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linorachas · 4 years ago

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for the weekend. | bang chan

⁍ pairing — bang chan x reader ⁍ genre — fluff & smut ⁍ word count — 4.8k words ⁍ details — established relationship, producer!chan, choreographer!reader, lots of cuddles and kissing, oral (m. receiving), dirty talk, d/s undertones, mention of the word “cockslut”, chan worship, you’re both really in love ⁍ a/n — hello! i’m a new writing blog for skz. :D this is my first work here, so i’d love to hear your thoughts. i accept criticism, but please be nice i am trying my best ㅠㅠ part 2 is here! thank you to everyone who let me know that they wanted a part 2! ♥️ ⁍ summary — After a long week of hard work, you finally spend a weekend with Chan.

Friday - 2:03 am

Your footsteps are light and quick as you rush down the hall, duffel bag bumping against your back as it bounces from your movements.

You were sweaty, sticky, and overall about to pass out, but there was a wide grin on your face once you stopped in front of a very familiar studio door.

You had just finished helping create a choreography for an idol group, a whole day of repeating dance moves and drawing positions on papers.

Your out was supposed to be at 7, but you had done overtime with the intent to clear your schedule tomorrow. You would have to do overtime on Monday again, but that didn’t matter right now.

All that matters was the boy behind this door who was working just as hard as you are.

Inside, Chan was hunched over his desk, headphones in, hand cramping as he furiously jots down some notes.

He wasn’t required to stay in, no, he could’ve left hours ago and be asleep right now. But going home without you always bothered him, so he had decided to stay until his girlfriend was finished.

He knew you felt the same, though. You once told him that you would just be tossing and turning in bed if you went home without him. When the tables are turned and he was the one doing the overtime, you would doze on a chair beside him while he worked, or spend some time at the studio yourself.

Chan had checked the time just a few minutes ago, and he knew that you were already on your way here. Unfortunately, he had made the mistake of starting on a new project while waiting, so it would bother him if he left this unfinished while he rested at home.

So now he was cramming, rushing to finish at least a draft.

You, on the other side of the door, didn’t bother with knocking, and just pushed the door open slowly.

Your eyes immediately find your boyfriend’s busy form; Chan’s hair was covered by a reversed snapback, basketball short clad legs tucked Indian style on top of his chair.

You feel a tug on your heartstrings as you watch Chan work hard for the sake of a free day tomorrow, a free day for you two.

You smile at the way Chan taps the pen on the desk to an unfamiliar beat or taps it to the snapback on his head, before going back to writing again.

Chan also does these annoyed puffs of breath every few seconds, something you found to be very endearing ever since the first day you met.

When Chan groans in frustration, you finally walk inside and shut the door behind you, dropping your duffel bag on the floor.

Chan freezes and stops writing when he feels arms wrapping around his neck, but the feeling is immediately gone when his brain registers that it’s his baby.

You press small close mouthed kisses on Chan’s cheek before you nuzzle your head against the crook between Chan’s neck and shoulder, and a smile blooms on Chan’s face.

“Sorry,” Chan mutters, yanking his earphones down when you stop kissing him and pull away. You don’t answer. Instead, you remove Chan’s snapback from his head and card your fingers through his hair gently.

Chan sighs contentedly, eyes slipping shut as he leans his head back on the chair, following the flow of your fingers. He opens his eyes again when you lean down and press a kiss to his lips,

his nose,

and then his forehead.

You grin at him, and despite being in an unflattering upside down angle, Chan thinks you look absolutely gorgeous like this.

Barefaced, happy, and in love.

“It’s okay, Channie,” you finally say, after seconds of just gazing at each other lovingly passes. “I know you’re doing it for our vacation, anyway.”

Chan lets out a small laugh as you fix the cap back on his head. “It’s just two days, baby.”

“Two days of sleeping, eating, and maybe some sex? I don’t know about you, but that sounds like a heavenly vacation to me.” You babble unashamedly, hands sliding down Chan’s torso to massage his pecs— making him squirm and laugh— before you slide them up again to massage his shoulder joints.

Chan sighs as he lets the feeling of your fingers relieving the aches wash over him, but then he catches sight of the mess of papers on his desk, and a frustrated frown replaces his smile.

“Will you wait for me?” Chan asks hopefully. Though deep inside, he kind of already knew the answer.

Still, his heart starts to beat too fast and his stomach fills with too many butterflies when you wrap your arms around his neck again, pressing your cheek against Chan’s own as you mutter, “of course. You know I always will.”

And then you seal the promise with a kiss. Chan pretends he doesn’t chase after your lips when you pull away.

He goes back to work with you still wrapped around him, and after a few moments, you start to shift. Chan’s free hand quickly darts up to your arms that are slowly loosening, so you stay still, alarmed.

“Stay.” Chan mumbles distractedly, eyes darting hurriedly across the papers. It’s selfish, yes, making you stand behind him for God knows how long, but Chan had always worked better when you were this close.

You would have seen the embarrassed blush that dotted across Chan’s cheeks if you weren’t so flustered yourself, hiding your face in Chan’s shoulder blades again when you fail to suppress a wide grin.

So you busy yourself with basking in Chan’s warmth instead, squeezing Chan tight every once in a while just to see him squirm and attempt to glare at you.

Suddenly, all your sore muscles from dancing were gone, and you were content to stand behind your boyfriend for as long as he wanted you to.

When Chan is finally finished and you’ve shut off all the lights, locked the door and gathered all your belongings— Chan throws an arm around your shoulder while you wrap your own arm around your boyfriend’s waist.

You both giggle, talk in stage whispers, and stumble down the corridor like drunken fools despite being completely sober. You hold onto each other like it was your last time to do so, as if you were reassuring yourselves that the other is still there.

For extra measure, Chan presses his lips against your temple, whispering a sweet “I love you, Y/N. So so, so much.” that only the two of you could hear as you go out into the cold night, wrapped in each other’s warmth.

The streetlights look like stars in his eyes, and you ask yourself again how lucky you are to have fallen in love with Bang Chan.

Saturday - 2:54 pm

3:16 am, you and Chan are pressed against each other as you settle into a deep sleep, blankets tucked around your bodies to shield yourselves from the cold.

4:23 am, you accidentally kick the blanket off the bed, leaving the both of you exposed to the cold temperature of the room. You shiver in your sleep.

Chan wakes up long enough to grumble about the blanket and do a half assed search around the room, just to end up pulling you closer to his chest and wrap both his arms around you. It doesn’t do much for Chan himself, but you stop shivering then, so Chan falls back asleep with a smile on his face.

8:44 am, Chan’s phone rings. The ringtone almost rivals Chan’s snores, and the combination of the two sounds force you to wake up, annoyed. Chan was in the middle of the bed, arms and legs splayed out, while you were on top of him, cheek pressed against his chest.

You only have the energy to lift your head up, glare at the sun peeking from behind the curtain and at Chan’s phone, before you drop your head back on Chan’s chest heavily, startling the said boy awake.

Chan stops mid snore and the sound is so funny that you feel a smile tug on your lips, but then his phone rings again.

“Yah, Chan-ah,” you whine, wiggling upwards to bury your face in Chan’s neck. “Make it stop.”

“Sorry babe,” Chan groans, trying to blink the sleep away from his eyes as he cups the back of your head. His free hand reaches for his phone on the nightstand, pressing it to his ear after 3 sad attempts of hitting the answer button.

Your hearing is muffled because of your position and Chan’s hand covering your head, and you only manage to hear a “no, no, we can’t, we’re sleeping in. Sorry Bin,” before you drown out the conversation entirely, the vibrations of Chan’s voice lulling you back to sleep.

Finally, at 2:54 pm, you wake up again, but this time you’re really awake.

Your stomach is grumbling and you’re so hungry it‘s starting to hurt. You try to move, but find yourself unable to because of the limbs restricting from doing so.

This time, one of Chan’s legs is on top of you, covering your lower half entirely. Chan’s head is lying on the pillow, and there’s drool on his chin and it’s gross, so you use the sleeve of your shirt to wipe it quickly. Thankfully he didn’t drool on your hair.

Chan’s holding your other arm to his own chest as if it was a teddy bear, his body curled into your side snugly. When you lean back slightly to take a proper look at him, Chan’s nose twitches like a rabbit and the grip on your arm tightens. You snort.

“Chan. Channie,” you mutter before you bury your face in Chan’s hair, squeezing the sleeping boy in an attempt to wake him up gently.

Chan lets out a grunt, but doesn’t do much to prove he’s really awake. You sigh.

What the hell are you supposed to do now?

It takes you more than a few attempts, but you finally release your arm from Chan’s grip. However, just when you were about to start working on his leg, Chan suddenly slips his own arm under you, turning you over so you end up on top of him again. He does it so easily that it startles you, cheeks burning red at the sudden display of strength.

“It’s our day off, give me one more hour.” Chan grumbles. He was still half asleep so most of his sentence was incoherent, but if anyone was an expert in sleepy Chan language, it was you.

You glance at the wall clock on the other side of the room, grimacing once you realize why you were starving. “Shit. We really wasted the whole day away by sleeping, dude. It’s 3 pm.”

“Stop calling me dude.” He huffs. “And it’s a vacation, Y/N. Let me sleep. Let us sleep.”

You pout when you get your own words thrown back at you, and then it’s as if Chan has a sixth sense for your pouting, because he’s suddenly lifting his head up to press a kiss to your chin, eyes still closed.

You’re guessing he was aiming for your lips, but he was fighting a hard battle between properly kissing you and falling back asleep. It was endearing.

“Love you,” Chan mutters groggily, and was about to drop his head back on the pillow when you stop him with a proper kiss to the lips. It’s a very awkward angle, but you both blush and giggle as if it’s your first kiss.

“Mmmmhm,” Chan pulls away after a few seconds of close mouthed kisses, eyes now blinking open as he frowns at you. “Don’t kiss me. Morning breath.”

You giggle, leaning up on your elbows to take a proper look at him, heart squeezing at the way his lips were pouted. His bed head looked like a bird’s nest and his eyes were swollen. You couldn’t resist pressing another peck to his lips at the sight.

“But I just did.” You grin, cupping Chan’s cheek as you press small, rapid kisses on his face. “Besides, it’s afternoon.”

Chan rolls his eyes, pretending as if he wasn’t chasing your lips with every kiss. And you giggle again, because you were giddy that Chan is finally awake and you were in love with him, and those two don’t really connect, but whatever.

Barely a minute passes before Chan’s eyes start to slip shut again, and it’s only then that you realize you’ve been running your hand through your boyfriend’s hair unconsciously.

“The day’s over, anyway,” Chan places a hand at the back of your head, gently leading you to his neck. He presses a kiss to your forehead then yawns, fingernails scratching your scalp gently to lure you into going back to sleep. “Let’s just stay in bed.”

And you, you were so tempted to say yes, especially with how warm and comfortable you were in the love of your life’s arms, but then your stomach starts to wail like a dying animal, and both you and Chan wince.

“Chan-“

“I heard it.”

You laugh, a loud, refreshing sound that makes Chan’s heart pump wildly, and you feel his lips form into a smile when he presses a kiss to your forehead again, longer this time.

Chan then wraps both of his arms around your waist, turning you both over to the side. Your arms come up to lock around Chan’s neck, and your eyes meet when you look up.

Chan’s eyes were twinkling, and you’re not so sure if it’s because of the light behind you.

“Hello,” Chan says casually, and you make a sound between huffing and laughing.

“Will you at least let me go so I can make breakfast?”

“It’s already afternoon,” Chan half-heartedly reasons, his arms tightening around you as he leans down to press another kiss to your nose.

“Breakfast time is any time. Whoever thinks otherwise should be jailed.”

Chan ignores you, busy pressing a few more pecks to your cheeks, nudging your nose with his own.

You whine. “Come on, baby. You need to eat. I know you’re hungry too.”

And Chan is, but he doesn’t want to leave the bed yet. He’s not pouting, he swears he isn’t, but he knows he’s making a face because you were smiling all amusedly at him again, like you were surprised he was acting this way.

Who could blame him, really? He had a whole day off, a beautiful girl in his arms, and unlimited kisses to give and receive. Why would he leave this warm bubble without a fight?

Chan tightens his grip and rolls again, and you were getting out of breath from laughing and trying to push him away. Your boyfriend pins you down on the bed, holding your hands above your head and intertwining your fingers together.

“Hello,” Chan says again, grinning down at your flushed face.

The sudden displays of strength kept catching you off guard, and your face was reddening for a multitude of reasons.

“Hi,” you reply, albeit breathlessly, and you tilt your head up as a way of asking for a kiss.

Chan leans down slowly, too slowly for your liking, so you groan loudly. Chan laughs but finally presses your lips together, subconsciously loosening his grip on your hands. You free them from his grasp to cup his cheeks.

You can feel Chan smile against your own lips, and you only go as far as nibbling on the other’s bottom lip before you decide something and push him back.

“Y/N,” Chan whines, chasing after you again, but you stop him with a finger to his chest and a quick peck to the lips. He stops, clearly confused.

You push him back further, making him fall onto his side. He seems to catch on when you start straddling him, knees on other sides of his hips.

“Oh.” Chan gapes, eyes blinking up at you stupidly. You laugh.

“Yeah, oh.”

You drag the hem of his shirt up, deliberately scratching your nails against the hard muscles of his abs. Chan groans at that, hips bucking up involuntarily.

As he busies himself with taking his shirt off properly, you start to press open mouthed kisses down his chest, tongue laving against the prominent lines of his stomach. You start sucking near the navel, leaving a big, deep purple hickey that contrasts heavily against his pale white skin.

Chan hadn’t said anything since you started, but he was leaning back on his elbows, dark eyes following your every move. You felt the way his eyes followed the curve of your body as you adjusted to kneeling so you could move further down, making you shiver. It was almost like he was touching you with how intense his stare was. But his hands stayed at his sides, calm and waiting to strike.

You knew that would change soon.

There was already a noticeable bulge by the time you got down to his crotch, making you bite back a smile. You know Chan could feel your amusement because he uses his feet to tickle you at your side, making you laugh.

“Get on with it, pretty.” His tone was playful, but his hooded eyes were saying otherwise.

You listened obediently though, because at the end of the day, all you really wanted was to be good for Chan. All you wanted was to pleasure him, to make him feel good, to let him know that you wanted him to be happy.

And if a mindblowing orgasm from a morning wood blowjob was the way to success… well.

You don’t waste any time in taking off his boxers, desperate to see the cock you loved. It wasn’t a secret that you were a bit of a cockslut, but it was technically Chan’s fault. When he slid his cock in you the first time and made you cum so hard you almost passed out, you were ruined for anybody else ever.

You loved him inside you, loved him pounding so deep into you you felt the head of his cock in your cervix, and also loved him when he took it slow and let you feel every inch— every vein that lined along his fat cock. You loved when you were at his mercy.

But you also loved when you had that same cock in your mouth, filling you all the way to your throat. You were guessing you had a bit of an oral fixation, since sometimes you craved the weight of it at random times of the day. You just wanted his cock in your mouth, and you knew Chan was more than happy to oblige.

Chan’s sizeable cock slapped up against his stomach when you finally took away its confines, precum smearing against his skin. Chan’s fingers tighten against the sheets when you lean forward and kitten-licked that same precum off, his cock bumping against your cheek.

“Baby,” he exhaled, brows furrowing. “Are you playing games right now?”

“No,” you answer, but as soon as the word left your mouth, you flattened your tongue and licked a thick stripe up at the side of his cock, making Chan groan and throw his head back.

You swirl your tongue around the angry purple tip of his cock, letting his precum coat your tongue. But you don’t swallow it, not yet. You let the liquids fall back onto his cock, using it as lubricant for your hand that comes up to stroke him.

Chan grunted, bucking up into the tight space of your hand as his head lolled forward. He watches you with lidded eyes, and you tilt your head so he could feel the hot exhale of your breath on his cock. Predictably, you felt it twitch.

A hand comes to cup the back of your head, and you look up through your lashes to see Chan licking his lips and swallowing.

“Come on,” he urges, hand sliding down to tilt your head up. He slides his thumb into your mouth and your lips close around it immediately, sucking. Chan shudders. “Be good for me.”

And you obey.

As soon as Chan’s thumb slipped out of your mouth, you replaced it with his cock, tongue flattening as you took half of him in your mouth. Your lips stretched obscenely, Chan’s girth and length stretching your mouth to its limits.

But instead of deterring you, it only made you moan. You already felt so full even if you hadn’t taken his entire cock in your mouth yet, almost gagging when you felt the tip nudge the back of your throat. Your eyes flick up, watching as Chan’s jaw tightened, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

You bob your head up and down slowly, understanding that Chan was letting you take the lead. His hand stayed cupped at the back off your head, a reassuring constant as you did your best to breathe through your nose.

The slick sounds your mouth was making echoed along with Chan’s muttered curses in your quiet room, the only other sound being the traffic outside.

“Shit. Shit,” Chan exhaled, chest heaving. He was always much more sensitive in the morning. “Your mouth, baby. That fucking mouth.”

And much more noisier.

“So good for me.” Chan whispers, voice rough and heated. He brushes the back of his hand against your hollowed cheeks, then cards his fingers through your hair so he could see your face properly. “Look at you, my cock in your mouth first thing in the morning. What a sight.”

You moan at his words, and the vibrations that come from your throat make him twitch in your mouth. Chan refrains from bucking his hips, but he slips up sometimes when gets too lost in the pleasure. There’s an apology on his lips every time, but you shut him up quickly with a harsh suck to his throbbing cock.

You know he’s close when the twitching gets more frequent and his thighs start tensing around your head, his hand going from tugging on your hair instead of just resting there. Chan gets quieter as well, his nasty praises trailing off to grunts and broken moans.

Your jaw was aching, but the quiet gasps of your name spurs you on more than you’d like to admit. Because as much as you loved to be under Chan’s mercy, something about him losing his mind over your mouth and saying your name like it was his last prayer did things to you. The slick heat between your legs reminded you of it.

His pleasure was your pleasure.

You’re forcibly pulled off when Chan tugs your head back, and you’re just about to complain when Chan suddenly sits up and grabs his cock with his free hand, keeping the tip of it in your mouth.

“Look at me.” He hisses, and you obey immediately.

You look up at him through your lashes, suckling at the head of his cock as much as he let you. He jerks himself off quickly, using your spit as lube and groaning at the lewd sight of your lips wrapped around him and the feeling of your tongue insistently brushing against the underside of his cock.

“I’m gonna cum, baby, shit-“ he grunts through gritted teeth, and you squirm as you watch his abs and arms flex with each movement.

Chan had his head thrown back now, sweat dripping down his throat and his pale skin reddening as he got closer and closer to his release.

“I’m gonna cum in this pretty mouth. This perfect mouth, only mine to use, hm? Just mine and mine alone, fuck- god, fuck!“

You tug Chan’s hand away and swallow his cock down your mouth again as soon as the first spurt of his cum hits your tongue, making him flinch.

He’s clearly torn between tugging your head away due to the oversensitivity, or pushing his cock farther down your mouth. His hand flexes in your hair, unsure of what to do.

You decide for him.

Your throat works against him, struggling to swallow his cum and keep his cock in your mouth at the same time. You were determined to milk his whole orgasm out of him, and you weren’t going to stop until he was dry and shaking. The moans Chan lets out this time are almost close to whimpers as he falls back against the mattress, hips bucking uselessly.

“Y/N,” he whines, gasping for breath, and you rub your hands up and down his hips to ground him. You clean him up slowly, aware that the oversensitivity must be bordering on pain now.

Chan groans, arms coming up to hide his reddened face. “Baby, enough, please. Come here, come up, I want a kiss. Please.”

You bite back a smile as you pull off his cock, sucking one last hickey to his navel and reveling in his stuttered moan. You crawl up the bed slowly, kissing the exposed part of Chan’s chin; the only area that wasn’t covered by his arms.

“Good?” You ask, sitting on his stomach now.

“Good?” He squawks, disbelief written all over his face when he pulls his arms away. His face was still red, as well as the upper parts of his chest. “Good?! You- god, I can’t believe you. Come here, you little minx.”

He growls, pulling you into a bruising kiss. Your hands come up to cup his cheeks again, moaning as he bit on your lips and sucked on your tongue like a starving man. Chan’s hands grope your breasts through your shirt, thumbing your slowly hardening nipples and making you squirm.

When he pulls away from the kiss and trails his lips down your neck, his hands move lower as well. He hooked his thumbs in your shorts, one second from pulling them down and having his way with you. But-

Speaking of starving.

“Channie,” you whine, stopping his hands. He freezes immediately, pulling back to look at you. Concern was written all over his face, and you would have cooed if you didn’t have more pressing matters at hand.

You frowned. “I’m really hungry.”

Chan gapes at you, stunned. He blinks rapidly, eyes going from your frowning face to his hands by your shorts. “I- are you- do you not want me to return the favor? You just gave me the best orgasm of my life.”

You snort, knowing he was exaggerating, but Chan looked dead serious. You roll your eyes then, locking your lips in a heated kiss again for a few seconds to satiate your needy boyfriend. You keep your forehead pressed together when you pull back slightly to look in his dazed eyes, still filled with want.

You drag the tip of your index finger across his lip, smirking. “I’ll make you a deal. If you put some food in my stomach, I promise I’ll let you fuck me six ways to sunday.” You grind down, making him hiss. “It’s been too long since you made me cry, no?”

Chan’s eyes darkened. You licked your lips.

But then, the next thing you know, the world was upside down, and you were being carried outside your bedroom over your boyfriend’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Bang Chan!” You squeak, heart pounding wildly in your chest. “Put me down, you crazy idiot! What the hell are you doing!”

“Putting some food in your stomach.” Chan replied simply, like that was the answer to all your questions. “No take backs.”

You pause for a second, then find yourself laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Chan was still naked. You smack his ass repeatedly, making him yelp on the way to the kitchen.

“You’re insane.” You laugh as he finally sets you down on the kitchen counter, wrapping your arms around his neck when he squeezes himself in between your thighs.

“You love me.” He giggles, looking too smug for your own liking. But then his face softens, and you blink in surprise when he presses a soft kiss to your lips,

then your nose,

then your forehead,

then your lips again.

“And I love you . More than anything.”

It’s the softest kiss you’ve shared since you woke up, and that was saying something. You look up at Chan, dazed at the sudden switch of mood. He was looking at you tenderly, eyes twinkling as he smiled, dimples popping out.

Your heart pounded in your chest again, beating so hard you felt like it was going to come out of you. You love him. You were so in love with Bang Chan that it hurt, and you wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of your life in his arms, just like this. Always.

“Now,” Chan grinned wide, stepping back as he clapped his hands twice. He was looking very determined, arms crossed and bulging over his chest as he looked around the kitchen.

Your eyes meet, and your breath catches in your throat when he smirks.

“Time to fulfill my part of the deal so we can get on with yours.”

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miracle-sham · 3 years ago

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Crack Your Bones and Say Those Lies.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Saturday Challenge 3: And They Were Roommates} |

———

| After getting roped into the Vigilante life by Chat Noir, her friend and partner in crime, Maladroit tries her best to help fight crime to make the city a better place, if only Red Hood and his gang would stop causing problems. |

| Or alternatively, Marinette and Jason are roommates with secrets. Both have huge crushes on each other but more importantly, both are trying to juggle moonlighting as their secret identities. However, when watching the nightly news together, everything changes. |

| Word Count: 5,014. |

| Warnings/Tags: No Miraculous/Different Powers Au, Roommates, minor gang mentions/Red Hood is a gang lord, gun violence, Vigilantism, Identity Shenanigans/Mistakes, Miscommunication, some emotional hurt, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, and Domestic fluff. Also Oblivious, Protective, & Mutually Pining Marinette and Jason. |

———

| A/N: Hey! Sorry this is nearly a week late but where I live got hit with a nasty heatwave and I was barely able to write from sheer exhaustion from the heat. But on a happier note, I'm so glad I've finally been able to write and post a proper Vigilantes au (as in like Spidey style vigilantism with homemade gear and all!) Because that kinda Vigilante au especially combined with roommates is my favourite trope ever! Well maybe joint with Dragonrider AUs, but still! I've had multiple Vigilante Aus sitting in my notes and drafts so it's brilliant to finally release one into the wild! Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this! |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

It's Friday night, and Maladroit and Chat Noir are midway through their usual patrol of their slice of territory in the city.

“Race you to the billboard!” Chat Noir calls out, snickering in an almost cat-like-chitter as he launches himself forwards. Swinging over Maladroit's head with his grapple, he lands on the next roof ahead, in a perfect three-point landing.

Maladroit giggles, “Oh, you're so on!” She grabs her grapple and shoots. Swinging after him and onto the same roof. She instead, dive forward rolls for her landing and uses the momentum to propel her into a run.

Losing his lead due to the momentum loss of the three-point landing, Chat Noir vaults over a roof vent.

Forced to swerve to the side, Maladroit barely dodges a massive puddle of rainwater on her side of the roof.

Neck and Neck, the two raced across the rooftop. Closer and closer to the billboard they raced.

Nearly there! She thinks, c'mon! Reaching an arm out to slap the billboard—

Bzzt!

“Eep!” She yelps, startled by the buzzing crackle of her earring-comms. Unintentionally, she accidentally veers to the side and crashes straight into Chat Noir's side.

They collide with a loud thud, and two of them crumple into a pile.

“Graceful as ever, Mal.” A voice teases over her earring-comms. “Joking aside, didn't mean to spook you, sorry!”

Maladroit groans, “thanks,” and gingerly extracts herself from the vigilante limb pile.

“Gamer!” Chat Noir cheers, having heard him through his own disguised comms. “Got any crimes for us to fight tonight?”

There's a chuckle over the line, “Lucky you should ask, Chat, I do happen to have found some villainous plans for you to thwart.”

Chat Noir cracks his knuckles and stretches. “Oh? What are they?”

“Two which are time-sensitive.” Gamer adds.

Maladroit stifles a squawk, “Two! That are time-sensitive?” Her voice goes up a pitch on the last word, making it sound like a question.

“Uh-huh.” He confirms. “Chat Noir, there's a break-in at a jewellery store two blocks over from you. I'm sending you the directions now to your phone.”

Chat Noir does a two-fingered salute to the nearest security camera. “Got it, G! Detective Noir is on the case!”

“And Maladroit, we've got reports of sightings of Red Hood outside his usual area. By the Warehouses on fourth. There are no security cams around there so I've got nothing but rumours to go on. See if you can check it out and find out what he's up to.” Gamer informs her, sounding slightly irritated at the fact he's got little information to give her.

Maladroit nods, grumbling slightly. “When isn't he up to something.”

Slinging an arm around her shoulder, Chat Noir grins like the Cheshire Cat. “C'mon, Mal! It'll be a quick sweep and nothing will turn up like the last twenty times we've gotten this kinda tip-off!”

“You owe me ice cream from André's when we're in civvies tomorrow!” She huffs. “I made us macarons last time!”

“I haven't forgotten!” Chat Noir protests. “Anyway, see you tomorrow if we don't catch each other for the end of the patrol?”

Maladroit nods. “Yep! See ya later Minou!”

The two split. Chat Noir dashing after the directions, and Maladroit swinging towards the warehouses on fourth.

———

Breathe, Maladroit—reminds herself, perched on the rafters in one of the warehouses on fourth. Staring at the blood-red glowing mask of the red hooded villain, who happens to be oh so creatively named the 'Red Hood', leaning on the balcony railing on the opposite side of the warehouse to her rafter, and presumably glaring up at her.

“It's you again, Maladroit.” He growls, distorted by whatever voice modifier he's got wired into his mask.

She can't help but wince at the reminder of the word she had accidentally said the first time she had ever helped Chat Noir fight crime. Which irritatingly enough, stuck as her vigilante name. Especially since her second attempt at a name, Ladybug, didn't stick. She frowns beneath the black and red spotted bandana covering her mouth, and tightly grips her bladed yo-yo—with piano wire instead of string—of the same colour scheme.

“What are you planning, Red Hood?” She spits out, voice also modified by her bandana, a tad too grumpy and bitterly for the awkward-but-smiley "persona" she's supposed to act like (although it's not so much of a persona when that's just how she is almost all the time). But in her defence, she's had a rough day at uni, things have been awkward at home because of her crush on her roomie lately, and more importantly, Red Hood's lackeys have been a pain in the neck for the past week, so her reaction is more than warranted.

He has the audacity to laugh. “What makes you think I'm going to tell you, Pipsqueak?”

“Well,” Maladroit huffs, “I was hoping you were feeling considerate.”

Red Hood shifts his shoulders. “Aww, sorry Pipsqueak. I'm not feeling particularly considerate today.” In a split second, he slips both guns from his holsters, spins them, and shoots.

Maladroit squeaks, instinctively tugging on her power, and dives off the rafter to dodge the shot. “Rude!”

She's just able to shoot her grapple off and swing up to another metal beam.

“How the fuck do you keep dodging my shots?” He snarls, gesturing at her with his guns in short angry-looking motions.

