#which means i will of course be climbing into my tv to curl around earth 2 barry like a cat and be with him forever <3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nicknellie · 3 years ago

Text

Anonymous requested: roommates Alex and Willie share a bed on the night of a storm and it becomes a habit, resulting with a confession and a kiss. (This was edited/simplified just to make it shorter.)

Sorry this has taken me so long to get round to! I absolutely loved the request and it was a joy to write, especially since I’m so stuck in my JatP feels for the anniversary. I’m always a sucker for a one bed trope too! I really hope you like it, thanks for the request!

Raging Storms and Lovesick Hearts

There were times that Alex wasn’t sure if moving in with Willie was the best decision he’d ever made or the worst. In many ways, it was a decision he would never go back on – living with Luke and Reggie had been fun during the day, but apparently neither of them had ever heard of sleep and decided to make that Alex’s problem, so now that he lived with Willie it was nice to finally know what it felt like to be well-rested. It was also great because he got to spend much more time with Willie, something he’d craved for as long as he’d known him.

But that was also sort of the worst thing about it all.

Being around Willie all the time was beginning to drive Alex a little bit insane. Not in a bad way, it wasn’t like he felt stifled or had grown bored or frustrated by Willie’s near-constant presence in his life. If anything, it was the opposite. Nowadays, he got to see every version of Willie, not just the smiley, put-together version he saw when they met up on odd weekends. Now he got to see tired Willie, just rolled out of bed, still unsteady on his feet from sleep; he saw even more of the kind, generous, fair Willie who offered to do the dishes whenever Alex cooked dinner; he saw the childishly exhausted Willie who crashed on the couch and slept for three hours every time he got back from the skatepark; he saw adorably sleepy Willie at night when it was nearing midnight and he was reluctantly going to bed, eyes already drooping closed; he saw paint-splattered Willie, brushes tucked behind his ears and shoved into his hair, headphones in, working tirelessly on some big piece that Alex admired every stage of; sometimes, he saw a version of Willie that made his heart ache, a broken version of Willie with tears running down his cheeks as he wiped furiously at his eyes as Alex did everything in his power to console him. He saw every version of Willie and he wanted them all so badly, but he couldn’t have any of them.

And sure, he’d brought this upon himself. When the guy he’d been pining over for exactly one year had asked if he wanted to move in, he could have guessed that it would ruin him, and he could have said no. It would’ve been easy.

But Alex had seen the smile on Willie’s face, the excited glint in his eye about the prospect of living together, and his affirmative answer had been out of his mouth before he’d given it a second thought. He was paying the price for his thoughtlessness now, condemned to watch Willie be anything but his for as long as they lived together. Frankly the whole thing was exhausting – he had to wonder if that was adding to him getting a good night’s sleep every night.

There was another reason he preferred nights now, not just because he could rest easily. Night was the only time he didn’t see Willie, the only time he could get a little respite from his aching heart, lie alone in the dark and pretend he was the only person on Earth. Maybe it was a little lonely and more than a little sad to think of things that way, but it was a change from his usual pining at the very least. He thought that having that time to escape his feelings was definitely doing him some good.

Until the night of the storm.

There had been warnings about it all week. Alerts popping up on Alex’s phone, breaking news plastered on every TV he saw, articles about finding shelter and stocking up on food just in case the storm was worse than they thought. It was only supposed to be a passing thing, been and gone overnight, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

It had been raining all day, a dismal drizzle, the kind of rain that was so fine you didn’t realise you were soaked until you felt your clothes sticking to your skin. But around midnight, everything kicked off. Alex lay in bed, toying with a fraying thread on the duvet cover, listening to the rain hammering against the windows hard enough to rattle their frames, the wind whistling as it bled through the streets outside, the claps of thunder loud enough to deafen as they came just seconds after bursts of lightning illuminated his entire room. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit frightened, but he curled up tighter in his bed, pulling the covers close, and tried to force sleep.

A knocking sound made his eyes snap open. At first, he wondered if he’d imagined it, or if it was the sound of something hitting his window, but then it came again. And yes, it was definitely a knock. A knock at his bedroom door. A knock on his bedroom door at half-midnight in the middle of a storm. And there was only one person it could be.

Alex stretched as he swung his long legs out of the bed and flicked his bedside lamp on. He pulled open the bedroom door, squinting in the sudden burst of light from the hallway, and was met by a timid-looking Willie with his hair braided back, wearing his pyjamas, fist still sheepishly raised as if to knock on the door again.

“Hey,” Alex said, voice low with fatigue. He tried to stifle a yawn as he scrunched his eyes, forcing the tiredness out of them. “Is everything okay?”

He must have not hidden his exhaustion as well as he’d tried because Willie winced before saying, “Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

“No, no,” Alex assured him, “I couldn’t sleep anyway. The storm is too loud.” Willie nodded awkwardly, casting his gaze around, seemingly trying to look anywhere but at Alex. It was strange – Willie wasn’t the type to avoid talking to someone, especially if it was Alex, who was suddenly left feeling very concerned. “Is it… Is that why you’re awake too?”

“Kind of,” Willie replied, a half-smile on his face that quickly flickered out of existence. He shook his head, taking a few steps back. “It’s silly. Don’t worry about it actually. I’ll go back to my room. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“Hey, no,” Alex protested, clutching Willie’s wrist as he tried to turn and walk away, stopping him in his tracks. Willie didn’t turn to face him, but did stop trying to leave, so Alex took that as a victory. “You could never bother me. And whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not silly.”

Slowly, Willie turned back around to face him, some mixture of hope and nervousness dancing in his eyes. When Willie looked down again, Alex followed his line of sight and saw that he still had a hold of Willie’s wrist. He dropped it suddenly, instantly aware that he’d been holding on too long and if he wasn’t careful Willie might take that to mean something that Alex definitely couldn’t have him knowing which would introduce a whole different kind of storm. (But before he let go, he could have sworn he felt Willie’s pulse racing; maybe it was his nerves, but maybe it was something else… something Alex didn’t want to get his hopes up about.)

“It’s just… I’m not really great with storms,” Willie admitted softly, meeting Alex’s eyes again. “They freak me out. I was just going to ask if I could… if I could, you know, sleep in here with you tonight? If it’s totally out of line you can say no, I get it, man, I won’t be up–”

Alex shook his head, not wanting to let him spiral, knowing that never ended up well for anyone. There was a pretty major part of him panicking over the fact that Willie was going to spend the night in his room, but that part was outweighed by the even bigger part of him that was worried and concerned for Willie, the part of him that wanted to protect Willie at all costs.

“No, no, it’s alright,” he said, interrupting Willie before he got too lost in his own head. “Come on, you can sleep in here. I don’t mind.”

It was only as the two of them backed into the room and Alex shut the door, blocking out all the light from the hallway and leaving them dimly lit by just his bedside lamp, that Alex remembered that his room was very small and ill-equipped for impromptu sleepovers. Which was to say, there was only one bed.

His internal panicking doubled in an instant. Because there weren’t many options here. He could make Willie sleep on the floor, which seemed incredibly harsh and unfair considering the state he’d just come to Alex in. He could sleep on the floor himself, which he really didn’t want to do because it would be cold down there and he didn’t like the idea of being able to see underneath his bed. They could relocate to Willie room down the hall where there was a small sofa that one of them (probably Alex) could sleep on, and they’d still be in the same room, but he knew they were both tired and switching rooms sounded like a lot of effort. Which just left sharing the bed, and truth be told, Alex was utterly terrified by the idea.

He was about to say something, ask Willie what he thought the best course of action was, but the words died in his mouth as he saw that Willie was already climbing into the bed. He already seemed much more at ease, the worry lines around his face softening as he closed his eyes. After yet another brief panic, Alex got into the bed again and laid down beside him.

He could hardly hear the raging storm over the incessant beating of his own lovesick heart.

The whole thing felt so intimate even though there was nothing overtly intimate about it. Really it was just one friend helping another, Alex being there for Willie when he was frightened, lending him a bed and a comforting presence. But they were so close, touching all along one side of Alex’s body, their breathing synced, the world around them slowly fading into nothingness until it was just the two of them.

After some time, it was impossible to tell exactly how long, Willie said, “Thank you, Alex.”

Alex sighed quietly, letting his eyes fall closed. He shuffled ever so slightly closer to Willie on the bed and as his tiredness overtook him he lost a little control over his inhibitions. Before he knew it, he’d thrown an arm around Willie’s waist, holding him close, their bodies curled together. When he registered what he’d done, he almost pulled away, but Willie relaxed into him so he let his arm stay where it was.

“Don’t mention it,” Alex whispered to the darkness around them. “I’m always going to be here whenever you need me.”

In moments, they were both asleep, the storm still raging outside.

When Alex woke up the next morning, the storm had all but died. He could still hear the gentle pitter-patter of rain drumming on the windows and roof, but the wind had long since ceased, as had the thunder and lightning that had lit up the night. He exhaled contentedly, relaxing against the warmth on the left side of his body, and nearly drifted off to sleep.

But then he realised what – or rather who – that warmth was.

The events from the night before came flooding back to his with all the ferocity of the storm itself. Willie coming to him in the middle of the night, how frightened he had seemed, how Alex had offered up his room, and how they’d fallen asleep tangled together. Now they had woken up in the exact same way, and Alex had no idea what to do about it.

If he moved, he risked waking Willie and that was a conversation he would rather avoid. But if he stayed still, Willie would eventually wake up and he’d still have to have that awkward ‘remember last night’ conversation. There was really no winning here. Even in a situation where he was cuddling the love of his life, he couldn’t come out unscathed.

So, he went for the slightly immature third option and opted to feign sleep, letting the whole thing be Willie’s problem whenever he woke up.

And eventually he did, not long after Alex. When Alex felt him stir and stretch, he tried to slow his breathing, keep his eyes closed only gently, and even let out a few fake little snores to try and sell the piece. His eyes were closed, so he had no idea if Willie even looked at him, but moments later Willie slipping out from his grasp and Alex heard the tell-tale creak of his bedroom door. Only when he heard it click shut did he breathe a long sigh of relief.

Honestly, he had thought that would be it. One night together and then Alex could get back to his nights of peaceful sleep. Only there were two things in the way of that:

One – suddenly, without Willie sleeping in his bed, Alex found that sleep was much harder to come by.

Two – after that night, Willie slept in Alex’s bed more often than not.

Alex really had no idea how it became so routine, but it did. About a week after the storm, Willie knocked on his door again and told Alex he’d had a nightmare, asking to sleep in his bed again. And who was Alex to refuse? So they’d slept in the same bed again, they’d woken up a tangle of limbs, and Willie had crept out while Alex pretended to sleep.

Then just two nights later, Alex’s resolve had broken and something had possessed him to go to Willie’s room and invite him back to his own. He had made up some flimsy excuse, something about his heater having broken and him needing warmth, but Willie hadn’t questioned it. They’d slept in the same bed again, they’d woken up a tangle of limbs, and Willie had crept out while Alex pretended to sleep.

And the very next night, they hadn’t even discussed it before the two of them just went straight to Alex’s room and climbed into bed together. They’d slept in the same bed again, woken up a tangle of limbs, and Willie had crept out while Alex pretended to sleep.

For something so focused on sleep, it was ridiculously tiring.

After it had gone on for a few weeks, Alex had to wonder if maybe this whole thing meant something. If maybe he wasn’t alone in his feelings. If maybe Willie felt the same, but had similar hang-ups to Alex – he didn’t want to ruin their friendship, didn’t want to embarrass himself by admitting to unrequited love, didn’t even know how to bring it up. Maybe sleeping by each other’s side had become something of a safety net for them, a teetering middle ground on the border of friendship and something else entirely.

And as Alex lay awake, head rested on Willie’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, he knew suddenly that he had to push it. No matter how much that frightened him, he had to take that leap and push them into the uncertain territory that was something other than friendship.

When he sensed Willie waking up, he did not pretend to be asleep.

He eased his head off Willie’s chest and rolled over to lay on his front, watching Willie as he blinked awake endearingly. Alex’s heart was practically beating out of his chest, but he knew he had to do it. He had to take that leap.

“Good morning,” he said quietly.

Willie smiled gently, rubbing at his tired eyes and pushing his hair out of his face. “Good morning, hotdog.”

“I think we need to talk,” Alex said without preamble. It wasn’t the most natural segue into the matter at hand, but that hardly seemed to matter right then.

Willie blinked, clearly a little surprised, but then he nodded. Alex took a deep breath, steeling himself, and let it out.

“I really like you, Willie,” he said, maintaining eye contact even though it was the most petrifying thing he’d ever done. “Like, a lot. So much that it’s been kind of driving me crazy for a year now. I’ve wanted to tell you how I feel for about a year now, but every time I tried all this doubt and anxiety just told me it wasn’t worth it and that you could never like me the way I like you. And I believed it. I never said anything, and I fooled myself into thinking I’d be alright if we were just friends. But after all this, sharing a bed almost every night and then pretending it never happened… it’s proved to me how much I need you. I can’t sleep without you next to me, Willie. I want you by my side all the time. All of you. So, if I’m not reading this whole thing dramatically wrong, then I want to finally ask you to… to be my boyfriend.”

For a long moment, Willie said nothing. He held eye contact, like he was searching Alex’s eyes for the truth, whatever it might have been. But Alex had said the whole truth. He’d let it all out, he’d told Willie he needed him. All he could do was hope that Willie needed him too.

The moment ended abruptly when Willie breathed out and almost silent, “Yes,” and then surged forward to kiss Alex.

He was kissing him.

This was a possibility that Alex had never allowed himself to entertain, a thought he’d never followed up, a scenario he’d never imagined. He had known that once he thought about kissing Willie, he would be ruined if it never happened. But the real thing was better than anything Alex could have thought up in his wildest dreams anyway. It was like a muffled explosion – both harsh and soft, near and far, dangerous and safe.

When they separated, Alex rested his forehead against Willie’s trying to get his breath back and his heartrate under control.

“I’d been wondering if I should say something,” Willie chuckled, stroking his fingers through Alex’s hair. “You beat me to it.”

Alex smiled and pressed another soft kiss to Willie’s lips. “Doesn’t matter. We got there eventually.”

The next morning when they both woke up in Alex’s bed, Alex didn’t need to feign sleep. He pressed a kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek and pulled him tighter. He thought that after months of missed opportunities, they definitely deserved a lazy morning in bed together.

#willex #jatp #alex mercer #julie and the phantoms #willie jatp #alex x willie #willie x alex #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #my writing #fluff #friends to lovers #only one bed #jatp fic #willex fic #first kiss #alive au

46 notes · View notes

bandaigaeru · 4 years ago

Text

gravitational pull - seo changbin

→genre: brief fake dating, childhood friends to weird enemies to fake lovers to real lovers →synopsis: he was a glimmering star of hope until he exploded, suspending your relationship into a seesawing gravity. →pairing: changbin x gender neutral reader →word count: 8.1k →warnings: hyunjins kinda mean at one point, mentions of alcohol

Mulch crunches beneath the adolescent shoes of your classmates. One intention is shared, in this playground warfare, and it’s to get a swing.

You disregard the heap rushing towards the ones closest, for your gaze is set on the far end of the swingset. And it is just within your reach. Your eyes narrow as you outstretch a palm, prepared to feel the coolness of the rusty chain.

The chain sways away from you beneath the harsh touch of another boy.

You stare at him with wide eyes, mouth fallen agape.

He smiles, the plastic seat dipping beneath his weight. “This one’s mine.”

A small shake in your tone as you return, “I was here first.”

“So? Everyone knows this is my swing.”

You slowly nod, taking small footsteps backwards. Hwang Hyunjin is bigger than you. And more accustomed with goons of friends. There’s no point in fighting.

Though as you start for the abandoned monkey bars (their vibrant red paint chipped to a sad haze) with blurry vision faulting your path, a voice booms over the rush between your ears.

You glance in the direction. A short boy sits in a stationary swing, smiling as though it is all he’s ever known. He waves you over.

Taking all of the precautions, you glance over your shoulder to make sure he’s talking to you. When you confirm, you drag your feet along the mulch.

You flinch when he stands, bringing guarding forearms to protect your face. The blow never comes.

“You can take my swing,” he says. You peek at him through your shield. His puffy cheeks are still indented with the smile. And his hands, not balled into a fist, lay calmly at his side.

You blink, slowly lowering your defense. “W-Why?”

He laughs, “That’s what friends are for. Duh.”

The laugh that trembles over your lips is shaky and foreign. You reach for the chain.

“I’ll push you!” he declares, rushing behind you as you steady yourself in the small seat.

He pulls you from the ground, the tips of your shoes trailing back amber woodchips.

The tip of your nose kisses the blue sky. Though, inevitably, the time comes when you must fall back to the earth. Steady hands push against your back, returning you to freedom. You find yourself grinning each time.

The next day, Changbin saves you the swing beside him. He waits until you are ready before kicking off on the ground. You swing in sync, sharing a few glances under the sun’s hugging rays.

It only takes a week before he’s begging his mother to arrange a playdate. And to your luck, he follows through with the promises, meeting you at your doorstep that Saturday. He guides you a block over to his house. He must be a good kid if his mother entrusted him with such a task, bringing two first-graders over. One returning home and one in need of a home away from home.

His mother is extremely nice, smiling at you each time you catch her eyes. She sets a plate of fruit on the coffee table while you and Changbin battle over the next Spongebob episode. His sister comes out of her room, too, asking you whether you prefer Barbies or Matchbox.

Elementary school passes like this. Recess is spent with his presence, as is lunch and gym and any class freetime. On the off days that it rains, barring you inside the school, you play Mancala. It’s totally civil. Not once does Changbin storm off when he loses. He merely shrugs and offers to set up the next round.

So unusual, though each time you find yourself smiling.

After an emotional graduation party—emotional for the teachers and family, you mean—he hands you a small piece of paper.

“What’s this?” you curiously look at him. His tie has loosened since the ceremony and his hair is ruffled by his father’s hand.

“My phone number. I won’t be in town this summer, but I still wanna keep touch with you.”

You smile down at the small digits. Neatly, you fold the post-it before slipping it into your pocket. You wrap your arms around his neck, leaning into his touch as he wraps his arms around your waist. “I’m gonna miss you,” you announce, voice muffled by his shoulder.

“It’s only one summer,” he reassures. “Plus, I’ll bring you back something nice. A keychain or something.”

You laugh through the sting that stabs your body, nodding. One summer cannot mark the end of the world, you tell yourself as you watch his car drift over the hill leading into town.

ii.

On the first, dreaded, day of middle school, you scan the halls carefully. The new faces do not scare you as much as the lack of his does. Each call was sent to voicemail. And each time the dial sounded, you frantically returned the phone to the receiver. Maybe he had accidentally miswrote the number. Or maybe he was too busy to return your calls. Summer has that effect on people, you think, where you have so much fun you forget the things you used to do daily. Like a memory disorder.

You finally see him in the lunch line. A breath of fresh air invades your lungs as you rush over to him.

“Changbin! How was your summer? I called, but you never answered,” you grin, nudging his shoulder.

He does not shoot you a glance, nor does he send a glare. Instead, he keeps his eyes glued on his shoes. A sharp pain strikes your chest—that breath might have been poison.

You gently shove his shoulder again, forcing a shaky laugh as you continue, “Hello? Anyone in there?”

The boy in front of him spins on his heel. His eyes are cold, painful, as they meet yours. “Can’t you tell he doesn’t wanna talk to you?” Hyunjin scoffs. “Go somewhere else, dumbass.”

Hesitantly, you look to Changbin. Surely, he’ll defend you, right?

Right?

His eyes have traveled to the lunch menu, displayed on a TV in cheap font. Far away from this conversation.

You nod, looking back to Hyunjin. His abrasive eyes are still waiting for you, eagerly begging you to move on. “Sorry, then,” you murmur as you start for the bathroom that will become your haven.

Behind you, Hyunjin’s loud laugh taunts you. Hidden beneath it is a quieter one that stabs you in the chest. Something painful blurs your vision, twists your insides, and curls the corners of your lips as you try to fight it.

You were a fool to think he was different. Elementary promises should never be trusted.

Secondary school passes in dreary blinks. Watching Changbin run for class president. Bubbling in his name despite everything. Hearing Changbin got the lead role in Cinderella. Showing up despite the physics test you had to study for.

You wonder momentarily if Newton was behind this twisted feeling in your chest. Drawing you to him—like a moth to a flame. You even scan his sister’s Instagram from time to time, finding a picture of Changbin framed carefully beneath the stars, a twinkle in his eye.

You watch from afar as he accepts his diploma, a careful smile seated on your lips.

A bitter taste haunts your tongue as you pack for college.

“This is good for me,” you mutter to yourself. “I’ll be far, far away from him. I can move on.”

Some things are better left unsaid.

iii.

Awkward introductions replay in your memory as you get ready for your first college class. Seven fifteen, physics with Professor Kim. Denoted as one of the best in the country. Physicist and professor, respectively. It would be a lie to say he didn’t take part in your decision to attend this college. And the ocean, which is only a fifteen minute walk (that’s what the RA told you when you moved in).

You arrive with a hot americano precisely on time.

As you climb the lecture hall’s steps, your eyes drift among the sea of unfamiliar faces. One in particular sticks out—a glimmer of hope among the trenches. You raise a hand to wave, a smile quirking your lips. But, at the face directly next to him, you drift back.

Evidently, you didn’t move far enough.

You stand at the edge of the aisle, glancing down at the empty seat. “Hey, is this spot empty?”

Hope looks back at you with shock glazing his features. “Oh my God, Y/N! Of course. I didn’t know you decided to come here,” Minho smiles, tugging his notebook closer to allow you more room.

You pull out the chair, glancing at the boy on the other side of him. “I didn’t really tell anyone where I was going.”

He fills the silence with his tales of life, occasionally glancing at Changbin to see if he wants to add something. Each time, he is met with the boy’s indifferent profile. Mindlessly scrolling through his phone, though not once stopping to read one of the passing captions or like a picture.

Professor Kim claps, fizzling any remaining conversation. The syllabus fades in your mind as you wonder how Changbin’s summer went. Maybe he spent it with his sister. Or perhaps he accompanied a love interest to a string of dates.

This thought shoots a concoction of contradicting emotions through your heart. You return distracted eyes to Professor Kim just as he’s dismissing class, burying a content fist into the customly tailored pocket of his navy suit. Minho turns to you immediately, filling your ears with proposals to coffee and lunch and maybe you could come to the dorm later and catch up. Changbin’s ears perk up as he begs for Minho’s eyes.

For a split second, his eyes fall on you before they dart away.

“I need to get back to my dorm,” you announce when you can finally slip into Minho’s breaths of pause. “My roommate’s waiting.”

“Who’s your roommate? Maybe we know him.”

You fight a laugh when he finally glances back at Changbin, who has long since given up. “His name’s Yang Jeongin.”

iv.

While Minho is overly focused on you, begging you to tell him what happened after he moved in tenth grade, Changbin pretends you do not exist. When the conversations trail outside of the lecture hall, he clings to Minho’s side but does not speak. His eyes stay glued to the sidewalk. Or his textbook, whose cover he seems very invested in.

So when Professor Kim announces a project, your heart thumps a little too fast.

Minho grabs your arm, “Be my partner?”

Changbin kicks his leg. “Dude.”

He glances back at him, as though nothing he has said goes against him. “What? Just join our group.”

Changbin’s eyes find yours reluctantly. They ignite a spark in your fingertips as you reach for a pen. “Can I?”

You smile as your head twitches in a nod. “Of course.”

The plan is this: meet at the library on October 15th (a Saturday, you realize) at 1 P.M. “Expect to be there long, I wanna get this done ASAP,” Minho adds as he downs the rest of your americano.

When the day finally comes, despite your daily prayers that time would somehow freeze or somehow skip over the day, you leave your dorm right when you need to. Early October aids a brusque breeze, and you wrap your jacket around you as you approach the small crosswalk. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you dread the inevitable message.

Lee Minho [12:59 P.M.]: Sorry guys, I can’t make it. Mama Lee’s in town and wants to see her favorite son.

It’s too late to go home, you realize, when shoes scrape against the cement and a sigh penetrates the silence. “I cannot stand him,” the voice mutters behind you.

You turn to him, offering pitied condolences with a small smile. “Just the two of us, huh?”

He nods. “Guess so.”

A loud hum draws closer as his foot leans down for the asphalt. You look to the source, seeing a red car barreling down the street. You gasp, grabbing Changbin’s sleeve and tugging him back on the sidewalk. The horn echoes in the back of your head like an alarm.

His eyes are wide when they find yours. “T-Thank you,” he stutters, cocking his head a little. As though, for the first time, he is taking in your appearance.

You realize your grip is still tight on his wrist and you let go, tensing up. “You’re welcome.”

In the library, you work in silence. As though nothing happened outside. As though your entire history lies merely within the timespan of a few weeks. Minho serving as the mutual friend to your forced, awkward friendship.

He shoots you a dizzying look as he turns his packet to you. “Can you look this over?”

The tip of your eraser taps a number. “This has to be meters per second, not centimeters per second.”

A small sigh tumbles over his bottom lip as he realizes, “That’s why the final answer looked so weird. Thank you.”

The corner of your lip must have an opposite gravity to it, because it curls upward without intent.

Returning to class the next Monday leaves the soft hint of a calm lavender in the air. You share a quick, almost childish, glance with Changbin before settling back into the tune of physics. Newtons and joules and all the fun things that make up energy.

The next few weeks pass with a quiet hum, one that hangs in the background and, if you lose sight of it, you’re scared you’ll lose it forever. It’s a time of your life where you will look back with a sigh and whisper, “How did I not realize how good I had it?”

At your peak, you fall onto your bed on a Friday night. Jeongin scribbles impatient homework answers while your eyes fall shut.

The storm of your phone blaring its tune awakes you.

Lee Minho calls to remind you that he expects you to arrive at his ‘rager of a birthday party.’ He tells you the address, enthusiastically repeating himself (like an auctioneer) as you try to find a pad of paper. Jeongin’s jumping up to fix his hair before you even hang up.

You’re really not sure what you expect as you drag your roommate in tow towards the destination. Though, when you feel the tremble of music and hear shouts from the lawn of the frat house, you somehow know you’re in the right place.

The foyer is packed with jumping bodies. Leaning on the stairs, a red solo cup in hand, is the man of the hour. His cheeks are dusted in a light coating of heat and, as you approach him, you notice that glitter brushes soft highlights along his cheekbones.

“Happy early birthday!” you shout over the music.

He dizzily turns to you and drags you towards his chest in a swift motion. “Y/N! Thank you for coming!”

You had no choice. It was either come to the party or admit yourself to Lee Minho’s terrifying grudge list.

Despite this, you return with a grin, “Of course!”

