#i remember when a high school buddy who dropped out of college because of World of Warcraft | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wr1t3w1tm3 · 10 months ago

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The Outsiders Vampire AU - V4

Oh boy, it's been a while. I need something to do that isn't studying or crocheting (which I turned into a side hustle whoospie).

@crow2222 and @marmaladedcroissant. It is finished. Enjoy.

No one knows when. They only know it was Paul. That it was probably before their parents died.

He'd explained that they continued aging until 25, but from there any further "aging" was really shapeshifting.

He was never sure whether he'd really agreed to it or if Paul had just gone and done it any who. It must've been around his senior year of high school, because he remembers drinking with Paul and a bunch of his Soc buddies. That was back when he'd dressed like 'em, though his pants were dirt cheap, and the sweaters hand knit by a grandmother in Minneapolis. There was a bonfire and laughter and plenty of fun...

The next thing he's certain of was Paul waking him up, and the world was too bright and too loud and it hurt awful bad to sit up.

He's inclined to believe he drunkely agreed, because for what felt like an eternity in a moment, Paul taught him how to thrive. He gave him a charm that warded away the sun, he taught him to shift his appearance and even shape. He showed him how to hunt. Showed him a family that didn't fight, that played hard and looked out for each other.

Then he lost his parents and was forced to tend to his own. And when he had to drop out of college, and he couldn't go out every night for parties and hunts and took up not one, but two jobs, he was left alone. A monster with two children in his charge.

One year an adult. A monster. Alone.

Soda made it easier for him. He dropped out of school, got a job, and stayed away most the time. With two jobs he wasn't in the house very often either, but that meant he wasn't eating consistently. More often than he was comfortable he found himself watching Ponyboy's neck when he swallowed, how the veins popped when he got fed up with a problem or when he laughed at the stupidity of the latest stories protagonist.

He'd nearly lost control a few times. More times than he was comfortable. He'd kick himself, he'd waited to long but how couldn't he? He had to work and take care of his brothers and go get the groceries and, and, and...!

Rage crawled under his skin for months. He was angry at his parents for dying on him. Angry at Ponyboy for not taking things seriously. The boy was thirteen going on fourteen and couldn't get his damn head outta the clouds. Even angry at Soda, for staying with that no good "girl" a' his. Sandy. Yeah, he'll marry her when he can walk back out under the sun unaided again.

He was scared from the moment his parents died. Scared the state would take his brothers. Scared they'd find out what he'd turned himself into. Scared that he'd loose control. How'd they make rent this month? Oh himself. He's scared of and for him and his own.

He could hear their hearts beating. Every night when he laid in his bed - no longer able to sleep - he'd key into their hearts, to the blood flowing through their veins. He couldn't always do it, it had to be especially quiet, and he had to concentrate very, very hard. It made the short nights long and the long ones fly by. Before he knew it his eternal enemy would peak from under the window and Pony would roll out of bed to the shower. He'd make breakfast and hurry his kid brothers out the door, then search for his own breakfast if he had the time.

Living in the city sucked sometimes. He couldn't take people - though he had with Paul - but there wasn't anything big enough to satisfy him. A couple squirrels, somebodies' stray dog.

God, he hated it sometimes. But it had to be done.

He'd still see Paul on occasion. If he worked near the West side and Paul was blowing class to day drink, a blue Mustang would more often than not fly through their job site. It'd rile up the guys, and Paul would catch his cold eyes with his laughing ones.

He remained stone faced, unwilling to give Paul his jimmies.

One day, Paul's buddies drove by without him, sloshing liquor on them and hootin' and a hoolerin'. He'd watched them sternly as they drove off and returned to work as he'd always done. Except this time, they got off early. This time, he went home.

This time, Ponyboy got jumped.

Soda, Steve, and Two-Bit got there first. Just a few doors down. Johnny stopped short, nearly trippin' him. Dally dropped in, coming from the direction of the reformatory. He threw a tree branch as the Soc's drove off.

Soda gets to Pony first. "They didn't get you too bad, did they?" Pony shakes his head. There's a nick just under his chin. The scent finally wafts his direction.

Darry swallows and steps forward to console them. He scolds Pony for walking home alone. For not carrying a blade. "Yeah, that'd give the Soc's even more reason to cut him up there."

He snaps "If I wanted my kid brother to tell me how to handle my other kid brother I'd ask, kid brother." He storms inside, swallowing again. He'd eaten that morning. He wasn't satisfied, but he shouldn't be this hungry.

Being angry didn't help.

He manages to cool off, listening to the rest of the conversation. Soda made plans without telling him, of course. That Steve, who he's sure hates Pony from the way he's heard him talk to Soda, is going with, and invites Dally. But his girl two-timed him in jail again. He'd figured.

After he finally pulls himself together, he calls to Pony through the front door. "You've got homework," he reminds. Damn kid don't get it. He's gotta get his head outta the clouds.

The next day he goes to the drive in with Dally. Then Dally shows up, licking his wounds from a fight with Tim Sheppard, that son of a bitch. Pony isn't with him. Eleven o'clock comes and goes, at midnight the tv stops broadcasting. Near one he calls Tim and gets Curly, asking if he'd seen Pony. Curly says he ain't.

Soda comes in about then. "You seen Ponyboy?"

He shrugs. "Nah. He went to the Dingo with Dal n' Johnny."

Darry bristles, running his tongue of his teeth. "Dally was just over here. Tim got back at him for his tires."

"Sheesh." Soda steps into the bathroom.

"Dally ain't seen 'im since the Dingo. Sheppard ain't seen 'im either."

"Relax, Dare, he's probably at the lot 'er somethin'. He'll be back."

He snorts. "He better."

Pony wobbles in about two. He smells like woodsmoke and cigarettes. Soda's asleep on the couch. He shouldn't have been out this late... too damn late...

"Where the hell have you been?"

"I was with Johnny. We got to talkin' an' I feel asleep in the lot."

"You know what time it is?" He snaps "Well it's two o'clock in the morning kiddo."

His octave rises with the next line, and he spirals about how he'd almost called the police. How they'd've thrown him n' Soda into a boys home so quick their heads woulda spun! And where would that leave him, huh? Alone. A monster. Really alone this time. No one to care for. No one to keep him in check. He'd... he'd...!

He hadn't eaten. He was starving. Pony tried to squeak past to the bathroom. Soda yells, he's not sure what. He smells blood on Pony, not his, he'll realize later, and he goes to grab Pony's shoulders.

He manages to grapple his senses and only pushes his littlest brother. He topples to the floor, a heap. Soda freezes, panting. He realizes he's panting.

He'd hit Ponyboy.

No.

He'd almost eaten him.

He stammers, as if an apology will do any good. "Pony..."

The kid bolts. Rightfully so. He follows him to the door, the cold breeze breaks through to his hot head. He takes a deep breath.

What has he done.

Soda pushes up next to him on the porch. Would he still stand there if he knew what he'd almost done? Or would he run away too? God, had Pony seen anything? His eyes? His teeth maybe? Shit shit shit!!!

He starts towards the steps. A hand grabs his shoulder. "Give 'em a minute."

Darry scoffs. "Yur right," he admits, turning to Sodapop. "I... I'm sorry."

Soda shakes his head. His eyes are sad, there look to be tears near the creases. "Ain't me you should be 'pologizin' too."

And he's right. He'll just have to wait for Ponyboy to come home.

Except he doesn't. Soda slips off to sleep around three, when he assures him when Pony gets back he'll wake him up. Not long after, he slips out, searching for something to eat.

The scent of blood is strangely forthwith. It puts him on edge. He slips through the neighborhood, searching for the source.

It's a Soc, lying next to the fountain a couple blocks from their house. He's very dead. But his body ain't more than a couple hours that way.

He glances around and listens closely. A dog barks several blocks away, and everyone else around is sleeping soundly. Except one, who grumbles about Mickey Mouse and is probably Two-Bit a block away.

Plenty of time. Darry takes up the body, and finds the notch in his neck that felled the boy. It's a Soc he recognizes - Bob. Somebody Paul used to pal around with. A part of him doesn't want to take from Bob. There's not much, and he's probably got time to find something larger if he hustles. Wait. Has anybody reported this? What if the cops are on there way right now?

But here it is, and here is he. He can be quick. There isn't much left.

He is able to use the stab wound, leaving no trace of his interference. When he stands there is blood on his jeans. He growls, wipping the corner of his mouth. He pauses, listens. Nothing is out of the ordinary. All is well.

Darry sprints home, back in just a few seconds.

Still no sign of Ponyboy.

The next morning someone bangs at the door. He goes to answer and is met by Dally with bloodshot eyes. Damn, he hasn't slept well.

"What's wrong Dallas?" He turns the latch on the screen. Dally bursts in, his eyes careening around the house. Searching for something.

He stops to listen, and nearby, there is clamor. They must've found the body at the fountain. He shuts the door, watching Dally. "Whats wrong?" He crosses his arms.

Dally shrugs, toppling into the armchair he usually uses. "Nothin' man. Just... was at a party most a' da night. Didn't get much sleep."

Soda comes out, half dressed and anxious. "Pony's not back."

"I know, Pepsi Cola..."

"He never came home?!" Soda's voice shoots up an octave.

"Now hold on..."

"Easy Sodapop," Dally intervenes, which angers Darry. "He was with Two-Bit 'n Johnny at the Dingo when I left. He prolly just ended up at 'Bit's..."

"He ran away," Soda cuts him off, "Darry pushed 'im an'..."

Someone raps loudly at the door. A dog down the street begins barking its head off. Its a straight shot to the door, so they all see the two officers standing at the door.

Darry's stomach falls. Dally mutters "shit" when Darry steps up to the door, opening the screen. "Officers?"

"Is Dallas Winston here?"

Darry stops. Surely they would've checked Buck Merril's place first, right? That was where he rented a room... Did they see him walk in? Shit, if Dally got them wrapped up in...

"Gentlemen," Dally steps up behind him, smirking at the cops from over his shoulder. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He lights up as the taller officer speaks, "We've got some questions for you at the station Dallas. And you'll come along peaceful now or you know right where you'll end up."

"Yeah, yeah," he puffs out into Darry's face. "I'll come. I'm comin'." He pushes Darry out of the way and follows the officers to their patrol car. Its parked right in front of the house. They saw him walk in then. Shit. Just great.

It's only after Two-Bit drops by looking for Pony and Johnny that they realize why Dally was brought in. He must be related to their disappearances. Darry drills Dallas as soon as he decides to reappear back at his house, but Dally's lips are sealed tighter than a clam. Darry tries to press, and Dally leaves.

The next morning, Steve drops by to grab Soda and brings with him the morning paper. On the front page are Johnny and Pony's picture day photos. And in bold, capital letters:

LOCAL DELINQUENTS WANTED IN SATURDAY NIGHT KILLING CASE

The article relates what is believed to have happened to Bob Evans. How Johnny Cade and Ponyboy Curtis attacked the boy and killed him. His friends talk about how they were just driving by, and the boys dragged Bob from the car and tried to drown him. Then, how Johnny had drawn a blade and killed him.

"Cade and Curtis are believed to have fled south, to Texas," Darry reads, "If the public has any information, they are encouraged to contact police. There is a 250 dollar reward for such information that would lead to their capture."

"Well, we know where they're headin'," Soda shoots up. Two-Bit with him, twirlin' the keys to his piece of shit Plymouth."

"Like Hell you are!" Darry shouts. He slams the front door. Two-Bit jumps in his face.

"Come on man, move!"

"No! Do you have any idea what'll happen if I loose Pony and Soda? They'll throw you in a boys home before you get back!"

Soda protests. "They're gonna throw Pony in jail if they catch 'im!"

"You lookin' to lead 'em to him?" Darry shouts.

"Whoa, easy. Easy." Dally, slips between Darry and the two boys. Two bit stumbles back a step. Darry notices he looks rather pale. Shit. Did... did his eyes...?

He hopes he didn't just betray himself. It's likely Two-Bit didn't see anything, but... but he does look awful pale now, doesn't he.

"...I have it on good authority that Johnny' n' Pony are safe. Ya dig?"

"N' how are we supposed to believe you, Dallas?" Steve butts in, hot headed as always.

Darry jumps in too. "Know somethin' we don't?"

"Maybe I do," Dally smirks, glancing at him, then at Soda. "Or maybe I don't. Any hows, I ain't 'nclined ta tell ya nothin', either."

So Dally pawns with them for the rest of the week. The papers continue to cover the story, but luckily it gets smaller and smaller, and moves closer to the back page. Maybe once everything lets up Dally will finally let onto just what he knows.

It's a rather rough week for all of them, but Darry especially struggles. He'd been the reason Pony went an' ran off. He's the reason he's missing, though the state people don't know that. Everyone knows something it seems, but nobodies telling anybody anything. The stupid web is fraught with lies and Darry'd much rather cut his way out, but he can't. His nerves dance all week as he tries to focus on work, but between Pony disappearin' and him being starvin' half the time, he can barely concentrate enough to keep from ripping somebodies head off.

Then they get a call from the hospital, telling them a Ponyboy Curtis has been brought in for smoke inhalation and minor burns. He's alive. He's alive!

Darry hauls ass in that pick-up the same way he used to when he'd raced with Paul an' his friends. The whole time, his thoughts are frought with worry. What'll Pony think? Does he still blame him for that? He'd been mad, and he knew that was no excuse... and Pony had been out when he shouldn't've been. What would the state people say? Had Pony seen him? His eyes were what would give him away, surely...

Soda hurries inside to find Pony, and Darry promises to find him after he calls the state people. He finds a payphone and dials that number he'd been given by the cops for if Pony ever showed up.

"Yeah... he's just been brought into the hospital. They're treatin' 'im for ah, burns and the likes."

"Very well. He'll be allowed to remain in your custody for the time being. We'll contact you in the next week with details pertaining to his court case."

"Right now." Darry inhales sharply. He should've seen it coming. "You have a good night."

"You as well, Mr. Curtis. Good night."

He licks his lips when he puts up the reciever. That's what everyone called his dad. It didn't sound right on him.

He turns to head to the waiting room and see if the nurse can give him Pony's room number. In the smack-dab-center of the hall are Soda and Pony, embracing fiercly. The flourescent flickers above them. Pony's fine. Pony's alright. He can hear his heart beat, even feel it against his chest. He's warm in his arms, and so is Sodapop.

The Curtis brothers embrace, and Darry breaths through tears the only fear bigger than that of himself "I thought we lost you."

The poor boy is exhuasted. He falls alseep on the way home, and Darry carries the boy to his bed. He's weighs nothing, even dead as a doornail, and Darry's stronger now than he'd ever been when his heart beat.

Monsters didn't have hearts, then why did he care for his kid brothers so much?

The next day is the rumble. It's worried him the whole week. There's been whispers that Paul might be there, even though the rumbles mostly with the highschool age kids. He sure as hell ain't in highschool age though, and neither is Two-Bit, even if he still attends. Dally won't be joining because he's still in the hospital, and he already knew Johnny wouldn't fight. Tim Sheppard drops in early that morning to speak with him.

His eyes are natural when he arrives. The black where they should be white and red where they should be brown. That is how they naturally appear, and they're ears also point like the elves in the books Ponyboy likes to read. But the eyes are more subtle, easier to signal with.

Darry lets his guard fall, and for a moment, his eyes match Tims. To his knowledge, he was also born this way, same as Paul; except he was born only recently, and he was the only one in his family. Angela and Curly both were normal, just like Ponyboy and Sodapop.

"What are the odds?" Tim asks, flipping open the newspaper he grabbed from the driveway.

"Should be 'bout even. Your outfit, mine, and the Brumley Boys," Darry rubs his neck, mulling over how odd it is to claim the little group of misfits he mother gooses around as an outfit. "Any others?"

"Other outfits?" Tim raises an eyebrow.

"Others like us," Darry hisses. Tim smirks. Unlike Darry, he's accepted his lot in life. Maybe because he didn't have anything too miss.

"I don't know which of Paul's buddies are gonna be there. You got your blade?"

He flips the page. Darry nods, heading back to his bedroom. "Yeah, I got it."

He grabs it from under his pillow. It's magic, from the Phillipines or somethin'. Tim called it a butterfly knife cause it was precise enough to chop a butterfly's wings clear off.

He hadn't been very careful after his parents died. Just a couple months deep Tim had caught him outside of town, hunting near a cattle yard or something. He couldn't remember now. Tim was the first vamp he'd met that wasn't a Soc. Still, he was born with it, same as Paul.

Unlike him, Tim hunted humans. Whatever he could scrounge up downtown. Something about him being a vamp and a greaser must've instantly allied them.

When he turns to leave, he hears Tim talking to Ponyboy. He tells him that Johnny might die. He'd been hoping to avoid that conversation.

He waits, hovering near the door. Should Tim mention what he fears, he'll be ready.

Luckily, he doesn't.

Pony makes breakfast, and everyone else practically breaks in and takes over his tv. Steve eats cake for no good reason, and Two-Bit settles in with the rest of the cake and a beer to watch Mickey Mouse. The whole time, Pony's on his feet, but he ain't quiet right. He looks too pale. When he really tries, he can tell his heartbeat is faster than it should be.

He tells Pony he shouldn't go to the rumble. Pony points out that, in fact, they are severel men down and they need him.

"Maybe I oughta take the day off."

Pony outright refuses, and he's right. They can't afford him taking a day off right now.

He grabs his tool belt, hangs the pendent from his neck, and warns Ponyboy against smoking more than a pack that day. He has the audacity to shoot back that Darry best not carry more than 1 bundle of shingles at a time.

Kid'll smoke himself to death yet.

He prepares dinner for everyone, and Pony comes home late, of course. Darry does what he can to prepare: he worked out after work, made sure to high tale it out to the cattle yard to eat. He wears a tight shirt that shows off his muscles and stretches out. Of all the outfits showing up, he's probably the biggest guy, so he's sure he'll be asked to start things.

If Paul's there, he'll be fighting him.

Pony comes in late, after he's cooked dinner. He can still eat normal food just fine, though he can't pass it anymore so he'll have to throw up before the rumble. He gets a chance with the excuse to take out the trash. Then he changes out of his work clothes and finds a shirt that will show off his physique. He knows he's built well, but he tries not to be vain about it. Rumbles are about the only time he shows himself off. Its an advantage, and they need every advantage they can get in a rumble.

Before he's done, Ponyboy asks him why he likes to fight. Soda answers for him, saying its because he likes to show off his muscles. He follows the ebb and flow of the pre-rumble banter and tells Soda he'll "show them off on you, little buddy, if you get any mouthier". But he does wonder. Pony moves on to ask Two-Bit, and Darry wonders what he would've said if Soda hadn't interuptted. Maybe he'd have said it was a good way to blow off steam. Rumbles had always been that way for him, but especially now. When he couldn't show anyone what he was and he had to be so, so careful.

He still had to be careful in a rumble, but he could be a hell of a lot less careful.

They leave for the rumble in a holler, doing acrobatics he taught them several summers ago, before he was a monster. Two-Bit cracks a beer and Darry catches Pony watching with distain. He really doesn't like that he's there, but they do need everyman they can get. Even if he counts for two and Tim two more, there's not telling how many guys will show up, and if the soc's will have anyone like him and Tim on their side.

"Sodapop, Ponyboy, if the cops show, you two beat it out of here. We'll get jailed but you'll get the boys home."

"Ain't nobody gonna call the fuzz in this neighborhood!" Steve howls, and they sprint the rest of the way to the park.

The Brumbly Boys and Shepards downtown outfit await them, already asembled. Many drink, Darry notices, and Tim draws close to his brother, confirming it was infact him and Johnny who killed the Soc. When they filter out to await the Soc's, Darry shoots daggers from his icey eyes and whispers too quiet for anyone but him and Tim "Don't try anything". Tim shrugs and there's not more time. The soc's have arrived.

Paul leads them. Darry doesn't recognize anyone else from their high school days, and Tim glances over and nods. He doesn't see any other vampires. He knows more than Darry does, but he isn't sure which ones know them.

"Darrel."

"Paul". He crosses his arms. He will not let Paul see how perturbed he is.

"I'll take you".

Two Bit tells someone he and Paul used to pall around in high school. Play football. Look at what you don't know.

And it begins.

They circle each other for a minute, studying. Paul blacks his eyes for a split second. Darry will not grant him the satisfaction. No matter how compelled he feels. No matter how his brain screams at him to obey.

Paul smirks. Darry snaps. He goes low, just like football. The rumble's on. He's taller than Paul, stronger than Paul, more fit. But Paul's been around hundreds of years. He has a tactical advantage.

But has he fought in a rumble? Darry gets him on the ground and fights to keep him from wriggle away in the mud. The skies have let fourth their fury and he is not about to let Paul get away this quick. This easy.

He lands an awkward right hammer fist to Paul's arm. He puts all his strength into it. Paul yells. He's hurt him. His fist stings, it radiates up his arm. He tries to regrip Paul's jacket. Paul gets away, wriggling just out of reach and standing. Darry scrambles up and Paul sprints into him, throwing him ten feet. He slides through the mud another ten. There's a trough through the ground between him and Paul.

Paul cackles, throwing his back as if to catch and drink the rain. Darry clambers up. He hears Ponyboy squeal. One of the Soc's is on top of him.

"Pony!" He's there in three steps. He rips, really rips, the Soc off his kid brother. He tosses the boy aside and bends to lift Pony. But Paul plows into him and throws him into the merry go round. It smarts in his spine. He graps a bar to help him stand, and realizes the thing is dented around him.

Paul's eyes are black again, he's not sure he's hiding his anymore. "Get up Darrel! Come on! Fight me like a man!" Darry jumps up at that. To his chagrin, Paul's smirk breaks as he chuckles. "Oh. Wait!"

Darry charges at Paul, and he ducks. Darry's waist collides with his shoulders and Paul thrust himself upright, twisting Darry over his shoulder, onto his back. The wind is knocked out of him, which is an odd sensation considering he doesn't need to breath anymore.

Paul yelps and there's a wet squealch. He hears Tim growling. Darry's slow to sit up. Paul throws Tim over his body like a rag doll, and hurdles him to boot. That's when he finally gathers the gumption to stand.

Tims eyes are blacked. He grimaces as he tries to keep Paul's fists at bay. "Paul!"

He turns around. Tim rolls out of the way, mudding himself all the way up. Paul smirks. "Bring it on Milk Man!"

Darry doesn't get the joke until later. He compacts as much as he can when he charges at Paul. Paul scrunches like he had the last time Darry charged. This time, Darry's prepared. He uses Paul's left shoulder like a pummel horse and swings around behind him. As soon as he's mounted, he kicks out his leg, sweeping Paul's legs out from under. He collapses to the ground, and Darry sicks on him.

He punches. Right hook, left hook. A knee to the gut when he shimmies. Left, right, left hook. He thinks he broke Pauls nose, even if he's a vampire.

When Paul quits moving, he stands, and begins to kick him. The gut, groin, face, wherever his foot falls. It will never be enough. Nothing can be punishment enough for allow Paul to turn him into a monster. Maybe it would've been different if his parents were still alive. Probably not. He'd still hate himself, he's sure. Mud flies up with his kicks. He vaguely hears Tim Sheppard tell him to quit it.

"Like hell!" He snaps.

"Darry!" One kid brother shouts.

"Darry! Their runnin'!" His other one, his little buddy Sodapop shouts. Someone grabs his bicep. He whirls his around, throwing them into the mud. It's Soda.

"Darrel!" That'd be Dally. The only one brave enough to use his real name. "Quit it man! You're killin' him!"

"Am not!" He shouts. He rolls Paul with his foot. He starts in on his back.

Two-Bit latches onto his left arm. Soda grabs his right and Dally gets him in a choke hold. Ha! Little good that'll do! He steps back, trying to whirl them off.

They're screaming. Everyone's screaming and there's thunder and lightening. A thunderstorm. How fighting.

A bottle smashes against the back of his head despite the shouts of protest from his gang. It wouldn't draw blood anyway. Not much. He'll dig out shards later, but he'll never bleed. He feels Two-Bit slip off, and he tries to push off Soda - who is still screaming his head off and bawlin' like a goddamn baby - when Tim shouts for them to brace and suddenly he's on his side in the mud, on top of somebodies leg. Dally splatters every curse imaginable with the rain, but manages to wriggle his leg out.

He's rolled onto his back and Tim Sheppards knee set on his sternum. His eyes blacked, fists balled, he warns Darry not to try anything. "They're runnin' man! We won. Calm down ol' boy! You gotta getta holda yourself!"

He freezes. He sucks in a breath. He centers around that. He feels something lodged in his arm. Someone grabs his ankles. He jerks his head up and spots Steve. He looks like a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. He lulls his head to the right. Soda stares right back at him, his eyes pleading. Tears track down his cheeks. leaving trails in the mud on them.

Tim grabs his hair with one hand and yanks his head up. He acts as if to scalp Darry, and his eyes are blacked and iris' red as he pants, and pants.

"Got your big head back on those broad shoulders a yours, superdope?" Tim snarks.

But Darry is looking past him. Between Tim's leg and Dally's torso to his left. Two-Bit is standing there, caked in mud, suddenly sobered up. He clutches someone to his chest. A little boy, a month older than fourteen, with peroxide blonde hair and a sickley paleness to him.

Dear God. It's Ponyboy.

What has he done?

Soda's voice cracks as he begs "Darry. Darry? Please. You're scarrin' Ponyboy."

Ponyboy. Sodapop.

Dear God.

"Wha...?"

Tim cuts him off, pushing off Darry's sternum. "You worked 'im up real good, Curtis, that you did. Can't tell if you killed 'im or just gave him the worst lickin' of his life."

Dally rolls away, and Soda has disappeared as he watched Tim. Tim yanks him up by the colar, and points to the motionless Paul. "You did him up real good, Darrel. And there'll be hell to pay for that."

Darry swallow. "He... he can't be dead."

"He shouldn't be," Tim pushes him forward. Darry manages to catch himself and he turns while Tim continues. "But I know as much as you now..."

No. Paul had told him. They could only be killed by rare magic or a wooden stake to the heart. They could badly injury each other, but never kill.

"...I know is that you gotta disappear. Now! His folk's'll be after you by tomorra an' I ain't real keen to find out just how many vamps are in this city!"

"Vamps?" Steve has of course weasled his way out of the wood work just now. He looks to be holdin' Soda, but neither of his kid brothers will hold eye contact. There's a nice purpling to his upper arm. He wonders if he colored it.

"Darry, you gotta go. Now," Tim shoves him. He falls this time, unprepared. "Go on! Get! If they find you here, they'll kill you an' the rest of you that's left!"

Darry shoots up, getting right in Tim's face "And if I don't?"

"They ain't gonna kill ur brothers if they think they don' know," he whirls around at the gang "An' you don't know nothin', you got it?"

Nobody nods. They're all staring at Darry. And Tim. Staring at both of them.

Tim claps his shoulder "Get yourself a fresh change a' clothes, some cash, and split big man. I'll watch your littles 'till the heat dies down."

Suddenly, it all comes rushing in. Where are the Brumbly Boys? He hasn't seen them since before the rumble. Did he scare them off? Shit. Shit. Shit! Paul's parents are vampires, they'll find him in no time and he cannot let that happen. They cannot find his brothers.

What'll happen to his kid brothers?

"They'll be fine!" Tim shouts, catching where he's looking. "You gotta go now! He'll come to any minute!"

He shoves him once more time, and Darry lets the momentum take him. He runs. Runs past his house, towards the country. He's got his wallet on him so he'll have that. It's not like he needs normal food and he's impervious to all that nature's got to throw at him any how.

What has he become? He finally realizes this sometime around the Oklahoma/Kansas border. Has... has he...

He's become a monster.

There is no doubt about it.

This is gonna get a part two. I just need to finish the plan and write it. Happy finals week all. Thinking about making audio recordings of myself reading these to include with future projects, as well as past projects. What do we think? Maybe a bit where I reread my old stuff and go through and edit, but like, a video? Am I gonna be a YouTuber? Stay tuned!

#darry curtis #outsiders au #outsiders vampire au #vampire au #sodapop curtis #tim shepard #the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #two bit mathews #darrel curtis #steve randle #dallas winston

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awritingcaitlin · 1 year ago

Text

About me!

My name is Caitlin! I love cats, and they're my writing buddies often. When I'm not writing, I'm curating one of dozens of playlists, making aesthetics for my WIPs, or playing a video game. Currently it's still Tears of the Kingdom because there's just so much to do!

More under the cut!

I've been writing since sometime in elementary school. I completed my first manuscript in high school (a YA magic school novel) and tried to query it. It did not go over well, largely because I didn't actually edit it! (But also because I was floundering with no idea what I was doing with subgenres, similar titles, if my opening pages were the issue, if the query was the issue, if the agent I queried actually repped that category and genre... etc.) (Do not be me.) I may one day return to it, but for now I'm content to let that one stay on the shelf.

I ended up burning myself up over the project unfortunately. After that, I was in college where most of my writing was fanfiction for one of five different fandoms. (Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasies 7 and 8, Dragon Age, and Undertale.) I did NaNo a couple of stories, but never actually made it as far as querying again until much later.

Currently, my co-writer and I are revising an adult epic fantasy about marines on a mission, magical brainwashing, and a sorceress who walks the line between trying to stop the religious fanatics but also not painting a target on her back.

