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ptergwen · 4 years ago

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let’s just pretend

w/c: 3.5k

warnings: rom com references, drinking, and a little bit of angst

summary: you cope with your feelings for peter by getting drunk on halloween

a/n: ok i really really love this and i loved writing it too? it’s the first like original idea i’ve had in a while so maybe that’s why but yeah i hope y’all enjoy and that this puts you in a halloweenish mood :-)

there’s something about fall that makes you nostalgic. the same images pop into your head whenever you hear the word october. pumpkin patches, colorful leaves, and hot coffee. it reminds you of being a kid. only when you were a kid, all you could think about this time of year was what you were going to be for halloween.

you’d spend weeks getting your costume together and coordinating with all your friends. trick or treating was literally the only thing that mattered. if you wanted to get good candy, you had to have a good costume.

the high school version of candy is alcohol. everyone just goes to parties so they can drink the whole night. no one even dresses up usually. you personally would rather have chocolate than cheap beer. your whole friend group agrees on that.

that’s why you decided to throw your own party this year. anyone who misses the old halloween can come hang out. so far it’s only peter, mj, ned, betty, and the rest of the decathlon team coming. betty invited everyone for you. she also asked liz, but she’s going to flash’s party. he only gets so many people because his parents are never home and don’t care if he raids the liquor cabinet. whatever.

you’re out finding something to wear with peter and mj a few hours before it starts. ned and betty already picked their costumes. she’s going as an angel, and he’s going as the devil. you think they should switch. they’re out shopping for snacks while the three of you hit up spirit halloween.

mj groans every single second there’s silence, and peter keeps getting scared by the motion sensor decorations. he eventually ends up having to go somewhere in the store that doesn’t have any. so, it’s a lot.

“why don’t you be a vampire?” mj asks in her fake interested voice, taking a pair of fangs off the rack in front of her. you scoff. “i think i did that in sixth grade.” she puts them back with a huff. “witch?” she’s just suggesting every costume she sees so you can get out of here. her lack of enthusiasm makes you want to take longer.

“no.”

“zookeeper?”

“eh.”

“what about cat in the hat?”

“mj, what? no.”

“uh... school girl?”

“ok, that’s just offensive.”

“you’re right. why do they have that?” she eyes the costume suspiciously. you cover it up with a random cloak that fell onto the floor. you’re never going to find anything at this point. maybe it’s a sign you’re too old for this. just when you’re about to lose all hope, peter comes over.

he’s holding up the plaid yellow skirt and blazer cher wears in clueless. it’s one of the most iconic rom com outfits. you grab it with a gasp, peter giving you a knowing smile. “oh my god! wait, where did you find this?” “they have a section with movie stuff.” there’s a han solo costume in his other hand.

you throw an arm around his neck for a quick hug. peter squeezes you and chuckles when he pulls away. it gets a sigh out of mj.

“sure you don’t wanna be the guy she ends up with?” she elbows peter’s arm. the two of you share a disgusted look. “josh? ew, he’s her ex stepbrother,” you dismiss her. “they’re, like, related,” peter adds. mj rolls her eyes almost to the back of her head and starts to walk away. “someone needs to unplug both of your tv’s.” you and peter follow after her.

of course she would suggest a couple’s costume. she was probably trying to make you both get weird. you’re always being teased for spending so much time together. even your parents and may make little comments about it. you can’t help the fact that you have almost everything in common.

peter is the only person your age who doesn’t try so hard to be cool. when you’re with him, you can be the biggest nerd and wear fluffy pajamas and play with legos. it’s a judgement free friendship.

you’ll admit you’ve wanted it to become a judgement free relationship. there’s no way he doesn’t feel your heart beating against him when you cuddle during movie nights. he has to notice your goofy smile whenever he calls you a nickname.

but, it could all be platonic in peter’s mind. maybe he sees you as more of a sister. that would make josh the perfect costume to go with you as cher.

you shutter and try to push the idea out of your mind for the rest of your time at spirit halloween.

it’s almost time for the party to start when you get back to your house. your parents let betty and ned in to start setting up on their way out. they’re going for dinner so they aren’t around to embarrass you. you have until midnight, then there’s nothing you can do. that gives you four hours.

mj is changing into the coraline costume you made her get, which she actually doesn’t hate. betty is helping you do some last minute decorating. peter and ned are putting out snacks. it’s a really good system you have.

“love the the plaid, y/n. you look so fetch!” betty compliments in between throwing fake cobwebs over your couch. you snort and finish stringing up some lights. “wrong movie, but thanks.” “oh. oops,” she shrugs and gets back to cobwebbing. “peter found it for me.” all the lights are up, so you go to plug them in. betty giggles on your way over.

your living room has an orange glow to it now. dusting your hands off, you admire your work. the moment of admiration ends when you notice how betty is looking at you. “what?” “peter found it for you,” she repeats suggestively. “when he was getting his costume, yeah,” you say like it’s nothing because it is nothing.

“so, what i’m hearing is he wanted to see you in a skirt.” you furrow your eyebrows at her. “what? no, he just-“ she wiggles her own eyebrows at you. you’re going to start sweating if you talk about this any longer. too aware of yourself now, you pull down your skirt and trudge over to the stairs. “i’m gonna go check on mj.”

you’re in the middle of convincing her she looks great and to leave your room when everyone calls your name downstairs.

“what?” you shout back from behind the closed door. “you should get down here.” it’s only peter this time. mj widens her eyes at you, but you’re gone before she can say she isn’t wearing this again.

you make your way down the stairs. the three of them are huddled in front of the door. “is someone here?” you mouth, ned looking off to the side awkwardly. they all move out of the way so you can see who it is. it’s flash. you’re obviously surprised to see him at your house, especially since he’s supposed to be having his own party right now.

“um, what are you doing here?” you try not to sound mean. “didn’t you invite the whole decathlon team? i’m on it.” you’d forgotten about that. peter says he’s only an alternate. flash side steps past you to get inside. you didn’t say he could come in. he heads straight to the chip bowl on your living room coffee table. you’re left shaking your head in pure confusion.

“dude, kick him out,” ned whispers to you. you wave your hand dismissively and walk over. he’s kicking his legs up on the table when you get there. “dope outfit. you look good.” he winks and crunches on a tostito. peter is clenching his jaw, but no one sees. “why are you in my house, flash?” you push the bowl away from him. “oh, yeah. my parents came home from vegas early.”

mj finally gets downstairs, squinting at whatever is going on with you while she walks over to everyone else. “i thought we could combine parties.” flash eyes your friends in a way you don’t like. “all your guests are pretty much here, so don’t worry about space.”

you look back at peter to see what he thinks. he shakes his head no. betty is nodding her head so fast you’re pretty sure she’s going to get whiplash. ned agrees with whatever she thinks, and mj doesn’t care. majority rules. plus, you could use one of flash’s playlists to liven things up. how bad could it really be?

“text everyone my address.”

people are flooding your house in the next fifteen minutes. like, your entire grade might be here. flash hooks his phone up to your speakers and blasts his songs. people grab fistfuls of candy and dance around. you’re running low on soda, but one guy brought extra drinks. alcoholic drinks, which you’re uneasy about. that was a big reason why you wanted to have your own party in the first place.

you don’t want to be a lame host, so you let it slide. a girl is sitting on top of your kitchen counter making out with someone. people are yelling so loud you can’t make out a single conversation. this is all going on and yet somehow, the most surprising thing is that they came in costume. some are more casual, like cat ears and lifeguard hoodies. it still counts.

feeling a little bit lost in your own house, you search for peter. he’s sitting on the top stair just watching what’s going on. you get his attention by throwing a mini packet of sour patch kids at him. he catches it, grinning when he realizes you did that. “i love these.” “good. they were the only ones left.” you take a seat next to him and scratch at the material of his vest for emphasis.

“i can’t believe you said yes to him.” peter opens the sour patch kids. the first one is yellow, so he offers it to you. sharing food with him always works because you each seem to like what the other doesn’t. “neither can i, but i think betty would’ve actually hurt me if i didn’t,” you joke while chewing. he rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. “please. she’s too nice.”

you lean your head on peter’s shoulder and grab another gummy. he pokes your arm in protest. “this bag is small. get your own.” you’re nuzzling your cheek against him. “i told you they’re gone.” he’s about to put an arm around you when someone screams downstairs. you quickly sit up.

“i’m gonna go see what the hell that was. i’ll find you later?” peter does his best to hide his disappointment. “yeah, of course. good luck.” you clench your teeth and run down the stairs. this is somehow flash’s fault.

it’s been an hour and a half, and peter is nowhere to be seen. the chaos was just that someone really liked the song that was playing. it didn’t take you long to figure that out. when you went to tell peter, he was gone. you’ve looked everywhere for him since, except the backyard.

a pretty big group of people is out here either playing catch or talking. someone also brought a case of beer outside. you spot mj huddled up by the fence with a bottle. it doesn’t necessarily surprise you. it’s weird to see, either way.

“have you seen peter?” you walk up to her. she uses the bottle to gesture somewhere. he’s in the middle of a conversation with liz. your entire body feels like it’s collapsing into itself. it didn’t cross your mind she would be coming even when the party moved to your house.

she’s nice and all. you don’t have any issues with her. not that she knows about, at least. peter had the biggest crush on her for about a month, then it fizzled out. that’s what he told you. unless, he said that to save face.

you’re speechless. mj figured you would be. she gives you a sympathetic smile and holds out her beer. “yep. drink up.” your instincts tell you to take it, so you do. she heads back inside and leaves you alone with your thoughts. that’s not good for you. the only to way to get rid of them is by chugging the rest of this bottle.

you’ve never had your own drink before, and technically you aren’t now. this is still the most alcohol you’ll ever have in your system. before you can change your mind, you take a generous swig. it’s bitter. you don’t hate it as much as you expected to, though.

your eyes land on liz touching peter’s shoulder. that inspires your next big gulp of beer. you finish off the rest, and it hits you fast. you’re understanding why this is such a popular vice. you don’t feel anything but how tipsy you are. light and floaty. you decide to stumble back into the kitchen and find out what other drinks people brought.

the bright color of your costume catches peter’s attention. he was wondering where you were. excusing himself from liz, he follows you in. you bump into betty on your way to the punch bowl someone filled. she’s holding a red solo cup with the mystery liquid. both of you buzzed, you laugh and grab her arm.

“sorry. s- sorry.” you’re squeezing behind her, her angel wings brushing against your face in the process. you have to weave through everyone to make it to the drink table. peter meets you there when you’re getting a cup. he’s shocked.

“y/n?” smiling lazily, you take a sip. “hey, peter. pete.” the sober voice in your head tells you to stop talking. he probably shouldn’t know you’re drunk. then again, your cup gives it away. “y/n, have you been drinking?” he sounds concerned. everything is funny to you right now. you giggle out a “yes.”

peter doesn’t want to be that person, but you’re not acting right. he reaches for your drink. you pull it away too abruptly, and some of it spills onto the floor. “you... you’re so...“ you start losing your balance. “woah.” peter wraps an arm around your waist to steady you. he takes the drink out of your hand and sets it on the table.

frowning, he throws your arm around his shoulders so he can help you get upstairs. “come on, y/n/n.” you don’t argue this time. you’re at the part of being drunk where it doesn’t feel good anymore. peter holds you close to his side and walks you out of the kitchen. he stops to talk to ned for a second.

“hey, man. y/n’s parents are gonna be home soon. could you get everyone out?” he says into his ear. “why can’t she do it?” peter moves out of the way so he’s not blocking you. ned sees. you’re completely faded. “oh, shit. is she okay?” he whisper yells. “i’m gonna take care of her.” “i’ll tell everyone to go.” peter presses his lips into a tight smile, then he’s taking you up to your room.

you flop down onto your bed face first. peter shuts the door behind you. “you okay?” he chuckles, you nodding with your face smushed into the comforter. he’d think it was cute if you weren’t piss drunk. gently nudging you, he moves you so you’re on your back.

“let’s get you out of this.” “ooh, betty was right. you do like me in a skirt,” you giggle and bat your eyelashes at him. he huffs. “no, i mean you have to put on pajamas.” you’re pouting now. “you don’t like me in a skirt?” after going through your drawers, he comes back over with a big t-shirt and fuzzy pants. “i never said that.”

you grin again and grab them from him. “ha.” “do you need help changing?” he sits at the edge of your bed. you’re still laying down. he’s not sure you can handle getting up. “no. don’t be creepy,” you say completely serious. peter has to remind himself you’re drunk. “you were the one who thought i wanted you naked, but ok.”

making peter close his eyes, you peel the costume off your body. you got pretty sweaty. you kick everything onto the floor and start putting on your pajamas. your head gets stuck in an arm hole by accident, so peter has to fix that. the rest is fine. he’s about to bring you into the bathroom to brush your teeth, but you face plant into his lap. you’re out.

the next morning, you wake up feeling like ass. your breath is hot and tastes disgusting. your head is pounding. you could throw up. you’re not even sure how you ended up in your bed. then, you notice peter sitting at your desk. he must have helped you in.

a vague memory of him tucking you under the covers while you whined comes back to you, along with a few others. one of them is of him and liz. the whole reason you did this to yourself.

“hey.” your voice comes out hoarse. “hi.” peter nods and points to your night table. there’s a fresh glass of water. you drink it all down as fast as humanely possible, a hand on your heart. it doesn’t phase him after what you did last night. you set the empty glass down and pat the spot next to you. peter sits by your side.

he’s still dressed as han solo, but his vest and belt are sprawled out on the floor. the boots are under your desk. he actually stayed all night for you.

“i think i’m hungover.” you rest your head against his arm. his body relaxes. “you didn’t drink that much. mj said she gave you half a beer,” he almost laughs, you groaning. “that means i’m a lightweight.” “for now.” your arm wrapping around his, you look up at him.

“sorry you had to deal with me. am i in trouble?” “nah, your parents don’t know. we cleaned everything up before they got home.” he lightly pats the top of your head with two fingers. you squeeze your eyes shut when he does it. “you did? thank you so much, wow.” peter nods and smiles for a second.

he lays his back against the pillow on his side. “let’s just pretend that never happened.” “you’re good at pretending,” you mumble to yourself. you’re not as quiet as you think because peter hears it. “um, what?” you feel too woozy to come up with a cover. letting out a breath, you take your head and hands off of him.

“i saw you talking with liz.” “she wanted to know if i could lead decathlon practice next week. she’s not gonna be in school,” he says slowly, not getting it. “why?” having to spell it out is making you frustrated. “didn’t you say you don’t like her anymore?” “yeah, i don’t.”

“so, why was she being all... touchy?” the jealousy is clear in your voice. peter shrugs. “that’s how liz is. i still don’t get why it matters.” you ease yourself to sit up and turn to face him. those three words you’ve been meaning to tell him are on the absolute tip of your tongue. they’re about to come out.

then...

“i like you, y/n.”

peter says them for you.

you’re so surprised you nearly vomit for real. or, it could be the possible hangover. almost a minute has gone by when you realize you’ve been sitting there with your mouth hanging open. you swallow your spit. “you... you do?” “a lot. i kept trying to tell you, but there was never a good time.” his voice is softer now.

“i realized after homecoming. i wished i went with you instead of...” he doesn’t have to finish the sentence. you nod, a small smile spreading across your face. peter’s eyes are so hopeful. “i like you, too. a lot.” your gaze trails down to his lips.

“i’d kiss you if my breath didn’t stink.” “i’ll let you owe me one.” he’s fully grinning now, and both of you laugh. they’re the kind of laughs you do because you’re so happy you don’t know what to say.

peter presses his lips to your temple, your eyes fluttering closed. “get some more sleep. i’m gonna ask you out when you wake up,” he mumbles against your hair. you grab his hand that’s resting on the comforter. “can you stay with me?” “of course.”

he lays down next to you. you pull back the covers so he can get under them. your head is resting on his chest, an arm around his torso. both of his hug your waist. you’re instantly comfortable cuddled up in his embrace. you drift off to sleep with a smile.

this feels like such a dream. it’s the exact type of situation you’d make up in your head. but, it’s real. peter is still holding you when you wake up. he’s not going anywhere.

#tom holland #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #peter parker smut #tom holland x reader

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amazingmsme · 3 years ago

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Would You Be Ever So Kind?

AN: Wow this took ages but I finally finished my first Twin Peaks fic! I can’t recommend this show enough, it’s suspenseful, funny, eerie, & just all around a great time! My man Cooper is adorable okay, I just know he’s a huge lee don’t judge me. This is a heftier one shot (just over 5k) cause I added some plot! Hope you enjoy the fic!

Cooper was stressed, there was no doubt about it. Windom Earle was always one step ahead it seemed, and closing in. His dreams weren't providing much help and it felt like he kept running into dead ends.

Since Major Briggs's return, he'd been enamored with the White Lodge. He could feel it's influence, though barely so. It was like he was standing on a beach, barefoot, information and enlightenment lapping at the tips of his toes. So close, yet it pulled back before it even reached his ankles. Teasing him. Dangling the answers right in front of him, but just out of reach. He needed to know what he needed to do to take that final step into the pool of knowledge that laid before him.

Right now, he sat in the conference room with Hawk. He stared at the other man with his usual perceptive gaze.

"If one were to... connect with the White Lodge somehow, how would they go about it?" he asked.

Hawk shifted in his seat as he thought for a moment. He tilted his head, pondering the question. Finally, he spoke. "It is rare to do so without being invited. But not impossible. I believe if you tried, someone with your unique sensibilities might be able to manage it."

Cooper's brows raised and he leaned forward in his seat. "How?"

Hawk shrugged. "The few I've heard of said they had experienced great joy. A mother who found out that she would soon have a grandchild. A man who proposed to his girlfriend. A boy who rode his first roller coaster. They had all experienced intense, positive emotions and the following night, had strange, yet peaceful dreams. Dreams that held answers to certain questions they had."

Cooper nodded, hanging on every word. "And how would I go about triggering these- positive emotions?"

Hawk smirked and shook his head. "I don't know, why don't you propose to someone?"

It took him a second, but his own lips quirked into a smile. He wagged a finger at him, "That was a joke, wasn't it?" Hawk chuckled softly.

"Yeah, it was. But I don't know Cooper, try and do things that make you happy. Take a break, maybe go on a walk to clear your head. Maybe go have some of that pie you love so much," he suggested. Cooper made to stand, grabbing his things.

"Will do Hawk, I shall try these methods as I brainstorm other activities that might induce such happiness." He gave him a tight lipped smile and a quick thumbs up before heading out.

He did end up trying Hawk's suggestions, but with little success. He had even eaten as many slices of pie as he could until he felt like he would burst. All it resulted in was a belly ache that plagued him the rest of the night until he fell asleep. With no strange peaceful dreams, he might add.

The next day he had started jotting down every positive emotion he could think of.

Joy Excitement Happiness Fun Funny Love...

Upon second thought, he marked that last one out. It had only brought him heartache and agony that still plagued him.

Hm. That was a shorter list than he thought it would be. Now was the matter of finding ways to trigger said emotions... He started to think that perhaps this wouldn't be as easy as he had thought. He pulled out his tape recorder.

"In my efforts to reach out to the White Lodge, I have discovered that intense feelings of happiness can bring about interesting dreams. In doing so I have also come to realize that such levels of joy are... unattainable with conventional methods. As it turns out Diane, it will take a lot more than eating five pieces of pie and petting a rather cute dog. I plan to stop by the library and pick up some literature on the psyche of happiness." He clicked the recorder off.

He'd spent the first half of the day doing as he'd said. It was much more boring than he'd anticipated. But at least he'd gleamed some information from his impromptu study session. Joy was triggered by certain chemicals in the brain, and certain stimuli releases them. Exercise was a common method, but it wouldn't be enough for the level of happiness he needed to reach. One thing that might prove to be more effective was laughter.

Laughter seemed to really be the best medicine, or at least that's how the books made it seem. Though just laughing for no reason wouldn't cut it. He needed a reason to laugh: something to make him happy. For him, that was enough to go on.

He arrived at the sheriff's station, pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee and stepped into the foyer where Andy was hopelessly trying to flirt with Lucy. She'd humor him occasionally, but Cooper knew she liked watching him struggle for her affections. She'd even told him so.

"Yes?"

"Well Andy, to be honest I believe you're the happiest one in here," he started. He lit up like a Christmas tree at the

"You really think so? Well that's awful kind of you to say."

"How do you do it? What keeps you in such a good mood all the time?" he asked. Andy shrugged.

"Well gee, I don't know. I guess I've always been this way. I try not to overthink things, my mama said people who do aren't very happy," he said. Cooper hummed in thought and nodded. "I just try to appreciated the little things in life, like the woods and all of you," he said honestly. Cooper wasn't expecting that and felt a warmth grow in his chest Hmm. He supposed he meant something to these people, after working together for so long, but hearing it aloud was nice to hear. Within his work, he was rarely shown appreciation least of all open affection. It felt nice.

His expression softened and he gave him a small but genuine smile. "Thank you. I appreciate you too," he made sure to let him know the feeling was mutual. He went into the empty conference room and grabbed one of the stacked donuts. He took a moment to admire the organized arrangement, noting how a few stacks of two were short one or were gone completely. He pulled out the tape recorder, pressing the button down and talked into it.

"After studying at the library, I now find myself at the sheriff's office. I briefly spoke with Andy about what makes him happy, and he gave the the sage advice of appreciating the little things in life. I know people often say to do so, but people rarely follow through. I'm trying to be better. I stand here looking down at the conference table that has donuts laid out on sheets of paper towels. Donuts are stacked two atop each other, and there are two rows of twelve. Lucy sets this up for us every night before she leaves. I never really gave much thought about how much time she puts into doing this... I find my talk with Andy was rather helpful. I will continue to try and do as he suggested."

He clicked it off and grabbed a donut, taking a bite. He took out his note pad and tapped his pencil against his chin. He started writing down things he liked or that made him happy. He started by listing off names, followed by animals and food. He even wrote down his favorite kinds of trees. Surprisingly, he found he felt lighter after doing so. A soft smile graced his features as Harry walked in.

"Hey Coop, what's got you all smiley?" he asked, his own lips quirking up upon seeing the other man in a good mood. He held up the page.

"Oh nothing, just listing down some things that make me happy. Hawk told me a few instances of people who were able to connect with the White Lodge after experiencing immense joy. I did some reading and found that certain chemicals can cause such emotions. I just need to find a way to trigger them," he explained. Harry hummed in thought, and gestured to the list.

"May I?" Cooper nodded and handed it to him. He skimmed through it, a soft smile of his own appearing on his lips.

"I make you happy?" he asked, dimples shining.

He nodded, tilting his head down shyly. "You all do. You each have such unique and charming qualities."

"Well, uh, thanks. That means a lot coming from you. I don't know anyone else who's more unique and charming," Harry said. Then he cleared his throat and looked back down at the list. "Nature seems to really make you happy. You get a chance to try out that lure yet?" he asked to change the subject.

Cooper shook his head. "No, I've been so busy I haven't had the time," he admits.

"Well, it's a pretty slow day for once. I figure I can take some time to help in your efforts," Harry said, as though he didn't just want to leave work and go fishing. Cooper smiled brightly at him.

"I'd love that," he said earnestly. "Allow me to swing by my room and change." The sheriff nodded.

"Sure thing. I'll meet you by the trail just past the waterfall," he said. After jotting a few more things down, Cooper leaves for the Great Northern. He changed into his jeans and pulled on a flannel. He talked into the recorder as he buttoned his shirt.

"Don't get me wrong Diane, I do enjoy my suit. But sometimes it just feels better to wear something more comfortable." He clicked it off and went to the mentioned trailhead. Harry was already waiting for him, fishing gear in tow.

Cooper furrowed his brows as a smile pulled at his lips as he looked at the sheriff. What was that God awful thing on his head? He let a few snickers slip out as he parked.

"Interesting hat ya got there," he mused, making Harry grin.

"You like it? My lucky fishing hat," he said, pointing up at it. He nodded, not bothering to hide his grin.

"Lucky huh? We'll see about that," he said, taking a pole from his grasp.

"What you don't like it?" he asked teasingly.

"Aú contraire. I find it quite amusing," he said with a wide grin. He reached up and flicked one of the dangly rubber tassels from a lure.

It was a floppy bucket hat, tan in color and adorned in tacky bright lures. Harry was grinning ear to ear, adding to the goofiness of his look. It was impossible not to smile at him. He swatted Cooper's hand away with a short laugh.

"Let's just get down there while the fish are still biting," he joked, punching him in the arm lightly. Cooper beamed as he followed him down the dirt trail. It didn't take too long before they were at the water's edge and found a fallen tree to sit on. Harry opened his tackle box, pulling out a folded throwing net to catch some live bait. Cooper watched as he tossed the net into the water over a school of minnows, pulling it back to them and dumping them in the bait bucket. They each reached in and grabbed a fish, piercing it on the hook to cast it back into the water. Now, they wait.

They exchanged fishing stories, going back and forth as they waited for a bite. Harry's line was the first to go taught and he snatched up his rod to start reeling. Just as his fish was getting close to the bank, Cooper's own fishing pole began to dip slightly from a few tentative nibbles. Just as Harry reeled it in all the way, Cooper's line shot off and he quickly started reeling as well.

He unhooked the big mouth bass, inspecting it with a proud gaze. "Hell yeah, this'll cook up nicely," he said, placing it in the cooler he brought. Cooper's fish was putting up more of a struggle. He leaned back with all his body weight, biceps flexed and straining as he fought the fish. "Seems like you caught a lively one," Harry said. Cooper spared him a glance and a tight lipped smile; he would've definitely flashed him one of his signature thumbs up if he wasn't preoccupied.