When he lets you go into the stale air, he shoves his cup into your hand. “Try some,” he nods.

You tip the plastic to your lips. As the liquid scrapes the back of your throat, you flinch back. “What is this?” Your face twists.

“Just vodka and Coke.”

You hastily return the cup to him and glance around. Jeongin has disappeared to a desolate corner, you presume. A spark of jealousy runs through your veins.

“Where’s the bathroom?” you find yourself asking Minho.

He points down a vacant hallway and tells you it’s the last door on your left. You thank him before scurrying in that direction.

Your knock echoes, though nothing returns. The pale wood feels cold against your cheek as you listen for any life inside. You find it safe to enter. Instantly, you press your palms against the cold marble. Identical eyes stare into each other in the mirror until your eyes slip to the pale, spotless basin. You stare into the milky dome absently, pondering why you feel so odd being here. And for a moment you forget where you are, lost in the dizzying world of your thoughts.

Until you hear the choked sob from behind the shower curtain.

It takes you by surprise. Hesitantly, you reach out for the navy shield.

“Ch-Changbin?” you stutter, staring down at the boy in a mess of shock.

His legs are drawn to his chest as trails of tears line his cheeks. He lets out a squeak as he looks up to you. Arms fall to his sides as he leans forward. Though, he appears to have no intention of stopping, surrendering himself to gravity.

Your hands find his shoulders merely moments before his nose slams into the porcelain. “Are you drunk?” you whisper.

Though, in return, he sobs. “I’m sorry.”

Something pierces your chest. Your lips part to say something, but the words are clogged in your throat.

“I was such an idiot,” he slurs, swaying gently.

“What’re you talking about?” you finally ask.

His balled fist slams against the tub. “You!” he shouts, face twisting as he releases another cry.

You flinch back.

“My mom always asks how you’re doing, no matter how many times I tell her. My sister still has a grudge. Hell, even Hwang Hyunjin thinks I’m an idiot and he’s the one who tricked me into leaving you!”

He leans his cheek against the wall, once again releasing a cry. Though, this one, he fights to hold back. It scalds the air in a whimper.

Quieter, he admits, “You were the only person I’ve ever felt safe with.”

You sigh, looking down at your shoes. Those days when you wondered what had gone wrong, staring up at your blank ceiling and trying to relive his smile as quiet tears fell to your pillow, wash down the drain.

He watches intently as you climb into the tub. You do not look at him as you slowly lean against the wall he rests his cheek on. Instead, you stare at the mahogany finish of the small cabinets. Regardless, you can feel his eyes burning holes into your cheek. In this cold porcelain cage, all you can hear is the distant thumping of music and the occasional sniffle from the boy beside you. You smile at the familiarity of it, returning you to your former years cozied up on a playground. No worries back then, you jealously note with a muted snicker.

“I missed you,” you finally say. Tears blur your vision, warping the defined lines of wood into a mess of color.

When you bring yourself to look at him, his eyes are closed. You lean a little closer to see if he’s sleeping. Reluctant lips part as he whispers, his breath hot and reeking of tequila, “I missed you too.”

vi.

One of the things you come to realize is that Changbin’s smile has never changed. There’s still that little indent where his cheeks fold over and each time he offers a glimpse at it you are returned to the days of the swing.

Thanks to the drunken night (half drunken night, you should say, since he had enough for both of you), Changbin has allowed a sneak peek back to his life. Strictly over text, though. You’re not sure why he’s never asked to meet up—maybe it’s too much too fast, you think—but you cannot find it in you to complain. He’s back after all these years and that seems to be enough.

So you endure it, texting him until the early hours of the morning and fascinating yourself over all of these things you have missed.

Seo Changbin [2:39 A.M.]: My sister and I went to the elementary school a couple of weeks ago.

Looking at your phone burns your eyes, as does the weird feeling in your chest.

Y/N [2:40 A.M.]: Really? Has it changed much?

Seo Changbin [2:40 A.M.]: The kids after us got all the cool playground equipment :(

Seo Changbin [2:40 A.M.]: I should take you there one day haha. I think that’d be fun.

You fight the giggle that wishes to flee, glancing up at a sleeping Jeongin for reassurance.

Waking up in the morning is aided with fleeting regrets, though beneath it you realize there is a small skip in your step. One that flares a heat in your face when you walk into the physics classroom and reach to meet Changbin’s eyes. And there, waiting, is his gaze and a small smile.

Maybe you have it bad for Seo Changbin, you think, as Professor Kim begins talking about Newton’s Third Law.

vii.

Yang Jeongin is broadcasting his homework onto the cheap projector he bought on Amazon for $50. “Isn’t it so cool?” he marvels as his red pen underlines a key part of his notes.

You absently nod, glaring at your textbook. Between the lines is a screaming thought that cascades a waterfall of forget towards your upcoming exam. You fail to notice your phone buzzing against your bed. Daydreams are dangerous like that.

“Y/N,” Jeongin’s voice finally snaps you out of it. You look to him, standing at the door and lazily holding the knob. “You’ve got a visitor.”

Your heart leaps in your chest as you rush to take his spot. Before you can tug the door open, he presses a hand on your shoulder. “Be careful around him, please.”

You watch as he struts and flops down on his bed, opening a comic book above his head.

As you open the door, a little more hesitant than before the interaction with Jeongin, you smile.

Changbin is watching the end of your hall and playing with the sleeves of his hoodie. When he senses your presence, he finally breaks his trance and offers a smile. He keeps his voice low, “Can I talk to you?”

You nod, ignoring the annoying thump thump of your heart, “Sure. What’s up?”

“In private,” he adds, peeking over your head at Jeongin. Maintaining his hold on the comic book, though his eyes have drifted to you with a parental glare.

You shut the door behind you. His footsteps draw towards the common area, and you follow. There’s a silence draped over you until he abruptly stops in the middle of the hallway and turns to you. “I need you to pretend to date me.”

You blink. “W-What?”

He draws his bottom lip between his teeth momentarily before continuing, “I made a stupid bet and I kind of really need the money.”

A shroud of toughness hides your instant willingness to help. “What do I get out of this?”

His eyes radiate the innocence of a child. They draw you to a distant memory, one that you might have seen in a movie and forced into a memory, but you’re not sure. You were at his house after he broke his arm and he cried, those same eyes staring at you as he whined about how much it hurt. And how itchy his arm was beneath the cast.

Your heart softens, and you have to fight the crumbling beneath your feet.

“Whatever you want,” he assertively nods. “Seriously.”

You sigh. “Do you have a plan?”

“I always have a plan,” he smiles, pulling you into a grateful hug. His hoodie smells vaguely of ramen with a hint of sealike cologne you might find in Lee Minho’s bathroom. You find yourself smiling as your hands rest on his back.

viii.

His hand, admittedly, feels a little odd in your hand. The last time you had held his hand was in second grade, when you went to the zoo on a field trip. Your class was already flooding into the bird exhibit with anticipation and exuberance. But you were crying your eyes out at the mere thought of seeing a parrot. (This unfounded fear is all thanks to Spongebob)

Changbin’s hand slipped into yours and slowly urged you in, mumbling that if you didn’t go you’d get stuck there forever. And then, he had whispered, the parrots might eat us alive. Even then, his hand was oddly clammy and a little sticky.

But now, as he guides you through the small neighborhood, you feel a calm mix of elation and awkwardness. Sure, this is groundbreaking material for you and your “small” crush on him. However, he’s not doing this because he likes you. He’s doing this because he needs some cash and you were a means of aiding him.

“Where are we going?” you ask, a cloud of your breath expanding from your lips. It’s only the beginning of November.

“You’ll see,” he glances over at you, a small smile painted on his pale cheeks.

There’s a small line of shrubs on your side of the sidewalk. Serving as a break in them is a metal archway, accompanied by a small wooden sign reading: Gyeonghwa Park. He turns into it, guiding you into the small fenced area. A two person swing set stands in the corner, absent seats trembling in the breeze. There’s a few wooden benches, though most are tainted in a layer of leaves.

“Ta-da,” he says, gesturing with his free arm at the small park.

You look around to the little duck statue in the corner. “I don’t mean to be rude, but why are we here again?” you turn to him. His hand burns against your skin like a constant reminder.

“I can’t take you to our playground, so I thought we could settle for here as our first fake date,” he smiles. “Plus, we need couple pictures and I think this works well.”

You’re grateful for the breeze that dashes pink across your cheeks, disguising the heat that has rushed to them at his words. “R-Right,” you stutter.

He takes a seat on a leafless bench and slips his phone from his pocket. As you reluctantly sit beside him, you watch as he sends texts to his friends. Nothing regarding you, you presume, but when he feels your eyes he quickly closes the chat.

The pictures are poised carefully, his arm resting on the top of the bench behind you, your head tilted towards his as you smile. Without warning, he presses his lips to your cheek as the shutter clicks. You try not to make your flinch obvious.

He pulls back, smiling slightly as he inquires, “Should we kiss to seal the deal?”

Fire poisons your veins as you stare back at him. The invisible mark his lips had left sizzles in the air. “Do you think we should?” you whisper.

He shrugs. “It’ll make it a bit more believable. We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, though.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s fine. Kiss me.”

The corners of his lips upturn a little further, sending a shiver down your spine—though maybe it was just the wind. He readjusts his phone, glancing to assure you’re both in frame, before leaning in. At first, his lips merely wander in the air before yours, as though he is thinking about the best way to do this. But then, confident lips press against yours. His touch melts away the numbness in your fingers, the shiver of the cold. In this moment of freedom, you wonder if he had ever wondered what your lips tasted like. Because you sure have.

ix.

Each of your fake dates is constructed with careful attention to detail. A trip to the movies (seeing a film you had mentioned wanting to see very briefly over text). A study ‘date’ that didn’t really feel romantic, though he brought you an americano and a fancy pen he stole from his dad’s work.

But your date today is very special. The diner is filled to the brim with hungry college students and elderly couples. In the back, bunched up against the upholstery, are Changbin’s friends. They throw their heads back to laugh as one tells a stupid joke. Changbin leads you down the aisle slowly. He squeezes your hand, whispering over his shoulder, “Thank you, again, for doing this. It means a lot.”

You smile against your will,“That’s what friends are for.”

As you approach, the new and familiar faces turn to you. Some hold smiles, others hold gaping lips.

“I didn’t think you actually found someone willing to date you,” a boy marvels.

“Let alone Y/N! How come I didn’t know you were dating?” Minho shouts, garnering certain harsh looks from neighboring booths.

A glimmering smile finds your lips as you slide into the booth beside him, “You never asked.”

He scoffs. “Am I supposed to ask when anything life-changing happens?”

Changbin files in beside you, sighing, “Not necessarily, but you talk a lot.”

“How long have you been dating?” a boy across from you asks. His cheeks are dusted with light freckles, and a friendly smile paints across his lips.

“Nearly two months,” you glance at Changbin, who nods. The finer details, he stressed, must be known like the back of your hand. A single hair out of place could be the end.

“Are you serious?” Minho booms. His eyes are wide and his lips are parted. Even his eyebrows raise in awe, scratching dull wrinkles across his forehead.

“You do talk a lot,” you mumble.

Before Minho can have the chance to shout profanities aiding his awe, another boy sighs. “Shut up and congratulate them, okay? This is karma for laughing at him when he wanted in on the bet.”

“Thank you, Chan,” Changbin smiles, wrapping an adept arm around your shoulder. Instinctively, you lean into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder.

As the night unfolds, queued by digging questions and the occasional groan from Minho, you nearly forget that this is an act. That when Changbin presses a kiss to your forehead it’s not real.

Outside of the diner, as his friends disperse into their means of transportation, he cups your cheeks and presses a soft kiss to your lips. When he parts, there’s a small smile and a gloss hanging over his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispers.

He promises to pick you up at five. All that remains is the reward, you realize. A simple favor has brought you here, waiting impatiently for his knock on your door. Your heart beats harshly against your chest.

“Why are you even messing with him?” Jeongin mutters, stirring his ramen with the tips of his chopsticks.

You glance up at him, sighing, “I’m not messing with him. I’m doing him a favor.”

“Yeah, but, why? He’s an asshole, Y/N,” he shakes his head. As he shoves the steaming noodles into his mouth, he hisses at the heat and tilts his head to the side.

You watch him as he gulps down water.

At your prolonged silence, he adds, “When is he supposed to pick you up?”

You tap your phone screen, illuminating the time. “Five minutes ago.”

Jeongin drowns his harsh words with more noodles. Though, in between bites, he says, “Maybe he’s standing you up.”

The thought has crossed your mind, though a hollow in your chest wants to believe he wouldn’t do that. Friends, if that’s what you are, don’t do that.

Seconds drift into minutes. And minutes turn into an hour. Jeongin’s gone through three more ramen cups. Your lips ache as you nervously bite them, jumping for your phone at each notification.

At half past six, Jeongin rests into your bed beside you. “I’m sorry,” he whispers as he wraps a cautious arm around your shoulder.

Though, you do not feel anything aside from the irritation blurring your eyes. “Are you okay?” he asks. These simple words open the floodgate.

xi.

His eyes avert yours as though they had never known you in the first place. Minho doesn’t say anything when you lower yourself in the seat beside him. Instead, he cautiously slips you a small note. Large, scratchy words read: are you okay?

You crumble the note in your palm before tucking it into your bag. He does not bother you for the rest of class. Class travels by in grueling moments. Professor Kim’s voice seems slowed, stripped of any tone. When he finally dismisses class, warning that the semester is ending soon, you haphazardly shove your things into your bag and leave.

Over your shoulder, you hear a low smack and Minho mutter, “What the hell is the matter with you?”

It hurts to admit, given that you had known from the beginning, but Seo Changbin used you. Though, despite the anger you should be feeling, you can only find yourself wondering what he needed the money so badly for.

Back at the dorm, Jeongin silently pulls a piece of cake from the small fridge and hands it to you. “Here,” he mumbles. “My friend made it for you.”

You look up at him. “Why?” Your voice is raw from desuetude, crackles like an old radio.

Jeongin bites his lip, eyes slipping to your comforter. “I told him you were having a rough time. Plus, he knows Changbin, so he knows the story.”

You take the paper plate in your fingertips, dragging it toward you. You poke the delicacy with the tip of your fork. “What’s the story?”

A sigh slips past his lips. “That you guys dated and you broke up. That’s all Changbin told them.”

You nod. He must’ve gotten the money and thrown you away.

Your phone buzzes against the mattress. Jeongin leans over to check who it is. When his eyes meet yours again, he informs, “It’s just Minho.”

So you allow yourself to look at your phone.

Lee Minho [9:20 A.M.]: I’m outside your dorm. Let me in please.

You look up to the door, though your energy is below zero. Jeongin grabs your phone, reading the message, before going to answer the door.

“Hey, Jeongin,” Minho pushes past him. He sits at the foot of your bed. “What happened?”

You blink, eyes staring into his absently. “What?”

“With Changbin. Tell me what happened, please. He won’t tell us anything and I’m starting to get worried for both of you. He’s never this quiet and you’re never this sulky,” he reluctantly rests his hand on your knee.

You look at Jeongin, who stands there with arms against his chest. He shrugs, silently telling you it’s up to you.

You sigh. “Where do I start?”

“The beginning, preferably.”

“I think I fell in love with him, but I can’t tell you when. Maybe it was when we were kids. Maybe it was at the party when he apologized,” you slowly say. The words do not feel like yours. A small pit rumbles in your stomach, begging you to continue. “He wanted a favor, to pretend to date him for that bet you guys made. I didn’t ask why he needed the money or why I should do this for him, given all he did to me. I just went with it. And things were great, as far as fake relationships go.”

In your break of silence, you find yourself smiling at all the fake dates. You wonder if the pictures still live in his phone or if he discarded them the moment he got rid of you.

“So you guys faked the whole thing?” Minho’s eyebrows furrow.

You nod. “He was supposed to pick me up on Saturday, but he stood me up. And now we’re here.”

Minho blinks. “Either Changbin’s a good actor or he’s a fucking asshole.”

“It’s the latter,” Jeongin announces as he crosses to his bed.

Minho shakes his head. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Don’t tell him what I said,” you rush. “About loving him or anything.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

After he leaves, Jeongin loudly sighs. “I knew you were in love with him.”

You look at him, slowly nodding, “I didn’t really make an effort to hide it.”

xii.

There are tears irritating your skin as you pull yourself out of bed. Surviving off of Felix’s cake and Jeongin’s ramen cups is less than attractive, but you cannot build enough will to leave your dorm. You ask Minho to take notes in physics for you and he quickly obliges, no questions asked.

Changbin, still, plagues your mind like venom. Each time you think maybe a nap is in order, you shut your eyes and see his smile. Or you’ll think of his lips on yours as he smiles into the kiss. Your eyes shoot open, chest rising heavily. Even when you stare at your ceiling too long, your brain deems it a screen for a memory to play. Casted like Jeongin’s cheap projector.

There was this once, in fourth grade when you grew bored of the swings so you relocated to the plastic blue tunnel. He blocked off one end while you took the other. On hotter days, you’d lay on top of the tunnel. One day, he looked at you across the plastic and asked, “Do you ever think we’ll be grown ups far away from each other?”

You shook your head so confidently. “No. We’re gonna live together. Like roommates.”

Jeongin comes home from his classes with a cup of coffee. He sets it on your nightstand as he whispers, “I’m spending the night at Chan’s tonight. Call me if you need anything.”

You take a sip of the americano. “Thanks, have fun.”

In his wake is a dreaded silence that reminds you of Changbin’s laugh. Time has only plagued it with a dash of depth.

Your phone buzzes. Hesitantly, you roll over and grab it. The metal is cold against your fingers.

Lee Minho [4:29 P.M.]: Hey, I need you to come to the beach. There’s something I want to show you.

The thing that tipped you over the edge when looking for a college was the beach. As you carefully scouted, the grains of sand kept drawing you back. It’s ironic as you realize that you haven’t been once, despite its proximity. You can already feel the bitter cold against your cheeks as you rise from your bed. Dots of dizziness scatter across your eyes.

The mid November air is cooler than you expected as you step out of the complex. You shove balled fists deeper into your hoodie pocket.

The walk to the beach is shorter than you had expected, only passing ten minutes. You see Minho waiting on the wooden slats leading to the sand. He jumps to preserve his heat.

“Hey,” you call out to him.

He looks to you, daring to unveil a pale hand as he waves. When you’re closer he says, “It’s fucking cold out here.”

You nod, looking out onto the vacant sand. Huddled like a speck of trash is a small figure.

“Why’d you want to meet out here?” you return to look at him, a piercing cold slashing your heart at the realization.

His face softens as he glances out towards the black speck in the sand. “Well, he wanted to meet you here but he wasn’t sure if you’d come if he texted. So he dragged me out here.”

You find yourself laughing. “And you agreed?”

“I didn’t know it was negative twenty out here,” he mutters. “So go and talk to him so I can get back in my car.”

You smile. Your heart thunders against your chest and, even though you know you shouldn’t, your feet move towards the small figure. He tugs you in, time and time again.

You glance over your shoulder when you reach him. Minho’s already gone, as though his presence was merely a ghost. You squat next to Changbin, wrapping your arms around your knees.

He looks at you, though you keep focused on the pale water. Brushing up on the sand, pulling back into the ocean.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

You nod. “You always say that.”

“I really am,” he admits. “I know you probably think I’m an asshole, reasonably so, but I really am sorry for everything.”

You finally look at him. “What’d you need the money for?”

He’s taken aback. He had expected more of a heartbreaking confession, a perspective he had not once explored. “Music equipment,” he says. “It’s really for me, Chan, and Jisung.”

You nod, looking back at the water. “I was just a ragdoll so you could get that.”

“Not really,” he whispers. “It was kinda a double positive for me.”

Furrowed eyebrows turn back to him.

“I got the money,” he starts, “and I also got the luxury of pretending to be yours.”

You blink. Your voice is small, barely audible over a gust of wind, “What?”

“Every time I did something stupid that got in between us, I always knew I’d find my way back to you. I was the tide and you were the moon, reaching out and tugging me back into reality. Time and time again, as we’ve come to understand,” he nods, glancing at his red fingers, bitten by the air.

You stare at him. “So why do you keep pushing me away?”

He shrugs. “There was always the fear that you didn’t want to bring me back.”

You scoff, remembering your childhood and the way he kept drawing you closer. You shake your head, words failing you.

“So truly, I am so sorry. You still have your end of the deal, you know. You get whatever you want. You can tell me to fuck off and I’ll go home. Sure, I’d be a little heartbroken, but-”

You cut him off, “Why would I ever do that?”

“Because I treat you like shit to fuel this stupid ideology that you don’t hate me,” he admits. “Even when I don’t try to be, I’m a selfish asshole. I only kissed you because I wanted to, not because of the stupid pictures for the bet. I only asked you for the favor because I wanted to paint this stupid little picture in my head. I only stood you up because I couldn’t bring myself to face you and admit that my stupid fantasy was over.”

“That’s not selfish,” you say. “That’s just very Seo Changbin of you.”

“I really cannot tell if you hate my guts or not,” he sighs, picking up a handful of sand and watching as it trickles down again.

You shake your head. “Minho didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

You look back at the empty space where the ghost once stood. A sigh of a distant nostalgia slips from your lips—the times you’ve pictured this moment over and over in your daydreams. However, you did not imagine the bitter bite of the wind nipping at your cheeks. “That I’m in love with you.”

“You what?” he gawks, leaning a bit closer. As though his ears deceive him.

Your eyes return to his as you nod. “I love you. I probably have since we were kids. That’s the only reason I agreed to your favor. Because I, too, wanted to be a little selfish.”

His lips slowly curl up into a smile as he releases an abrasive laugh. “How much did Minho pay you to say that?”

“He didn’t. I’m being completely honest. Why else would I be here if I wasn’t stupidly in love with you, huh?”

“Really?”

“Yes, now can we speed this up? It’s fucking cold out here.”

He presses his lips against yours. You expect them to mold against yours like they had in previous weeks, but now they are fiery. It sends tingles down your spine as he cups your cheek. With those internal feelings finally suspended from your body, you can sigh a breath of relief.

You wonder if younger you would be proud.

xiii.

“Are you guys actually dating now or are you just fucking with us again?” one of Changbin’s friends, Jisung, asks as you slide into the same booth as a few weeks ago.

“They are,” Minho intervenes. “I watched them confess and everything. Like a minister.”

“Bullshit,” you mutter. “You went back to your car as soon as I got there.”

Changbin’s laugh tickles against your ear as he scoots in next to you.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t revoke the award,” the freckled boy, who you’ve now concluded is Felix, observes.

“Why?” Jisung asks, bringing the straw of his soda to his lips.

“Because we would have had to give it right back.”

His friends are very welcoming of you, despite the deception that marked your first greeting. Chan catches you in the parking lot as Changbin and Jisung fight over the extra mint the server placed on the table.

“I just want you to know,” he starts with a smile, “that he really loves you. It’s not a front, I promise.”

Your eyes crinkle at the corners as you ask, “Those are suspicious words. How should I trust you?”

“Because he talks about you all the time. I know more about your childhood than I know about mine. Plus, he’s written three songs about you and we don’t even have the equipment to record anything yet.”

You laugh, “You’re in luck, then.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Why?”

You smile, shaking your head. “You’ll find out.”

Changbin returns to your side, a sullen scowl pressed against his lips as he watches Jisung pop the mint into his mouth. Chan dismisses himself to attend to Felix attempting to teach Minho a taekwondo move.

You look over at Changbin, “You’ve written songs about me?”

His eyes widen, “No? Why would I ever do that?”

A giggle bubbles up from your stomach as you shake your head, starting off to his car. Behind you, he repeats the same question urgently.

xiv.

Seo Changbin is like a pest that flies around your head, begging your attention at all moments of the day. He invited you over to his dorm so you could study together, though when you arrived with your textbook and notes, he appeared offended.

“What?” you asked as you settled on his bed, fluffing pillows before leaning against them.

“Studying doesn’t mean studying, it means cuddling,” he pouted.

It’s lucky for him that Minho isn’t home because if he ever heard those words falling from his lips, he’d never hear the end of it.

So that’s why you’re laying your head on his pillow, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you read over your notes.

“What’s the formula for Newton’s law of universal gravitation?” you quiz him when you feel his arms start to loosen with the temptation of sleep.

He hums, “I don’t know. You’re the one with the strong magnetic force. Shouldn’t they call it Y/N’s law of universal gravitation?”

You sigh, setting the spiral notebook on his nightstand before you turn in his arms to face him. The hint of a smile already greets you. You press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. “What’s your grade in physics?”

He looks up at the ceiling as he pretends to think. “38.”

“What?” you hiss, pulling back away from him as though he has an illness you didn’t know about.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” he whines, pulling you back. “I only signed up for the class because it reminded me of you.”

You smile. “Why?”

He shyly pouts, “I may have gone out of my way to hear about you when we were in high school.”

“And you never thought to apologize?” you counter, your smile still reigning.

“You looked like you were doing fine without me,” he shyly admits.

“Changbin,” you shake your head. “I had no friends after Minho moved. I chased after you, thinking maybe something would happen.”

He closes his eyes. “Tell me you didn’t see me in Cinderella.”

“I saw you in Cinderella,” you laugh.

He throws his head back and whines. “The pants they put me in were two sizes too big.”

The memory of him standing on stage and having to hold up his pants, disguising it by having his hands on his hips, brings another laugh to the air. “Did they really not have any clothespins or anything?”

“No!” he exclaims, looking back into your eyes. “Fucking Hyunjin was hoarding them all!”

You feel the vibrations of your laugh against the pillow. It’s good being like this, having him tethered close.

He’s in the middle of saying something, probably further pursuing his complaints about high school or Hyunjin, but you do not care. You press your lips against his. A moment of stillness, thanks to his shock, before he kisses you back.

The only word to describe this feeling brewing in your stomach: bliss. Pure, hot bliss.

You hope gravity will keep you grounded here.

129 notes · View notes

literaryfic · 4 years ago

Link

Chapters: 5/? Fandom: 빈센조 | Vincenzo (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong/Hong Cha Young Characters: Hong Cha Young, Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, vincenzo leaves, set five years after he left sk, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, vincenzo and cha-young are exes, they were in a relationship before, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Jealousy, Exes, Getting Back Together, Not Canon Compliant, i wrote this before ep 20, Canon-Typical Violence, Smut

Summary: Oh, how Cha-young wishes she could forget the past five years. Now that her anger has faded, she remembers clearly why she sealed herself in it; after anger comes sorrow, something she’s not sure she can overcome.

And just like the never-ending revolution of the Earth around the Sun causes the perpetual change of seasons — when flowers bloom after the frost melts and Spring follows Winter —, Cha-young finds herself knocking on Vincenzo’s door. They were two supernovas meant to collide and, although Cha-young wasn’t quite sure whether the impact would annihilate them or create a new form of life, she didn’t care.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, Park Joo-hyung?”