In response, she throws her yo-yo at him, tugging on her power again. The yo-yo spins through the air, slashing through the Red Hood's jacket sleeve and slicing a deep groove into the gun, then rewinds on the wire back to her. “What makes you think I'm going to tell you, Bullet Boy!” She parrots back, cheekily.

“Hey!” Red Hood snaps, aiming another shot at her.

Tugging on her powers once more, Maladroit yelps as she swings to yet another metal rafter beam in order to avoid the shot. “Your aim sucks!”

“Fuck you!” He retorts, firing off four more shots aimed at her head.

There's a horrifying moment as she barely manages to tug on her powers in time. The bullets barely skimming past her hood, one even tearing the fabric slightly.

“Mal!” Comes Gamer's terrified voice over her earring-comms, “I need you to pull back immediately! Red Hood and his gang have been spotted nearby and Chat can't get to you in time to back you up if you do get into a fight!”

She raises a hand to her earrings and quietly laughs hysterically. “Little too late for that, G! I'm uh currently staring… face to gun to him”

“Oh, fuck!” Gamer responds, voice going up a pitch. “I'm contacting Chat now. Try and get out if you can but prioritise not getting yourself killed, please!”

Red Hood fires his guns again. “Eyes and ears on me, Pipsqueak.”

Squeaking yet again, Maladroit desperately tugs on her power once more and swings to another rafter. Her heart thunders in her chest as loudly as his gunfire. She spits out a frantic, “no promises!” to both of them.

“I've informed him, your backup is on the way.” Gamer tells her.

The main warehouse doors clatter open with a resounding slam! Followed by the stomping of multiple pairs of boots storming inside.

Maladroit waves at Red Hood, the quiet terrified hysterical laughter practically bubbling out of her mouth. “Haha, well I'm afraid that's my cue to Bug Out!”

“Oh, I don't think so, Pipsqueak.” Red Hood taunts, shooting six bullets at her, rapid-fire. “I ain't finished with our convo yet.”

Squeaking for the umpteenth time, and really just giving him even more reason to keep giving her that stupid pipsqueak nickname, she riskily shoots her grapple, aiming and swinging towards the warehouse's large balcony windows.

“Get the fuck back here!” He snarls, voice deepening with fury. Pausing to reload before firing off more shots at her with abandon.

Maladroit wriggles midair, tugging on her powers to try and dodge the shots. She curls into a dive forward roll as the grapple forces her to land onto the balcony. The same one that Red Hood has been stood on this entire time. Oh, help me! She thinks, eyes widening behind her makeshift red with black tinted lenses, goggles-slash-domino mask.

He aims his gun at her once more. “Move and you fucking die, pipsqueak.”

Putting her hands in the air, she swallows a gulp of air. Her body armour is padded beneath her red, and black spotted, hoodie but it isn't bulletproof. And she can feel the straining exhaustion of overusing her powers clawing at her.

They're at a standoff. Still as statues, the both of them. It's almost poetic how they parallel each other. He's got his gun aimed at her, whilst she's desperately clutching at her grappling hook gun in one of her raised hands. Both donned in red. Both committing crimes in the eyes of the law. Two sides of the same coin, one and the same.

Maladroit feels sick to her stomach, staring down the barrels of his guns. Ever so slowly, she tugs on her powers. The window a little bit behind her creaks quietly enough that Red Hood doesn't seem to notice beneath the clamour of his gang doing whatever it is they're doing below.

She counts her breath and tugs on her power. A minute passes with no movement, no words, nothing happening on the balcony. Out of the corner of her eye, she can just see that it's now open enough that she should be able to make it out unscathed. Or at least mostly unscathed.

Closing her eyes, not that he can see, her power snaps. Instinctively she doubles over and slaps a hand over her mouth. Barely in time as a stifled scream is yanked from her throat, leaving her panting for breath. Her knees crash onto the balcony flooring. A bullet whizzes past her neck.

“Shit. What the fuck was that?” Red Hood grumbles, sounding genuinely concerned. He storms across the balcony towards her.

Maladroit can't help but flinch, bodily throwing herself back as far away from him as she can. Mind racing in panic.

He stows one gun back into a holster then reaches a hand towards her. “Hey, hey, hey. Calm down.”

“Gotta go! Bug-bye!” She squeaks out, wrenching on her power with all her remaining strength, and bolting for the window.

“I think the fuck not! Fucking pretending to be hurt.” Red Hood barks, ripping the gun back out of its holster.

Narrowly dodging the spray of bullets shot at her, Maladroit dives through the window and fires off her grapple. Safely swinging far away from the warehouse.

———

Carefully Maladroit drops with the ease of far too many nights of practise, onto the fire escape outside her bedroom window. She crouches and lets the shadows of the night hide her form. Creeping closer, she checks the windowsill for any marks or signs of tampering but it all comes away untouched. Content with her quick security check, she fumbles for the disguised piece of string wedging the window ajar in a way that's barely visible unless you know where to look for it. Got it! She thinks to herself, grabbing ahold of it and prying it, and the window above it, up and open.

Slipping through the open window, she sits on the sill to rip her thankfully not-too-dirty studded steel-toed boots off. Picking them up in one hand, she wiggles the rest of the way into her room and immediately resets the security measures, yanking the curtain down for privacy.

Maladroit then shuffles over to her bed. Tikki—her gorgeous fluffy red and dark brown miniature dachshund—blinks sleepily up at her, from the dog bed next to it. The puppy yaps in greeting before snuffling and curling back up to sleep.

She coos at the cuteness before continuing on. With the other hand not carrying the boots, she pries the blanket covered duffel bag out from underneath. Wrestling to unzip it in one janky and awkward motion, grunting slightly at the exertion. The metal of the zip digs in but the discomfort is mostly mitigated by the padded gloves and wrist guards she's wearing. The easy to clean plastic bag designated for temporary storing of her boots is dragged out of the bag and said boots are tossed in without a second glance.

Huffing, she starts to take the rest of her cross between mostly homemade and refashioned sports kit vigilante gear off. First, tugging down the hood of her hoodie and unclipping the black scrum cap hidden under it. It's dumped unceremoniously into a secondary plastic bag in the open duffel bag. After that, Maladroit removes the black neck guard and pulls her makeshift goggles-slash-domino mask over her head. Those too, are dumped into the other plastic bag. Then she unties the bandana with the nose guard underneath, from around her mouth and nose. Unsurprisingly, they're also dumped in the bag.

Next, she undoes the velcros on her red and black padded gloves, black wrist guards, as well as black elbow, knee, and shin pads. Also dumped into the other bag. With the outer protective wear removed, Maladroit pulls her hoodie over her head. Continuing on, she peels the padded rugby body armour and shorts off, and then the thermal under-armour. All dumped into the third and final plastic bag. “I swear,” Maladroit mumbles to herself, “getting changed out my gear never gets easier. And to think back when I had my last P.E. lesson at school, I thought I'd never have to touch this kinda kit ever again. Rip me.”

Lastly, Marinette—no longer Maladroit seeing as she is no longer in her vigilante gear—throws on her running-to-the-bathroom spare bathrobe to cover herself. She hastily shoves the three plastic bags into the duffel bag and kicks it under her bed. Purposefully leaving it unzipped but quickly fixing the blanket covering the bag, so that she can more easily grab her kit to clean everything later, whilst keeping it sufficiently hidden.

With that mostly taken care of, she nabs the mouthguard case, some clean pyjamas, and dashes out of her room—clinging awkwardly to the bathrobe. She hops in the apartment's shared bathroom, the rest of the place is silent, meaning her roomie, Jason, must have gone out. Still, Marinette locks the door regardless. If there's one thing she's learnt in her foray into the nightly masked vigilantism, is that one can never be too careful.

“Shit! Nearly forgot to take this out.” She grumbles to herself, just as she was stepping into the shower. Prying the mouthguard out of her mouth as she shuffles over to the sink, she gives it a quick rinse under the tap. Followed by a thorough scrubbing with her toothbrush and glob of toothpaste. She pops it into the mouthguard case and leaves it on the side of the sink for now.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Marinette finally allows herself to indulge in a good half an hour-long hot shower to get the grime from a night of crime-fighting off of herself.

She's only just drying off her hair, having already changed into her pyjamas, when the blare of the TV echoes through the apartment. Tensing up, her anxiety runs wild. It's what they get for living in the cheaper but slightly dodgy apartments where the walls are thin and the doors are thinner. Grabbing the mouthguard case, she wraps it up in the bathrobe and peeks out the bathroom door and looks down the hall into the open plan kitchen lounge. Jason's back, he's sitting on the sofa watching the TV.

Shoulders untensing, she finished drying her hair and heads out into the hallway. In place of a greeting, she exclaims, “oh! Jason, you're back!”

Jason flinches slightly and looks over his shoulder back at her. “Yeah, a friend had an emergency so, y'know.”

Immediately, concern wrenches at Marinette's heart, “oh no, I'm sorry. Are they… okay?”

He waves a hand in a so-so gesture and clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. They're fine now.”

“That's good!” She says, nodding, as she makes her way fully into the lounge and the TV catches her attention. “Oh is it nearly the eleven o'clock news already? I need to watch this! Alya texted me earlier saying I have to, and she sounded really excited!” Glancing down at the bundle in her arms and flushes red. “Actually, I'll be back in a second!”

“I'll yell as soon as it actually starts.” Jason offers, smiling warmly at her.

Marinette just misses the smile, rushing back to her room, and throwing a quick, “thanks,” over her shoulder back at him.

Also missing his smile turn fond and the good-natured roll of his eyes at her antics.

Barely half a minute passes before she's bounding back into the lounge, with a sleepy Tikki at her heels. She plops herself down on the sofa next to him and hopes the blush on her face could simply be mistaken for the flush of running about like a mad thing instead. Tikki whines until Marionette picks her up and lets her on the sofa with them, padding over to the furthest corner to curl up in.

Jason points to the pink floral steaming mug on the coffee table, right next to his Pride Prejudice and Zombies themed mug. “Whilst you were in the shower, I made us both hot chocolates with marshmallows, my granddad Alfie's recipe.”

“Oh!” Marinette responds in pleasant surprise. She turns to him and positively beams, eyes shining with happiness. “Thank you so much, Jason! You're always so thoughtful!”

He blushes and rubs the back of his neck bashfully. “Yeah, well, I thought it's only fair since you normally make 'em. And I visited Alfie recently, and I promised to get you his recipe to try, so I thought it'd be a nice surprise for once!” He pauses and points at the big bowl also on the coffee table, “also I cooked us some popcorn.”

“Aw! Thank you again! I really appreciate this!” She scoops up the hot chocolate with slight reverence and takes a sip. Immediately her face lights up even more in joy. “Oh, this is delicious!”

Jason chuckles, “isn't it the best! I'll pass that onto Alfie though, he'll be glad to know you like it so much. Speaking of which, he's gonna give making them a try next time I'm up since I wasn't there long enough this time. Would you fancy coming with me to see him, then?”

Her eyes widen and her heart stutters in her chest, feeling close to bursting from happiness. “I'd love to! Do you have a date when you're thinking of going up?”

He nods. “Yeah, maybe around—”

But he's interrupted by the starting audio of the eleven o'clock news.

They both immediately shut up and watch the screen intently as the news anchors appear on the show. The starting discussion is somewhat boring, talking about the local billionaire Wayne-or-something business and a related upcoming charity event of some sort.

Marinette doesn't pay attention to it, but she does catch Jason wrinkling his nose and scowling at the conversation.

Luckily, the topic shifts quickly enough. “And now, over to our newest reporter, Alya. We hear there's been some rumblings regarding the conflict between local vigilante Chat Noir, his sidekick Maladroit, and the gang controlled by the infamous Red Hood himself.”

“That's stupid,” Jason grumbles, “Maladroit is a fully-fledged vigilante in her own right and not just the catboy's sidekick. That's like saying Nightwing is Batman's sidekick!”

Marinette frowns, very touched by his words and trying her damnedest to appear nonchalant. “I don't know… from all the-uh news clips, Maladroit seems like Chat Noir's sidekick to me. She's always hovering nervously near him like a strong wind would spook her.”

“C'mon! She's been reported to have held her own against Red Hood on multiple occasions, alone!” He argues, sounding rather offended on her alter egos behalf.

Scoffing, she shakes her head. “Clearly that's because he's going easy on her! He's never directly shot her, according to the reports clearly, he's soft on her!” The lies taste bitter on her tongue.

Jason splutters and flushes bright red, turning away from her slightly. “W-well that's obviously a testament to her skill and not Red Hood's mercy! He's always reported as being a merciless killer, why'd he be soft on her!”

“I don't know!” She makes a dying-choking noise as she flushes even more red than earlier. Shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth to avoid having to respond any further.

Luckily, the news shows pans over to Alya standing in front of a screen showing a recorded feed of a warehouse. Not just any warehouse, but specifically the one on fourth that Maladroit had faced Red Hood in less than an hour ago.

Marinette feels her pulse quicken at the reminder of the close shave she'd had.

“Hey wait a second, those warehouses don't have security cameras at all? How'd they get this footage?” Jason complains, eyes narrowed at the TV.

It feels as though ice has been poured down her spine at his words. She freezes, body stiffening in shock. He's right… G said there's none because that's why he asked me to check things out. The only people who'd know this are Chat, Gamer, myself, and Red Hood and his gang. She swallows thickly and tries to subtly side-eye Jason. Oh no. I've been crushing on my roommate who works for Red Hood's gang? Oh god! The friend with the emergency was referring to Red Hood calling him into work!

She can't help but inhale a shallow panicked breath. He could've been one of the lackeys shooting at me and Chat this past week. Or, or I could've hurt him with my yo-yo. Or—

Jason turns to fully face, clearly registering the blatant panic on her face. “Hey, hey, hey, Marinette, you're okay, you're safe. What's wrong?”

“Are you working for Red Hood?” Marinette blurts out, accidentally, the words pouring out in an unintentional panicked rush. “Are you in his gang?”

He jerks back, fear, confusion, and hurt crosses his face. “Wh-what? What makes you think that?”

“His gang was just in that warehouse, and you were out on an emergency for a "friend". And how would you have known unless you were there tonight and working for his gang?” She chews her lip forcefully and winces as the taste of iron floods her mouth.

He reaches towards her, eyes widening concern.

She flinches back, suddenly reminded of how similar this is to that moment with Red Hood on the warehouse balcony.

Jason jerks back as if her flinching burnt him. Raising his hands, he leans away from her to give her some semblance of space. “Fuck. Look, I'm not going to hurt you! Have I ever hurt you whilst we've been roomies?”

Nervously, she shakes her head.

“I really care about you, Marinette. Hell, we've lived together for nearly a year now. I would never hurt you, okay! I promise.” Tears prick in his eyes, and he grimaces slightly, lowering his hands to rest on his lap. “Yeah, I uh, I'm working for him. But I do everything I can to keep work from following me home. I didn't tell you because I never wanted to scare you.”

Guilt gnaws at her. “I'm sorry! I shouldn't have judged. I—” She takes a shaky breath, “I really really care about you too. I'm just worried, what if Red Hood, or even Maladroit, or any of the other vigilantes hurt you? What if you get hurt in one of those gang wars?” Her words aren't lies but they're not the full truth either.

He sighs, “I can't promise I won't ever get hurt on the job. Maladroit and the other vigilantes do a lot of good but Maladroit especially is far too nice to hurt any of us. I've uh, seen her fight some of the others gang members, and been fought by her too. And out of everyone against the gang, she's the one who leaves us with barely more than a scratch at worst.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Most in the gang really respect her for that, y'know.”

Marinette's brain feels like the windows shutting down sound. “Oh. Oh.”

Sheepishly, he smiles half-heartedly at her. “Yeah.”

“So, is that why you were so adamant she's a fully-fledged vigilante in her right?” She asks, feeling bashful yet honoured whilst completely surprised.

Jason clears his throat and glances away. “Uh-huh.”

“Oh.” Her brain rewinds a moment. She splutters for a second, desperation racing through her. “Wait, she's fought you!?”

Full-on grimacing, he nervously laughs. “Left but a scratch!”

“Are you misquoting Monty Python right now? Oh good gods, that's the knight who says that after getting his limbs chopped off!” Marinette exclaims, looking every bit as horrified as her tone of voice conveys.

“Seriously, I've never gotten worse than a couple of minor cuts and bruises, I'm fine!” Jason reiterates.

She frowns and gingerly shuffles across the sofa closer to him. He keeps leaning back away, so she physically throws herself at him, pulling him into a tight hug. Incidentally burying her face in his shirt. “Okay, okay. Just, please let me know next time you get hurt. I've a friend who lived in a bad situation before, so I know how to help patch up minor injuries. Promise?”

Jason stiffens at the hug and slowly moves one hand to cup the back of her head whilst wrapping the other around her back. He shuts his eyes, cocking his head back and sighs. “Alright. I promise I'll tell you. And I'm sorry for keeping something this big from you. As I said, I was worried you'd be scared of me or that you'd get dragged into gang-related shit because of it.”

“You don't need to apologise.” Marinette mumbles in response, “I get it. I really do understand.” She bites at her sore bleeding lips again in guilt, her secret identity left unspoken on her tongue.

He shrugs, “so uh. I'm guessing you're still happy to stay roomies then, right?”

“Of course!” She responds without missing a beat hugging him even tighter.

Eventually, they release each other from the embrace to finish their now lukewarm hot chocolates and popcorn. The news continues playing, no longer forgotten in the background as the two try to act as if nothing has changed.

———

Jason collapses onto his bed with a heavy sigh. He pulls out his phone and rings a number on autopilot.

The dial tone plays as the line connects. “Hey, whaddup Jay?”

“Holy fucking shit balls, man.” Jason groans. “I fucked up.”

Roy hums, “like need help burying a body fucked up or what?”

Jason groans even louder, smushing his face into his bed covers. “My roomie is smart, right. I accidentally let a tiny detail slip when we were chatting whilst watching the eleven o'clock news as usual. And she now thinks that I'm in Red Hood's gang.”

There's a long pause, before Roy bursts into raucous laughter. “Holy shit, I'm dying! She's not wrong!”

“Yeah. I know. She ain't right either though.” He grumbles in response. “She was absolutely terrified when she realised. Nearly had a full-on panic attack and everything.”

“Oh fuck.” Roy helpfully says.

Jason grunts in agreement. “She was also real concerned that Red Hood or the vigilantes have hurt me.”

“Well, that's better?” Roy offers, sounding rather unsure of his own words.

“Yeah but she's taken thinking I'm some low-level member of my gang this badly, how the fuck d'ya think she's gonna take finding out I'm the big bad Red Hood himself?” Jason sighs. “I don't want to ask her out without her knowing this, 'cause it could endanger her.”

Roy hums again, “well, you've been roommates this long already and she's been completely safe from the Vigilante-Gang life so far.”

There's a gentle thump as Jason lifts his head and throws it into the sheets again out of sheer frustration. He relents, reluctantly. “That's true…”

“See. And since it sounds like she's not planning on moving out, clearly she doesn't mind living with you. Just ask her out to dinner already.” Roy adds, cheerfully.

Huffing, he rolls over on the bed. “I'm starting to feel like those weird girl slumber party ads with the creepy phone-a-boy games.”

Roy wheezes, followed by a thudding noise and the distant sound of his cackling.

“Wow. And to think I called you for help. I'm offended.” Jason goads with no bite, waiting a few seconds to hear Roy's response but it's just more laughter.

He rolls his eyes and ends the call, not like Roy will mind. Throwing an arm over his face, Jason barely refrains from grabbing his pillow to scream into. He doesn't, obviously. Because the walls are thin enough that Marinette might hear him and he's worried her enough this night as is.

Sighing like a lovesick protagonist in a period romance novel, Jason moves his arm to run his fingers through his own hair. A date. Just gotta ask her at some point, to dinner at a fancy-ish restaurant. It'll be fine, what's the worst that can happen?

Her terrified reaction on the sofa flashes through his mind, followed by the reminder of how small and scared Maladroit had seemed when she had fallen to her knees on the warehouse balcony. There was no way that she was faking the pain, like he'd initially thought. She had practically staggered in her mad dash to escape. And there's no way for me to find out whether she got to somewhere safe afterwards. God, she could be lying dead in some dank alleyway for all I know right now. Fuck, I hope she's okay...

He groans in distress and shifts in place. Already feeling like he really won't be getting any sleep at all tonight at this rate, thanks to his concern for those two.

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, Likes, and Reblogs are much appreciated! |

| I decided to go close to canon for names this time, hence why Chat Noir remains unchanged but Max is Gamer (because A. that was his Akuma name, and B. he's like Player from Carmen Sandiego in this, couldn't help myself), and Marinette is Maladroit (from the first thing she calls herself in Origins). |

| Oh, also whilst it's not explicitly stated in the text; Marinette/Maladroit's has the power of luck/being lucky, Chat Noir has the power of being unlucky, and Red Hood has "Perfect Aim" aka he's a hitscan. Which is why Maladroit is able to dodge his bullets by making herself "lucky enough" to dodge in time. |

| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I'll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

#Maribat #MLB x DC #DC x MLB #Jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #JasonetteJuly2021 #JasMari #MariJay #Marinette x Jason #Jason x Marinette #Jasonette July Saturday Challenge #Jasonette July And They Were Roommates #Crack Your Bones and Say Those Lies #CYBaSTL #Sham's Posts #Sham's Writing #Sham's Fics

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everybodyscupoftea · 4 years ago

Text

fbgm (fuck bitches get money)

pike jj x reader (plus: cody and tyler)

five times you text cody and tyler plus one time they text you

this is the origin story of you meeting cody and tyler + getting to know them, all taking place over the span of freshman year

(warnings: cursing)

One

You and JJ had been in the library for over 12 hours and were running on coffee and protein bars. He was laying on his back, laptop on his chest, asleep, and you were on your stomach, flipping through your highlighted notes to find the exact quote you wanted to use in your paper.

His stomach growled loudly and jolted him awake with a groan. Shoving his laptop to the side, JJ stretched before saying, “We need actual food. I can call some friends to bring us some Jimmy John’s if you’re down.”

“Fuck, that sounds fantastic right now.”

“Sweet. I’ll add you to our group message and you can send your order.”

Your body went cold for a second, “Wait, what? Why can’t I just type in your phone.”

“I need to look at the menu, just send them yourself.”

Mouth gaping for a few seconds, you protested, “I don’t know your friends. Isn’t that weird?”

“Nah, they’re cool dudes,” he reassured just as texts starting pouring onto your screen.

Maybank who the fuck is this number

Oh is it the hot girl from your English class. Right on dude

Dumbass she can fucking see this.

JJ we can just add whoever we want whenever now

Shut the fuck up and be nice, you’re the reason we don’t have any girl friends

Speak for yourself dickhead

JJ gave you an apologetic smile and said, “Well, at least you can order your food now.”

You sighed and typed your order out, thumb hesitating over the send button. Looking over at him, you asked, “Can you send something first, I feel weird.”

He gave you a look, “Dude, just send it.” So you did.

When the boys showed up thirty minutes later with the food, you could’ve kissed one of them from how hungry you were. The taller one dropped down next to you and held his fist up, “Nice to meet you officially, I’m Cody.”

You bumped it and the other guy handed you the food, “I’m Tyler, your savior, because Cody managed to misread your order, but I made sure they got it right.”

“Nice to meet you guys, thanks for the food.”

You thought they’d leave, but they stayed, fucking around on their phones for a while until JJ got up to leave. They all bid you goodbye and Cody winked, “Text me anytime.”

Two

JJ was driving the two of you to a basketball game and he swore under his breath. You looked up from your phone as he dug through his wallet. After a few seconds, the light turned green, and he told you, “Hey, text Cody and Tyler and tell them to bring me my Student ID please.”

“You text them,” you said, not really wanting to. You’d had the message on mute because they sent a lot, and you never had anything to add, so you left it alone. You didn’t really want to open it and see what they’d been talking about.

He gave you an exasperated look at the next red light, “I’m driving, plus you have their numbers.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know them.”

“And whose fault is that? That’s why were all going to hang out at the game.”

You sighed and sent it, not happily by any means.

Can someone grab JJ’s ID out of his booksack

Sure thing, tell him he owes me a milkshake for having to climb the fucking stairs

His phone lit up and he nodded, “See, not so bad was it?”

JJ told you Tyler was a huge basketball fan (specifically the Sixers), and he had Opinions on your school’s team. He bounced over to you when they parked next to JJ, “I hear you’re a basketball girl.”

“Something like that,” you huffed out a laugh.

“Look, neither of those chumps respect it, and I need you to know that we will be doing March Madness brackets this year.”

“Brackets are fun,” you agreed, “can’t wait to wipe the floor with you.”

“Oh, you’re looking to get beat, huh?”

“I never lose,” you told him confidently.

He smirked, “We’ll see about that one. I don’t know who you’ve been playing, but you’ve got competition this year.”

The game was fun. Normally you’d have sat next to JJ, but Tyler let you sit on the end and sat on the other side. He talked your ear off about player stats and made jokes about the other players which had you laughing hard enough to get JJ’s attention. JJ leaned around Tyler to ask, “You good over there?”

“Better than Notre Dame, that’s for damn sure.”

“Oh shit!” Tyler said, giving you a fist bump. JJ winked at you and you felt a lot better after the game, finally feeling like you could get to know at least one of those guys.

The next basketball game you went to was with Tyler. He wanted to go see the Duke versus UNC game, and the two of you got there early waiting in line with your student ID’s to get a bracelet and get in. Tyler was wearing a t-shirt with “In Zion We Trust” written across the chest, and he was Hyped.

“Take a picture with me so I can put it on twitter. I need Zion to follow me before he gets drafted.”

You agreed with a laugh and he handed his phone to the person standing behind y’all to take the picture. It came out nice. He smiled at it, “Sweet. Now I’ve got the pretty girl trap to get that athlete follow. You’re a great wingman.”

“Thanks,” you deadpanned.

He smiled, “Feels good to have a basketball friend. We’re going to have to drive to Charlotte when the Sixers come to town.”

Three

You slumped over on your bed and JJ looked over at you, “What’s wrong now?”

“I’m fucked. This stupid fucking theatre class. I didn’t buy the book and now I need it and I don’t know anyone in that class and I can’t afford it all in one sitting.”

JJ furrowed his eyebrows, “Wait, Intro to Theatre?”

“Yeah, do you have the book?” you asked hopefully.

He shook his head, “No, sorry, but isn’t Cody in your class?”

“What?”

“Yeah, if it’s Tuesday and Thursday at 9:30 Cody is in that class.”

You searched your memory, trying to remember seeing him at any point in the semester. He could’ve definitely set at the top and you wouldn’t know because you always sat about halfway up, not wanting to climb all those stairs to the top of the auditorium.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him there.”

JJ snorted, “Okay well I never said he actually went to class. Text him though, because I’m sure he’d be down split textbook costs and just share the e-book.”

“Can you do it?”

“You’re an adult. Plus, you’ve sent stuff in the group, I thought you were okay now?”

“I was drunk!”

“Text the group if you aren’t comfortable enough to text Cody separately. Your grade is more important than your strange aversion to texting my friends.”

You rolled your eyes, but he was right.

Cody are you in theatre 161 on Tuesday and Thursday morning?

Yeah ugh pls don’t bring it up

Did you get the textbook?

Okay I guess we’re bringing it up…no I did not

We have questions from the end of chapter 5 due online, do you wanna just split the book for the rest of the semester? Rent it online or something?

Wait we have homework in that class

JJ laughed loudly where he was reading the conversation next to you and you sighed, trying to not throw your phone across the room. You looked at JJ, “Your friends are idiots.”

“Careful, bud, you sound a little fond.”

We have homework every week and a quiz every other week…

Oh fuck, you think it’s too late for me to come back from this?

I think there’s a bonus essay for 30 points which might help some?

Let’s split the book.

Venmo me.

You rented the book and sent him a link before settling down to do your own homework, and you felt better about reaching out if you needed homework help again.

It didn’t really come up between the two of you again until he texted you one Wednesday afternoon out of the blue asking what night you were going to see Arcadia for class. You had a ticket for the Friday night showing, and after about 30 minutes, he texted you again that he’d cancelled his plans and gotten one too.

The two of you met for dinner and walked to the theater near the caf together. He was talkative, “I did some research on this play and I actually read the chapter on how to take notes on plays, so I have my tiny notebook and I’m ready.”

“I saw Arcadia with my sister a while back, so I kind of know what’s going on, and I can help if you need,” you said, holding your own tiny notebook.

“For sure. Might should get together to write our papers, that’s going to be what fucks me. If you don’t mind meeting tomorrow at 11, I’ll bring coffee and we’ll knock it out.”

“Sounds great.”

You weren’t sure how good of a theatre buddy Cody was going to be, but you clearly underestimated him. He laughed at the right time, turned his phone off and not just on silent, and didn’t even get up once besides during intermission.

Cody walked you back to your dorm at midnight, when it finally ended, and before you could get inside called out, “Text me your coffee order for tomorrow, I’ll run by Dunkin.”

