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olipeaksforever · 8 months ago

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Silver Moon Over Sleeping Steeples

Summary: Dale Cooper has escaped the Black Lodge after embracing his doppelganger, but after BOB starts to possess him and try to turn him into the monster Dale never wanted to be, he must come to terms with his flaws and face his biggest fears to reclaim power over his own body again.

Content warning for: mentions of rape, suicide attempts, self harm, substance abuse and weight loss.

Inspired by: @kasparovv 's phenomenal stories of possession series... go read them NOW!!! also david sylvian's song silver moon over sleeping steeples...

You can leave a nice comment here and in the ao3 upload!!

Dale was never so grateful to be back home.

After the worst weeks of his life, he was never so grateful to be back in that cavern he considered home. When he first moved there four years ago, it was a safe and sound place for him.

That stage was always short, the walls quickly echoed his cries and nightly screams, after feeling the same knife stuck his heart over and over again after that night. He remembered the laughter of the person who stabbed him, which now disintegrated and he stopped listening for a long while.

They had finally finished emptying Dale's last remaining box from his now old office. He had put the books back in his bookshelf, the little brown Tibetan cat figurine on the coffee table in the living room, and an old polaroid photo of him, Albert and Diane in 1982 he put in a frame where a picture of Caroline had once lain. Dale sighed, and walked with Albert towards the door. To say he was tired was an understatement.

A week ago, he'd come out of hell on earth, of red velvet curtains and chevron flooring, and when he did, he'd been dead for ten minutes thanks to a hemorrhage he had on arrival at the hospital. When they were able to revive him, the first thing his eyes caught was his family. And not what was left of it, they were all there.

His mother, aged but her hazel eyes were as warm as the last time Dale saw her before the colors were drained from them, was horrified to see her youngest son under wires and breathing masks as she came up to him and put her hand on his cheek, while Dale cried silently, not understanding why his mother was there. She had died twenty years ago and now she was alive again.

The only thing he fully remembered from what his mother said to him was: "I'm just as confused as you are."

She was right. The last thing he remembered of the Black Lodge was when he ran back into his escaped doppelganger in one of those endless hallways. An exchange he'd had with Garland Briggs days ago had motivated him to do what he had to do when he'd gotten into the Black Lodge in the first place.

“Major Briggs, if I may ask a personal question… Do you love yourself?”

“Very much.”

“Then it stands to reason that Leland Palmer didn’t.” What a bold thing for him to say, he thought. Because Dale didn’t want to recognize that he didn’t love himself either, and he failed constantly at it whenever he tried to apply his philosophy on himself.

“One could draw that conclusion. There are powerful forces of evil in the world. It is some men’s fate to confront great darkness. We each choose how to react. If the choice is fear, then we become vulnerable to darkness.”

And so it was that he grabbed his doppelganger tightly by his wrists and looked directly into his empty, pearly white eyes. All that he heard were his own disconsolate cries and screams, crying for help. Then he heard the marks of other realities. He heard Audrey moan and Diane cry, neither particularly in a kind context.

Dale gasped, never expecting that in other universes, his doppelganger would’ve hurt them that way. He was capable of becoming like the people who had taken advantage of him when he was at his lowest, repeating the cycle of abuse he always wanted to break. He finally understood he too was capable of evil.

But he stood still and firm, not cowering after such a shocking and dark reveal. His doppelganger furrowed his eyebrows, and his expression fell, turning more blue. Dale there found a young boy, no older than ten, crying on the floor. He bent down and reached out his hand to the boy's shoulder, and it was him. Dale sighed and helped him to sit up, his doppelganger remaining still.

The boy sniffled and cried, wiping the snot and tears that poured from his nose with his wrists, choking on his tears. Dale sat cross legged in front of him and brushed his back. The boy stopped crying for a second and fluttered his eyes open at the touch. He gulped and muttered: “If I hadn’t told her, she would be alive. I deserve to be alone.”

Dale shook his head no softly and pulled him for a hug, holding his head with his hand, closing his eyes. All of his darkest memories from his childhood to the last weeks of his life came back to him.

The hospital visits that seemed to be endless, the appointments with the dentist that would leave him in more pain than he was before, meeting those hippies, BOB ruining the only safe space he had to cope with his illnesses by abusing him, his mother’s now inexistent death, Marie drowning, his college girlfriends, his first accidental kill at the FBI, the murders in Club Y, Caroline. He had been so alone when those things took place, or under a bad influence, but he wasn’t going to let himself be alone anymore.

“You don’t deserve to be alone, you have me now.” He whispered to the boy, as his doppelganger started to cry. “I love you.”

When Dale opened his eyes again, he was hugging his doppelganger, who was sobbing. Dale finally realized what this meant. Dale sighed and smiled a little, as his doppelganger opened his eyes back up.

"Even if you can cause our pain in other people?" his doppelganger asked cryptically.

"I choose not to. I recognize that I can, yet I will refuse to become like the people who have left me broken because I refuse to continue the cycle." Dale answered him, his hands on his doppelganger's shoulders. His doppelganger nodded his head.

"Then you must leave the institution that won't cooperate in protecting victims like us. Like Laura Palmer. The pain can no longer be ignored if you want to be saved." His doppelganger replied calmly, as if he hadn't cried prior to this answer. He was clearly referring to the FBI, and as strange as he sounded to say that, he clearly understood what he was referring to.

"I understand. You don't deserve the pain." Dale whispered, smiling at his doppelganger fondly.

His doppelganger cried strangely again and smiled. His smile was tenebrous, but Dale remembered getting such a comment about his smile as well. Dale laughed a little, letting out a couple of tears in the process and hugging his doppelganger back tightly.

Light blue lights flashed in the hallway again, and when the flashing stopped, he broke the hug and found Laura Palmer. The real Laura. They both froze completely at the sight of each other and suddenly, an exit to Glastonbury Grove opened up. Dale held her hand and walked out of the Black Lodge with her, but he had no memory of what happened between the time he left and the time he arrived at the hospital. He didn’t know where she was either.

He knew we would always be with her, safe in their eternal retirement at the Black Lodge. Despite their outcomes, he had to thank everything to her. He could get out of there and so did she.

He never thought he’d meet someone like him in his life. It seemed like he and Laura were connected, but he didn’t want to think about that. He just knew he exists thanks to her. He’s glad he got to help her.

He then resigned from the FBI once he was released from the hospital. He gave in his badge, signed all the files he was supposed to sign, his confiscated tapes were returned to him somehow, and he said goodbye to a distraught Diane, an emotional Gordon, and a sad Denise. Obviously he wasn't going to stop seeing any of the three of them, but he would miss their presence in his daily life, and he would miss having the one thing that made him feel alive, like he had a purpose.

Dale could breathe and he could go back to living with others, but he was dead, he had nothing to do now that he gave up his life. Speaking of others, what was he doing?

"Earth to Coop." Ah yes, Albert had helped him unpack his things and organize them in his miserable apartment. What Albert muttered made him break out of his train of thought.

“Yes Albert.” He replied to him almost automatically, blinking. Albert grumbled and huffed.

"As I was saying, you are clearly not fit to be alone in this poor excuse of a house, and your recent disassociation further justifies my decision to stay here with you." Albert mentioned to him, causing Dale's eyes to widen and he put his hand on Albert's chest.

“Albert-”

“ Don’t 'Albert' me, mister. I’ve had enough of you pushing aside your problems like they’re trash. Do you think I didn’t notice your face when you saw your mother again? The way you reacted when Diane kissed your cheek? How you stood here for ten minutes without saying a thing as I explained my plan to you?” Albert complained, Dale sighing and looking down in response. “I’m staying, like it or not. End of the story.”

Dale inhaled, then exhaled, his expression emotionless and his eyes tired. "Albert, we're two adults in our thirties-"

"Get yourself a better excuse, you've got better ones than those. Your birthday is in weeks, in case you've forgotten. You're still twenty-nine." Albert interrupted him, crossing his arms. Dale only frowned in response, upset.

"I think I am capable enough to support myself and recover from what happened to me during the months that have passed with my own means and tools without external help." Dale argued with him, insisting on staying on his own. Albert nodded his head, not wanting to leave Dale alone.

"Oh, so you're going to throw the towel? So soon? You're going to give up on your life just like that?" Albert questioned, raising an eyebrow, disappointed in Dale's attitude.

“Quit pretending I had one outside of the bureau, Albert. You’re talking to a ghost.” Dale’s tone lowered, his voice shaking. He looked down and his frown fell into a pout. Albert’s expression saddened too at the cruelty of Dale’s words, as he blinked and sighed. “Let me die.”

“Dale-”

“Albert, leave.” Dale ordered him, tears pooling in his eyes. “Please.” He opened the door, and Albert stood in the doorframe, his eyes getting glossy too.

“I’m going to help you. I mean it.” Albert muttered, blinking. He looked down and then back up at Dale, leaving.

Dale waited for Albert to disappear into the hallway, and when he did, he closed the door shut and fell to the floor, crying. He hid his face in his hands as his shirt dampened from tears. He had been so cruel to Albert, especially now that he left, he wanted him as far from him as he could. He didn’t deserve someone like him.

How could anyone love a ghost? None of these things were a part of him anymore. Dale was haunting himself everywhere he looked. The Tibetan rug, the vinyl collection, the images of a boy that he wasn’t anymore hanging on the wall. He didn’t know how to be him again.

After sorting through the few things he had retrieved from his office and putting them in his apartment, Dale sighed and decided to take a bath. He removed the curtains and used the bathtub instead, he didn't want to think about curtains right now.

He hated that the smell of medical alcohol had permeated his skin during his last hospital stay, so using one of his special soaps not only removed the scent but also made him feel good. After all, he promised himself that he was going to start loving himself the way he was and take care of himself more often.

After bathing and putting on his pajamas, he felt something unraveling underneath him and he unbuttoned his navy blue shirt open only to find the bandage over his stomach that came undone. He sighed, sniffin, groaning as his body reminded him that his ribs were broken again, the Black Lodge brought him back the pain in his chest and stomach he had forgotten for so long.

He crawled to the bathroom, and opened the cabinet to pull the first aid kit from it and grab some medical tape to secure the bandage back in place. He pulled the bandage tight around his waist, whimpering as he did so, and with one finger he pressed on the end so that he could put the tape over it. He waited for some minutes to see if it came undone, but it didn’t. Dale sighed and placed the kit inside the cabinet again, wanting to skip dinner and spend the rest of the evening rotting in bed.

When he finished, the doorbell rang and he found Albert behind the door with a large suitcase and teary, tired eyes, as well as takeout. Dale couldn’t reject Albert’s offer to stay, so he let him in. They didn’t say a word to each other during dinner.

After dinner with Albert, he brushed his teeth and crawled into his bed, which he missed and longed to get back under his flower patterned sheets. As he got in his bed, he found himself staring at his reflection. Dale walked over to his mirror and touched his face with his fingertips. Was he seeing himself? Was it really him? He didn't remember himself that way. Dale left the mirror and then crawled into his bed and tried to sleep. Albert slept on the couch, as he had all the other times he had spent the night at home.

Dale dreaded the thought of Albert being there when he had a nightmare, of hurting him by accident. With that distance, it saved crying and talking that he didn't want to have at that moment.

Albert was already doing a lot by staying with him to help with his recovery, the thought of putting him through more frightened him. Or to make it more simple: the thought of Albert leaving him scared him to death.

Closing his eyes, Dale began to float. The sounds of the house faded into the background and his body relaxed completely…

…Below him, there was a nest, composed of small thin branches.

The nest was soft, but as he ran his hand along the tips of the branches, a splinter of the branch dug into his hand, drawing a line of blood that spilled down his palm. Dale sat, and looked around with narrowed eyes, the sun was beating down hard at this hour.

In the distance, there was a screech. A screech that claimed Dale, hungry for Dale. The screech came closer, and a huge owl dug its heels into Dale's arms, pinning him to the base of the nest.

Dale gasped in response, trying to free himself from the claws of the bird above him. The hooting began to twist into a wicked laugh.

The feathers grew longer, and the texture soon resembled human hair. The owl's beak began to turn into a nose and a mouth full of fangs. The plumage fell to reveal a denim ensemble and Dale was more than surprised by BOB's appearance in his dream.

BOB squeezed Dale's neck tightly, and put his face close to Dale's, smiling. "Did you think you were free of my torture forever?" BOB asked him, a devilish grin plastered on his face.

Dale was trying to escape, but he felt increasingly sluggish and vulnerable, as if he were in slow motion. BOB was shaking him and throwing himself on top of him, channeling his inner animal.

Dale yelped from the pain, feeling BOB's claws and fangs bite into his skin. BOB continued to grope Dale, feeling his skin bristle.

"You're such a slut. You enjoy this." BOB purred, savoring how Dale was on the verge of tears, denying the affirmation.

"You're unable to scare me anymore. I've defeated you." Dale spat, dodging the temptation to cry. "I'm reliving my darkest moments. This isn't real." He repeated that as if it were a mantra, causing BOB to burst out laughing, slamming his body even more violently and forcefully against Dale's, making him break down in tears.

"How come I can't hurt you if I still remain in your memories?" BOB asked him, removing a dental turbine from his pocket to bring it close to his face, the hum of the small drill buzzing in Dale's ears. "Maybe I won't bother you in reality anymore, but I will always, always remain here." He pointed to his head, then Dale’s forehead.

Dale moaned in horror, the drill getting closer and closer to his eyes.

"Now, be quiet. No one has to know about this or I will find out. Open your mouth." Was the last thing BOB whispered, before the drill made contact with Dale's body.

He woke up with a start the next morning, but no one had to know that he let his guard down in front of BOB. He was sweating from head to toe, and was shaking intensely. He sighed and closed his eyes shut.

He got out of bed to undress himself in front of the mirror, trying to find any traces of BOB, but to no avail.

He was still in the same old body. Lanky build, milky white skin, barely any hair on his chest but his armpits and legs made up for it, a small scar on his stomach, two pink scars at the end of his pectorals and of course, the scar from the stabbing, close to his heart. Dale forgot what it looked like because he'd always listen-

"Caroline!" More screaming. Vision turning black. Blood poured everywhere he looked. Caroline lying dead in his arms.

Dale closed his eyes shut, pretending he didn't listen to any of that. He sighed and put on his pajamas again, staring at himself again to see any change, expecting someone else to be there. His old self, to say a lot. Nothing stared back at him.

BOB himself told him to keep quiet or he would do something horrible to him, even worse, somebody Dale loved. Again.

He walked into the hallway and no one was there. There was a small note on the table in Albert's absence, a note with good intentions telling him he would be back in three weeks because he was in Philadelphia solving a case and that asked him to please not burn the house down in an attempt to make breakfast for himself. Dale burst into tears.

The nightmare felt real, as if he had actually lived it. Memories of his childhood and his visits to the dentist echoed in his head like a cave, much like his home. He still felt the knives in his chest and the dentist's drill.

He tried to make himself breakfast, but he was so disgusted by what he had been through that he threw it all up, and cleaned the bathroom so as not to leave any traces of the vomit.

He called Diane, trying to find someone to talk to without mentioning what happened, not even implicating what was going on in his head. "Is Diane Evans there?"

"She isn't, but you can leave a message!" Her bubbly secretary told him. Dale sighed.

"It's alright. I'll call her later." He hung up and pouted. He didn't have the gut to talk to Albert, and didn't even consider talking to Denise, though she must've been busy.

He tried to sleep his thoughts off, but to no avail. When Albert called him at night to check on him, he put on his strongest face and pretended it had been a great day. It hurt him to lie to Albert, but he didn’t want to put him in danger. Albert raised an eyebrow at the forced smile but brushed it off.

BOB couldn't physically hurt him anymore, but what evidence did he have that proved that? He couldn't tell Albert because if he were to lose Albert by opening his mouth, his life would become meaningless. He couldn't watch someone he loves die. Not again.

He loved Albert and if telling him the truth meant watching him die, he would rather let the pain consume him than lose Albert. He was so terrified of being left alone after it all. Or losing Diane. After all, he heard her voice screaming for help in the Lodge. In another universe, BOB got Diane under the skin of his doppelganger, and did things to her that Dale could never forgive himself for.

Dale then unplugged his phone. He decided to do something to clear his mind. To live a little.

He remembered his old drawings from when he was in college. He went to his small studio and opened one of the wooden drawers of an old piece of furniture that used to belong to his grandmother. Small notebooks with velvet covers lay on top of books and drawing materials he hadn't used in years. Let's see if he could be proud of himself again.

Dale grabbed a notebook and started to doodle, trying to free his mind a little. He started to draw small flowers. Simple to draw yet sweet, the imperfect flower didn't exist. He looked at the bouquets and smiled a little, they looked good. It had been years and they looked more than decent.

He admired the texture the graphite of the pencil left as he drove it across the page, as the petals evolved into leaves, the leaves turning into zigzags, as he lost control of his hand, he closed his eyes and lost himself.

He was floating in a black void, in peace. Dale smiled to himself, putting his hands on his chest. Peace at last, he'd thought. That was until a soft body clashed with his, their shoulders rubbing softly.

He turned around only to meet himself, who was frightened and shaking his shoulders. "Wake up!" He screamed, feeling Dale's bones rattle underneath his grasp.

Dale furrowed his brows and held his own shoulders, staring at himself. "Where am I?" He asked, and then he looked at a young girl with long, raven curls staring back at him. Dale gasped.

"You've got to wake up! We're trapped!" She screamed, and when Dale blinked again, he was an old man in his sixties.

"How?" Dale asked him.

"You're detached from the world." He told Dale, making Dale shake his head and close his eyes. “You have to come back to yourself.” Now, he was sitting on a couch, with a big screen above him. He was seeing himself drawing, almost robotically and expressionless.

Dale observed the situation in horror, knowing he was powerless to stop it. He then saw how he walked to the bathroom mirror and saw his doppelganger staring back at him, smiling, eventually collapsing to the ground, his vision turning black.

And so it was that under BOB’s management, he began to sleep less, his dark circles under his eyes getting bigger.

He ate less, BOB made him sick and throw up everything he ate, making him lose weight in an exaggerated way, his fast metabolism didn't help either, his arms became twigs and his skin turned pale in a short amount of time. BOB would let Dale come back to his body only to see a reflection that wasn't his, deformed, sick and twisted and it would drive him to sobbing.

Sometimes he would be under fat rolls and folds of skin that he never had his angular face replaced with round, puffy cheeks, or he’d see all of his bones trying to break from his skin, his eyes looking like they were about to pop out of his skin. Body horror at its finest. BOB loved showing him reflections of himself that weren’t true so that Dale wouldn’t notice how BOB was changing his body in reality.

His ribs and chest still hurt, and Dale sometimes cried himself to sleep in an effort to rest, when BOB wasn’t looking around. But every time he was caught, he felt those hands on his body again and again.

Back in his dreams, Dale was now in a van with an intense smell of incense, curtains of multicolored beads fell over his eyes. Once he pulled back those curtains, BOB appeared as a hippie, smelling a daisy that then rotted in his hand.

"I see you really took my warning to heart." BOB said seductively, approaching Dale. He sniffed his arms and then brushed his hair, which was getting longer and longer. He held his arm, licking his skin. "You look beautiful now."

Dale pushed him away, annoyed by BOB's comment. "I don't even know why I'm letting some distant memory tell me what to do and treat me like his puppet."

"Oh, you know perfectly well." BOB licked Dale's hand, receiving a grimace of disgust from him. "You really doubt my inability to hurt you physically in the real world, and you know that if I could, and if you'd tell this to your dearest Albert... I'd kill him! I can’t get little Laura Palmer in my hands either, but don’t think my treatment is exclusive to you. You failed."

"You can't hurt me anymore. The evidence for that exists. You're just a nightmare trying to kill me. I won't let that happen!" Dale yelled at him, walking away and standing behind a large magenta lava lamp. "You can't hurt Albert!"

"But I'm not hurting him. You are . You're a terrible person! You're lying to him about this. Keep it up, and not only will Albert leave you, but you'll die, and you'll be just like me!" BOB shrieked, pulling his face close to Dale's and kissing him intensely, leaving teeth marks on his lower lip.

Dale pushed him again, but BOB squeezed him tightly in his arms to keep him from escaping, then hit him and kissed him again.

"Now, Dale... Don't forget to do your homework. Or else I'll fail you." BOB joked, as his laughter melted around the flames eating at the hippie van, the incense fading from the atmosphere. "I want to see you again."

Somehow, when Albert came back, BOB left. The first thing Albert said to Dale was: "Coop, I’ve noticed lately that you've decided to speak the language of silence and haven't addressed a single word to me since I came back here. Fuck , since I left. Your parents are worried, Diane has been hysterical… What the hell happened?"

