

Text

then brush my nights with black stained palms (2)

mechanic!eddie munson x farmgirl!reader

wc: 5.1k

warnings: reader is a (little) bit less of a meanie, swearing, dirty sweaty eddie, desperate mutual pining, cowboy being a dramatic baby, nauseating amounts of fluff

an: sorry this is late :(( uni is eating me alive i but here it is !!! i tagged everyone (i hope) that asked, let me know if you want to be added to the taglist. love y’all <333

summary: the grease-head was beginning to crowd the space between each of your thoughts. it wasn’t helped by the fact that he was insistent on melting you against the hot soil with those warm eyes and smooth mouth, also that your boyfriend seemed to adore him.

part one & part three

The next few days passed very much the same.

Eddie would arrive by midday, disappear into the barn - he didn't need navigating again after the first afternoon - and you only really knew he had arrived if you heard his pick-up or when you noticed Cowboy.

Cowboy had taken to lingering by the door of the barn, his front half stuck in the shade while his ass shone in the sunlight, tail wagging amusingly. He would sit and watch Eddie work for hours.

You couldn't say you blamed him.

Around three o' clock, you'd slip out from whatever chores you'd been jammed between to creep into the coolness of the kitchen and rummage around for different sandwich combinations.

Then you'd cross the yard, glasses and plates in hand, step carefully over the almost hundred-and-fifty pound dog before falling down against one of the crates.

Eddie would talk animatedly, and you'd pretend you weren't watching the way his hands scratched at his neck or he licked at the sauce around his mouth.

It took at least couple afternoons, but he'd managed to coerce your name out of you.

You thought about it often. How he'd repeated it back to you, sighing around your name like a song or a refreshing sip of iced-tea and how it made your vital organs liquify.

Eddie was standing now, a piece of salami plucked from between his sandwich and holding it high over his head.

"Sit."

Cowboy stood at his feet, nose level with the man's chest, and blinked happily up at him - tail waggling viciously - but showing no signs of dropping his bum to the floor.

You watched from where you were perched against what had become your usual seat on the crate near the left wall.

Eddie gave the dog a stern look, "Come on, big boy. We practiced this, sit."

The grin on your face was practically criminal.

Cowboy didn't seem the slightest bit confused, seemingly convinced this was the game for the afternoon.

"Listen," Eddie’s head lifted to meet your eye, looking sheepish. "He was doing it fine before you came in, he had the hang of it."

A giggle couldn't help itself when it escaped you loudly.

"Is this what my old man pays you for?"

Eddie rolled his eyes, flashing a embarrassed smile at you. "Whatever. I was just trying to help."

He tossed the piece of salami at Cowboy, who caught it mid-air.

The dog was chomping loudly, clearly pleased with himself, when you whistled lowly.

Cowboy paused his chewing to look back at you.

"Cowboy, sit."

The ninety pound bum hit the floor with a loud thud.

It was almost as loud as the sound of Eddie's jaw hitting the floor beside it.

"That's—" he was pointing at you, eyes wide in awe. "You let me stand here for fifteen minutes and make a fool of myself."

Your head was thrown back in laughter, motioning to the dog who was panting happily: eyes darting between Eddie and yourself. "Not me, him."

The grin that curled into the side of his mouth made you think he wasn't really so bothered.

"You're both conspiring against me."

"Oh, definitely." You went to stand, gathering up the plates and glasses. "Now that I'm done making your life hell, I should get back to my day job."

The barn door creaked loudly when you swung it open for the sixth time that week, ready to leave and have the greasy mechanic plague your mind until the next afternoon.

"W-Wait," his voice held an edge of apprehension. You glanced back at him over your shoulder.

"Mhm?"

His black-smudged, ring-clad hands fidgeted with the dirty rag that hung from his back pocket.

"What work you gotta do now?"

You surveyed him, eyebrows tilting in confusion. "Gonna go into town, pick up some groceries. Apparently there's some grease monkey cleaning out our fridge."

"Madeline’s?"

"That's the one."

Eddie shifted from one foot onto the other. "That's a long way out. Thirty minutes back into town."

"Indeed." You turned to begin walking again, but he stopped you again: this time he jogged up behind you.

It took a sharp turn on your heel to realise he was much closer than before - arguably too close because you could smell the grease and aftershave floating off of him.

"I could give you a ride? I'm almost done here."

Your brow pinched. "And how will I get back here?"

Eddie shrugged. "I'll bring you back, a'course."

“That’s over an hour out of your way?”

“It’s not too bad.”

“No, Eddie. I really don’t need your help, I can—“

“I really insist.”

There was a long quiet moment.

His eyes brushed a soft finger over the apple of your cheek. You huffed.

“Fine.”

The truck rumbled beneath Eddie. His fingers trembled against the steering wheel.

That afternoon before he left, Jacob had taken the truck to run some rounds for Carl and spilt half a carton of milk over the backseat.

Eddie had cursed his name when he’d gotten into the car earlier, forced to have all the windows open for the smell - letting in dust and bugs - but found that right then he would kiss Jacob on his fucking forehead given the next opportunity.

The wind flying in through the car was whipping at your face and you’d shut your eyes to feel it’s warmth. You looked like something out of a wet dream with the sun painting the arm you’d stuck out the open window and the side view of your face he was suddenly privy to: how your nose curved against the backdrop of brown Tennessee.

The drive was long, as long as Eddie knew it would be, but you made surprisingly light conversation. The radio hummed and Cowboy panted loudly in the backseat, clearly the second most impressed individual in the car about the open windows.

When they passed the auto-body shop, it was close to closed. You mentioned some Chinese restaurant that used to exist there. You also told him about the flower festival the town hosted annually.

Sooner than he would’ve liked, Madeline’s came into view. He pulled into park.

Nobody in the parking lot turned a head when the giant hound leapt from the back, clearly Cowboy frequented your trips to the grocer, but Eddie himself was catching strange glances.

He squinted, noticing how you’d fallen into quicker step towards the doors. Jogging to catch up, he leaned down closer by your ear: “Why is everyone looking at me funny?”

Your eyes raked the parking lot once, the doors of the market slid open.

“I told you Greenie, you’re a greenie.” You pulled a cart out from a lineup, “People don’t know you. New faces are always interesting.”

An elderly woman was smirking at him from where she was checking out, she wiggled her fingers at him in a wave.

Eddie offered a confused half-attempt at a smile in return.

“Hey, off!”

He turned back to find Cowboy with his paws leaning up against the cart, it teetered dangerously to one side. You swatted at his paw. He dropped his paws reluctantly back to the ground, grumbling quietly.

“Drama queen.” You mumbled.

Eddie squinted at you, considerably amused with the interaction.

You sighed, beginning to push the cart.

“When he was smaller I used to let him sit in the cart. It was wrong of me I guess, cause now every time we come he wants to climb inside.”

Cowboy trailed behind with a miserable look on his long face, Eddie got the impression he knew he was being spoken about.

He patted him on the head consolingly, but the dog only huffed at him.

The store was busy. Every second person they passed greeted you, you’d smile and offer a polite good afternoon.

Some prompted longer conversation: like the middle aged clerk stacking cans of tuna on the shelf.

Her eyebrows shot into her hairline when she noticed Eddie.

“Well, good afternoon sweetpea,” the woman’s voice was light, friendly - as a store clerk’s would be - and she ran a familiar eye over your figure.

“Good afternoon Mrs Washington.”

Her gaze turned back to Eddie, where he was lingering just close behind you. He wondered maybe to a passer-byer if he looked like your boyfriend. He wondered more whether you would mind that. You probably would.

“And who’s your handsome ... friend?”

You looked over your right shoulder to find Eddie, you took a step to the side chuckling awkwardly.

So she does mind.

“He’s a mech from Mr Carl’s, helping my dad out with the Cobra.”

“Aha. Is that why you’re shopping for—“ she peeked into the cart, “—milk together?”

You laughed lightly again, nervously. Eddie was pleased to find that this was the first time he’d ever seen you look nervous. He had a fleeting urge to take your hand into his.

Instead, he stuck his hand out to the woman. “I’m Eddie.”

“Nice to meet you Eddie. I’m Janet.”

Cowboy nudged at his knee, whining loudly.

You took it as a cue to interject again. “Well, Mrs Washington, it was good to see you.”

The cart was being pushed again down the aisle before the woman had chance to respond. Eddie found himself chasing your heels again.

He noticed your red cheeks, how you were quieter as you created distance down the aisle from the woman that had just stopped you.

You paused by the bread. Eyes raking over the selection as Cowboy sniffed at an open packet near the bottom-most shelf.

Picking up a orange packet, you offered it to him. “You like sweet-potato loaf?”

He hesitated, “Uhm … I’ve never—“

“If you don’t like it, we can get something else.” You turned back, beginning to list off other types. “There’s regular brown, sour-dough, ciabatta…”

Eddie could feel the birds returning to fly in circles over his head again, feel his chest turn static.

Here you were in the middle of the store, trying to choose breads that he would like for the sandwiches you so thoughtfully made him every day.

It was just about the most endearing thing you’d done yet, and he was tempted to tease you about it. Watch your face redden at his words.

But he also knew you would suck up and shut on him like a clam. That acting like you didn’t hate him would be the most embarrassing thing you could possibly do.

“Eddie?”

Your voice drew him back to the aisle. Imploring eyes blinked up at him, you held a plain brown loaf.

“Which one?”

“Uh— oh, I’d like to taste the sweet-potato … it sounds good.”

You nodded slowly, watching him with a notably high level of skepticism. Maybe you could see the little birds too.

Passing through the cold meats, he watched you pick up salami and pastrami and ham and chicken loaf, each time motioning over your shoulder: do you like this?

He nodded each time.

It was just after the baking supplies, you were gleaming up at a shelf lined with different boxes of chocolate, when your name washed over him from further down the row.

Eddie turned as if it were his own.

There were two people, a guy and a girl. He could tell in their faces they had to be siblings.

The girl’s braids hung long past the back of her knee and the guy had a fish-shaped birth mark over his eyebrow.

You turned, Eddie had never seen your face light up so quickly.

Leaping into the girl’s arms, your laugh echoed off the shelves. It warmed the pit of Eddie’s stomach.

“Oh my god!”

You hugged the man next, Eddie’s eyes narrowed over where his hand lingered on your lower back.

Pulling back you were still smiling.

“When did you guys get back?” You asked, grabbing Cowboy by the collar as he licked at the man’s knee.

“Just last week. It’s been a crazy semester …” her smile was white as Eddie had ever seen. “How’s … how’s the farm?”

Maybe if Eddie didn’t spend every free second he had with you studying the tugs and twists of your face, maybe he wouldn’t have noticed how the curl at the edge of your eye vanished and your lips sunk at the ends.

“Oh— it’s, it’s fine. Same as usual.”

The boy chuckled. Eddie wished he wouldn’t.

You looked back at Eddie, suddenly realising he still existed.

“I-I’m being so rude,” your voice shivered. “Eddie, these are the twins. Caleb and Imani.”

The man stuck his hand out, “Pleasure.”

Eddie took it. He shook hers too.

“So where you guys coming in from?” He made an effort on conversation.

“It’s summer break, we drove in from college last week. University of Alabama.” She beamed, nudging her brother. “Go Elephants!”

“Oh, nice.”

“We used to go to school together,” Imani motioned over to you. You seemed to busy yourself with a Cadbury box, looking up briefly to nod. “But you are definitely a newcomer.”

Eddie laughed shortly, “That’s what they keep telling me.”

“Dating a newbie, that’s a shocker for you, huh?” She nudged you in the ribs, you choked around nothing. “Not very adventurous, this one—“

“I’m—“

“We’re not—“

You coughed, “we’re not dating. Eddie is helping my dad with the Cobra.”

Caleb looked uncomfortable. Imani looked amused. Eddie felt like he was gonna be sick.

Cowboy had taken a firm seat at your side, watching warily up at the two people.

“Ah, that makes more sense.” She chuckled, “You’re not much of a dater anyway. I remember in high school, you used to stay as far away as physically possible from those poor boys—“

“It’s getting late, I think.” Caleb strung together the first words Eddie had heard since they came over to ruin his mood. “Maybe we should head home, but it was good seeing you … a-and meeting you.”

