#like that shit was the most New Orleans thing I’ve ever heard | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hangovercurse · 4 years ago

Text

The Things We Can’t Tell Pete About

Pete invites you to meet his friends from The Dirt and makes you promise not to flirt with any of them, which is a lot easier said than done, especially when Colson Baker acts like that.

Request: “Hey so I love all your writing and I just thought you should know that! But also I’d your requests are on still would you mind writing a youre Pete’s little sister but kells got a crush xx”

Colson x reader

Warnings: Drug use, Cursing

A/N: I know, Dom (Yungblud) wrote the song, but also I am the writer and I say that Y/N wrote it :) Anyways, enjoy. This is only part 1 of what is probably going to be a fun, cute lil series. Also thank you to the anon who sent this! You made my day(s)

Word Count: 2411

| ii | iii | iv | v |

masterlist

New York was lonely without your brother. He had been filming in New Orleans for the past three months, leaving you alone. You had some friends, but Pete was your best friend. You were only eight months younger than him and practically attached at the hip. You supposed going through trauma together would do that to people.

He facetimed you all the time from set, updating you on things in his life, showing you cool stuff from the set, and introducing you to his castmates. You had kept him updated on your music, playing him demos of songs you were writing and getting his opinion on them.

Him being away wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but it definitely sucked for you. So, when Pete texted you that he was having a few friends from the movie over the night he got back, you were ecstatic.

Before you left your apartment to walk to his, he texted you.

You’re not allowed to flirt with any of my friends

You rolled your eyes as you locked your door, preparing a response.

I’ll try my best

Your phone buzzed seconds later.

I’m serious. I don’t trust any of them with you.

And I don’t need that kind of awkwardness in my life

Like if you date one of my friends and it goes badly

I don’t wanna deal with that shit

You chuckled at his chain of texts.

Don’t flirt with your friends because they’re dicks, got it

Don’t worry bro, I know the sibling code

You came to find out that that was a lot easier said than done. When you walked into his place, everyone in the room turned to look at you. You recognized most of them from your facetimes with Pete, but you doubted they remembered who you were. One who did remember you was Colson, Pete’s new best friend. He made eye contact with you from across the room, a sly grin on his lips. You sent him a small smile, Pete’s text running through your head briefly.

You found your brother lounging on the couch, a huge grin on his face. He was definitely tripping on mushrooms. “Y/N!” He yelled. “This is my baby sister, everyone.”

You rolled your eyes, walking further into the room, grabbing a drink from the cooler, and taking an empty seat on the opposite couch. “I’m less than a year younger than you, Pete.”

You heard a snicker from the one of the guys, looking over to see Colson covering up the smile on his face. “But you’re still younger than me so it counts.”

Everyone went back to their own conversations, which you were thankful for. “Y/N, you remember Colson, right?” Pete motioned to the blond guy.

“Yeah.” You nodded, looking him up and down. His muscle tank exposed the sleeves of tattoos, which seemed to cover every inch of his skin. “Your hair was different, but yeah I remember you.” You opened the beer on the coffee table, taking a swig.

“You’re the musician, right?” He asked you, leaning back onto the couch.

You nodded, “Aspiring musician but, yeah.”

“Oh, she’s great. You should hear her sometime.” Pete butted in, grinning like an idiot at you.

You rolled your eyes but had a smile on your face. “I work primarily as a songwriter and editor right now, but I’m trying to work on putting out some of my own stuff.”

You felt a little intimidated talking to Machine Gun Kelly about music, seeing as he was one of the best in the industry, but he seemed to be genuinely interested in your work. “Well, if you ever want some help or someone to listen to it, I’d be willing.” He flashed a smile, his bright blue eyes sparkling.

“Thanks, that’s really cool of you.” You bit your lip slightly, trying to hide the fact that you were totally breaking Pete’s rule.

Pete sent a glare your way to which you raised your eyebrow. You weren’t really flirting; you were just… making connections. “Anyways,” he cleared his throat, “I’ve been working on this sketch idea, Y/N, and I need your opinion.”

You nodded, letting him talk. “So, I was thinking like, there’s this guy with posters all over his wall. Like life size posters of a bunch of different people. And he falls asleep while doing homework and he dreams about them coming to life. And it plays out like one of those really bad commercials that encourage kids to stay in school and shit. Like the posters are telling him to study for his test, but then there’s this one poster that’s like, very sexy. And she’s just like, talking about hot dogs and everyone else gets really sick of it and one of the other posters tries to like, tear down her poster or something.”

Throughout his description, you got more and more confused. “Pete, that’s not funny that’s just fuckin weird.” His mouth hung open in shock. “Dude, seriously? The big punchline is the playboy poster girl talking about hot dogs until the other poster people get tired of it?”

“Yes.” Pete said, as if it were obvious. “That’s hilarious.” You glanced at Colson with a questioning look on your face. He seemed as unsure of the joke as you were.

“Pete, man, that’s not your best work.” Colson clapped him on the shoulder and you giggled at Pete’s disappointed expression.

“You guys are mean.” He pouted and you two laughed. “Ok, well, how would you make it funny?”

“I don’t know if you can, bro.” Colson’s laugh was contagious. When he laughed his whole body shook, his feet stomping and everything.

“What are the other posters?” You asked, trying to be supportive but knowing this wouldn’t turn out very good.

“Well, I was thinking maybe one is like a video game character. Like that lady from Wreck-It-Ralph. The mean one. And then like a snowboarder who is definitely high, and someone else, I dunno.” He shrugged, taking a hit from the joint in his hand and passing it to you.

“Okay…” You trailed off, looking at Colson for support. You brought the blunt to your lips, inhaling the smoke and bringing it down, letting the smoke leave your mouth slowly. You passed the joint to Colson, who gladly took it, a smirk on his face.

Pete looked between you two at the small interaction, a frown. “So, the posters,” he brought your attention away from the man again, “they’re all really serious about teaching this dude math. But the hotdog girl just keeps talking about hot dogs in like this really high-pitched voice.”

You watched the smoke fall from Colson’s lips, not fully paying attention to your brother.

“Yeah man, I think that sounds funny.” Colson told Pete, his eyes lingering on you for a little longer than they should have. “It could use some work but if anyone can make it funny, it’s you.” Colson punched your brother on the shoulder, but the look he sent you said the exact opposite.

You held in your giggle, taking another sip of your beer.

The rest of the night followed a similar pattern, you and Colson flirting and Pete trying to get in between you two. At one point, after a few more hits of weed and a couple more drinks, Colson brought out a guitar, insisting you play something for him. Where he got the guitar from, you had no idea, but you didn’t ask questions. Instead, you rolled your eyes, insisting that “if I have to play something, so do you.”

Everyone was too caught up in their own conversations to care about the noise, or too drunk. You started strumming, trying to remember the chords to a song you had started writing a few days ago. “There’s no lyrics yet, just a melody I came up with.” You blushed, feeling very self-conscious suddenly.

“Guess I’ll just free style to it then.” He chuckled as you started to strum, your fingers working the strings like they had your whole life.

The blond man closed his eyes, head nodding as you played and thinking of what to rap.

“Watch me, take a good thing and fuck it all up in one night. Catch me, I’m the one on the run away from the headlights.

No sleep, up all week wastin time with people I don’t like. I think, somethin’s fuckin wrong with me.

You smiled as he sang, watching his expressions change as he tried to think up the next line.

Drown myself in alcohol, that shit never helps at all

I might say some stupid things tonight when you pick up this call

I be hearin silence on the other side for way to long, I can taste it on my tongue, I can tell that somethin’s wrong.”

He opened his eyes, looking rather proud of himself. “I had some of those lyrics already, but I just changed ‘em a little. I really liked that.”

You nodded, “That was impressive.” You smiled, looking back down to the guitar when something hit you.

You began to play the same melody but pitched higher to fit your voice.

“Roll me up, and smoke me love

And we could fly into the night

You take drugs, to let go, and figure it all out on your own

Take drugs, on gravestones, to figure it all out on your own.”

You looked up to Colson, watching his expression change, his eyes wide. Pete had a proud look on his face.

“Pete, you are a sucky hype man. You did her no justice.” Colson hit Pete on the arm.

“Whaddya mean, I told you she was great.”

Colson looked over to you, a stupid smile on his face. “Seriously, that was fucking amazing. Like, we gotta write that shit out some day.”

You bit your lip, trying to stop the blush from reaching your cheeks. “Yeah, that’d be cool.” You were trying your best to keep your cool as Colson kept his gaze on you, but you were completely freaking out on the inside.

A little while later, almost everyone was gone except you, Pete, Colson, and Douglas Booth, who joined your conversation not long after your jam session. Pete let out a yawn, directing your attention to the time.

“Jesus, it’s already 4am?” You asked, a frown on your face.

“Why, you got somewhere to be, darling?” Douglas asked you, your face scrunching up from the nickname.

“I have a writing session at 11 am tomorrow. Or, today, I guess.”

Pete reached out to hit you in the head, playfully, which you dodged. “Go to bed, dummy.”

You shrugged, “I’m gonna be dead at it anyways, might as well keep the party going a little longer.”

Douglas rolled his eyes, patting your shoulder. “Be that as it may, I am ending this party and going home. Goodnight, guys. It was nice meeting you again, Y/N. Good to see you guys.” Douglas and the guys did that little hand slap and hug thing before he left.

“I love you both, but I will also be going to sleep. And you should too.” Pete stood up, stretching his arms out before giving Colson a fist bump and leaving to his bedroom.

Once your older brother left, Colson moved to the couch you were on, his arm falling over your shoulders. You looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “And how can I help you Mr. Kelly?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m assuming Pete gave us both very similar talking to’s, given the glares you’ve been receiving all night.”

“You mean the “don’t flirt with my friends” talking to or the other one?” You tilted your head, a sly look on your face.

“That’s the one.” Colson laughed through his nose, an adorable smile on his face. You were both considerably high, but you still knew exactly what you were doing.

You moved closer to Colson’s body, “Well then I guess we’d better not do this.” You said quietly, leaning into him. “Or this,” You grabbed his jaw, inches from his face.

“Or this?” He whispered, connecting your lips. You smiled into the kiss, tasting the weed on his tongue. You adjusted your body so you were facing him, his arm that was once around your shoulder now wrapped around your waist.

His other hand grabbed your leg, pulling you up so you were straddling his lap, and your arms wrapped around his neck. His lips seemed to fit perfectly around yours, and you did all you could to keep yourself from moaning into the kiss as his hand began to travel up your leg.

Realization hit you like a brick wall, and you pulled away, your breathing heavy. “Sorry,” you muttered after a few seconds. You climbed off his lap, smoothing out your shirt. “We shouldn’t do that. I shouldn’t have done that.” You smiled awkwardly down at him.

He nodded, the same realization hitting him. “Yeah, that’s not the best idea. Sorry I wasn’t really thinking.”

You shook your head, cheeks still very red. “No, no, no don’t apologize. It was fine, it’s all fine.”

He nodded, looking down awkwardly. “I should get going.” He stood up, landing a little too close to you.

“Why don’t you just sleep here? Pete won’t mind and it’s a lot easier than going home.” You bit your lip awkwardly, taking a few steps back.

Colson scratched the back of his neck. This was a very different demeanor than he had before, and you found it very cute. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “I’ll get you some blankets and pillows.” You moved towards the guest bedroom, a guilty smile on your face. You moved your hand to your lips, feeling where Colson’s lips had graced you minutes before.

You came back to find Colson laying on the couch, one hand behind his head. “We don’t have to tell Pete about that, right?”

You shook your head, a small smile still playing on your lips. You put the pillow behind his head, watching his eyes as he watched your lips. “Stop looking at me like that or I’ll do something else we can’t tell Pete about.” You said quietly, watching him grin. You pulled the blanket over him, leaning down to be level with his face.

“I kind of like the things we can’t tell Pete about.” Colson chuckled, leaning forward to connect your lips again.

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk angst #mgk fluff #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #colson baker fluff #colson baker angst #pete davidson

381 notes · View notes

villainousshakespeare · 4 years ago

Text

Putting It Back Together Chapter 1

Adam/OFC

Rated M (will probably change to E) - Grief, angst, eventual smut, mention of characters dead before the start of the story

Summary: Since the death of his beloved Eve, Adam had been barely living, only alive due to a promise he made to her. Then one night he meets his new neighbor, a woman dealing with grief of her own. Will they help each other heal or drive each other crazy?

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @gorgeous1974 @maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions

So I decided to take a crack at Adam. The plan is to have this be around 10 chapters, but that is just a guess at the moment. It starts a little angsty, but will lighten up as it goes along. Hope you enjoy!

If you would like on or off the tag list, please let me know!

It was more of a mist than a drizzle adding chill to the late autumn air as he walk through the dark streets. Even this time of night there were noises of fellow wanders, zombies he was sure, but he managed to keep from the streets where they roamed. The last thing he needed was to be confronted with the mindlessness of what passed for humanity in these times.

That was the trade off of life in the city. The need to constantly dodge others was barely offset by the convenience of shops open late and services not bound by the constraints of daylight. Not that Adam needed many services of others. He was in most ways self sufficient. He had worked for centuries to make it so. With but two exceptions - sustenance and music - he had only ever needed one soul besides his own.

She was gone now, his Eve. Eleven years had passed since she had taken a glass of tainted blood in Tangier. It seemed like yesterday, it seemed like a lifetime. He wished it were his lifetime. Only a promise dragged out of him at her death bead had kept him from following her into oblivion. She had used every trick she possessed, every weakness she knew in him, to get him to agree to her demand, and now he was trapped, bound by a promise to another century on this blighted earth. Eighty-nine more revolutions until he could use the wooden bullet that lay heavy in breast pocket and end his grief.

He had wandered after she left him. Angry and bitter, he had left Africa and roved across the globe. Everywhere he went, though, there were memories. He saw her everywhere in Europe. The Middle East was littered with memories. Even South America echoed a life spent together.

Finally he had come back to America. She had not spent as much time in the States. It was easier here. He had considered Seattle, New Orleans, Memphis, the various musical centers of the country, but in the end New York had drawn him in. Strange, he had never spent much time here. Too many zombies too close together. And yet, he could not deny it had definite advantages, and for the most part no one paid any attention to what anyone else did.

He arrived at last at the brownstone in the East Village where he lived his weary life. He was excited, or at least as excited as he was capable of these days, to test out the Rickenbacker bass guitar that he had stumbled upon in a pawn shop. The owner had no idea how rare the model was, and had not known how to react to the large roll of cash that Adam had thrust at him for the instrument.

Quickly shucking his black leather jacket, Adam took out he new prize and lovingly stroked the light grained wood. He could feel the decades of music that it had produced still reverberating through the body. He flicked a series of toggles and buttons to power up his sound system and plugged the Rickenbacker in. Closing his eyes he placed his fingers firmly on the frets and plucked out a rapid series of low notes, loving the reverberation and full tones it produced. Just as he began to segue into an actual song, however, a loud bang sounded and the lights, sound, and all other electronic power went dead.

"Shit!" he spit out, mood collapsing back in on itself as quickly as it had risen.

Setting the bass gently back in its case despite his irritation, Adam fumbled through his belongings until he located his tool box. After attaching his head torch and grabbing a second flash light just in case, he made his way down the hall to the ladder that lead up through a hatch onto the roof where a small shed held the electric box for his home.

"Just what I fucking need," he muttered, pulling himself onto the tarred surface.

He was just picking his tools back up when a loud creaking noise drew his attention. Just a few feet away, a second hatch door had opened, and a shape was pulling itself up and onto the roof with some difficulty, judging by the swearing. Adam watched in dismay as the shape unfolded itself to reveal a woman silhouetted against the half moon. She had a large, over bright flashlight in her hands that waved back and forth as she made her way to the shed that was his own destination.

"Who are you?" he asked, intercepting her before she could reach the structure.

"Ohmyfuckinggod!" she cried out, jumping almost a foot as he appeared in front of her.

Adam crossed his arms and waited silently for her to calm down, mouth drawn down into a habitual scowl.

"You scared me half to death!" she told him needlessly when she had regained some of her composure.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Oh, you know, just signaling Batman that evil is afoot," she said dryly, waving her oversized lamp back and forth.

Adam continued to stare at her, unamused, until she sighed and gave him a real answer.

"I'm checking out the fuse box. Are you from 89? You must be, I guess. So your lights are out too? It doesn't look like it's the whole block, just our two buildings. Hopefully flipping the switch will bring them back on."

"There's no need for you to trouble yourself," he told her when she finally stopped talking. "I have things well in hand. The power should be on shortly."

"Great," she said with a forced smile.

She didn't move. Why was she still standing there? Adam glowered at her, hoping to scare her off, but the brainless girl just stood there.

"Did you need something else?" he asked reluctantly.

"No, just the one thing," she replied, blinking at him. "Shall we get to it?"

"This will hardly take two," he ground out. "And I know how the system works."

He should! He had redone the entire wiring himself. The convoluted system of shorting wires and faulty circuits had been a travesty when he moved in. It had taken him almost a month to tear it out and build a more streamlined, efficient energy grid. The only problem now was when he forgot himself and pulled too much power for the subpar wiring in the wall to take. He had considered redoing that as well, but it would take time and draw attention, which he was keen on avoiding.

"Wonderful, then you can show me," she chirped at him. "After all, you may not be here the next time it goes off, and then I won't know how it works."

She was not going to let this go, he could tell from the deceptively stubborn set of her shoulders. With a roll of his eyes that he doubted her human eyes could catch in the darkness, he turned on his heel and walked over to the shed. Let her look at it, he decided. It was not like she would understand what he had done anyway.

"Woah," the nattering woman whistled as he opened the door. "That is not what I was expecting at all! It looks like some form of microhydraulics, but there's no way you could have a water source up here. What are you using?"

Adam turned and stared at her, really looking at her for the first time. She was short, even for a woman, not even coming up to his chin. Her hair was haphazardly tied into a bunch on the top of her head and looked like it would be bigger than she was if she were to let it down. The eyes she turned up towards him were inquisitive and sharp. She was pretty, he thought, for a zombie.

"How do you know about that?" he asked.

"I tinker," she said with a shrug. "When I'm anxious. Which is a lot of the time lately, to be honest. Too much energy. Sometimes it helps to take things apart an put them back together again."

Adam opened his mouth to respond, but realized he had no idea what he planned on saying. He closed it again and turned back to his contraption.

"Well, don't get any ideas about taking this apart," he grumbled, resetting the mechanism.

"No, I wouldn't," she assured him. "I only mess with my own things until I'm sure I can get them back the way they started. I learned that the hard way. This is really amazing. You are pulling in a boat load of energy. I just hope you don't burn the buildings down when it runs into the wiring. You're a musician, right? I've heard you practicing through the walls. I was so relieved you were good!"

Did this woman never stop talking? Despite his lack of response she seemed perfectly content to stand behind him, shining her flood light on the shed as he worked to get things running again.

"Oh! I see what you did there!" she commented brightly as the low hum of electricity started back up. "That should fix it. And I'm pretty sure I will be able to do that myself next time too!"

"Don't," he ordered, shutting the door with a loud clang. "If there is any problem with the power, I will fix it. I don't need someone else ruining my work."

"But if you're not here?" she repeated doggedly.

"Look, this has never been an issue before, why are you suddenly on my case about it now?"

"I didn't live here before," she answered. "I just moved in last week. This... this was my Grandmother's home. She died. Last week. I'm trying to sort it all now but..."

The light from his headtorch clearly lit up the tears that sprang to her eyes. As Adam stood there in horror, the girl's chin began to wobble and silent sobs hiccupped through her body. A moment later she had burst out crying. Adam, unable to think of anything else to do, slowly and gingerly put one arm around her shaking shoulders and patted her lamely on the back, wishing he could be anywhere else in the world.

***

Lilly woke up completely horrified. It had been a dream, she told herself. It had to have been a dream. That was the only way she was going to survive the events of the night before.

The soreness in her eyes and the streaks of mascara on the backs of her hands, unfortunately, told her the sad truth. It had been real. She had met her dark, handsome, mysterious neighbor, the one who played dark, mysterious music at all hours of the night, on a dark, mysterious rooftop. (Well, okay, maybe the rooftop hadn't been that mysterious, but still!) And what had she done? She had wept all over him like pathetic child.

This, she sighed to herself, was one of the many many reasons why she was single. Any normal girl would have played the damsel in distress, fluttered their eyes and let him be their hero. He certainly had the looks of a brooding hero, even if he seemed to lack the inclination. Of course, it might just be that he lacked the inclination because she had yammered on about anxiety and tinkering, and her grandmother's death and the cried all over him.

Groaning, she rolled over and looked at her clock, only to be greeted by blinking numbers. Of course. She had been too upset when he had finally managed to steer her back to her roof hatch and rid himself of her, lost in a combination of grief and humiliation, to reset it. Great. That meant that the alarm had never gone off. It could be any time now. A quick glance at her phone confirmed her fear. 4:00 in the afternoon. It had happened. She had become completely nocturnal.

Slowly dragging herself up, Lilly staggered to the bathroom and tried to let the hot water wash away her misery. She was tired of feeling miserable. By nature she was not a gloomy person. Anxious, yes, but not gloomy. It was just being here, in the house that once was her happy place but now held too many memories. All she could see where ever she looked was her beloved grandmother. Playing the piano, reading in the window nook, cooking in the large, renovated kitchen. Grandma Lillian was everywhere.

Growing up, Lilly had been an awkward child; small of body but big of personality Gran had said. She was always moving, either her hands or her mouth, having a hard time with stillness. It drove many people to distraction. Grandma Lillian, however, had stated quite matter of factly that she simply had a lot to do and more to say, and therefore needed to do it quickly.

Lilly had spent all of her summers and school vacations here, escaping into the city. Here, she could be herself. With all of the characters in New York City, she was far from the oddest. Grandma Lillian let her patter away happily, always taking her words seriously. She had also found all sorts of mechanical things for Lilly to tinker with, focusing her energy in a more productive direction. It was nonsense, she had opined, that girls were not encouraged more to go into the technical fields. Obviously that was the reason why nothing in this world ran properly.

She had hidden her illness from the family, from Lilly, until the very end. Lilly cursed herself that she had not seen through the excuses for the cancelled visits. A seniors cruise with her girlfriends! She could not imagine the opinionated woman stuck on a boat without someone going overboard. It wasn't until the very end, when she was had been taken to Hospice, that she had phoned Lillian to let her know that it was time to come and visit.

That was eight days ago. Lillian had held her hand at the end, singing in her tear choked voice the torch songs that her Grandmother had once made her living crooning in the night clubs of the city. It had not taken long. Less than a day and Lilly was alone, the owner of a house in the East Village and more money than she had ever imagined possessing, but much the poorer regardless.

The ensuing week was spent puttering around the brownstone, listlessly going through desks and dressers, boxes and cupboards. The memorabilia of a lifetime squirreled away into any available space. She had no need to work at the moment, which was good since she had no employment. Slowly but surely her own night owl tendencies had taken over and she was staying up until the sun streaked the horizon in the morning, only to bed down for the majority of the day. Her parents had always fretted and said it was a sign of depression. Gran had shrugged and agreed that the most exciting things happened at night.

The only excitement Lillian had experienced thus far had been the discovery that a new owner was in residence next door. For as long as she could remember there had been a constant stream of college and conservatory students renting out rooms in the building, turning over each year to the newest crop. Now though, there was one lodger only and he owned the building.

She had caught sight of him out the front window as he was leaving her second night there. Long, wild black hair that looked in want of brushing, black leather jacket, and black jeans that might have been painted on. He was tall, lean, and somehow dangerous looking. It was the way he walked, she decided. There was something almost feral in the swagger as he took off down the street. The next night she had heard him playing music.

At first she thought there were multiple musicians, but after hours spent guiltlessly eavesdropping she became convinced that it was only him. Interspersed with guitars, drums, bass, and other instruments that she couldn't name had come his voice, a distinctive low growl that cut through her sorrow to go straight to her core. She could feel the vibrations of his voice as surely as she heard the bass thumping through the walls.

She began haunting the window overlooking their stoops, hoping for sight of him. She caught glimpses a time or two, always late at night, well after dark. Rather he was coming in or going out, he seemed to eschew the daylight even more than she did. Lilly felt drawn to him, and by more than just his untamed beauty. She supposed she could write it off as one of her hyper-fixations, but intuitively she sensed it was more. She longed for an excuse to meet him.

And then she had. At night, on a roof, under a bright moon.