Dale sniffled, and nodded in response, looking at the floor. Albert brushed back his growing mop of hair and grimaced, which quickly disappeared when he saw the weariness in Dale's eyes.

"Is it the medicine? Have you been having nightmares and not telling me?" Albert would ask, holding his slender hands in his. "You haven't been eating either. You're a bundie."

"Albert, maybe you shouldn't blame the medicine and my dreams for my condition." Dale whispered, avoiding looking at Albert. "Blame me for not taking the medicine."

"Why the hell don't you take it?" Albert asked him, annoyed. Dale shrugged and shook his head.

“I forget. I haven’t been myself lately and I’d like to apologize for it. The events of the last month have taken a toll on my mental health and I’m still trying to process it. Do I have to explain it to you any further?” Dale asked him, followed by a sniffle. He was half lying, and hoped Albert didn't catch it.

“Hey. Look at me, Coop.” Albert ordered him, putting his hand on his cheek, Dale’s hazel eyes meeting Albert’s almond eyes. “I'm not doing this because it's my job, I'm doing this because like it or not, you matter to me. You aren’t talking for some reason, but you trust me well enough to tell me what’s going on inside that mind of yours. You’re drowning and I’m here to pull you out of the water, because you don’t deserve to go through this and your recovery is fundamental to me.” And Albert was right, like always.

He feels like he's drowning, falling deeper and deeper into the darkness, hoping to see the light above him waiting to reach him and wrap him in a warm embrace. The light is there for him though, and in the form of a cynical agent by his side, helping him to heal to enjoy the life he always wanted to have.

Dale smiled a little, feeling tears gathering in his eyes. "Thank you, Albert." Oh, Albert. Always so kind and thoughtful despite his vocabulary. Dale didn't know how to repay him after all he's doing for him.

"Don't mention it." Albert hugged him, and Dale's smile grew even bigger, feeling safe in Albert's arms, away from any pain and any torture from BOB.

BOB would, when he could, make an odd gesture with Dale's body that was enough evidence for Albert to hold Dale's hand for a while, mistaking the possession for a panic attack or distract him with some of his vinyl records playing in the background. Dale sometimes spent more time trapped in his mind than in the real world with Albert, between versions of himself, the past and future in one single place.

Over the next few days, Dale started taking his medicine, and he didn't have as many nightmares as before, and he was eating again without feeling nauseous.

Unfortunately, his cheeks and stomach were still swollen from constant vomiting. It was very noticeable in contrast to how thin and small his body had become.

Sometimes, but not often, he would fall asleep on the couch watching some rerun of a romantic movie, and Albert would stroke his head or wish him sweet dreams, something he enjoyed and looked forward to doing the same to Albert when he had the chance (and something he didn't know if Albert noticed he remembers it). How he loved to be touched this way.

BOB stopped showing up for a while when one day, Dale decided to do something to deal with his identity crisis. He tried drawing again, but this time he drew Albert, and he was in total control of his body. He smiled when he could see the finished product without interruption. And so it went on.

The nightmares unfortunately persisted, attempting to frighten Dale with BOB tearing his face from his body, putting it on and killing people. These violent images were followed by BOB swearing to Dale that he would turn into him. Dale found that his days however, kept flowing the right way even after having these nightmares. At no time did he ever feel trapped in his mind again.

Sometimes he was even able to be in total control of his body when he was alone, as he learned how to fix holes in T-shirts he used to love and how to make omelets with cheese. He slowly felt like he was human again and the feeling was amazing.

He rediscovered traits of himself that he had forgotten he loved, and discovered new ones. Since when did the tips of his ears turn red when he smiled? The tip of his nose always twitched slightly when he talked? Did his hair look that good without gel?

He was back to experimenting like he did as a teenager, and had never felt so comfortable in black latex harnesses strapped to his chest or ever thought eyeliner looked so good on his eyes. He was reaching levels of joy and peace with himself he'd never thought he'd reach. Dale was becoming more and more in awe of himself, as if he was rediscovering himself all over again.

Part of what made him slowly find himself, or be himself again, was all thanks to Albert. And Dale started to notice things about Albert that maybe he hadn't paid much attention to before, like how long his lashes were, or the dimples in his cheeks. Maybe he was falling for Albert again. Maybe he was the one. And he's lucky Albert wasn't home when he would lie on the couch and day dream about the two of them together, blushing and smiling to himself.

He was becoming a whole new different man, different from the FBI Agent people either wanted to marry or to kill, he was finally becoming himself.

One night, after Albert came home from work a wreck and they had shared a mood-enhancing dinner, they decided to indulge themselves and had bits from a can of beer sitting in the fridge. They were now in the living room, both on the verge of falling asleep, with Dale sitting cross-legged on the sofa and Albert curled up in a ball on the couch in front of Dale. Dale smiled a little as he saw Albert's figure on the couch.

"Don't laugh, Coop." Albert grumbled, rubbing his eyes and frowning as he got to look at him. "I'm more than aware that my back will be like an accordion if I spend the night here on this couch."

“Right.” Dale chuckled, rubbing his own eyes too.

“If it were for you, you’d sleep here and in the morning, your first words would be something along the lines of: ‘Albert it appears that my back aches after I stole a goose’s golden egg.’ Am I wrong?” Albert imitated Dale, making him giggle at how accurate yet inaccurate his imitation of him was. “I don’t know, I didn’t study acting at Oxford. I’m made of wood.”

“I can see.” Dale added, making Albert chuckle and roll his eyes.

"I'm so glad we're on the same page. Can you put on some music?" Albert suggested. Dale got up and walked over to the library where they had vinyls, singles, cassettes and cds of various genres carefully organized by alphabetic order and pulled out a David Sylvian vinyl.

Albert frowned, as he looked at the vinyl. "You really want us to sleep, don't you?" Albert grumbled, rubbing his eyes.

Dale blinked and smiled a little. "I've been wanting to listen to my favorite song with you again. It's been years and…" Dale stopped in his tracks and looked down at the floor, blinking. "May I ask if we could lay down on the floor and let us be consumed by the beautiful mystery that is this vinyl as we enjoy what is left of the night?"

Albert sighed, and grabbed the second record inside the ambient pop and put it in the vinyl player. He couldn't say no knowing what it meant for Dale, especially the last time they heard it together. He remembers Dale crying over a love that never was in Albert's arms, as his sobbing subsided and he fell asleep, forever grateful Albert had been there.

He arranged the pick so it was in the middle of the vinyl and they lay on the floor, a melancholy but beautiful melody making the living room disappear, letting the stars and moonlight envelop the room, the dark blue shadows painting their skins and Dale could see the moon in Albert's eyes. It was silver and it shone against Dale’s face. A beautiful sight to see.

Dale sighed and smiled from ear to ear, looking up at Albert. Albert turned his head to look at Dale and swore he saw a million little stars in his eyes. Albert laughed at the idiocy of seeing a galaxy in Dale's eyes, but at that moment, it was the closest he would ever get to space and wanted to enjoy it.

"What?" Dale asked him, furrowing his eyebrows but not diminishing his smile.

“Are we in space?”

“And you’re complaining?” Dale asked him playfully. “Albert, I’m surprised.”

Albert chuckled, and shook his head softly. “Damn this music.” He sighed, staring at all the little planets above him. "You're right, it's been too long."

Dale nodded, intertwining his fingers with Albert's, as his fingertips had brushed his. Dale blinked and sighed, the music taking them deeper into the galaxy. They were now two stars in clouds of different shades of blue, floating in the dark sky, alone.

Dale wouldn't have wanted it any other way. It's everything he ever wanted.

"Dale?"

"Yes, Albert?"

"I know." Albert whispered with a tiny smile, gazing at Dale. Dale's heart stopped as he looked at Albert with wide, worried eyes.

Dale gulped and blinked, the clouds disappearing around them. "I was looking forward to the perfect moment to open up to you." Dale mumbled, looking down.

There was a short silence, and Albert was being wrapped in a white, almost angelic aura. "You wanted to be anywhere else?" And Dale knew he had finally made it.

Dale's eyes were shining bright out of pure emotion, and sighed, smiling widely as he shifted to hug Albert, being consumed by the light and then falling into the darkness. He was floating in peace at last.

Everything seemed to change for the better until one day, after taking a bath, Dale looked at his reflection in the mirror and cried out in horror at the sight of his face. His hair was now down to his shoulders, he couldn't remember the last time he had shaved and he hadn't trimmed his nails either. Why didn’t he notice this before?

And that's when he realized that BOB was right. He had become BOB, physically speaking.

Dale felt shivers down his spine, and decided to crawl back into his bed. A haircut and a shave would fix this.

It was painful to walk back from the bathroom to his room. His screams pleading for help could be heard down the hallways, and Dale closed his eyes, thinking he would stop hearing them.

He covered himself with his sheets and blankets, and closed his eyes, trying to count sheep.

Dale then woke up in a house, and Caroline was standing in front of him, worried, in a hurry. She was walking in and out of the living room, with a black coat in her hands. Dale saw a picture of him and Caroline, smiling. A photo that didn't exist, it looked like a collage of older photos of the two of them, since he never had the chance to take a photo with her.

Caroline sighed, and crossed her arms, standing in front of Dale. "Are you even listening to me?" She asked, impatient.

Dale frowned. "What do you mean by it, Caroline?" He asked. "I may have missed-"

She huffed and rolled her eyes, throwing her arms to the sides. "You always miss everything. You miss something that you never and will never have." She told him in a tone completely different from the one Caroline used to speak in.

Dale then saw a baby in his arms, who giggled and smiled at him. "What's this?" Caroline only groaned in response and stomped.

"Jesus, Dale! Always forgetting things! She's going to starve if you don't feed her!" Caroline complained, making Dale stand up and take a few steps back, shaking his head no.

"I can't feed her Caroline, you know that." Dale replied to her, staring at the squealing baby once again. "Perhaps if-"

"You're incredible! Always making excuses for the things you've hidden!" Caroline yelled, snatching the baby from Dale's arms, as she started to cry. Dale shook his head, shedding a few tears. Whatever reality or jail he was stuck in, he wasn't sure if he could stand it any longer.

"Caroline, please." Dale pleaded, his wife huffing and trying to calm down their child. He saw a collection of records sitting by a table on the left of the couch, and picked a random one, hidden between vinyls, speaking to Caroline. "I apologize for my lack of understanding in this situation, I'm just at a loss of words of what to do. I shouldn't be here."

Caroline rolled her eyes once more, watching how Dale put the record on. "You're a faulty man, Dale Cooper. Look at how evil consumed you." Her words were like acid, biting at his skin, his bones and joints disintegrating by it. It wasn’t Caroline, yet the way this new reality worded her to make her sound angry made Dale wish he hadn’t met her in the first place, again.

The music started to play. Dale turned around to look at the spinning record. A familiar melody. A composition that sounded like hope. Angels floating. Tears filling the room. A bond and connection that transcended universes. He remembered standing by Laura’s side, with a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Her guardian angel.

He turned around only to find himself, with bones poking out of his skin and long black hair, naked on the floor, curled up. Caroline and his inexistent daughter were nowhere to be seen. He had to come back. He shook his shoulder and before he turned his head to look at him, he felt a chill going down his spine and opened his eyes.

When he woke up, a blue light filled the room and he felt himself lose all the security he thought he had under the covers. BOB pulled the sheets and bedspread off Dale's bed, and kissed him, biting his neck and then holding his face with his hand.

BOB smiled, showing his fangs stained with Dale's blood and pressing hard against his legs. "I told you you'd be like me." He purred, pawing Dale by his stomach and legs as he moaned. "Still think you're the victim?"

Dale closed his eyes from the pain, moaning and groaning, and shook his head softly. "No." He whispered.

BOB laughed, and pulled Dale's t-shirt off his body, and began kissing his scarred chest, making him squirm from the pain and humiliation.

"Don't cry yet, my little monster boy. This isn't over yet." BOB whispered, then to hold Dale's face.

"I'm not crying." Dale answered him, extremely vulnerable.

"Not yet." BOB clarified, tracing circles with his fingers on Dale's back.

"I didn't tell anyone about us." Dale said between small moans of pain, his eyes glistening with tears.

"Excellent. You're making great progress." BOB brushed the lanugo growing on Dale's body, then kissed him back only to break their kiss. "I regret to inform you that this is the last time we will see each other."

And when he finished speaking, Dale jumped on BOB, and began to choke him, his tears falling on BOB's face.

"Go away! I won't let you hurt me ever again!" Dale screamed, as BOB laughed disconsolately.

"You deserve the pain! You wouldn't be here if you hadn't hurt others! If you hadn't hurt Albert!" BOB shrieked.

"That's a lie!" He yelled back.

"You're a terrible, selfish brat, Dale Cooper. You're always too late." BOB purred.

“No-”

“You were born too late, she was already dead when she wished for your help. You were already dead when you wished for a true friend. Can’t you see it?”

“I understand! Leave us alone!” Dale pleaded, as BOB shoved his fingers inside of Dale, making him tremble and scream. “Please!”

“When I kill you, I’ll get Laura Palmer next. You can’t save her anymore.” BOB whispered to him, making his hand out of Dale and kissing him, as Dale succumbed to the pain and cried, thinking it was going to make it stop.

"Please leave me alone." Dale pleaded, his voice no higher than a whisper, choking on his tears. "Please. I'm a good man."

"That should be engraved on your gravestone." BOB whispered in his ear, biting his earlobe. Dale grimaced, making BOB press him harder against the wooden floor and kiss him, sealing his mark. When he broke the kiss, BOB smiled. "You've been nothing but a perfect host these past few weeks. A real pain in the ass too, you couldn't let me have any fun. Luckily, all that didn't happen to your friends: it happened to you."

Dale cried, before BOB could kiss him again and couldn't hold his eyelids anymore. His body went limp afterwards, floating in the darkness once more. He heard BOB before he woke up. He had whispered: "Who will you see in the mirror, but not yourself?"

BOB shoved Dale back to the bed by pushing him from his chest and then removed a knife, causing Dale to freeze in horror, staring at Windom Earle's reflection in the metal of the knife.

"I won't say goodbye without killing you first, my dear Dale. Say hello to Caroline for me." BOB said to Dale in Windom's voice, and began stabbing him in the chest, hearing Caroline scream in the background, and then his own screams.

"Caroline!"

Dale woke up with a jolt, and he was sick of it all. He was sick of the dreams, sick of the raping, how BOB made his traumas and experiences worse by showing up in his memories.

But it was too late to tell Albert about it. The damage had been done.

Now Dale had become his abuser, and he had to die. He didn't want to be like BOB, that was one of his worst nightmares. He turned back towards the bathroom, echoes of past nightmares echoing in the hallways, and looked in the mirror.

He saw only BOB's reflection, and Dale began to cry softly.

He was horrified at his new appearance, he was a monster now. A monster who didn't deserve to be loved. Someone who'd let his guard down and failed. Again.

And when he thought things couldn’t get worse, the phone rang. He picked up the call and heard a familiar voice. "Dale, do you need me to help you?" It was his mother, and his eyes immediately watered when he heard her voice.

Dale shook his head, clearing his throat. "Mother."

"I've dreamed the same thing you have. You haven't been free of him at all." She reminded him. "You have distracted him, but he saw you yesterday when you were with Albert." Dale's heart sank at the last part.

"Mother, don't do this. Please." Dale pleaded, his voice thin but growing louder with frustration. "I've already lost you once to that monster. I don't want to go through that again."

"Then for how long will you let him hurt you? Until your mind is scattered somewhere in a dark corner of the universe?" She asked him, her voice sad but serious.

"I don't know how!" Dale cried, wiping his eyes. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I thought I had fixed it all in the last months… But I haven't got a clue on how to get rid of him for eternity."

The line went dangerously silent and Dale's eyes rolled back. He saw himself through a big screen, and saw how he hung up the phone, then unplugged it. He walked to the mirror and saw how BOB was using his face to smile at him.

"Time's running out, little boy." BOB whispered with Dale's face. Dale blinked and he was back in his body.

He went back to his room and started dialing Diane's phone. He had to say goodbye to her and everyone he loved, they didn't deserve someone like him.

"Hello?" Diane's secretary asked Dale.

"Hi. This is Dale Cooper. I wanted to know if Diane Evans is around."

"She's busy, but you can leave a message." The secretary carelessly told him. She must've had a new secretary.

Dale sniffled, and nodded. "I'd appreciate it very much if you'd turn a deaf ear. It's personal and I'd be humiliated if anyone else knew about it."

"...As you say." She replied to Dale in a disinterested manner, as Dale cleared his throat.

Dale inhaled deeply, then exhaled and sighed. "Diane, you are surely busy solving some extremely interesting cases, and that makes me very proud of you. You deserve to rise higher and higher in that position because you are a phenomenal woman and I admire you so much, Diane." Dale began, letting a couple of tears fall. "You're funny, you're strong, you're brave... Sometimes I'm sorry you had to go through such things in your life like sexism in the workplace before you got where you are today, and I wish I could have done more to lift your spirits when you felt blue about it. You are very beautiful and sweet and I have questioned myself in several instances what I have done to deserve someone like you. You have been one of three of my closest friends, the ones who really saw me for who I really was and who have shown me that I am not the monster I think I am. You have helped so much and I will never, ever forget what you have done for me. Having someone listen to my rambling, ranting… Having someone who'll listen to what I feel and I have to say…" Dale stopped to sniff, and then cleared his throat. His voice breaking. "Is something that I've been granted very little in my short life. I shouldn’t have used you as a therapist as much as I did instead of being honest with my therapist. I’m sorry. Don't blame yourself for this, because I promise you that you have done nothing wrong. I want you to grow up, show everyone who's the boss, and always make yourself an excellent cup of coffee like I would have liked to have had. I love you, Diane. Goodbye."

Dale heard snoring on the other line, and cleared his throat loudly, waking the secretary.

"Would you like to leave that message?" She asked him, alert.

"Please. Tell her to listen to it right away as soon as she gets back." Dale asked the secretary. Once she saved the message, he cut the call short and went into the living room to tear a sheet of paper from his notepad.

He grabbed a pen, and began to write a letter to Albert, all the while crying inconsolably. Tears blurred his handwriting, ink spilling over the sides of the letters.

When he finished the letter, Dale read it. It read as follows:

Dear Albert:

The last few years have been some of the most beautiful in my life.

Meeting you was an honor, and sometimes you think you are a hard person to love because of your attitude. You are surprised that I still put up with you despite your cynical and bitter personality. I have never seen you like that and I wouldn't expect you to be anything less than what you are.

You are an admirable man, I could never do what you do without throwing up or fainting first.

The world needs more people like you. Your heart is pure and kind, and you really follow your ideals. You say things like they are, without watering them down or cherry picking information, you go straight to the point.

Regret is a word I'd use to describe the way I behaved towards you when you attempted to show me the dark surface of Twin Peaks. Now I understand what you meant by it. I wished I had seen the truth earlier. Or way before Twin Peaks. Words that I've said, letters I've written, things I've done. Too many regrets. You deserved a better friend.

Good is not a word anyone should use to describe me. If anything, it suits you more.

There's something I don't know if you knew, Albert. But your name has the most beautiful meaning in the world. I was reading about it the other day and forgot to tell you.

Albert means "bright," and Rosenfield means "field of roses." Your name means "bright field of roses," Albert. Isn't that beautiful?

Roses are a symbol of love, and I don't think there has ever been a human being as loving and as committed to spreading love around the world as you, Albert. Or a name more fitting for you.

I love you, Albert. I don't think I can find all the right words to express myself the way I want to express myself about you, but every time I see you, I feel safe and loved. I look the way I look and do the things I do to avoid a terrible fate for you. The possibility of you dying in BOB's arms.

I protected you by doing this. I did what I couldn't do for Caroline. Though I must admit that I let my guard down by letting BOB do terrible things to me in my nightmares. They felt too real, Albert. Pawing, biting, licking, torturing, no traces were found every time I woke up but his presence had been there.

They weren't those types of nightmares where you can easily figure out that they're not real. He picked my darkest moments and inserted himself in them. Including that night in Pittsburgh. He replaced doctors, hippies, even Windom Earle, and inserted himself in them.

A disturbing sight to many, but for me, it seemed like watching a gateway to hell opening upon my eyes.

My mother already died twenty years ago trying to protect me as a helpless, sickly ten year old who was just learning how the world worked, and I didn't want you to pay that price. And now, because of me, she’s back. But the print her death left in my mind can’t be erased like her death was from this world.

Evil never dies. I couldn't let BOB hurt you, or Diane. Not even my friends back there in Twin Peaks.