“Definitely, I’ll see you guys around.” Your knuckles whitened over the cart handle.

Caleb was practically ushering Imani away. “We’ll see you guys around!”

For a moment, you and Eddie just stood. You watched their retreating figures.

“That was completely charming.” Eddie tone was crumpled around the edges. Unimpressed.

The tightness in his grimace loosened lightly when he noticed your expression. You looked more dejected than he’d ever seen you.

“They’re my …” your voice was soft, like you were talking to yourself. “Well, they used to be my friends.”

Eddie huffed.

“No offence, but your friends are pretty rude.”

Cowboy pressed his nose into your hip. It seemed to dislodge you from your hazy state.

You looked back, down into the cart.

“Looks like I’ve got everything I came for.” The wheels squeaked as you began pushing it again. “Let’s get out of here.”

At the counters, the lines were short. Beyond the glass front of the store, Eddie could tell that the sun was minutes from dipping behind the post office in the distance.

The sign against the wall reminded him that the shop was closing in a half hour.

“Hey!”

“Oh, hey Aimee.” Your voice was lighter again, friendlier.

Eddie could feel eyes on him, not for the first time since leaving the car.

He looked up to meet the sparkling blue eyes of the cashier.

She had to be the same age as you, blond hair pinned up in a neat bun and a cross necklace hanging low down her neck.

“Eddie, this is Aimee.” You motioned over to him for what felt like the tenth time since he’d entered the store. “Aimee and I went to school together.”

Is every grocery visit a walk down fucking memory lane like this one?

He nodded kindly. “Hi.”

She blinked her thick painted lashes at him. “Hey. I like your hair.”

Your hand stilled over where it was packing a carton of milk into a bag. Eddie felt your gaze.

The compliment flattered him.

“Thanks.” His hand came up bashfully to pat over the hair on his head. “It’s a lot of work.”

The girl leaned over the counter, closer to him. “Well I’m in hairdressing school at the moment, I’d love to get my fingers in there if you’re ever interested?”

Eddie rubbed his jaw where he’d forgotten to shave that morning. “Ha, yeah. Maybe sometime.”

“I hate to interrupt.” Your lip was twisted at the edge in a way that Eddie hoped he wasn’t misreading. “How much do I owe?”

Aimee cleared her throat, sitting back and offering you a only slightly irritated side glance as she took the bills out your hand.

“Thanks.” You lifted your bags. “It was good seeing you.”

Aimee nodded. “Yeah, of course. And I hope I’ll see you around Eddie?”

He turned to nod over his shoulder. “Sure, yeah.”

The parking lot was busy. Last of the late-comers leaving the store, you traipsed ahead - surprisingly quietly - and Cowboy trotted happily by Eddie’s side: a grocery bag swinging from around his neck.

The hound took no prompting at the door opened for him and leapt in, you cooed at him from where you’d already managed your way into the front seat.

Eddie’s hands found the steering wheel again. The truck rumbled to life.

“Jesus, you know a lot of people.”

You managed a laugh. “Every day feels like a ten year reunion.”

His palms rubbed slowly over the leather. His eyes peered periodically over at you.

Beyond your figure, out the window: sun had long began to set behind Tennessee. The sky had turned a violent shade of dark purple.

It was quiet in the car. Your eyes stayed out against the road, the corner of your lip tormented by your canines.

“You okay?” He asked quietly.

You nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

Eddie nodded back.

“So,” his hand came up to ruffle the side of his hair, desperate to revive your playful nature. “you think I should do something with the mane? Dye it maybe?”

Your shoulders eased. Your face turned to meet his. You were smiling.

“Maybe you should shave it.” Your knee came up to your chest, settling against the seat. “Aimee could help you, she’s just dying to get her fingers all over you.”

Eddie laughed, head meeting the back of the seat. Cowboy yapped behind him.

“Sounds like someone’s jealous.”

You scoffed loudly. “Please. She is welcome to get her fingers into that grease-trap on top of your head any day of the week and I will sleep just fine.”

Eddie gasped dramatically, “Grease-trap? Now that’s taking it too far, farm girl. This head of hair is nothing less than a work of art.”

“Farm girl—?”

“But I’ll let it slide, because I know it’s coming from a place of jealousy.”

Maybe it was the reflection of the blinking indicator on the dash, but he could swear your cheeks had turned a flashy pink.

“Only in your wildest dreams.” It sounded half-hearted.

You reached for the volume on the radio. Stevie Nicks hummed in the space between the two seats.

To the gypsy that remains. She faces freedom with a little fear.

The entrance to the farm driveway came into view in the darkness.

“You close to done with the Cobra?”

Eddie’s heart sank like into his stomach.

“Oh … uhm, not really. Should be a couple more days at least.”

That was a fib.

More than a fib, it was a lie.

Honestly, the Cobra was only a couple hours from completely road ready.

Eddie had begun tinkering in places that didn’t necessarily need tinkering purely because he was scared that the day he finishes that fucking car that he’ll leave the farm down Jasmine road and you will never darken his door step ever again.

Maybe he’ll catch you in Madeline’s and he’ll remember you picking out breads that he liked. You’ll greet him just as offhandedly, as politely and conversationally as you’d done all the others in the store.

He’d go home and fawn over the thought of you, just like he would tonight, but then there would be no solace of sandwiches and lemonade in a hot barn in the morning.

“Jesus, don’t look so disturbed.” You broke through his whirling thoughts, the light flutter of a laugh behind your words brought his mind to a standstill. “It’s just a car. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

He hadn’t even realised that the car had stopped. He’d parked in front of the porch and you’d already gathered the bags in your hands - hanging another around Cowboy’s neck.

“I’m not…“ he stuttered, quickly trying to re-grasp reality and maybe a bag or two to help carry. “Let me help—“

You swatted his hand away.

“Eddie. We’re fine.” But you were smiling.

“You sure?”

“Don’t undermine my decision-making ability.”

He sunk back into his chair, shaking with soft laughter: hands up in surrender. “Fine.”

Both doors swung open. Cowboy bounded towards the house.

You leaned over the open window. “Thanks. For taking us, you were useful. And good company.”

The earnest in your voice made his ears ring.

He tilted his head, maybe if he had a cowboy hat like yours he would have tipped it: “anytime, doll.”

You turned back to the house, boots thudding against the dust.

“Hey!” He called after you, leaning over the passenger-side.

You turned, silhouette against the porch light. “What?”

“You really think I should shave my head?”

Eddie knew you could make out his smirk even across the way by how you matched his - although yours was hidden under a veil of pretending to look unamused.

“No. I was joking.”

He nodded, pressing his luck.

“So you think it’s hot then?”

There was a short, curt laugh and you turned without another word to jump up the three steps onto the porch.

Eddie watched your figure retreat into the house before twisting the key in the ignition, reversing out and into the night.

It was on the tail end of breakfast the next morning, crumbs littering the plates, that the phone rang.

Daddy sighed. Setting down his mug, he leaned back in his chair to where the phone was perched against the wall.

“G’morning?”

You were less than interested, only mildly annoyed by the loud interruption so early in the morning. Honey dripped around the sides of your mouth, the toast set down for a sip of coffee.

“Ah, hello son. What can I do you for?”

Son. A young man. Daddy called them all like like that.

You briefly wondered who it might be.

Outside the sun had just spilled over into the sky, Bullseye sat watching it at the edge of the porch.

“That’s no problem. Yeah. You have a good day now.”

The phone clicked back against the receiver. Your dad picked up the mug again. You stabbed at a piece of sausage.

“Who was it?”

“It was Eddie.”

Your head flew up from the plate. Daddy seemed not to notice.

“Eddie? What did he say?”

Did that come off too interested?

“He said that he won’t be working on the car this week, Carl’s asked him to do some extra shifts at the shop.”

“Oh.”

You looked down at your plate, then over at the window, then to where Cowboy’s tail was wagging from somewhere under the table. Then only briefly back to daddy, then the plate again.

You’d hardly slept the last night. The little adventure to Madeline’s replayed like an over-pixelated movie in your brain.

Eddie. Mrs Washington. Bread. Chocolate. Imani and Caleb. Aimee. Eddie.

The car ride home. Fleetwood Mac on the radio.

You thought about how you’d like to do it again, only because he was there. It made facing the changing lives of everybody except your own a little easier to bear.

There was a moment you almost reached for his hand, to walk down the aisles like that. To have Mrs Washington beam at you as she did, but this time when she stuck her nose in your business: “and who is your handsome friend?”

Maybe you could say, “oh, Mrs Washington, this isn’t my friend he’s my—“

“He’s a good boy.”

The thought was sucked through the mouth of a vacuum straight from your head.

“Huh?”

“Eddie.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m sure.” You nodded, still distracted, but you could feel the old man gauging your reaction across the kitchen table.

“I hope you’re not giving him a hard time.”

You had the nerve to guffaw around the mouthful of toast you’d taken in just to look busy. “Me? Giving him a hard time?” It was muffled.

Daddy chuckled, leaning back in his chair looking amused. “Don’t play semantics with me young lady. I know how you dislike these fellas from Carl’s shop.”

You huffed, trying to cover up a hum. Maybe you liked this one more than you should.

“I don’t give him a hard time, daddy. Besides, even if I was, he's a big boy. He can look after himself.”

Still his eyes lingered suspiciously over your face. You avoided them.

“Right. Fine.” The chair scratched loudly against the hardwood floor. It seemed the topic has been abandoned. “I want you to hose down the shed and give it a fresh paint. There’s still some tubs of paint in the barn behind the Cobra, you can choose the colour you like.”

He rounded the table to press a warm peck against your forehead and picked his hat up from it’s spot on the hanger.

“Don’t get up to any trouble, Cherry.”

“No promises.”

The door shut behind him.

It was more than a week before you saw Eddie again.

The first couple days you’d still hang around close by the farmhouse just after eleven, hoping that maybe you'd hear the rumble and find his truck meandering down the road like a white beetle.

You wondered whether he thought about you as much as you did him. You determined the thought to be improbable.

His insistence on taking up perfectly useful space in your brain made you more adamant to find ways to distract yourself.

By the fourth or fifth day, you’d stopped craning your head over your shoulder in the afternoons to find the driveway empty again.

Instead you busied yourself with work as far out from the driveway as you could manage. Repotting plants, cleaning out sheds, tightening screws on old shovels, trying to teach Cowboy to roll over.

It was a Thursday afternoon, late: just before six, when you bumped the back door open with your shoulder and sauntered into the kitchen - a nosy Cowboy lingering at your heels.

You tossed your hat against the counter and made a beeline to the fridge.

Behind you, Daddy emerged from the stairwell.

“Hey,” he neared you, ruffling the top of your head. You ducked out from under his grip, chin dropping in juice from the nectarine you’d dug out from the bottom-most shelf of the fridge. “Don’t ruin your appetite. We’re about to eat dinner.”

You’d stormed in so quickly that you hadn’t noticed the oven ticking, or the sweet scent of cooking chicken roasting in it’s depths.

“Mm, smells good.”

“Damn right it does. Been marinating that bird the last two days.” He ran the water from the tap into a glass, taking a long sip. “Set the table, will ya?”

You nodded, wiping the remnants of the juice around your mouth and tossing the nectarine pip out the back window into the vegetable patch.

The cupboard door squeaked where the plates were kept. You slid out the two at the top of the pile.

“Set for four, Cherry.”

Your hands stilled over the plates.

“Four?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Why?”

“We’re having guests.”

You watched him skeptically, bringing the four plates down onto the wooden kitchen table with a soft thud. He didn’t seem half as perturbed.

Guests weren’t uncommon, but Daddy usually mentioned them at a moment earlier than right before dinner.

“Who?”

Daddy opened the oven door, squinting against the heat to examine the food sweltering within. He nodded quietly to himself, seemingly pleased.

He looked back up to you. “Carl Abernathy will be joining us. And I told him to bring that Eddie along with him.”

The cutlery you’d just counted out from the drawer wobbled in your grip. Your stomach gave a hard lurch.

“W-What? Why?”

“Full of questions aren’t ya?”

“Daddy.”

He sighed, taking a long aggravating pause before speaking again.