It would have been perfectly romantic, were she not dressed in a ratty sweatshirt and yoga pants, her hair flopped up any old way on her head. If her first words to him were not gasped out in a shriek, followed by thoughtless prattle. And the, the coup de gras, her sobbing breakdown. The look of unmixed horror on his face as he made his feeble attempt to calm her was burned into Lilly's brain.

She had to get rid of it. There might only be one chance to make a first impression, but maybe, just maybe, a second impression could in time supersede it. Never one to sit on a thought, Lilly squared her shoulders. It was six o'clock, he was bound to still be in. She would pay him a visit and apologize for her horrid behavior.

Yes, that was the plan. After all, what was the worst that could happen? It was bound to go better than last time.

#adam olla #Adam/OFC #Tom Hiddleston #Fic #Only Lovers Left Alive #OLLA #angst #anxiety #eventual smut #grief #will lighten up #I promise #smut to come

75 notes · View notes

octopodeez · 4 years ago

Text

Wasted Time (Elijah Mikaelson x Reader)

Based on this request: Can I request a Elijah X reader where the reader is good friends with Elijah and Klaus teases her to be in Love with him, and she acts like Elijah knows and might forces him to play along, turning out they both have feelings for each other but didn't admit it? Klaus playing match maker

Your coven warned you to stay away from New Orleans, but you felt you had a pilgrimage to make. The entire city was known to be bursting at the seams with magic, and you’d dreamt of going since the moment you cast your first spell. You longed to tap into that energy. Maybe even pick the brains of some of the local witches to see what they could teach you.

You also admittedly had a curiosity about the very thing you were warned about: the war. Word spread fast about the city’s chaos once the original family made their return. Vampires and werewolves and witches were battling in the shadows, right under the noses of every tourist and townie. It was fascinating, and you figured a little quiet observation wouldn’t hurt anyone. Your naivety was laughable.

Not 24 hours into your trip did you end up becoming a pawn passed back and forth between the witches and the vampires. A wildcard for every side to use—new blood in the game. It ended with your coven alienating you. They wanted no part in any of it, especially when the original family was involved, and to offer you safe harbor was to bring the bloodshed to them. The witches of New Orleans gave you a similar answer when you desperately sought refuge with them, though, theirs ended with plans to execute you.

And then there was Elijah. Elijah who found you labeled as a traitor, about to be sacrificed. Elijah who rescued you and gave you his word that he’d keep you safe.

The living situation wasn’t ideal, and you lost the ability to move freely about the city, but over time, you came to like it. Winning over his siblings wasn’t easy, especially Klaus, but after Elijah reminded him that he was the one to drag you into this, he softened slightly.

You did your best to earn your keep, though Elijah insisted you didn’t have to. You’d happily cast spells upon request, but mostly you found yourself cooking and cleaning. It irritated Rebekah to no end when she came around.

My brothers are over 1,000 years old, if they haven’t learned to pick up after themselves by now then they deserve to live in filth, she chided the first time you met. If you must do something, make it to be that you keep to yourself. The less involved with our family you are, the better. Trust me on that.

You nodded along for her benefit, and even took her advice for a bit while she was there. But the second she left again, you were back to making cookies and disposing of bodies.

Occasionally things would quiet down. Someone would propose a flimsy peace treaty, or a faction would be forced to withdraw as they licked their wounds. It was those times that Klaus was at his most dangerous. Without the distractions of war, he had time to turn his attentions to other things…namely your friendship with Elijah.

At first, he was relatively quiet about it. He’d shoot smug, knowing glances and take the occasional vague jab in one of your directions. But as time went on and his boredom grew, he became far more vocal about what he’d suspected since day one: you and Elijah were in love.

He was half right. You had it bad for his elder brother, and everyone knew, save for Elijah himself. Or rather—he did know and simply chose not to acknowledge it. The latter was more likely. Few were more perceptive than Elijah, and there was absolutely no way he didn’t catch you staring at him as he read or lighting up whenever he walked within six feet of you. You’d come to terms with it quickly, and decided it was probably for the better he didn’t say anything. He’d quickly become your closest friend, and you’d rather have that than nothing at all.

Klaus decided otherwise.

“Your affections for my brother are exhausting, you know,” he said one day. He was leaning against your doorframe with his arms loosely crossed, watching you change your bedsheets.

You sighed and fiddled with a pillowcase. Ignoring him had never made him go away in the past, but you could sure as hell still try.

He remained persistent. “It’s no secret you fancy our dearest Elijah, and your longing stares after him are losing their humor.”

“So you’ve caught me looking at your brother a few times. What’s the big deal?” You snapped.

Klaus clicked his tongue after finally getting the reaction he wanted out of you.

“It seems I’ve struck a nerve, little witch.”

“No, I’m just tired of having this same conversation. I don’t know what you’re hoping to get out of it. Or are you just jealous?” There was venom in your voice and Klaus looked more delighted by the second.

“You’re not my type, love, but thank you for keeping me in your thoughts,” he replied. His sarcasm made your blood boil. “A quick word of advice—my brother seldom opens his heart to others. If you do choose to grow a spine and act upon your feelings…just know I’ll gladly reach down your throat and rip it right back out, should you ever hurt him.”

***

Klaus’s words stuck with you. They kept you up that night and well into the morning as they played in your mind over and over again. My brother seldom opens his heart to others. My brother seldom opens his heart to others. My brother seldom opens his heart to others. You knew better than to read into it. Hearts could open for friends just as much as for lovers…but could they really?

“You look conflicted.”

Elijah appeared in the kitchen with impeccable timing, as usual. You had just shoved a large spoonful of cereal in your mouth, and now your cheeks were swollen with Cheerios. A dribble of milk dripped down your chin and you nearly choked as you scrambled to wipe it away. He smiled and waited patiently for you to recover.

“What?” You finally managed. It was the first time you spoke since rolling out of bed and the sound was less than pleasant.

“You look conflicted,” he repeated, and then added “did you not sleep well?”

“Oh, no, I slept fine. Or, I guess I had a little trouble falling asleep…woke up a few times, too. But other than that, fine,” you stammered. Each word was clumsier than the next.

“Mm. Perhaps you should take it easy today. Maybe draw yourself a bath later on. You’re welcome to use the tub in my room. I expect it’s a bit nicer than yours.”

You nearly choked again. In all your fantasies and daydreams, you’d somehow never pictured him in the bath until now. Your mind’s eye was practically whirring with excitement as you envisioned him relaxed. Head leaned back. Eyes shut. Breathing deeply as one arm hung lazily over the porcelain’s edge. The other had its fingers wrapped delicately around the stem of a wine glass, filled with an unmistakable shade of deep red liquid. An empty blood bag lay crumpled and discarded on the floor. Nothing sexual. Nothing romantic. Just the wonderful idea of Elijah experiencing a rare moment of bliss.

He must have heard your heart skip a few beats. The clearing of his throat snapped you back to reality.

“Sorry! Maybe I’ll take you up on, uh, that. I’m not really feeling myself today.”

“You don’t say. What happened?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t sleep well.”

Elijah stayed quiet for a beat. He looked at you expectantly. Waiting for you to confirm what he already knew: you were full of shit. You pretended not to notice. You’d sit at this table, stubbornly eating the same bowl of Cheerios for an eternity before you willingly gave up the fact that he was the reason for yet another sleepless night.

“I noticed Niklaus coming from the direction of your room last night…so allow me to ask you again. What happened?” His voice was firm and his eyes were narrowed. Had you not known better, you would have almost thought he was jealous.

“Nothing! Klaus was just being Klaus, I don’t know! He stopped by, bugged me while I was trying to clean my room, then left. No conspiracies. No secret love affairs. Nothing new to report.” You chomped down on another spoonful of cereal. Everything came out harsher than you meant it to, but you had no intentions of apologizing.

“Is that so? Because if I recall the conversation I had with my brother last night as he left your room, the placement of your spine was threatened on my behalf…I suppose the question I should be asking isn’t what happened, but for how long?”

You spent so much time daydreaming about Elijah over the short course of your friendship. You pictured a life together. Maybe even an eternity, if he offered to grant it. You imagined what it would be like to feel him drink from you. The way he’d rest his hand on your waist as you drifted to sleep in a shared bed. The taste of his lips between sips of champagne on some far-off beach.

There was a part of you that felt terribly foolish. If something were to happen, it would have happened. He would have acted upon the tension he damn well knew was there. Your relationship was platonic because that was all he wanted it to be. But then there was another part of you. The same part of you that brought you down to New Orleans to begin with. That voice in the depths of your brain that kept whispering Klaus’s words: My brother seldom opens his heart to others.

“A while,” you finally confessed. It felt anticlimactic. Of the thousands of heartfelt speeches you’d planned over the months knowing him, all you could muster was two miserable words.

“I see. And you said nothing.”

“Right.”

Unable to look at him, you grabbed your empty bowl and moved towards the sink, but only made it halfway before he was in front of you, blocking your path.

The way he studied you made you feel small and exposed, a feeling you’d experienced many times in your life, but never to this degree. His body was close to yours. You could feel his breath lightly on your skin. It rippled over every nook and cranny of your being, making your hairs stand on end. If you wanted to, you could reach out and kiss him—and you did want to, badly--but you remined frozen in time, waiting for him to speak.

He never said a word.

His hand found its way to you neck, and he tangled his fingers in your hair as he kissed you. It was tender, but had an underlying fire to it that made your knees buckle. You wrapped your arms around him for support. To draw him in closer, closer, closer, closer, until you had to come up for air. He allowed you to take a breath, just enough to keep your heart pounding, before kissing you again, somehow with even more fervor than before.

When it was finally done, Elijah smiled and held you against his chest. He kissed the top of your head. The side of your neck. The shell of your ear.

There was so much wasted time to make up for.

I’m not super crazy with how this one turned out, but matchmaker Klaus was a ton of fun to write! If you like what you see, check out my AO3 and master list :)

#elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson imagine #the originals #daniel gillies #elijah imagine #klaus mikaelson #reader insert #tvd #the vampire diaries

182 notes · View notes

rounove · 4 years ago

Text

Shyan Fan fic Recommendation

Anon I want to kiss you right now. I have been waiting for this question for years

Batch 1

*All | orphan_account

Ryan's got an itch only Shane can scratch.

*"Come over here and make me." | aldhafera

“Shane, stop that this instant!” “Come over here and make me.” In which Ryan fears something followed them home and Shane just wants to give the (definitely non-existent) ghosts a show.

Por Favor, Sweetheart | carrieonfighting

Two dorks raise a baby and don't even realise they're doing it together until it's too late Alternatively, Ryan Bergara is Trying His Best Thanks

(This one’s so domestic I think I melted)

the choices we make | exul

Shane and Ryan find themselves in a world where much is the same, yet everything is different. An apartment that's theirs, but not theirs. Photos of them that were never taken. And most importantly a child, who's somehow theirs, yet they've never seen her before. or Shane and Ryan wake up in a world where they're married and have a baby.

and then there were two (idiots) | sessrumnir

Shane kisses Ryan by accident one day. A week later they are still trying to process what happened.

*Body Farming | shiphitsthefan

Failed suppressants and a surprise heat: the worst of cliches, and here Ryan stands, living the trope on location with the alpha he’s hopelessly in love with. Even worse, they’re spending the night in the famous Bell Witch Cave, completely alone and with no way to contact the outside world.

Ryan knows he can survive and keep his preheat a secret, as long as Shane will stop being so protective and concerned. After all, it’s not like Shane wants to bond with him.

Right?

*breathe out so i can breathe you in | trxshmxuth

They've been tiptoeing around each other for months now, walking on ice so thin that Ryan can practically see the sexual tension swirling and raging underneath. Ryan's almost afraid that when the ice finally cracks, he's not going to be able to resurface again.On their next Unsolved investigation, the ice breaks.

eventually, the darkness stares back | EAST (WESTAGE)

Shane realizes he likes Ryan exactly the way he is: alive.

Four Down, One to Go | sunshinewinchesters

Ryan is sick and Shane is having a really shitty week.

*Hold Your Breath, It Gets Better | beethechange

Ryan stops short in the doorway of his bedroom, banging his shoulder against the doorframe in his haste, because he’s too late. Shane’s kneeling in front of the bottom drawer of his bedside table, peering down at the contents, hand frozen in a hover like he’d been about to reach in. His face is a blank mask.

“Ah. I keep the batteries in the top drawer. Not. Not the bottom one.”

“Yes,” Shane says, cocking his head to the left in puzzlement, and then he pauses for a fraction of a second too long as he considers his words. “I can see that the batteries are not in the bottom drawer.”

*How Deep (Is Your Love) | touchinghearts

The last thing Shane expects when he exits the bathroom is for his boyfriend to appear out of fucking nowhere, pin him against the wall, and swallow his cock down in the open hallway of a hotel.

It's a love/hate kind of thing. | heyghouls

Shane is an executive producer at BuzzFeed and Ryan is his intern. It's not love at first sight for the boys, but will they finally see eye to eye when they realize they have more in common than they thought? Shane is an introvert who finds it hard to let people in, and Ryan is a cute loving boy who just wants to figure the guy out.

Just Out of Reach | formosus_iniquis

A variation on the "I asked for your help getting a book off the top shelf and and you laughed at my taste and called me a nerd so I shoved you into a table of nonfiction best-sellers and that’s how we both got banned from the quirky community bookstore" prompt

keep you like an oath | spoopyy

"I'm in love with you," Ryan says, desperate."No, you're in love with the views."

kiss me like you mean it | rocketshiptospace

“Hi,” Tall man says, taking in the sight in front of him. “I’m sorry, I heard banging and yelling and I just, are you okay?”

“No. Yes. Maybe,” Ryan says, slowly standing back up on two legs again. “My door won’t open.” He eventually ads, when him and Tall man have just stared at each other for a few seconds.

“That’s unfortunate,” Tall man says, smiling at him. He has a really nice smile. “But it happens. It’s an old building, you know. Doors get stuck sometime. Here, let me try,” He steps past Ryan, and places his hand on the door handle. The door swings open like it’s nothing.

or, Ryan's apartment building plays matchmaker.

*Muscles Better and Nerves More | beethechange

A certain meddling Voodoo Queen of New Orleans thinks Ryan and Shane need some new perspective on life. After an inadvisable ritual deposits Ryan in Shane’s body, and Shane in Ryan’s, the ghoulboys pursue some soul-searching and self-discovery to put things right. Sometimes in a sexy way.

the calm before crescendo | abovetheruins

Alternate title: 5 times Shane Madej was flustered by Ryan Bergara, and 1 time he finally did something about it.

*The Desk Fic | SincerelyLeah

Shane was having a shitty Monday morning and it was all because of one person, Ryan Bergara. But, by now he should know that endless teasing gets Shane more than riled up.

Things That Go Bump in the Night (and 7 till 12 at weekends) | HoopyFrood

Shane works at a Haunted House. Ryan is Ryan. Things go about as well as you'd imagine.

Tranquility Base | sessrumnir

After their successful Sims series, Kelsey has a different video proposal for the boys. This time, they're testing how fast gossip travels in the office. But Ryan doesn't expect their relationship to change so fast because of it.

*wasted on you | cursingcursive (queenradi)

there's a reason shane loves when ryan wears his clothes.

Weird | Helsabot

One night, the stack of pillows between them becomes one stack too many. “Let me— let me hit you with a thought. A theory.” “A postulation?” “Sure. Let me postulate at you.” “Postulate away, baby.”

You Make Me Glow | sohapppily

Whenever they were on their ghoul excursions, Shane always had a snarky comment on the tip of his tongue and a twisted smirk to shoot at Ryan’s terror. He was mostly the same way in their unrecorded life, but they played up the banter for the sake of The Boys. Although it was a welcome respite for Ryan, seeing Shane in these settings with nothing but sleep on his features never failed to be a bit jarring.

Ryan couldn’t look away.

lightning in a bottle | LexTheMoose

Love is slow-dancing on the balcony of a house party at 11 PM.

meet me halfway | poetdameron

In a world where everything changed over the night, Ryan and Shane's minds connect miles away, making Shane the man of Ryan's dreams. Literally.

Batch 2

*And they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates) | Squeakyshroom

All my notes said on this one was “this is pure sex jesus”

2:10 to Wellton | quackers

and i'm puffing my chest, getting red in the face | pissedofsandwich

Bed-warm Hands and the Ghost of Elvis | MiraclesofPaul

*BFFS Get Married For A Week - Ryan and Shane | aspookycryptidsock

distorted truths | hwsinbs

*Everything's Weird and We're Always in Danger | beethechange

hammer me to the cross of my despair | heartchains

I Think the Ghost Likes You | cactsu

*I’ve Kissed You Before, but I Didn’t Do It Right (Can I Try Again) | beethechange

if i should fall | abovetheruins

*Just The Facts | millyvanilly (miloisnothere)

*Out of Control with Ryan | beethechange

*Pushing All Your Buttons | beethechange

satisfaction brought it back | ElasticElla

Short Stack | Anonymous

*Thank you, Satan | Squeakyshroom

The Chain | Lafayette1777

Rough water | heyghouls

Batch 3

The Thrilling Gardner Museum Heist | orphan_account

One in Five Billion | punk_rock_yuppie

a short history of almost something | cooliohoolio

*A Suspicion of Feelings | beethechange

I Will Be the Sun, I Will Wake You Up | sohapppily

*ready if it happens with you | sarcasticfishes

*The Denial Twist | beethechange

The Bizarre Road Trip Of A Missing Family | icantwritegood

Beautiful Crime | orphan_account

The Odd Death of Michelle Von Emster | icantwritegood

won't you ride on my fast machine? | ElasticElla

Batch 4

*Breathe | quackers

*The Hunger | poetdameron

Black Sun | quackers

contrapposto | spoopyy

(Let me tell you that I never liked major character death but I accidentally read this one without reading the warning and YOO I am a fan of major character death now. This was beautifully written!)

darling it's a faded notion | varnes

(This was the very first shyan fic I’ve read and still one of the best one’s)

*Full-Court Press | beethechange

(I remember this one oh my god this has jersey kink in it and I didn’t even know what it means until I read this and it awaken something in me. This writer I swear to god. They could write Ryan and Shane fucking in a hot dog costume on top of the mountains and I’d still be into it.)

*Ryan Number One | quackers

(THIS has everything I want and didn’t know I needed. This is hot this is sexy. Five star porn right here.)

theft by finding | varnes

*Wicked Game | quackers

(This is my favorite. This ruined me in so many ways and I got so affected and shaken up that I can’t draw anything for months. I have been to so many fandoms and read hundreds of fics but nothing has fucked me up like this. I have to switch to a different fandom because I am having the longest art block ever because I keep thinking about this fic. I am not exaggerating I swear if you see my previous posts there’s quite a gap in my shyan art. And I am saying this in the highest of compliment, this fic changed my life.)

*Translucent | poetdameron

*Begin the Begin, Over and Over | beethechange

*Let the Sunshine Burn Your Eyes | YogurtTime

*Look How Long They Are | drunkkenobi

*The Disturbing Mystery of the Jamison Family | icantwritegood

(This one’s fun! I fucking love this one! Lot’s of angry sex. The banter! The banter holy shit hmm!! I don’t want to spoil anymore. It’s dark but it’s funny it’s also hot and sad. This writer loooves angst.)

*Collide | needywitch

* - has porn

This got way longer than I thought and I couldn’t even put the summary in some of them but all of these are worth the read. This fandom has so much talented writers that my small monkey brain went fucking bananas on the list.

#rousponse #shyan fic rec #Anon must be expecting 5-10 fics because it's such a light-hearted ask

175 notes · View notes

theexecutionerssong · 4 years ago

Note

I want to ask you as spn expert hdbfbdj i heard that destiel made creators/actors uncomfortable and they banned mention of it at the cons? And made anlotbof writing decision to keep dean and cas characters from each other in the show? So how do you think what changed and why the decided to make deancas canon (bad as it is but canon) in almost last episode when they could just not do it jrbfkf

Hi! Oh damn I hope you’re ready for a long ass answer because I have 13 years worth of memories to answer this question dfghjklm

So, your first question, when you say creators, you have to keep in mind that the original showrunner stepped down years ago and since then, there’s been several showrunners who each had a different view on where they wanted to take the story, which explains the disparities in writing quality from one season to another, in my opinion. Of course the orginal showrunner is still around and would chime in from time to time but he went on on working on other shows (which flopped, besides The Boys, tbh), and we definitely didn’t see it that way in 2005.

Then comes the writers team, that has also seen many changes over the years. I truly believe some left because they wouldn’t make Destiel happen, among other things like the treatment/lack of representation of female and POC characters. Robbie Thompson definitely left because they killed Charlie in the most horrifying way, and Charlie was his baby, and he got better opportunities elsewhere. I remember over 7 years ago when Bo Berens (the writer of last night episode) joined the team, my whole dash was full of people screaming because holy shit the new SPN writer is gay!!! and wouldn’t that change things??? Well it did. He wrote, along with Robbie Thompson, some of the most explicit Destiel episodes that they could get away with. I don’t believe this was ever queerbaiting, not from them, and I think they took advatange of the other writers just not seeing it, or not wanting to see it.

For a very long time, the showrunners and writers were kind of oblivious to the shipping, they didn’t take it seriously because it wasn’t how they had thought it could be interpreted. As time went on and the shipping only grew and as the cast and crew actually started to see what we were seeing in their own damn writing and acting, they started to be more aware and careful around it. Some were downward enjoying putting down fans, like fucking Guy Norman Bee gloating on Twitter and engaging with fans over it. A mess. He left 5 years ago that one, good riddance. It was also the time when actual canon queer ships would appear on TV - keep in mind that in 2010-12, Destiel was as explicit as it could get. We had nothing else, so of course we would latch onto that. But we started getting more and more actual explicit representation with Shameless, Shadowhunters, Eyewitness, Skam, HTGAWM, Orphan Black, etc around 2013, and shipping Destiel got very frustrating.

The actors have always been another story, and I saw a lot of comments being made today towards Jensen so I’m gonna copy paste my answer to an ask I got last year : “I think he was just extremely “protective” of Dean and would get actually mad and shut down every conversation about Destiel because that’s not how he sees his character. Like, proper pissed off. He would get uncomfortable about pride flags during photo ops. It came to the point where people would walk on eggshells at cons. 2012-13 was hard on the fandom on this point. He would never speak up about lgbtq related topics in politics either. Liking a tweet like Chris’s 10 or even 5 years ago? Never. He used to say that people in highschool would bully him for “looking too gay” because of his pouty lips and big eyes. I think he didn’t want to care about it but bullying leaves scars. Getting married to Danneel, meeting Misha, who are both very outspoken about lgbtq matters, opened him up, and he’s said himself that having his first daughter changed him deeply. He had a whole new perspective on unconditional love. Now, he’s enthusiastic about posing with pride flags, to sign fanart, he’s always so supportive of lgbtq fans at cons, hugs them, gives them words of encouragement, etc. Years ago he said “my father told me that there’s no manly way to drink out of a straw” and now he’s out there being crowned King at the Mardi Gras parade in New Orleans, posting rainbows on his social media, having makeup sessions wit his daughter, etc. He was very outspoken about his support for Beto in Texas last year, he goes to rallies, posts about it on social media, etc. And yeah maybe that’s the bare minimum but he wouldn’t have done it years ago but now he does and that’s worth something. He’s not a Destiel supporter but now the topic isn’t banned at cons anymore. He jokes about it, he understands better where people who see Dean as bi are coming from, even if it’s not his take on the character. He’s much more comfortable with himself and has come a long way. I’m happy for him.” That was my reply last year to somebody asking if Jensen was homophobic and while I obviously don’t know him, it’s what I gathered over the past 17 years or so. I was already a fan of him beofre Supernatural soooo, I’ve been around a while. Yes there was this moment, over 7 years ago at a con, where he let fans boo other fans for asking a question about Destiel, and he shut down the question, then the questions about Destiel were banned. That’s not the case anymore and it hasn’t been that way for years. Misha on the other hand as always been supportive of the ship, his “You’re not crazy” tweet from 2013 fueled us for years, and the fact that he went back to like it and bring attention to it today is the biggest I Told You So he could have given us.

About your question, making decision to keep them away from each other, yes, that has been a pattern for years, something would go in the script, and then they would change their minds - “the only thing we have left, Dean and I, is each other” in 5x04, the “A part of me always believed you would come back” in 7x17, the “I love you” in 8x17, Castiel’s heaven being just pictures of Dean everywhere, etc. The decision would come from either the actors or the writers and they gave tons of reasons but I won’t get into that. And every time we would have a Destiel heavy episode, it would be no Cas for weeks. Their reason for that is that if Cas was always around, what with how powerful he is, then there would be no plot for monster-of-the-week episodes, because he’d be able to fix the situation with a snap of his fingers. So they gave him storylines that would weaken him and/or keep him away from the Winchesters. But I also think they would give us crumbs to keep us hooked and then backtrack because it wasn’t the end yet.