Four

JJ said he might be at his dorm when you got there, but when you texted him to come let you up, you got no answer. After pacing a few minutes outside, you decided it was too cold for that shit, so you bit the bullet and texted in the group.

I’m supposed to meet JJ, can anyone let me in the dorm?

It didn’t take long for someone to get back to you. Tyler responded after a few seconds.

Fuck dude, are you outside? I’m coming down.

You were practically shivering when he shoved the door open, and he pulled you inside. The RA sitting at the desk didn’t even look up when the two of you passed and he shook his head, “Man, where the fuck is Maybank?”

“Not sure, was going to ask you the same question.”

Tyler swiped to unlock the door and you saw Cody coming out of the toilet area. He brightened, “Yo, long time no see. What are you doing here?”

“Supposed to be hanging out with JJ tonight,” you muttered, checking your phone again.

Cody shrugged, “Come watch Great British Baking Show with me and Tyler. We have popcorn.”

It was warm and you liked GBBS, so you nodded and kicked your shoes off to follow them into their room. JJ didn’t get back for another hour, and by the time he got there, the three of you had ordered pizzas, started another episode, and were laying on Cody’s bed which was closest to the TV.

JJ stood in the doorway, “What’s going on guys?”

“Where have you been?” Tyler asked, tone accusatory.

“I-“ JJ was caught off guard, “got some dinner with friends.”

“Good thing we ordered pizza then,” you laughed, not too upset that he’d forgotten. JJ had the tendency to do shit like that.

“Fuck,” JJ sighed, “I’m so sorry.”

“All good. Glad your roommates are ten times more clutch than you.”

JJ rolled his eyes as the other boys preened and held their fists out for you to bump.

Five

Changing a flat tire isn’t that hard. Changing a flat tire and realizing halfway through that you don’t have a spare is hard. You could’ve fucking cried looking at the empty compartment that the spare usually sat, and you almost did, but last minute pulled your phone out to text the boys.

Anyone free for the next like 45 minutes to an hour to take me to get a spare tire

Before you could send anything else.

Jk we’ll come get you

So, you decided to sit on the curb and wait. Tyler’s truck pulled up and you hopped up, grabbing your wallet and keys. Cody hopped out the other side, put the tire in the tailgate, and climbed in the back, leaving the front open for you.

Tyler cranked up the music as soon as you shut the door and tore out of the parking lot before you could even buckle up. You thought Cody was being nice letting you get the passenger seat, but you later found out he just wanted to sit behind Tyler because, “The driver always protects his side first.”

You held on to the door as he whipped into the AutoZone parking lot and got out of the car as fast as possible as soon as he parked. Cody was laughing as you sagged against the car, head spinning, and he clapped a hand down on your shoulder, “Bet you wish you’d have just taken an uber.”

“I wish JJ had answered my text.”

Cody and Tyler followed you into the store to ask someone to repair your tire. Tyler leaned against the counter next to you and Cody scrolled through something on his phone while you talked to the guy who clearly wasn’t taking you very seriously.

You huffed, getting Tyler’s attention, and he looked up from his hands, “What’s up?”

Before you could say anything, the man cut in, “I don’t think she knows what she wants.”

Tyler furrowed his eyebrows and nudged Cody before responding, “What do you mean?”

“She just needs to get a new tire.”

“We brought the tire, just look at it because she thinks it can be repaired,” Tyler defended, crossing his arms.

Cody moved to stand on the other side of you, “Why can’t you just look at it?”

“If you buy a new tire, we’ll send someone back to your car with you to put it on.”

“I can put it on myself,” you responded indignantly.

Tyler squeezed your shoulder, “I can’t change a tire, but she can. Show some respect and just give her what she’s asking for, man.”

The worker rolled his eyes but did as Tyler said, and your heart swelled a little bit with fondness at these two guys who you didn’t know all that well standing up for you. Throwing your arms over their shoulders, you squeezed them closer, “My heroes.”

Cody shrugged, “Now we know who to call if we need a tire changed.”

Plus One

You slept in one Saturday, finally happy to be through with a busy week, and when you woke up had over 50 texts from Cody and Tyler asking to come to their dorm to help them make a cake for JJ’s birthday. Cody was the last to text, so you responded to him.

Give me like ten mins to get dressed and I’ll come to your dorm.

Oh thank fuck you’re alive!

I wasn’t dead, I’m just tired.

Wake up sweetheart, busy day today

The boys had a recipe and the ingredients all spread out when you got there and the three of you took control of the dorm building’s kitchen on the first floor. Tyler pulled up some music and sat on the counter, content to watch you and Cody do the work.

It went relatively smoothly. Cody almost fucked it up by grabbing the salt instead of the sugar, and the tablespoon instead of the teaspoon, but you got it in the oven without too much extra struggle. Tyler made grabby hands at one of the spoons and you rolled your eyes but handed it to him anyway.

“Thanks, you’re the best. Better than Maybank,” Tyler told you before licking the spoon.

“I know I’m the best, but thanks for reminding me.”

Cody made a noise, “Oh, we’ve been discussing group chat names and we’ve narrowed it down to a few. It’s your pick.”

“Lay ‘em on me,” you told them, moving to sit on the cabinet next to Tyler.

“Fuck bitches get money, AutoZone annihilators, and Greek gods.”

“Oh my god, Greek gods? Think much of yourself, do you?” you asked between laughs.

Tyler rolled his eyes, “You know we mean because Greek life.”

“I know, but still. I like fuck bitches get money.”

Cody cheered, “Fuck yeah, my choice!” and changed the name immediately.

The timer went off and Cody reached down to pull the cake out. Tyler gathered up all the utensils and ingredients and followed Cody out of the kitchen. He cheered, “Come on bitches, let’s go wake up the princess!”

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #frat!jj #pike!jj #outer banks #outer banks fic #jj maybank fic

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actuallybarb · 4 years ago

Text

The Aftermath ~ Part 7

Summary: y/n goes to therapy, is a confirmed hoodie stealer, and gets a pep talk from sam wilson and wanda maximoff

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, trauma, me attempting to write a therapy session

Word Count: 3850

A/N: so many things. 1) i’ve never been to therapy (even tho i desperately need it) so i’m solely basing that off of Freaky Friday with Lindsay Lohan. 2) i live for sleepy tropes and i hella indulged. 3) sorry not sorry

//////////

“Your projects are due next Monday. Have one partner email me who your group is working with, and no, Mr. Thompson, you can’t work with students from other periods. Class dismissed.”

“Want to work together?”

We had been going to class together for a month now, but it always seemed like Peter was surprised whenever he saw me sitting next to him. Maybe it wasn’t surprise...

“Yeah. When do you want to work on it?” I shoved my notes into my already disorderly backpack and slung it over my shoulders. It was starting to get colder in New York, but I was still wearing t-shirts and shorts (mostly because I could keep myself warm and also because I’m stubborn as hell).

“Thursday? Or do you want to start sooner than that?”

“No, I can do Thursday. Are you going to the compound this weekend?” It wasn’t more than a whisper, but I still checked who was around before asking. You can never be too careful.

“Yeah, May’s driving me up after school on Friday. Want a ride?”

I smiled. “That’d be nice.” People were slowly making their way out of the building to head home for the day, but I was heading to Manhattan.

“You going home?”

“No, I’m seeing my shrink. I’ll see you tomorrow, Peter.”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow, Y/N.” He turned right, I turned left, and I might have turned around and glanced back at him over my shoulder, just for a second.

But so did he.

/////////

Taylor’s office had a billion plants and as many windows in it. She always had a candle burning that smelled like clean laundry, and she liked to talk first whenever we met up. That’s why I liked her so much.

“Remember my crazy neighbor’s dog?” She was watering one of her plants when I walked in. “Guess who I accidentally ran over?”

“You ran over a dog?” I left my backpack by the door and grabbed my own watering can.

“No, not the dog. I ran over my neighbor while he was chasing after the dog.”

I laughed. “Like that’s much better.”

“Running over a dog is unforgivable, Y/N. A person is understandable.” We finished watering the plants then sat down at the huge floor-to-ceiling window that took up her back wall. Another reason I liked Taylor: I actually do stuff while I’m talking with her. It’s not like I’m sitting on a couch staring at her while I talk about my feelings, we’re on equal ground. The last couple visits I’ve worked on painting New York, but I haven’t made much progress because I’m a shit painter. “That’s not the point,” Taylor would say, “it’s all about going with it. Be a shit painter. Own it.” Yeah, we get along great.

“No more panic attacks since the first day.”

“Yeah? That’s great.” Unlike me, Taylor is a phenomenal painter. Her skyline had identifiable buildings. Mine had — I think one looks more like a tree than a building. (That’s one huge tree.) “Any nightmares?”

Oh. We’re going there today. “Just on bad days.”

“How often are the bad days?”

After the Blip and before Europe, my bad days went from every day to maybe once a week. Then Europe fucked me over. Now? I don’t know. “Whenever they feel like it.”

“C’mon, Y/N, you can do better than that.”

I rolled my eyes and groaned. “It’s not like it’s a cycle, like the moon or a period or our meetings. It’s sporadic, Taylor, and fucking exhausting.”

“Why? Why are the bad days so exhausting?”

I may or may not have angrily made a bird smash against a window in my painting. “Because I’m the only one who knows. Mom guesses, most of the time, but it’s like she’s still dancing around me. Dad sees it when he’s home, but he doesn’t know what to do. And—“ I almost said ‘and Peter.’ That would’ve been awkward. “And my friends make it better, but they’ve got their own shit to deal with, and I don’t want to dump any of my problems on them. And I know you’re going to say ‘Internalizing your pain is bad, Y/N,’ but it’s the only solution I can handle right now until I muster up the courage to actually talk to my mom again. I mean, last time I needed Jess by my side, how the hell am I going to handle it without her?”

“For starters, I’m proud of you for acknowledging the way to address the problem. And secondly, you don’t have to do it by yourself. I’ve actually been wanting to have another session with your parents, and now seems like as good of a time as any. Bring them around for your next session, and we’ll talk to them, together, about how you can get through bad days with their help. Okay?”

My lips quirked up, just a smidge. “Okay.”

“Now let’s talk about King T’Challa’s new suit, you can’t pretend you don’t have an opinion on it...”

///////

It was a bad day.

Which sucked, because it was also Thursday, and Peter was supposed to be over in half an hour to work on our project. And I was a mess.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Mom called from the living room. Her elementary school got out twenty minutes before Midtown, so she usually beat me home. “How was school?”

“It’s a bad day,” was all I said before I closed the door to my room. I didn’t slam it (not anymore) but I didn’t know anything else. I couldn’t tell if I wanted a nap, I couldn’t tell if I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, I couldn’t tell if I wanted to fly from rooftop to rooftop until I was too exhausted to come home; I didn’t know. Which sucked, because I’m the only one who could’ve told me the answer.

The was a light knock on my door. “Can I come in?” I didn’t respond, so Mom walked in. “Mind me asking why today was bad?” I still didn’t say anything, my face buried in my pillow. She sat at the edge of my bed, near my knees. “I can usually tell, you know.” It was a hushed voice that came out of her mouth - nothing like the loud and loving woman I’ve known almost my whole life. “You do a good job of trying to cover it up, but I can tell. Your shoulders are tenser than usual, and your eyebrows are crinkled together the second you step out of your room.” She sighed and put a hand on my back - her hands are always warm and usually smell like hand sanitizer from Bath and Body Works because she refuses to use the government-issued ones at school. “You dad and I have no idea what you went through while we were gone. We have no idea what you went through in Europe. But we’re here for you now, Y/N. You carry this weight around with you, and I just — I want you to know that you have people to share it with. Maybe not the weight itself, but the pain it’s causing you.” She removed her hand and set both of them in her lap. “I don’t know how to make the bad days better, so I need you to tell me when you’re ready. I’m here for you, baby.” She leaned down and kissed my head, then stood up and started walking toward the door.

When her hand was on the knob, I finally spoke up. “Thank you.” It was barely a grumble, but she heard it.

The door closed quietly, and I finally decided what I wanted to do.

Cry. I cried. For at least twenty minutes. I cried because of my abilities, I cried because I lost Jess as a mom, I cried because I went to Europe, I cried because Quentin Beck was an asshole that fucked up my mental state for probably the rest of my life, I cried because I killed a lot of people, I cried because now I was friends with Peter but at what cost?

He showed up, eventually. I heard him knock on the front door as I blew my nose. Mom, bless her soul, kept him distracted until I came out of my room myself. It took me another twenty minutes to finally convince myself to leave my room, and at that point I was too exhausted to keep myself warm anymore, so the cold breeze blowing through New York hit me in full force. I slipped a hoodie on, grabbed my backpack, and took a deep breath before opening the door.

Peter was sitting at the counter while Mom washed the dishes from breakfast this morning. She was back to talking loud, and he was listening with a smile on his face. My door closed and his eyes immediately darted to me. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey, Pete. Is it okay if we’re in the living room?”

Mom glanced between the two of us and tried to hide her little smile, but at least one of us caught it. “Yeah, of course. I’ll be in the office if you need anything.”

He must’ve noticed my bloodshot eyes; he couldn’t stop staring. “Is that my hoodie?”

Shit. Is it? I glanced down at the Midtown Tech logo and remembered getting drenched at the compound after the sprinklers unexpectedly came on. Then Peter gave me his hoodie. “Shit, yeah, it is.” I pulled on the sleeves to take it off, but he shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it, I have at least two more at home.” He pulled out his laptop and it was suddenly back to business. “Any ideas how we’re going to do this?”

We bounced ideas off of each other until we came to a rough draft, but it was getting later, and bad days always get worse at night.

“Shit, is it ten already?” Peter started gathering his things and stuffing them in his bag. “I told May I’d be home by ten, I hate being late.”

I pulled out my phone and sent May a quick text; we’ve had each other’s numbers since my first weekend at the compound. We lost track of time, he’s heading home now.

I figured. See you tomorrow :)

Peter stood up and started walking toward the door, and I followed him. I had spoken maybe twenty sentences the whole time (it’s a miracle we got this far in the project) but I couldn’t convince myself to say anything else before he left. And I wanted to. But I also wanted to cave in on myself — and we both know which option was winning that battle.

“Do you need a hug?” He basically had one foot out the door, but he turned around and asked me this.

“What?”

“Your heartbeat — it’s been off all day. And it still is right now, and — Do you need a hug?”

God, he was perfect. And I was so gone.

All I needed all day was a goddamn hug, and now he’s offering one, and tears started brimming in my eyes before I could even nod yes. He was so warm, and his voice flitted around in his chest, and I would’ve felt bad about getting tears on his shirt, except I didn’t care anymore. All I cared about was how the weight on my shoulders lifted when Peter Parker’s arms were wrapped around them.

“Are you going to be okay?” he mumbled in my hair. I only nodded again. “Okay.” He slowly loosened his grip, but not before he left a quick kiss on my head. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Another nod. “See you tomorrow.”

///////

Peter was going crazy. Since we hadn’t found any footage that could clear Spider-Man’s name without incriminating Peter he wasn’t allowed out as his alter-ego. And he was literally climbing the walls of the compound.

I was blowing gusts of air at him, trying to knock him down from the ceiling. We had officially finished our project only twenty minutes before, so I pulled up the EDITH footage from London, trying to think of how to clear Spider-Man’s name.

And then it hit me.

“Oh my god.” I ran to the computer and started typing away furiously. “I think I figured it out.”

He came back to the ground. “Figured what out?”

“We can just use the audio file from the video. Then your face doesn’t have to be in it at all.”

I found the file and played it over the speakers.

“EDITH! Turn off the drones.”

“Should I execute all cancellation protocols?”

“Yes, execute them all.”

It was perfect. Exactly what we needed.

“Peter.” I turned to him with a huge smile on my face. “This can save Spider-Man.”

“This can save Spider-Man,” he repeated. “Shit, Y/N, you just saved Spider-Man.” He wrapped his arms around me tightly and lifted me in the air, his laugh ringing in my ear. “I can still be Spider-Man!”

I laughed along with him. He set me down after a minute, but we were still standing unbelievably close together. One minuscule step forward and my lips would be on his. His heart beat jumped, and so did mine, but he didn’t pull away. Neither of us pulled away.

His tilted his head and kissed my cheek (which I still freaked out over) and then took a step back.

“We have to call Pepper and tell her.”

“Yeah, yeah.” FRIDAY started the call and Pepper was over the moon.

“We’ll get a press conference set up for tomorrow, and I’ll work on a statement. Peter,” this was the sternest I had ever heard her - even more serious than when she was talking to Morgan, “I know this is all good news, but you have to wait to be Spider-Man still. All of this press has to die down first before you can go out in the open again, okay?”

“Yes, Mrs. Potts.”

“Okay. I’ll see you two bright and early tomorrow.”

She hung up and Peter hugged me again. This one was way more subdued than the last one. “Thank you, Y/N,” he mumbled into my neck.

“You’re welcome, Pete.”

//////////

The press conference went well, according to Rhodey. “I think most of them were relieved to know Spider-Man’s not actually a murderer.” Everyone was dying to have Spider-Man come out and answer questions, but Pepper insisted no questions were being taken at that time, or ever.

MJ called Peter after the press conference was released to the public, and they talked for what felt like forever. The second he got the call I went to the training room: to distract myself or actually train, well, it doesn’t matter because both were done.

A simulation droid was about to “kill” me, but red magic tore it apart at the last second.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Are you okay?”

I shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because Peter’s been talking on the phone for the same time you’ve been in here.” Wanda gave me a knowing look. You forget that she can read minds because she’s not invasive about it, but she’s always there, holding the information to either back you up or tear you down.

I sighed. “He’s talking to MJ. And I know there’s a high possibility that they’ll get back together but a part of me is hoping they won’t.”

“So you can be with him instead.” I gave a small nod. “Don’t give up yet, Y/N. I see the way he looks at you. You might have more of a chance than you think.”

“She’s right, kid.”

I jumped in surprise. “How long have you been listening?”

Sam smiled from the observation deck of the training room. “Long enough. Boys are stupid, they need all the help they can get.”

“I’ve given him plenty of help already. Literally.”

“Haha, very funny.” He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. If it doesn’t work out with MJ, shoot your shot. I have a feeling you won’t be disappointed.” He winked before leaving, and Wanda followed suit.

I rolled my eyes before telling FRIDAY to pick another random simulation. “Make it a good one.” And, boy, did she. It was the hardest one yet, and all of my concentration was going into it. I was so focused I didn’t even notice Peter walk in until after I had won.

“Damn.”

I turned quickly to see him standing near the door, his hands in his pockets. “Hey. How’d it go?”

“It was okay. She saw the news.”

“But…”

“But it’s not happening. I-“ he looked down at the ground, “I can’t trust her. Not when she lost trust in me. And I- I think I’m interested in someone else.”

I nodded along. I tried to keep my heart as normal as possible but it was beating too hard from my adrenaline to be controllable; I’m almost positive Peter heard it jump at the news. “That’s understandable. Who’s the, uh, the someone else?” God, please be me.

Peter’s lips twitched up to a small smile. “You’ll find out eventually.” He stepped further into the room and relaxed a bit. “Want to do a round together?”

I wanted to. I really wanted to. But I was exhausted, and I think I pulled a muscle, and I could already feel bruises forming where I ungracefully fell on my side. So I just shook my head. “Some other time.”

My room had a bathroom attached to it, and that’s where I spent the next half hour, standing under the blazing hot water coming from the shower. Once I convinced myself to actually get out and change into pajamas, I grabbed my laptop and climbed into bed. I was going home tomorrow, I deserved a few hours of shuteye.

Then someone knocked on my door and ruined the whole ambiance.

“Oh, you’re - I was just - I’ll just go.”

“No, Peter, what’s up?”

He was standing there, hair damp from the shower, black t-shirt and flannel pajama pants on, looking hot as ever. “I was going to ask if you wanted to watch a movie, but you’re already in bed, so never mind.” He turned to walk away, and I almost let him because I was on-my-ass exhausted, but I didn’t. I couldn’t, not when he looked like that (soft, but also hot as fuck).

“Come on.” He turned, and I opened the door wider. “I was about to watch Gilmore Girls, but we can watch a movie if you want.” I pulled back the covers and left plenty of room for Peter to sit beside me.

“We can watch Gilmore Girls, I don’t mind.”

The second I pressed ‘play’ on the third episode was the second my eyes could barely stay open any longer. I tried so hard to watch Jess win Rory back, but sleep caught up with me and I let it win. I used Peter’s shoulder as a pillow and decided sleep was a battle I didn’t mind losing.

////////

I woke up to my alarm, but as quickly as my eyes opened, Peter’s arm pulled me closer to him. I was too tired to feel embarrassed or excited about the fact that Peter Parker was in my bed with an arm wrapped around me. All I wanted to was to turn off my alarm and go back to bed, but my dad was picking me and Peter up in two hours and I wanted to bully Sam into making me pancakes again.

“Let go, Peter,” I ended up mumbling, “I have to turn the alarm off.” He moved his arm off and I sat up and grabbed my phone. “I’m getting breakfast.”

It must’ve been my lucky day, because Sam and Bucky were in the kitchen. “‘Morning, sunshine. Sleep okay?” I looked at Sam with a hard glare, and he laughed. Of course he knew Peter was with me, FRIDAY knows everything.

I sat next to Bucky and thought of fluffy pancakes to ward off my burning hatred for Captain America. “Sam, how much do you love me?”

“Depends on what you’re willing to give me in exchange for the pancakes.”

Of course he already knew my move. Typical.

“I’ll delete half of the embarrassing footage of you saved in FRIDAY’s hard-drive.”

Sam looked at Bucky suddenly, extremely confused. “I thought that was done months ago.”

He just shrugged and drank his coffee. “Must not’ve gone deep enough. Good thing Y/N is here to catch it.”

Sam glanced between the two of us and sighed. “Okay, fine, I’ll make you some stupid pancakes.”

I smiled, then Bucky slipped me ten dollars under the counter and whispered, “Save me the footage.” I winked back.

“Can I have some too?” Peter, soft as hell, came into the kitchen and sat beside me. (His knee was brushing up against mine.)

“Only if you have something to offer.” Sam liked us, I know he did (that’s part of the embarrassing footage FRIDAY has saved) but he was usually a dick to us - anyone who wasn’t Bucky (and even then) - in the morning. It was always playful banter, but we knew not to step too far before eleven o’clock.

“I promise not to test out my new long-lasting webs on anything you own.”

“Deal.”

The pancakes were delicious (“hell yeah they were, I don’t mess around with pancakes”) but my dad was at the compound before we knew it, and it was time to face reality again.

“I saw the press conference,” Dad said when we sat down in the back, “and everything was very convincing. Congrats on getting to be Spider-Man again, Peter.”

He beamed. “Thanks, Mr. Y/L/N. Anything exciting happen at the hospital recently?”

They talked medical, while I sat back and listened to the engine. It covered up their hearts, but that didn’t matter, because both would’ve sent me right back to sleep. And it did.

We pulled up to Peter’s complex an hour and a half later. There were still plenty of daylight hours left, but we both left more homework to today than we would like to admit and neither of our parental figures would be pleased with that.

“See you tomorrow,” he said with a smile.

I smiled back, genuinely, (I was giving those out way more often now) and waved. “Bye.” Dad and I drove back and walked up to the apartment bumping shoulders. Our schedules didn’t line up very often because he was needed in the ER a lot of the time, but we always had a sort of silent understanding. He unlocked the door and let me in first, but when my eyes landed on the kitchen table, I stopped mid-step.

Blood. Everywhere. On the walls, on the floor, on Mom’s floral couch she claimed “added personality” to the living room. No one else was in the apartment, I could tell, but then it just raised more questions:

Who’s blood is everywhere?

Where the hell is Mom?

tags: @eridanuswave @vampirestrawberries

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker series #peter parker oneshot #marvel #marvel comics #reader insert #peter parker x mj #ned leeds #michelle jones #flash thompson #spiderman far from home #mcu #spiderman #avengers

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drawlfoy · 5 years ago

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Soft Spot

masterlist request guidelines requests are open!

pairing: draco x hufflepuff!reader

request: yes! there are two of you who requested something very similar, so i’m knocking this one out first to take care of both of you!

summary: you’ve had a crush on draco malfoy for as long as you can remember,...but the funny thing is, you’ve never even spoken to him. he’s mean, he’s spoiled rotten, he’s everything that a hufflepuff could ever want...but you will keep it a secret, right? won’t you? because it’s not like he even knows you exist...

warnings: language and cringiness

a/n: this is gonna kinda be my farewell fic for the summer, something that breaks my heart. i’ll be slowly drafting other requests and i WILL start posting that dramione one once it gets to late fall for the ~aesthetic~. thank you to everyone reading this! you’ve inspired me to keep writing and growing my skills. i love each and every one of you, and i hope you enjoy this last little tidbit of my writing for the summer! but also... i might have a little cringe surprise of a fic i already wrote like 6 years ago saved for later on. this isn’t goodbye, it’s just a see you later!

also... i don’t really know if seekers shake hands at the beginning of the match. i think it’s just the captains but like....let me live and let the plot thrive in a slight harry potter AU where seekers shake hands before games okay

music recs: 1980s horror film II - the wallows

word count: 3,383

tags tags tags! @accio-rogers @geeksareunique

also i literally cannot believe myself i was supposed to write this over a period of a week not 3 hours wtf

“The more concise the flick, the more concentrated your magic will be. No, no, Longbottom, I said concise, not unhinged...try again.”

Y/N watched sympathetically as the Gryffindor struggled to turn the vinegar into wine, Professor Flitwick peering over his shoulder and cringing as the boy flailed about.

“Poor Neville,” Hannah murmured to her right, her vinegar already having been turned into a deep crimson. “You’d think they’d let up on him by now and just let him do his thing with Herbology.”

“Yeah, but then again, he is abnormally talented at that,” Y/N said, watching the boy carefully. “He probably has the skills. He just needs to tap into them.”

Hannah smiled at her, leaning back into her chair. “Oh, Y/N, always seeing the best in everyone.”

“Oh, stop it. I’m just optimistic.”

“Are you, now?” Hannah leaned forward, wiggling her eyebrows. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think it takes more than just simple optimism to have a crush on--”

“Hannah! Quiet!” Y/N’s cheeks flamed at the suggestion. “You’re talking too loud.”

“Sorry, sorry.” She rolled her eyes, still wearing a mischievous grin. “It’s just so funny to me. Have you ever even talked to Mal--”

“Do not say his name!” Y/N hissed. “And...yes, for your information, I have. Last year he bumped into me. I said ‘sorry’.”

“And?”

Y/N looked puzzled. “What?”

“And what did he say back?”

She blushed even harder, slinking down in her seat. “Okay, okay, he didn’t say anything. He just nodded and kept walking.”

Hannah grunted, looking entirely unimpressed.

“At least he didn’t say anything mean! That’s an improvement!”

“Y/N, I love you,” Hannah began, “And I think you need to have slightly higher standards.”

“You antagonize me,” Y/N moaned, dramatically throwing herself over her chair. “Let me have a little fun. I know nothing’s going to come out of it. So do you.”

Hannah giggled. “I know. I’m just giving you a hard time. And if something did come out of it....” --Y/N laughed at that-- “...I would still love and support you no matter what. Besides, I think Nott is kind of a catch. Think you could set us up once you have your own Slytherin?”

Y/N smacked her arm good-naturedly. “Anything for my Han--”

“Ladies,” Professor Flitwich greeted. “I’m not seeing much magic occurring over here.”

“We’re done, Professor,” Hannah responded, motioning to the two charmed goblets of wine. Y/N simply nodded along, feeling slightly uncomfortable under the eyes of all of the students in the room. It had grown silent, and it seemed as though the Slytherins over in the corner were smugly awaiting a deduction of points from the Hufflepuffs. Draco Malfoy looked entirely uninterested, choosing to absentmindedly levitate a quill instead.

“Very well.” Flitwick nodded briskly. “But I would prefer if you two took your conversation out of my classroom. It seems as though you both have a grasp on this lesson and no longer need to be here...if you so wish.” There was a twinkle in his eye that reminded Y/N why Flitwick was one of her favorite professors.

“Thank you, Professor,” the two said in unison as they began to pack up their things. Flitwick waved his wand, effortlessly changing the wine back into its original form.

The Slytherins began chattering again, filling the room with its usual ambiance.

“Malfoy was looking at you,” Hannah hummed into Y/N’s ear.

“No, he wasn’t,” she responded. “I saw him. He was levitating a quill or whatever.”

“Not the whole time. And, oh, the way he was looking at you...total fuck-me eyes.”

“You’re gross, Hannah,” Y/N managed in between laughs. “Was that before or after he stood up on the desk and confessed his unconditional love for Hagrid?”

“During. He always did strike me as a polyamorous guy.”

“Stop!” Y/N burst into a laughing fit, drawing some attention to them as they walked out the door. “You’re bad!”

Hannah chuckled a bit herself, skipping down the corridor. The fall afternoon sun shone through the windows, casting a warm glow on everything inside. Y/N jogged up to meet her, struggling to shove the last of her supplies into the right pockets of her satchel.