“I invited them to say thank you. Carl’s been a man down this last week and that poor boy’s been working in that barn day in, day out. I thought it was only right to invite them for dinner.”

Your mouth hung like the latch had broken.

“And I want you on your best behavior, miss. You’ll treat that boy nice, y’hear?”

You scoffed, gulping for air like a fish: “I don’t … I’m not— what time are they coming?”

The quiet evening air out past the porch was pierced by a low rumbling. An engine.

“That should be them.” Daddy leaned over the sink, humming in conformation as the white truck pulled up. “Yep …”

Your mouth felt dry. Your legs itched, itched to dive up the stairs - run a brush through your hair, maybe wipe the dust off your cheeks with a damp cloth.

The socks in your shoes squelched. You looked down to your boots: caked in mud. Your jeans had a hole down by the ankle—

Stop.

Outside a car door slammed closed.

It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.

Eddie was just some sideshow mechanic with looks maybe slightly better than the average of his kind that usually strolled onto the farm … but he’s just the same in all the other ways.

He was too flirty for his own good and had preposterously inflated sense of self. Eddie was probably just trying his luck, looking for a fun piece to play with while he was in town. They all did that.

The front door protested against the hinges as it leaned open.

And then he’d probably leave again. Jump town over to the next and find another partially innocent and delusional enough playmate to waste his time on. Well, while he was here: in your town, you’d be damned if you let him mess around with you—

“Hey doll.”

But there he was. Silhouette glowing in the light of the doorway. The sound of his voice eased where your shoulders had grown tense.

You had to work to suppress how relieved you felt at the cadence behind his favourite little nickname.

“Oh no. You again?”

He chuckled softly. “Oh no, me again.”

taglist:

@corrodedcoffincumslut @akiratoro420 @pricelessemotion @chloe-6123 @tiny-bird-of-sunshine @allthefandomstogetheratlast @wyverntatty @munsster @jokersgrf @anicosa-ironlung @sleepy-bunnie @pricelessemotion @sweetgladiatorfesival @eggo-segual @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @introvertedmouse @ctrlaltdel3te @multifandom-l0ver @inarinine @sillysteveharharhar @buckystwilight @hey-lucille

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #mechanic!eddie #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction

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baek-at-it-again95 · 2 years ago

Text

Deja Vu (Spiderman! Yunho x reader)

Synopsis: It had been three weeks since you saw him. The masked stranger that seemed to appear out of nowhere, protecting your city from crime. The people of the town call him Spiderman, and he has plagued your mind day and night since he saved you.

Warnings: violence, very brief mention of a near death experience, sort of suggestive but not really, I do not know anything about chemistry so please forgive me

Concepts: best friend yunho x reader, ex choi san, angst, fluff, romance, comfort

A/N: hello beautiful atinys! A lovely friend of mine had this genius idea that I had to bring to life. we were totally not inspired by a tiktok edit. It has very similar plot points to the original spiderman movies. I hope you enjoy! <3

"But...who do you think he is?" you ask your best friend, Yunho. He holds the door open for you as you leave your chemistry class together.

"Who knows...but you worry about Spiderman more than you worry about yourself these days, Y/N."

"What can I do?" you ask, throwing your hands up haphazardly. "I almost died falling off a building. That's kind of traumatic, Yunho. Might as well talk about the guy who save me." He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"I understand. Stay out of trouble, will you? I worry about you being out and about on your own. Hell, I worry something's happened to you when you don't respond to my texts within a five minute window."

"Clingy much?" you tease, knowing how much of an overthinker your best friend is.

"N-not in like a weird way!" Yunho sputters, dragging a hand down his face in embarrassment. "You're my best friend, Y/N. It's my job to be worried about you. Besides...who else am I going to study chemistry with?" He shoots you his usually goofy grin and you laugh.

"Not me, you know I hate this class!"

"Oh come on, you're the only person that will listen to me talk about it."

"I guess that's my job in this friendship." You shrug. "I will say, it's just so sexy the way you talk about ionic compounds. I can never stop listening." You snort.

"Good to know," he retorts, grabbing your backpack to keep you from running into people on the way to your next class. "Study at the usual spot tonight?" he asks.

You laugh. "I'll be there, sexy."

***

The past few weeks after the incident have been rocky for you, and since you made it halfway through this week without any issue, it gave you a false sense of hope that things could be back to normal.

But no. As if your night couldn't get any worse...

About thirty minutes ago, your boyfriend, Choi San, told you that he wants to take a break from the relationship. You know your relationship has been strained recently, but you thought that it would just pass with time. Maybe it's for the better, but for now, your emotions are still high. Oh, and you found out that you bombed your chem test earlier today. And as if that wasn't terrible enough, the icing on the cake was that it had started pouring on your walk home.

At least no one can see my tears in the rain, you think to yourself, head down as you walk to your dorm.

"Y/N?"

You sniff, quickly wiping at your face on instinct. When you look up, you come face to face with Jeong Yunho. You muster up the best smile you can to greet him, praying he doesn't ask any questions. If you have to answer anything about your miserable day, you'll surely crack and start crying even harder. "Hey Yuyu." His eyebrows crease with worry, and you think he might have caught on to something.

"You're going to get sick out here," he comments.

You breathe a small sigh of relief. "No worries. I'm almost home, anyways. No use in calling for a taxi. But...what are you doing out, Yunho?"

"Oh, well I...um...I accidentally fell asleep at the library."

"Again?" you ask.

"Again," he confirms, hands in his pockets and eyes on his feet.

"Well, let's get home quickly. God, I can't wait to be out of these clothes," you groan, the wet fabric sticking to every part of you and making you uncomfortable. You just barely catch the soft pink of Yunho's cheeks in the low light of the street lamps. "Look, you're already getting sick. Go, hurry home," you push, shooing him away.

"I'm going, I'm going. Goodnight, Y/N."

"Night, Yuyu."

You continue on in the direction of your dorm, eyes on the ground as you make a sad attempt not to splash in deep puddles. The walk seems to drag on longer than usual as you're left alone again with your thoughts.

"Hey!" A voice rings immediately after you turn the corner. It sounded like it came from across the street. You don't stop, just turn to glance at what's going on. That's when you see about four men, dressed in black, walking towards you. You quicken your pace, heart beating rapidly in your chest as you hear the men moving closer. You turn down an alley in hopes of losing them, but they're too fast.

"Hey sweetheart, give us your bag and we'll leave you alone."

"Wait!" you call out. Your thoughts run at a million miles per hour, trying to process the entire situation that occurred in what felt like seconds.

"Or not." Another one chimes in, laughing. You barely have time to process anything as one of them pushes you, shoving the side of your body into the wall. You cry out, closing your eyes and bracing yourself for another hit.

But after a moment, nothing comes.

You hear some shuffling and some shouts in front of you. Lowering your hands from their protective position in front of your face, you open your eyes, seeing one of the men running away. What is happening? As he runs, a force pulls him back quickly. He's pulled by...a rope? No, a web. Spiderman appears right before your eyes, kicking the man to the ground. The criminal scoots back, turning and running away in the direction he and the others came. Spiderman then quickly disappears around the corner.

When you turn to leave, he's right in front of you, hanging upside down from a web. A small gasp escapes your lips.

"You seem to be a danger magnet," he comments.

"It seems so. I suppose you're dangerous, then?"

"No, quite the opposite." You smile.

"There must be some way to thank you," you wonder aloud, taking a step closer. You bring your hands to his face, hesitating as your fingertips touch the hem of his mask.

"Wait," he starts. But he doesn't say anything more. You gently pull the mask up until it stops just over his nose.

"Thank you." You gently bring your lips to his. The kiss is slow and passionate, so lovely that you don't want it to end. But that would be against your better judgement. It's getting late, and he must have other things to attend to. You pull away just slightly, slowly pulling the mask back over his face. And with that, he shoots a web and swings up into the air, gone as quickly as he came.

***

"Y/N."

"Mm."

"Y/N," Yunho repeats, waving a hand in front of your face. "Are you okay?"

"I had possibly the worst night ever last night. So, no, not really," you reply curtly.

"What happened?"

"Where do I even begin? Oh, for starters, San and I are taking a break," you huff, continuing before he can insert his words of pity. "Which is basically inescapable relationship purgatory. Then I found out I bombed our chem test, got poured on, and after running into you, I almost got jumped." You choose to withhold the information about Spiderman, still trying to wrap your head around your interaction with him.

"Y/N, that's awful," he replies, concern etched on every inch of his face.

"Yeah, it was, Yunho."

"Are you sure you're alright enough to be at school right now?"

"Yep. I pay for this school, so it makes me feel better when I come to class, even if I don't pay attention. Plus, it's Friday. I can push through until the weekend." He looks like he has more to say, but he just nods.

"Do you want to stay at my place tonight?" he asks suddenly. You look at him curiously. Sure, you've been to your best friend's apartment, but only to study or to pick up something before heading out somewhere. You've never stayed the night. "N-not like, I mean...we can just hang. Maybe it will help you take your mind off things. And you'll be safe," he adds.

"A sleepover? With my bestie? How could I say no?" Yunho smiles his adorable smile in response, and you can't help but think about how sweet he is. You haven't exactly returned his kindness lately with everything going on, and maybe you can talk to him about it at his place...at least give him some sort of apology.

***

"That's so you!" says Yunho, pointing at a character in the movie he put on.

"Absolutely not!" you exclaim, throwing a piece of popcorn at him.

"Ah, not nice!" he laughs, grabbing your wrist. Your smile falters and he lets go as soon as he notices. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" he asks worriedly.

"No, no, it's okay. I just...I remembered I needed to talk to you about something." He tilts his head, looking at you like an innocent puppy.

"Oh, what is it?" His tone is soft, with maybe a hint of nervousness.

"I just...I've been so in my head recently that I feel like I haven't been involved with you. All the time, you check on my wellbeing, and I forget to check on yours. I mean, when was the last time I asked how your life was going? You offer me nothing but kindness, and I have not returned it to you. And I'm really sorry, Yunho."

"Y/N, it's not like that," he assures gently. "I understand that you've been through a lot of stressful things recently. It's only human that you would react negatively to these stressors. I just want you to know that I'm here for you. No one is perfect, and no one's life is absent of hardships. People need guidance; they need care. People need stability in a time when their life is thrown off balance. Just know that I will be that stability for you, Y/N."

"Yunho—" you choke out, the all-too-familiar burning sensation in your throat as you fight back tears.

"Oh, don't cry." He glances around nervously, not really sure how to comfort you.

You laugh through your tears. "I just...what did I do to deserve you?" You practically knock him over as you crash your lips onto his, relaxing into his arms. Your kiss slow and passionate; warm and comforting. It's blissful, and it seems...oddly familiar. But you've never kissed your best friend before. Maybe in a dream? Your ex surely didn't kiss like this. You gently pull away from him, eyebrows scrunched.

"What?" Yunho asks, scanning your face.

"I just...got deja vu," you mumble.

"Strange." Yunho shrugs, pulling you back into a kiss. You push away again and giggle as he tries to chase your lips. The familiar feeling is still present. The only person you've kissed like this is....

The thought that pops into your head seems so unbelievable, so embarrassing that you don't dare give too much away in fear of being wrong.

"You're...him?" you whisper.

"Who?" he asks with big eyes, a smile tugging at his lips.

"You know who!"

"No, I don't know what you're talking about, Y/N." It feels as if he's teasing you. You groan out of frustration, not wanting to be wrong about such an outlandish idea. Yunho suddenly tenses a bit, setting you gently on the couch as he gets up.

"Well...perfect timing. Something's going on downtown," he says, disappearing into his room. You watch with a confused look until he emerges, clad in the familiar blue and red suit, mask in hand. Even though you had just made the connection...it didn't seem real. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch him.

"You just told me you knew. Why are you all shocked?" he asks.

"I didn't know I was right," you manage. Your nerdy best friend? A superhero that fights crime? Unbelievable. Yunho slides a window open before he looks back to you.

"I'll be back in a few, okay?" You nod, coming over to him.

"Okay. Be safe." You peck his lips before he puts on his mask, climbing out the window. He leaps off the balcony and your heart practically stops, only to start back up again as you see him swinging on his webs from building to building. "Oh my god," you mutter to yourself, running a hand down your face.