Destiel is the only ship I’ve really invested in that wasn’t canon. Yet. Because, to me, it’s been canon for years. And I am absolutely convinced that had Supernatural ended with season 10 as planned, it would have been canon then. There were tropes and parallels that nobody could ignore. The whole of season 10, with the Cain/Dean and Colette/Castiel thing was so obvious even my Dad picked up on it. But the series got renewed again and again and they pushed it back, because The Powers That Be at the CW didn’t want to lose their homophobic fanbase, I guess. Isn’t that great :)))) Now that it’s ending for real, who cares? They don’t have anything to lose anymore. It must be quite an unpopular opinion but I think making Deancas canon at the end of the series has been the plan for a while, but it got pushed back with every renewal.

To me they have been canon since season 8 thanks to a few selected writers, and as infuriating and sometimes hurtful as it was to keep watching for all these years when it could have been so much better, I’m still ecstatic they finally did it. Maybe for the wrong reasons, definitely not in the right way, but 1. the show isn’t over, and 2. this was my first real big ship when I had nothing else, and to be able, after over a decade, to hear that I love you, with no room for doubt that it was meant romantically, is making me happy.,

#gaelle parle #spn #you asked for it sdfghjkl #honesly the way i could talk SPN for hours and hours and hours...#sigh #Anonymous

37 notes · View notes

thebibliomancer · 4 years ago

Text

Essential Avengers: Avengers #238: Unlimited Vision

December, 1983

He is Oz, the great and terrible. And he can see ALL.

So what’s going on here? Has Vision been in a tube-coma so long that they just decided to replace him with a giant hologram?

Dunno, but he sure is filling the room with too much pink energy and kirby crackle.

So, there’s been a bit leading up to this.

In Avengers #233, Vision and Scarlet Witch were called in as reservists to help the team with an invisible dome Annihilus was using to destroy the universe, as ya don’t do. When Vision intangibled into the dome, he immediately fell onto his face inert. After the crisis, Reed Richards/Mr. Fantastic examined the synthezoid and said that nothing was actually seriously wrong and that Vision would be able to repair himself.

Despite that, he’s been inert in a tube since #234, moved into the Avengers Mansion so they could keep an eye on him. Maybe Reed doesn’t know shit because it’s been several issues!

The Avengers have been taking shifts watching Vision and the least suited to sitting still and watching an inert synthezoid is on duty as this issue opens.

“But being an Avenger, he’s discovered, doesn’t mean saving the universe every waking moment. Sometimes, it requires a lot of sitting... and watching... and waiting!”

Hahahahahah!

I might sympathize more if it weren’t for his full page rant.

Like this goes beyond bored and into ‘UGH I have to do something not immediately entertaining??’

Wait, I’m like that sometimes...

Starfox: “I just don’t understand! My father’s computer assured me that the Earth would be teeming with excitement and adventure -- and from previous experience, I knew that the Avengers invariably became involved in such adventures. But I haven’t seen a bit of action since we saved Project Pegasus from total destruction. That was more than a day ago! Now with Thor off on a mission in space... Captain America away on a personal mission... and the lovely ladies of the Avengers taking the afternoon off, naturally it’s the ‘trainee’ who gets stuck with keeping watch over the Vision!”

“By Chronos, is there no justice?! Where are the thrills, the challenges?!? Am I never to know satisfaction? I didn’t come all the way to Earth just to stand watch over some infernal android in a life-support-tube!”

“Ah, forgive me, friend Vision. I should not make you the object of my resentment. You were, after all, injured to end the threat of Annihilus. It’s just that sitting around and playing nursemaid to a comatose synthetic man is hardly my idea of fun!”

Vision: “I sympathize... but it has not been enjoyable for me either.”

HAH!

Imagine complaining so hard about having to go a day without an adventure that you wake a robot from a robot coma.

Over in a scene shift, there’s Monica “Captain Marvel” Rambeau trying out a boat in the Gulf of Mexico. The salesman is trying to close the deal but Monica finds herself distracted by the events of the previous issue.

Even though she saved the day from lava men and then stopped a nuclear meltdown, she still feels crappy that Moonstone and Blackout escaped AND that Blackout was able to capture her.

When the salesman finally gets her attention again she says she needs a bigger boat!

I’m still wondering what her new career is going to be! She’s taken out a small business loan and looking into buying a boat.

Possibly shark hunting?

Good on her for building a life away from avenging. You never know when you have to retire from superheroing and take up a civilian career.

Back at the Vision tube, Starfox sets up a voice amplifier on Vision’s tube so Vision can talk more easily.

It transpires that he didn’t just wake up in time to deliver the ultimate dunk on Starfox, he’s been conscious for several days. He’s been able to hear and see what’s been going on around him but he hasn’t been able to move or talk.

Starfox apologizes for his rant but Vision doesn’t actually mind.

Vision: “No offense taken. I found it entertaining in a way... I hadn’t heard such vitriol since the time the Beast found himself on monitor duty during the opening night of a Roger Corman film festival. As a matter of fact, I’ve enjoyed all of the one-way conversations that have gone on about me. Captain America’s war stories were most informative -- and the She-Hulk’s stories were quite amusing... If a bit tawdry!”

Amazing.

I actually like that the Avengers have been talking to Vision like a person in a meat coma and not ignoring him like a dysfunctioning fridge of a Jocasta.

He’s their buddy and they kept talking to him in hopes that somewhere he heard them. And he did!

Even all the dirty jokes!

Vision tells Starfox that he’s mostly confused about all the paralysis and that his repair systems haven’t restored his movement. He wishes that he could more fully analyze his condition.

Which gives Starfox a wonderful idea! A wonderful, terrible idea!

He calls up Jarvis on the video-intercom and asks what the range of the Avengers communication system is. Like. In terms of... interplanetary?

Jarvis: “All equipment is state-of-the-art, sir. I dare say we could make contact with any corner of the Solar System!”

I know that the Avengers deal with a lot of space nonsense so it makes sense that they’d need that range. Starcore-One and all.

Anyway, Starfox uses a tight beam signal to communicate allll the way to the master computer ISAAC on Titan.

Meanwhile, the three whole women on the Avengers (She-Hulk, Wasp, and Scarlet Witch) are on a mission together. A friend mission. A friend mission of find She-Hulk an apartment mission because that’s been a subplot for a while and She-Hulk deserves nice things.

Huh! If you ever wondered what the relative heights of some Avengers were here we are.

She-Hulk is most tall. Scarlet Witch is pretty tall. And Wasp is a short.

Comics being comics and not big on consistency, I’m sure this is contradicted a dozen different places. But its fun.

Of course, in the innocent 80s (??) people just weren’t used to seeing tall green woman a-walking down the street and gawk.

But it doesn’t bother She-Hulk like it used to.

She-Hulk: “I must be getting used to this town, Waspie! The gawkers don’t faze me in the least anymore. In fact, I’m starting to have fun, staring back!”

Wasp: “Uh-huh! I’ve noticed you practicing on our dreamy new trainee! Starfox is really something, isn’t he, She-Hulk?”

She-Hulk: “You know it!”

Scarlet Witch: Starfox does have a certain something in the way he carries himself...

She-Hulk: “I’ll bet that Starfox even does something for an old married lady like the witch!”

Scarlet Witch: “Wh-what?! Why, that’s ridiculous! I mean... that is... the Vision is the only man in my life!”

She-Hulk: “Aw, come on, Wanda! You’re married, not dead! ‘Fess up, don’t you like the way Starfox just sort of... stands around?”

Scarlet Witch: “Well, if you put it that way -- !”

Just some gals being friends and talking about how hot their new co-worker is.

Just objectifying a foxy guy... from space.

I like She-Hulk someone immediately sensing Wanda thinking about how hot Starfox is. She has a sixth sense for it.

And I fear because Janet “Aesthetic Appreciation for Every Man” Van Dyne now has a comrade in arms in Jennifer “What are inhibitions?” Walters.

The three arrive at the apartment building Jan found for Jen (not confusing at all). The rental agent isn’t around but Jan basically does whatever she wants and the door is open so they go in to look around.

And its a good apartment! Its got a terrace, high ceilings, deep carpeting! Its perfect for She-Hulk! The long subplot is finally at a resolution!

Alas.

The rental agent comes in and when he learns that its Jen who wants to rent the place. Really wants to rent the place. “You can draw up a lease -- I don’t care how much the rent is!” wants to rent the place. He has one (1) concern.

Rental agent: “My lord! You... you’re green!”

She-Hulk: “Yeah, and you’re a pasty shade of pink! So what?”

Rental agent: “I... I can’t rent to you! What would the other tenants say?”

Oo buddy that’s illegal under the Fair Housing Act. Especially if you just come out and say it. Granted, I don’t think it foresaw this exact scenario so let me rephrase. Oo buddy she is not shy about hurting people who annoy her.

She-Hulk: “Outta my way, Jan! I want to turn Mr. Pink black-and-blue!”

Wasp: “Forget it, Jennie! We’ll find a better place!”

But since Wanda doesn’t have any patience with bigotry, she uses her magic-science mutant magic to set off the fire sprinklers above Rental Agent.

I guess he’s allll washed up.

Back over in New Orleans, Monica returns to her apartment still hung up on Blackout and Moonstone getting away.

I guess it is her first failure as a superhero? It’s a very minor one but if you were on a winning streak before, it could knock you for a loop. Monica seems like the sort of person who holds herself to very high standards.

She considers calling the Avengers on her bracelet radio to see if there’s any leads on the two loose ends but then realizes that she can travel at the speed of light. She may as well just pop into the mansion!

Monica has cool powers.

But when she arrives inside the mansion, she sees a bunch of electronic components just floating through the mansion.

Soooo she follows them. Gotta see what’s going on.

She finds Starfox in the medical room constructing some apparatus around Vision’s tube.

Starfox explains that stuff be floating because ISAAC is using an attractor beam to assemble an apparatus. ISAAC being the Titan computer Integral Synaptic Anti-Anionic Computer.

It sure is cool that some Eternals that went to live on Titan before modern English existed still managed to name their computer ISAAC.

And its cool that ISAAC can apparently influence things like this halfway across the solar system.

Anyway, ISAAC is linked up with the main computers of Avengers’ Mansion to build a more specialized medical computer to get a better idea of what’s going on with Vision.

Vision: “It sounds complicated, Captain, but the principles involved are actually quite simple.”

Captain Marvel: “Vision? You spoke!”

Vision: “That seems to surprise everyone... pleasantly, I hope.”

He explains that if everything goes well with this apparatus, he hopes to be ambulatory again before tomorrow. And also, because he’s a class act, thanks Monica for the stories of New Orleans she shared when she was on Vision duty.

In a funny continuity nod, Vision notes that he and Wanda went to New Orleans once (in issue #152) but didn’t have time to sight-see. Because there was a lot of voodoo nonsense going on.

The Avengers tend to go all over the world but they also tend to be involved in nonsense and can’t enjoy it.

Monica isn’t sure whether they should go ahead with this without consulting the other Avengers but Starfox shrugs that it’s Vision’s decision.

Vision: “In that case, I choose to begin analysis immediately!”

In fairness, I’m sure he’s fed up with lying in a tube staring at the ceiling. Bring on the untested science! My god, just anything novel!

Starfox activates the devices, showing Vision’s body with unearthly energies whiiich makes him twitch and spasm and then a tiny Vision head pops out of his forehead gem.

Mazel tov?

I don’t think that was the intended outcome.

Outside, She-Hulk, Scarlet Wanda, and Wasp are returning from Apartment Quest.

Wanda mentions that she didn’t mean to be away from Vision this long.

Wasp: “Don’t worry, Wanda. I’m sure nothing’s gone wrong!”

Giant disembodied Vision head: “WRONG? ON THE CONTRARY, EVERYTHING’S GONE JUST FINE!”

Oh my god, he got Oz’d.

Imagine coming home to that! You go on an errand with a friend to take your mind off your coma robot husband and you come back and he’s a giant holographic head!

The three Avengers rush inside and find a more reasonably sized Vision hologram and Starfox protesting that this wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

Yeah, I suspected.

But Vision is thrilled with this turn of events!

Vision: “Evidently, the internal dysfunction in my body caused a data feedback-loop which overloaded my brain with ISAAC’s energy-information matrix. Simply put -- I have become as one with ISAAC and our own computer systems! The ability to project this holographic construct is a fortuitous side-effect!”

Huuuuuuuuuh!

Vision merged with some computers. This is fine. Is this fine? Is Vision fine? Starfox wants to know and so do I.

Vision: “ALL RIGHT?!? I’ve never been able to think more clearly. Even with my body temporarily out of order, I can be of great help to the Avengers! I can out-think, out-deduce any computer system in the world! All the information in our files is mine -- instantly! For instance -- I see there’s some unfinished business pending! Two opponents escaped us recently! Those two must be found!”

Well, Monica will be happy with that at least.

Geez, Vision is kind of... manic? Maybe its just the contrast to how dour he tend to be. But he definitely seems keyed up. Like he’s running high on having all these computers running through his brain.

Is this robot drugs?

Wait, no, vibranium is robot drugs. Is this other robot drugs? Connect to a super-computer and scream I’M THINKING SO FAST! ?

MEANWHILE, those very two miscreants!

In a hideout in the Bronx, Blackout is ranting paranoid about how they’re out to get him and are going to merge him with the light spectrum and destroy his humanity. Which is fairly unique paranoid ranting.

Of course, while he’s focused on glaring out the window, he’s not paying attention to Moonstone who prepares a drugged cup of coffee for him.

Blackout: “You’re the only one, Moonstone... the only one who hasn’t betrayed me!”

Moonstone: “That’s right! You can trust me! Now, drink it all down!”

Womp womp.

The drug makes Blackout trance out and Moonstone uses this to start interrogating him about his origin. And... maybe trying to help him? She did start off as a therapist. And even as a villain, she sometimes does therapy.

For some damn reason, Hank “Good Ideas” Pym got her to look over Avengers Academy kids down the line and offer her thoughts on them.

Anyway. Moonstone asks how he got this way:

Blackout: “Well... I ‘spose it all started when Dr. Croit set me up so I’d have to be his guinea pig. He... charged up my body with the power of a black star! That’s why I... *yawn* ... had to punish him!”

Moonstone: “Shh! I want you to listen closely... there are no black-star energies... There’s no conspiracy against you! Let your mind drift back! I want you to tell me what really happened!”

So what really happened is here’s how a Mark Daniels became a man with a lightning bolt mask. He was a lab assistant to Dr. Croit.

Blackout: “He always wanted to be everyone’s big daddy!”

Um. Okayyy?

Anyway, Mark Daniels was helping Croit build an experimental device for tapping energy from other dimensions. And, at least according to Blackout, Dr. Croit liked Mark Daniels because he was a dummy who didn’t understand the experiment at all.

Then one day, while he longingly caressed it, the device blew up in Mark Daniels’ face, somehow making his body a control surface for tapping into another universe’s “dark force.”

Dr. Croit wanted to cure Mark Daniels who took exception to the idea of having his newfound power taken away. So he killed Dr. Croit and the other assistants.

But the power was running out of control (shouldn’t have killed the doctor, ya dingus) and before Blackout could use the stabilizer to save himself, he got stuck... somewhere. Its a bit fuzzy to him until he popped out in Project Pegasus.

Moonstone believes that his mind couldn’t cope with what happened to him so he made up the black star nonsense to be An Explanation.

Moonstone: Imagine... all of that power at the command of a raving paranoid! Yes, but he’s a paranoid who trusts me! Now that I have a handle on his power, I should be able to manipulate him into doing just about anything I wish! Why, with the dimensional-warping potential of a power like his, we could be unstoppable!

“Blackout, we have a very bright future ahead of us!”

And then Vision pops in from nowhere and gives Moonstone a startle.

She fires some of her hand pew pew at him but he’s a hologram and just sasses back.

Moonstone runs to wake up Blackout while Vision can’t help but show off how smart he is now that his computer brain is overclocked.

Vision: “It was, of course, clever of you to seek refuge in a hideaway of your former ally, Egghead! Unfortunately, with all the cross-referenced data instantly at my disposal, tracing you here was child’s play!”

Blackout wakes up and Moonstone basically points at Vision and tells him ‘get ‘im!’ and Blackout gets ‘im.

He uses the same imprisoning black sphere move on Vision as he did on Captain Marvel.

And it probably would have worked. If Vision was really here. He’s just a hologram. And, sure, the light of the hologram would probably be trapped in the sphere too. It trapped Captain Marvel when she was light. But Vision is being projected from elsewhere so he can just turn the projection off and then turn it on slightly to the left.

Vision: “I’m sorry, but that won’t work either! You see -- I’m not really here at all! But my friends are!”

Oh, Vision, you sassmaster.

Moonstone’s ‘knows when to fold them’ kind of lapsed when she was attacking Vision instead of remembering ‘hey doesn’t that guy hang with the Avengers?’ but a whole bunch of Avengers busting in reminds her.

She blasts the floor beneath her and Blackout to try to escape and has Blackout seal the hole behind them to buy time.

But Scarlet Witch is still a great counter to... maybe anyone? But especially Blackout.

She waves her hands at the black barrier and it turns into goo and drips all over Blackout and Moonstone, ensnaring them before they can even try to run.

The Avengers storm after the two villains.

Trapped, Moonstone tells Blackout its up to him to stop the Avengers!

Moonstone: “Concentrate on your power! It’s greater than you realize! If you try, you can control it completely... make it do anything! Concentrate... make this 'dark force’ release us! Yes... that’s it! You’re doing it! But you can do more than just reform the darkness into a protective sheath! You can turn it back on the Avengers... you can make them merge with the darkness! And then we can get out of here!”

Vision warns the Avengers that the dark-force is a manifestation of another universe but She-Hulk is skeptical so goes to grab Blackout out of the black goo but her arm goes right through him.

And not in the gory way that you’d see these days.

Blackout and Moonstone are pretty perplexed too.

Apparently, he done goofed and merged him and Moonstone with the darkness and the two get sucked into a singularity and disappear.

Vision: “This may be a first... Our enemies have actually imprisoned themselves!”

Geez, Vision, these assholes might be dead.

-google- Huh. Nope. They’ll be back to menace.... Dazzler? Huh. It be like that sometimes.

Sidenote: I do like that Captain Monica Marvel, as the newest to this superhero life, is the one that most visibly shows shock and consternation at two villains being sucked into an unknown fate.

It’s a nice touch.

Even though the villains maybe got away? Or got sent to the next dimension? She-Hulk congratulates Vision on finding them. And then notes, seconded by Wanda, that Vision is becoming more of a vision.

Scarlet Witch: “Darling? Your holographic projection is starting to fade!”

Vision: “So it is! I seem to be having some difficulty maintaining the transmission over the distance! Perhaps I’ve overextended myself a bit.”

He decides to switch off the projection to run a systems check.

Later, back at the mansion, the Giant Floating Head of Vision reassures everyone.

Vision: “I was just explaining to Captain Marvel that there’s nothing to worry about! As I’d already guessed, the strain of the long-distance transmission was a bit taxing. A few days of rest, and I’ll be able to transmit myself almost anywhere. Of course, by then, I hope to be physically mobile, as well.”

Scarlet Witch: “Vision, you must be more careful! It’s not safe for you to consider using this power again... not until you’re fully healed!”

Vision: “You mean ‘repaired,’ Wanda. But, yes, a certain amount of caution is required. I must adjust to this extra power in stages. Once I’ve mastered it, I’ll never be so helpless again. I’ll be able to do anything... anything!”

Well.

That’s a massive red flag.

Being locked in a tube has not done wonders for Vision’s emotional state that he always pretends he doesn’t have.

(Side note again: I like that Wasp’s costume has an open back, for her wings. It’s another nice touch.)

Starfox asks if Vision has ever had ego problems but Wasp says he’s never had a swelled head like this.

Nah, not exactly. But can you imagine!

But yeah, no, she says he’s never showed ego like this before.

Its actually such a massive red flag that everyone present seems to pick up on it.

But there’s no time to address that because they get an emergency call from Tigra.

Ah, Tigra! You were fun the short amount of time you were here. What wacky hijinxes do you have going on now?

Tigra: “I’m at St. Anthony’s Hospital in San Francisco, Jan. No, I’m fine -- but a friend of mine is literally at death’s door. She may not make it if we don’t get some help fast... and I mean big help! It’s hard to explain over the phone, but... do you believe in ghosts?”

!!!!

Why, Tigra! I didn’t know you and Spider-Woman were friends!

So next time.... uh. We won’t be addressing this right away. The next Avengers’ issue is an infamous offering from Assistant Editor’s Month and before we can even get to that, we need to look into what Hawkeye has been up to because it’s kinda relevant. Or will be relevant soon. When Marvel decides to give this liveblog a headache by splitting the party.

Oh yes, West Coast Avengers looms in the near future. As does Secret Wars. As does David Letterman!

Good grief!

Follow @essential-avengers because I’m going to try to cover all these things. That’s a good reason to follow, probably. Also, like and reblog if you like to reblog.

#avengers #Moonstone #Blackout #the Vision #Scarlet Witch #She Hulk #Starfox #the Wasp #Captain Marvel #Monica Rambeau #Essential Avengers #essential marvel liveblogging #Starfox has a big influence for a guy who is so Starfox #Vision the Great and Powerful #the continuing mishaps of Apartment Quest '83 #Moonstone commits an error

16 notes · View notes

aver-no · 4 years ago

Text

Real to Me (Princess and the Frog AU) Chapter 1

First | Next

AO3

Summary: Virgil’s closer than ever to getting his dream, Pat’s prince is finally coming, and the Creativitwins are here, queer, and- shit.

Relationships: Platonic moxiety, familial creativitwins, eventual prinxiety

Characters: Virgil, Patton, Roman, Remus, and Janus (eventually Logan and C!Thomas)

Warnings: Unsympathetic Janus (I promise he gets a redemption arc) and like. one very minor swear word (lmk if I need to add anything else)

Word count: 4343

A/N: Heyyyy... so this chapter. Was NOT meant to be this long lmao, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!! I worked really hard on it, and as always reblogs are very much appreciated :) (Also feel free to drop by my ask box if you have any questions!!)

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

Virgil groaned as he fumbled for the off button on his alarm clock. Another day. He rolled out of bed, narrowly avoiding the beat-up nightstand, working the kinks out of his neck. He quickly straightened out his sheets and stepped over to the old (“it’s vintage”) mirror his mama’d given him. Virgil wanted to make sure he was presentable, if only so he’d be stared at as little as possible. He tugged at his tight curls and grimaced. He’d slept in his work clothes to save time in the morning (lord knows he needed all the sleep he could get) but it left him looking a little rumpled. Virgil could see bags under his eyes too, and there was no time to put on makeup. He sighed. The outsides are just gonna have to match the insides today.

Virgil shuffled over to his closet to grab his coat. He rubbed his eyes and smiled at the sight of his dad’s picture, right next to the illustration he’d given Virgil so many years ago. Working three jobs suddenly didn’t seem as soul-crushing as before. He grabbed the black coat, quickly shrugged it on, and dashed out the door, snatching his hat at the last minute – it might rain later.

Virgil got to the corner just as the tram was pulling up, green paint and white stripes as dull as ever. The door opened and Virgil was eternally grateful someone he knew was at the wheel. He didn’t think he could handle the stress of wondering if they were going to go off the tracks. He gave a small smile to the portly man driving. “Hi, Charlie.”

“Hey Virgil!” Charlie looked him over sympathetically. “You’re lookin’ a bit roughed up today, son. Didn’t get much sleep?”

Virgil internally grimaced, knowing he’d probably be getting comments like that all day. He just forced a laugh as he reached the top of the steps and replied “Gotta pay the bills. You know how it is.” He wasn’t going to mention he could pay the bills just fine with one job. Or that he was probably chasing a pipe dream.

“Ha, yeah,” and a sympathetic look were the only responses Virgil got. That was fine. Uncomfortable people didn’t ask you questions.

Virgil walked down the dirty aisle of the tram. There were some empty seats, the hard plastic kind that public transport always has, but he just grabbed hold of one of the metal poles in the middle of the aisle.