Thank you for everything you have done for me, from the day we met until last night. I want you to stay true to your word and keep loving people, doing everything you do for love. It was my choice, and never blame yourself for it, please. You did nothing wrong, you just tried to help. You tried to help a shell of a broken man.

I love you, Agent Rosenfield.

Farewell,

Coop. x

It took Dale hours to write that letter, and when he finished it, he sighed and went outside to buy a rose for Albert.

When he returned, it was already evening, the sky was dark and the moon was up, and he was deeply grateful that no one made any comment on his appearance. He left a white rose on the table next to the letter, and headed for the bathroom.

Shouting in the hallways told him not to, not to do what he was about to do, that he didn't deserve that, but he heard again that animalistic laughter that was so characteristic of BOB as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror.

Dale opened the bathroom mirror compartment, finding a bag of razor blades. He removed one from the bag and closed the mirror, only to find BOB standing behind him, smiling.

"It's already done. You're too late." BOB growled with a devilish smile. Dale whimpered, staring at BOB’s reflection in the blade.

"Dale?" Albert asked him from the hallway, making Dale shiver. Dale jumped and started to cry and scream loudly, dropping the blade. He attempted to close the bathroom door. He choked on his tears, BOB pressing his thumbs against his neck, a sight invisible to Albert, who was trying to hold Dale’s shoulder.

Dale's eyes turned pitch black, and when he managed to open the door of the bathroom, before losing his humanity to BOB, he mumbled his last words to Albert: "Please forgive me."

The bathroom turned into his cage, his body now locked inside it. Dale stopped crying and his face turned into stone, walking over to the bathtub and turning on the water. Albert's loud thuds and warnings didn't stop him. Dale put on the plug and when the bathtub was almost filled, Dale submerged himself in it, letting the water clog his nostrils, falling into the dark…

…and into the old hallway of his house. Dale heard choked crying from his bedroom. He opened the door to find a little girl crying. Vaporub sat on her nightstand, and her starry comforter was drenched in sweat. Dale walked over to her and brushed her feverish forehead, and was met with a pair of scared, hazel eyes.

Dale turned his head to the window, unable to face her. But the sight on the window wasn't a better choice. He was seeing BOB drown him in his own bathroom, while Albert attempted to get through the door, his muffled screaming coming from behind the door.

Dale heard loud banging coming from the door, and the girl began to cry, almost choked cries. He remembered this. The first time BOB had tried to possess him. Dale sighed and had no choice but to look her in the eyes. The girl sniffled, rubbing her eyes.

"I'm so scared." She sobbed, covering her face with her small hands. Dale nodded his head and put his hand on her knee.

"Afraid of what?"

"Of becoming like him." She answered him, swallowing hard. Dale turned his head and watched as her body lay deep in her tub, completely motionless. “I don’t want him here. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Dale didn't know how to answer her. The banging was getting louder and louder behind the door. BOB began to laugh, as the room began to engulf in flames, causing the girl to shriek and Dale to become alarmed that BOB was about to burst through the door to his room. In the real world, Albert was trying to unlock the door with keys and cards of any kind, silently crying.

"Dale, open the door!" Albert shouted, trying to unlock the door with a crowbar, but to no avail. He couldn't pull the door down with his own weight either. He was running out of time.

They were both running out of time. Dale realized that he only learned to love part of himself, that he had not yet faced his worst fears, nor accepted his shortcomings. His eyes filled with tears as he watched the girl cry. He hugged her tightly and put his chin on the top of her head.

"I'm so sorry." Dale murmured. "You deserved so much better."

“I just want to feel better.” The girl croaked, coughing. Dale remembers how worried he would get when he got sick, how close to death he felt every time he was bedridden. Dale then remembered the vaporub on the nightstand, and carefully removed her shirt, as he rubbed the green gel over her chest. The girl inhaled, and exhaled, as her breathing evened.

“Thank you.” She squeaked, as Dale nodded, the heat of the fire catching up to him, the sensation of BOB’s nails clawing on the doorframe. Dale gulped and shed a few tears, he was staring at his own past, and he was letting himself lose against BOB.

“You’re welcome.” Dale muttered, blinking a tear. The little girl frowned and sniffled.

“Why are you sad?” She asked him, wiping her cheeks. Dale coughed and cried, as he covered his face with his hands, the fire starting to burn the bed.

“You’re me. A-and I can’t come into terms with my mistakes, I can’t come into- I lost against him.” Dale stuttered, failing to tell her what was happening around them. “I ignored what was actually killing me on the inside and I let him hurt me.”

The girl gasped at the revelation, her eyes growing wide at the adult in front of her. She put her hand on Dale’s cheeks and whispered: “I’m going to get better?”

He felt his heart shatter at that question alone, and he hugged the girl tightly, his tears falling on her head, sobbing loudly. The fire began to burn the sheets, and Dale began to lose oxygen, coughing more and more sharply. The water filling his lungs, Albert still failing to open the door, still not giving up.

But Dale remembered her question. Am I going to get better? He was right. He did get better. Dale was able to get BOB away from him for a while, he refused to become BOB. Dale refused to become a BOB puppet on multiple occasions, beyond that in the last few hours, he failed pathetically. Dale had to face his fears and accept the fact that he too can do evil and that he’s imperfect. He had been imperfect, but with that question alone, he realized his imperfection and lack of acceptance of the fact that BOB was still after him and took him to the solution that might save him.

He accepted that all his decisions and mistakes took him here, and decided to take the responsibility for it. He could finally save himself. He would never be like BOB, and so he smiled at the girl and nodded his head, brushing back her black bangs. "It's going to be alright. I'm here to take care of you."

BOB started screaming, as the fire was put out by water. Dale furrowed his eyebrows and looked toward the window, his body underwater coughing and trying to get back to the surface. He was regaining his autonomy.

The girl sniffed and hugged him tightly. Dale pulled her inside his bed and held her hand, brushing gently. He got up and saw how BOB’s burned fingers were scratching the door. Dale grabbed the door handle and closed the door harshly, listening to BOB’s fingers crack, as he managed to close the door, not a soul in sight. He wasn’t going to let him hurt her. He walked over to the bed again, and saw the girl lying on the bed, almost falling asleep.

Dale smiled and kissed her forehead, as he crawled over to the bed and hugged her. “Goodnight. I love you.” He whispered to himself.

Dale started coughing, trying to get out the water that had clogged his throat. His body was all pink from the heat of the water and his damp hair covered his view. Dale climbed out of the tub and coughed the water out in large quantities, feeling BOB's hands on his neck.

"You're not getting out of this alive!" BOB shrieked. Dale couldn't distinguish between his tears and the drops of water falling on his forehead, he then made Dale grab the razor blade he had left earlier. "This is it." BOB whispered, as Dale watched the razor between his thumb and forefinger.

BOB giggled, rubbing his hands together as Dale sniffled, putting the tip of the razor into his wrist, he traced it gently, letting out a cry of pain at the sight of the little red line. Dale screamed, dropping the razor to the floor, feeling the demon trying to take control over his body. He clawed at his face to get him off of him, drawing angry red spots on his face, but BOB pulled him down to the floor to then punch him hard in his face, painting part of his lower face red.

"Albert, help!" Cooper cried out disconsolately, feeling Albert unlock the doorknob as fast as he could. Dale was back in his old room. BOB was approaching the cabinet and removing the mouthwash. He looked at BOB's reflection in the bathroom mirror from his window, watching as BOB opened the mouthwash and drank it.

"You have become what you swore to destroy." BOB growled. Dale heard the door creak from behind him and saw that it was slightly opened. He turned his head to look at the sleeping girl and stood up. He finally had enough.

He went through the door and grabbed BOB’s jean collar, piercing his soul with his eyes. "I did, and I'll make sure whatever I broke is repaired with everything I learned, acknowledging its flaws. I’ll never be you." And Dale punched BOB, proving to him that he changed and fought with his own set of rules against his game. "You'll never have me."

Dale started choking on the liquid, and then felt two fingers go down his throat harshly. He vomited all the blue liquid into the toilet, and when he could breathe again, Albert was on top of him, holding his naked body next to the toilet. His face was exhausted and stained with tears. Dale sighed and blinked, then shrieked from the horror and humiliation that Albert found him hurting.

"Wait." Albert opened the bathroom cabinet and quickly removed some disinfectant, cotton and a bandage for Dale's wrist.

Albert sat with Dale on the floor, and looked him in the eye, trying to help him. Dale, looking for support, looked him in the eyes in response.

"Show me your cut already." Albert ordered him, as Dale removed his hand over his cut. Albert sighed and put pressure on it, making Dale moan.

"Sorry-"

"Save it, Coop. There will be time for that. Now I want you to calm down and listen to me. It's a thin cut and not deep at all, you should be thankful I'm not taking you to the hospital." Albert interrupted him, removing his hand to then disinfect the infamous red line. Dale cried silently as Albert cleaned his wound.

"My god. First of all, drowning, then an attempt at self mutilation followed by choking on mouthwash. You're lucky I found you before you took this to the extreme." Albert grumbled. And he was right again. Then he put a clean white bandage which he tied tightly around Dale's wrist.

Dale could tell Albert was definitely upset because he had been lying to him, and because he definitely heard what he had told Diane earlier today.

When he finished, Dale fled to his bed, followed by Albert, who sat across from him. Dale didn't dare look Albert in the eye.

"What the fuck happened, Coop?" Albert asked him, annoyed. "I read your ballad and smelled the rose. You know Diane made me listen to that voice mail too? You know how tired I am of your attempts of being a hero with your white knighting?"

Dale nodded his head, pouting.

"Why, Coop? Why the hell are you doing this?" Albert asked again, feeling tears making his eyes glisten at the sight of Dale's suicide attempt.

Dale tried to say something, but just burst into tears, dropping an absurd amount of tears per second. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, as he softly rocked himself back and forth. Albert had never seen him see Dale cry so hard before. Not even when Caroline died.

"It wasn't a decision I should have made, but I had to make it." Dale blubbered, as he hid his face from Albert. "I let him hurt me, Albert. To protect you."

"I know." And ever if after reading the letter he knew, Albert still couldn't believe it.

"Albert. The reason I am now a hideous monster is because of BOB." Cooper stopped him, staring at him in the eye. "He'd rape me in my dreams when he had the chance, and forced me to remain silent or else he was going to hurt you. Evil can never really leave, Albert. I can never be too sure about it." Dale sniffled, then looked away. "My mother died after I told her BOB tried to get through the door in my dream. She died protecting me, Albert. I can't risk losing you. I'm tired of seeing my loved ones die. These dreams were too real a-and I wasn't going to take the risk to tell this to you, because this already happened to me when I was a child."

Albert furrowed his brows, as Dale clinged tighter onto his shoulders.

"I love you, Albert. You make my days brighter when you're around, you're like a warm hug to the soul after what seemed to be a long and eternal winter. I value everything you've done for me and I still fail to comprehend why you're still trying to help after everything, you're too good to me. I'll never be the man you deserve in your life." Dale sobbed. "And if I lost you… I… I didn't know what I was going to do. I wrote the letter taking in consideration the possibility of a scenario where it was too late for the both of us."

Albert blinked, shedding a few tears, and pulled him tightly into a hug, feeling Dale tighten his grip on his suit jacket. "It hurts me too to see you this way, you know? I’m not taking this lightly either, Coop."

"The vomiting and my absurd weight loss were courtesy of my nightmares and BOB inhabiting my body. I felt disgusted when I ate. Every time I looked at myself in the mirror, a different person was looking back at me. That's in the past now obviously, but the nightmares turned me into BOB. He turned me into my worst nightmare, his best prized thing." Dale looked down in shame. "I look like a beast."

Albert brushed Dale's long hair, and his eyes then went to Dale's face. "Coop, this can be fixed. You're not that fucking succubus, and you never will be." Albert reminded him, breaking the embrace and placing his hand on his cheek.

"How can you love a monster, Albert?" Dale asked Albert, whimpering.

"I don't want you to ever say that ever again, OK?" Albert barely raised his voice, then gently hugged Dale again, holding his head. "You're not a monster. Do you think I believed you wanted to dream with him, that you were looking for it?"

"But look at me!" Dale broke the hug and threw his arms to his sides. "BOB made me become this, and I hurt you by lying to you! And that’s why I wanted to end my life…”

Albert sighed, and brushed Dale's hand with his thumb, getting Dale to look him in the eye. Albert blinked, letting a few tears fall.

He was going to bring Dale out of the darkness, and was going to help him feel better. He knew how much of an effect Dale's mother's death had on him. How BOB would hunt him down and do terrible things to him, ever since he tried to get through the door in his dreams. He believed him, and he wasn't going to pretend that it wasn't real because it was real for Dale, and he was close to death again.

"I hope you won't make an attempt in justifying me, Albert. I was wrong and I take responsibility for my actions. I recognize it was wrong that I lied to you. You don't deserve that." Dale muttered, hiding behind his hair. "Albert, you shouldn't feel guilty about abandoning me. I know you understand that you should have ignored me and stayed anyway, but if that had been the case, BOB-" Dale started to say, painfully trying to sit on the bed.

"Dale, no. Stop it." Albert stopped him. "You're not doing anything by playing as a white knight, you just end up killing yourself more and more, damn it. Are you even listening to what you’re saying?"

“No. I- No…”

"I wasn't going to abandon you anyway, Dale." Albert whispered, crying quietly. "With that being said, there's nothing more horrible than watching you suffer alone. You were scared. You don't deserve that either."

"Solitude is the answer, Albert. I can't hurt the ones I love anymore. And it's selfish of me to let you stay here, with me. But I love you. But this is so wrong." Cooper weeped, then sniffled, looking Albert in the eye. "I feel so lonely. And it hurts to be, but I suppose I'm destined to be alone. I'm just bad news. I understand whatever decision you may take."

"You're never going to be alone, damn it, Dale. I'm here." Albert confessed, crying. "You're not alone, you have me, Diane, Denise. You're quite the literal definition of a flutter bum, and I swear, you're not a monster, Dale."

"Albert-"

"No, you let me finish." Albert interrupted, his two hands firmly resting on Dale's shoulders. "I admire you, and I care too much about your well-being to leave you here in this pigsty of suffering, your deepest terrors eating at you everytime you're at your lowest. Your feelings matter to me. You matter to me. You are my friend, and you always make an admirable effort to understand me, when many have simply ignored me or cast me aside because of my cynicism. So, with more reason I should be here when you're at your lowest. And quite frankly, Diane has been telling me for years to cut the crap and tell you that I loved you."

Dale shook his head softly, his mouth turning into a sad grimace, looking down at the guilt and the truth of Albert's words. Dale sighed and sniffled, letting tears fall from his eyes, his face being covered by the long locks of his hair. Albert wrapped his arms around him, letting him cry. Dale just sunk his face in Albert’s shirt, thinking it would erase all the pain.

"Sorry Albert. You don't deserve this." Dale blubbered, in an attempt to modulate his feelings with honesty. "I just don't feel like a human being anymore. I lost all my humanity, and in every corner of this house, there's something that belongs to a dead man. There's nothing that I consider mine. Almost as if I’m not here at all."

“But you are.” Albert whispered, making Dale raise his head at him. “And there’s no way in hell you are going anywhere next.”

Dale shook his head no, gulping. “But I’m not here for myself, I’m still running away. Albert, I’m a trainwreck of a man and I don’t know if someone like me will ever have the chance to live among people ever again.” Dale mumbled, parting from the hug.

There was a long silence, with Albert staring at Dale, waiting for an answer, and Dale looking down, expecting Albert to say the truth again. Albert reached out for his hand, and squeezed it softly. “Coop, you are . You wouldn’t be here talking to me if you hadn’t woken up. You wouldn’t allow BOB to fuck with you anymore. You survived. I don’t know what the hell you did to get away from him, but you’re a survivor. You’re here for you.” Albert reminded him, and Dale swore there was a soft, blue light emanating from behind Albert. He swore he blinked and there were angels, flying above him.

He blinked, and he was sitting in the White Lodge, with blue curtains falling over him and blowing softly, as an angel that looked like Albert flew above him. Laura was there for him, hugging him. He remembers her angel too back there in the Black Lodge, and finally realized. She was safe. And so was Dale.

And that’s when Dale realized why BOB would vanish every time Albert was around. Albert was good. Albert was from the White Lodge. He was his angel. Laura was his guardian angel just like Dale was hers.

“We’re alright.” Laura whispered, her voice soft and gentle, her eyes glossy. “We’ll be together in every universe.”

Dale smiled, for the first time in a long time, and cried tears of joy, closing his eyes then again to absorb the situation, and he felt his body relax once more, realizing that he was here. He was here for himself at last, coming back home to himself after decades. He reached the White Lodge, somehow. He was going to be alright.

In reality, Dale had fallen asleep in Albert's arms, feeling his thumb stroke his back. Albert just tucked him in bed again and stayed with him until he also fell asleep. Dale didn't stir nor scream once in his sleep. BOB never reappeared in Dale's dreams since that night.

From that night on, everything got better. Eventually, Dale's cheeks and stomach stopped being swollen, but he was still too small for his height. Albert's cousin had become his new psychologist, and he began to make positive progress.

"Albert, due to the circumstances I am in and after much consideration, I have decided that moving out of this pathetic little apartment would be beneficial to my health." Dale told him a few days later, concentrating on making a pancake without Albert's help.

Albert was on the couch, reading the paper, when he raised his head and then walked over to Dale, putting his hand on his hip. "About time."

And now Dale had to say the complicated part of this whole affair. "While you've been working, I've been thinking about moving somewhere up north, not close to Twin Peaks. I've thought about going back to my home state in Pennsylvania, but there's nothing left for me there anymore. Not even with my now reunited family." Albert nodded his head at that. Dale inhaled deeply and then exhaled, blinking.

"Philly's nice." Albert added, though he considered that Cooper staying out of Philadelphia would be a better option.

Dale's old green house had resurfaced, and there was nothing more horrifying than a ghost showing you photos from the universe that had slid through whatever crack Cooper saved Laura might've created. Graduation photos of Dale smiling with his mother and his diploma in one hand, for example. Albert couldn't sleep that night after he saw them. They weren't meant to be real.

"It is, but I can't go home anymore. It brings back bad memories." Dale sighed, flipping the pancake carefully, hearing the mix sizzle on the pan. "And I like it here in the northwest. I like peaceful, little towns with forests and lakes."

"Not stepping a foot in one anymore." Albert mumbled, sipping on his coffee.

There was a silence, as Albert poured coffee into his mug, and Dale gulped, ready to share his proposal to Albert. "When I get the chance to move out, I'm going to be very lonely and I'm afraid I'm going to need a roommate." Dale cringed afterwards by listening to his own awkward words. He tried to fix it, by saying: "I don't want to be alone."

Albert nodded his head until his eyes suddenly grew wide as he realized what he was implying. Dale blinked, thinking it made him uncomfortable. "I'd really like to move in with you there, Albert. I-I know you’re not into that small town business, much less after, you know but- All I desire is to be with you." Dale stammered, turning off the fire of the stove and putting the last pancake on the plate.

Albert thought, and yes, he was tired of his apartment too. Besides, he wanted to be with Dale. He loved him very much, and he was still his friend. He could trust that Dale could now be alone with his own appliances, but if BOB still wanted his friend, he couldn't be alone. Albert was going to move mountains and earth for Dale. He loved Dale.

"What follows is to make an in-depth investigation of where we want to live. No loud cities for you, no small town big secrets crap for me." And so Dale's smile widened and he hugged Albert tightly, happy that Albert had accepted his proposal. Dale was on cloud nine.

Some time after that, they decided to settle in a house in Crescent City, a small town in Northern California filled with greenery, where Redwood Forest was located. It didn't take long with the move. After an entire day of organizing Dale's astrology books and Albert's comic books, Dale's dream pop cassettes and Albert's jazz singles; from Dale's blankets of every variety to Albert's t-shirts, starting with Albert's French cookbook and ending with Dale's telescope standing near the shared bedroom window, they collapsed on the orange couch, one on top of the other in a way that their bodies were unwilling to cooperate in getting up.

After they were settled, with Albert coming back home from work every night thanks to the bureau, Dale started to look for people like him dressed with his newfound confidence, but not exposing much of himself either so as to not attract strangers. Among zines that were sold down the street and small interactions at the supermarket, Dale met new people who he sensed were a good influence to him, and people who he felt good with. From Charlotte the transsexual woman who was once a biker in the sixties that would shop for groceries at the same time as him, to John the preschool teacher who had complimented the drawing he had done on a practice afternoon in the local park.

He began to feel better about what had happened to him while doing little drawings and poems, something that made him feel better, rejoicing in his progress and ability of healing. He also wanted to help others, boys and girls who were in the same situation as him. Not out of guilt, but to ensure they’d least have someone to rely on or talk to when they felt alone or helpless. And so he decided that he’d start to help other victims like him, like Laura, who he still didn’t forget about and wouldn’t anytime soon. He’d do it when he was in a better physical condition.