You have a lot of things to say when he gets back. Starting with the fact that this was way sexier than ionic compounds.

#jeong yunho #ateez au #spiderman #ateez x reader #yunho x reader #spiderman au #ateez fic #spiderman yunho #kang yeosang #song mingi #jung wooyoung #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #choi jongho #choi san #yunho month #ateez reader insert #ateez

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ailelie · 6 months ago

Text

Exhausted Eddie Makes an Executive Decision

Buck is talking with Hen and he comments on how it would be nice to foster one day and how he still hopes to be a dad, but that seems even further away now that he's single again, and Eddie, who missed his morning coffee and has a headache building behind his right away, mutters a wish for patience.

Buck has Christopher and Eddie hopes Buck has somehow not realized this because the alternative is insulting. Before Eddie can think of anything to say, his phone beeps yet again. This damned conversation has been running since yesterday and Eddie is already exhausted with it. He had hoped that school parties and fundraisers would end at some point or, at the very least, become less communal. Surely 6th grade had to be the limit, but, no. Christopher is on the verge of high school (how?) and Eddie is still plagued by chat groups of parents parceling out tasks.

The current conversation is about the 8th grade dance which the school had been about the cancel for budget reasons before the parents stepped in and offered to host it instead. Since the school agreed yesterday, the conversation had not budged from an ongoing and increasingly ruthless argument over theme.

Eddie considers Buck's moaning about wanting to be a parent and makes an executive decision that a more caffeinated, less frustrated Eddie would have never made. He texts the group, "Hey, from now on Chris' other dad, Buck, is going to be handling school event planning. His number is XXX-XXX-XXXX. Please add him to the chat. I'm muting now. He'll let me know if I need to check in."

And he mutes the chat and turns his phone over. Across the room, Buck's phone chimes.

"You should get that," Eddie says, even though Buck is already reaching for his phone.

Buck opens the phone and his eyes round like quarters. His gaze flies to Eddie. "What?"

Eddie shrugs. "I already told you once, but since you don't seem to have understood: Congratulations. It's a boy. Don't promise us to do too much." Then, without further explanation, Eddie lowers his head to his arms, pressing his right eye against his wrist until he sees stars. He really needs to take some medication for this headache.

"Eddie," Buck says, his voice closer than before, "they're calling me Chris' dad."

"I know," Eddie says. "That's what I told them."

"What?" The high pitch of Buck's question drives an ice pick into Eddie's brain and he groans.

"Have you changed your mind?" Eddie hopes that isn't true. He doesn't know who else to put in his will.

"No, I mean, did I--" Buck continues to sputter questions. He seems confused, but not upset. The gist seems to be he wants to continue co-parenting Chris, but has somehow not realized that's what he's been doing.

Eddie looks up from his arms. "I'm not changing my will again."

"No, I don't want you to, but--" then Buck stops and his gaze sharpens. "Are you all right?"

"My head." Eddie lowers his head down again.

Buck reaches across the table and pats his shoulder. "I'll grab you some aspirin."

"And a coffee."

"And some water," Buck counter-offers.

Eddie groans, but doesn't argue. Hydration will probably help.

Buck returns quickly with the medicine and water. As Eddie is swallowing the pills, Buck says, "You don't think it will be confusing for Chris? What if someone calls me his dad around him?"

Eddie is so tired over pointless arguments. First the dance theme and now this. "That's what you are, Buck," he says, glaring--partially at Buck, partially because of his headache. "It is more confusing for him and me, honestly, when you deny it. What did you think the will was, Buck?"

Eddie lowers his head back to his arms. He had thought about adoption even back then, but that would have required Buck to sign as well and would have been difficult without them being married.

"Married?" Buck squeaks and Eddie realizes he'd muttered all of that out loud.

"For adoption," Eddie clarifies in case Buck missed that part, though, honestly, the idea of marriage in general doesn't seem like a terrible idea. He already likes and trusts Buck in a way he hasn't any of the women he's dated recently. Eddie tilts his head on his arms and looks up at Buck through his left eye.

He's practically already married to Buck, isn't he? All they need to do is file some paperwork and move into together. Well, that, and one other thing. "Come here," Eddie says.

"What?" Buck asks, as he leans forward.

"Closer."

"Do you need to whisper in my ear or something?" Buck asks, leaning closer.

"Or something," Eddie agrees. When Buck is close enough, Eddie loops his left around Buck's neck and pushes up to kiss him, quick and sweet.

There are no fireworks or epiphanies. Kissing Buck feels as easy as talking to him. No rushing heart rate. No stressing over whether Eddie is doing it right. No feeling like he's on stage. Just normal.

Eddie presses in for a second quick kiss and lets Buck go. He folds his arm back under his head, eyes sliding shut. Sleep is tugging at him. "Not just for adoption then."

"What?" Buck says again like it's his new favorite word. Then his phone chimes a few times in quick succession.

"Please make them pick a damn theme already," Eddie says. The words unspool from him slowly as sleep stretches over him. "And we're not chaperoning. Or designing the decor. Anything else is okay. Trust you."

"Um, okay then," Buck replies, though his voice is soft and distant. "We're talking about this later."

Eddie hums and falls asleep.

Buck turns. Hen eyes are as wide as her frames. "Did he just--" she asks just as Buck asks, "Did you see--"

They both stop. Buck touches his lips as he crosses the room back to Hen. "He kissed me. Twice."

"I know. Was that the first time?"

Buck nods. "I think he said something about marriage?" Laughter is bubbling up his throat, which is better than tears, he guesses. "He called me Chris's dad and acted like I have been for ages."

His phone chimes again and Buck opens the parent chat. He holds it up for Hen to see. "He told basically every parent at Chris' school that I'm his other dad. He has a headache and was half asleep, what's going to happen when he realizes what he did?"

"In vino veritas, Buck."

"He isn't drunk."

Hen rolls her eyes. "No, but aren't you the one who explained at length the other day about how being tired is basically the same as being drunk? Will Eddie be embarrassed when he wakes up? Maybe. Will he take anything back? I doubt it."

Buck's phone chimes again.

"Instead of worrying about it," Hen says. "Why don't you take care of that?" She nods toward the phone.

"Right," Buck says, pushing the kiss, marriage talk, and being Chris' dad to the side until Eddie is awake. He takes a deep breath. "I can do that."

He reads through the messages he missed and types a quick introduction. "Hey, this is Buck. Thanks for pulling me in. Can someone catch me up? Eddie's busy at the moment."

The replies start rolling in. He can do this.

And, when Eddie wakes up, Buck is going to find out what the hell his partner has been thinking.

#buddie #buck/eddie #fic #9-1-1 fic

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the-lost-girl-you-didnt-know · 1 year ago

Note

Would it be possible for a fluffy Edgar frog fic, including just some awkward and cute interactions between a fellow teen? If not it's completely fine (I also know that the request is vague, I just like Edgar)

Totally possible; I'm sorry for the long wait, but I hope this meets your expectations!

Newbie (An Edgar Frog Oneshot)

Warnings: None! Just some fluffy, awkward Frog shenanigans :)

Word Count: 1,597

The day started like it always did: wake up, get dressed, have breakfast, brush teeth. Prepare weapons for possible supernatural attacks, and make sure that Alan did the same. Last was to put their parents to bed after they returned from getting high with their friends all night, only for them to join the brothers at the store later in the day.

That's how it always was, at least during the summer. They didn't really have friends, not from school and not from around town. They had each other, and that usually was plenty. That's why when they met them, it made the ordinary day, well… different.

It was just after their lunch break when the new teen in town walked into Frogs Comics, looking incredibly curious as they perused the aisles that were lined with comics from DC to Marvel to Archie. Edgar Frog figured it was business as usual, not saying anything to the new customer and not looking up from the finance files that were in his hand. It wasn't until the latest occupant of the shop passed in front of him that it forced his eyes to look up from the documents and ultimately caught his attention. It was another teenager, definitely close in age to him and his brother, and looking very, very new to the boardwalk with bright eyes and an air of curiosity surrounding them.

It wasn't as if they never saw other teenagers in their store, what with kids from their high school milling around during summer vacation and tourist teens coming from out of town with their families. But when Edgar saw them, it was different. He could feel his body tense, feel something anxious and exciting fill his chest as his skin heated up from the inside, tinging his skin a faint shade of pink.

Looking around in an attempt to check that the coast was clear (clear of what, he really didn't know), he shut the folder in his hand and tucked it beneath the counter, coming around it and approaching the teen. His palms felt clammy, and he rubbed them on his cargo pants to try and dry them off the best he could as he swallowed down the new nerves that were plaguing him. As he reached them, their attention turned from the comic in their hands to him, looking at him with those curious eyes as he stopped and leaned against the support beam that held the ceiling of the store up.

And dammit all, he hadn't thought of anything to say, causing him to look like a fish gasping for water as he blinked a bit, searching his brain for something to break the ice.

"Uh, hi."

"Hi… are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm- I'm fine… just fine, um…"

The young Frog was mentally kicking himself; he was a warrior, for Pete's sake, ready to fight werewolves and demons and vampires at a moment's notice, but here he was floundering in front of a cute person his age. He reached for the closest thought he could grab onto, nodding at the comic that was still in their hands.

"That's a good issue. It really ties up a lot of loose ends and answers a lot of questions. Like a good ending should." "I know; I've read it before, but it was my cousin's, so I wanted to get a copy for myself," they replied, smiling a little at the flustered teen that was talking to them. "Oh, cool, cool… I like to have my own issues, too…… Sooo are you new to Santa Carla or just visiting?"

The teen smiled a bit more, closing the comic they were holding and turning to face Edgar more fully as they spoke.

"I'm new. My dad had to move us here for his work, so he waited until the school year was over. We've been here for a week, but since we've been unpacking and all I haven't had a chance to explore the city much."

Edgar raised his brows at hearing that they were new, adjusting his stance and pressing his hands into the large pockets of his pants.

"Really? Maybe once you're finished unpacking I could show you around. A lot of the area's rural land, but the more urban spots can be… fun."

They raised a brow themselves, looking at him with a bit of disbelief as they grinned, laughing a little.

"You don't seem so sure about that," they replied, "but it would be nice to learn about my new home. Sorry; I don't think I caught your name-"

"Edgar," the boy said quickly, "I'm Edgar. Frog. Edgar Frog."

"And I'm Alan Frog," Alan said, walking up and leaning on his brother's shoulder after having come from the back room and overhearing the most recent part of their conversation. Edgar glanced sidelong at his brother, silently annoyed at him butting into their conversation, but being sure not to let it show on his face as he smiled back at the person he'd been talking to.

"A pair of brothers," they noted, smiling as they looked between both of the brothers, who nodded at the same time like it was innate between them. "Well, we can make it a group outting, then, I suppose."

"Sure, sure," Edgar grinned, though a part of him was a little disappointed that it wouldn't just be him and them. "Better in numbers. 'Murder Capital of the World' and all… How's Saturday at 9 A.M. sound?"

"Sounds good to me," they confirmed, nodding in agreement with the plan.

"Great," the older Frog brother said, his voice nearly cracking with excitement as he smiled to them, "We can just meet up here, then." Noticing that they were still holding onto the comic that he'd interrupted them reading, he quickly jumped into employee mode.

"I can check you out- I mean check that out-- ring that up for you, if you're good to go," he offered quickly, stumbling over both his thoughts and his words as he gestured at the comic book they held. Alan couldn't help but glance at his brother with confusion, wondering why he was acting so out of the usual as he looked between him and this other teenager.

"Sure," they laughed, following the two brothers as they led them to the cash register. Edgar took a breath, trying to reground himself as he turned back to them and took the book when they held it out.

"Okay, that'll be seventy-five cents," he said, but before they could dig too deep into their pockets, he spoke up. "But uh, I can cover it for you. Call it the 'newbie deal'… first visit, get a comic free," he said jokingly, chuckling a little as he smiled at them.

They blinked a bit, looking between the brothers for a moment before smiling at what Edgar said and retrieving their hand from their pocket. "Oh," they said, amusement evident in their voice, "Thank you. That's really cool of you."