He opens the door, letting her in. She marches on, the door closing in a thump behind her. She turns to face him, his jaw is set. Both of them follow the familiar steps of a tango they’ve danced before, playing the part of an opera they know the end to.

“How dare you threaten and intimidate someone close to me?” She screams.

“Is that what he told you? Did he mention the phone call—”

“This has nothing to do with your behaviour!”

“Of course it fucking has, Cha-young-ah” Vincenzo is losing his temper too, and for the first time since they’ve met again, he’s yelling.“That bastard’s cheating on you, for fuck’s sake! Did you just expect me to pretend I didn’t hear anything? I thought you said we should be friends. That’s what friends do.”

“Whether he’s cheating on me or not, that’s none of your business. And I take it back, I don’t want to be your friend, I don’t want to be your anything. Leave me alone.” Cha-young’s index finger is pointing at him, and suddenly she realises how close they’ve gotten in the heat of their argument. She’s flushed, anger shading her cheeks red.

“You’re the one who came to me.” He whispers.

She can feel his breath on her face, and it’s taking everything in her to not look at his lips. His intoxicating scent is making her feel dizzy. She bites the inside of her cheek, the sharp pain bringing her back to her senses. She takes a step back.

“Because you think you can just waltz into my life as you please, Vincenzo.” She’s not looking at him anymore, the edge in her voice softened.

“If that were true, we both know very well that your little boyfriend would be dead by now.” His lips curl. His tone might be playful but she’s not sure he doesn’t mean it.

He’s looking at her and Cha-young knows he’s trying to make peace. He’d never liked to argue with her in the past, and he especially hated screaming matches. To everyone else, Vincenzo was intransigent, intimidating or even frightening. However, during their relationship, and although he’d been stubborn, he’d always been strangely compromising. She started the fights and he ended them. He would crack a joke, apologise and kiss her hand. He would burrow his face in her neck, wrap his arms around her waist and mouth ‘Forgive me’ against her skin. She’d feign resistance until he’d start tickling her. Then, they’d laugh together, forgetting about why they fought in the first place.

Oh, how Cha-young wishes she could forget the past five years. Now that her anger has faded, she remembers clearly why she sealed herself in it; after anger comes sorrow, something she’s not sure she can overcome. Submerged by a wave of melancholy, she can’t hold back the truth anymore.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Vincenzo’s eyes widen, he’s stunned. A few seconds pass, and it doesn’t look like he’s going to say anything, so she goes on. “I lied. I’m here with my employees, he’s my personal assistant.”

Finally, the weight of her words strikes him. “Why did you lie to me?” He asks quietly, his face unreadable. Was it so foolish of her to search for relief in his eyes?

She swallows the lump in her throat. “What, so you could see how pathetic I was without you?”

There it is.

In a few seconds, the man she loved would realise she’d always been nothing more than an empty shell on the shore, discarded by the seas. All her life, Cha-young had been abandoned by the people she cherished. Whether it was intentional or not, it seemed that no one stuck around for long. Contrary to what one might think, her father had been the first one to go. He’d stayed out late, prioritised his clients over his family and avoided them. Then, her mom had gone, her loss altering Cha-young’s life and identity so profoundly she had began to think of herself as split in two — pre-death Cha-young, the one who had been naïve and hopeful, and post-death Cha-young, the jaded and bitter adult who had designed her life around self-preservation. Later, when her dad passed away, abandoning her for the second time, she had promised herself that she wouldn’t let anyone leave ever again. She had wanted to protect those around her: the tenants, Babel’s victims’ families, the innocent.

Slowly, her partnership with Vincenzo turned into something deeper, into something more. She’d prepared herself, readying her heart; he would leave soon. But everything changed when he sealed the promise of forever with a kiss— or so she thought. Cha-young realised a heartbeat too late that she had mistaken an oath of love for an act of war; she had taken him prisoner, put him in shackles and thrown away the key.

Odysseus, the legendary hero set on an epic journey, had accidentally landed on Ogygia, and Calypso, the troubled nymph, had fallen in love with him. How could she not, when he was strong and beautiful, and she was lonely in her exile? She had held him captive as long as she could, but she had no claim over him, and the devastating sadness she had felt after he had escaped was laughable. He had deserted her, the last remains of their love piercing her heart like shards of glass.

“You’re not pathetic.” Vincenzo said firmly, interrupting her thoughts.

Cha-young turned away from him. “Drop it.”

“No. None of this is your fault, Cha-young-ah.” He closed the distance between them, and she could feel him right behind her. “I wanted to tell you later but— I legally changed my name to Park Joo-hyung. Wanna know why?”

“Because it was obnoxiously hard to pronounce?” Her attempt at diversion doesn’t work.

Instead, Vincenzo grips her arms and presses his forehead against her shoulder blades. She’s still not facing him, compelling herself to not look at him or touch him or feel him against her.

“I hated it so much that just hearing it made me sick. I hated myself, Cha-young-ah. Not because of the murders, the torture or all the atrocities I’ve committed— no.” He laughs wryly. “It’s because of what I did to you. Leaving you is the one sin I can’t seem to forgive myself for. And that is pathetic.”

She holds her breath. One. Two. Three. She faces him. Red eyes, hollow cheeks, desperation carving deep lines on his forehead. He looks like a tormented devil.

“What do you want, Vincenzo?” Cha-young whispers, an echo of the past.

Slowly, he locks his eyes on her. Those eyes, she thinks, they’re back.

“To repent.”

One. Two. Three. Cha-young grabs his face and kisses him. At first, Vincenzo stays still, hesitant. She’s about to break the kiss, reality catching up to her, when he opens his mouth and slips his tongue in hers. His hands grip her waist, bringing her closer, bringing her in. Her heart is beating so loudly she can’t hear herself think — or maybe she gave up on thoughts, and now she only feels. She feels him flush against her, she feels his hands; they burn her, leaving the imprint of him all over her body. God, how she had missed him.

There is no romance between them, only a visceral need to possess each other again. Soon enough, they’re on the bed, Cha-young on his lap, her hands pulling his hair so hard he hisses. Vincenzo bites her lower lip as retaliation and she rolls her hips against his erection, staring at him. He moans, head thrown back. Cha-young’s right hand cups his jaw firmly, making sure he’s looking at her. She wants to watch him fall apart, unravel under her touch.

“Take off your clothes.” What she asks, he does — rather awkwardly, she has to move off of him as he gets up, discarding his clothes on the ground without a care. He gets back on the bed from which she’d been watching him strip, lying next to her, completely naked. Their five years apart have somehow made him hotter, his upper body more toned, his biceps firmer. She counts a total of six or seven new scars, one of them still pink-ish and swollen. She reaches out, her finger following the gash running from his navel to his lower abdomen. He gasps when she doesn’t stop where the scar does — she continues on her way, surely, and takes him in her hand.

Vincenzo’s heavy breathing guides her movements, telling her when to stroke faster, when to slow down, when to twist. She stops right before he’s about to come, and the frustration in his eyes turns her on more than anything her last fling ever did.

“Don’t stop.” He asks, going in for a kiss.

Cha-young puts her hand on his mouth, “Tonight, I’m in charge, Joo-hyung-ah.”

His eyes light up and he smiles, “Yes, ma’am.”

Slipping out of her dress in no time, she climbs on top of him, taking his hands in hers and putting them above his head. There’s something thrilling about having him at her mercy, vulnerable under her. He’s hard against her thigh, and although he’s not talking, she hears his silent plea. Slowly, she sits on his cock, savouring the pleasant stretch; he feels so good, and her so full, at last.

“Oddio!” On his lips, God’s name becomes a curse.

She keeps a slow pace, it takes time to revisit a long-lost lover after all. She rolls her hips, turns, bounces. Once she’s figured out how to pleasure herself, she moves faster. Closing her eyes, she frees his left hand and puts it on her breast. Vincenzo is nothing if not an eager disciple trying to prove his worth, and so he caresses her enthusiastically, his thumb brushing against her hardened nipple. What a good boy, she thinks, before pressing her body against his, engulfing him in a kiss.

His hand finds her hair, cascading down her naked back. She kisses him everywhere — his lips, his cheeks, his neck. She needs to have him whole, to consume all of him, so she can keep him in her forever. She feels a familiar warm building up inside of her, but she’s not ready for it to be over yet. She stops bouncing on him abruptly and his eyes fly open, irked. She intertwines their fingers, and whispers, “Look at me.” Once again, he obeys her command, his eyes roaming her face, her breasts, her thighs. They go up and down, taking her in, devouring her. She feels hot under his gaze, and she picks up the pace. He parts his mouth, whimpering faintly. He thrusts back into her hard, and they find the right rhythm. Soon enough, Cha-young is there, right there, a white-hot flash of pleasure overwhelming all her senses.

“Cazzo!” He must have come too then. Fuck, indeed.

Cha-young is still on top of him, Vincenzo still inside of her. She rests her head against his chest, their flushed skin sticky with sweat. He’s playing with her hair absentmindedly, still trying to catch his breath. She looks up at him, and they kiss again, but this time it’s different. She feels it all, his longing, how much he’s missed her, how scared he is that this is all a dream. In this moment, she can’t tell where she ends and where he starts. She’s never been closer to him, never understood him as much as she does now.

Were the tears on her lips hers or his? The time for questions will come later, right now there’s only them, together — an ever-lasting moment they stole from the Fates.

#vincenzo #chayenzo #chayenzo fic #my fic #vincenzo fic

33 notes · View notes

the-witty-pen-name · 4 years ago

Text

Fell in Love in Scotland Pt. 2

Sam Wilson x F!Reader

Warnings: ptsd/trauma related to war; mentions of nightmares; angst; cursing; pining; slow burn; 18+ in later parts (maybe? not sure yet)

Summary: After finding about the new Captain America, the reader goes to Louisiana to visit Sam.

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: So I know this isn’t on my list of things I *should* be working on, but I had this idea today and I had to get it down! This is only going to be 2-3 parts. (Edit: 3 parts!) This is my first time writing for Sam!

I’m taking a small break from working on my other works in progress to focus on getting out as much Sam content as a can before Sam’s (and my) bday on the 14th! Not sure how much I’ll be able to write but that is my hope!

My biggest flex at the moment is sharing a bday with Sam.

This references Civil War, Endgame and Infinity War events in flashbacks but you know, canon is a thing I like to just maneuver around so I’m sorry if there are many major inaccuracies!

This is unedited and please let me know if I missed anything that should be included as a warning.

Taglist is in my bio

The safe house in Scotland was small. A little cottage hidden away in the countryside. Absolutely beautiful, if not for the looming reminders of why you were there in the first place.

You didn’t handle laying low well. You didn’t like not doing anything. Your resolve for handling your thoughts, your problems had always been to just push them aside. Focus your energy on anything but what would pull you down. You couldn’t allow yourself to just exist. Time stopped and there was no fight to be fought, and you hated it.

Fortunately, you were with people who understood. Sam and Steve especially. It didn’t take long for Sam to work his way in. He understood you, and he related to you. Neither one of you really needed to acknowledge it. There was an unspoken understanding between the two of you which made it all feel so seamless.

You were restless, and nights were always the worst. You’d spend several hours tossing in turning on your mattress, unable to get comfortable. You’d bring your pillow and sheet with you onto the floor of your room, and if you were lucky enough to fall asleep, you’d wake up after only a few hours. Sometimes you’d remember the nightmares vividly, other times it was just the feelings that lingered.

Most nights, you’d wait it out in your room watching the clock until it was early enough to “get out of bed.” So, you’d wait until the red numbers on the screen turned to 4am and then you’d sneak your way downstairs to the kitchen or the living room, so you didn’t need to face the idea of sleep.

After a few weeks, Sam caught on to your routine. He would join you in the mornings, help you make coffee and talk about nothing. Just helping you keep your mind off the things that bothered you. He looked as tired as you, and you would insist on him getting more sleep. But Sam never made you go through any of the hard days on your own.

“You get used to it,” he’d say, understanding what you were going through better than anybody.

“I don’t know if I can,” you admit, curled up in a ball on the sofa, the warm mug of coffee Sam made cradled tightly in your hands. The curtains are pulled open, and you stare out the window to your right, watching the sun slowly coming up.

“You should try sleeping in your bed again,” he suggests. You’d recently promoted yourself from sleeping on the floor to the couch. Baby steps. You nod, knowing he’s right.

You get a rental car the next morning and you drive to the address Sam texted you. You’re greeted immediately by two rowdy young boys, asking you if you’re an Avenger like their Uncle Sam. He’s literally Uncle Sam. How could he think he didn’t deserve the shield? Well, you know why. But the coincidence is too funny not to bring up to him once all of this is resolved.

Each of them grabbed you by an arm and drag you to the backyard. You chuckle, following their lead as they ask you a million questions. They call out to Sam when he is in view and he smiles when he sees you. Your heart flips.

“They bothering you?” he asks and you shake your head.

“No, they’re great,” you beam watching them run off.

“You look good,” he compliments you, and you feel like jelly. “You’re sleeping?” Oh.

“Yeah, I mean, for the most part,” you reply, “So do you.” You can’t miss the smile on his face. “So, uh, have you heard from Bucky?”

“I text him all the time, trying to check in, but no nothing. You?”

You shake your head. “I stopped trying,” you admit, “but I can’t blame him. He really doesn’t know me.”

“He’ll come around,” he reasons, trying to be optimistic. “So, I want to show you the boat?”

“You have a boat?” you chuckle, and he grins, nodding like a little kid.

“35-foot yacht,” he teases.

“Of course,” you smile.

It was only just noon when you both arrived at the docks. The air felt crisper, and the sun felt phenomenal on your shoulders. It wasn’t until you were outside in weather like this that you realized how often you opted to stay hidden away in your apartment. The atmosphere just felt more alive, and the air in your lungs felt almost cleansing.

You sat across from Sam on the bow of the boat, your legs dangling over the side. You were sitting close enough to him that your thighs touched, and you were trying your hardest to ignore the feeling. You just felt warm, and you felt more relaxed than you had been since you’d last seen him.

“I just need to ask,” Sam asks, cutting through both of your laughter. You really had spent the day so far just reminiscing, talking about nothing really. “Did you and Cap- were you guys…?”

“Oh god no,” you choke quickly, you stifle another laugh, “Steve was just a really great friend. No nothing like that. I would go to the end of the earth and back for Steve… but no, I didn’t have feelings for him that way.”

“I had thought maybe at one point something was going on there,” he shrugs. Is he serious?

“Never,” you reiterate.

Sleeping in a bed became easier, but the nightmares were something that you just couldn’t shake no matter how hard you tried. Many times, it would be late in the night and you’d be gently shaken awake. Sam would be kneeling next to your bed, trying to wake you up.

“Please stay,” you’d ask, eyes glossed over and your skin stained with tears. He could never say no. You’d scoot over and he’d climb in and settle next to you. It wasn’t even anything romantic. You didn’t cuddle or invade his space. You just needed to feel him next to you, and you’d be able to sleep. The cycle continued for a long while until you were able to sleep through the night without the haunting dreams.

But you missed waking up with him there.

“You need to tell him,” Steve would insist, and you’d shut down the idea every single time.

“No, I can’t,” you’d insist. The only person who knew how you felt was Steve. You hadn’t even told him; he just knew you too well.

“You’re making yourself miserable,” he’d elaborate, “you deserve a little happiness- Sam deserves happiness. He wants you too.”

“Happiness? With me?” you snort, “Steve, think about me, my past- everything I carry around with me. You know as well as I do, I can’t infect him with that when he has his own issues. We’re all too broken- he deserves better.”

“You don’t to be the one to decide that for him,” he counters. “What Sam deserves is the truth.”

“I know, I know!” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself and you can’t look at Steve. “Telling him how I feel complicates things to much. I can’t risk it.”

“Even if he feels the same way?”

“Especially if he feels the same way.”

You rest back on your palms, close your eyes and tilt your head up towards the direction of the sun. Your mind wanders to Steve, and how much you miss him. You were oftentimes too thick headed to take any of his advice but it was something you hadn’t realized you needed.

You decide to just throw out all your apprehension. And just take the advice from Steve you should’ve taken years ago. The timing is perfect. The universe is screaming at you to just tell him.

“I gave up the shield because I didn’t think anyone could follow Steve,” he admits, “I didn’t think I could fill the role- no one can, or maybe no one should.”

“You’re the only person who can, Sam,” you say, looking back over to him.

“When I gave it up, I didn’t think it would be given to someone else. I donated it- to keep it with the rest of what we have left of him. God- if I had known…”

“I watched on television when you donated it, Sam,” you say, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Symbols are nothing without the men and women that give them meaning… I wish you saw yourself the way Steve did- the way I do…”

“That’s not fair…”

“You said we need new heroes for the times we’re in. Sam- the world needs a new Captain America. And you know as well as I do, that man on TV they pushed out there isn’t it.”

“It’s not me, either,” he says, looking down at the water, the reflection of the two of you rippled and distorted.

“I wish you could see how much that isn’t true,” you admit, “I also- I also wish I was more like you… You’re so good at talking to me… people like us and Steve. You show people their value and their worth, and you’re just so fiercely loyal it’s almost annoying. And I suck at that, I’m a terrible communicator, and I can’t vocalize how much you’re worth, and how much you deserve the shield. Feelings are just too overwhelming and I can’t focus them into anything coherent. And you right now need what you give others just so freely, and you’re stuck with me… I know I’m not Steve, and I as much as I try to convince you the decision is yours, but you need to know that you are the only person who can be our new Captain… Steve wasn’t wrong about you, and I just… I’m in your corner.”

“(Y/N) …”

It was safe in Scotland. Quiet, secluded. Time wasn’t looming over you. There was nothing there that was any imminent threat except your own demons that you carried with you. You had a lot of regrets, past mistakes that haunted you whenever you slowed down. It’s why when you left the air force, you joined SHIELD. You were like Steve, kindred spirits plagued by the after effects of war and both of you resolved to fighting rather than be left to your own devises.

Not like Sam. Sam put his focus into helping others. Selfless, and understanding, he was always there. He was thoughtful with what he chose to fight for, which is something you greatly admired. He was morals and loyalty, and everything that made a great man. He was a friend first, and a fighter second.

Which is such a rare quality that you wished you could tell him you noticed.

Steve got very into crossword puzzles. He found a box up in the attic tucked away of old books from whoever used to live here. He’d sit on the armchair in the living room, pencil in hand and try his best to fill in what he knew. He ended up heavily relying on you and Sam to fill in the references he didn’t know.

You and Sam would be on the couch, you tucked into his side, watching television or sometimes you’d both read, old magazines or anything you could find for entertainment. One night you both sat on the floor on opposite sides of the coffee table with an incomplete deck of cards playing Double Solitaire, and Steve would occasionally vocalize a clue he was stuck on.

“Drummer of Duran Duran. Blank Taylor. Five letters,” Steve said, not looking up from the flimsy book.

“Roger Taylor,” Sam answered aimlessly, tapping the card in his hand to his chin as his eyes scanned the columns of cards.

A few minutes of silence follow before Steve speaks again.

“1996 Looney Toons film starring Michael Jordan. Eight letters.”

“Space Jam,” you smirk, and you bite your lip to hold back a laugh. You want to ask him what the theme is for the puzzle he’s working on but you decide against it. You don’t want to embarrass him.

It felt really silly. The three of you, all ex-military crime fighters on the run, couped up together in this tiny living room, playing cards and helping Captain America with a pop culture crossword. Maybe it just felt weird because it was so normal.

You’re sweating. You didn’t realize it until just now. The dampness of the underarms of your t-shirt was all you could focus on. Why were you so nervous? Because again, the universe if giving you every single sign to just tell him. Yell it out so loud it echoes back to you across the water. Tell him. Tell him everything.

Every harbored fantasy of being with him. Tell him how much he means to you and how sorry you are that your fears drive you away from him. He feels so strong, and stoic next to you, it’s making your head spin and you feel like your brain is leaving your body behind. He’s so understanding and patient, and here you are, again, leaving him on another cliff hanger.

“Sam, I need to tell you something.”

No going back now.

Taglist:

@greeneyedblondie44 @witchybarb @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @sassy-kassaay @aynanasstuff @claudiaatje @lieswithoutfairytales @ttalisa @januarystears

#sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x y/n #the falcon and the winter soldier #sam wilson fanfiction #justsamwilson #falcon #slow burn #friends to lovers #anthony mackie characters #mcu imagine

47 notes · View notes

avengerscompound · 4 years ago

Text

Running to a Standstill - 14

Running to a Standstill: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 3331

Rating: E

Warnings: Smut (MM, frottage, oral sex, anal fingering)

Synopsis: While on the run from an unknown organization trying to take your son, you meet two super-soldiers. While they try to help you get to the bottom of who is hunting you and your son, feelings come out and admissions are made that make your personal life even more tricky.

Chapter 14

Steve woke before both you and Bucky. He would normally get up and go for a run, but there was something too inviting about staying curled up in bed with both of you to resist.

Bucky had ended up in the middle, cuddled around you while Steve spooned him. Seeing him now, wrapped around you, reminded Steve of when they were still boys and hadn’t acknowledged how they felt. Steve would often wake up with Bucky draped over him. Steve had never liked feeling that small. He wondered if Bucky had liked being able to hold someone like that.

The bedroom door opened and a bleary-eyed looking Geo cuddling his tablet. He stuck his thumb in his mouth and just stared at the bed.

“Hey, G,” Steve said, softly. “You wanna climb in here with us?”

Geo shook his head and point at the door before shoving his thumb back in his mouth.

Steve smiled and untangled himself from Bucky. It wasn’t as easy as he thought, and Bucky grumbled and shifted closer to you. It was interesting. He’d walked in on Bucky sleeping a few times since getting him back and Bucky had always jolted awake and gone into a defensive position, prepared to be attacked. Yet here he was, deep asleep and not waking for either someone entering the room or being shuffled around. Steve wondered if Bucky was just more attuned to what was happening and who was with him, or he was just so relaxed that his usual expectations of being attacked had just failed to be set off.

Steve followed Geo out into the living room and the little boy went straight to the kitchen and pointed up at the cupboard where Steve kept his cereal. “You want some breakfast, buddy?”

Geo nodded and pointed again and Steve opened the cupboard. The array of cereal had definitely expanded since you moved in. He used to have granola, corn flakes, and cheerios. Now there were Honey Bunches of Oats, Rice Krispies, and Lucky Charms in there too. “Which one do you want, G?”

Geo still wasn’t talking. He just pointed again and Steve started to touch the boxes in the hope that Geo might nod when he touched the one he wanted.

“Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY announced. “Geo wanted me to tell you he wants Lucky Charms.”

Steve chuckled and got the box from the cupboards. “Thanks, FRIDAY,” he said. “You not ready to talk yet, Gee?”

Geo shook his head, his thumb firmly planted in his mouth.

Steve grabbed a plastic bowl and poured the cereal into it. “That’s okay. You don’t have to talk to anyone.”

He added milk to the cereal, grabbed a spoon, and set Geo up at the coffee table with a box of apple juice. He turned on some cartoons and Geo just sat quietly watching Scooby-Doo as he ate. Steve went back into the kitchen to try and figure out what he’d make for everyone else. He wasn’t really much of a cook. Or a cook at all. He liked to joke he could make a peanut butter sandwich and it would end up burned. While he considered what he could handle that was more than just toast and cereal, he put on the coffee.

You and Bucky emerged from the bedroom still looking like you were both not quite awake. Bucky came straight to the kitchen while you went and kissed Geo good morning.

“Were you trying to make breakfast?” Bucky asked.

“I was thinking about it,” Steve said. “It’s the thought that counts right?”

“You tell that to my stomach, pal,” Bucky teased and started pulling things out of the fridge.

“Thanks for getting Geo his breakfast,” you said, coming into the kitchen. “What are we making?”

“I was thinking omelets,” Bucky said. “We can put what we like in them.”

“Sounds perfect,” you agreed and grabbed a bowl and started cracking eggs into it. “So I was thinking…”

Steve looked over at you. There was an edge to your voice that told him you were overthinking things again.

“I’m really worried about Geo starting to see you as … well dads I guess,” you said. You spoke quietly, clearly not wanting Geo to overhear. “At least not until we’re all absolutely sure this is it for all of us. And it’s far too early for that. I was already concerned about him forming too strong bonds with everyone here. I don’t want him to start getting separation anxiety on top of everything else.”

“So what were you thinkin’, hon?” Bucky asked, looking up from the cutting he was doing.

“Well, I’m staying here because it’s not safe too. But ideally, I wouldn’t be living with Steve,” you explained. “I’m wondering if I should start sleeping in Geo’s room again. Not always. Just… so he doesn’t get the image of us in bed together connected with the way parents sleep in the same bed in TV shows. You know?”

Steve nodded, though he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

“I think maybe you shouldn’t sleep over all the time either, Buck. Just … you know?” You said.

Bucky nodded too and rubbed your back. “I get it.”

“But I think this could be good for us too, because… I think we should also spend time together as couples. Particularly you two. I think you have to … explore some things together without me,” you explained. “You know what I mean?”

Steve couldn’t fault your logic. There had been so much he and Bucky had missed out on and even though he’d enjoyed the sex he’d had with you both, there were probably things they needed to try one-on-one too. It was good to make sure the bonds with each other were as strong as the bonds as a trio were too. “It makes sense,” he agreed.

“Good,” you said, sounding relieved. “So I don’t know, maybe some nights we all sleep here, some nights it’s just me and Bucky, and some night you guys sleepover in Bucky’s apartment. And we just… take turns with this being Geo’s home. Does that … is that okay?”

“It’s a really good idea,” Bucky agreed. “And trust me, the last thing we want to do is hurt Geo. So we’ll be careful.”

“Thanks, Bucky,” you said. “I mean, I want this to work…”

“Of course you do,” Steve said. “We all do, but you’re right to protect him.”

“So, uh…” Bucky said, getting a pan out. “How do we decide?”

“Yeah, that’s tricky,” you said. “Don’t want people to feel left out, so how about tonight, that is if you’re both available, you guys go on a first date. You have a lot of time to make up.”

“You really wouldn’t mind?” Steve asked.

You shook your head. “Geo and I can watch a movie and have an early night.”

“Alright, Buck? What do you think? Want to go out for dinner with me?” Steve asked.

Bucky smiled. It was genuine and Steve could see the love he felt reflected back at him. “I’d love to, Stevie.”

Steve took Bucky to a jazz club in the end. It was dark and loud and very difficult to talk, but Steve didn’t feel like he needed to talk to Bucky. He and Bucky had talked and talked and talked and talked. It was time for all the other things they’d missed out on. The holding hands on the table. The sharing bites of each other’s food. The cuddling. The stolen kisses. He needed to have the dance. He wanted the dance he had failed to get in all his years on earth.