I had been trying to revise that alongside my fantasy heist novel, but there's too many different plotlines (not to mention characters that are in both but 5 years removed from each other) to keep track of for that to work. I can do edits and draft at the same time, but I can't draft two things at the same time unless they're a different genre. Or heavily revise two things at the same time.

I first dipped my toes into writing in elementary school. I would take composition notebooks lying around the house and fill them with stories. I vividly remember my first written story about two girls from a medieval time who got sent to the present day, but they kept trying to go back in time so they could save their mom. I've since lost that composition notebook, but if I ever wanted to rewrite that based on vibes alone I probably could.

My mom always supported me and wanted to read what I wrote. It was really easy to share stuff with her as a kid and a teenager who didn't feel particularly embarrassed about my work. Even as an adult, writing adult books with adult themes, I kind of just go "fuck it." She's an adult, who makes her own choices.

I've always been drawn to writing fantasy. I love the appeal of swords and magic (mostly magic.) I like writing epic motifs where the characters are up against seemingly impossible odds and are able to overcome. I like interweaving "real world" issues into fantasy too. Because queerness and disability is not something that only exists IRL.

I love writing characters who are bigger than themselves - people who find their magic spark; people who rise to the challenge; power so deep it's barely understandable but people try anyway; a pantheon of gods who doesn't know what they're doing and end up as characters in their own right. I love weaving in storylines, making connections, dropping in references. Etc.

I am really good at dialogue. I love writing it and it shows. Exploring how characters interact with each other is honestly one of my favorite things to do and dialogue is one of the biggest extensions of that.

To be honest, sometimes, all I have is dialogue that I throw up on a page and have to fill it out with actions and descriptions later. Sometimes, it all comes at once. A lot of it depends on where I am when the dialogue strikes me. If I'm on a bike ride or in the shower, I'll get a back-and-forth dialogue in a vacuum that I have to flesh out. This can also happen when I'm on the computer, but usually, if the dialogue is coming to me while I'm already at my computer, it's also coming with actions.

As far as outlining and researching goes, I usually start drafting and then come up with an outline of where I want it to go or plot points I want to include. At one point, I did an entire zero draft for a YA contemporary, which contributed to me writing 80k in five weeks. Still not 100% sure how I manged that in the end. But, for the most part, I have an outline that I'm drafting from, then I get a shiny idea and work to include it, so I adjust my outline and begin writing again... and then this process repeats near-on indefinitely until the end of the book. So my project folders start looking like this:

I'm one of those people though who, more often than not, will come up against a question I have while drafting, and be unable to continue until I've answered the question. I probably should get better about putting notes in brackets or footnotes and coming back to it, but at the same time, I don't think it's terribly detrimental to my process to take an evening off as a research evening. I've learned some pretty interesting stuff this way. (That said! I'm better about footnotes this current draft as me and my co-writer figure things out.)

One of the best things about writing is when I have readers telling me that they loved it. Or that they laughed. Or that they felt things. I might enjoy drinking readers' tears as they tell me I'm a terrible person for doing horrible things to their favorite character.

Writing scratches that creative itch. It makes me feel whole and complete. On the flip side, when I'm having trouble writing because of real life... I feel upset and anxious.

If I could manifest anything into the publishing world, it's a nine-book series out of this with spinoffs to expand the world indefinitely. (Why worldbuild more than once?) It might not be the most feasible thing ever, but I can dream.

If you've made it this far, have some writing advice. Which is basically... find what advice works for you and do that. Also, what works for you might not work in six months. Don't be afraid to change it up. If writing 2k words a day is super feasible because you cleared the whole month of November, great! But come December if you're feeling burnt out, it's okay to only write 100 words a day... or even take a break altogether and let your creative juices refill. If writing in the mornings works great in the summer but writing in the afternoons is better in the winter, do that! You, the writer, the creator, is more important than some arbitrary goal. (Unless you have a contracted deadline, in which case, may all the motivation be at your disposal!)

#about me

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mediocre-writerr · 4 years ago

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invisible string [quinn fabray]

quinn fabray x reader

requested by anon: Hey, I love your writing and I loved Quinn Fabray's miniseries. Could you do a sequel to "Betty", maybe Quinn and the reader meeting in episode 100 and giving them a second chance? I would love :)

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

*not my gif*

There was once a old folklore. It once said that everyone had an invisible string tying one to their soulmate.

A simpler term for it would be fate.

That everyone decision, good or bad, would lead you to that one person.

The invisible gold string would drag you out of the wrong arms, wrapped all of your past mistakes, and chained your demons back. The one single thread would lead them to you, no matter how far you’ve strayed.

Not many people believe in it anymore because of the time. The time that it takes for the invisible string to tie one another together took far too long, maybe that’s why you didn’t believe anymore.

There you were back at McKinley High School. When Mr. Shue told you that the glee club was shutting down and you were having one last hoorah, you did not hesitate to book a first flight home.

Walking down the hallway with your classic olive green cardigan that made you feel like you seventeen again and straight back into the classroom that made you feel like home.

And there she was the beautiful blonde who held your heart and dropped it all at once, “Y/N,” she let out a breath as her eyes caught on yours.

“Hey Quinn,” you told her with a shy smile, “Long time no see,”

“Yeah, how has college at Penn State?” she asked as the two of you made small conversation in the middle of the choir room.

You shrugged, “It’s been nice, I don’t know if it’s everything I’ve dreamed it would be, but it’s good. How’s Yale?”

The two of you didn’t live far, it wasn’t all the way across the country. It was driving across a few state lines, but you never hung out. In fact, you barely talked after the two of you had broken up.

“Good, good. It uh feels like I’m missing something, but I don’t think I would change my decision,” she told you and you nodded.

She was about to say something else when you heard someone scream your name, “Y/N!” Sam yelled as he rushed over towards you.

You broke out into a big smile as he picked you up from off the ground, spinning you around and around. You let out a hearty laugh as he set you down.

“I’ve missed you!” he told you as he let go.

You smiled, “I’ve missed you too, bud. I wish our third musketeer was still here with us,” you said with a sad smile.

He let out a sigh, “I know, me too,” he turned to Quinn who looked hurt and jealous at the same time. Do you know why? No, but she always has been hard to read.

“Hey Quinn,” he said, giving her a tight hug.

She hugged him back with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Hey Sam, I’m gonna go catch up with Mercedes. I’ll catch the two of you later,”

You and Sam looked at each other with furrowed brows before eventually shrugging it off.

You thought that coming back here would bring back loads of bad memories from the cheating to the heartbreak to losing Finn, but it didn’t. As the day went on you remembered why you fell in love with her in the first place.

The way she sang, so full of heart. When she crinkled her nose as she smiled. Or how big her heart is for people she actually lets in.

And at first you weren’t too sure, but when the nostalgia of the club forced you guys to sing your iconic duet, it just hit you harder than before.

“I think we need the iconic rendition of Everything Has Changed from Quinn and Y/N,” Mercedes admitted and your heart immediately stopped.

You looked at Quinn who was already staring at you, like she was seeking approval, “Let’s give the people what they want,”

You grabbed your guitar playing the soft acoustic intro, as she stood on the opposite side of the room, both of you unable to look away from the other.

“All I knew, this morning when I woke is I know something now, know something now, I didn’t before. And all I’ve seen since eighteen hours ago is green eyes and freckles in your smile in the back of my mind, making me feel like,” she began to sing and you forgot how soothing her voice was. Like everything in the world kind of faded away at the sound of her voice.

As the song went on the two of you closed the gap between you until you were face to face. The only thing separating the two of you was the guitar that was wrapped across your body.

“All I know is we said ‘hello’ and your eyes look like coming home. All I know is a simple name and everything has changed. All I know is you held the door, you’ll be mine and I’ll be yours. All I know since yesterday is everything has changed,” the two of you sang.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from her only doing so when they averted to her lips. Like two puzzle pieces that were supposed to fit together, you were about to connect when the sound of clapping tore you from each other. And with one last lingering look, you broke the gaze as everyone was clapping and smiling like we were all seventeen again.

You didn’t know what to do though. Finn was usually the one to give you advice, but he wasn’t here, so you did the second best thing. The boys locker room was empty as his football jersey hung proudly on the wall. The big number five just staring back at you.

“Hey buddy, I’m in kind of a dilemma right now,” you told him honestly, “And I really wish you were actually here to tell me what to do. You were always good at that,”

He probably would’ve chuckled at what you said, recalling the time where he told you to not eat that funnel cake on senior ditch day before the rollercoaster, but you did anyway and puked all over his shoes.

“I think I’m still in love with Quinn and that absolutely terrifies me. I don’t want to get hurt again,” you whispered, tears staring to sting your eyes when you realize he’s not gonna be there to hug you.

“I’ve been so scared to put myself back out there and when I do it just feels like no one compares to him. And God I wish you could be here right now to tell me what to do because you would know, you always did,”

That’s when you heard someone clear their throat. You looked to find the source of the noise, seeing Coach Beiste standing there next to the office door.

“Hey pumpkin, do you mind if I sit here?” she asked as she pointed to the empty seat on the bleacher.

All you did was nod, before wiping your eyes, “I’m sorry, I know I’m not supposed to be here,”

“Eh it’s okay. You aren’t the first girl who’s come in here to talk to him,” she told you with a shrug.

“Rachel come in here too?” you asked.

She shook her head, “Nope,” she popped the ‘p’ in the word, “Quinn, turns out she needed advice of her own and she asked him a question,”

“About?” you asked, curiously.

“I can’t tell you that,” she confessed.

“Hey Finn,” Quinn told him, staring at the jersey that was hanging on the wall, “God I don’t think I ever stopped loving her. Actually I know I never stopped loving her, but I’m so scared Finn. I don’t know if she’ll give me a shot or anything, but I don’t want to hurt her,” she confessed.

There was a moment of silence, before she continued on again.

“I’m so scared that I’m gonna hurt her again and she doesn’t deserve that. But if I don’t tell her how I feel then she’s gonna be the one who got away,” she contemplated it for herself for a second, “Do I have your blessing to love her again? I know how much she meant to you. If you do give me a sign, anything,”

She sat there on the bench for a moment before something fell off the shelf. She let our a teary laugh, “Thank you,”

After a little more time she left the room as Coach Beiste left her office to pick up the towel that she dropped.

“I know I’m not Finn, but do you mind if I give you some advice?”

“Please, I really need it right now,”

She smiled, rubbing your back, “Go for it. If Finn was here he’d tell you something like ‘don’t give up on something that would be good for you’. And I bet if he could come down here right now and tell you one piece of advice it would be dont take life for granted. Don’t let the love of your life slip away like he did. I think that was his one big regret, not being with Rachel before he passed. I think he wants you to be happy,”

“And my advice the two of you are mature now. All of the negative emotions and feelings are easier to talk out now. So talk and just go for it, life’s too short to waste another second,” she told you and you smiled at her with teary eyed.

“I miss him,” I whispered, staring back at the jersey on the wall.

“Me too, pumpkin, me too,”

After a few more minutes, you hopped back onto your feet and went to find Quinn. You searched every hallway and every classroom for Quinn, but came up empty. Until you found her outside by the football field. There was a little tree made out in his honor, she was looking at it, just staring, contemplating everything.

“Quinn!” you shouted and her head shot up to the name of her voice.

You were making a bee-line straight for her, “Y/N are you-” but you cut her off and kissed her. Your hands grasping her cheeks and pulling her towards you.

The two of you pulled away and looked at each other, “Everyone deserves a second chance,”

“Are you sure?” she asked you, a small smile on her face.

“Very, very sure,”

The invisible string tied her to you.

#quinn fabray #quinn fabray imagine #quinn fabray imagines #quinn fabray x reader #glee #glee imagines

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ptergwen · 4 years ago

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oooh oml how about a blurb w peter in his spider-man suit (or not but the kids look up to him) playing basketball with a few kids and you see him interacting with them and he makes you join him. like just a whole lot of fun and the kids say, "are you two gonna get married?" and you're both like 😳😳😳.... "maybe??" or wtv (ily tonnes)

knock(it)out of the park

w/c: 1.8k

a/n: oh my goddddd :( ilyt thank you for this <3 also the gif is super unrelated he just looks cute

there are few people in this world as generous as peter parker. whether it’s saving the city as spider-man or doing food drives with may, he’s always helping someone, somehow. his desire to give back comes from the kindness in his own heart. he’s shown you that so many times before, but there’s one that stands out to you most.

your general chemistry class had made a group chat so you could ‘collaborate’ with each other. there were a few particular topics you were struggling with at the time. you’d texted everyone asking for help, but they were either busy or didn’t understand themselves. science and specifically chemistry being peter’s best subject, he reached out to you separately.

he felt for you because you had a pretty big exam coming up. he’d offered to call you so you could work through some problems together. why, you had no idea. you two had exchanged no more than a “hi” or “can i borrow a pencil?” now, he wanted to give up his night to tutor you? how could someone be so sweet?

that test ended up being your highest grade so far. you thanked peter in person with a hug that turned his cheeks a deep shade of pink. after that, you asked him to be your study buddy. he didn’t hesitate to agree. you met at your school library twice or sometimes three times a week.

peter really liked talking to you. he found himself smiling through your conversations and the funny comments you made when you got frustrated. you loved how genuine he was, how he wasn’t afraid to wear his heart out on his sleeve. not literally, even though you were studying chemistry.

he’d wanted to get to know you beyond your hatred for balancing chemical equations, so he asked you out for coffee. it was something simple that no college student would pass up. you’d had to push peter’s hand away so he’d let you buy the drinks. you insisted that he already did so much for you, so you could pay it back.

that lead to you properly taking his hand in yours while you waited for your coffees. his palm was a bit sweaty, probably from nerves. he laced your fingers together once they died down and gave you that soft smile of his.

that was almost two years ago. since then, you’ve fallen completely in love with peter. peter has fallen at least ten times harder for you.

instead of walking you to your dorm like he usually does, peter asked you to meet him at the park today. he’s been spending a lot of time there lately. it’s close to campus and he always comes back grinning ear to ear, which is all that really matters. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious what he does there, though.

you head over to the basketball court like peter had told you to earlier. you can’t imagine what you’re doing here. laughing to yourself, you drop your bag on the nearest bench, then take a seat. you’re not in the dark much longer because you hear someone call your name. you recognize their voice as peter’s.

“hey, y/n! c’mere!” is followed by the sound of a basketball dribbling. you look up and realize he’s playing with a group of kids. they’re all in a line, watching peter in awe. he easily jumps up and shoots a hoop in front of them. you hear a “woah, how’d you do that so fast?” and “you’re sick, peter!”

that makes him chuckle while he high fives some of the boys and fist bumps the others. this must be why he’s been coming to the park. peter was never quite the athlete until he got his powers. everyone in high school knew him to be terrible at sports, so he couldn’t exactly join any teams out of the blue. it’s nice he gets to show off his skills now.

it’s also adorable seeing him with his own mini team. they’re a group of five boys who can’t be any older than twelve. peter definitely has a soft spot for the little ones. he’s always talking about morgan, who he babysits whenever pepper isn’t around. you’ve never seen him in action until today.

a grin spreading across your face, you make your way over to the basketball court. peter passed the ball to one of the boys so he can block him while he tries to shoot. he goes easy on him, and he makes the basket. “nice job, shawn!” peter compliments and holds open his hands for the ball back. shawn beams at peter, throwing it to him.

peter notices you coming over and hits gabe with a “think fast” to pass the ball off again. you’re still smiling as peter jogs up to you. he slings an arm around your waist and pecks your lips at the same time. you squeal, pleasantly surprised as you rest your hands on his chest.

“not in front of the kids,” you tease and glance over at them. they’re fighting over whose turn it is. peter wraps his other arm around you with a knowing smirk. “how’d you meet them, by the way?” his smirk becomes a shy smile. “i was walking around here the other day and they needed a sixth player,” he explains, you biting on your lip.

“they asked me to join. guess i’m an official member now.” you trace peter’s jaw with your thumb, making him tilt his head to the side. “you’re the best person i know. best person ever.” he dismisses your words with a click of his tongue. “i can’t say no to a kid, or five.” “god, i love you,” you giggle softly, peter threading his fingers through yours.

“i love you more. you wanna join us?” he raises an eyebrow to urge you to say yes. unlike peter, you’re just terrible at basketball. you’d be better off on the sidelines. “i don’t know how to play,” you sigh and roll your eyes at your confession. “what about knockout? think everyone learned that at some point,” peter suggests in that same persuasive tone.

you give in with a huff. “okay, i think i remember that.” “awesome.” he takes your hand and happily leads you over to the court. the kids stop their bickering once peter gets there, everyone falling back into a line. they must like him a lot. “alright, guys. how about we do a few rounds of knockout?” peter rubs his hands together.

“who’s that?” david ignores peter’s question, pointing at you. he has the ball in his other hand. max hits it out and grabs it for himself. david is about to get him back for it, but peter speaks up again. “this is y/n,” he introduces you and puts an arm around your shoulders. you give the kids a small wave. “hi!” “is she your girlfriend?” shawn blurts out.

kids really have no filter. peter breathes out a laugh, drawing you into his side more. “yup. she’s gonna play with us.” “no girls allowed!” anthony yells out and crosses his arms in defiance. he’d been the quietest, then that happened. you try not to take it to heart because these are only children, but damn.

peter ‘pffts’ at him. “oh, come on. who made that rule?” everyone points at gabe. his face falls, and he pokes max’s arm harshly. “it wasn’t me, it was him!” max shakes his head side to side. “no! it was-“ “never mind, it doesn’t matter who it was,” peter finally decides before they all accuse each other. you give him a look to say you can handle it.

“you know, some of the best athletes are girls,” you tell the kids gently, offering a devious smile. “don’t you want a challenge?” you’re not referring to yourself, but you’ll let them think otherwise. no one’s too young to have their misogyny shut down. peter proudly presses his lips to the side of your head.

the boys whisper amongst themselves before shawn replies on their behalf. “we accept.”

peter gets on the line after finding another ball, you behind him. the start the game right away. first is shawn and anthony, and anthony loses that round. he’s up against david next. anthony can’t seem to aim right, which makes him lose that round and get out of the game. he shoots a glare your way. that gets a snort from peter.

max goes against gabe after that. gabe gets the ball in first, leaving max to go with peter. he gets it in while peter is shooting his first basket. it’s you and peter now. there’s no way you’re winning this, even if he’s easy on you. he’s not. he makes his basket while you’re in mid-air trying to get your own.

“sorry, y/n/n!” peter shouts and goes off to the back of the line. you groan, shawn being your opponent. he’s the better of the kids. you keep shooting baskets while he aims for his first. neither of you make it, except you get closer. the two of you go on for a couple of minutes before you both shoot at the same time. your ball hits into his and, well, knocks it out.

you make the basket.

the kids all gasp, including shawn, as you run back over to peter. he high fives you with both hands, then locks his with yours. “babe! you made a basket!” peter cheers for you. “i made a basket!” you repeat, jumping up and down. everyone is going to take you as serious competition from here on out.

by the time you finish the next couple of rounds, you’re all out of breath. you managed to win one. it would’ve been two, had peter not been the other person left in with you. it definitely helped that you have a few feet and around ten years on all the kids. they did try their hardest either way, and you all had a really good time.

the boys each grew respect for you. you’re glad you gave them a new perspective.

“good game, y/n,” shawn says like he’s wise beyond his years, shaking your hand. “you too,” you grin at him and give him a firm handshake back. peter squeezes your waist from where he’s standing behind you. “we’d ask you to join the team, if it didn’t make us an odd number,” david explains, gabe nodding in agreement.

you lay your head back on peter’s chest. “dang, you’re right. i had a lot of fun, though.” all the boys look at you two suspiciously. max asks what they’re all wondering. “peter, are you gonna marry her?” you feel him stiffen against you, his breath hitching. “wh- what?” he stammers out and subconsciously tightens his grip around your waist.

anthony gags at the question, shawn slapping him on the back for that. he asks this time. “yeah, are you?” your lips pull into a smirk, you looking at peter over you shoulder. “are you, peter?” this is something you’ve talked about before, so you’re not putting him on the spot. peter meets your eyes and tells you the same thing he said last time. “one day, i hope.”

#tom holland #peter parker #tom holland fluff #peter parker fluff #marvel #spiderman #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker x reader #college!peter parker

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heavyy12 · 4 years ago

Text

Colin and Tripp: Part 1

When Colin was in high school and vacationing at his parents’ summer home in the Hamptons, he ran into his parents’ best friend’s son, Tripp Larson. Tripp was over a decade older than Colin and someone he always admired. At fifteen, Tripp lost both parents in a plane crash. As the only child with little family left, the Laceys made sure he completed prep school without issue and attend Cornell like his late father.

Tripp came out as gay to the Laceys his freshman year at Cornell. Colin was just five at the time and his parents were dealing with their oldest daughter’s teen pregnancy. Although accepting of Tripp’s admission, the Laceys weren’t present as much as Tripp hoped during that difficult time.

During the summer going into Colin’s junior year of high school was one he’d always remember. At sixteen, his parents had just bought him a new Mercedes and allowed him to spend the summer at their house in the Hamptons, permitting he maintained a summer job. It was at the local country club where Colin was working as a caddy that he ran into Tripp Larson.

Tripp didn’t recognize the teen immediately because it had been four or five years since they last saw one another. The thirty-year-old Manhattan executive to his late father’s textile company was playing a round with friends from Cornell. Colin was immediately attracted to him. He was tall and had a thick, rugby look to him under his pale blue polo that hugged his pecs and biceps.

Colin had grown a lot in those past few years and stood about an inch shorter than Tripp at 6’2. He was playing lacrosse and rugby at the same prep school Tripp attended years ago and also had come to terms with being gay.

After bumping into each other at the clubhouse, Tripp asked Colin to join him on the deck after his game. The two caught up on just about everything. Toward the end of their conversation, Colin confided in Tripp that he was also gay and planning to tell his parents by the time he finished high school. Tripp was more than supportive and gave Colin his number in case he ever needed anyone to talk to.

Throughout the same summer, Colin had been fooling around with another caddy from the club. By August, the two were fucking each other in his parents’ Hamptons home almost daily… and everywhere else they could manage. The other caddy, Zane, was another prep school kid from Manhattan and the same age as Colin. The two parted ways at the end of August and kept in touch for a couple weeks after.

By Halloween, Colin was preparing for holidays across the world with his family and applying to colleges. After a couple weeks of the stomach flu, Colin was concerned he could be pregnant. A test soon confirmed his concerns.

All four of Colin’s siblings were eight years or older than him and he wasn’t particularly close to any because of the age gap. He didn’t want to tell his parents, so he remembered having Tripp’s number from the summer. He reached out to Tripp, who suggested Colin take the train into Manhattan the following week, Colin’s seventeenth birthday, and he’d help him with an abortion.

Colin took the train the following weekend and met Tripp at his apartment in Chelsea. It was a palatial penthouse with four bedrooms and six bathrooms. Tripp greeted him and let him get settled in one of his guest bedrooms before ordering take out.

Tripp mentioned he made reservations Sunday for a special birthday brunch for Colin before his scheduled procedure the following day. The newly seventeen year old was beyond excited for his first drag brunch experience. On Saturday, Colin had the run of Tripp’s apartment while the older family friend dealt with a work issue.

After drag brunch on Sunday, Tripp took Colin to Central Park for a walk and ice cream. It was on their walk that Colin confided in Tripp that he was really excited to get pregnant someday when he was ready. Tripp made a mental note of the conversation after realizing Colin mentioned “getting pregnant” instead of “having kids”.

On Tuesday morning, Tripp accompanied Colin to the train station after his abortion the previous morning. The two hugged and Colin thanked him for everything before heading back to Connecticut. Tripp checked in with Colin daily for quite some time after and the teenager very much appreciated the support.

Colin was accepted to Cornell and started the following year. He decided to play lacrosse, like Tripp, and had an amazing freshman year. He came out to his parents the summer before he started and was accepted by his teammates and friends.

During his second year, Cornell was hosting alumni for their final game against Columbia. Tripp messaged Colin on Instagram to inform him he’d be at the game and wanted to see him during his visit. The two old family friends met up before the match and Tripp wished the young twenty-year-old good luck. He also couldn’t get over how mature Colin looked.

At twenty, Colin could easily pass as twenty-five. He stood 6’2 and weighed about 215 with muscular, hairy legs, tanned olive skin, and beautiful blue eyes. He had really grown up since the last time they saw each other on his seventeenth birthday.

Cornell ended up winning the game 5-4. Tripp and some of his buddies met the team and coaches in the locker room to congratulate them. Tripp made a point to find Colin in the process.

“Congrats, big guy!” Tripp said as he approached Colin while he changed.

“Thanks, man!” Colin said, going in for a hug with Tripp.

“Do you have some time to show me around the campus? Things sure have changed since I was here.” Tripp asked.

“Yeah, I don’t have anything planned until later-- let’s go!” Colin said excitedly.

The college student left his keys and other belongings in his locker and the pair headed on their tour. The truth was, Tripp was a major donor of Cornell and he had been there within the last three years. He wanted to spend some quality time with Colin and catch up.

Flirting was exchanged almost immediately into their walking tour of campus. Both men caught each other looking at one another numerous times throughout their campus excursion. At the library, Tripp mentioned his first sexual encounter with another boy being in the old stacks during his freshman semester exams.

“Damn, I wouldn’t mind trying that someday!” Colin joked.

As their two-hour tour ended and they approached Colin’s locker, Tripp suggested they meet up later for drinks.

“I’d really like that” Colin replied as be shut his locker after grabbing his things.

The two locked eyes in that moment and the younger man dropped his belongings and pushed the alumnus into the locker behind him and started making out.

“Have you ever done it in a locker room?” Colin asked, referencing Tripp’s comment about his library hook up during his heyday.

“I haven’t, but I’m willing to try.” Tripp grinned.

Colin lowered himself to his knees and swiftly undid Tripp’s belt and pulled down the older man’s chinos. He began blowing him for several minutes before Tripp pulled him upwards for a kiss and suggested he return the favor.

After a couple minutes, Colin pulled Tripp up for a kiss and then discreetly turned himself around, exposing his bare ass, and planted his forearms on the lockers. Without words being exchanged, Tripp used his own spit to lube his cock and gently inserted it into Colin’s willing hole.

Tripp picked up speed and the clapping of Colin’s ass cheeks intensified, as did the twenty-year-old’s groans. Nearing climax, Tripp pulled Colin back by his neck and made out with him ferociously while he deposited a big, warm load deep into the lacrosse player’s hole. After he pulled out and kissed Colin all over his back and neck, Tripp turned Colin around so he could finish him off by accepting the younger guy’s load in his mouth.

Neither man had an experience like that in their life. Although a nearly fifteen-year age gap, there was sexual chemistry like no other. Colin had another month of school and a European trip planned with friends, so the pair decided to reconvene in August at Tripp’s family’s home in the Hamptons before Colin began his junior year at Cornell.

When Colin returned from six weeks in Europe, he texted Tripp, “Hey man, when do you think we can meet up? Sooner rather than later, I hope ;)”

Colin drove to the Hamptons in the Mercedes his parents had bought him years earlier for his sixteenth birthday. When he arrived at Tripp’s, the newly thirty-five year old was tanning by the pool. Colin snuck up on Tripp as he lay on his back on an outdoor lounger.

“Getting your tan on?” Colin asked as he straddled Tripp over the lounger.

“I thought you might appreciate that.” He responded.

“I sure do!” Colin exclaimed taking off his shirt as he rubbed his ass against Tripp’s growing erection.

Colin pulled lube from the backpack he carried outside with him and within minutes of reuniting, Tripp was inside Colin. They fucked near the pool, on the lounger, against the bar, and on the pool steps for nearly an hour before retreating to the bathroom to freshen up.

“It looks like you ate well in Europe” Tripp joked as he poked Colin’s noticeably larger belly.

“Yeah, I’m not sure how I managed it, honestly!” Colin fidgeted as he embarrassingly grabbed a shirt. “There was so much walking and hiking over there!”

“I was just kidding, Colin.” Tripp replied, stopping the younger man from putting on his shirt. “I think it looks cute!”

The two spent almost an entire month together before Colin was expected to return to Cornell. During that time, Colin’s belly only grew larger.

In bed one morning as the pair cuddled, Colin suggested he might need a pregnancy test. The two discussed how he wasn’t having any of the symptoms he experienced when he was in high school and that the last person he hooked up with was Tripp. On their last day together, they drove to a drug store and got two tests.

“Well, babe, you were right.” Tripp said walking into the master suite with two positive pregnancy tests.

“I can’t believe it. I’m not even twenty-one and I’ve managed to get pregnant twice!” Colin exclaimed as he sat in disbelief at the foot of the bed.

“You must be one fertile lad.” Tripp joked.

They immediately started discussing their options. With the timing of their last hook up at the end of May, Colin was easily twelve weeks along. He had already gained nearly fifteen pounds. Tripp suggested he bring an OB/GYN to the house the following morning and Colin pushed back his return to Cornell by a couple days until they figured everything out.

“So I have some exciting news for you boys.” The OB/GYN said during Colin’s ultrasound atop Tripp’s bed. “You’re having twins.”

Colin and Tripp looked at each other in disbelief.

“I’d say you’re about thirteen weeks along, so that puts your due date around, uhh, February 20[sup]th[/sup].”

“Wow, well thank you, Dr. Houston.” Tripp said as the woman in her forties began packing up.