"Yeah, he does this for all the cute newbies," Alan said sarcastically, raising a brow as he looked between them and his brother, to which Edgar promptly shot him a look that meant to cool it, after which he looked back at the teen with a smile, waving his hand nonchalantly to wave off what Alan had said.

"Don't listen to him. I don't do that for everyone," he said as he slid the comic into a flat paper bag, trying to cover his tracks and hide the fact that he really liked this person, at least based off of first impressions. Punching in the seventy-five cents, he printed a receipt for them before grabbing a pen that was loose on the countertop and crossing out the total. He then slid the receipt into the bag as well before handing it to them with a lop-sided grin. "Here you go. Your own copy."

"Thanks," they said, smiling at him as they took their purchase from him. "I'll see you guys on Saturday."

"Looking forward to it," the older brother returned genuinely. They nodded, their lips upturned as they said 'bye' and waving a little as they turned and left, Edgar watching them leave with heavy interest. It wasn't until they were gone that Alan spoke up, turning to his brother as he leaned with one hand against the counter and the other on his hip.

"Dude, what was up with you?" he asked, an expression of pure confusion on his features. Edgar didn't answer; instead, he grabbed onto Alan's shoulder, pulling him closer and speaking lowly to him. "You're not goin'," he stated, "You've gotta' come up with a reason to not be there, dude." Connecting the dots in his head, between his brother's behavior, appearance, and words, Alan caught on to what was going on as his mouth widened into a knowing grin.

"You like them-"

"Dude, shut up. I'm serious."

"Yeah, about liking them-"

"Don't make me get out the pliers, man, 'cause I will."

Alan stifled a laugh, bringing his hand up to hide his grin as he chuckled against his knuckles.

"Whatever, dude. Tell 'em I came down with a cold or something and enjoy your date."

"That's it, I warned ya!"

And Alan took off, laughing as his brother quickly pulled out a pair of pliers from beneath the counter and chased after him. But he was right, Edgar thought; he did like them. He liked them a lot, and already he was counting down the days until Saturday when he would see them again.

#edgar frog #oneshot #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #santa carla #the lost boy imagines #the lost boys writing #alan by association #the lost boys #the lost boys edgar #the frog brothers #the lost boys movie

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saltminerising · 8 months ago

Note

i know this is just my personal aesthetics, but i'm finding that literally all of the ancient fest genes have ended up looking like the exact opposite of what i hoped for and dang, that sucks for me. mistral - i hoped for feathers, got floaty mist (expected I guess but still) trickmurk - hoped for glowshrooms with some goop maybe, got gravity defying slime... thing... (looks interesting but also what) crystalline - wanted floaty snowflakes, got icicles (as an ice member, extra bitter about that. i really dont like the icicles) rockbreaker - imagined cool colorful crystals on the dragon like gembond or shardflank but prettier and shinier, got floating geodes (?????) riot - assumed it would be some diseased looking spikes, maybe with some slime (ultimately not that far off but plague is my least favorite aesthetic so this is the one i wouldnt have cared for much either way) starfall - expected a runic pattern on the dragon's hide along with some alien-y details, got strange floating swirly rune things instead (still kinda neat but cmon. missed opportunity) flameforger - wanted floating fiery wisps like the apparel (what we got was pretty expected though and still looks fine) thundercrack - my idea probably was too out there but I really wanted some type of metal plating power armor looking stuff (what we got was very predictable also) brightshine - since this was the first one I had no idea how they were gonna go about the designs but I saw that post with the mockup of a light halo on ancients in the form of a gene and i wish it'd been that instead of... whatever the hell it is that we got (seriously the frill on the head is cool but those weird sticker sparkles are Not It) sorry that this is long lol I'm honestly curious to know if the rest of the genes are gonna also follow this trend for me. so far it really is a shame because I was so hoping to rescue some of my gen1s with these genes but it's just not working out

🌱

#genes #long post

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ali-annals · 10 months ago

Text

I Knew You'd Come Back To Me

Cardigan AU Masterlist | Part 1 | Master Masterlist | drabble 1 | ao3

Jasonette, Chapter 2/2, ~6k?

I Knew You’d Come Back To Me

Two nights after defeating the Untitled, Jason showed up in front of Marinette’s door.

“Hi.” She poked her head through the doorway.

“Hey, Marinette. Can we talk?”

She considered his words momentarily, then opened the door wider in silent invitation. He followed her to her living room, where she curled up in the fluffy recliner and picked up her tea mug.

Jason sat nervously on her loveseat, noting her clear boundaries in the choice of seating.

“Would you believe me if I gave you a good reason for my odd actions?”

“I’ll decide ‘good reasons,'” she interjected. “Let’s hear them.”

“I’m Red Hood. I was on Bat and Hood business when I left all those times. I would have told you sooner, but I saw how hurt you were after you told me about Multimouse and I knew I couldn’t drag you into that again, so I just… kept quiet. I figured out you’re Onyx from the things you said and I saw how capable you are and… I had to… At least tell you why I did those things. I know I broke your trust and I am very sorry for that. I was trying not to hurt you, but in doing so I still hurt you in a way I promised myself I never would, and I am so sorry for that.”

Marinette sat in silence and Jason focused on his breathing so he wouldn’t panic while she considered his words.

“You’re the Red Hood…and you know I’m Onyx,” she finally said slowly.

Jason nodded.

“Why tell me now? We broke up. We could’ve avoided each other. Do you feel guilty that you figured my identity out, so you’re giving me equal footing?”

“Well, I do feel guilty, but mostly because I didn’t trust you enough to tell you sooner and let you make your own decisions about it. I did know you kept in contact with your hero friends, and I should’ve given you the choice of what to do with my information, at least. That is what I feel guilty about.”

Marinette put her mug down on the coaster and leaned forwards a teeny bit. “So was anything else a lie?”

“No, I never lied to you about anything except my night job, I promise, Pi- Marinette.”

“I need time to think about this, Jay. I’ll text you when I’m ready, okay?”

Jason nodded and left.

He wasn’t happy, but he was relieved that she had listened and was thinking it over. She’d also addressed him as Jay, not Jason, so that was a good sign. At least she didn’t seem to hate him completely.

He just hoped she knew how sorry he was, even if he never saw her again.

•○•○•○•

Marinette was back at school, but they avoided each other like the plague and barely saw even a glimpse of each other’s hoodie when they weren’t in the same classes.

Nine days later, Jason’s phone buzzed with the specific tone he had set for Marinette’s contact.

Pixie: Can we talk tonight?

Yes!

Me: Yours, mine, neutral ground?

Pixie: Mine is okay. Can you bring supper from your secret Chinese supplier?

Me: Absolutely. Usual order?

Pixie: Yes, please.

Pixie: Can you make it for 5:45?

Me: I’ll be there.

The three dots of typing ceased and Jason flung his phone onto his couch and commenced panicking.

What was he going to face?

What should he wear? Dress up nicely to show her he was making an effort, or his usual tee and sweats or jeans to keep it casual?

What was he gonna say? He should definitely keep apologising, but he didn’t want to sound like a broken record and seem like he was pressuring her into getting back together or forgiving him.

Oh, did his freezer have enough ice cream to last future-him’s depression if she said she hated him and would never talk to him again?

Finally, he slapped himself out of the spiral of anxiety and made himself think logically.

She wanted to talk, and she wanted him to bring them both dinner, so clearly she wasn’t going to yell and then kick him out. She didn’t completely hate him, because she wanted food, and she still trusted him to bring their dinner. Plus, it was one of “their” things to go on dates or study dates and then come back and have Chinese at hers and watch a movie or hang out; so she still wanted their tradition.

So far, she was giving positive signs.

Okay. He could work with that.

•○•○•○•

At 5:45 on the dot he knocked on her door and was let in.

His brain short-circuited momentarily as Marinette appeared in his her Wonder Woman tee and jeans, and then nervous anxiety set in as she took the bag of food with a slight smile and headed to the kitchen to set it out. He’d finally decided on toeing the line between formal and casual, wearing jeans and a green button-down instead of his usual tee and/or hoodie, but it appeared Marinette went for straight casual.

What if she felt underdressed? He didn’t want to make her feel even more uncomfortable (the tension in her body language was very obvious).

He finally got his feet to move and followed her to the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves as he went. It was a little breezy outside, but rather warm in her apartment. No wonder she hauled out the tees, even though it was only March.

•○•○•○•

Marinette impatiently yanked the door open for Jason, unsurprised by his punctuality and waiting nervously.

While she’d stress-baked and stress-cleaned she’d tried to nail down the wording she wanted, but kept getting distracted and more stressed. Now, she hastily combed her memories for her explanation while she had a moment alone since Jason was staying in the foyer, for some reason.

Oh dear, had she made him feel unwelcome?

Was this a sign of his reluctance to associate with her anymore? What if he wanted to stay broken up? He deserved someone who wouldn’t drag him down with their own traumas-

She heard him finally follow her and turned to smile welcomingly at him. He was focused on rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and oh, he knew what he was doing, maybe he did still want them to be together.

That was illegal, surely, or unethical at the very least, giving her health problems this early on in life.

Reminding herself to breathe, she got out two pairs of chopsticks (her own, not the small bamboo ones the restaurant provided) and tried to act unaffected by his blatant show of forearm.

“I thought we could talk in the living room and watch the sunset while we have supper,” she waved at the penthouse’s wide scenic view of Gotham’s Diamond District and the faint line of ocean blue on the horizon peeking through the skyscrapers.

•○•○•○•

“Sounds good.” He nervously flipped the knife in his pocket around his fingers.

Why was she still so tense? Maybe she was overthinking it too; that sounded like Marinette.

They settled by the window with their food, on opposite ends of the couch, and ate quietly for several minutes.

Finally, Marinette spoke up. “I have many conflicting feelings about everything, but I’ve simplified them and worked them out; the bottom line is, I forgive you. I know the struggle of wondering how much to say and worrying if those you care about will be in more danger if you tell them, so I know how hard that must have been.”

She sighed and chewed a piece of broccoli slowly. “It’s not easy being a hero.”

A spring roll later, she continued, “I won’t deny that I was hurt by your lack of trust, and I am still hurt, but I don’t hold it against you. I considered telling you that I was the Guardian, myself, but decided against it. I do appreciate you attempting not to hurt me, even if it didn’t work out.”

Marinette inhaled deeply and Jason almost fell off the couch in tense anticipation of her next utterance.

“If… You are still willing…I’d like to continue our relationship, but with mutual trust in each other this time.”

“You really want to? I know I really hurt you, Mari, I-”

“Yes, Jason. I’ve thought it over and weighed our relationship carefully, and I want to continue. No relationship is easy, and I must confess I was waiting for the other shoe to drop part of the time, even when I ignored the suspicion of your…activities. Now that we know where the other stands — we do know, right?” she looked at him suddenly, a little panicked.

“I think so, but we should go over them once you’re done talking, just to make sure,” he replied. “We know where each other stands now, so…?”

“…we can have a more trusting relationship and we’ll likely be a lot happier not hiding all the hero secrets?”

Jason smiled happily at her. “I’d like nothing better, Marinette.”

He was about to ask to clarify where each other stood when she burst out.

“Now that that’s settled, will you please stop calling me Marinette?”

“…uh… What else am I supposed to call you?”

“You always call me Pixie or Pix, except when you’re super serious, and I missed it,” She pouted.

“I thought you didn’t like that I called you tiny?” He grinned.

“…I liked your nickname, though,” she mumbled.

“Okay, Pixie. Now, where do we stand with each other?”

“We have no more secrets to hide, right?”

“I don’t think I’ve forgotten any…” he mused.

“Good. We know the other is a hero-slash-vigilante, we want to be together without any secrets, and if we need to go hero-ing, we’ll let the other know first. Did I miss anything?”

“I don’t think so. If we think of something, we can always bring it up at a later time.”

“That sounds fair,” she agreed. “Now that all the details are hashed out, can I have a hug? I missed you.”

Be still my heart.

“Of course, Pix, you don’t need to ask.” He held his arms out in invitation.

She moved their dishes to the coffee table and scooched over to snuggle beside him, his arm wrapped around her.

“Cozy, Pixie?”

She nodded. “Quite. I’m so glad we worked that out, I missed you so much. Even when I didn’t know you were a hero, I felt that you understood me better than most.”