The jazz club was perfect because of how dark and loud it was. He didn’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing or having people’s eyes on him. The food was good but not outside his comfort zone, so he didn’t have to worry about the wrong choice. Most importantly, he could dance to music that was familiar to him with the man he had been in love with since 1935.

Steve had chosen familiar foods. It was food he’d imagined would have seemed so fancy to him back when he was a kid. A shrimp cocktail for starters and rib-eye steak for his entree. He even ordered a martini, like he was playing at being a spy and this was the persona he needed to fit.

Bucky was a little more daring, ordering grilled asparagus with goat’s cheese to start and mussels served in a garlic and white wine broth for his entree.

It almost didn’t matter in the end though. They sat close to each other on their tiny table and they switched plates back and forth as they ate. Steve got all the things he’d imagined when he was young when he thought about going out on a date with Bucky. Only no one cared that it was two men sitting there, holding hands and stealing kisses. The floor was always packed with people swing dancing.

They were finishing up their meals when Bucky leaned into him. “Are you actually going to ask me to dance, pal?”

Steve smiled and his face flushed. “Will you lead? I still don’t know how.”

“Yeah, Stevie,” Bucky said, standing and offering Steve his hand. “I’ll lead.”

Bucky led Steve around the dance floor, spinning him and dipping him. The more they danced the more comfortable Steve felt and the better he got. Until they were both laughing and jiving together in the crowd of people.

The music changed from something up-tempo to something slow and sexy. For a moment Steve considered sitting down. It was one thing to jitterbug with Bucky, it was another completely to slow dance with him in front of all these people. Bucky didn’t seem to question it for a second, he just pulled Steve close and put his hands on Steve’s hips. They slowly swayed together on the dance floor, cheek-to-cheek. The smell of Bucky’s cologne, warm and woody, mixed with the salt on his skin, seemed to cut through the smell of sweat and alcohol and cooking that otherwise dominated the room. It was just him and Bucky, and while part of him wished you were here too to be part of this, he appreciated that it was just Bucky. It felt right.

“I want you to take me home,” Bucky whispered against Steve’s ear. Normally Bucky saying something like that would make Steve worry he was in the midst of a panic attack. There was something completely different about it this time. Something dark and sexy.

Steve took his hand and led him off the dance floor. He settled the check as quickly as he could and the two made their way back out and flagged down a cab.

Bucky kept nosing at Steve’s cheek and trying to initiate a kiss. Steve wasn’t ready for that yet. Not so publicly. It wasn’t Bucky. He’d be the same with you too. Public displays of affection made him feel awkward.

“Stevie,” Bucky teased, nipping at Steve’s earlobe.

“Just be patient,” Steve said, nudging Bucky.

The car pulled up at the front of the Avengers Tower and Steve paid while Bucky tried to drag him out of the back seat.

When they got into the elevator Bucky pushed him up against the wall and kissed him hungrily. Steve couldn’t stop smiling into Bucky’s lips even as the other man fumbled at his belt and dragged him close so their hips touched.

The elevator opened and Bucky practically dragged Steve down to his apartment. “So eager, Buck,” Steve teased as he let Bucky pull him through the door into his apartment.

Bucky’s apartment was always impossibly clean, but pretty homey. The couch was a soft black leather but most everything else was timber. A mixture of stained ash, cedar, and white paint. He had art on the walls. Mostly photography or vector art of cars or motorcycles, but there was a sketch Steve had done of the view down the street from Bucky’s fire escape. It was a recent one and done by memory. Something Steve had drawn in the hopes of prodding Bucky’s memory. There was also a calendar on the wall set on the wrong month with a print of Van Gogh’s Sunflowers.

“I just -“ he looked over to the bedroom. “-you know?”

Steve laughed and began to unbutton Bucky’s shirt. “It’s not like we did that very long ago.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, grabbing the waistband of Steve’s pants and dragging him toward the bedroom. “And it was good. And now I want to do it again.”

Bucky started to kiss Steve’s neck as he unfastened his pants and Steve pushed Bucky’s shirt off. Steve trailed his fingers along the scarring that connected Bucky’s arm to his shoulder. Bucky flinched and took Steve’s hand and moved it down to his side.

“Sorry,” Steve whispered, kissing Bucky’s neck. “Does it hurt?”

Bucky shook his head. “No… well yeah, always. But not more when you touch it. I just hate it. Don’t want to be reminded of it now.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said. He got it. It was a constant brutal reminder of what had happened to him. What he’d lost and how he’d been changed. Steve got sensitive about people pointing out his looks after he had the serum when they ignored him so much before it. The arm and the scarring would be much worse than that.

“Don’t worry,” Bucky said and brought his lips to Steve’s. They kissed passionately. Their lips moved against each other’s, as Bucky pulled Steve back towards the bed. Steve unfastened Bucky’s fly and pushed his pants down. When Bucky was down to just his boxer briefs, he pushed Steve back onto the bed and straddled his lap, kissing him hungrily as he ground his hips against Steve’s.

Steve was still fully dressed and his cock began to strain against his pants. He could feel Bucky’s erection with each roll of the other man’s hips. It rubbed against Steve’s and a little wet patch began to form on Bucky’s underwear.

Steve ran his hands down Bucky’s back and gripped his ass, pulling him firmer against him. “Fuck, Steve… I want you…” Bucky groaned.

“I’m yours, Buck,” Steve whispered.

Bucky began to frantically undress Steve, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt and the buckle on his belt. Steve lay back and tangled his hands in Bucky’s hair, letting him take the lead. When Bucky had finally stripped Steve of his clothes, he looked down into his eyes and ran his metal hand over Steve’s chest.

Steve was achingly hard but a little unsure what to do next and it looked like Bucky might be feeling a little lost too. Steve pushed Bucky’s boxers down and wrapped his hand around both their cocks and began to pump them in his hand as they were pressed together.

“Fuck, Stevie,” Bucky groaned. “That feels so good.”

Steve rolled them both over so he was on top. “I want you to feel good,” he whispered and began to kiss Bucky’s neck. Bucky reached over to his bedside table and fumbled around as Steve began to kiss his way down Bucky’s chest. There was a crash as the drawer fell to the ground and Steve looked up startled to see Bucky holding a tube of lubricant up almost triumphantly.

“What do you want?” Steve asked, taking it from Bucky.

“Stretch me,” Bucky said, the hint of pleading in his voice.

Steve nodded and slicked his fingers with the thick gel. Bucky wrapped his arms around his knees, lifting them so Steve had better access to his ass. Steve teased his fingers over Bucky’s tight hole and very slowly began to ease one inside. Bucky closed his eyes and his head fell back with his lips slightly parted. A soft low moan escaped his lips and Steve couldn’t help but admire how beautiful Bucky looked when he let himself enjoy something.

Steve dropped his head down, pulling Bucky’s cock into his mouth. He licked a salty bead of pre-come off the head of Bucky’s cock, savoring the taste of the man he’d been in love with for so long and appreciating the fact he was finally getting to have this. He eased his finger in deeper, moving it in and out as he slowly bobbed his head up and down on Bucky’s cock, testing his own limits as he tested Bucky’s.

Bucky gave himself to his pleasure. Relaxing into it. He squirmed under Steve and moaned loudly. It was happening very quickly. Steve had only gotten his finger into one knuckle when Bucky’s cock began to throb in Steve’s mouth. Steve kept the same steady pace. He wanted Bucky to enjoy this. No pain. No shame. Just pleasure. He moved his finger in and out, pushing it in a little more each time but never forcing it. If Bucky clenched, he’d pull back, when he relaxed, Steve would push in deeper.

He took Bucky’s cock deeper into his throat, gagging a little as he did. His mouth stretched around his thick shaft but he enjoyed it. His own cock was hard and leaking as he pleasured Bucky. Bucky’s moans became panting and his hips started to buck up into Steve’s mouth.

“Steve,” he moaned. “Stevie, I’m gonna come.”

Steve moved a little faster and sucked a little harder and with a loud moan, Bucky arched his back and came, his cock releasing straight down Steve’s throat. There was so much, and Steve swallowed it all, saving the thick and salty mess. He moaned as he pulled off and slid his fingers from Bucky’s ass.

Bucky almost jumped up pulling Steve into a passionate and frantic kiss. “Fuck, Stevie,” he mumbled between kisses. “I wanna do you. Can I?”

“Yeah,” Steve laughed, Bucky’s lips still firmly on his. “Yeah, Buck. I’d like that.”

Bucky guided Steve onto his back and scrambled down Steve’s body. He quickly slicked the fingers with the lube and dropped down, sucking Steve’s cock. Steve groaned at the warm, wet pressure of Bucky’s mouth. He kept his eyes locked on him, enjoying the view as Bucky sucked up and down his cock. Bucky massaged Steve’s asshole as he bobbed his head up and down on his cock. It sent a warm tingled running through Steve, and his head felt pleasantly fuzzy with it. There was a slight burn as Bucky’s finger eased in. Steve hadn’t been expecting how completely good that would feel, even the slight pain that happened the deeper Bucky pushed his finger was the good kind, like after a good workout. He groaned and began to roll his hips up into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky let him push in deeper and started adding a second finger. The burn was more but Steve enjoyed that too. He moaned loudly, letting himself really experience it.

As Bucky’s fingers moved deeper and faster in and out of Steve’s ass, Steve began to pant and his cock twitched and throbbed. Bucky moaned as it began to leak precum down his throat. Bucky’s fingers touched on this sweet spot inside Steve and Steve gasped and jerked his hips. “Fuck!” I cursed, and he came hard and without warning. His orgasm seemed to start in his gut, something he’d never experienced before. The intensity of it shocked him. Bucky choked and pulled back, spilling Steve’s come on his stomach.

Bucky pulled his finger out and collapsed down on the bed beside Steve.

“That was…” Steve hummed.

“Mmm,” Bucky agreed.

Steve sat up and kissed Bucky’s stomach. “Let’s take a shower.”

Bucky smiled and got up with him. As they went into the bathroom Steve felt warm and grateful that you’d given this time alone. You were right, you all needed that. But still, he was looking forward to tomorrow when it would be all three of you again.

// NEXT

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky #stucky x reader #captain america #the winter soldier #captain america fanfic #the winter soldier fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #smut #running to a standstill

240 notes · View notes

harryspet · 5 years ago

Text

little doe [2] peter parker

[Warnings] aged up peter parker x oc, multiverse oc, peter being domestic af, mj exists but she’s not with peter, doe goes into heat, dd lg dynamic, broken english, some sexy stuff, fingering

A/N: Thank you for the feedback on the last post!

Like, reblog and let me know what you think!

word count: 2.6k

Peter was an early riser. Not because he enjoyed it but because he was so used to four a.m. calls from Fury. In the morning, he woke up disoriented mostly because he didn’t even recognize the room he was in. It took him a moment to realize all the events of yesterday. Doe, a superhuman from another version of earth, was now living in his apartment.

“Peter,” although her voice was silvery and light, Peter almost jumped out of his skin. He had forgotten that he had fallen asleep in her bed, mostly against his will.

“Doe,” Peter clutched his chest because his heart was beating so fast, “Jesus, you scared me.”

The young girl was now sitting up in the bed, her white hair now a bit tangled, and she seemed to worry about the way he was holding his chest, “Peter?” Even first thing in the morning, he thought she was beautiful.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” He assured her as he sat up in the bed. He had to remind himself that he had to adjust the way he spoke to her because she didn’t understand the nuances of the language. She reached out to touch his hand and Peter simply stared as she grabbed it, wrapping her hand in his, “Well … good morning.”

Peter looked at the clock on her nightstand to see it was only seven in the morning. With his other hand, since Doe was still holding his other, Peter rubbed his tired face, “Maybe we should sleep in. Sleep, Doe.”

He gestured for her to lay back down but she raised an eyebrow. He tried to pull his hand from hers but she only gripped his tighter. Looking at her, the girl was clearly wide awake now. Maybe they ran on less sleep on her version of earth.

Fine, he was used to this. Peter sighed, “We’ll start the day early then,” Peter hoped by noon she’d be tired and they could take a nap.

Peter moved to climb at the bed and she followed him, still keeping their hands interlaced. “Good morning! Good morning!” Doe exclaimed, practically bouncing. He showed her to the bathroom and, luckily, the functions of the bathroom translated well.

To say the least, Doe was not shy at all. If it was up to her, she’d hold his hand through the shower, when she was brushing her teeth, and even when she was relieving herself. He had to pry his fingers from her, deciding that he had to lay down the rules or she’d never have any sort of independence, “Doe, I like when you hold my hand, I do,” He squeezed her hand and smiled, “But we don’t need to hold hands in the bathroom.” He shook his head.

She frowned, of course, but he promised he’d keep the bathroom cracked open as he waited in her room.

“Peter?” He shouldn’t have been surprised when she arrived in the doorway, completely naked. He stared, only for a moment, and then realized he hadn’t given her any clothes to change into.

“Stay there,” He spoke sharply and she froze. He looked through the drawer of clothes and pulled out the first dress he could find and then the … underwear. He tried not to look down as he handed her the clothes.

Peter turned around and released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

She tapped his shoulder when she was done and then she was standing there, her wet hair dripping onto her mint green dress.

He was already drained and didn’t feel like attempting to help her dry her hair. Instead, he said, “Okay, Peter’s turn,” He had a feeling that he might be speaking in the third person from now on.

She interlaced their fingers again and Peter led her out of the room and down the hallway. The rising sun lit up the apartment thanks to the far wall practically only being made of windows. He told her to sit on his bed and she obeyed without hesitance. She was still bouncing with excitement, ready to begin the day.

“Stay, Doe. Okay?” Peter raised his hands into two thumbs up. She stared down at her own fingers before mimicking him.

“Stay,” She repeated.

He had to admit, though he was glad to get a moment alone, he didn’t like not being able to see her. Peter went on with his routine, changing into a regular t-shirt and grey sweatpants. A lazy Sunday was hopefully ahead.

Doe had wandered around Peter’s room which didn’t seem to have nearly as many decorations as hers. She wondered why Peter wanted her to sleep in a different room than hers. Were their souls not intertwined? Maybe since Peter was from this version of earth, he couldn’t feel the same bond that she did.

She found a couple of photo frames. Peter with a tall girl with dark and curly hair. Peter with an older lady who looked just like him and Peter with an older man with a goatee. He was smiling so hard in that one. Doe picked it up, tracing her fingers over Peter’s face noting how young he looked.

She hadn’t even looked up as Peter returned from the bathroom. Peter walked over calmly, already knowing what she was looking at, “Peter?” She pointed at the man standing beside him in the photo, “You … you,” She searched for the right word, “F-fa… f-”

But he shook his head, a solemn look on his face, “No, he’s not my father. He was a great man though.”

Doe raised an eyebrow, “Sad?”

Peter nodded, “Yes, but not because of Doe,” He tried to assure her.

She pressed a hand to her chest to say “my” and then tried out the new word again, “F-Father, he leave.” He hadn’t even thought about the Family she was probably missing. She had grown to like him so easily that he hadn’t even considered it.

“Your father? He left?” She nodded but he had the idea that “leaving” to her meant something different. Something darker. He wasn’t sure how to talk to her when there was such a barrier between them, “I’m sorry.”

Peter grabbed her hand this time and Doe smiled. Then she moved closer, leaning into him and, out of instinct, Peter wrapped his arms around her.

Perhaps that barrier was just in his head. It seemed that this, their touch, was all each other needed in that moment.

He had poured Doe a bowl of cereal as he made a cup of coffee and some toast for himself. And, like everything else, Doe didn’t like the way he did things. She wanted the toast and coffee and, when Peter insisted she eat her own meal, she climbed into his lap and started to eat his food. Really, it was most likely because she didn’t want to sit in her own chair.

The dimension she was from must lack the concept of personal space. They weren’t together, she couldn’t just sit in his lap platonically. She shouldn’t be comfortable with him seeing her naked and he definitely shouldn’t have liked it.

Realizing he had to lay down the law once again, he lifted the girl and returned her back to her seat. Besides that, he did not want to see her with caffeine in her system, “Your chair, your food,” He told her before returning to his seat, “My chair, my food.”

She scowled at him, picking up her spoon, “Peter i-is . . . mean.”

Peter froze, in the middle of taking a sip of his coffee. She was learning faster than he expected, “I’m not mean,” Peter spoke, sounding offended, “You are a brat.”

“Not brat!” She didn’t understand what it meant but knew it was an insult, “Peter is brat.”

Her hands curled around the spoon tightly as she grew frustrated. Peter suddenly remembered that he hadn’t given her the suppressant pills. He stood up from his seat, “Doe, eat your cereal,” he spoke sharply, “Now.”

She took a few breaths as if to calm herself down before dipping her spoon into her cereal. Of course, she thought it was delicious. All this was only to prove some type of dominance over him and Peter decided he couldn’t tolerate it.

Peter walked into the kitchen and opened the small kit that Pepper had given him. It had several weeks worth of pills as well as some sedatives in case she lost control. He collected two pills and a glass of water.

When he returned to the table, she had finished her food but she was staring off sadly. He held out the pills to her and she simply stared, “Doe is not brat,” She told him, sounding resolute.

“No, it was mean to call you a name, I’m sorry” Peter sighed, setting down the glass of water, “But Doe has to listen to Peter. Peter is in charge and he will take care of Doe.”

“Doe is sorry.”

He gestured to the pills again and she took them from his hand, swallowing them before grabbing the water. “Good girl,” Peter brushed his hand through her hair and she blushed, “How about we watch a movie?”

If they had a version of TV in Doe’s dimension, she certainly didn’t act like it. She was entranced by pretty much every movie he put on the TV and they had gone through several of the Star Wars and Terminator movies. Despite them being his favorites, she wasn’t nearly as impressed as when they got to the cartoons.

The giant blue genie on the thumbnail intrigued her and then he watched her fall in love with both Princess Jasmine and Abu. She was crying, holding his hand tightly, as Aladdin gave the genie his freedom, “Again!” She shouted her new favorite word as she forced Peter to play the movie again. “Please,” She added quietly and Peter only laughed.

And that’s how they ended up watching Aladdin three times in a row. Luckily, as it played for the fourth time, Doe rested her head on Peter’s stomach and began to doze off.

Peter gently moved her head to rest on a pillow before standing and covering her with a blanket. He had a missed call from MJ that he hadn’t wanted to take while he was alone with Doe. Peter walked to his office and slowly shut the door.

“MJ, hey-”

“Ned told me everything. I knew you were hiding something, Parker,” She interrupted him and spoke in her usual cool, monotone voice, “You’re keeping a literal alien in your apartment? Did something in your brain ever say ‘hey, that might not be a good idea’”

“You want to meet her, don’t you?”

“Of course!” Peter smiled, walking over to the window, “You realize that her existence disproves a million known scientific theories. She’s probably valuable too. I bet a bunch of countries would be interested. You’d probably never have to work another day in your life-”

“You talking about selling her to a foreign government is not convincing me to let you meet her.”

“Fine, sorry,” MJ continued, “Here’s something that will. You know literally nothing about girls.”

“That’s not true!” Peter exclaimed defensively, “I’ve dated … I dated you for christ sake, MJ!”

“That is highly debatable,” MJ laughed, “Anyways, I can help! Feminine projects, did you think to buy those?”

Peter was silent for a moment, “Well …”

“Does she have bras that fit? Things to do her hair?”

Peter raised an eyebrow, “Do you even have those things yourself, MJ?”

“I’ll see you soon, Peter,” MJ said before hanging up and Peter only pressed his lips into a thin line. Peter knew she’d keep her word and, knowing her, she probably had her own key to his place.

When Peter walked back into the living room, he heard Doe calling for him. Well, that nap lasted quicker than he thought. As he made his way to the couch, he realized something was very wrong. Her face and skin had turned a shade of red and she looked like she was hyperventilating, “Peter,” She gasped, tears in her eyes.

He rushed to her side, flinging the blankets away as he tried to find where she was hurt. He saw lines of blue, like electricity, running beneath her skin. He gulped. He couldn’t find any physical wounds but she was writhing as if something in her core was wrong. She clutched her stomach as she continued to moan his name.

“Doe, Doe,” He was panicking, it was their first real day together and it was already going so wrong. She didn’t answer, only moaned his name. Peter cursed, pulling out his phone to call Pepper.

Peter placed a hand on her forehead, she was burning, “Please pick up, please-”

“Peter, is everything okay?”

“No, something happening to Doe. She’s burning up and she’s holding her stomach. I think something's very wrong.”

“I’m not sure what it could be … I’ll have a doctor sent over. If he can’t figure it out then we’ll have to run some tests. A sedative will help while you wait,” Peter was already running to the kitchen, grabbing one of the needles. He might vomit in the process, but he would do anything to ease her pain.

He expected her to be afraid but her mind seemed to be elsewhere. As the needle entered her arm, she winced and began to cry even more. He put the syringe on the coffee table before sitting on the couch and lifting the girl into his lap.

“I’ve got you,” He spoke softly though his heart was racing fast, “I’ve got you.”

She shifted reaching a shaky hand to touch his cheek, “Peter,” she spoke again, “hot.”

“I know, you must have a fever, Doe,” He couldn’t understand how she had gotten sick so quickly, “Just rest, the sedative should kick in any moment.”

She didn’t close her eyes, she shifted, positioning herself so she was straddling his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck, nuzzling her face into his neck, and Peter wrapped his arms around her. They were so close that he was starting to feel that heat too. This was more than a fever, Peter thought, but as he held her he could feel some of the heat melting away.

“Peter,” He felt her breath against his neck and a shiver went down his spine. That’s when she started to move her hips against him, “Hot … please Peter …” She was begging now.

His hand fell down to her thigh and he felt her bare skin as his hand rose up her dress. He could feel her nodding and she grinded harder against him, “Doe,” he was begging now, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stop if she kept going, “Doe … I can’t.”

Then she bit at his neck and then kissed the spots she bruised. She reached back to grab his hand, moving it so it was positioned between her legs, “Please,” she begged, and he felt the heat of her sex. She held his hand there, grinding against his hand now, “Take care.”

Heat.

The need to be … relieved was causing her sickness. He followed his instincts, now beginning to move his fingers in a circle against her most sensitive part. She lifted her head, tilting it all the way back. “Thank you,” She mumbled over and over and he watched as the color came back to her skin.

She shook as she finally reached a climax and as she moaned his name, Peter’s eyes darkened.

She breathed heavily and her skin was cold against his as she fell back against him, “Peter .,, t-thank you,” She whispered. She rested against him and he knew she was sleeping now.

It seemed he was more powerful than the sedative.

Thank you for reading! My idea for Doe is that, in her universe, there’s an A/B/O type of dynamic in society.

Please reblog or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to a taglist! My request are OPEN so if you have a specific peter drabble you want me to write then I can! Also, if you have any ideas/wishes for this series then feel free to send me an ask too.

part 3 is up!

508 notes · View notes

yespolkadotkitty · 4 years ago

Text

Pero Tovar x mixed race OFC, Isla Han

Thank you @heatherbel for the beta!

Welcome to my next crazy adventure, a Romancing the Stone/Kate and Leopold mash-up. Big love to the really excellent @fleetwoodmactshirts for the original idea and planting the seed for the romanting the stone twist.

There might be quite a lot of British humour in this? Just know that Manuel is a character from the cult classic Fawlty Towers.

Chapter One

Present Day

ISLA: C’mon Lau. Put me out of my misery. Just tell me he won’t be at my office this year.

LAURA: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

ISLA: Don’t pick now to start being modest. At least get someone actually Spanish this time. Last year’s effort was way more Manuel than Antonio Banderas. Just saying.

LAURA: And yet you insist that you weren’t into that…?

ISLA: He was dedicated, I’ll give you that much. My editor wasn’t impressed when he started to strip in full view of the conference room, though.

LAURA: He was worth the money, all right. Should’ve got someone to record it for Youtube.

I snorted and tossed my phone on the sofa. My birthday was tomorrow. Which meant, just like every year since I’d started my bestselling series of novels, I’d get a visit from a guy all trussed up like my swarthy Spanish mercenary, Alejandro.

It had been five years and my friends - Laura was the ringleader - never failed to embarrass me. All the guys they hired were complete bollocks. Dressed in cheap party-shop chainmail and leathers.

Some of them tried a Spanish accent (always terrible).

Others stripped (even worse).

Last year, poor Manuel had done both, exceeding my expectations, and tripped over the chainmail around his legs on his way out, yelping loudly as he fell face first into a waste paper basket.

At least everyone else had been entertained.

I closed my eyes and leaned back on the sofa. It hadn’t escaped my notice that I’d managed to write the man of my dreams into books that had sold well all over the world, and yet I couldn’t find an actual man who held my interest much longer than the time it took for them to say “what you drinking tonight, love?”

It was probably just as well. I’d rather live in my delicious fictional world of Alejandro and his warrior Princess bride as they traversed the globe, saving others in need and having sex on any surface that stayed still for longer than five minutes.

I heard footsteps on the stairs and opened my eyes. My gaze caught on the poster of the cover of my first novel, The Spaniard. I’d had the image blown up to A1 and framed after it had sold a million copies and the artist’s rendition of Alejandro had stolen my breath. He looked the perfect combination of menacing and beautiful, his full lower lip creased in the centre, like the angel who made him had pressed a thumb there to mark a job well done. His inky hair curled, tousled, over his forehead and his chestnut eyes, one marked with a long, wicked scar, blazed out from the page. Little wonder people had been compelled by him and his broad-shouldered form in the layers of chainmail and leathers.

The footsteps came closer and my brother Paul poked his head around the door. “I’m off out. Want anything from Tesco’s?”

“No, thanks.” I did in fact, want some milk, but when Paul said he was going out he could be gone for ten minutes or five hours. God knew what he did when he went on these little sojourns.

“Okay, text me if you change your mind. See you later.”

“See you.”

I listened to him clatter back down the stairs of our shared townhouse and a minute later, the front door slammed shut.

My parents would be appalled if they knew I essentially let Paul sponge off me. But I was lucky; I could afford it. And Paul had been my rock in our early years, when our Dad had several nervous breakdowns and was sectioned. I’d have been lost without him.

Besides, I didn’t like rattling around this big house by myself. There was only so much TV I could watch, and the bright lights of London held limited appeal after a few years.

LAURA: So... will you record the next guy? I mean, not that I’ve hired anyone.

LAURA: Yet.

LAURA: Please?

I laughed, decided not to reply, and instead got up off the sofa and climbed the stairs to my office to continue work on my edits.

*****

London, 1269

“I should have known bringing her here was a mistake,” William Garin groused as he and a fellow mercenary, Pero Tovar, crouched outside their somewhat ramshackle lodgings, waiting for a man to exit.