Unfortunately, The week after they moved in, Albert got assigned a case where he had to be outside of California for a month. Luckily, Diane had offered herself to look after Dale, who was still pretty rough after what happened.

When Diane arrived at the new house, first her eyes quickly glanced around in surprise. Unlike Dale's old house, it didn't look dark and grim. It had warm colors and muted earth tones that were somehow convincing enough for Albert, who hated colors like that. It was cozy and comforting, and everywhere you looked, it looked like it was Dale and Albert’s house. From the tibetan rug to the french cuisine book Diane had bought Albert for Christmas in 1985.

Then, she hugged Dale tightly and slapped him. "I don’t give a shit if I shouldn't have done that or not, but damn it Dale you sure have a hard head!" Diane whined, as Dale rubbed his cheek.

"I had it coming sooner or later, Diane. You didn't deserve that. However, it's worth noting that my emotional state now-"

Diane sighed, brushing back Dale's hair which was even longer than before and was close to reaching his elbows. Then she looked at his face and that measly excuse for a mustache drawn on his face with five facial hairs.

"Jesus, Coop. You have that awful mustache and Albert didn't say anything?" Dale blushed in embarrassment.

"I know, even Albert hates it. Surprisingly, he did nothing to stop it. However, for the time being I wouldn't go near any object that would allow me to shave it off." Dale clarified, and Diane dragged him into the bathroom.

Then she brought a chair from the study and sat him down, to put a towel around his shoulders. She grabbed a pair of scissors and a razor, and looked at Dale in the mirror. "Be honest, Coop, you wanted to do this with me." Diane came clean with him, causing Dale to grin from ear to ear and look down in embarrassment, his cheeks flushed red. "Good. As it should've been."

Diane cut Dale's hair, leaving it the way it looked before he went to Twin Peaks. Next, Dale shaved the hair growing above his lips and around his cheeks and chin with Diane's assistance.

He trimmed his nails without much difficulty, and when night fell, he looked in the mirror and smiled, hugging Diane. Diane returned the hug, and what was left of that evening consisted of watching movies playing on TV and Diane gossiping with Dale about her work. When Diane left, the phone started ringing. Dale crawled into his bed, and answered the call. "Special- Dale Cooper."

"At least you're my Special Agent. Former Special Agent, but you're mine anyway."

Dale grinned from ear to ear, blushing pink. "Albert!"

"I decided that calling at the same time every night would do you good, because I was still planning to call you anyway to make sure you're not doing anything out of the ordinary. I'm calling from a grubby hotel in the middle of antsville USA. To say I'm frosted about it is an understatement." Albert mentioned, followed by a huff.

"Anything else?" Cooper asked him with a smile, fiddling with the phone cord.

"Hell, I can't keep anything from you! I wanted to annoy Diane too but it seems that she ran away." Albert confessed, making Dale laugh.

"Sorry Albert, but sometimes it's so easy to read your mind." Cooper sighed. "Other than your complaints about the hotel, how are you?"

Albert sighed. "I miss you. Nothing out of the ordinary, obviously. I'm starting to worry too much, but luckily it doesn't last more than two minutes."

Cooper's smile faded. "Oh, Albert. Please don't do that. I have enough of that happening to me." Cooper mused.

"I'm not doing it on purpose. I'm not going to be like you, Dale. I don't want you to worry about that." Albert told him, then cleared his throat. “But these last months have been a hell for me too.”

“I know, Albert. And I’m sorry.” Dale apologized. “We made it without any major issues, I'd like to think. If there's something that's making you uncomfortable please don't hesitate to mention it to me."

"I could say the same. I hope that when I come back you don't have those four-"

"They were five hairs." Cooper corrected him with a smile.

"Were? Diane didn't keep that mustache not even to piss me off?" Albert asked him.

"No, she hated it too, believe it or not. But I shaved it with her watching me, so my poor excuse of a mustache is part of the past."

Albert raised his eyebrows. "I have to go Coop, sorry to cut you off. The sheriff here at Horse Shit USA is going to have an interview with me tomorrow morning, and I have to be prepared. Lucky me."

Dale nodded. "Okay. I love you, Albert. Goodnight."

"Godnight to you too, Dale. I love you too." Albert wished him, hanging up the phone. Dale glanced at his phone for a little before turning off the light and falling asleep.

In the next few days, Dale has never felt so much love and joy for himself. He had gained the weight he had lost and he considered he looked even better than he did before.

Of course, sometimes he didn't feel as bright as he did before, but he was finally achieving what he deserved for so long: inner peace with himself and his life. He started to pick up on old hobbies of his, including performing small magic tricks, and the joy was infinite. He’d write love letters to himself when he didn’t feel well, but never signed them with his name. He even tried to meditate and never had a single vision or visit from BOB.

Albert kept calling every night, keeping his promise. When he didn't, Dale wouldn't worry much because he knew Albert didn't have to do that every night either.

When Albert came back from the case, he heard not a single noise from his boyfriend. He smelled something from the kitchen. Food. French cuisine. Nothing was burning. Not a sound of Dale around the house.

When he walked into the kitchen, he saw Dale, cooking, nothing burning. A strange sight to see. Dale turned around and yelped, startled by Albert. He had his hand on his heart, and was panting.

"Jesus, Albert! You scared me." Dale let out a sigh.

Albert scanned him from head to toe. He looked very similar to the man he knew before he went to Twin Peaks, but he looked more like… Dale. Not Special Agent Dale Cooper. Just Dale. And he loved that.

Albert smiled and hugged him tightly, as Dale returned the hug, wrapping his arms around Albert.

"I missed you too." Dale whispered, as he brushed Albert's short hair. He broke the hug and smiled shyly, looking down. "I made noodles with parisienne sauce. Just how you like them."

Albert's eyes were blown away. "Wait really? Diane wasn't kidding when she said you started to-"

Dale giggled and looked down, then looked up at Albert again. "And Diane wasn't kidding when she said you were attracted to it."

Albert blushed red and huffed. "Of course she did. I'll help you fix the table. Stop standing there smiling like a goof, Dale."

After they set the table, they had dinner, which consisted of Albert ranting about his latest case followed by bits of compliments of Dale's cooking, and then Dale telling Albert how he'd spent the days while he was away.

"Anything else aside from painting your sorrows into canvases?" Albert asked him, rolling some noodles into his fork.

"Connecting and socializing with other people like me. Helping them out, doing what I couldn't do for the ones that aren't here anymore. I finally realized I can't change the past." Dale admitted, drinking out of his glass of wine.

“Took you long enough.” Albert told him, earning a nod from Dale. They must've brushed their hands once or twice while at it, and lost count of all the times they had gazed lovingly at each other.

After they had done the dishes together and Dale had gone to brush his teeth, Albert petted a cat, who was half asleep on the end of Dale's bed. When Dale came back, he smiled and brushed her back, making her yawn and jumping out of bed.

"So it's safe to say that's your emotional support animal?" Albert asked him, taking off his watch and suit jacket.

Dale shrugged. "More or less. I wanted to have a pet for so long. Nellie is just perfect. I must mention to you that she needs guidance, she's blind in her right eye, I'll tell you later what to do to make things easier for her." Cooper pointed to his right eye. "Now that I am not even the slightest bit overworked as I had been when I worked at the Bureau, I can look after a small individual now."

Albert raised his eyebrows and sat by Dale's side. "This is not how I expected your proposal of having a child to be like."

Dale laughed, shaking his head. "Oh no, Albert. I could never be a father. Look at mine."

"Don't think too much about it, me neither. My father was in and out of my house all the time." Albert confessed, as they sat silently, glancing at each other's eyes; both losing themselves in their irises, seeking for warmth, for love.

"Albert I would very much like to kiss you again, if you give me the permission to do so." Dale broke eye contact, as Albert rolled his eyes and huffed, breaking into a smile.

"Then do it." He told him, removing his suit jacket. Dale only smiled and leaned over Albert's face to connect his lips with his, fingers finding Albert's navy tie and undoing it.

Albert closed his eyes, as he pushed Dale to the back of the bed, their bodies starting to intertwine and touch.

Now with most of his body exposed, Albert undid the orange shirt Dale had on, then the white t-shirt he wore underneath, finally getting to his exposed torso, kissing every nook and cranny when he had the chance to do so, making Cooper moan in pleasure, kissing Albert's neck.

"Fuck, Coop. Has anyone ever told you how fucking beautiful you are?" Albert whispered, as he felt his pants slide down his legs. Eventually, he made Cooper's pants disappear somewhere underneath the bed.

"Yes. In more than one instance." He mumbled, being interrupted by Albert's kisses. "Please, go on."

Dale moaned, closing his eyes, gripping on the bed sheets. Albert leaned over to kiss his lips, brushing his cheekbones with his thumb. "I've dreamt of this." Albert whispered, biting Dale's neck, making him yelp. "More than once."

Dale nodded, smiling, feeling Albert inside of him, almost as if they were one. Dale couldn't believe it for one moment. It was too perfect.

Albert then started to kiss his chest softly, but heard Dale squirm and freeze, stopping what he was doing. Albert looked at his naked boyfriend underneath him, and brushed his cheek. "Do you want me to stop?" Albert asked him. Dale stared at him and sighed.

"Not really. I'd rather have you doing it more gently, if that isn't a problem." He replied to him, as Albert laid by his side and started to brush Dale's chest, glancing at him lovingly.

"Is there anything you don't want to do?"

"Oral. Penetration. Just not now. Maybe in another instance." Dale clarified to him, petting Albert's head.

"So nothing too wild? Want to keep this pretty vanilla?"

Dale smiled brightly, dazed from earlier. "That's not even wild for my standards. With that being said, I do love kissing. I like it when you kiss me, Albert."

Albert leaned over him, planting kisses across his face and jaw, hearing him giggle underneath. Dale followed by kissing Albert too, wrapping his arms around him, holding him.

Albert thinks Dale's beautiful, he deserves to have this after the last months which have consisted of nothing but a reenactment of his traumas. He deserves to be happy and it relaxes him that Dale seems to have finally achieved it.

Dale also believes that Albert is beautiful, he's moved by the fact his feelings are returned and that despite everything, despite being a man that doesn't seem real to many, he is loved and felt that way. He can't believe he got where he had wanted to be for so long.

Dale stops, feeling Albert lay over his arm and fixing his position so that Dale can remove it. Dale snuggled in his chest and blinked. "I love you so much." He whispered, feeling the warmth of Albert's body.

"Idem. I missed listening to your rants about Tibetan food in this shitty case I was in." Albert replies, stroking Dale's hair.

Dale smiles and laughs softly, drowsy and still in shock about what he did earlier. He puts his hand close to Albert's cheek and brushes it, making Albert blink.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look under the moon, Albert?" He then sighed, kissing Albert's cheek.

"Your medication must be kicking in because that's not the truth. Keep dreaming, Coop." Albert comments, holding Dale's hand. "Should we get you a new mirror?"

Dale shakes his head no and kisses Albert again, short but sweet. "No, Albert. I mean it. You're beautiful."

Albert blinks again, in disbelief, and smiles as he presses a kiss on Dale's cheek. Dale smiles and kisses Albert once more, and then his nose softly rubs Albert's neck. Albert wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him close, putting his chin over Dale's head.

"Missing you was an understatement." Albert whispered, hearing Dale hum.

"I know." Dale blinked a few times, snuggling closer into Albert's touch. "I can't believe it, Albert."

Albert's fingers started to softly brush Dale's hair. "Can't believe what?" Dale raised his head to look at Albert and smile softly.

"That I'm finally living the life that I've been seeking to have for so long. That I get to have you." Dale whispered, a huge smile forming on his face, his eyes shining like a thousand little stars.

Albert didn't have the words for once in his life, so he just kept stroking his hair, letting him look at Albert warmly. How he missed that smile of Dale's. How he loved to see that he had finally found peace after so long. Dale then sighed and snuggled again in Albert's chest, Albert sinking his head into his pillow.

Dale found him staring at him for too long now, and giggled, followed by a short yawn. "What?"

Albert shook his head softly, Dale falling asleep in his chest. Dale knew exactly what Albert was feeling. "It's just the way I smile…" Dale whispered, succumbing to a peaceful sleep, a big smile on his face. Albert wouldn’t want anything else in the world.

#twin peaks #dale cooper #albert rosenfield #rosendale #past the peaks #twin peaks fanfic #my fanfic #posting this on here too

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scottpetersen · 2 years ago

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Scrooge McDuck As A Host For Ophidian

Ok. Here I’ll be going over reasons as to why Scrooge McDuck would make a suitable host for Ophidian, the embodiment of greed and what might happen if Ophidian were to choose Scrooge to be their host. Also, Spoiler Alert for the DuckTales (2017) TV series and the Green Lantern comics. With that out of the way, let’s dive right in.

First off, I’m gonna go over why Scrooge would make a suitable host for Ophidian. As shown in the episode ‘The 87 Cent Solution!’, Scrooge was greedy to the point that he got driven crazy by the loss of 87 cents. And I think that the way Scrooge kept on trying to get more and more over the course of his long life also goes to show how much greed he has in him. As stated and shown in the episode ‘The Golden Lagoon Of White Agony Plains!’, Scrooge had lived during the time of the Klondike Gold Rush which lasted from 1896 to 1899. That would make Scrooge well over 100 years old. The fact that Scrooge’s greed didn’t waver over the course of that amount of time despite the fact that he would’ve surely encountered a lot of obstacles during such a long period of time really demonstrates how set he was on making his fortune. I also think that Scrooge’s willpower had gone on to strengthen his greed. After all, in order to get something that you want, you have to be willing to get it. And as stated and shown in the episode ‘The Outlaw Scrooge McDuck!’, Scrooge’s whole philosophy is that you have to work hard in order to earn your fortune. And working hard is one thing that willpower centers around. Between all that and the fact that Scrooge uses his willpower to earn his fortune, I think that Scrooge’s willpower and greed have gone on to overlap very often.

Next, I’m gonna go over how Scrooge and Ophidian might interact with each other after Ophidian enters Scrooge’s body. As shown in Green Lantern Vol 4 #57, Ophidian takes complete control over their host’s body while also feeding off of the host’s greed. So, Ophidian will try to do the same thing with Scrooge’s body. And I think Ophidian would be able to take over Scrooge’s body at first. However, I think that Scrooge’s willpower will be able to push back against Ophidian’s influence. As I explained in my previous point, Scrooge has a great amount of willpower and he believes you have to work hard to earn your fortune. So, Scrooge chooses not to take short-cuts to get what he wants. And Scrooge earning his fortune without taking short-cuts would’ve surely taken a lot of willpower in and of itself. So, while Scrooge’s willpower does strengthen his greed, I also think his willpower also acts as a limiter for his greed too because while Scrooge’s greed can compel him to do a lot of things to earn his fortune, it can’t compel to compromise his principals in order to do so. After all, as shown in the episode ‘The Great Dime Chase!’, Scrooge cherishes his #1 dime because he earned it by scrubbing a person’s shoes. Therefore, Scrooge will able to put up quite a bit of resistance against Ophidian. But while Scrooge’s willpower will allow him to push Ophidian back, it will be Scrooge’s love that will allow him to completely break free from Ophidian. Scrooge loves his family. In fact, as shown in the episode ‘The Last Crash Of The Sunchaser!’, Scrooge was willing to give up his entire fortune if it meant getting his niece Della back to Earth. So, once Scrooge gets reminded about the love he has for his family, he will be able to completely break free from Ophidian’s influence.

Now, I’ll be going over just how powerful an Ophidian-possessed Scrooge could be. Given everything I said earlier about how Scrooge was always set on making his fortune over the course of his long life and how his willpower went on to strengthen his greed, an Ophidian-possessed Scrooge will already be extremely powerful as is. But as shown in Green Lantern Vol 4 #40, Orange Lantern Ring constructs are able to absorb power, including magic. And since Ophidian’s own power is pretty much the same as the Orange Lantern Rings, albeit at a much higher level since Ophidian was used as a power source for the Orange Lantern Central Power Battery as shown in Green Lantern Vol 4 #56, Ophidian should be able to do the same thing. So, it would be pretty difficult to defeat an Ophidian-possessed Scrooge since he could just simply absorb the magic. And as also shown in Green Lantern Vol 4 #40, Orange Lantern Rings can replicate the essence of anyone who is killed by an Orange Lantern Rings as an Orange Lantern construct. If the Ophidian-possessed Scrooge were to do that same thing to the likes of Magica De Spell for example, he would be even more difficult to stop. So, an Ophidian-possessed Scrooge McDuck would be pretty hard to take down.

Finally, I’ll be going over exactly what might happen if Scrooge were to be possessed by Ophidian. As shown in Green Lantern Vol 4 #57, Ophidian made their host Hector Hammond act on his desire to have Carol for himself. So, Ophidian will probably make Scrooge act on his desire for riches and money. Scrooge’s willpower would be able to push back against Ophidian and allow him to take back control of his body for a few brief moments at a time before Ophidian regains control again. Also, after seeing her father Scrooge get possessed by Ophidian, Webby will probably call her friends Lena Sabrewing and Violet Sabrewing for help. As shown in the episode ‘Friendship Hates Magic!’, Violet has extensively studied lore about spirits. And Ophidian definitely functions like a spirit. And as shown in the episode ‘The Split Sword Of Swanstantine!’, Lena knows that you have to accept your negative emotions in order to overcome them. And knowledge like that would really come in handy when it comes to overcoming the influence of an entity like Ophidian that relies on the negative emotion of greed. So, Violet and Lena would be able to help Scrooge overcome Ophidian’s possession. Violet might be able to concoct a ritual that could at least weaken Ophidian’s control over Scrooge and might also be able to find out that Ophidian’s power is fueled by greed. After Violet finds out that greed fuels Ophidian’s power, Lena would be able to use that knowledge to their advantage by coaching Scrooge to accept his negative emotions in order to overcome them. After all that, Scrooge might be able to put up more resistance against Ophidian. However, the final catalyst to free Scrooge from Ophidian would be Scrooge’s love for his family. As I explained earlier, Scrooge’s love for his family would be strong enough to allow him to break free from Ophidian since, as shown in the episode ‘The Last Crash Of The Sunchaser!’, he loved his family to the point that he was willing to give up his fortune to get Della back to Earth.

Well, that’s all for this post.

See you all next time.

#disney #ducktales #ducktales (2017)#scrooge mcduck #dc #dc comics #green lantern #ophidian #spoilers

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dasniichts · 2 months ago

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There was a quiet moment of contemplation, staring at a spot just beyond. The comparison wasn’t... exact, but the philosophy was there. Too similar for Welt to shake, even if he remembered Acheron sharing what that man’s fate was...

Images fell to other leaves. It was realistically possible even he was copied.

“I don’t believe it was anything, rather what remnants of power existed preyed upon the desperate wishes of a traumatized young man.” He... realized how that sounded now, already shaking his head before the reaction could come. “In my own experience, genuine belief tends to easily cloud one’s own morals. If any part of his story is true, then he truly believed that this was the right path—it was just that he never realized that he was being taken advantage of.”

A rather sad thought, now that Welt said it out loud. “Of course, it doesn’t leave excuses for what he was trying to do. It’s more... pitying, than anything. I have to imagine wherever the Family’s dumped him for the time being, he’s spending time reflecting on the damages he would’ve caused despite sharing the same dreams as his sister.”

( 🌙 ) A SYMPATHETIC LOOK filtered through into lumine's eyes at the mention of welt's experiences , a phantom ache itching at her shoulder blades as she lingered on it. she couldn't blame him for being a little . . nihilistic about where he may end up at the end of all this. she hoped he'd be alright , she could feel that he'd been through well enough already.

❝ TRUE. ESPECIALLY WITH being . . ah . . unfamiliar at times. the old and the new that feels old can really do ones head in at times. ❞ a small huff of a chuckle escapes her as she glances to the pot of coffee just slightly out of reach and gestured for it to her with a power that wasn't a recognizable one at all. with the pot in hand she pours herself some more with a content exhale.

IN DUE TIME.

❝ . . IN TIME ALL of us will be reunited with those we cherish the most. i have to believe in that , even as i wonder what the order promised him for him to be so steadfast . . but yes. i guess so --- it's too much to focus on myself sometimes. i shield so many others because of being THEIR hammer and steadfast shield. i forget that i too need such things occasionally. ❞

#poswiecenia #der stimme «¤» ( in character #des nachlaufens «¤» ( main verse #bis morgen «¤» ( queue

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fanficshiddles · 3 years ago

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Losing Control, Chapter 2

Emilia enjoyed having the weekend to get settled into her new flat. She spent the whole time sorting out her furniture, ordered some new stuff online too now she saw just how much space she actually had.