“I’m sorry I never told you anything.”

She wiggled around to face him. “I forgive you, you can stop apologising now. We both kept secrets and that hurt us. We’ve learned from this, hopefully, and we’re planning on doing better in the future. We don’t need to keep rehashing an already finished subject…unless you think it’s necessary?”

“No, I just…you’re the best thing I have, right now, Pix, and I’m infinitely sorry that I hurt you. I guess I just need to forgive myself.”

“…If you’re sure that’s all, then. Try not to beat yourself up too much over it or I’ll be sad, okay?”

“Whatever my Pixie commands,” he pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

•○•○•○•

"Hey, Jay.”

Jason opened his eyes and looked at Marinette, curled up and leaning on his chest.

“Yeah?”

“I know it’s a sensitive subject, but how’s it going with your family?”

He sighed. “Not great. When we broke up I was really mad at B because I was always leaving you to help him and kinda blamed him for our breakup. I didn’t tell him about you, because then he would’ve gotten all nosy and you don’t deserve that, but I yelled at him for a lot of stuff. I probably set our progress back a few months.”

“I thought you were doing Bat or Hood business when you ran off?”

“…Wait, did I not tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Uh, Batman is my dad…and the rest are my siblings.”

Marinette was quiet for a worryingly long time. “I should have put that together,” she said at last.

“Yeah, it’s a…thing. It’s not really broadcast, because Hood is still on iffy terms with the Bats and it would be suspicious if Red Hood suddenly reconciled with them at the same time Jason Todd’s death was repealed. There are enough scarily accurate theories about the Waynes being the Bats, we don’t need to give them more information to prove their hunch.”

“The Waynes — the Waynes are the Bats?!” Marinette yelped, sitting upright and muttering in French under her breath.

“I didn’t tell you that either? I’m sorry, I thought you knew and were just being polite and ignoring the elephant in the room.”

“I ignore the news, especially about celebrities. It’s usually gossip or dramatically inflated rumours, so I never take it as a reliable source on any of them if I do see 'reports’.”

“I wish everyone had your maturity,” he half-joked. “Yeah, the Waynes are the vigilante protectors of Gotham — the Batfamily, as they are called by some — confirmed. More with Red Hood at 9. I’m Vicki Vale, Gotham Gazette,” he mocked. “You got the first-hand report.”

“That makes a lot of sense actually…” Marinette mused. “So that’s why you were so popular in the beginning of the school year?”

“Yep. It always pays to be in the Waynes’ favour, or at least not their disfavour. It’s actually part of what made me notice you, how you ignored me and challenged me instead of trying to grovel or be friends. That and how quiet you were with everyone else. You were new, too, but you seemed happy that you weren’t getting as much attention as me.”

“I just wanted a drama-free final year,” she mourned. “No boyfriend, no hero-ing, just school…look at me — a boyfriend, a breakup, defeating the Untitled after my Miraculous, being the translator for the Parisian class — what happened to my quiet year?”

“I’m sorry, Pix.”

“It’s fine. I got one fewer enemy after me and I got a wonderful boyfriend out of it! It’s not a bad trade-off, in my opinion.”

○○○○○○○

A Friend to All is a Friend to None A couple months later

“The Parisian class arrives today.” Marinette nervously picked at the hem of her skirt.

“It’ll be fine, Pix, I promise. I’ll be right here beside you all day. This is your turf and you’re fighting for it, remember? And you have a Wayne backing you, so the school will definitely not hold back if anyone tries anything.”

“Thanks, mon chére, you’re right; though I hope we won’t need to use your father’s name.”

“Don’t worry about me, Pix. And you know what I think? You’ve told me so much about how selectively dumb they are, that they probably won’t recognize you with your new style and last name.”

“You have a point. Honestly, they probably wouldn’t notice me even if I only grew my hair out,” she rolled her eyes and pulled him into the school. “Let’s get it over with.”

No one batted an eye at her blatant manhandling (emphasis on the man), since the past few weeks they’d acted much closer than before, likely from meeting to practise their French and go over the details of their volunteering. (Mrs. Perez’s Marison-shipping-heart was well-fed lately, and she took credit for forcing them to work together in the first place months ago.)

“Channel your inner Ladybug and your outer Marinette Stone confidence, Pix. You got this!” Jason whispered as they walked over to Mr. Patel, who was preparing for the welcoming speech and reiterating the rules for the host and visiting classes.

Thankfully, the speech was fairly short and their introductions brief.

Principal Luther introduced Jason and Marinette as the class’s hosts and translators, ‘Mr. Todd’ and 'Ms. Stone’.

Then everyone was dismissed and Marinette and Jason decided how to divide the class.

Once everyone was seated and introduced to their temporary classmates, Marinette quickly ran through the introductory notes she’d prepared.

“Good morning, I am one of your temporary translators, Marinette Stone. My partner, Jason, and I have already completed the content you will be learning, so we can help explain as needed. If you need help, just raise your hand and we’ll translate as you need. Please respect the fact that there are only two of us, so it may take a minute to reach you. Your teacher, Ms. Lee, also speaks some French, so she may be able to help as well. I hope you enjoy your time here.”

From the back of the room, Jason gave her a sneaky thumbs-up, telling her that his recording of her was complete. If her ex-classmates recognized her and tried something, he’d have video proof of everything.

She smirked back and headed to her seat beside him, which had a lovely vantage point of the whole classroom.

"So, you have Juleka, Chloe, Rose, Ivan, Mylene, Marc, and Alix?”

“Yep. I’m good with that, as long as you have Lila, Alya, Adrien, Kim, and Sabrina,” Marinette responded. “They’ll be the ones asking for the most help.”

“Chloe and Juleka know who you are, right?” Jason whispered.

"Yeah. No one knows C and I made up because I left fairly soon after, and Jules and I made up when Uncle Jagged talked to her. They’ll be fine.”

•○•○•○•

For the next two weeks, the exchange program went fairly smoothly - Ms. Lee wouldn’t buy Lila & Co™’s excuses/lies, Lila couldn’t flirt with Jason too much because he loudly announced that he had a girlfriend and she was making him uncomfortable, and the class didn’t visibly recognize Marinette with her new style and name change.

On the final day of the exchange, Jason and Marinette rode in on his motorcycle (that no one was allowed to touch).

The curious GA students were buzzing over the latest gossip — was this year’s most popular ship actually coming true?!

Money was to be made on this, after all, many students had secret betting pools on what stage the enemies-to-friends-to-lovers arc was exactly at.

One of Marinette’s kind-of friends bravely walked up was pushed forward by everyone else in the betting pool she was part of to ask about their relationship status.

Jason and Marinette laughed in their faces and said they’d been dating for months.

The news spread quickly among the gossip mills but was quickly silenced when over the intercom, their names were called and their presence requested at the front office.

The couple shrugged at each other and walked leisurely hand-in-hand to the office.

•○•○•○•

Caline Bustier, Lila Rossi, and Principal Luther were waiting.

Marinette sighed. “What?” she asked sharply.

“Mlle. Rossi here says you are a missing person from Paris and a con artist. You dated her boyfriend, M. Agreste, until his father’s company went broke, and then came here to trick the Waynes, she claims. She also says you were unprofessional and ignored her all the time when she requested help in class.” Thankfully, Principal Luther looked sceptical of Lila’s charges.

“Right. Well, Mlle. Rossi here also claims to have saved Uncle Jagged kitten from being run over by an aeroplane, and that she has tinnitus from that event, and later became Uncle Jagged’s muse,” Marinette stated flatly.

Principal Luther looked like she was repressing a smile. “I see. But how is this pertinent to the allegations against you?”

“It’s proof that she claims ridiculous things. You can call Uncle Jagged if — actually, his daughter, Juleka, is in Lila’s class. You can confirm with her about Lila’s stories, and prove that she is lying about them. I did date Adrien Agreste, but I broke up with him because he was cheating on me with Lila. It was just after we split that Gabriel went under, but that was because of his acts of terrorism. And I actually didn’t know Jason was a Wayne until a few weeks ago when he told me. He goes by Jason Todd, and I don’t pay attention to celebrity news, so I had no way of knowing he was a Wayne.

“Also, I came here because it’s Uncle Jagged’s hometown and he helped me escape Paris, which wasn’t helping with my PTSD - which is also partly caused by Mlle. Rossi bullying me. I did not ignore her in class, Jason and I already agreed on how to divide our translating responsibilities. I did not purposely not help her. If you want proof, Jason and I have texts detailing our dividing.”

Principal Luther scrutinised Marinette and Lila, then turned to Jason. “Mr. Todd, any comments?”

“Marinette isn’t a gold-digger. She didn’t know I was a Wayne ‘til I told her, and my family ran a background check on her — she’s clean. And Marinette isn’t a missing person or a runaway — her godfather Jagged had her parent’s blessing to help her move to Gotham, and her parents are working on closing their bakery and moving here to be with her. Her friends, Chloé Bourgeois, and Juleka and Luka Couffaine, knew she was here. Also, no missing person report was filed for her. I’ve been with Marinette for several months now, and I’m sure that she isn’t faking the repercussions of her PTSD and Li- Mlle. Rossi’s bullying.”

“Juleka Couffaine to head office, please.”

Juleka arrived a minute later and confirmed Marinette’s story. She also called Jagged and he immediately jumped to Marinette and Juleka’s defence.

“Thank you, Mlle. Couffaine. Please return to class. Miss Stone and Mr. Todd, I think it’s alright if I give you a pass. You can have the day off. Before you go, could I have a word with Miss Stone in my office?”

Marinette followed Principal Luther into her tiny, cramped office behind the larger antechamber where she’d been pleading her case.

“I’m sorry for the way they treated you, Miss Stone. If you knew it was your class, though, why didn’t you turn down the volunteer role? I assure you we wouldn’t have held it against you.”

“Um… I guess I was just used to my old school in Paris, and how they supported Lila, so it didn’t really occur to me. And I thought I’d like to see my friends, at least. Jason dealt with the ones who were the meanest to me or needed the most help, so I didn’t have to interact with them that much…..Plus, I was kind of planning my revenge. I wanted to get records of them to turn in to the proper authorities so they could be punished.”

Principal Luther sighed. “Marinette… alright. Is your mental health okay? Will you need another couple of days off?”

“No, I should be okay. Thank you, though. Jason has really helped me with my mental health, and I’m seeing a therapist.”

“Okay… Don’t worry about translating at the goodbye party tonight. I’ll find someone else to do it. Thank you for your help these past two weeks.”

“You’re welcome! Have a good day. I don’t envy you dealing with the class,” she sympathised.

She left the small office, completely ignoring Lila and Mme. Bustier’s mean faces, striding quickly to the door, where Jason awaited.

“Hey, Pix. Are you good?”

“Yeah, she wanted to thank us for our work and apologise for making me translate. We don’t have to translate tonight either.”

“Sweet! What do you want to do, then?”

“Go home and watch a movie?”

“Sure. Let’s go.”

Jason took her hand and they escaped to his bike.

○○○○○○○

Giving me Your Weekends

The next morning Jason got Marinette to visit the Manor for Saturday brunch. They pulled up at ten to eight, and Jason warned Marinette once again of the craziness and suspicion that was sure to barrage her.

“Jay, I’ll be fine. I’ll take their suspicion as a sign that they care for you, because they want to make sure I’m not going to hurt you.”

He smiled at her. “You’re so optimistic. But you’re right, that’s a good way to look at it. Thanks, Pix.”

He kissed her head and led her into the chaos.

Damian was chasing Tim downstairs with his katana. Dick was on the chandelier shouting for both of them to slow down with sharp objects and Steph was stealing a waffle from the stack Alfred had made, choking on its texture. Babs, Bruce, Cass, and Alfred were nowhere to be seen.

The chandelier spun as Dick wiggled on it and he caught sight of the newcomers. The shouting and chaos ceased immediately.

“Jay! You’re here for breakfast!” Dick flipped off the chandelier. “And you brought a guest, welcome,” he smiled charmingly at Marinette, but she could see the cloud of questions in his eyes.

Alfred materialised and gave Damian the 'put-your-katana-away’ stare.