“Slow down, will you?” Y/N called, stopping to catch her breath.

“Damn, Y/L/N, you really expect to be able to seek this weekend? With that lung capacity?” Hannah joked, skipping back to her.

“Says the person who has never played a single match of Quidditch in her life,” Y/N countered, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, you got me there.” Hannah raised her arm in a surrender. “I watch you enough, though.Speaking of watching you...”

She sidled up close to Y/N, shoving her playfully. “How does it feel playing your very first game against...Slytherin? With Malfoy as the opposing seeker?”

“Oh, stop it,” Y/N groaned. “It’s nervewracking enough. I saw how he treated Harry in the last game. He plays rough.”

Hannah’s eyes widened.

Uh, oh. She only ever did that when she was plotting.

“That’s it,” she sang, skipping circles around a confused Y/N. “That’s how you’re gonna find out if he has a soft spot for you!”

“Huh?”

“You just said he plays dirty with Harry,” she explained. “And I’ve seen him mess with Cho too. If he’s nicer to you and doesn’t shove you off your broom...then you know that he likes you!”

“Hannah, I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” Y/N admitted, beginning to walk forward again. “First of all, even if he did like me, why would he be willing to be nice to me in front of the entire school? To a half-blood Hufflepuff? He couldn’t, it would ruin his reputation. And second of all, there’s no way he does like me. You said it yourself...he’s never said a word to me.”

Hannah sighed, cracking her knuckles as she looked at the stained glass on the ceiling. “That’s true. But you liked him even before you talked to him. Why do you assume he couldn’t feel the same way?”

“Because he’s a Malfoy, and I’m not his caliber,” Y/N said, her voice flat.

“And how come you get to decide what his caliber is?”

Hannah’s suggestion rattled around in Y/N’s head. It frustrated her--it really did. She was supposed to be training for her very first match, not daydreaming about how Draco’s hair would look under the setting sun of the pitch. But she couldn’t stop.

She started paying even more attention to him, if that was possible. She stole looks at him from across the dining hall, watching as he rolled his eyes and laughed at something Pansy Parkinson said. Now that she thought of it, she rarely saw Draco without Pansy...but she couldn’t decipher if that was a mutual decision or if Pansy clung to Draco like Hannah told her she did.

On Friday night, instead of discussing strategy with the captain, Zacharias Smith, she was watching a particularly interesting scene at the Slytherin table. Pansy was pushed up next to Draco, whispering whatever she was whispering into his ear. He didn’t look thrilled, but he certainly wasn’t pushing her away. Anger boiled in her chest, so much so that she almost didn’t notice the tap on her shoulder.

“Y/L/N.”

The firm male voice finally caught her attention as she spun around to see Blaise Zabini looking down at her.

“What?” Her tone was sharp, clipped from what she had just seen over at his table.

“Malfoy wants to talk to you,” he said blankly. “You are the seeker, right?”

“Er...yeah.”

“Come with me then, we don’t have all day.” Blaise grabbed her arm, hauling her up rougher than she would’ve liked. Hannah shot her a shit eating grin which Y/N did not return.

She was too nervous. Why would Draco want to talk to her?

Blaise dragged her across the Great Hall as the rest of her house curiously watched. The Slytherin table, hostile as ever, quieted down to a hushed murmur as she neared the group that always surrounded Draco.

“Here,” Blaise spat, pushing Y/N forward to him. She stared daggers at him in response. No, she was most certainly not in a cheery mood today.

“I said bring her over, not drag her by her hair,” Draco said, slowly dragging his eyes over her. She flinched in response, not quite knowing what to say.

“What for?” Her voice was strong, something that surprised her greatly.

He raised an eyebrow as Pansy scowled in the background. “It’s concerning our match tomorrow. I want to propose a deal.”

“A deal?”

“Yes.” Draco sighed, looking rather irritated that she hadn’t caught on yet. “You agree to not catch the snitch, and I’ll give you something that you want. Galleons, perhaps?” He smirked.

“No, that’s quite alright,” Y/N responded breezily, instead focusing on quelling the raging blush on her cheeks. The way that Draco looked at her made her feel like he could see into her soul, and she couldn’t tell if she liked it yet. “I’m perfectly content with just playing a fair game.”

“A fair game?” Draco snorted, and the rest of his friends followed suit with canned laughter. “I think you’ve forgotten exactly who you’re playing against, love.”

“If you’re so good, then you shouldn’t have to bribe me,” Y/N shot back before she could hold her tongue.

Wait...what did he just call me?

Draco shrugged, seemingly unbothered, but Pansy sprung to his defense. “Draco, I think you ought to teach this little Hufflepuff to mind her manners around you.”

Y/N, stunned by her realization, simply stared at him, waiting for a response.

“No need, Pansy,” he said, holding eye contact with Y/N. “There’s plenty of time for that tomorrow. You can...er...go now.”

Blaise seized her arm again, but before she could move to yank her arm out of his grip, Draco’s voice broke the silence again. “Zabini, I hardly think that she needs an escort.”

Dazed, she pulled her arm away from him and dashed off. Hannah was waiting back at the Hufflepuff table, her plate long forgotten.

“What was that??” she squealed, nearly bouncing in her seat. Y/N just stared at her.

“He called me love.”

Thankfully, she had long cast aside her thoughts of a particular white-blonde by the next morning. Y/N was so nervous that Hannah nearly had to force down her toast.

“C’mon, you need the energy!” Hannah pleaded. “At least drink some water. I can’t have you passing out on the pitch! Hufflepuff needs you!”

Zacharias, or Arias, as he asked her to call him, was sitting next to her, calmly going over the strategies for the game.

“You really do need to eat,” he informed her. “I know you feel like you’re gonna vomit, but you’ve just gotta force it down. You’ll thank me later.”

Under his watchful gaze, Y/N began nibbling on her toast, forcing it down.

“Atta girl,” he praised. “Anyways, your biggest worry right now isn’t the Beaters...it’s the other seeker. Normally it wouldn’t be like that against, say, Gryffindor, but you’ve seen how Malfoy plays. He isn’t afraid of a few fouls.”

Y/N nodded, the nausea returning.

“But you’re smart, and I chose you for a reason,” Arias said, patting her shoulder. “You’re going to do great. I know it. And our Chasers are great, so even if you can’t catch the Snitch, we’ll be okay.”

She nodded again, leaning into him and blinking hard.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a pair of ice grey eyes trained on her.

“...and I want a clean, fair game today,” Madame Hooch finished. Y/N was ashamed, but she’d spaced out on the entire speech, instead focusing on how nervous she was.

She was obviously shaking, and she felt even more pathetic standing across from the Slytherin team. They were all buff and tall and scary looking, and she was short and shaking.

Arias placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her. “Don’t worry, Y/N/N. It’ll all be over before you know it.”

She nodded, swallowing to try and combat her dry mouth. It didn’t work, especially when she saw that Draco was watching her with an amused look on his face. When she caught his eye, he raised an eyebrow quizzically at her and smirked.

Arse.

“Seekers, shake hands.” Hooch’s voice cut into her thoughts. Arias prodded her forward, and Y/N complied, stepping closer to Draco.

He clasped her hand firmly, leaning forward just a fraction.

“Don’t be so scared,” he stage-whispered. “We’re playing a fair game, remember?”

At this, his Slytherin teammates chortled in the background as Arias frowned.

“Leave her be, Malfoy,” he hissed, pulling Y/N back to the Hufflepuffs. “I swear, if you lay a hand on her, I’ll...”

“Relax, Smith, I’m not gonna touch your girlfriend,” he drawled.

“She’s not my girlfriend!”

“Mhm.”

At Hooch’s command, the two captains stepped forward and shook hands, Arias glowering at Malfoy and Malfoy smirked down at him.

The game started before Y/N knew it, and suddenly, her worry slipped away. She was no longer a lowly Hufflepuff--she was a seeker, and a damned good one at that.

She had watched enough Slytherin matches to know Malfoy’s dirty strategies. He generally relied on faking out the other seeker, which she found a rather cheap tactic.

Y/N decided to just take a few wide sweeps around the arena, dipping up and down through the air. Draco clearly hadn’t seen anything--he was flying in lazy circles much higher than her, clearly trying to get a higher vantage point of the arena to search for the gold glint in the air.

Speaking of which...when she flew past the Ravenclaw section, she caught a glimpse of a slight shimmer in the air.

No way. This early in the game?

Y/N squinted, pausing in the air for a second. The gold shimmer moved again, just a few hundred feet away from her.

She’d spotted it!

Glancing up, she saw that Draco was watching her intently. As casually as she could, she began making her way towards the Snitch, still flickering around a little next to one of the columns of the pitch.

When he turned away for a second, Y/N gunned it, speeding towards it. It began to move away from her rapidly, but at the same, time, she was gaining momentum.

“And it appears that Y/N Y/L/N has spotted the snitch!”

The Hufflepuff section roared as she closed in on the distance. She began stretching her hand out and was just inches away from it when something lightly bumped her shoulder.

Draco.

He moved so his shoulder was pressed to hers, keeping up with her exactly and leaning forward, mimicking her movements.

“You’re not half bad, you know,” he mused as nonchalantly as the whistling air would allow.

“I do. Same with you.”

Y/N’s broom was going as fast as it could without being uncontrollable, and it seemed that that was the case for Draco as well. His arms were longer than hers, though, and he was just inches from grabbing the snitch.

She could’ve just shoulder checked him to throw him off balance like she had seen him do so many times, but at the same time, he could’ve as well--but he wasn’t.

In a sudden stroke of creativity, Y/N dived down , throwing Draco’s attention off just enough to lag behind for the briefest of seconds. Darting forward, her fingers managed to close around something cold and vibrating with energy.

“HUFFLEPUFF HAS CAUGHT THE--”

Her head was heavy in the middle and light at the sides. Had it always been like that, or was she just hyperaware of the fact?

Her surroundings were dimly lit with a single candle, but even that hurt her eyes as they fluttered open. She vaguely recognized that it had to be nightime--wherever she was. Y/N tried to sit up, whimpering as the small of her back ached.

“Whoa, slow down,” a familiar voice cautioned. It was posh and male, but she couldn’t quite place it.

“Mmmhmm.” Her acknowledgement of the person speaking to her was unrefined and embarrassing, but she didn’t care. Whoever it was clearly cared enough to watch over her.

The memories came flooding back...the sensation of the snitch humming in her hands, Draco flying next to her, awe written all over his pretty face..but then the white hot sensation in her back, the sudden halt of her broomstick, the rushing motion as she plummeted to the ground...the boneshattering impact, the sounds of Draco wailing for help...

But then it cut off there.

With newfound energy, Y/N hoisted herself up, taking in more of her surroundings. It was most certainly at some hour in the night in the Hospital Wing. A figure sat at the chair next to her bed, and a candle illuminated the currtain surrounding her.

She squinted at the figure. “Who are you? I can’t see.”

“Oh.”

Dark arms rustled about, pulling out a wand and whispering Lumos. A ball of light revealed a very disheveled looking Draco Malfoy. Y/N gasped.

“Sh, you’ll wake Pomfrey up,” he whispered. “It wasn’t me who hexed you. It was Harper.”

Y/N blinked up at him. “I know.”

“You do?”

He stared at her for a few seconds, his mouth agape.

“Of course I do, I heard you yelling for help. I wouldn’t do that to someone who just hexed me.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. Bet you wish you took that bribe now, huh?”

Y/N snorted. “No. I won.”

Draco just shrugged again. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great.”

“I figured.” He shifted in his seat a bit. “Listen, I...er...”

“What?”

He scooted forward just a few feet. “I’m sorry for trying to bribe you. I’ll be honest, I was just kind of looking for a reason to talk to you. Winning this match would’ve just been the cherry on top.”

“You...what?” Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “Stop it right now. What did Pomfrey give me? She must have me on some hard stuff...wow...”

He laughed, leaning forward even more. Y/N could smell a clean whiff of pine and black tea. “No, no, you’re not on pain potions. That I know of, at least.”

“So you’re telling me the truth?”

“Why would I wait her for...I don’t even know how many hours for you to wake up only to lie to you?”

“You were here for the entire time?”

“I mean, I had to shower and eat, but yeah, basically.” He cleared his throat, carding his hand through his hair. “I find you kind of interesting. Always have. Is it a crime to want to get to know you more?”

“I must be dreaming,” Y/N muttered, turning her eyes up to the ceiling. “Have you forgotten who I am?”

“My parents aren’t as strict on half-bloods,” he hastily said. “And your academic and athletic record kind of...outshine the fact that you’re a Hufflepuff.”

“Charming,” Y/N responded dryly. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that...” He wrung his hands together, gazing down at them instead of meeting her eyes. “I’m saying that I have...I don’t know, a soft spot for you? And if you feel the same way, I think it’d be, er, interesting to maybe see where this goes.”

“You’re saying that you have a crush on me?”

The abruptness of her comment caused her to shyly look away at the ground.

“No, look at me,” he murmured. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Y/N let out a lengthy exhale.

“What is it?”

“Could you tell? That I’ve had a massive crush on you since, well, forever?”

He shakily laughed. “Oh, thank god.”

“Well, could you?”

“Hm.” Draco thought for a few moments, placing an elbow on her bed so he could rest his chin in his hand. “Yeah, kind of. I couldn’t tell if I was overanalyzing everything, though.”

“You weren’t,” she assured him, turning to face him again.

He stared at her for a few seconds, his soft grey eyes wide with wonder. Inching his free hand closer to her, he paused. “May I?”

She smiled then, ignoring how her face hurt. “I mean, you waited hours for it.”

“No,” he corrected. “Years.”

With that, he gently slipped her hand into his, rubbing slow circles onto it as she drifted off to sleep.

final a/n: me: so i’m not posting any more imagines until i’m literally into college and an adult! also me: here’s a fic i wrote in two hours because i couldn’t focus on my sat prep! also so so so sorry for any spelling mistakes/plot holes/grammatical errors in here. i just slammed this one out

#draco #draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x you #draco malfoy x you #harry potter

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zen3to5 · 5 years ago

Text

J/H 7-17: Down the Road Apiece

We assume that 7-02 through 7-16 play out in this timeline the same as they do in the show as-is. That's right - the break-up, and the reasons for it, still happen. I know those aren't favorites for some fans, as you may recall from my review of Season 7, I’m alright with that story. The execution was sloppy in places, and there are individual jokes I don't like, but I just couldn't justify adding additional episodes to my rewrite list based on those patches when I think the overall story is solid.

What isn't solid is the way that Jackie and Hyde get back together, which is ridiculous on multiple levels. That brings us to this episode, and this partial rewrite that covers all of their scenes...

(NOTE: As with the previous date changes, this doesn't solve anything re. continuity issues, but we assume that, in this timeline, the show has been in 1978 from 5-10, "The Crunge" [going by production order] to 7-13, "Can't You Hear Me Knocking," when it finally changes over to 1979.)

FF.Net AO3

***

INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – DAY A truncated gang hanging out. HYDE reads in his chair, JACKIE reads on the couch, and KELSO and FEZ rummage around in the shelves under the stairs. JACKIE: You know, Steven, it's great we can still hang out. We're kinda like Sonny and Cher. We're together even though we've broken up. I'm beautiful. You're weird-looking. Seeing them talk, Fez nudges Kelso. FEZ: (whisper) Look, they're talking. Maybe they will... He mimes lovelorn expressions, a passionate embrace, and a vulgar make-out. KELSO: (whisper) Nah. See, with Jackie, on the first break-up, you need a guy friend to get her back together with her man. Same goes for the second, which they’re on now. On the third break-up, that guy friend becomes the new man. FEZ: (whisper) Really? (to Hyde & Jackie) So, are you two ready to kiss and make up? Kelso slaps Fez upside the head. He takes him by the shoulders and steers him to the stairs. KELSO: Okay, we’re going upstairs. We gotta... we gotta... we gotta take a shower. FEZ: Together? He seems more intrigued than repulsed. Kelso shakes off any repulsion of his own and pushes Fez all the way up the stairs. Hyde continues reading, but Jackie looks around the otherwise empty room. JACKIE: Wow. You know, I think this is the first time we've been alone together since, uh... She trails off. Hyde doesn’t look up. HYDE: Yeah. JACKIE: Well, maybe we can use this opportunity to touch base about our feelings. That gets his attention. Hyde sets his magazine down and looks right at Jackie. HYDE: Or we can watch TV. JACKIE: Great! Oh, I love TV. Hyde stands, flicks on the TV, and sits back down. TV (aud. only): Oh, Janie, it's so hard to be in the same room with you, because even though I'm a rough ne'er-do-well, my love for you burns like a fire deep in my soul. Hyde looks to Jackie. TV (aud. only): I feel the same, Clyde, and even though we broke up because you won't marry me, I still hope that one day we'll get back together. Jackie looks to Hyde. HYDE: What are the chances of that?

*** INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – DAY Later in the day. Jackie and Hyde haven’t moved from their seats. The soap opera is still playing on the TV; Janie and Clyde are still sorting things out. CLYDE (aud. only): Janie, we couldn’t possibly get back together. Not as long as you insist on trying to plan for the future, when neither of us can know what it has in store. JANIE (aud. only): Oh, Clyde, I know that’s just your fear of commitment talking, and your lack of confidence in your own potential. HYDE: (to Jackie) Is this from that public access station you work at? ‘Cause this is starting to sound like one of those lame romance plays you wrote for your English project. JACKIE: No. But whoever wrote this obviously knows what they’re talking about. JANIE (aud. only): You’ve let a lifetime of poverty and rejection beat any expectations for life out of you, and now you’re letting fear and pride drive away your one chance at happiness, you scruffy drifter! JACKIE: (points to TV) See? Hyde shifts in his seat, avoiding Jackie’s smirk. CLYDE (aud. only): What would anyone so young and so swept up in their own fantasy world know of life and happiness? Your wealth and your demanding nature have won you everything in life, but you won’t make me fall to your whims so easily, you spoiled brat! Now it’s Jackie’s turn to shift, and Hyde’s to smirk. HYDE: You called it, Clyde. JACKIE: Oh, like he knows what she’s thinking. HYDE: Oh, and you do? JACKIE: Well, you don’t. You don’t know what anybody’s thinking, because you never listen. HYDE: Hey, maybe if you talked about something other than how to keep your hair from getting tangled up in hoop earrings, I might pay attention. JACKIE: (beat) That was a segment on my show last night. Have you been watching my show? HYDE: (beat) No... Mrs. Forman was watching. I was just in the room. For thirty minutes. He pointedly avoids Jackie’s touched look, keeping his eyes locked on the TV. *** INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – NIGHT Is this the longest soap opera ever, or what? Clyde and Janie are still arguing, and Hyde and Jackie are still watching. JANIE (aud. only): You reckless, immature man! CLYDE (aud. only): You mad, impulsive woman! JANIE (aud. only): We can never be together! CLYDE (aud. only): I’ve never agreed with you more! Slowly, Hyde and Jackie turn to look at each other. JANIE (aud. only): Oh, Clyde, I didn’t mean it! CLYDE (aud. only): Neither did I, darling! Hyde and Jackie’s heads snap back to the TV. JANIE (aud. only): Your uncouth manners and run-ins with the law may disturb my family, and may have frightened me when we first met, but I’ve seen the diamond in the rough. I’ve never had a wiser teacher, a more tireless protector, or a more passionate lover. CLYDE (aud. only): And your life of privilege and entitlement may make you a symbol of everything I rebel against, but you’re not the shallow socialite you claim you want to be. You are the truest friend my stepbrother Alec’s fiancée has, and no one has been as open, as honest, or as loving to me as you have. While their heads remain turned to the TV, Hyde and Jackie’s eyes flick to each other. JANIE (aud. only): But you still refuse to marry me! CLYDE (aud. only): And you still can’t accept what we have now! JANIE (aud. only): Oh, Clyde, how can we get past this? How? CLYDE (aud. only): HOW? Hyde and Jackie lean forward in rapt attention. ANNOUNCER (aud. only): Will Janie and Clyde find their way back together? Or will they remain forever divided by fear and pride? Find out next week on MOON OVER TIP TOWN! Hyde and Jackie fall back into their seats, deflated. Fez bursts out from the shower and leans against the back of the couch. He is so focused on the TV, he doesn’t even notice the jump he gives Hyde and Jackie. FEZ: NO! Next week? I cannot wait that long! JACKIE: Fez? How long have you been in the shower? FEZ: I snuck in fifteen minutes ago when Janie and Clyde had the fight about the nurse. (sniffles) Oh, how am I supposed to find out how to get you two back together now? And who knows when they’ll get to the storyline when you break up again? (looks up to God) When? When is it Fez’s turn? Halfway to tears, he turns and runs up the stairs. A baffled Jackie looks to Hyde, who just shakes his head and stands to turn off the TV. *** INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – NIGHT Hyde and Jackie are still in their seats. The TV is off and the magazines are on the coffee table. Only awkward silence pervades, until: HYDE: (sighs) Much as I’d like to let the psychic soap opera do it for us next Friday, maybe we should talk, man. JACKIE: Why? Nothing’s changed. Nothing but... HYDE: But what? JACKIE: But... well, I thought I couldn’t be with you if you wouldn’t commit, but I hate being without you either. I don’t know how we can get past this. HYDE: (beat) You know, Forman and Donna are doing that thing where they don’t talk about what they are. You know, no labels. JACKIE: Steven, I’m not Donna. I’m all about labels. Perfect nails, best legs, shiniest hair – that’s just three that fit me like glove. But I also want to know what we are, or at least what we’re going to be in the future. HYDE: Can’t that wait until the future gets here? Man, you’re still in high school, you’ve just started your show, you don’t know where it’s going, and I’m still new to this record store thing. We’re not going anywhere in a hurry. JACKIE: Things aren’t going to be like that forever, Steven. HYDE: Well, until they change... I mean, I’m not doing great without our weekly bedroom tiff-and-tumble either. JACKIE: Those are hot. (sighs) Okay. She gives Hyde a small smile, and he gives it back. Jackie takes his hand in hers, then crosses over to his lap. They begin to make out. Fez appears at the top of the stairs. Seeing Jackie and Hyde go at it, he looks up to God. FEZ: And they get back together on their own? If they didn’t put on such a quality show, I would curse you! He shakes his head and pouts, even as he turns back to the lovin’. FADE TO BLACK

***

You may recall seeing 7-07, "Mother's Little Helper," on the list of episodes getting re-written. It was; things didn't work out, so it got cut from the line-up. I consider that a failure on my part; one thing about the set-up to Jackie and Hyde's break-up that I don't like is that Jackie's desire for commitment and adulthood, while plausible, only pops up when it's needed for the plot. The planned 7-07 rewrite would've ditched Jackie and Donna's fight storyline (a really terrible running gag) to provide some build-up to Jackie's attitude in "Winter" and "Don't Lie to Me." But 7-07 was the last episode I put on my list. Everything else had at least been outlined, if not in a drafting stage for key scenes. When it came time to sit down and actually work on 7-07, events in my personal life made enthusiasm for one more episode hard to come by. Working, as I am, on a self-imposed deadline for this project, I had to cut 7-07 to press ahead and finish what I'd already planned.

Bottom line - if this section of the rewrite feels lacking, with how little has been changed, there's some reason behind that, and I apologize. Hopefully, what's to come is satisfying for everyone who's been reading along - and I appreciate all of you who have, very much.

#z's fics #that 70s show #zenmasters #jackie x hyde #zen3to5+#fan fiction #fan script

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alwaysahiccupandastrid · 5 years ago

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How To Train Your Dragon: Homecoming - Thoughts/Review!

#how to train your dragon #httyd #how to train your dragon: homecoming #httyd homecoming #hiccup haddock #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #astrid hofferson #toothless #light fury #zephyr haddock #nuffink haddock #night lights #hiccstrid #toothless x light fury #ruffrunner #dart #pouncer

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worryinglyinnocent · 5 years ago

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Fic: Of Comic Books and Sushi

Summary: When his dad’s visit to him at college clashes with an important class, Neal asks his roommate Belle to look after his dad for a few hours. Belle takes it upon herself to introduce Neal’s father to the wonders that Boston has to offer.

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: Trying something new for the first time.

Rated: G

=====

Of Comic Books and Sushi

Belle would admit to being somewhat nervous about meeting Neal’s dad properly for the first time. She’d met him in passing, obviously, over the course of the two years that she and Neal had been roommates, but this would be the first time that she was meeting him without Neal there as well, and she was anxious to make a good impression.

Especially since the very first time that she had ever seen the man, she had been wearing a bright pink fleece onesie with ‘Princess Fabul-ass’ embroidered on the butt, with her hair in a towel turban and a bright green mud mask on her face. She had never fully forgiven Neal for not warning her that his dad was coming that day, and the onesie, a gag gift from Ruby, had never been worn again despite its cosiness.

She didn’t even know why she was so nervous; it wasn’t like she was dating Neal.

In fact, it was probably quite a good thing that she wasn’t dating Neal, because if she remembered correctly, having got over her initial mortification, Mr Gold was really rather attractive. Ruby had said that her liking for older men would get her into hot water one day, and if having a sort-of crush on your roommate’s dad didn’t constitute hot water, then she didn’t know what did.

She had the sudden urge to kill someone in the art department, because it wasn’t Neal’s fault that he was leaving her alone with his dad for three hours. One of his presentations, a pivotal one which counted towards his final grade, had been rescheduled at the last possible moment, and since he couldn’t cancel it, he’d had to draft in Belle to keep his dad entertained.

How on earth was she supposed to do that? Neal had probably already shown his dad all of Boston’s usual tourist attractions on his previous visits, and it would be awkward indeed for them to just sit in the apartment for the entire time.

There was a knock on the door and Belle gulped. It was zero hour. She checked her appearance in the mirror. Although he had, thankfully, seen her looking much better than she had been for their first meeting, Belle was still acutely aware that she had never seen Mr Gold himself looking anything less than pristine.

Finally, she opened the door; it wouldn’t do to keep him waiting after all. When she got a good look at him, Belle had to double take, and she was sure that she stood gaping at him for at least five minutes before either of them spoke.

“You cut your hair,” she said. As greetings went, it could have been worse.

“Yes, I decided that it was time for a change. And hello to you too, Miss French. How are you?”

“It looks great. I mean, you look great. I mean, I’m great, thanks for asking. Do you want to come in for a cup of tea? Has Neal explained the situation to you?”

She stepped aside to let him in, aware that she was gabbling but unable to stop herself.

“Yes, he told me that he was leaving me in your capable hands. Tea would be lovely, thank you.”

Belle busied herself with kettle and teabags, deciding to break out the teapot since was an occasion - well, a guest - that merited a bit of class. Hopefully, making the tea would distract her enough that she wouldn’t do or say anything that she might regret after the heat of the moment had passed.

Because Mr Gold did look great, as did his short hair. If she’d found him attractive before, then he was practically sex on legs now. Good God, had she actually thought that phrase, and in connection with her roommate’s dad, as well? She really shouldn’t be thinking of him in that way. Neal was like a brother to her, which meant that Mr Gold should have been like a father to her, and…

Nope. She brought the teapot over and poured two cups. Nope, the feelings that she was feeling now were definitely in no way familial.

“So, did you have any plans for today, Miss French? I know that this isn’t exactly how you were anticipating spending your Friday.”

“You can call me Belle, Mr Gold, honestly. And no, you’re not interrupting anything. I was going to go to the comic store and treat myself to some sushi for lunch, but that’s probably not your thing.”

“Believe it or not, Miss French, I have never actually done either of those things before, so I wouldn’t know if it was my thing or not.” He paused, and there was the smallest hint of a shy smile on his face. “If you don’t want an old curmudgeon cramping your style, then I completely understand, but I’ll happily tag along with you if I may.”

“Sure, of course.” Well, at least that solved the problem of what they were going to do whilst they waited for Neal. “You’ve seriously never had sushi?”

“Never.”

“Mr Gold, you are missing out. Let me just get my coat and we’ll head out as soon as the tea’s drunk. You’re in for a treat, I promise you.”

“Lead on, MacFrench.”

If Mulan was alarmed when Belle brought Mr Gold into the comic store then she didn’t show it. Unlike some (mostly young, white, and male) comic store proprietors that Belle had met in her time of frequenting them, Mulan didn’t care who read comics; the more the merrier in her opinion. She would always try to convert any newcomer who walked through her doors, from any walk of life.

“Do you come here a lot?” Mr Gold asked Belle as she browsed the racks. She wanted to find something that he would enjoy and that he could bond with Neal over. Belle knew that their relationship had been very strained during Neal’s high school years and they were both working hard to recover it. Which was probably why she shouldn’t be throwing a spanner in the works by being attracted to Mr Gold.

“Yes, it’s like a second home. Well, a third after the library. Neal and I met through this place, actually, I don’t know if he’s ever told you. There was a tiny little comics convention up on campus and Mulan had a stall there. Neal and I were both looking and tada, the perfect partnership was born.” She paused. “We’re trying to make our own comic, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m writing and Neal’s drawing.” It made sense, after all. She was studying English and library science and he was studying art.