Colin and Tripp saw her out and the pair retreated to the back yard. It was a hot August afternoon and normally they’d be in the pool.

“So, what do you want to do?” Colin asked Tripp over some lemonade on the patio furniture.

“That’s up to you, babe.” Tripp replied. “You need to get back to school. You need to finish school.”

“I know, I know.” Colin said, “Honestly, this all feels right, though. Does it feel that way for you?” he asked Tripp.

“Very much so, Colin. We’ve only spent a month together but I can already see ourselves growing old together.”

Tripp stood up and pulled Colin up from his seat. The two embraced for quite some time and kissed before Tripp lifted up Colin’s shirt and gave his belly a rub.

“You’re going to make a fantastic parent.” Tripp suggested as he kissed Colin’s tanned and protruding belly.

“You will too, Tripp.”

As the pair continued to embrace, Tripp moved his hands into Colin’s pants and grabbed a cheek in each hand.

“I like the idea of you carrying my children. You’re going to look so beautiful growing our babies inside that fertile womb of yours.”

“I’m glad you’re excited, babe, because I’m kind of excited to see what’s in store for us.”

Colin packed up and left for Cornell the following morning. Tripp had a realtor looking for properties in Ithaca the same day. Within a week, Tripp purchased a townhouse near campus so he could split his time between Manhattan and visiting Colin.

Colin moved his things into the townhouse shortly after and began telling friends of his twin pregnancy. Colin turned twenty-one in early November and planned on returning to Connecticut for Thanksgiving with Tripp to break the news to his family.

The pair regretted not telling Colin’s family sooner, but they were still worried about their reaction with Tripp being the father and them being in a relationship. Their age gap was nearly fifteen years, after all.

As Colin packed for Connecticut, Tripp was organizing an elaborate dinner to soften the blow to his young, pregnant lover’s family. He planned on having a catered dinner at his family’s home near the Laceys the day before Thanksgiving. Colin called and broke the news to both his older sisters. Beth and Liza both knew Tripp very well and were beyond surprised of their situation; however they seemed supportive.

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lordjohngreyreadingnook · 4 years ago

Text

Lord John AU Event Master List

A very special thank you to all of the writers, artists, and readers who helped make the Lord John AU Event a success! All good things must come to an end, and the body of Lord John fanworks has grown immensely during this event.

Because Pan is still a geek, here’s an infographic with some of our stats.

Below the cut, you’ll find a masterlist of all of the art and fics submitted for the event. Most of the fics can be found in the AO3 Collection, and all titles in the master list below are links to the original work posting (AO3 or Tumblr).

Here’s how we did!

Master List Below!

Art Links

“E-girl Claire and her boyfriend John” by @deanwinchesterangelfucker

“Gender-swapped, established relationship John and Jamie” by @deanwinchesterangelfucker

Fic Links

Title: extra credit Author: @iihappydaysii Rating: E Ship: Brian/John AU Category: High School Word Count: 2,532 Summary: Brian Randall (Jamie Fraser's gay son, of course) needs to get his grade up in his trig class taught by who other than his father's friend, John Grey.

Title: Die for this Kingdom Author: @mistresspandorawritesthings Rating: M Ship: Jamie/John AU Category: Mob Word Count: 45,255 Summary: All Jamie “Fortnight” Fraser wants is to provide a good, safe life for his family in Chicago. But with tragedies keeping him tangled in his uncle’s deadly schemes and one tenacious—and handsome—police officer determined to bring him in, Fortnight Fraser has a choice to make. Bend to Dougal’s will… or burn it all to the ground.

Title: Remember Hawaii Author: @mistresspandorawritesthings Rating: E Ship: Hector/John AU Category: Semi-Modern Word Count: 5,119 Summary: The chances of John Grey unexpectedly seeing Hector Dalrymple in a group of Marines was always small but never zero. In the vastness of the Pacific Ocean, Hawaii is tiny. What are the odds they'd both be there at the same time?

Title: Tasting Sunshine Author: @andhopethatsoon Rating: E Ship: John/Stephan AU Category: Supernatural/Fantasy Word Count: 6,421 Summary: Every fae and their godmother knows that you DON'T eat the oranges from THOSE trees or you will summon the Summer King who will demand your heart’s desire in return.

Title: At Operator’s Discretion Author: @mistresspandorawritesthings Rating: E Ship: Jamie/John AU Category: Assassins Word Count: 6,210 Summary: John Grey is an operator specializing in surveillance and termination--that is, spying and murder. He keeps all this a secret from his husband, Alex Malcolm, for Alex's protection. But when a contract comes in for one James Fraser, Grey's life gets all kinds of complicated.

Title: Theatre Masks Author: @faeriesfanficblog Rating: G Ship: Jamie/John AU Category: Modern Word Count: 1,238 Summary: A modern AU. Jamie Fraser is an autistic playwriter attending a theatre premiere with his husband Lord John Grey.

Title: The Wild Hunt Author: @mistresspandorawritesthings Rating: E Ship: Jamie/John/Tom AU Category: Supernatural/Fantasy Word Count: 8,033 Summary: The Sorcerer is rumored to be the only being able to influence the Wild Hunt, the same Wild Hunt hell-bent on destroying the world to get to John Grey. But the Sorcerer's aid comes with stipulations.

Title: The Right Tool for the Job Author: @iihappydaysii & @mistresspandorawritesthings Rating: E Ship: Jamie/John AU Category: Modern Word Count: 5,825 Summary: Jamie makes an embarrassing emergency call after a sexual mishap, and John Grey is the paramedic who shows up to help.

Title: gotta listen when the devil’s calling Author: @narastories Rating: E Ship: BJR/Jamie/John AU Category: Modern Word Count: 6,105 Summary: John wasn't looking forward to his birthday. Aberdeen was cold and bloody far away. This year they also got a surprise travel companion last minute and John is convinced, it couldn't get any worse. But perhaps, it's not so bad after all.

Title: Off the Only Path I Knew (WIP) Author: @jesuisprest747 Rating: M Ship: Jamie/John AU Category: College/University Word Count: 8,920 Summary: Nothing about University is going as Jamie Fraser planned. He misses his family and friends back home, and the friends he's made at University don't feel quite right. Under pressure from his father, he is studying business instead of his true passion - Classics and Literature. To top it all off, his roommate barely speaks to him. A story about friendship, love, and following your heart.

Title: And Say We’ll Never Part Author: @mistresspandorawritesthings Rating: E Ship: Hector/John AU Category: Semi-Modern Word Count: 6,872 Summary: The war has been over for months, and the Allied forces are slowly demobilizing. With the help of his friend and battle buddy Harry Quarry, newly-discharged John Grey ensures that Hector has a home waiting for him.

Title: Lemon Drop Author: @mistresspandorawritesthings Rating: E Ship: Hal/John/Percy AU Category: Modern Word Count: 6,335 Summary: Weeks into their mother's engagement, John and Hal still haven't been formally introduced to their soon-to-be step-brother. So Hal suggests they take matters into their own hands. And if it turns out Percy is up for a little fun... all the better.

Title: A Pocketful of Posies Author: @levisqueaks Rating: M Ship: Brian/John (end game); Jamie/John AU Category: Modern Word Count: 3,483 Summary: Jamie breaks up with John a mere week before his wedding to a girl John knew nothing about. 20 years later, John finally gets a little bit of closure.

Title: London Calling - Come out of the Cupboard Author: @angstosaur Rating: E Ship: Claire/Jamie/John AU Category: Semi-modern Word Count: 24,337 Summary: Setting – Bloomsbury, London, early 1980’s John is a newly qualified solicitor and is working in Holborn. When he was studying law in London his mother insisted he stay in her apartment in Bloomsbury. He agreed as long as he could share with his old school friend, Claire Beauchamp. Claire has just finished at medical school and has a post as a junior doctor at a large London Hospital. They’re just good friends. That’s all. Really. After all, John is gay. Then, Jamie Fraser enters their lives and suddenly all that was taken for granted is called into question.

Title: John Grey’s Anatomy (WIP) Author: @jesuisprest747 Rating: E Ship: Claire/Jamie/John AU Category: Modern medical Word Count: 25,452 Summary: When John Grey decided to move to America in early 2020 to escape his past and make a new start at Boston Memorial Hospital, he only wished to work hard at his anesthesiology fellowship and heal his broken heart. Little did he know that he would soon meet two people who would change his life forever, against the background of the world's first global pandemic in over a hundred years.

Title: Blood Bound (WIP) Author: @mistresspandorawritesthings Rating: E Ship: Jamie/John; Jenny/Minnie AU Category: Supernatural/fantasy Word Count: 2,862 Summary: Jamie Fraser grew up with the knowledge of the unholy evil that walks the earth. For more generations than his father could count, Fraser women have been the lone soldiers charged with keeping the evil things at bay. But when one wrong move on a haunted bog in Ireland transforms Jamie into the very thing he was taught to help his sister eradicate, he's forced to reevaluate everything he thought he knew about monsters.

Title: Love is a three-edged sword (WIP) Author: @angstosaur Rating: M Ship: Claire/Jamie/John AU Category: Authurian Word Count: 74,668 Summary: An Arthurian themed AU featuring characters from Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series of books and the Lord John Grey stories. The enduring love triangle of Arthur, Guinevere and Lancelot retold with a different twist. Expect canon to be used and abused, mythology to be woven in as desired and for there to be scenes of an explicit nature.T his is neither Outlander nor Arthurian legend as you may know it, or accept it, but it’s a story that called to me many months ago and I shall endeavour to write it. The characters are fictional and I’ve put them in an indeterminate time, so there will be less historical accuracy than my previous long story.

#Lord John AU Bingo Event #Lord John Grey #Lord John #Rec List

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

Note

Indruck 22 for the meet uglies?

Here you go! I went SFW on this one

you’re on a date with this awful, awful person who keeps getting under my skin because my friend and I have been eavesdropping all night and your date says something that makes me snap … I thought it was a first date, not a three year relationship

“...such a waste of money. I mean, why spend all that to get something tacky on your skin?”

Indrid rolls his eyes at Barclay from across the counter of the Amnesty Lodge coffee shop, the cooks arms and hands sporting a plethora of tattoos rivaled only by Indrid’s collection.

“I dunno, l like the one I got.” The other man--who seems to be on the worst first date of his life--shrugs.

“You honestly think you and Juno couldn’t have spent that money on something else in college?”

“I mean maybe but, uh, we were earnin our own cash, figured we got to decide what to spend it on.”

“Hmmmm” the first guy sips his coffee, “sounds like a typical excuse for someone who doesn’t want to admit a mistake.”

“C’mon, that ain’t fair-”

“Ugh, stop saying ain’t! I can’t take someone who talks like that to meet my family.�� Before the target of his disdain can respond, he snaps his fingers, “hey, buddy, can I get a refill or what?”

“The station for black coffee refills is right there, sir.” Barclay indicates the very obvious corner of dispensers, his voice the kind of calm that Indrid knows means he’s memorizing this guys face to warn other staff about.

They earn a brief reprieve while The Asshole leaves the table. When he returns, he’s shaking his head.

“God, have you looked at the photos they’ve got up? Who the fuck wants to look at bones?”

Indrid quickly glances at his friend to be sure he’s permitted to start a fight. Barclay nods.

“Quite a lot of people.” Indrid spins on his stool. “I’ve sold a number of them just from the display here. So perhaps you could keep your rude, unclultured, close-minded, obnoxious mouth shut.”

The man balks, looks to his companion for help. He offers none, mouth trying to form words and only coming out with halves of ones (except for the “fucks” which are plentiful).

“Oh my fucking god, you agree with him! That’s it, I’m out.” The Asshole pushes back from the table and storms out. The remaining man leaps up, panicked.

“Fuck.”

“It’s okay man, shitty first dates happen to all of us.” Barclay offers from beside the bakery case.

“I mean yeah, they do, but that wasn’t one of ‘em. That was my boyfriend of three fuckin years.” He dashes out of the shop, sparing a final glare at Indrid as he does.

Indrid trades a sheepish look with his friend, “Oops.”

-------------------------------------------------

“I’m glad you finally get to meet Duck!” Aubrey grins over her shoulder as she and Indrid wind down the hall at the office Kepler magazine.

Founded by childhood friends, Kepler worked a combination of print and video content that saw its subscribers and revenue climb while other publications struggled to stay afloat. Aubrey was head of the video team, though she contributed content to the magazine in the form of interviews about environmental activists of color and sustainable gift guides.

Kepler has three sections: travel, science, and environmental writing. Indrid now has the honor of being one of their primary photographers. He started two weeks ago and is thoroughly enjoying his work and the company of the other staff. The only person he’s yet to meet is Duck Newton, one of the founders and main reporters, as he was off on an assignment.

Aubrey knocks, gets a friendly “come in” and ushers Indrid into the office.

Looking at him from behind the desk is The Asshole’s Boyfriend, whose face goes from open and friendly to confused, then to perturbed.

“You okay?”

“I, uh, fuck, n-ye.” Duck sighs, “remember how I told you Alex and I split after a shitty date in a coffee shop?” He points at Indrid, “this was the fella who, uh, expedited the process.”

“Ohhhh.” Aubrey frowns, then shrugs with a smile, “whelp, he’s our new photographer. We’ll see you around.” She hurries them outside once more, shutting the doors. As they head back the way they came, she whispers, “his ex was a huge fucking dick, so if word gets out everyone is gonna think you’re a fucking hero.”

“He didn’t seem to see it that way.”

“It was only a few weeks ago, so it’s still pretty fresh. He’ll heal from it okay, Duck’s a tough cookie. And I’m sure you guys’ll get along eventually.”

---------------------------------------

“Juno, please, you gotta come with me.”

“I would bud, except it’s April and I’s fifth wedding anniversary that weekend. And no, we already have plans, so we can’t just take over this assignment as part of the celebration.”

“Fuck” Duck leans back in his chair.

“...You really asked everyone?”

“Ye-no, fuck-”

“Duck.”

“I ain’t asked Indrid yet.”

“There it is.” Juno smirks, “you gotta ask; besides, we were gonna have him do illustrations for the feature, but photos would be even better. And we both know it ain’t his fault y’all broke up.”

Duck nods, promises to ask Indrid after lunch. He finds the photographer flipping through his files from his shoot for next issues cover. His silver hair is pulled back, red glasses sitting on the desk beside him so he can gauge color correctly.

Duck kind of wants to pull the silver locks just to see what happens. It’s not his fault Indrid looks like his Sophomore roommate who he had a raging crush on, only with more tattoos and a much more captivating face. Pity he helped fuck up Duck’s last chance at a stable relationship.

“Hey, Indrid, you got a minute?”

The photographer cocks his head.

“I, uh, so we got a feature on this whole chunk of places touting themselves as ‘sustainable romantic getaways. I booked a bunch of places, but a lot of ‘em will turn me away if I turn up solo. And the person I was supposed to go with ain’t an option any more. Neither is anyone else. You get my drift?”

Indrid pinches the bridge of his nose, “you realize this is a terrible idea, yes?”

“Hey, we been workin together just fine. Ain’t we? Wait, fuck, I ain’t been treatin you bad even when I’m tryin to be professional, am I?”

“No, you’ve been perfectly polite. But there’s a world of difference between being cordial in an office and going on what’s functionally a vacation together.”

Duck crosses his arms, “I ain’t about to lose eight hundred bucks in deposits.”

Indrid blinks, then chuckles, “Fair. What day do we leave?”

-------------------------------------------------

The temperature rises and the air dries as they speed south on Five. Indrid fiddles with games on his phone as cover for the list of “will this be a disaster or not” he’s mentally constructing. So far the signs are positive; Duck isn’t very chatty, but neither is Indrid. They have similar tastes in music, which makes much more sense when Duck explains he was a burn-out in high school. He also isn’t agitated by Indrid stimming, which makes it easier for the photographer to relax and enjoy the drive.

But they haven’t spoken about the elephant in the car, and Indrid resolves not to be the first to do so. No point in poking the sore spot if he doesn’t have to.

They stop at a Sinclair for gas. Duck reaches into his glovebox for something as Indrid climbs out, comes away with a photo instead. It’s one of those ones from a photobooth, faded but unmistakably him and his ex. His face falls for a second and Indrid scurries into the Dairy Queen attached to the convenience store.

As he waits in line, he turns one fact over in his mind like a picture he’s trying to make sense of; it would be easier to let their awkward first meeting go if he did not genuinely like the other man. He’s charming, in a quiet way, and very friendly. He’s built like the guys Indrid always got useless crushes on in college, usually third tier frat boys or--if he was lucky--a bear a few years older than him who liked his men on the odd side.

He doesn’t like seeing Duck sad. The sadness isn’t something he can fix. The stalemate between these two facts annoy the living hell out of him.

He’s next in line, glances up to confirm what he wants, and gets an idea. Last week, he overheard Duck talking with Aubrey about roadtrip snacks of their youth.

“One chocolate dipped cone, on me.” He holds the treat out to the other man.

“Oh. Uh, thanks. These are my favorite from when I was a kid.” Duck’s smile returns.

“I remembered. Or, ah, that is, I remembered you saying that.”

The smile changes, “you didn’t need to.”

“I wanted to. Shall we?”

“Yep. Uh, you gonna be able to drive and eat that at the same time?”

“Do not doubt my ability to consume ice cream under difficult circumstances, Duck Newton.”

They make it to their first stop unscathed. It’s what Duck refers to as, “eco-bespoke,” a fancy spa and hotel built in a former school, the kind that was made in an era of beautiful instead of grim educational architecture.

“Goats!” Indrid claps his hands, delighted, at the two animals stabled near the main building. One of it’s supposed sustainable elements is the small farm that helps feed the on-site restaurant. Duck smirks and Indrid suddenly feels the gulf in their upbringings, “Ah, I suppose they’re not exciting to someone who grew up in a rural town.”

“Nah, but they’re damn cute.” Duck checks the tag on their room keys, “okay, we’re in the green building, room 2B.”

Indrid snaps some photos as they cross the grounds, more to remind himself of things he wants to come back to later than anything else. He’s busy studying a strange mark on the wall by their door when Duck says, “I can sleep on the floor.”

“Why--oh” he stares at the single bed, “in retrospect, we should have seen this coming.”

“Yeah.” Duck drops his bag near the closet, slides the door to look for spare linens. Indrid summons his courage, finds it lacking, and so bolsters it with nonchalance.

“It’s a king, we could easily share.”

“You’d, uh, you’d be okay with that?”

“It is only narrow definitions of masculinity that mean something like sharing a bed is inherently sexual.”

He’s not entirely sure that made sense, but Duck nods, “You want the right side or left?”

“Right, please.”

“Great. And, uh, Indrid? Thanks for rollin with all this. I, uh, I know it’s fuckin weird but this is a huge feature for the magazine and we woulda been fucked if we had to pull it.”

Indrid gingerly sits on his side of the bed, “You’re welcome. And I don;t know about you, but” he smiles, catches Duck watching him intently in the mirror, “I’m enjoying myself so far.”

------------------------------------------------------

“Why has an activity that renders one incapable of using their thighs been deemed ‘romantic?” Indrid mumbles, face-down on the bed to offer his burning legs relief.

“Fuck if I know.” Duck groans as he sits next to him, “Kinda fun, but if I was doin this to get you in bed, I’d be fucked.”

“I am in bed” Indrid teases.

“And if I tried to put the moves of you you’d toss me outta it. Assumin I could even move myself that close.” Duck nudges him, then clears his throat, “uh, I mean, not like we’d be doin that-”

“Nono, point taken.” Indrid rolls over. The horseback ride was one of the “couples exclusives;” a trot out to a beautiful oasis for a gourmet picnic. Indrid got some excellent shots, including one of Duck with honeycomb dripping down his chin, which he will not be offering up to editors but may keep for himself. For it’s beautiful composition, of course.

Mercifully, their next stop is the pool. Indrid settles himself in the hot tub while Duck types some notes on his phone. Then his friend doffs his bathrobe and Indrid may as well be in a dream. In the steaming, echoing paradise of multi-colored tile and ecstatic shouts, Duck stands like one of the angelic fountains at its heart has come to life.

“You okay there, ‘Drid?”

“Yes.” He hopes his lack of glasses means Duck will mistake his blatant staring for trying to get his vision in focus.

“Then scoot your cu--uh, your butt over so I can sit down.”

Indrid gladly moves aside, finds he’s so comfortable with Duck pressed against him that he begins nodding off in the warm lull of the water. When the other man nudges him, saying it’s time to go, he finds a strong arm draped over his shoulder and Duck’s smile the most relaxed it’s been all trip.

Their last task at this location is to locate the speakeasy somewhere on the premises and order the “lovers delight” (only available to couples). To do so, they follow clues purple light bulbs, doors that lead to tiny, art-filled rooms, secret staircases, and a false supply closet to a dark wooded, dimly lit, incredibly pleasant bar looking out over the property. The drink turns out to be a massive goblet (more a bowl that someone stuck on a stem) of ginger syrup, prickly pear juice, and silver tequila.

It also turns out to be incredibly strong. So much so that when they get back to the room, Indrid loses his balance getting his shoes off, which makes Duck laugh, which results in both of them flopping onto the bed.

“S’fun. You’re, you’re real good at the clues. Should, should go to an escape room when we get home.”

“Wasn’t, hic, that hard. They, they want, hic, want you to find it.”

“Take the compliment, goofus” Duck pushes his shoulder.

“You’re, hic, the goofus.”

“Nuh uh.” Duck sticks his tongue out. Indrid does the same, then licks his cheek just to hear him laugh.

Duck rolls onto his back, giggles dying down to a contemplative sigh, “He woulda hated this.”

“Your ex?” Indrid crawls to stay close to him.

“Yeah. Everythin I like, or, or thought was fun, he thought it was a waste of time or just plain worthless. He, he wasn’t like that at the start. Dunno what changed. Probably me. Probably got borin. Got worse.”

Indrid is not so drunk that he believes he can fix this. But he’s just drunk enough to stroke Duck’s cheek and murmur, “No. Nono, hic, you’re th’best.”

He doesn’t remember falling asleep after that, but he must have, because his phone is beeping at them to get up and face the day. They do so with to-go coffees in one hand and their bags in the other, neither speaking of the night before until Indrid has turned the car into deeper desert.

“Sorry for gettin on a thing about Alex last night.”

“It was a three year relationship; goodness knows you’re allowed to have feelings about it.”

“Even relief?”

Indrid glances at him, “Of course.”

His friend leans back in his seat, sipping from his travel mug, “That’s half the reason I been in such a funk. I feel like I oughta be sad, then I feel guilty for the fact I’m relieved instead. But if I really was that unhappy in it, why did I hang around so long? Maybe that was the best I deserved, y’know?”

“I know the feeling, yes, but I can’t say I agree with your statement. You deserve someone who sees you for who you are and adores it, not someone who loved what you once were and became bitter when you grew.”

Duck looks at the console between them, at Indrid’s chipped black nails and the hand he hopes isn’t shaking. He squeezes it a moment longer than necessary, “Thanks, ‘Drid. It’s nice to hear that from someone who’s still gettin to know me. Juno and them, they’re my friends, I know they’re in my corner but, uh, sometimes I worry that anyone new is gonna find me dull or somethin like that.”

“I’m sure some people would, just as some take one look at me and decide I’m a weirdo who they don’t want to deal with. But I can say with certainty that I don’t find you that way.”

Duck grins all the way to their destination. It’s a quirky trailer park full of amenities and built mostly from salvaged materials, doing it’s best to run off the grid. It also gives each trailer a theme, and Indrid flaps his hands when he sees they’ve been booked in the “The Cramps” themed one.

“Hell yeah.” Duck mirrors his excitement as they open the door. Their haven from the desert sun is full of kitschy horror artifacts and a much smaller bed than the previous spot. There’s no debate this time; Indrid settles on the right, Duck on the left, and they settle in for a nap before venturing out to work.

They take in the bar, the arcade, the mini-golf course, and the “couples supply room” (“damn, didn’t know they made eggnog scented massage oil” “ooh, I like how that smells”), but Duck turns out to be most excited to rent a stargazing kit and guide Indrid out into the dark desert. They’re on their backs, shoulder to shoulder and munching chocolate covered fruit, when he discovers the source of his glee.

“There!” Duck points to a crackling streak of silver.

“A meteor” Indrid wiggles happily as a second one speeds through his view.

“It’s the Perseids, and this is a damn good place to watch ‘em. Look, there’s another one.” He’s breathless each time and Indrid’s heart threatens to beat hard enough to crack the earth at the sound.

“Did you ever wish on stars when you were little?”

“Yep. Never asked for much worth notin, though I’m pretty sure I wished once to just wake up and be a boy. Or, uh, guess for everyone to see me as one. What about you?”

“I wished...I wished for someone to do things like this with, some who’d kiss me and tell me that they didn’t need to wish because what they wanted was right here.. I love the world, I want to see so much of it, that’s half the reason I chose my profession.. But when I was young I thought I’d be with someone when I did. I thought it was easy to find that kind of love. To be worthy of it.”

“Hey now” Duck rolls onto his side. He’s backlit by the moon, meteors zipping behind him as if they, just like Indrid, are pulled to him, “what happened to all the stuff you said in the car about deservin someone who adores you?”

“It’s easy to apply such things to you, harder to believe them about myself.”

“How come?”

“Because you are everything a sensible person could want in a man and I am not.”

“That’s where you’re wrong” He sets a hand next to Indrid’s shoulder, “Can think of at least one sensible fella who wants to get to know you a whole hell of a lot.”

“He’ll get to know me plenty, we’re co-workers.”

“There are different kinds of gettin to know someone.” Duck dips down, brushes their noses together, “for instance, the last few days I’ve gotten to know you’re a damn good travel companion and that Ned was smart to hire you. But I’ve also gotten to know there’s some things about you I really wanna know.”

“Such as?” Indrid’s fingers find Duck’s sides.

“Such as whether you wanna go on a date with me when we get back. No assignment, just the two of us gettin some time together.”

“I want nothing more.” He leans up to kiss him, feels him shudder happily when their lips meet. Indrid wonders how long it’s been since someone kissed Duck like they meant it, and resolves to make up any deficits with an enthusiasm that would put horny eighteen year olds to shame.

Indrid nips Ducks ear, “you know, were it not for the threat of mosquitos and scorpions, I’d suggest we make good use of the non-food items in that basket.”

Ducks grin lights Indrid up like a comet, “Then howsabout we go test just how conducive our trailer is to romance?”

Indrid kisses him adoringly, “Lead on, sweetheart; I’ll follow you anywhere.”

#indruck #indrid cold/ duck newton #meet ugy

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fourfucksake · 4 years ago

Text

online meeting

pairing: chris evans x black!fem!reader

warnings: cursing, stripping, masturbation

word count: 4.2k

p.s this workpiece is set in an alternative reality. this is a professor!chris one shot + i imagined y/n as a black girl, but i hope every single one of you lovely people will read!

Heaps of new policies bombarded universities since the spread of the virus. The amount of preparation and paperwork that had to be completed due to the newest conditions in the teaching system made everyone stressed to the maximum level. Perhaps, that’s why teachers communicated more during those challenging times; only those who work in the same environment can relate to your work frustrations. Individuals whom before appeared almost invisible where now your online buddies. It was quite incredible though.

Chris enjoyed the feeling of this community being available for him whenever he feels like expressing his irritations and or simply desires to moan about his dislikes. Before, he has never considered himself to be a whiner, but since everyone has been constantly moaning and pouting, he thought this is the right time to join the club.

Taking into consideration the current state of the world he was assured that everyone is a complainer right about now. He was okay with that though. No doubt, he didn’t know much about psychology, however, it seemed only logical to allow people to talk about how they feel. Also, it appeared plausible people felt scared, confused, or worried. Hey, these were very surreal times. There was no reason to make others feel bad about having emotions.

Of course, there was some resentment towards certain members of University since all the teaching went online. Sometimes, Chris felt like most of his colleagues gave rats ass about regulations and procedures that were now put in place. Instead of trying to provide the best learning experience possible, they restricted themselves to slamming all the work materials online for students to figure everything out on their own.

Personally, he found online teaching unbearable and exhausting. He hated it; there were no words to describe how much he despised it. At first it was alright; it was tolerable and doable. In a way, it was nice. Being at home, able to wake up later than early morning hours. Being with his dog and going on long walks wherever he wished. Being able to take his time with cooking, exercising, reading. All of those mentioned were exceedingly pleasant.

However, Chris chose to be a teacher. He loved spreading his knowledge around. Since an early age he would teach his younger brother; he was much help when it came to revising, essay or exam tips. This was his passion, he loved it. This pandemic undeniably took this away from him. However, there was still room to provide students with knowledge this way, and he tried extremely hard to do so in most effective ways.

For example, he did not have to orchestrate his own online meetings to be this long. Half an hour, that was a long time slot. This was planned completely on purpose. Ultimately, his desire was to provide students with the time to talk to him, express their concerns, and ask questions. Maybe he took this job way too seriously, he thought, and it wasn't needed. However, there’s always this teacher everyone likes, and Chris wanted to be precisely that guy. It wasn't some stupid ego thing, not at all. He genuinely wanted people to feel like he is there for them and wants them to succeed. Every single individual had an ability to be successful, some just needed an extra push too keep them on track. Although his own schooling experiences where genuinely pleasant, he knew he would benefit more from University experience if he had a teacher like him. Not to lick his own ass, he thought, of course.