After about 20 minutes he managed to bring the river monster in. It was a large male salmon, easily identifiable by the bright red coloring and large back hump that occurs during mating season. It was well over three feet and flopping on the bank. It seemed that trout weren't the only ones attracted to a green butt skunk.

At first, Cooper didn't know what to do with a fish this size. He placed his hands on it to lessen its flopping before straddling it. Placing one hand on its head to keep it pinned, he held his other out to Harry. "Pliers," he asked for the tool and he gifted it to him. Just as Cooper wrapped his hand around it, the salmon raised its ugly head up and bit his hand. When it flopped back down it yanked his arm down with it.

"Ow-hey!" Cooper exclaimed, steadying himself and smacking the top of its jaw until it released him. He pulled back his slightly bloody hand and removed the hook. He looked to his side and saw Harry stifling his laughter. "Yes I'm fine, thanks for your concern," he sassed, but the amused grin on his face let him know he was only teasing.

Harry was just short of cracking up. "Ihi'm sohorry, you okay?" he asked, grabbing some bandages.

"Yeah, just a few puncture wounds. Nothing I can't handle." He managed to pick up the still struggling fish and brought it back to the water's edge.

"After all that trouble, you're not keeping it?" he asked. Cooper shook his head and released it, watching it leave with a splash.

"Nope. Anything that puts up that hard of a fight deserves to live another day. Besides, I don't really have anywhere to cook it, and I'm not real big on salmon," he explained. He rinsed his wound and accepted the clean bandages, wrapping it up nice and tight.

"How very sporting of you," Harry said, and he meant it. He recast his rod as Cooper pulled out his recorder.

"Thank you," he said, flashing him a smile. "Update on the fishing. I just caught a large salmon and in the process of unhooking it, it bit me. Despite my tired arms and punctures, I found the experience enjoyable. It was... thrilling but not in the sense that I'm accustomed. It was a mundane excitement. Perhaps this feeling is what will help me contact the White Lodge."

He clicked it off and found Harry studying him. "Mundane excitement, huh?"

He nodded. "My line of work is often exciting, but the stakes are always higher. I find it refreshing to feel a rush of adrenaline when mine or someone else's life isn't on the line."

Harry shifted a little closer. "You really think this feeling might be what gets you to the White Lodge?" he questioned.

"I do. But I don't think it's one particular event or emotion that will get me there. From what I've read the optimal amount of endorphins and serotonin come from a range of feelings. Based on my study session at the library, I'd say that a mixture of excitement and laughter would be my best bet," he mused aloud.

"Too bad there's no comedians in town, I bet that would do the job," Harry mused. Cooper allowed himself to smirk.

"I suppose if I stare at that hat long enough, I just might burst into giggles," he said in a teasing manner. Harry's jaw dropped at the playful insult.

"Hey don't dis the hat!" he exclaimed, a hand flying up to cover the top of it protectively.

"Don't worry, it was more of a jab at your taste in fashion," he said good naturedly.

"I'll have you know that's worse. When did you get so sassy anyway?" Harry asked. He chuckled and poked his side in retaliation. The corner's of Cooper's mouth twitched as he flinched away.

"I can have my moments. I do spend a lot of time with Albert," he mused, rubbing the slight tingles from his side when suddenly it hit him. There really was no easier or faster way to pump his body full of adrenaline and endorphins, even if the reaction was more forced than voluntary. The results would be the same, wouldn't they? His eyes widened at the realization.

He clapped his hands together loudly, making Harry jump. "That's it!" he exclaimed, excitement showing on his face from his revelation.

Harry furrowed his brows in confusion. "What- Albert?" he questioned, not following Cooper's train of thought. He shook his head, smiling now that he finally had an answer to his dilemma.

"No, tickling," he clarified. Harry cocked his head, a smirk on his lips. He was intrigued.

"Didn't know you were ticklish Coop." If Harry squinted, he thought he could see the hint of a blush on his cheeks.

"I am, and it's a good thing because right now, it's the only thing I can think of that might work to get me to the White Lodge. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy fishing, but the bite did put a damper on my mood," he grumbled, glaring at his bandaged hand. You could start to see blood seep through the white cloth.

"So a last resort kinda thing?" Harry asked. And was Cooper crazy, or was he a little closer? Cooper nodded.

"Exactly. So uh, would you be so kind as to..." he trailed off, and in lieu of finishing his sentence he wiggled his fingers in the air, hoping he got the message. Oh he got it all right. Sheriff Truman was grinning like the cat who ate the canary.

"To tickle you?" he asked for clarification. The ghost of a blush on Cooper's cheeks darkened. "Yes that." Suddenly Harry was straddling his legs, pushing him down the rest of the way.

"Ya don't have to tell me twice!" he exclaimed.

"You don't have to seem so eager," Cooper said, already squirming. It was the last coherent thing he said before Truman's fingers began prodding his sides. He gasped and soft snickers began to fill the air. There was no point in trying to hold back; he'd be laughing soon enough regardless, and the whole point of this was to create the right concoction of emotions and chemicals in his brain to reach the White Lodge.

Harry kneaded his sides and Cooper yelped, hands instinctively shooting down to protect his sides. You'd think with all his special training that he'd be defending himself better, but he was only weakly slapping at his hands. To be fair, he was practicing a lot of self restraint by not just crawling into the river to save himself.

"You got a nice laugh Coop, ya know that?" Harry asked with a genuine smile. Cooper nodded, mouth open in a wide grin as laughter flowed freely from his mouth. "Ihihihi've been tohohold!"

"Whoa now, I can't have you going all cocky on me like that. Guess I'll just have to knock you down a peg," he teased, walking up his ribs. He shook his head and snorted, nose scrunched as Harry scratched between each rib. The higher his fingers climbed, the louder and more frantic his giggling became.

Just as Harry reached the top of his ribs, he stopped. Cooper sighed in relief, thinking he might be done. He wasn't so lucky.

"Do me a favor and lift your arms up," Harry said, not even trying to hide his mischievous smirk anymore. He curled in on himself, chuckling nervously and shook his head.

"Nohoho," he giggled, wrapping his arms around himself. Harry cocked his head, arching a brow.

"No?" he asked in amusement. Cooper shook his head again to confirm.

"And why not?" he asked, hands on his hips. The sight alone made Cooper feel giddy with anticipation.

"Ihi'm not supid Harry, I know you'll just tickle me more," he answered with a wide smile. Harry snorted out a short laugh.

"I know you're not. And I promise I won't," he said, hiding his crossed fingers behind his back. Cooper gave him a skeptical look. "That's a lie."

"Hey I said I'd promise! Have you ever known me to break a promise?" he tried to convince him. He eyed the sheriff up and down and decided there was a 50/50 chance he'd just attack again, and this little game of theirs was fun, he had to admit. So he took that chance, already knowing the outcome.

He lifted his arms slowly, tentatively as he watched the other carefully. His arms were halfway above his head when Harry smirked down at him, flashing his crossed fingers out from behind his back. Cooper's eyes widened and he moved to bring his arms back down, but alas, it was too late. He immediately darted for his exposed hollows, scribbling over the shirt clad skin. His flannel didn't offer much protection and he was soon thrown into deep hysterics.

His arms came crashing down, laughter freely escaping his smiling mouth. He only succeeded in trapping his hands, however he knew better than to try raising his arms a second time. "You lihihihahar!" he squealed. Harry smirked and picked up the pace, grinning wider when the agent's high pitched giggling turned more frantic.

"If you cross your fingers it's a freebie," he claimed. Cooper shook his head, grappling to shove his friend's hands away.

"Thahahat's such bullshihihit!" he called him out. And yeah, it was bullshit, but Harry couldn't let him get away with saying it was.

"Think you just sealed your fate Coop," he teased, kneading his belly and sending him into a steadier stream of giggles.

"Nohoho dohohon't!" he whined, legs kicking weakly, or rather, weakly for a special agent like himself. Harry scoffed, not even trying to hide how much fun he was having.

"Don't? Don't what?" he asked, drumming his fingers. Cooper's giggles sputtered out as he shook his head, fist pounding against the ground.

"Ihihi'm nohohot falling for thahat one," he forced out through his laughter.

"Falling for what? I can't know what not to do if you won't tell me," he said, sounding so innocent that you almost wanted to believe him. Almost. Cooper wouldn't make that mistake again.

"Dohohon't mahake it wohohorse!" he pleaded. Harry shook his head in "defeat" and clicked his tongue.

"Damn, I was really hoping you'd fall for that," he lamented, hands moving down to squeeze his hips. Cooper convulsed, jolting up slightly and trapping his wrists. They held each other's gaze for a moment, Cooper's eyes full of an excited kind of fear while Harry's shone with an evil sort of mischief.

"Bad spot?" he taunted, giving another squeeze. He evoked the same reaction as before, but this time with an added squeak. Cooper went completely still, cheeks rosy as he gasped for breath. There was no use in lying, he'd be proven wrong anyway. He nodded shyly, looking anywhere but Harry's smug face.

"Good." He immediately drilled his thumbs into the divots of his hips as he gently squeezed them with the rest of his hand. Cooper instantly burst into a tidal wave of cackles that drowned out the sounds of nature around them. Even when thrown in hysterics, it was still a joyous, beautiful sound. It was smooth and had a deep tenor to it that made you feel warm inside. His nose crinkled adorably, and his mouth was open wide in a constant smile, allowing his melodious laugh to ring through the air.

“How ya holdin’ up?” Harry asked just to check in. Cooper was too busy laughing his heart out to answer with words, so he flashed him a thumbs up instead. He shook his head and chuckled at his signature gesture.

Encouraged by his reassurance, he continued his journey downward by squeezing his thighs. Cooper snorted loudly and his blush darkened.

"Aw Coop, I didn't know you snorted! Do it again," he taunted, pinching and scribbling his thighs until he snorted again.

"Nohohooo," he whined in embarrassment, hiding his face in his hands. Harry was having the time of his life.

"Remember bud, you asked for this," he reminded smugly.

"Ihihi knohohow! Shuhut up!"

"I don't think I will. In fact, I think teasing makes it better, don't you agree?" he asked, scratching along his inner thighs. Cooper squealed and clamped his legs together to protect himself.

"Ihihihi said shuhuhut uhuhup!"

"I'll take that as a yes then," he smirked, and even winked at him. Oh he would never live this down. Not if Harry could help it.

He started skittering his fingers atop his knees, and Cooper shrieked, legs kicking out frantically. "Nohohot thehehere!"

Sheriff Truman didn't listen and instead squeezed around his kneecaps. Cooper tried to curl in on himself, laying back on the ground when he failed due to laughing too hard. Though when Harry went to scratch the backs of his knees, he barely laid a finger on him before a fist connected with his face.

Harry recoiled and grabbed his bleeding nose, letting out a pained chuckle. "Damn, ya got me good Coop," he said, still managing a smile. A hand covered Cooper's mouth from shock.

"I am so sorry Harry! I tried to refrain from hurting you, but my instincts took over," he quickly apologized. Harry shook his head, grabbing his other hand and pulling him up to a sitting position.

"Heh, it's okay. Guess I got what I deserve," he mused. His nose had already stopped bleeding, but it left a thin trickle above his upper lip that he wiped away.

"You were just helping me out," he said, patting his shoulder. "Thanks by the way," he said, cheeks still tinged pink.

"Any time," he said with a warm smile. "So, did you have as much fun as I did?" he asked teasingly.

"I'm not answering that," Cooper said, looking away. Harry barked out a laugh.

"I think you did." The FBI agent only hummed. Harry spotted his tape recorder and nabbed it.

"Hey give it!" Harry held him back by placing a hand on his chest and pushing him away as he pressed the record button.

"Hi Diane, Sheriff Truman here. I think it's safe to say Agent Cooper will be successful in his resilient efforts to reach the White Lodge. That's all." He turned it off, wearing a smug grin.

"Proud of yourself?" Cooper asked in amusement.

"Oh very. It's not every day that I get to reduce the famous Agent Cooper to a giggly mess," he said, wiggling his fingers at him. He subtly curled in on himself, chuckling nervously.

"R-right. And it won't be a daily occurrence, unless you want retaliation," he warned.

"We'll see about that," he smirked. They were both distracted by a tug on Cooper's line. He grabbed his fishing rod and started reeling it in.

When they returned to the sheriff’s office, Andy gasped seeing Truman’s swollen, bruised nose and Cooper’s wrapped hand.

“Good lord you two did you get in a fight or somethin’?” he asked with concern. Harry smirked and nodded, casting a glance towards the agent.

“You could say that.”