“He’s never mentioned it to me.”

“You should ask him about it. The concept sketches he’s done for it are amazing.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing them.” Mr Gold still sounded rather mind-blown by the concept. “What’s it about?”

“It’s an Alice in Wonderland story, with a twist. All of the characters are human, but it’s still set in a fantasy psychotopia. It’s kind of hard to explain, but it’ll be great if we ever get it finished.”

“I’m sure that it will, with you two at the helm.” It wasn’t just a polite platitude Belle could tell that he really meant it, and something in her heart turned a somersault at his words.

She turned back to the racks of comics before she could do something that she regretted, hoping that Mr Gold wouldn’t notice her blush. She grabbed the latest Harley Quinn for herself and a new Thor for Neal, holding it out to Mr Gold.

“That’s one of the ones Neal’s reading at the moment,” she said. “After the morning that he’s had, I’m sure that he’d be glad to see it.”

Mr Gold nodded, picking up on the unspoken suggestion as he took the comic from her. “Thank you, Miss French.”

“It’s Belle, really.”

Mr Gold shook his head. “Only if you call me Andrew.”

Belle was about to protest that she couldn’t do that, that he was her friend’s dad and she needed to address him with the appropriate level of respect, but something stopped her. They were both adults after all, and on an equal footing. And he had offered her his first name, so presumably he was fine with her using it.

“Ok… Andrew.”

It didn’t feel as weird as she thought it might, and she was rewarded with his shy little smile again.

“Thank you, Belle.”

She watched him go over to the cash desk, where Mulan immediately started regaling him with the best reading order for the series if he wanted to get into it himself, and Belle had to take a moment to take stock of what had just happened.

She was on first name terms with Neal’s dad now. They’d definitely turned a corner in their relationship, and if she wasn’t very much mistaken, then he’d definitely wanted to turn that corner with her.

What on earth would Neal think?

Forget Neal, well, for the next couple of hours at least. She could deal with him when the time came, and if he was her best friend then he might be weirded out for a couple of weeks but would hopefully come around to the idea, and honestly, nothing might come of it after all.

Belle really hoped that it would, though.

Her stomach gave an aptly timed growl, reminding her of the other object of their trip out today, and she hurried to pay for her own title, steering the now somewhat overwhelmed Andrew away from Mulan and out into the street.

“Sushi?” she asked hopefully. Andrew nodded.

“It’s certainly a day of new experiences, that’s for sure.”

“Mulan’s harmless really. She just wants to spread her passion around.”

Belle and Neal’s favourite sushi restaurant was only round the corner from the comic store, a little hole in the wall place that was all but hidden away unless you knew where to look for it. Belle was happy to take charge, ordering all of her favourites and the usual things that she would start beginners with, and the talk turned back to the nebulous Alice idea whilst they waited for their food to arrive, with hilarity ensuing as Belle tried to teach Andrew how to hold chopsticks properly.

It was only when she was holding her fingers over his on the slim wood to adjust his grip that she came to a frightening realisation.

They were basically on a date.

She paused for a moment, letting her head get around it, weighing up the pros and cons. On the one hand, Neal was probably going to kill her, but on the other hand, she really couldn’t bring herself to care. She was having a good time, and even if this was the last time she saw Andrew, she wouldn’t regret it. She didn’t even regret it when Neal called, breaking up the moment.

“Hi Belle, it’s all over now, thank God. Where are you?”

“Hi Neal. We’re in Kokoro. How did it go?”

“It was fine, I don’t get the result till Monday… Wait, did you say that you were in Kokoro?”

“Yes.”

“With my dad?”

“Yes.”

“My dad is eating sushi?”

“Well, he’s attempting to, his chopstick skills need honing.”

“I…” There was a stunned silence at the other end of the phone for a long time. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to see this to believe it.”

Belle just laughed as Neal hung up. Knowing that their little moment would be over soon, she raised her cup of tea to Andrew’s in a toast.

“To discovering new things.”

“Yes.” He paused. “Thank you, Belle. I’ve had an unusual, but very pleasant, morning, and I can’t fault the company.”

Belle smiled. “Thank you. The same goes for me.”

It was an open invitation for the both of them, the knowledge that they had enjoyed spending time together without Neal, and they would take the opportunity to do it again some time.

She had to grin as she saw Neal staring at them from outside the restaurant, and she waved. Only time would tell, but she was very confident that something could happen from this.

#rumbelle fic #A Monthly Rumbelling #rumbelle #Belle French #Mr Gold #first date (ish)#meet cute #college #Fic: Of Comic Books and Sushi

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maikatc · 5 years ago

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Black Sun Tale | A Monochrome World

sorry for being a few minutes late! i took more time eating dinner than i expected, in all honesty. but this chapter is emotionally wild for me mainly because this chapter and the next chapter took 6 months to write out of the past year and a third i have been writing this.

remember that this is a first draft with only minor edits, but enjoy! comments and reception are always heavily appreciated.

He carried a bag of bread in his hands; his mouth stuffed up from slabbing some inside. As he strolled along an abandoned streetway, the evening sky darkened early with the Fall.

A gentle breeze blew against his cold figure. Posters dawned over him without any movement, staring at his lonesome walk. ‘Open’ lights illuminated from store shops but flickered at every step.

Ayu sighed from the cold silence. His eyes stared blankly at the ground while his feet made a pattern with his steps.

He bit off of the bread in his mouth, chewing, “November 16th, 201X: It’s a Friday so Annette’s busy with a life. Everyone was at school so nobody really visited again.”

He glanced back at what he carried, cringing.

“I was… getting kinda hungry again.”

The only reply was a pigeon’s squawking.

He was tempted to squawk back at it, but passed it off to not get attacked by one again.

He changed his subject back. “What would it be like if I was still in school…?”

Maybe I’ll be as busy as Annette, “but wouldn’t that steal time for what I’m supposed to be doing,” he questioned. Might as well have that 1% chance of getting a monster anyways.

He turned a street by routine. “I can stick to art or something… even if I suck… Same goes for monsters though so fuck.” He groaned, “Shouldn’t have asked in the first place.”

He delved into another bite. His failures passed through his views. And after glimpsing the mistakes and mishaps, a single truth was formed from his choices. “Nobody notices that I’m gone… or exist so,” he wondered. Shrugging, “If I die or something, it wouldn’t matter.”

But the truth stopped Ayu’s steps while he chewed on his bread. He squinted his eyes against the truth. … Can everything just undo itself?

The boy whined, “Damnit, that’s actually a good thing.” He kicked a can. “But what if it just continues,” he asked a passing bird.

It ignored him.

His mouth lowered. He grumbled to the bird, “I’m not doing anything else, I guess. It’d still be my fault but… that’s just running away from the problem.”

He cringed at the thought. Then, he breathed in and out, tapping on an irritated ankle. “You really did start to bruise up, did you?”

At least the mark on his face disappeared.

A stifled laugh chimed in Ayu’s ears. “Very interesting. Reckoning about dying, I see?”

The boy’s entire mood transformed to irritation. Bored again, Akeldama?

Red eyes rolled in front of him. “You can say so. It’s just that you caught me by surprise.”

Ayu scoffed, “Of course, you go and read my mind…”

“How are you companions doing?”

“Everyone’s lives still suck.” He grabbed another bread roll from his bag. As he chewed, he questioned, “You’re the one who made Oliver like that, right?”

The answer took longer. “Now then… That’s more complicated, I suppose. But regardless, he was unintentional.” He chuckled, “Misfortune is a given for me after all.”

Ayu glared. “Then did your misfortune caused all of this?”

“No,” Akeldama answered, “that was from your naivety and folly-ness all the way from when you trusted me.”

He took a final turn, gritting his teeth as he growled, “Get out of my head.”

“Don’t worry, I will,” he purred. “Besides, you have a guest.”

Ayu entered the alley, mumbling with his bread, “A what? - Oh…” He gripped on his bread bag with hesitance, pausing on his next bite.

Oliver sat beside the alley wall, seemingly waiting in patience by twirling his hair. His eyes shifted back to Ayu and blinked back at him.

Ayu hid his bag despite Oliver’s eyes already on it. He gnawed on his cheek.

Oliver’s face flattened. “You know you could’ve just told me you wanted some food.”

Blinking around, Ayu shook his head and placed his half-eaten bread back in the bag. “You haven’t been here since last weekend.”

He sighed, “Fair point.”

“Besides, it’d be annoying to beg for food and water all the time, mainly since I would’ve been asking from a single person for some years.”

“But to the point of stealing?” Oliver gave a smirk.

“First off,” Ayu retorted, “no offence but you’re the one saying this.”

Oliver scoffed.

“Second,” Ayu raised a finger without thinking. “Yes, I feel bad for it either way but nobody even notices.”

The opposed argued, “I try my best not to do what I have to, thank you very much.” He shuffled an item he hid with his coat. “That and you’re lucky now. I can give you food whenever.”

Ayu raised a brow.

“Including this stuff.” Oliver carefully placed his items in the center between them: a jar of pineapple cubes and a small container of something Ayu couldn’t read. “You had a bruise… so I looked it up what could help.”

Ayu stared at the goods, surprised at the idea.

“Luckily, I already had the aloe vera,” he swept away from his stare, “but I’m kinda hoping you can borrow it-.”

“Thank you.” Ayu touched back on his previous injury; it had already disappeared from the few days. “Thanks…”

“Oh,” Oliver pinched up. “You heal quick.” He tilted his head down, pulling the bangs of his hair back.

“No, it’s fine,” Ayu blurted, “it can be good for… my ankles.”

“Your ankles?”

“Yeah, my ankles.” Ayu pointed down at his legs, focusing on his bruise marks. “I kick ‘em sometimes without thinking about it when I’m walking. But I’m just dumb with it.”

“Not so much dumb,” Oliver mumbled. “They don’t look well, now that you pointed it out.” He already began opening up the aloe-vera.

“Ng- you don’t need to do that right now!” Ayu backed away from Oliver’s hands, glossy from the gel he scooped up in a mere second.

The redhead leaned into a crawling position. “What do you mean? Your ankles are almost purple now that I can see it!” He grunted his last words as he grabbed a bruised wound with a pounce. He applied it in an instant; making Ayu’s spine run cold.

Ayu hissed, “Shi- why does that feel so weird?” His ankle froze in place to resist the urge of kicking Oliver back.

“It’s just cream, Ayu. And it’ll help you not have shitty health.” Oliver grabbed another handful for the other leg. “And don’t try to kick me out or something; I don’t wanna deal with an injury I don’t know how to hide yet.”

“That sounds like something to worry about inste– seriously, how much do I need of this?”

“Just enough to make a nice solid shield with the aloe,” Oliver chuckled.

Ayu cringed. “Stop. Please.”

“Come on, it’s almost done.” Ayu groaned in discomfort; Oliver then let go and closed off the cap. “There, that was quick, wasn’t it?”

Ayu huffed, “Shut up,” as he tossed his bread to the side and pulled up his hood.

“This wasn’t even what I was here for,” Oliver stood up and pulled off Ayu’s hood immediately. “I talked with Alice and she said you can come with me this time.”

“You’re telling me this now?”

“Yeah and we’re going now,” the boy dragged off from the alley’s view. “I gave her a specific time and this just made us derail from it; she’s waiting.”

Ayu scowled from Oliver’s behavior. Though, the concept of getting more answers still tugged over his will. He shook his head, setting himself to forget the previous two minutes that unfolded. “Alright,” he toned out, exiting from the alley and passing Oliver, “let’s get going.”

“Ayu?” He turned back to find Oliver pointing the opposite direction. “It’s this way.”

“… Damnit-”

***

“So, continuing on with our conversation-”

Oh god, Ayu groaned in his head.

“Did you say something?” Oliver turned with a confused face.

“It’s nothing,” Ayu quickly brushed off. And Oliver walked on without a second breath after.

“I wonder, did I just see a command or-”

What do you want, Akeldama?

“Oh, not much,” he clicked, “But I’ve been meaning to ask: how do you think of your companions?”

Why would you want to know?

He giggled. “There can be a million reasons why, Ayu. You can never know what it could be with one’s feelings and words. Too contradictory.”

You have feelings?

Akeldama never answered the question.

“I want to know how you’re doing with your relationships. A simple thing of the heart.”

Ayu sighed, Annette and Oliver are cool, that’s it.

“… What about Oliver, after what you’ve discovered?”

Ayu held his breath. I don’t want to answer.

“Alright,” he calmly replied, “why don’t you then?”

I- I don’t know what to think of him.

“Ah, a flight of feeling I see-”

Why are you making me answer questions when you won’t give me any when I ask?

“Oh,” Akeldama replied. “So that’s what you want, huh? -”

Don’t make it a wish, I swear.

“Relax, I wouldn’t waste a wish like that.”

Good. You’re never useful with the wishes anyways.

“So, you’re saying it wasn’t useful of me to save you from death?” Akeldama laughed at the question.

Depends on how you think about it- Arg! Ayu screamed inside. Can’t you just give me something to work with here?

“… Something?”

Yes, something.

A tinge of silence lurked as Akeldama’s reply disappeared. Until, “Well, I suppose I can give you something.”

Ayu blinked. Really?

Akeldama hummed a nod. “Now listen closely,” his cheeky tone began to linger. Though, Ayu focused more nevertheless. “Have you ever heard of demons?”

Ayu shook his head, a baffled face on him. What? What do you mean by that?

“No, no, no,” he repeated, “That’s all I’m giving you.”

Ayu scoffed with a stomp. You little fuck, that doesn’t solve anything! He would have continued though his stomp caught his own attention to worry about Oliver’s.

However, Oliver continued to walk along with him. Relived, thank god, he didn’t notice.

“You’re welcome.”

No, you don’t get a ‘thanks’. You didn’t help.

“You simply told me to give you ‘something’, so I did just that.”

Something useful! –

“For future reference,” he finished.

Ayu kicked a rock in frustration, but the momentum caused the stone to bounce back and hit his leg. “Shit,” he hissed. Akeldama laughed at him.

You’ve never been useful.

“Come on, I always try to be,” he pouted. “Even if it’s just for myself.”

You’re terrible.

“Yet you put up with me,” his tongue slurred at the ‘you’. “Contradictory.”

I can’t even get away from you without solving anything else. Ayu’s words laid lethargic.

“Then do something about it,” Akeldama told him.

How?!

Akeldama nipped on what to say. “Well, being more assertive is one thing.”

Ayu scoffed. Don’t even know what you mean by that.

Akeldama sighed. “Simply asking and begging for answers isn’t going to get you anywhere. You have to be firmer, more aggressive to get what you want.”

I…-

“Just imagine holding someone by the throat; threaten them. It’s that easy, even with me.”

I, Ayu’s heart sank in fear, I can’t do that.

“Of course, you can. Give it some time and it wouldn’t take you a second.”

I could never do that. His hands formed gripping fists. Glass that never existed broke against his fingers.

Akeldama’s voice grew vacant in Ayu’s head. A short silence loomed upon him waiting for the being to mock him or leave once more. However, a short, stifled laugh choked out of him. “Oh, oh really?” His voice rang in aggressive sarcasm. “You’ve already tried to kill so many monsters and allowed so many to die.”

Stop.

“You- you beat Oliver without a second stop of breath-”

I SAID STOP! Ayu screamed.

The world froze for a greyish moment then. All while Ayu panted from holding his breath. Movement cricketed without Ayu’s notice. However, once the boy relaxed his bones and mind, fear stroke him again as he was greeted with monochrome.

“Wh-what?” He breathed. He turned around and round, blinking in disbelief of his surroundings. Dead silence deafened him and his eyes stroked tears from no walking, no car fumes, nothing. Akeldama, stop this right now.

Reminded in a flash, Ayu bolted his head to Oliver with widened, vermillion eyes. The redhead stood frozen along with everyone else in the crowd. “No,” Ayu gasped.

The boy stood at the peak of breaking down, almost crying next to Oliver out of a new disaster. Akeldama, please stop this-

“Oh, there she is.” The world breathed in color once more as Oliver pointed outwards in the streets.

Ayu blinked with his eyes burning in red. The city life had returned to normal in the second of his crying breath.

“I… What-?”

“Hey, Alice,” Oliver called out. He waved his hands towards an opening crowd. He walked to a certain woman in the crowd who stared aimlessly at the streets ahead of them.

The redhead managed to grab her attention though it took time in the matter. However, once she’d quip her eyes to the two, she greeted them, “Oh, Oliver! Forgive me but your mobiles are always fascinating to observe.”

She smiled at an ambulance tracking down a car crash. Oliver eyed the cars while Ayu caught up his mind to his own confusion.

“Right…” Oliver said. “Nice to see you too.”

The boy nudged Ayu forward as he whispered at him to smile, but Ayu stared in distraught. “So, Alice, this is Ayu.” Oliver mumbled, “As you already know.”

A glimpse of a glare was caught by the black-haired boy from Alice. His paranoia was not of help at the moment either as he stared back in worry.

“It is nice to be of acquaintance with you,” she spoke down to him with a smile. Her knees wobbled in hesitance of something or other while she greeted him by hand. “You want knowledge, correct?”

He nodded akin to her knees. “Yeah…”

Trust her, a voice said.

But I don’t want to, he thought back.

“And you’re gonna give me lessons, right?” Oliver brought himself to attention again.

Alice replied back to him in a rush, “Of course! I was simply checking if I called the right college for the boy.”

“Just making sure.” Oliver patted Ayu on the shoulder. Only to then whisper to him with an eye on the distracted woman. “Don’t worry, Ayu. This probably won’t go wrong.”

“Probably?”

“They’re murderers. But I am too so there’s not much to expect.”

“I…” The bluntness of the situation kept Ayu with no words.

Alice asked them, “Are you two ready to go now?”

“Sure but,” Oliver directed throughout the entire area, “how are we getting there anyways?”

The woman left a finger on her chin. “Oh right, you’ve only ever gone to Fowls unconsciously.”

She stepped deeper into the streets, excusing the city-folk walking by. Snatching a book from her dress-pocket, she opened the tiny leather cover.

Ayu squinted to see the book from a distance, to no avail of only tiny scribbles of words. However, to his surprise, a door appeared in front of her. No magic word nor smoke of a ‘poof’, the door merely stood at the edge of the sidewalk with no wall or house attached. The door itself held rough edges; its carvings rounded about like a simple drawing yet shaved in splinter points. From flowers to spades, the entrance reveled in its old, wooden state.

“Woah…”

“Uh Alice?” Oliver raised his hand from the side. “Nobody here’s seeing this, right?”

Alice turned back at them, hiding away the book yet again. “Yes, we’re nonexistent to them at the moment.”

“Isn’t that what I wish for,” Oliver muttered.

Ayu chuckled, “Isn’t that a shitty wish?”

Oliver cocked his head to Ayu as he shook his head. “Ayu, are you a telepath or what?”

“Huh?”

“Boys, we mustn’t waste too much time here.” Alice opened the door to reveal another area entirely.

Oliver growled at her demand. Though, he walked on ahead anyhow. “I’ll tell you about it later,” he told.

Ayu nodded back, without a clue of his question, and joined him.

The boy entered into the new world with a dry gulp. Not needing to adjust his eyes from the grey skies, he gazed at the wide view ahead of him. So, this is where Oliver’s been, he thought. A field laid before him carrying layers of long and short grasses that glistened with a desert green hue. An endless valley of trees ran down the horizon up ahead. No sound tickled the boy’s ears and instead tickled his legs from plants below. The grey skies must have left room for fresh rains that would drip over his messy hair and water the vast land of unknown. He pondered if any fruits and berries grew, or if there was a house that would carry any sweet smoke from the forest ahead-

“Ayu, are you listening?” Oliver poked him by the side, making Ayu jolt. Ollie shifted his eyes to Alice, who walked ahead of them on a lecture.

Ayu blinked. “She was talking?”

Oliver rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t know she was talking,” Ayu searched for excuses in his head.

“Yeah, I noticed.” Oliver smiled, almost seeming to laugh. “You had a kinda space-y face.”

“No, I didn’t,” Ayu retorted. “I just thought this looks… cool.” A tint of red darkened onto his face. He tugged a chunk of his hair in the process.

Oliver moved his hand from pulling on his hair, carefully so. “Suit yourself,” he noted.

He shook his head from the conversation to focus on the woman for once. A glance of Alice while she talked caught Ayu’s attention more than her speaking. Her fair skin with blonde hair seemed peculiar. Back to Oliver was the same.

“You guys look nothing alike,” he stated.

“I know, right?”

“Well to be precise,” Alice finally stopped with her ramblings. “Oliver gets almost everything from his father.”

Oliver spoke back, “Oh really?”

She continued, “he was exactly as I hoped to be truthful. Though I admit there were some errors in the process.” She lifted her hand to almost make contact with Oliver’s head, though he pushed it back.

“Don’t touch, please.”

She hesitated to put the hand down, but did so willingly. “It’s nice that my son is in his image, isn’t it?” She walked a few steps forward and changed the topic. “Eilwen will be here any minute, Ayu… Unless she’s hiding around here.”

“Hiding?”

“Eilwen, show yourself!” She turned back at the boys, “Forgive me, she isn’t quite… fond of new people.”

“How,” Oliver queried.

“She likely,” Alice dotted her fingers together, “has been watching us.”

A rustle came from the long grasses ahead. Some crinkled and fell over from age with empty impact. Though, the grasses moved along as if they were curtains, revealing the figure behind them.

“Now, you didn’t have to word it like that, Cecily.” Her voice did not chirp like Alice’s. Rather, she spat with a nasally tone.

“Oh, Eilwen, come over here!”

The new woman trudged her way over to them. The view of her cleared the closer she came over. A baggy, oversized coat of a brown plaid covered up her whole body past her knees. Sleeves dangled over her nimble, gloved hands. With those hands, she then adjusted the bell-shaped hat against her short and messy hair. Her appearance was more apparent than Alice’s typical beauty.

Once she arrived, she matted her coat, swatting some grass flakes in the meanwhile.

“This,” Alice started, “is Eilwen, Ayu. She’ll be the one to tell you anything you’d like to know.”

Eilwen greeted him with a stink-eye. She crossed her arms as she huffed, “It’s a pleasure to be of service to you.”

She brought more of a threatening presence than Alice, that is for sure. “Nice to meet you too,” Ayu stuttered.

Eilwen tilted her head, “Come with me.” A door appeared right beside her, a darker wood than the previous one. She opened the door as it shared a peek of a dark abyss of a room.

“Don’t be a show-off,” Alice murmured.

Eilwen began entering. “Now, it’s not my fault that you don’t memorize.”

“It’s a part of my magic!” She argued.

Oliver tapped Ayu yet again before they separated. “Okay, so she might be giving you a death glare but you’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“If not, you can always punch her or something,” Oliver shrugged at the suggestion.

The advice made Ayu squirm at the violence. Nothing seemed comfortable at the moment. No help matted the situation. All there was, was a deep breath before he stepped into the chamber. A soft goodbye could be heard in the distance but his attention arrived once the door slammed behind him.

Ayu jumped at the sound but whisked his head back around after shaking a tad. The room was small and dark. Black shaded the walls and floor, creating white outlines that were the corners and creeks. In the middle carried a single table unable to hold one’s food but instead a flamed light to illuminate the space.

“Now,” Eilwen started, “you don’t know anything from what I recall, yes?”

“I- What do you mean?”

“Akeldama, of course.”

Ayu gasped with the tiniest air he had. “So, I was right!”

“It appears you were,” she slides in, “–with how obvious it was– but how much do you know of magic?”

“Huh?”

“How much do you know of him? Or anything of his motives?”

“Uhm…” Ayu twiddled his hoodie-string. “I don’t know? I just know he’s an asshole?”

“Oh, we all know that,” she threw a hand. “The question is why are you the one he prioritizes, but even you don’t know anything of it.”

“Yeah? That’s why I came here.” Ayu stated, “I want to know.”

Eilwen sighed to then rummage her hand through her big pockets. “Alright then,” She raised up a pocket watch out of it. “This toy will show visions of the past to help guide through what I can show.”

“Really?!” Ayu’s face lit up and moved over to view the tiny watch.

“Yes– really.” She moved her arm up, now out of his reach. Her face showing signs of irritation, doubled. She grumbled in her words, “I hope to be of help.”

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loverontheleft · 6 years ago

Text

RtL Chapter 43

AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut. Chapters 1-42 can be found on my Masterlist in my bio.

Brendon x reader. Warnings: baby talk (as in, they discuss the baby), sex, oral. Think that’s everything. Sorry for the delay. Hope it’s worth it.

Word count: 7.4k

-||-

“Bren?” You’re snuggled into his side in bed, both of you more asleep than not, and his arms encircle your body, holding you close. This is as much as you’ve been able to do, intimacy-wise - the websites all warned you that months 3 and 4 could be detrimental to your sex drive. They were right - not only did you have no interest in sex, the movement required in the act itself made you nauseous. Brendon has assured you that he doesn’t mind and you still jack him off whenever you feel him, hard and hot and wanting, pressing against you, but he doesn’t like making you feel obligated and tries to take care of himself before you can notice. Fortunately for you both, you still love snuggling. Even though you’re visibly pregnant and he can’t be your human blanket anymore, you still love feeling his body pressed to yours - and that fact gives you hope for the return of your sex drive. You tip your head back to kiss his jawline. “I’ve been thinking…” He makes a sleepy sound to show he’s listening and his hold on you tightens for a moment. “Do you think the sage green is too muted for the living room?”

“Darlin…” Brendon murmurs, tickling your side lightly. “I will be completely honest.” He pauses, and you snuggle in closer, loving the warmth of his skin against yours. “I haven’t given the paint color of the living room another thought since you picked it out.” There’s a long silence and his eyes flutter open. “Please don’t cry.”

“I’m not gonna cry,” you protest with a trembling voice, laughing feebly and wiping at the tears he accurately predicted. “I just want you to have an opinion.”

“My love,” he says, yawning. “I do have an opinion. And my opinion is that I like it. You showed it to me, I liked it, and I considered it done in my head. If I didn’t like it, I would have said something.” There’s another beat. “Are we okay?” He sounds slightly amused, but mostly concerned at your tears.

“Yes,” you sniff, burying your face in his chest. “I’m sorry- I’m being-“

“Don’t apologize,” Brendon whispers, running his fingers through your hair. “You don’t need to apologize. You’re fine.”

“Okay...if you’re sure. I love you.”

He tells you he’s sure, murmurs it back to you, and there’s another long silence and he listens as your breathing hitches before slowly starting to even out. “You gonna fall asleep, honey?” His voice is soft and you nod, already dozing off. “Okay. Sleep, baby.”

-||-

“I cried over paint,” you say, laughing into your French toast. “That has to go in the book.” Brendon turns to you from the stove with a smile.

“You were tired - I don’t think that counts as a pregnancy cry,” he tells you, but he grabs the “My Pregnancy Diary” book from the living room coffee table and your favorite pen anyway. “But if you say it counts…”

“It counts,” you assure him, grinning and writing the entry down. “It definitely counts. And,” you say, playfully threatening him with the pen, “I’ll cry if you say it doesn’t.” Brendon grins and steps closer, waiting you for to finish writing. Once you do, he lifts your hand in his and, eyes on yours, gently kisses the tip of each finger.

“I love you, Y/n,” he says simply, lacing your fingers together. You smile at him, blinking back the tears as you whisper it back. “Those are happy tears, right?” He’s gazing at you cautiously and you giggle, nodding. “Good. Gonna kiss them away anyway.”

Lips puckered, he peppers kisses all over your face, arms tight around you. “Brendon,” you say suddenly, panic-stricken. He looks at you, the worry plain on his face.

“Is it the baby?”

“Wha- no!” You say, laughing a little. “I’m 4 months pregnant. You don’t need to worry about that for another 4 to 5 months.” He sighs and puts a hand to his chest teasingly, trying to steady his breathing. “My prom dress isn’t going to fit!”

He looks confused. His head tilts, and he squints his eyes at you. “Babygirl, you know we’re adults right?”

“Yes, adults that are chaperoning prom next Saturday! So obviously I need a prom dress!” You give him a meaningful look. “Duh!” His blank look continues and you roll your eyes good-naturedly. “I was going to wear something I already own but - nothing is going to fit.” There must be a tremble in your voice because he looks wary now. “I’m not going to cry,” you tell him and he exhales. “I just don’t know what to wear! It’s Friday - prom is literally 8 days away and-”

“My love, we can absolutely go shopping for your prom dress,” Brendon says, kissing your head. “Just as long as you promise to not go into labor at prom itself.”

“I don’t know,” you muse, grinning. “Think how effective that would be for me to go into labor at prom - all those kids who were gonna hook up after are going to either not have sex at all or are gonna be super safe.”

“Still,” Brendon says with a laugh and a shake of his head. “I’d prefer you not.” You shrug and he gazes at you fondly. “You’re beautiful, Y/n. Radiant. Glowing. Those are cliches but they’re true for you - you’re gorgeous all the time, but you really are strikingly beautiful now - pregnancy agrees with you.”