Pero snorted. “Bringing a woman into any situation is playing with fire, no? Someone always gets burned.”

William sighed, shifting position behind the large hay bales. “Not my sister. I brought her here to protect her from the kind of gobshites we have in Ireland. Not to have her catch the eye of another.”

Pero drew out a strip of dried meat from his belt pouch, offered it to William. The Irishman shook his head.

“Suit yourself, amigo.”

“He’ll be coming out any minute, and you’re eating?”

Pero scoffed. “I can eat and fight at the same time, cabrón.” He finished the dried meat, and took out another strip.

William shook his head, but he was smiling. “Do all Spaniards eat this much?”

“They do when their Irish comrades starve them, and make them sit for hours behind stinking bales of hay to protect their virgin sister, si?”

William clapped him over the head. “I - look alive, Tovar.”

The door to the small, two-storey thatched house opened. Catriona, William’s sister, a comely redhead, peeked outside, then ducked back in.

A tall man, pale-skinned, thick dark hair with a closely trimmed beard, exited, then briefly doubled back to kiss a smiling Catriona.

“Bastard,” William gritted out.

“Patience, amigo,” Pero cautioned. “We see where he goes, and then we plan.” He shoved William’s head down behind the hay bale, letting him up when it was safe. “And now we follow.”

“Eejit.” But William followed Pero’s steady lead.

They tracked the man through the dirty London streets, narrowly avoiding a fishwife emptying a chamber pot out of a high window. Two girls half Pero’s height wheeled a cart of freshly baked pies down the narrow alley opposite, the scents mingling with the more unpleasant stink of everyday life.

The stranger turned, and Pero yanked William behind a rickety butcher’s cart, crouching and ignoring the stocky man’s “oi!”

“He’s stopped looking,” William confirmed, and they tracked him down nearer the big river that snaked through the dogpile of the city.

Pero’s attention was briefly snagged by an enterprising young pickpocket, currently targeting a well to do merchant admiring trinkets with what was likely his mistress. The boy caught his eye, hesitated. Pero winked. Who was he to cut the boy off in his prime?

The stranger disappeared into the mouth of what looked to be an abandoned hovel, and William and Pero darted after him on feet made silent by years of training.

The hovel was dark inside, dank. A light blinked on in the gloom; like no light Pero had ever seen the like of.

“What is this witchcraft?” He muttered.

“Don’t dally, man!” William tugged Pero after him, rushing to grab their quarry.

The Irishman tripped, caught the surprised stranger by the collar - and then everything went black.

******

“Tovar! Tovar!”

Pero opened his eyes, groggy. He lay on a smooth, flat surface. Not unlike the floors of the fine throne rooms of kings he’d served during his years as a sellsword. He smoothed a hand over the unblemished ground, blinked.

“Snap out of it, man!” William grabbed him, shaking roughly. “Follow the bastard!”

A terrible banging, drums perhaps, assaulted Pero’s ears from somewhere outside their strange, smooth grey prison. A pile of rubble was stacked in one corner. Crude art littered the walls; also the same luxurious smoothness there.

“William - where are we, amigo?”

But the Irishman was preoccupied. “Do you not see he’s getting away?”

Pero climbed to his feet, his head aching. Mierda, it was so bright here.

William was already giving chase, so Pero followed his friend as best he could with his head spinning from wherever they’d followed the stranger to - the stranger woo-ing Catriona. Sweet Catriona, who he’d seen grow from a child.

William shoved a rickety door open, and all at once a pillar of light hit them. William stumbled, falling back on to Tovar, who hit the ground with a grunt.

“Ay, cabrón!”

“What in Heaven’s name-?”

They gaped through the doorway. A huge metal pole grew from the earth, a bright light at its apex, streaming down on the ground. Some feet away sat what looked to be a small fort on wheels. But wheels unlike any Pero had ever seen before. The unholy, piercingly bright light shone into the wheeled fort, illuminating a chair inside.

Used for torture, perhaps.

“Where are we, amigo?” he whispered again, to William.

“We’ll make enquiries later. For now, the bastard’s getting away. Come on!”

“Of course, amigo, where you go, I follow,” Pero muttered.

But what other choice did he have?

They ran out of the door, towards the wheeled fort of torture, and into the unknown.

Tagging the Pedro pals: @thirstworldproblemss @jaime1110 @chews-erotically @songsformonkeys @alwaysbethewest @beccaplaying @nelba @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @gamingaquarius @buckstaposition @pedropascallion @soldade @agirllovespasta @pajamasecrets @thegreenkid @cryptkeepersoul @kindablackenedsuperhero @littlemissthistle @alienprincesspoop @keeper0fthestars @f0rever15elf @mrsparknuts @abuttoncalledsmalls @mrschiltoncat @thempiregroovy @dornish-queen @mourningbirds1 @a-seeker-of-imagination @knittingqueen13 @ mstgsmy @roxypeanut @poenariuniverse

#pero tovar x ofc #pero tovar fic #pedro pascal fic #the great wall fic

72 notes · View notes

marvelmadam08 · 5 years ago

Text

Meanwhile, In Quarantine...

Part of 100 Days of Marvel

Prompt 7: Well which is it? I’m getting nervous. // Prompt 79: You just ignored rule one through five. // Prompt 39: We’re gonna die here. // Prompt 11: I remind myself murder, even attempted, is illegal.