While she had fun unpacking and enjoying her new space, of course the realisation that one of her professors lived right next door was constantly at the back of her mind.

More so that it was Laufeyson. Out of every damn professor it had to be him.

The first time she’d met him hadn’t exactly put her in the greatest of lights to him. Or so she thought, anyway.

Professor Laufeyson was introducing himself to one of his new classes of the year for Norse Mythology.

He was going around, asking everyone’s name. As was pretty standard for him with new students.

‘I’m Emilia Cooper… If you don’t mind me asking, Sir. Do you think you’re the God of Mischief? Since your name is literally the same.’ Emilia couldn’t resist asking with a grin.

Loki raised an eyebrow at her and took a few steps closer towards her desk.

‘I do in-fact mind you asking a question without raising your hand, Miss Cooper. I am indeed named after the God. And yes, before you ask, I have a brother called Thor.’

The class all laughed a little, earning a hard stare from their new professor.

‘Are your parents called Odin and Frigga?’ Emilia asked cockily.

‘Now you are pushing it. Carry on like that and you will be unpopular with your class mates as I will make sure to give you all assignments every single week.’ He said firmly, causing Emilia to get a few glares from her fellow students.

Since that first interaction, Loki had learned that Emilia was a bit of a potty mouth, often just said what she thought. Rather cheeky. He also learned that she didn’t exactly agree with his philosophy of Norse Gods. Having just taken the subject for extra credit.

She believed in facts, real actual findings. Not mythology. That often caused Loki to get frustrated, getting into little arguments with her in the middle of his seminars.

Considering she studied astronomy, Loki thought she would’ve shown more of an interest in Norse Mythology. But she didn’t take it seriously, which really annoyed him. Especially after finding out she was top of her class in other subjects.

Though overall, he was strict with all his students compared to other professors. While he wanted them to excel and do well, offering help outwith his classes, he wasn’t an overly warm kind of guy.

But damn, was he a gorgeous specimen. Most of the girls, and some guys, swooned over him daily. Including Emilia. So part of her found it not so bad knowing he was next door, as it could be some eye candy for her.

Although at the same time, she really hoped she wouldn’t see him much. It would be far too awkward.

She hadn’t seen him at all during the weekend. Her luck of course ran out on Monday when she entered his class just before lunch time.

‘Emilia Cooper, come here.’ He called out to her just as she was about to sit down at her desk, other students were still entering.

She groaned and made her way to the front, stopping opposite his desk.

‘Yes, Professor Laufeyson?’ She smiled innocently at him, as she knew exactly what this would be about, after what he said on Friday.

‘You missed class on Friday. So here’s notes of what we covered during that class, I want you to do your own research on it tonight and write out a two thousand word essay on your research.’ He said as he slid two bits of paper across his desk towards her.

‘What? An essay? But you know why I wasn’t here, this isn’t fair!’ She argued back.

Loki clasped his hands together on top of the desk and looked at her intently, no change to his emotions as he calmly responded. ‘Why you weren’t here is none of my concern. What is my concern, is a student missing a class. I wouldn’t want you to fall behind on your favourite subject. I expect the essay on my desk first thing tomorrow morning.’

‘First thing? But your class isn’t until afternoon tomorrow.’ She whined.

‘You have two perfectly capable legs, don’t you?’

Emilia narrowed her eyes at him and then smiled sweetly as she snatched the papers from his desk and headed back to her chair. Muttering curses under her breath at him.

‘Two can play at this game.’ She said to herself as she sat down.

During lunch and her free period afterwards, she ran to the library and used the computer there to research what Professor Loki had given her. Then she wrote out as much as she could for the essay.

When she got home after classes that afternoon, she finished off the essay before studying for other subjects. Then once she was finished, she checked it over and was rather pleased with herself for doing just over two thousand words. Instead of waiting for tomorrow to hand it in though, she simply nipped to her neighbour and knocked confidently on his door.

When Loki opened the door, he was slightly surprised to see Emilia there, grinning from ear to ear. She thrust the essay into his hands.

‘Here you go, Professor Laufeyson. My essay. Two thousand, three hundred and four words, to be precise.’ She said smugly.

Loki raised an eyebrow and scanned across the first few sentences.

‘Very good… Though I did say to hand in tomorrow.’ He drawled, raising an eyebrow at her.

Emilia just shrugged and headed back to her door. ‘I thought it would give you something to do tonight. You know, since you probably have nothing better to do.’ She then ducked into her flat quickly, not giving him a chance to respond.

She knew she was likely pushing it a bit, but she just couldn’t help herself.

After doing a small amount of studying, she headed off to her work at the local pub for the evening. She worked there from 4pm to 11pm Mondays and Tuesdays, then from 5pm to 1am on Friday nights and the same every second Saturday night, sometimes she worked a bit later or extra shifts depending how busy they were and if there were any events on. It was a reasonably flexible job though if she wanted.

Emilia had been working there since she turned eighteen, so was well known at her local. And she was paid really well. Getting a pay rise yearly. Now she was earning quite a bit above the minimum wage, because the owners loved her, which was just what she needed for a comfortable lifestyle right now.

She was good at sorting any drunks out, not afraid to stand up for herself and others. She had even quite literally tossed some idiots out onto the street, too. Even though she wasn’t overly tall or strong physically, she had the right techniques to get drunks where she wanted them.

She used to also have an extra job of working in the small shop around the corner from the pub, in every spare hour she had possible. Often doing almost full day shifts there at weekends and evenings on Wednesdays and Thursdays to get as much money as possible saved. But she was really glad she had been able to quit there, freeing up her time more.

‘How’s your new home?’ Her friend and co-worker, Sky, asked when they had a bit of a lull in service.

‘It’s fantastic, I couldn’t have found anywhere better, honestly. It’s nice having somewhere that is actually mine.’ Emilia smiled widely as she wiped the bar down.

‘You’ll need to have a housewarming party.’ Sky nudged her playfully with her hip.

‘That sounds like far too good of an idea.’

‘Have you met any neighbours yet? Hope you don’t have any cranky ones, I don’t want to see you on The Nightmare Neighbour Next Door!’

Emilia laughed. ‘Well, if you class having one of your professors as a nightmare neighbour, then maybe you will see me on there.’

‘What? You’re joking? That must be a bit awkward.’ Sky cringed.

‘It’s Professor Laufeyson, too.’

‘The hot one?’

‘Yeah, the hot strict asshole one.’ Emilia corrected, making Sky laugh.

She had told her friend all about her professors, especially Laufeyson.

‘Well, at least you kind of know him. And it’s not some weird creep living next door.’ Sky shrugged.

‘Hm, true.’ Emilia agreed with a smile.

Her tone suddenly changed and her face hardened when someone walked through the door.

‘Oh no you don’t, asshole. Get the hell out, you’re barred, remember?’ She yelled at the man and was round the bar and on him quicker than you could say boo.

Sky laughed and shook her head as she watched Emilia shoo the man out of the place with ease.

‘Tiny but mighty.’ She teased Emilia when she came back.

‘Oi, you’re not much taller than me!’ Emilia hit her playfully with the bar towel, making Sky laugh.

The next few days for Emilia went by fine. She was delighted with all the extra time she had now to focus on her studies. She was already noticing a difference in herself with her work at Uni. And she wasn’t as tired either, she felt much more refreshed each day.

She hadn’t had anymore encounters with Laufeyson either, apart from his classes of course. But he’d not been picking on her at all as she had pretty much just kept her head down.

On Thursday evening, she was working on some astronomy assignments when her doorbell went. She had given her closest friends her new address already, of course. But her buzzer hadn’t gone, so it must be someone who was already in the building.

And the realisation that she only knew one person in the building so far made her groan. She so hoped that she was wrong as she opened the door… But nope, she was right.

Mr Laufeyson smiled down at her when she answered. He had a parcel in his hands.

‘This is yours, it got delivered into my box by mistake.’ He said as he handed it over to her.

‘Oh, thanks… Sorry about that.’ Emilia said awkwardly.

‘Don’t worry. Some companies often get it wrong, I used to get the last tenants mail rather frequently.’ Loki shrugged.

‘Oh great.’ She said sarcastically.

Loki spotted some books open on the table in the background. ‘So you do take some classes seriously, then?’

Emilia looked over her shoulder at where he was looking, then she looked back at the professor. ‘Of course I do.’

‘Just not my class.’ He narrowed his eyes at her and folded his arms over his chest.

She shrugged. ‘Maybe Norse Mythology just hasn’t grabbed my interest yet.’

‘How can Gods and Asgard not pique your interest?’

‘They aren’t real.’ She stated bluntly.

‘Just because you’ve never seen them, doesn’t mean they aren’t real.’ Loki said.

‘No one has seen them. Of course they aren’t real.’ She argued back.

‘Do you believe in gravity?’ Loki asked.

Emilia frowned. ‘Of course, gravity is real.’

‘Have you ever seen it though?’

‘What… well of course not. But’

‘So how do you know it really exists? Hmm?’ Loki interjected.

‘Of course it exists! It’s gravity!’

‘Electricity.’ Loki said quickly.

‘What?’

‘Electricity. You know it exists, you can see effects from electricity too. But you cannot see electricity itself.’

‘Well exactly, we see the effects from it. Like with gravity.’

‘And we see effects from the Norse Gods, too.’

‘No, we don’t. There is no proof that they exist.’

‘The back of your head. You don’t see it, but you know it exists.’

Emilia looked at him blankly for a moment. ‘You’re just being stupid now.’

‘I’m being serious.’ Loki smirked.

Emilia shook her head. ‘Thanks for my parcel, Professor Laufeyson. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ She grumbled.

Loki chuckled. ‘See you tomorrow.’ He nodded.

When she shut the door and put down her parcel, she rubbed the back of her head and frowned. Then she rushed to the bathroom and searched for her hand mirror, once found she held it up at the back of her head and used the large mirror above her sink so she could actually see the back of her head.

‘Haven’t seen the back of my head, pfft. What an ass.’ She scoffed.

#Tom Hiddleston #Loki #losing control #professor Loki #Loki x ofc

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

Text

The Summer Before College | Marcus Moreno x reader

summary: just because you got some good scholarships doesn't mean you couldn’t use some extra cash. luckily, babysitting for a family friend has been a steady side gig for you. rule number one of babysitting: don't let your wandering eye rest for too long on the hot single dad.

word count: 4.7k

warnings: smut (dub con elements? but she’s into it lol don’t worry), age gap (he’s 40-something, reader’s 18/19), loss of virginity, pussy spanking (like, once), lots of petnames and ‘good girl’s, not a dark fic but kinda pushing it, not explicitly dad's best friend trope but it has that energy and I've decided that he is in fact friends with the reader's dad

a/n: this has basically nothing to do with the movie. he’s just a hot dad. don’t overthink it.

You knew the walk to the Moreno's by now: down two blocks from your house, take a right at San Vicente, a left on Birch, a few houses down and you're there. With your full backpack weighing on your shoulders it felt longer than usual, but you made it anyways and knocked on the front door.

"It's open!" a voice called from inside, and you turned the knob and swung the door open.

You almost regretted wearing your tiniest jean shorts, from the way Mr. Moreno did a double take when you walked in. But hey, it was the middle of summer and he would never look at you like that— you were just his daughter's babysitter, ever since you were sixteen; he was probably just surprised to see that you were wearing something other than your school uniform. Maybe some part of you wished he would look at you like that…

Missy called your name, tearing you from your thoughts, jumping up when she saw you and beaming as she rushed to give you a hug. "Hey!" you greeted in return.

“Thanks again for doing this,” Mr. Moreno nodded in your general direction, apparently already dressed for whatever it was he had to do, slipping on his jacket from where it hung on a hook by the door. "She's already had dinner, so just homework and bedtime," he explained to you as you nodded dutifully.

"Bedtime? Dad, I'm not a little kid anymore," Missy rolled her eyes.

"Okay, you're a big kid and you need to be asleep by 10. It's a school night."

She huffed but didn't protest, and you joined her on the couch because she wanted to show you some drawings she’d done earlier that day. "Bye, Dad!" Missy waved when he left, and he turned back quickly to blow a kiss in her direction.

Once you helped her finish her homework (frankly, you didn't have to do that much— she's a smart kid), the two of you enjoyed some video games before you finally got her to start getting ready for bed.

It was cute how confident Missy was that she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, only for her to be snoring within five minutes of her head hitting the pillow. You were envious of how easily she could sleep; you could kill an hour just tossing and turning and readjusting your blanket. But that wasn’t going to be your problem tonight: you weren’t going to sleep yet, until the man of the house returned, meaning all you had to do was wait.

Even in summer, having already graduated, you had plenty of work to do while you waited for Mr. Moreno. Knowing what classes you had in the fall, you bought your textbooks a bit early and planned on reading them all before the semester began. You’d already gotten through Philosophy Through the Ages and now you continued from where you left off in the middle of Introductory Physics.

What surprised you was that you had time to finish that one, too. You had anticipated that Mr. Moreno would be back before you made it to the module on fluid dynamics, but you reached the index at a quarter past midnight and he was still gone. You shrugged and picked up the next one— A Book of Luminous Things: An International Anthology of Poetry— hoping he was alright and that he’d be back soon.

You had to make yourself some coffee when 1 a.m. rolled around; tired, anxious, and distracted, you realized this was probably not the best state to be attempting to study in, but you didn’t feel like you had a choice. You didn’t want to fall asleep here, you’d promised to watch Missy and you couldn’t exactly do that while asleep… plus, he would probably be back any minute now. Sure, you’d been saying that to yourself for nearly an hour and a half now, but it was more true than ever.

It was another hour and a half, though, until his car pulled into the driveway and he pushed through the front door, prompting you to set aside your textbook.

“Good evening,” you greeted, standing up. He looked a little disheveled— but it worked for him, with that curly hair all messed up in just the right way. Maybe it was just that it was late or that it was the rare time you saw him without Missy around, but there was a darkness about him now, not sinister so much as just purely intimidating. It was like you hadn’t really taken him seriously before, and now you were appreciating that you should have.

“She’s asleep?” he assumed, glancing over to the hallway which his daughter’s bedroom was positioned at the end of before slipping his jacket off and hanging it by the door.

“It’s half past two, so… I really hope so,” you chuckled.

“Shit, is it that late already?” he groaned, glancing at his watch.

“Did you not notice?”

“I.. got carried away.”

You didn’t want to know what he’d been out so late for. It was none of your business, and you figured you were better off without any secrets to keep— you’d never been so good at keeping secrets, even your own.

“Been studying this whole time?” he noticed as he glanced at the textbooks on the couch, grinning a little. It sort of felt like he was mocking you, and it made your cheeks warm as you nodded. “What a good girl.”

That made a cold tingle crawl up your spine. Sure, other students had called you that before, and plenty of your teachers, but when he said it, like that… it felt entirely new. “I try,” you managed to respond eventually.

“You’ll do well in college, I bet.”

“You think so?” you beamed.

“Yeah,” he nodded confidently. There was something comforting about the way he smiled at you; yet, there was something predatory about the way his eyes glanced down your body and back up slowly.

As you turned and bent over to pick up your textbooks off the couch, you could tell that he had stepped closer; you could just barely hear the soft noise of his footsteps on his carpet, just barely feel the warmth of him behind you, just barely pick up on the slow, thoughtful breath he took in and out through his nose.

Standing back up slowly, you felt him do it again, right against your neck.

“M-Mr. Moreno,” you stammered, shivering when his hands gripped you on either arm. Not a tight grip, per se, but one that made his strength obvious.

“You don’t have to call me that,” he breathed. “Not when we’re alone.”

Not that you really had any plan on how to respond to that, but if you had, it would've been forgotten as his lips brushed over your neck, leaving teasing kisses in a trail over your pulse.

"Wait—" you blurted out instinctively when his hands moved to your waist, cut off by your own shaky sigh and suppressed moan. “What if she wakes up?” you questioned anxiously, glancing down the hallway and hoping you wouldn’t find Missy there, watching her dad feeling you up— and you letting him, not just that but enjoying it. Of course, the hallway was deserted, but you couldn’t feel certain it would stay that way.

“She won’t,” he assured. “Not if you can be a good girl and stay quiet.”

You made a little whimpering noise as you wondered if you could. You didn’t know how, really; you were good at being quiet when you were alone, but being alone had never felt like this. Forbidden, sexy, terrifyingly wonderful… nothing had ever felt like this.

“Do you want me to stop?” he purred, sounding like he already knew the answer.

“No,” you answered a little too quickly, “please… please don’t stop.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” he grinned. “Tell me what you do want.”

“I want…” you sighed and started over again, willing yourself to speak your thoughts aloud even though they made a pit of guilt sink in your stomach. "I want you to make me feel good."

You knew it was a sort of childish way of putting it, even before he laughed at your statement, but you weren't sure what else to say. "Yeah? I can do that," he decided. "But I can make you feel good in so many ways…" he trailed off as his right hand slipped lower and lower, finally landing between your legs as you gasped. Two fingers slid over the crotch of your shorts, and somehow he managed to bump against something that made electricity shoot up your spine and your hips buck into his touch of their own accord. You felt his smile widen as his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin of your neck. "You'll have to be more specific," he finally finished. "How do you want me to make you feel good?"

"Inside me," you whined, "I want you inside me."

There was a sudden shift as it seemed like the control he had over you suddenly did not extend to himself; he growled a bit and pulled you into him, and you could feel the hard shape of his cock, through his trousers and your shorts. You could feel it pressed just above your ass and it made you squirm against his embrace. "Feel what you do to me?" he grunted, and you nodded quickly. "Good."

He spun you around quickly, pulling you close to him and burning right through you with those brown eyes darker than ever, but just as you thought he might kiss you, he spoke instead.

“My bedroom’s upstairs,” he informed you quietly.

You just nodded, following him as he pulled you along through the house, up the stairs and past the door to the master bedroom of the house.

Now that you hadn’t seen it coming, of course, was when he chose to grab you and kiss you suddenly. It was rough and passionate and nothing like you could've imagined; you were certain you'd never been kissed like this, like he needed to kiss you more than he needed anything.

Your arms slipped around his neck as he pushed you back against the wall, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist as he kicked the door shut behind the two of you. Little moans were muffled by the kiss— and it took you a minute to realize they were yours. You didn’t even sound like yourself; probably because you’d never felt like this before, and therefore had never had any reason to sound like this.

You could feel his cock between your legs, though unfortunately not in the way you wanted. Still, it drove you wild to have him so close like this, to try to imagine how the thick shape you were feeling would ever fit inside you.

His hands were so strong and thick that you worried they’d stretch out your tank top just by reaching under it— well, that is you would have worried about that if you could think about anything else but his hands reaching under your tank top. He didn’t even waste his time touching you over your bra, instead making quick work of the clasps with one hand before coming back to grope one breast in his palm, then the other. Just that was enough to make you run your fingers into his hair, but a little pinch to your raised nipple made your fists tighten and pull— you didn’t mean to, and you were just about to feel bad about it until he growled a little. It seemed like a growl of approval, considering he pinched your nipples harder to make you do it again.

“Feels good?” he asked with annoying (yet arousing) confidence.

“S-so good,” you slurred, stumbling over your words as you tried to think as clearly as possible through the thick haze of pleasure clouding your mind.

As he guided you to set your legs down and unhook your arms from around his neck, you felt a bit like a doll being posed; when he pulled your top over your head and your bra from your arms, you felt like a doll being undressed. You sort of didn’t mind it; you were happy to let him take the lead, confident he knew at least 100% more about this than you did.

He knelt down before you as he roughly pulled at your tight jean shorts, his knuckles nearly bruising your hips as he stripped you. Your underwear were not the pair you would’ve worn if you had known somebody was going to see them, just a plain dark blue color that made you feel so drab as he came face-to-face with them. He didn’t seem to mind much, grinning up at you as he slipped his fingers under them and pulled them down, too. Your face was so hot and yet your legs were breaking out into goosebumps simultaneously, and a shiver rolled up your body when he growled at the sight of your body laid bare for him. Before you could even process it, he stood up and grabbed you, tossing you back onto the bed and spreading your legs.

“Fuck, what a pretty little pussy,” he praised with a smile that made you feel a little light-headed, swirling a few fingers over your swollen button until pulling them back to spank you there— it wasn’t even that hard, but you yelped and jolted and he laughed darkly. “So sensitive,” he purred, his words walking a fine line between a compliment and a taunt, “so wet.”

Another finger slipping down to your entrance proved him right, your arousal plentiful as his touch glided through your folds.