Cooper quickly stepped in before he could reveal anything too embarrassing. “Nonsense, I got bit by a fish and his line broke when he was reeling one in and he smacked himself in the face with the fishing rod,” he easily lied. Harry’s smirk grew as he hummed in “agreement.”

~~~~

That night, Cooper had a peaceful yet strange dream. He opened his eyes to find he was laying on a white fainting couch. At first he thought he was in a room, but upon inspecting his surroundings, he realized he was in a vast open plain. The floor was marble tile and the empty space around him looked to be white at first glance, but was in fact an extremely pale pink.

Out of the nothingness walked Laura Palmer. Instead of the low cut black dress she normally wore in his visions and dreams, she wore a white flowing gown. It billowed behind her even though there was no wind. Cooper sat up on the chaise lounge and stared at her as she approached.

"Windom Earle is not the biggest threat," she spoke softly and clearly, her voice like a bell. It was strikingly different than her Black Lodge counterpart. "The other you is." He leaned forward in his seat.

"The other me?" he asked. She nodded, a halo of light illuminating her from behind.

"In another world he escapes. Use your second chance wisely and leave the Black Lodge before he does," she advised.

"How can I do that?" he asked, soaking in every piece of knowledge she offered up.

"The Black Lodge is disorienting. You must not show even an ounce of fear or self doubt. In that other world, you did not leave until 20 years later. In another, the Lodge annihilated your soul." Cooper stared at her intently.

"And how do you know these things won't happen again?" he asked.

"Because infinite universes bring infinite possibilities. Use the tools I gave you and you will receive a different outcome," she said. Laura walked up to him and cupped his face in her hands, placing a kiss on his forehead. She leaned in and whispered, "Thank you for giving me justice."

"You're welcome," he said back. His vision faded to white, then to pitch darkness. He jolted awake with a gasp, reeling from everything he had learned. His chest heaved and he reached for the recorder on his bedside table.

"Diane you won't believe it, but I just had the strangest dream..."

#dale cooper #agent dale cooper #harry truman #sheriff truman #officer hawk #officer andy #lucy #officer lucy #?#twin peaks #twin peaks fic #twin peaks tickle fic #ticklish!cooper

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clockspur · 3 years ago

Text

An excerpt from a fanfic I might write:

-But someone was watching. Though, calling him a ghost may be... too strong of a word.

He watched from behind a pillar near the elevator, having scampered over there as soon as he got off. ‘Not that he needed to hide; he was invisible to everyone’s eyes and ears. But, y’know, ‘practice makes perfect’.

“‘Hand me that wrench, will ya?”

“Wrench coming up!”

One of his floppy ears twitched at their voices. It looks like he’s going to need a closer look.

In a flash, his body de-materialized into green and cyan energy. The energy zipped up, made an arch in the ceiling and dropped down again near the lobby sofa.

Daisy jumped, “What the heck was that?”

Minnie paused and looked around her. “What was what?”

“You heard that, right? There was a buzzing noise and then… I dunno.”

The female mouse glanced at one of the lamps, flickering in and out from years of lighting. “It must’ve been the electricity. I’ll have to add that to the list, too…”

“Minnie, are you SURE this is safe? If this place really is haunted, then I’m not sure I want to hang around.” Daisy kept looking up, as if something could drop on them at any moment.

“It’s only going to be like this for a little while longer, okay?” she giggled. Daisy sighed, but then smiled and continued to work.

So aware of the danger, and yet they’re ignoring the signs? How peculiar.

He slowly crept from behind the couch and to the center of the lobby, carefully tip-toeing past the the equipment and to the magic circle being drawn in the middle of the room.

Out of the slightest carelessness, he accidentally elbows the lankiest man here.

Goofy turns and addresses the invisible passerby, “Uh, pardon me, miss.” He tips his hat and goes back to work.

And it ends just like that.

The ‘ghost’ twitches his nose; now, this he had to see.

Almost on cue, a projector light blinks to life, shining Goofy’s silhouette onto a screen behind him.

With the shadow in the middle, a whole lifetime of memories flashes onscreen; popcorn, laughter, friends, a small boy’s grin…

So, this is Goofy; he takes odd jobs and is a father(of all things)to one son. He’s not exactly sure about what’s going on, but his pals told him that they’re going to fix up this old hotel, and he’s always happy to help.

‘Interesting, but not enough to go on. Many have tried to ‘fix up’ this hotel: many have failed. But this doesn’t explain the disturbance he’s been sensing. He has to keep searching.

He tries again on Donald, but the duck’s mind is too preoccupied on tangled wires to tell him anything.

Daisy is being cautious(as one should, he reflected). She keeps wondering when Mickey will start the spell already so that she can go home.

So Mickey is the leader here? ‘Good to know.

He finds Mickey trying to pull Donald out of the wires. “Okay, don’t worry, I gotcha pal.”

The duck moans, “This is the fifth time today.”

“Maybe on the sixth time, you’ll get a free sundae!”

Donald growls.

The unseen figure starts his observation on the mouse: chickens, a boat, magic, his true love’s eyes- wait.

He winds the projector back to what he saw, dearly hoping that he was just seeing things…

He wasn’t.

He put his hand to his mouth to hold in shock. He started to shake, flickering in and out of his usual form.

Wait! The girl mouse!

The ghost rushes back towards her, tipping over a mug in his hurry.

“Oh, shoot,” Minnie sighs, “Hold on, let me get a rag.”

The projector light now shines on her, with the quiet observer’s eyes now peeled on every little detail onscreen.

Her name is Minnie. She’s Mickey’s wife(go figure). She’s here to help Mickey cleanse the hotel to make it livable again and-

Oh no.

This time he pauses the projector to make sure.

Oh dear. Not that. Anything but that.

He looks towards Minnie and Mickey, who came to help her.

Out of all the people in this world, out of anyone who would dare to mess with the designs of the universe…

Why did it have to be them?

He pinches his forehead and exhales, his breath feeling more like dragon fire than a sigh.

Well…

We all learn somehow.

He walks over to a chair by the chess table, brushes it off, and takes a seat. He won’t have to do anything… yet. But he knows that once that spell is cast, all hell will break loose.

He knows exactly what’s going to happen.

But he wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t already prepared…

#🎶preview🎶#might make the whole thing if people like it #twilight zone tower of terror #mickey mouse #minnie mouse #donald duck #daisy duck #disney goofy #oswald the lucky rabbit

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pearl-blue-musings · 4 years ago

Text

Perchance to Meet pt. 3

whoops is it time for a little bit of angst??? i think it’s time for a little bit of angst.

warnings: cussing, suggestive language, attempted assault, sexual assault, stalking, unwanted advantages,smut, angst, another smut warning cause i haven’t written smut in a HOT minute, please 18+ cannot stress that enough

masterlist for my writing

Part 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One date had turned into three which sprouted into many many more. Despite having challenging schedules, the two new found lovers made time for each other. Aizawa didn’t really think he’d get a chance like this but here he is, standing outside the bookstore he frequents as often as he can with a tiny goofy grin on his face.

“Sorry, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

He stutters out a response upon seeing the outfit his girlfriend decided to wear. It wasn’t an easy thing to squeeze out of the man, but after the fifth date and the first time she spent the night at his place the couple made it official. Even his co-workers couldn’t believe the sleepy man had a girlfriend on top of everything he already does… But here she is, wearing one of his favorite outfits of hers as they meet up for a brief date.

“I was about to drop dead if I had to wait any longer,” he whispers as he leans in to give her a chaste kiss on the lips. “I love the way you look tonight.”

(Y/n) looks away embarrassed. Even though they had been dating for over three months now, she still couldn’t get used to Shouta’s flirting and downright cuteness. “T-thank you, Sho. I’m glad you get a few hours before your patrol shift starts.” She looks to him with bright and eager eyes that he could get lost in forever. “So, where are we going?”

It takes a little willpower in Aizawa to hold back a smirk as he enjoys the view of her impatience adorn her features. He’s not sure who will be more excited for the date, him or her.

“You’ll see,” he snickers. Her eyes roll as they stroll along the street. The setting sun ahead of them litters the sky with beautiful purples and oranges; a few clouds line the skies giving the world around them an ethereal feel.

They continue to walk for about ten more minutes, having mindless conversation about anything and everything, from how he’s going to be a homeroom teacher for the next year, how she wants to add a café portion to her bookstore to draw in more people and have more income, it flows seamlessly.

Soon they stop at a store front that is unfamiliar to the woman. Once she sees that her lover has stopped, she looks to the sign and suddenly her face lights up.

“Shouta, shut up are you serious?”

He leans down to her ear, “we’ve walked by this before and I’ve always noticed how your eyes linger here. So I got us reservations.”

The sparkle in her eye is unfazed as the grin on her face only gets wider.

“A cat café!? Shouta, I can’t- I mean you took me? Here? God, you’re amazing! I just-“ she ends her sentence by pulling him by his jacket collar and kissing him lovingly. After his initial shock, he cups her face with his warm hands and deepens the kiss. The feel of his lips on hers is a sense she never wants to tire of; she’s practically addicted to it already.

Aizawa hesitantly pulls away, “as much as I’d like to continue that, we don’t wanna miss our reservation, Kitten.” He kisses her on the cheek and pulls her inside the establishment. Once inside, the couple gets swept up in the ambiance of the place. (Y/n) had an inkling that this date wasn’t just to make you happy, but to make a certain cat lover of a man next her happy too. She had picked up on his love of cats and strays on their other dates and she may or may not attempt to adopt one of the cats as a surprise.

Two hours went by too quickly in the couples opinion, but they had to sadly leave. Their stomachs and hearts full, the two begin their walk back to the bookstore. A deep voice breaks the content silent. “I really don’t want to go on patrol tonight.” (Y/n)’s eyebrows furrow at his statement and silently urges Aizawa to continue. “I want to keep looking at you like this. So happy and content… I wish our schedules weren’t so crazy.”

“I do too,” she breathes, “but that’s how it is and I get it. I mean, we both know each other at this point and know that we’re busy. It’s life, we do what we love and hopefully someone will be there with us you know…”

The momentum of the conversation slows as they reach the bookstore. The words she wishes to say fill up her lungs begging to burst from her lips as she stares at the pre hero before. She gulps whatever anxiety she has and blurts out the words she’s wanted to say all night.

“I love you.”

Black eyes widen at the proclamation and then soften once he sees the shyness and slight fear (Y/n) poses in front of him. He steps up to her, staring at her lips then back to the eyes he can get lost in forever and whispers, “I know, I love you too Kitten,” and softly kisses her lips.

***************************************

“Hey, it’s (Y/n), I mean, yeah it’s me… But where are you? I’ve been waiting outside the club for about 10 minutes now. I know your patrol ended half an hour ago. Just call me back okay?”

(Y/n) grouchily hangs up the phone and pouts. She knew he was out late which is why she wanted him to pick her up from work so she could spend the weekend at his apartment. Aizawa had just finished the first week of school as the new 1-A homeroom teacher and his girlfriend knew he would need sometime to relax. Begrudgingly, of course.

She looks to her phone again and sees that it’s approaching 2:30 in the morning. Normally she doesn’t take closing shifts because of the bookstore, but wanted to align her schedule with Aizawa’s for some time together. After almost a year don’t you think he would have been a little more considerate of this fact? This wasn’t easy for her with the new café being added to her store and having to hire new employees; she needed this one little thing.

“Fuck it, I’m walking by myself.”

Clearly a bad idea. Blissfully unaware, she sullenly walked away from her second job and toward Aizawa’s apartment. The city at night wasn’t always the safest and she knew that, but she had been waiting for more than 20 minutes for Aizawa to show and he hadn’t so she took matters into her own hand. She kept her bag close to her body as she sped walk, attempting to keep her roaring thoughts at bay.

Her phone buzzes which halts her mind, and herself, and she stops in her path. She reaches in a sees a text from him saying “omw”. That’s it? And just now? Barely being on her way, she decides to turn around and go back to their original meeting place.

Bad idea number two. Roughly, she bumps into a stiff being and trips back a few steps. In front of her is a man in a long coat and hat, covering most of his identity. “Excuse me,” she mutters past him, but is abruptly stopped when his hand grips her forearm.

“You don’t remember me.”

“Sir, let go of me.”

“Why don’t you remember me?!”

Panic rising in her, (Y/n) begins to struggle against her assailant. “Sir I have no idea what you want from me! Please let me go.”

The man, clearly hysterical, pulls her into a nearby alley and slams her against the brick wall. The woman winces in pain and tries her best to not cry in front of this stranger. “Please, just take my bag… Don’t hurt me!”

“…Why don’t you remember me? You served me for months at the club. Months! You always made my favorite drink, always made me feel better. I love you (Y/F/n)! I always gave you extra tips when I came in and now I find that you’re thinking of quitting?! Is there someone else? I left my wife like you said I should because I wasn’t happy!”

The more the man rambles, the more she starts to remember. He went by the name Shuichi Oda and from what she gathered had a rough night. Obviously a drunk, it seems like things haven’t been going well for him. She remembers having some brief conversations with him to make her patron feel better but… Damn it! She knew that this was the downside of her quirk, some people took it too personally.

“Look, Shuichi-“

“You do remember me!” He exclaims and pulls her into an unneeded hug and starts to pet her hair. “I’ve been waiting for you to be alone for quite some time. Your quirk made me feel better. You, made me feel better.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” she shakily tries to reason, “I’m just a bartender. It’s my job to make people feel better.”

The man hits his head with his fist, frightening the woman. “No! With you, it’s different, see?” After he says he leans in to sloppily kiss her, holding her still against the wall behind her. His hands begin to roam in places they shouldn’t which make tears start to form in her eyes. “Please don’t cry,” he wipes a tear from her face but she moves out of his reach. “Don’t be scared, I love you. And you’re gonna come with me and be with me forever okay?”

“Please,” she screams, “let me go! I have- mmph!”

“Sh sh sh sh, we can’t have you screaming! Others could hear and try to take you away from me!” The hand he placed over her mouth is now covered in tears from her eyes. She bites at him, but his maniacal smile only gets bigger. “I don’t feel physical pain darling, just emotional.” As soon as he says that, his wandering other hand goes toward her breast and he sighs in contentment. “Oh how I’ve longed for this-“

“That’s enough!”

Soon Shuichi is being thrust into the air. He’s wrapped up in bindings and hanging from a nearby streetlamp. Eyes glowing red stare at the apprehended man and pull the wraps tighter, causing him to cough in pain. Aizawa tugs on the wraps to make the man hit his head on the light and pass out. Luckily some sirens are heard closely as someone walking by heard her scream and called for the police. Aizawa was on his way and followed the direction of the police cars hoping it didn’t involve his lover.

An hour later finds the couple walking into the pro hero’s apartment. A strong silver blanket is still wrapped around (Y/n)’s body as they make their way in. They both take off their shoes and settle in silence as the events of the last hour replay through their minds. They don’t even bother to eat anything and start to get ready for bed. Her pajamas are partially on when he sits down on the bed and mumbles, “why didn’t you wait for me?”

“Hm? What was that?”

Sighing louder, her turns to face her. “I said, why didn’t you wait for me like you were supposed to?”

(Y/n) scoffs as she pulls his shirt down her body. “Are you kidding me? Why didn’t I wait? Why were you late?” Her question came out more forceful than she intended but it had been a very long day. “I rearranged my schedule so then we could get off work around the same time for once. Where the hell were you?”

“Don’t give me that,” he states getting louder, “school went late so I began my patrol late.”

“Would it have killed you to tell me that instead of keeping me waiting?”

“Would it have killed you to wait where I wanted you to? Then maybe tonight wouldn’t have happened.”

Her mouth flew open at his assumption. “Are you saying me getting attacked was my fault?!”

Aizawa rolls his eyes as his frustration grows. “If you had just stayed there and waited I was going to get there.”

“Yeah sure! But did you forget the part where that nutjob has been following me for months? He would’ve gotten to me regardless.”

“That’s because you’re too kind. Letting people think that all their problems and issues will go away with just the right fix!”

“You’re ridiculous!” You yell, “Is that really what you think of me and my quirk? Is that what you think I did to you?” (Y/n) moves around the bed to get face to face with him to prove more of her point.

He stands up off the bed to look down at her. “It could be like that for him or any other guy you’re kind to or use your quirk on. All you had to do was wait!”

“And we’re back to where we fucking started. You were late! What was I supposed to do? Wait for the next guy to come along and fuck me over in the middle of the night?”

“(Y/n) that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Oh is it? Then why do you keep putting the blame on whether or not I waited?”

“Look,” he recedes slightly, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about me being late, but you can’t just walk around by yourself like that!”

“Fuck off, yes I can! I’ve done it before why does it suddenly have to change now?”

“Because I fucking love you, idiot!”

Throats hoarse after the shouting match, black eyes shut as he sinks into the bed. (Y/n)’s conviction begins to falter as she follows him onto the mattress. “Shouta?”

He takes a deep breath in attempt to control himself, “I know I should have told you I was late, I’m sorry. But, I’ve never felt this way about anyone. When you weren’t there, I panicked.” He leans onto her shoulder while she rubs his back soothingly. “I was so scared for you. When I saw him touching you, I saw red.”

(Y/n) breathes deeply taking in his words, “Sho…”

“I don’t want to lose you, or have you be hurt because of me. I’m a pro-hero and a teacher at a prominent school, I’m bound to have some enemies.” He sits up to meet her gaze, holding her face in his hands. “That guy hurt you because of you and I wasn’t there.”

“Sho, it’s not your fault.”

Silence falls over them, letting the weight of their words settle into their beings. He brings her forehead toward his as fresh tears fall from her face wetting his skin.

“Kitty cat, I’m sorry for yelling.”

She kisses him lightly, “Me too.”

He kisses her again, and again, and again, Until the light, chaste kisses become deep and full of lust. Her hands find solace in his hair as her lips grant his tongue entrance. He pulls her closer to him, hoping that she can feel his erection through his pants. The feeling of him grinding against her sleep shorts elicits a moan from her mouth that makes him harder. They break for air, a line of saliva connecting them as their pupils dilate.

“Fuck I wanna keep going but you’ve had a long day.” He tries to pull away from her only to be brought in for another breathless kiss. His hands automatically went to her hips. “Kitten,” he moans into her lips.

“We have the whole weekend for me to treat you right. The whole weekend for you to be screaming my name, calling me daddy,” he smacks her ass at that comment earning a hiss from (Y/n) which ended up making her even more wet. “But we need to sleep.”

“Fuck you Shouta,” she whines. “I wanna fuck you now. I’m already so fucking wet for you and I know your dick is itching to be in my mouth or better yet in me.”

Aizawa grunts at the implications but stays strong. “No, sweetie. As much as I really want to, we gotta sleep.”

“Please I want to forget he touched me so please do something or else-“

At that she’s quickly pinned to the bed with the strong man above her. “Don’t forget,” he whispers, “you asked for this.” He slowly drags her bottoms down her legs, exposing her dripping sex to him. It took everything in him to not move too fast. Once her pj bottoms were thrown across the room, he situates himself between her legs, rubbing his hands up her calf, to her thighs enticingly slow. A pressure is felt on her hips as she’s being held in place by her lovers grip.

On instinct her hips buck slightly, eagerly awaiting what’s to come. The feel of his breath on her inner thigh sends her thoughts into a frenzy, only for him to place his lips around the sensitive skin. His kisses are feather light that they almost don’t feel like they’re there, but she’s reminded as soon as his teeth make contact with her skin. A whine escapes her lips at the action, making Aizawa growl.

“Fuck, kitten, you’re so wet for me.”

“Mhm, ah, only for you Daddy- ah fuck!”

All his restraint came undone at the pet name as he wrapped his lips around her folds, sucking and tonguing her with earnest. The way his tongue would flit in and out of her wet hole drove him crazy; it was like she was made for him and only him. He continues to lap at her folds, already starting to feel the pressure build up within her.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna cum for Daddy this early, eh? All I’ve done with eat you out and I’m not full. Plus,” he sneaks a finger into making her hiss and cuss, “I don’t think you’ve had your fill yet Kitty cat.”

Her moans and whines are music to his ears as he doesn’t let up his ministrations. Now two fingers deep into her, he begins to scissor her open while sucking on her abused and pronounced clit.

“Ah, fuck Sho. I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” (Y/n) is breathless as her back arches off the mattress for the umpteenth time. She can feel him smile against her as he lifts up to face her. “Then cum Kitten, cum for Daddy.” His motions speed up and upon hearing her scream out his name mixed with curses, he lets up. God, she looks beautiful like this. Her body is covered in a glimmering layer of sweat, her stomach moving in time with her rampant breathing as she comes down from her high. No one else will get to see her like this, no one. Aizawa wipes away sweat from her brow and leans in to let her taste herself on his tongue. The action alone is enough to make him want to burst, which he is tempted to do.

“Damn, you’re still so wet and slick for me,” he notes swiping a finger against her to reaffirm.

“Babe, rollover. I wanna ride you.”

The lovely man above her lifts an eyebrow at her request, “as you wish, princess.” He is then forcibly pinned, almost like what happened to her not too long ago. “Fuck, you look so hot from down here babe.” He knows that she needs this, to feel to be in charge and take the lead. So he doesn’t help her line up the tip of his hard cock to her entrance, and he doesn’t push himself up into her like he wants.

A wanton moan escapes his lovers lips as she finally settles herself on his cock. She feels the grumble and twitching from her his dick inside her and the feeling is euphoric. The pro-hero’s breath gets shallower as he waits for her to move on him, again holding himself back from taking charge. Once she starts bouncing on his cock, all he can do is whisper and moan out praises and curses. “Fuck, Kitten. That feels so fucking good.”

“Yeah babe? You like the way I’m riding your cock?”

He hisses, “fuck yeah. Please do it more- unf.”

Suddenly he feels a new and ecstatic feeling as she gyrates her hips in ways that have him seeing stars. He’s trying to figure out if there’s some kind of pattern. And then it hits him.

“You spelling your name on my cock, yeah?”

A gasp for air is heard from both of them before she responds, “I’m just, ah, letting you know who this belongs to baby.”

“Ah fuck, Kitten, I’m gonna cum soon. But first,” his voice lowers as he grabs her breast in his hand. His thumb flicks over her nipple, earning another moan before he wraps his lips around it. His tongue continues to work the hardening bud as his hand kneads her mound. His free hand works its way to her clit and begins to rub it fiercely.

“Fuck Shouta, if you keep doing that…”

A slick pop is heard as black eyes bore into lust filled ones. “I know Kitten, we’re so close. Come on, let Daddy cum. Let me cum inside baby.” “Yes, yes ah fuck- FUCK!”

The melodious sound of moans and whimpers fill the once noiseless bedroom as the couple comes down from their highs. They fall onto each other, sweat covered and full of love for each other. Their breathing starts to slow the more they wait out, still being connected by their sexes. (Y/n) is the first to move as she slowly removes herself from her boyfriends embrace, whining at the loss of contact. Aizawa leans up slightly to take in her form and beauty.

“I’ll go grab a towel and some water.”

He pecks her cheek and leaves the room. Once he returns, he sees (Y/n) and fondly smiles. She had finally fallen asleep after everything was said and done. He rolls his eyes but continues to clean up their little mess. He leaves her water glass on her nightstand while he had finished his.

Aizawa pulls the covers over the two of them as he cuddles into his girlfriend, watching her sleep soundly. She looks ethereal right now, no problems or stress on her features.

“I swear I will protect you. Whatever it takes.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ha ha hahahahaha it’s so long whoops but yee if the option is there the taglist is open! @kiribaku-queen @shinsouskitten @therealwalmartjesus @prk-pyo @cupcake-rogue

#i did the thing #my writing #perchance #aizawa x y/n #shouta aizawa #aizawa x reader #bnha x reader #bnha reader insert #bnha aizawa #bnha x y/n #aizawa shouta

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anboringday · 4 years ago

Text

A Date With Lenny | Part 3

Pairing: Lenny Summers x F!reader/OC

Summary: Lenny and his lover spends some quality time together in Valentine. Head over heels for one another, things get heated between the two rather quickly ;)

Word Count: 3.9k

Rating: NSFW/Explicit

Read on ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Arms linked, Lenny and I sauntered out of the crowded saloon. It was a lively night in Valentine, a constant stream of interested visitors trotted through on horseback. Fellers loitered outside the stores, laughing and chatting boisterously. Penned pigs squealed, stray dogs panted in the heat, and chimes rung as doors opened. The noise and activity of the teeming little town was disorderly and loud, but not unpleasant. In fact, it was quaint. The people here were unfettered, spirited, and unapologetically free.

Normally, I felt rather small and out of place in the company of strangers, but with Lenny beside me, all my silly fears and insecurities melted away. He escorted me through town in his black brushed cotton vest and matching trousers, his shirt and neckerchief both a pristine white. And god, he looked damn fine too, putting every other man in attendance to shame. Ever so often, the women that crossed our path would stare, sometimes tripping over their own feet as they took in his remarkably handsome face.

But he was all mine, and I made it known to the world by keeping my arm hooked possessively around his. Occasionally rubbing his strong shoulders. Stroking his toned biceps. He’d return the affection by showering my cheeks with tiny, playful kisses as we strolled aimlessly along Valentine’s dirt road. We had no destination in mind, no grand plans, or schedules to keep. We were simply enjoying each other’s company, and I couldn’t have been happier.

Cradling a flask of whiskey to his chest, Lenny took a swig. “See, the saloon wasn’t so bad, right? We ate a full course, top-notch quality meal in absolute peace, undisturbed—no bar fights, and only a few drunken bastards got rowdy and ruined the mood. Usually it’s much worse.”

“We have to keep a low profile,” I muttered. “We’re lucky no one recognized you.”

“Have you forgotten that I am the living embodiment of luck—” He tripped over a rock and tumbled clumsily, landing on his backside with a rough thud.

My heart skipped a beat. “Lenny!” I hovered over him. “Are you okay?”

With the cutest, goofy grin plastered to his face, he patted himself down for injuries. “No broken bones…I’ll live, I reckon.”

His wide, bright smile was contagious. Holding the hem of my flowy skirt, I crouched to his level and surveyed him briefly. Besides being stricken with a bad case of the giggles, he seemed fine. “Of course, you’ll live. You have an obligation to keep breathing, Mr. Summers, ‘cause I wouldn’t last a day without you.”

“Is that so? I guess you’re stuck with me then…forever!” His arms enclosed around my waist, he tugged me to the ground playfully.

“Get off, you silly man!” With a hastily suppressed snicker, I squirmed about in his warm embrace. “Release me!”

“Nooo, you can’t get rid of me—not ever! You’re all mine. Just submit already, woman!” He attacked my cheeks with a frantic rush of kisses.

I smothered a chuckle from the sensation of his beard stubble brushing against my skin, but once he started tickling my sides, my voice rang up a scale and crackled hysterically. Whenever I tried to pull away, he’d draw me right back in, fragrantly fun, carefree, and mischievous despite the dozens of onlookers in our midst.

I tickled him back, and Lenny’s laughter was so jubilant, pure as the Heavens above, childish even despite his adulthood and masculinity. His mirth was like the summer sun and the stars at the peak of dawn. Whenever I heard it, no matter the time of day or weather, the world brightened.

Breathing in his tantalizing, uniquely familiar scent, I nuzzled my nose against his. “I love you.”

Stiffening abruptly, a rush of red stained his cheeks. His voice lowered, quiet and shy. “Hey, you’re making me feel all fuzzy and warm inside. There’s folks around—I’m not blushing, am I?”

“You are. It’s adorable.” I stood and extended a hand to him. “Now get up outta that dirt, silly.”

“C’mere, Sugar.” With a captivating smile, he lured me down to his level once again. He tipped his chin toward the sky. “Look at the stars, ain’t they pretty?”

Pinpoints of silver peeped in and out of the masses of gray clouds overhead. It was going to rain soon. I wiped the dust from my skirt. “You’re ruining my outfit, handsome.”

“What does it matter? I’m just gonna take it off you anyway.” He took another sip of his whiskey.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink, cowboy.”

Music blared from the nearby saloon, a live performance it sounded like. There was clapping and cheering, a soulful feminine voice filled the air, blending in elegantly with the strum of stringed instruments.

Lenny’s brows shot up. “You hear that?”

I nodded. “It sounds lovely.”

He tossed his whiskey aside and rose, lifting me along with him. Taking my hand in his, he preformed a courtly bow, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “My lady, may I have this dance?”

“Dance?” My face heated at the proposal. “H-here?”

“Right here, right now.”

Filled with embarrassed discomfort, I lowered my head. “There’s an awful lot of people around, Lenny.”

“Don’t be scared. We’re in this together. Just focus on me, okay?”

Arms encircling my waist, he anchored me against him, swaying to the music. I was tense and on edge at first, I’ve never danced in public. Let alone in the center of town where just about every neighboring feller, woman, loyal steed, and child could take a gander.

But once his hazel gaze found mine, our bustling surroundings melted away. Hypnotized by the shimmering sparks of gold in the depths of his eyes, all I could see was him. The way his lean body glided with effortless rhythm and fluidity. How his muscles flexed and rippled with every slight movement beneath his shirt. Following his gentle motion, my arms slid around his neck. He was my world, and the moment was ours.

“We coulda done this in the saloon, you know,” I said.

“Maybe,” he mumbled. “I know going to that saloon in particular was my idea, but uh, honestly…I didn’t feel comfortable in there.”

“Why? Did one of those drunkards do something? Say something? I swear, if there are any inbred yokels around here, you just point me in their direction—”

“No, it wasn’t that.” He gave a shaky laugh. “Every fella in there was eyeballing you. It ain’t no crime to look but…” His voice trailed off.

I frowned. “I didn’t notice anyone was staring, I’m sorry—”

“Hey, don’t apologize for being the prettiest girl in town. You got all the women in the West green with envy and the fellas? They salivate over you like a pack of rabid dogs after a bone. And regardless of all that, you chose me. Feels like a dream. The best damn dream.” He dipped me back and kissed my temple. I held onto him as his full lips drifted to my neck, brushing over my sensitive skin. I closed my eyes on a moan when he caught the lobe of my ear between his teeth, the spontaneity of it all warmed my heart, and awakened a fierce ache between my legs.

With he straightened me, I was near breathless and dizzy. There was an applause, and whistling coming from over my shoulder. Lenny’s grasp on me was strong and clinging, as if I could slip through his fingers at any given moment. “You’re mine, I’m yours, and now everybody knows it.”

I flushed, perversely flattered and delighted by his possessiveness. “You know, this isn’t exactly what I’d call ‘keeping a low profile’,” I whispered.

“So, about that…” He grinned sheepishly, a boyish smile so cutely at odds with the wiry, solid sexuality of his body. “I ain’t the best at laying low, never have been. Everywhere I go, something or somebody starts kickin’ up a fuss and I get dragged into it. For example, some fool gets robbed—by no fault of mine, might I add—then that same fool gets brave and winds up with a bullet in his gut. And of course, being the law-abiding citizen that I very much am, I got no choice but to intervene.”

I smiled. “So, all this time you’ve been playing the hero? Everything the lawmen said about you was a lie?”

“The law ain’t never been fair or smart.”

“That much is true.” The sky rumbled, and the clouds began to shed some heavy droplets of rain. Folks began to retreat indoors, while a select few preferred to take shelter under the general store awnings.

“Well, there goes our audience,” Lenny said. “A real shame, too. I was getting used to the limelight.” He took off his brown leather cowboy hat and gave it to me. “Here, Sugar. For your hair.”

“Thank you.” I nuzzled my face to his chest. “We should go. The storm is only going to get worse.”

Seemingly unbothered by the rain, he tilted my chin up and settled his mouth on mine. A rush of warmth flowed through me, the soft sweetness of his kiss weakened my knees. Gradually, the pressure of his lips increased, and I surrendered myself to him. His tongue stroked slow and tenderly over mine. Our connection was wildly passionate and undeniable. I was so absorbed by him, possessed by his sweet love, I hardly noticed the drizzle running down our faces to where our lips connected. The cold rain mingled with the uniquely wonderful taste of him.

The working of his mouth against mine made me hot. Restless. I pushed a hand into his gloriously damp hair and sucked on the bottom of his lip, tracing my tongue over its perfect fullness, nibbling, gently pulling…

The sound of his groan was so satisfyingly deep and erotic, my core throbbed, uncomfortably wet. Lenny broke the kiss, his chest heaving. “Damn…what are you doing to me?”

I smiled innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Gripping my hips, he crushed me to him, the impressive package between his legs brushed my thigh. “I…I-I need to be inside you,” he confessed with some difficulty. “I’m aching.”

Moved by the extent of his longing, I stood on the tip of my toes and reclaimed his lips, my palms sliding all over his lethally sexy body. We were drenched in the chilly, pouring rain, but not even the forces of nature could keep my hands off him. “There’s a hotel next door,” I said between kisses.

Lenny nodded an assent and lifted me off my feet, my legs hooked around his waist. He carried me across the road and through the hotel’s swinging doors. The lobby was empty.

“I’ll be just a minute!” a voice I presumed to be the receptionist called out from down the hall.

Still holding me in his powerful arms, Lenny leaned against the front desk as we made out with reckless abandon. The soul-reaching massage of his lips sent shivers rippling up my spine. Raising my skirt a fraction, his hips started moving, the hard length of his cock grinding sinfully against me through the confides of his pants. Oh, god…a deep hunger stirred inside me. I had to have him—all of him—and it had to be soon. Or else I’d go crazy.

I held onto him for dear life, trembling from the hot, delicious friction. I didn’t care who was watching. I was way past the point of shyness, the primal desire to be fucked by this beautiful outlaw was at the forefront of my mind. It was all that mattered.

My skin burning hot and flustered, I whimpered. “I want you, Lenny.”

Muscles tense and visibly shaking with lust, he uttered huskily, “Fuck, I want—I need you.”

I buried my face in the crook of his corded neck, ravaging his skin with love bites and licks. “How bad do you need me?”

“Real bad. More than anything. I’ll beg if I got to. I’ll plead. I’ll get on my damn knees right now.” He swallowed deep, his expression tight and eyes smoldering. “If we don’t get a key soon, I might just bend you over this desk and fuck you right here.”

I trembled. It sounded like a threat as much as a promise, the scorching intensity of his words so unlike him. He was losing his composure, the desire stripping away his inhibitions and calm, sweet-tempered mannerisms. Only I could do this to him. It was a major turn-on and confidence boost.

“Here I am!” the receptionist finally arrived, scrambling into his rightful place behind the desk. His presence was a blur, I was too preoccupied enjoying the softness of Lenny’s lips. I could probably come like this, just by kissing him if we went at it long enough.

“Good Lord Almighty!” the receptionist gaped at us. “You kids need a room immediately! Luckily for you, we have one available. Just one. It’s been a big night for tourism, with that band of fancy folk from Saint Denis parading through town, playing their music and causing a ruckus. I don’t understand how anyone can get anything done with all that darn noise and commotion—”

Lenny shoved a hand into his satchel and flung a couple dollars at the chatty receptionist. It stopped his ranting, thank goodness.

“Second floor, first room on your right.” Once he passed over the key, Lenny whisked me upstairs. Heedless of everything and everyone, our hot, lingering kisses didn’t break as he fumbled with the lock. A moment later, the door opened, and we were inside a dimly lit room bathed in candlelight, rain softly drummed against the windowpanes.

Lenny dropped me on the bed. I reached for his vest and ripped it open, the buttons scattered across the hardwood floor. “Get naked, cowboy.”

He laughed, shrugging out of his shirt and suspenders, and then unbuckling his gun belt. I ran my hand down his chest in awe. His deep brown skin illuminated by the warm, flickering light, he glowed like flames piercing the darkness, radiant with transcendental beauty and mystery. I wanted him so bad, it hurt.