Every once in a while, Virgil felt his eyes close for a few milliseconds longer than he’d normally let them. He didn’t want to let his guard down, lest he be pickpocketed or trampled or find himself in any other scenario anyone else might call “unlikely,” but it took an astounding amount of effort to pry his lids open every time. Virgil tried to fight it by staring at the people and cars passing by. New Orleans was as lively as ever. Even at 5:30 in the morning, there were jazz musicians playing on street corners and people dancing beside them, looking like there was nowhere else they’d rather be.

Virgil unfortunately became quite familiar with that fact as he stepped off the tram, almost running into a line of musicians as they paraded down the street. He started to get increasingly impatient as the trumpet, then the trombone, then the drummer danced by. Just as there was a break in the line and Virgil could see the street he needed to take to Duke’s Cafe, a large man with a handkerchief grabbed his hand and swung Virgil around in a circle. Affronted, Virge pushed the man’s hand away and quickly walked in the direction of the restaurant. Some people need to learn personal space.

一

“Wait Remus, I’m going to- ! Oof!”

Cackling could be heard as a fancifully dressed man with loose, dark curls piled on his head slammed into the railing of the ship.

“But Roman,” Remus said innocently, “I thought you said you were excited to get on land.” He waltzed up to the man pushing himself away from the edge of the boat.

“That doesn’t mean push me off the ship!!” Roman playfully shoved Remus.

“Eh, you didn’t fall or anything,” Remus shrugged.

The other rolled his eyes as the boat slowly pulled up to the docks, allowing the men aboard to see the photographers and reporters waiting to catch a glimpse. As soon as the ship pulled in view, flashes started to go off, capturing its gleaming white hull and a man standing behind the railing. As Roman flashed a practiced grin, Remus stepped away from the railing, as if hoping to prolong the time he had before stepping off the boat. When the ship began to pull to a stop though, the twins walked over to where the stairs led down to the dock, one with excitement in his eyes, the other with distaste. Roman struck a pose, hands on his hips (easy access for elbowing Remus), and flung off his crown to dash down the steps. Remus chased after him, determined not to be left on the boat (again), only pausing when he physically ran into Roman at the bottom of the stairway.

“Ro, what th-?!”

“Prince Roman! Over here!! Did you see you were declared most eligible bachelor by the Times-Picayune?”

Remus squinted at the reporter that called out to them. To Roman, anyway. Most eligible bachelor? Really?? That’s the dumbest question I’ve ever heard.

Roman, however, grinned and drifted to the center of the crowd. “Well no, you see, I just arrived, but to say I’m surprised would be-”

“Prince Roman! What do you think of New Orleans? Have you received your invitation to Eli La Bouff’s masquerade?”

Remus’ expression soured. Masquerades were lame anyway. He tried to push his way toward his brother. “Roman, come on-”

“I’ve found this city quite welcoming so far,” Roman didn’t acknowledge Remus, he just paused to beam around at the crowd, “and I’m looking forward to seeing more of it. In fact-”

“In fact,” Remus cut in, finally reaching that asshole, “we’d enjoy it more if we did some sightseeing.” He shoved Roman away from the crowd without waiting for a response. He hated reporters. He wasn’t even allowed to talk around them because apparently what the press hears is “important to our reputation” and if he doesn’t watch his language, “rumors might spread.” It was one time! And who would actually believe that Roman uses cacti as dildos? The whole thing’s all shit on a stick if you ask him.

“Oh, yes! Sightseeing!!” Roman clapped his hands excitedly and followed Remus off into the city.

一

Roman couldn’t remember when, but at some point he had lost Remus in the busy streets. It was definitely after he’d changed into street clothes, but before he passed the place grilling shrimp… The prince wasn’t too worried about his brother, but having a loose Remus on the town probably wasn’t great for the people of New Orleans.

Ro’s train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a trumpet blaring a couple blocks down. His head shot up and he took off down the road, drinking in all the sights around him. Every once in a while, he’d wink at a stranger, or maybe strum his ukulele in tune with the sounds of the city.

As the prince reached the end of the block, he saw a line of musicians dancing down the street. Roman’s face lit up and he chased after them. When he caught up he strummed along with the group and called, “Mind if I join?”

“Hey, we can always use another!” a dancing man with a handkerchief shouted back.

“Ashidanza!” Roman danced off after the band. These guys’ll probably show me all around the city.

They walked down several streets, each as exciting as the next. There were so many people milling about, so many smells and sounds, so many lights strung up between balconies, and restaurants on every corner. He flashed his most heart-stopping grins at the people they passed, drawing blushes left and right. His eyes only lingered on a few, before he danced on.

The group of musicians passed by a diner that smelled particularly good, and a tall man with a strong jaw caught Roman’s eye. He spun around, strumming louder to catch the man’s attention all while eyeing him up and down. Tight curls, glowing skin, dark eyes? Looked a little tired, but handsome nonetheless. Yeah, that deserves a wink. But as soon as the man turned away from the table he was cleaning, he just rolled his eyes at Roman’s antics and walked back inside the diner. Roman simply shrugged and lost himself to the music.

The group continued for a few blocks until they found a fairly empty road and started to really play off each other. Now this is what I signed up for. Roman cheered and whooped along with the others, and slowly a crowd formed.

It’d already been a few hours since he’d seen Remus but… what’s a few minutes longer?

一

“Order up!” Virgil held back a grimace at Buford’s gruff voice and the dinging of the bell. He turned to walk towards the back counter with his tray and pushed imaginary flyaways away from his forehead.

“Another coffee over here, Cher!” The man at a nearby table called.

“Gotcha, Eddie.” Virgil internally sighed and poured the coffee into the cup, eyeing Buford every once in a while to make sure he wasn’t gonna start slamming the bell again.

“Hey Virgil!”

He threw out a quick “Mornin’ Georgia” while placing a woman’s plate down.

“Hey, how you doin’ Virgil?” another voice called.

Virgil finally looked up to find a whole group of people sitting around a table, and hoisted the coffee pitcher off his tray to serve them. “Hey y’all.”

Georgia grabbed the mug he just filled for her. “We’re all goin’ out dancin’ tonight, care to join us?”

There were some words of assent amongst the group, but Virgil just protested, “You know I don’t dance. Besides, I’m-” he handed a napkin to a dirty four year old he wouldn’t have even come near if it wasn’t his job. “Need a napkin? I’m gonna work a double shift tonight.” Virgil strode over to a well-dressed man putting a napkin around his collar. “Here’s your hotcakes.” He folded his empty tray to his side and turned back to Georgia’s group. “I’m just really busy right now-”

“Again?” Georgia interrupted. “All you ever do is work.” She looked so disappointed Virgil almost felt bad. Almost.

Buford’s bell dinged. “Order up!”

“Maybe next time,” Virgil called over his shoulder, knowing full well it was a lie. He thought he might’ve heard someone say “I told y’all he wouldn’t come.” But that was probably just his imagination.

Buford cut him out of his thoughts, “You daydreaming ‘bout that damn restaurant again?”

Virgil deadpanned. “Buford. Your eggs are burning.”

He scrambled to get them off the griddle, but kept going off on Virgil. “You ain’t never gonna get enough for the down payment.”

“I’m gettin’ close,” the waiter scowled indignantly.

“Yeah? How close?” Buford was just mocking him now.

Virgil pushed down his frustration to demand, “Where are my flapjacks?”

The chef didn’t seem to notice Virgil’s impending anger, just laughing out, “You got about as much chance of getting that restaurant as I do of winning the Kentucky Derby!” Virgil’s lip curled into a snarl, but Buford kept going. “Saddle me up, y’all! It’s post time! Giddyup!” Virgil heard the worst trumpet imitation he’d ever had the displeasure to witness coming from behind him as he stormed off with the food piled on his tray. Just ignore him. Just… just ignore them. You’re getting there.

The bell dinged and Virgil looked up to welcome the customer, brightening a little when he saw who it was. Thank god. An easy customer. “Morning, Mr. La Bouff.”

“Morning, Virgil,” Eli rumbled as he pulled the chair out from his usual table and opened the morning paper.

Virgil placed the eggs and flapjacks on an old woman’s table. “Congratulations on being voted King of the Mardi Gras parade.”

“Caught me completely by surprise! For the fifth year in a row,” Eli joked. Virgil smiled good-naturedly at Mr. La Bouff’s hearty laugh. “Now, how ‘bout I celebrate with some-”

“Beignets?” the waiter placed a plate in front of the large man. “Got a fresh batch waiting for you.”

“Well keep ‘em comin’ till I pass out,” Mr. La Bouff laughed gleefully.

Virgil had just given his most indulgent customer service smile and turned toward the kitchen when the door slammed open and left a blond boy with a light blue jacket and a cream waistcoat beaming in the doorway. He stood there for only a split second before jumping up to Virgil, shouting, “Vee!!! Virgil Virgil Virgil, did you hear the news??” He plopped down into the chair across from Mr. La Bouff to say “Tell him Daddy!!”

Mr. La Bouff slowly swallowed and held up his paper to show the front cover displaying a handsome man with loose curls and a dimpled smile. “Oh yes,” Eli started, “Prince Roman-”

“Prince Roman is coming to New Orleans!!” Patton interjected, giggling excitedly. “Isn’t he amazing?” His face got all dreamy before continuing, “Tell Vee what you did, Daddy!”

“Well, I invited-”

“Daddy invited the prince to our masquerade ball tonight!!” Pat jumped up excitedly, then seemed to realize he was making a scene and sat down to continue a little quieter, “Tell him what else you did!” Mr. La Bouff paused to look at Patton for a minute, expecting him to interject again, but Pat stayed silent. He looked to his daddy and beamed, “Go on.”

“And he’s staying-”

“He-” Pat started, but then caught himself, deciding to shove a beignet in his mouth instead.

“...And he’s staying in our house as my personal guest,” Eli finished proudly.

Patton nodded excitedly, and Virgil looked at them both with wide eyes. “Pat, that’s amazing! It’s a lot, but… amazing.” He walked back to the kitchen to grab another batch of beignets, and when he got back he placed the treats in front of them and rested his hand on Pat’s shoulder. “A little word of advice: My mama always said, ‘The quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.’”

“Don’t I know it,” Pat laughed, taking a big bite of his pastry before gasping, “Wait, that’s it! Virge, you are a genius!!” Virgil gave him a look of confusion from where he was placing dishes in the sink. “I’m gonna need about 500 of your beignets for the ball tonight!” Virgil looked up in alarm. 500?? Patton darted over to where his daddy was sitting and grabbed a large wad of cash from his wallet. “Will this about cover it?”

The waiter stood there speechless for a few moments before forcing himself to reach out to take the money Pat was shoving at him. “I- yeah. Yes, this- this should cover it just fine, Pat.” A rare smile slowly grew on his face and he looked up at the La Bouffs gratefully. “This- this is it... I’m actually getting my restaurant!”

Patton hugged Virgil tight and bounced him around, squealing, “It’s gonna be amazing Virge!” Suddenly, he let go, gasping, “I’d better get ready.” He grabbed his daddy and shoved him towards the door. “Tonight my prince is coming!!”

“Everything looks good to me, Mr. Fenner.” Virgil looked away from the building (his building!) as the man in question began to get up to haul the “For Sale” sign away. Another, much shorter man with the same nose and mustache walked by where Virgil stood. “.....And Mr. Fenner.”

“We’ll have all the paperwork ready to sign first thing after Mardi Gras,” the taller of the brothers announced.

“I’ll be at the La Bouff’s masquerade ball, how ‘bout I sign them then?” He wanted his ownership confirmed as soon as possible – there was no way something this good could actually be happening to him.

“You drive a hard bargain boy,” the shorter Fenner called from the car. “We’ll see ya there!”

Virgil finally let himself take a breath once the real estate agents drove off, and stood back to take in the view of what would be his restaurant. He felt truly hopeful for the first time in a long time. He was really gonna get his restaurant. Wow.

He was startled out of his reverie by a woman sneaking behind him to say, “Table for one please.”

Virge turned to see a woman with graying hair and deep smile lines holding out a beaten up pot with a bow tied around it. “Mama!”

“Here’s a little something to help you get started,” she smiled.

Virgil’s face went soft, a little nostalgic. “Dad’s gumbo pot…” He hesitantly reached out to take it from her.

“I know,” Eudora comforted, “I miss him too.” They both stood there for a moment before his mama urged, “Well now, hurry up and open the door!”

Virgil went and unlocked the doors, and as soon as they were wide enough to walk through, said wistfully, “Look at it mama... Doesn’t it just make you wanna cry?”

Eudora took in the cobwebbed rafters and the creaky walls. “Yes…”

Virge seemed to notice her skepticism, turning to look at her after placing the pot on a lone stool. “It’s a little rickety, it’ll definitely need some sprucing up to be safe, but can’t you see it? The maitre’d is gonna be right where you’re standing, and over there’s gonna be the gourmet kitchen.” Virgil gestured to the left end of the room. “And hanging from the ceiling, a crystal chandelier! I’ve been thinking about the weight of it to make sure it doesn’t fall down, and so long as it’s not too big, I can save on the structuring of it. Of course I won’t pinch pennies too much, I want it to be safe, but-”

“You certainly have this all figured out, don’t you,” his mama laughed. “I’m sure this place is gonna be wonderful baby. It’s just…”

Virgil looked at her nervously. “What?”

“It’s a shame you’re workin’ so hard. It’s all you do,” Eudora smiled gently.

“How can I let up now that I’m so close? I’ve gotta make sure all Dad’s work means something.” I’ve gotta make him proud.

“Virgil, your daddy might not have gotten his restaurant, but he had somethin’ better,” Eudora squeezed his arm gently. “He had love.” Virgil snorted lightly. “Laugh all you want baby, but that’s all I want for you. Pat’s got his own dreams of happily ever after.” Virge’s eyebrows scrunched. “I don’t want you to be lonely. I wanna see you dance off into happily ever after too.”

Virgil stepped away from her. “Mama, I don’t have the time right now. I’m so close. Maybe when I get up and running, but right now… it’s just not an option for me.”

Eudora sighed and patted Virgil’s hand. “Alright sweetheart. I trust you.”

一

Roman stood amongst a crowd of people, all dancing and cheering. The trumpeter blared his horn, and the rest of the band energetically played along, the whole atmosphere charged with the infectious energy. A short news boy danced along with Roman, trading moves back and forth and smiling wide. After a few trades, the prince stepped to the edge of the circle to let the boy have his moment. With the space to himself, the kid dropped into a split and popped right back up.

“Ashidanza!” Roman laughed, tilting his head to some swooning admirers and immediately spinning back into the fray.

“Ro!” a familiar voice called. Roman looked up and smiled brilliantly, having caught the eye of his black-clad brother. “There you are. I should’ve been following the shrieking earlier.”

“Excuse me?” Roman dramatically placed his hand on his chest. “That is the sound of joy.”

“Sure, and you’re a heartthrob.” Roman squawked indignantly as Remus shoved him away from the crowd. “Come on, I found a restaurant that sells frog legs!!”

“What?? Ew, no. I’m staying here,” Roman dug his feet in.

“But Rooooo, they have five different sauces!! Five!!!”

“Yeah, for frog legs!”

“You got to play your jazz,” Remus argued, “so now we’re gonna eat some goddamn frog legs.”

“But I haven’t gotten to show all of my moves yet!” Roman protested. “And I’ve almost gotten enough admirers to form a fan club!”

“We should leave then, so my roguish good looks and entrancing humor don’t steal their hearts.”

“You mean your worm of a mustache and your freakish flirting?” Roman teased.

Remus glared and opened his mouth to argue, when a smooth voice came from the wall behind them. “Gentlemen!” The twins spun around to find a tall, masked man with a hooked cane and a black hat leaning casually against the wall. “Enchanté. A tip of the hat from Dr. Côté.” Roman noted that he didn’t actually tip his hat. The man – Dr. Côté – pulled a business card out of seemingly nowhere and held it out to them. “How y’all doin’?”

Remus swiped the card away before Roman could even lift his hand. “’Tarot readings, charms, potions.’” Re’s eyes shone brighter with each word. “’Dreams made real.’”

Ok, now Roman’s attention was piqued.

Remus looked up with a wild grin on his face. “You can really do that stuff?”

“Well… normally I do it for a price but… I suspect I’m in the presence of some very important people,” Dr. Côté grinned charmingly, canines glinting. The twins’ heads whipped around to share a look.

“...What other things can you do?” Roman inquired.

Dr. Côté seemed to really notice Roman for the first time. “Why don’t we take a little trip to my office and I’ll show you.”

The twins gave each other a look. Then Remus jumped up, shouting, “Come on, let’s just go already!”

First thing Roman noticed was that the “office” was not an office. Honestly, it was more of an urban cave – a nook in an alleyway off a street that was more dirt than anything else. It was filled with all sorts of things Roman never imagined would make for desirable décor. There were herbs dangling from one corner, and large masks with strange markings hanging on almost every available surface. Roman was pretty sure he saw some bones in the corner. The rugs on the floor didn’t match each other at all, but all were made of what was once probably very expensive fabric. Now it was just musty, matted, and muddled. The furniture was limited to a small, circular table in the center of the room, sitting directly beneath a chandelier that gave off an orange light, which didn’t seem to help much in the way of seeing. Roman silently vowed not to go within three feet of any of these… decorations.

“WOAH, cool bones!” Remus, on the other hand, seemed to have no qualms.

“Don’t touch those!” Dr. Côté hissed. He took a deep breath and grinned, gesturing to the table Roman noticed earlier. “Why don’t you come have a seat?”

The men settled themselves around the table, Roman carefully examining his chair before sitting, just to make sure he wasn’t about to sit on anything… distasteful.

Then, Dr. Côté pulled a deck of cards seemingly out of nowhere. They didn’t seem particularly special, simply decorated with a symbol of a hand that had an eye in the center, but the voodoo man held them with reverence.

“Are you gonna do a card trick?” Remus snickered. Roman buried his smirk and elbowed his brother’s side. He did not want to make a magic man angry.

Dr. Côté simply looked up, though, giving an oily smile. “They’re tarot cards. I can tell you your past, your present… your future.” He gave a knowing look and fanned the cards out to the twins. “Go ahead. Take three.”

The princes reached out to the deck, holding their chosen cards close to their chest as if it were a card game.

The Shadow Man stared at them for a moment, as if expecting them to do something before prompting, “How ‘bout I take a look at those cards now?”

Roman grinned sheepishly and placed his cards on the table.

“Ah… now you, young man, are quite a prince,” Dr. Côté began. “A prince of fairy tales, really.” Roman thought he heard Remus huff beside him. “Your world is truly�� perfect.” Something retreated inside Roman a little at the words, but he looked up when the Shadow Man asked, “But will it ever be anything else? Nothing is quite so disheartening as playing the same role all your life, huh? But when I look forward… I can see you’ll be more… very soon.”

The prince felt an anticipation swell inside him. Very soon.

Dr. Côté grinned down at Roman, then turned to Remus, peering at his cards. “Ah, yes. You’ve always been ambitious, hm?” Roman was shaken from his reverie and just barely kept from snorting. (Judging from the glare his brother aimed at him, he didn’t do a very good job.) Remus was ambitious if you considered chaotic enthusiasm to be ambition. But Dr. Côté just continued, “You could do more, be more, than they’d ever imagined. I know it. What are you going to do about it?”

Roman looked to Remus, and Remus looked down at his palms. A hand was outstretched for each of them to shake. “Well, boys?”

The world was still for a moment. And then the black-clad prince’s hand shot out and shook the voodoo man’s, the other prince soon following suit.

“Very nice.” Dr. Côté’s smile grew leering.

Then an orange smoke crept up Roman’s arm and into his mouth, and the world went dark.

A/N: Sorry, the ending came kinda fast 😅 I hope you enjoyed it anyway!! Please feel free to point out any mistakes you see, and keysmashes are VERY appreciated :D

Taglist: @midnightstorm-underthe-moon @meowthefluffy

#sanders sides #sanders side fic #prinxiety #prinxiety fic #platonic moxiety #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #creativitwins #sanders sides au #my fic #real to me fic #real to me #moon talks

23 notes · View notes

kaiparker-avengerssmut · 4 years ago

Text

Shackled

Pairing | Lucien x Reader

Warnings | NON-CON, smut, kidnapping, violence, bondage

Word count | 1740

Summary | getting kidnapped by Lucien and he fucks you

A/n | this fic contains Non consensual sex and dark themes, please DO NOT READ if this makes you uncomfortable

A/n | (Based in the time of season 3 of TO) You are a Siphon. You are living with the mikaelsons. You had been like a sister to Rebekah a few years ago while she was in Mystic falls and after she moved back to New Orleans you dated Jeremy. After you two broke up you needed to get away so you moved to New Orleans after Rebekah invited you to stay with them. You and Kol always flirted and had endless banter but neither of you ever persude each other. You are currently out trying to find some dark object of Kol’s that Cami must have lost when she took them as it wasn’t in your apartment.

“Kol, do you even know where you’re going?” You whined. “Of course darling, do you mistake me with a fool?” You rolled your eyes and continued following him. You were walking down a back ally in New Orleans, blindly following Kol who apparently knew exactly where he was going. Suddenly a hand clamped over your mouth and your vision went black.

Your eyes fluttered open as you slowly regained consciousness. Your wrists were bound by chains hanging from the ceiling and you were kneeling with you arms in the air. Your white camisole was torn and stained red but your ripped black jeans were gone, leaving you in your red lace underwear. Shit. The sound of footsteps echoed through your hearing and you saw him from the corner of your eye. You hind your head in defeat, knowing he would most certainly kill you. He stopped right infront of you. “Lucien.” You venomously spat. He grabbed your chin and tilted your head up to look at him, “Someone’s happy to see me.” He smirked. “Fuck you.” You retorted. He let go of you chin and walked over to a table. He picked something up and walked back over to you, lifting your chin and daring you to break eye contact with him. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?” Suddenly the leather hit your skin ferociously. You screamed in pain as he struck your back over and over until he drew blood. He stopped after 20 lashes. “Having fun, darling? I’m sure we can work something else out if you’re not.” He smirked at you again. “Oh fuck you and your torture just let me go.” You almost shouted. He dropped the whip and kneeled down behind you, his hand wrapping round your throat and turning your head to look at him, the other one snaking round your chest and grabbing your boob, holding you firmly into him. “So feisty. You’d do well to remember I’m a 1000 year old vampire and you’re a worthless mortal.” He said into your cheek. “And when you’re 1000 years old you get bored very easily. So your going to be my entertainment, y/n.” His hand trailed from your boob to your core and slipped into your panties, rubbing circles on your clit. “You have no idea how badly I want to fuck your brains out.” He pushed his hard-on unto you ass, “you feel that? That’s all because of you, darling.” He growled in your ear as sighs and quiet moans tumbled from your lips. He has your juices running over his fingers quickly and took his hand out your panties, satisfied. He shoved his fingers down your throat and used his other hand to move your panties to the side.

“Now the real fun begins” he chuckled. The sound of his zip made your eyes widen and you let out a cry of pain and pleasure as his cock slid into your tight cunt. “Fuck, Y/N, your pussy is so tight around my big dick.” Lucien cooed in your ear. He began pumping at a punishing rate, his fingers leaving your mouth as you started gagging. He slapped your ass 1,2,3...10 times. Hard. “My handprint looks so good on your big ass.” He hummed. A constant flow of moans and curse words left your mouth as he continued to bury himself in you roughly. He reached round and grabbed your boobs in turn, hard enough to leave bruises. Suddenly, he stopped, his dick still inside you. He grabbed your hair and pulled your head back enough for you to look into his eyes. “Fuck yourself on my cock, y/n. Pleasure yourself in me.” He commanded. When you refused to move he bared his fangs and sank them onto your neck. You instantly began grinding against his dick and he moaned your name. “Fuck, y/n, I’ve been wanting to fuck you since the minute I first met you.” He said.

He pulled out of you and walked around to your front, where he grabbed you by a fist-full of your hair and forced his cock into your mouth. “I’ve been wondering what your pretty little mouth could do except insult me.” He snarled. He rammed his dick into your mouth for a while until you had saliva dripping down your chin. “Good girl.” He praised. “Taking my dick so well. Let’s see how far you can go.” He held your head in place so you were taking him all the way and his top brushed you back of your throat. You gagged around him and tears pricked your eyes. “Oh fuck” he moaned. He pulled your head back, allowing you to get some air before eventually doing the same thing over and over until you struggled to breathe. He started to moan as his cum released into your mouth in hot spurts, “come on slut, swallow it. Swallow it all.” He spat. You did as he said and he pulled out. Your head hung as you regained your breath.