“Glad you feel that way,” you say, tugging him closer. “Because now that the morning sickness is mostly over, I don’t mind being pregnant so much. And we do want a big family…”

“That we do,” Brendon murmurs, brushing his lips over yours. “That we do.” You deepen the kiss and after a moment, you gasp into his mouth and grab for his hand. “Wha- oh!” He looks at you with wide eyes. “Was that-“

“Uh huh!” You’re beaming as you press his hand to your stomach. “I thought I felt - I wasn’t sure, but that’s definitely - oh, honey!” You throw your arms around him and he clings to you.

“Holy hell,” he whispers in your ear. “That’s our baby in there.” You nod, not letting go.

-||-

“So when do you find out the gender?” Anna asks, tapping her pencil on her desk as you move around the classroom. Jessica echoes the question and you pause.

“Well…” you say, considering. “We could find out now, I suppose. I mean. At our next appointment.” You mull this over. “But…”

“But?” Anna demands, brushing her hair back. “Why would you not want to know?”

“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging. “Mr. Urie is just convinced it’s a girl so I guess I’m convinced too and we feel like we don’t need to find out.”

Brian gives you a blank stare. “How does he know?” He asks, and you pause.

“He just has a feeling,” you say finally, hearing how ridiculous it sounds and laughing a little. “Okay, maybe we should get confirmation.”

Anna nods eagerly. “And then you have to tell us so we can do a gender reveal!” She claps her hands. “Ooooh! We could get like - books, right? And open them up and paint all of the pages pink or blue!” At your horrified look, she says quickly, “or something else. That’s just a first draft idea.”

“Yeah…” you say slowly. “Besides, why would we do a gender reveal party if I’m the one telling you the gender so you can plan said gender reveal party?”

Jessica rolls her eyes. “Duh. You have the doctor write it down and seal it in an envelope and you give us the envelope. Then we plan.”

You pause. It does seem like a good idea. And it could be fun. “Let me talk to Mr. Urie,” you tell them. They’re giddy at this and soon after, the bell rings. Out they rush and you brace yourself for your second block. You’re suddenly very tired and head for your desk chair. You sit down and put your hand to your forehead. Your second block is coming in and Josh immediately notices your face.

“Mrs. Urie,” he says, rushing over. “Are you okay?”

You smile weakly. “I’m fine. Just got hit by a wave of tired; you know how it is. I just need to sit for a minute and then I’ll be fine.” He looks unsure and you give him a reassuring smile. “I promise.” Others are crowding around you now and you raise your hands, waving them off. “Really, I’m fine. Just - give me some air,” you say with a laugh. “Go, sit, read.” Reluctantly, they head to their desks and you rest your head in your hands, trying to find enough energy to make it through the period. If you can make it through the period, you can go to Brendon’s office during planning and take a nap on his couch. That thought alone boosts your energy a little and you focus on that. By the time their reading time has passed, you’ve rallied enough to stand. You’re praying for the lesson to go quickly and you’re thankful you’re feeling like this in second block; these kids are much quieter than your first block. Had this been first block, you would have been down for the count up against those personalities.

When the bell rings and the kids rush out, Marissa hangs back. “Do you want me to walk with you to the band room?” Her voice is soft and your head snaps up to meet her gaze. “I figured you’d wanna go there. And I don’t know…” she shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t like the idea of you walking by yourself when you don’t feel well.”

“That’s so kind of you, Marissa,” you say, “but-“ and you close your eyes, picturing the walk to the band room. You’re reconsidering. “Actually, that would be really nice. Just in case,” you say in a lighthearted tone. “We can discuss your Pride and Prejudice paper as we walk!”

-||-

Letting Marissa walk with you was the best idea you’ve had in a long time. You’re using all of your energy to put one foot in front of the other; you don’t know how you’d open the door, let alone knock on it. Even thinking about doing so is draining. Brendon opens the door quickly at Marissa’s quick tapping; his eyes go wide when he sees you, unsteady on your feet. You may have fooled the students, but you can’t fool him. “She doesn’t feel well,” Marissa says as an explanation and Brendon nods, already supporting you by wrapping an arm around your waist and holding you securely. You lean into him and hear Brendon thank Marissa sincerely and offer to write her a pass to third block once you’re settled. Moving slowly, he gets you into his office and sits you down on the couch. Almost immediately, you tip over and let your head hit the plush pillows and Brendon lifts your feet tenderly so you’re stretched out on the couch.

“Thank you,” you mumble with your eyes closed. “Thank you, Marissa. Thank you too, B.” And with that, you’re sound asleep.

-||-

Brendon studies Y/n on the couch, chest rising and falling as she dozes. He turns to Marissa. “What happened?”

Marissa shrugs, biting her lip and visibly nervous. “She didn’t feel well when class started. She made it through and I offered to bring her down here - I didn’t want her trying to walk on her own. I know she said she’s just tired but,” and she bites at her thumbnail now. “I was scared.” They both look at Y/n, clearly deep in sleep, face peaceful and body limp.

“Thank you,” Brendon says softly, looking at Marissa. “Really. Thank you. Let me write you a pass to your third block.” And with a quick scribbling on a hall pass, he sends her on her way. He comes back into the room and gazes at his wife. “Oh honey,” he sighs, running a hand over his face. “You scared me.” Crossing back to the couch, he toes off his shoes and, carefully, gets onto the couch behind so he can wrap Y/n in his arms.

-||-

You must sense his presence or feel him because you turn in his arms and Brendon kisses your forehead gently. “Sleep, Y/n.” Eyelashes barely fluttering, you snuggle in closer with a sleepy sigh and are out cold again.

-||-

“Honey,” Brendon whispers as you stir, whimpering. After a moment, you blink sleepily and stretch a little, whimpering as the pull burns pleasantly in your calves. “How are you feeling?” You focus on him and yawn. “You can go back to sleep,” he tells you, stroking your hair and you shake your head. “No?”

“No...gotta get ready for class,” you tell him, trying to stand up but slumping back down against him when he laughs softly. “What?” You grin and tease the collar of his shirt. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“Babygirl,” he murmurs, cupping your face. “What time do you think it is?” You hesitate, thinking. You feel much more rested so you tell him probably ten, fifteen minutes before fourth block. He laughs again and, wiggling around on the couch to free his phone from his back pocket, holds it up for you to read the time.

“Eight fucking forty-five?” You’re horrified. “I slept through fourth block?”

“And dismissal and the commute home and dinner,” he says with a broad grin. “You needed it, love,” Brendon says fondly. “Don’t worry, I arranged for a sub for both of our fourth blocks.” At your look, he gives you a soft kiss. “Like I’m really gonna let my exhausted, pregnant wife sleep in here all alone. Besides, when I got back from calling the office for subs, you latched onto me. Arms, legs, mouth, all of it. I wasn’t going anywhere without your permission, which is just how I like it,” he teases, stroking your cheek.

“Oh my god,” you groan, burying your face in his chest. “I shouldn’t have slept so long.”

“Angel, you needed it,” Brendon says. You meet his eyes and he nods reassuringly. “I promise. No one is mad or upset. We’re all just worried about you.”

“Mmmm. Love when you call me Angel,” you say, getting sidetracked, reaching up to trace his jawline. “But honestly, you shouldn’t let me sleep that long. And you definitely shouldn’t let me keep you from your classes, baby.”

“Honestly,” Brendon says, nuzzling the top of your head, “if you asked me for the moon, I’d make it happen. So when you’re you clinging to me in your sleep and whimpering whenever I moved as though I was getting up…yeah, I’m going to let you sleep as long as you want and I’m going to be there to hold you tight until you wake up.”

“Bren…” you sigh, tears forming. “I love you.” He murmurs it back to you, letting you press back into his embrace. “Can we go home now? I’m hungry.” You look up at him hopefully and he smiles, kissing your forehead.

“Of course, Angel. Come on. Let’s get you home so I can cook for my girls.”

-||-

“Speaking of your girls,” you murmur once he’s settled on the couch and both of you have grilled chicken salads in your hands. His eyes snap to your at your words. “No no, I’m fine. We’re fine.” You rest a hand on your stomach. “Though I do appreciate how worried you are- how in tune you are to my - our- needs. I was just wondering - do you think we should get the gender confirmed?” Brendon considers this and you continue. “I only ask because my first block wants to do a gender reveal party for us.”

“That’s awesome,” Brendon says sincerely, face lighting up. “That sounds great. I guess we have to get a confirmation though,” he says. “We can’t just go with my gut instinct.”

“No, I don’t think we can, love,” you say fondly, reaching over to take his hand and guide it to your stomach. “But I will be very surprised if it’s not a girl.” He grins and brings his other hand over. “She’s been moving a lot today,” you say softly, closing your eyes.

“Quickening,” Brendon comments, and you open your eyes to give him a curious look. “I read your book. The what to expect one? I figured I should know what to expect too. But yeah. Our little girl probably is ‘developing muscles and is exercising,’ hmmm?” He directs this obviously quoted-directly-from-the-book comment to your stomach and glances up at you. “I really hope it’s a girl.”

“What if we’re wrong?” You sound nervous and Brendon takes both of your hands in his. “Will you be disappointed?”

“Hardly,” he scoffs, leaning in and kissing you gently. “You know at the end of the day all I care about is a healthy baby. A girl is just my preference,” he tells you, and you nod, agreeing. “You wanna take a bath, honey?”

“Please,” you say with a smile, passing him your plate. “Thank you.” He takes both plates to the kitchen and comes back, offering you a hand. You accept it and he helps you to your feet, pulling you in while stepping closer to you simultaneously so he can bury his face in your neck.

“Ready?” His voice is soft and you nod, clinging to him as he lifts you up into his arms and heads for the stairs. Once you’re in the bathroom, he sets you down on the counter so he can start the water, add the bubble bath, and check the temperature via the floating thermometer that he did, in fact, purchase as promised. “Okay, angelbaby,” he murmurs, crossing back to you to kiss you softly. “One relaxing bath for my stunning wife.”

“You’re coming with me,” you say, tugging at his sweatpants. He arches an eyebrow and nods simply, telling you if that’s what you want. “It’s what I want,” you assure him. It’s been hard, not having him in the tub with you, but with him behind you, your body was at an uncomfortable angle and scooting lower didn’t help so it’s been a long two months of solitary baths - he’s never left you alone though; he’s always sat outside the tub, back against the side, head tipped back to talk to you. Today though, you've been thinking about him and looking at him differently. There’s been a flicker of a flame of lust pooling in you and now, having him this close...You feel almost like your old self - you have a good feeling and want to try again. “Come on,” you beckon once you settle into the water. Brendon carefully slides in behind you after shedding his sweatpants and you’re both quiet for a moment. “Yes,” you finally say, relaxing against his chest. “This is good.”

“Yeah?” He sounds hopeful and you nod, playing with his fingers as they rest on your stomach. “I’m glad. I’ve missed this - not that - I mean, I understand why - and I would never want to make you uncomfortable- but,” he stammers, finally falling silent and kissing your neck. After a moment, he tries again. “I’m just glad you’re feeling better - good enough to do this.”

“Me too,” you tell him, shifting slightly and sighing happily. “Didn’t like being in here alone.” He shakes his head and holds you snugly as you recline your head back on his shoulder. “Missed this so much,” you whisper. “Missed feeling you.” You wiggle back and reach one hand under the water to brush over his erection.

“Fuck, Y/n, sorry - I’m just - my dick missed this too,” Brendon says with a soft laugh, kissing your neck. You purr contentedly, curling your hand around his hard length. “Baby, you don’t need to - I can take care of myself later- or now?” He offers. “I’ll get out and take care of this and then come back?”

“No,” you say softly. “Want to try…” you trail off as he bucks helplessly into your hand, apologizing as he does. “It’s good. Don’t apologize. Want to try,” you say decisively. He grunts in your ear as your hand tightens. “I’m sorry to waste this bath but…”

“No,” Brendon tells you soothingly, and you can hear the longing in his voice. “It’s okay. We don’t need to rush, love. Let’s take our time. Let me take care of you.” You nod and relax back against him, sighing happily when you feel his fingers tease your entrance. “Is that silicone lube still around?” He cranes his neck and looks furtively for the small bottle. “Aha!” With his free hand, he stretches to the side to grab it and pops the top, bringing his hand once pressed against you to the surface to drizzle lubricant over his three fingers.

“Three?” You can hear the nerves in your voice and he kisses your cheek soothingly.

“Just to rub against you, Angel. Like I said, we’re gonna take our time.” You smile and nod, spreading your legs a bit wider. “Still my good girl, aren’t you?” He murmurs, sliding his hand down underwater again. “Still my good girl who knows how to spread her legs for me, aren’t you?”

“Uh huh,” you manage, letting your head roll back on his shoulder. “Ohhhh feels good,” you sigh when he slips one finger into you slowly. He makes a soft sound, agreeing with you, moving his middle finger in and out, curling it, slowly. “Brendon…” you whisper. “That feels so good.” He kisses your cheek and you press against his lips. “I can - I can take two,” you reassure him, reaching down to encourage him to add another finger. “Give me two, baby, please.”

“Don’t wanna rush you,” Brendon tells you softly, pulling his hand back slightly so he can rub your clit gently with the tip of his middle finger. “Don’t wanna push you too hard.”

“Baby, please,” you beg, your hand wrapping around his wrist under the water. “How’m I supposed to take your cock if you won’t even give me two fingers?” He concedes this point and carefully, gently adds a second finger. “Oh fuck,” you groan, back arching away from his chest. “That’s so fucking - yes, god, Brendon, yes- oh-!”

“Love?” He sounds concerned and you shake your head, insisting you’re fine, telling him to keep going. “I don’t know, honey, I don’t want to-“

“I’m fine,” you repeat, rocking back against his hand. “Just - it feels so good and I want- ooooh, yes,” you whimper when both fingers curl. “I want more. I want you. I want everything I’ve been missing for two months.” You roll your head to the crook of his neck. “Don’t you miss your girl? It’s been two whole months…”

Let’s get you out, dry off, and get in bed.” He chuckles at himself and his tone. “I do miss you. I’m a bit eager, I guess.” You smile at him and tell him you’re eager too. You both quickly dry off as much as necessary before he leads to you to bed. “What do you need?” He looks at you expectantly. “Anything. You can have anything.”

“Well…” you pause. “Wanna try on my back first...actually - not sure if you’ll be able to actually thrust much - because,” You gesture at your stomach and giggle. He smiles and kisses you softly. “So... maybe not. Might need to be on top or on my hands and knees.”

“I don’t want you to have to be on top, love,” he murmurs, stroking your cheek. “That’s too much work. And not your hands and knees either, honey,” Brendon protests. “That sounds uncomfortable for you.”

“No,” you say thoughtfully. “With a pillow or two under me, it’d probably be okay.” You consider. “Lets try it real quick,” you suggest, giving him a coy smile. He grins back at you, indicating with a nod of his head that you should roll over. You do so and carefully wedge two pillows under yourself, keeping your hips supported. “Feels fine,” you tell him.

His hands close over your hips as he settles behind you, and you can feel the slick head of his cock nudging the back of your thigh. “You sure?” His words are reluctant but you know he wants this and you do too, so you nod vigorously. “Okay,” Brendon murmurs, squeezing your hip with one hand as he guides his erection into you. You both inhale sharply as he fills you; you bury your face in another pillow and moan, low and wanting and wordless. Brendon, on the other hand, is groaning and swearing and noticeably trying to restrain himself as he rocks into you. “Did you miss this, baby? I missed this,” he manages, picking up a bit of speed at your encouraging noises. “Missed you so badly.”

“Missed you too- oh- don’t stop, honey, Bren, yes - oooh - oh shit that’s-“ you break off, pressing your face to the pillow to whimper. “So fucking good oh fuck fuck fuck!” Your nails claw at the pillowcase as he thrusts and grunts your name as you buck back against him.

“You sound so good,” he tells you, his fingers tightening over your hips possessively. “My wife sounds- so- good- oh shit babygirl, yeah- when- I fuck- her,” his voice staccato and timed with his thrusts.

“That’s because,” you moan, barely managing to lift your head from the pillow, “My husband fucks me so g-ooooh holy fucking- Brendon, yes!” You bury your face in the pillow again, squealing as you dip your back to offer yourself to him.

“That’s a - fuck - good girl,” Brendon grunts, fingers flexing again. “That’s my - yes, honey, oh god fuck yeah- good girl.” You’re whining and squirming and bucking and he can tell from your trembling that you must be close.

“I’m gonna - you’re gonna make me- Bren!” Your voice is hard to read; maybe it’s the rush of oxytocin to his head and he’s just confused but you sound almost - disappointed? Your next statement clears things up for him. “Too soon, it’s too soon; don’t wanna - wanna keep- so you can- you need mo-ohhhhhhhhhh sweet god in heaven you’re gonna make me come!”

“Come for me, honey,” Brendon gasps, shifting slightly up so his cock angles down as he thrusts into you. You squeal when he makes contact with your G-spot; he thrusts again and you moan, low and guttural. “Come,” he urges. “Don’t worry about me; I’m gonna - if you come- Jesus, Y/n, you feel- I will too - your cunt - so fucking tight around my cock when you- oh fuck, baby, do it, come for me, my good girl, that’s a good girl, yes baby, that’s my good gi- yes yes- fuck!“

“Oh- fuck- now!” Your voice is high and you go rigid as your climax rips through you; he gasps and doubles over, chest pressed to your back as you clench around him. “Bren- yes!” The rest is a wordless shriek of pleasure and he comes with you, groaning your name and thrusting hard to fill you.

“Y/n, honey, holy fuck, I missed that,” Brendon whispers when you’re both breathing normally again and you nod, whimpering when he pulls out of you and collapses beside you. You roll over at his urging and he caresses your side, holding you close. “I love you so much,” he tells you. “I would do anything for you.” He meets your eyes and you can see the sincerity burning there.

“I love you too,” you reply, voice soft. “You’ve made me the happiest woman alive. I would do anything for you.”

“Oh, my love,” Brendon says tenderly, kissing your nose. “You’ve already done the two best things possible - married me and given me a child.”

-||-

“Bren!” You call from the couch where you’re stretched out the next afternoon, clad only in one of his larger marching show shirts. It’s taut across your stomach but the hem brushes your thighs and it smells like him, so you’re happy.

“Yes, Angel?” He calls back from the kitchen, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “What can I bring you?” At his question, you cock your head and consider. You weren’t hungry until he offered...you’re technically still not hungry - it’s just the power of suggestion. You tell him this and he tells you that he’ll be right in to sit with you. When he finally settles on the couch, he lifts your legs into his lap so he can rub your feet, thumbs pressing into the arches.

“Ooooh,” you purr, relaxing into his touch. “Feels nice, B,” you manage, letting your head roll back onto the couch throw pillows. He smiles at you so sweetly but the look is his eyes is so longing that it makes your mind wander back to the evening before - how his fingers pressed into your hips as he held you still while he came in you.

“Good,” he murmurs, eyes growing heavy. “Gotta keep my sweet girl happy.” There’s a flash of something there that sends a thrill through you. “What are you thinking, Y/n?” His voice is knowing and you meet his eyes.

“Speaking of keeping me happy…”

“Anything. Name it.” He is perfectly serious; you could ask him for quite literally anything and no matter how ridiculous,he’d make it happen. You purr happily again, clutching at the couch cushions under you as his thumbs work.

“Want- fingers,” you tell him, blushing slightly as you spread your legs slightly in his lap. “Wanna-“

“Be a good girl and come all over my fingers?” Pupils fully dilated, voice husky, a faint flush is creeping up his neck. He wants it too. “You wanna be my good girl, my best girl, and get my fingers nice and slick so I can lick them clean?”

“Ooooh- fuck yes,” your voice comes out as a shaky sigh. “Don’t wanna be needy or deman-“ but he shifts to cut you off with a kiss before you can finish the thought.

“Love it. Love that you want me to take care of you.” His lips caress yours and his hand creeps down the shirt, reaching between your legs to feel how wet you are already. “My good girl is ready, isn’t she? My good girl has been wet and ready for some time, hasn’t she? My best girl has been aching for my fingers deep in her pretty pussy for a while now, yeah?” His voice is soft and seductive; his eyes on yours paired with his words sends another wave of burning need through you. At your moan, he carefully slides a finger in, watching your face intently. “This is okay?” Brendon whispers. You nod and wiggle impatiently; he chuckles. “More?”

“More,” you insist, wrapping in your hand around his wrist and pressing closer. “Need more. Need you.” He smiles and obliges, adding a second finger. “Yes,” you manage, eyes fluttering shut. “Yes, that’s so - yes, fuck yes- baby!” You’re rocking hard against his hand, breath coming in short gasps and back arched in satisfaction.

“Be my good girl,” is all Brendon has to say. At his words, you’re squealing your orgasm and bucking hard against his hand as your eyes snap open wide. You know how tight you must feel around his fingers; just his two fingers feel huge and you’re feeling incredibly full. “That’s my good girl,” he soothes as you start to come down. “That’s my good, pretty girl. Comes when she’s told.” Eyes still locked on yours, he brings his fingers to his lips. You inhale sharply, almost a whine, when he idly lets his tongue run up the length of his ring finger, just the sight of it teasing you. He doesn’t make it far before he’s closing his eyes. “Holy fucking fuck,” he murmurs, and you’re confused until he slides both fingers fully into his mouth, sucking eagerly and moaning around them. You squirm again and he looks at you. “You taste so fucking good,” he tells you, wet but now-clean fingers lingering on your thigh. “You always taste amazing don't get me wrong but now you taste - totally different but still so good - god, a bit salty...fuck, I want- no, need more,” Brendon groans, biting his lip as he looks at you. “Can I have more?”

“Anytime you want it,” you tell him before biting your lip and trying to steady your breathing. Just the image of him sucking on his fingers has gotten your inner thighs slick and he’s shifting now to kneel on the sofa facing you. “Oh god, B. Anytime you want it,” you reassure him, gasping when he reaches forward to tug needily at your hips. You shift down the couch to accommodate and sink further into the throw pillows. You nod when he asks if you’re comfortable and he smiles up at you tenderly.

“Good. Want my sweet girl to be feeling good when I make her feel good,” he murmurs, dipping his head down and letting himself indulge in a long, lingering, first taste. “Oh sweet fucking - holy shit, Y/n,” he groans, clinging to you and letting his head rest on your thigh. “I hope you don’t have plans for the foreseeable future.”

You tangle your hands in his hair as he presses his mouth to you again and cry out in what can only be described as ecstasy when he moans and sucks and nibbles gently before soothing with long, slow, sensuous strokes of his tongue. He takes his time, savoring you, murmuring to you how good you are, how sweet you are, how much he loves you. He holds out as long as he can, wanting to take care of you, but when your thighs tighten around his head and your back arches slightly as his tongue rolls deep in you, his self-control cracks and he tightens his wrapped-around grip on your thighs. “Do it, baby,” you urge him breathlessly. “Eat me out like you want to - know it’s driving you crazy, know you want - oh, fuck yes, yes Bren,” you whimper as he drops the facade of pacing himself.

He’s groaning and his hips are rocking slightly, desperate for some friction against his cock while his mouth works urgently; his strokes are sloppier, his suckling harder, and his fingers dig into your thighs. “Hon-“ he manages, breathing hard and chest heaving, before meeting your eyes with a wild expression in his eyes. “Can I- fingers too? Want my girl to come.”

“Fuck, please!” Your voice breaks mid-plea and he groans happily, carefully sliding two fingers into you. “Oh fucking - Brendon! Yes!” Your own hips are rocking now against his face and he groans again, pleased. His fingers go deep and curl slightly, spreading just enough for the tip of his tongue to flick back and forth rapidly over your clit. His lips close over you and as his fingers work inside you, he sucks at your clit gently as his tongue keeps moving. It’s too much; you tug at his hair hard. “Oh baby, please make me come - please - make me come, make me come, make me co-oh shit! Fuck! Yes!” Your thighs snap shut around his head as your body goes rigid; your toes curl and your back arches and your hands hold his face firmly against your heat, squealing and bucking hard as you praise him - his mouth, his tongue, his fingers, his existence. His face is slick and warm and wet against you and you know it’s your fault, but when you finally go limp, he pulls back to look at you, obviously enraptured as the lower half of his face glistens with the product of his efforts.

“Oh god,” he finally murmurs, slumping to one side of you, an arm flung over your stomach. “Oh my god. You’re - holy fuck, you’re my wife,” Brendon marvels, voice low and hoarse. “My sweet, gorgeous, pregnant wife.” He shudders with pleasure again. “My Angel,” he whispers, holding you close. “My beautiful Angel.”

“I love you,” you tell him, tears brimming. He looks up at you adoringly, fatigue etched across his face as he whispers it back. “My man worked hard,” You comment, stroking his hair. “My man should fall asleep right here and take a well-deserved nap.” You let your nails tease his scalp and he moans, snuggling closer, saying that he won’t sleep well if he knows you’re awake. “I always sleep well after coming like that,” you promise with a soft smile. “Now, close your eyes and rest, love.”

-||-

When you wake up, you’re in your bed with Brendon spooning you from behind, his arm slung low over your pelvis to keep you pulled back against him and his lips pressed to the back of your neck. You stir and he mumbles something, lips tickling your skin. “When did we,” and your yawn interrupts you briefly, “get in bed?” You pause and he smiles, lips curving against you. “Not that I mind, of course.”

“Carried my angel up here,” he tells you in his thick-with-sleep voice. “My pretty baby deserves the best. Gonna sleep in our bed. Not on the couch.” You purr contentedly and he nuzzles your ear. “My pretty baby. My sweet, pretty, angelbaby.” He mumbles something else sleepily, and you turn slightly, asking him what he said. “I saidddddd,” he drawls, stroking your upper thigh, “that I have a craving.”

“Well,” you say, stretching slightly and curving a hand back to caress his hair. “I know how brutal those cravings can be.” He grins and you giggle. “Satisfy that craving, honey.”

“Fuck, thank you,” Brendon gasps in your ear and shifting to hover over you before sliding down between your legs. “Gonna satisfy you too, don’t worry.”

“Oh, I know,” you whisper, lacing your fingers through his hair. “I know, Bren. You always -ooooh- do,” you sigh, relaxing into his touch.

-||-

“Toast and cranberry juice for my lovely wife,” Brendon pronounces as he turns from the kitchen counter to you with the plate in his hand. He is about to give it to you when he stops short. “I accept payment in kisses,” he tells you with a serious look.

“Yeah?” You grin. “And how many kisses will my breakfast cost me?” He tilts his head, obviously considering, before telling you ten million. You gasp playfully and draw him close with one hand on the back of his head. “Ten million is a lot,” You murmur.

“I’ll give you the rest of your life to pay,” he murmurs back, setting the plate down and bringing both hands to your hair and kissing you fervently. “But I’m gonna need to add interest, of course.”

“That’s only fair,” you agree, giggling when his hands move lower down over your back and hips. “I love you,” you whisper after a moment. He inhales sharply and rests his forehead against yours.

“I will never,” he declares, brushing the pad of his thumb over your lips delicately, “get tired of hearing you say that. I love you too.” You smile and pull him back in for another long kiss. When you both pull apart for air, he wraps a lock of your hair around his index finger, playing with it idly. “I thought,” he begins, meeting your eyes, “we could go over to the new house. Do some painting and furniture shopping?” He chuckles when your eyes light up. “Yes?”

“Yes,” you tell him eagerly. “Yes!” You pause for a moment. “We’re still just painting the nursery and our bedroom, right?” He nods and kisses you softly.

“Yes. Just the two rooms that matter most. We’ll let someone professional do the others,” he says with a laugh. “You need anything else to eat, babydoll?” You pop the last bite of toast into your mouth and smile at him radiantly.

“Nope!” You say as you swallow. “Let’s go get dressed and get to work.” You grab his hand and tug him upstairs, giggling when he pulls you back to him in the hallway and scoops you up into his arms to carry you the rest of the way. As he deposits you on the bed, you pull him down beside you for another deep kiss. He groans and clutches at your back, moaning your name.

“Love, we gotta get up and be productive,” Brendon murmurs, regret lacing his voice. “As much as I wanna stay here with you like this.” He considers. “Well, maybe you flipped around so I can bury my-“

“Fuck,” you whine, pawing at his chest. “That sounds so good, B…” you stare up at him with big, needy eyes and he groans, kissing your forehead before laughing softly, affectionately. “Whaaaaat?” You say teasingly, batting at him again.

“I’m just glad your sex drive is back,” he says fondly, voice husky and eyes heavy. “Love you, and I do mean you, baby. But also love sex with you. We’re quite good at it, after all.” He tips your chin up and kisses you deeply, letting his tongue tease yours. “Quite, quite good,” he elaborates, before nibbling on your lower lip and pulling back to meet your eyes. “And while I want nothing more than to turn you around and make love to you…” he sighs softly. “We should tackle our to-do list.”