I nuzzled my face against the solid ridges of his damp, god-like abdomen. “Christ, why are you so perfect?”

“Perfect?” He pinched my cheek playfully. “Aw, you really think so? Arthur told me the same thing once, but he was drunk and vomiting in a pig pen outside the saloon when he said it—”

“Lenny…” Grinning, I swatted his hand off my cheek. “You’re ruining the mood.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” Flashing an apologetic smile, he tossed aside the wet hat on my head and helped me out my clothes with gentle finesse. I went for his zipper, freeing his thick cock. My mouth watered. He was rock-hard, and throbbing. I traced the flat of my tongue along the heavy veins coursing his length, slow and worshipfully.

He fisted my hair, restraining me just before I took him into my mouth. “Nuh-uh, Sugar. That can wait. Lay down.”

My brows raised. Apparently, Lenny was in charge tonight. I obeyed, curious of what he had in store.

The heat and clean, woodsy scent of his body took my breath away once he came down on me. “You’re beautiful.” He plumped one breast in his hand, kissing my neck, his lips grazing back and forth over my tender, flustered skin. I squirmed from the heady sensation. My legs locked around his hips, silently urging him to make love to me already. Near mindless with need, I struggled to find my voice, to formulate words. All that slipped from my throat was tiny, helpless whimpering.

He took himself in his hand and stroked my slick entrance, the soft nudges of his cock head agonizingly teasing. I arched my hips, my body straining toward him, desperate for a connection. He was making me wait, avoiding my clit and somehow resisting the temptation of fucking me despite my pleading.

“Lenny, please. What are you waiting for?”

“Hush now,” he said. “You’ll be ready for me soon.”

“I’ve been ready for you for the longest. Since this morning.”

He nipped my neck, sucking feverishly. Surely leaving a mark behind. Inflamed and trembling in distress, I rolled my hips against the rigid column of flesh he so cruelly teased me with. Patiently, he coaxed me to the brink of insanity. I was soaked in my own wetness, creaming madly for the feel of him inside me.

Raking my nails across his back, I pulled him closer. I needed him to fuck me more than I needed my next breath. “Now,” I gasped. “Need you now.”

With an expert shift of his hips, he pushed into me hard, and so pleasantly deep.

“Oh, God, yes,” I moaned, shuddering, clenching around him. Finally. Warmth struck my heart. I’ve been waiting for this for so long, too long—

“Don’t come,” he murmured, his palms slipped under my hips and cupped my behind, squeezing.

“Excuse me?” I was so close to the edge already. How the hell did he expect me not to go off?

“Good things come to those who wait. It feels so much better in the end.” Lenny started to move, his thrusts lazy and tortuously slow. “Can you do that for me, Sugar? Can you make it last?”

The cadence of his soft-spoken, drawling words sounded so sweet in my ears, so delicate. A fierce ache struck my chest. I was hopelessly in love with him, and more than willing to submit to his every need and request.

“It’s not fair,” I mumbled, my vision blurred with tears. “You have no idea how good you feel inside me.”

“Trust me, I-I do.” Lenny’s leisurely rhythm came to an abrupt halt, his body shivered violently. Jaw clenched, a groan slipped through his lips, tension contorted the gorgeous features of his face. Holding back seemed to be affecting him as well.

Quickly regaining his poise, he resumed screwing me. Lenny knew my body so well, all the tender spots that demanded attention and how precisely to stroke them. It was all muscle memory to him at this point. Over and over, his cock rubbed the bundle of quivering nerves clenching, aching for his touch.

Gripping the sheets with white-knuckled force, I smothered an upsurge of sobs, thrashing against the overwhelming need to climax. I was burning from the inside out, our bodies sticky with sweat. Trembling uncontrollably, I couldn’t hold back for much longer…

“Don’t come,” Lenny repeated. “Make this last. Just hold on.”

“I c-can’t. It feels amazing. Jesus, Lenny…” Tears escaped my eyes. I was falling apart, utterly and irreversibly lost in him. “I love you. I-I love you so, so much…”

He kissed away the tear tracks on my face. “Hold me. Don’t you let go.”

I released the covers and clung to him. His heavy-lidded gaze snagged with mine, searing into me. He sighed heavily, from pleasure, tension, or both—I couldn’t tell. His hips still surging at a moderate, deliberately restrained tempo that was driving senseless, I blurted, “Slow down. Please. I’ll come if you don’t slow down.”

“Will you now?” A wicked smile pulled at his lips. “I thought you wanted to come, Sugar. Why the change of heart?”

My back arched as his hold on my behind grew bruising. He lifted my hips into his thrusts, and I cried out, my core boiling and tightening with a pressure so severe, I feared I’d snap in two if I didn’t give into my bodily cravings soon.

“I won’t come,” I panted. “Not—not until y-you say so.”

His hazel eyes softened, sympathetic almost as he watched me quiver helplessly beneath him. One hand clasping the side of my face, he kissed me with a heartrending tenderness, his tongue caressing mine. Yes.

“Come for me,” he fucked me harder, dominating my body, although his voice was honeysweet against my lips. “I need to feel you…”

With his permission, an orgasm erupted inside me like a volcano, molten pleasure spreading from my core and overcoming the entirety of my body in a scorching wave. It was remarkable. Explosive. Unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I let out a shrill cry, writhing under Lenny’s sweat-slick muscles. His name spewed repeatedly from my lips as he fucked me into blissful oblivion.

The climax surged on and on. I was melting, drowning in the immense ecstasy of being loved by him, pleased by him. He was my everything, and without him I was empty and hollow. I could die in his arms right now and regret not a thing, because I’ve never truly lived a day until I met him.

The connection we shared was incredibly intense, inside and outside the bedroom. But when we were making love like this, intimately linked, giving and receiving pleasure from one another like our lives depended on it…our bond felt unbreakable. It was frightening how deeply I adored him—an outlaw. A man the law wanted strung up by a noose…

A muscle twitching in his jaw, he rode out my climax until the clenches faded; then he slowed down his pace, burying himself inside me languidly. He sucked in a harsh breath, eyes dark and dilated, his strong body convulsed furiously. He was teetering on the edge of an orgasm, still denying himself the pleasure he’s been working toward all night long. The glaring self-control and perseverance Lenny emanated was something to be envied.

I gathered his hair in my hands, kissing the side of his damp throat. “You’re shaking, handsome. Do I feel that good?”

“Yes,” he rasped, pounding into me erratically, his balls slapping against the curve of my behind. “Oh shit, yes.”

A bead of sweat dripped from his chin onto the corner of my lip. I slid my tongue along his sculpted jawline, collecting the saltiness with a soft murmur of satisfaction. He tasted so good, and the scent of his lust smelled even better.

“Why don’t you come inside me, cowboy?” I teased, my voice husky. “You know you want to.”

He clasped the nape of my neck, his gaze burned into mine. “Do you want me to?”

I had just as much control over his body as he did mine and I couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, Lenny. Come.”

With a serrated groan, his beautiful cock jerked, spurting hotly, flooding me with his heat. His hips ground against mine, he emptied his load as deeply as he could inside me. I don’t know how long we laid there holding each other, spent and panting. Eventually, our breathing steadied and our bodies cooled.

“Leonard Summers!” a rugged voice shouted from outside, piercing the calm serenity of the rain. “We know you’re in here! Give yourself up, boy, there ain’t nowhere left to run!”

Lenny shot up from the bed.

Still wrapped up in a sex-induced daze, my brain struggled to comprehend what the hell was happening. Lazily, I sat up, covering my exposed breasts with the sheets. “What’s going on?”

Lenny inched to the window and glanced furtively though the blinds. “Lawmen,” he winced. “A lot of ‘em.”

I shivered, my heartbeat sped up. “You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish I was, Sugar. Maybe you were right—coming ‘round here was, in fact, a real bad idea.” His teeth gleamed in a lopsided smile, confident and reassuring despite our unfortunate circumstances. “So, uh…you know how to handle a gun, right?”

My eyes widened. Oh no…

#lenny summers #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdrwriting #rdr fanfic #arthur morgan #red dead #red dead redemption #rdr fandom #romance #lenny summers x reader

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superbadassnatural · 4 years ago

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A Night to Remember

Summary: After downing many shots of whiskey, the boys and Y/N find themselves having fun with a “teenage game”. Yep, Sam, Dean, and Cas get to play truth or dare. Square filled: Crossdressing Pairing: Dean x Reader; if you squint, you’ll find slightly implied Sam x Reader and Dean x Castiel Word count: 1,482 Warnings: implied smut, mentions of kinks, masturbation and threesome, goofy TFW A/N: this was written for @spntfwbingo. Hope you enjoy it.

(x)

After many shots of whiskey and some of tequila — which only you drank —, you, your boyfriend Dean, Sam, and Cas were laughing at every and anything as you sat around the map table. Friday night and you all just decided to let loose and get drunk.

“Okay, okay,” you gushed between giggles as the three of them tried to calm down after one of Cas’ jokes. “I think we should play truth or dare.”

“Y/N-“ Sam started but you quickly interrupted him.

“C’mon, Sammy,” you whined. “It’ll be fun!”

“I’m with Y/N on that,” Dean added, patting your thigh.

“So who wants to start?” none of them answered. “Alrighty, I’ll go,” you rolled your eyes. “Sammy, truth or dare?

“Truth.”

“Which one of us do you think has the worst fashion sense?”

“Cas,” he giggled. Castiel stared at him, clearly offended. “C’mon man, you wear the same clothes every day.”

The room filled with laughter.

“Alright, my turn,” Cas leaned on the table. “Dean, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“When was the last time you peed in bed?”

“I have never peed in bed,” he exclaimed. Wide jade eyes staring back at the angel. Sam scoffed a laugh. “What are you laughing at? It’s true.”

“No, it isn’t. You were twelve, man. At least that’s the last time I saw you wake up on a wet mattress.”

“That wasn’t pee, Sammy,” a smirk appearing on Dean’s lips.

“Of course it was,” Sam gave his brother his best bitch face. “It smelled like pee, Dean.”

“Okay, okay,” he grumbled with a roll of his eyes. “But don’t you ever tell this to anyone,” he pointed his finger to each of you. “Y/N, truth or dare?”

“Since you boys are too coward to pick dare, I’ll do it,” you snapped. “Dare me, Winchester,” you winked at him, trying to give him a sensual look, but making a total fool of yourself.

“I dare you, sweetheart, to have a teaspoon of ghost pepper,” he wiggled his brows at you.

“Okay,” you tried to sound natural as a shiver ran down your spine.

He ran to the kitchen and got back with a generous teaspoon of ghost pepper and a glass of milk. You frowned. Why did he bring you a glass of milk instead of water?

“Water only spreads the heat. Milk helps,” he said as if he was able to read your mind. “Alright, open up.”

Once the pepper hit your tastebuds, your whole body was on fire. Sweat broke on your forehead. Grimacing, you swallowed it all. Dean removed the spoon from your mouth, trying his best not to laugh or he would find himself in some serious trouble.

“Gosh, this is horrible,” you managed to say as you reached for the glass of milk, chugging it down. “Whoa this actually works.”

And the game moved on.

“So Cas, say something dirty to the person in front of you,” Sam challenged Cas.

“Dean, I think you’d look really nice on my angel blade,” Cas said in all seriousness while he narrowed his eyes at the hunter.

You and Sam completely lost it. You were almost knocked out of your chair. Sam was laughing hysterically and could barely catch his breath. Cas’ line was golden and Dean’s reaction was priceless. His eyes were totally wide and his eyebrows were shot up and his mouth had an “o” shape. He did not expect that. Neither of you did.

“Cas, you’re awesome,” you managed to say between giggles as you fanned at yourself. Happy tears were prickling in your eyes. “Alright. Sam, truth or dare?”

“Truth,”

“Do you have any kinks, Samuel?” you wiggled your brows. An asymmetric grin making its way to your lips. “If you do, then share with us.” Sam sighed.

“I do actually,” he shrugged. “Bondage, voyeurism, and edging.”

“Didn’t need to know that,” Dean muttered, taking a swig of his beer.

“Not gonna lie, those are some of my favorites too,” you winked.

The game went on and Dean found himself with four ice cubes inside his boxers after his brother dared him. Cas let you draw a dick on his flushed cheek, so now every time you looked at him, you couldn’t keep a straight face. Eventually, the boys figured out that once your mom caught you masturbating, and apparently Sam’s top three turn-ons were: playing with his hair, wearing red and striptease. Dean now doesn’t want you to wear anything read near Sam.

“Which of us would you like to kiss, sweetheart?” Dean asked you.

“You, of course,” you pecked his lips. “See, just did that.”

“Aside from me,”

“I’d kiss any of them, but I’m gonna go with Sam. ‘Cause then I’ll be able to say I’ve had a taste of both Winchester’s.”

“Is that on your bucket list or something?” Sam asked.

“It can be if you want to.” you winked.

“Dean, what’s a secret you’ve never told Y/N?” Cas asked and your boyfriend cursed under his breath.

“Now that’s interesting.”

“I’ve had a threesome once,” he admitted, taking in the look on your face. “Twice actually,” his hand came up to rub the back of his neck. The tip of his ears turning into a bright shade of red.

“Hmm, that’s sounds like fun. Maybe we should try that sometime, huh?” you winked, a smirk appearing on your lips.

“Nah, I wouldn’t share you with anyone,” he wrapped his arm around you, tugging you to him and kissing the side of your head.

“Now Y/N,” Sam exclaimed, still figuring what dare he could make up for you. “Let us look through your phone for 2 minutes.”

You shrugged, unlocking your phone and handing it to them.

“No one’s gonna look her photos. That’s a no-zone.” Dean announced, making his way to his brother and best friend as they searched through your phone.

They made fun of your texts and your taste for game apps. You’d certainly hear for a long time them mocking you for being on level 474 of Candy Crush. Argh, guilty pleasures…

It was getting really late and you were growing tired. You all decided to go for one last round and call it a night.

“Dean,” Sam started. “You and Y/N are crossdressing.”

“Why do you have to drag me into this?”

“C’mon Y/N/N, it’ll be fun,” he tried to convince you.

You and Dean headed to your shared bedroom. You knew exactly which of his clothes you were going to pick for you. But for him? Dean’s a big guy so your clothes would be a little tight on him.

“Alright, are you guys ready for a show?” you yelled across the hallway. You and Dean were out of the boys’ sight.

You walked down the hall as if you were modeling for Victoria’s Secrets. Except you were on Dean’s denim shorts and his white tank top under his unbuttoned blue flower shirt. To make it even more glamorous, you added his sunglasses and his beige summer hat that covered your messy bun and his gigantic flip-flops.

“So how do I look, boys?” you stopped in front of them. A hand on your hips as you spun for them to have a full glance at your outfit.

“You look awesome, Y/N,” Sam said. “But I have a feeling that two Y/N would fit in there.”

You chuckled.

“Dean, come out, honey,” you called for him.

Dean started to walk down the hall with his head held high. He was feeling as he was a famous top model right now.

The boys completely lost it when they saw him wearing your gray pencil skirt that was a little higher up on his thighs. His bowlegs in full display. He wore a buttoned white shirt that clung too tight to his broad chest. The buttons barely keeping it together. Unfortunately, your pantsuit didn't fit him, so he put on his own FBI suit. You handed him your reading glasses. His plump lips held a vibrant red lipstick. To make him look even better, you had him put on a long, wavy black wig.

“Argh, she’s gorgeous,” you sighed, trying to keep from laughing as he winked at you.

Dean spun for you to see his whole outfit.

“Ah, this is horrible and hilarious at the same time,” Sam chuckled, pulling his phone out to snap as many pictures as he could of his brother.

You joined Dean in front of the camera. Striking many silly poses. Dean still tried not to make any crude movements that could tear your skirt apart.

The sound of your mixed waves of laughter and giggles filled the war room. All four of you were having so much fun that you managed to forget what was going on outside these walls. You were having fun with your boyfriend and your friends. And God knows how much you all needed that. After you all recover from the pain in the ass hangover tomorrow will bring, you could dig into another case. But for now, you just need to enjoy your time as a family.

I’d love to know what you think of this! You can share your thoughts via reply, reblog or ask. Feedback is appreciated as well as needed ;)

Add yourself to my taglist here!

@katymacsupernatural

#spntfwbingo #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean fanfiction #supernatural x reader #spn fanfiction #crack #fluff

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Hot as Hell and No A/C, Chapter 7 (Branjie) - Blackhighheels

Seven

Jose hangs up the phone and disbelievingly stares at it for a moment. This call certainly didn’t play out how he thought it would, when he accepted it.

He needs to sit down and makes his way to the couch, where Thackery is already snoozing away. Jose doesn’t care and picks him up anyway, cuddles him even though the cat tries to get away at first. He needs the attention, the cuddles and the comfort, his cat just has to deal with it.

It had started with instagram request for a scheduled call. He thought it would entail some catching up, some chit chat and some funny stories. And yet, here he was, at a loss for words, with a heavy heart and with no fucking clue what to do.

Rachel had told him she wanted to FaceTime him and because he liked her and hadn’t talked to her in a while, he agreed. Maybe, he had also been curious about her uncle, just maybe.

Rachel hadn’t been alone though, her mother was with her when Jose picked up. After a short talk about dance and some other meaningless shit, Ada had sent her daughter away. Jose had feared that she would ask questions. Questions he wouldn’t be sure how to answer and would most likely have to resort to lies. He hadn’t expected Ada to know about Brock being gay and about their night together.

Jose is still shocked about it and wonders about the circumstances of that confession. He doesn’t suspect that Brock just randomly came out to his sister. Ada had been on a roll though and so Jose hadn’t been able to stop her and ask for the story.

Jose had hoped he’d find out how Brock was, but he hadn’t expected his sister to ask him to call Brock, beg him really, so Brock would finally talk to someone.

Ada was worried, very worried, and therefore Jose was now losing his mind over the different scenarios that he feared Brock was suffering.

He’d known all along that Brock was struggling with his mental health, but judging by what Ada described on the phone, things have taken a turn for the worse, even though Brock now has one ally who knows about him and his sexual orientation.

Jason had also hinted before, that Brock wasn’t doing too well, but having his sister call and plead with you to help her, help her brother… Jose isn’t sure what to think or say or do.

He told her that he’s tried texting and calling and she told him to keep doing it, start doing it again, really.

He told her, he fears Brock will block his number and she assured him, he wouldn’t even know how to do it.

She revealed, Brock got instagram so he could check out Jose’s account, but doesn’t follow him. As if he’d be able to find him without his real name or his picture amongst his nearly 4 million followers, that fucking dumb-ass.

The talk with Ada leaves Jose shaken, scared and very upset. He knows if he calls Brock, his call will not get picked up. Jose is sure if he texts him, he won’t get a reply. He doubts Brock will read the message before deleting it. But what other option does he have?

Jose doesn’t even understand why Brock is not talking to him anymore. They said goodbye with a hug after an amazing night together. Jose made it clear that Brock was always welcome to call and that he wanted to remain friends. Maybe their night together was a mistake after all? Maybe, if they didn’t have sex things wouldn’t be so fucked up now? But how was he supposed to say no? It was an impossible task for him, because he was drawn to Brock like a moth to the flame. Still is. Nothing is any easier now, than it was when he drove away and barely made it past the fucked up ”friendly community” sign until he had to pull over because he was crying so much he couldn’t see the road anymore. He had wanted to go back, turn the car around and hurry back, but nothing would have been different. Brock would still be in the closet, he still had to leave and there was still no future for them. He hadn’t know back then that it would hurt that bad for that long, because he had counted on a friendship, some contact to get the fix he craves.

It also makes him angry because things could be so much easier if Brock wasn’t so damn stupid. They could talk and text. They could be friends at least, really good friends and maybe they could come up with a way on how to make them work sometime in the future, because it sure looks like it was just some spring dick romance.

Brock is one stubborn motherfucker and apparently one who lives for the self-sacrifice, because Ada also let Jose know that Brock is ghosting him, because he doesn’t want to ruin Jose’s life. He wants him to move on and be happy with someone else. For a second Jose’s tempted to do exactly that, post some bullshit picture with some random guy and pretend it’s his new boo. That’s what Brock wants after all.

But Jose is scared of his reaction, scared what might happen, if Brock is confronted with that image. Also, it would be a lie. Even after four months, Jose has not moved on, which has to mean something, right? He’s still reliving their one night together nearly every night. He dreams about their talks, hears Brock’s laughter as they stack the shelves together. He’s made the picture Brock took of him his lock screen and home screen. Not because it’s a picture of himself, but because he’s wearing Brock’s hat in it, because Brock took that picture and he still remembers that afternoon in all details. For a moment he was tempted to make the picture he has of Brock the background of his home and lock screen, but people would ask too many questions he has no answers to.

He showed the picture to Silky and A’keria and they both agree he’s fine as hell, even though he looks tired. But nothing could ever make that beautiful man look bad.

Jose opens the picture and stares into Brock’s smiling eyes on the screen. He misses him so much even just looking at his photo makes Jose want to cry.

He’ll try, Jose decides. He’ll try to smoke him out one last time.

He goes to instagram and uploads the video of his goofy dance that Brock secretly filmed, keeps in the part where Brock is laughing and teasing him. The bible fanatics surely won’t follow him on instagram and out of those who do, only Ada and Jason know Brock’s voice. It’s not like he’s saying anything suspicious and he can’t even be seen. Mostly he’s just laughing and Jose loves the sound, more so because it always helps him keep the tears at bay when he misses him too much.

‘Remember this? Different kind of spring dance. I miss those days. #Imissyou’ he writes as a caption and posts it. Hopefully there will be some kind of reaction from the man he still can’t forget and still loves, even though he’s fucking dumb.

***

”Ada? Where did you put the turnips?” Brock yells from the front of the store to the back of the store. Ever since his sister has been back full time, he can’t find anything anymore. It adds to the general annoyance he always feels these days, that’s constantly bubbling under the surface and now makes him want to throw the fucking boxes through the store or just burn the vegetables altogether. Who needs turnips anyway?

”They’re underneath the radish stand,” comes Ada’s reply.

”No, they’re not. That’s where they’re supposed to be, but I have no fucking idea where you put them.” How is supposed to restock them if he can’t find them? The throbbing behind his eyes intensifies.

”Watch your mouth. I don’t wanna have Noah cussing and cursing.” Ada lectures him as she walks out of the small office with Noah in her arms.

”He’s four months old. It’ll still be a while until he can say mama or cuss,” Brock rolls his eyes.

”Here, hold him Mr. Know-it-all.” She hands him the baby and starts looking for the turnips herself.

”Will you start cussing us all out Noah? Or will you be a good boy?” Brock coos at the baby and bounces him up and down on his arm. He’s spent a lot of time around him since he was born and it’s obvious that the little boy knows him, by the way he smiles at him. A second later a gush of milk and drool comes out of his mouth and runs down Brock’s arm. ”Great, cussing would be less disgusting, you know.” Brock shakes his head and turns around to find something to clean himself.

”Need a tissue?” Brock swirls back around. He can’t believe his eyes and shakes his head. This can’t be true. He stares disbelievingly, but the strong scent of cologne in the air that makes his headache intensify, lets him know that it’s real. He’s not hallucinating; Jose is back and his stomach drops. ”Here, let me help ya,” the smaller man says and wipes Brock’s arm clean with the tissues he holds. ”There ya go.”

They just stare at each other then, Brock still not really believing that Jose’s here, looking at him with a tiny, shy smile and those large brown eyes of his. His hair is longer than it was, it’s shaved differently and bleached on one side. There’s some stubble on his face and he’s wearing different earrings; the diamond studs have been replaced with black ones. He’s even more beautiful now, something Brock never thought possible, either.

”What are you doing here?” Brock finally finds his voice.

”Checking on ya treacherous ass. You don’t pick up your phone, don’t call me back, don’t reply to my messages. What’s a guy gotta do?” Jose tries to joke, but his voice isn’t as loud as it usually is and his hands are slightly shaking.

”You shouldn’t be here,” Brock starts to panic. Jose can’t be here! Everything will be for nothing! All his attempts to get over him and forget about him. The pain and the restraint whenever he watched his phone ring and ring, but hadn’t picked up. All the messages he deleted after reading them, everything inside him wanting to reply, wanting to call Jose back and just hear his voice. All the fights with his parents, Ada’s attempts to help him… If Jose sticks around everybody will find out what he is, people will talk, they will wonder and ultimately they will put two and two together and realize that Jose’s back because he had sex with him and wants to get in his pants again. Then his parents find out and he’ll lose… what exactly, Brock suddenly wonders. The thought makes him livid.

Why can’t Jose accept his decision? Why can’t he respect that he can’t have him in his life? Why can’t he see that he’s not good for Jose and will only drag him down with him? What does this beautiful, charming and charismatic man, with more money than he could ever dream of, friends and a career, want with him, a loser who is in the closet, suffers from anxiety and still lives with his parents? It’s a cruel joke god’s playing on him, that’s what it is. This is why he’s never done this before. Anonymous random hook ups with strangers are safer, because they surely can’t just come back and find you when they want.

”I can be wherever I wanna be, right Noah, my man? You remember me? You remember uncle Vanjie?” Jose baby talks to his nephew and if Brock wasn’t so angry again, he’d find it cute. Lately, he’s always angry and he rarely knows why.

”Fine, then you stay here, I’m gonna leave.” Brock says and looks around for his sister so she can take his nephew from him.

”Why you being such an asshole to me? I haven’t done nothing to you! Actually, I came back, ‘cause I was worried.” Jose gets louder as well and Brock can see Mr. Smith in the other aisle lift his head, clearly curious about what’s going on.

”No one needs to worry about me, least of all you. It’s none of your fucking business what’s going on with me. I don’t wanna talk to you, I don’t wanna text you. I want you to leave me the fuck alone! There, is that clear enough, in case me ignoring you wasn’t?” Brock hisses at him. Suddenly Ada is there beside him and he puts the baby in her arms.

”You’re a motherfucking jerk, you stupid, stuck-up, emotionally stunted asshole!” Jose roars and Brock blinks, because for a second he thinks Jose might actually hit him. He suddenly seems taller than him, he’s so angry he’s vibrating and his eyes are black at this point.

”Brock, ya better leave,” Ada tells him and places a hand on Vanjie’s arm. So much for the family support and loyalty. Since when is his own sister on Jose’s side? Shouldn’t she know why Brock is acting like he is?

Without another look at either of them, Brock hurries out of the store and slams the door behind him, so hard the glass nearly bursts.

He doesn’t take the car that is parked in front of the store, because he has no intention of going back to his parent’s farm and back to work. He’s tempted to kick Jose’s overly shiny and way too expensive car, but doesn’t.

Instead he stalks off into the empty fields, over the dry sand and small rocks, just to get away from everything.

Especially from the man with the expressive eyes and the ever-present scent of cologne, who used to be the person he dreamed about being with and who has now become his live-and-in-flesh nightmare.

***

Days later, Brock knows he has been played as soon as the black Porsche pulls up to his sister’s house. For two days, he managed to avoid Jose and he hoped that he would be gone by now, but no such luck.

When his sister had asked him to come over and help her run some errants he hadn’t become suspicious. Not even when he got there and she told him she had the kids and he had to go alone. Only when Jose drove up to the house, did he understand what was going on.

”You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he curses as Rachel runs off to give Jose a hug when he gets out of the car. The fact that said man is responsible for him not sleeping a wink the last two nights doesn’t help his mood.

”I thought I’d be more comfortable to take Jose’s car in this heat. It’s a two hour drive one way, ya know,” Ada shrugs and looks so innocent, that Brock nearly doubts she has anything to do with this.

”More comfortable?” Brock snorts about the fucking irony. There are very few places at the moment he’d be less comfortable in than in Jose’s car or anywhere where Jose is, really. It’s just so hard to be around him and knowing he has to push him away with all his might, while he wants nothing more than to just run to him and burry himself in his arms and never let go. It’s another wish in his fucked up life that will never come true, because he can’t allow himself to make it come true. He has to make sure at least Jose can be happy in the long run, so annoying him a bit now so he won’t get hurt might be the safest course of action. He has to protect those he loves and he absolutely loves Jose.

”What? You gonna throw a fit like a two year old? Vanjie’s right, ya know, you acting like an asshole,” Ada lectures him. ”Get into the car and be nice to him. He’s only helping us out and ya should be grateful not rude.”

”Yes, mom,” he rolls his eyes, gets into the passenger’s seat of the car and closes the door. It’s blissfully cool inside, the AC blasting as well as the music. Jose is still talking to Rachel and his sister outside and smiles and babbles with Noah. Brock has to smile at the picture, but stops himself when he realises what he’s doing and quickly looks away before he can get caught.

”Ya ready?” Jose’s tone is harsh, maybe unnerved and surely not as friendly, funny or warm as it used to be.

Brock grunts in reply and looks out the side window. He can see Jose’s reflection in it, the way his jaw clenches and how his eyebrows are drawn together. He looks as tense as Brock feels, which strangely enough makes him relax a bit.

Brock watches the landscape fly by as they drive out of town. It’s been a while since he’s been to Dallas, but this time they got no choice. Ada has given him a long list with things she needs and errants he needs to run for her. Usually she makes the trip once a month, but with Noah and looking after Brock, she hasn’t been in a while.

The whole drive Jose doesn’t say a word and neither does Brock. He’s glad when Jose turns the volume of the music up even more, so the silence between them isn’t as painfully obvious.

Also, it’s a good distraction. Whenever he gets too caught up in his thoughts and feelings, thinks about talking to Jose and apologising to him, maybe even reach over and take his hand, then he concentrates on the unfamiliar music and the beat.

”How long are ya gonna take?” Jose asks when he has parked the car in the parking space of the wholesale market.

”Maybe about an hour or two?” His tone is softer now, because the brusk way Jose treats him hurts. Brock wants him gone and leave him alone, but just so they can both stop hurting. He knows he’s hurt Jose with his silence, but it was for his own good. Being around him however and not being able to talk to him and Jose acting this cold towards him, is torture. All of Brock’s wounds are open and bleeding again.

”Imma be back in two hours,” Jose doesn’t even look at him as he speaks, he is staring out the front windshield.

”Jose…,” Brock starts, but then stops himself. He doesn’t really know what to say and he should leave it anyway. ”Two hours, ok.” He gets out of the car and as soon as the door closes behind him, Jose speeds off and leaves him stranded at the parking space.

When the two hours are up and Jose isn’t back, Brock worries that he’s just left him there. He thinks about calling him, but it doesn’t feel right to call him now, when he has been avoiding his calls for months. So he waits in the burning heat, his sister’s purchases under his arm and all around him.

After thirty minutes Jose finally pulls up. He doesn’t say anything as Brock puts the things in the trunk and Brock can see that Jose has done some shopping himself. There’s bags with clothes and shoes, all of them brands Brock could never afford.

It’s getting dark as they drive back and Brock feels more and more tired. They are still not talking, because there’s too much that needs to be said, but more that needs to be kept in. It makes Brock even more tired and exhausted, physically and emotionally.

He leans his head back against the headrest and enjoys the feeling of the soft leather against his cheek, the cool air of the AC hitting his overheated face. He breathes in deeply, lets Jose’s scent wash over him, a mix with the scent of the leather of the seats and the night air.

Brock finally gives in and closes his eyes because they’re burning. He lets his left hand come to rest on the middle console.

He’s basically asleep when it registers in is subconsciousness that Jose’s fingers are laced through his, as he drives him back home. The warmth of the touch spreads from Brock’s fingertips through his whole body.

***

”Brock! Ada!” It’s his father who is yelling and Brock wonders if he’s only angry or also drunk. It’s barely noon and usually his father isn’t drunk at this time, but neither is he usually this angry.

”Hey dad,” Ada remains as friendly as ever, but Brock notices that she left the baby in the back, while four of her other kids are playing in the aisles of the store.

”Can y’all tell me what ya doing hanging out with that… guy?” his father comes straight to the point.

”What are you talking about?” Brock decides to play dumb, while he is secretly itching for a fight, has so for weeks.

”Don’t pretend ya don’t know what I’m talking about! Wilson just told me that the gay dancer is back in town and he’s been here in the store. And you’ve been seen with him at night when ya been taking stuff from his car!” Brock’s stomach clenches and he’s suddenly nauseous.

”You mean Vanjie? He helped us out by driving to Dallas and picking up stuff at the wholesale market.” Ada’s explanation sounds so innocent.

”Why’s he even back here?”

”Visiting Jason again?” Ada lies. They both know that’s not why Jose is back, even though they haven’t talked about it. Brock doesn’t really know yet how much his sister is involved in Jose coming back, but his gut tells him it’s a whole lot.

”And what do you have to do with Jason?” his father asks, then slams his cane to the ground. ”You stay away from these people, ya hear me? Both of you. And you,” he turns to Rachel, who has been watching the whole talk, ”no more dance lessons with the gays, no more of this music and these dance moves. No grand-daughter of mine will behave or dress like a whore!”

”Enough!” Ada raises her voice. ”You will not talk to my daughter that way or call her names.”

”I will talk to your daughter whichever way I want.”

”No, you won’t!” Ada interrupts him, her face red with anger. ”And while we’re at it: You will not talk to my children that way, you won’t swear or curse around’em, you won’t be drunk around’em and you won’t tell’em what to do. You hear me?” Brock stares at his sister in awe. The Lioness has entered and is fighting for her cubs.

”How dare you talk to me this way? Who do you think you are?” his father roars and steps closer to Ada, who doesn’t move an inch, even as Rachel hurries to her side.

”Don’t you dare!” Brock intervenes and steps between his father and his sister and niece, pushing him back. ”Don’t even think about it,” he hisses when he sees his father’s grip on his cane tighten.

”You think you can tell me what to do? The lover of all wronged and friend to all faggots. You’re a disgrace! All of you! God will punish you for the way you’re behaving! Mark my words.”

”Out!” Ada says, still not moving an inch, even though her father is still towering over her, with only Brock in between to stop him.

”You can’t throw me out. I’m your father!” The cane lifts off the ground, but Brock pushes his father backwards and into a shelf. It’s not a hard push, but it’s enough to put him off balance so he needs his cane back on the ground to catch himself.

”You heard Ada. Leave! Now!”

His father gapes at him in disbelieve and with anger written all over his face. He’s livid, but Brock’s anger matches his father’s.

”And don’t you dare ever raising a hand against my sister or niece ever again,” Brock adds, because at this moment for whatever reason he has the courage to do it. If his father’d try to beat him up, punch him and kick him like he used to do with them when they were kids, Brock would finally have an outlet for months of frustration and anger, because he would fight back this time.

”We’ve had enough of your anger and your cursing and your aggression. You’re a bully and a drunk. You talk about god and the church and you beat your own wife and children. Get the hell out of my store!” Ada yells. With one look back, his father leaves. Both Brock and Ada are breathing hard once he’s finally gone Rachel holding on to Ada’s side. They share a disbelieving look about what they just did and Brock feels a mixture of elation and fear.

”Mommy, you said hell,” Rachel timidly points out and makes the two adults in the room smile, as the random observation lightens the mood.

”I know, I’m sorry. I’ll ask for forgiveness later,” Ada tries hard not to laugh. ”Rachel, baby, will you check on Noah in the back?” She waits until her daughter is gone before she speaks again. ”Thank you.”

”There’s absolutely nothing you have to thank me for. I should have stepped in before when he got so aggressive towards you.”

”I don’t care what he does to me, even though Joe had a talk with him about that before. But he doesn’t lay a hand on my children. I won’t have it!”