Suddenly overcome with a moment of bravery, you sat up and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, making him smile down at you. “Let me help you,” he offered as he worked the buttons instead, freeing you to try to open his belt. “Look at you, acting so desperate…”

At this point, you weren’t even offended by that; you wanted him so bad that you didn’t have the energy to be embarrassed by it anymore.

He slipped the shirt off of his shoulders just as you finished opening the belt. He pushed your hands away, and now you could see the muscles in his arms flexing as he held you down by your wrists. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, señorita,” he purred.

Why did feeling powerless to him turn you on so much? There was no real fear to it— you knew and trusted him, you would never have developed your misguided crush on him if you didn’t— and yet there was a strong edge of uncertainty as he kissed your neck and moved down your chest, between your breasts before he stopped to kiss those, too.

“Oh god,” you breathed, and he smiled against your skin before sitting up and staring down at you. It wasn’t apparent if it was distant streetlights or the moonlight shining in through the window, but either way it cast a cold blue light into the room that reflected as a glimmer in his eyes.

“Not gonna make you wait any longer,” he promised in a low voice, reaching down to push his unbuttoned belt and trousers to his thighs— those thick, muscular thighs that made your lip catch between your teeth.

Your breath caught, too, but in your lungs this time as his cock was exposed: thick, swollen, veiny… it looked picturesque, if thoroughly intimidating. You couldn’t figure out if you wanted to move towards it or sheepishly crawl away.

"Why do you look scared?" he asked, his voice so much deeper than you remembered it from before, even if there was genuine concern somewhere in his tone.

"Is it gonna hurt?" you asked instead of answering.

"Baby…" he sighed huskily, "are you a virgin?"

You bit your lip and looked away, irritated that you hadn't managed to hide your fear enough to keep your secret.

He sighed, your silence apparently answer enough.

"Do you not want to, anymore?" you asked anxiously, afraid you had completely killed the mood. Part of the reason it'd taken you this long to lose it was specifically because people seemed intimidated by the idea of being your first.

"No, no, I— no," he asserted sternly. "I just need to… change my approach, slightly.”

He leaned down a bit, hovering over you as he trailed his hand up your leg, rubbing the inside of your thigh before finally drawing circles over your aching clit with his thumb, causing you to shiver and moan quietly.

“And, to answer your question, it won’t hurt. Not if I get you good and ready for me,” he explained, pushing just one finger into you— and even that small of a stimulation made your eyes flutter shut, with his fingers being so much thicker and stronger than yours.

The second made your fists clench around the satin-y sheets beneath you. You didn’t dare open your eyes, knowing you’d find him staring down at you and you weren’t ready for that, weren’t ready to see his reaction to your body in such a vulnerable state. You could hear his reaction, though, with the rough groans and satisfied sighs he let out as he pumped his fingers into you.

When three fingers filled you, your eyes shot open. “Fuck!” you yelped.

He smiled but slowed down, apparently taking some pity on you— but not enough to stop him from pressing down harder on your clit.

Just when you figured he’d warmed you up enough and he’d fuck you like he promised, he slid lower and the bed and bent down, adding his tongue into the mix with his fingers. It was… overwhelming, and hot, not just psychologically but literally: it was physically hot, as in temperature. How was his mouth so warm against you, and his fingers so warm inside you?

When he latched his lips around your clit and sucked on it, you saw stars. Energy gathered in your gut and burned so bright that you thought you might explode. Really, it was more like an implosion as the coil inside you snapped and your thighs accidentally clamped down on his hand. It didn’t faze him though, it didn’t even slow him down as he moaned a little against you and curled his fingers even harder. You didn’t remember reaching down to grab his head, you just felt his hair between your fingers as you pulled it roughly, gasping his name.

When he did stop, sitting up and wiping his face with the back of his hand, you just looked back up at him as you caught your breath. He laughed, and you realized you were gawking unintentionally.

“I’m guessing you’ve never come like that before?” he ventured. You didn’t know if ‘like that’ meant from oral or just so suddenly and intensely, but it was true either way so you nodded.

When he reached down to grip his cock with the same hand still wet with your slick, you held your breath without realizing it. “Please put it in me,” you whimpered.

“I will,” he assured as he guided the head of it through your slick folds, stopping to tease your clit as you jolted from the contact on the sensitive nerves. Something surreal and indescribable tingled under your skin— you could hardly believe that this was happening, let alone with him, with Mr. Moreno. Or, Marcus. You were on a first-name basis by now, surely.

He pushed forward in one smooth, slow stroke until he was all the way inside you, his body filling yours to the brim as you quivered from the sensation of being stretched so wide.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked roughly.

“...almost,” you answered hesitantly, unsure how to describe the sensations you were feeling; not exactly pain, but not not pain. The favorite pain you’d ever felt in your life, easily.

He chuckled as he gripped your hips a little tighter. "I'm gonna move now," he announced. You nodded your approval, sighing shakily as he pulled his hips back and you felt the intoxicating friction of his cock against your walls.

"Ffffuck," you whimpered, gasping when he slammed his hips forward again. Your eyes rolled back in your head when he pushed as deep into you as he could with each thrust, still measured but not exactly gentle as he set a pace faster than you’d prepared for. But it was good, god it was so fucking good you weren’t sure what to do with yourself. "Marcus," you sighed, barely recognizing your own voice when it was heavy with need and arousal like this.

He grinned when he heard his name cross your lips, grinding his hips against yours for emphasis until you were forced to arch your back. "You like it rough, don't ya, honey?"

You nodded, confident that you liked it however he was doing it.

"Fuck, I knew it. Knew as soon as I saw you."

Before you could wonder what he meant by that, he was already moving fast enough to make your head spin. You had never had anything so deep inside you before, and when he pushed your legs up and back against your chest, you had no choice but to scream with pleasure.

Just before you reached the peak of it though, his hand clamped down over your mouth to muffle the sound. "Gotta be quiet," he reminded you through his teeth before relaxing his hand a bit so you could still be heard somewhat

"I can't," you whined, "Marcus, please, I can't stay quiet—"

"You have to."

"Feels too good," you whimpered your excuse. "F-fuck, slow down, I won't be able to stop it—"

He cut you off with a kiss, slow yet dominating, and your moans were muffled by his lips. You still sounded so loud in your own head, but at least your cries weren't echoing against the walls of his room anymore.

What was echoing were the sounds of skin slapping on skin as he pounded into you, roughly finding every delicate spot within you and making the backs of your thighs sore as his hips slammed into them. It forced your hands to grip at his muscular shoulders and your nails to dig into the skin there. You hoped there would be little half-moon shaped marks there tomorrow, maybe one would even scar so he'd have your mark on his body forever; after all, he'd carved a permanent space in your body by taking your virginity. Even if you couldn't dream of being as special to him as he was to you, you liked the idea of giving him something that he couldn't give back.

That energy was building again, different from before but no less powerful and persistent. "I'm gonna— fuck, I'm gonna come, I'm so close," you whispered.

“Yeah? Go ahead," he encouraged. "I wanna see you fall apart just for me, wanna feel you come around my cock."

You hadn't realized he'd be able to feel it, and the idea of that was so filthily beautiful that it pushed you over the edge, your whole body tensing up in sudden waves of pleasure so intense that it made your eyes water.

Through the static filling your ears, you heard his low, husky voice encouraging you: "Good girl, just like that, don't fucking stop."

You'd always been powerless to his voice, but this was another level. It was as if your body understood and met his demands, continuing to ride the peak of your sensation so long as he growled in your ear just right.

It was much too tender, the way he brushed the stray hair away from your face, the way he kissed your slack mouth again, the way he held you tighter and mumbled more praises to you. It was more romantic than it had any right to be, and you had to bite back the words of affection threatening to spill out of your mouth.

I love you, you wanted to tell him, I've loved you for years, but it was beyond inappropriate. You didn't want to play the role of the innocent virgin who thinks sex means being in love and lets herself catch feelings for the older man who is just taking what he wants and, at best, doing her a favor so she doesn't have to go off to college and get her cherry popped there. Maybe that was accurate, but that wasn't who you wanted to be.

You wanted to be sexy, and mature, and in control. You wanted to play a new rule, one that still felt foreign and yet closer than ever. So you wrapped your legs around his hips and held him deeper in you, smiling with a little growl of your own.

"I want you to come inside me," you informed him with a purr, loving the little moment of shock that passed over his face before he groaned, fucking you a little faster and more erratically.

"Fuck, really?" he rasped.

You bit your lip as you looked up at him through half-lidded eyes and nodded.

"You're on the pill?"

Another nod, this one finished off with a shiver as you wondered how much more of this your body could take.

He grinned and picked up the pace again, his moans getting a little louder with each movement. "Fuck, I'm gonna come— gonna fill up your tight little pussy, is that what you want?"

You nodded feverishly, already close to the edge again as you imagined what it would be like to have his come in you for the rest of the night. Was he going to make you walk home with it leaking out from between your legs? Why did that idea make your inner muscles involuntarily tighten around him?

With a string of curses and a grip on your thigh tight enough to bruise, he reached his own peak and you felt his cock flex and pulse inside you, a new warmth filling your gut from the inside out.

It's hard to say how long the two of you stayed like that, since you were busy basking in the afterglow (and, less enjoyably, worrying about the consequences that tomorrow morning would bring).

When he pulled out and collapsed beside you, you wondered if you should get up and get dressed.

"Stay here tonight," he instructed you, as if somehow a response to your internal thought. "Your folks won't freak out if you're out all night, right?"

"I'll just tell them I slept over at your place," you shrugged. With a confused look from him, you clarified: "on the couch."

"Right," he nodded as he wrapped you in his arms and pulled you closer, letting you rest your head in the crook of his neck. In this way and in so many others, it was how you expected (and hoped) losing your virginity would go: someone you trust and who cares about you, with enough attention on you that you didn't feel much pain, plus cuddling afterwards. But, in even more ways, it was unlike what you'd ever thought possible: it felt incredible and you came so hard that your ears were still kind of ringing, you didn't use a condom or even think to mention it, and finally— and most absurdly— it was with Marcus fucking Moreno.

Frankly, considering his performance earlier, "fucking" very well could be his middle name.

"You should sit for me again next week," he suggested quietly.

"Do you have somewhere to go?"

"No," he grinned, "but I'll be sure to come back real late, after she's gone to bed, so I can show you all the other ways I can make you feel good."

"H-how many ways are there?!"

He just laughed, pulling you closer and placing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Oh, sweetheart… so smart, but so innocent. We can fix that.”

You weren’t sure entirely which of those two things he intended on fixing.

#marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno smut #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno x y/n #pedro pascal x reader

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gumy-shark · 2 months ago

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ok off work so i can actually expand on this now. i tend to look at mp100 specifically as pseudo-allegorical, and all the conflicts are specifically part of that.

mobs philosophy (or really mob’s interpretation of reigen’s philosophy), as it starts out, is pretty black-and-white. Using your powers on other people is bad. Being a good person is good. What does “being a good person mean” to Mob? Mostly just being nice and not using his powers on others. The purpose of conflict in the story is ultimately to test and develop either this philosophy, or Mob as a character.

I’m going to go through every antagonist I remember and talk about how they challenge Mob and his beliefs, and some of the lessons he learns from those encounters.

SEASON 1:

In season 1, the questions presented to Mob are mostly focused on that first half of his philosophy: What does it mean to not use your powers on other people? There is especially a focus on self-defense in this season- at what point is it okay for Mob to use his powers to defend himself?

S1 Antagonists:

the roach spirit and the tunnel spirits: mostly setpieces to introduce the audience to the world, the characters, and the dynamic between mob and reigen

the peeping tom spirit: Very directly asks his question to Mob- “Are you living your life to the fullest?”, but also highlights ways Mob could be abusing his powers (Which is more of a season 2 theme, fitting this spirit’s placement in the manga) (this also counts as a question to me btw)

Dimple: In his first appearance, the encounter with Dimple is all about compromising oneself to achieve your goals. Mob could probably be more popular if he expressed his emotions more “normally,” but then he wouldn’t be Mob anymore- and more to the point, doing so compromises one of his most important principles of not letting others get hurt by his powers- which he risks every time he hits 100% (also note: Mezato saying that if she smiled to appease the LOL cult it wouldn’t be real; Mob moving the bystanders being one of the first-if not the first- time we see him use his powers on a human).

Teru: Mob’s first human opponent. Mob’s used his powers on others to move them out of harm’s way, but this fight with Teru tests Mob’s resolve to not use his powers against others- here is an enemy who is attacking him unprovoked, who does not respond to Mob’s attempts to defuse the situation, and who Mob desperately does not want to hurt. The question Teru asks is, “At what point does that stop? When is the danger to your own life great enough to purposely risk another’s?”- and while Mob’s answer is “Never,” the part of him that wants to not Fucking Die says “Right now.” (Other things to note: ???%’s rampage there, while understandable, was also overkill. Shaving Teru’s head was accidental, destroying his clothes may have been unintentional- but destroying his school and sending him naked into the stratosphere? Reigen was correct there- that’s not a justified response, powers or not.) (Additional lesson: the desire to survive may have also been something Mob was repressing along with his other emotions. jesus christ kid don’t do that please)

Ritsu: was Ritsu’s time as an antagonist brief? Yes. He still counts, I’m including him. The 5 seconds of Ritsu vs. Mob raise a lot of questions, but I think the most important one is, “What happens when every effort you’ve taken to avoid hurting others ends up hurting them too?” Mob’s repression of his emotions and powers is a direct result of his and Ritsu’s shared trauma, but it only served to (both directly and indirectly) worsen Ritsu’s spiral overall. (Additionally, if the fight had continued, I think it likely would’ve continued Teru’s line of questioning- is Mob prepared to defend himself against Ritsu? Is he ready for what might happen if he’s forced to use his powers here? We’ll never know for sure.)

Koyama: Ahh, the alleyway Koyama fight. Mob is extremely resistant to using his powers to protect himself, even against a psychic opponent, but when Koyama asks “Will you use your powers against others to protect someone you care about?” Mob’s answer is, perhaps for the first time, a very clear “Yes.” Protecting the people he cares about is a cornerstone of Mob’s developing philosophy, and is what drives him to consciously override his refusal to use his power against others. And also to Wreck Koyama’s Shit.

The 7th Division Scars: As the season finale arc, the Scars ask several questions that serve as a capstone/final test of Mob’s willingness to use his powers on others. Before the 7th Division arc, Mob was passive/reactive- he responded to threats as they came, and didn’t go beyond that. However, with Ritsu taken by Claw, that’s not an option anymore- he has to deliberately seek them out to fight them on purpose. That’s question one: Is it right, in this or any scenario, to go beyond self-defense and actively take the offensive? (and Mob’s answer is “Yes, to protect the ones I care about.”). In the compound, he once again moves on to self-defense, only fighting back after he’s been attacked- but his presence there is still offensive. This question comes to a head in the final confrontation with the Scars, when Mob is about to hit 100% Murderous Intent- he even says, “If I can protect the people I care about, I don’t care about the ones attacking me!”

This scene also serves as a transition between the ideas of Season 1 and Season 2, as Reigen steps in and reminds Mob of the other half of his guiding philosophy: he has to be a good person. Self-defense is an option, and a valid one, but Mob’s powers aren’t just for attacking- and the decision to willingly take another person’s life is not part of justified self-defense, powers or no. (Lesson learned: Death is not the only option- there is ALWAYS another way.)

By the end of S1, Mob is far more comfortable using his powers on and around people when necessary, and has gained a level of perspective in deciding where “necessary” is. Which is good because he’s gonna need that for Season 2.

SEASON 2:

If Season 1 was all about when it’s justified for Mob to use his powers on other people, and how far he should go, then Season 2 is all about the other half of that: being a good person. Now that Mob’s more comfortable with using his powers (and making his own decisions), a lot of questions shift towards asking how powers should be used, especially when it comes to spirit antagonists

S2 Antagonists:

Scarecrow Spirit: Setpiece so that Mob ends up with broccoli seeds and knowledge of chlorokinesis. This episode is more to show where he is at the start of s1, both in his work life and social life.

The Urban Legends: i’m gonna be honest I totally forgot about this episode. Mob doesn’t really develop much here, either- again, we’re mostly seeing just where he’s at.

That One Astral-Projecting Stalker, The High School Muggers, and The Asshole College Students: these three encounters all take place in the same episode, and all highlight a different part of Mob’s continued struggle with when he should use his powers. The astral projection stalker used his powers in a way that didn’t directly harm others, but still caused distress and was also creepy and gross. The high school muggers put Mob in a position where he basically had to defend himself against people who he knew couldn’t really fight back against him. And of course, the asshole college students tried to force Mob to use his powers against spirits- something he’s never had a moral problem with before- in a way that was distinctly immoral. Like other spirit-heavy episodes, the point is made clear in the episode itself: Mob is caught between the world of normal humans and that of spirits, and can no longer rely on others to make moral decisions for him.

Mogami (and Minori): Jesus christ man. Mogami arc. So, like most other spirit arcs, this arc has very clear takeaways. Mogami asks, “What if you do everything right and you are hurt anyways? What is the point of kindness in such a cruel world?” and Minori asks “When does a person stop deserving to be saved?” (and in the end, Mob’s answer to these questions is that kindness is necessary. That there is no world without kindness- and that deserving doesn’t matter. It matters what Minori’s done, and it matters that she wants to become better- but even without those things, even if she was totally unrepentant, she would still be a person in need of help, and that’s reason enough to try.)

Reigen: yeah i’m counting reigen as an antagonist for separation arc lol. He is nothing if not his own worst enemy. Being a Reigen-centric arc, Separation Arc has nothing to do with psychic powers, and everything to do with self-improvement and being a good person. However, that’s not really what this analysis is about, and Reigen kinda says it all out loud in this arc anyways, so… moving on!

TOICHIROU SUZUKI!!: this guy is my FAVORITE mp100 villain, specifically because his question is so interesting to me. Before the World Domination arc, there had always been a trump card against any villain standing in Mob’s way, and that was Mob’s sheer overwhelming brute force. The reason they were able to convince so many antagonists to change their ways is in the end because when push came to shove, they simply couldn’t beat Mob. He outclassed them to the point that they HAD to listen to him- or at least stop long enough to hear him out. And then, in walks Toichirou, saying with his presence alone, “What if you can’t force someone to change? What if you show them the consequences of their behavior (Mrs. Suzuki), how they’ve hurt you (Shou)- what if you try to empathize with them and fight them head-on and when all else fails you just try to kill them- and none of it works? What happens when, for the first time, Mob isn’t strong enough force someone to change?” And there never really is an answer to that. Even Mob choosing to stay behind with Toichirou, trying to contain the explosion and give everyone else more of a chance to escape, refusing to let him die alone- even that wasn’t really what changed Toichirou. He had to choose, on his own, to reflect on himself and admit to himself that he had regrets. That he wanted to make things right. And that chance that he was given is what saved Mob, saved Toichirou, saved everyone in the city- and it only could’ve happened because it built on all the lessons Mob had already learned and put into practice.

(I could go into Season 3 as well, but 1. s3 is meant to show Mob’s developed philosophy and character in action, 2. doesn’t really have Antagonists in the same way that s1 and s2 do, 3. the fights that do take place are for the completion of individual character arcs, and 4. ???% is an entire analysis post in and of himself).

wait fuck have i actually explained my view of mob psycho where i see every antagonistic character as representing/asking a question that directly challenges mob’s philosophy or growth in some way

#mp100 #mp100 spoilers #mp100 meta #jesus christ this took me over an hour to write

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sunkissedpages · 3 years ago

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instead of you [part fifteen]

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption

word count: 1.7k

series masterlist

Don’t tell Sam. Sam. SAM.

“Shit.”

You had to fix this in a matter of seconds. Should you slap him? Act like nothing happened? Pretend you were drunker than you actually were and play dumb?

“Wait, you’re not Sam?” you squinted your eyes like you were trying to see who was in front of you, acting like you were too drunk to remember who you were with. “Oh my god.”

“Y/n, I’m so sorry,” Tom tried.

“I-” you didn’t know how to respond. “Why did you do that?”

He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “I don’t know, it didn’t mean anything!” You’d be lying if you told yourself that didn’t sting a little. If he didn’t have any sort of feelings for you, why would he kiss you? “I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Please don’t tell my brother.”

“You want me to lie to my boyfriend?”

“I mean, is it lying if you just don’t mention it?”

“It’s a lie of omission- are you really going to debate me about philosophy right now?”

“Then yes, I do want you to lie to your boyfriend because if he finds out he’ll never speak to me again.”

“You realize what kind of position that puts me in?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yes.”