After years of working in the schooling system no errors have ever occurred. Until last year, when the last class prior to pandemic began their college journey. Back then and there a problem has arisen – you. It was no one else than little Miss Perfect, the girl who made him look twice when she entered the room. Oh, how tiring and fatiguing crushing on you really was. Chris was always collected and focused while working, but with you in his classes he found himself distracted. Often losing his train of thought, his mind shifted to dark places when your class sat in front of him. Chris was a perfectionist, so this was, in fact, greatly infuriating for him.

He did not feel this way since high school. Back in the day he was not the coolest kid you could walk past in the corridor. Thankfully, he has never had his head shoved in the toilet, but not being bullied did not necessarily mean there’s a successful high school experience behind an average American. In his own opinion, he was just a normal kid that had nothing to show for back then.

Precisely that, being average, was now the reason behind this familiar feeling. A pretty girl, a popular girl causing vivid emotions to flush down himself. Looking at her while she does the most ordinary things was the reason behind the uncomfortable state in his pants. His hormones went ill around her, reminding him of how tough being a teenage boy with no control over his erections was. It felt so familiar, craving her this badly, almost as if he’s done it before. Maybe, in a way, he compared you to someone he crushed on for the whole duration of high school. A beautiful skin complexion, addictive smile and those big, shiny eyes staring at his soul; those qualities of yours highly reminded him of her.

Chris remembered that girl very well. He recalled being fascinated by her presence, by her strong personality, and hypnotic prettiness. Her name did not pop up in his mind for years. Until he met you. Chris had Pearl, Pearl Bennett, tattooed on his brain back then. Needless to say, it was embarrassing how annoyingly beautiful she was. Just like you. Now, he didn’t even know if she was alive, he hasn’t seen her for years. It never really bugged him then, it didn’t bug him now. It was just a pleasant memory that he was able to recollect because of you.

He wasn’t sure about your feelings towards him. Mr. Novak, his colleague, often commented on the way some students would look at him. Chris regularly heard Novak claiming that Evans could get any of “that young pussy” if he only snapped his fingers. Whether it was true or not, he had no idea. Maybe, he was just humble. Or stupid, possibly very stupid.

The house was practically unoccupied now; his wife was dropping groceries off at her mum’s house and Dodger was nowhere to be found, most likely sleeping someplace in the house. Chris did not mind. In fact, he was relieved to have no other human being here. Since pandemic began his marriage decreased in its quality drastically. For quite some time existing relationship brought more annoyance than joy. He was not sure if it went both ways but noticing how regularly his wife exited their house in recent times it was healthy to assume the feeling was mutual.

How did he feel about his failed marriage? Weirdly, he was awfully okay with it. There was not a single part of him that cared enough to fight for this marriage any longer. Right now, all his thoughts were concentrated around another female. How she managed to look delicious without trying. How she smiled or laughed. How her faced twisted with grumpy expressions once she didn’t understand a certain concept of a lecture. Chris could go on, and on, and on.

It was not possible he could describe you in any other word than perfect. It was quite pathetic, he thought, it shouldn't be like that. Yes, you are a pretty girl and yes, no man can probably say no to you. There was just something about you, something so extraordinary that it took his breath away. What was this fascination? He wasn't sure. However, what he was positive about was that he enjoys looking at you. He enjoys listening to you. He enjoys thinking about you. He enjoys all those things way too much; he was aware of that. He was not ready to stop thinking about you just yet.

Now, sitting in front of his Mac, his eyes were focused on the screen. He wasn’t too up to date when it came to the modern technology, but he also wasn’t clueless to how to work a computer. Setting everything up, he glanced over at the previously printed list of names with time slots besides them. The list was not in alphabetical order, students had their half an hour available for the next eight hours of his life.

It would be a lie to say he was not thinking about you. He was looking forward to seeing your face, even if it’s only on the computer display. Your surname and student ID were somewhere halfway through the list. Naturally, he searched for your name straight away after the programme generated the list.

The ticking of the clock hanged on the nearby wall sounded out so clearly. Almost like a racing heart whenever one feels more strain than usual. He could feel the nervousness growing within him as the time passed. He almost felt bad for the kid who had his scheduled meeting right before you. Chris kept on stuttering, disconnecting, and asking for questions to be repeated. Unfortunately, there was no strength in him to think about the failed one-to-one since his brain was too concentrated on you. His favourite, little student.

His thought process was disrupted as a green dot appeared next to your surname, suggesting your online availability. Licking his lips and fixing his hair, his fingers position themselves on the mouse. One click and the signal began. Beep one, beep two, beep three.

“Hi, Mr. Evans!” Her bubbly voice caused Chris to smile. She waved and in response so did he. She seemed happy, her face expression indicated nothing but joy, he enjoyed it greatly. “Hi! How are you? How’s everything?” He asked with an honest curiosity, still smiling at his student. It’s been months since the last time they spoke without anyone else around. Of course, this was the first instance of them conversating in those settings, but he did not mind. Any type of physical interaction seemed impossible now and anytime soon. This was the best he could receive for a significant period for now.

Their faces didn’t shut for the first couple of minutes. Talking about the past months, Chris was quickly reminded of how smart and funny this girl infatuating really is. They seemed to be getting on well right from the first meeting. Weirdly, she had similar likes and dislikes as well as sense of humour. It was like talking to a long-term friend whom you haven’t seen in the longest time. He noticed her hair change, spotting the long knotless braids; in his opinion she looked completely stunning in this hairstyle. He was quick to comment on it and as a reply he was given a complement on his newest buzzcut.

Sadly, but still, he ended the chit chat to focus on discussing work material. Chris tried to stay on topic and somehow it was going well. For the next couple of minutes, he chatted about work. His hand travelled to the left side of his desk to glance at a list of things he wanted to mention, however, he got cut off by the voice emanating from the screen.

“Are those meetings being recorded, Mr. Evans?” She raised her eyebrows with interest spread across her face. Her back bent forward, causing her face to enlarge on his screen. “I mean like,” She continued and coughed. “Is anyone going to watch this later? Does anyone have access to this after we finish talking?” Her question expanded or rather multiplied, sounding out in Chris’ air pads. There was no denying he was conflicted about why she was asking this question. This was not his first online meeting and not a single individual showed any concern in this matter.

“Well, no, not really. If any of us wanted to report our meeting for any reason then I guess, um, I guess it is possible to reopen the video chat,” Slow nod was all he could do at this very moment. No doubt, he still was not able to understand the nature of her question. “If any of us found the other person’s behaviour concerning, rude or inappropriate then the IT services could recover this video chat.” He added in a robotic tone almost as if he were reading from the script.

“Would you want this meeting to get inappropriate, Sir?”

He chocked a little as his eyes widened. He wanted to slap himself across the face in response to his pathetic reaction. Shouldn’t the age gap mean something? Why was he behaving like he’s on her leash? Why was he this…nervous? Excited?

Assuredly, she should be the one who is intimidated, meanwhile it’s her making the first move. He wasn’t sure whether this simply comes from his politeness and gentles; obviously, momma Evans raised him to be a respectful man. It’s apparent, the fear of scaring you was blocking all his possible moves. Risk of being reported for improper behaviour in the workplace was also a worry of his, but it came nowhere near the terrifying theory of frightening you.

But here you were. Being indecent with him. And oh, how he loved it. How he enjoyed this single sentence leaving your pretty lips. Your remarks were more enjoyable and exciting than everything he has completed with the woman he married in the past year, if not longer.

Was he being delirious? Did your comment indicated what he thought it did? Possibility of his mind playing games on him was high. It’s so easy to assume things happened when you wish for them to happen.

“Do you want to make it inappropriate? Do you want me to be inappropriate with you, Sir?” A deep breath left his mouth and a shiver travelling down his spine followed. He was now sure; he did not misunderstand. This was not his imagination playing him, tricking him into believing there’s something here that does not exist. All of this was very real.

“Whatever you wanna be on this call — I’m happy with,” He managed to speak out loud, fixing himself on the chair. This was a bad idea, he thought once again, a horrible idea that could quite literally ruin his career. Was he going to stop? Prevent this from happening? No fucking way.

“Huh, you sure about that, Mr. Evans? I can get really filthy when I want. I am a naughty girl,” Your words hit him like a truck, and he couldn’t help the blood rush in his trousers. He licked his lips slowly and pressed his back onto the chair. He could say something, but he chose not to. Whatever you planned on doing suited him and there was not an ounce of interest in preventing you from doing so.

No further words were spoken. There was a moment of short silence that felt like forever. A moment for someone to back up, break this madness off. No one expressed a need nor a want to stop. She played with her nipples through her shirt before they journeyed up. The straps of her pale pink top slowly moved down her arm, his eyes patiently followed. To him, you were mesmerising. At this moment you had his whole attention.

Looking straight at him, her hands removed the top and carelessly dropped it on the floor. His eyes glued onto her as the soft material left her body completely. He tensed as his length twitched, reacting to her breasts and hard nipples. Her skin was complemented by the colour of a previously worn top but seeing her without it sent shivers down his spine.

Chris could feel the discomfort in his pants becoming unbearable, needing to expose himself immediately. With shame, but still, he slowly undid his zipper. For a while now the feeling downstairs was insufferable, pleading and begging to be uncovered by his hand. Chris gulped back the lump in his throat as he completely freed his member. The view on the screen made his dick ache, his length twitched, jumping again his tense stomach.

“Liking this?” She teased, firmly grabbing her breasts. His eyes darken when he took in all her naked presence. The way she touched herself, he wanted that too. He wanted to feel her nipples between his fingers. He ached to be close to her.

“I wanna see all of you,” His words escaped his mouth, hand firmly grabbing his cock. Without shame nor hesitation his member was stroked, slowly and decisively, as his back leaned on the chair comfortably.

She was quick to listen. So submissive, he though, hand still firmly hugging his man part. He observed as she stood up, taking a few steps back. Still looking at Chris, her body turned around in a circle. Her moves were slow, very captivating, making Chris feel like every single movement was in slow motion. He already adored her body.

Her hands roamed around her own body before she slipped her hand inside her shorts and panties. Subtle movements of her hands indicated she’s pleasuring herself right in front of him. By her expressions, he was able to conclude that she’s enjoying herself. She didn’t play with herself for too long. Pulling the defiant material down as her eyes travelled to his, she exposed herself completely. He felt his mouth dry at a sigh of her bare body. She gave him a sultry look, realising the power she now held over him.

“Is this how you like me, Mr. Evans?” She broke of the silence, still exposing her hot flesh. It took Chris a couple of second to even register the question, his imagination run too wild to focus now. “Do I like you naked? It’s certainly a more thought-provoking image than how I usually view you,” He teased, slightly raising the corner of his lips in a smug smile.

Licking his lips once again, he watched as she took a box from underneath her bed. It was a regular box, nothing fancy. Taking off the lid her hand searched inside for a short moment before pulling out a pink dildo. Suiting, he thought, always liking this colour on her. He admired how her skin tone was complemented by the shade.

“I love imagining it’s your cock fucking me instead of my dildo,” She said completely unprovoked, making Chris widen his eyes. They did something naughty, something filthy, yet this comment really threw him off. “I’m gonna show you how I play with myself when I think of you,” She added and waisted no time before sitting on the bed. Chris had to admit, he spotted the bed straight away when the call started. Picturing himself laying there, you next to him, he took some time imagining the wicked scene you two could create on that mattress.

“I will show you how much, how much I love picturing us together,” Her seductive voice reached Chris’ ears, his interest growing with every single second. There was this unexplainable fear within him at this very moment, fearing she is going to stop. He was helpless now, he needed her to entertain him long enough for him to reach satisfaction.

Licking his lips once again, he watched as she took a box from underneath her bed. It was a regular box, nothing fancy. Taking off the lid, her hand searched inside for a short moment before pulling out a pink dildo. Suiting, he thought, always liking this colour on her. He admired how her skin tone was complemented by the shade.

“I want you to watch,” His student said firmly, staring right at him. The sound of a dildo followed. Chris’ breath was caught in his throat straight from the anticipation of the next step she’s going to undertake. With hunger, Chris watched as she teased herself, rubbing her clit. The toy fondly slid inside of her, resulting in her lewd sounds and Chris’ silent moan.

Her nipples were hard, her unoccupied hand coming up to fondle them both whilst her bottom lip was taken hostage by her teeth. She was really enjoying herself; Chris could tell. The bed made a squeaky noise every time she moved. The call was so clear, thank God, he was able to enjoy every motion of hers. The moans, whimpers and groans escaping her pretty lips as she fucked herself with a toy. The quality of the video chat was good, but not great. He wanted to see her in full HD, he wanted to see the details. For now, though, viewing this was enough. This was damn good, so good. Those desperate hand movements, stuffing the length as deep as she could, it drove him insane. Oh, how he wanted to stretch her out like no one did before.

“Just like that, baby,” He groaned, squeezing his hard cock. He was conversating with you through moans, examining you as the vibrations caused tingles in your lower department. He couldn’t feel it, but he knew her pussy was throbbing and pulsing, desperate for more length to enter. His body parts were no different; his balls felt heavy and his dick was hard as a rock, begging for a dream release.

The heat began to grow within his body with each and every movements of hers. She kept him going, moaning his name, calling him daddy, reminding him who she’s pulling this show for. If only she had any idea what it did to him. A shaky hand wrapped around his length made rapid movements, fighting for his orgasm to arrive. Watching her, listening to her, it was magical. This craze he had within him, this fixation she caused – it was obsessive. A loud scream, her thighs closing on the pink toy and her eyes shut while she orgasmed was enough, it was everything.

The feeling of euphoria intensely swept through him as a creamy load exploded in his hand. She could not see it, but he knew she felt it. All that left his mouth was a silent “fuck” as he collected his breathe. Chris was in pieces, still processing previous events. It was now clear to him how he pleaded for that orgasm to happen, how he needed it. He was embarrassed to admit how strong, how intense, the load bursting onto his hand really was. Lucky for him, no one knew anything about it but him and himself.

„You liked this little show of mine, daddy?” Her voice awakened his senses, causing his mouth to water once again. She caught him looking at his crotch, now surely convinced what happened. She removed the toy from her body, a silent whimper followed. She threw it away on the bed like it was nothing, like it did not help them both cum just minutes ago.

“So much baby, so much. Can you show me s’more? One more time,” He breathed, looking at her with lust. She obeyed, without hesitation; her body rose from the bed and did a slow, full 360 to demonstrate her delectable features. Maybe, he was delusional, but he was sure her juices travelled down her leg. If he were right next to her, his tongue would have taken care of that.

“See you in a seminar, right, Mr. Evans?” Her sweet voice rang in his ears followed by his quick nodding. He had a chance to see her collecting the missing wardrobe that she then put on right before him. Chris could not help but notice her shaky legs. She sat down in the exact same position as before. She reached for a cup, drinking, and sipping the liquid through a straw. Now, she was back to her regular self, looking innocent once again. It slightly woke him up, brought half of him to reality.

“Yes, Miss. I will see you there. Be good, huh?” Chris said casually or at least he tried to do so. He was caught by surprise, convinced that he’s going to slur over his words more. He caught a glimpse of her eyes, forming as much of an eye contact as possible through the processor. Her current thoughts seemed impenetrable to him, although he always thought he’s amazing at reading facial cues.

“Me and you both know - I won’t.”

The last words of his current interest sounded from his Mac. Sending him a flirty wink before pressing the right button, she terminated the call. The intense orgasm left his hand still somewhat shaking. Eyes focused on the screen, he looked like he was awaiting another glimpse of her to come back.

Chris’ ecstatic state wasn’t quick to falter. It took another couple of minutes for him to do anything. Literally, anything. He was already late for the next meeting, which he felt absolutely no remorse for. His eyes lowered to look at the mess he produced; his mind displeased as he had realised, he needs to move to clean it.

Once again, it was just him and his usual surroundings. The call was over, just like that, almost as if it never happened. Despite his deepest longing, he could not go back to what just happened, he could not relive it. Your moans and whimpers performed in his head like a favourite song one would put on replay without a hesitation. He was craving more, his fingers curled into fists as he felt his cock hardening again. He was not sure what his next moves in this matter will be, but he was more than sure he needed to be inside this beautiful body.

#chris evans imagine #chris evans blurb #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagines #chris evans #professor!chris #imagine

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inkandpen22 · 4 years ago

Text

Somewhere (1/?)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Female!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.7k

Series Summary: Based in the early summer of ‘78, tonight Y/N is celebrating her 18th birthday. Her protective older brother and their friends take her out dancing. She envisions the perfect night!

A/N: In this story, muggles are aware of the wizard world. The series is based on West Side Story and POV switches between Sirius and Y/N. The red dress is based of the Saturday Night Fever red dress btw lol

Masterlist

Reader

While business slows down in the boutique, I hurry along on finishing last-minute tasks before the weekend. The goal is to get all of these orders done before closing.

“Hey, Lauren?” I shout for my best friend as she finishes stocking up the backroom for the weekend.

“Yeah?” She calls distantly.

“Could you bring me two of those navy cardigans when you come back out?” I recite, looking over the shipment list in front of me.

“Sure thing!” She complies.

Today is my eighteenth birthday. To celebrate, my older brother, Brady, is taking me out to the disco with our friends. It’ll be the first time I can go out to a club and drink. That’s not the most exciting part of today either! I’m officially an adult, a functioning, independent, member of society. My brother and his friends will no longer see me as the youngest who’s in constant need of looking-after. Brady has always been overprotective, but Lauren has tried to help convince him that I can take care of myself. Lauren and Brady have been dating since they were in high school, almost five years now. They’ve graduated from college and Lauren is eager to be married. In my opinion, it’s only a matter of time. I can’t see either of them with anyone else. Plus, I already consider Lauren my sister.

Lauren appears out from the backroom with a bright grin as she joins me at the register counter. “So, are you excited?”

“Yes! It’s going to be so much fun!” I gush, practically bursting. “Finally after four years of watching you guys go out with me, I can join!”

She gives me a knowing look, “did you ever end up showing your brother that dress you picked out?”

I bite down on my lip, pretending to return my attention to the order sheets in front of me. I can already hear her reprimanding, Brady’s too when he sees the bright red off the shoulder dress I picked up yesterday from the shop down the street. The fact that it’s off the shoulder will go over like a led balloon.

Lauren’s jaw drops, “Y/N!”

“I know, I know,” I sigh, trying my best to avoid a lecture. Moving around to the other side of the counter, I head to the office with the order sheets.

Lauren follows on my heels, “he’s never going to let you go, especially if you step out of your room in that dress and those matching heels you bought!”

“But it’s my birthday!” I plead, turning to face her with puppy-dog eyes. “My eighteenth, the most important one! It’s my first night as an adult.”

Lauren sighs defeatedly and I continue to express a poor, pitiful, pout. I can tell she’s on my side, but she also doesn’t want to go against her boyfriend. I understand her predicament, yet then again, my brother can be unreasonable too.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she offers, rubbing her temples stressfully.

I jump up and down, pulling her into a hug. “Thank you! Thank you! Oh, thank you!” I repeat profusely. If Brady is going to listen to anyone, it’s her.

“Ah, ah, ah, don’t get excited just yet,” she parts from me with a stern expression. “Your brother won’t be happy. I will vouch for you, but it’s up to you to stay in line. Tonight is your chance to really prove to Brady that you’re not a baby anymore.”

I nod my head frantically, “yes, yes, of course! Tonight will be perfect! Promise!”

Lauren narrows her eyes with a smirk, unconvinced. She hums, taking the sheets of paper from me to put them in the office.

Tonight will be perfect! I can feel it. I’ve been waiting for this night ever since I can remember. After tonight, everything will be different.

____________________________________________

Reader

As I listen to my Gloria Gaynor record, I stare at my reflection in my full-length mirror. More specifically, I admire the red satin dress that hangs off my shoulder. It’s everything I imagined it would be. As I think about it, it’s funny, I don’t feel any older, I don’t look any older, yet I feel different.

Over the music, I hear a series of knocks on my bedroom door. "You coming, Y/N?” Brady calls from the other side. “Lauren and the others are here!"

"In a minute,” I announce, lowering the volume of my music. “I have to do my makeup!"

"You look fine as you are!" My brother insists as I hurry into my bathroom. "Besides, someone is really excited to see you..." he insinuates.

"I have to look immaculate,” I argue, rushing to put on my makeup in front of my skin. “Plus, Jay can wait!"

Working as fast as I can, I follow a makeup tutorial Twiggy did for Cosmo. It’s crucial I perfect my eyeliner and large lashes.

"We're just going to the disco," he huffs, growing impatient. He would never last as a girl.

"It's my eighteenth birthday!” I remind him. “It's the first time I can drink and actually go into a club. Let me do what I want!” I then shoo him away, "go entertain your friends downstairs!"

"You have ten minutes!” He announces as a form of compromise. "Everyone's waiting for us!"

Mouthing the words to Gloria’s latest album, I’m practically dancing already and we’re not even at the disco yet! If only tonight could last forever. I want to ponder every minute, every second because tomorrow will be just another day and the magic will be gone.

Sirius

James stopped by my apartment to go over things for his wedding to Lily, but I have other plans.

"A disco?" James repeats with a frown, rolling over to lay onto his stomach on my bed. “And why would we want to do that?”

"Muggles really love them!” I tell my best friend as I move about my bedroom to get ready. “Plus, it’s the start of summer! We are officially Hogwarts graduates, what better way to celebrate!”

"Why can't we just go to a bar in Diagon Alley?" He reasons.

"You'll like this place, promise! Muggle music…” I struggle to describe it. “It’s unlike anything I've ever heard before!"

"But muggles are so... mundane,” he shakes as though he just caught a chill at the thought of them.

"I invited Remus and others too," I mention, certain that'll help convince him to come.

"At least we'll know people, I suppose," he shrugs, at least now considering the idea.

"Just give it a chance, James. Watch, after tonight you're going to want to spend every night of our summer holiday there!" I predict, nearly positive it’ll happen.

"Oh alright,” he complies with a huff, rising up from my bed to get ready. “I guess we don't have anything better to do," he grumbles on his way to the door. "Plus, we won't have to worry about any Death Eaters joining in on the fun."

Reader

I hurry down the stairs, to join Brady and his friends, Jay, Adam, and Henry, in the living room. The boys and their girlfriends have already started drinking while listening to some Queen in the background. They’ve gathered around on the couches and armchairs as they’ve done countless times before and after going out together. My brother is the only one standing, leaning against the fireplace mantel with a glass of scotch. Brady is the first one to notice me enter the room, he takes in my appearance in a scan of his eyes and waves me over. Clenching his jaw, he downs the remainder of his drink.

“What are you wearing?” He asks rhetorically, wasting no time to reprimand me.

“A dress,” I sass.

“Cute,” He remarks sharply, not finding amusement in my response. “Go change, now.”

“Oh come on, please,” I beg, taking his hand pleadingly. “It’s not that revealing and it’s my birthday!”

He shakes his head, pointing toward the steps. “Go, hurry up.”

“One night! One night and I’ll return it first thing tomorrow!” I negotiate.

He glances between me and his empty glass, twirling around the leftover ice cubes, clearly debating whether he should accept my offer.

“Please…” I mutter, pouting dramatically to get a rise out of my brother.

He huffs and turns to the group. "Alright!” He shouts to gain their attention.” All eyes shift to me and my brother. “Jay, boys, I need to keep an eye on Y/N,” Brady commands of his buddies as he wraps an arm around my waist protectively. “It's her first night out and the last thing she needs is uninvited attention, especially from wizards," he mutters the last part with disgust.

I look up at my brother in confusion. “Do you think they'll actually go to a human club?" I ask him, the idea never once crossing my mind.

Wizards don’t really interact with us. In fact, they’ve created a whole other system and lifestyle apart of our own to avoid us. Different schools, stores, forms of government. I would imagine they have discos of their own.

Lauren steps forward, "they're actually considered human-"

"Lauren!" My brother barks, causing his girlfriend to bite her tongue.

"That's debatable," Brady’s best friend, Jay, grumbles disdainfully, focusing on the drink in his hand.

Henry and Adam hum in agreement, looking at Brady like he’s a preacher.

"If we do see some, just stay clear, okay?" Brady orders strictly. Based on the sharpness of his stare, I best not test him.

"How will I be able to tell?" I mumble, having only seen a wizard once or twice my whole life, at least consciously.

According to Brady, and the others, wizards have the uncanny ability to appear normal just like us. However, in recent years, there’s been trouble amongst the wizard race. There’s a group of wizards who want their society and ours to be completely separate. My family and Brady’s friends are quite fond of the idea. In fact, most people are too. It’s such a frequent topic in the news, in addition to the tensions surrounding it, that I’ve grown annoyed by the dramatics.

"Believe me, you'll know,” Brady assures. “They're so dependent on their magic that they can't help but use it."

"Okay, I will..." I mutter, wondering if I’ll truly see magical-beings tonight.

_________________________

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zmediaoutlet · 4 years ago

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in support of Texas relief, @doilycoffin donated $100, and requested Liam & Cordell Walker. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post.

(read on AO3)

One of Liam's earliest memories is the time Cordell dropped him on his head. Not actually accurate at all to the way it went but that's how it's told in the family mythology. He was really little, three maybe or four—for some reason that part's indeterminate—and Cordell was climbing the stable and playing adventurer, or maybe just showing off and the adventurer part was a good excuse. Liam was following Cordell around like he always did and he tried to climb up, too, on the fence that kept in the horses when they were let out for their run, and Cordell told him no and that he was too little but Liam was determined to try. Cordell climbed back down and tried to steady him where he'd made it up to the top rung of the fence, and Liam lost his balance anyway, and fell straight backwards and landed headfirst on the dirt. There was a little rock and then a lot of blood, and then stitches, and Mama fussing and their dad ripping Cordi a new one—Liam doesn't even remember that it hurt—but the part that sticks it as a memory is how they all rode together in the truck back and forth from the doctor and Cordell held his hand in the backseat and he was crying, the whole way home, a silent seeping kind of crying that made his face a shiny mess. Liam thinks about that weirdly often. Cordi looking out the window and crying.

When the story gets retold for new friends, or the kids, or Cordell's buddies from the Rangers come around for coffee and Mama's pecan pie, they tell it that Cordell's so clumsy he dropped his baby brother on his head. Liam sort of hates it, every time. Cordell laughs and does the aw shucks routine he's so good at, relaxed with his beer and shrugging embarrassed apology. When Liam was about to head off to college, his eighteenth birthday dinner, Daddy told the story again as a kind of miracle survival, and Liam got up from the table real fast and went out onto the porch, annoyed for some reason beyond measure. It was Cordi who got up and came after him and said, a little cautious, "What's up, Stinker?" and Liam said to him, mad, "Why don't you ever tell people it was me? I was the one climbing up after you. It's not like you did it on purpose."

Cordell just blinked at him. "What does it matter?" he said. "You were the baby and I was a dumbass kid. So what?" He hooked his arm around Liam's neck and he smelled like sweat and Old Spice and that laundry detergent Emily bought that wasn't anything like the one they used at home. Liam pushed at his side but didn't try hard to get away. Not that it would've worked. "It's how we figured out how hard that head was, right? Come on. Mama's gonna wonder if you didn't like the brisket."

Liam let himself be dragged back into the house, and Cordi pushed him down into his chair right between him and Emily, and Emily smiled at him easy, and passed him the potatoes. "One month 'til the dorms," she said, very quiet so no one else could hear under Cordell telling some awful lie about Liam having gas, and Liam laughed, surprised, and it just happened that it was the same time everyone else laughed so that was okay. He always liked Emily. Cordell punched his thigh lightly on his other side, and gave him a warmer more real smile, and Liam dropped it, and he didn't complain about the story again.

Seven years between them. Liam always wondered if he was an accident, even if Mama said that with Cordell going to school she was ready to have another baby around the house. Cordell was always the one who was getting into trouble. Rambunctious, loud, falling headfirst into things and getting dragged out covered in mud. Liam learned from his example what not to do. Do not: run along the bleachers at the football stadium and vault the handrails until your foot gets caught and you fall and snap your wrist clean in two. Do not: get caught drinking beer with your high school girlfriend behind the horsebarn, and make Daddy give the most mortifying sex talk in the world afterward. Do not: make friends with the most delinquent-ass kid in the whole hill country and wind up explaining every other week why, really, he wasn't that bad, give him a chance—

Somehow even then he was the golden child. Not the best grades, not the most obedient. That wasn't what their dad cared about. Cordell was good on a horse, good on his feet. Respectful when it mattered and devil-may-care when it didn't. In high school he was the quarterback, of course he was, and Liam was right there in the stands with their parents every Friday night, cheering his lungs out. Weirdly boastful with his fourth-grade friends: his older brother was the star of the football team. His older brother could ride a bull for ten seconds and get off hardly winded. Bookish, kind of short, he needed the borrowed glory of Cordell's success to be proud of. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it got him pushed over on the soccer field while some bigger boy went, gawd, William, who cares?

Liam never got in trouble. Never broke a bone. After bringing Cordell back from the hospital with a fresh new cast on his ankle and a dopey slightly-drugged smile on his face, Mama settled him in bed with Liam's help and turned off the light and then, in the kitchen, sighed and said, "Liam, you are a real relief to the mind, do you know that?" He was proud of that, too, in that moment. It wasn't until later that it nagged at him. A therapist asked him, much later in a sleek Manhattan office that smelled faintly of sage, "Do you think your predilection for being contrarian results from that time?" He went home annoyed with her, and was more annoyed when he told Bret the story and Bret didn't even turn around from the carbonara he was making and said, "Babe, you're the most contrary person I know."