”You’re a great mom, Ada. I wish our mom was as strong as you,” Brock quickly reaches over and gives her a hug.

”Speaking of mom: Can you go and check on her? I’d hate it if he lets out his frustration on her and uses her as a punching bag.”

”Sure. You gonna be ok here with all the kids?”

”Of course. They’ll help me serve the customers,” Ada smiles and places a kiss on Brock’s cheek.

***

”Mom? Mom?” Brock calls as he enters the house and listens carefully for any sounds of a fight or a beating.

”Brock? What’s wrong?” She comes out of the kitchen, a kitchen knife still in her hands.

”Nothing, just… was dad here?”

”Yes, he came home, but then left again.” She says.

”Did he hurt you?” It’s the first time Brock has ever asked her this directly. They all know that his father beats his mother and they’ve all seen it. But no one ever talks about it. His mother looks surprised about the question, but then slowly shakes her head.

”No, he was upset and was cursing Ada, Rachel and you. That’s all.”

”So he didn’t hit you?” He asks again, just so they’re clear.

”No.” At his mother’s reassurance, Brock feels relieved. ”What happened?”

”He came into the store and was angry about Jason’s friend helping out Ada. He cursed in front of the kids, told Rachel she wasn’t allowed to go to dance class anymore and threatened Ada.”

”What do you mean threatened?”

”He nearly hit her with the cane.”

”He’s her father.” His mother replies with a shrug, like that explains everything.

”Exactly, he’s our father and your husband and that still doesn’t give him the right to beat any of us. It’s wrong now that we’re all adults and it was even worse when we were kids.”

”Kids need to learn to respect their parents and behave. Otherwise they won’t behave outside in society and that’s not god’s way. They need to have respect.”

”We never respected him, mom. We feared him,” Brock sighs and sits down on the sofa. ”Ada threw him out of the store when he threatened Rachel. I think she’s finally had enough. I had to step in. I won’t have him beat up my sister or my niece.”

”It’s not right Brock, none of it. Rachel shouldn’t be with these gay people and listen to this music and wear these clothes. Ada shouldn’t disrespect her father. And you, you’ve changed. You’re not even going to church anymore and hang out with the wrong people. Your father was just upset and he has a right to be.”

”So you agree with him?”

”I agree with his opinion, but not with the beatings,” she finally admits.

”Jose, that’s Jason’s friend, helped us out a lot, while he was here the last time. Without him I wouldn’t have been able to get to Dan when he was in hospital, Rachel would have had to ride her bike alone in the middle of the night and Noah would have been born either at home or somewhere between here and the hospital.” Talking about it makes Brock feel even worse about the way he treated Jose. ”And Jason isn’t a bad person either. He cares about the kids and is a good teacher. I don’t know him that well, but he’s always friendly, even though everyone in this town treats him like crap. I’ve decided that I’ve had enough, mom. Enough of the hate that the reverend preaches and enough of the prejudices and the pettiness. The bible talks about love and compassion, but all the reverend gives us are rules on how to mistreat and judge each other. I can’t do it no more. It makes me sick. I work from morning till night, seven days a week. I help Ada and I help Dan on top of running this farm. I have no life of my own and I’ve never complained. But I won’t be controlled anymore, not by dad and not by the reverend.” Brock tells his mother with all the seriousness the matter needs. He has never talked to his mother as openly before. It’s not like she ever asked about his thoughts. ”Rachel is a child and all Ada wants for her is to have some fun. We never had any fun growing up, mom. There was church and school and work. And in between the beatings from dad. I don’t blame you, but I can’t pretend that I understand you either.” He sighs heavily. ”All I’m saying is that I’ve had enough. No more.”

”What does that mean? You leaving?” His mother asks him, her face unreadable.

”Do you want me to leave?”

”No, of course not,” she shakes her head. ”Who’s supposed to do the work around here, if you leave?”

That one hits him harder than his father’s beatings ever could and leaves him gasp for his next breath. Then Brock swallows hard, clears his voice. ”Is that the only reason? The farm? Work?” It’s hard to keep the tears at bay, when it’s made clear to him that that’s all he is, even for his mother: a worker, stable boy, another source of income.

”No,” she says finally, her face still stoic. Then she gets up and gives his shoulder a squeeze. ”No,” she repeats quietly and disappears back into the kitchen.

TBC

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #m/m au #slow burn #romance #smut #angst #hot as hell and no ac #blackhighheels #tw religion #tw internalized homophobia

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maybehesclawstrophobic · 5 years ago

Text

Let’s Try to be Civil(ians)

Wanting to spend more time with Ladybug, Chat suggests the two don disguises and hang out as civilians.

When the two venture out, big sunglasses and hats galore, they soon realize that pretending this isn’t a date might be just as hard as protecting their identities.

AO3 Ch. 2

Chapter 1

He fell in love in a single moment, suspended in time. Looking up at a girl who was standing her ground against a powerful menace that threatened the city she called home. A single stance at the top of the Eiffel Tower, a single reassurance to the people of Paris, a superhero.

She was unstoppable. She held the safety of the city in one hand and his heart in the other. The fierceness in her eyes as she challenged Hawkmoth announced to the whole world that she would never give up and would never back down from a fight.

In every moment after that, he found himself falling all over again. He fell in love in an infinite collection of infinitesimal moments, multiplying over in his mind to enforce the certainty of his affection.

And everytime a heart broke in Paris, everytime the city dissolved into chaos, he couldn’t help but smile softly to himself at the thought of spending time with her, regardless of the context in which that time was spent.

Yet even with this permanent grin on his face, the sorrow of unattainable reciprocation cast a shadow he could never quite escape.

Anytime he hoped to hope, anytime he gazed at the one who held his heart, and he placed everything on the table, Ladybug would give him the same soft look and the same “I’m sorry Chaton . . .”

He couldn’t help the overflow of emotion he held in his heart, yet would always place her comfort and trust above his own selfish desires, so he learned to channel his affections into playful banter rather than obsessive pining.

(He would save the pining for the times he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as a single tear paved a cold path down his cheek)

The two fell into a comfortable rhythm. Chat would drop a line or confess his undying love with a wink, and Ladybug would roll her eyes and giggle at his antics.

After a while, he stopped asking her out in the hopes she would say yes. He asked her out to remind her that he loved her, and if the response was always “maybe next time . . .” or “you know we can’t . . .,” it didn’t matter. What mattered was her.

He wanted to see her. He wanted to spend time with her. He wanted to drop a line and watch in glee as she giggled, turning away so that he couldn’t catch the blush on her face.

Any time he gained, any moment he could add to his infinite collection, he would cherish over anything and everything else.

Perhaps that’s why he found himself grabbing onto Ladybug’s wrist right as she poised to swing away, both of them three beeps away from shedding the layers between them. Maybe that’s why this “I’m sorry Chaton . . .” had hurt just as much as the others. Maybe that’s what prompted him to say,

“Wait! M’la . . . Ladybug! Please. I know you don’t see me that way. But really, I just want to spend time with you,” he admitted, wringing his hands together.

“Chat, I’m sorry, but I really have to go,” she urged, two beeps ringing out into the crisp night air.

“What if . . . what if we didn’t go out go out. What if we just went out? As friends?”

The suggestion hung between them as Ladybug paused, considering the option in her mind.

He continued, “we could just hang out and Chat, some miraculously needed team bonding if you will.” The idea started to take shape in his mind, his excitement increasing tenfold as the feasibility of his request grew more apparent. “We could meet up as civilians! Wear crazy hats and ridiculous sunglasses like those American tourists! We could . . . “

A final beep from both miraculouses cut him off.

“Chat, we’re out of time! Look, let me consider it, okay? I’ll get back to you the next time we see each other” she offered, before breaking free from his grasp and bounding away.

---------

Marinette couldn’t believe she was actually doing this. She couldn’t believe she had actually convinced Tikki to even let her do this. Most of all, however, she couldn’t believe how excited she was to let Chat Noir know that she was on board.

They saw each other a few days after Chat’s initial offer. The akuma had been defeated quickly, with no need for either hero to use their special power. This was due in large part to the akumatized student’s decision to lay down and take a nap rather than use her newfound powers to wreak havoc on the city.

The two heroes leapt onto the closest building and looked at one another, neither wanting to speak first.

It was Chat who broke the silence.

“Soooo, M’lady, have you purrt any thought into my pawsome offer?” he queried, tail flitting back and forth.

Ladybug’s rolled her eyes and glared him down, ignoring the bubbly laugh that threatened to sneak past her throat and validate the boy’s goofy sense of humor.

“As a matter of fact, I have” She paused, eyes falling to the floor as she glanced at her feet. A wave of nervousness washed over her, and Marinette could feel a warm color brush its way across her nose and cheekbones. She had no reason to be hesitant. It wasn’t as if this was a date. This was not a date. In fact, the reason she was about to agree to it was dependent on that particular detail.

Risking a look up, she decidedly ignored the way Chat’s hopeful eyes sent a pang straight to her heart and answered, “I think you’re right. I think hanging out off the clock could be fun.”

His reaction was immediate. “This is great! I have it all planned out! M’lady, I swear you won’t regret this. We are going to have the time of our nine lives.”

He paused to wiggle his eyebrows and puff out his chest in self-appreciation of his joke before continuing on, “Do you know that park we’ve fought at a few times? The one we tried to lure Mr. Pigeon to all that time ago?”

Ladybug nodded, a smile taking over her face in response to Chat’s bright eyes and joyful tone.

“We could meet up there,” Chat suggested, “at-or, whenever works for you.”

“I’m free at 12:00 tomorrow, since it’s a Saturday.”

“Perfect! I know a great place to grab a bite near there, and it shouldn’t be too hard to spot each other if we’re wearing ridiculous disguises,” he offered, “It’s going to be amazing Bugaboo, almost as amazing as you,” he flirted, causing Ladybug to smack his shoulder as a way from distracting him (and herself) from how flustered the comment left her.

Having solidified the plan, Chat Noir took off, leaving Ladybug alone on the rooftop.

She lay a hand on her chest, surprised by her racing heartbeat.

This is normal, she told herself, I’m just excited about hanging out with my friend.

A picture of Chat Noir flashed into her mind, his boyish smile, the sheer goofiness he radiated from every pore, and his steadfast loyalty. She would never let him know just how much she was looking forward to spending time with him. He would never know the giddy effect he had on her.

She shook her head, snapping back to reality. She would not become some type of fangirl, swooning over the elusive Chat Noir. She was in love with someone else, someone kind and selfless and generous. This outing was not a date, and Marinette was determined for it not to sway her from her immovable love for Adrien.

Just the thought of Adrien, the thought of him offering her his umbrella or catching her when she inevitably fell down the stairs of the collegé, was enough to deter her from the dangerous line of thought she was embarking upon. There would only ever be room in her heart for one boy, and that boy was not Chat Noir.

(Yet as she swung off into the night, her racing heart continued to say otherwise)

---------

“You look ridiculous.”

“Gee Plagg, thanks for the support,” Adrien responded, giving a side-eye to the kwami in question.

Plagg, either not noticing or not caring, continued, “I mean, you always look ridiculous, but this really takes the cake.”

Adrien frowned, looking over his choice of outfit in the mirror. Was it too much? The black slacks and a black button up shirt he wore would have looked good onere their own, but were greatly overshadowed by his attempts at disguising his identity.

The upper half of his torso and his neck were obscured by a big green scarf he made after snatching some fabric on a modelling job. The material was fraying and bound to fall apart without being properly hemmed, but it would do for the day.

The look was completed by a black snapback pulled low over his eyes and a pair of big sunglasses with paw prints in the upper corners of the frames.

His eyes glanced over the whole get together in the mirror, arm reaching out to rub behind his neck.

Plagg’s ears perked up as he watched his chosen spend a little too much time looking over his outfit in the mirror. He should probably let the kid catch a break: “I do also think everything other that camembert looks ridiculous, kid, so you never know, she might find you endearing.”

“Aw Plagg, you do care,” Adrien grinned.

He checked the clock. 11:00. Only one more hour. Deciding it couldn’t hurt to be early, Adrien headed out, being cautious as he left his home so as not to alert his father of his current fashion disaster status. Plagg flew close behind, flying into the pocket of Adrien’s slacks once the two got outside.

By the time he reached the park, Adrien couldn’t keep still. He was bouncing up and down on the tips of his toes and glancing all over the place for a sign of Ladybug.

He circled the park, taking in the children playing on the carousel and the various teenagers sitting on blankets and benches throughout the area. The sun shone bright rays of light on everything, creating a picture of a perfect day.

He breathed in the air, closing his eyes to let the moment sink in, before a large lump of something ran right into him and pushed both of them to the floor.

Opening his eyes, relieved to find his disguise still intact, he looked up at the face peering down on top of him. It was a girl, wincing at the compromising position she had put them in. She wore a red t-shirt and black jeans, with a black sun hat covering the top layer of her face and a pair of red cat eye sunglasses obscuring the rest.

“I am so sorry! I was running late, and I’m supposed to meet my friend, and I guess I’m just super nervous because I’m super excited to spend time with him, but don’t tell him that or I’ll never hear the end of it, and now I’ve gone and run right into you, and now I’m rambling, and oh I’m just so sorry about all this,” she rushed, as a loose strand of dark hair made its way from under the hat out into the open air.

“M’Lady?” Chat questioned, watching in glee as the girl in question widened her eyes and scrambled up to standing.

“Chat?” she started, “Is that really you?”

Chat stood up, holding his arms wide before bringing them in and bowing, “‘tis me, LB, the one and only Chat Noir.”

“Oh please with the theatrics. I still can’t believe I’m doing this.” Ladybug responded, fiddling with her hands in front of her.

“Oh really? Because I seem to remember someone saying how she was super excited to spend time with me,” Chat smirked, pushing further, “not that I’m surprised. I am pretty great, if I do say so myself.”

Ladybug glared Chat down at his over-the-top antics. Even though he was momentarily terrified for his life, Chat couldn’t help but take a moment to take in her powerful stance and focused attention. Even in civilian clothing, there was no way this fiery presence in front of him could be anyone but Ladybug.

He found it difficult to breathe as he watched her bare arms and hands sway back and forth at her sides, unobscured by a tough red suit.

His eyes tracked her right hand as it reached up and grabbed onto his own left hand, fingers entwining with slow hesitance.

“Come on! Let’s go check out the carousel!” she beamed, and Chat realized how foolish he had been to admire the brightness of the sun when a far greater source of light was now only two feet away.

She pulled them over to the ride, not a care in the world about the fact that the ride was geared towards younger children.

Chat Noir clenched the hand Ladybug wasn’t holding, sweat pooling at the back of his neck. He was not going to make this weird. He was going to function like a perfectly normal human being. He was not going to freak out about the feeling of her soft hand gripping his. He was not going to freak out about Ladybug pulling him into one of the carousel’s benches so they could sit together. He was not going to freak out, period. This was just a normal outing between friends. It didn’t matter that his entire face felt hot, and he wanted nothing more than to squeeze Ladybug’s hand. It wasn’t like this was a date. This was not a date.

The ride started and he saw Ladybug perk up with a childlike enthusiasm he never got to see in the midst of a battle.

A grin split her face, and she leaned over to say, “I used to ride this carousel all the time when I was a kid. I mean, I’m still technically a kid, but that was-you know what I mean.”

“I get it. When I was much smaller, I used to tie a blanket around my neck and run around the house pretending I was a superhero,” Chat offered, lowering his voice as a wave of shyness washed over him. He never really talked about his childhood, but with Ladybug he felt safe enough to continue, safe enough to be vulnerable in the presence of a friend, “little me had no idea he was getting in some vital practice for saving the day.”

Ladybug giggled, the rim of her hat bouncing up and down in rhythm with her movements. “That’s adorable! I keep picturing a little Chat running around with a blanket swooping out behind him! Imagine if your younger self could see you now”

“He would have absolutely lost his mind!”

“Hmmmmm, are you sure he that he didn’t?” she teased, waiting for Chat to realize what she was implying.

“Hey!” he shot back, glad that his glasses could hide some of the blush making its way across his cheekbones, “Just two seconds ago you were calling me adorable! Let’s go back to that,” he went on, “and M’Lady I can assure you that my mind is just as sharp as my jawline.”

She leaned in closer, as if trying to see for herself, before finally letting go of Chat’s hand and instead feeling the fabric wrapped around Chat’s neck. “Maybe I could see that jawline if you weren’t swaddled in so much loose fabric. Where did you even find this?”

Chat sputtered at her proximity, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for the fabric that didn’t involve the fact that he was the most famous model in Paris, “Um . . . well . . . you see, I found, or I didn’t find-I took-er . . . “

“Oh my god did you STEAL this?” she exclaimed, drawing a few glances from parents in the area.

“What! No! I would never,” he panicked, his honor on the line.

“Okay, it’s okay, I trust you,” she comforted, “but you do realize that tying some loose fabric around yourself doesn’t automatically make a scarf, right?”

Chat Noir watched in wonder as the girl in front of him went off on a tangent, speaking clearly and eloquently about the ins and outs of creating a scarf. She talked about the different types of scarves, she talked about the amount of effort one had to put in to make a scarf, and she even gave a little bit of history on the origin of scarves.

The lights of the carousel reflected in her glasses, mimicking the gleam Chat knew her eyes held in that moment.

He drank in any information he could, beyond grateful to Ladybug for sharing a part of herself she was passionate about.

The ride slowed to a stop, and the two got off, walking idly around the park.

Chat was about to suggest what to do next when the sound of Ladybug’s stomach grumbling filled the air.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she laughed, “I didn’t have a chance to grab breakfast.”

Chat internally smacked himself for forgetting about food. The excitement of the day had washed away that detail of their plans entirely. He took a deep breath to calm himself before remembering where he was and grinning as an idea took shape.

“Don’t worry, I know the perfect place to grab a bite,” he suggested, “in fact, we are within walking distance to the greatest bakery in all of Paris!”

Marinette looked on in horror as the boy gestured directly towards the Dupain-Cheng’s.

---------

Major thank you/shout out to @etiepe and @lady-charinette for reading this over for me. Y’all are amazing!

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melonkooky · 6 years ago

Text

an old flame [jung hoseok]

not requested

word count: 3372

genre: angst, fluff at the end, slight soulmate!au

warnings: mentions of drinking, mentions of sexual scenes 👀👀

author’s note: so the beginning is a little boring but it gets way better near the middle, dont worry.

please do not copy my work. but please like and reblog it. thank you!!!!

masterlist (in bio)

it was around 10:00 pm when you left your apartment with your boyfriend. he had pulled up to the street in his car, where your apartment complex was located at. he had texted you to let you know he was there, leaving a heart emoji after. once you had decided that you were ready, you left your apartment. you walked out of the building, slightly strutting - in a playful manner - onto the sidewalk, in a tight dress that made you absolutely stunning. it was a short, black dress, ending just above your knees. your boyfriend smirked when you looked at him, smiling. your heels clicked along the sidewalk as you arrived at his car. your boyfriend, himself, looked quite snazzy and dashing, dressed in a casual black tuxedo, with a simple white t-shirt under. his hair was combed and covered his forehead.

you and him were going to a party in seoul. it was the birthday of a good friend of his. and seeing as everyone were now adults and old enough to consume alcohol, he invited everyone he knew and could think of to the hottest spot in seoul: omelas nightclub. you were very excited. you were looking forward to seeing both your and his friends, as well as spend some time with everyone and have fun.

the night was nice and warm. while your boyfriend drove, you rolled down your window and allowed the air to push back your hair (in a less elegant way of course, but you didn’t care too much). you arrived at omelas, adjusting your hair once again as your boyfriend pulled off to the side of the street, turning the engine off. you and your boyfriend walked into the club hand-in-hand, looking very expensive. hell, some people had to double-take when you stepped in. it looked like you and your boyfriend owned the nightclub.

“y/n!” you heard a shout. “jaehyun!”

you and your boyfriend looked around, finding a tall male waving his hand up in the air. he had a dorky birthday hat on top of his head while flashing a wide grin in your direction. you laughed and shook your head as jaehyun, your boyfriend, led the way to where the rest of the group was. it was a pretty large group of friends. you and jaehyun joined the group, greeting each and every one of your friends. “happy birthday, yunho.” you said loudly.

the music was loud in the club, so naturally you had to speak loudly to get your voice heard. the lights were also dimmed, with bright, neon lights flickering and flashing a variety of colors, syncing with the beat of every song that played. seeing as it was a saturday, and quite late, omelas was already packed with young adults. you could feel the rush of adrenaline from the overall atmosphere undermine your feeling of anxiety, due to some past events. you waved the thought away before it could even come. you flashed a smile at yunho.

“thank you.” the birthday boy replied, dancing happily with a glass of alcohol in his hand.

you laughed at him, before suddenly feeling jaehyun’s head next to yours. you could feel his warmth radiating against your skin. his breath tickled your ear as he asked you, “do you want me to get you something to drink?”

despite feeling a bit uncomfortable at the sudden interaction, you smirked slightly. a light laugh escaped through your lips, and looked at him. “i would love a drink.”

your boyfriend smiled before kissing your cheek and disappearing into the crowd. you watched him leave before turning back to the group, before frowning slightly. “so, y/n.” your best friend, jennie, called.

you removed your frown immediately and looked at her. you were stunned. you felt slightly envious of her plump red lips and dark eyeshadow. she looked gorgeous in that dark red dress of hers as well, a contrast to her porcelain legs. jennie had always so beautiful and mature. you smiled at her. “hey, jennie.”

she gestured you to come closer, patting a spot in the booth next to her while scooting over. you sat down in the offer spot, soothing out your dress. “having fun?” she asked while sipping her cocktail.

you laughed. “i just got here.”

she shrugged. “i know. but,” she paused, causing you to look at her. “you never come here anymore. i thought it would be fun for you, give you some closure.” you knew exactly who she was talking about. the name didn’t have to be said.

but you knew.

you gulped hard. you’d rather not talk, or even think about the past. you felt a bit uncomfortable, but you kept a strong, unbothered look. you simply shrugged, “well, i’m here now. and i’m going to enjoy it.”

you sighed after, however. you really did love going out, and having fun. but something felt off suddenly. you could only ignore the unusually feeling in your stomach and to continue on.

finally, after some light conversation, your boyfriend arrived with two different glasses in his hand. he presented a neon yellow-green colored drink to you, a happy grin on his face. “the bartender said this drink is best for people who can’t hold their liquor.”

you glared at your boyfriend before taking your drink, taking a small sip from it. it had an odd taste. but you liked it.

after an hour or so, you could feel yourself slipping away. you have had three drinks at this point. you knew you could get drunk easily, and of course jaehyun knew that too. but he insisted on getting you more drinks, as if he wanted you to get wasted. despite trying to keep yourself stable, you couldn’t say no to alcohol at this point.

you and all the girls talked. sometimes about childhood memories, embarrassing stories, a random joke. everyone was already drunk and full of giggles and laughs. the men were drunk too, and their laughs could be heard over the music.

jennie had just made a joke about her boyfriend. it didn’t make any sense, but it was hilarious. while laughing, you bent over the table, holding your stomach. you then sat up straight and peered up at your boyfriend, who flashed you a silly smile as you laughed. but subconsciously, you looked across the club at the other side where the tables were. you did not expect to see him.

your boyfriend immediately noticed something had happened when your goofy smile had so suddenly dropped, as if you hadn’t been laughing your ass off milliseconds before. you seemed shocked, perhaps even afraid. he slowly followed your gaze. jaehyun noticed an unfamiliar guy across the club. his eyes holding a dark, menacing gaze as he stared directly at you. jaehyun felt a pang in his heart. jealousy as some would call it. someone else was looking at you. he moved in front of you, blocking your gaze. he then bent down to you, “do you know who that is?” he asked, his tone dark and possessive.

you gulped as you listened to your boyfriend. you met his eyes and saw them darken but he didn’t look nearly as scary as the guy you had just spotted. you cleared your throat before turning away from him. you held your drink up to your lips. “just an old flame.” you replied before finishing your drink in one last gulp.

then you stood up, lightly pushing your boyfriend out of your way. jaehyun seemed confused and annoyed. “hey, where are you going?” he asked, grabbing your wrist.

you turned around and avoided his eyes. “just the restrooms.” you responded.

jaehyun pulled you closer to him. you had to remind yourself that he was only acting this way because he was drunk. “something is wrong.”

you looked at him, looking directly into his eyes. “nothing is wrong.” then you pulled your wrist out of his iron grasp. “i just need to use the bathroom.”

you felt jaehyun’s eyes on your back as you pushed past various bodies, making your way to the back of the building where the bathrooms were located. you felt your chest tighten, probably from all the people. thoughts were flooding through your head. a chest, in which you had packed everything you had ever wanted to forget, a chest in which you had locked and kept away, had just been unlocked and opened with just the simple sight of one familiar face. your ex. and now all those thoughts were rushing back. it was overwhelming.

finally, you were alone. the music wasn’t as loud, thank god. you didn’t need that to add to your pounding head. you felt like you could breathe again. you sighed and pressed yourself against the wall. you tried your best to calm yourself down. how could he still have this kind of affect on you, despite having left him a year ago. you closed your eyes, trying not to think about him.

“y/n.” you suddenly heard.

you jumped, not expecting anyone. and just for a second, you thought jaehyun had followed you. but you could recognize that soothing voice anywhere. you inhaled a deep breath before looking at him. “hoseok.”

fortunately, he maintained his distance. but you could see. he seemed...broken. the dark gaze you had seen just minutes ago had now been replaced with a sad, lifeless look. you felt your heart sink instantly.

you forced your voice out, “what are you doing here?”

“honestly,” he began, but paused. “never mind. it doesn’t matter.”

you looked at him, your eyes narrowing. you didn’t understand.

“you know, i was already here when you walked right through that door. fuck, you looked so beautiful. i hadn’t seen you in so long, but i hadn’t forgotten anything.” hoseok let out a dry laugh. “but then, i noticed the guy standing next to you, holding your hand.” hoseok spoke about your now boyfriend with such disgust and hatred.

you swallowed hard, averting your gaze to the floor, looking at anything else by hoseok. “what do you want, hoseok?”

he scoffed. “i want you back.”

you felt yourself begin to shake slightly, as if your bottled up emotions were about to come spilling out, spiral out of control. you tried to stay calm. “i have a boyfriend.”

“do you really love him though?!” hoseok snapped, his eyes now with yours. you forced yourself to look into his eyes.

your eyes widened as his sudden outburst.

“i...do.” you force yourself to say.

“no. no, you don’t.” hoseok shook his head.

you sighed, feeling a stray tear fall down your soft cheeks. he was right. and you hated that he was right. you had come across jaehyun a month after you left hoseok. you thought it was love. you thought that jaehyun was going to be able to mend your heart back into one piece. but you soon found that he was just a rebound for you, just some guy that could fill in gaping hole in your heart. jaehyun was just someone who could replace hoseok.. you thought you loved him, you really did. but, you were lying to yourself.

“hoseok.” you squeaked out, your voice cracking.

he asked, “why are you with him?”

you looked up, watching as hoseok cautiously approached you. his dark eyes flashed an array of emotion. you shook your head. you felt confused, even though there was nothing to be confused about. everything was clear, and exposed. perhaps you just didn’t want to admit it.

“y/n.” hoseok called again. his voice was soft and reassuring, drawing you into him.

this effect. every time hoseok said your name, you longed for him. every time you looked at him, you wished to be his again. “tell me.” hoseok said calmly.

“i met him a month after i left you.” you admitted, hurrying to explain yourself as if you were running out of time. “he was funny, and kind, and understood that i had just gone through a terrible, terrible break up. jaehyun was patient with me. he made sure to never make me uncomfortable. he never forced me into anything. and i thought...i thought that i was in love with him.”

you met hoseok’s eyes, finding that he was smirking. perhaps it was the alcohol talking. but you still knew what you were saying. “but it turned out, he was just a replacement, to fill in your spot. i just didn’t like the feeling of you not being there.”

hoseok felt a wave of relief. his heavy heart instantly felt lighter. he knew you didn’t love the jaehyun guy, not after what you and him had. hoseok walked closer to you, taking slow steps. you didn’t move away.

hoseok now stood directly in front of you. he was taller than you, just as you had remembered. how you missed his warmth, his scent, his presence. you closed your eyes, relishing the feeling of his warm hands gently cupping your cheeks. it felt all too familiar, as if you and him hadn’t been apart for a year. you hadn’t realized you were crying, until you felt hoseok gently stroke your cheeks, wiping your tears ago.

“i lied to you earlier.” he said.

you opened your eyes and looked up at hoseok. his gaze was soft and loving. you missed him.

you looked at him, slightly puzzled. you tried to recall what he could have possibly lied about. “what do you mean?”

hoseok chuckled, his eyes coming down to look at your lips. “i mean, i knew you would come here.”

you felt your face scrunch with confusion. your eyebrows knitted together. you stared at hoseok as he continued, “jennie told me you would be here tonight.”

and there it was. you felt a sense of relief wash over you. “jennie.” you mumbled. but then, your eyes widened as you suddenly felt worried. “jennie!” you repeated. “i have to get back to them. they’re probably wondering why i’m taking so long.”

but before you could even step away hoseok, he swiftly grabbed your arm and turned you around. you gasped, but then was met with the feeling of his lips on yours. an old flame, as what you had called hoseok. but now, that flame was glowing much brighter, radiating much more heat. it was no longer dull and sad.

you practically melted into hoseok. his skin against yours, his lips against your own, his hands on your cheeks. it felt surreal, like a dream. but you knew it wasn’t all a dream (you weren’t drunk enough to have passed out). you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. this moment proved that hoseok still had a tight grasp of your heart.

you reluctantly pulled away. your cheeks felt hot as you blushed. hoseok smiled lovingly as he looked at you. you felt the corners of your cheeks tug in response. you smiled in return, grinning widely. both you and hoseok felt whole again.

hoseok pulled you into his chest while wrapping his arms around your body. you sighed contently, wrapping your own arms around him. you then felt his warm breath against your ear. of course, you felt a whole nother feeling compared to when jaehyun did this to you earlier. “let’s get out of here.”

you immediately nodded. you wanted nothing more than to run off with hoseok once again, and leave jaehyun. you felt slightly bad, he was a nice guy after all. but you and him weren’t meant to be together. you didn’t love jaehyun.

“how are we going to get out of here?” you asked worriedly. “jaehyun would easily spot us trying to leave.”

“i might be able to help with that.”

you jumped at the sudden voice. your head whipped around, finding that it was only your best friend. “jennie.” you smiled.

she smiled, her hand waving at you and hoseok. “i’m glad everything seemed to work out.”

“you set it all up.” you replied, trying to suppress a smile.

“and it worked. my plans always work. anyways, i have managed to keep jaehyun from storming over here. he thinks you’re severely sick, since you get drunk easily.”

you sighed. “i’m not drunk now.”

“i’ll just explain everything to him. while i’m doing that, you and hoseok can sneak out of the doors and run off into the sunset.” she teased, feigning a dreamy look while holding her grasped hands under her chin.

you rolled your eyes and shook your head. “fine, let’s go. thanks, jennie”

you grabbed hoseok’s hand and immediately started walking away. jennie laughed and headed in the other direction where jaehyun and everyone else were. you dashed towards the entrance door, but right before you slipped away, you glanced at jaehyun one last time. jennie seemed unfazed by the fact that she just dropped a major bombshell onto jaehyun. she probably didn’t even sugarcoat it. jaehyun seemed confused. he was drunk anyway, so perhaps he wasn’t thinking clearly. but still, he still looked like his soul had left his body. you smiled slightly, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. hoseok couldn’t wait for you any longer, desperate to spend time with you, and pushed you out of the door and onto the sidewalk. “don’t think about him anymore.” he demanded, a pout forming.

you grinned up at hoseok, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “you see, that might be a little hard, hobi.” you said while glancing at hoseok. it was an old nickname for him.

he blushed and grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “why is that?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at you.

“i had been with him for a year, a little more than a year actually, if i’m remembering correctly.”

hoseok looked at you. his eyes turned dark and menacing. and the smirk on his face only added to the seductive look. perhaps, it’s safe to say you were a little turned on. “leave it to me. tonight, i’ll make sure you forget him.”

you blushed, feeling flustered as you imagined what was going to happen later. hoseok smiled happily, acting as if he hadn’t done anything. “let’s go.”

| epilogue |

waking you up from a deep slumber, you felt an arm suddenly rest on the small of your back. you were laying on your stomach, your hands and arms tucked under the pillow that your head rested on. you were bare under the bed sheets, so you could feel the warmth of the arm directly on your skin. it was soothing.

you heard the bed creak slightly as the being next to you shuffled around. you groaned tiredly. you were trying to fall back asleep but hoseok kept moving. he was turning so that he was facing you. he chuckled breathy. “baby.” he whispered with his husky, morning voice.

you felt your stomach twist at the sudden nickname. hoseok was the only one that has called you baby and successfully turned you into a flustering mess. you tried to remain still and quiet, but a smile appeared on your face.

“i know you’re awake.” hoseok claimed, slightly offended.

“i’m trying to sleep.”

“but we have an whole day ahead of us.” as hoseok spoke, he moved himself on top of you, his head tucking into your neck. his soft, messy hair tickled.

you finally opened your eyes, laughing at hoseok’s clinginess. “hobi.”

he lifted his head up, meeting your eyes. he pecked your lips, after making sure you saw his pout. “i love you.” he whispered.

you blushed and smiled. “i love you too.”

hoseok grinned, pecking your lips again. “now get dressed. we’re going out for breakfast.”

and with that, hoseok jumped out of the bed, bending down to put on a pair of pants. you laughed and got up. you turned around to face hoseok, holding the grey bed sheets up to your chin. hoseok flashed a grin at you before hurrying into the closet, probably to change his clothes. you sighed. you didn’t necessarily want to get out of bed. but you did it anyways, because you would be spending the day with your one and only love.

#bts #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bts jung hoseok #bts hoseok #bts jhope #jung hoseok #jhope #bts one shot #bts imagine #bts scenario #hoseok one shot #bts angst #bts fluff #kpop

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rueitae · 6 years ago

Text

Fall Magic

Okay, so, have some more Mage! Pidge and Familiar! Lance.

Thanks @sp4c3-0ddity for beta work and listening to my excitement as usual!

This one takes place shortly after the brilliant prequel that she wrote for this AU.

They haven’t been together all that long in this one. All of these one shots won’t necessarily be in chronological order. Just moments of fluff as they come to me. Also, the series now has its own home on Ao3!

Read on Ao3 or below:

~~~~~

“And you’re sure you’ll be all right?”

“Pidge. Pidge Pidge Pidge Pidge,” Lance tsked. He strode gracefully from across the cottage and draped an arm around her burdened shoulders. Feeling mischievous, he leaned into her and brandished a duster from the front pocket of his apron, tickling her nose with the feathers briefly. He took it away dramatically just as she succumbed to the sneeze.

“The house could not be in safer hands,” he assured her.

Pidge wiped her nose then backed up out of his arms and closer to the door, opening it. The back of her wide brimmed hat curved over her backpack, stuffed over the brim with potions of all kinds. Lance took a brief moment to applaud his tailor work, Pidge’s green traveling cloak now hung just off the ground. It would surely prevent any further embarrassing tripping incidents.

For her part, Pidge didn’t seem impressed, rather she looked fairly concerned. “Okay, well, as long as you keep everything in order - and that means

organizing my potion formula,” she said in accusation.

Lance shot his hands up, eager to avoid conflict. “I don’t know how you can find them scattered around the workshop like that.”

“I have them memorized mostly,” Pidge answered. “And it may not be your standard of organization, but I know exactly where everything is.”

Lance slumped. “So why am I the one staying here?” he complained. “It would take me an hour tops to deliver the order. You’ll be wasting a whole week.” A whole week alone without Pidge left his heart hollow. Would she feel this way when he left for his family reunion?

“Because one sniff of you and Dr. Slav will go into a coughing and sneezing fit. I already told you he’s allergic to dragons.”

A prideful being, Lance stiffened. “I am the picture of health and cleanliness!” he said, offended. “There’s not a single bit of stray dander on me!”

“Until you perfect your human form, and learn a spell to hide your scent, you get to watch the house,” Pidge said dryly. Her face then softened. “Please, Lance. I need you to water the plants and give the right potion to anyone who might come by. That’s all you have to do. You can play around in the lake the rest of the time if you want.”

Lance’s heart melted. He couldn’t say no to Pidge when she asked so sincerely. “Okay. I meant it Pidge, the house is in good hands.” He sealed it with a smile, warmed by seeing her own grow larger in response.

“Thank you,” she told him. She put one foot out the door before turning back to him. “Call through the bond if you need anything. Maybe I’ll bring you back a nice gem figurine from the market.”

Lance waved her off, emboldened by the prospect of being able to add a precious gem to his hoard - a gift from Pidge at that!

“You have nothing to worry about! The plants will be watered and this place will be cleaner than a dragon’s egg by the time you get back.” And that was clean indeed. Dragon parents took the care of their offspring very seriously. “But your papers will stay exactly where they are,” he promised, just as Pidge was opening her mouth to remind him.

She sighed, albeit with a smile on her face. “I know you will. I’ve got one more thing to give you before I go.” She beckoned him to come closer.

Lance did so, the threshold of the doorway all that stood between them. “Uh, last minute advice?” He poked at their bond, trying to figure out what she was up to.

Pidge pulled him down gently by the top of the apron and kissed his lips, just as he caught on to what she had planned. Pleased, he returned the gesture, wishing it would last much longer than it did.

She pulled away and regarded him fondly. “You’re cute when you get that goofy grin on your face. I love you.”

Lance wrapped his arms around her, gripping the overstuffed backpack tight and planting his face in her hair. The smell of her herbal shampoo was intoxicating to his heightened senses. “I miss you already. I don’t want you to go.”

Pidge returned the hug, her arms around his waist made him feel more secure than his own wings. “That’s the bond talking,” she said. “It’s still pretty new, being clingy is to be expected.” She gave him a pat on the back, which turned into a light scratch. He melted, losing his grip and sighing contently. “We’re still in each other’s heads. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

“I know. I know,” Lance groaned. He knew she was right, but it didn’t make the feeling of emptiness go away.

“I wouldn’t be leaving if I didn’t have to, but the flu season is almost here. Dr. Slav is too busy administering what vaccine he has left. He needs more ingredients.”

The more she reasoned with him the worse he felt about being selfish. He backed away, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. “You’d better get going. The sooner you do the sooner you can come back,” he pouted. Before his resolve failed and he flew after her to bring her back home. He’d have to set his mind to anything else.

Pidge beamed, a laughing grin on her face. “You’re a cute blusher too,” she said.

Heat filled his cheeks, bringing it up only made it worse.

She held the doorknob with one hand. “One week,” she said. “I promise I’ll be back.”

“One week,” Lance repeated in acknowledgement.

Pidge grabbed her walking stick and smiled his way until she closed the door behind her, leaving Lance completely alone.

His fingers became fidgety, and his heart beat quickly.