You couldn’t even think straight. Feelings of confusion, panic, anger, and regret fought for control of your conscience. “What if someone had seen us? Taken a picture of us? You’re a public fucking figure, Tom. That could’ve put your career at risk.” “Don’t you think I know that?” he growled. “I don’t need you to lecture me on how stupid it was.”

“You’re an asshole,” you scoffed.

“I know.”

You stood from the table to leave, hoping he wouldn’t follow you, but he called after you, your name echoing in your ears like a warning. Reluctantly, you turned back to face him with a bitter taste on your tongue.

“You won’t tell him, right?”

You stared him down for a moment, watching nerves etch themselves onto his features before answering. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

It was a promise you didn’t want to make, but you felt like you had no other choice. You hadn’t just broken the ‘no flirting’ rule, you’d blown straight past it into completely uncharted territory. And technically Tom had been the one to initiate, you hadn’t kissed him back, but you couldn’t say you hadn’t felt something when he did.

You had never lied to Sam before- at least not on this scale. You felt sick to your stomach, and it had nothing to do with the alcohol.

You almost didn’t want to go back to your room. You urged the elevator to go as slow as possible as you checked your appearance in the reflective wall. The tarnished gold was smudged with handprints, but you were still able to make out your ruined lipstick. You weren’t sure it had been messed up sometime during dinner, or if it was Tom’s doing but you couldn’t take a chance. You used your thumb to wipe away the evidence as the intercom on the elevator let out a ding to let you know you’d reached your floor.

With a shaky breath you pushed yourself into the hallway and forced yourself to put one foot in front of the other to walk to your room. You didn’t have a key, so you had to knock. You half-hoped Sam was already asleep, even if it meant you’d have to spend the night in the hallway.

But as luck would have it he was still up and he opened the door seconds later. He was definitely out of it, blinking at you to put you in focus.

“There you are,” he said tiredly, rubbing one of his eyes with his hand. “I was wondering when you’d come up.”

“I hope I didn’t keep you up,” you apologized as you breezed past him into the room.

“Nah, I was just messing around.”

A lie, you knew, but you let it slide knowing you were keeping a much bigger secret. He was already dressed for bed in his boxers and one of your t-shirts and his hair was wet from a shower.

“Are you okay?” he asked, noticing your anxious energy.

You nodded. “I had too much to drink.”

“Ah, me too, I think. Come take a shower. It’ll help.”

You took his advice and tried to sober up in the shower, letting the cold water run over your bare skin until you were shivering. When it didn’t make you feel any better you turned off the faucet completely and dried off, wrapping a towel around your body and sitting on the edge of the tub.

“Y/n?” came Sam’s muffled voice from the other side of the door.

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You sighed. Why did he have to know you better than you knew yourself? You pushed yourself up from the tub and opened the door.

“I had like three more shots after you left,” you mumbled.

The color drained from his face as he took in this additional information and he frowned. “Jesus, I thought I was drunk. Do you feel sick?”

“Not yet.”

“Okay, well let’s go to bed,” he urged. His accent was always thicker when he was drunk, and in a funny way it sounded like home, like all of those Friday nights back on campus.

Sam gave you space to change into your clothes for bed and crawled under the covers to wait for you. You dressed yourself, hung your towel in the bathroom, and shut off the main light before feeling your way through the darkness over to the bed.

You managed to get your drunk ass in bed without tripping which you considered to be a miracle. Sam slung his arm across your stomach as soon as you settled on the mattress and pulled you against his hip. You tensed underneath his touch, but he didn’t seem to notice.

You couldn’t relax no matter how hard you tried, and sleep taunted you for hours, hovering just out of your reach.

Sam’s alarm woke you from restless dreaming some hours later, when the sun had barely brushed the horizon.

You groaned and rolled over onto your stomach, burying your face in your pillow. Your head was pounding and you didn’t even want to think about facing Tom. The simple motion of rolling over had made you nauseous and you knew that standing up was going to be a whole nother ordeal.

“Come on, love,” Sam said, nudging you with his knee. He was already sitting up, rolling the tension out of his neck from a night on the stiff mattress. “We gotta be downstairs in a few minutes.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you felt pathetic. You didn’t have the strength to be around Tom today, especially with Sam right there.

“Don’t feel good,” you moaned.

“We’re all hungover,” Sam sighed. “We’re not even doing that much walking today.”

You turned your head enough for him to see the tears running down your cheeks and he pursed his lips, expression turning worried.

“Oh.”

“Can you make something up?” you pleaded.

He nodded. “I’ll tell them you have a fever or something.”

You swallowed your shame and squeezed your eyes shut, whispering thanks into his shirt. Sam kissed your forehead and then got up. You vaguely heard him moving around the room getting ready, but drifted in and out of sleep as he did.

Once he was dressed he softly told you goodbye, that he hoped you felt better, and that he’d bring you back some food later on.

The door clicked shut and you let your guilt continue eating you alive.

You wondered how Tom would react when Sam told his family you weren’t feeling well, if his face would give anything away. He was an actor, he should be able to handle it. But you also wondered what he was feeling, if he felt as guilty as you did- or even more so. Or maybe he wouldn’t even care. You never knew when it came to him.

You rolled onto your back and propped yourself up on a pillow, using the free time to respond to some messages from friends and family. It was the middle of the night back in the States, but at least they’d wake up knowing you weren’t dead. To be fair, everyone knew your communication skills weren’t the best so they probably weren’t expecting anything from you anyway, but you still wanted to put in the effort.

The rest of the day passed by quicker than you would’ve liked. You spent it in bed, tossing and turning as you desperately tried to fall back asleep. You kept pushing the blankets off of you, then burying yourself beneath them again, flipping between hot and cold. Maybe you really did have a fever. Your clothes were suffocating you so you ended up stripping and dropping them on the floor by the bed.

By the mercy of some higher power you were able to nap for a couple of hours scattered throughout the afternoon, but by dinner time you were wide awake again and passed the time by watching Avatar: The Last Airbender in Italian on the hotel tv.

It was playing an earlier episode, the one where the gaang visited Kyoshi Island. You couldn’t understand any of the dialogue, obviously, but you still found comfort in the familiar scenes.

There was a knock on the door suddenly, startling you out of your focus. You jerked your head towards the sound and scrambled from the bed. You slipped back into your t-shirt, but didn’t bother putting on pants before opening the door because you figured it was just Sam. And it was. He looked exhausted, but in the best kind of way and was holding a styrofoam container of food that was presumably for you.

“Forgot the key,” he said sheepishly, offering you the food. You smiled and took it from him, stepping aside to let him in.

He didn’t take your cue, instead he stayed where he was standing in the doorway awkwardly. It was then that you realized he wasn’t alone, that his older brother had been standing behind him the entire time.

Sam offered no explanation, only shrugged like he didn’t know why he was there either.

“Tom?” you asked, awaiting an explanation for yourself.

“Can we talk?”

ik tags haven’t been working idk why i’m sorry!!! but lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

forever tags: @mischiefmanaged49 @bookingbee @cloverrover @captainbuckyy @perhaps-he-schnapped-blog @awkwardfangirl2014 @the-queen-procrastinator @tastingthestarz @sleepybesson @everythingbooknerd @sunshine96love @bitchymathematician @livingincompletesilence @melsbooktrash @swim-deep-or-die @fizzy828 @spider-slutt @theamuz @nedthegay @astroasethic @stuckonspidey @darlingtholland @sgtbookybarnes @tinyplanet-explorers @mildcockandballtorture @uglypastels @gennyld @devin-marie @r-wooooosh @hell-yeah-peter-parker @itssnowingandimstuckinside @relise-thefury @osteporosis @legendsofwholock @peterunderoos @fuckyeahhomerun @nobelwarriorheroes @delicately-important-trash @thwip-it-real-good @claryfray101 @softholand @tomhollandseverything @cool-ultra-nerd @jillanaholland @dinasaur36 @farfromhaz @hanlons-wp @moon-390 @parkerstylesperalta @httpchrisevans @screeching-student-unknown @almondholland @noisyzineeggsbandit @5sos-microwave @quackson-love @smilealways19 @quackeroos @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @wolvesofwinter @mukesnugget @mytonycinematicuniverse @itsjusttor @percysmcu @peterquillzsblog @lovewolfspirit @biebsmylife95 @a-disappointing-teen-author @justanotherusername80 @b-buckys @sunkisseddreamerr @hufflepuffprincess24 @princessxcryxbaby @tinyyoungblood @holyfrickfracks @amii-nyc @clara-licht @veryholland @captainamirica @ultrunning @cocoamoonmalfoy @nellbellzz-blog @bookfrog242 @honeymoonlover @nellabellaa @its-the-solar-system @spiitfiires @tomhollandfangirl1 @parkeromanoff @randomstufflol29 @pogueslandia @hollandswife @bunnyweasley23 @determined-overthinker @madz-holland @hi-yekaterina @rinaaa334

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#instead of you #iou #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland series #tom holland x female reader #tom holland x bi!reader

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jiminrings · 4 years ago

Note

what happened to mc after that?? JUNGKOOK I WILL WHOOP YO FUCKING ASS

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

the aftermath of stem koo breaking senior!y/n's heart

"do you need anything from us?"

yoongi asks you for the fifth time in the twenty minutes you've been home, heart breaking from the inside out when you haven't moved a single inch

he is begging that the thing you need from him and jin is to go beat j*ngkook up

HE CAN'T EVEN SAY HIS NAME WITHOUT BEING ANGRY AT HIM!!!!!!!

anything. anything to atleast make you sleep in peace tonight.

or them honestly,, either way

your body's facing the backrest of the couch and maybe that's for the better, because that way, seokjin won't feel the need to cry looking at the coldest person he's known to be openly vulnerable

you're still wearing your jersey!!! your stained dirty jersey that you've been in for the past three hours and the reason that it's still wet was that you've been using it to wipe your tears all the way to the dorm

"no. i'll be alright."

you mumble for the fifth time out of the five times you've been asked, and yoongi just has to grapple at his fist because he knows that being frustrated wouldn't help

you are the fURTHEST thing from okay

to be honest, it was only a miracle that you told the two of them what happened in the first place

it was in between sobs that you asked them why they were friends with you and they couldn't be anymore dumbfounded

it was in between violent tears that you mentioned hyeji that seokjin looked for a box of tissues because you've been intentionally rubbing your eyes raw

it was in between heaving that you said that no one wants to go the extra mile for me that yoongi started holding your cheeks and trying to get you to breathe with him in his panic too

it was in between hiccups that you uttered that no one wants to walk me home and that's when both of yoongi's and seokjin's throats started tightening, the dots hazy yet aligning nonetheless

it was in silence when you told that jungkook said that no one likes me, and that's when out of the three of you in the room – you're the one who's the calmest.

"okay. i'll bring you a blanket."

yoongi leaves it at that, standing from his spot on the floor to walk over to the kitchen where the blankets cLEARLY aren't there

no one really prepared yoongs for this

no one really is

there isn't a manual on how to act when the dearest friend that you have is crying their guts out for the first time

he can't explain his close bond with you and he's always seen you as his platonic girlfriend!!! his platonic girlfriend who has a bond with him that's closer than a sister's, more understanding than a mother's, and the utter admiration more than a friend's

you r literally yoongi's (platonic) soulmate and he would die on that hill

he would rather subject himself to torture via having to stay in a freshman's dorm equipped with the de facto led strip lights everyday!!! every single day, than to see you like this :(((

"what do you have on the bitch?" yoongi doesn't spare his words when he sits on the kitchen stool next to jin's figure

the dude is sTANDING and that means business

jin doesn't feel a single ounce of regret fetching his work laptop and scrolling through the files and tabs he has on every single student on campus, eyes only looking for one lee hyeji that's contributed to your anguish rn

jungkook is atleast 3/4 in this equation and seokjin will get to him of course

no one makes his emotional support best friend cry and nOT pay the consequences for it!!!!

in another life, vincenzo cassano's character is based on seokjin and the events in his life that definitely happened >:(

"she's daddy's money. can't fucking believe that sHE'S representing the school," he sighs in genuine annoyance, but not loud enough to pique your attention as he turns the screen so yoongi could clearly see her headshots, "must be a diversity hire. every university needs a fucking bimbo, apparently."

you see,,, yoongi would've SNORTED at that but now is not the time!!! he is still planning discreet retribution to avenge you!!!!

jin lets yoongi look at hyeji's entire file, wanting to get even the smallest bits even if the information he's taking in is against his will

he'll immediately delete whatever he learns about her right after it's served its purpose

"just messaged the faculty groupchat," seokjin himself didn't imagine the words coming out from his lips determinedly, but he knows that he's willing to do anything for the sake of this, "been crushing on jeon ever since the start of last semester. philosophy professor thinks it's because he once saw jungkook lending her a pen when they were in the topic of soulmates."

jesus christ

now THAT'S just annoying ://

this

whatever this is

seokjin and yoongi don't know what they're digging all this information for

they don't know what this unspoken plan is for, or if they even have a plan in the first place

if jin were to tell the faculty gc about this???

absolute mayhem

but he knows for a fact that they'd hate star student jungkook easily within a tap of a finger

the philosophy prof would lose all sense of rationality and reasoning and INSTANTLY point to jungkook as an asshole!!! no questions asked!!!! no elaborations!!!!

"i could get jeon eliminated from all the academic listings he's in."

jin pipes in at the silence that he and yoongi share, both listless in this situation that they never expected to encounter with you

"i could always spread a rumor and make him unlikeable."

yoongi toys with the rings that he wears, a heavy exhale tearing away from him

they could think of a thousand other ways to get back at jungkook!!! they literally can

seokjin knows a contract guy who leaves shredded paper with his contract's initials written on red ink (for a base fee of three dollars, he can switch up the ink for you!!!) right next to their side on the bed

yoongi knows a guy whose modus operandi is to discreetly follow people, have subliminals playing in the background (for an extra fee of ten dollars, he'll use wireless bass-boosted speakers), and continue doing so until the desired message is achieved!!!!

none of the people they have connections to could employ the same amount of pain he's caused on you

there's literally nothing that could hit home with jungkook besides you.

but there's no way to do that and even in your state of anger and sadness tHEN utter vulnerability, you can't even really think of hurting jungkook in the way he did

because you know and yoongi knows and seokjin knows and everyone knows that you aren't the type to wish ill

you admit that sometimes you're unavailable but you don't want that to be an asshole-reason to make everyone else around you suffer in the same way you do

the people around you aren't your shock absorbers!!!! that's why you hang out a teddy bear on your doorknob when you're mad so that neither yoongi or jin would have the possibility to be caught in your rage

that's why you call for a break when your soccer team is out of their game and make everyone drink their electrolytes before they speak to you!!!!

that's why you have the old heart of your even older build-a-bear stuffie in your pocket, one of the only reminders that your childhood even happened, one that you'd squeeze between your fingers in any remotely anxious instances that you find yourself in

jungkook's words hit home and it put you into a spiral if you even had one in the first place

your parents divorced when you were young and it's just that,,, no one from the two of them wanted you because you were the reminder of the other parent

you're a place marker for when a commitment started and ended and god did it make you grow up quickly

your aunt raised you!!!! she's an angel and she's the maternal figure in your life that you'd always be grateful for

you love her all the same and as much as you didn't wanna relate yourself to your parents in the same way that they don't, the feelings of being unliked hit you ever so often

lol it's quite a dashing mindset you have but you can't see any other interpretation you should employ

you leave before they could leave you.

it's not really as dramatic as it sounds

BUT IT COULD BE

there's always obligatory groupchats for projects and you're the first one to leave it instead of awkwardly waiting out for the conversation to dwindle and then leave one by one

when you and yoongi argue, you leave before he attempts to get the last word in

when jin is about to ask if you want to split the bill, you're already putting more than half of your share on the table

it's a nagging feeling of not wanting be unwanted in every situation you're in, but you aren't all that sure of wHAT you'd do to be liked

the only thing you could think of are lunchboxes, and even that gets taken away from you.

does no one really like you??

you're shifting in your position before you know it and the lone sound makes jin and yoongs come to your side immediately, looking at you in concern

you're looking up and you could just fEEL your eyes are puffy and even the light's hurting them

"i need to sleep."

"o-oh! m'kay, sure. i'll carry you to bed, let's go," seokjin wastes no time in responding, about to hook his arms underneath you when you repeat yourself again

you only chuckle but it's the driest and most painful they've ever heard, wincing when they can hear how breathless it was

"no. i mean i need to sleep."

jin blinks once

yoongi blinks twice

right

they get it now

you don't want to sleep, and you really can't, but you need it

"i'll get it!!" jin volunteers to grab what you need, leaving yoongi with you

oh god you could fEEL that he's going to cry

what a big baby ://

seokjin comes bearing the joint :D

he's about to light it for you because he knows that three specific short hits would lull you to slumber then knock you out cold for like a day lmao

he minored in chemistry actually but he cAN'T explain shit on why that's your body's reaction

you're all-good for literally anything besides three short hits lmao

yoongi was about to scold jin because he lights it and tHEN he's the one who takes the first drag, but there's an assuring wave of his hand

how romantic

jin just blew you a heart

they can't get anything from you besides the slight crinkling from your eyes but they don't mind at all — your eyes are atleast one degree less sad

you take your turn and even pass it to yoongi but he rEFUSES,,,,, not the least bit dejected that he decided not to because he wants to watch over you instead and not see every inanimate object with cartoon eyes on them while watching over you

"bake her a cookie if in case she suddenly gets hungry in the middle of her sleep. sneak a carrot in it or something," jin reminds yoongi and he's sERIOUS about the recipe, holding you in tow as he makes the way to your room

yoongi's about to break out the bowls, freezing in his steps when he hears the doorbell frantically ring

oh god

the ONE time that they didn't plug the door with a wet towel and now it's probably the hall manager outside about to do an inspection

that is not..... the hall monitor

that is a fucking asshole

jungkook's been pacing on his heels, his knocking loud enough to wake up the entire hallway at this point

he's SWEATING and he's not even wearing his hoodie

the door finally opens and the words start tumbling out of his mouth

"good evening. i-i wanna explain myself and-..."

that is not,,,,, you

it's his senior that he's disrespected probably too many times

yoongi leans to the door, a sickeningly sweet smile on his face that the junior's never seen before

"you ever had a sandwich before, jungkook?"

"w-what?"

the younger boy stammers, his eyes following yoongi's actions of looking behind him out of worry and then going outside to join him by closing the door softly without noise

yoongi only snorts, not even sure if he's up for conversation

"hyeji's never packed you a sandwich before?"

jungkook pales at the mention, mouth drying when he sees yoongi bring up the soft smile that doesn't comfort him at all

"the one that's all knuckle?"

#WHAT DO WE THINK BESTIES :D WHAT'S HAPPENING NEXT #stem koo #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook drabbles #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook au #jungkook angst #jungkook angst imagine

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free-pool-trash · 4 years ago

Text

happiness - peter maximoff

yay a new peter fic <3 i was feeling a little unmotivated for a few days (since our boy wasn’t in episode 8 at all :/) but im back 😎 although im back in school so i might be on and off for a while 😩✋🏻

!!!it’s not a songfic those lyrics at the start are just my inspo!!!

word count: 5k <3 😳

warnings: maybe swearing but i dont think so i cant remember, peter being sad, angst, but mostly fluff, WandaVision spoilers maybe??? I pretty much made up this plot so idk, endgame spoilers, reader was an avenger, kissing but it’s not graphic😽 probably some mistakes yk how it is

feedback is appreciated <3

tagging: @enchantedcruelsummer (should i make a peter maximoff taglist? let me know and I’ll do it)

masterlist

haunted by the look in my eyes that would’ve loved you for a lifetime

leave it all behind

& there is happiness

Loneliness had always been something that plagued him. That and a plethora of other negative emotions.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Peter Maximoff wasn’t made to feel like a loser. Admittedly, he’d never held himself to a high standard, he grew up thinking that he’d never fit in anywhere and eventually that thought mutated into a lifestyle as he began isolating himself from the world around him, either far too good or heartbreakingly not enough to be a part of that crowd.

He liked spending time with himself. Nobody else knew him the way he knew him, and still, he found nothing but an overwhelming hollow space where his deepest most important hopes, aspirations, dreams and self discoveries should have resided.

Peter had always put this feeling of exile down to the fact that he was a mutant, it was the most likely explanation, right?

It was only when he’d decided to join the X-Men that he finally came to the conclusion that maybe the rest of the world wasn’t the problem, nor was his mutation the problem, but that he himself was the problem. For even in a school full of people exactly like him he was still the same loser that he was in his mother’s basement.

And he was under no illusions that that was exactly what his teammates saw in him; nothing. No potential. Just a space holder to bring the numbers up.