A/N: I’m on day seven or nine (honestly I lost count) of my quarantine, and I am slowly loosing my mind. Then I thought ‘What would the Avengers do during this quarantine?

~~~~~

One Week Earlier

“Miss (Y/N), Mr. Stark is calling for a mandatory team meeting in the common area.” Friday announces to you, interrupting your workout

“Right now?” you huffed out

“Yes, he says it’s urgent.”

You were the last to show up, annoyed and sweaty. Nat seemed to be the only other one who looked as annoyed as you, with her hair wrapped in a towel. Bucky, Sam and Steve lounged on the couch, while Clint was sharpening his arrows. Wanda and Vision stood off to the side to themselves. Thor sat next to Peter, who was hunched over his homework and Bruce stood next to Tony by the muted television displaying the news.

“Everyone here?” Tony pointed to everyone “Good, well I’m not sure if you all heard about this whole ‘virus’ that’s going around.”

“The Coronavirus?” Steve asked

“That’s the one,” Bruce nods “there have been a few cases popping up throughout the city, as well as the country, and within the next few days the entire country is going to be on mandatory quarantine.”

“Quarantine?” Peter spoke up “Like we can’t leave the country?”

“No, as in you can’t leave your house. And that includes The Compound and Tower as well.”

The room erupted in numerous hisses of disagreement.

“Half of us don’t even need to be in quarantine.” Nat stated loudly

“Yeah, stupid super soldiers.” you muttered

“That’s uncalled for.” Bucky gave you a stink eye

“Doesn’t matter, we’re being order by the government and Fury to stay put.” Tony tells you all “Parker, I’m only gonna say this once, you to stay put. No school, no parties, no dates.”

“But here at The Compound would be more ideal, seeing as it’s away from the city.” Bruce adds softly

“So we’re stuck here?” Wanda asks “For how long?”

“Well they say the quarantine could last between two weeks to two months.”

“Well which is it? I’m getting nervous.” Sam unmuted the TV

‘....stores have already begun to run out of water, toilet paper, and even baby wipes...’

Day 1

You, Wanda and Laura (Clint’s wife) were organizing the last of the quarantine supplies. Clint couldn’t stomach the idea of not being with them during the whole pandemic, so he asked to bring them up until everything blew over.

“Okay so the kitchen is fully stocked, all the cleaning supplies are put away.” Wanda sighed “It’s kind of scary, how everyone is reacting out there.”

“Yeah, I had to wrestle some hand sanitizer from some grown woman wearing a face mask and rubber gloves.” Laura admits

“I wish I could’ve seen that, since you had Nate strapped to your chest.”

“Speaking of, I should go check on him.”

Just as Laura walked out, Steve, Bucky and Peter walked in with large pizzas in their hands.

“This is the last of take out for the next few weeks. Enjoy it while it lasts.” Steve tells us

Everyone swarmed for their chosen slices before gravitating towards the TV to get an update on the quarantine. You were instructed to stay inside, only to leave unless it was absolutely necessary, and then return back to respective homes. Keep your contact with other people down to a minimum, and overall to sanitize and wash often.

“This is what I do on a regular basis.” Bucky scoffed

“Same.” Wanda and Nat chimed in

“This is gonna be so cool, like one big party.” Peter clapped

A few of the other groaned at Peter’s optimism.

“The kid is right,” Tony agreed “most times we’re on missions for weeks at a time. How is this any different?”

“He does make a point.” Vision nods “And surely there’s enough room for everyone to find their own thing.”

Day 4

You glared at Bucky, who was tapping his pen against his teeth, while trying to figure out the crossword puzzle in front of him. You were trying to do silent yoga, silent being the key word.

“Barnes, can you stop that?” you said through your teeth

“Stop what?” he paused

“Tapping the pen on your teeth.”

“It helps me think. Why aren’t you in the gym?”

“Because I can’t take Steve and Nat talking smack when they spar each other. And Sam is playing his music too loud, and his room is next to mine.”

“And it’s the tapping that bothers you?”

“Forget it.” you closed you eyes again and worked on tuning Bucky out

Tony hurried in, scanning around the room “Has anyone seen Parker? I can’t find him and neither can his aunt. (Y/L/N)?”

“Shh, doing silent yoga.” You hushed “And no, I haven’t.”

“He left.” Clint spoke from above the rest of you. There was a small whirling noise, and metal scrapping against more metal, then Clint and his daughter poked their head out from the vent above us.

“What do you mean he left?”

“He said something about building a death star.” The younger Barton, Lila, answered

“Friday, override and track the kid’s phone for me.”

“Of course Mr. Stark.”

Tony turned his attention to the TV, tapping on his phone and started to call Peter over video. At this point you gave up on silent yoga and just laid out on the mat. Peter’s face popped up on the screen but he wasn’t looking at his phone

“Trust me, they don’t even know I’m gone.” he told someone off screen

“Hello Mister Parker.” Tony waves

“Mr. Stark!” He hurried to pick up his phone “Hey, hi... um that’s so funny I was just about to come down to the lab, from my room.... which is where I am.... right now.”

“Oh you’re in your room? Not at Ned’s place building legos?”

He paused “No? I just got so bored! And there were so many rules to just stay in.”

“There were six rules max, and you just ignored rule one through five!”

“Are you sure he’s not your kid?” you chuckled

Day 7

“Twenty-three bottles of pop on the wall.” Sam half sung, eyelids closed, while rocking Nate to sleep

Steve and Bucky were each cuddling a plush stuffed animal on the floor. Morgan ran back and forth between poking Steve with a wooden spoon and the spot where she had a pile of cookies waiting on a plate. And Lila and Cooper were on their phones, headphones in, and not paying attention to their surroundings.

“What the hell you guys?” Nat groaned

“Ooh Auntie Nat said a bad word.” Morgan giggled

“Hey Monster.”

“Auntie (Y/N)!” Morgan jumped over Bucky and ran over to climb up your side until she reached your shoulders. “Guess what, I got to have cookies and chicken nuggets, gummies and a bunch of soda.”

“Nat? (Y/N)?” Bucky lifted his head from the floor, a flattened gummy beard on the other side of his cheek “Please tell me the others are back too.”

“On the contrary, Clint and Tony wanted to know if you wouldn’t mind watching the kids a little while longer.” Nat went to relieve Sam from baby duty “Tony talked to the mayor and got her to extend the quarantine curfew for their double date night.”

The three men groaned, you swore you saw a tear in Steve’s eye.

“We’re gonna die here.” Sam curled into a ball

“Why did we agree to babysit?” Steve spoke into the stuffed penguin he held

“Nat, maybe we should help them out.” You held Morgan tightly while she flipped upside down from your shoulders “They’re only men.”

“When the Earth spins, how do we know when we’re upside down?” Morgan poked you in the back

“Tell you what, clean up your mess, we’ll go get in our pj’s and then I’ll tell you.” you carefully set her back down on the floor, she ran off, picking up her toys and stray snacks

“Coop, Lila, your homework better be done, because if I have to check myself-.” Nat started.

They jumped up from their seats and rushed out the room, Steve looked up at you and Nat in awe, Nate fast asleep in her arms.

“How did you-”

“We have a way with kids, don’t take it personally.”

“Done!” Morgan cheered before pulling at your arm “Can we get in our pj’s now?”

Nat chuckled “Let’s go princess, (Y/N) will meet us there. You can help me get Nate ready for bed.”

Morgan took Nat’s free hand and skipped along side her. You took the stuffed animals and blankets from the guys.

“How did four children manage to out-do two super soldiers and a former air force vet?” you asked

“They’re small, but stealthy.” Sam yawned “Morgan has been asking us that spinning Earth question for hours.”

“I tried to explain how the Earth rotates but she told me I was wrong.” Bucky added

“Oh, it’s a joke. How do you know when the Earth turned upside down?” you paused, waiting for one of them to guess the answer “Fall time.”

Day 12

“What is this called again?” Thor points to Peter’s phone screen

“Twitter.”

“Twitter? Like the sound a bird makes? Oh and there’s a symbol of a bird there.” he laughed “Humans are so creative. Tell me Son of Stark, what is Twitter’s purpose?”

“Uh.... basically you just post whatever’s on your mind.” Peter handed over his phone to Thor “Sometimes people will like it, and retweet it, or leave a comment.”

“Please tell me you didn’t make Thor a Twitter page.” You spared a glance from your book

“He asked me to show him. What’s the worse that could happen?”

One Hour Later

“Who gave Thor a Twitter page?” Steve marched into the kitchen

You immediately point to Peter.

“He wanted to know about social media. I didn’t think it’d do any harm.” Peter blurted out

“What did he do?” You asked

“He keeps posting.” Steve scrolled through the tablet in his hand “Things like ’What is black twitter?’, ‘poptarts and coffee’, ‘Just noticed how Director Fury sounds like the freeze man in this Disney movie’, ‘Over heard Natasha and Wanda judging who had the best ass. Barnes or Rogers. Clearly it’s me’ He’s trending.”

“Steve it’s harmless fun, he’s excited to be apart of Midgard culture.” you dismissed “Or are you upset because you weren’t voted for the best bum?”

“You should see his latest, and most liked, tweet.” Steve handed the tablet to you with a smirk

“‘Pretty sure (Y/N) and Barnes are dating. How else do you explain their sexual tension?’ I’m gonna kill you Parker.” You went to grab Peter but Steve pulled you away at the last second

“You don’t mean that.” Peter started to back out of the kitchen “Do you?”

“Who gave Thor a Twitter?” Bucky spoke from the other room

“I can give you a ten second head start.” Steve warns Peter

Day 15

“I can’t take this anymore, no missions, no take out, I can’t even go get a freaking smoothie.” You paced from one end of your room to the other “I thought this thing was only suppose to be two weeks.”

“Well Tony said two weeks or two months.” Bucky lounged on your bed, playing with the rubic’s cube “Looks like it’s gonna be two months.”

“How are you staying calm?”

“I remind myself murder, even attempted, is illegal. Plus I’ve been in isolation most of my adult life, so this doesn’t seem so bad.”

“Right.” you said softly “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“I’m complaining about being stuck in here, for my health when you’ve had it way worse.”

“Hey,” he caught your hand and pulled you closer “Don’t apologize, I know you didn’t mean any harm. And you tend to get cabin fever when we go on long surveillance missions. These next few days are gonna fly by, trust me.”

He trailed his hands up and down your arms, traveling to your waist and under your shirt.

“Uh-huh Barnes, not again.” you pulled away slightly “Vision and Wanda almost caught us last time.”

“Because you weren’t quiet.” he kissed up your torso

“No, because you dragged me into a linen closet for wearing shorts.”

Bucky gave you a small pout “I’m from the 1940′s doll, I fantasized about your calves when I first met you. And that we’re... is this considered dating or are we just messing around during the lock down?”

“I hope this means we’re dating.” you combed his hair back with your fingers “I’m not the kind of girl that you hump and dump.”

“Hump and what?”

You chuckled “Nevermind.” You straddled his waist, he gripped yours a little tighter “So Sergeant, you gonna take me on a date after this quarantine?”

“I’ll take you to Rome as long as you keep calling me ‘Sergeant’ doll.” he left soft kisses on your neck

“Mmm.”

“(Y/N).” Steve knocked on your door “Have you seen Bucky? I’m looking for him.”

“Nope, haven’t seen him.” Bucky pulled your shirt over your head, and tried to add to the bite marks he left the other day, but Steve wasn’t letting up.

“You know where he might be?”

You rolled your eyes and made Bucky stop “Have you checked the garage?”

“Why would he be in the garage?”

“Steve, pal, can it wait?” Bucky shouted “I kinda got my hands full in here.”

“Oh.” You could only imagine how red Steve’s face was at that moment.

“You are horrible James Barnes.” you giggled

“Sergeant.” he corrected you in a low growl

“Sergeant.” you brought your lips down to his, quickly fighting for dominance in the kiss. Bucky flipped you over, the bed squeaking under your shared weight

“Uh- should I go now?” Steve asked

#marvel #quarantine #Bucky Barnes #sam wilson #tony stark #100 days of productivity #coronavirus #spiderman #Sebastian Stan #bucky x reader #black twitter #Thor Odinson #clint barton #natasha romanoff #Black Widow #marvel studios

143 notes · View notes

shadowofthelamp · 5 years ago

Text

The Smeetening

This was a kofi commission for @lovelycoris! And the title comes from her tag.

Summary: Zim has been gone for four and a half months, and Dib was not expecting what he found when he got back.

Warnings: Mpreg mention

Wordcount: 1920

Dib had to admit, when Zim had been gone for four and a half months, he’d figured he was off in space doing training or something like that. Invaders would do that, right? (He’d told Dib he was going to be gone, but not that it was going to be this long, and to be honest, Dib was getting more than a little twitchy. Skool was so boring without Zim, although he had managed to stake the vampires hunting behind the Krazy Taco.) Or maybe he’d be catching up with old alien friends, if he even had any.

Not…. this.

Dib had picked the lock while his EMP shorted out the gnomes. He’d been doing that about twice a month to see if Zim was back yet, but before now there had been nothing. His motion sensors had caught activity twenty minutes ago from the Voot instead of a random squirrel, and he had to know what had taken so long.

There was a lot of noise coming from the living room, but the curtains had been drawn, and honestly, Gir watched so much garbage TV that pretty much anything could be excused until he actually opened the door to see it. He was almost done when the door swung open by itself. He looked up and heard the computer say “-get it.”

With a full visual of the inside of the base, what he saw was quite possibly the furthest thing from ‘normal’. (Man, Zim really had been here long enough to settle a baseline of ‘normal’, hadn’t he? Time flew...) Zim had on a frilly pink apron, but more importantly, he was hovering over several tiny irkens that were crawling around on a blanket. A particularly dark green one was in Zim’s hand, and he was licking their antennae as they squirmed around, making some noise Dib couldn’t quite hear. That was mostly because one with curly antennae was screeching their absolute lungs out, and Dib slapped his hands over his ears.

“Zim, what the hell is going on?”

Zim looked up, before grinning. “Ah, Dib-human!” He stood up, carefully weaving through the tiny aliens (‘tiny aliens!’ Dib’s brain screamed at him, ‘right in front of you!’) to hold up the one he’d been licking. (Grooming?) “Behold!”

“I’m beholding,” Dib said numbly as he reached up a hand to tentatively hover over them. “Where did you get them?”

“I made them, of course! Hoo boy is that a funny story-”

“You made them?” Dib looked over Zim’s head to see them crawling over each other. “I didn’t even know you could do that.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know, Dib. Secrets of the mighty irken race that I’ve been able to keep secret from your prying-”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re superior and all that.” Dib stepped around him to crouch down in front of them. “So you were pregnant?”

“Eh?”

“Pregnant. Or your partner was, whoever they were.” Dib made a rounded motion over his stomach, freezing when one of the babies grabbed his hand. Zim didn’t start screeching at him to let it go, so he carefully settled on his knees to lift it up, cupping his palms. It made a chirp that sounded almost like it came from an old video game. It was a mixture of clicks and of a ‘pew pew’ sound, and was possibly the best thing he’d heard in his entire life.

“Yes, I was. I had the smeets a week ago, and here we are!” Zim settled down cross-legged. “That’s Vi in your hand. She’s one of the quiet ones.”

“Hi, Vi,” Dib said as the baby (smeet, Zim had said?) yawned, showing off her gums. “You’re the quiet one, huh? That’s weird, considering your dad.” He looked up. “So who’s the- er, other dad?”

“Other dad?”

“You know, who helped make them? Unless irkens reproduce asexually, which would be pretty weird for a species as advanced as yours. And besides, they all look kind of different.” Dib looked over the smeets on the blanket- except for maybe one, they all had something that distinguished them from Zim, either in color, antennae, or eyes. Zim cleared his throat.

“I don’t see why that should matter, they’re here now.”

Vi squeaked in his hands and turned, reaching out for Zim, and Zim scooped her out of Dib’s hands. “It’s alright, mean stinky Dib won’t hurt you when Zim’s around.”

“Hey, I didn’t do anything!” Dib planted his hands on his hips before there was a tug at his pant leg. Another smeet- this one with eyes that looked frighteningly like Zim’s- had gripped it, staring up at him. “You really made all of these?”

“Why else would they be here?”

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t put it past you to steal a bunch of babies. You’re weirdly maternal when you get in the mood.” Dib carefully picked the smeet up and it cooed happily, making more of the beepy noises.

“I wouldn’t!” Zim gasped, aghast. “Besides, why would I take this many smeets that weren’t mine? One or two would be perfectly fine, but only I could make nine perfectly healthy ones at one time, thank you!”

Dib petted at the antennae of the one in his hands, and they kept making happy sounds, so he assumed he was doing something right. “So you had all of them at once? They are pretty small, but- geez, how big even were you?”

“None of your business!” Zim snapped as Dib squinted, trying to mentally shove all nine of the smeets back inside of him. Yeesh, he must have been a complete ball. Dib wished he could have gotten a picture. Now that he was really examining him, though, he could definitely see that Zim looked softer than before. His uniform top was just a bit tighter around the middle, and as Zim shifted, his hips looked larger than usual. Huh. So Zim wasn’t just pulling this out of his ass, he really had…

“Wait, how long even is irken gestation? You were gone for four months and seventeen days, how on Earth-”

“It wasn’t anywhere on Earth,” Zim scoffed. “And it was long enough, obviously.”

“There wasn’t anyone on Earth, right? Skoodge left a while ago, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he stopped living in my base. That was years ago, Dib, keep up.”

“Ga!” The smeet reached up for Dib’s mouth, curling surprisingly tight fingers around the bottom lip. Dib tried to gently pull it away, but it just clung tighter. As if on cue, two more of the smeets started crawling on top of him, like he was some kind of human jungle gym for them. Zim started snickering.

“It seems that Jash likes you, Dib-worm.”

“Ah tol’ ‘ou- ey!” Jash’s grip tightened as one of his siblings started flicking the buckle on the front of Dib’s boot. The other was just staring up at him and using his pant leg to stand on wobbly legs. They had wide, fascinated eyes, and Dib couldn’t help but feel a little twinge in his chest.

Dammit, why did baby aliens have to be the cutest things ever? He was only a mortal man, and he wasn’t made of stone, no matter how much he tried to remember that they were Zim’s and were thus at least 50% pure hellion.

“Keep this up and I might bring out the freeze ray to make a Dib-statue and let them learn motor skills.” Zim was still grinning, with the smeet with curly antennae had been screaming in his hand. He was running his thumb up their belly and they were making the same happy-noises as Jash had been. Huh, maybe they had just really wanted attention. He knew he’d hate to be one of nine siblings, Gaz was more than enough.

“Hey, one just crawled under the- come on!” Jash grabbed his glasses in an attempt to climb up his face and nearly pulled them off before Dib adjudged them. “What do you want, huh? Huh, little guy?”

Jash lifted his hands up, opening and closing his fist. “You’re already up, what do you- oh, okay, you’re climbing on my face again.” Dib pulled Jash away from his nose before he stuck a hand up it, setting him on top of his head instead. The smeet started batting at his hair lock, and it kind of tickled.

“I’ll have to clean him,” Zim said, clicking his tongue as he reached under the couch, cheek smushing the tile before pulling one of the smeets out by the scruff of their neck. “That is, unless you’ve improved in your bathing habits since I’ve been gone.”

“Hey, I’m getting better about that! I think!” Dib protested, looking down without turning his head to see that the same smeet as before was still playing with his shoe buckle. “How long are they going to be this size?”

“Eh, ten to fifteen years, give or take a few months?”

If Dib had been drinking something, he would have spat it out. “What?”

“They’ll be speaking within the next few months, of course, and it will be nice to have some intelligent conversation besides you.” Zim was intently watching the group on the blanket, blowing raspberries at a little gaggle of them. They let out high-pitched laughter, especially when he lifted them one at a time to repeat the action directly on their bare bellies.

“Oh, right, Paks probably speed things up, huh? You’re going to have your hands full, though. And I thought Gir was enough. Where is he, anyway?”

“In the lab. He isn’t allowed near the smeets until I can make sure he won’t hurt them. And I can handle anything, I am Zim!”

“You’ve somehow survived six and a half years on a planet that actively tries to kill you, so you probably can,” Dib admitted. Jash started squeaking, so Dib carefully pulled him off his head and set him down next to the one messing with his boot. After staring at each other a moment, Jash started tugging on their antennae instead, and they began rolling around, pulling at each other’s mouths, arms, and antennae. Their beepy sounds were excited and when they fell apart, they had big baby-grins on their faces.

Dib scooted a little closer to the blanket, and one with purple eyes stared up at him. Their antennae were curled- maybe they were female? That could be a sex-linked trait, Tak had had curly ones too, hadn’t she?- and they set a hand on his foot before smiling.

Yep, there went his heart. Melted right out of his chest and into a puddle on the orange and red tile.

“I wouldn’t mind babysitting, you know.”

“I told you, I can handle anything! And if you start poking and prodding at them-”

Dib made an ‘X’ over his chest. “Cross my heart, I won’t hurt them. You can even tell the computer to watch to make sure I don’t do anything, but nine is a lot. I can’t imagine irkens raised their kids completely alone. I’m not going to hurt kids.”

Zim narrowed his eyes, but when the one at Dib’s feet chirped up at him, he tapped his chin.

“Perhaps. But I’ll be watching you.”

Dib carefully stroked a hand over the surprisingly flexible antennae of the one at his feet, a smile growing on his face. He knew he was probably signing up for disaster, but hey, what was life without a little chaos? “That’s fair.”

#iz #shadow writes stuff #mpreg cw #iz blogging #lovelycoris #zim #dib #invader zim

140 notes · View notes

robinrunsfiction · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! ^.^ Maybe number 4 with Dallon, please?

Snowed In

Pairing: Dallon Weekes x Gender Neutral Reader Rating: GeneralRequested By: @aprilpoisonWord Count: 1,700Author’s Note: I’ve never done one set in the Brobecks era before!

“Thanks again for waiting for me Dallon,” you said as you settled into the passenger seat.

“Of course! I know Ryan and the other guys wanted to catch some of the other acts in the festival, but as long as we’re there before we go on stage, I don’t mind,” he shrugged.

You watched the darkening clouds as you drove along. The Brobecks were playing a winter festival in Denver, which meant a long drive. Unfortunately for you, your day job wouldn’t give you the day before off, but Dallon offered to hang back and drive with you so you wouldn’t be stuck driving alone.

You chatted happily with your friend, talking about the latest music you’d heard, what you hoped was coming up for the band, and every other thing you could think of. Every time you offered to take over driving duties, Dallon insisted he could handle it. Eventually you started to feel your eyelids getting heavy, a week of work, band practices and life in general wearing you out, and eventually you were asleep, curled against the cool window.

Dallon glanced over and smiled to himself, you looked so cute when you were sleeping peacefully. He didn’t know how to explain to you that he would have waited until the end of the earth for you, that he’d rather ride with you in this car just to be around you for uninterrupted hours than to do almost anything else.

After a while, his joy of spending time with you turned to concern, as heavy, wet flakes of snow started to fall. Hearing Dallon’s grumbling woke you from your nap.

“What’s goin on? Oh my god that’s a lot of snow!”

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Dallon replied, leaning forward slightly in his seat to watch the road.

“You’re not very convincing,” you replied, nervousness twisting at your stomach. “Maybe we should pull over somewhere until the snow lets up.”

Dallon sighed. “Yea, I think I saw a sign for a town up ahead a couple miles, we can see if it’s going to let up soon, or maybe there’s a motel if we need to wait it out.”

Your heart skipped a little at those words. Going to a motel, with Dallon. Getting a room with Dallon. No, it wasn’t going to be like that. You were friends, bandmates! You couldn’t help your crush on him, he was after all one of the best looking men you had ever seen, not to mention kind, funny, clever and dorky as hell, but you knew you shouldn’t be getting your hopes up.

Soon the sign for a gas station could be seen through the falling snow. You both got out and went inside to find an older man behind the counter, watching a small TV.

“‘Scuse me, do you know if they’re saying the snow will be done soon?” Dallon asked.

The man laughed and turned the TV so you both could see. The meteorologist showed a gigantic swath of blue, indicating snow, moving through the area. “Should be cleared out by morning. Plows will come through when it’s done.”

You looked up at Dallon, stress written across his face. “Is there a hotel or something in town?”

“Yea, stay on the main road, drive about half a mile and it’s on the right side. Tell ‘em Barry sent ya and they’ll give you a good rate,” he smiled.

You both thanked Barry and went back out to the car. “So, do we crash here? Or keep going and potentially crash?” You asked.

“I think I’d rather play it safe. We don’t even have to be there until 4 PM tomorrow. We can call Ryan and let him know.”

You nodded in agreement and set back out through the sloppy snow to your destination. The roads were already turning slick and the car even slid a little as Dallon turned into the driveway of the Evergreen Motel.

You grabbed your bags and headed to the front desk. There was a older lady behind the desk doing a crossword puzzle when you walked in. “Well hello to the luckiest people in town!”

You and Dallon looked at each other, trying to see if the other knew what she meant.

“Why’s that?” You finally asked.

“Well I assume you’re looking for a room to get out of that storm that whipped up? And I happen to only have one left! Anyone who comes after you will have to keep going and the next town is 20 miles away!”

“Oh well, yea, we’ll take what you have!”

The lady grabbed the last key on the wall of hooks behind her and handed it over. “Room 152. Check out is at 11, but the snow should be done by 8 according to the weatherman.”

“And umm, Barry said you’d give us a good rate?”

The lady giggled at that. “Oh Barry is my husband! I’ll certainly give you a good discount if you stopped to see him.”

When you arrived at the room and flipped on the light, you were struck by how dated the decor was, but the room was still clean and well maintained. Then you realized the problem. There was only one bed.

“Oh. Umm, hey Dal,” you started as he walked in behind you.

“Oh,” he said as well when he saw the bed. “And she said this was the last room?”

“Yep.”

“Well, I mean it’s ok right? We’re friends,” he smiled.

“Yea, no, I just didn’t know if you’d be ok with it,” you said awkwardly.

“Yea, no problem,” he replied with a smile and you thought your knees might give out.

You went into the bathroom and brushed your teeth and changed into your pajamas. When you came back out, you found Dallon had changed as well and settled in against the pillows.

“Sorry, I didn’t know what side of the bed you wanted,” he said, about to get up.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not picky you said sitting cross legged near the end of the bed. “What are you watching?”

“There’s nothing really on, just a bunch of weird old movies.”

“This whole town feels weird. Like a town out of time.”

Dallon hummed. “I like that, I’m gonna remember that.”

You shrugged in response as you watched the old movie play on the tv, oblivious to the fact that Dallon was paying much more attention to you than to what was on the screen.

As the credits rolled, you stretched and crawled up to the top of the bed and climbed in next to Dallon. The room was a little cold, so finally getting under the blankets felt nice. You both turned out your lights and lay in the dark silence of the room.

“So, umm, goodnight,” he said quietly.

“‘Night,” you replied, staring up at the ceiling, trying to ignore how badly you wanted to cuddle against him.

You didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep until you felt a hand on your arm. “(YN), are you ok?”

“Hmm?” You replied sleepily.

“You’re shivering, are you cold?” Dallon asked concerned.

You realized then be was right, you were freezing. “Yea, I’m cold,” you said, pulling the blankets around you further.

“Come here,” he mumbled, as he pulled you against him, his body so much warmer than yours. He wrapped his arm across your middle, his breath soft against the back of your neck.

“Thanks,” you whispered, not sure what else to say.

“Mmhmm,” he replied sleepily.

The next morning Dallon woke up to the sound of slow plows on the road. When he opened his eyes, he realized that you were in fact still in his arms, sleeping peacefully. He knew in that moment that this couldn’t be the last time this happened. He didn’t want to go back to pining for you, longing for you to finally notice that he was crazy about you.

You started to wake and at first you didn’t remember where you were. Then it dawned on you. The motel room. Dallon. His arm was still around you, holding you tight against him and you didn’t want to move, in case it never happened again.

“(YN)?” Dallon said softly. You closed your eyes tight, wishing the moment wasn’t about to end.

“Yea?” You asked rolling over to look at him.

“I’m glad we got stuck here,” he said.

“Me too,” you whispered.

Dallon looked surprised at your response. “Really?”

“You’re my favorite person,” you admitted, and put your hand on his.

Dallon held his breath as he looked at your hands together before he turned his over and intertwined his fingers with yours. When he looked up, you were smiling softly.

“I’d weather any storm with you,” he said barely above a whisper and your heart felt like it could leap from your chest. You looked up at him and his blue eyes were full of worry. “I think I’m in love with you, (YN).”

“Dal,” you started.

“I’m sorry if I just wrecked everything-”

“You didn’t,” you cut him off. “Because I think I feel the same way.”

“Do you mean it?” He asked, wide eyed.

“Yea Dallon, I really mean it,” you beamed back at him.

Before you could realize what was happening, Dallon was leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. He dropped your hand to caress your cheek and you ran your hand through his hair. When you came up for air, he was looking back at you like he didn’t believe what had just happened and then you both burst out laughing.

“I think this weird old town might be my favorite place on earth,” you laughed.

“Me too,” he grinned, before leaning back in and kissing you again.

After checking out, you stopped for donuts and coffee and continued the rest of the journey to Denver.

“About time you guys got here!” Ryan exclaimed when you arrived. “We were starting to worry you guys ran off together and left us here to play without you!”.

“Well, funny you should say that,” Dallon started with a smirk as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you grinned up at him.

#dallon weekes x reader #dallon weekes imagine #dallon weekes fanfic #dallon weekes fan fic #dallon weekes fan fiction #idkhow fan fic #idkhow fan fiction

37 notes · View notes

elisaphoenix13 · 5 years ago

Text

Biological Warfare

Tony used to be known as a genius, billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist. Now he was a genius, billionaire, philanthropist, married man, and father of four kids. That didn't even include Iron Man. Despite those titles, he still couldn't hold a candle to Stephen and what the sorcerer did on a daily basis. He used to be a world-renowned neurosurgeon, but now he was no longer that, but still so much more. Stephen was Earth's Sorcerer Supreme, a husband (wife), a mother, a housewife, doctor, and team matriarch. He did so much and was always doing something, that he started to run on fumes until he finally didn't get out of bed that morning.

Tony had tried to get Stephen to slow down to prevent his imminent collapse, but he was just as stubborn as Tony. Which is why he woke up that morning with a one hundred and three degree fever and the engineer practically ordered him to stay in bed. The boys were sent out to spend the day with friends which was surprisingly a chore when they found out that Stephen was sick. The cubs wanted to cuddle with Mama Bear to help comfort him, but Tony told them he needed some quiet time, and they left after a few concerned glances toward the master bedroom. Diana was easier. She was a little upset that Mom was sick but didn't argue with her father when he asked her to spend the day downstairs with Cassie. Valerie on the other hand, she would have to stay with him. Even though he had a meeting today.

So he asked Bucky and Wanda to come up to the family floor and make sure Stephen stayed in bed, and whisked the baby away to his meeting. When he walked into the building holding his infant daughter, Pepper gave him an incredulous look as Valerie drooled all over his designer sunglasses that she was holding and parts of his suit. Tony stopped caring about any of designer wear being ruined by bodily fluids ages ago after the first time Peter was turned into a baby. His kids were more important to him.

"Tony...couldn't you have left her with Mama Bear?" Pepper asked.

"Nope. Stephanie is sick, and he would only worry if he found out I left her with one of the team. I'm trying to make his day as relaxing as possible, and if that means taking my baby girl into a room full of tightwads, so be it." Tony explained.

Pepper sighed. "Fine. At least you're on time."

Tony got looks when he strolled into the room with a drooling baby and a diaper bag, but he just sat down with Valerie sitting in his lap and motioned for the big wigs to start. Once the other executives realized that the baby was quiet, most of them lost interest, and Tony was easily able to keep up with the subject of the meeting. Even while digging out the container of strawberry flavored cereal puffs and pouring some into his hand for Valerie to take from and eat at her leisure.

The meeting was a snoozefest as usual, but the upside had been at the end when Tony was able to shake the hand of today's executive that pissed him off...with the hand that Valerie drooled all over. The look of horror and disgust that crossed his face was the highlight of Tony's day, and he just gave the man a charming smile like he didn't just cover his hand in his daughter's spit. When he left the room with Pepper and they were far enough away, the engineer fully expected Pepper to lay into him for what he did.

But she burst into laughter instead.

"For once, I'm glad you did something to that guy, but I wasn't expecting you to use biological warfare!"

Tony smirked and wiped his hand and Valerie's face with a burping cloth that Pepper dug out of the diaper bag for him. "If I knew I could use my kids like this, I would have wanted them sooner. I'm still surprised that you're laughing instead of yelling at me."

Pepper snorted. "Nobody will believe him. Anyway, I know you have a sick husband to take care of--"

"Wife." Tony corrected and Pepper rolled her eyes as she pulled out some paperwork.

"I need you to look over and sign these by tonight."

"Oh, yay." Tony said dryly as he took the papers and Pepper poked Valerie's nose.

"You be good for Daddy and help take care of your Mommy when you get home."

Valerie hid her face in Tony's shoulder, and the engineer smiled softly as he made his way toward the entrance. His daughter was incredibly shy and while she hid from people she knew but didn't see very often (like Pepper and T'challa for example), actual strangers had her whimpering. She was only comfortable around those that lived in the tower, and outside her immediate family, Quill was number one in her book. He spoiled and protected her like he did with Diana so it was expected.

"Victor sent me a notice." Happy told Tony after the billionaire got into the car and strapped his daughter into the carseat. "Wanda had to confiscate Stephen's sling ring because he tried to portal somewhere."

"Of course he did." Tony sighed out. "You better get us home."

Happy nodded and drove back to the tower, and Tony carefully unbuckled Valerie from her carseat when he discovered that she had fallen asleep on the ride back. He shushed her when she whined as he picked her up, but she settled against his shoulder while Happy grabbed the paperwork and diaper bag and quietly shut the doors to the car. The head of security knew what to do after the snap and Tony had to raise Diana by himself. He learned how to close doors very quietly, helped Tony carry things so he could focus on the baby...but now things were a little different. Tony's right arm was covered in scars from the battle with Thanos, and it wasn't as strong as it used to be.

"Do you need me to carry her?" Happy whispered and Tony shook his head.

"I got her."

Whenever his arm did act up, Stephen was usually the one that soothed the pain with heat or ice depending on what felt better, or if the pain was bad enough...magic. One day, the sorcerer had been dimension hopping when Tony's arm started locking up and burning with pain, and after hearing Scott swear up and down about Quill's light helping with the thief's scars, the engineer went looking for him. The pain was bad enough that Tony willingly went looking for some kind of relief, and the moment he found Quill and the celestial touched his arm with the light in his hands, Tony nearly sobbed at the relief it brought him.

When Happy and Tony make it up to the family floor, the bodyguard set the bag and paperwork on the kitchen counter, and Tony gently handed his sleeping daughter over to Bucky. He wanted to check on Stephen, but didn't want to risk getting Valerie sick, and if she woke up, she wouldn't cry when she found herself in the soldier's arms instead.