He wasn't. He didn't—think he was. He… was, he realized, after a week of sitting with it, and a week after that it made sense. He didn't pick fights, and he didn't make waves. His rebellion was quiet. His hard head, forcing him to make his own space in the world. Not able to live up to Cordell and knowing instinctively that it would be awful even to try—and so taking the opposite turn, every time. It was better than being compared, even if he knew there was no chance but to be compared.

He studied hard. He read, all the time. He liked math and literature equally and did equally well in both. He hated P.E. but he did what he could there, too, and he learned to ride even if he didn't actually love horses the way the rest of the family did, and when Daddy asked if he wanted to join up with the little league baseball Liam asked to play soccer, instead, and Daddy frowned but Mama said, "Why not, I've seen enough boys drop foul balls for a lifetime." So, soccer, and most of his games were during the day or on Saturday mornings, but Cordi came to a lot of them anyway, and when Liam's team won Cordi would jump down onto the field and grab him up by the waist and crow David Beckham, right here! Little David Beckham for sale! Liam would struggle and then he'd be slung headfirst over Cordell's shoulder like a potato sack and his face would get so red from laughing that it hurt.

On September 12, 2001, Mama and Daddy were gone from the house when Liam got home from school and he was glad for it. That was a Wednesday. He was in sixth grade. The teachers weren't even trying to hold normal lessons and everyone was talking about what had happened the day before. Melissa Kettering was out that day and the rumor was that her dad had been on a business trip in New York. Liam had raised his hand and asked the social studies teacher if there was going to be a war, like there was after Pearl Harbor, and she sat down on her desk and shook her head and didn't answer.

He was trying to read his book for English when the phone rang. Cordell, calling from his apartment in town. Hey, buddy, he said, over the line, and Liam sat down on the floor by the phone table and closed his eyes, unaccountably almost about to cry. Is Daddy there? Liam told him he was home alone. Lucky, Cordi said, you can totally throw a rager, and Liam didn't laugh, and neither did Cordell, even though he always laughed at his own stupid jokes. Hey, um. I shouldn't—I don't know if I should tell you this but I've gotta tell someone, and Em's in class, and I just have to—I did something, and I need to—

He interrupted himself and Liam could hear him breathing over the line. He didn't want Cordell to say anything. If he didn't say anything then Liam could pretend that he was going to tell a story about some party they'd gone to at Emily's sorority, or that Hoyt had come back into town and they'd seen a show at ACL, or that he was gonna come stay that weekend, and maybe he and Liam would go riding. Anything but what he was about to say. Liam could hear it, in his head. He could hear it like it had already been said and it was echoing, now, inside, like a verse from a song he'd always, always remember.

Cordell graduated from the Marine boot camp on a Saturday in the middle of December. Liam went along even if he wasn't allowed to attend the actual ceremony and Daddy complained about the cost of the plane tickets until Mama told him to shut up. Liam sat between them on the flight and it was the first time he was ever in the air. Over the top of Mama's crossword book he watched the clouds go by over New Mexico, Arizona, with complete wonder. San Diego, then, different to Austin—palm trees, and the air so wet, and even the parking lot at their hotel smelling like warm flowers.

Mama gave him fifty dollars before they left for the graduation. They were bringing Cordell back, after, because they got one night with him before they had to give him back to the military. "Order a pizza," she said, "at 4:30 exactly, and we should get back at the same time the pizza comes so we can all eat together." Liam watched American Pie on the hotel tv while he waited, something he would never have been allowed at home. He made the call when he was supposed to, and when the girl on the phone asked him what toppings his mind went completely blank because he was never allowed to make that decision. Cordi liked ham and pineapple and none of the rest of them did. Liam ordered it with extra pineapple.

When a knock came on the hotel room door Liam jumped up to open it, cash in hand. The one holding the pizzas was Cordell, grinning at him with Mama and Daddy standing behind. "Pizza delivery," Cordell said, and Liam crashed into him for a hug so hard that Cordi almost dropped the boxes and said whoa, Stinker, soft and laughing.

His hair was cut off, an inch on top and shorter on the sides, so he looked like those pictures of their grandpa when he was in Korea. He was skinny, too, which Liam didn't get, because he thought boot camp was all about building up muscles. "Mostly running," Cordi said. He was tired, dark circles under his eyes. He was stretched out on one bed with his strange starched blue pants and the awful khaki shirt that made him look washed-out pale even if he'd been running around San Diego for thirteen weeks, and Mama was sat next to him squeezing his arm like he'd evaporate if she looked away for a minute, and even Daddy was hovering. Proud but worried. Liam sat by Cordell's boots and tugged on the laces, wanting to ask more questions but not daring to.

Cordi fell asleep before six o'clock. Daddy turned on the television real quiet to the news. More stuff about the invasion. Liam hoped it'd be all over by the time Cordi got there. Mama boxed up the remaining pizza, shaking her head. "Don't know why you picked pineapple, kiddo," she said, and Liam shrugged, sitting at the table, watching Cordell's face, turned away a little on the pillow. Liam wanted to shake him awake but of course he didn't. For his whole life, after, he gets a little sick to his stomach when he smells pineapple.

While Cordell was in Afghanistan Mama and Daddy had Emily over to the house a lot. She was sweet. Respectful of Mama, calling her ma'am half the time, and charming to their dad even though Liam knew that she and Daddy probably disagreed on more than things than not. She liked that Liam played soccer and asked if he ever watched the Premiere League. Liam didn't even know what that was. She helped Mama cook supper and went out and took pictures of the horses which made Daddy smile, and one time when Liam went outside after dinner to read she was there crying, on the porch, quiet with her hand over her mouth, and Liam hung back and didn't know what to say. "Sorry," she said, dashing at her cheeks with the heel of her hand. She licked her lips and nodded at his book, sniffing. "That's a good one. You should read the sequel, too." He did, and told her about it, and she smiled like a sunrise, the way she always did, and he felt like—he didn't even know, what he felt like.

Liam was the best man at their wedding. He felt and looked ridiculous. Fifteen in a tux and he didn't know how to tie a bow-tie, but Cordi didn't either, so Daddy had to do it for both of them, grumbling the whole time that they should've learned this by now. "Not a lot of bowties in Kandahar, Daddy," Cordell said, winking at Liam, and Liam—blushed. Ridiculous, and embarrassing, the way the whole affair and the lead-up had felt, but Cordell didn't seem to care or notice, so—there was Liam, blushing in a bowtie.

Cordell had only been back for a year and somehow things were off. He was serving the rest of his contract out in the reserves but he wasn't finishing up his degree like he'd told Mama he would. He'd entered the training program for the state troopers and was set up to be a highway cop, of all things. He'd rented a house in Austin with Emily and they lived together the whole year before the wedding—an argument with Daddy about that one, which Liam listened to from the hallway with his heart pounding—and they weren't even going to be married in the church because Emily didn't want a wedding mass and, Liam suspected, Cordell didn't either. Daddy lost that argument, too.

The wedding was tiny. Liam the best man, Geri the maid of honor. Emily's aunt that raised her on one side and Daddy and Mama on the other, and a handful of Cordell and Emily's friends making up the numbers in the little rented hall. Afterward they had a bigger barbecue out at the ranch and in front of the crowd Emily fed Cordell a dainty forkful of the lemon cake and Cordell responded by dotting a tiny bit of frosting on her nose and kissing it off, and Mama's best friend Sue-Ellen sighed and said to Mama, where Liam could hear, "Well, Abilene, maybe they're atheists but I daresay you raised that boy right every other way," and Mama said something dry back but Liam was watching how Cordell cupped Emily's cheek in his hand, smiling down at her like she hung the moon, and he thought, yeah. Yeah, Cordell was just about perfect, wasn't he.

"High school in the fall, right?" Emily's aunt said, later. "Emily says you play soccer. Going to try out for the team?"

Cordell and Emily were dancing, swaying in the grass, the bonfire leaping up behind them. His hand still on her cheek. "I'm quitting soccer," Liam said, without even realizing he was going to. "I'm going to try out for wrestling, instead."

He figured out he was gay relatively early. His friends at school got hold of a Playboy in fifth grade and didn't really know what to do with it beyond blustering. This was before anyone but nerds was on the internet, and Liam was a nerd but did a decent job of hiding it. Scott beckoned Liam over while they were waiting for the buses and showed him the top of the magazine, the bold logo and the girl with her boobs pushing up out of her bra—the group of them snickering, saying how hot she was—and that they were going to look at it at Scott's house later if Liam wanted to come over—and Liam said, "No, my mom's making me go to the store with her." The lie came out effortlessly.

They did have a computer at home, and dial-up internet it had been very, very hard to argue Daddy into. He hardly knew how to find anything but he did some careful searches while Daddy was out with the horses and Mama was cooking, singing bad over the stove like she tended to. Made Liam's face hot to see some of what he was seeing. Hoyt came over, once, while Cordi was away in the war, and he helped Liam and Mama dig out a bunch of tomatoes that hadn't grown in right, and afterward they sat on the porch drinking lemonade while Mama asked Hoyt all about the oil field he said he'd been working in and Liam watched how Hoyt's legs sprawled out on the porch, how his jeans hugged up against his calf muscle and how the sweat had made his white shirt nearly transparent, and he had to sit very careful on the bench with his knees drawn up to hide the effect it had on him.

When Cordell came home from Afghanistan they threw a huge party. Everyone came, Daddy's friends and Mama's, and Emily and their friends from college, and even Hoyt, magicked up out of somewhere (for the promise of free beer, Daddy said), and then Liam, the youngest person there, watching from the corner of the porch as always. Cordi was very tan and finally bulky with muscle and his hair had grown out, just a little, from that military buzz, and he barely detached himself from Emily the whole time, his arm always around her shoulders or hers around his waist, and when they did step apart his eyes followed her and she watched him right back, smiling at the most random times. Liam was fourteen and a little more aware of the world and he wondered abruptly if they'd had sex yet. Cordi had only been home one day and he'd slept at the ranch and not at Emily's apartment. How would they have found the time?

He was chewing his thumbnail over it when a sweaty weight crashed down on his shoulders, arms trapping his in. Hoyt. "Hey there, Stinker," Hoyt said, and Liam shrugged fretfully and said, "Don't call me that," and Hoyt laughed at him but stood up and ruffled Liam's hair completely backwards instead.

"Still pretty shrimpy," he said. He was grinning, like he had some big secret. "You planning on growing up anytime soon, champ?"

"Don't you have a sketchy job to get to?" Liam said, annoyed. He tried to fix his hair and gave it up as a lost cause the second Hoyt's grin got bigger. Asshole.

Hoyt sipped his beer. Twenty-one—he was allowed, although Liam had noticed that Mama was being a little free with handing out drinks to Emily's college friends. "Glad big bro's home, I bet," Hoyt said.

Liam didn't dignify that with a response. Hoyt laughed, under his breath, and held out the beer for Liam to take, which he did because he didn't know what else to do. "Go on," Hoyt said, nodding at it. "I won't tell your mama. Not fair that everyone else gets to celebrate while little Liam's sober. And boring."

"I'm not boring," Liam said, although he knew he was because half the kids at school clearly thought so. He took a sip of the beer, anyway, not knowing if Hoyt would snatch it away. Nasty, and he made a face that made Hoyt hoot, and then he took a bigger gulp, determined at least to get something out of it.

"There he goes," Hoyt said, weirdly delighted, and he clapped Liam on the shoulder the same way he would Cordi when they were in high school, and the bit of warm in Liam's belly went lower. "That's a welcome home."

Liam kept the beer, curled against his chest. He felt dumb holding it and also weirdly adult. "He's not even here," he said. Sort of scoffing. "Doesn't matter."

Hoyt curled his arm around Liam's shoulders again and ignored how he went stiff, and nodded out at the party. Music playing from a radio Daddy had set up on a truck-bed. Emily and Cordell, dancing in the firelight. Same as it would be for the wedding reception a year from then, although of course Liam didn't know that at the time. "Aw, he's here," Hoyt said. He squeezed Liam's shoulders. He smelled strange, like—skunk, and Mama's compost bin. It was gross but also kind of appealing and Liam shifted, hoping his dumb body wouldn't react. "He's just with his girl, and who could blame him. No call for getting jealous."

He wasn't jealous. Not—exactly. That night after Mama and Daddy went to bed the party kept on, and Liam went to his room and watched from the dark window, the bonfire still going and all the college kids still going, too. When he finally fell asleep he had a strange, blurry dream about Hoyt—building a bonfire together, and Hoyt smiling at him and being a jackass and then touching his face, the same way Cordell touched Emily's face, and then Hoyt touching his stomach, low—and then the dream shifted, the weird way dreams shift, and it was Cordell, touching his stomach, and smiling at him, and leaning in close—with his hair longer like it was before he enlisted—but wearing for some reason the dumb khaki shirt of his uniform—and then Cordell's hand—

When he woke up he was soaked and it was bright morning. He washed his underwear out in the sink, feeling like his head was screwed on to someone else's body, and then he hid the underwear in the hamper, and showered, and tried not to think about it. He had that dream or one like it on and off for years, until he finally lost his virginity to Michael in college and it went away. He never told his therapist about it, or Bret, or anyone. He could rationalize it but he couldn't ever acknowledge it out loud because of what it—felt like, to think about it. To make it real in a place that wasn't just his stupid, crazy, dreaming head.

He had the dream again the night before he came out to his parents. January 2nd, trying out his new year's resolution of honesty. He figured in a ruthless sort of way that if his parents kicked him out or hated him or tried to change him then at least he had early acceptance at UT for the fall and a full scholarship and it was just eight months where his life would be completely over.

Cordell was at home on the ranch and Liam figured that's what triggered it. A couple days of vacation, since he'd worked over Christmas, and he and Emily and baby Stella had stayed up for ringing in the new year, and everyone had taken turns kissing Stella's forehead when midnight struck. Liam had been allowed a glass of champagne, Mama not even fussing about it since it was a holiday and the house was full—so he had two glasses—and when he went to bed he could still hear Cordell laughing from the front room, telling Daddy some story about a bust on the highway, something about stolen Santa suits, something light.

He dreamed they were swimming, up at the lake, and Cordell was naked. Laughing, that same too-loud booming laugh, but just because he was happy and not like he was making fun. Being kind to Liam. Holding him from behind with his arms around Liam's chest, their legs slipping together in the water. Liam could imagine what it would be like for a man to do something to him, he'd seen porn by that point, and he'd seen Cordell naked too because of the vagaries of living in an old house without a lock on the bathroom door, but somehow there was still a disconnect in his head. He was turned on beyond belief but nothing—happened, just the vagueness of Cordell behind him. His big hands.

Mama took Emily and the baby in to town, that day, for shopping. Daddy said they'd just bought half of Macy's and Mama shushed him so Daddy was up at the barn, checking over the new foal. Liam sat on the porch with a cup of coffee and watched birds come to the new feeder Mama had got from Emily and he tried to rehearse it, in his head. What to say. He'd seen it in movies but it didn't feel possible to come out of his mouth.

Cordell sat by him, on the bench swing. "Since when do you drink coffee?" he said. Then, less casual: "Is that my mug?"

"Yes," Liam said, and didn't protest when Cordell took it out of his hands. He rubbed his palms on his jeans. He had a hard time talking to Cordi after he had one of those dreams and so it was a relief that most of the time Cordell wasn't around, that he was in town at the house he shared with his wife. With his wife, Liam reminded himself, as though that could help. Another thing to make Liam different. Wrestling instead of football, reading books instead of riding, and now—this, on top of everything.

"Whatever's going on," Cordell said. Liam blinked, came back to the world. The cold, and the swing barely rocking from how Cordi had set his boot on the porch and pushed, and Cordell looking at him very steadily. "You know you can tell me, right?"

Liam swallowed. "Even if it's—" Bad is what came to his mouth and he shook his head. He prayed about this, he resolved. It's not bad. "Weird?"

"If it weren't weird you probably wouldn't be being so weird about it," Cordi said, frank, and Liam shoved his shoulder. The dream dissipated just like that. How could he possibly be crushing on his brother when his brother is this much of a jerk. Cordell swayed, grinning, letting Liam push him even if Cordell outweighed him then by fifty pounds, but then he set his hand on the back of Liam's neck, more serious. "Whatever it is. We can figure it out."

Liam licked his lips, and nodded. He knew then that was going to tell Cordell the one secret, if not the whole of it, before they left the porch that morning, and Cordi would—back him up, with Mama and Daddy, even if he didn't get it. "Give me back the coffee," he said, and Cordell raised his eyebrows but passed it back, so Liam could take a gulp. The caffeine probably wouldn't help but maybe it wouldn't hurt, and it felt nice to hold the mug. "Promise you won't freak," Liam said then, even if he was—mostly, ninety percent, pretty sure—and Cordell said, immediately, "I promise," and Liam believed him. That was the thing, with Cordell, in those days. It was easy to believe him.

It's Mama who calls, when Emily dies. Liam's already in bed because he's got court in the morning and Bret shoves at his shoulder, says, "Oh my god answer it and then change your ringtone, I hate that song," and Liam's still fuzzy from sleep and doesn't quite process that there's no good reason Mama would be calling him after nine o'clock in Texas because she always thought that was bad manners, it had been drilled into him all his life, and he says, mumbly, still waking up, "Hey, Mama," and there's a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line before she says, Honey, I'm sorry, but I have real bad news.

He flies out the next day. Bret tries to dissuade him. "There's nothing you can do right now," he says, as though that's the point. JFK to Austin-Bergstrom is four and a half hours and he spends the whole time with his chest this weird achy knot. It doesn't feel real but it is. He texted Mama his flight plan and she says that Daddy will pick him up at the airport, and when he gets into the truck Daddy shakes his head and says, "Good to see you, son," but without any truth to it. Liam doesn't take it personally.

Cordell's not at the ranch when they get there but the kids are. "Hi, Uncle Liam," Stella says, remarkably clear, until he hugs her, and then she curls his hands into his shirt and cries silently, her shoulders shaking. August doesn't get up from the couch, sitting there with one arm crossed over his chest and the other over his mouth, and he looks—Liam's always shocked by it—so exactly like his mother. Stella's a copy of her grandmother, to the point that Mama set her prom picture side by side with Stella's first dance photo and the only real difference was the dress—but Auggie always took after Emily, from coloring to temperament to those long straight eyebrows, that mouth that curves up into a wide, easy smile. Not smiling now, and not for a while, and when Stella pulls away and wipes her eyes Liam sits down next to Auggie and sets his hand on the back of his neck and Auggie just folds over, quiet, like whatever was holding him up just isn't there anymore.

"Where is he?" Liam asks Mama, in the kitchen later. The sun's going down. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours.

Mama's eyes are red-rimmed. "Where do you think?" she says.

Liam takes the truck. Lady Bird Lake is officially closed at night but of course that makes no difference. He parks and walks, up to the lookout, and Cordell doesn't hear him coming. He's sitting on the steps to the gazebo, his elbows braced on his knees. The light hitting his hair. Long again. Liam doesn't know how he's always skirting regs and getting away with it, except of course Cordi gets away with everything. Golden child.

He regrets the thought as soon as he has it. "Cordi," he says, and Cordell looks up in complete surprise. Liam smiles at him, as much as he can, and comes and sits on the step. He tries to think of what to say and can't come up with anything.

"Aren't you in court tomorrow?" Cordell says, after they sit there for thirty seconds. His voice sounds thick and distant.

Liam shakes his head. "Today," he says, and Cordell nods and huffs and says, "Right," and then looks down at his hands again. They're twisted together, his thumb rubbing hard and repeatedly at the mount of his other palm. Liam reaches over and puts his hand over the knot of Cordell's fingers and Cordell's jaw flexes but he lets Liam do it. "I'm sorry," Liam says.

"Everyone is," Cordell says, halfway bitter. Liam squeezes his hands and Cordell makes a rough low noise, some sound Liam has never heard him make. "Jesus. They won't let me go in to work."

"Of course they won't," Liam says, and Cordell pulls his hands away, pushes them into his hair. "Cordi, they have to—they're going to be looking for who did it and it has to be by the books so it'll stick. They're not going to risk screwing it up."

"I just want to—" Cordell cuts himself off but Liam can imagine what goes there. He touches Cordell's back instead and the muscle flinches. Set to fly off the handle any second. Fight or flight, but Cordell never used to run from anything and Liam can't imagine he's going to start now.

He stands up. "Wrestle me," he says.

Cordell looks up. "What?"

Genuine surprise. At least it's not misery. "Come on," Liam says. "See if you can pin me." These jeans are nice, were a gift from Bret, but he'll sacrifice them. He holds out a hand and Cordell lets himself be pulled upright, and it's a shock like it always is when Liam's been too long away, how much taller Cordi still is. Liam always was the shrimp. He pushes Cordell's chest, lightly, and Cordell slaps his hands away. "Cordi," Liam says, coaxing, and pulls at Cordell's wrist. "Let me take your mind off it."

Stupid thing to say and he knows it as soon as he says it. Cordell gives him an ugly look and shoves him for real. "Take my mind off it?" he says, while Liam's staggering backwards. Liam sets his boots in the dirt and braces, and when Cordell pushes him again Liam grapples, and they are wrestling, then. It's sloppy, bad holds, both of them in too-slick boots for this ground. Liam manages to swing Cordell around and get his back on the ground but Cordi's always been stronger and shoves him off, and then they're just—flat-out scrambling, Liam's hand sinking into a patch of mud and both of them breathing hard, Cordell twisting out of his grip and getting an arm over his chest, tight, before Liam eels over and flips them—gets Cordell on his back on the dirt—his leg over Cordell's—and then Cordi drops his head back against the ground and taps out, panting.

"You been practicing?" Cordell says. His eyes are closed.

Liam sits up, says, "Class at my gym." Cordi nods and Liam gets off him, kneels next to him in the dirt. The gazebo's bright and the skyline's pretty, on the other side of the lake. Liam looks at that instead of at his brother, so he won't have to see the tears seeping down Cordell's temples, wetting his hair.

"It's not okay," Liam says. He sets a hand on Cordell's chest. At the DA's office in Manhattan he's comforted widows, widowers, orphans. Some of them seeking justice but most of them knowing it won't really be found. Cordell, he thinks, is one of the latter type, but Liam tries out the lines he's learned anyway. "It's not okay and it's not fair. I can't pretend I know what you're going through but I'm sorry." He swallows, his throat trying to close without his say-so. "Jesus. I'm so sorry, Cordi."

"Yeah," Cordell says, rough, and grips Liam's wrist. When Liam looks down Cordell's eyes are still closed. They stay there for a while, by the lake, long past when it's uncomfortable.

When they finally get up, Liam's knees creak like an old man's but Cordell doesn't make the joke he should. He leaves Cordell's truck and drives them both back into town, and gets drive-through Whataburger that Cordell picks at instead of eating, and says, "Do you want to go back to the ranch?" and isn't surprised when Cordell shakes his head, no. They get a hotel instead, two queens and a respectable mini-bar, and Liam calls Mama from next to the ice machine in the hall and says that he's got Cordell, and they're fine, and they'll be back in the morning. She clearly wants to object but doesn't know how and Liam hangs up before she can figure it out.

He gets back, with the ice. Cordell's sitting on the end of the bed watching the news like it's the Superbowl. "I was thinking about the funeral," Cordell says, when the door closes behind Liam. "I have to plan the funeral and I don't even have her body."

Liam sets the bucket on the bar and sits on the other bed. "We'll help," Liam says. Cordell's cheek sucks in on one side. "You don't have to do any of this alone."

"Yeah," Cordell says, remote, and Liam looks at him. Weird hollowness in his stomach and he realizes only after a second why: it's the first time, all his life, that he can remember Cordell lying to him.

The Rodeo Kings operation is supposed to be quick. Three months, is the estimate: to get in, to learn the operation, to get out. They need an agent who can be convincingly skilled as a traveling rider, who knows a ranch operation, who can act. There's a depressingly short list and one name at the top of it. Everyone thinks it's a bad idea except for Graves, and Cordell.

"It'll give me something to think about that's not this," Cordell says, when Liam's trying to talk him out of it. They're on the back patio of his and Emily's house in town. The kids are still staying out at the ranch. It's two weeks after the funeral and they haven't gone back to school. Cordell hasn't shaved in a few days and the sound as he scratches his jaw is loud. There's no music playing from the kitchen window, like there used to be. The plants out here are already dying. Liam wants to grip Cordell's shoulders, get in his face and yell, but doesn't dare to. He gets a deep sigh, instead, and Cordell flipping a poker chip between his fingers like a restless card shark, and then a smile, fake as fake. "Anyway, who do you know who can ride a bull better than me?"

"No one," Liam says, and Cordell nods, like damn straight, and in the morning Liam goes in to the Travis County DA and announces he'd like to transfer offices, due to a family emergency that's going to keep him here in Texas, and it's only afterward when some calls are made and the paperwork's signed that he calls Bret, back in Manhattan, and leaves a voicemail that he's going to be staying a lot longer than he thought.

It isn't three months. As the operation drags on, Liam sweet-talks his way into being one of the assistant attorneys on the case and he tries to alleviate how Graves is getting more and more suspicious. Cordell's old partner James gets promoted to captain, six months in, and he vouches for Cordell, too, not that it seems to matter either way. Cordell's the one who's embedded with the rodeo and he'll either finish the job or he won't. They don't have another agent to send in, not without compromising the work that's been done so far, and nothing else will do but to wait.

The kids ask Liam for updates every week when he comes for dinner at the ranch. "I can't tell you everything," he says, like he does every time, and Daddy's quiet at the head of the table, and Mama quieter on the opposite side. Cordell has a rendezvous every Monday when the rodeo takes the day off with a burner cell phone and an agent waiting impatiently for his call, and his reports are terse: still trying to get them to trust me. They're suspicious of newcomers. The ring seems really tight and I can't figure out an opening. Give me time. He's allowed to call Liam the same day and Liam answers every unknown number on Mondays, giving hope to spam callers nationwide. Cordell usually sounds tired but he still calls and they have a dumb, simple conversation—about how the Rangers beat the Angels, how he's breaking in some new boots and has a blister the size of Indiana, how he's craving, inexplicably, sushi. "Sushi?" Liam asks, trying to imagine when Cordell ever tried it, and Cordi says, with rare humor, "Hey, I'm not a big fancy New York lawyer but I've had my share of raw fish," and when Liam hands the phone over to the kids they lean over the speakerphone and talk over the top of each other about a class project Stella did, and a history paper Auggie got an A+ on, and Liam watches with his hand over his mouth for the moment when Cordell has to interrupt and say, tired-sounding still, "Sorry, guys, I have to go," and the goodbyes have to be quick, and then that's it, for another week.

The first time Liam sees him when he's Duke it's a shock to the system. Seven months in and the reporting agent says that Walker missed his check-in. Walker—that's what they all call him, even when Liam's in the room with them. There's a small frenzy in the operation office. Graves calls for Cordell's head, predictably at this point. James, trying again to calm her down, but looking a little like he agrees. Liam leaves the office unnoticed and walks outside to feel cold air on his face and feel less—how he feels—and there's a text, on his phone, from an unknown number. The Alibi, Driskill ST, thirty minutes. Come alone.

Ridiculously illicit. Liam takes off his suit-jacket and tie and ruffles his hair into something unprofessional and goes. It's hard to park—Monday night football—and inside is the opposite of his scene but he finds a seat at the bar. A girl in a too-tight orange t-shirt gives him a once-over and he smiles tightly, ignores her, drinks a watery beer, and almost exactly on the thirty-minute mark someone sits down next to him and it's—not his brother.

Duke Culpepper was the fake name they picked. Originally from Texas but had some misdemeanors that made Texas unfriendly so he'd been hiding out in Tucson for a few years, working the rodeo there. Not dangerous but willing to get up to something that was, and he looks the part. He smells like sweat and horse manure and hay and some shitty, awful aftershave, and there's a bruise on his jaw like someone suckerpunched him, and he doesn't look at Liam but smiles sweet at the bartender and says, with a fake low drawl, "Darlin', I wouldn't mind a shot of bourbon, when you have a chance."

Jesus, Liam thinks. The bartender has an expression like Cordell slid a hand down the front of her jeans and made her the happiest woman alive—the shot takes about ten seconds to arrive, when Liam's been waiting for a second beer for five minutes. Cordell knocks it back in one motion and says, "Again, and—" and he turns, like he noticed Liam for the first time, "another round for my friend, here. We're celebratin'."

She blinks, notices Liam's empty glass. While the next round's being prepared Liam raises his eyebrows and plays his part. "What are we celebrating?"

"Got a new job," Cordell says—but no—it's Duke, who's saying it, Duke who's drawling lazy and has his hat cocked at an off-angle and who's got a bandana tied around his wrist which for some goddamn reason is working the whole, hot-ass look.

"Congrats," the bartender says, and Duke grins wide and winks at her and downs the second shot, letting out a little whoop. "Another?"

"Better make it a double this time, sweetheart," Duke says, and Liam puts his hand on the warm lean stretch of thigh knocking against his under the bar and squeezes, very lightly, a warning, and sees Cordell's eyes tighten just slightly, and sees how his shoulders round out, like he's ready to get in a fight. Cordell takes a deep breath and toasts the bartender, but turns to look at Liam, face a grinning glad mask. "Got a new girl, too. Real pretty."