“Hurts that I’m not on said list,” you tease, and Brendon laughs, spanking you lightly. “Mmmmm, thank you honey,” you purr, cupping his face. “Gives me hope for later. Now,” you say briskly, sitting up and resting a hand on your stomach. “Let’s be productive.”

-||-

“I don’t know how you expect me to focus,” Brendon complains good-naturedly, watching you as you walk next to him in a pair of leggings and one of his dress shirts, the top two buttons free and the hem brushing mid-thigh, tunic-style. “When you look so cute in my clothes.” You turn to look up at him and grin, blowing him a kiss. “You know,” he mumbles, pressing your hip to his. “With those two buttons undone, I can see your perfect-“

“Public, Urie,” you tease, biting your lip and touching his hand resting on your hip gently. “We’re in public.” You dart your eyes around the paint store aisle before trailing a hand up his neck and pulling his mouth down to yours briefly. “That should hold you over,” you tease breathlessly. “Til we can be alone. Now let’s pick out some paint.” He nods, eyes still dark and dilated, but follows you, your fingers still laced together.

“I like this one,” he says, pointing to the middle when you splay three paint chips in front of him in varying shades of grey. “That’s really pretty.” He snakes an arm around your waist. “Do you like it?” His fingers stroke the side of your stomach tenderly and you lean into his touch, nodding. “Well, let’s get a few chips of it and take them back to the house,” Brendon suggests. “Do you have a color in mind for the nursery?” You tilt your head, considering. “Because if you don’t,” he says, pointing towards the lighter of the three, “I like that. What is that, dove grey?”

You nod and he kisses your temple. “It’s nice. And no matter what decor we go with, it’ll look nice. Pink and grey...blue and grey...Hell, pale yellow and grey…” he muses and you nod again. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” you tell him, smiling up at him. “Let’s grab more chips, maybe a sample of each, and go to the next stop on our list?” Brendon nods and holds you tightly for a moment, breathing in the scent of your hair. “You good, Urie?” You tease softly and he nods, kissing the top of your head.

“Incredibly good,” he murmurs, letting his lips linger. When he pulls back, his eyes are tender and full of adoration. His fingers caress your side and you smile up at him longingly. “Incredibly happy,” he adds, brushing your hair back. “Now let’s go be productive.” With his hand on the small of your back, the two of you pick up the tiny sample jars of paint and extra chips. As you’re leaving, he stops short and plucks a brochure from an end-cap about various home security systems. He catches your inquisitive look and smiles. “Gotta keep my girls safe,” he explains. “Not gonna let anything happen to my family.”

#brendon urie #my work #brendon urie imagine #brendon urie smut #fanfic #brendon x reader #imagine #work in progress #ready to leap #pregnant reader

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that-buckley-gal · 6 years ago

Text

Powerless - Chapter One

June 14, 1943

I was turning 19 tomorrow. This revelation hit me suddenly when I caught sight of a balloon stand. I found this a strange sight, considering it was a Monday, and these vendors usually didn’t come out until Thursday or Friday. I turn my gaze away from it then, unsure of what else I should be looking at.

I wished that I were still in school. Maybe then I wouldn’t look like a tool as I sat outside this recruitment center as my brother tried to enlist to be a part of the U.S. Army for the forth time. I didn’t even know why he kept trying. He’s been rejected with a 4F three times before this, but I suppose that’s what made him Steve. His persistence. I liked to think myself to be as selfless and as compassionate as my older half-brother but I knew I underdid it sometimes. I always tried my best and never gave up. If there’s one lesson I’ll forever cherish from my big brother, it was that.

As my light blue eyes wander around the street once more, I can hear light footsteps approaching me and I turn to the sound. My eyes immediately find the warmer blue orbs of my brother and I smile at him slightly.

“So…” I start, clasping my hands together. “How did it go?”

Steve shrugs, stuffs his hands in his pockets, and sighs. The smile I’d managed to grow slowly turned upside down and I found myself frowning at Steve. A part of me was glad that he was once again rejected from enlisting but another larger part of me was upset that Steve wasn’t able to do the one thing he wanted most.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” I said hugging my brother.

Steve returned my hug, shrugging once more. “Well, what else do we have to do today?”

“I don’t have any plans,” I said. “Bucky said he had something come up.”

“Do you think he got his orders?” Steve asked.

“I…don’t know,” I said. Steve and I stood awkwardly together on the sidewalk. “Wanna go see a movie?”

“What time is it?” Steve asks as he pulled out his pocket watch. When he saw the time, he nodded his head as he pocketed his watch. “Sure, we can go catch an early showing right now if you wanted.”

“All right. Then let’s go.”

My brother and I had a two-inch difference in height, him being taller than me. I think we both got our shortness from our mother, who’d passed away from TB.

Steve is more reserved than usual as we walked towards the movie theater down the street. Unable to stand long silences, I begin to describe a new dress I bought specifically for a date night with Bucky, whenever that happened again. It was pointedly red with a black lace belt. It flowed down just under my knees, and the sleeves were long enough to cover half of my biceps. The only promiscuous thing about the dress was the wide V-shaped neckline that showed off some cleavage.

“Steven?” I ask. “Steve?”

I look at my brother and scowl briefly seeing that he wasn’t paying even the slightest attention to what I was saying. I purse my lips together but then decide to let it go. This wasn’t the first time Steve was pouty and upset over the fact he wasn’t accepted into the Army and it obviously wouldn’t be the last.

When we finally reached the theater, Steve paid for us to get in and we’re quickly ushered to our seats just as the lights dim. I shift in my seat a few times before finding a comfortable position and settling.

With a quiet, angry huff I cross one leg over the other and lean against one of the arm rests as a “support the war” commercial began playing. I peeked over at Steve and watched as he sat up a bit straighter before looking back towards the screen. Looking around briefly I noticed a woman also take interest in the commercial although she seemed sad. I averted my eyes from the mourning woman and turned back to the screen.

Serving the country did sound brave and honorable but because I was a woman and wasn’t allowed to do anything useful on the field except being a nurse, I complained about it a lot. If women were allowed to do the same things as men then that’d be a different story.

Most of the complaints that I had were that I didn’t want to be alone, that I didn’t want to worry about Steve and Bucky, and that I would be stuck here doing nothing while my boys would be doing something.

Bucky hid the fact that got drafted when Steve suggested that they go enlist in December of 1941 – Bucky was quickly accepted but Steve was rejected. Shortly afterwards, in March of 1942, Bucky left for basic training which would last for twelve weeks. We both got a taste of what our relationship would be like if Bucky ever got shipped out for real. It was hard to be away from him, but I knew I could do. If Steve had gone with him though…

“Hey, you wanna show some respect?”

I turn to Steve’s authorial whisper and dumbly wonder if I was voicing my thoughts out loud. My focus returns to the screen.

"Come on! Just start the cartoon already!" I hear a man drawl.

"Do you mind keeping it down?" I question snappily in a harsh whisper remembering the grieving woman behind me. I feel Steve grab my wrist in a way that tells me I should let him take care of it. The loud man scoffs, but doesn't say anything so Steve lets my wrist go.

The commercial continued on for another minute when the man whined again about how the film should already be playing.

"You want to shut up?" Steve asks the man, hotly.

I gulp and readjust myself as the tall, beefy guy stands up and slowly turns around. He glares at Steve and the woman on his other side before he inclined his head to the door. I watch Steve walk out, trying to push up his sleeves. The man followed him.

The other moviegoers let out sighs of relief when the big man walked out, but I couldn't bring myself to even breathe. What is Steve thinking? That guy is going to pulverize him!

It's with a dash of annoyance, a twinge of anger, and a hint of doubt do I get up out of my seat to chase after Steve and the big guy. I walk out of the theater, and step onto the sidewalk in the street looking out for either Steve or the big guy. Then I hear metal clanging on the ground and run to an alleyway where I see Steve get punched and tumble to the ground.

Stay down, Steve, please. Because Steve is, well, Steve, he doesn’t stay on the ground. He gets back up and slowly raises his fists in front of him.

“You just don’t know when to give up, do you?” The guy was angry because Steve wouldn’t just stay down.

“I can do this all day,” Steve said panting slightly, swaying on his feet.

I close my eyes, equally annoyed and proud of my brother’s actions when I hear another punch before some garbage cans rattle slightly. I cringe then slowly open my eyes to see Steve was lying among the tipped over garbage cans in a daze. The guy lets out a huff and turns, and that’s when our eyes meet.

“Well, hey there,” he said.

I step back a step but then remember that my brother stood up to this guy already. I glare at the man, retracing my own step. “Hey yourself.”

“What’s a pretty little girl like you doing with a bozo like that?”

“That bozo happens to be my big brother.” I mentally slap myself for how childish I sounded. “Now why don’t you go pick on somebody your own size?”

“Somebody like…you?” He teased as he walked towards me. I didn’t have time to react until his hands gripped my arms. I instinctively begin trying to fight back but this guy probably weighed over 100 pounds more than me and easily overpowered me, pinning me against the wall.

I grit my teeth when I feel the man��s hands on my waist before I lift my foot and stomp down as hard I can on his foot not expecting much of an outcome. However I was surprised when the guy jumped back, yelping in his own surprise. The guy scowls at me as he raises his fist. As it flies forward and straight at my face, I’m suddenly pulled out of harm’s way. For a second I feel as if I’m falling when I feel a pair of arms snake around me. My instincts kick in and I wrap my own arms around my savior’s shoulders as a gasp eases its way out of my mouth.

I can faintly hear the bully’s shout of pain and the slew of curses that shortly followed over the sound of my heartbeat thundering in my ears. My blue eyes meet the dark blue-green orbs of Bucky Barnes and his lips twitch as they pull up into a cocky smirk.

“Why am I always finding you in distress, my fair damsel?” Bucky chuckled lowly as he slowly raises me so I’m standing. Bucky then turns back to the guy who instantly tries to take a careless swing at Bucky, which he obviously avoids. My boyfriend then punched the guy, telling him my exact words from before: “Go pick on someone your own size.”

The guy grabbed his cheek before trying to turn to scramble off when Bucky kicks the guy's rear, making the guy run away faster. Bucky then turns back to me.

“Are you alright?” Despite all of his teasing, Bucky really did love me and I could see that in the way he was looking at me right now.

“I am. Thank you for saving me…even though I had him.”

Bucky didn’t take the bait though and instead he pressed his lips onto mine in a rough manner. His hands cupped my face shielding my identity from people should they look at us while mine held his forearms. With a slight grunt Bucky pulled away.

I want to ask him what he was doing here when his lips meet mine again in a tender kiss. I lost my train of thought.

When we parted, the soldier draped a lazy arm around my waist and we walked the five or six feet over to Steve, who was just coming out of his daze.

“Sometimes I think you like getting punched,” Bucky said.

“I had him on the ropes,” Steve said, shaking dirt and gravel off his hands. He grunted and hissed as he felt around his face, which I could only imagine to be burning and sore.

“Yeah, like Madison had him? How many times is this?” Bucky asked suddenly bending down. I bite my lip seeing he was grabbing Steve’s enlistment form. I lean closer to him and read over Steve’s latest form. “Oh you’re from Paramus now?”

Steve didn’t reply, still bothered by being dirty.

“You know it’s illegal to lie on your enlistment form, right? And seriously: Jersey?”

Steve finally quits trying to straighten himself out and makes to respond when he suddenly takes in Bucky’s appearance. I look from man to man before I myself begin taking in Bucky’s appearance. He was dressed up in his suit and I find myself gnawing on my lip to keep from pouting. His being dressed up could only mean he got his orders and was leaving to be Sergeant James Barnes.

“You got your orders?” I ask then.

Bucky bit his lip, looking at me with his apologetic eyes before they look over his suit. He looked between Steve and I. “The 107th: Sergeant James Barnes shipping out for England, the first thing tomorrow.”

I scowl at James, wondering why he couldn’t tell me when we were alone, but then deflate remembering that he was Steve's best friend long before he was my boyfriend. It was probably better for him to take out two birds with one stone.

I noticed that I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t find the words to say as Steve looked to the ground.

“We should probably get going,” he said, and I knew that Bucky was excluded from “we”.

Bucky then grinned at Steve while re-draping his arm around my waist. I move to get out of it and away from him when his grip tightens. I notice he’s smiling as he ruffs up Steve’s hair with his free hand but his eyes show he’s wounded and I let myself stay by his side. “Come on, punk. Can I have a moment alone with my best girl?”

Steve takes off towards the street while I smack James’ arm with little affection. “Best girl, huh? I better be your only girl, boy.”

Bucky backs me up so I’m against a wall and we stare into each other’s eyes.

“You’re mad at me,” he stated.

“I’m not mad,” I said. “I’m just confused as to why you couldn’t tell me you were shipping out in private, that’s all.”

“Aw shucks, doll. Don’t be that way.”

“James.”

“I have something special planned for later, which might make me leaving a little easier to cope with.”

“Oh really?” I raise a brow at him as my fingers begin to play with his tie.

“Mhm.” His simple reply didn’t make me feel any better, but I didn’t comment on this as I stood on my tiptoes in order to give him a sweet peck that let him know I forgave him.

With our heads clear, we caught up to Steve.

“Come on, you two! It’s my last night. We gotta go get cleaned up.”

“Why?”

“Where are we going?” Steve asks. Bucky used his free hand to grab some papers from the hand that was re-draped around my waist, never letting me go.

“The future,” he stated.

Steve stopped and began snooping through the papers his best friend handed him which made itch to see what was on them. I shifted in Bucky’s arms several times before he let me stand next to my brother, favoring standing behind me, arms around my shoulders as his head rested on top of mine. I could see it was a flier for the World of Tomorrow Exposition, hosted by Howard Stark, who piqued my interest much to Bucky’s dismay. I look at him, shooting him a grin which he returns before I turn back to the paper.

“We’re going tonight,” Bucky announced before he swooped in close to my ear whispering, “Baby-doll, I need you to get a date for Steve.”

“I can probably do that,” I tell him just as quietly. “And meet you guys there at seven?”

“That sounds like a plan,” Bucky said.

“What sounds like a plan?” Steve wanted us to elaborate, but then he made a face at Bucky and I as we shared another kiss before we went our separate ways until later tonight. “Can you guys at least watch the public displays of affection around me?”

Steve needs a date, I think idly as my feet lead me back to my and Steve’s apartment where I then pace in front of the phone for several minutes, deciding on who I should call. I didn’t have a lot of friends, mostly because none of the other girls wanted a friend who had to constantly cancel plans or get a rain check due to constant colds.

The friends I did have had all been sent off to marriage life when the war began, leaving me feeling slightly put out of that circle, but I was their friend with no children. Usually when they called upon me, or I to them, we had told their husbands that I was having a mental breakdown over not having a husband to take care of me. I had a serious boyfriend but that little fact was always omitted. Because my friends were all married, I knew I’d have to call around to see who had an available sister or friend as a date for Steve. Without another thought, I grab the phone and take a seat on the couch in the tiny living room as my fingers move the dial on the phone. The first two I called were too busy to really talk through everything with me but were nice enough to promise to make a day for me sometime in the next few days which made me happy. The third one I called, Helen, had just put her newborn baby to sleep and was slightly off-put by my “untimely call” at first, but she soon got back to her normal, happy go luck self as I brought up the expo and needing a date for Steve. “Ugh,” Helen groaned from the other end of the phone. “I swear if I hadn’t gotten married, I would have went with y’all myself.” She wasn’t shy of her crush on Steve before her marriage, but she wasn’t Steve’s type. Neither of us decided to tell her because she was just too nice to crush like that. Besides she had a nice husband now and she was happily in love. “But I have Donald to love now.” “How is Donald?” I asked, genuinely curious. “Oh, he’s just fine. Got a promotion at work today actually. So we’re going to drop off the baby at his parents’ and then go out on a date to celebrate.” “That’s really good,” I say. It is good for them, especially when times are so tough, what with the war and all. As we continued to make small talk, I casually brought up the expo once more and Helen admitted her sister, Dorothy, or Dottie as she preferred to be called, was recently single. We conversed a bit more and I found out Dottie was 24 and living independently on a nurse’s salary, which impressed me. “Okay, I’ll have Dottie show up at your place about quarter to seven, all right?” Helen asked. “Yes, that sounds good,” I said. “Okay! I’ll see you on Saturday then, Madison!” I chuckle. “See you on Saturday.” With that, I hang up the phone and let out a breath. My eyes wander around our sparse two-bedroom apartment before they landed on a clock. I see it’s a little past three in the afternoon, leaving with me about three hours to get ready. “More than enough time,” I said. I then get off the couch and leave the living room, choosing to relocate to the bathroom where I draw myself a bubble bath to let go of some stress before the fair tonight. Later, once I was bathed and smelling like raspberries, I did up my hair and put on the dress I was trying to tell Steve about earlier. I stare at myself in my mirror, smoothing out the little wrinkles that formed on the skirt. I poke earrings through the holes in my ears before there’s a knock on the door. Surprised, I glance at the clock to see it’s already about quarter to seven, which makes me curse under my breath. “I’m coming!” I call to my guest, dabbing a bit of perfume on my wrists and spraying some on and around my neck. I fluff the loose strands of my hair a little with my fingers before grabbing my clutch. I move to the door anxiously before I open the door. My bright eyes instantly meet dark ones. “Hey,” the unknown girl said. I assumed she was ‘Dottie’. She addressed me with a smile. “Are you Madison?” “Yes,” I said. “I am.” “Great! Well, my name’s Dorothy, but please call me Dottie,” she said. I noticed her look me over and suddenly felt self-conscious. “You look so cute!” Cute? “Are you ready?” “Um, thank you,” I said. “And yes, I’m ready.” I close the door behind me and lock it before stuffing the key into my clutch. I peer over at Dottie’s dress and smile. “Your dress looks nice; I like the flowers.” “Thanks,” she said. “So how long have you known Helen? I’m surprised I’ve never met you until just now, but I was even more surprised when she called me and asked if I wanted to go on a blind date, because that’s normally not my thing. I like strong guys who have the courage to ask me out, you know? Anyway, so how is Steve as a person? Do you have a boyfriend? Am I talking too much? If I am, I’m sorry, I’m just nervous I guess. My first blind date in a long time.” When she goes silent, I take that as my cue to begin speaking. I clear my throat slightly as I try to process and replay everything she’d said just now in my mind. “Well…” I stall. “I met Helen in high school, actually. We didn’t really hang out a lot until just recently.” “That explains it,” Dottie butted in. I nodded my head and wondered what nightmare I’d just signed Steve up for. I’ll apologize to him later. “Steve is a really great guy, I mean I could tell you everything about him because he is my brother but I think I should leave the talking to him, don’t you think?” “Hmm, I guess so. Do you have a boyfriend?” “Uh huh,” I said. “Bucky’s been in my life since before I was even born, so I kinda grew up under him.” I continue on, briefly mentioning that I was dating him. “Awe, that’s so cute,” Dottie said. “I mean it’s kind of weird, but still cute.” My new acquaintance and I arrive at the fair gates at exactly seven and we stand around together sort of awkwardly. Because I grew up with him and became slightly dependent on his presence, it was like I had my own internal James Barnes radar and I easily spotted him in his army garb, walking next to Steve. Even from this far away, our eyes find each other’s and I can see him smile. He waves at me and I shoot him a small grin, childishly waving back. I begin running over to Bucky, who picks me up and spins me around. I can barely breathe when his strong arms close around me, but this is where I was happiest. I turn my head so my cheek was pressed against Bucky’s chest to check on Dottie and Steve and frown: both were standing in an unhappy manor. “Was this really a good idea?” I ask. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Bucky replied. I sigh and pull away from him, grabbing his hand and linking our fingers together as we walk over to the uncomfortable duo. “So… Where do we go first?” After some prodding and a little bit of encouragement, we got Steve and Dot to at least walk next to each other, behind Bucky and I as we walked around the fair. At around seven thirty, Bucky began leading us to a stage of some sort as an announcement rang out over our heads, welcoming the guests to the “world of tomorrow, a greater world, a better world”. Then my eyes caught onto a stage, where several people were already crowded around. Another announcement rang out, signaling that the presenter was about to come on stage. “It’s starting!” I say to Bucky, who only smiles at my childishness. I don’t give him time to respond before I’m pulling on his hand, urging him to follow me (which he does) as I begin to run to the front of the crowd. I wasn’t sure if Steve and Dot followed. I hope they did, but my focus wasn’t on them. It was on Bucky...and once he was introduced, I focused on Howard Stark. I give my boyfriend a mischievous grin, which he returns as we watched Stark’s presentation on a hovering car. “I did say a few years, didn’t I?” Howard said, making me giggle at how smooth the inventor was. His “hover car” had just hovered for a few seconds before crashing back to the ground, and he had just played it off like he meant to do that. “Hey Steve, what do you say we treat these girls to…?” I heard Bucky speak and turn to look at him. I notice Steve’s missing and I too begin to look around for my brother, when I spot Dottie chatting it up with another man in army garb. I scowl at her then, promising myself I’d let her have it if that was the reason why Steve took off. “Be nice, doll. I think I know where Steve is,” I hear Bucky’s words in my ear. I turn and follow him silently, leaving Dottie behind without a second thought. Bucky was practically dragging me to where he saw Steve – or wherever he believed Steve was to be found. I notice the crowd getting thinner as we continue to move away from the main points of the expo and I peer at the building in front of me to see it’s a recruitment center. “You really think Steve’s here?” Bucky’s unimpressed expression made me feel dumb as I realized that the obvious answer was yes. I recalled the countless times Steve unsuccessfully tried to get drafted and press my forehead into the palm of my hand. “Never mind, I know. Let’s just find him and go.” “Okay…” Bucky said, then he smiled. "You're pretty." "Now's not the time for flattery." "I was just stating facts." I don't respond to him as my eyes catch sight of Steve, standing miserably in front of a solider-painted mirror without a face. Steve was too short to see his face on the soldier's body. Seeing my brother broken up made me sad inside and for the way Bucky looked between my brother and me, I could see it hurt him to see us hurt. "Stay here," Bucky said to me. I nod at him and watch as he approached Steve. I try to not stare at the two best friends as they conversed. I already knew that Bucky was going to try to talk Steve out of trying to enlist whilst Steve would respond by saying that he "needed" to do something and that he just needs a chance.

I peer at the dynamic duo once more and when I look away, I catch a pair of eyes staring at me with a look of awe and disbelief etched on his face. My blinking several times and backing up a few steps, wondering why an old man was staring at me, breaks our stare. "Hey - Bucky! Can we go dancing?" I call out to my boyfriend, choosing to focus on him instead of the old man. Steve gives me a nod that tells me his fate to enlist is sealed and I just shake my head at him, but sneak him a grin that clearly says ‘good luck’ anyway. Bucky turns to me with a very wide grin on his face. He raises his arms up as he says, "Yes we can, my love!" I let out a short breath and smile back. Then, he turns back to Steve once more. They exchange a few words before sharing a brotherly hug and Bucky walks to me. "Take care of Madi, Buck," Steve warned. Bucky turned to salute him. "With my life." Steve nods, accepting this and turns to the enlistment center. Bucky walks over to me and grabs my hand, leading me away from Steve. We walk slowly through the fair, our fingers linked together the entire time. I had no idea where I was being lead to, but I knew I'd be safe as long I was with my soldier.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers #powerless #captain america #the first avenger

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nightmareonfilmstreet · 6 years ago

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The Monster Behind The Mask: Remembering FRIDAY THE 13TH PART III

Friday the 13th Part III was released theatrically in the United States on Friday, August 13, 1982. 36 years ago tonight. Does that make you feel as old as Pamela Vorhees’ grey sweater? If the answer is a resounding ‘No, you fool – I was born in the 80’s, I had to wait at least a decade until I watched Jason mutilating camp counselors’, then welcome to this special look back on one of the more divisive Friday the 13th films. Grab your machetes, pull down your ice-hockey masks and don your wacky green/red 3-D spectacles, because we’re heading to Higgins Haven for some stabby-stabby fun with Jason Voorhees.

By the time Friday the 13th Part 2 (1981) came around in theaters, audiences had become swamped with low-quality slasher titles. Slasher film fatigue had set in hard, and although Jason’s second outing grossed over $21.7 million in the United States on a budget of $1.25 million, fans were disappointed with a rehashing of the original story, and it failed to pull in the original’s box office success. The fact that they gave no explanation to the ridiculous ending of Part II showed that the people in charge didn’t really put much value in the continuity or story progression. One thing everyone could agree on though: Jason needed to be scarier. He needed to be a real boogeyman. And to get there, there were going to need a gimmick to get that cold hard cash-vein open again. They needed…3D.

A New Dimension In Terror

The titles jumped out at you like Superman’s cosmic intro, only….cheaper looking. Not to mention a bombastic funky 70’s inspired theme that I totally dug, man. What you have to remember is that in 1982 although 3D film-making was still in its infancy (Jaws 3D anyone?) by 2010, it had become almost commonplace for any film released to be retrofitted for a new dimension of sight and sound. Friday the 13th Part III, however, paved the way for future 3D films. You may have a strong fondness for everything three dimensional, but for all the people that love donning plastic visors on their head the other bemoan the comically irritating ploy to cough up more money at the box office. I wear glasses and absolutely hate 3D films becuase it feels like I’m wearing glasses on top of glasses…which I am!

Unless you have your own pair of flimsy pre-revolutionary 3D glasses, (which I doubt you have) you’re going to see a lot of shots of people waggling sticks at the camera, having yo-yo’s thrown at them. You’ll also be treated to an overly long lingering shot of a crazy old man sticking an eyeball uncomfortably close to the screen. Steve Miner (who also directed Part II) returned to the director’s post to helm Friday the 13th: Part III and this new dimension of terror that continues straight after the events of Part 2.

The Higgins Haven Massacre

Just like its predecessor, the film opens with an extraordinarily long recap of the previous film. We see final girl Ginny (Amy Steel) running away from ‘Baghead Jason,’ trapped in the makeshift cabin Jason has been holed up in with his mother’s severed head lovingly affixed to a small alter. Ginny tricks Jason into thinking she’s his mother, by donning her sweater and generally berating the child-like minded serial killer. Before she can use her machete on him however, Jason sees his mummified mumma’s head and avoids her killing blow. Paul (John Furey) appears and begins wrestling with Jason. While Jason is distracted, Ginny hacks him in slow-motion with his own machete. They assume he’s dead, but we see Jason slowly moving off the screen. Cue: Opening Credits.

Originally, Friday the 13th Part III was supposed to focus on lone survivor Ginny Field, (Sorry, Paul) who checks herself into a mental institution after her traumatic escapade with the pillow-wearing, dungaree killer. The film would have been similar in that vein to the popular Halloween II (1981), with Jason tracking down Ginny in the hospital, but that idea was abandoned when actress Amy Steel declined to reprise her role. Perhaps she didn’t want to be typecast as the scream queen for this particular franchise, but by 1986 she was again up on screen evading a knife-wielding killer in the slasher parody April’s Fool Day (1986). There was also speculation that producers were worried fans would reject a Friday the 13th which didn’t follow the established formula.

I would love to find a script with this narrative, because the franchise may have steered in a different direction (or it could have died a horrible death right there and then). Every good franchise needs a protagonist the audience can root for. Alien (1979) had Ripley, A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) had Nancy and Halloween (1978) had Laurie. You could argue that Friday the 13th had Tommy Jarvis, but he didn’t appear until the fourth installment. Looks like Steel missed the boat on this one if the powers that be really wanted her as the series’ Final Girl. With 12 films, a whole bunch of novels, video games, and the short-lived television series under their belt though. it looks like they went the right way.

Our new group of young victims are as follows: New Final Girl Chris (Dana Kimmell), ‘Spanish Phoebe Cates’ Vera (Catherine Parks), hot and steamy couple Debbie (Tracie Savage) and Andy (Jeffrey Rogers), hippie potheads Chili (Rachel Howard) and Chuck (David Katims), and franchise favourite, the lovable self-deprecating prankster Shelly Finkelstein (Larry Zerner).

The group arrives at Higgins Haven, a cottage (with a barn!) a mere stones-throw away from Packanack cabin, where the previous slaughter took place. The Scooby Doo/Cheech and Chong gang meet up with country farm boy Rick (Paul Kratka). It’s quickly established that he and Chris had a romantic tryst during their last summer at the lakeside cottage, and Rick instantly tries to get back to where things left off by feeling her up. Not cool, man. Not. Cool.

Chris explains that she wants to get to know him again but he responds that there are only so many ‘cold showers’ he could take. Wowzer. He essentially behaves like this for the entirety of the movie (bar one scene when Chris recounts a traumatic experience) but the weird thing is the filmmakers seem to want you to empathize with this guy – like he’s the hero of the movie. Film of the time, I guess?

After some tomfoolery from Shelley (and without the slightest irony of axe-wielding maniac foreshadowing), we’re introduced to a group of bikers that marks the first time in the franchise we’re introduced to black actors. It’s just a shame that they turn out to be scumbags. All the while, Jason’s been hiding in the barn, looking menacing from an over the shoulder perspective. He dispatches of the bikers when they arrive at the cottage to take their revenge on Shelley and the gang, following an altercation at a shop in town. Don’t assume that Jason is here to protect anyone though. He quickly sets his sights on the college co-eds and, of course, things really ramp up when he dons the now iconic ice hockey mask for the first time.