He needed to do something to distract himself. Now.

~~~

Nervous energy kept Lance cleaning well into the early hours of the following morning. Working to exhaustion, he’d fallen asleep in human form. He woke slowly, cradling a pillow to his chest and wrinkling the sheets of their bed.

Their bed. Missing one Pidge.

His heart panged and he opened his eyes, taking in the sight of the gentle flowing curtains in the open windows. The soft breeze was not enough to chill him, but enough to bring in the smells of the outdoors inside.

Two dandelion fluffs floated in through the kitchen window. The blue one landed lightly on the stack of drying plates and the green one bounced off the bookshelf and onto the rug that surrounded the bed.

Lance groaned and forced himself to sit up, careful to set his feet down so that he would not disturb the bundle.

He knelt down and cupped the green flower within his palms. Upon contact, it shivered, and a pair of eyes formed. Marks underneath them glowed a cool blue. It looked at him with curiosity.

Lance gave it a good scratch. It trilled in response, and it made the dragon feel infinitely better. Dandelions were known for their good vibes, and Lance was grateful they had come his way. Legend said they would seek out sorrowful souls on purpose to lift their spirits.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” he told it. “Pidge would like you, green’s her favorite color.”

A gust lifted the dandelion from his hands and it landed near its blue friend. On contact with the living being, the blue one came to life as well. They stared for a half minute before Lance realized they were going to be content to just watch him.

He scratched his head. “Well, time to get to work I guess.”

Except everything was already clean. He’d taken care of that yesterday. Even the planters had been polished. So once he watered the plants that needed watering, Lance was at a loss of what to do.

He made the bed, spending as much time as possible changing the position of the pillows. Eventually, he fell face first onto the bed, taking in an elongated whiff of her scent. Pidge hadn’t even been gone twenty four hours and he felt like he was losing his mind.

Flipping over and sitting up, he observed the dandelions hadn’t moved from where he’d left them. Lance rested his elbows on his knees, and a cheek on his fist.

“I don’t suppose you two would want to play, would you?” He itched for something to do.

They stared silently back it him.

In a huff, Lance transformed into his familiar form. There was one thing he hadn’t done in a while! He half flew half climbed up the cupboards and preened as he came to a tiny corner out of reach from all but him. Here he kept his hoard and he had time aplenty to do inventory.

While traveling he hadn’t much ability to collect, but now that he had a permanent place of residence, he could add as many interesting odds and ends as he wanted.

He spent the rest of the afternoon polishing an old purple earring, the twin of which Pidge had lost years before meeting him. He gnawed on one of the one cent coins, enjoying the treat of copper in his mouth. The metallic meal was necessary for keeping his scales in pristine condition.

Even the relaxation in his own pile of coins grew old after a while.

He almost spent the night up there, but he missed Pidge too much and curled up in the bed to get the most of her lingering scent. The dandelions provided additional light from the new moon sky, but Lance fell asleep quickly.

He woke restless and growled. He couldn’t take another day of doing almost nothing.

He watered the plants, then set his butt on the seat of Pidge’s workbench. He might as well stay productive. Perhaps he could replenish the inventory of potions.

“How hard can it be?” he said aloud. He’d watched Pidge do this hundreds of times now, surely he could make a basic cure for sore muscles!

The dandelions blinked in response, still sitting delicately on the plates.

Lance cracked his fingers, eager to get started. He picked up the first written formula within his reach. A skin cleansing potion! Perfect! He could test it out himself!

He gathered the necessary plants one by one, taking great care to follow the portions of the formula exactly as written. He had to do this right, Pidge would be exceptionally proud.

Next, he ground them in the proper order. The recipe didn’t call for it, but he’d seen Pidge lump only certain plants together before combining them all. It enhanced the potency, she had said, just like mixing dry and wet ingredients while baking.

Lance could get behind that. He had become a huge fan of garlic knots thanks to his time with humans.

Now he needed to boil the leaves in the cauldron and add his own magic to complete the potion. Starting the fire was no problem. He’d made dinner plenty of times.

Lance chuckled sheepishly to the dandelions. “Probably should have started this first. Don’t tell Pidge,” he said, twiddling his thumbs embarrassingly. He could only take their silence as confirmation.

It took far too long for Lance’s liking, well into twilight, but finally the cauldron came to a boil. The warmth felt good at a distance and Lance briefly considered a swim. But that would ruin the potion, so he dismissed the idea.

He dumped the dried plant parts into the water and stirred. Now was the moment of truth, he needed to add magic.

This would be tricky, since his magic wasn’t the same as Pidge’s.

“Well, here goes nothing.” He wouldn’t know if he could help if he didn’t try. So he breathed icy air onto the boiling surface of the water, infusing his magic with the plants.

At first the water turned a murky green, as expected. Lance became concerned when it began to boil over into the fire. It never did this for Pidge.

It extinguished the fire, cutting off all light in the room save Lance’s new dandelion friends. A tiny explosion created a mushroom shaped dome of steam on top of the cauldron and Lance stepped back with a yelp. It proceeded to expand like a fog across the floor, wrapping around his legs and spreading into the work area and living room and kitchen…

A gentle breeze signaled the onset of the night, pushing the dandelions off their perch and into the mist.

Lance sucked in his breath. “Hey, hey you guys are you okay?!” He stepped gingerly through the fog, stepping on papers and hoping he would not harm the small balls of fluff. That would be unlucky indeed.

The cauldron continued to sputter and the fog grew more dense with each passing moment. Moisture formed on the wood surfaces.

“Oh no,” he panicked. The wood was waterproof but the books and papers certainly were not.

He scrambled to pick up every scrap of potion recipe he could, hastily shoving them to the top of the bookshelf or cabinets. He raced to move books on the bottom shelves higher.

The fog kept growing.

Desperate, Lance used his ice breath in an attempt to push it out of the house, but to no avail. It continued to fill the house.

The situation was becoming more and more hopeless. He knew, rationally, that Pidge loved him, that she wouldn’t kill him, that she wouldn’t break the bond over this.

But there was so much she treasured here. To know he was the cause of the destruction hurt him more than anything she could possibly do to him.

He dropped to his knees in tears. In his vulnerability, the bond was more open than ever and he felt Pidge’s concern overcome him.

A powerful roar interrupted his self-deprecation. It set Lance alert, building up his mental walls once more.

Lance turned around as a second roar joined the first. In seconds, the fog rolled out the windows and the cauldron stilled.

He couldn’t even find the time to be awed or scared at the two lions - one blue and one green - which now occupied the kitchen. A tingling sensation overcame him, the only warning he had before his human transformation was undone.

Lance raced outside, breaking the trim on the door as his human skin stretched, popping and freeing him of its constraints. He fell to the ground on all fours, sinking his growing claws further and further into the dirt. The cool ground felt good between his digits. Once in his fully adult dragon form, he looked down on the house, where the magically enhanced shrubs and vines decreased in size - many of them going back to seedling form.

This was an unexpected turn of events.

He tried to change back to so that he could enter the house again and survey the damage.

He couldn’t. Not even his smaller familiar form, the form granted to him through his bond with Pidge.

He needed Pidge. He needed to see her, needed to affirm the bond was still there, needed to have physical contact with her. He reached out desperately to the bond. There was nothing to be found. Pidge’s presence was nowhere to be found in his mind.

His mind went dizzy in panic. Even if she was busy he should at least be able to feel her there.

A hole grew in his heart. He needed to find her. Lance spread his wings wide and crouched, ready to lift off into the air and ready to make a beeline for Dr. Slav’s office, to ruggle with allergies.

Loud purring engulfed his senses, giving him pause. The low rumble inexplicably settled his nerves and Lance found himself suddenly very sleepy.

He curled up in front of the entryway to the house, tail tickling his nose and fell asleep dreaming of Pidge using his tail as a pillow.

“Lance? Lance? Are you all right?”

Lance licked his teeth contently. Pidge seemed so close. He didn’t want to wake from this dream.

“Lance! Wake up!”

The command rippled through the bond and Lance woke up with a start. It was day, and Pidge stood before him with a terrified expression on her face, rubbing his snout with trembling hands. What had he done to worry her like this?

It all came back to him in a wave; the lions, his attempted potion making, and the damage to the house.

The missing bond, which now seemed to be back in place.

He gasped. “Pidge!” he exclaimed, overjoyed to see her in front of him. He nuzzled her as if she’d go away at any moment. “You’re here!”

“I was so worried!” she told him, barely getting the words out due to his affection. “You were distressed and then I couldn’t feel you at all!”

Lance took in every detail about her. He felt guilty enough, but her moist eyes and messy hair told him she hadn’t taken care of herself lately - likely worried for him. Even the massive scrape on her arms was untreated, dirt and dried blood mixed together.

“What happened to you?” he said, heart lobed in his throat. He started to stand. “You’re hurt, you need to take care of that!”

Pidge steadied a firm hand on his nose. “Lance, I’m fine. I’ll take care of it. I need to know what happened here first. Are we in danger?” she asked evenly.

His tail went limp and he dropped back to the ground, looking every bit guilty. “I’m so sorry, Pidge. I tried to make more potions to refill the inventory - I just wanted to help! It… didn’t go very well.”

He dared to look back towards the house. The plants were still reduced in size and the front door was still larger, splinters hanging all around it. The only difference was that in the entryway, the two dandelion friends now sat on the floor.

Pidge walked carefully towards them, and scooped them up into her hands. She grinned. “And then these guys helped, right?” She gave them a good look over, examining all sides of them. “They’re pretty cute.”

“You’re… not mad?” Lance asked tentatively.

“Probably not as mad as I should be,” she admitted. “I’m just relieved you’re safe. That’s all the matters to me, Lance.”

Her warm smile filled him with unbridled joy. The bond overflowed with positive energy and Lance soon found himself looking up at Pidge. He bounded up to rest on her shoulder, craving the contact he wanted earlier.

“I love you, so much,” he told her. He never wanted her to forget it. “But… I don’t understand what happened. One second the house was in a fog, then there were lions and I couldn’t maintain my other forms.”

“It’s these guys,” Pidge explained, holding up the two flowers. “Dandelions mature during times of extreme temperature change. You must have triggered while trying to make the potions. They’re rare, and a good thing too, because they passively nullify magic. That’s why you were stuck in your true form last night.”

The dandelions didn’t so much as blink, even though their eyes watched the two of them in sync with one another.

“Wait, last night?” Lance repeated. “How did you get back so quickly?”

“Dr. Slav let me borrow his broom,” Pidge said, gesturing further down the dirt path that led to the cottage. “It stopped working because of these guys, and I had to walk the last few miles. Otherwise I would have been here last night,” she said apologetically. “It was a pretty nasty fall, as you can see. But I’m fine. Nothing broken, I thankfully wasn’t high enough.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Lance said. “I’m the one who messed up.”

Pidge gave him a pet along his spine, which gave him a pleasurable shiver. “However bad it is, we’ll fix it with magic. The warding spells won’t be hard and the bottles should have contained the potions. You can help me since you feel so bad about it.”

Lance curled around her neck. “I thought I had lost you. I was so scared.”

She planted a kiss on his tiny snout. “You won’t be able to get rid of me that easily, Lance. I promise.”

Content and secure, Lance purred the entire walk to the door. Together, he and Pidge both observed the inside of the house.

Dishes lay broken on the kitchen floor. The bed was unmade, the sheets shredded and pillows torn open. Potion bottles were broken, scattering the leaves of the undone potions across the work area. Dirt littered the living room floor.

Pidge’s jaw dropped and her spectacles slid down her nose. “Okay,” she squeaked. “My calculations might have a been a little off.” Lance followed her eyes to their multicolored friends.

“So, if there was no magic all night… that means they were lions all night…” Lance deduced.

The dandelions blinked innocently. The mage and familiar pair glared.

“You two are quiznaking lucky you’re adorable,” Pidge said. The words were stern, but the tone wavered.

It seemed they would be having some additional houseguests.

#plance #pidgance #flirtyrobot #voltron legendary defender #vld fanfic #rueitae #my writing #i hope you all like it!#please let me know if you do!#I hadn't realized so many people liked it so i guess i'll have to write more

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foolscapper · 6 years ago

Text

Exploding Head Syndrome: A MCU Post-IW Fanfic | Ch. 1

(READ IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER.)

It takes two years for them to right everything. Two long years — most of it spent in chaotic shades of tears, screaming, silent defeat, and a very unsuccessful five stages of grief for everyone involved. It's a world where billions of people have all had their candle wicks pinched in tandem between ugly purple fingers, their lights gone out in the pits of their mourning loved one's stomachs. There was not enough time in the day for funerals, not enough room or money for smoothed gravestones, and far too many people that will never, ever be identified as dead. Those people, the ones without families and friends, they simply never existed. Perhaps in the backgrounds of neighborhood photos they weren't meant to be a part of, but ultimately? They are vagabonds who just blew away in the wind.

And those who did have people left behind, who mourned and prayed for them?

They were just memories on walls.

Nobody from their team of heroes took their noses out of books or their eyes off screens, carving out new and old information on celestials, on resurrection, on righting the wrongs done by an arrogant bastard who decided to snap his fingers and purge the universe of any happiness; that same purple bastard had vanished without another word, and Thor had paced through the Avengers headquarters those first days with guilt etched into the lines of his weary face. His brown and blue set of eyes looked into Tony's, and his lips had pulled into something of a haunted grimace, and he said with no ounce of doubt, "This could have been over, had I aimed for the head."

The half of the Asgardians that Thanos had spared came to earth just a few months after; they filled in the broken pieces of a fractured glass Wakanda that had been devastated by the loss of their king. It was an intellectual gathering, more than anything, a concoction of mad sciences that would yield more together than apart. Steve Rogers kept in touch with them, eyes and ears waiting to be sated by something fruitful, about Thanos and his whereabouts.

They didn't need flip phones because they lived down the hallway from each other, and sometimes when Tony wasn't pouring through information with Bruce, he was letting the captain talk his ear off about world news that might matter if Tony would let it. With every passing day, the Sokovia Accords became a relic, something from the old world. The fight in Germany almost didn't feel real anymore. But it was, and it had been the catalyst in meeting a young man from Queens who loved Alt-J and Star Wars.

The scroll bar on the missing children's pages Tony's accrued is so tiny, he can barely see it on his screen. He sits there at the kitchen table while Morgan sits on his lap and slams blocks around like a tiny radioactive dinosaur. And he's tired and regretful as every face seems to blur and morph into Peter's (his goofy shirts, his awful Mets hat, the fifth Jansport backpack that month). Pepper makes Tony coffee, rubs his shoulders, makes breakfast for their daughter. He looks at both of them every day and reminds himself he doesn't deserve them.

Rhodey brings updates from Ross, as an exasperated courtesy more than anything.

Tony also cares very fucking little about that, too. Natasha is in full agreement.

Oh, and the raccoon stuck around, too. Two years, and Tony Stark made friends with a kleptomaniac trash panda who lost almost every person he's ever come to love, and the blue chick might as well be counted among the lost, because she hit the atmosphere running and never stopped (but if there's anyone Tony would bet on for killing Thanos through hate alone, Nebula might be able to accomplish it before supper). Rocket heads out from time to time to try and find clues in the deep reaches of space — "Where's Thanos? Have you seen where he ran off to? Where's that ugly son of a b—" And you know, it ends about as successfully as the last time the little garbage bear rolls back in. Truth be told, he likes Rocket a lot. Good eye for tech, familiar snark used to push people away, a raging hate-boner for a certain mass murderer...

Ah, yes. The bastard who sacrificed his daughter, go fucking figure. Tony looks at Morgan's freckled face as he changes the umpteenth diaper that day and can't fathom the concept of being her end. It's horror fiction, the pages ripped out of books conjured to be nothing more than a terrible daydream of a bored writer.

It's the same horror fiction where Peter clings to him sobbing for help, falling when his legs disintegrate underneath him.

Tony looks for that kid everywhere, despite knowing exactly where he is.

He waves the photograph in Pepper's face, inches from her, the sharp juts of his fingernails biting into the Polaroid like dog teeth — (retroware, a camera found in a dumpster, delicately and lovingly re-mantled into a working camera, pictures snapped in quiet labs on lazy Sundays where Tony pretends the kid shouldn't be there) — but Pepper just looks at him like he's a wild man, and maybe he is, with owlish imploring eyes and unkempt hair, but nobody is listening, they just talk about their day and nobody is looking at this kid in this photograph: the kid with the curvy brown hair and pinching, smiling eyes and thin lips, he's only a kid, he's missing, does nobody see that? But Pepper just puts her hands up at the sides of her head and shrugs like he's out of his mind, and she's talking about being behind schedule —

"Tony, honey, there's nothing there — I don't know what you want me to see." And she is getting progressively more furious at him, because there's nothing, but he can clearly see this teenaged boy's face looking back at him when he turns the image back to himself: he's in the lab, Tony took the picture (say cheese, and the kid said provolone, because he's a massive nerd, but Tony would have done it too, so what does that make him), and no, Peter's not in the lab, he's not anywhere. Not in the ground, not in an urn, not standing on his feet, not stuck to his hands.

"No. No no no, look at him, why - why are you not looking at him?" Tony asks, curled fingers pecking over the shirt on his chest, right where his blue heart used to be, and he's so fucking angry that Happy said it Pepper said it Steve said it Everyone says it, the same thing, different voices: "It's a black box, Tony. It's just a black box. The picture's not developed. Something got screwed up, sorry."

He looks at the photo again and wants to see a black box, wants this to just end, but he knows it can't. In the Polaroid, the kid is tied to a chair in sweltering heat in the middle east, under the shadow of cave walls, streaked with mud and blood and wet from torture, and Tony has it on good authority the human body was not made to live in the sea, not made to breathe the deep dark waters in a two-foot basin of murky water. But Pepper looks right through the photo every time and asks him if he's remembered to water the ugly office plant she put on his desk — he shoves it off and it smashes all over, dirt underfoot crunching with the same texture as Titan. The desk is covered in nothing but Polaroids of every waking fear he's had, but they all swear on their lives—

"They're all just black boxes."

He wakes up with a strangled sound of panic, the sheets ripped out from under Pepper's soft pale arms, and she darts awake alongside him with little choice in the matter. He isn't sure how to even begin to explain the nightmare, so he doesn't, which seems adequate enough for her at this point; she instead rakes kind fingernails over his scalp and he lets himself rest in his own sweat, until eventually it dries up with her ability to stay awake with him. But there's no sleeping now. Which is fine, because not an hour later Morgan's crying in a crib that Tony doesn't let leave their room. She's smart — not quite two yet, but she's got an eye for how to get what she wants. She slaps her hands on the bars like she's a chubby convict and says, "Juice!" like she hasn't already had enough juice in the day to turn into a berry.

"... I got her," he says with feigned exasperation, but more than anything, he just wants to hold onto the kid and remind himself she won't crumble into dust. He walks her through the hallways and stares out large windows, places where the memory of Peter Parker ghosts the halls in Tony's mind. He stands where Peter watched in boyish awe as the jets took off — where he'd lead him down a path towards reports and a new suit. Regrets dance like spots in his vision. Run along now, young buck.

He misses the others, too. He thinks about them often, wants to get them back from the jaws of death.

But everyone knows Peter is a special case, for him. A special mission set aside to complete.

There's an aunt across the city that somehow manages to get up and go to work every day. She's all that's left of a family she'd married into — the last Parker, putting unopened Christmas and birthday presents in a room that hasn't been touched in two fucking years. Tony doesn't know how she does it, after the Parkers and her husband's death; perhaps it's not always the abundance of loss that breaks someone; perhaps it's the abundance of loss that helps steel them for the next blow.

Either way, he gives her as many promises as he can muster, and she just nods like she can actually trust him.

"If it isn't the terrible terror," Rocket slurs from the end of the walkway, as he rounds the bend. Tony can't believe his eyes; he's sure there must be some youtube video out there of a raccoon holding a vodka bottle, but seeing it in person is another thing altogether. The short-statured creature adds, "Not the gremlin baby, I mean you."

"Robbet!" Morgan says, gleeful and unaware of just how alike her and Rocket's walking performances would be toe-to-toe.

Tony is less enthused.

"Did you — Did you fly back drunk?" And really, he's not one to talk after some of the stunts he pulled in his suits, but when he looks out the window there's a clearly tipped over spaceship on the front lawn of the headquarters, almost meeting the tarmac where the quinjet resides.

Rocket wags a paw at him like he's nuts. "Seemed like the thing to do. You Terran nimrods are great at it."

"You could've hit the building, you jackass," he hisses, "There are people sleeping here you could've killed."

"Wouldn't be the worst way to go out on this stupid planet."

"You're so lucky I'm holding a toddler, or I'd kick you in the head."

"Bring it, old man." But the longer the squabbling goes, the more Rocket seems to completely lose whatever steam he has. They end up sitting right against the big glass windows, and Tony lets Morgan rub her grubby hands all over the panels, because he's pretty sure the cleaners here prefer her messes over the ones Tony leaves in the labs (you know, the ones that almost start fires). The kid eases something inside him, and he's not one to recommend having a kid as therapy (because it definitely didn't solve his panic over being a shit dad), but it at least keeps him grounded. Gives him perspective. Focus.

"Robbet," she commands, fidgeting with Rocket's ear. The raccoon's gotten used to the attention, so much so that he just lets it be, and Tony watches expectantly for words he knows are gonna come sooner or later. This isn't the first time Rocket's stumbled in like this, though he'd hesitate to say it's common enough for an AA meeting.

"Nothin's out there, Stark," he says tiredly. "Thanos is in the wind after we pinned him in the rice terraces. Nebula's out there givin' her... I was gonna say blood, sweat, and tears, but I dunno how much of her is even left t'do that. But the universe is too damn big." He rubs his eyes tiredly in a way that is obscenely human. "We ain't ever gonna get the bastard, much less reverse the damage. I can't keep putting off..."

"Mourning?"

Rocket and Tony lock eyes for a moment, the billionaire's face unreadable.

Rocket looks away, and for once, he can't usher up a snarky, assholish retort.

"Mourning."

And Tony could understand that much. The world has already been grieving and crying it out, but the Avengers? They haven't allowed themselves to do it. Scott's got his kid, and he's all his kid has now — the cops had found her wandering a park alone, crying for Ant-Man to save them, and Tony's paid for therapy but fuck if that always helps. Clint refuses funerals for the two children he and his wife lost, not until Tony can look him in the eye with complete certainty and say 'there's nothing else we can do'. And Tony is not gonna lie about that shit, not even for a moment. Steve always chases for Bucky, and Tony expects as much (both in a fond way, and in a resentful way that makes him wanna strangle the bastard; what, we can't all be perfect at making up)... He also talks about Wanda and Vision and Sam often, and the room always descends into pained silence by the time they both realize how many people they've lost.

"Sorry I called you a gremlin," Rocket suddenly says, and Tony's confused for a moment before he glances over and finds Morgan sitting between Rocket's legs, cupping his furry face in her hands like she's trying to figure out why his beard is so much more out of control than her father's. Suffice to say, the drunk raccoon eventually passes out against the window, and Natasha makes her cameo in the shaded moonlight long enough to click her tongue and heft the creature up. Usually it'd be a more violent affair, but he's so out cold, he doesn't even so much as twitch.

"I'll get him in the recovery position, I guess," she says with a quirk of her brow.

One time he'd asked her in a moment of admittedly godawful anger how she managed to be a stone-faced robot in the wake of all of this; she had slammed him down onto a table and said it was the hardest thing someone can ever do.

"Could always throw him into a tree," is his reply, and she smirks — but tucks Rocket in, regardless.

They're all he's got now.

Two weeks later, Captain Marvel gives them the location of Thanos.

One week after, Thanos is dead and Bruce and Tony are staring at the melted, twisted remains of a gauntlet adorned with six stones.

It's a full month, when the snap is finally undone.

"W-what the flying fuck just happened?"

Probably not the most eloquent way Peter Jason Quill, Star-Lord and fearless leader of the Guardians of the Galaxy, could have reclaimed his life and body, but that's the way it happened. One moment his sinking despair had been blown away in the wind with the rest of his crumbled body; the next, he's gasping for air like a newborn baby with his hands on his chest — unable to breathe, unable to think, unable to do anything but feel helpless and lost. Then his name comes back to him, his age, where he's from, followed by the first of many memories: his mother and him, making cookies with The Rolling Stones blaring on an old radio in the background.

Then all of it follows like a stampede trampling over each other: the ravagers, Ego, celebrations full of booze and old 70's and 80's hits with his team; he groans pitifully and remembers too suddenly that his mother is dead, Yondu is dead, Gamora is dead — and then he cries like he's never cried before in his goddamn life. Like, full-bodied sobbing, harder than he's ever allowed himself in the last thirty years. His fingers curl in rough alien soil and every nerve in his body is alight with something he can't really explain, leaving him shivering. When all is said and done, it's cathartic, but his head is pounding and his eyes are red and wet and — and his legs don't want to work, exactly, so he drags himself into sitting and stares all around him with a helpless, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Where are the others?

Drax crawls out from behind the rubble with a bit-back curse as if summoned by Peter's sheer will alone, and Strange floats down from god knows where. Both of them wipe their faces and breathe like they'd just run a marathon, one you'd sprint for — to try and escape the returning memories. The questions bubbling under the surface can wait (when, why, how, who, where; where the fuck is Thanos so I can kick his head in and ignore the aching guilt of the stupid shit I've done). Peter's lips curl into a relieved grin despite himself and he staggers to his feet, rushing to meet Drax before the lumbering warrior can collapse on his knees; he steadies the two of them, and between four colt-like legs, they make it work until they can move on their own.

"Drax, holy shit. I'm so happy to see you right now, I saw you and — where's Mantis? And... Stark and the kid?"

He's not gonna pretend the last two weren't cliff notes in his order of priorities, compared to Mantis. That's his sister, his family, and his heart is pounding at the thought of losing anyone else from his team... because Gamora's so fresh in his mind, an abrasion so new and raw and — don't think about it, Quill, don't think about it right now, not until you can make it to a ship and find somewhere to lick the wounds. It's so hard to breathe, so hard to keep his memories in check. Judging from the pinched expression Drax has, he can only imagine the miserable television show going on in that thick skull of his. He had family, he had a life, a home, and now it's all coming back in thunderous waves.

Drax perks. "I hear her. This way!"

And like clockwork, Mantis sobs more loudly from over the hill of debris, and Peter is already leaping over and down it, displacing rubble in his wake. It claws him up as he goes, but what's one more injury if it means getting to his team sooner? Add another wound to the dozens lanced in his heart, whatever, he can take it. What he can't take is finding someone he loves gone again because he wasn't good enough—

("I love you, more than anything.")

"Mantis! Shit, dammit — hang on, we're coming, hang on!" He skids to a stop at the bottom with Drax hot on his heels, and it's only there that he's relieved to find she's unhurt, curled up and sitting on her legs; her back is trembling, hands poised in front of her — no, no, hands pressed to the temples of a crumpled figure with shaggy brown hair and a terribly youthful face. He swallows hard at the sight, guilt coiling in his guts, because he had made this kid a footnote in his concerns all but fifteen seconds ago.The other Peter.