The bartender's disappointment would be funny, any other time. "Your lucky day, then, huh?" Liam says. Cordell's knee presses hard into his under the bar. "Girl got a name?"

"Miss Twyla Jean," Cordell says, almost crooning it, and Liam raises his eyebrows—he thought they had embarrassing Texas names—and then Cordell downs the double-shot, grimacing at the sting, and then says, much quieter so that only Liam can hear: "All it took was me making it eleven seconds on a bull and she took me straight to bed."

Liam takes a deep breath. Cordell's jaw flexes, in the silence, and he puts the empty shot glass on the bar. "Thanks for celebrating with me," he says, and slides off the barstool, backwards. He grips Liam's shoulder so hard that it actually hurts. "Gotta get back. Job won't do itself."

"Godspeed," Liam says, toasting with his beer, and Cordell gives him a tight smile and tugs his cap and walks out of the bar, taking with him the smell of the stables and his too-tight jeans and this sensation under Liam's gut that's murky and dangerous, unsettled. His shoulder hurts. It's only after he's written down Twyla Jean's name and texted it to James, and gone home to the apartment where Bret's still bitching about the décor, and taken a shower, and pressed his forehead against the cold tile, that he realizes that Cordell was wearing a fucking Texas Rangers cap. The absolute bastard.

The night he hears from Cordell again he has a fight with Bret. The same fight, worked over the same way. Bret hates Texas. He hates being away from his friends. He hates the politics and the food and how Liam's always with his family. He doesn't want to go to family dinner at the ranch because he's sure Liam's dad hates him. "He doesn't hate you," Liam says, for the fifth time, but to be honest he's not sure. Daddy never seems to like Bret that much, either. Cordi's never met him and Liam wonders, like he's wondered many times, if they'd get along, at all. Wonders if that'd be a dealbreaker and then wonders, washing dishes while Bret watches MSNBC in chilly silence, if the fact that he's wondering if it would be a dealbreaker makes it a dealbreaker, after all.

The text comes as a relief. Annunziata's. He dresses down more carefully than the first time. It's a weird spot, on the outskirts of town where it feels less like Austin than like a suburb. Karaoke and Italian food and mostly-fake cowboys slapping their knees to the absolutely horrific song being sung—very suburb. And there, at a table right by what passes for a stage: Cordell. But, no: Duke, Duke Culpepper, with his arm slung around the shoulders of Twyla Jean and his lips on her ear, grinning, wild. It catches Liam's breath like it did the first time. Duke, confident in his body and happy and having a good time, easy. Hot. Jesus, Liam doesn't get how it's so hot.

He waits in the backroom and watches Cordell shoves his face into the water. It's disturbing how panicked he is, once he's Cordell again and not Duke. "You have to," he's saying—babbling—"You have to tell them, they're going to kill people, you can't let them go through with it—" but of course that's not either of their decision and Liam can't help. It's awful, an awful awful feeling. His big brother looking to him for an answer he can't give. Cordell pushes his hair back from his face and puts his hat back on and looks miserable but he goes back, he sits right back down with that girl and lets her slide her hand down his thigh up the inseam of his jeans and Liam watches from the corner of the bar, where he won't be seen, drinking a beer he doesn't want, seeing his brother be someone who's not his brother. Maybe someone his brother could have been. They're going to sleep together, tonight. Liam knows it. They've been fucking for three months. Is it easy, he wonders. It shouldn't be, for Cordell, but maybe for Duke it is.

He goes home to Bret and wakes him up, and apologizes for the earlier fight, and kisses him, and gets Bret on his belly, and fucks him that way, a little hard, kissing the back of his neck, making Bret gasp and flinch and groan, delighted. "Where did that come from," Bret says, lazy and satisfied, and when he falls asleep Liam takes a shower and then only then calls James, from the hall outside their apartment door, leaning with his forehead against the wall. The bank location has been obvious since Cordell reported about Twyla Jean; the only thing that wasn't certain was the time. It'll be fine, James says, firm, and hangs up on Liam to coordinate with the rest of the team now that Agent Walker has finally come back in from the cold, and Liam stands there with his eyes closed in the hall and thinks, yes. Yes, it'll be fine.

After the bank—after the clean-up—Graves debriefs Cordell for a long time. It borders on unlawful interrogation at a certain point but Liam doesn't dare intervene when she's this furious—he can't risk being taken off the case. It takes James making a call to her supervisor at the field office, who then calls her and pulls her out of the room, for Cordell to be given a reprieve, and Liam goes in to the conference room and finds Cordell still in the stupid black hoodie stained with Crystal West's blood, his head in his hands, breathing with his mouth open like he can't get enough air.

"Cordi," Liam says, and Cordell shakes his head. Liam licks his lips and checks the hall. No one's guarding them—they wouldn't, because Walker's one of their own—and he says, "Get up." Cordell looks up at him, finally. "Come on, quick before she gets back. Come with me."

Cordell follows him. Down the hall, left to go through the atrium instead of the bullpen, then through the glass doors to the hall to, at last, the men's room, and Cordell stands in the middle of the tile blinking until Liam nods at the sinks and says, "Do it."

He's sloppier about it, this time. His hair hangs dripping in front of his face. He pushes it off his forehead and looks up at himself, in the mirror, panting a little. Water drips off his nose.

Liam brings him paper towels and he dries his face. "You should take that off," Liam says, and Cordell looks down at his clothes like he has no idea what he's wearing and only just realized, and tears off the hoodie in an awkward tangle. Underneath his t-shirt is black so Liam can't tell if it's stained. The big silver cross swings from his neck.

"What happened," Cordell says. A croak.

"Graves didn't tell you?" Liam says, and then bites his tongue. Obviously not. "Clint and Crystal are both dead. Clint at the bank. Crystal crashed the car. They think she passed out. Blood loss." Cordell nods, tight, looking away. These are his friends, Liam reminds himself. These are the people he knew, the only people he really talked to, for almost a year. "Two more people died at the bank. Twyla wasn't there and we don't have information to tie her to the job. I don't know where Jaxon is but we have people looking. They're still trying to recover the stolen money."

"Graves did tell me that much," Cordell says, and turns around, leaning his ass against the sink. It's slowly draining, behind him. "I think she wants to arrest me since she can't arrest them."

"I think so, too," Liam says, and Cordell smiles a little. He looks like he hasn't slept all year. "You did your job. It's over."

"It's not over," Cordell says, immediately. He drags his hand through his hair. "Graves made that clear. The money's still missing and Twyla and Jax are in the wind."

"And Duke's being sent to jail," Liam says. "So his part in the Rodeo Kings gang is over."

Cordell wipes his fingers over his mouth. He's still wearing that bandana around his wrist. Liam wants to take it off of him. Throw it away, burn it. "Duke Culpepper, common criminal," Cordell says, drawling it a little.

"Never liked him anyway," Liam says, and Cordell smiles, dropping his head. Liam touches his shoulder, grips his neck. "Hey. Means you get to come home. The kids will be over the moon."

"Yeah," Cordell says. He brackets a loose hand around Liam's wrist and nods. "Yeah. Can't wait."

His smile faded, as soon as Liam said it. Liam thinks about that, for that whole night, and for the whole next day, after, when James tells him that Cordell put in for one week's leave. "You talked to him?" Liam says, and James shakes his head, says, "He called Connie. I think he still doesn't even know I'm the captain."

He tells Mama and Daddy that Cordell will be home next Wednesday. Stella's frowning, not eating her dinner. "I saw that bank robbery on the news," she says. Auggie's big-eyed, watching, next to her. "Was that Dad's big case?"

"It was," Liam says, and Auggie's eyes get bigger. "But there's a debriefing period. We need to make sure his undercover identity doesn't have any loose ends that'll tie him back to his real one."

Daddy's eyes narrow and Mama's quiet. Liam got pretty good at lying, over the years, but he never was quite able to fool them.

He calls Cordell the next day. "Tell me where you are," he says, and Cordell doesn't answer for a long moment, letting the silence stretch out over the cell line. Liam considers it a victory that he even answered the phone.

He has a room at the Fairmont, on the fifteenth floor. Liam knocks and it's a minute before the door opens. Cordell's in bare feet, jeans, an ACL t-shirt. Liam follows him in and the room is—nicer than Liam's current apartment, that's for sure. King bed, outstanding view. "Wow," Liam says, and Cordell says, "Better than the Super 8 in Kermit," sort of sarcastic, and then sits down on the bed like he can't stand up anymore.

Liam doesn't sit. He doesn't think he's really invited, even if Cordell let him in the door. "I told them next Wednesday," he said. "Mom and Dad, and the kids. A week. Do you think that'll be enough time?"

"Honestly?" Cordell says, and doesn't elaborate.

There's a table, with four chairs, like a dining area. On it a box, like one of the evidence boxes from the office. Liam walks over and tips back the lid and: there's Duke Culpepper. The striped shirt he wore when Liam met him at Annunziata's. That was—god, only three days ago. A plastic bottle of aftershave. The cross necklace. The gun. Liam picks it up and checks the revolving chamber—that one bullet, still ready. It makes him nauseous just like it did the first time.

"I know you're probably not okay," Liam says. Understatement, he thinks, of the century. He closes the box and pushes it away, toward the center of the table. When he turns around Cordell's holding the beer in one hand and playing with a poker chip, in the other. "I know you're going to need some time. But when you're done, we need you back. The kids, and Mom and Dad. And me."

"C'mon, you don't need anybody, Stinker," Cordell says, with the barest thread of levity. "You climb right up to the top of the barn all by yourself, when no one's around to stop you."

Liam pauses, confused by the subject change. Surprised, then. "You were there for that?" he says, and Cordell shrugs, one corner of his mouth lifting.

When Liam was eleven, and Cordell was at college, and the world hadn't yet turned over on its head. It was early August and his school hadn't started, and Daddy and Mama had gone over to the feed store to pick up a truckload for the horses. He was bored, and tired of reading, and he'd gone out to the barn and looked up at it and thought about how Cordell had done it, at his age or maybe even younger, and if Cordell could then Liam could, too, if he set his mind to it. It wasn't even all that hard, once he was looking careful for the places to set his feet. He sat down on the top of the barn and looked out over the ranch—and further, over the where the road into the ranch pushed out into the hills, down toward the town. He wondered how far he could really see, to the horizon.

"Swung by to pick up my football stuff," Cordell says, now. "Em parked on the other side of the house and I didn't think anyone was home, until I looked out the back. You were up there just—taller than anything." He shrugs. "See? Didn't need my help after all."

"I wouldn't have climbed it if you hadn't dropped me on my head," Liam says, and Cordell snorts, shakes his head. Liam bites the inside of his cheek and crouches, and Cordell's forced to look at him or be ridiculous and so Cordell looks at him. Liam reaches out and gets his hand, the hand with the poker chip, and squeezes it, and Cordell swallows and squeezes back. The edges of the plastic bite into Liam's hand. "Come back," he says.

Cordell takes a deep breath. "I will," he says. "I promise, Liam."

Liam stands up and hugs him, around the shoulders, and walks out of the room. He takes the elevator back to the lobby and steps out into the sunshine, and takes a deep breath, and calls Bret to arrange lunch. Cordell's promises. Fifty-fifty, anymore, that it ends up being true. Liam decides to believe him. He's hardheaded. He might as well be hardheaded and optimistic about it.

#ffcc #walker #walker texas ranger #walker fic #my writing #if anyone ever needed an in-depth character study of liam #...here it is

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freudensteins-monster · 4 years ago

Text

You Say “Mad Scientist” Like It’s A Bad Thing

Based on my own tumblr post: 3am thoughts… Has anyone written Jane Foster as a mad scientist, I mean like a villain?

Chaotic neutral Darcy and Jane featuring modern/human SHIELD Agent Bucky.

Available on AO3.

Content Warnings: Implied/Referenced Torture, Aftermath of Torture, Amnesia, Memory Suppressing Machine | The Chair (Marvel), Dark, Sort Of, Ambiguous/Open Ending...

In a world full of megalomaniacs, straight up supervillains, and fricking aliens, mad scientists were a dime a dozen. Dr Foster was one such scientist who was quickly moving from mildly irritating to SHIELD’s Most Wanted.

Dr Foster’s gimmick was portals. She first gained international attention when she claimed responsibility (via an untraceable Instagram account, @dr-mthrfckng-foster) for diverting LA’s 405 to a dirt road in rural Australia. Then came a string of impossible robberies – bank vaults and the private collections of the world's richest assholes stripped bare in seconds. Then she created a portal that caused an Indonesian typhoon to bear down on Wall Street, flooding the trading floor. And then she robbed a top secret government black site of some classified technology.

And that’s when Director Nick Fury made finding and stopping Dr Foster SHIELD’s number one priority.

Agent James Barnes had been stuck on suspension for two weeks, with two more to go, and was itching to get back into the field. He had way too much free time on his hands: he’d caught up on his sleep and everything in his Netflix queue. He’d cleaned out his refrigerator, done laundry and enough meal prep to last him until next month. He’d caught up with his family, cleaned his whole goddamn apartment twice, and now he was well and truly bored.

He was out for his fifth run of the week (and it wasn’t even Wednesday) when his work phone rang.

“Thank Christ,” he muttered before answering.

“Barnes.”

“It’s Hill. How’s the arm?”

“Fine,” Barnes grunted, rotating his metal shoulder irritably. “You got something for me?”

“Are you up for a recon mission?”

Usually he would have protested. He headed tactical units. He was an elite ‘first through the door’ kind of field agent. Not that he couldn’t be stealthy and patient - he’d been a sniper in the army for christ's sake - but going unnoticed in public was kind of a problem for him these days; he’d have to wear jackets and gloves in the middle of August to hide his prosthetic for starters.

On the other hand, his mother had been calling him every second day to feed him carb-heavy meals in exchange for help around the house, all while dropping not-so-subtle hints that he should start dating again. Requests for more grandchildren couldn’t be far behind.

“I’ll be there in thirty.”

Thirty-five minutes later Agent Barnes was back at his desk at SHIELD HQ perusing through the increasingly large file of one Dr Jane Foster.

She had been a brilliant student and had earned a PhD in Astrophysics from Culver University by the age of 25. By all accounts she should have been one of the leading researchers in her field, and if doctoral programs handed out superlatives Dr Foster’s would have been “Most Likely To Win a Nobel Prize By 30”.

Unfortunately for Dr Foster, and the rest of the world, she had been forced from that path by a sexist tenured professor who publicly denounced her theories, and the woman herself, as crazy, discredited her published work, and used his influence to ensure she was denied all of the more lucrative research grants.

When federal agents went to interview him after the 405 incident they found his office looking like a tornado had gone through it and the professor himself was nowhere to be found. A few weeks later he stumbled into a US Embassy in Russia after being found wandering in from the forests outside Vladivostok, half mad and still decrying the evils of allowing women into scientific fields.

He had been placed into witness protection and promptly admitted into a psychiatric facility under his new name, and was being monitored by several undercover agents in case Dr Foster felt like punishing him some more.

Anyone else who had a part in ruining Dr Foster’s legitimate career was also under surveillance, as was her mother in London, a terrified ex-boyfriend in Boston, and a handful of known associates, though Dr Foster hadn’t been in contact with any of them in years.

SHIELD and other federal agencies had tried the usual methods of tracking down a rogue mad scientist. They tried to find out where her base of operations was, firstly by looking for any properties in her name, but Dr Foster had been a broke student with an impressive amount of debt (until the day she decided to wipe it, and the rest of Culver’s student debt, out). So if she had property it would definitely not be in her legal name and all but impossible to trace back to her. Then they tried to look for drains on the powergrid. However she managed to generate her portals - SHIELD scientists still hadn’t figured that out - it surely had to be using huge amounts of electricity. So far they’d found six grow labs and two server rooms running illegal god-knows-what, but no Dr Foster.

Agent Barnes read the file twice, reviewed all the transcripts of the interviews with her known associates, and came to one very important conclusion: she had an accomplice.

As smart as Dr Foster was there was nothing in her academic history to suggest that she had a background in computer science that would account for the notable hacks and the untraceable nature of her activities. To add to that several interviewees had made passing remarks about her not having a cell phone for most of her academic career, and how she had zero interest in social media.

Two days later, after getting the okay for a field trip from Hill, Agent Barnes made his way to Culver University to speak to anyone who had even the vaguest recollection of Dr Foster. And that’s how he learnt about the intern.

He’d started by dropping by one of the physics labs where Dr Foster had spent most of her time, and by pure chance met a doctoral candidate who remembered her, and her intern.

“I think her name was Darlene. Glasses. Always on her phone.”

…which led him to the academic advisor who put the two of them together...

“Darcy. Darcy Lewis. She was actually a PoliSci major but left it too late and Dr Foster’s internship was the only one available. She had only been working with her for a few weeks before… before Dr Foster’s funding was revoked and she was asked to leave.”

...who pointed him to one of Darcy’s former professors…

“Average student. Good debater. Often late, and always had a coffee in her hand.”

...who gave him a few names of some former classmates who might remember her…

“Not the worst person to be stuck with on a group assignment. Pulled her weight. Obsessed with her stupid iPod.”

“I swear she lived off pop tarts and coffee. And not Starbucks either. Some stupid hipster chain.”

“Deja Brew. Serious problem. Went through one of those loyalty punch cards every week. Always complained about having to go home for the holidays and resort to big chain coffee shops.”

...which had him driving out to Darcy Lewis’ hometown, located a few hours south of Roanoke, Virginia, stopping first at the local high school to speak to the school principal…

“She’d always been good with computers but wasn’t allowed to use them at home for some reason so she spent a lot of time at the local library using theirs. We had to suspend her once. One of her classmates accused her of accepting payment from other students to hack the school’s records and alter their grades. Their grades were definitely getting altered, but we couldn’t get any concrete proof it was her.”

...who was able to find a photo of 16 year old Darcy in an old yearbook and told him what bar he could find Darcy’s mother in.

“She knows not to come to me if she’s in the shit, because I would call the cops in a heartbeat. Especially after that stunt she pulled before she went off to college…”

“What stunt was that, Ms Bennett?” Agent Barnes asked patiently, hoping he wouldn’t have to enable her alcoholism to get some useful information.

“I made some mistakes, okay,” she slurred defensively. “I was having an affair with my boss. Don’t know how Darcy knew. She told her stepfather but he didn’t believe her. Then a few weeks later we went out to dinner for my boss’s birthday... all the tv’s in the bar start showing security camera footage of us falling into offices and motel rooms. Took her all of a minute to ruin two marriages and a law firm.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied diplomatically. “Is there anyone she could turn to for help? Her father, perhaps.”

“He died when she was about twelve. They were as thick as thieves,” she recalled with a tinge of bitterness.

“Was there any place that was special to them? Someone she might go to ground?”

She shook her head. “He used to rent this old cabin near the Catskills off a buddy of his every other year. Winter or summer, Darcy loved it. But it's long gone. Forest fire, I think, the year before his accident.”

Back in his car Agent Barnes reviewed the data points.

Dr Foster had a base of operations somewhere. Had to be private, and as best SHIELD could guess it must be off the grid and Dr Foster must be generating her own power.

Dr Foster was a space nut at heart, and while an abandoned observatory might be too much to ask for, she’d probably want somewhere with minimal light pollution.

And while they could portal anywhere, neither of them spoke any other languages and had no familiarity with any international locations, so they were most likely still State-side. (Dr Foster’s mother had moved to London when Jane was twenty-three, but she’d never found the time to visit.)

Miss Lewis was familiar with the Catskills area. A base of operations there could be very isolated.

Dr Foster was most likely building and modifying her own own equipment so she had to be able to access materials. Sure, she could portal to her local hardware store, but having Darcy drive into the nearest town for supplies would attract less attention.

Miss Lewis had an addiction to coffee procured from Deja Brew, a small hipster chain with only a handful of locations along on the east coast. While she could have found another way to get her caffeine fix, people were creatures of habit.

Miss Lewis was also known for stocking up on poptarts. In one of the only images of the other side of one of Dr Foster’s portals there was what appeared to be, if one squinted, a box of limited edition pop tarts on a counter.

He plugged it all into SHIELD fancy search engines and got a few results back. The most promising was an abandoned ski chalet turned abandoned research station halfway up a mountain, an hour drive away from an up and coming tourist town, whose main street hosted a Deja Brew cafe. They also had a small mom and pop hardware store, as well as a post office, and a grocery store that had still been selling pumpkin pie pop tarts around the time Dr Foster’s portal had been caught on camera.

Agent Barnes came to with a groan. The flesh of his shoulder where it met his prosthetic felt like it was on fire, and he was pretty sure he could smell fried wiring.

The research station had come up in SHIELD’s initial search for a potential mad scientist's lair, but had been dismissed for not using any power and for not sending back any heat signature readings. Perhaps they’d found a way to fool the scanners. Or maybe they just weren’t in the day the readings were taken. Whatever the reason, Agent Barnes had a good feeling about it. He filled his tank up at the nearest gas station and got on the highway, forgoing checking in at the Triskelion on his way past in favour of driving all night. He’d call Hill when he had something solid.

** *** **

“Fuck…”

He willed his eyes open and came face to face with Darth Vader.

Barnes reeled back at the sound of the synthesized voice. “Who sent you? Who do you work for?! The Rebellion?”

“What the fuck!”

It took him until his eyes adjusted to the fluorescent lighting to realise that Darth Vader was wearing a grey knit dress and black tights. Darth Vader laughed and ripped off his mask to reveal a smiling bespectacled brunette underneath. The accomplice. Darcy Lewis.

“Sorry, I was just messing with you, dude,” she teased, tossing the mask over her shoulder. “I’ve always wanted to do that. But seriously, who do you work for? Who knows you’re here?”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” he lied. “I was just camping in the woods, man. I saw the lights and decided to check it out,” he rambled in a lazy Canadian accent. “How the hell did I get here? Did you electrocute me?”

He used his not-quite fake panic to test the limits of his restraints. He’d been strapped into some sort of junkstore barber chair, with thick metal shackles locked around his wrists, ankles, and chest. His metal arm could probably make quick work of them but the damn thing was not responding. His panic became a little less fake.

“Just camping, huh?” she echoed back with a raised eyebrow, leaning forward to the point where Barnes couldn’t avoid getting a good look down her top and the 15-carat pink diamond (worth about 40mil and reported stolen in one of Dr Foster’s vault heists two months ago) hanging around her neck. “So that wasn’t you poking around town this morning?” she asked pointedly, drawing his attention to the wall of monitors he hadn’t noticed showing various street cameras around the town. “I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, dude. You got into town bright and early in a beat up looking truck with plates that didn’t exist two weeks ago and started flashing my yearbook photo around. So, who do you work for?”

He levelled his best steely-eyed agent stare at her and switched back to his native pissed-off Brooklynite accent. “I ain’t tellin you shit, sweetheart.”

“C’mon now,” she cooed, taking a seat on his lap. “Who do you work for? FBI? Interpol? SHIELD? Crawford County Library Services? Listen, I was totally going to return Eat Pray Love, but we had to skip town in a hurry and it got lost in the move. I will totally pay to replace it.”

Years of training (and regular poker games with the Black Widow) had taught him to school his features, even if that last one threw him for a loop.

“Nothing? You sure you don’t want to talk to me? Fine,” she whined. “Jane!”

It was only then that Barnes switched his focus from his captor to his surroundings and realised that there was another occupant puttering about on the other side of the large telescope that took pride of place on a hydraulic platform underneath the research station's retractable roof. The infamous Dr Foster.

“Jane!”

“What?” came the irritated reply.

“Come over here and practise your monologue. Look! You’ve got a captive audience and everything!” she announced, laughing at her own joke.

“I don’t have time, Darcy,” the disgruntled voice argued.

“Hey! I spent two days writing up that monologue, the least you can do is spend twenty-five minutes reading it out loud so I can make sure it doesn’t make you sound too much like a cartoon villain.”

“Twenty-five minutes?! Are you kidding me?” Dr Foster stormed out from behind the telescope to wave a wrench at her assistant. She looked less put together than her ID photo, appearing to be long overdue for both a shower and a nap. “I’m in the middle of something. I’ve almost figured the problem with the mobile portal generator, and… Darcy, why is there a man tied to a chair in my lab?”

“This man?” Darcy snorted, taking Barnes’s chin in her hands and wiggling it about. “This is the intruder. You remember the intruder alert, like fifteen minutes ago? Lots of flashing lights and alarms? Well, I found this guy passed out on the lawn. For most people, hitting my force field would be like getting lightly tased, but this bad boy,” she continued, tapping a fingernail against his dead metal arm, “meant you ended up getting the full 50,000 volts to your heart. Thanks for letting me practice my CPR by the way,” she added with a wink.

“It’s not a force field, Darcy. It’s a glorified invisible pet fence, upsized and modified so it reacts to the electrical impulses in the human body.”

“It keeps people out; I’m calling it a force field.”

This was definitely the weirdest interrogation he had endured by a large margin, Barnes mused as he followed their bickering like a pingpong game.

“Who is he, Darcy?” Jane sighed wearily. “What is he doing here?”

“Fiiiine. Janey, meet Agent James Barnes of SHIELD.”

“What?! SHIELD?!!”Jane screeched. “Why did you bring him here?”

“He found us, Jane. What was I supposed to do?”

“Something other than bringing him inside our secret hideout.”

“I am not killing him and burying him in the woods; I just did my nails.”

Jane scowled, turning the full force of her overtired fury on James. “Why can’t you SHIELD issue jackbooted thugs just leave me alone? Can’t you understand how important my work is? I am challenging the very foundations of modern science - of the laws of the universe! I am on the verge of a breakthrough! And if you or Nick Fury think you can stop me, you’ve got another thing coming!”

Before his mouth could betray him and ask how the hell they knew his boss Darcy spoke up.

“A little off script, but I like the energy, Jane. Very much the mad scientist vibe we’re going for. But next time, try not to make it so personal – we’ve got to hide the target of our frustrations, remember? Instead of saying “SHIELD” say “government”, instead of saying “Nick Fury” say “president”.”

“Right, right,” Jane nodded absently, tapping the side of her head with the wrench she had just been waving around like a weapon.

“Now, go back to work. I’ll handle this.”

“Okay, thanks Darce. Oh, have you seen my soldering iron around?”

“It’s in the locked cabinet because you’re not allowed to use it unsupervised, you know that. Gimme ten minutes, I’ll bring it to you.”

Jane wandered back to her side of the observatory, muttering under her breath, leaving Barnes at Darcy’s mercy.

“She’s not the criminal mastermind here, is she?” he wondered, his eyes roaming over the strange cupcake of a woman in his lap.

“Not exactly,” Darcy admitted. “I mean, it’s not like she set out to be a mad scientist. I kind of rebranded her after that little freeway incident.”

“Rebranded?”

“Yeah. She was in a bad way after New Mexico and then when the first live test of her portal engine went a little sideways I didn’t want dudebros on the internet coming after her, so I changed the narrative. Instead of ‘girl scientist makes mistake, should stick to making sandwiches’ I changed it to ‘Dr Foster, genius astrophysicist, causes chaos, totally on purpose.’”

“And all those robberies?”

“I may have encouraged that. I’m all for sticking it to the one percenters, and Jane needed to fund her experiments somehow,” she added with a shrug.

“So Jane’s the absent-minded professor and you’re the brains behind this operation, huh?”

Darcy laughed and slid out of his lap causing a distracting amount of friction. “I’m really not. So you, Coulson, and Fury should be really, really scared.”

“How do you know those names?” he had to know, cover be damned.

“You don’t know? Of course you don’t,” she huffed. “Fury and his clearance levels. I’d tell you to ask him about New Mexico sometime, but you’re not going to be able to.”

“Why not? What are you going to do to me?” Barnes fretted, unable to ignore the sinking feeling that he was in big trouble; she wouldn’t have told him anything if she intended on letting him walk out of here.

“Oh, relax. I’m not going to kill you. I’m just gonna scramble your brain a little.”

She circled his chair, flipping switches as she went, and something behind him started humming ominously.

“So, admittedly I didn’t major in hard sciences. I had an ex who did, but he also fancied himself something of a cat burglar, so when he went to jail I liberated all his college textbooks and gave myself a crash course in electrical engineering. And it helped that those HYDRA designs were really easy to follow.”

“HYDRA?” Barnes cursed.

HYDRA had been the scientific branch of the Nazi regime and believed that discovery required (human) experimentation. They were supposedly eradicated at the end of WWII but Project Paperclip saved some of HYDRA’s greatest minds, giving them immunity in exchange for their genius. If Foster or, more worryingly, Darcy had aligned themselves with some surviving HYDRA faction the results could be catastrophic.

“Yeah, I found them in that SHIELD warehouse when we recovered Jane’s stolen research.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They just call it ‘The Chair’, which is totally not creepy at all,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “And this is the Halo,” she added, drawing Barnes’s attention to the whirring circle of metal that was lowering itself over his head.

“What the hell are you doing?” he shouted, renewing his efforts to break free of his restraints. “Get that piece of scrap metal the fuck away from me!”

“Hey! Don’t mock my work. It may look like I raided a junkyard for the components - and I did - but my welding game is on point. It’s totally safe. Mostly safe. It’s just going to send focused electrical pulses to your…” she paused to consult some smudged writing on her hand, “hippocampus and prefrontal cortex.”

The Halo stopped moving and two metal plates extended, pressing against the sides of his head, holding it like a vice.