“Master Jason, you came for brunch today? I’m so glad to see you, my boy. And who is this?” he smiled warmly at Marinette, who thrust a plate of homemade waffles at him.

“It’s nice to meet you, Alfred! I’m Marinette. I made some waffles for breakfast, and couldn’t just show up empty-handed. Hope that’s okay!” her voice was higher-pitched in her anxiousness to have Alfred like her, but he just took the plate and handed it to Tim with a stern glance.

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Marinette. Brunch is almost ready, and these look lovely. I’m afraid mine will never turn out as good, although I tried a new recipe today…” he saw Steph’s frozen face of revolt and sighed.

“Ah. This didn’t work either. I’m sure Stephanie would love to be your critic. Please sit down, everyone will be here momentarily.”

“Thank you.” She smiled at everyone, suddenly nervous, and Jason put his arm supportingly around her waist and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Ignore them, Pix, they’ll warm up to you soon enough.”

The present Batfamily members sat down at the table somewhat robotically, sizing Marinette (and Jason) up.

“So, you’re Marinette? I’m Dick Grayson, Jason’s older brother. I assume you’re his girlfriend?”

She smiled, “You are correct.”

“So… how’d you meet Jay?”

“Um, at school. A teacher paired us up on a project, and we got to know each other and liked what we saw.”

Bruce and Babs came in, discussing a new update to their filing system, and paused when they saw the visitors.

Jason stood up. “Cass, I know you’re here somewhere, so since we’re all here I’m only going to say this once: This is Marinette, my girlfriend. I expect nothing, but I hope you’ll be polite since she’s the reason we’re even here in the first place.”

The family eyed Marinette after Jason’s declaration until Steph broke the silence.

“These waffles are so good, Marinette! You said you made them yourself?”

“I did, Jason told me you all liked waffles. He helped, of course.”

“They’re amazing. Do you bake a lot?”

“I stress bake, and I grew up in a bakery, so I know how to make a lot of baked goods.”

“Welcome, Marinette. I’m Jason’s father, Bruce. It’s nice to meet you,” Bruce smiled at her but she could see him calculating. “Do I detect a French accent?”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, monsieur. And yes, you do. I’m from Paris. I moved here last summer for my final school year.”

Switching the focus from her, she casually asked as she took a sausage from the plate Cass handed her, “Jay hasn’t told me much about his family, beyond you being loud and crazy, so I’m looking forward to getting to know you all. What sort of hobbies do you have?”

Dick cleared his throat. “I’m an acrobat, and I teach gymnastics and aerial skills at a gym in Bludhaven some days. I also like solving puzzles, like most of the rest of us. Timmy is pretty good at computer games and stuff like that,” he nudged his brother jovially.

“Oh, do you know UMSIII?” Marinette leaned forwards eagerly to face Tim.

“Jay refuses to play with me anymore.”

“You don’t even leave me a chance, Pix,” he grumbled under his breath and she smiled sweetly at him.

“I’ve heard of it,” Tim acknowledged. “I take it you play? We mostly have MarioKart marathons in this house.”

“Oh, nice!” Marinette turned to Alfred. “Your French Toast is delicious, Monsieur Alfred.”

“Thank you, Miss Marinette. Perhaps we could exchange some recipes later?”

“I’d love to!” she grinned at him and looked at Damian, who was clearly eyeing her for nefarious intentions. “And I don’t believe we’ve been introduced yet, I’m Marinette.”

“Damian,” he grunted, sounding like a mini-Bruce. “Do you like animals?”

“I do! Unfortunately, I never got a pet because I lived above a bakery, so for health and hygiene reasons it wasn’t feasible, but I love playing with them when I can.”

“I will introduce you to Titus, Alfred the Cat, and Batcow after brunch if you desire,” he said stiffly.

“I’d love to meet your pets, thank you for offering!”

“So you attend GA with Jason?” Babs asked, finally speaking up now that most of the Bats had their mouths full of food.

“Yes. We were both the only new transfer students this year, so we had some camaraderie. We have most of the same classes together, which is nice.”

The inquisition calmed after that and normal conversation flowed, but all in all, it was the most subdued family meal the Wayne table had seen in a while.

After breakfast, Alfred requested Jason’s help with the dishes, presumably to interrogate him, and Damian kidnapped Marinette to meet his pets.

Titus absolutely loved her and became her new best friend. Damian was surprised at his Great Dane’s reaction since Titus was normally wary of strangers until he okayed them.

Even Alfred the Cat warmed up to her quickly, possibly smelling the Camembert on her from when she’d fed Plagg before coming for brunch.

“What are your intentions with my brother?” Damian inquired as he led Marinette to Batcow’s stable out back.

She smiled slightly at his protectiveness and replied, “I have no intentions with him beyond making him happy. I hope that means we stay together for a very long time, maybe eventually marry, but if we agree that he’s better off without me…then I’ll go. I don’t think that will happen, though.“

“I approve of your commitment. Father also wants to talk with you, I believe. Once Batcow has sufficient pets, I shall escort you to Father’s office.”

“Thank you, Damian. Oh, hello, Batcow! Aren’t you gorgeous, petit vache,” she cooed.

•○•○•○•

Damian showed Marinette the way to Bruce’s office, and she stepped inside when he bid her enter.

“I must admit I was quite surprised when Jason showed up for family brunch this morning, and even brought a guest,” Bruce started as soon as she sat in the comfy leather chair before his desk.

“Jason hasn’t been…very active with our family, lately. I believe I have you to thank for encouraging his visit?”

“Yes, M. Wayne. He hasn’t spoken to me about much of you – I didn’t even know his family were the Waynes until a couple months ago–but I did want to meet all of you, since you are all important to him.”

“Thank you for the encouragement, Mlle. Stone. I had wondered if I had driven him away for good, after the last fight we had. Looking back on it now, I think it was because of you that he was so angry with me. He certainly acted more strangely than normal, like he was protecting someone or something, with all his warnings not to spy on him.”

“He told me he was quite angry with you for constantly calling him away on our dates, and he worried he’d set your progress back months. I do hope that’s not the case.”

Bruce noticed a cold edge to Marinette’s previously polite, warm tone.

“Of course not, I was merely confused at his sudden anger. I didn’t know he was dating anyone. I can give you my word that it certainly wasn’t a targeted attack against him or your relationship.”

“Good. I think we should all get on well, then. Is there anything else you wanted to ask me?”

“…No. Thank you for your time, and for coming for brunch with Jason. I’m quite pleased to have met you.”

“You as well, M. Wayne.”

Marinette left the office and walked into an eavesdropping Jason.

“Hey, Jay. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just waiting for you. The others want to interrogate you now, but we don’t have to meet them if you don’t want to…” he nodded at Bruce’s now-closed office door.

"I’m fine, Bruce just wanted to thank me for coming and bringing you. I’ll go be questioned by the rest of your siblings now.”

“Yeah, they’re all hanging out in the family sitting room,” he took her hand and they walked side-by-side, following the increasingly louder noises of all his siblings in one room.

“Dami didn’t scare you away?” asked Dick as soon as they entered the room.

Marinette shook her head. “He was quite polite, and I really enjoyed my time with him. So, what do you guys do for fun around here? All Jay has said is that it’s loud and chaotic and you take things to extremes.”

“Regular games are too boring, so we spice them up with house rules or dares, stuff like that,” said Tim, slurping something out of a 42-oz mug.

Steph grinned sharply. “How about some icebreakers? Truth or Dare, perhaps?”

“I’m in,” Marinette said immediately, to Jason’s horror but not his surprise.

She plopped on the couch between Babs and Cass and motioned for Jason to join, which he did reluctantly.

Babs was usually the mediator/emcee/referee, so she explained Bat-Truth or Dare quickly and the game began.

They had cards specially made that said ‘truth’ or ‘dare’ on them, which removed any bias for one choice over the other. The second deck of cards, which were blank and only coloured in to match the ‘truth’ and ‘dare’ cards, were dealt as in Uno, though only 5 cards were dispersed, not seven; a separate, communal stack of the ‘truth’ and ‘dare’ cards was shuffled by Babs and placed in the middle of the table.

The first person to play a card of corresponding colour then won the right to give a dare or ask a question to the original card player.

Jason began and played a green ‘truth’ card.

Dick slapped the matching green card in his hand down and asked excitedly, “When did you first meet Marinette? Was it love at first sight?”

Jason groaned. “One question, Dick. This is all gonna be about our relationship, isn’t it?” he added to Marinette, who nodded sympathetically at him.

“I first saw her when we passed each other in the street. A couple days later, I officially met her at school, ‘cause we were both transfers and in the same class.”

It was Marinette’s turn and she picked up a pink dare card. Steph immediately played her matching card with a victorious crow and turned to her future sister-in-law.

“I dare you to let Tim post something on one of your social media accounts.”

Marinette made eye contact with Jason and they immediately knew what each other was thinking.

She handed her phone over to Tim, open to Janette@pothamcrack on Twitter.

He typed for a few moments, then tossed her phone back.

She caught it and read the tweet. “'I’m secretly a celebrity but I bet none of you will guess who’,” she giggled. “Oh really? Jay, I’m famous, too!”

She turned from her boyfriend to his brother. “Which celebrity am I?”

“Wonder Woman, of course,” Jason interrupted. “Because you’re just that wonderful.”

Damian physically cringed at the cheesiness, though the rest of the players cheered at it, and Marinette blushed only a shade darker than Jason, who realised he just said that in front of his family.

“MOVING ON,” Marinette announced loudly, as Cass leaned forwards for her card.

The game went fairly smoothly after that, though as Jason predicted, they were mostly encouraged to spill things about their relationship.

“Okay, final round,” announced Babs, seeing Marinette pick up the final card, which was a truth.

Jason played his card and asked, “What’s one thing you haven’t told anyone before?”

“Uh…I hope next time we play this it’s as the Bats so we can do even more unhinged dares!”

With that shocking revelation, she grabbed Jason’s hand and they sprinted to his bike before they could be detained for even more questioning.

They sped out of the Manor property and headed to Marinette’s apartment, making sure to take detours to drop the trackers in random places and lose their tail.

Marinette unlocked her door and they entered her apartment, giggling at the hoax they’d successfully pulled off.

They kicked off their shoes and Marinette headed to the kitchen to wash her waffle-making dishes, which she’d left to soak while they had brunch, and froze.

“Hello, Jason,” said an unfamiliar voice from her living room, soft but deadly.

Drabble 1

#jasonette #fic #ali writes #cardigan au #dcxmlb #maribat

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lilmcttens · 10 months ago

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@billyjoelmutt

Shortstop heard his mystery chess opponent make noises. He was able to smell her scent and he heard someone like rubbing woof? Or was it something else? What was going to happen next might determine a victory or a defeat...

But after a few minutes, he then heard someone say. "Someone is here I'm coming out.." like it was half afraid or half on guard. But at least he could make out a female voice...but could he trust her? Was this a trap? He had no idea...he took a minute to think...if he came out was she gonna grab him?

But if he stayed hidden was she gonna attack? After that he decided...the best thing to do was to see who she was...so he responded..."All alright I'm coming out too." he said walking out from behind the tree. He kept his guard up ready to use his magic if he had to. He looked around the tree and rolled like a soldier so there would be no surprise and then stood up noticing the ice.

"Oh my, whoever you are...I hope I didn't scare you with this!!" He said glancing around...waiting...

👻⊱ "Alright. . . Okay."

Amity held her arm up and stepped out from behind her concealed location behind the tree. This was so the animal could gain a better look at her. Although Amity didn't want to be perceived as weak, however, as long she didn't need to fight. Then she didn't need to fight; the end. A strange instance in front of her indeed. She held her staff on hand just in case but lowered it down at her feet.

"You're a dog?"

Speaking very softly so as not to set him off. It was unusual, to say the least, but not far-fetched that this creature in front of her could talk. Was it so different from the furry residents of the isles she had seen before? At least, when she was growing up she had seen some. However, The thing that plagued her mind at the moment was: did this Dog-like creature come from her world or the Human Realm? This dog creature could wield magic. Did it matter?

She then turned her attention back to the iced trunk of the tree. Wow. . .! She thought the criminal witches were powerful. The dog then mentions he did that to the tree! Whoa. He's freezing trees! She opened her mouth to speak again carefully.