("Peter, huh? Samesies!" the spider kid laughs.)

The kid is on his back, and his eyes are open, face lax under Mantis' shivering fingertips. Quill automatically assumes the worst: that he didn't make it, because even if his skin has a healthy color, he doesn't look alive. Why didn't... he come back, too? What went wrong? Crouching down beside his friend, he examines the boy and his listless gaze that looks right through him, right through everything. A death stare. He's seen so many in his life — from ravagers and enemy alike — that he doesn't question it further than that.

"... Mantis, it's okay," he says softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "He's gone. We gotta move."

"No, no, Peter," she weeps, freezing him with her desperation, "You're wrong. He's still here. I can feel him. But th-there's so much pain — something is wrong, and it hurts."

"She's right," Strange says with a surprisingly soft voice, "He's still breathing."

Quill watches with wide eyes the rise and fall of the kid's chest, and then the surprising drip of tears into the shells of Peter's ears.

"It hurts," Mantis says again, black hair curtaining her pained expression. "He's further and further away. I can't do anything. He is so afraid."

Peter Parker's eyes are open, half-lidded, without any sign of life behind them. But Quill feels like every word Mantis sobs is a memory he can't quite bring into focus... like — like a dream he'd forgotten in the time he'd been nothing but ash. Like a beacon, scrambling all of his senses and blinding him just before he had burst back to life from under the current of death. He remembers a snippet of what it was like on the other side, rolling over and over like he's stuck in a sea — a sea of souls. He remembers it was the kid's voice, calling out from oblivion as they were hoisted back into their bodies.

He remembers hearing his own voice... remembers saying, thinking, screaming: Hang on, kid, I got you!

— it hurts, it hurts, it hurts—

He puts his hand gently on Peter Parker's cheek.

It's warm. His body breathes in steady rhythm.

So why isn't there any life behind those eyes?

The lab is quiet, save for the rambling of an excited high-schooler bragging about their odds at the new decathlon competition. Tony doesn't really mind so much, though he's not about to tell that to the kid sitting there in his old thrift shop sweater; the same kid whose hair is curling out of control now, escaping the prison of hair gel he adds in the early morning. Peter's always so animated with his hands, most of all — always fidgeting, always moving, always so eager to sign and gesture faster than Peter's mouth can move. "And Ned's got a brand new video-game he's dying to try out, but I dunno if he can handle it; it's a horror game, you know? He's kind of a big softy — oh."

Tony glances at Peter with a scoff and a raised eyebrow, though his smirk fades a little at what has drawn the kid's already battered attention span from the conversation. Peter holds an old trophy in front of him that he had taken off the nearest shelf: a replica, actually, but still no less important. It's the arc reactor, etched with those intimate, familiar words that Pepper still whispers to him when they're alone and living in their own little world.

"Aaww, look at that," Peter says with a playful smile, pressing the trophy against his chest, where the reactor would've resided in Tony's. "... Proof that Tony Stark has a heart."

Peter's smile softens painfully, his eyes reflecting a long and sad goodbye before he crumbles away into nothing.

#tony stark #peter parker #mcu #infinity war #mantis (marvel)#drax the destroyer #peter quill #rocket racoon #irondad #spiderson #mcu fanfic #ehsfanfic #sorry guys i was gonna be lazy and not back this story up here #but i changed me mind

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 7 years ago

Note

Okay. So someone is BFFs with Anti. Chase has been feeling really down lately. Marv and Henrik convince Chase to go on a blind date, while Anti does the same to his friend. As soon as Chase sees them, he’s like I can see why they are friends with Anti... But they are both nervous and cute and it goes well cause they like Chase’s more goofy nature. (And maybe friend can be a PhD Dr.? Like not med school)

Okie doke! Hope you enjoy the story~!

“Henrik? Has..he been like that all day?” Marvin gestured to the ego who was laying facedown on the sofa, his arm hanging off the side.

“Yes, unfortunately,” the doctor remarked from the kitchen as he made himself some coffee. “He just..gets into one of zhose depressed slumps every now and zhen. Nothing to vorry-”

However, he was cut off by a muffled whine from the sofa, and frowned deeply.

The magician sat down, putting his cape over Chase like a blanket before he patted his back in hopes of comforting him. “There, there. Can we do anythin’ for you, buddy? I hate seeing you like this..”

“….c-could you get me a date?” He mumbled in response, turning his head to the side so his voice was clearer. “I just…m-miss having loving and caring for s-someone, y’know?” His voice cracked as tears filled his eyes.

The two exchanged silent glances for a few moments, before, suddenly, they both smiled, as though they remembered something.

“Ah, Chasey boy,” Henrik chuckled softly. “It’s not our place to decide who vould be best for you. Zhat’s your choice to make.”

“B-But-”

“But..because ve, as your friends, do vant to help you...ve suggest zhat you try “blind dating”.”

Chase blinked in surprise. Come to think of it…he never even considered that option. “Um..alright. I guess I can try that..”

“And if I may add…we kinda sorta already have you set up with a friend of Anti,” Marvin spoke.

The fatherly ego glanced at him, horrified, although when he realized this was the only hope he had of ever getting a date…he sighed and laid back down on the sofa.

“Don’t worry,” the magician reassured. “They’re not a serial killer, I promise.”

“Oh yeah that’s definitely reassuring when you put it that way, Marv.” He snorted in response as he sat up, rubbing his eyes and shrugging off the cape. Then he looked to the pair and smiled. “But..seriously guys, thank you. I can only hope it goes well..”…….

“You sure I look alright, Anti?” You muttered apprehensively, looking at yourself in the window of the coffee shop. “I-I mean..what if I scare him off or something?”

“Ya asked me that at least ten times durin’ the car ride here, [y/n],” the demon grumbled. “But don’t worry. He might be caught a lil’ off-guard, but he won’t run from ya I promise.”

Gulping, you took a deep breath, putting on a brave face.

“There ya go!” Anti chuckled as he patted your shoulder. “Now I gotta bail before people here start recognizin’ me. Good luck~” And with that he glitched away, leaving you alone.

With a sigh, you entered the coffee shop. It wasn’t too crowded, thankfully, so you were able to spot the man wearing a grey and red snapback with a shirt that had some kind of meme on it and black jeans.

Yep..Anti was right when he told you that this guy was a “dude bro”.……

Chase perked up when he saw you walking towards him. ‘Huh..they definitely look like Anti’s buddy,’ he thought, seeing how you were dressed in black, ripped jeans, a band T-shirt, and you had a bunch of tattoos on your arms.

But even so, he was still hopeful that he’ll get to know you well.

“H-Hi there.” You smiled, taking a seat in the chair in front of him. “So...you’re Chase Brody?”

“The one and only~” He chuckled, giving you a wink. “And you are....[y/n]..?”

“Bingo.”

“Sweet, so I guess..Anti convinced you to do this “blind date”?” He clasped his hands on the table.

“Yep.” You nodded. “I just..wanted some kind of excitement going on in my life, I guess. But I needed the extra push from him. What about you?”

“Same...kinda..sorta....not really,” Chase’s expression deflated. “I’m still a lil’ heartbroken from my uh...divorce.” He gulped nervously. “And the single life kinda sucks, ya know?”

“Oh..I’m sorry to hear that,” you frowned slightly. “But yeah the single life gets kinda sucky after a while.” Then you smiled, hoping to lighten the conversation. “Well, I guess we both already have something in common...we got friends who wanna help us get our “love lives” back on track right?”

He nodded in agreement. “Right. So...tell me something.”

Then he leaned closer to you, a twinkle in his eyes and a million-dollar smile on his face.

“You like skateboards, fidget spinners, and video games?”..........

For an hour or so, you both dined in the coffee shop, talking about your hobbies and interests. It turns out you had a lot more things in common than you first thought.

You almost immediately grew fond of Chase’s goofy nature, and he grew fond of your personality.

It was like things clicked with you two the moment you met eyes.

Later on you decided to go for a walk in the park, taking a seat on the bench as you observed the passerbys. You turned to Chase, about to ask him something, when you heard a phone ringtone go off.

“A-Ah oops, hang on..” When he took out his phone and looked at it, you noticed that his face seemed to pale a little. But he gave you a nervous, tiny smile and shifted to the other side of the bench to answer it.

“H-Hey, Stace..what’s...oh my bad, Stacy..I’m sorry. I know you told me not to call you that anym- Hey I said I was sorry, don’t get upset at m--what?! Oh no, no, c’mon..I’ve been waiting to see the kids for a long time now! L-Listen I..I slipped up and I’m sorry. I’m really, really s-sorry..please..you promised.....oh thank you so much, Stacy. I’ll pick them up at 1pm, okay? Alright..thank you again...bye...”

After he hung up, he sighed shakily, taking his hat off and rubbing his hands up and down his face. “God I almost fucked that one up..”

“Everything..okay?”

He looked back at you, nodding. “Yeah, yeah..just..custody battles, y’know? The usual shit. My ex is pretty stubborn and, as you probably heard, gets upset over stuff easily...I’m trying my best to make things work between us and the kids but...i-it’s sometimes too much..”

You frowned slightly and shifted closer to him. “That sounds awful..I’m..really sorry you gotta put up with all that just to see your own children. But...’

“But what..?”

“I know we only met today but..” You then reached into your bag, taking out a small business card, before handing it to him. “..I guess there’s no harm in telling you what I do for a living.”

Chase’s eyes widened as he took the card. “Woah..dude you’re a doctor?”

“Yep.” You smiled gently. “Anti’s my number one patient because of his eye infections and that scar on his throat. But I’m also good in the psychology field, too.”

“Oh sweet!” He chuckled, his mood improving as he looked over the card, before he saw your business and personal number. “...heh..I guess that’s one way to exchange numbers. Can I uh....get another one, please? And a pen, too?”

You gave him the items, watching as he turned the card to the blank side and scribbled his number onto it. Then he dog-eared it and smiled as he handed it back to you.

“Thanks,” you chuckled, sighing softly before you looked at your watch. “Awh..I’m sorry but...I’m suppose to meet with a patient soon so I gotta go.”

“Oh..okay.” Chase frowned, disappointed. “But...y-you will call me back, right?”

You nodded at him, seeing the worry and loneliness in his eyes. “Of course, Chase. I really enjoyed getting to know you, and I’d...d-definitely like to do this again sometime.” A small blush rose to your cheeks.

His smile returned as he moved to hug you, which you returned. “S-Same, [y/n],” he mumbled. “I’m,,glad I met you.”

Both of your words couldn’t be any truer.

Because maybe, just maybe....he finally found the one. And so did you.

#clanask #anonymous #chase brody x reader #reader insert

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hunterdevil-myboy-archive · 6 years ago

Text

No Matter What

This is a rewrite of my first Ducktales drabble. And I love it so much. I would tag more stuff but... I don’t want to spoil stuff. I hope you enjoy!

Donald knew something was wrong the moment he woke up, a sense of dread wrapped around him like a blanket. Fuzzy images of a past nightmare fluttered through his mind before drifting off like the last wisp of a mist.

He turned over to look at his alarm clock, brows furrowing in confusion at the time. It was too early for him to wake up. Sudden beeping filled the air, prompting a memory to the forefront of his mind; Huey needed to be at school in an hour.

Now knowing the purpose of this wake up, he pushed the thin sheets off him and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He moved swiftly, following his morning routine, hoping a shower would clean his unease from his feathers. The warm water helped somewhat to ease his tense shoulders, but he felt it still there tickling at the back of his mind.

After pulling on his sailor uniform, an outfit he prefered to wear over anything else, he made his way to the deck of the houseboat. He expected the expanse of the ocean to greet him, but was mildly disappointed to see the manor’s brick walls. The houseboat sitting motionless in Scrooge McDuck’s pool was still new to him, it seemed.

When Donald went inside, straight to the kitchen, he found the triplets eating breakfast. Two, Louie and Dewey, looked like they were ready to pass out face-first into their eggs -not duck eggs, right? That would be weird- while their oldest brother, Huey, was fully awake.

The red-clad triplet was practically bouncing in his seat. He was always excited about helping at school, whether it was planning an event or showing a new teacher around, which was the current agenda. His eyes sparkled when he saw his uncle approach the table.

“Hi, Uncle Donald,” he called, startling Louie from his drowsy state. The sleepy duckling shot his brother a glare, but Huey chose to ignore it. “Ms. Beakley already made your food.” he gestured to a plate across from him which, to Donald’s surprise and confusion, looked like it was just brought out. How did that woman know?

Donald shot the boy a smile and sat down to eat despite the twisting in his stomach. What was going on with him today? Everything was fine. His boys were happy -especially Dewey now that he was gaining energy and shoveling his food into his mouth. Louie, per Louie-fashion, was on his phone, slowly eating.

It’s just anxiety, he concluded watching his happy boys eat. Nothing to worry about.

The feeling grew ten-fold the closer Launchpad drove to the school. Donald ignored it, figuring it was just caused by the chauffeur's… eccentric driving. But the feeling didn’t subside when Launchpad crashed into the flagpole.

Donald shoved it to the back of his mind as he went into over-protection mode, checking the triplets for any bruises. Assured of the boys’ lack of injuries, he ushered them out of the car and into towards the school.

“Do you need me to stay here, Donny?” Launchpad called after them, a big goofy smile on his face despite the limo’s damage.

“I’ll walk.” Donald called back, too tired to reprimand him on the nickname. He just wanted to get this over with, drop off the boys at school and go back to his job search which, he would sorrowfully add, was fruitless so far.

“Okay,” Launchpad replied, before they stepped inside the building.

“Why do we have to be here so early?” Dewey asked, glancing around the lobby. School wasn’t his favorite place to be. He rather be playing games at Funso’s or exploring the rainforests of Peru. Those places were actually fun, while school was “where creativity comes to die.”

Huey instinctively reached up and pulled out a book from under his cap. He mechanically opened it to a certain page and read, “Woodchuck Guidebook rule number three hundred and sixty-five, ‘Every Woodchuck should be punctual.’”

Dewey stared at him with an unreadable expression before quietly saying, “That didn’t answer my question.”

“My answer was clear, Dewford.” Huey replied, slightly peeved. “What is there to not understand?”

Before Dewey could reply and cause a fight, Louie cut in. “Huey, he doesn’t know what punctual means. None of us know big words like you do.”

Donald opened his beak to input that he did in fact know the meaning of the word, but thought better of it. Sometimes you need to know when it's best to let kids work things out on their own. That was something he learned quickly with the triplets.

“Oh,” Huey slipped his book back into his hat, and smiled apologetically at his siblings. “Punctual means happening at the agreed -er, it means on time.” he snuck a look at Louie’s phone and immediately started leading his family towards the principal’s office, knowing the way like the back of his hand -he had the whole school’s layout memorized.

“I volunteered to show a new teacher around.” Huey then quickly added, “They are replacing Mr. Poe, since they found incriminating evidence in his desk. I wonder if someone put it there.”

Donald glanced at the youngest triplet, his subtle smirk telling him all he needed to know.

“And you couldn’t do this, I don’t know, during first period?” Dewey asked.

“I could have missed first period if I did.” Huey explained, wrapping an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Would milkshakes after school make you feel better?”

“Are you buying?” the younger duckling asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Of course.” Huey said, then stopped in his tracks. They had arrived in the hallway in front of the principal’s office.

A tall hawk dressed in an expensive-looking suit was leaning back against the door. He looked up from his watch and stared hard at them. His gaze could cut steel, Donald noticed.

But that wasn’t the only thing the uncle noticed. The man towered over them in a way that would make Launchpad seem small in comparison. Something itched at the back of his mind, trying to resurface, but before he could figure it out, the hawk spoke.

“You must be Huey.” he had a russian accent that only added to his intimidating stature. “I am Mr. Petrov, your new teacher.”

Huey smiled wide at the man and greeted him politely. “Hello, Mr. Petrov. Do you wish for me to show you around?” he then, as if remembering his presence, turned to his uncle. “Can I show him around Uncle Donald?”

Donald nodded, despite the alarms going off in the back of his mind. He couldn’t say no to Huey, especially when his eyes had that light in them.

The duckling let out a happy squeal before he took off -at a walking pace, of course- down the hall with the hawk following quietly. The three watched them disappear around a corner, before Donald turned the group around so they could go look for the principal.

Speaking of the principal, the woman, a short and round owl, was walking their way with a parrot beside her. “Hello, Mr. Duck,” she said when she got to them.

“Nice to see you, Ms. Hoover.” Donald said, reaching out to shake her hand. He turned to the parrot beside her. The parrot was a woman wearing a simple dress. She smiled shyly at him and he smiled back.

Ms. Hoover followed his gaze, and smiled wide. “Oh! This is Ms. Quinn, our new teacher-”

The rest of her words fell death on Donald’s ears as the dread and anxiety came back, crashing over him in a ferocious wave. Time seemed to stop around him, thoughts flying around his mind in a frantic whirl. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move. He was numb.

“-Huey?”

He didn’t know who said it, he couldn’t tell over the buzzing, but the one word pulled him out of the sea of his thoughts. He could breathe. He could move.

And he could think.

Huey. He had to find Huey. It was the only thoughts flying through his mind, repeating over and over in a deafening chorus even as he found himself dashing through the halls. He barely could register two sets of footsteps following him. Huey. He had to find Huey.

Donald bust through the school’s front doors, freezing on the top step before he could take a tumble. He watched, eyes wide, lungs heaving, as a car drove past his spot.

He caught a sickening glimpse of Huey’s frightened eyes, banging against the window, screaming things lost to Donald. And then the car was gone, leaving him with nothing but shaking knees as the adrenaline cleared his system.

He fell to his knees, clutching his arms, tears and sobs escaping him as the bitter cold sunk into him. In that moment, all he wanted was his Huey back. He wanted his son back.

After a few minutes, his mind finally acknowledged the two ducklings at his sides. He looked towards the youngest one. Louie was wiping at his eyes, hoodie pulled over his head, but he kept looking at his damn phone.

The sailor wanted to yell, to scream, to be mad at the boy for being on his phone when Huey was gone. Like Della, a cold voice whispered from the dark side of his mind. He ignored it, and turned his attention to the other boy.

Dewey was sitting on the step, staring at his hands. The sudden drip of water landing on his palm, seemed to surprise the boy as he reached up to touch his wet cheek. He quickly wiped his eyes and let out a pained chuckle.

“I asked him if he was buying me milkshakes.” the boy said, Donald’s heart breaking for him with each word. “And now, we might not see him ever again. I’m the worst brother.”

Donald shoved his own pain to the side as he wrapped an arm around the now sobbing boy, pulling him against his chest. “Dewey, listen to me, you didn’t know. None of us knew,” he said, wishing he could believe it himself. “We will find Huey somehow, I promise.”

“How can we?” Dewey asked, pulling back to stare up at the sailor. “We have nothing. No leads, no evidence, nothing!”

“I took a picture.”

Dewey and Donald both snapped their gazes to the third duck. Louie’s hood was off giving them a good view of his tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes, as he held out his phone to them. Donald carefully took it from him and the two looked down at the screen. The license. Louie had taken a photo of the license.

Donald didn’t know how the boy managed it without the letters and numbers being blurred beyond recognition, but he didn’t care. He pulled the youngest duckling into a hug.

They were going to get Huey back. No matter what.

#ducktales #my writing #this is really long so pull up a chair #also I'm really proud of this #not edited btw so you're getting it the way I wrote it

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laketaj24 · 7 years ago

Text

Thoughtless Pt. 13

A/N: I had plans to upload this yesterday but sleep won! I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: Smut.

He irritates you because this parenthood thing came to him easy. Ubbe enjoyed the midnight cries for milk, even though it wasn’t his breast that ache and leaked every time Preston cried. He even bought a camera baby monitor exclusively for him. Every time you asked to see it, he responds with “Get your own.” And you’re sure he means it because it stays on only his night stand. He’d adjusted like he was born to do it and you barely knew how to change a diaper, and he taught you that.

Home didn’t feel like home. Every creak in the floor, every scrape at a window made you nervous. Preston slept with you and Ubbe. But you still j jumped up in the middle of the night teaching for him and there was one thing you an Ubbe had in common: Maggie had to die.

“Look Lil man,” Ubbe said changing his diaper. “You shell like a grown man. This is not what we meant by grow up fast.” He fanned Preston. One full month of parenthood had changed everything between you two.

“He has no clue what you’re saying.”

“Oh, I think he knows.” Ubbe shoots the diaper in the canister and buttons the all black onesie. You thought you would be the person to dress him like his dad but Ubbe had that covered. “You feel like doing something today?”

“I can’t have sex until next week.” You say rolling your eyes.

“Ass,” he laughs. “I meant go to Ivar’s graduation party.”

“I don’t want to party.”

“It’s a dinner party my mom is hosting at the Grandiose Suite. Come on.”

“I don’t want to human, Ubbe.”

“For fu-,” he corrects himself. “You’re going. Put some clothes on. Doll up. Me and Preston are good.”

You dress up in your little green dress and beige heels. HE was right, it did feel good to be a human again. You’d allowed thoughts of Maggie to consume you and drag you down, but the bitch wouldn’t have it tonight. You apply eyeliner and a dab of concealer under your sleep deprived eyes and lip gloss. You wished you would have dressed the boys, because Ubbe took it upon himself to dress them both in black. And all you could envision was the impending spit up to be on them both.

You still have a strain putting on your shoes so Ubbe helps, sliding them on your feet and kissing each of your thighs when he is done. He doesn’t care about the stretch marks, or the fact that you still waddle sometimes it of habit. Every ounce of you is sexy and appealing to him and you know he loves you.

“Have they found her yet?” You ask.

“Don’t worry about her baby, let’s just go out and have a good time. I’m completely prepared to see her again.” He gives you a knowing smile.

“I’m sure you are, but you can’t be Mr. Mom in jail.”

He kisses you once standing up in front of you, raising your chin to him. “You’re worried about her and you shouldn’t be. We have so much going for us… Preston is healthy. You’re almost all healed and those dumb ass charges have been dropped. Don’t let her ruin our new life together.”

“She tried to kill me. She took him.”

“You’re alive and he’s right here.”

“I want to stop thinking about it.” You say. “But that bitch crossed a line.”

“Oh, I know, it’s gonna be handled.”

Everyone at the dinner party was dressed formal but Ubbe and Preston and internally you were screaming at him. Ubbe didn’t seem to care showing him off to every single person that cared to listen. He was strapped to his chest and he was being over protective telling his mom to back off politely and Bjorn, that his hands were too large to hold him. You stand in the corner next to Ragnar who is taking in the room with you.

“How are you feeling?”

“Still sore but almost fully recovered, I think.” You sip the wine and watch Hvitserk as he makes an array of goofy faces to Preston.

“That’s good to hear, Y/N. And my grandson is like the life of the party.”

“He has no choice.” You chuckle.

“Ubbe is a natural at this fatherhood thing huh?”

You suppress rolling your eyes and agree. “Yes. It’s utterly annoying.”

“Well, he’s always been the domesticated type. It just means you don’t have to stop your life and become a full-time mom. He’s got you.”

That was unexpected. You watch Ragnar drinking on his beer. Maybe he knew some things about life that you didn’t. “I guess.”

Sigurd moves through the room hugging Ivar and giving him a small nudge on the head. He lived out of town, rarely came home but he came back for the event. “Finally, being more than a menace.”

Ivar rolls his eyes, “I’m trying damn it.” He leans back against the wall.

Sigurd taps his glass interrupting the flow of the room. All eyes are locked on him. “I know I just got here, I’m always late. I don’t care.” He smiles. “But this day is awesome for me because my younger brother, who has anger problems and no filter is a man now. He has his own place and a degree. And it’s finaly time to quit the part time jobs and ge a real one. I would be honored if you worked with me in my Rehabilition Facility upstate?”

Ivar beamed shaking his head. “With the old people?”

“Elderly,” He corrected happy that Ivar was pumped.

“Hell yes,” He hugs him and breaks off immediately dancing. “Brace yourself bro, the best Rehab nurse in the state is headed your way.”

“I know.” Sigurd adds.

You notice ow different from the others he is, always reserved and quiet. He even dressed differently.

Ubbe finally allowed Preston to go to Ivar for a moment. “Uncle is gonna have a bachelorette pad upstate.” He whispers jokingly. He stands next to you. “Why are you just standing here being awkward Y/N?”

“I’m just watching.” And you were, the unfamiliar woman in the corner had caught you attention. She kept staring at you as if she wanted to speak but you had no clue who she was and why she was een there.

Ivar as usual notices, “The blonde in the corner is Freydis. She was my lab partner for some semesters.”

You exhale. “Okay.”

“She’s cute right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” You don’t care about his love life at the moment.

“Well, I’m gonna hook up with her. I’ve always wanted to, this time it won’t be awkward if I don’t call her the next day.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“What, I’m trying to be honest. Ever since your friend decided that I was dump worthy I’ve been in a slump. I’m gonna fuck her and get back on the market.”

“Thanks for that Ivar. Would you keep in mind you’re holding my son? Between, you and Ubbe’s mouth, I’m raising a baby sailor.”

“It’s genetic. His first word is guaranteed to be fuck. It was Ubbe’s and Hvitserk.”

“I’m gonna murder your entire family if he says it.”

“Violent.” Ivar gripes leaving your side with Preston.

The music starts and Ubbe is overly excited at Stir Fry. He dances locking eyes with you and you shake your head no. He shakes his head yes grabbing you to the dance floor with the rest of them. It slipped your mind that Ubbe liked to dance until you’re out there with him. He’s talented actually swaying an bouncing to the beat and you try to hide our excitement that you’re enjoying yourself. He sneaks you off the dance floor to the jacket closet. He closes the door behind him.

“I missed that damn smile. So, fucking cute.” He mumbles. His lips trace over yours and his hands are in your hair pressing you against the wall. “What’s a week?”

“This is a jacket closet.” You protest.

“We’ve fucked everywhere, the jacket closet is probably the most private. We won’t have another free minute for another week?” He’s right. He moves closer to you hiking your dress up. You can hear Preston cry and your breast leak milk all onto your dress. “That is the sexiest shit I have ever seen in my life.” He bites his lip. “They’ll come looking in a few minutes, how fast can you get there?” You unzip his pants stroking him twice. He didn’t even need that his dick could break bricks at this point. He picks you up wrapping your legs around his waist and rocks into you. It aches for a moment for he has no self-control the first few strokes. “You’re so fucking tight.” He notices your slight discomfort and slows his pace hissing when you are grinding your hips down on him. The sound of his reservation adds to the excitement. You kiss him licking the line of his chin then savoring the taste of beer on his tongue. He pins you against the wall forgetting the party is behind you. He suppresses your moans with his mouth. You’ve never controlled yourself, but he was always good at it. You love the way he sounds when he comes, the melodic plea in your ear as he spills into you makes you come behind him. He grips your face finishing his last few strokes with his eyes locked on you. “I love you so much.”

“You better, I gave you a whole child.” You push his soaked hair back reaching for the hat he’d knocked off during.

“I want like ten more.” He grins.

“I love you too.” You slide the hat on backwards. “But you’ve lost your damn mind.”

Ivar and Freydis are so consumed with the baby you two just slide next to them. “We’d like our child back now?”

“Working on brother?” Ivar looks at Ubbe. “Walls are fucking thin.”

Your face burns and you push Ubbe, scowling him. “I told you.”

He takes Preston. “I told you I didn’t care, still don’t.” He kisses you once more. “Baby is cranky, we should be headed home?”

“Yes, I’ll go get our things. Ivar, congrats.” You half hug him. “Be nice to the elderly.”

“I love old people.”

You ignore his comment walking back to the jacket closet and you see her. Maggie at the end of the hall, how’d she even get in this hotel. You say nothing following her into one of suite rooms. You open the door and she’s not in there. Just an open window. Ubbe walks after you with everything you were supposed to grab from the room. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought I seen…” You shake it off. “Your mom but I was wrong. Can we go?”

“Yes babe, Preston is pissing all over my shirt. And granted everything he does is cute, this is teetering right between adorable and annoying.”

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#ubbe #ubbe x reader #ubbe's wolfpack #modern ubbe #woc fanfic #ubbe x woc #ivar #sigurd #tw:adultery #vikings #vikings fanfic

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