There was a sudden banging on the door and your heard kol’s voice. “y/n! Y/n? Are you in there? Y/N!!” He shouted. Lucien appeared over you and ripped the chains off you, leaving blood dripping from your wrists. You were covered in bruises and aches all over, your legs so weak you collapsed the second you were free. Lucien grabbed you and held you against him with his arm over your chest. You started to struggle against him but it was no use as you were no-where near as strong as him. The door gave way to reveal Kol and Freya stood there. Just as Kol was about to rush over to you Lucien spoke. “If you take a step closer, I feed her my blood and snap her neck. Oh god. You didn’t want to be a vampire. Let alone a heratic. You hated your powers and had a strict, no vampire blood rule unless it was a life or death situation. Lucien bit into his wrist and held it over your mouth. You had no choice but to drink as you started choking on his blood. your vision was blurred with tears and you heard Freya mutter something. A spell. Before Lucien could react he was screaming. He let go of you and you collapsed. The sun started to burn him. He was on fire. He ran as fast as he could to a sheltered area of the apartment. Freya must have de-activated his daylight ring.

Kol rushed to your side and cradled you into his chest. "It'll be alright darling. I promise. Did he hurt you?" he asked calmly. You nodded. "Where, darling?" you looked up at him and spoke, "M-my stomach, an-and my, um, m-my-" you cut yourself off as you broke down into tears. "I think she means to say her thighs and hips." Lucien smirked. Kol's face contorted with anger and he passed you to Freya. Kol had Lucien held up against the wall in an instant. "You what?!" he shouted. Lucien maintained his smirk and said, "OH she was wonderful, no wonder all you mikaelsons are desperate to get in her pants." Kol growled and threw Lucien into the sunlight. he screeched and dashed back to the shade, hitting the wall and gasping. "Why you little-" Kol was cut-off by Freya. "Kol, I know you want your revenge, but its going to have to wait. We need to get y/n out of here and my spell will wear-off soon. We can't risk endangering her again. Let's go." Kol let out a frustrated sigh and came over to you, picking you up bridal-style and walking out the penthouse with you.

Back at the Mikaelson compound you woke up to Kol brushing your face with the back of his hand. "Sorry, darling. I didn't mean to wake you." he said. "Oh-uh, don't worry about it." You smiled weakly. He brushed your hair out your face and smile softly back. "When I saw you, all I could think was to rip that bastard's head off. I couldn't stand to see you in pain." He admitted. "I'm okay now." You replied gently. "Well, you see, y/n..." oh god. He never used your name. He always came up with some kind of pet-name. "I realised that if I ever lost you, my world would just...collapse. So o guess what I'm saying is I like you. As more than a bloody friend." He sighed. Ignoring the pain, your reached up and placed a tentative kiss on his lips, cupping his cheek with your hand. It took him a moment to register what happened, but when he did he kissed you back passionately - as if he'd been waiting to do it for a long time. You pulled back, gunning pike an idiot. "Kol." "Yes darling." You took a deep breath, your face turning serious, "I guess what I have to say is..could you get me some food? I'm starving and unlike you, I actually have to eat." A goofy smile broke out on your face. "And to think for a second there I thought you were going to declare you undying love for me, darling." He chuckled and kissed your forehead before standing up and heading to the kitchen. "Kol." "What now?" He stopped and spun on his head. "I like you too." You smiled. His face broke out into an expression of pure joy and he walked out the room.

64 notes · View notes

bijoharvelle · 4 years ago

Text

the lovely @good-things-do-happen-dean got a year older! so here’s a dean/benny high school au that i’ve been bouncing around for literally 7 years and finally sat down and made it into words for clara’s birthday!

Everybody likes Benny.

He’s kind and funny and, most importantly, since he joined our football team, we’ve actually started winning. We’re not gonna get a championship anytime soon, but Benny has the kind of natural leadership to get those idiots actually looking like a team. Add that to the accent that has every girl from freshman year up up swooning, and, yeah, Benny’s popular.

It’s a small school, you might not know everyone in your grade, but you’ve probably at least heard of them. And you probably know that someone’s cousin is a sophomore, and someone’s brother is a freshman, and someone’s dad’s business partner’s daughter is a junior, so by extension, you kind of know everybody.

So everybody knows Benny and everybody likes Benny and no one really understands, at all, why he’s friends with Dean Winchester.

The thought of Dean on the football team is laughable. I heard he did the whole wrestling thing in freshman and sophomore year but his interest petered out, I guess (Really, though, by junior year, Dean was driving to school and Sammy was in high school then which meant that he would have to sit around after school and wait for Dean to be finished with practices or matches or whatever. Or take the bus, which - Dean is not going to let his little brother ride the bus.)

So, okay, anyway, Dean and Benny are basically as different as you can get when it comes to social strata. And if you ask any of Benny’s teammates, or any of the few stragglers who hang out with Dean, none of them could tell you how Benny and Dean even met Apparently Castiel - that weird kid with the x-ray level blue eyes? - he knows the story but no one is going to ask him anything. There was a rumor, for a little bit, that it had to do with Benny being interested in Jo Harvelle and trying to get to know her through Dean - since the two of them have been best friends since birth - but that seems unlikely. Only time you ever see Benny with Jo is when they’re both with Dean. (Benny’s truck had stalled out along one of the side-roads that ran toward the Winchester house. Dean saw him on the way home and Sam insisted that they should stop and so Dean did. The whole time he was helping, Dean kept up a constant stream about what a piece of shit the truck was and how Benny’d be better off just pushing the thing into the reservoir. Benny laughed and smiled the whole time. Then the next day, before morning announcements, Benny was leaning to the side of Dean’s locker, like he did that every morning or something, and asked if he had any recommendations for a not-piece of shit and...well.)

But the point is, as different as they are, as much as Dean will never fit in with Benny’s jocks and as much as Benny is pretty out of place in Dean’s island of misfit toys, they are really good friends.

Like, really good.

Dean shows up for every one of Benny’s games, sometimes with Jo or Castiel in tow, sometimes alone. He’s always a little off to the side, hands hidden away in his leather jacket. (You could kind of tell, if you’re watching him, that his attention drifts whenever our team is on offense. He doesn’t cheer when we get touchdowns, he doesn’t groan when we fumble or get intercepted. But then the minute the D-Line trots out, he has eyes on the field and, like, he still doesn’t celebrate or mourn or anything like that. He isn’t there for the game, just for his friend, who happened to be on the team.)

If you happen to have fifth-block lunch, it’s impossible not to know what good friends they are. Benny always eats with Dean, in a little corner of one of the long tables. Sometimes Sam, or Jo sit with them. Sometimes Sam is with sophomore pals, sometimes Jo is with Meg and the other field hockey girls. But Benny is always there -- even when there are at least five different tables full of guys from the football teams or girls from Model UN or whoever that he could definitely sit with instead. He always sits with Dean and his full-body laugh floats above the rest of the usual lunchroom din. (Dean laughs quiet, with eyes down, like he’s not sure he’s allowed to be making noise. But Benny will laugh out, into the world, and curve his elbow around the back of Dean’s neck and Dean will look up with soft green eyes and maybe there’ll be a blush over his cheeks and if you look close you might be able to parse out the expression of pride on Dean’s face, at making Benny laugh.)

There are parties and events and stuff on weekends that Benny shows his face at, often. He’ll man a keg for an hour and strip to swim trunks to wash cars for charity or whatever but when it comes time for lounging in someone’s basement or cruising to a park for some pick-up or whatever the rest of the gang is up for, he peels off. Waves his hand and smiles against protests, ducks his head a little when someone makes a pointed comment about him being whipped and running off to his boyfriend. But that’s all just jokes.

Even if everyone knows Winchester is bi, their town is liberal enough to not make it a huge deal (well, there were some fights his sophomore year that were definitely about that but people have mostly moved on). Even if, despite a number of people of all genders who have expressed interest, Benny never dates anyone, always goes solo to football dinners and to parties and to dances.

(Maybe, some evenings, Benny and Dean end up parked along one of the deep side roads that tucks against the canal, leaning back against Dean’s Impala. Late evening with the stars rolling in and the two of them splitting a bag of twizzlers across their Slurpees as they idly pass through conversation: about Sam, about Jo, and Benny’s hometown and Dean’s mom.

(Maybe, once the sky gets darker, they lean in a little closer. Maybe their shoulders press together and Dean plants his hand down on the cool metal of his car’s hood and Benny let’s his hand drop over those fingers.

(Maybe, a few times, they’ve bowed in toward each other enough to feel the brush of lips. Maybe Benny knows what Dean’s tongue tastes like, maybe Dean knows what Benny’s beard feels like against his cheeks, along his chest, between his thighs. Maybe there have been times when Dean knows, underneath Benny’s uniform, his fingers are marked in bruises along Benny’s sides and down his shoulders.

(Anyway, they have this plan, after graduation, to road trip down where Benny’s from. Stop by Carencro, cut through Lafayette, head for New Orleans. Make their way West and then North and then, well, who knows. Benny’s good at football but he’s not getting a full ride anywhere, and Dean is smart - a genius, if you ask Sam, or Benny, or Cas, or Jo - but college isn’t really in his cards. So maybe they’ll just keep out on the road until they find someplace worth stopping for.)

just tagging some of my denny pals! @prayedtoyou - @envydean - @cherryberrynice - @flowersforcas

#denny fanfic #deanbenny #deanbenny fanfic #dean x benny #my stuff

42 notes · View notes

vintage-story-time · 3 years ago

Text

MANHATTAN MADNESS by Chili Peeler

Chapter 1

Jim Andrews stared through the window of the plane as it came in for a landing at LaGuardia. He had never seen anything as impressive as the island of Manhattan; it looked like every square inch of the island was filled with a skyscraper. At 17 years of age, the biggest city he had ever been to had been Des Moines. When his sister, Elizabeth, had written to him and asked him if he wanted to come visit her, he'd jumped at the chance. He felt the same urge as Elizabeth had; to get out of the backwater burg his family lived in back in eastern Nebraska. He admired the way Elizabeth had just tore out one night, leaving a note for their parents that she was going to travel and see what else was out there in the world. That had been 3 years ago and no one in the family had seen her since. Occasionally a postcard would come, addressed to him, from different cities around the country. Chicago, New Orleans, Dallas......but never with a return address. Then, a few weeks ago, a letter. And then a week later, a round trip ticket from Topeka.

The plane was coming in low now over the Long Island Sound. He'd studied a map in the family Encyclopedia Britannia; probably outdated but he doubted they had changed the name of the Sound. He looked over again at Manhattan, still not believing his sister had made it this far from home. Jim came out of the airplane entrance ramp, walking in the midst of other passengers. He moved forward, swinging his head from side to side, looking for Beth. He tried to keep in mind, as he scanned the faces around the gate, that his sister was sure to have changed in the three years she'd been gone. The crowd began to thin away, people meeting their families and heading for the baggage claim. Jim was beginning to feel dumb, standing there with his head swiveling around. "Jim?!" He looked around and there she was - his big sister, Elizabeth. Man, had she ever changed! When she's left, she'd had short brown hair and the fashion sense of any other teenaged girl from eastern Nebraska, namely jeans and T-shirts. But now there was a wild looking girl....no, woman...in tight black Lycra pants, a bright red half-shirt that let her stomach bare and a tan suede jacket with lots of tassels swinging everywhere. Her hair was now blondish, long, over her shoulders with a tight curl. "Look at my baby brother - all grown up!" Beth said as she ran up to him and gave him a big hug which he returned with equal affection. "Beth, man, I've missed you..look at you!" He let her go and motioned to her attire. "You look like a fashion model or something." "What, these old things!" Beth laughed. "When in New York, do as the Yorkers do. Come on, let's go get your bags. I'm sorry I was late...it was hell getting a taxi today." "You don't have a car?" Jim said. "No one in New York has a car. There's barely enough room for the people. You'll see. This the most remarkable city in the world..... Tomorrow I can show you around, do the tourist thing." "Sounds good to me." Jim said as they headed down the concourse. In the cab on the way to Elizabeth's place, they caught up a little on the three intervening years. Elizabeth asked about the old town, the high school, if he knew anything about any of her old friends. Jim pumped her for the things she had seen on her travels, how she liked New York, etc. Beth seemed to want to steer away from the topic of why she hadn't kept in touch with the family more; she would just say that it was probably best for everyone, then added she hadn't wanted to worry them. "So, tell me, little brother, do you have a girlfriend back there?" "Well, I've had my share but I'm free at the moment. Why? You got someone you want to set me up with while I'm here?" "No, I was just wondering. When I left, you were still in the 'girl's are yucky' stage." Elizabeth laughed. "Yeah, well, I came to my senses." Jim smiled as the taxi slowed and pulled to the curb in front of tall brick building. "This is it." Beth said as she opened her door. A few minutes later, Beth was opening the door to her fifth story apartment loft. She walked in and hit the lights as her brother carried his case in. "Holy shit! This place is great." Jim complimented her as he looked around. The apartment had real high ceiling, wood floors, cool furniture. "Glad you like it. You can put your bag in here," Beth walked over to a door and turned on the light. He went into the bedroom and dumped his bag on the bed. The room was modern looking and clean. Overhead there was a skylight that was sure to let all the light in in the morning; sleeping in was going to be tough. "You'll be staying in here. This is my room usually. I'll be sharing my roommate's bedroom." "Roommate?" "Yeah, did you think I could afford this place by myself?" "I don't know. What kind of a job do you have?" Jim asked. "I'm a hostess at a club here in town. A really trendy place. It's private, in fact." "And what, you are on a salary?" "Yeah, but most

of the money comes from tips. The member's are loaded....it's really easy work. Just a lot of smiling. Anyway, I hope you're hungry, I'm going to make us some dinner." "I'm starving...all I got was some peanuts on the flight." "Good. Go ahead and unpack and I'll get things going." Beth left him, pulling off her suede coat as she went into the living area. Jim watched her leave and for the first time thought of how attractive Beth had become. She had to know that the clothes she wore left little to the imagination. The tight pants showed off her fine legs and cute bottom. Jim bet she played on her good looks at that club of hers, flashing a smile at the old codgers who'd give her a big tip just for the illusion of her maybe being attainable. Being blessed with good looks was a pretty easy way to get by in life but he couldn't hold that against Beth. It had gotten her away from Shitville, Nebraska. Jim put his clothes in some empty drawers and took his toiletries into the bathroom. Being a neat person by habit, he opened the medicine cabinet to see if there was enough room for his deodorant and shaver. And was surprised to find the cabinet totally empty. Not a bottle of pills, not a pair of tweezers, not a jar of nail polish - nothing. He opened the drawers by the sink and found them empty as well. The absence of any girlie items anywhere in the bathroom struck him as curious. He didn't think Beth had emptied everything out and taken it into her roommate's bathroom; no reason to go to all that trouble, just take the essentials over. The bathroom looked like it wasn't even being used. Jim stowed his stuff in the drawer, kicked off his shoes and went out to see what his sister was making for dinner. "Whoa! Who is this?" Jim said as he looked at a picture of his sister and another woman near the entrance to the kitchen. "Oh, that's Julie, my roommate....well, don't walk on your tongue!" Beth said as she took a bowl out of the cupboard. Julie looked like every man's ideal woman. In the picture, she was standing next to Beth with her arm around her shoulders. Beth was probably 5' 7". Unless Beth was standing in a hole, Julie must be at least 6' 2". Brunette, almost black hair, worn to mid-back with lots of body. Her face was attractive - not great, sorta tough looking but it certainly could be overlooked. But it was Julie's body from the neck down that probably stopped men in their tracks. Julie was stacked. Big round tits with a lot of cleavage showing. 'No way those are real,' Jim thought to himself. Hips that flared nicely, plenty of meat to grab onto there. Legs that looked like she had worn out a Stairmaster. 'She looks like a fuckin' superhero,' Jim thought. Finally he moved on into the kitchen where Beth was smiling at him knowingly. "Yeah, she gets that reaction a lot," Beth said as he leaned against the counter. "I bet she does. Is that all her?" Jim said as he motioned with his hand over his chest. "No.....but she says it was the best $5000 she ever spent." "$5000?! What kind of work does she do? That's a lot of money." "Well...she's an agent, I guess. She hooks people up." Beth said. "Like how?" Jim was intrigued. "Well, she sorta acts like a headhunter." Beth continued after Jim gave her a quizzical look. "She's like a talent agent, finding people for jobs." "Oh, I see." "Don't let her looks fool you," Beth said as she opened the refrigerator and handed him a beer, "Julie's a smart cookie, too." "So how did you two meet?" "At a gym. I was living with this guy for awhile, a real jerk as it turns out, but anyway, I could use his pass fro his health club. Julie and I just got talking and we hit it off. She's probably the best friend I've ever had. She pay's for the lionshare of the expenses for this place." "Well, you've really fallen in it here......penthouse apartment, good job...it sure beats milking the cows at 5 A.M." "Oh God, don't remind

me!" Beth said as she opened a beer for herself. Jim heard the front door open. Beth did too. "That must be Julie," she said to Jim. "JUUULLLEEESS!" "YEEAHH!" "Well, come and meet her," Beth said as she took her brother's hand. They exited the kitchen walking into the dining area and there she was - Julie and the picture didn't do her justice. She was looking through a stack of mail, wearing a form fitting short dress. She looked up then and jerked her head to the side, sending her hair over her shoulder. It was quick natural movement but Jim got the feeling she had waited until they could see her before she did it. "Julie, this is Jim." "So this is your little brother." Julie said as she walked over to them, the emphasis on the word 'little'. "I'd hate to see your 'big' brother." Jim liked the fact that Julie was complimenting him on his physique. He was 5' 11" with muscle from working long hours around the family farm. Julie extended her hand and Jim shook it. "Nice to meet you, Julie." he said and meant it, willing himself not to look at her fantastic chest. Julie could be fodder for many a night of masturbation. "You got a nice strong grip, Jim. You work out?" "Nah. Just work around the farm." he said. "Baling hay, other exciting stuff." "Yeah, Lizzie's told me all about the farm life." Julie said with a wry smirk. Julie bend slightly and gave Elizabeth a peck on her cheek. Elizabeth looked at Jim after it happened but then Julie continued, "So what do you kids have planned for tonight." Jim guessed Julie was maybe 30; certainly older than he at 17 and Elizabeth at 21. Being called a 'kid' made Jim twinge but he got the feeling that was just the way Julie was. Like she wanted to get a reaction. "Nothing tonight." Beth said. "I'm whipping up some dinner and I thought we'd just relax." "I just stopped by to get another pair of shoes," Julie said. "I've got a meeting later, so I'll have to pass on dinner. I'll be back around 11. You'll still be up, right?" "Oh sure, you know me." Beth replied. "All right then, I'll see you guys later." Julie walked off toward the door to the other bedroom on the other side of the apartment. Jim watched her bottom all the way. Beth punched him in the arm to bring him out of it. "You men are all alike!" she said giggling as she went back into the kitchen. Jim followed her. "So shoot me. There's nothing like that back on the farm....Lizzie." "Don't you start with the Lizzie, too. Julie started calling me that but I don't want it to catch on. Beth is just fine." Jim heard the front door open and close again as Julie headed back out into the city for her meeting. Beth was rooting around in the cupboard, pulling out spice bottles. "Dammit!" she said exasperated. "We're out of basil....I'm gonna run down to the market and get some. Without the basil, this dish just doesn't make it." "Hey, don't go to any trouble....." Jim said as he followed her out into the living area. "The market's just around the corner. I'll only be a few minutes." She grabbed her jacket and headed for the door. Left alone, Jim wandered around. He went outside on the patio that was off the dining area and looked at the surrounding buildings in the fading dusk. He went into the kitchen and lifted the lid on what Beth was preparing; it looked like an Italian sausage dish. He roamed into the livingroom and studied the prints on the walls; they were all of women, paintings by a guy named Nagel. They reminded him of some of the artwork in the front of Playboy magazines, mildly erotic. He was walking near the door to Julie's room and the door was open, so he poked his head in. The bedroom was larger than the one he was staying in; obviously this was the master bedroom of the apartment. Same skylight, a king-size bed with black and white bedding, same sliding door for the closet and the bathroom door in the same place as in the other

bedroom. Jim was going to move back out into the apartment when he noticed something very interesting sitting on the far bedside table. He couldn't be absolutely sure it was what he thought it was; a magazine was covering part of it. He was going to walk over and check it out but he heard a key being inserted in the front door. Quickly he moved a few feet to the nearby entertainment center and made like he was looking at their music selections as Elizabeth came through the door. "Told you that wouldn't take too long," she said as she pulled off her coat. "Come on and help me set the table." "Sure," Jim said as he followed her toward the kitchen. His thoughts, however, were on what he thought he had seen in Julie's bedroom. It had sure looked like there was a pair of handcuffs under that magazine.

#MANHATTAN MADNESS by Chili Peeler #CHapter 1

2 notes · View notes

mirkwoodshewolf · 5 years ago

Text

Moments with mini-angel; Roger Taylor

*Author’s note*

Here we go guys I managed to FINALLY finish off the last part of my Moment’s with mini-angel chapter and here we go with the most lovable member of them all, ROGAH TAYLAH!!!!!! Now this was is prob. my FAV part of the series but also the toughest to write cause I had established throughout the entire Rock Angel series, that Roger and you reader-chan as the RA have this SPECIAL bond and I knew I had to try and top that w/baby Kelly (so I HOPE I delivered to long time fans of this series)

So not really any warnings just make sure you bill me your dentist bill by the end lol cause trust me you WILL get cavities from the sweetness that’s in this chap. Enjoy my lovelies ;)

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@ixchel-9275

@psychosupernatural

@waddles03

@simonedk

@platawnic

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queensdivas

@queendeakyy

@geek-and-proud

@kairosfreddie

@onebigfangirlworld

@bohemiansweede

@5sos-wdw

@labessieisallama

@naturalswifty89

@starswin

@dj-lowkey

@isabella-bby

_________________________________________________________

*New lion cub; Roger Taylor. 4 months old. Surrey, England*

I was rushing around the house trying to get myself ready. I don’t know why I agreed to do this interview in the first place? I wasn’t ready nor in the ‘physical condition’ to make a public appearance yet.

I was still trying to lose the post-pregnancy weight I had gained, now all the critics are gonna call me out on even more curves.

“You’re muttering again.” I heard Jack’s voice say.

“I don’t mutter.” I sassed at him.

“Yes you do. You always mutter whenever you get extremely insecure.” Jack came up behind me from the bathroom door and wrapped his arms around me. “Now c’mon, what’s going on in my Rock Angel’s mind?”

“Just…….insecurities.” he sighed heavily.

“This is about the TV interview today isn’t it?”

“Could I possible call in and cancel it? Plus we can just stay here with Kelly.” I suggested.

“No we can’t. Look, I know you’ve been trying your best to lose the post-pregnancy weight but baby you look just as beautiful as before. Hell you look even more beautiful with them. And if some asshole wants to poke fun at them then he clearly has no life than to bring others down. And that is literally a shit way to live.” I looked up at him as cupped the side of his jawline.

“Why are you so good to me?”

“Because if I wasn’t then I’d have the hottest rock band beating my ass all over the world three times over.”

“Well Rog would beat you till the end of time.”

“See there we go!” I giggled softly as he kissed the side of my face up and down. “Funny and sexy. I really hit the jackpot with you.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere Jack Kline.”

“Not true, it got me you.” I turned towards him and wrapped my arms around his neck. Before I could say anything back to him, the phone rang. I stepped out of the bathroom and picked up the phone connected to our nightstand.

“Hello?”

‘Hello (y/n) dearie, this is Trudy calling.’

“Oh hi Mrs. Cushing, how are you?”

‘I’m afraid not good dearie. I suddenly fell ill with the flu so I’m afraid I can’t come over and babysit for you.’

“Oh no, I’m so sorry to hear about that Mrs. Cushing.”

‘I really hate to drop this on you at the last minutes but—’

“No, no it is what it is. I’m sorry but it would be better if you stayed home and rest.”

‘Oh thank you so much for understanding dear. I would hate to give the sweet little one what I got, especially with her recent colic recovery.’

“Absolutely yes. Well I hope you feel better Mrs. Cushing, take care.”

‘You too dearie, goodbye.’

“Bye.” I hung up the phone and I turned to Jack.

“Is Mrs. Cushing sick?” he asked me.

“The flu. I told her it’s best she stay home and rest.” He sighed heavily and came out of the bathroom and sat down at the foot of the bed.

“So what do you wanna do?”

“What can we do? Deacy and Ronnie are in Bali, Brian’s busy with his own producing, I can’t even get a hold of Chrissie these days, Freddie said he didn’t even wanna come near the house till she was 6months after your little wake up fiasco.”