“Please… don’t do this,” he begged as she approached him with a rubber mouthguard.

“C’mon, open wide. You don’t want to end up braindead and unable to chew your food,” she jested, waving the thing in front of him. “Oh, just one question before I fry your brain,” she added just when he was about to give in. “How did you find us? I was so careful,” she whined.

Agent Barnes, terrified as he was, still managed to look smug at his small, short lived success. “Deja Brew coffee.”

“Curses!” she wailed theatrically. “Betrayed by my one true love!”

Darcy huffed and quickly returned her attention to the matter at hand.

“Thanks for that,” she said with a smile as she forced him to bite down on the mouthguard. “I’ll know better for next time. Start making my own coffee at home… but it never tastes as good,” she muttered to herself.

She stepped away from him and bent down to pick up a similarly frankensteined industrial remote with long wires snaking back to the chair and a clichéd big red button at its centre. He began struggling anew, screaming around the foul tasting rubber, begging for mercy.

She took great delight in his terrified expression and put on her best supervillain voice, “Give my regards to Nick Fury.”

Nick Fury observed his agent from behind a two way mirror as he sat behind a table in an interrogation room. Barnes had been sitting there for the past hour as still as a statue, except for his unfocused eyes which flitted about the room.

In true horror movie fashion, Agent Barnes’ screams echoed down the mountainside like an avalanche, sending animals fleeing in terror for miles around.

** *** **

Local LEO’s had found him wandering aimlessly down a stretch of highway just outside the ruins of what had previously been Puente Antiguo, New Mexico, and ten minutes after they ran his prints Agent Romanoff had been on a quinjet to collect him. She’d been directed to the nearest hospital and found him sitting up on a bed but not responding or reacting to any of the medical staff as they buzzed around him. Agent Romanoff took a cautious step forward and held her breath as his unfocused eyes settled on her.

“Hello James...”

An excruciating minute later the veil lifted and he attempted a smile.

“Hey Tasha.”

She’d brought him back to base and dragged him to SHIELD’s medical bay for more tests - not that Barnes put up much of a fight, in fact he was terrifyingly compliant. The SHIELD doctors confirmed what the New Mexico doctors suspected: the bruising and electrical burns around his temples and his memory loss were indicative of some back alley version of electroshock therapy. His memories should come back in time - how long was anybody’s guess - but for the moment Agent James Barnes had no memory of the last four weeks.

Fury picked up a tablet with depressingly little information on its screen and stepped into the room, waiting for Barnes eyes to focus on him before taking a seat.

“Agent Barnes.”

“Director.”

“I know you’re probably sick of questions by now, but I have a few more for you, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, sure…”

It rankled Fury to no end how meak and passive Barnes seemed. Heaven help him, he missed the argumentative sonofabitch.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Being called into your office.”

“What for?”

“I punched Rumlow.”

“Why?”

“He was bragging about taking advantage of a drunk woman at a club when he was last on leave. He didn’t like me calling out his shitty behaviour. He punched me, I punched him back.”

Fury sighed. He hadn't gotten a straight answer out of Barnes at the time of the incident and he couldn’t feel happy about getting one now.

“Do you remember what happened once I called you into my office?”

His brow creased and his eyes zipped back and forth like the carriage of a printer as his mind searched for the elusive memory.

“You suspended me?”

“I did,” Fury confirmed. “For a whole month. But two weeks into it I pulled you in for a special assignment.”

Barnes tensed, shrinking in on himself. The confusion about his lost time seemed to be the only thing that got under his skin, but only when someone brought it up. Once the moment passed he forgot to be concerned about it.

Fury took pity on him. “For the past two weeks I had you running down leads on the whereabouts of Dr Jane Foster.”

“The scientist with the portals? Did she do this to me?”

“It’s not exactly her MO, but then again no law enforcement agency’s ever managed to have a confrontation with her. Never had the chance. Those portals of hers let her keep at a distance. You might have been the first person to have a face to face with her, but I can’t confirm it because I don’t know where the hell you were when this happened,” he grumbled, letting a little more of his usual exasperated tone filter through. “You missed check in by two days. The last we heard from you, you were at Culver running down leads on what you said was a potential accomplice. We found your car in Tromso, Norway, a day after you were found on the side of a road in New Mexico. You don’t appear on any security footage or speed cameras in the area. There’s no activity on your work or personal credit cards. Your activity logs on our highly secure system for the last two weeks are nonexistent, as are your call logs on your work phone. Even the messages you sent Romanoff from your personal phone complaining about your assignment have since been deleted - from her phone too. She’s real pissed about it. As far as your digital footprint is concerned you disappeared from a gas station outside Roanoke, Virginia, last week - do you know how weird it is to know you were headed out towards a place called Roanoke only to up and vanish?” He sighed at Barnes’ painful silence. “Is there anything you can remember, anything at all about Dr Foster or her accomplice? Anything that will help us catch up to you without talking to everyone on campus to figure out what you discovered?”

Barnes’ brow creased in painful confusion.

“I think… I think I saw Darth Vadar.”

Director Fury blinked. “Right…” He took a deep breath to stop himself from venting his frustrations at Barnes, the sorry bastard looked like a kicked puppy as it was. Instead he got up and tapped the tablet against the metal tabletop harder than strictly necessary. “Well, I’ll just go put out a BOLO out for Darth Vadar then.”

“Okay,” Barnes murmured, and promptly zoned out again.

Agent Romanoff exited the viewing room looking uncharacteristically unsettled.

“I want a full detail on him at all times,” Fury ordered as he stormed off towards the elevators. Hill had just stepped off and was looking even more grim than usual. “Until his memories come back he’s vulnerable, and once they do he’ll be a target.”

“I’ll get a STRIKE team on it. Not Rumlow’s.”

“Get another one along with any assets currently not on assignment. Flood that campus, interrogate everybody. I wanna know who the hell Dr Foster’s accomplice is, and I wanna know yesterday. Understood?”

“I think we might have more pressing concerns, sir,” Hill reported, tapping at her tablet as it beeped erratically. “Coulson’s said there’s an issue with the Tesseract. Dr. Selvig read an energy surge from it fifteen minutes ago.”

“NASA didn't authorise Selvig to test phase,” he grunted, taking the tablet from Hill.

“He wasn't testing it, he wasn't even in the room. Spontaneous advancement.”

“Motherfucker.”

#you say mad scientist like it's a bad thing #freudensteins-fics #mad scientist jane foster #competent assistant darcy lewis #shield agent bucky barnes #torture #aftermath of torture #amnesia #winter soldier memory wipe chair #darcy lewis #jane foster #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #nick fury #maria hill

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dreaminpeaches · 4 years ago

Text

“Ladies, Gentlemen, Enbies...HER--I mean Him? Or them?-- whatever, anyways here's the first part of my daydream paracosm, Humble Pie. I was really happy I was able to come up with the first part in a somewhat cohort manner. Part 2 is also going to follow this sometime soon, but after that its probably just gonna be short shorts, text exchanges, and or drabbles, but that first part’s finally a thing! And that’s cool”

“Also just reminder that this paracosm is set in a mix timeline, like people have flip phones, cassette tapes, but still also have stuff like gamer chairs, and slang like sus/lit exist, so I hope that doesn’t bother you..oof”

“Also I wrote this from my Remarkable, then convert it to text, and did some proof reading, but my handwriting is still can only be read by chickens and my dyslexia ninja has sneak 100 accuracy so..yeah

Word count: 6,115

TW: mention of Bullying, DeadBeat dad, Smoking, Drinking, Swearing (only for comedy’s sake tho’), Dissociation, Guilt (but don’t worry there’s still A LOT of fluff in this piece, tho)

Link to Alternate version on my off-site daydream blog: Humble pie part 1

=================================================================

"Okay, here we go" Beau said, taking one last drag of his cigarette, and taking in one last look at the panoramic view of the town below, Newbury, his hometown, he was away for a year because of college which he dropped out of. Well, "dropout" made it seemed like he had a choice, more like he flunked out, there were' 'reasons that 'made college impossible for Beau, reasons that he couldn't get into or more like reasons he didn't want to get into, these were the some reasons that turned what was suppose to be a 5 hour drive into an 8 hour one, making him stop ever so often to the nearest park, overlook, or clearing to get out, smoke and or take a short walk. These stops were so frequent by the time he reached his hometown’s overlook he was on his last stick, hard to believe he started the trip w/ a full box.

He dropped the last of the remains of the cig on the ground and stomped out the glow ember with his dark brown rounded toed boot, watching the embers glow go out made him feel similar in a way.

Beau took one more last look at the small town below blanketed by the dark, light sky. He looked around. the overlook, bring back memories of. late night make outs, sneak outs and general teenaged shenanigans.

Beau remembers once on a night he was really buzzed, a rare event for him, drinking with his buddies, rather it was the buzz from the beer, or he was just 'riding the 'high off scoring the winning goal for the team, or general teen hormones. He felt invincible, so invincible he stood up on the ledge and proclaimed himself as king of the world

A moment Beau looks back at and shakes his head as if to try to erase the memory from his mind like an etch n’ sketch, suddenly he got a bad taste in his mouth or maybe that's just the cigarettes "King of world….yeah, right" Beau said pulling up the collar of his jacket and shrugging his hands into his pockets, and headed back into the car.

It was getting late and there was no use in stalling any longer, might as well continue to the inevitable. Stalling may be that’s the feeling that's been following him the whole time, stalling the fact that he would have to return to his hometown a failure after being touted and praised for being a star athlete , and getting into a ivy league school, a feat his mom was really proud since she herself couldn't go to college because of having Beau at such a young age, and having to deal with a bunch of other “BS” as Beau would put it.

Beau really wanted to make her proud by becoming a famous football player and make tons of money so she wouldn't ever have to worry about bills n 'stuff and live in the malibu dream house she dreamed of living in since she was a kid, a dream she would talk about to her children like it was fairytale during when time got real tough.Even though she sounded upbeat over the phone about the news, Beau knew his mom was an expert when it came to masking her disappointment and skill that was pretty integral with dealing Beau's birth father. He just hopes she's not too disappointed

As the twilight sky grew more dark the street lights flickered on. Familiar and nostalgic landmarks and structures rolled by as Beau drove by with one hand gripping the wheel while the other hand hung casually out of the rolled down window. the nighttime breeze gentle, tossing his cart dirty blond hair mullet. The 'murmur of punk music lighty playing from the car's speaker, that was playing louder earlier but the volume's quickly depleted because blasting punk 'music at night in a small town is pretty serious offensive a risk, a younger Beau would play around with, but now being older he knows better.

Driving into his old neighborhood, seemingly not much has changed, but what do you expect from a small town? The old neighborhood consisted of typical signatures of most middle upper class .. neighborhoods, Christmas ' decorations long over due to be taken down, manicured lawns, next to slightly less manicured lawns. Some lawns adored w/ gnomes and flamingos, a step up from the lawns of homes in his childhood neighborhood whose homes had what one could consider a lawn but just barely, Beau and his brother were lucky enough to have a sizable back yard and a tree house.

His family's lawn had a bunch of outdoor toys laid about on their lawn: a nerf gun, a pink tricycle, a tiled dyed color bouncy ball and an empty container of mega bubble wand. Beau drove up in the driveway being careful to not accidentally run over any of the toys in the yard.

He eject the mixtape from the player and put it into his jacket chest pocket. Beau leaned over and rummaged through the glove compartment fishing out a small travel can of axe's body spray and another small spray can of mouthwash, he used both to cover the scent of cigarette smoke, a smell his mother was highly sensitive to. He popped in a stick of spearmint for extra measure before getting out of the car and going to the trunk to retrieve his suitcase. Beau only had one suitcase since all the stuff really needed and cared about conveniently fitted in one suitcase.

Beau propped up his suitcase as he closed the trunk, the car beeped and blinked as he pressed the lock button. He headed up the pathway to the front door, his heart beating louder and louder with each step leading up to the front door.

Beau took a deep breath, Pulling himself together. "Okay" He said under his breath as his hand slowly reach for the knob but before he could even get a good grip, the door swung open, Beau's eyes raced up to see the thinning hair of a middle aged man, Beau eyes lowered a bit more to see the mustached clad face of the man the hair belonged to. "Hey, Big Boss! '' the mustache man said with a grin. The man was Beau's stepfather, David.

"Hello, David, I-I mean Dad." Beau awkwardly greeted his stepdad, trying his best not to show discomfort at his step dad's “nickname" for him.

"Ha, ha that's okay, son!”David laughed, giving Beau a hefty pat on the back.

"Here, let me get your bags." David said, reaching for Beau's suitcase, looking behind Beau expecting more bags

“You only brought one bag?" he questioned, looking curiously.

'--I like to be efficient" Beau muttered with a shrug and a side glance. "HAHA you and me both, Big B" David chuckled playful elbowing Beau, who gave a half-smile and a small chuckle--well, more like a slight nose huff

"Hey, honey Big B is home!" David shouted as Beau closed the front door.

His mother came rushing from the bedroom in her rose pink robe w/a barbie in insignia on the front with matching fuzzy slippers, her sandy blond hair still damp from the shower.

"My little boy, oh!" she said, warping Beau in a tight motherly embrace. "Welcome home!" Beau's mother pulled back for a second, cupping her son's face in her hands “you’re still so handsome"

"Wait..." Beau gently removed his mom's hands from his face "Are you okay, mom?" He asked his considerate brown eyes searching his mother's teal eyes for any sign of distress.

"Of course, sweetie," his mom beamed. "I have all of my loved ones under one roof. What's more to ask?"

it's just that I didn't- Y-you know." Beau said with downcast eyes

"Oh, that" his mom said wide eyes and then shaking her head in dismissed

"Don't worry about not finishing college, I mean just look at me"

“But You just seemed so proud that I got in, I just didn't want to let you down"

“Sweetie, it's fine," his mom said, gently guiding his head up with her hand to look at him "I was not proud that-You were becoming the smart, sweet kind young man, I always knew you were, but now. I'm just happy that you’re here and I get to see you go. on the journey myself!" Beau chuckled tightly and blushed at his mom's admiration.

"Plus, Your mom's not the only one who is happy to have You home!” David said, gesturing towards the hallway. Beau looked to see a small figure peeking from the corner, the figure quickly disappeared followed by an overflow of giggles.

A smile slowly creeped across Beau's face, he slowly kneeled down. " "Gasp * Is that my little care bear?"

From the shadows totted out, a little girl dressed in a blue care bear patterned nightgown, her blonde hair tied up in pigtails, she grasped a love-a-lot bear in one arm while her other arm was open as she raced towards Beau, also with arms wide open for a hug "Bo-Bo"

"Hey, care bear!" Beau cooed as he picked up his little sister "Wow, You've gotten so big since the last time I saw you!

"Carrie's been asking when you were coming since you told us you were coming home "David stated

"Really?"

"Yep!'' Carrie nodded proudly "You still have the love-a lot bear I won at grad night". Beau vividly remembers winning Love A Lot and his friends making fun of him, but Carrie really appreciated it more than he thought.

"Yeah, she takes it with her everywhere!" mom emphasized “Thank god, the kindergarten has a security blanket policy!

"Aww..." Beau said fondly looking at Carrie, who had her head resting on his shoulder, still grasping love a lot.

Beau thought for a moment and looked around "wait, where Dev?"

"Oh" mom said putting her hand on her head with a semi sigh "He's been going through... things"

"Teenager things: David specified "He's the big one three now.. "

“Don't worry, I can talk to him!”Beau said, confidently, slowly nodding his head

. Carrie lets out a small yawn "Aw, you sleepy, care bear?" Beau asked as Carrie rubbed her eyes

"It's past her bedtime, but she really wanted to see you," Mom said, stroking Carrie's hair. "Is someone ready for the sleep shuttle'?" Beau asked Carrie, looking at her in her sleepy hazel eyes, she nodded in response

"Alright, Here we go!" Beau held Carrie in both hands placing his arms out in front of him, he kneeled down and started counting down. "3…..2...1. Blast off!"

Beau shot Carrie in the as he stood back up. As he moved towards Carrie's bedroom, he moved all around side to side, up and down while making spaceship sounds, Carrie was giggling all the way through.

"Incoming! "Beau shouted as he swooshed Carrie round a few more times before landing her swiftly on the bed.

"Huston, the eagle. has landed!." Beau said, holding his ear as if he had an earpiece "Not eagle! Bear!" Carrie stated holding up her care bear "correction, the "BEAR" has landed!" Beau correcting himself, bringing a huge smile to her face as she nuzzled her care bear

"Okay, night, right, care bear" Beau said patting carries head

"Wait!" Carrie said holding on to her brother's arm "Is Bo-Bo still gonna be here in the Morning?""Of course, I'm not going anywhere at least for a while.." "Beau said, kneeling down to Carrie's eye level.

"Okay, I like having Bo-Bo around:'' Carrie said "and I like being around" Beau said, "see you in the morning, care bear" Beau gives Carrie a good night kiss on the forehead.

She settles into bed as Beau closes the door. Beau grinned to himself, feeling lucky to have such a cute sister. He remembers when Devin was that little, speaking of Dev. Beau apphoraced Dev's bedroom door. The door was caution tape, Don't enter signs, with a please knock before entering sign.

At first Beau did think about knocking but then thought "I could be a respectful older brother respect the sign or I could have fun and be a little shit. He pondered about it for a minute then-"yeah, I'm gonna be a little shit.”

Beau took a card out his wallet and wedged it in between the door to jimmied the lock. He peeked through the door to see Dev playing a video game on the tv. "you little..." Beau said under his breath, before bombastically opening the door "Hey there, squirt!" Beau said, shoving the door open

"Didn't you read the sign?!" Dev said as he turned around in his gamer chair in both shock-and annoyance

"Wow, that's a pretty warm welcome to give your older brother you haven't seen in a year!" Beau snarked, pretending to look hurt'' "Nice to see you too!"

"Oh my god!" Dev said, rolling his eyes and turning his chair back to tv, bringing his attention back to the game.

"and here I thought you were working on a project or homework or some school shit!" Beau continued "but no, you're just sitting here playing one of your little nerd games"

"Oh my god, can't you just leave!" Dev groaned as he hunching closer to the tv.

"You couldn't at least say "Hi" " Beau said now standing right behind Dev gamer chair

Dev raised and waved his hand half-heartedly and flatly said "hi"

"Well, damn I feel loved," Beau said sarcastically. "aren't you at least gonna look at me?" shaking the gaming chair a bit to gain an ounce of his little brother’s attention.

“ I saw you "Kool aid man" into my room. Is that enough?" Dev said still focusing on the game Beau sighed, then got an idea "Dev! Dev! I think there's something wrong with my heart I think I gonna-ugh!" He said staggering forward a bit before falling in Dev's lap, knocking out the game controller out of Dev's hands.

"Come on! I was in the middle of battle!" Dev whined looking at his brother playing dead

"Get off of me!" Dev go armed as he tried to push beau off with no luck

"Come on, Beau!" He gored in frustration “I know you're not dead! I can still feel your heartbeat..."

Get up!" Beau remained still, Dev rolled his eyes; he knew the exact words to get his brother off his back or in this case lap.

"Big brother, can you please get off of me n Dev utter begrudgingly "Aw, you haven't call me ‘Big brother’ in years" Beau chimed with a smile, finally getting up "I'm still kind of hurt, that you cared about your gaming progress than the well being for your one and only big brother"

"You were still breathing, I could literally see you inhaling and exhaling." Dev clarified rubbing his forehead

"Touche, I guess" Beau said he then directed Dev's chair in front his bed," now that I have your attention"

"Okay, I guess I should say sorry since you couldn't and say "hi" to me because you were too busy saving some elf princess, or some anime chick with huge melons"

"I-H-Hey I don't even play those types of games!" Dev argued blushing

" .-sure you "don't'." Beau taunted with a wink, Dev goanned "Anyways, Anyways you don't have to say "hi",; but you could at least not talk to me"

Beau suggested, shrugging. "I guess" Dev mumbled kind of sinking into his chair "cool, so how's life?" Beau started, trying to start a diagoul "okay"

"How's school?"

"Okay"

"How’re your friends?"

"Okay"

"Got a girlfriend?"'

"NO”

"Got a boyfriend?"

N-NO"

"Got any crushes"

“….NO…..."

"joined any clubs or any other after school junk?"

" ..... NO..."

"Are you just gonna answer all my questions in one word?"

Dev fell quiet, and shifted his gaze from his brother

“Okay, that's it!" Beau huffed, he picked up Dev and hoasted him over his shoulder "Hey! put me down!" Dev-shouted , beating his fists on Beau's back "Not until you talk to me like an actual person, and one worded answers aren't gonna cut it, squirt!"

"MOM! Dad!"

"Mom and Dav-Dad are fast asleep, and you know they both sleep like rocks!" Beau stated'' the only person you'll wake up is Carrie, and You don't want to wake little care bear, now do YOU?"

Dev fell Quiet again, "You know I can hold you like this for hours, you aren't really that heavy, or you can just end this and talk to me" Beau suggested ending the suggestion with a sigh and started to stomp his foot impatiently..

Dev continued the silent treatment for a bit until letting out a meek "Okay...I'll try" .

Hey, three words, that's a start!" Beau cheekly commented,He sat Dev back down in his green gamer chair.

"Okay, do over!" Beau said casually sitting across from Dev and his bed. "so, how's school going?" "F-fine” Beau gave Dev a intense look, reminding Dev of his word count “N-no, I mean it's just weird" Dev stuttered choosing his words carefully, Dev fiddled with his hoodie sleeves.

"and it's weird because..." Beau initiated, gesturing his hand toward encouraging Dev to continue "It's weird because.... I don't know, Middle school is way different than 'elementary school, I mean I knew that from tv, but middle school isn't like tv."

"It's okay, nothing like tv, that thing lies” Beau softly chuckled to himself and continued “I remember thinking Pogo sticks were the SHIT-cuz 'of people and cartoons on tv made it look so easy"

"I finally got enough money for one-- you were like little you probably don’t remember this-- but I was SO HYPED, I wanted mom to watch me. I took one hop, fell on my ass, and never hopped on that bitch again. I was pissed, I think mom was trying to her best not to laugh but I was so pissed I think I didn’t notice until now. I chucked the pogo stick in the garage, and I never looked at that bitch again”

Dev let out a stiff laugh, the defensive wall Dev put was slowly breaking

"Oh WAIT WAIT!” Beau said taking a moment to correct himself “ That WASN’T the last time the last time I looked that bitch, I fished it out of garage years later, only cuz’ I need some money for Madden. So, I did look at that bitch one more time, but only to sell that bitch.”

Dev let out a more audible laugh, but quickly caught himself and recollected, returned to his disillusioned teenage state.

"Anyway, The teacher's are kind of weird, like a lot of them hate my guts already, except for the coaches who are super nice to me." Dev explained, kind of looking away from his brother

"Weird, why do you think that is?" Beau asked whole hearty

"Because I'm related to you, Numb skull!" Dev blunted , groaning putting his hand on his forehead

"Oh damn, I guess that's my fault." Beau realized, rubbing the back of his neck "My bad. that my awesomeness is just lengardy"

Dev shook his head and rolled his eyes "It's not awesome to live in YOUR shadow!" Dev sulked, sinking back into his chair, his hands covering his face.

"You don't have to follow in my awesomeness, I know I'm a hard act to follow." Beau boasted teastingly so"You just gotta make your own awesomeness."

"What does that even mean?" Dev questioned, moving his hands down, allowing his eyes to peek through his fingers, trying not to given the urge to roll his eyes

"It's like my awesomeness comes from my boyish charm and good looks..." Beau claimed, striking an award winning smile, The urge not to roll his eyes was becoming even hard for Dev, but he still had to try and respect Beau "But your awesomeness could come from being good at games, or computers shit or math or robots or something--I don't know something real nerdy"

"I guess, you're right" Dev mumbled and shrugged,lifting himself up back into a sitting position rather than almost spilling out of his chair.

"Its not a guess, its science!" Beau declared proudly, tapping his temple with his index finger

"No,that's not science!" Dev arguing his brother's stupidity, flatly shaking his head in disagreement

"See, there you go using your nerd awesomeness" Beau pointed out with a wink "Keep that up and you'll go from Beau's lil bro, to just ‘Dev’ in no time." Beau playful tousled Devs mop dirty blonde hair

"I mean.." Dev continued batting his brother's hand away, "I was also thinking of joining the video game club or the robotics club at school."

"There you go another nerdy thing that to add to your own awesomeness" Beau said

"Yeah...." Dev continued ignoring his brother's comment' “Some of my friends are thinking about joining, and it would be a nice place to go away from mom and dad."

"I had sick memories of hanging out with the team, we got into some wild shit." Beau said laughing to himself, fondly reminiscing "But I'm sure you and you geek squad could have "wild" times too, like making an anime robot 'weify." or whatever those called or finding a new math formula or something"

Dev fell quiet for another moment, Beau always seems like he’s in between being supportive and subtly roasting him, Dev then uttered "um... I think I kind of have a crush... on a girl..."

"AYE, let's go! "Beau exclaimed, clapping and shaking Dev's chair for a bit before bouncing back on the bed'' Come on, don't leave me hanging, what's her name? "Have you talked to her vet? Have you asked her out? Have-"

"Calm down!" Dev demanded "I said I had a crush, I didn't say we’re going out.'"

"Oh, so you haven’t talked to her, huh?”

"No, I-I don't even know her name" Dev huffed, he let his arms slip into his oversize sleeves and covered his sleeves with his face in frustration.

"You know you could just ask, not the chick, like just ask around"

"I can't do that because if I do, people will find out I like her and if she finds out, I would just have to stop going to school!”

"Okay, let’s just pretend you DO have the balls to talk to this girl, what's the worst that could happen?" Beau suggested

"She finds out that I like her, thinks I'm weird and never wants to talk to me again or even look at me!” Dev muffled through his sleeved covered face

"You really think she can sus that out all in one go!" Beau said "I mean she is a middle Schooler unless she's like a young nancy drew, she is not going to chew you up and spit out like that." Beau explained "speaking of which''

Beau paused for a moment to spit out his gum into the trash can "Score!"

"Anyways, have you done anything weird to her or around her?"

"No, I mean I look at her in the hallways before and in between class, but I don't like-- stalk her or anything too weird." Dev mumbled, moving his sleeves from his face, but his head was still targeted down at his fingers fiddling with a tag on his black shorts

"So, then what's the fear?" Beau inquired, resting his chin on the heel of his palm

Dev thought for a moment, his eyes shifting looking for an answer." I-I guess I just don't know how to talk to her."

"Well, fuck, that's easy" Beau chuckled “Just talk about school shit, or just say "hi"

"Is it really that easy?"

"Yeah, if you have the balls for it" Beau reiterated "Think about it like this, the dudes you play in your little nerd games have to fight a dragon, a demon or some anime witch with huge melons to talk to the girl they like and they er brave enough to do all of that wacky shit. But you’re lucky, you don't have a dragon for real in your way to keep you talking from your crush. The dragon's just in your head! If those hero dudes can fight dragons they actually can see, doesn't that mean you can fight a dragon you don't even see."

"That was a really lame and kind of confusing metaphor" Dev sassed " But I guess understand what your trying to say"

"Exactly" Beau said nodding confidentiality

"Can we talk about mom and dad?" Dev asked sheepishly, looking up at his brother, (well as much as he could with his shaggy bangs in the way), his fingers now toying with his hoodie strings

"Did something happen?"

"No, I mean yeah, I mean it's just weird" Dev said "Mom and dad are starting to get more annoying but I don't know if they were always like that or they like charged"

"No, parents don't really change-usually” Beau explained “It's just that being a teenager makes you hypersensitive to a bunch of shit and makes you wanna be alone more. Parents, the good ones like spending time with their kids and they actually want quality time n' shit and that's where they start to get annoying".

“"Oh okay,” Dev nodded.'' It's just weird because sometimes I feel like I hate them, but I don't want to. I think I just really want to be alone more like you said but I don't want to shut them out, I just want them to get that." Dev-fiddles with the strings of his green hoodie

"Yeah, I think they do in a weird old people kind of way. Believe it or not they were teenagers to even if that was back in the stone age n' shit" Beau joke"

Dev let out an actual laugh, a sign to Beau that he's little bro was being less of a moody teenager

"Anyway, even with that said mom and david-I mean dad aren't mind readers, it would be cool if you give them a heads up, you don't have to tell them all about what's going on in your little teen nerd brain but at least something simple like something weird or funny that happened at school, or asking for help on homework or a project for class or some shit like that, I'm pretty sure Dav-dad would love that.."

"I guess I could try". Dev said slightly nodding his head "But Carrie is kind of weird too!

"How can Carrie be weird, she's 5.” Beau scoffed "she doesn't do anything weird really"

Dev added" it's just sometimes she's regular cute and other times she's annoyingly cute if that makes sense"

"I mean like kind of get what you're saying but "Beau shrugged gesturing his hand toward prompting Dev to continue

"Like I still look out for her because she little, but because she's little that means I have to do dumb stuff like look for monsters under her bed or do that sleep shuttle thing you do, but I can't really do it because my arms give out halfway through and she's heavier than she looks."

"Well, little brothers and sisters are annoying, it's kind of their job, trust me I know from experience" Beau: put his hand on Dev's knee, Dev tried to Swat at it but Beau quickly put his hand back with a smirk.