"Tony, I gotta head downstairs now." Happy said and the engineer nodded as he climbed the stairs to the master bedroom.

He quietly opened the door and closed it behind him before approaching Stephen's side of the bed, and thankfully finds his spouse sleeping. Athena was of course keeping her sick master company by lying as close as possible to him with her head on Stephen's hip, and barely glanced up at the engineer when he entered. Tony slowly sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to place his hand against Stephen's forehead, still finding it hot to the touch, and grimaced when the doctor stirred. Blue eyes blinked open and Stephen turned his head to look up at him, and once he recognized who was touching him, he relaxed into Tony's hand with a pleased sigh.

"I didn't mean to wake you up."

"You didn't. I was only resting." Stephen mumbled.

"I heard you tried to leave." Tony said and Stephen huffed.

"Your wardens are strict."

"For good reason. You of all people should know that you need to rest with a fever like yours." Tony looked over at the bottle of pills sitting on the nightstand. "Have you taken any of those?"

"Mmm." Stephen responded with an affirmative grunt. "Want my cubs."

"Sorry Mama Bear. No cubs until your fever breaks at least." Tony changed out of his suit and into some more casual clothes before shooing the wolf to the end of the bed and slipping into bed next to Stephen. "You'll have to suffer with me for now."

"Where's the baby?"

"In the living room with Wanda and Bucky taking a nap. She'll probably end up with Porcupine and Thumbelina by the end of the day though if our resident god has anything to say about it."

Stephen said nothing as he curled up to the warmth Tony's body provided, and that was enough of a clue to Tony that Stephen wasn't feeling well. He had enough energy to ask about Valerie before he was dozing off again, and Tony turned on the tv to a low volume after quietly asking Friday to ask the team to babysit Valerie for a while. After about an hour, he asked her for Stephen's temperature and his AI sent the results to his phone so she wouldn't disturb Stephen's sleep.

One hundred and two. Good. It was going down.

Stephen falls into a coughing fit shortly after, and when the sorcerer tightly grips Tony's shirt into his fist, the older man rubs soothing circles into his back until the sorcerer catches his breath again. The younger apologizes for practically coughing all over him, but Tony shushes him as he stands up and temporarily leaves the room. He comes back with a glass of cold water after checking on Valerie (who was in the process of being handed over to Quill as Tony predicted), and Stephen accepts the glass gratefully before draining half of it. The other half of the water disappeared with another dose of medicine.

"Better me than the kids." The doctor mumbled as he lay back down and Tony got back into bed.

"Hey, just worry about resting and getting better. The kids are fine. Besides, it's kind of pathetic to see a wolf pouting because you're sick." Tony teased and Stephen huffed.

"She kept me company while you were gone."

"Yes. I saw that." Tony nudged the wolf at the end of their bed with one of his feet and she grunted at him. "I hope she didn't use my pillows."

"I don't let her on the pillows." Stephen mumbled.

"Did Barnes or Maximoff feed you?"

Stephen shook his head and muttered something like he wasn't hungry, but Tony had other ideas. The sorcerer needed to eat something besides water and pills and it made Tony wonder how Stephen's fever was affecting him if he was ignoring all of his medical training. He had just gotten back into bed too.

Tony rolled out of bed with a sigh after kissing the clammy skin of Stephen's forehead, and he promised to come back with something light for his stomach. Stephen responded incoherently as Tony motioned for Athena to move back up next to the doctor, and she went happily. The moment Stephen slung an arm around his wolf for the comfort, Tony left the bedroom and walked down the stairs, stopping by the living room. To his surprise, Quill had stayed on the family floor and was currently playing with Valerie on the floor. Or more like sitting next to her and keeping one of his legs bent behind her as support while she played with her blocks. If the god was up here with her instead of taking her back down to his floor, Scott was either running errands or out of town.

Bucky and Wanda were lounging on the couches watching tv.

"You guys are fired." Tony told them. "I asked you to keep an eye on him because you can cook."

"He told us he wasn't hungry." Wanda defends.

"Yeah, well next time, make something anyway." Tony scolds and then walks away to the kitchen to heat up some canned soup.

Homemade soup would have tasted better but that wasn't one of Tony's strong points. He was better with the Italian foods, but he couldn't think of anything off the top of his head that would be easy on Stephen's stomach. He did ask Wanda to help make the sorcerer's tea the way he liked it, and then that was added to the soup and crackers that Tony took up to his sick spouse after asking Quill to feed Valerie.

Tony spent the rest of the day with Stephen after that, and once he confirmed that Scott was out of town for work, he asked the team to help babysit Valerie. Quill of course helped, but he mostly kept an eye on Diana since she stayed downstairs with Cassie while Stephen was sick. The boys stayed at their friends houses until Stephen's fever finally broke two days later, and Tony couldn't have kept the kids away even if he wanted to. Stephen always cuddled with them when they were sick and they wanted to return the favor. The sorcerer's recovery after that was relatively quick as soon as he got his cubs, and Athena remained a constant at his side. Tony was glad for it because as much as he wanted to stay and help Stephen twenty-four seven, he had other things that needed to be taken care of.

It was times like these when Tony truly appreciated the dysfunctional family they created. They would drop everything to help each other, especially if the one in need was Stephen. He was the reason this family existed after all.

#mama bear au #mama bear stephen strange #stephen strange #tony stark #ironstrange #wanda maximoff #pepper potts #supremefamily

42 notes · View notes

oops-prow-did-it-again · 5 years ago

Text

Pokémon Sword & Shield: The Novel (Chapter 1 - Pomp & Circumstance)

Part of Pokemon Retold. Find it on A03.

Prologue

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

“Exhibition or not, Leon, your pristine record is about to end—when I beat you here today!”

“You know I don’t lose battles, Raihan! Charizard—DYNAMAX!”

Gloria couldn’t stay still in her seat. It was always a treat whenever Raihan and Leon battled—which, to be fair, was quite often even outside of the gym challenge seasons—due to just how intense both were. Raihan had an almost feral air about him once he got into battle, and Leon had such unbidden confidence. Though she was miles and miles away from where they were really battling in Wyndon, as she clutched the little Rotom Phone in her hands, she swore she could feel the crackling of the tension from the two in the air.

A harsh slam! pulled her nose from the device. Throwing a look over her shoulder and the back of the couch, she saw Hop rubbing his head and slowly closing the door behind him. She supposed he had ran into the doorframe. Giggling, she raised a brow at him. “Everythin’ okay over there, you Rapidash?”

“Haha, very funny! But hey, you better hurry up and come with me!” Hop exclaimed. He deftly rounded the corner of the couch and gestured for her to get up. “Oh, you’re watchin’ Lee and Raihan’s exhibition,” he said, “well, just record it! That’s what I do with all of Lee’s matches. But come on, come on!”

Gloria’s mother had now entered the room. She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head. “Now Hop, what on Earth’s got you so riled up?”

“Oh!” Hop whirled around to face her. “My bad, miss. You see, uh, well… My brother Lee said he’s goin’ to give us both a Pokémon today! If that’s alright…?”

Gloria practically fell over the back of the sofa trying to climb over it to reach him and her mother. She grabbed Hop’s hands and made him face her. “Really? We’re—we’re getting a Pokémon today?”

Gloria’s mother let out a hardy laugh. “Yes, that’s fine, children. Just be careful, don’t hurt yourselves. Gloria, don’t forget your bag and phone.”

Hop grinned from ear to ear and pulled his hands free from Gloria’s grasp. “Yes! Come on, Gloria, get that bag of yours and let’s go! No time for dallyin’!”

Gloria nodded and scurried upstairs to find her backpack. She was already dressed for the day, and just needed to get that to carry some things in. Her mind was swimming. A Pokémon! She had avoided getting one up to this point since she felt she would have nothing for it to do and would waste its potential, but, well, if Leon was going to hand one out, she certainly wasn’t about to say no. No idiot would say no to a handout from the champion himself!

Once back downstairs, Hop began to laugh hysterically. “What?” she demanded. “What you laughin’ at me for?”

“That bag!” Hop rasped. “That thing looks like it’ll pull you to the floor!”

Gloria rolled her eyes. The bag had belonged to her mother during the gym challenge she had embarked upon during her teen years. It was massive, but at least it had room for everything she could ever want to fit inside it. “So, we goin’ or what?”

“We got to go get Lee from the Wedgehurst Station, he’s rubbish with directions and says his Charizard’s tired,” Hop said as he wiped amused tears from his eyes. “C’mon, the sooner we get him, the sooner we get a Pokémon!”

“Good luck, you too!” Gloria’s mother called. Gloria waved goodbye and ducked out the door in a heartbeat.

As soon as their feet hit the dirt and they no longer had to worry about her mother overhearing them, Gloria and Hop started chattering to one another. They were more excited and louder than a whole flock of Rookidee on an early Sunday morning.

“So, how’d this come about?” Gloria asked.

“Well, he apparently visited yesterday while I was away at Wedgehurst,” Hop said. “And as I was comin’ back from helpin’ at the station, he just started talkin’ to me and was like, ‘Hey, I’m goin’ to come back tomorrow. Want a Pokémon?’ Of course, I said yes!”

“Did he happen to say what they were? Maybe a Yamper, or a Skwovet? Rookidee would be awesome!” Gloria beamed. “Corviknight is just the most majestic Pokémon!”

“Corviknight?” Hop questioned. “Thought you said Rookidee?”

“Don’t be silly, come off it!” Gloria laughed. “Corviknight evolves from Corvisquire, which evolves from Rookidee.”

“Right, right! Sorry, blond moment there I think,” Hop apologized and rubbed the back of his head nervously.

It wasn’t long before they arrived at Wedgehurst. The two towns might as well have been one town, seeing as they were separated by just a short walk down an uninhabited route. You could practically throw a stone from one to the other, but Wedgehurst stubbornly remained outside of Postwick’s jurisdiction, and was home to its very own train station, a Pokémon center, a clothing shop—anything one could need, just about. Gloria and Hop found that today, its typically plain streets were brimming with movement, and it didn’t take long to see why.

A brilliant glow emanated from the center of town. It threw orange and red lights across the gathered crowd. The fire being blown sky-high was of course from Leon’s Charizard. Leon himself was standing ahead of the formidable Fire Pokémon, striking his unmistakable pose. Everyone nearby, including Hop and Gloria, mimicked him, throwing two fingers into the air. Hop took it just a step farther, however, showing how he had perfected the pose over the years.

“Galar has got the strongest trainers in all of the world!” Leon was bellowing across the crowd. “And I want to keep it that way! So, as always, I want all of you to train as hard as you can! Come after me in the Major League if you can! We can keep showing the rest of the world how to have a champion time!”

Raucous cheering followed. Gloria flinched a little from the sheer noise. She had seen Leon and his fans that seemed to converge from the woodwork whenever he was around before, but that didn’t mean she ever started enjoying the crowds he drew. They were noisy and people acted so strangely around him. She loved him too, but she was nowhere near confident enough to stride up to him and demand his attention like others did.

“Oh, and if it isn’t my biggest fan!” Leon locked eyes on Hop and casually strode over to his little brother. He ruffled Hop’s hair and winked at him. “You’ve grown taller, little boy.”

“Lee! You just saw me yesterday!” Hop remarked, moving Leon’s hand off his head. Leon’s Charizard landed behind Leon and appeared to be watching the gathered crowd carefully. His tail swayed irritably. Gloria acutely became aware of how the Charizard never seemed relaxed. It always seemed so tense and anxious…

Leon turned his attention back to the gathered Wedgehurst mob. “Thank you, thank you, everyone! Now, I’ve got some family business to attend to, so I’ll be seein’ you later!” He waved the people goodbye, then whispered something to his Charizard. And with that, Leon, Hop, and Gloria began to walk back to Postwick. Leon’s Charizard brought up the rear, following much more slowly.

“Oh, Champion Leon, please don’t go just yet! Please let me have an autograph!” A feminine voice practically screeched behind them. Gloria heard Leon’s Charizard growl and turned just in time to see it flare its wings wide and stand tall over the woman that had decided to try to follow them. Gloria couldn’t see the woman or Charizard’s face from where she was standing, but she was quite certain the woman’s eyes were bulging from intimidation, and that Charizard had embers curling from the edge of its muzzle.

“Charizard, easy,” Leon said sternly. “No autographs today, I’m afraid. Really, I’ve got to be home for a while.”

Charizard’s throat rumbled to emphasize his trainer’s point.

“Understood!” the woman choked. She pattered away back into Wedgehurst’s borders.

“Man, Charizard is so cool,” Hop said breathlessly. “And so protective!”

Leon didn’t seem to have much of a response for that. Gloria looked up at him with a bit of a frown, wondering why he had nothing to say about such a comment. Leon’s expression was suddenly very unreadable and stoic. She shook her head and silently followed, listening in as Hop and Leon talked a bit here and there. But even Hop didn’t seem to be able to carry a conversation with him. Leon always had lots to say in public, but Gloria always found it extremely hard to actually talk to him in the few times she had met him in private with Hop. He was so… unyielding…

Back at Hop’s front yard, however, Leon’s bright and sunny persona resumed. He joked a little with them both before chucking three Pokéballs from his belt to the grassy terrain. Hop and Gloria both gazed in wonder at the three creatures that emerged. They had only ever seen these kinds of Pokemon on TV!

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

Hop had never seen Pokémon like these in the flesh before! He had heard of them, of course, and seen their evolved forms in matches on TV. They were incredibly exclusive to Galar itself. Sobble, Grookey, and Scorbunny; the deceptively adorable pre-evolutions to the monstrous Inteleon, Rillaboom, and Cinderace respectively. The Sobble in front of him quickly found its way to a small pond that had formed in their yard, where it settled in and began to lazily paddle about. The Grookey scampered over to the tree overlooking the pond and clambered high up its branches. It grabbed hold of a stick with a few leaves clinging to it, and waved it about happily, spinning in circles. The Scorbunny rapidly tapped its powerful feet against the dirt of the battlefield in their yard, and then started to jog in place. Jogging quickly turned to a full-blown run and small embers kicked up behind the Pokémon’s paws. Nobody was all that concerned, as the flames quickly died out.

Hop copped a smirk and crossed his arms. He looked at Gloria. “Why don’t you go ahead and choose? I’ve got my Wooloo already, after all.”

“Sobble,” Gloria practically spat before he had finished telling her that. “Sobble. It’s so cute. Please.”

Leon laughed and gestured for her to head over to the Pokémon. “Sobble’s all yours, Gloria.”

Gloria gleefully bounced over to the pond, where Sobble gave a start from her sudden movements. Gloria extended an arm slowly toward it, and the Sobble warily moved closer to inspect her hand.

“You goin’ to choose now, Hop?” Leon asked.

“Of course! I’m goin’ to go with Grookey!”

“Oh, you little git, you tricked me!” Gloria gave Hop a disbelieving smile. “You wanted me to pick first so you could get the starter that’s super-effective on mine!”

“You got it!” Hop snickered as he got closer, urging the Grookey to come down from the tree. It earnestly bounced down the trunk and landed on his shoulder, where it accidentally jabbed him with its favorite stick a few times. “Hey, ow—”

Scorbunny looked about the yard with a bit of confusion, and then its gaze settled on Leon himself and the massive Charizard standing at his side. It seemed to cower a little bit as Charizard leaned down to sniff its ears. “Haha, come now Charizard, you’re scarin’ it,” Leon said, walking over to the little Scorbunny. He scooped it up in his arms and scratched between its two ears. Its left foot began to kick rhythmically against his chest. “Charizard’s strict, but kind. It’ll be alright,” he reassured it.

Hop couldn’t help but smile wide at his brother. He was just so perfect with all Pokémon he came across. He seemed to know everything one would ever need to know about them and always made fast friends with new ones. He looked over at the Grookey currently chilling on his right shoulder. “I hope you and I will be good friends too, y’know,” Hop said. “You and me, buddy. Just like Wooloo. I’ll let you meet her soon!”

Grookey gave a happy squeak and bashed the stick against Hop’s shoulder a couple more times.

“Well, that kind of hurts… maybe I’ll get used to it,” Hop muttered to himself.

“So!” Leon clapped his hands and brought everyone’s attention back to him. “Everyone satisfied with their choices?”

Hop glanced at Gloria and saw she was cuddling her new Sobble tight against her chest, much to the creature’s apparent dismay. “Definitely!” she replied without ever looking up at them.

Hop nodded vigorously. “I like Grookey!” Grookey seemed to emphasize the point by jabbing Hop in the ear with its stick. Hop cringed and gently pushed the stick away from his head.

“Good! I’m starved. I’ll get the barbecue goin’, what you think?” Leon asked, slapping a hand to his stomach. He had handed his Scorbunny off to Charizard, who was doing its best to keep his tail flame away from the curious little Pokémon.

“Yes, please!” Hop begged. “I’ll go tell Mum and Dad!”

“Sounds good, I’ll get the grill goin’,” Leon said.

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

Another jab to the neck and Hop finally lost his patience. He gently removed the Grookey from his shoulders and set it to the ground. He blocked its advances to get back on him. “Look you,” he said, “you’re cute, but that stick bloody hurts. Stay off my shoulders or stop jabbin’ me, would you?”

It huffed at him and prodded his Wooloo laying next to them. They were outside still and had gathered beneath the shade of the big tree next to the shallow pond. Away from everyone else, Hop enjoyed talking to Wooloo, so he decided the best way to start off his relationship with his new partner would be to talk to it as well. Wooloo was less than affected by Grookey’s jabs. Her thick layer of wool meant the stick barely fazed her. She looked as unaware as ever.

“You know, it’s so weird havin’ Leon over,” Hop said, petting Wooloo’s head gently. He glanced past the two Pokémon over at his brother. He was leaned over the grill. He had begrudgingly removed his cape to prevent it from getting caught in the grill’s stray flames and had even pulled his hair back. A few people were gathered around him and Charizard was laying nearby, lazily flicking its tail to keep Leon’s Scorbunny busy. It appeared to be dozing off on occasion, but every time it did that, its tail would fall flat against the ground, and Scorbunny would seize the chance to land directly on it. In turn, Charizard would jolt awake, causing its tail to lash and throwing Scorbunny from on top of it. Scorbunny must have seen it as a game since it kept coming back.

Hop kind of wished he could have been over there talking to Leon, but some reservation kept him planted in place with his two Pokémon. He always found it hard to talk to Leon whenever it wasn’t private or with just immediate family. Leon had a slightly different persona when others were around and sometimes he could say things that didn’t quite make sense. Hop also couldn’t shake the feeling that he came off as annoying to his brother. Leon had to be dealing with people constantly, all day, every day; having your irritating little brother at your side constantly begging for attention probably wasn’t very fun.

He jumped as Gloria sat down next to him. “Oh, h-hey, Gloria!” he stammered.

“So, why you think Lee gave us Pokémon, anyway?” she asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Do you think Lee’s goin’ to… endorse us?”

“Shut up!” Hop gasped. “You think he’s goin’ to endorse us?”

“I dunno, really,” Gloria giggled, “but why randomly give us three super rare Galarian-exclusive Pokémon if not to give us a head start on the gym challenge, hmm?”

“You’ve got a good point…” Hop said, rubbing his chin. “Man, I hope he does!”

Gloria fell silent for a moment as she looked over at the grill. “Who even are those people?” she asked about the small throng of people gathered around him.

Hop shrugged. “I’m not sure to be honest. But I’m sure they’re just good friends to him or somethin’.”

Gloria sighed. “Yeah, sounds about right.”

#pokemon #pokemon sword and shield #swsh #pokemon swsh #hop #gloria #leon #grookey #sobble #scorbunny #charizard #pokemon sword #pokemon shield #sword #shield #fanfiction #fanfic #novelization #pokemon retold

4 notes · View notes

sanderssidesfanfiction · 5 years ago

Text

We’ll Carry On - Chapter Twenty Four

We’ll Carry On Tag

General Content Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Substance Abuse, Abandonment, Minor Character Death, Transphobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dissociation, Bullying, Homophobia

July 8th, 2008

Jessica may have only been five years old, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t terrified. Her breathing felt like it was one of those cartoon pumps the characters on the TV would use too fast until it burst, or like it wasn’t happening at all. Her heart was hammering in her chest, as her father glared down at her. “Have you nothing to say for yourself, Jess?” he growled.

Flinching, Jessica tried to explain. “I just...I just wanted to see if I could read like the big kids. And...and the book was too heavy, and I dropped it.”

Her father scoffed. “You can’t read yet, you haven’t even been to kindergarten!”

Jessica wisely didn’t mention she could understand some of the title on the spine. She couldn’t read fluently, but she could read a bit. And she wanted to know what all the books said. But now she had caused a mess, and her dad was mad. So she was going to go back to her room and see if there were any picture books up there with actual words. Maybe she could see if she could read those.

May 5th, 2019

Logan felt incredibly guilty. He couldn’t look Roman in the eye. He hadn’t felt this chastised and this terrified since he had been really little, convinced he was a girl and just wanting to see if he could act like a big kid, only to find out that being a big kid would get him in trouble with his father.

To make matters worse, when Dad came into the room to get food for Roman, he didn’t glare at Logan, or make him feel like he was the scum of the earth in any way. Even Ami, who was the designated Logan-watcher this morning, wasn’t giving him anything more than the occasional neutral glance. He deserved worse. He forced Roman to admit his mom had died. He had forced him to say that in front of the entire family. And now Roman was on the edge of dissociating, listing sideways over the edge of reality into the unknown flashbacks Logan couldn’t even pretend to understand.

Logan thought he might get sick. He finished the last bites of cereal he had been working on, and then promptly stood up, heading to his bedroom. He didn’t look back, forcing himself to not check on Roman and make the situation worse. He just walked up to his room, closed the door behind him and locking it.

He sat down on his bed, grabbing his phone, which had been charging overnight. He thought he might get sick when he saw the lockscreen of him and Roman posing around Jack, who was laughing in the background. That had been taken the first time Logan had introduced each of them to the other.

Some older brother he had turned out to be. He was expected to be responsible, a role model. Now he’d be lucky if other people said, “Don’t do what your oldest brother does, he only screws things up when he wants to know something.”

Tears stung at his eyes and he focused on evening his breathing. He had problems managing his emotions on a good day. In the heat of the moment? Either his emotions shut off entirely or they overwhelmed him to the point of drowning.

A patient knock started up outside the door. Logan closed his eyes and took off his glasses, forcing his breathing to stay regular as he called out, “Not now, Dad.”

“Logan, we have to talk,” Dad said, his voice muffled but holding no room for argument.

“When we’re both calm,” Logan said, throwing Dad’s words back in his face. “I’m not, right now.”

“At least unlock the door?” Dad asked.

Logan swiped at his cheeks and took a deep breath. “Do you promise to not come in without my permission?”

“Of course,” Dad said.

Logan walked over to the door and unlocked it, and cracked it open a couple inches. He knew he looked absolutely miserable. “Give me fifteen?” he asked. “I just need...just need fifteen.”

“Logan...” Dad stopped. Nodded. “Yeah, okay. We’ll talk in fifteen minutes.”

Logan closed the door and collapsed back on his bed, unsure as to what he should do to try and calm down. Tumblr probably wasn’t a good option. And he didn’t want to read today. And he had finished all his homework already. He curled in on himself on the bed, and closed his eyes.

He only realized he fell asleep when he woke up to the doorknob turning. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, seeing Roman standing in the doorway. “Hey,” Roman said softly. “Didn’t mean to wake you. Dad said you fell asleep.”

“Just as well,” Logan said. “I can’t sleep all day every day.” He checked his phone. “And it’s been half an hour.”

Roman shifted on his feet. “Can I come in?” he asked.

Logan nodded, and Roman came in, closed the door, and climbed onto Logan’s bed with him. “Dad and Ami told me what happened last night once they were sure I wasn’t going to dissociate again. Dad thinks I might have PTSD.”

“You saw your mom die, I would be surprised if you didn’t,” Logan said softly. “I’m sorry, Roman.”

Roman sighed, leaning his head on Logan’s shoulder. “I know you are. And I wanted to be mad with you. That was something I wanted to keep to myself. But I’m not.”

Logan looked down at him. “You’re not?”

“Well, I’m a little annoyed,” Roman allowed. “But you wanted to know what was going on. You wanted to make sure I was okay. Because I know once you knew you would be researching techniques to help me cope. That’s just who you are. You operate mostly on logic, rather than emotions. So while emotions might have told you to bide your time, and wait until I was willing to share, your logic was telling you that earlier treatment meant earlier recovery.”

Logan sighed. “You’re too nice, too forgiving. I traumatized you.”

“You made me dissociate a little bit, and let the adults know that I wasn’t okay. I’m not gonna hate you for that, Logan.”

“Why not?” Logan asked. “Roman, I actively pushed you, knowing that the subject wasn’t something you might want to talk about.”

“Logan, you need to shut up sometimes and just think about what other people are saying to you,” Roman said. “I don’t hate you. I’m not mad at you. You made a mistake. It’s not the end of the world.”

The words refused to sink in. “But why?” Logan asked. “Why isn’t it the end of the world?”

Roman pulled back and looked at him, nose scrunched up. “Because everyone in this house is a decent person?” he said, voice rising like a question at the end. “Do you honestly think Dad and Ami would punish you by...say...denying you access to Hormone Replacement Therapy just because you made a stupid mistake?”

Logan paled. Roman rolled his eyes. “Lo, they’re not gonna do that! They know that getting testosterone is a big deal for you, and they’re gonna help you get it at the start of summer! My point is that they won’t kick you out, or deny you something you need, just because you screw up! You can’t hold basic needs or assistance for health issues hostage just because your kid did something you didn’t like. That’s not how any of this works.”

“That’s how it used to be,” Logan said softly. “Finish my homework in order to get dinner, only getting positive attention if I got all A’s in school. I’m fortunate that I always enjoyed learning and it came naturally to me. Otherwise I might have lost my mind.”

Roman stared at him a long time, before he quietly said, “That’s messed up, Logan.”

Logan shrugged off Roman’s concern. “You saw your mom die and you were abused in your foster home. Patton and Virgil’s step-father was an alcoholic. No one knows how bad Dee’s home situation might have been except Dad and Ami, and they refuse to share. My home life wasn’t the greatest, but I’m in no position to complain.”

“That’s not how that...you know what? No. I’m not gonna try and logic you through this,” Roman said. He grabbed Logan’s cheeks, and brought their foreheads together. “If your parents were bad people, you can absolutely complain about them. No matter anyone else’s hardships. Your parents kicked you out because you wanted to go by Logan. They sucked. You’re allowed to complain, you’re allowed to be traumatized. Your parents held basic human needs for ransom. They were not good parents. Full stop.”

Logan blinked once. Twice. Opened his mouth and said, “My mother wasn’t that bad. It was mostly my father’s idea to do that stuff.”

“Your mother is complicit in the whole thing!” Roman exclaimed, leaning back and throwing his hands up in the air. “Logan, no one likes to admit their parents hurt them. But your parents hurt you. Considering the way you freaked out after you screwed up, there’s no question.”

“Wow, thanks,” Logan said, before turning and sighing, pinching his nose. “I’m really sorry, Roman.”

“I know you are, Logan,” Roman said. “No need to get hung up on it, all right? I forgive you. We can still work together with the gremlins to save for a dog. And I’m not going to stop talking to you. And Dad and Ami won’t deny you anything that you can’t live without, even if they decide to ground you. Which I doubt they will. Hearing them talk earlier, they know you’re beating yourself up enough.”

“I did traumatize you,” Logan pointed out.

Roman rolled his eyes. “You didn’t traumatize me. At best, you re-traumatized me. And that’s a stretch. You found one of my triggers. I didn’t even know I had it, so in a way you helped me.”

Logan frowned. “How could I help you?”

“Well, there are lots of topics they go over in Health class, one of those being family, and from what I hear, there’s an abuse unit. Knowing that I can’t handle talk of abandonment might help, because instead of dissociating in the middle of class, I can be excused,” Roman explained. “Not to mention, you know, now everybody knows not to talk about my mom around me unless I’m properly prepared beforehand.”

“But the downsides—”

“—Do not outweigh the upsides,” Roman said firmly. “Don’t beat yourself up over this, all right? You made a mistake. You learn from it. You move on. It’s not always simple, but it’s always possible.”

Logan nodded but felt his cheeks heat up anyway. He knew he wasn’t going to forgive himself for this for a while.

Roman seemed to sense that too, because he asked, “Do you really want to make me happy, Logan?” he asked.

“Of course,” Logan said.

“Just...promise me that if you go to a party, you don’t drive home drunk, all right? You can be drunk, I’ll just avoid you for the most part until you’re sober or I’m comfortable around you again. But...but don’t drive drunk, okay? Have a designated driver, or be the designated driver. I know you can’t trust everyone to not drive home drunk, but make the effort to avoid doing it yourself? The guy who hit my mom’s car and...and hurt her? He was maybe twenty years old. I don’t want you risking throwing away your life because of manslaughter charges, and DUI charges. And I don’t want anyone to get hurt on the road like that again if I can help make a difference.” Roman worked his hands. “I know you and Jack have talked about going to parties next year, when you’re both juniors, and I just...don’t want you to take that risk. Promise me you won’t drive drunk.”

“Yeah, I promise, Roman,” Logan said softly. “I would never drive drunk.”

“Then we’re good,” Roman said. “You don’t need to beat yourself up over it, you can just work on feeling better the same as I am. We both have our own issues to work through. Maybe we can help each other with some of them. Maybe not. But no matter what, I’m never going to hate you, or resent you, or want you gone so long as you try, all right? All I’m asking is that you try.”

“I can try,” Logan confirmed. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get better, even if I can never be at one-hundred percent. The last thing I want to do is let you or myself down.”

“And probably avoid letting down Ami and Dad as well,” Roman pointed out.

Logan laughed. “Yeah, good point.”

Dad knocked at the door and both boys looked up. “Are you two better?” Dad asked.

“Not one hundred percent, maybe, but we’re getting there,” Roman said.

Logan murmured his agreement. “I might need a little while to forgive myself, but I’m not going to actively destroy myself over this, not anymore.”

“Good,” Dad said with a slight smile. “The younger ones were thinking about playing some games in the backyard, if you want to join them?”

“Yeah!” Roman exclaimed, jumping up and dashing out of the room.

Logan and Dad followed at a slower pace. “Am I still in trouble?” he asked.

“It sounds like you and Roman are working things out between the two of you, and you were punishing yourself enough, so no, you’re not in trouble, unless you consider extra care and a little bit of a closer watch in trouble.”

Logan shrugged. “The watch might make me uneasy, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“Good,” Dad said. “And Logan...if you ever want to talk about your mother and your ex-father...we’re here for you.”

Logan smiled softly. “Thank you.”

#we'll carry on #sanders sides fanfiction #logan sanders #roman sanders #our creations #danger gays

11 notes · View notes

a-fluffer-nutter · 6 years ago

Text

Planet Earth

A/N - Hey y’all, here is a fic I really loved writing for @funficsandstories birthday! Sorry this was a bit late, but I hope you love the fic as much as I do! Happy birthday and I hope everyone has a great day!

Word Count: 1,793

“Planet Earth, again?” John walked into the room, waving away the pungent scent of marijuana from his nose. It was three in the morning, elephants walked across the TV screen, trumpeting at each other as John’s flat mate stared intensely at them. The room was pitch black apart from the television, candy wrappers and opened Tupperware blanketed the floor.

“It’s the best…” Sherlock’s voice trailed into something unintelligible, his eyes unblinking, a reddish tint haloing his irises.

“You’ve seen this episode five times already,” John rolled his eyes, walking past Sherlock into the kitchen. “What’s so special about this episode?”

“The dude guy died…” Sherlock’s words jumbled together, pointing at the screen as a male rhino mounted a female rhino. The man with the tousled hair and the slurred speech pointed at the screen, a dopey smile drawn onto his face. “Procreation at its finest.”

“How many strains have you had so far?” John asked, holding up the empty container, the lid laying nearby on the floor. John quickly filled a glass full of tap water before walked over to his chair, which was pushed into the corner of the room.

“Not enough.”

“So, I leave you alone for two days and you become a raging pothead, eh?” John decided to sit on the floor beside Sherlock, not keen on waking up the neighbors with the sound of the large chair scratching against the floor. “How about I pull a you for a minute?”

“The brain named itself,” Sherlock let out a short laugh, reaching his hand into a near empty bag of crisps. John laughed to himself, highly amused by Sherlock’s current state, ever quite seeing him like this. Sure, John had seen him high on cocaine plenty of times, but this was different. Instead of his typical serious, yet hyperactive high, Sherlock was currently in a form of transcendence. He seemed to be on another plane of existence, not his mind palace, mind you, but in this delusional state where the real him was locked away and the slower, giggly Sherlock was out to play.

“Judging by the papers strewn around the flat, someone was murdered recently, and you’re determined to find the killer. This person, most likely a man, judging by how you’re performing the experiment on yourself instead of on another person, was high at the time of death, which means he was likely an American,” John stood up, looping around the chair to stare down at Sherlock who finally tore his eyes away from the show, “Anyway, you believe that there is no possible way that someone could be murdered without putting up much of a fight when high, so you are testing every single strain of weed available for testing, as I’m sure that was his drug of choice and you were not able to identify which one he was on when he died,” John paused, nearly breaking his stark composure thanks to Sherlock staring at him wide eyed, his lips slightly parted in awestruck. “All in all, you’ve been testing all the strains you can to see if you can be as immobile as our victim was. You can see which brain activities have been depleted and which pressure points are weaker, I’m sure. So, how is that working for you so far? Learn anything?”

“You sounded like me,” Sherlock said, head cocked to the side, becoming too heavy for his neck to support in this stupor. He lazily reached his arms out and grabbed John’s collar, tugging on it to bring him down to his level. “If you’re so smart, then why am I watching this show?”

“The man’s Netflix history composed of Planet Earth, with this episode being one of the last three he watched. Based on Netflix’s algorithm, he this was the last one he watched, with the very next episode being the one that Netflix shut itself off. You can tell it was this one by the numbness of the content and based on the approximate hour of the murder, the man was mostly likely alone and wanted to be aroused, which is also true thanks to the weed. The rhino sex scene in this episode would provoke a sense of numbing satisfaction and humor, which you are experiencing right now, and would also distract the victim from being snuck up behind.”

“You should take my job,” Sherlock giggled through his words, falling back into his chair, nearly being absorbed into the soft material. “You’re so smart, John.”