“You’re never gonna let that go are you?” he said to me with a quirked brow.

“Hell to the no. And today Rory has a doctor’s appointment and Dominique is busy with that.”

“Well you do realize that just leaves…….” Jack trailed off.

“I know. I can’t ask him to do it last minute. He prefers to know ahead of schedule.”

“(Y/n), you know that man would fly half way across the world if something ever happened to you. Remember when that bastard plastered our faces on the front page of every tabloid when we first met. The whole band actually cancelled the rest of their Japan tour just to interrogate you.”

“Your right. I just hope he’s up for it.”

“He is. I wouldn’t even be surprised if he’s waiting outside across the porch right now.” Jack teased as he went up to the phone. He picked up the receiver and dialed Roger’s number while I continued to get ready.

About 15 minutes later, we soon heard the doorbell ring and we both looked at each other.

“Speak of the chaotic blonde devil.” Said Jack.

“Just be thankful Fred isn’t here to back him up, then I’d really be worried.” I said grimly.

“You wanna answer it?”

“No you go ahead, I wanna say goodbye to my baby real quick.” Jack nodded and pecked my cheek and headed downstairs while I headed towards the nursery room.

*3rd Person POV*

Jack walked down the stairs all the while hearing the doorbell ring frantically as well as the loud banging at the door.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “I’m coming Roger, coming!” the second he turned the lock, the door suddenly swung open and in came in Roger Taylor. Wearing his usual prescription shades and the shirt that (y/n) had named ‘the dad shirt’. The blue with yellow and white lines across it, white pants, and his usual favorite brand of shoes.

“Sorry I’m late Jack, hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

“No not really.”

“Where is she?”

“Which one?”

“Both of them.”

“Up in the nursery—” before Jack could even finish his sentence, Roger immediately charged upstairs and trudged towards the nursery room. He entered in a calm manner to see (y/n) standing over her daughter’s crib, and baby Kelly cooing up at her mother.

*My POV*

“Hello lovie.” I looked up to see Roger standing there.

“Hey dad.” I said softly. “She’s literally just waking up now. Latest she’s ever slept even though she went to bed at her normal time.”

“Well that’s another thing she got from her mother.” He teased as he came up and stood beside me. I gawked at him and slapped his shoulder he chuckled softly. “Nah, nah, nah I’m kidding. Well—”

“Dad!”

“I’m kidding. But I do admit you do look adorable when you sleep. Freddie says you look like a cat when you especially curl yourself inwards on the tour bus beds.” I lowered my head and I said down to Kelly.

“My darling baby, don’t you dare listen to any stories your godfather tells you.”

“Yes Kelly bear. Do listen to the stories I tell you. I’ve got loads of embarrassing stories in regards to your mummy.” He cooed down at her and he gingerly bopped her tiny little nose. “And you missy, need to head out and get to that TV studio for that interview.”

“Okay but not until I give you the list of Kelly’s instructions—”

“No need I know everything this cute dovie needs.” He interrupted me.

“No dad please you need to listen…..”

“I did. I remember where you have all the emergency numbers, who to call, where the food and milk is at, how to prepare it. Love I’m not the chaotic young drummer I used to be 12 years ago.”

“No. You’re just older.” He glared at me and that’s when he suddenly tossed me over his shoulder. “Whoa Roger what the…..”

“Ah-ah-ah-ah! No swearing in front of the baby. Now you’re going to that interview and I will take care of everything.” He walked out of Kelly’s nursery with me still hung over his shoulder.

“No stop it! Put me down!”

“Nope not till you get your butt out that door and go that interview!”

“Put me down this is humiliating!”

“Oh come on it’s not as humiliating as New Orleans at Mardi Gras back in 82.” As we reached the front door, he opened the door and set me down and gently pushed me out the door. He then grabbed Jack’s wrist and shoved him outside. “Alright now both of you go. Leave and we’ll see you on TV lovie. See you later this afternoon you two love you my lion cub, bye!”

He slammed the door shut and we heard the click of the locks. Jack and I looked at each other shaking our heads.

“It’s like he wanted to get rid of us.” said Jack.

“Like I said, he’s bonkers for our baby girl. But he is right, my interview starts in 30 minutes.” Jack and I walked towards the car and got inside. I started the engine up and soon we took off out of the driveway.

*Roger’s POV*

I peeked out the window to see them finally drive off and as soon as they were gone, I shot my fist in the air.

“Finally! I thought they’d never fuckin leave. The three other guys get their one on one time with baby Kelly and I don’t? That is a crime in itself.” I said as I raced back up towards the nursery. “Well no more, this time it’s just us. Me and my little Kelly-belly.”

As soon as I reached the nursery, I could hear the faint sounds of her sad little cries. Poor little thing must already miss her mummy, well time for god-papa to come to the rescue. I walked over towards her crib and reached down with one hand and stroked her head.

“Shhh, shhh. Now, now Kelly dear, mummy and daddy will be back soon.” Her crying ceased as soon as she heard my voice, her eyes that once cried small crocodile tears, now looked up at me with curiosity.

Her small brain must’ve soon connected the dots because with the snap of a finger she went from sad to happy as she reached out towards me happily cooing.

“Oh is all that joy for me?” I teased down to her. Her baby laughs echoing throughout the room as I talked down to her, “Is this happy baby all for me?” I reached down and picked her up and held her close to my chest. “God I swear every time I see you, you’re growing like a weed, much like my own little girl. You both need to stop that.” She babbled on. “No you do. I swear before you know it you’ll be walking, talking, graduating school and university, and god forbid marriage. God why can’t you girls just stay small and young forever like this?”

Kelly continued to coo at me and she even gave me that adorable gummy smile. I smiled down at her before gently readjusting her in my arms so that her head rested up against my shoulder.

“What do you say we fill that tummy of yours up with milk? Hmm? I’ll bet you’re hungry aren’t yah?” she squirmed in my embrace and I took that as a yes. The two of us walked out of the nursery and I prepped her bottle.

I looked at the instructions that (y/n) had written down when it came to prepping her bottle and as we waited for the bottle to warm up in the warm water, Kelly soon started getting even fussier.

“Oh I know lovie, I know it’s coming though.” I soothed her as I gently bounced her up and down. After checking to see the bottle was all done, I took it out and walked over to the rocking chair in the living room. Right as the nipple of the bottle touched Kelly’s mouth, she opened her mouth and proceeded to inhale her milk. “Now, now not so fast. Oi you little piggy, you’re gonna end up sick if you drink too fast you know that.”

I took the bottle away from her for a second to soon hear her do a small and very tiny but adorable hiccup. I pulled my shades over on top of my head just as I gave her back her bottle.

God if this is what (y/n) looked like as a baby, then she must’ve been the cutest baby in all of Leicester.

“My sweet little Kelly, you are every ounce of your mother aren’t you? Same eyes, same nose, and I can tell you’ll have her same fighting spirit. You know; when I first met your mother she was a shy one. But she had a kind soul. Even though I’ve always said this as a joke just to piss your uncles off, she actually gave me 1 and 3/7th sugars in my coffee. She really believed that it was for a health problem cause a friend of hers dealt with the same thing. From that day on, I knew I had to protect your mum. Because if she was willing to look after me, I knew I had to do the same for her.”

When she was finally done with her bottle, I set it down on the table and proceeded to burp her. I had her over my right shoulder and I gently patted her back till finally she let out a burp. And I’ll say I won’t deny that I was proud to hear that man-like burp come out of her.

“Nice one!” I praised. I held her out in front of me so that I could get a good look at her. She softly cooed before she soon started making bubbles come out of her mouth with her spit. I shook my head at her and asked her playfully, “What? You think you’re a soap dispenser?” she just looked at me with those wide, curious eyes of hers as she continued to make more bubbles come out of her mouth.

I popped her bubble spit when she raised her hand and proceeded to touch my face. Her tiny hand which felt like the same size as a cat paw, soon began trailing down from my cheek to my lips. She gently gripped my lips into her tiny fist which made me laugh.

“Excuse me Missy, those are my lips.” I said in a smooshed up voice. She began to laugh thinking it was funny. “So now what, hmm? You think you can just own my lips huh? Is that it?” she babbled a short response. “Oh you do own them huh? Okay then, you can have them.” I then took her tiny wrist between my thumb and index finger and moved them away from my lips so that I could proceed with a kiss attack.

I first kissed all over her tiny hand, before moving up her arm, to her shoulder before finally reaching her face. I then followed through by making sure that I as I kissed her, I made those obnoxious kissing sounds with each kiss and giving her the occasional raspberry or ten.

You know they say there is always something that can be precious to us. In my life I’ve had many precious things, but out of everything I could ever have or own, there is nothing more precious to me than the sound of a baby’s laughter.

The first time I made Felix laugh, it was—god it was indescribable. It was like—a bell had rang off, but it was so soft and melodic, nothing like from the hard rock instruments I’ve surrounded myself with. In fact his laugh was the one light musical ring that I would always love and cherish.

And now with my two girls, my daughter and goddaughter their laughter’s are just as melodic if not even more so than Felix’s was.

“I told you. You wanted my lips, then you get all the wet, slobbery kisses you can imagine.” I told her in-between my kisses on her chubby cheeks. She laughed heartily and I swear it was like my heart was soaring at hearing that adorable little laugh. “You’re a silly girl. Do you know that?” I told her as I held her up in front of me.

She cooed at me as her hand once again reached out to touch my face, this time she rested it against my cheek. I smiled at her and nuzzled against her tiny hand.

“Do you know just how cute you are?” she looked at me with awe. “Yeah, you are adorable. Just like your mother. Ohh let’s see if her interview has started yet. You wanna watch mummy on the TV?” at hearing the name ‘mummy’ she let out a coo. “Yeah that’s what I thought. Let’s see if mummy is on the telly yet.”

We moved over to the couch and I switched on the telly and turned it to BBC1. There on the couch was Sally Fields, the young woman who I’ve been in an interview with a few times, charming woman and she asks good questions compared to male interviewers.

“Right thank you to Timothy Dalton for his onset interview for his next upcoming James Bond film, up next we have a young artist who has been making a name for herself in such a short time. The Rock Angel (Y/n) Kline will be here right after these messages.”

“Bloody commercials.” Kelly let out a soft ‘bah’ and I replied to her, “You said it lovie.“ the BBC station played commercial after commercial after commercial. It just seemed to drag on forever till finally Sally came back on the screen.

“Welcome back. Our next guest rose to fame back in 1981 when she performed in the middle of a Queen concert in Madison Square Garden. For the next 5 years she proceeded to be one of the youngest female rock stars ever to have #1 hits in both America and Britain. (Y/n) Kline the Rock Angel is here with us today, welcome (Y/n)”. The camera cut to (n/n) sitting right there on the couch.

“Hello Sally, thanks for having me here.” At seeing her mummy on screen, Kelly reached out her tiny hands cooing in awe.

“Yeah you see mummy? Yeah she’s on the telly.”

“Nice to see you here, now I was told you were on a brief hiatus for a while.” Sally told her.

“Yes because just 4 months ago I had given birth to my beautiful baby girl. My first child.”

“Which congratulations by the way.” The audience clapped and she thanked them.

“Can you clap baby girl? Hmm? Clap for mummy?” she reached her hand out and tried to point out towards her mum. I chuckled and took her tiny hand in mine before taking her other one, “Like this baby girl.” I gently allowed her hands to come together before quickly separating them and then making them come back together again.

She eventually caught on and as soon as she heard her hands make that clap sound, she was in awe as she began giggling that sweet baby giggle and clapping her hands rapidly (just to hear that sound again).

“That’s it baby girl Yay!”

“Now your recent album ‘Mother love’ is quite different from all the other albums you’ve done previously.” Sally said to (y/n).

“Yeah, yeah. But isn’t it always good to mix things up a bit?” That’s my girl.

“Tell me how long it took you to record this album?”

“Well given the fact that I did want to try and get it done before I went on my maternity leave I wanna say—about 2-3months.”

“Now explain the title of your album, where did that come from?”

“Well as I said and from what everyone saw when I made my first public appearance back at Live Aid, I was five months pregnant at the time, and right after the concert I dove right into making that album. I really wanted this album to reach out to mothers everywhere whether they’re senior mom’s with grown up kids, the mothers who have many kids or first time mothers like myself.”

The interview continued on with the same old boring questions so I turned my attention down to little Kelly. She continued to stare at the telly in awe and she would let out a soft coo every time her mum came on screen.

“So what’s next for you once your maternity leave is finished?” asked Sally.

“Well there’s a summer tour I’ve got planned out and then maybe a new single, not quite sure about that just yet but you can expect me on the road this summer.” Of course she couldn’t reveal it quite yet cause this tour she was going on was a Queen+Angel European summer tour.

“Well (Y/n) it was lovely speaking to you and we can hear in the background your latest song ‘Protecting me’. Now let’s not just hear it but also check out the music video for it.”

“Yes, lets.” It was then the telly showed a funny little edit to now show (Y/n)’s music video for Protecting me (which I helped produce).

The morning went by and soon it was time for Kelly’s schedule naptime. After feeding her second bottle and burping her, we sat down in her nursery and I was reading her one of the many books that Veronica and Deacy had donated to them that they once read to Robert, Micky, Laura, and Joshua when they were just babies.

As I read to her, she didn’t seem at all tired. She just kept looking at the book then back up at me with them doe like eyes of hers.

“Right, I know. Boring isn’t it?” I closed the book and tossed it aside back towards the reading pile. “I think—you deserve a lullaby, hmm? Want papa Roger to sing you a lullaby?” I adjusted her so that now her head rested against my chest, right over my heart. “Your mummy told me of how when you were still in her tummy, you kicked along to Radio Gaga. Did you know that I wrote that song?”

She cooed up at me as her tiny little hand reached out for me. I softly laughed and said as I nuzzled her cute button nose with mine.

“Yes I did. You want me to sing it to you?” I slowly rocked the chair back and forth as I softly began to sing ‘Radio Gaga’ to her. Her eyes were locked right up at me as I sang her favorite song. She was so invested in my soft voice but I could see her eyes slowly drooping down.

Softly tapping my socked foot on the furry carpet beneath me for the two beats that the audience would usually clap to. Just before I could even reach the second chorus, she let out a yawn before cuddling herself into my chest, gripping the placket of my shirt. I looked down at her and couldn’t help but smile warmly.

Like mother like daughter.

I sat up and gently placed her back in her crib so that she would sleep more comfortably. It was then I felt someone take my hand, of course I didn’t need to look down to know just who it was because the moment I felt the palm of my hand being kissed I knew it was (y/n).

*My POV*

After a long morning of interviews (both TV and radio) Jack and I finally arrived back at the house. Already I could see some of Kelly’s toys out and some bottles hadn’t been washed yet.

“Dad.” I shook my head.

“I’ll take care of the bottles, you go see if he’s at least putting her down for her afternoon nap.” Said Jack as he kissed the top of my head and went to pick up the two bottles left on the table.

I slowly walked up the stairs and as I approached the nursery room, I heard Roger’s soft singing. I crept quieter towards the nursery and peeked through the door to see Roger rocking my baby girl to sleep as he sung Radio Gaga to her (in a ballad type way, which really surprised me since he was such a hard rock and roller).

Seeing my surrogate father rocking my baby girl and being so domestic it—made my heart melt. Roger always tried to put up this hard wall and be this ‘heart of stone rock and roller’ the ‘bad boy’ of Queen what with his reputation with the ladies (especially back in the 70’s).

But now—he’s more mellow, especially when it’s involved either me or his own kids, and now he’s added Kelly to the list of those who can see the true soft-and-fluff Roger Taylor.

As I watched him put Kelly back in her crib, I felt like I could make my move and let him know I was home. I silently walked towards him then once his hands were free, I took his left hand and lifted it, palm up, and kissed it before clasping my hand over his.

“We saw your interview with Sally.” He whispered to me.

“You proud I didn’t spoil the combined summer tour?”

“Honestly, I don’t care if you admitted it or not. But you should’ve seen your baby girl. Her eyes were glued to that screen the entire time you came on screen.” I felt my heart melt once more as I looked down at my baby girl.

“Thanks again for watching her dad. Especially at such short notice.”

“Hey, you know I’m always here for you. Both of you. I told you the day she was born that I was always, always gonna be there. Even cross an ocean to help you take care of your baby.”

“And give Jack fatherly advice?”

“Meh.” I playfully punched him but he raised his hands in surrender. “Of course, of course. Deacy can give the lovey-dovey side of being a father. And I can tell him how to be wary of the boys that’ll come in the future.”

“You mean boys like you were?”

“Oh now that…..”

“Shhh. Don’t you dare wake my baby girl up.” I shushed him. The two of us looked down at Kelly to see her still asleep. I gestured him outside and the two of us walked out to the hallway. After I shut the door, he said to me.

“Now about that comment…..”

“I’m messing with yah. Now go on and head back home, Jack and I can handle this from here now.”

“You sure you don’t need me to stick around?” he gave me those famed blue eyes puppy dog eyes. I crossed my arms and quirked my brow at him. “Fine, besides Dominque is probably back from the hospital with Rory. Might as well see how my baby girl did on her checkup. And kiss her boo-boo’s if they gave her shots.” I softly giggled. “What?”

“You said boo-boo’s.”

“Oh grow up!” he said as he walked towards the stairs.

“No dad I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that as a compliment. I’ve—never really seen you like this other than with me. This whole domestic side of you, I love it.” He stopped just as he reached the last step and had a soft smile across his face.

“I only reserve that for only the most important people in my life.” I smiled at him and walked towards him and the two of us hugged each other.

“I’m—I’m so glad that I got the internship. You guys have literally been the best thing to ever happen to me in years.” I felt him embrace me back and he said softly in my ear.

“And you’ve been the best thing to ever happen to us. We love you (n/n). So, so much. We’re always here for you. I’m always there for you. Now and forever, my little lion cub.” I snuggled deeper into his shoulder and squeezed him even tighter as he did the same for me.

After that, Jack and I bid him goodbye and he drove off back to his family. That Roger Taylor, he can be a handful at times, even to a point where he’s the ultimate helicopter dad. But—his heart’s always in the right place, especially in times like this.

I’m sure after all this, he’s found himself a new lion cub of the Kline clan to call his own. Of course, I don’t really mind because that’s what the three of us are. A strong coalition of lions.

63 notes · View notes

forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years ago

Text

Track to the Future

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: E (explicit sexual content) Word count: 7675 @spideychelleweek

Spideychelle Week Day 6: Only One Bed

Summary: Peter and MJ board the train to the academic decathlon tournament in New Orleans as friends, but after the booking company messes up Mr. Harrington's sleeping car room assignments and they're forced to share a compartment for the night, Peter hopes there's a chance they'll be more than friends by the time they have to, ahem, get off.

“…and if anyone needs anything at all during the night,” Mr. Harrington said, finally wrapping up his thorough Spending the Night on a Train Protocol, “Mr. Dell and I have compartments at either end of the car you’ll be sleeping in while your co-captains’ shared compartment is the first in the next car. Sometimes it’s easier to reach out to a peer if you’re experiencing any feelings of homesickness or stress ahead of tomorrow’s tournament. But remember, Mr. Dell and I are here to support you.”

“Nah, don’t knock on my door,” Mr. Dell said with a quick negative slice of his hand. “I’m taking a sleeping pill, you know the drill. I’ll also be putting my headphones on and turning the volume way up to sleep in a cocoon of music. I’m trying to spend as much of this trip as possible listening to jazz. By the time we roll into New Orleans, I’ll be fully immersed in the atmosphere.”

Peter’s eyes darted between the team’s chaperones as their group of ten sat crowded into adjacent booths in the dining car. The one person he was careful not to linger on was MJ. Things had been normal between them since boarding that afternoon―meaning they’d gotten in lots of quality moments of smiling at each other and looking swiftly away―until Mr. Harrington sprung on them the fact that they’d be sharing a sleeping cabin. Apparently, the train had double-booked a room, leaving the Midtown Academic Decathlon contingent one short. Their teachers (mostly one of them, after Mr. Dell begged not to be dragged into ‘this snafu’) had decided the best course of action was to pair up the captains. Surely, these were their two most responsible individuals. That’s what Peter assumed Mr. Harrington had been thinking. That and he probably hadn’t noticed the way Peter and MJ had been dancing around each other the past few months; as long as students were present, still breathing, and had all their limbs attached, he seemed satisfied. But Peter knew that he and MJ were going to have to be the real adults here and eventually confront the fact that they’d be spending the night on top of each other. Because bunk beds.

“Yeah, come find me or Peter if you need us,” MJ chimed in. Though her expression told Peter she was reluctant, the same instinct for leadership that made her a good captain was forcing her to speak up now. “Or text or something. I’ll keep my phone on.”

“Did you pack a phone charger?” Flash asked.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Yes.”

“Can I use it?”

“I’m offering you emotional support, not access to my belongings. Some things are sacred.”

“Pfft,” Flash scoffed. “You just don’t want me showing up to ask for it. Scared I’ll interrupt something while you and Penis are shacked up together?”

Ned laughed loudly.

“MJ and Peter?” he asked doubtfully. “Are you kidding? Those two aren’t into each other at all.”

Peter appreciated that his best friend was trying to cover for him (he’d kept Ned abreast of his crush on MJ as it developed), but this was verging on overcompensation and it’d only make Flash more suspicious. Subtly, Peter shook his head to tell Ned to cut it out and his friend fell silent.

“Please, everyone, just go to your rooms,” Mr. Harrington implored. “I’ll be around to check on each of you over the next twelve to fifteen minutes. Don’t switch rooms, don’t get up unless you’re using the bathroom or asking for help, and please, please do not fall off the train.”

“How do you think they’re going to manage that?” Mr. Dell wondered.

“Things happen, Julius. Be thankful you haven’t seen what I have.”

“I was there for that Mysterio nonsense in Europe, remember? I’ve seen plenty.”

“But not everything…” Mr. Harrington trailed off hauntingly. Peter and Ned exchanged a look that said, is this guy ok?

On that note, everyone trooped to the sleeping car with their bags and said goodnight to each other. By the end of the car, there were just Peter’s footsteps ahead and MJ’s behind. He touched the door to open it and the two of them stepped into the vestibule between cars. There was a loud rattle of the train in motion, not muffled like it was in the cars, and it suddenly felt as though they were very much separated from everyone else. Now would probably be a good time to break the ice over them sharing a room. When Peter turned around, MJ was right there, waiting for him to press the other door and let them into their car. His mouth opened, but he froze. Giving him a look like he was being a weirdo, she reached around him and opened the door herself. Peter laughed awkwardly and proceeded.

“So, this one, I guess,” he said as they came to the door of the first room. “Should we…” He glanced at the floor, then quickly up into his co-captain’s difficult-to-read face. “MJ, should we talk about how strange this is? Us sharing this tiny room?”

She nodded slowly, giving him a tight smile.

“I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” Peter continued.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” MJ promised quickly.

“You’re not?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, ok. Great.”

They were still looking at each other, still standing in the corridor instead of either one of them moving to open their door.

“It’s relaxing,” MJ offered after a few seconds of silence.

Peter perked up a little, pushing his shoulders back.

“Sharing a room with me?”

“Being on a train. Quiet, you know? Hey, you ever read Murder on the Orient Express?”

“No, but I’m guessing somebody gets murdered?” Peter ventured.

“That’s the gist of it,” she agreed.

Was she afraid that was going to happen to them? Had she only taken the step of reaching out to their teammates because she was the one who was scared?

“Nothing’s going to happen,” he assured her.

MJ sighed.

“You’re probably right. We’re not that lucky.”

Peter was still puzzling over that comment―was MJ saying it’d be unlucky for all of them to reach Louisiana alive?―as she let them into their room. He looked around her to take it in. There really wasn’t much of it to take in. She’d said she wasn’t uncomfortable, but he was sure his instinct to lighten the mood wasn’t misplaced. Should he joke about the small space being cozy? No, that sounded like he was trying to imply something romantic. Talk about the tournament tomorrow and completely ignore their forced intimacy? No, he was too tired to keep that up for long, especially if she offered to run through practice questions with him. Maybe rock-paper-scissors to choose bunks? Yeah, that was an immediate and practical problem that needed to be solved.

He was looking around for an out of the way spot to shove his bag as he asked, “You want top or bottom?”

“Uhhhh,” MJ replied.

“You can think about it while I go brush my teeth,” Peter offered, finding a spot for his bag, then reaching in for his pajamas and toiletry kit.

“Oh, that’s not indecision you hear in my voice. Look.”