"But like with mom and da-David just cuz she's annoying doesn't mean You can’t look out for her n stuff"

"I guess, its because lately, it seems like'' Dev paused 'for a beat, his hands hard gripping the strings of his hoodie, before continuing" I don't know mom and dad have been paying more attention to her than me"

A mischievous smile creeps across his face. "AW does someone miss being the baby?"'

"Oh, fuck! I knew you 'er gonna say that!" Dev blurted out, feeling really exposed, he pulled his hoodie strings allowing his head to be consumed by his hoodie, all but his nose.

"Hey! language,” Beau said, surprised at his little brother's reaction those harsh words coming out of the mouth of small boy sporting a Yoshi hoodie

"You cuss' all the time!" Dev huffed pulling his hoodie back down, then crossing his arm definitely

"Yeah, but I'm older than you, and if mom and David--DAD hear you curse they’er gonna know you got it from me and won't get off my ass about it!"

Dev stared at his brother, simmering in frustration in failing to coming up w/a good come back or a flaw in his brother's logic, He let out a heavy sigh and resumed "Anyways, it's NOT like I miss being the baby, I just miss being able to hold their attention without Carrie coming in and stealing them anyway, I don't know its weird"

"Wait, did you just say that you wanted to be alone and away from mom and David-fuck. I'm not even gonna try more-he's asleep anyways." giving up any attempt to make the word "Dad" same with the name "David"

"Yeah, I know that's what makes it weird!" Dev admitted, he sulked back deeper into his chair and let out a groan.

"You know Carrie's not awake all the time, maybe you can talk to mom and David, when she goes down for her nap, hell, I could just take her to the park for a day." Beau offered

"You'd really do that for me?" Dev peeped, quickly lifting himself up in a sitting position, surprised at his brother kind offer

"Yeah, anything to make you less of a weird angsty shut in, with a bunch of cringy keep out signs and keep out tape!" Beau gestured towards the door

"Actually, I got that caution tape from a real crime scene" Dev clarified, with a smug smile

"Really?" Beau taking a longer closer look at the door

"No, thick head, I found it in a dumpster next to party city!"

"You go dumpster diving?" Beau said, raising an eyebrow

"I have a life outside of YOU!" Dev stated proudly

"Okay, and on that... Weird garbage goblin flex, sibling bonding time is over." Beau said getting up from the bed and heading for the door

"Actually, one more thing..." Beau said quickly, turning around, rushing towards Dev, putting him into a headlock.

"Did ya miss me? Come on, tell me that you missed me!" Beau taunted as he gave his brother a long and through noogie "Ouch, Ow, Ow, Okay, okay, I missed You. Geez:" Dev pleaded trying to struggle out of his brother's grip

"That's what I wanted to hear!" Beau said with a smirk, letting 'Dev go.

"Ugh! my hair" Dev fumed , gawking at his even more messy mop of hair.

"Like you care about appearances" Beau chuckled" mop top nerd!"

"Mullet-hair metal meathead!"

"Ouch, that was pretty good" Beau teased pretending to look hurt "Garbage Goblin"

"You already-"Dev started but was cut off by Beau closing the door

"Too late, the door is closed, I can't hear you, which means I win!" Beau said through the door, laughing at his brother's muffled fury of frustration.

Beau grinned relishing in the absolute confusion of his younger brother, but that good vibe quickly faded once he arrived at the door to his old bedroom. He just stood there and stared at the door for a bit, he could feel the icky stew of the emotions from bubbling back up again.

He flexed his hand a few times as if this was the first time he's ever pored a door, Beau's hand reached for the door handle before retracted as if the knob was red hot.

Beau sheepishly looked around as if somebody was watching him, no one was but it sure did feel like it. He considered sleeping on the couch, but that would be weird, since it seemed like his step dad put his luggage in his room. so, eventually he would have to go into his room anyway.

Beau took a deep breath. "Come on, it's just a door, dude!" He told himself Beau's hand rested on the door knob, he took another deep, his hand gained a stronger grip, and he slowly pushed the door open, Beau carefully entered the room as he closed the door behind him. Looking around the room was plaster with posters of football players and a few pinups of doe-eye, sensual women in swimsuits and other scantily clad outfits.

Athletic medals, trophies and awards displayed proudly on his bookshelf that lacked any actual books, those trophies stood next to pictures of Beau with his teammates, all illuminated by the moon's dull pale blue light. These relics of what felt like a bygone era used to fill Beau with so much pride and joy but looking at them now just leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

He could barely even recognize himself in those photos. This whole room felt like a shrine or more like a tomb to someone who no longer exists.

Looking at all this stuff just made the icky feelings from before rise up to the back of his throat making the bad taste linger even longer.

Beau couldn't really pin what-these feelings were, so he shifted his focus on just getting some sleep

As he thought, Beau's step dad put his luggage on his bed. He opened his bag and quickly changed into a white tank top and some grey sweatpants. He fished out the mix tape from his jean jacket and put into the gray clucky music player on his nightstand. Beau turns the music up loud enough for him to hear but not loud enough for disturb anyone else. Heavy metal music (ironally) helped him sleep on hard nights.

Beau laid in bed focusing on the one spot in his room that wasn't decorated with high school memorabilia. Focusing on that spot was way better than focusing on the icky feelings from earlier. All he needed to was focus on sleep just sleep, Beau closed his eyes and tried to focus on just sleep.

The next time Beau opened his eyes, he was back in the hallway of his highschool. Beau looked around confused why he was back here but before he could really sus out the situation, his thoughts were interrupted by a loud thud. He followed the sound of the thud that led to a scene of a bespectacled student being shoved up against the lockers. The student's face contorted by fear.

"P-please, d-don't hurt me. "the student uttered, the words quivering as it left his lips.

"Aww, look at him, guys." a familiar voice said, Beau couldn't see whom the voice belonged to. There was a strange mist in the hallway that obscured the person's face.-

"He's scared." the voice said mockly, the person nodded towards a group of people whose faces were also obscured by the mist, they laughed in response

“Don't worry, little buddy, I'm not gonna hurt ya:" the person taunted as he tightened his grip on the student and shoved his body up against the failing student. "As long as you don't squeal" .

"You squeal, and I'll fry you like the pig you are, got it. Swine?"

"I-I p-promise I W-won't. J-just please let me go!" the student begged

Beau was disturbed by scene happening before him, but along with the feel of disgust came a feeling of familiarity, like he's been there before

Just then the fog lift to reveal the face of a younger version of Beau dawned in his red “New Burny High school” letterman jacket. He was smirking relish in the fear he was inflicting on the poor student.

Older Beau slowly back up, almost stumbling as he was coming to the realization of the origin of all those icky feelings from before

"I don't know, do we trust him, guys?" Younger beau asked cocking his head back to his teammates, who shook their head in disagreement "The Boys and I don't seem very sure of that, I think I'm gonna have to test your loyalty !" Younger Beau winded up his arm for a punch, But before his fist could make an impact.

Beau found himself back in his room in a cold sweat, hyperventilating as quickly rose from his bed. His room, still illuminated by the moonlight, with the metal mix tape softly playing in the background. He looked at his hand as if they were lethal weapons. How could I do such a thing?

#daydream blog #daydream blogging #daydream dairy #paraportal #paracosm: humble pie #para: beau #para: devin #para: carrie #immersive daydreaming #paracosm

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thermaflute · 4 years ago

Text

Forever Together

a/n: Ahhhhhhh this is my first collab with the BNHA POCuties and I hope I did alright. Fun fact about me: I’ve never actually been to a wedding so I was a bit all over trying to figure this out. Despite all the rewriting I did on this I still had a ton of fun on it and it made me realize I need to write more fluff. Please give my buddies works a read here, everyone worked super hard on this collab!

Synopsis: It wasn’t easy for either of you to admit that love wasn’t an awful emotion, it was even harder to confess that maybe you felt love for each other. The real challenge however, was getting the two of you to say the two simple words that would bind your complicated selves forever.

Word Count: 3.1k

Your hands jittered against your dress, tears threatening to form behind your eyes. The mirror in front of you revealed absolute decadence, your dress was a marvelous white, lace trimmings all around. Your usual hairstyle now in its natural state, you looked gorgeous. But your insides churned with intimidation. It was going to be a small wedding, yet you felt as if there were a sea of people out there, waiting to see you. You feared they’d be able to tell that you were scared.

You two had started talking about marriage a long time ago. Well, rather how you detested it. You two were friends in high school, you were in general studies, and he was in the hero course. He often came to you about his problems because he needed a perspective from someone out of the hero loop. He was a bit aloof but you never seemed to mind, and you two surprisingly connected well into your second year. That day’s conversation started over some left over cake from a group project you had, you mentioned your preferred cake, he mentioned his. You stated that if it were up to you your wedding cake would be f/c, if marriage was your thing at all. He agreed with you, and you both confided that you thought love was a joke that led nowhere. Love was a finicky pursuit that would inevitably end in disappointment and heartbreak.

That disappointment never came. Neither of you were proud to admit it, but the two of you started to feel...things...for each other. It wasn’t immediate, it was slow and gradual. You went to college, he joined the Hero workforce, and neither of you stopped caring for each other. He made time to visit your dorm, and when you could, you would bring him lunch at his office. He always made room for you, and you always made room for him. That’s just what friends do.

Except, friendship was a boundary that was quickly dissolving. You found yourself yearning for his presence and days that he couldn’t make it felt so unnatural. His conversations with you would make you smile beyond your face, and you found yourself addicted to hearing his laughter. He was kinda beautiful, oddities and all. You despised the nervous feeling you began to get around him, so you decided to be honest.

“I mean, where the fuck did he get the idea that I wanted to study with him like? First of all, you worry about you, second, you not finna catch me getting an F for your dumbass like you’re not even cute.” Shoto didn’t respond, he simply stared at you with a small smile, and you quickly realized that you were ranting. “Ah I’m sorry for ranting, how was your day?”

“You’re fine, I like hearing about your day. However, to answer your question, it was alright. It got better when I saw you though.”

Your eyes quickly glanced at him before looking away and you feigned a joking attitude. “Ha, you do miss me, I thought you forgot about me the second you walked out the door.”

He eyed you, clearly missing the joke, “I could never y/n, I think about you everyday.” There was nothing for a few seconds but the sound of laughter in the hallway and a poorly managed club screaming outside. “I didn’t mean to say it like that.” It came out very harshly.

“Oh you’re fine, I knew what you meant.” You looked away for a minute, the tension getting worse. You had to end this “I’ve been thinking about it for a while and I may have caught some feelings for you Shoto.”

He frowned at you and your blanket that was wrapped around him caught on fire. He quickly put it out and glared at you, “You...You make me feel sick y/n.” He left, leaving you with a burnt blanket and a pitiful sadness. For nearly two weeks, he avoided you, making sure to leave you on delivered and telling reception to not allow you up. The truth was, he felt the same, and he knew he made a mistake when he told you that, but he genuinely had no clue how to tell you he was interested in you without it sounding like a curse on your life.

You were unavoidable, the fact you two didn’t accidentally cross paths until the cafe was astounding. So much of your interest and favorite spots combined so it was inevitable that he would run into you again. You saw him sitting alone at the usual table and decided that if he was going to ignore you, he was going to have to give you a proper response first. You sat in front of him, immediately startling him. He quickly grabbed his things and mumbled an apology underneath his breath.

"Wait! I know how you feel about all that, trust me I'm not happy either but I just wanted to be honest. You’re really important to me, and it’s nearly impossible for me to fall for someone but you made it in. I don’t regret liking you either, because you’re genuinely a good guy but blowing me off for two weeks has me reconsidering if you’re even that. Do you know how long I’ve been crying? God, you didn’t have to insult me now Shoto."

"I didn’t insult you?"

"How else am I supposed to inter-." You thought about who you were dealing with and realized you'd been going about this the wrong way. "Okay, well if you're not insulting me I need you to elaborate on what ‘You make me feel sick’ means."

The stoic man in front of you seemed to look frustrated with you cornering him. But he understood the sudden drop in your friendship with him was upsetting you. "I told you too much. I shared too much of my time with you. You gave me entirely too much of your own, and now I feel ill when I see you. I feel even worse when I don't. You told me that you were interested in romance, and that sickness engulfed me. I-” He seemed as if he was straining to talk to you, he was clearly flushed and you can feel the heat radiating off of him. “I think I have feelings for you as well.”

You two sat at the cafe in silence, both radiating very murky energies. Passerby’s stared at you and the Pro Hero in confusion, both of your boring holes into anything else that wasn’t each other's eyes. You broke the silence first, “Shoto, I don’t mind the feeling. I know we shitted on it for a few years now, but uh, it’s not awful.”

“It’s not,” he responded, still staring painfully somewhere else. The cafe was still busy around you, but for some reason it felt like you two were the only one’s there. It felt like that often with him, even in this weird ass situation you were still comforted by his presence.

“Do you want to go out?” You finally asked him, he was sweating bullets. You two looked like highschoolers, it was honestly embarrassing how difficult that was for the both of you. He gave you a quick sorry and quickly left with all of his stuff. You stared at the empty seat in front of you in half disappointment and half awe. He really just got up and left, again.

You look back on that so fondly now, you two were young adults, unsure about the world and each other. Too scared to label the affection you already gave each other. To think you would be walking the aisle for that man in a few hours was not only ironic, but kind of terrifying. Sure your commitment issues got better, but they weren’t exactly gone. You loved Shoto with your whole being but something about getting married scared you shitless.

You reverted back to the safety of your memories, and quickly checked to see if you still had the screenshots from when you first got together. You remember trying to act cool about it but you immediately called up every friend you had to tell them the news.

You giggled at the messages, feeling the warmth of the past wash over you. You two really blossomed, slowly but surely breaking down boundaries that neither of you even realized was there. Days turned into weeks, weeks to months, and months to years. Your mutual “experiment” with love seemed to be really stable. After a while of being together, of course others began to question what was next.

The light filtered through the blinds of your apartment, your senses slowly came on to the rest of the world, dragging you from a dream that was already fading into obscurity. You feel your body get closer to skin, and you breath in the lovely scent that you’ve come to adore. You felt kisses on your shoulder and a slow sigh from behind you before the sheets became soft again, you were fading back into sleep.

“Can I talk to you about something?”

Your heart jumped. “Sure.”

“I had something longer prepared for this after a talk with my mother but after laying here with you, I think it would be better if I just said it. I’ve been thinking a lot about marriage lately. I know it’s a large commitment, but I can’t see myself anywhere else with anyone else but you. I love you more than life itself. ” He snuggled closer into you and wrapped you tightly. “You don’t have to answer now, I just wanted to let you know how I felt.”

You rolled around in his arms to look at him, his hair was all over, his eyes were lidded and clearly still exhausted, but he was so sincere.

Your sleepy voice came out as a croak, you extended your hand up to stroke his hair back, revealing his forehead. You scrunch your face up at him and act as if you’re thinking. “I don’t even like you though.” You gave him a slight giggle, and kissed him. “I would love that baby.” You feel some tension leave his body and he smiles at you with glossy eyes. How long was he thinking about this? He leans into you and plants a kiss on your nose and you both fall back asleep, entangled together with thoughts of forever.

Forever. The word felt so solid when you were with him, like it wasn’t something that could falter or fade. But whenever you thought about it too long you grew terrified, the word became too solid. It felt inescapable. You know it’s just the fears speaking, but you just didn’t want to find out that things could be different. As the days grew closer and closer, your anxiety worsened as things around you changed.

“Yes, this is my Fiancee, y/n.” “I saw a few houses near that park you like, would you like to check it out with me?” “Have you decided on what colors to decorate the venue.” “Fuyumi wants to know if she can handle the catering and the flowers? Are you alright with that?” “Well since you’re indecisive I’m just going to book them all and we can just go everywhere for the Honeymoon.” It seemed as if everyday he was reminding you that this wasn’t a dream. It was always the slightest things, the easiest questions that would leave you with the realization that this was for real. You two were no longer teens that were scared to hold hands, but real adults that love each other enough to put it on a legally binding paper. No amount of movies, girl talks, or family could have prepared you for the stress you were going through.

You snapped out of your thoughts again and looked at the time. You had to walk out soon and your nerves were fried. The movies made this seem so easy but here you were, glued to the chair, trying to find any reason under the sun to either go through with this or run away. The door to your dressing room opened and in came your friend, the maid of honor.

“Well you don’t look too happy.” They looked partially stressed from all the running around but was still checking in on you before everything started.

You tried to make a face that looked reassuring but you ended up just looking like you were going to cry.

Your friend held you, careful to not harm your dress. “You got this y/n, you look too pretty to be this sad on your special day.”

“I know, I’m just really nervous.”

“Well don’t be too hard on yourself, Shoto isn’t exactly doing any better.”

You look at your friend confused, they take the hint that you weren’t aware this whole time that he’s been really frazzled.

“Well Izuku had to quickly get a backup suit. Shoto was so stressed that he burnt through his suit. Seeing as your dress is still in one piece, I think you’re fine.”

You felt oddly comforted by your fiance's stress, in the oddest way possible it was nice to know that this wasn’t difficult for just you. “Oh, that’s kind of funny.”

“I know right, man's been so worried about this forever, I guess it’s just all coming out now. See, y’all are literally the same.”

You look around with a small smile already starting to feel better. “Thank you.”

“No problem, that’s what I’m here for! However, Imma really need you to hurry up because Izuku said he’s starting to literally steam through the suit and they really can’t get another backup.”

“Fine, I’m coming.” You stood looking down at all the white underneath you, you felt the anxiety creeping up and swat it away just as quickly. “I got this.”

You barely heard the music, or saw anybody on the way down the aisle. Your mind completely blanked, only remembering the sensation of an arm locked around your own and the vague feeling of a bouquet in your hand. You focused only on the man in front of you, he looked happy to see you. His hetero chromatic eyes that always brought you peace once again managed to make you feel calm.

Eijiro began his spiel, he was so happy to hear that you guys were getting married and practically begged to officiate. You both agreed, thinking it was beyond sweet that he wanted to do this for you two. As the red head continued his speech, you slipped away into a revelation that forever wasn’t a terrifying word anymore, it was actually something rather nice to look forward to.

Shoto held your hand and returned to appearing mostly stoic to anyone else that wasn’t you. You learned to tell when he was happy from the occasional slight smile, but mostly through his eyes, they had a particular gleam in them when he was emotional. He seemed well composed, but after years of all that Hero training you could still see the small wisps of steam lifting off his suit.

"Do you take Y/n to be your wife, to cherish in friendship and love today, tomorrow, and for as long as the two of you live, to trust and honor her, to love her faithfully, through the best and the worst, whatever may come, and if you should ever doubt, to remember your love for each other and the reason why you came together with her this day?”

For a split moment he saw you how you used to look and remembered the second he fell in love with you. You were in your uniform still, leaning over a railing, making a joke about how fun it would be if he made an ice ramp to slide down. You were at ease with him, and it always made him feel at peace with you.

"I do.”

“Do you take this ULTIMATE manly man Shoto to be your husband, to cherish in friendship and love today, tomorrow and for as long as the two of you live, to trust and honor him, to love him faithfully, through the best and the worst, whatever may come, and if you should ever doubt, to remember your love for each other and the reason why you came together with him this day?

You laugh at the redheads words, the audience does the same. You realize that no matter what anyone else saw him as, he was always your hero. Sure he's never saved you from a burning building, but he was the first to save you from just feeling alone. Whether it was a tutor, a cry session, or just some fun, he was always there for you. You want to always be there for him, and even if you can't do it perfectly, you promise that you'll always try.

“I do.”

"Well alright then, you two are officially married! You may now kiss the bride.”

You lunged at your now husband, completely forgetting that he was technically supposed to be kissing you. He didn’t mind it at all and returned your kiss with equal admiration and love. Though you two will probably continue to be complicated for the rest of your lives, you can at least do it together.

“Forever right?”

You smiled at him in tears, the audience was full of excitement and fervor but it all felt silent and peaceful to you. “Forever.”

#BNHA POCuties collab #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #bnha x black reader #bnha x poc!reader #boku no hero academia #tooth rotting fluff

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luna-eclipse2000 · 4 years ago

Text

How I met your mother Armin x reader, modern AU

*Based off an episode of Criminal Minds where Spencer Reid has to have a normal conversation with someone, causing him to meet a girl in a park

——————————————————————————

Armin POV

“Daddy!” I hear my children call out to me as they run into my office. I put my pen down and swivel in my seat onto have two blond heads of hair jump up, and sit on my lap. “Ok, ok!” I say with a laugh. “Did you make mommy mad?”

“No.” (s/n) says with a shake of his head, causing his hair to move across his forehead. He looks exactly like me from when I was a child, and (s/n) has her mother’s (e/c) eyes. “But we wanna know how you met her!” (d/n) tells me. “You want to know how we met?” I ask surprised. “You won’t find it yucky?”

“Nuh-uh!” They respond in unison. “Alright, but I’m holding your word to it.” I tells them.

~~~

“Armin,” My best friend, Eren, says my name from my doorway. “Do you want to come to the lakeshore with Mikasa and I?

“I have to study for my European geography test.” I answer him from my desk, slumped over my review sheets. “Yeesh, dude. There’s so many mugs in this room, we might get a weather network coming to take a reading soon.” Eren says as he looks around my room.

I have sticky notes of various colours and sizes absolutely everywhere, text books piled high, and over five mugs of coffee- some hot, some cold, and some finished. Mikasa, Eren and I are roommates for college, deciding that renting an apartment would be better for us than on-campus residence.

“Alright, buddy.” Eren says as I hear him enter my room. “C’mon, let’s go.” I feel him start to wheel my chair out of my room. “You need to get out of this room for more than coffee and a piss.”

“Eren! This test is important!” I inform him as we head down the hall. “If I fail, I could lose my chance at being a geography professor!”

“You’ll ace this test just like every other one you’ve ever had in your life. Don’t stress yourself out.” Eren tells me as we stop in the living room. I sigh in defeat, knowing that that fact is correct. “Armin, get changed.” Mikasa orders. “You look horrible.”

“Fine. I’ll be right back.” I say and head back to my room. “If you’re not out in five minutes, I’m coming to get you!” Eren calls after me. I get out my blue sweater, jeans, white button up and socks. I then head into the washroom and cringe at my unhygienic look. “When was the last time I brushed my hair? My teeth?” I ask myself as I apply toothpaste to my toothbrush and start to scrub.

I then brush out my messy hair, and clean my glasses. I then head back to the living room to put my shoes on so we can leave.

~~~

We’ve been out for about an hour and I’m already itching to get back home. “Are we almost ready to go?” I ask my friends. “For the last time, Armin, no.” Mikasa deadpans. “You need to let loose, man.” Eren says. “Maybe you need to... you know...”

He moves his hands to try and emphasize what he’s saying but I don’t understand at all. “Become a mime?” I ask slowly. “No! A girlfriend!” Eren finally spits it out. “Eren, no way!” I disagree. “I’m way too socially awkward to even talk to a girl! Besides, must I remind you about my last date? Grade 11, Marley’s Diner, Annie Leonhart?”

“Oh, right, she threw that milkshake on you and called you a mop-headed idiot.” Eren remembers. “But that was four years ago, Armin.” Mikasa reminds me. “You don’t have any friends outside of me and Eren, so you stay inside and study to deal with your crippling loneliness.”

“I would’ve probably gone softer but, yeah.” Eren agrees and I pout. “So, here’s what’s gonna happen.” Eren starts. “You’re going to stay outside for six hours, I’ll have a timer going, and you’re going to try and have a conversation with a stranger. Have it in the Starbucks line as you wait for your drink, go to a bookstore and talk to someone about how good the one they picked up is, I don’t really care. Just have a conversation.”

“And if you don’t, I’m going to beat your ass.” Mikasa promises. I nod in acceptance because I know she’ll drop me like a hot potato. You don’t become a self-defence instructor for nothing. “Great! See you at 5!” Eren says and walks away with Mikasa as he puts his phone in his back pocket after setting the timer. I just stand there awkwardly for a few seconds before walking towards the street.

“There’s a good bookstore down the street. I’ll just go hang out there for a bit.” I say to myself as I start to walk towards it. “Oh, damnit all!” I hear someone shout. The tone of the voice causes me to search it out and I see a young woman with (h/l) (h/c) hair walk into the sidewalk. “Of course it decided to break down. Can’t have one nice day, can I?”

I feel bad for her so I decide to see if I can help. “Uh... is everything alright?”

She looks at me with the brightest (e/c) eyes and prettiest face I’ve ever seen. “Oh, no.” She dismisses kindly with frustration lacing her voice. “My car decided to break down and I don’t live signing walking distance. Thank you, though.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I apologize. “It’s not your fault, this old fucker was about ready to expire for the past year or so. I just don’t want to pay the towing fee.” She says. “I’m absolutely drowning in student loans.”

I see hear start to tear up a bit as she starts to get a bit overwhelmed. “Hey, hey, hey. Look at me.” I tell the girl softly and she does. “Take some deep breaths, just like me. Watch me.”

I take a deep breath in and then slowly release it. She copies what I do. “There we go. How about you go do something relaxing to get your mind off this for a while?” I suggest. She nods. “Did you want to join me?” She asks me in such a cute voice that I can’t respond. “If you’re not doing anything, of course! You just... seemed to be by yourself, too.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. My friends ditched me because they want me to get out and meet people because I’ve got crippling loneliness’.” I say the last part dramatically. She giggles at me. “Then let’s be lonely together! I’m (y/n).”

“Armin. It’s nice to meet you.” I say and then we start to walk away from the car. “So, where did you want to go?”

“Well, I’m a bit hungry. There’s a nice bistro down the street next to a cute little bookstore. Wanna have some lunch?” (Y/n) asks me. I nod my head, so we head towards the bistro in a comfortable silence. Once we get a table, I decide to ask her something. “You mentioned student loans, so you’re in college, right? What for?”

“Oh, I’m in for (dream job). I go to Paradis College.” She informs me. “No way! That’s where I go to school! (“Really? That’s so cool! What for?”) Geography. I want to be a professor for it at a private school my parents taught at. I was going to go into history, since I love it, but then I decided on geography because I love it more. I originally wanted to be a history director at a museum on the Titan Era.” I tell her. “Oh, wow! I could never pay attention to that unit I’m high school, I was too scared.” She admits with an embarrassed blush. “Cute.”

“At first, I was the same. It was such a nerve wracking time for humanity. But then I remembered that there were people who swallowed their fear and actually faced the titans.” I say. “True, yeah. Isn’t it funny?” (F/n) asks me rhetorically. “We’ve only known each other an hour at this point, yet we’re talking like old friends.”

I give an airy laugh and nod at her true statement.

~~~

We end up hanging out for the whole six hours that I was bound to the outside world. But I didn’t want to let her go yet, not meaning to sound creepy. “Guess I better call for a tow truck now.” She says as we make it back to her car. I nod and watch her pull out her phone. “Alright, Armin, think! Use that high IQ of yours and think of a way to see her again!... Just ask for her number, idiot!” I come up with my plan as she hangs up her phone. “Goddamnit. (“What’s wrong?”) They say that I can’t ride with them to the auto shop.” She tells me as she runs a hand through her hair. “Well, I can drive you home once they get here.” I offer. “You’re so sweet, Armin. Thank you.” She thanks me. “It’s no problem. I like hanging out with you.” I admit shyly. “So, uh, can I have your number? So we can talk more?”

“Of course! Here.” She hands over her phone to me. “You put yours in mine and I’ll put mine in yours.”

I take her phone and then unlock mine before handing it over to her. “There we go.” I say to myself as I save it and hand hers back. Right as we finish, the truck comes and tows (y/n) car away. “Thank you!” She calls after them. It’s then that I remember that I don’t have a car. “Oh, shit. I, uh... I just remembered that I don’t have a car with me...”

(Y/n) starts to laugh at the situation, and I find myself doing the same. “I’ll call us a cab.” I say through fits of laughter. She nods and wipes tears away from her eyes.

~~~

We get into the cab and make it to her house rather quickly. “Well, I’ll see you some other time, Armin.” (Y/n) says. “Let me get the door for you.” I offer as I leave my side and open her door. “You’re such a gentleman.” (Y/n) says as she exits the car. I take a breath as I come up with a last second effort to get to stay with her longer. “Then would you consider joining me for dinner tonight? I’ll have my car so there won’t be won’t be a cab pulling up.” I ask. She gives me that beautiful smile of here that I’ve melted over every time she’s done it. “What time will you be here and what should I wear?”

On the outside, I’m slightly giddy with excitement, but on the inside I’m celebrating the hell out of this moment. “Does 6:30 work? (“Mhm.”) Want to go to Braus’ Kitchen? The owner’s an old friend of mine, but my roommates see her fairly often.” I suggest. “Then I’ll see you at 6:30, Armin.” (Y/n) tells me and then kisses my cheek before heading into her apartment building.

~~~

“And that’s how I met your mother.” I finish telling them the story. They look in awe at it which causes me to giggle. “Armin! Baby!” I hear (y/n) call from the living room. “Yes, sweetie?” I respond. “No! The baby!” (Y/n) restates. “The baby?” I ask quietly before realizing. “THE BABY! OOOOH KAY! Ok!”

I take the kids off my lap. “I’m gonna call Uncle Mikasa and Aunt Eren- I mean, Uncle Eren and Aunt Mikasa to watch you as I take mommy to go have your new baby sister, ok?” I tell them and then bolt out of my office to get the hospital bag from the master bathroom while calling Eren to watch the kids.

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