"No. It doesn't scare me. Believe me or don't. Animals or furry creatures having any sort of magic is not the weirdest thing I've seen around here."

#(ic)#amity blight #mittens #toh #billyjoelmutt #intruder #the boiling isles

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potol0ver · 2 years ago

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Hi :>

I just read that one post about disabilities and the brothers/some side characters. I was wondering if you could come up with some stuff about how they would react it accomodations they'd make for someone who was a "high functioning" autistic and ADHD person?

Idk if that made any sense at all—

Have an awesome day! And remember someone (me) is always proud of you!!! ❤️

Oh I definitely can! This will also act as my school break lol- and I do get it (I myself have ADHD and autism- so I understand the “high functioning” term)

This is kinda short, I’m sorry I couldn’t think of anymore but if you want me to add any prompt in here please comment or sm and I’ll happily add it

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

First of all- they would have a full on HOARD of fidget toys you might like, the brothers might even make it a competition to find the best fidget toy for you and whoevers fidget to us the one you use most is the winner-

You can wear headphones whenever, the only rule with those is you either have music very quiet in them during class or no music in the during class, any other time feel free to blast music to your liking. They just want to make sure your paying attention- and demons have more sensitive hearing so the demons next to you might get distracted if you have your music up to loud.

If the food at lunch is a good you have a diversity to, one of the brothers, Sol, Simeon, Luke, and on rare occasions Barb will either make you something, give you some of their food, or go get you take out quickly.

For texture aversions, let it be a type of cloth or a a type of material (anyone else hate frost and ice?-) they’re making sure that will never come into contact with you again, Barb and Dia would make sure there’s at the very least work around for them, while the brothers avoid it like the plague and make sure the rid of everything with that texture, practically purging the HOL-

Now of course they never doubted how smart you are- but the fact that if you have your headphones and maybe a fidget toy while you do your work and you get the best scores out of the majority of them AND get it done fast- they tried doing it to- it even helped some of them- *cough* mammon, Satan, and Beel *cough*

When you zone out they do just kinda let you be, unless you need to pay attention then they kinda snap you out of it.

They won’t lie- when you zone out they kinda find it cute in a way- one time you even un consciously started playing with the fluff of fur on the end of Belphies tail- now they’re all kinda hoping you un consciously gravitate to them and fidget with their piece of clothing or limb-

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me otome #obey me beelzebub #obey me mammon #obey me beel #obey me Lucifer #obey me Satan #obey me Levi #obey me Asmo #obey me belphie #obey me Diavolo #obey me barbatos

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foxys-fantasy-tales · 8 months ago

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Aka and Toshi - OC Kiss Excerpt

Word Count: 2.1k TW: Lost in snow. Minimal blood.

“Toshi!” Aka’s voice echoed through the mountains. Snowblinded and weary, she pushed through the drift up to her knees and clutched the extra scarf Judith had given her. The thick cloth was taken from her neck and wrapped around her hands. They were losing feeling, and she couldn’t have that. If Toshi was found, he was likely injured from that fall. Hours had passed since the unexpected skirmish knocked him off the cliff. The others all had to rest and warm their bodies, but she was more resilient to fatigue and cold than most. Even so, the night was so much worse than daylight had been. Aka cursed under her breath and stretched out her wings. Snow cascaded off them in a thin sheet and ice that had formed underneath crackled and ripped tiny cuts across the surface. Thanks to the same chill plaguing her, the injuries were mostly numb. She shook herself and trudged onward with the wind singing across snow to accompany her. After she’d lost track of time altogether, Aka finally spotted a difference of color on the horizon. Plumes of black were stark against the white shining under the moon and stars, illuminating the path well even through the gusts and thick precipitation. Course charted, she began to move faster, for where there was smoke there must be a fire, and hopefully Toshi would be there. It was hard to imagine anyone other than them would have veered so far off the path above. If the snow died down, then she could fly them out, given the appendages didn’t freeze off. Her heritage may keep her warmer than most internally, but her wings were thin and therefore more susceptible by far.

Next trek through the snow she would get someone to make a sort of glove for them, if the cost was within means. One she arrived at the source, a narrow cave stretched out before her. With who knew how much dark still behind it, a fire was lit some ways in. Hunched over the fire was a man, or at least seemed so, though only a bit of black hair and a hand waving some paper around were outside the black blanket wrapped around him. The haircolor reignited her hope.

“Toshi?” The head lifted and he nearly dropped the paper into the flames before snatching it out of the air. “Aka? What are you doing here? It’s fucking freezing and we’re half down the- Get inside!” Every muscle relaxed and her legs would have given out from under her if he hadn’t made such a reasonable demand. Each step further into the cave yielded more warmth, though it never reached anything like the temperatures she was accustomed to, at least he wouldn’t freeze to death. The smoke was a bit much, which made her see the reason for the fan. The smoke was able to crawl out of the cave’s mouth somewhat, but he’d also tied some ripped fabric from his spare clothes into a mask over his mouth. More of the red and white garment was tight around his leg, though it was far more red than she recalled.

“You’re hurt.” The words left her mouth involuntarily and on a breath that emptied her chest and left it hollow. It was then her legs chose to give, but her hands reached toward the wound before stopping short.

Healing wasn’t her talent anymore. No one had relied on her for healing for centuries, so the knowledge waned and became sword skills and footwork to challenge the very person she wanted to help now. Her wings jumped up and the gust made the fire flicker when Toshi knocked on the blood bandage over his calf. “It’s fine. I just couldn’t get back in a snowstorm with it, so I holed up in here. My luck seems to be turning about, doesn’t it?” “I wouldn’t call getting knocked off a mountain path lucky.” “Maybe not, but I’d be a handsome icicle if I hadn’t found this cave. That, and I had those books in my bag, so something to burn. I’ll have to ask everyone’s forgiveness when we get back.”

His chuckle hardly fit the situation, but it did ease her nerves. It had always done that. Back in those days when they were together, had he meant the laughter if not the love? While she was lost for words and adjusted herself to sit by the flames, Toshi was staring at her slackjaw.

“What is it?” Aka asked. “Your wings… Did you fly here?” “Have you lost your mind? I managed to glide down in small bursts, but wind and ice such as this would be incredibly dangerous to try to fly in, even if my wings could stand it.” “So you searched for me on foot? All this time?” The smile on his face made her drag her tail into her lap and curl up with it nearer to the heat. The smoke didn’t affect her as badly as it did him, and moving in made him cough and her jerk to one palm on the ground. “Easy, easy. I’m just going to help a little.” “Help what?” She bared her teeth and her tail raised as a crystal spiked weapon. When he touched her she gasped and her hand went to her rapier’s hilt, yet his hand was gentle and smoothed something across her wing. A tingling sensation, long forgotten but familiar, let her relax. No one would put medicinal ointment on someone they planned to attack.

How many nights now had she watched over him since they left Galavarn? Always in his room. Always awake whilst he rested. She stood guard against with her sword in hand, and yet he would fall asleep each night all too easily. “There. Should help that heal. Can’t fly out of here when it calms down if you're unable to get in the sky.”

“These cuts hardly would have prevented me from taking off, even with your weight in tow.”

He shrugged and put the canister back in his bag. It looked much lighter than it had that morning when they set off from camp. The front had collapsed inward and nothing but a few pages remained in a single text to his left. As the fire dwindled, he tossed the pages and binding in altogether. Aka wrapped her arms around herself. The fire wouldn’t last the night.

“How long until it burns out?”

“An hour or so,” Toshi answered.

Not much time, especially when she looked out and knew it was much longer than that until sunrise, perhaps longer still for the storm to ease up. Her gaze drifted back to his leg as he opened a bottle of soup. For a second, he motioned as if to hold some out for her, then grimaced and took it back. Aka chuckled under her breath.

“Even if I did require that type of sustenance, I wouldn’t take something that contains my own blood. I’m adept at starving myself by now,” Aka whispered.

“Stop.”

His hair hung in his face down to his chin, at least what wasn’t long and tied up behind him, so she couldn’t see his expression even as she tried to lean for a better vantage point. He was white-knuckling his bottle of soup. That much was clear. It shook in his grip before he tossed a bunch back into his mouth at once. Uneasy silence filled the spaces between the crackles of fire until Aka cleared her throat.

“You could rest. At least as long as the fire holds, rest would be good for you and your injury. I can watch the fire.”

“I’d rather freeze to death awake.”

Her tail slapped the ground. The jolt through the ground made Toshi sit up straighter and scoff.

“What? You think I have a shot? I don’t have the blood you do.”

“Perhaps not, but the very fact you’ve needed to mix blood in with your food says you aren’t back to being fully human. Something from Yani changed you, and I for one am certain the great Varin wouldn’t have let a little snow be his undoing.”

“I’m not that guy anymore. Just Toshi here, that’s all.”

“Even so, have a little faith you’ll make it through. You set up this fire and everything!”

Aka stared at him and realized with a pink blush she’d leaned in closer to argue her point. Toshi remained still and she wondered how cold he would be once the fire died down. Wasn’t moving about a good thing to do? She’d lived in tropical climes so long there wasn’t a lick of advice that came to mind she could be sure of.

None but one. She gulped and moved around to his backside. Toshi twisted to see her, but she jabbed fingers to his jaw to turn him back around.

“Don’t make anything of this. We need you around.”

“What are you- oh.” Toshi went even more rigid as she wrapped her legs, arms, and wings around him to try and retain the heat. Ointment dried by the flames and made the whole cave smell not only of smoke, but medicine too. Joy. Aka tried to focus on that and the flicker of the flames as both went quiet.

At first, Aka thought it was just a mutual agreement to not talk about holding her sort-of ex like this, yet after a few minutes soft snores rattled under her left wing. She jerked, but he didn’t budge a bit from his slumber. He was wounded. He’d also fought so hard up on the mountain. The least she could do was let him rest. She’d play lookout again. Only this time she was on his side again. Her tail skirted the cave floor back and forth before wrapping over his legs, careful of her spines.

After the fire died, the temperature plummeted fast. The good news was that the wind didn’t carry this deep, so at least they were dry. Every breath was counted in the otherwise silent place. If they stopped, she’d have a whole other problem on her hands. Her wing moved up enough for her to peek at his resting face. Nightmares plagued him many nights she stood guard, but for hours he hadn’t made a peep or tossed about at all. Her wings were a warm and heavy blanket. The notion made her smile until she caught herself.

Even so, Toshi had been nothing but good to her since he returned. Perhaps grating at times during their bickering, but he always did his best as part of the group. He was really intending on paying them all back for saving his neck, wasn’t he? Especially the one whose blade had once rested against it time and time again.

Aka’s wings fluttered beyond her control. It’d been ages since she felt it, so long in fact, she was startled and woke him up with her sharp gasp that echoed. His eyes only opened halfway before he grinned lopsided up at her.

“Hey there. You’re pretty every morning, huh? Guess it’s easy if you don’t ever sleep.”

“I’m only-”

His hand found hers on her knee and lay over it. From the side, his face was so much more sleek. The one she recalled hours and hours at close quarters had been different. Less sleek, more gaunt. She’d admired the scar and his stories, the aged look and wisdom he offered. Adjusting to a pre-deal version he half-healed into was difficult. He was both someone who hurt her beyond anything else, and someone who could smile at her hand with sleep still blocking his vision.

“Thank you. Looks like the sun’s been up a while now. Storm looks to be dying a little. Just a bit longer,” Toshi said.

Was that an observation or a plea?

She was half-answered as he took her hand in his. Her tail raised to high alert and pointed the ending spear-point at him, but he didn’t flinch. She didn’t strike. Toshi smiled after a short stalemate and slid his grip down to only hold her fingers. Before she could tell what he was doing, a kiss was planted on the back of her hand, swift and sure. Toshi smirked at her blabbering and words failing her.

“Was hoping I’d see that version of Aka again. Take it as thanks, or an IOU if you want more later.”

Aka’s tail swatted over his good leg and he yelped.

“You can pay us back the usual way when you’re healed. Let’s get moving.”

#long post #writeblr #it won't let me do a read more but I got it to post #tumblr is non-functional omg #arigale #indie author #oc kiss excerpt #aka #toshi

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