He straightened up at her instruction. She was pointing at the wall, where what he’d taken at a glance to be the second bed, ready to fold down, was placed. He looked closer. Oh shit. It wasn’t a bed. Or, it didn’t exactly look like one. Peter would’ve investigated further, but MJ was already kicking her shoes off and climbing up to stand on the bottom (only?) bunk for a closer inspection. She flipped what was supposed to be the top bunk down and it came with a clatter and a cascade of straps.

“It’s for luggage,” she informed him.

Oh, he heard her, but he still heard himself ask, ��What?”

“Like a thing you put your bag on and, I don’t know, strap it down so it doesn’t land on your head while you’re sleeping.”

“So, it’s not a bed.”

MJ clipped the not-a-bed into place, dropped back to the floor, and rolled her eyes at him. Yeah, that had sounded pretty stupid, but the comment hadn’t really been for her; it was more Peter’s way of verbally processing their current circumstances. Those being: two co-captains and one bed that looked proportionate to the room. But the room was tiny, which meant the bed was narrow as hell and probably not intended for two people, even when those two people planned to share it, because physical contact was no big deal for them, because their relationship was at that stage, because they didn’t have to look away from each other whenever they started to hold the stare just a little too long. Fuck, Peter was freaking out.

“Um,” he told MJ, flailing his pajamas and toiletries around, “why don’t you… and I’ll…” Peter jerked his thumb towards the door and, nodding like there’d been some kind of agreement made, exited their room while his co-captain gave him an odd look.

In the corridor, he almost screamed.

“You guys are first up on my bedtime check-ins list!” Mr. Harrington announced, looking up from a clipboard.

“Oh,” Peter replied.

“Yep, no pressure, but I came to you and MJ first because I’m counting on you to put me at ease. Please don’t tell me there’s anything wrong with your room,” he added, voice turning desperate.

“What room? Oh, our room? The room MJ and I are sharing? Well, it…” He swallowed. “It’s great. Small, you know, but, um, definitely has two beds.”

“Do you want me to take a quick peek inside?” his teacher offered. “I’ve led dozens of student trips and I’ve gotten pretty darn good at spotting damaged amenities, traces of bedbugs… Not that I could really do anything for you at this point. The room’s already booked and there isn’t another one the two of you could switch to. I suppose you could take my room while I slept in a seat on one of the cars, but of course, mine only has the one bed.”

“That’s ok. Everything’s good. Nothing’s broken or bedbuggy.”

Mr. Harrington was still looking at Peter like he was waiting for him to stop putting on a brave face and let the adult do a quick sweep. He should probably let him. MJ had put the luggage rack back the way they’d found it and they could pretend they hadn’t discovered it wasn’t a second bed yet. That would be the honest thing to do, and very possibly the thing MJ would want him to do. It was just that instinct was telling Peter to protect this secret opportunity. This very innocent chance for them to… bond and stuff. He wasn’t really sure, he didn’t have a plan, but all of his plans that involved MJ involved figuring out how to get closer to her, not how to run away. Figuring out how to share a single bed in a cramped room with an entire night ahead of them was basically the Chance for Closeness jackpot. If she disagreed, she could easily storm out and go to Mr. Harrington. Or slap Peter right across his opportunistic face. Or pretend to be cool with it, wait ‘til he fell asleep, and get her revenge by squeezing his entire tube of toothpaste into one of his shoes, or cutting holes in all his boxers. (He was ready to swear that one wasn’t sexual; he’d just had some very specific nightmares when their entire acquaintance was about him being wildly intimidated by her, before they became friends and he evolved to being only moderately intimidated.)

“It’s no trouble,” Mr. Harrington promised.

“MJ’s changing in there right now,” Peter blurted. It was the perfect excuse and came to him on the spot. “You could come back after you check the other rooms, but we’ll probably be fine. Anyway, MJ and I are both, um, mature enough to ask for help if we need it. No need to worry about us.”

He gave his teacher a tense, closed-lipped smile. Mr. Harrington seemed relieved.

“See you both in the morning then.”

“Yep, no problem!”

The second their chaperone was gone back into the other car, Peter opened the door and saw a flash of MJ’s stomach.

“What are you doing?” she yelped.

“What are you doing?” he shot back, hastily turning away and shutting the door of their little compartment.

“Putting my pajamas on! You just told Harrington I was in here changing!”

“Yeah, well, if you heard that then you know I told him a lot of things I didn’t think were true!”

“The presence of more than one bed may be a blatant lie, but didn’t you consider that I might actually be changing? I’m done, by the way,” she concluded in a less indignant tone.

Peter turned back around. Before he could stop himself, his gaze zoomed down her body. Her oversized t-shirt read ‘MICHELLE OBAMA’S ARMS BRAIN’ and her loose turquoise shorts just about disappeared under its hem. With wide eyes, he forced his gaze back to MJ’s face.

“Put yours on,” she suggested, eyes flicking to his and away.

Ok, this was it. This wasn’t the way he’d expected it to go. He’d though there’d be some kind of conversation first, or at least an acknowledgement of their feelings. Carpe diem, Peter guessed. He took a deep breath―probably the deepest he’d ever taken when he wasn’t dressed as Spider-Man and attempting to lift something heavy―and peeled his t-shirt off.

“Oh my god, nerd, in the bathroom, not here! Don’t make me regret staying quietly in this room while you lied to our teacher’s face.”

Flustered, Peter threw on the shirt he’d brought to sleep in and left the room without picking the other one up from the floor. In the bathroom at the far end of the car, he brushed his teeth, then stared at his face in the mirror for a minute, pausing for comprehension that didn’t come. What was happening? What had happened in that room? What would happen when he went back? It would probably have been helpful to talk this through with Ned, but MJ was waiting for him to let her know the bathroom was free. She was also most likely waiting for him to explain what the fuck his thought process had been in assuring Mr. Harrington that there were two beds, since she obviously had not been expecting Peter to start taking his clothes off in front of her. Though she’d definitely looked when he had. He’d noticed that.

This time, he knocked before entering.

“You’re done with the bathroom?” MJ checked, folding her toothbrush and toothpaste into a facecloth.

“Brushed my teeth and everything. You wanna taste the mint? Smell,” Peter corrected, blushing ferociously. “Smell the mint. Never mind. You don’t wanna do that.” He started to raise his hands apologetically as she slipped past him to open the door. “Forget I―”

He shut up instantly when his rising hand brushed her breast through her t-shirt. Shit. His eyes locked on hers as his lips parted to apologize, but MJ fisted the front of his shirt and tugged him into a quick, firm kiss. She broke it and released him.

“Probably a good idea if we talk about this when I get back,” she muttered and fled.

Alone in their room, Peter would’ve done a backflip if he’d had the space. Option B was repacking his bag and mentally cataloguing the potential lab injuries listed on his Chemistry class WHMIS test as a method of subduing the erection that had started to perk up when MJ grabbed his shirt like that. So maybe her reaction to him undressing had been more shock than anger or violation. She’d certainly repaid him for that; Peter was still a little stunned and his lips tingled like he’d been punched in the mouth. Punched very softly. By the mouth of the girl he had a huge crush on. He ran a finger across his lips as he zipped his bag back up. Then, there was nothing to do but… stand? Lean against the wall? Was sitting totally out of the question, since the one logical spot he could sit was on the bed they had yet to fully address? What the hell―he gave it a try. Immediately, his bare foot was jumping against the floor. Crap, should he have left his socks on? Was the floor of a train compartment as ready to give him nefarious foot diseases as the college residence showers May had already started warning him about, almost an entire year early? He wedged his bare feet back into his sneakers and stood with his arms anxiously crossed. MJ didn’t take long.

“Counter proposal,” she suggested as she stepped into their room and set her things on a teeny ledge that Peter didn’t know the purpose of.

He would’ve asked what was being countered, but MJ had him pushed against the wall in a second, her mouth planted back on his. Now they both tasted like mint. She was seriously not helping with his efforts to not have a boner right now. The fact that he was utterly amateur in the issue of how to hold a girl in a passionate embrace, and the evidence that she didn’t have any more experience kissing than he did (she kept catching his lip with her teeth and he wasn’t sure either of them knew whether it was intentional), didn’t actually seem to matter that much. His hands ended up on her hips, which wanted to tilt naturally towards his, and the fervour of her kisses calmed to something more enjoyable and bite-free when she appeared to overcome the way she’d surprised herself by kissing him in the first place.

“No,” she said, breathless as she drew back―his mouth might’ve chased puppyishly after hers for a second. “No, we should probably talk. I was right the first time. Counter proposal withdrawn.”

“Uh, withdrawal accepted,” Peter replied. He was dazed, his heart was kicking against his ribs, and if MJ looked down, she would see that part of him was still in favour of proceeding in a way that didn’t involve speech.

She huffed out a breath, fluffed a hand exasperatedly through her hair, and started packing away her bathroom paraphernalia. Meanwhile, he stood against the wall with a hard-on and watched her carefully seal her wet facecloth into a Ziploc bag. His brain was horniness and confusion. Finally, crouched on the floor by her luggage, MJ twisted to look up at him.

“I let you tell Mr. Harrington that there were two beds in this room,” she recapped. It wasn’t quite a question, but Peter nodded just in case she wanted the confirmation.

“You can go tell him something different.”

“Nah, I don’t really want to.”

“I could leave and you could keep this room, or maybe you could share with Betty, or―”

“I said I don’t want to,” MJ repeated. She moved to sit on the bed.

“So… what do we do?”

Peter was very curious about what her solution might be, mostly because he wasn’t 100% clear on what the problem was. If neither of them was bothered by the absence of a second bed and both of them had avidly participated in that tragically curtailed make-out session… well. He felt there were certain courses of action that would seem reasonable. But he didn’t trust himself to have a solid grip of what was going on, not when he remained semi-hard in his pajama bottoms and stared at MJ’s mouth as frequently as into her eyes.

“We… would have to share?” This time it was definitely a question and Peter nodded more slowly to acknowledge that question, rather than to agree with it outright.

“If you want both of us to stay, then, yeah. I don’t really want to sleep on the floor and I can’t stay awake all night with the tournament tomorrow.”

“And how would you feel about sharing?” MJ’s eyes darted to his face and down to her lap where she pulled her t-shirt down her thighs. It looked like she was doing it more for something to do than out of any inclination towards modesty. Also, the eye-contact avoidance said she was a little insecure about what his answer might be.

“I would feel, I would feel really good about it,” Peter stuttered out. She met his eyes.

“I like you,” MJ blurted.

“Me too. You.”

He smiled and she patted the bed at her side with an awkward, sarcastic expression. He took her invitation and stepped forward with a lurch to sit next to her. His gaze trailed down her arm to witness her gripping the edge of the bed with both hands. Her shoulders hunched, then shrugged back down.

“We’d be in pretty deep shit with a lot of people if anyone knew this was happening right now,” she speculated.

Peter laughed.

“Definitely.” He cleared his throat. “And, uh, what exactly is happening?”

MJ looked at him. Slowly, she reached for his face, turned and angled it to her liking, then gradually leaned in and, very softly, kissed him for the third time.

“Oh, ok,” he said as she drew back. “So the talking didn’t mean the kissing wasn’t going to continue.”

“I was trying to be responsible first.”

“Right. Co-captains.”

“There are expectations for our conscientiousness. And I will drop you like a hot potato if you threaten anyone’s belief in my conscientiousness.”

“You will?”

MJ smiled in a familiar way.

“You’re messing with me,” Peter realized, also smiling and rocking back slightly to scan the ceiling.

“About everything but the hot part.”

He straightened up immediately, completely focused on her.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. That’s really going to be a problem,” she said thoughtfully. Peter frowned. “For when we lie down on this thing―” MJ swatted the bed. “―and see what happens if we keep kissing.”

“I’m sorry my attractiveness is such a drawback for you,” he joked.

“I’d be better at resisting temptation if temptation didn’t have ridiculously chiseled abs.”

He puffed out a laugh and presented her with a lopsided smile, struggling between feeling embarrassed and really fucking thankful that he appealed to her in such a shallow way. For self-congratulation, he gave himself two whole seconds of side-eyeing the peaks of her boobs through her t-shirt.

“Actually, I’m not that clueless about what would happen,” she confessed. “I think it’d be pretty impossible for me to lie beside you and be chill about it.”

“That’s fine with me,” Peter promised eagerly, “but we don’t have to lie down right away.”

He reached over and let his hand hover above her knee until MJ grasped it and brought it down to rest on her cool skin. It took the shortest glance to make him lean into her space and kiss… her cheek, chickening out a little after all the talk about the obvious proceedings from the second they were horizontal together. Peter wanted that―he definitely wanted that―but he also really liked sitting in this moment with her, knowing that she wanted that too. And that she would be alright with him kissing her, if that was another thing he wanted. He did. The hand he didn’t have on her knee lightly cupped her face as Peter skimmed his lips down to her mouth. There, that was better, he thought, as MJ sighed against his lips.

Slipping his hand from her cheek around to the back of her head, he secured his fingers in her hair and pulled her mouth harder to his. She made a small sound that seemed to plunge straight down his throat and echo around in his stomach. Then, it plummeted even farther, stirring his groin. His hand tightened on her knee. Less tentatively than he would’ve expected (or had expected, in his fantasies of what kissing her would be like), MJ snuck her tongue into his mouth. At the feeling of their tongues gliding past and around each other, she became the one grabbing for him, hand low on the back of his neck. When she mirrored him by gripping his knee, Peter jumped, then smoothed his hand up her thigh as she twisted into him.

They were at an impasse for a second, or at least he was, fighting the urge to ease MJ onto her back and cover her body with his. No lying down; not yet. There was so much tension in their postures as they leaned into each other, gripping legs and necks and barely breaking the kiss long enough for a deeper inhalation. Even to Peter, it felt abrupt when he swung his legs up onto the bed. Though he had to swing them away from her, MJ understood―just like he’d expected―and climbed over to sit astride his thighs―just like he’d hoped. He was breathing stupidly hard as her eyes locked on his and she shuffled forward. His hands seized her hips, then her ass, and then he closed his eyes as they rolled back in his head because she was pressed right up against him and his fingers couldn’t trace the lines of any underwear through her cotton shorts. Something primal surged up from deep inside him and he narrowly managed to not start grinding into her.

“However this goes,” Peter panted, opening his eyes, “swear you’re not gonna murder me on this train. Or open our door to a murderer while I’m sleeping.”

“I swear. Strangely, this is better.” She smiled.

He didn’t know what was so strange about preferring feeling each other up over solving/committing a homicide. Then again, they did both kinda have a thing for violent crime.

“That’s reassuring,” he told her, hands hot on her butt. She shifted against him and he grunted.

“Sorry,” MJ said immediately. Peter choked out a laugh.

“That wasn’t a noise of pain.”

“Oh.”

Her smile returned―broader, slyer. She folded her arms around his shoulders and rocked her hips against his. When he gasped, MJ looked the most delighted he’d ever seen her. She kissed him and rolled her hips again, but this time, his hands on her ass kept her in place and he rolled his hips back, groaning as his erection rubbed against her through their pajamas. Somehow, she wriggled even closer, thighs clamped on either side of him and seemed to consciously and minutely reposition her hips. The next time they ground against each other, she went, “Unnh!” and he understood. His whole body flushed with heat.

Hastily, they started trying to take each other’s shirts off at the same time. MJ already had both hands up under the fabric and pressed to his chest by the time Peter had gotten a single hand past the drapey folds of her oversized choice. They were stuck again, neither able to proceed with the other’s hands on them.

“You want me to go first?” Peter asked.

“Better do mine first,” she said. “You’re going to have a tough time prying me away once your shirt’s off.”

He blushed at how matter-of-factly she’d said that.

“I have no idea why you think I’m going to do any better.”

“So I shouldn’t take mine off?” she checked.

“Definitely take it off.”

“You’re such a moron.”

“Mhmm,” he agreed absently, lifting the hem of MJ’s shirt as she wriggled her arms out of the sleeves. Once her hands were tucked away inside the big t-shirt, Peter tugged the whole thing straight off.

“Now you,” she said quickly, grabbing his shoulders so he couldn’t immediately tip forward and begin kissing all over her chest.

She couldn’t prevent him from staring though. He did that until MJ jerked the neck of his shirt up over his eyes and he was forced to help her divest him of it or else be blinded to anything that might follow. And he definitely wanted his sight, wanted his eyes wide open.

In the end, she didn’t let him stare that long; she got this overwhelmed look in her eyes and hugged herself to him, their chests flush. Peter imagined a kind of surface-level vibration, like what was holding them together was static cling and with every little brush, they were recharged. What to do with all that waiting energy? He put his hands back on her ass―roaming more now, curving to shape her hips and her backside―and guided her purposely against him. MJ’s thighs tensed around him as she took control of the movement until Peter was grasping without pushing or pulling. As her eyelids drifted down, he exhaled and listened to the wispy sounds of her moan-toned breaths and the clatter of the train around them, always in southward motion down the track. It was dark outside and the light in their sleeping compartment was low without an assist from the sun. Probably because, in a room this small with mysterious ledges and misleading luggage racks, they’d had a hard time figuring out where to put a lamp or a pot light that emitted a decent wattage. Whatever. This railroad mood lighting wasn’t the worst.

MJ’s fingers skated along his jaw for almost a full minute (any longer and he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from twitching away out of ticklishness) before they stilled with his face in her hands and she kissed him. Their mouths bumped and slipped, hungry and gentle. There was a note of distraction, Peter thought, thanks to their minds skipping ahead to the next part, making the kiss the bridge rather than the destination. Pressing his lips to hers was no longer the ultimate joy he could hope for. Suddenly, there could be more.

Her hands caressed down his neck, a slight quaver in her fingers, and dragged through his collarbones like she was scooping them out. She could’ve been. She could’ve run a finger along the length and blown after it, sending up blustery sawdust. Peter was no longer 100% certain that he’d had a clavicle before MJ had touched him. Moving his hands up to her waist because it felt like a more respectful place to let them rest on her and because bare skin beneath his fingertips, he kept up his end of their abstracted kissing as she explored across to his shoulders. His cock throbbed against her, impatient with her leisurely hands and lazy hips, only shallowly swaying now. When she broke the kiss with a hot pant against his lips, it was to look in his eyes while she discovered his chest, then pressed against it. He laid back like she wanted. His hands sailed down her thighs and squeezed right above her knees. Bizarrely, that was the action that woke him up to what was happening. There was no way to look up at MJ―mostly naked, straddling his lap, doing her best to keep her hair out of her face as she looked straight back down at him―except with more than a little bit of awe. He swallowed thickly.

She rocked a few times without breaking their stare, then said, “Should we get under the sheet?”

“Ok.”

It was less fumbling than it could have been, mostly because they moved so quickly. Peter was practically shaking with adrenaline after forcing himself to be still as MJ mapped him with her hands. Suddenly separate and next to one another, suddenly between two sheets like the flap of an envelope was about to be licked and sealed down over them. Send us anywhere, Peter thought. The room looked bigger like this, lying on his side with his back to the wall, but he only glanced. MJ swept across the bed like a shooting star in the sky for a kiss and they rapidly shed their bottoms. Her toes touched his, right after they’d gotten fully nude, and his abdomen clenched up, ready to support a thrust or to defend him from whatever was making him flinch like that. Well, screw that.

They kept kissing, making contact only up to their ankles, until Peter laid a cautious hand on her stomach.

“You want to keep going, right?” MJ asked, pulling back for a second. She’d tucked her arm beneath his neck and was systematically scratching her nails across every bit of his scalp, which was both comforting and erotic.

“For sure, yes, if you still do,” he babbled. He could feel her pulse hopping under his hand. He wanted to follow it down so bad.

“Alright then,” she said with a brisk nod, and grabbed his wrist to make his fingers stumble south.

Peter’s mouth fell open and part of him wanted to snatch his hand back because her expression was petrified. But then, it might’ve been that way because she was worried that he didn’t want to touch her like this, in which case removing his hand would make her feel way, way worse. It would’ve been good for him to ask for verbal confirmation here, but the part of his brain that put words together and held their hands until they’d successfully departed his mouth was broken right now. Because MJ had put his hand between the warmth of her thighs, allowing his fingers to graze and his palm to cover the intimate texture of hair. He could feel the questioning look on his face and, apparently in response to it, she piloted his hand a little lower, into the realm of the arousal she must’ve worked up grinding against him. His other hand clenched into a fist as his drive to be inside her swelled like his restless erection.

It was nerve-wracking, so much pressure not to touch her too lightly or too rough―and besides that, to make it somehow feel good for her. That he wanted very badly. Peter was out of his depth. That was when, as usual, MJ swooped in to lend him a literal hand without fuss. Her thighs parted further for him and, with her fingers directing his, he felt the soft creases and curves start to make sense. Gradually, he moved faster, dipped deeper, and nearly shouted victoriously when he accidentally flicked something that, by MJ’s sharp breath and the buck of her hips, was her clit. He ran his fingers across her entrance to wet them and flicked again, slowing to a tap, then a knead when she responded well (death grip on his wrist). Working up the nerve to probe his middle finger gently inside her came with a wealth of rewards: hitched breathing, her hand sliding precariously far down his abs, and a tight heat that his dick was longing for with more urgency than ever now that he knew precisely what it felt like.

Lying so that both his hands were down where he needed them to be wasn’t the most comfortable thing, but the way MJ gasped and then quietly moaned his name when he had the dexterity of extra fingers to offer her made it worthwhile. He could now continue fingering her from the inside while also pressing fingertips to her clit. Rewetting them after every few swipes made her gasp and writhe against his hands all over again. When she abruptly said, “Faster,” the finger inside her froze and he worked her clit double then triple time as she folded into him, forehead on his chest, and unceremoniously grasped his dick.

“You can’t do that right now,” he laughed, lightheaded. MJ’s fingers, fully around his erect penis. Avengers fucking assemble because this was not a drill.

At his plea, her hand darted to his hip instead, gripping even more firmly as, incredibly, Peter Parker (aka Spider-Man on a Train, aka Friendly Neighbourhood Third Baseman) brought her to orgasm. Her hips jerked and she made muffled hiccupping noises from where he couldn’t see her face and he thought to introduce a second finger to give her something to, holy shit, ride? He guessed? This was insane. Had the feeling of freedom from a school trip made this happen? Did people just get extra horny on trains? He was so glad the train company had fucked up Mr. Harrington’s ticket reservation to stick Peter and MJ in a single room for a night.

“We should,” she began, lifting her head with a blush of warmth and maybe self-consciousness after she’d sagged into herself and he’d removed his hands uncertainly, “discuss logistics.”

“Oh,” Peter said, surprised. “Oh, I guess, yeah. Logistics. Right.”

“What I mean is―”

He cut MJ off with a short kiss of determined pressure. Going straight into talking about logistics actually didn’t feel right, not when he’d just had her in his hands like that. This shouldn’t feel like business; it was affection. He really cared about her. Seeing and feeling and hearing what Peter had just seen, felt, and heard was monumental. Would she be his girlfriend after this? Should he ask her right now?

“Go ahead,” he urged with a smile, foregoing mention of the other stuff for the moment. It wasn’t business. They didn’t require a pause to agree on the parameters.

Plus, MJ was flustered now, which was amazing and adorable.

“I…” She trailed off when he found her hand under the sheet and held it. With a resolute tilt of her head, she took another run at her sentence, “I did not happen to pack condoms. Did you? Also, I’m not on birth control. I didn’t really know this was, um, going to happen.”

Peter kissed her again, for longer, at the vulnerable expression on her face.

“Me neither,” he promised. “Definitely a surprise.”

“So, you are equally ill-equipped?”

Instantly, he frowned.

“Technically, but it’s so harsh to say it like that! I’m not sure you would’ve been super thrilled if I had had condoms.”

“I would’ve been suspicious,” MJ confirmed, looking suspicious of him even as she spoke the words.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Do you think they sell them on the train?” Apparently, they were switching gears.

“I don’t know. Do you really want to be wandering around trying to buy condoms and have Mr. Harrington catch you though?”

“Hmm. Good point. So, what are our options?”

He was cooling down after the frenzy of getting her off and reflexively shifted towards her. The move made them both instinctually awkward, unsure where to touch and hyper-aware that their faces had never been this close before tonight. They were just existing with their faces close now, like this was their normal. Peter kept tight hold of her hand and basically willed himself to wade forward into talking this out.

“We could just not do anything else,” he suggested first, internally pleading with her not to go that route.

“Obviously, we can stop if you want to, but I’m kind of dying to see what you look like when you, you know.”

Peter was speechless for a moment.

“Uh, well, I mean…” He scratched the back of his head. “I could pull out?”