People will argue what their favourite Friday the 13th movie is until the end of days. Did you like the characterization of the teenagers in Part 2 or 4? Did you simply enjoy the hack n’ slash nature of the original? Were you excited when Jason went to Hell? Some people just want to watch cheesy 80’s effects and have some popcorn while devouring grisly death sequences with their eyes. But something doesn’t sit right with the third outing. They could have gone a much deeper, darker route with Chris‘ that might have lead Mr. Vorohees‘ down a very sketchy road. I’m obviously talking about…

The Final Girl

Late in the film, we see Chris and Rick sharing some quality catch-up time together. Up until this point Chris has been hinting that something terrible happened to her but now she’s finally ready to share her story. Even after Amy Steel declined to return, it’s safe to assume that some fragments from earlier drafts were kept to highlight Ginny’s (now Chris’s) trauma from the previous movie.

Chris explains that, while on vacation, she came home late one night which caused her to have an argument with her folks. She fled her house and ran into the woods where she fell asleep under a tree. Some time later, she was awoken by the sound of footsteps. The footsteps belong to none other than Jason and he grabs at her legs as she struggles to get away. She goes on to explain that she woke up in her own bed the following morning, without any recollection of what transpired after she was captured.

So what happened here? It’s unlikely that she would have survived an attack by Jason, so how did she escape? The series has been known for its nonsensical dream sequences and poorly crafted plot devices, but this is a pretty big moment for Jason. There are theories that she was raped by Jason and there are novels that further explain the story, but some people on the film claim this ambiguous resolution was always planned since actually outright calling it a rape would be too much for audiences to take at the time. Others say Dana Kimmell who played Chris, was a devout Mormon and forced the producer’s hand since she was uncomfortable with going so far as to call it a rape scene. However, at the start of the film, a reporter states that “Reports of cannibalism and sexual mutilations are still unconfirmed, at this hour.” It would seem that someone in the production wanted Jason to have a much darker streak than his previous appearances.

There are many articles and essays about The Final Girl in horror films, but this one scene could have changed the balance of how viewers perceived Jason Voorhees as a child-like killing machine with mommy issues, into something far more dangerous and disturbing.

Friday the 13th Part III is a divisive film. The franchise needed a shot to the arm and ultimately it would be 3D effects supervisor Martin Jay Sadoff that inadvertently created a movie monster boogeyman. As it happens, Sadoff kept a bag full of hockey gear with him and the crew wanted a mask to avoid applying prosthetic make up on actor Richard Brooker all the time. This is the first film where we see Jason for an extended period of time, as opposed to keeping him in the shadows constantly. The plot is nonsensical, sure – the characters are paper thin and forgettable, the 3D effects are mostly a gimmick – but in the cannon of the series, it catapulted Jason to an iconic status. And for that, Part 3 will forever remain ingrained in fan’s minds.

How do you rank Friday The 13th Part III. Is it one of your favourites, or do you consider it one of the weaker additions to the franchise? Let us know in the comments below, over on Twitter, or in our Horror Group on Facebook!

You can also take a look behind the scenes of Friday the 13th Part 3D with host, Paul Kratka, in this insightful fan driven documentary featuring untold stories and interviews with several franchise favorites, never-before-seen location footage and set photography, as well as a touching look back on the life of Richard Brooker.

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chicagolove88 · 7 years ago

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“September saw a month of tears. And thankin' God that you weren't here”

Characters: Dean x reader, OMC, OFC, OFC, Sam, Ketch

Word Count: 3069 sorry its hella long. I gotta going and couldn't stop

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of cheating, pregnancy, miscarriage, angst I guess

Written for @anotherwaywardsister summer challenge! I apologize if it is terrible. I am not a great writer and just wanted to give it a shot!

September.

It was always your favorite month in previous years. It contained everything that you loved- your birthday, fall, bonfires,the start of football and hockey season. It was the month that you fell in love not for the first time but for the best time, now it all reminds you of the month that you lost everything that mattered. Now all it brings every year is heartbreak and bad memories.

As the leaves began to change and the nights got cooler, you tried to forget what month it was as you and your best friend Haylee continued through campus back to the sorority house that you both lived in. There was a crisp fall wind that was blowing through on this friday afternoon. “Shit dude it is getting chilly out but you know what that means” Haylee says to you as you look at her and smirk. Of course you knew what that meant. It meant tailgating tomorrow for the football game was going to be how the good Lord intended football tailgating to be like and not in the sweltering heat like these past years in Texas. “Oh come on Hayls we all know that our alcohol blankets will be keeping us plenty warm tomorrow no matter what” you say as you bump her shoulder. She chuckles and flips her blonde hair over her shoulder as you two continue on your way as Haylee continues chattering about the game tomorrow and how Cameron her boyfriend, our starting defenseman, was not paying enough attention to her during the week because he has been so focused on the game. You look up from your phone just as you two were about to pass the hockey house on the edge of campus when you saw something that knocked the wind right out of you. That damn black 1967 Chevy Impala which only meant one thing. Dean was in town and you don't know if your heart can take this right now.

All of the feelings that you’ve been pushing down over the past year started rising backup and you could feel the tears starting to form in your eyes. You didn’t realize that you had stopped heard Haylee scream your name and start walking back towards you. “Dude, what’s wrong with….” she starts to say and abruptly ends as she sees what you are staring at. “What the hell is he doing back here? Cam never said Sammy said anything about Dean coming back for the weekend”. Two years. You successfully dodged Dean for a year every time he was in town but now it doesn't matter. You knew deep down this weekend you were eventually going to come face to face with the man that broke your heart. You were a tough girl so you told yourself to put your game face on and tore your gaze away from the house and the car that Dean so fondly called Baby. “Come on Hayls lets go” as you begin walking pulling her arm as you walked past her. When you finally got back to the sorority house, you sprinted upstairs to the room that Haylee and you shared in the house and collapsed on your bed. You weren’t sure if you fully made it onto your bed before you started sobbing.

You had met Dean the beginning of your sophomore year in the middle of August. You both were in General Psych together. By some stroke of luck or laziness, you were running late to Psych and ended up sitting by him on the first day and that same day your professor made you partners on an assignment due mid-September. You couldn’t believe you were partnered with the captain and star center of your schools hockey team. Every time Dean would see you on campus he’d wink at you or say “Hi Princess” to you. It made you blush and a lot of other girls jealous. You never thought anything of it until one night at a party at the hockey house. Some dude was trying to hit on you and wouldn’t take no for an answer. The jerk tried to grab you when you walked away and Dean almost knocked his lights out right then and there. It was the first week of September and you found yourself pinned up against a wall making out with the star center. It was the first week of September when Dean learned how to make you scream the way he liked. That night of the party after you two had finished, you went to go leave. Dean softly touched your arm and said for you to stay. You couldn’t explain why it felt so right so you grabbed one of his old Zeppelin T-shirt to sleep in and curled up besides him. Dean never told you but sleeping next to you was the best sleep he ever got. Like he finally found what was missing all his life. By the second week of September you were a frequent at the hockey house and we’re officially dating Dean Winchester. By the last week of September you knew you loved him and though Dean never told you,he knew he loved you then too. Even though you waited three more weeks to tell him. You two just seemed to click even though you both were strong willed and tough. He was sweet and gentle with you. You knew that no love you had before this had felt like this.

You and Dean had been together a year. A year of long distance. He had been drafted by the Dallas Stars the June of his sophomore year but got the invite to training camp that June. You had never been so proud to be there with him when he got the call, to help him pick out the apartment that would eventually be both of yours in Dallas. Or so you thought. Long distance was beginning to take its toll. Even though Houston was only three hours from Dallas , it still felt like a million miles away between your internships over the summer and Dean in training camp and workouts all the time, but the short times that you two spent together were passionate and enough to make up for the distance. Even if they were short lived, but recently those times have become shorter and shorter. Dean stopped texting back and was always busy it seemed like. August came and another school year started and you noticed something wasn’t right. You felt sick all the time and were continuously throwing up in the morning until two weeks later Haylee convinced you to take a pregnancy test. Two pink lines stared back at you after the two minutes. This wasn’t how this was suppose to happen. When did anything go the way it was suppose to happen with you though. How were you going to tell Dean? He already had too much on his plate. Dean was coming in that weekend for the hockey game so he could see Sammy play and to celebrate your anniversary that was later in September but he would be gone for a game. It was not the ideal time to tell him, but you had to. As the week dragged on, you kept thinking of ways to tell Dean about this. Soon Friday rolled around and Dean was back on campus. You heard the low rumble of Baby outside your window and headed downstairs. Once outside, you ran to Dean who was leaning against the passenger side door and he swooped you off your feet into one big hug. “I missed your princess” you heard him say as he kissed the top of your head. “I missed you too D” you said as you place a kiss on his lips. “Come on let’s go get food” he said as he opened the car door for you to get inside. You decided now or never was the time to tell him. “Actually, D we need to talk it's really important. Can we go to our spot?” you ask him nervously. “Yeah honey that's fine. Is everything ok?” he asked as he goes to shut the door and you just nod because it really isn't but you don't know what to say in place of that.Deans hand is on your leg the entire ride to the lake that you guys always went to.

Once there you got out of Baby and walked around sitting on the hood as Dean stood in front of you. “Baby girl whats wrong? You kinda have me freaked out a little” Dean said. You took a breathe knowing that this was the time “Dean, I’m pregnant. I took multiple tests and they all came back positive. I know this is like really crappy timing but I don’t know things don't happen the way that they are suppose to” you say as you look back at Dean. There was a moment of silence between the two of you as you look at Dean. “What the hell. This is the last thing that I need right now Y/N! How can this be happening” he says as he turns around putting his hands behind his head. All it did was elicit a shrug from you because you didn’t know what to say. “Are you like really sure about this y/n?” he asked drawing my attention from my hands that all of the sudden became very interesting. “Pretty damn positive Dean.Three pregnancy tests and a missed period pretty much solidifies that this happening.” you said back. What he said next still shocks you to this day. “Are you sure that it’s even mine. I mean come on it had been over a month and half since we have slept together. How do I know that you didn’t get drunk and hook up on accident with one of those frat boys you worked with at the internship. You seemed pretty friendly with them in your snapchats and instagrams” he said. “ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW DEAN?” you screamed. “ You are seriously going to sit here and accuse me of cheating on you? Seriously?! You are the ones that has been hanging out with models and cheerleaders. Maybe I should be the one questioning you about that. You've stopped returning texts and have been hanging up on me when people walk in the room.” you shouted at him. “Oh get over yourself. I’m not cheating on you. I just cant talk all the time like I use too. I have important things I have to do.” he shouted back. “Important things? LIKE WHAT? I mean seriously I think after a year I warrant a reply on a text!” you said back to him as you start crying. You were pissed and were almost to the point of seeing red. “Jesus Christ Y/N I have things with coaches and practice. THOSE TYPE OF IMPORTANT THINGS” he said as he starts pacing in front of the Impala. Tears were streaming down your face as he was yelling things at you “Shut up Dean. Just shut up!” you kept saying as he was yelling still. “Y/N” he says as he took a deep breathe and looked at you. “This isn’t working anymore. I can’t do this. I’ll do whatever you need for the baby and I’ll be as active as I can but I can’t do this with you anymore. All we do is fight anymore. We’re both two strong of personalities”. Your world in that moment came crashing down around you as you began to sob harder as you sat on the hood of the car. In one swift motion, you jumped off the hood of the impala and began walking the opposite direction as Dean grabs your arm. You just shrug him off and turn around “Fuck you Dean Winchester. Leave me alone and leave this kid alone. I dont want your help. I will find my own ride back, wouldn't want to burden you.” you said and turn around and continue walking. Pulling out your phone you call Haylee and when she picks up you just begin to sob eventually getting out the question of asking her to come pick you up and where you were. Her and your other best friend Kenzie hugged you all night as your cried into your pillow as in the first week of September your world came crashing down around you. You thought that it couldn't get any worse until the third week of September on a Tuesday might and it did. Something again wasn’t right and you kept feeling sharp pains in your sides and all throughout your stomach. You just thought that it was stress on the baby and kept going upon your day, until it wasn’t. Until you passed out and woke up in a hospital room. Until you learned that you had a miscarriage and they were going to release you. Haylee and Kenzie hugged you again all night as you cried on your bathroom floor. The next day you picked up your phone and called a name that you had been trying not to think about in weeks and left a voicemail. D, its me. I just wanted to let you know that I miscarried last night. I know I shouldn’t be telling you on a voicemail but i think if i heard your voice right now because it’ll just hurt me even more. I’m sorry for the way that we ended, but I guess this is a burden off of you now. Good luck with hockey and life. I’ll be cheering for you. Love you. Always have and always will. Bye. You cried even harder after you got off the phone. The best and worst mistake you ever made was Dean Winchester and you knew that your best love didn’t get to be your last one.

Over the course of the school year, you successfully had dodged Dean every time he had come in to see his brother thanks to a few heads up from some friends. He tried to call you a couple times but you always declined it. He never left a voicemail and eventually he stopped trying. Dean’s team made it to the Stanley Cup Finals and lost. It broke your heart to see him cry on tv. You even dated another guy named Ketch but it didn’t work out. Nothing he did ever seemed to live up to Dean Winchester and it hurt you every time. Junior year came and went and no matter what people say, time does not heal all wounds.

Haylee and Kenzie came in sometime while you were crying and eventually one of them cleared their throat. “Girl, you know I’ll punch him for you but please please don’t let him ruin this weekend for you. It’s your senior year.” Kenzie said. You just shook your head and said “I know. I agree”. “I’m going for a drive I’ll be back later” as you grab your keys to your Jeep Wrangler and hop in. You ended up by the lake. You didn’t intend to come here but somehow you auto piloted here. You got out and climb up onto the hood of your Jeep and laid in the sun. Popping headphones in you began listening to some Eric Church. Dean hated country and always made fun of you for loving it but you didn’t care. Slowly you began humming Springsteen as it came on. You thought you heard tires crunching on the dirt road behind you but you ignored it. Still humming you after a couple minutes you swear you heard a door slam so you open your eyes. Shading your eyes from the sun you see the last car you want to see right now, a black Chevy Impala. You knew you were going to have to face this some time this weekend, so you quickly pop your headphones out as you see Dean approaching your Jeep. “Knew I could find you here. You always did love it out here” he said looking at the lake. “Yeah it’s calm here. I like it.” you answered back to him. “Why are you here Dean? You didn’t need to come back. Not this year. Please don’t ruin my senior year. I spent all of junior year trying to get over you” You said as you slid off the hood of your Jeep and jump down. “Did it work? Did you get over me? Because if you did can you tell me how you did because I’m not over you” Dean said quietly behind you. Hearing those words made you start crying so you just shook your head no. “Princess, I don’t know what that head shake means. No you’re not over me or no you won’t tell me?” He said as he takes a step towards you. “No I’m not over you Dean. Never will be” you whispered as you felt him hug you from behind making you cry harder. He spun you around so you were facing him as he leaned up against the hood of the Impala “I’m sorry y/n. I’m sorry I freaked out last year on you. I panicked. I didn’t want it to be real. There was too much going on. I’m sorry that you felt you couldn’t call and talk to me. I’m sorry I didn’t come when you were in the hospital that night or any night after that. I drove here ya know? Sammy called me when Cam told him after Hayls was in hysterics that you were in the hospital. I sat outside and stared at the building until I watched you walk out when you were released. I'm sorry I didn’t fight harder when you walked away. I didn’t think you’d actually walk away. ” Dean says as you continue crying. Your damn near hysterical at this point. A year. A year is all it took for him to finally say what needed to be said. “I’m sorry too. For the way everything played out and for not fighting back. I just couldn’t at that moment.” You said in between sobs into his shoulder as he pulls you into a hug. “I missed you princess. Every single night. Dallas isn’t the same without you. When we lost in the finals last year all I wanted to do was call you but I couldn’t” Dean said to you as you wiped your eyes dry. “Yeah I watched. I cried when they showed you tearing up on tv. But you know if you would have just went top shelf on that last shot you probably would have tied the game” you said back to him as you stand shoulder to shoulder with him leaning against the Impala. You feel him shove your shoulder and you smile a little. It reminds you of old times. After a couple minutes of silence you hop up on Baby’s hood and turn to look at Dean. “D, can I ask you a question?” You ask as he stand in The Sun with his eyes closed. Hmm is all you hear him murmur in response. “Do you think we’d ever work out? Like actually make it all the way without a dumb fight?” You ask while staring at the lake. It seemed like forever until you heard him answer. “I think” dean says as he moves to where he’s facing you in between your legs, “that we would be unstoppable. I think we’d be able to tackle whatever came towards us” he said as he leaned in to you. Forehead to forehead staring in each other’s eyes when a next question came in to your head but before you could ask it, you felt Deans lips crash onto yours. As your tongues worked together, you let out a small moan. Over a year since you had been kissed this way and you missed every second of it with every fiber of your being. Dean broke away from the kiss and you gave him a little bit of a pouty face. “Oh don’t pout come on serious question time” he says as he grabs your hands. “Fine but I liked our previous activity better than this. What’s the question?” “Wanna give us. This whole crazy thing another shot. I promise no more crazy yelling this time”. You nod and say “Hell yeah” before you lean in for another kiss.

Five years later:

September.

It was the month you fell in love, lost that love, and gained that love back. Dean and you had been together over four years now since your senior year. You’ve had your ups and downs but you got through them. The past summer had been a whirlwind. Haylee and Cameron had their first kid and you were trying to help out as much as you can. Sammy ended up getting traded last off-season to the Stars so him and Dean got to play on the same team. You had never seen Dean so happy as he was when he stepped onto the ice the first time with Sam. Sam's girlfriend Jess made fun of you as you cried a little. On a late September weekend , Dean insisted that you guys back to Houston to your old alma mater. The last night you were there, he insisted that you two go for a drive. So you jumped in Baby to please him and watched as The Sun began to go lower in the sky. Dean seemed jumpy. “Babe what’s wrong you’re all nervous.” You say to him as you pat his face. “No I’m not. I’m fine” he says. “MHMM sure but if you’re taking me somewhere to kill me I’m sure they’ll eventually find me. Hopefully” you say back to him as you stare out the window. Soon you see the lake and Dean pulls up and parks the car. He gets out leaving the headlights on. You follow him out of the car and watch The Sun start setting over the lake. Dean pulls you in front of the car holding your hands standing face to face. “Y/N I love you. I love you so much. I know that we’ve had our ups and downs way more than anyone else in this crazy thing called life. But I don’t want to do this without you. Ever. I want to come home to you every night and call you when I’ve had a bad game. I want to put our children in the Stanley Cup hopefully one day. I want to grow old and by a bunch of dogs with you. Will you marry me?” Dean asks as he get down on one knee. “YOU BET YOUR ASS I WILL” You say in response as he slips the ring on your finger. This September you cried tears of happiness.

#supernatural imagine #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester

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drdoigfanclub-blog · 7 years ago

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Week 10

This was our final week of AERO307. We started off last Friday with a fully assembled failed design. Since the following Wednesday was the day we present the results of our project, this left us in quite a flurry. We arrived Monday morning to see if we could troubleshoot a working solution, but to no avail. We quickly got to work drafting a second version of our design, and split up the team to go acquire all the parts we would need. In the end we successfully accomplished what we sought out to do, and presented our successes this Wednesday to the rest of the class.

Our first, failed design encountered some issues with back-flow, caused by a high pressure concentration which prevented any of the smoke from being delivered into the wind tunnel.

Figure 1: Our first, failed design

The critical failure occurred in the wye joint, immediately after the shop-air was supposed to mix with the smoke supplied by the fog machine. What happened here was that the smoke-air mixture was supposed to be funneled into a 1/4 inch tube, before being further constricted into a 3/8 inch tube which would inject the final mixture into the wind tunnel. This decrease in pipe diameter produced too much back-pressure, causing all of the mixed air to flow backwards through the smoke hose, ensuring that none of the mixture would enter the test section.

In this design, we were relying on the momentum of the air entering the wye joint would carry the flow through the constriction, overcoming the back pressure generated. As depicted in the diagram above, we initially intended on forcing the flow immediately into a wider tube, which would have pushed the back pressure due to constriction further into that tube, which may have allowed the smoke to exit through the nozzle. We ended up going with a 1/4 inch flexible tube which was pretty well doomed from the beginning.

Well, you live and you learn, and what we learned was that we should have been more critical of the yellow flags that were raised, and performed deeper analysis to validate our intuitions.

After our failure, team member Andrew sketched up a concept he pitched in our initial design, but we rejected because it felt too complicated to get right. This design was inspired by a fuel injector, where the compressed air entered through the center of the smoke, which would most likely provide a suction force, and pull the smoke and air mixture downstream into the test section.

Figure 2: Our second, successful design.

This design is very similar in concept, except we moved forward with a much more conservative model, one that would never run into the same issues that caused failure the first time. Here we implemented Andrew’s fuel injector concept, and fed the smoke-air mixture into a slightly larger smoke probe. This design overcame all of the hang-ups experienced earlier, and performed very nicely, although it was a bit cumbersome to use.

The apparatus was very successful at overcoming the original issues encountered in the first design, and even provided suction on the smoke hose, as opposed to back-flow caused by the first design. This was a glaring success, although results weren’t perfect. The issue with our final solution, was that the amount of air required to accelerate the flow up to the wind-tunnel’s speed would dilute the smoke such that it might cause issues with visualization.

In our final presentation, my group was called out (understandably) for not presenting any relevant analysis which would validate the efficacy of our designs. Although we never worked to calculate the relevant pressures, there was an effort made to determine a hierarchy of pressures, as well as to calculate relevant back-pressures caused by constricting the flow.

Figure 3: A diagram identifying the location of each point of interest for Pressure

The diagram above is a schematic we drew up in the design phase where we could find local pressures which would drive our decision making process. So, to specify what each point is referring to: (1) is the pressure at the exit of the Fog Hose, (2) is the pressure at the outlet of the shop-air-tube, (3) is the pressure within the mixing chamber, (4) is the pressure at the outlet of the probe, and (5) is the pressure within the wind tunnel test section. We determined that (1) would need to be greater than (3), which would be higher than (2), and that ideally (4) would be equal to (5), which would need to be our lowest pressures in the system. We also determined some necessary constraints about velocities, which basically boiled down to the velocity at (4) being equal to the velocity at (5) and making assumptions about the up-stream conditions that would result in this output. This much was easy. Where the analysis takes a turn for the complicated is when we start introducing bends and constrictions into the flow.

Naturally, we attempted to solve the back pressures by looking at online calculators which might be able to indicate how much resistance would be produced by funneling the flow into a smaller nozzle. Unfortunately, we could not finesse the calculator to produce useful results for our endeavors. Next we moved on to researching how pressure is calculated as it propagates backwards through a flow, and I guess we just never found anything before we gave up. I don’t quite remember why we stopped searching for a solution by these methods, but I guess it was because we were running out of time and just decided to source materials rather than spend a ton of time trying to figure out exactly how much pressure we’re dealing with.

It’s a complex problem, given all of the changes in altitude, velocity, and even density as the smoke and air progress through their channels. We were dissuaded from calculating, and ended up making a critical mistake. Fortunately, this mistake was made with ample time to pivot and come up with a new solution which directly addressed our concerns.

Figure 4: Here’s an image we captured while examining how our apparatus would work for real flow-viz for future experiments. I’d say it was 8/10, because it worked functionally, but there is a lot of room for improvement both on the user-side and on the visualization side.

Anywho, after we got the smoke machine to work, we set out to film our results for the presentation the following day. We ended up getting some great videos which really characterized the performance of our system. I think that our presentation was well-received and informatively covered all of the important characteristics of our presentation. Then we watched the remainder of the presentations by the rest of our class. It was impressive to see some of the challenges that our peers had to overcome in order to complete these projects, and imparting a lot of insight as they reflected on their work.

After that, we wrapped up our Experimental Aerodynamics course with a “Pizza Social,” sponsored by Kyle, our class TA. This course was a great opportunity to get my hands dirty in the wind tunnel and imparted a ton of experience that will prepare me for any kind of aerodynamics testing that I encounter in my future. We learned how to use a multitude of instrumentation including pressure ports, a force balance, various scale models, flow visualization in both water and air, and certainly more methods which I was exposed to but never practiced. All in all, this course has provided a ton of insight into the world of experimental aerodynamics, and helped me forge a bunch of new friendships along the way.

I just want to say thank you to all of my instructors this quarter, since they were so approachable and happy to impart their knowledge upon us. It was a great experience getting to absorb all that you have to offer and I’ll never forget the experience gained this quarter. All of this was made possible by you and I am grateful for the time and energy you have put into us.

Lastly we were tasked with answering a few questions by the Great Dr. Doig.

Here they are:

a) If you were to pick one thing that you feel like you understand pretty well about aerodynamics now that you didn't at the start of 307, what is it and why?

Now I really understand the importance of fully measuring all of the relevant pressures of a test. This was directly applicable to the project that I worked on, since we struggled to match the pressures as we had hoped we might. The next place this was relevant was in our first lab experiment, where we took data on Lift and Drag via pressure ports around a wing. This data was illuminating because I didn’t fully comprehend how powerful static pressure ports would be around the profile of a wing until then, and how much information is lost if any of those pressure ports fail to read accurate data (it was 2/20, so our data was less accurate than it could have been). And lastly relevant when the shop-air was turned off during several groups’ testing, which meant that their data was all taken inaccurately, because the data processing requires a baseline pressure to compare against, and because the shop air was turned off, they had no known pressure that they could compare their results to.

b) If you were to pick one thing about aerodynamics that still confuses you, what is it and why?

Figure 5: What I still don’t understand

Vorticity. Definitely vorticity. The picture at the header of my Blog page (and directly above) shows an underwater shot of a wave (like in the ocean). There are some “ropes” of air, which stretch from the front of the wave out to the back of the wave, and include rotating features. I would love to understand these since they are such a natural part of our world, so prevalent in something that happens every day 24 hours a day, and yet I understand so little about it. The mechanism by which air begins to rotate as it flows is a mystery to me, and I would love to develop a greater understanding of the mechanisms at play. I am perplexed and very curious about this phenomenon.

c) What was your 307 highlight?

I really enjoyed how attentive and happy to help my TA was. With a class that focuses on experimentation, it is incredibly helpful to have guidance. Not only was Kyle good at providing guidance with the subject matter and happy to elaborate on anything we didn’t quite understand. But he went above and beyond his expectations, and was always happy to field questions that were out of the box, and only tacitly related to the matter at hand. This willingness to share really made this course a glowing experience, and turned the lab time into a time to explore our curiosities, as opposed to a workshop where we slave over our assignments.

d) What was your 307 lowlight?

There were a lot of tough times in 307, but none really stick out as being particularly negative experiences. There were stresses and things that felt a little unfair, but nothing that left a lasting bad impression. The bulk of the stresses stemmed from the large volume of people working in the wind tunnel, doing all kinds of different projects on the same tunnel. Things would get moved, settings would get changed, and sometimes this made life much more difficult than it needed to be. The example that comes to mind is the time that there was a script installed on the testing computer which forced our files into a naming convention, and we were unaware of this until well into our testing scheme, and only was an issue because a wind tunnel worker was trying to be helpful but forgot to disable their tool after they left, this meant we had to backtrack and re-name our files and coupled with an unexpected dead-pressure port it really hamstringed our confidence in the testing apparatus and ended up costing us a lot of time while we were trying to figure out what exactly went wrong. Turns out the port was just dead and that we would have to rename our files manually after they were saved, but it was really stressful in the hour and a half we were allotted for testing!

That was tough, but in hindsight, it was all a part of the learning experience, and troubleshooting unreliable equipment is part of engineering - making the best out of what you are given. Although not everything was perfect, it was functional, if you used it in the right context and got creative about using the tools at your disposal. This made for long hours (especially for a 2-unit class) but I made it through the class, so I really can't say there was anything that left a lasting negative impression.

e) For many of you, this'll be the last time you really engage with aerodynamics, since you prefer structures or controls or design or just anything else... for others, this course will have been a springboard to many future aerodynamic adventures. What do you think the future holds for you in aerospace engineering?

I really hope my future brings me into aquatics and hydrodynamics. I would love to use my Aerospace background to apply those principles to navigating the ocean, and possibly oceans of other planets! This isn't something people typically associate with Aerospace, but the underwater is where were going to find life that is truly alien to what we know, and it’s where were going to find the deepest mysteries that are relevant to the world we live in.

Long term? I hope to build submersibles for exploration of Europa and other water-holding bodies in our solar system. The possibility for them to harbor life, or at least harbor interesting geological facts is huge, and it would be amazing to be a part of that.

Exploration. Exploration is where I hope my Aerospace Engineering future takes me.

#LearnByDoing

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