“If I am as smart as you think I am, should I help you conduct your experiment?” John asked, the seeds of a devious plan taking root in his brain.

“Is the sun hotter than 10 degrees Kelvin?”

“Um, yes?” John tilted his head in a brief wave of confusion, quickly shaking it off. “So, for your experiment, I’m going to attack you at certain angles and see if you can fight me off. If not, then this may be the strain our victim was smoking before he died. You ready?”

Sherlock nodded, his eyes glittering with a drowsy excitement. He turned back to watch the show, watching a pride of lions prepare for a hunt. John scooped up his glass and set it in the kitchen, mentally preparing himself before initiating his plan, knowing this was quite possibly his only opportunity to have Sherlock in this state ever again. Quietly, he snuck up behind Sherlock, whose body seemed tense, but not as tense as he usually was in his normal state. Quickly, from behind the chair, John struck.

Sherlock instantly dissolved into a giggling mess of a man, his arms folding against his chest, not trying to fight back whatsoever. On the occasion that John had ever tickled Sherlock, the younger man would bite back his laughter at first, taking a lot of provoking to get a laugh out of him, his hands usually going straight for John’s wrists until the dam broke. Once Sherlock did finally start to laugh, he would cover his mouth to hide his laughter, not wanting anyone, including himself, to hear it. This situation was different, much different.

His laughter loud and clear, Sherlock didn’t once try to cover his mouth or even try to fight back the flood breaking loose. Head back, heels digging into the floor, Sherlock simply laughed as John climbed the ladder of ribs to the high ledge of his collarbone. A deep red blush painted Sherlock’s face, one rarely seen by John, though barely visible in the darkness of the night, the gazelle being ruthlessly slaughtered on screen not offering much light. John didn’t even need to tickle him very much, just the mere presence of his fingers against Sherlock’s skin sent the detective up the wall.

“Well, it looks like our victim was probably using this strain,” John let out a low laugh to himself, enjoying himself way too much, but who could possibly blame him? Sherlock was letting loose for one of the first times in his friendship with John, and quite possibly, his entire life. Who wouldn’t enjoy hearing this beautiful composition coming from Sherlock?

“If I can get this one spot, then we will know this is the strain that he was using,” John rolled Sherlock over, which wasn’t too hard, the other man offering no resistance whatsoever. Sherlock lifted his head, turning it ever so slightly so his mouth wasn’t covered by his seat, as if wanting John to hear him laugh. All the tension that was resting on Sherlock’s shoulders had evaporated once he felt John’s fingers gently press against the curvature of the shoulder blades.

John prayed for no one to call the police as Sherlock screamed, his low, contagious laughter filling the flat. His limbs flailed aimlessly as John lightly scratched between the shoulder blades, causing his laughter to go silent, reaching a state of bliss John had only gotten Sherlock to only on other time, though not nearly this quick. It had only taken him mere minutes to get Sherlock to this state this time, a new record John knew he would never beat.

“Alright, Sherlock,” John finally said, stilling his fingers before Sherlock would begin to wheeze, as he had the time before. Sherlock curled into himself, hugging his body weakly, smile still wide on his face. “Time for you to get some sleep.”

“But I’m hungry.”

“Hi hungry, I’m John,” Sherlock let out a soft laugh, an act of pure genuineness that John could barely believe it. It was one thing to force him to laugh, as John had just done, or to make him let out his sympathy laugh, but this was much different, so different that John couldn’t tell if the marijuana induced it or Sherlock had finally broken down his wall enough to let John see this part of him. “That was adorable.”

“You’re adorable.”

“You’re tired.”

“I thought my name was hungry,” John couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of this all.

“Let’s get you to bed,” John said, pulling Sherlock out of his chair, hugging him around the waist to stand him up. “You can watch more Planet Earth tomorrow when you’ve solved the case.”

“But you solved it,” Sherlock replied, stumbling to walk with John, practically being carried to his room. “You’re going to take my job if I’m not careful.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“I’m high.”

“I know that,” John laid Sherlock onto his bed, listening to Sherlock rustle around to find a comfortable position.

“You’re so smart, John,” Sherlock said sincerely, his voice nearly matching his typical tone, throwing John off. “Thanks for being my friend.”

“Of course,” John said, his heart full of wonderful things. “Goodnight, Sherlock.”

“When you empty a vacuum cleaner, you become a vacuum cleaner.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” John muttered to himself as he gently closed the door, knowing that’s all he was going to think about until he fell asleep. On that note, falling asleep seemed like a great idea.

John walked back into the main room, Netflix just about to switch to the next episode of Planet Earth as John switched off the TV. As he went back toward his room, he kicked something very small and hollow. Picking it up, John went back into his room and switched on his light. Eyes burning from the sudden brightness, John strained as he looked at the empty container, a few words scrawled onto a piece of tape wrapped around the middle. Repeating the words over and over, John set the container down on his side table after turning out the lights, knowing exactly what he was going to do in the morning.

John was going to buy more containers of that strain of marijuana for Sherlock to smoke.

#sherlock #bbc sherlock #tickle fic #ticklish!sherlock #johnlock #rose writes

121 notes · View notes

hopeishappinessff · 6 years ago

Text

Holding Onto Hope: Chapter 56.2

Hope

My eyes drooped with the desperate desire to sleep, but the Netflix movie on the screen held my attention too much for me to drift off and risk missing the ending. It was pretty late, well after midnight I was sure, but the glare from the large flat screen TV kept the room perfectly lit which also aided in keeping me awake.

Only hours ago I was a complete hot, blubbering mess teetering on the brink of calling it quits with the father of my child. My goal when I arrived at his mother’s house was to simply discuss with him all that was on my mind and to let him know that I didn’t have any further interest in dating him. It’d been a week since I’d seen or been in contact with him and I thought for sure he was over me, which gave me ample confidence to go and break up with him for good. Sure, the talk I had with my aunt helped me to understand just how much I love and care about him, but it also empowered me to the point that I became determined to stick up for what I believed was right… which was ending my relationship with him. I’d gone as far as coaxing myself into believing that we would be better off co-parenting, with no romantic ties whatsoever.

But, when I arrived at his house with only one mission in mind… my determination faltered the moment he set foot out of his bathroom and I laid eyes on him. He was such a sight to see… a man’s man with the body to show for it. I instantly became mesmerized by his masculine build, because it reminded me of exactly what I had… a protector who loved me and cherished the ground that I walked on and would go to the ends of the earth for me and now for his child. That was a turn on for me… just physically seeing him standing there, exuding the confidence of Captain America, but knowing that behind that exterior he was really the biggest sweetheart with more love to give than Cupid.

At that exact moment, I knew there was no way I could end things with him. I loved him more than I could ever fully understand or explain and I wasn’t willing to let that go just because I was basically in my feelings over a night out with his boys. Hell, I was the one who talked him into going. Of course, I wasn’t expecting him to come home with some female’s number and tits in his phone, but I deeply regretted not giving him the opportunity to explain to me what’d happened. The thing about Chris was that he had certainly done a few things in his past to make me lose all trust in him, but I couldn’t recall a time when he’d blatantly lied to me. He may not have always been open about his extracurricular activities, but if ever confronted about any of it he was always painfully honest.

“What are you thinking about?” I’d become lost in my thoughts and nearly flinched at the sound and feeling of his voice vibrating through his chest as he spoke. I was curled against his side, in his bed, watching the Netflix movie. I wasn’t even intending to stay here with him, let alone get comfortable enough to want to call it a night right here at his side after the movie was over. Yet, here I was nestled contentedly at his side and I was completely satisfied.

“Nothing…” I muttered in the midst of a yawn.

Chris stayed quiet, though I could still feel his stare piercing the top of my head. And he was probably going to remain in that stance until I actually looked at him and really addressed what was on my mind.

Tilting my head back to get a good look at him, I frowned at the sight of his scratched face. I couldn’t see the scratch that I left on the side of his neck, but the one on his right cheek was bright pink now after I’d demanded that he let me clean it before we climbed into bed. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do for the darkening bruise beneath his left eye. I cringed at the sight of it and the minor swelling… I couldn’t believe I’d allowed myself to get so angry that I actually put my hands on him and Lord knows I never thought I could cause this much damage to a man twice my size. There was an ice pack on the night stand beside his bed, but he had yet to apply it to his eye, even after I fussed about him needing it to at least make the swelling go down.

“You’re entirely too pretty to have your face all scratched and bruised like that… I’m so sorry Charlie.”

He cracked the most handsome smile and shook his head “I probably deserved to have my whole ass beat, honestly.”

With a soft chuckle, I meshed my head against the side of his chest momentarily before looking back up at him “No, you don’t deserve that. Don’t say that.”

His eyes stayed on me… they roamed every inch of my face as if he were trying to read me and eventually his hard stare made me blush and I looked away.

“Hey,” With a sigh, I craned my neck to look back up at him, “I don’t think you should ever physically discipline baby girl. You hit hard as shit.”

I couldn’t contain my laughter at that point as I buried my face against his chest and trembled from laughing so hard.

“I really thought you were gonna say something serious.” I cackled.

“I’m serious though.” He chuckled.

“I can’t see myself being the type of parent to really discipline my child anyway.” I said once my laughter calmed down.

“You never got whooping’s when you were a kid?”

I shook my head with it still pressed snuggly against him “No, no whooping’s or punishments or anything like that.”

He smacked his lips playfully and huffed “I mean I guess I get why… you were like the perfect child. Little golden girl… ain’t even wanna get down and dirty in the dirt and mud with us whenever you would come over to play. Just you and Dez off in the cut playing with baby dolls and shit.”

And just when I thought I would get a break from all the laughter, he had me rolling again and praying that I wouldn’t pee right in the bed.

“Oh shut up, I was not a little golden girl.”

“Yes you were! Literally and figuratively.”

“Whatever,” I giggled, “So does that mean you don’t want your daughter to be a girly girl?”

He didn’t say anything for a while and I looked up to see him stroking the hairs sprouting from his chin with his eyes squinted thoughtfully at the TV “Not necessarily a girly girl. Like, I still want her to be able to have a nice balanced relationship with Jaylen where she can feel comfortable playing with him in like, unisex activities. But I don’t mind the thought of seeing little plastic heels, and Barbie’s, and little princess dresses all over the place. I wanna be able to spoil him with all the shit I liked as a kid… the hot wheels, the nerf guns, the game stations and all that. But since she’s gonna be a daddy’s girl, that automatically means she’s gonna be a spoiled princess.”

My brows were furrowed by the end of his speech and I frowned “Who said my baby is gonna be a daddy’s girl?”

With a crooked smile, he turned his attention back to me “She will be… trust me.”

I rolled my eyes playfully and planted my right hand against his hard chest, right over the exact space he’d permanently etched my name… right over his heart “Are you ready to meet her?”

As usual, I could feel his stare already on me and of course I kept my eyes on the tip of my index finger as it swirled around my name because I had yet to get used to those intense eyes “I don’t know if I’ve been more ready for something in my entire life.”

His voice was so gentle and reassuring, which made me feel good and I smiled “Me too. But… I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous.”

For whatever reason, I could feel his body tensing beneath me and with a quick glance up at him, I could see that he was already looking at me with a hint of concern in his eyes “Nervous about what?”

“I don’t know… I’ve never been a mom before. I’ve never experienced this whole process, you know…” “But you know you’re gonna be amazing though, right?” He spoke softly and the sound of his voice alone ignited the butterflies in my belly. And to think this was the same man I was ready to call it quits with just hours ago.

Of course, it took a while and I was out of breath halfway through, but with Chris’s help I pushed myself up into an upright position. I sat Indian style, because it was the most comfortable position for me, and used my right hand to rub gentle circles around the front of my belly.

“And how do you know that?”

“That you’re gonna be amazing?” He asked and I nodded to confirm, “Because you’re an amazing person already. I mean, look at all the stupid shit I’ve ever done since I met you. Even before our relationship started, like just when we were friends, you’ve always been there to take care of me. I don’t know… you’re just an obvious natural nurturer. Not to mention, the first time I ever witnessed you interact with Jaylen I instantly knew I wanted to knock you up.”

“What?” I cocked a brow curiously and laughed, “Why would you say that?”

“Because man,” He chuckled and rested his hands against his stomach, casually linking his fingers together “I really wanted you to be his mother… like, forreal. But obviously that couldn’t happen, so the next option was to get you pregnant.”

“And that meant you were okay with the idea of having two children?”

He nodded and eyed me closely with a smirk “You thought I was joking when we was gettin’ it in at your dad’s house on Thanksgiving night… and I told you I wanted you to have my babies? I was dead ass.”

“Well clearly.” I snorted, glancing down at my three sizes too big belly to emphasize just how ‘dead ass’ he was.

The smirk remained on his face, even as he bit down into the center of his bottom lip and eyed my belly “And I don’t know how normal it is to feel this way… but I swear I can get hard just sitting here looking at you so… pregnant. It’s really a major turn-on.”

“It actually is some type of fetish to be turned on by pregnant women. I’ve even heard that sex is on a whole different level with a pregnant woman.”

He didn’t respond to what I’d said, but I noticed the way his eyes danced around my belly a bit longer before sluggishly raising up to my breasts where they stalled for a few seconds, then finally landed on my lips. He’d dropped his smirk and now wore a somber expression and his jaw clenched every few seconds. I didn’t want to be caught staring for too long, but I honestly couldn’t help myself. I was even anticipating him making a move, just by the way he was looking at me, but he didn’t. My mind drifted briefly to what he’d said about getting hard just from looking at me, so naturally my eyes drifted down toward his crotch, but I quickly discovered that his comforter was pulled up over it and shifted my gaze to the TV before he caught my wondering eyes…

“It’s hard.”

I guess I failed to look away fast enough. I was caught and in that moment, I had two options… I could either pretend like I hadn’t heard him because he’d spoken so low that I barely did, or I could face him and acknowledge that I had indeed heard him… loud and clear.

Because my curiosity got the best of me, I found myself staring at him but instead of looking back at me, he was looking down at his lap which I guess he could see clearly from his angle.

“You wanna see?” He asked, suddenly shifting his gaze to me with a mischievous smirk.

“You’re bad.” I giggled softly, though that was only the surface… inside, my heart was pounding and of course the butterflies were in the middle of their ritual. His brashness had my nerves all over the place and the same look that was in his eyes in the water the day we had the maternity shoot… it was there now. I couldn’t even see his hands anymore at this point. I knew one of his favorite pastimes was to lounge with a hand tucked into the waistband of his shorts, but in this particular hormonally charged scenario… I had no clue where they were.

“You know when I went out with the boys last weekend, you were the only thing I could think about… you and those huge jugs,” He smiled and I shook my head and laughed, “I was so fucking horny.”

“You were huh? Probably because of your new little friend you met at the club, don’t ya think?”

He shook his head slowly and swiped his tongue out over his bottom lip, then wedged his teeth into the skin of it “No… honestly, I couldn’t stop thinking about how sweet your pussy tasted.”

The room suddenly became unbearably hot in that instant and my cheeks became even hotter. Even the tips of my ears were burning with bashfulness, so I dropped my longing gaze from him because I couldn’t take it anymore. The moment my eyes dropped to the surface of the bed, I could feel him shifting abruptly away from the bed. His footsteps padded lightly from his side around to mine and suddenly I could feel his body heat directly behind me because my back was facing the edge.

“You gone let me taste it again?’ He was so ridiculously close to my right ear, but not quite touching… I shivered from the feeling of his warm breath against my skin alone. Ever so lightly, he leaned in closer and pressed his lips against the skin beneath my ear and I shut my eyes and sighed. What has gotten into him I thought as he pressed his lips against my skin once more and slowly dragged them from the tingling space beneath my ear to the right side of my jawline. He lingered there, deathly close to my lips, and stared at the side of my face with no remorse.

“I think I have a pregnant pussy fetish… and I haven’t even been in it yet.” Well if my panties weren’t wet before, they were surely soaking now… I could only hope that when I moved from this spot on his bed there wasn’t a puddle under me. His lips made their way to my skin again, the skin of my jaw, and he pressed them against me until he was finally hovering over the corner of my mouth. The slightest turn of my head would send my lips crashing into his, and that’s clearly what he wanted… so I turned my head. He was already prepared for me and before I knew it, his sweet pecks became hungry lip smacking. His tongue slithered with precision and I moaned into his mouth, relishing in the feeling of that appendage roaming the inside of my mouth with familiarity. I could feel his left-hand tangling with the base of my neck, creeping up until he caught a hefty handful of the hair in my bun. With no real desire to pull away from this kiss, Chris tugged my head back and reluctantly removed his lips from mine only to shift them down to the side of my neck now that it was fully exposed.

He made out with my neck for a while, swirling his tongue ‘round and ‘round against my scorching skin and suckling here and there to mark his territory. I wore a t-shirt that once belonged to him and barely did much to cover the bottom of my stomach, and I wore it with no bra, which he seemed to quickly figure out while his lips remained one with my neck. His hands eased down to my chest and he cupped both breasts through the material of the shirt. The feeling of it, plus his fingers rubbing against my nipples left me floating mercilessly on cloud nine. My eyes were closed, I was actually floating, or at least that’s what it felt like anyway, and I was moaning enough to get us caught because at this point his mom was fast asleep in her room just up the hall. But he didn’t seem to care… he was too occupied with pulling the hem of the shirt up over my belly. I raised my arms at the last minute to help him pull the fabric off swiftly and he did, but stopped abruptly. He was behind me, still deathly close, but I couldn’t see him… I could only hear his harsh breath.

“Lay back.” The husky sound of his voice… it made me melt. I did what I was told, feeling the palms of his hands against the top of my back to help me as I maneuvered myself down onto my back. He made sure that I was comfortable and that my head wasn’t dangling off the side of the bed, before leaning forward over me and enveloping my right nipple in his mouth. Something about my breasts seemed to be a turn on for him… I could tell that just by the way he groaned against me the moment he had it in his mouth.

The feeling of his tongue swirling around my sensitive nipple like a lollipop had me gripping desperately at his sides, since he was hovering halfway over my face. He sucked and licked and nipped for what felt like forever as his left hand fondled with the nipple of my left breast. I clung to him with my eyes shut, really focusing on keeping quiet because I couldn’t imagine having to explain to Ms. Joyce what was going on in here. Tonight would be a task, I was sure, because it didn’t really matter what the circumstances were… Chris knew what he liked, and that was to actually hear how much I liked what he was doing to me. He shifted his mouth over to my left breast, certainly not forgetting to toy with the right nipple as his tongue flicked against me. Impulsively, because his chest was indeed right over my face, I pulled him closer to me and craned my neck to press my lips against his skin. I kissed him in a few different spots , then swiped my tongue out against him and finally flicked it over his nipple. His body jerked lightly with surprise and I smirked… I still wasn’t sure how he was obviously very horny, but not expecting any type of pleasure in return. For whatever reason, it was clear that his sex drive was through the roof lately… but he wouldn’t take it any further than pleasing me. It’s almost like he got a kick out of seeing me writhe with intense pleasure… like he got off on seeing me get off.

I became so enthralled with leaving my love marks all over his colorful chest, I hadn’t even noticed that he had shifted from my breasts and he somehow managed to get my shorts and panties halfway down my thighs. He had me distracted with his smooth motions and his focus, so I momentarily forgot all about his hovering chest while I watched him somehow pull the shorts and panties all the way down my legs until they were completely off.

I didn’t know if I could ever really get used being completely nude under Chris’s intense stare, especially with the bright screen of his oversized television lighting up the entire room. There was nothing left to the imagination… my body was his to scrutinize, but he never failed to make me feel like anything less than a goddess with the way he looked at me. The tips of his fingers roamed from the sides of my hips to the taut skin of my stomach. He slithered them along the edges of my stomach to the sides of my breasts, where he lingered for a moment before gliding them up my chest and finally to each side of my face. I was still upside down and gawking at him, oddly with my eyes crossing because he was slowly closing in on my mouth. My eyes shut just as he connected and we simultaneously groaned against each other as he laid a kiss more beautiful than Spiderman and Mary Jane’s on me.

I felt like I could stay in that position with his lips fully connected to mine in the most sensual of ways for the rest of my life, but he had very different plans. After a few more earth-shattering seconds, he pulled away and started the trail back down all over again. First stop was my breasts, right first then the left, then he left a trail of wet kisses right down the center of my belly, then finally he ended his assault right at the center of my parted thighs. I gasped the moment his tongue connected… he slithered it out and flicked it right over my throbbing clit teasingly. Then he flicked again, and again, and again… but he never did more than that. He was killing me slowly was what he was doing… I hated to be teased and he knew that. He also knew that I was completely at his mercy and he used that to his advantage.

Suddenly I could feel his fingers against me, pushing my lips aside to give himself a clear path to exactly where he needed to go. Again, he flicked only the tip of his tongue, only this time he let it linger before gliding it down to my opening. I could feel it rolling down right into me like a dog preparing to lap up a fresh bowl of water. He bobbed his head up and down several times, dipping in and out of me like a small penis. The feeling had me clenching around his tongue and him burying his fingers into the skin of my thighs.

Eventually he made his way back up to my clit and from there… he slurped it right into his mouth and wagged his tongue back and forth until I could barely breathe. I tried hard to keep as quiet as I could for the sake of not getting caught, but his precision and skill were truly blowing my mind. When it came to his sexuality, Chris wasn’t shy or sloppy at all. His aim was always to please and I could almost feel the concentration radiating from him as he worked to make me pass out. He was very strategic with his craft and the only thing I could really think as I lay there with his crotch hovering right over my face was how much I hoped other girls were able to experience something as phenomenal as this at some point in their lives, but not with this one… this one, and his tongue, were all mine.

I would have laughed at my own crude thoughts had I not been so consumed with Chris who was on an obvious mission to consume me. Instead, I zoned in on what was in my face… his crotch. There was no way I could let him lift me to the highest peak of cloud nine for the second time and not return the favor, so with the nastiest desire to make him feel amazing… I reached out for the elastic band of his basketball shorts.

As expected, he froze almost immediately from the feeling of my fingertips grazing against his bare torso and I could feel him peering down at me. I didn’t let his wondering eyes deter me though… I maintained my focus as I tugged at his shorts until they were halfway down his thighs. As if I were sitting at the dinner table waiting to be served a succulent meal, my mouth watered at the sight of his erection bulging literally halfway out of his boxers. It’d been entirely too long since I’d been up close and personal with the thing and oh my, was it a sight to see.

Smiling mischievously, I glanced down at him only to find him gawking right at me, then reached for the elastic of his briefs to yank them down and out of the way. His raging penis literally popped right out at me, narrowly missing my forehead as it wobbled into position… aiming directly at me.

“You weren’t gonna do anything about this?” I asked, eyeing him momentarily. He didn’t say a word, didn’t even move a muscle as he continued to stare at me through those piercing eyes. I giggled, seductively, and refocused my attention on him… all of him. My right hand reached forward to grab ahold of his shaft and I was simply amazed by its warmth and weight in my hand. I really felt like I could lay there all night analyzing every single inch of it, but clearly we were both entirely too aroused for that. so without wasting another second… I eased forward and widened my mouth over the tip.

He grunted cutely and I could feel his legs tensing beneath my grasp, which obviously meant he was just as sensitive as I in this moment and I knew it wouldn’t take much longer for either of us to reach our peaks. With my lips still latched only around the tip, I swirled my tongue around it a few times and slowly inched forward to introduce more of him to my mouth. He hissed and remained still above me, watching my every move. It felt good to be in control… to have him under a spell from my touch alone.

“I don’t think I told you to stop.” I slid him out of my mouth with a pop and glared at him, just as stunned by my own daring statement as he looked. See, with the way these hormones were set up and the extremely compromising position we were in… he should have been lucky I hadn’t wrapped my legs around his head and locked him into position at this point.

“Feisty tonight?” He muttered just before I smirked and slid him back into my mouth, “Fuck.”

Again, he continued to sit there for a few seconds intrigued by my actions, before he finally snapped out of it and buried his face back in my gushing center. I would never admit it to him, but in that moment I came so close to snapping my mouth, and teeth, shut around him because the urge to bite into my bottom lip hit me hard as soon as his mouth connected with my clit. I didn’t know how good of an idea it was to engage in this position, knowing just how horny we both were… but Lord knows I wouldn’t stop him or his assault on my entire vagina.

In my mind, I felt like I had a couple of points to prove to him. For one, I felt compelled to please him to the best of my abilities because lately he’d been making it all about me. I was determined to make him feel so good that his knees literally gave out. And two, most importantly… I felt like I needed to make sure he knew that I was his one and only. I was territorial with Chris. Perhaps I didn’t show it as much as he did with me, but I could feel the boiling pot stirring within when he explained that there was some girl all over him when he went out with the boys. Sure he’d thoroughly explained his truth to me and we literally hashed it out and moved on, but I hadn’t fully come to terms with the thought of any other female touching him but me.

I slurped him in and out of my mouth with a vengeance and my God did it turn me on more than I ever could have imagined when I felt and heard him pull his mouth away from me occasionally to express his gratitude. He often groaned right against me and that combined with the feeling of him flexing his hips forward reflexively, wedging his length further into my mouth, had me convulsing in his grasp. That was only my first orgasm of the night and I struggled to keep it together so that I could get him to his.

Keeping my mouth formed into an air tight suction, I raised both hands and rotated them up and down along his shaft because there was no way I could fit all of him into my mouth. There was spit and precum drizzling along the sides of my cheeks, but the sloppiness of it all only fueled me and turned me on more.

“Shiiiiiiiiiiit! Uhhhhhhh… fuck Sy’Diyah!’ Chris groaned like a mad man. He was close, I could tell that just by the way he cursed like a sailor and pumped himself harder into my mouth and fists. Eventually I had to shut my eyes and really focus on not gagging… even with my hands in placed to keep him from choking me to death, he still managed to deep throat me a few times and I, somehow, managed to not die every time he did it. I moaned just as loud as he and temporarily forgot that we were in his mother’s house or even still on this planet at this point. Suddenly I could feel two of his fingers probing at my opening and I couldn’t do much more than moan and take it because he had me locked in position. Those fingers slithered inside and quickly moved in synch with his tongue to get me to my peak. Moaning loudly with him still buried in my mouth, I swiftly popped him out and used my right hand to continue to jerk him as I leaned up and suckled his balls into my mouth. He continued to push his fingers in and out of me and his tongue lashed like crazy against my clit. Not a drop of my juices went unnoticed… he made sure to lap up everything I had to offer.

“God Chris!’ I squealed, praying I wouldn’t break the skin beneath my bottom lip by biting into it too hard. That was it… we were going to get caught, I just knew it. This boy had me so wide open, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut even if I tried.

Suddenly and with not even a millisecond of warning, the huskiest, sexiest, most beautiful sounding groan rolled from his mouth followed by a guttural “Fuck!” and as I became distracted by the sound of him expressing just how good he felt, I felt a warm thick liquid hit me smack dab in the center of my face. With a half gasp, half moan I looked up and jerked my head to the right just as another stream of cum flew directly at my face. This time I got hit in my left cheek with it, but I couldn’t even properly fuss at him for it. He seemed to have lost his mind in the ensuing seconds and I damn near clenched my thighs right around his neck when I felt his tongue skip my vagina altogether… this boy stuck his tongue right between my butt cheeks! He literally clamped his hands down on my cheeks, spread them wide, and dove right into the foreign territory. I wanted to be upset, disgusted, and turned off… but my God did it feel good!

He was clearly riding the powerful waves of his orgasm and at the highest peak of pleasure, because now he wasn’t even thinking… he was just going crazy. He slurped around, in there, nearly wedging his tongue right into my asshole, but then he suddenly leaned back up and yanked himself off me. He shifted himself completely away from the bed, leaving me panting with my head dangling from the edge as I used my hands to wipe his children off my face and onto his comforter. I couldn’t quite register what he was doing or where he’d even gone, but again… he didn’t give me more than a second to figure it out before I felt his mouth engulf my entire vagina all over again. Of course, I couldn’t see past my huge belly, but I quickly figured out that he’d moved around to the other side of the bed to face me head on. I wasn’t even sure if he walked, ran, or jumped over the bed but he swiftly latched his hands onto my thighs and yanked me down to the edge of the bed.

I was speaking some kind of gibberish at this point and clutching desperately at my breasts with my thighs hanging over his broad shoulders. Was this boy trying to bury his entire head in my vagina… because that’s surely what it seemed like. Once upon a time my fingers were busy fondling my nipples, but that was over the moment he extended his arms up and snatched my wrists down. His hands gripped onto mine and after a while, I understood exactly why… the last time we were in this very position, he pushed me into what felt like another galaxy. This time… he was attempting to push me to the brink of death.

“Chris… Chris… please…” I chanted softly, because eventually when a man is laying more pleasure on your body than you know how to comprehend… it gets difficult to even find most of your senses along with your ability to speak. It all happened pretty quickly after that… I yanked my legs up from his shoulders and slammed my feet into the front of them instead. I needed to get him away from me now because I could feel the looming orgasm teetering in my near future and if he didn’t stop soon, I was going to die… plain and simple. His tongue reached those unbelievable depths within me, then he snatched it out and swirled it all the way around my vagina… then I came. I squirted, like a fire hydrant, and trembled like I was having a full blown seizure. I wanted so desperately to toss my hands up into my hair and yank it right out of my own head, but he still had my arms locked down while he continued to swirl his tongue around until he lapped up every drop.

For a moment he released my right hand, only so he could use the fingers of his left hand to spread my lips to give him ample space to continue on, but I quickly latched my hand onto the curls at the top of his head and tried to snatch him away. That only resulted in him grunting harshly and moving his hand right back up to yank my hand out of his hair then slamming it down on the mattress beside me. And he kept up his assault, again making his way back down between my cheeks, which admittedly so… made me feel so self-conscious. I’d never had anyone that intimately close to my butt, but it was something about the way that Chris flicked his tongue back and forth like a pro and simultaneously rotated his thumb against my clit that had me squirting, once again, right in his mouth. The only thing left for me to do was slam my eyes shut and squeeze them… it was insane what he was doing to my body.

“Shit.” He muttered, lips still planted firmly against me. It was as if he couldn’t bring himself to move his face… like, he seemed to be stuck right there with his mouth intact with me.

Three orgasms in one session, two within minutes of each other, and none of it involving sex. As I laid there staring up at the dark ceiling, attempting to regain my strength and catch my breath… I couldn’t help but wonder what sex would be like with him again. In all honesty, I was almost afraid of the thought of going that far with him. After almost a full year of pint up energy and sexual tension, I imagined him quite frankly blacking out on me right in the middle of the act. It nearly happened just a few minutes ago… he lost himself, but not enough to actually hurt me. But in the midst of actual sex… I couldn’t fathom how he’d act.

“I think I just lost my mind for a minute.” He mumbled, finally pulling back from me. He was still ridiculously close though… I could feel the warmth of his breath tickling against the inside of my thighs.

I didn’t quite have the words to say to him just yet, so I continued to lay there blinking sluggishly because I was completely drained at this point.

“Hope?” His voice was so soft and didn’t even seem like it would come from the savage that was here just a second ago.

“Hmm?”

“You good?”

Smirking with a shake of my head, I licked my dry lips and sighed “Honestly… no.”

He snickered quietly and shifted from the floor to the bed and I shut my eyes when I felt the bed dipping from his weight beside me. I didn’t even know if I could face this man after what he’d just done to me.

“What’s wrong?” Oh how sweet… he sounded so concerned after he’d just literally tried to eat me alive.

“I just… I can’t…”

“You can’t what?” I could hear the smile in his voice, but I still refused to look at him.

“Just… go to sleep Chris.”

He full out laughed at that point and snuggled himself close to me, gliding one hand against the top of my belly while the other lingered over my head and toyed with my hair. He pressed his lips lovingly against the side of my jaw and just before I dozed off, because I was just that exhausted… I frowned at the feeling of his newest erection tapping at the side of my thigh.

#chrisbrown #chrisbrownff #chrisbrownfanfic #jasminesanders #chrisbrownfanfiction #jasminesandersff #teambreezy #teambreezyff #fanfiction #fanfic

12 notes · View notes