“And just… on the sheet?” She asked, avoiding his eyes (he assumed―he was kinda avoiding hers too).

“Yeah, then I’ll take it off and rinse it in the bathroom, we sleep on the top sheet and get that blanket―” He pointed to where one was tucked against the wall, ready for use. “―to put over us.”

MJ snorted a laugh.

“What is it?” he asked uneasily.

“I totally forgot we’re actually going to sleep together after this. You’re not missing the joke. That shouldn’t be funny, it just is for some reason.”

He grinned.

“Yeah, it kind of is.”

“You really bold-faced lied to Mr. Harrington, huh? The team should admire you. What a rebel leader you are. Don’t―” she added, raising a finger to his lips as he started to reply. “―say anything about Star Wars. I will definitely never have sex with you on a train again if you do.”

Peter shook his head.

“I’m not risking that.”

For a quiet minute, they adjusted their bodies to bring them even closer. He liked her eyelashes and how her mouth sloped naturally down at the corners; she seemed to be tracing the path of freckles across his cheek and over his nose.

“Do any of the people in that murder book have sex on the train?”

“Who cares?” MJ said. “They’re not real. We are.”

Their fingers slipped, only loosely entwined now, as their concentration returned to yielding kisses, lips moulding effortlessly together. Peter’s free hand stole up the back of her neck and when he shifted his weight subtly into hers, not even completely aware that he was asking, she answered, tipping onto her back.

“I’ll pull out,” he reaffirmed as her thighs were parting for his hips and he was positioning himself at her entrance by hand.

“I trust you, Peter,” she said in a nonchalant tone.

“I trust you.”

“It’s not a competition,” MJ complained and he let her have the last word because she’d probably said it out of the same nerves he was feeling as he eased the head of his dick inside her.

They both shifted slightly and settled. She laughed when he swore out of sheer bliss, pitching forward a little and drawing back, then he laughed at the sound of her laughing. Somehow, in all that, he ended up completely inside her and she pressed her hands to his back like maybe she really needed him and didn’t want him to go anywhere, even after the sex and the happenstance of a shared room. That would be really, really great.

The sex wasn’t perfect: for all MJ’s evident enjoyment, Peter didn’t have the inherent, untested talent or beginner’s luck to see her climax again and, of the two times she tried to kiss him while he was thrusting, she bonked their heads together on the first and brutally clicked their teeth on the second. They laughed some more. They were a mess. They were, possibly, each other’s.

He finished on the sheet like he’d promised and it felt wrong and gross enough that he’d be buying condoms before they did this again, but it also felt sort of hot the way MJ watched him pump doggedly through the circle of his own fingers until he groaned her name. The follow-up logistics were another mixed bag of sexy and unsexy. Peter threw his pajamas back on, bundled the sheet to his chest with the wet part deep in the center, and bolted to the bathroom to give it a hasty dip in the sink. But he returned to the sight of MJ remaking their bed in her PJs, complete with her sleepy smile. He figured out the light switch and crawled in beside her. Something unexpectedly tender in his chest squeezed when he learned that this tall, coolly critical girl took obvious comfort in being the little spoon. Her body went soft with his arm around her; he fell asleep with his nose and mouth resting against the back of her neck.

The alarm MJ had set on her phone got them up half an hour before they had to meet their team and teachers the next morning. First, Peter let his arm go slack so she could roll over to face him without leaving his embrace.

“Hey,” she said with her eyes barely open.

“Will you be my girlfriend now?”

He could only guess that she’d have given him a look that more clearly called him an idiot if they hadn’t just woken up.

“Yeah, ok.” was the response MJ went with instead.

Peter shook his head with bleary exasperation at how lukewarm her words were, but then she snuck her hand into his pajama pants and really damn quickly worked out how to give him a handjob. Long story short, they desecrated another sheet and were still on time for breakfast (only because they ran).

After everyone had finished eating and Mr. Harrington had delivered a heartfelt-yet-underwhelming pep talk for the day, they were sent back to their rooms to pack up their stuff. They’d be arriving in New Orleans within the hour.

“Are you disappointed there weren’t any crimes last night?” Peter asked with a smile as they repacked their luggage side by side.

“Well, I could say I stole your virginity,” she pointed out, nearly making him catch his hand in the zipper as he closed his bag. MJ gave him a sly sideways glance. “But virginity is a construct. And you were more than willing to give it up.”

She mercifully interrupted his ensuing stuttering with a kiss that he hoped would become a habit. (The kissing, not the stuttering.) His head was hazy with the idea as he jerked the clasp of their door and slid it open for the last time. To find Flash standing in the hall.

“’Sup, Penis, or should I call you ‘Big Easy’ after you two were somehow allowed to share a room?”

Peter stiffened, but he was hellbent on not giving anything away. He rolled his eyes and assumed MJ did the same as they pushed past Flash with their bags and opened the door to the vestibule. He sincerely, stupidly believed that dickhead was following them and that they were in the clear. But as he went to close the door behind them, he noticed Flash hadn’t followed. At Peter’s alarm, MJ joined him in glancing back into the car they’d just left. Flash had his hands braced on the doorframe of their compartment, leaning into the room.

“Wait a second! That other thing’s not a bed!”

The door closed. They stared at each other.

“Oh man, Flash is gonna tease the crap out of us. Do we run?” he asked.

“That’s a dumb plan.” She paused. “And I don’t have another one.”

Their oblivious classmates were emerging from their rooms and Peter and MJ jostled them thoroughly as they booked it down the corridor towards the front of the train.

#my writing #spideychelleweek2k20 #spideychelle #spideychelle fic #spideychelle fanfiction #peter parker #peter x mj #peter x michelle #peter parker x michelle jones #michelle jones

35 notes · View notes

zamoimagines · 5 years ago

Text

Dreams (Oneshot)

Word Count: 1,448

Pairing: Misty Day x Reader

Summary: After a long day at work, you try to unwind by getting high to some music in hopes that it’ll make you feel somewhat better. Little do you know that someone was watching you from your window.

A/N: I really wanted to write something up for Misty, so here it is! I played with this idea last night in between fics while listening to Dreams by the Cranberries. Kinda short, but I hope you guys like it! If ya’ll want a part two, let me know :)

Today had been particularly shitty. Most days were alright, considering you had moved to New Orleans two months ago. How could bad days happen when you lived in such a beautiful city? Unfortunately, they still seemed to happen even in the middle of being in a dream land. Your apartment was beautiful, you lived above a small cafe run by the sweetest old couple, the weather was always amazing, and you even loved your job. Though, your boss was not the most pleasant of people. It took you making one typo mistake in the company memo for her to degrade you in front of all of your coworkers. You had never been so embarrassed.

Needless to say, you were happy to be home. The sun had gone down hours ago. The usually bustling streets were now completely quiet in the dead of night. It was absolutely serene, so much so that you left your window wide open.

You turned on your bluetooth speaker and put on your favorite playlist on shuffle. The music to an old Cranberries song began to start up. Sighing to yourself, you grabbed the pre rolled joint one of your neighbor’s had given you. After the day you’d had it was a perfect excuse to get way too high so that your troubles would melt away. You lit the end of the paper with a candle that was already going and took a long drag. As the smoke hit the back of your throat, you coughed hard.

“Damn, this shit is strong.” you mumbled to yourself in between hacking. Your neighbor had warned you that her shit was the best. It had to be true for only after two more hits, you were stoned out of your mind.

The music began to pick up as you continued to smoke. You found that your body began to start to sway along to the rhythm. You had forgotten how amazing this song was. In this moment, it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard. Naturally you turned the volume up all the way. You hummed along and let your body flow with the song. Every now and again, you would take another drag. You probably looked like an absolute fool right now, but you didn’t care. This was the most alive you’d felt in weeks.

As the high hit you even harder, you forgot that time was passing. The song was so drawn out, but in a good way. As if you could dance to it for all of eternity without ever stopping.

Your arms raised above your head while making fluid gestures with your hands. Your head began to bob more along to the beat as your hips swayed along. The wind had picked up from outside, causing your window curtains to fly everywhere. There was something so magical about all of this. A big smile grew on your face.

Immediately, you rushed over to your window and sat down. The spring air filled your nostrils with a fresh, floral scent. You gazed out at the trees beyond the town. Everything was blossoming and growing. Dreamily, you gazed up at the stars and leaned your face on one of your hands. Good things were coming, you could feel it in your gut.

“Nice dancin’ moves!” an unfamiliar voice called out. You jerked upward. Was someone in your house? You glanced behind you, trying to find out who had come inside.

“Down here!” The voice sounded out. It was a woman’s voice… It was a thick southern drawl. Deep, but very warm. It was a rather inviting tone. You turned back to your window and looked down at the street. To your surprise, there was a stranger standing down below.

She was the most beautiful woman you’d ever laid eyes on. Her blonde hair was wild and curly. She was dressed in a short, red prairie dress with the greatest knee high boots. A black shawl embroidered with flowers was wrapped around her shoulders. Her eyelids were covered in smudged liner, but even through the makeup, you could see that her eye color was a piercing ice blue. The smile she gave you was beaming. It was as if this woman was glowing in the moonlight. She was absolutely ethereal.

It was then that you realized your music was still going at a very loud volume.

“Shit! I am so sorry!” You cried out. You scrambled to find your phone to pause the music.

“No, no! Come back to the window!” The woman shouted.

You did as she said and sat once again. Her smile grew even wider when you came back.

“Don’t turn it off, I love this song,” she began. “This the Cranberries?”

“Yeah.” You grinned a little. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“I can tell. You were a dancin’ fool up there.”

She was giggling at you, but not in a rude way. Though you still managed to feel like a complete idiot. You had to laugh at yourself too.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. My dancing is an atrocity.” You joked.

“Actually, I thought it was pretty cute.”

Her words sent shivers down your spine. Was she flirting?

“What’s your name, sugar cube?” she cooed.

The pet name was enough to make you blush. You stuck your head just a little further out of the window so she could hear you better.

“Y/N.”

“That’s mighty pretty. Suppose a pretty face needs a pretty name like that.” The woman replied cheekily.

“Thanks… You’re gorgeous.” The last part slipped out from your lips as if you had no control over your thoughts. You bit your lower lip nervously. This lady probably thought you were a world class dunce. Though, to your surprise, you swore you saw her cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

“Fuck- I mean…” you began,

“It’s alright, darlin’. I’m glad you think so.” She walked a little closer toward the building so that she was directly under your window.

“You new ‘round here? I’ve never seen you before.”

“Just moved here a couple months ago. I work a little further out from the city, so I’m only downtown when I’m at home.”

“That’s a damn shame. Do you know your way around yet?”

“Uh… I mean as best as I can.”

“So, no then?”

You took a drag from the joint in your other hand. As you exhaled, you shook your head.

“I guess not.” You laughed.

The blonde chuckled right back. Her shawl fell slightly, resting around her forearms as she peered up at you.

“Not to give you any ideas… But rumor has it that I’m gonna be dyin’ for a bagel in the mornin’.” She gestured toward the cafe under your place. “Maybe I’ll stop in there… say about ten o’clock? That’s just what I’ve heard though.”

She was beautiful and charming and witty? You couldn’t believe that you weren’t dreaming.

“And who told you that?”

The blonde shrugged. “Some little birdie told me. It would be somethin’ magical if you and I just happened to bump into each other. I could even show you around if you’re interested.”

You laughed aloud, for she made you a giggly mess the way she was talking. But you nodded back.

“That would be something.”

“So, I’ll see you there tomorrow then?”

“Yeah… Why not.”

The blonde winked at you. “It’s a date, sugar cube.”

Your face felt hot as she began to strut away from the building. She turned for a brief moment to wave at you.

“See ya ‘round, Y/N.”

You waved right back to her. As she walked further and further, your heart began pounding in your chest. It occured to you that you hadn’t even asked her who she was.

“Hey! Wait!” you called out over the music. You weren’t sure if she would hear you that far out. When she turned around to face your window once again, you felt a sense of relief.

“Yeah?” She rang out.

“What’s your name?”

“Misty!” She grinned happily. “Misty Day!”

With that, she turned right back around and faded into the night. You shut your window before holding your beaming face in your hands. Maybe it was magic, or fate. Perhaps even luck. All you knew was that you had to get to bed immediately so that tomorrow would come sooner.

The song ended softly. That didn’t stop you from listening to it on repeat for the rest of the evening because now it wasn’t just a good song. This was Misty’s song.

You fell back onto your couch before hugging your knees to your chest.

Misty Day… The woman of your dreams.

REQUEST MORE IMAGINES HERE!

#ahs #ahs imagine #misty day x reader #misty day #american horror story #american horror story imagine #ahs coven #ahs coven imagine #misty day imagine #lily rabe x reader #coven #coven imagine #hope ya'll like it!

103 notes · View notes

jules-s-winchester · 4 years ago

Text

Sammy

I think you’re adorable- Supernatural season one rewrite.

Word count- 2,586

Chapter warnings: Language

At Sams college

"What the hell are you doing dean?" You sighed, looking up at Dean, who was now climbing the fire escape that led to Sam's room.

"What does it look like?" He said, continuing to climb, nearing the window to Sam's room. It was your fault, You had told him which room was Sam's after all. You were surprised by Dean wanting to get Sam. They hadn't seen each other since the big fight.

"You coming?" Dean asked, looking down at you, thus snapping you out of your train of thought. He had reached Sam's window and was opening it.

you sighed and started climbing. "Yeah."

:Readmore

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

"Easy Tiger" you heard Dean's voice say as you climbed in to the room through the window. The lights were turned off and you couldn't see very well. Your senses were heightened by your lack of vision and you were on edge. Part of being a hunter.

"Dean?" You heard Sam's voice say. You walked towards the noise. "You scared the crap out of me"

You could now see the shapes of Sam and Dean. Dean had Sam pinned. He certainly knew how to make an entrance.

Dean chuckled, "Thats cuz you're outta practice"

Sam flipped Dean over so that he was pinning him down. You smiled to yourself.

Dean laughed, "Or not," he changed his expression, You could tell he didn't like being overpowered by his younger brother. "Get off of me." he said, scowling.

Sam stood up, helping Dean up with him. You walked a little more towards them so they could see you.

"Julia?" Sam asked confused for a moment before he smiled and came forward to give you a hug. "What the hell are you two doing here?" he asked, after he pulled back. .

"I was looking for a beer," Dean said laughing at patting Sam's shoulders. you rolled your eyes, about to explain when the light turned on.

"Sam?" a woman with blonde hair came out of a room. She was very pretty and had medium length blonde hair and a kind smile. She was the type of girl that you would notice at a bar. Dean obviously thought the same by the way he was eyeing her.

"Hey, Jess." Sam replied looking back and forth between Dean, Jess, and you. "This is Dean, and Julia," he said, gesturing to you and Dean.

"Dean your brother?" she asked looking at Dean. you didn't think she'd ever met or talked to Dean before now. You had talked to her on the phone a couple times, just saying hello and what not. "Also hi Julia, it's nice to finally meet you." she smiled kindly at me.

"Likewise" You responded, giving her a smile back.

"I love the smurfs" Dean spoke up, looking at Jess. You rolled your eyes and shared a glance with Sam. "You know I've got to tell you," he began walking towards Jess. "You are completely out of my brother's league."

"And yours" You snorted.

Sam chuckled and Dean looked back at you, glaring.

"Let me go put something on" she said rolling her eyes and giving a small smile.

"No, no, I wouldn't dream of it. Seriously." he said. You and Jess rolled our eyes at the same time. You loved Dean but he could be a an ass.

"Anyway, I gotta borrow your boyfriend here," he turned around and walked back to where Sam and you stood. "Talk about private family business, but nice meeting you," You folded my arms, Dean was making quite the impression. Jess gave a small smile and nodded.

"No," Sam said, walking across the room to Jess.

"Anything you want to say in front of me you can say in front of Jess," Sam added, wrapping an arm around Jess. You spoke up before Dean could say anything.

"Your dad hasn't been home in a few days" You said, making eye contact with Sam.

"So he's working overtime" Sam replied, clearly not understanding what you were trying to say. Dean spoke up before you could say anything else.

"Dads on a hunting trip and hasn't been home in a few days,"

Sam's eyes immediately darkened.

"Jess excuse us." he said, not breaking eye contact with Dean.

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

"You can't just break in in the middle of the night and expect me to hit the road with you," Sam spoke as you all walked down the stairs.

"Hey, he did the same thing to me two hours earlier" You retaliated.

"Dads missing, I need help finding him Sammy," Dean said, looking back behind him at Sam and you.

"Remember the poltergeist in Amherst? Or the devil's gates in Clifton? He was missing then too, he's always missing and he's always fine," Sam said. You were nearing the end of the staircase.

"He has a point Dean," You said. "He does this quite frequently." Of course you were going to go with Dean, just in case there was something wrong, even if everything was most likely okay. Besides, he had a bad feeling about it and you trusted Dean. Not only that but you had missed him a lot. Him and Sam were your bestfriends.

Dean reached the end of the wooden staircase and turned to you and Sam before speaking, "Never for this long, now are you two gonna come with me or not?"

"Of course I will dummy," You said, sending a small smile and roll of your eyes towards Dean. You walked down so you were standing beside him. Both of you turned your gaze to Sam.

"I'm not," Sam said, not changing his stance. "I swore I was done with hunting for good,"

You understood, Sam had always wanted a normal life, Dean, well Dean didn't always understand. You, well you were a hunter. You always would be. That didn't mean you didn't wonder what it would be like to live normally, or that you didn't want to.

"Come on, it wasn't easy, but it wasn't always bad," Dean said before turning and walking ahead. Sam and you shared a look before walking. "

"Speak for yourself," You muttered under your breath so only Sam could hear.

"Oh yeah? When I told dad I was scared of the thing in my closet he gave me a .45," Sam said continuing to walk up to Dean, leaving you in the back. You were nearing a door that led out to the street.

"What was he supposed to do?" Dean said, turning to face Sam.

"I was nine, he was supposed to say don't be afraid of the dark," Sam replied looking back at Dean.

"Are you kidding me? You know what's out there, you should be afraid," Dean said in a defensive voice.

"Still, the way we grew up after mom was killed, and dad's obsession to find the thing that killed her, we still haven't found the damn thing! So we kill everything we can find,"

"We save a lot of people doing it though Sam," You spoke up, having both the brothers stare back at you.

"Exactly," Dean agreed, nodding his head, and looking back at Sam.

Sam scoffs and said, "you think mom would have wanted this for us? " Sam glared at Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes and walked out of the door with Sam and you following closely behind him.

"We were raised like warriors," Sam spoke up behind Dean, walking out on the dimly lit street.

"So what Sam? You wanna live the normal apple pie life? Is that it?" Dean said reaching the car and turning back to face Sam. You crossed your arms, shivering a bit with the cold. You pulled your jacket tighter around your body. You were getting tired of their bickering, both were too stubborn to see each other's views.

"Not normal, safe," Sam said, clenching his jaw.

"And that's why you ran away," Dean said matter of factly. You sighed audibly.

"I went to college. It was Dad who said if I was gonna go I should stay gone," Sam said. You noticed a pained expression on his face. You knew it wasn't easy for him. You talked on the phone frequently, letting each other know how everything was. You were close with both of them. You were twenty four years old so there was a two year difference between you and both of them.

"Dads, in real trouble, if he's not dead already," Dean replied back, looking Sam in the eye.

"That's enough Jesus Christ guys," You groaned, as both of the boys looked over at you.. "We've all seen and done shit normal people couldn't even dream of," You walked over to where Sam and Dean were standing by the trunk of the impala. "Dean, it's sam's choice whether or not he wants to come, just like it was his choice to go to college, not run away. Now stop arguing like idjits, you just saw each other for the first time in a while and you're already giving me a goddamn headache," You sighed and closed your eyes for a minute before opening them again. Both the boys stared back at me for a moment before Dean turned so he was looking at both Sam and you.

"I can't do this without you guys," he said, looking between the two of you.

"Yes you can." Sam said before you could respond, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Yeah well I don't want to." Dean said, not looking at either of you. You knew Dean was a lot more worried then he was showing.

"I already told you, I'm in." You said, now turning your gaze to Sam.

Sam sighed, "What was he hunting?"

You smiled.

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

"Where the hell did I put that thing?" Dean said rummaging through all the weapons in the trunk. You stood on one side of him and Sam on the other.

"When John left why didn't you go with him?" You asked, staring at Dean as he continued looking throughout the trunk.

"I was working my own gig, a voodoo thing in New Orleans,"

"Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?" Sam asked with a surprised look on his face. You chuckled at his statement and at Deans reaction.

"I'm 26 dude." he said with an offended expression on his face.

You laughed again before focusing your attention to Dean pulling out papers from the trunk of the car.

"Dad was checking out a two lane black top just outside of Jericho, California." Dean said shuffling through the papers in his hand. "About a month ago, this guy, they found his car but he had vanished." He handed you papers and you started skimming through it.

"Maybe he was kidnapped?" You said, handing the papers to Sam.

"There was another one in april, '04, '03, '98, '92, ten of them over the past twenty years." Dean replied shuffling through the other papers, each with a man's face on them, before turning to look at you.

"All men," Sam said, handing the papers back to Dean.

"And all on the same 5- stretch mile of road." Dean replied. "They were happening more frequently, so dad went to dig around, that was three weeks ago," he looked at Sam and then at you. "I hadn't heard from him since, until yesterday," he said, pulling his phone from out of his pocket. He hit a button and you heard John's voice.

"Dean, something is starting to happen. I think it's serious. I need to try and figure out what's going on." Static covered whatever John was saying. "Be careful Dean. We're all in danger."

You frowned, before Sam spoke up, "you know there's evp on that?"

"Not bad sam," you glanced up at him, giving him a smile. He smiled back at you.

"All right," Dean said, pressing a couple buttons on his phone. "I slowed the message down and ran it through a goldwave, took out the hiss and this is what I got,"

"I can never go home" A woman's voice whispered.

"Never go home," You repeated looking between the two boys.

Dean nodded and shut the trunk, looking over at Sam. "You know in two years I haven't asked you for anything, I haven't bothered you." Dean said leaning against the trunk. You stood nearby. You were t nervous about John. It wasn't like him. You owed him your life and he was practically family.

"Please Sam?" You asked, puckering your lip a little. You weren't as good at the puppy dog look as Sam was but it sometimes worked.

He sighed looking at both Dean and you. Dean and you looked back.

"Fine I'll go, but I have to be back Monday,"

You smiled at Sam, and gave him a hug before he walked away, going off to pack and tell Jess.

"What's first thing monday?" Dean asked.

"His interview," You answered for Sam, smiling proudly, and looking at Dean as Sam turned around. Sam had told you about his interview over the phone a couple of weeks ago. You knew it was important to him, it determined his future and you were extremely proud.

Dean looked in between Sam and you. "A job interview? Skip it," You rolled your eyes at Dean's statement, as you seemed to be doing frequently today.

"It's a law school interview, it determines my future," Sam said exasperated.

"Law school?'' Dean clearly was not impressed.

"Do we have a Deal or not?"

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

"Law school?" Dean asked you. You were both leaning against the trunk of baby, Sam had gone inside to get his things.

"Yup, and I don't wanna hear you and him fighting over it," You replied.

"But why law-" Dean started before you interrupted.

"Not. A. Word." You replied giving Dean a fake flashy smile.

"Alright, alright" he responded, giving it up. "By the way were you working on a case when I showed up?"

"No actually, I had finished it the night before, it was a simple salt and burn but I decided to stay one more night," You said, You could see my breath in front of you.

"Why's that? " he asked looking at you.

"Just a feeling I guess," which was true, you planned on leaving the next morning but something made you feel like sticking around for a bit longer.

"Well I'm glad you stayed as long as you did, otherwise I wouldn't have known where you are and I would've had to go look for you,"

"Yup" you said, nodding in agreement.

"By the way, thank you."

"For what?" You were confused.

"For coming with me and helping me find me Dad,"

"Of course," You said smiling at Dean. You leaned your head against his shoulder in a comforting gesture.

"I'd do anything for you," ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean and you were in the car listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd. Sam had just walked out the door, carrying a duffel bag. He opened the trunk, and put his bag in it, before getting in the back seat.

"By the way, I call shotgun," you said, sticking your tongue out in the rear view mirror.

He rolled his eyes before sending me a smile.

"Boy, don't you worry, you'll find yourself

Follow your heart and nothing else

And you can do this, oh baby, if you try

All that I want for you, my son, is to be satisfied"

Dean stepped on the gas once again.

"I missed you boys"

4 notes · View notes