Super speed was incredible. That’s how Peter acknowledged jobs well done, he praised his speed but never himself. He just saved Charles and Erik from a room full of armed guards? No that wasn’t him, that was simply his speed. He saved an entire mansion full of people from a potentially fatal explosion? Nothing special, Kurt probably could’ve done the same.

Forget all of the good deeds and saved lives because the bottom line of it all, to him at least, was that all he was good for was cheeky one liners and hopeless kleptomania.

His life took a turn for the worse when he found himself being mind controlled in an alternate universe. And even then, he was playing the part of someone that wasn’t him, the thought humbled him, reconnected him to his roots and reintroduced him to his life long philosophy that he’d never be anything more than a social pariah. Not even an alternate reality could accept him for who he was. There wasn’t a warm welcome and despite not knowing what was going on, the definition of “imposter” or the weirder, “recast”, still shot to kill.

He settled on the notion that he was an inter dimensional waste of space. At least in WestView he could be blissfully ignorant, let the real him be drowned mercilessly in favour of being an integral part of someone’s life- to feel important, even if it wasn’t real.

When WestView fell apart he was completely lost. In every sense of the word. In a new world with no way home and as it turned out, nobody was looking for him. Although he didn’t expect anyone to care, it still stung that nobody did. He always hoped that one day Erik would step up as a father figure for him, this; getting kidnapped and smuggled into a different dimension, seemed like the perfect moment for that epic father son moment, but it wouldn’t surprise Peter if his father has yet to notice his disappearance.

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, he came into contact with a beacon of hope. A guiding star that might possibly lead him to an existence consisting of something other than misery and self loathing.

It offered him a choice; return to being the self proclaimed loser he was known as or start fresh as someone new and mysterious, with first impressions yet to be made and conclusions about him yet to be drawn. Peter had known himself to be rash in the past, when it came to making decisions he had the tendency to act impulsively, never putting too much thought into how his decisions would affect his life in the long term. The choice before him now is no different, he knew exactly what he wanted going forward, however selfish the choice may have been, the second he realised it was an option his heart was set on it.

That previously mentioned beacon of hope arrived to him in the form of a girl, in the form of you. An ex-avenger and close friend of Wanda’s, you were hired by S.W.O.R.D to help them clean up the more ‘sensitive’ fallout that the fall of WestView brought about. Obviously, they were sticking you- the only other avenger with magik- on babysitting and rehabilitation rather than letting you go after your best friend who had gone completely off the rails. Having said that though, you didn’t want anyone else handling him.

You hadn’t watched WandaVision, nor were you even aware that any of it was going on until it had reached a boiling point and you got a call from Monica Rambeau, she’d begged you to come and wait on the edge of town while she went in and act as her eyes on the outside along with Jimmy Woo.

That’s where you stayed until the hex broke down.

As soon as the barrier came down the base you manned was overrun by an armada of terribly confused and distressed citizens, Monica and Wanda were not among them but in their places stumbled in Darcy and the man playing the role of Pietro.

Jimmy appointed himself to Darcy, who in all honesty seemed relatively unscathed by the situation while you made a beeline for the dirty blonde charading as your former, dead teammate.

Peter was, to put it simply, completely enthralled by you as soon as you’d strolled over to him and in the moment he’d put his almost magnetic attraction to you down to the fact that you were the first friendly face he’d seen upon breaking free of Agatha’s possession.

But one thing in particular struck him; you’d asked him his name. You hadn’t immediately assumed him to be some knock off Pietro, as everyone else had. You acknowledged that he had his own personal identity and despite how often he caught himself hating the person he was, he found that when it was torn away from him that he wanted it back. The simple question you posed gave him the opportunity to regain his identity.

“Peter. My name is Peter.” He answered you, almost unsure of himself and you found your interest in the man piqued even further.

He remembered with perfect clarity the way you’d offered him a grin, tilted your hand, extended your hand and said, “Well it’s nice to meet you, Peter. Come on, I’ll be your babysitter for the next while.” There was something about the way you’d laughed after saying the words and the slight, yet unmistakable, glint of mischief in your eyes that had him captivated from the get go.

With you came a whirlwind of new emotions. After only a few weeks of knowing you, Peter noticed he wasn’t as lonely as he had been back home. He didn’t hate himself half as much either, he wasn’t entirely free of self deprovative tendencies and maybe he never would be, but undoubtedly, he likes himself more in this world than he ever had in his last. He thanked you and your determination to make him “a functioning member of society” for that.

It didn’t feel belittling, the way you helped him. You hadn’t dragged him to your favourite mall every weekend just to taunt him about how he couldn’t stop himself from stealing something. Even the very first time, when he’d sped away from you and returned within a second adoring a pair of freshly stolen sunglasses. Your only reaction had been to laugh and casually place your hands on both sides of his face.

“At least remember to take the tag off next time, speedy.” You’d muttered, subtly pulling the tacky stickers off the arms of his shades. No, you weren’t dragging him sight seeing or forcing him to help you go clothes shopping because you thought he was a loser who needed reforming you were doing it because you were a true friend who wanted him to succeed.

The pair of you seemed like two peas in a pod. Which to be fair, you were. Peter Maximoff intrigued you in every sense of the word. He was new, quite literally other worldly, he was kind, he was funny, he was perfectly mischievous and completely wonderful.

What caught your eye the most was the way he held himself, as if he wasn’t entirely comfortable in his own skin. It became apparent to you that he lacked confidence with the phrases he usually tacked onto the ends of his sentences. When you’d invite him to hang out in the beginning his response would always be something along the lines of, “Sure. If you want me to.” But the excitable puppy dog eyes told you that he was dying for someone to want him to tag along some place.

There was a certain understanding between you. You were both more than accustomed with the harrowing feeling of being alone and even though you’d never exactly voiced those thoughts with each other, you couldn’t deny that his was a spirit kindred to your own and he felt it too.

Since the Avengers has disbanded, one of your best friends, Natasha, was dead and your other best friend, Wanda, was gone completely off the rails and the people chasing her wouldn’t let you anywhere near her or even attempt to help pull her out of her darkness. You were being kept as a wildcard in case they needed her taken down. Peter was no stranger to the feeling of being cast aside and so he quickly responded to your frustrations, and in doing so, forced himself out of his comfort zone to be there for you. To his complete shock though, you’d been so appreciative of his efforts.

You never failed to thank him for the little things he did for you, always complimenting his mutation when he’d use it and giving him the recognition he never received at home. The friendship he formed with you was so… two sided, again, something he wasn’t accustomed to before. It didn’t involve him giving everything he had to offer and receiving nothing in return, you matched his energy meticulously and never left him hanging.

In a series of firsts, he didn’t wonder whether or not you genuinely liked him, never feeling the need or want to question it as you’d left him with no reason to doubt.

As he walked around the mall with you now, his mind brought his attention back to the question you’d asked him rather casually a few nights ago. You were both lounging on your couch, watching some ridiculous reality show (a favourite of yours and Peter’s) when you’d turned your head to look at him, a thoughtful look on your face. “Do you think when S.W.O.R.D figures the technology out to crack into other realities, you’ll go back to yours?”

The question had taken him aback for a second, in all honesty, he hadn’t thought about going home, not when he was with you at least and considering he’d become your roommate about three weeks after he got out of WestView, the thought of returning to his old life had barely crossed his mind.

Being an ex-Avenger you were fairly well off, you lived alone in a two bedroom apartment in New York that you’d bought to be closer to Stark tower. Peter had nowhere to go and aside from having a spare room to offer you’d also been sort of lost in the current of the busy city with everyone you once loved in the area either dead, on the run or busy elsewhere.

While the question hadn’t crossed Peter’s mind, it had crossed yours on several occasions. He’d been staying with you for six months and the moment you realised that he was becoming one of the most important people in your life, the thought of him leaving you too weighed on your mind but at the end of the day you wanted him to feel happy. He deserved to feel happy and if going back to his reality brought him that happiness then you’d support him.

“Dunno,” he’d replied, turning to face you, chucking a handful of popcorn at you when you looked incredulous at his response, “To be honest I haven’t really thought about it, m’way too busy babysitting you anyway.” He joked, effortlessly dodging the few pieces of popcorn you attempted to throw at him.

For the last few nights, the question haunted him, but it wasn’t just the question that was bothering him. You were at the forefront of his mind as he replayed the past six months of his life which also happened to be the best six months of his life. WestView put him through hell but coming out the other side of it and meeting you felt like heaven.

He weighed up the pros and cons of returning to his native timeline. The cons: he’d have to leave you behind, he’d go back to being the loser who nobody took seriously, his talents would be downplayed and disregarded and he’d inevitably end up revisiting his lifestyle of solitude. Then there was the pros: he’d get to reunite with his pac man machine. He couldn’t manage to think up anything else.

If he stayed he’d have everything he ever wanted and needed. You’d be there and he knew you always would be, besides he couldn’t leave you knowing that you needed him. If he left who would wake you up when you had night terrors about the catastrophe that your reality was still recovering from? There would be nobody there to comfort you when you woke up from the nightmares, reliving the deaths of Natasha, Tony or Vision and the experience of being snapped out of existence? If he wasn’t there to make you laugh when you were about to cry then who would be? In his heart of hearts he knew you had a huge support system at your disposal, he’d met most of them. Even though he was well aware that Sam visited you as often as he could, that Bucky wrote you letters on a monthly basis and sometimes tagged along with Sam on his visits, that Stephen Strange appeared in your apartment whenever the urge struck him, that the literal god of thunder invited you out for beer whenever he was visiting Earth, that the little spider-kid, also named Peter, swung by your apartment at least once a week to tell you all about school and his good deeds. Despite knowing all of this and knowing all of these people loved you dearly, Peter wanted to be your main source of support, he didn’t want to be someone who came and went, who’d love you then leave you. He wanted to be with you through anything and everything and the feeling that you’d love him for a lifetime had him satisfied with the decision he was about to make.

If leaving his old life meant he could stay here, with you, and experience happiness for more than a fleeting moment then he’d simply; leave it all behind.

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked me the other night.” He spoke through a mouthful of curly fries. You were sitting in the food court of the mall when he decided to let you in on his desire to stay with you indefinitely.

You raised your eyebrow, “You? Putting thought into an answer? Peter, I think I’m starting to become a bad influence on you.” You told him teasingly, taking a long sip of your drink as he rolled his eyes humorously.

“You’re a terrible influence which is exactly why I’ve decided to stay here and put you on the straight and narrow.” The glee you felt at his statement was undeniable, your eyes lit up and your lips curled upwards.

“You’re staying? Really staying?” Your smile was contagious, Peter’s face now painted with a wide grin as he nodded his head.

In a moment of weakness he frantically added, “Y’know only if you want me to though. If you don’t that’s completely cool.” He rushed through the words, feeling more embarrassed when the fond look on your face never faded.

“Of course I want you to stay. You mean a lot to me.” You reassured him, a gentle smile on your lips as you reached across the metal table, intertwining your fingers with his.

Peter squeezed your hand gratefully, holding it in his grasp securely and allowing his smile to return to his face, “I know. You mean a lot to me too.” It was somewhat of an understatement, he was starting to understand that you didn’t just mean a lot, but that you meant everything.

His resolution lifted a huge weight off your shoulders that you wouldn’t be losing yet another best friend. You were glad he’d be with you when everything blew over with Wanda, the two of them definitely had the potential to develop a beautiful sibling relationship and they both deserved that. Of course, Peter would never replace Pietro and having known them both it was obvious just how different the two men were, the only thing they had in common being their powers and last name. Still, he and Wanda would still be able to work on it. He didn’t hate her after WestView and you knew Wanda well enough to know that she was kind hearted and she’d be more than willing to give him a chance. When she eventually comes back to her senses, that it.

As the months went on, life with you and Peter seemed to only get better. You never stopped laughing, your nightmares died down and Peter had taken on a whole new lease of life. Yourself and Peter were the perfect example of meeting the right person at the right time, you balanced each other out and accentuated the other’s good qualities.

Peter could now say with complete confidence that he was happy and what’s more is that he was finally sure that he was making someone happy.

Up until nearly eleven months of living together your relationship had been purely platonic, save for the constant flirting but flirtation pretty much ran in yours and Peter’s blood. Peter wasn’t going to lie to himself, he’d fallen for you the second you’d peeled the security tags off his stolen sunglasses.

You, on the other hand, had been fighting with yourself because yes, you love Peter but you couldn’t have told him when there was the possibility he’d eventually leave and now so much time has passed and you’ve got such a good thing going you didn’t have it in you to ruin it.

However, all of that changed when your original Maximoff best friend came knocking on your door.

Wanda was on the run. She’d caused an amazing amount of chaos but Stephen Strange and S.W.O.R.D were hot on her trail and now she needed a place to lay low with the twins. She figured there was no place more reliable to go than to the always open arms of her best friend, who conveniently had a divinity for earth magik and could muster up a protective barrier without raising suspicions. And that’s exactly where she found herself; outside your door.

You’d been chasing Peter around the apartment when you heard the knock on the door. Peter was on the opposite end of the kitchen to you, using the bar as a shield from you. “You better get that.”

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you?” You glared as you spoke, it was his own fault really. What sort of idiot jumpscares a witch while she’s mid-meditation? He’d frightened you so badly you accidentally blasted a ball of your signature green energy and ruined your favourite couch throw pillow. When you were ready to pounce on the scared speedster the knocks sounded again, more frantic this time.

With one last glare towards Peter you stomped towards the door. Your anger melted away completely when you saw her. Her hood was up and she looked completely exhausted, two small hooded little boys by her side.

“Wanda…” You breathed out, relief flooding your system at the sight of her alive. She didn’t get a chance to speak before your arms were pulling her against you tightly, hugging her as if your life depended on it. Wanda returned in your embrace, allowing herself to relax for the first time in nearly a year, she sniffled against your shoulder, holding back tears as she realised how much she’d truly missed you.

Billy and Tommy watched in confusion as their mother cried into your shoulder. They didn’t know who you were, all their mother had told them was that they were going somewhere safe.

It was the yell of one of the boys that caused you and Wanda to separate, “Uncle P!” With that you felt a familiar rush of air across your leg but instead of Peter appearing one of the kids was gone.

You shared a perplexed look with Wanda, although your confusion was for different reasons.

“Hey hell raisers!” Peter responded, catching the mini speedster who all but threw himself at him barely regaining his balance before the other child had flung himself into the hug.

“Wanda? Those two… are they...?” You started, at a loss for words Wanda cut you off quietly, her tone as disbelieving as yours.

“My children? Yes. Is that…?” You nodded your head numbly, anticipating the end of her question.

“Your fake brother? Yeah.” Quickly, you realised you and a wanted woman catching up with the door wide open wasn’t ideal and you ushered Wanda inside, shutting the door when she walked in.

“Hey.” Peter greeted her simply, as if he hadn’t been used as a meat puppet in her altered reality. It wasn’t in his nature to hold any grudges.

“Hi?” Wanda replied, her voice still twinged with confusion.

“Peter, will you keep an eye on the kids for a bit? Wanda and I have some catching up to do.” You asked him with a nervous laugh, just thankful that Wanda was too tired to argue with your suggestion.

Peter ruffled the boys’ hair and gave you a grin, “Only if you stop trying to kill me.”

You rolled your eyes as you began to lead Wanda into your bedroom, “You’re on probation, jerk.” You called over your shoulder.

Once you were securely in your bedroom, the door locked and sitting comfortably you fixed Wanda with an amused look, “I’d ask you what’s new but I’m not sure I even wanna know.”

Wanda gave you a sad smile while she shook her head, “No, you probably don’t. I will tell you tomorrow, I don’t want to get into it tonight. I’m so tired.” She admitted, her voice overcome with sadness.

“I’ll pump up the air mattress and you and the boys can sleep in here for however long you need. I’d offer you the spare room but that’s where Peter’s been staying and I don’t think empty food containers are the kind of decor you’d be into.” Wanda nodded, squeezing your hand gratefully.

“So his name is Peter?” She asked, curious about the man Agatha had used to trick her in WestView.

You nodded in confirmation, “Yeah. Peter Maximoff, actually.”

Wanda’s brows came to a furrow at that, “Maximoff? So he’s a relation?”

“Yes and no. Peter is from a different reality but he’s still a Maximoff and he’s got super speed. So, and this is just my theory, while you’re not directly related he could still be your brother- if you wanted him to.” You explained, as gently as you could, not trying to push her too far but to nudge the idea in her direction.

Wanda, to your surprise, didn't seem to hate the suggestion, “What is he like?”

A genuine smile made it onto your face then, as you shot into your description of your roommate, “He’s caring, funny, a little bit of a kleptomaniac but he’s working on it. He’s understanding and moronically selfless, moronic in the sense that he doesn’t even realise he’s being selfless. Huge pain in the ass too.” Wanda had a soft smile on her face by the time you’d finished.

“You like him.” Was all she said and you let out a laugh in disbelief, standing up and opening the door.

“Go grab a shower. I’ll have Peter blow up the air mattress while I go introduce myself to my god sons.”

“I thought you’d at least wait until I actually asked you.” Wanda laughed as you walked out of the room.

Things moved fairly quickly after that. As promised you introduced yourself to Billy and Tommy as their god mother, which they seemed more than thrilled about and you assumed that excitement had to do with whatever description of you Peter had given them. Wanda and the twins were all cleaned and fed and had all but collapsed into bed, foregoing the air mattress and huddling together in your double bed instead.

“Where are you sleeping, mother Teresa?” Peter teased as he noticed your eyes drooping where you stood.

“On the couch probably. Or the air mattress.” You mumbled, cutting yourself off with a yawn.

Peter, unimpressed with your options, scoffed, “No way. Come on, you can bunk with me.”

Much like Wanda, you were too tired to argue and you let Peter pull you to his, surprisingly clean, room by the hand.

You both crawled into the bed, lying close together despite the amount of empty space on the mattress.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Your soft voice broke through the silence and Peter turned his head to look at you.

“About Wanda?” You nodded your head, watching him intently as he rolled onto his side, facing you more comfortably.

Peter shrugged lightly, “I’m feeling ok. Just glad the twins still see me as their cool uncle.” You let out a small laugh at his response.

“Wanda was asking about you. Seemed interested in getting to know the real you.” You informed him, your heartwarming as you watched a hopeful look fall across his face.

A lull settled over the room once again and Peter caught himself staring at you. His eyes drifted over every visible part of you, reminding him of most of the points on his pros list for staying in your universe; your eyes, your lashes, your nose, your lips, you.

“What’re you thinking about?” The sound of your tired voice pulled him out of his thoughts and ultimately pushed him to bite the bullet and tell you how he’s feeling. With you curled up beside him, in his bed, fighting sleep just to stay in his company for as long as you could; he knew there would be no better time.

“Just about how happy I am to be here with you.” He answered you honestly, the butterflies in both of your stomachs fluttering in sync at his words.

You trailed a hand under the duvet and onto the bedsheets between your bodies, feeling around until you found his hand and gently intertwined your fingers. “I’m happy you decided to stay.”

“What you’ve all gone through in this timeline sucks- don’t get me wrong-“ Peter started sincerely, scooting closer to you and dropping his head back down on the edge of your pillow, leaving the pair of you practically nose to nose as he went on.

“And I hate that Wanda had to go through so much… but I’m really glad that it led me to you.” Peter swore in that moment, right after the confession left his mouth, that he could die right now and be completely content knowing that you now knew how he felt.

His heart stopped, and he thought that maybe he was about to die, when you gave him the softest, sweetest smile he’d ever been on the receiving end of and whispered, “I feel the same.”

Time moved in slow motion as he felt you moving your intertwined hands towards your lips, your lips pressed gently against the back of Peter’s hand before you brought them to rest against your chest.

It was a fact to say that Peter Maximoff had never felt intimacy quite like this before. But, experiencing it now, with you, led him to wonder how he’d ever survived without it. He wasn’t sure whether it was natural to crave more, especially when the affection you were showing him was so gentle, but he didn’t care as he let the impulsive side of him take over.

Not sparing another word, Peter closed the small distance between your lips and his. His free hand cupped your jaw while yours wasted no time in getting tangled in his silver hair.

His lips moved softly and surprisingly slowly over yours and he savoured the feeling of your hand holding his while your other got lost in his hair, your body pressed up against him, the way your jaw moved against his palm as you reciprocated the movement of his lips and the taste of your lips, promising himself he’d never let the memory slip from his mind for as long as he lived.

With complete clarity, Peter could say he had felt true, genuine happiness and he had no doubt in his mind that there was absolutely nothing Charles, Hank, Scott or anyone else from his original timeline could say to make him leave this happiness behind. Because in the process of forgetting his old life, he couldn’t deny that he has undoubtedly found himself in the position of a man who had so much more to live for.

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