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echos-newlegs · 3 years

Note

Hi love! Can we get 28 with Hunter? ❤️

Dancing Around

Yes, wait I actually have a cute idea for this one ohmyfforce- but you didn’t give me a gender so I did femish!reader. Hope that’s okay— I am so sorry if this is trash. I dunno how to write Hunter, apparently 🧑🏼‍🦯

Hunter x Reader: “Kriff you’re hot..”

Warnings: Language, probably. I cuss a lot sorry guys 😔

You and the bad batch were sent to a foreign planet to help watch over senator Amidala. She had another attempted assassination against her, and the 501st weren’t available. So she specifically asked for you and the boys. You and Padmé knew each other, and she trusted you. Plus she knew you did a hell of a good job keeping the boys in line. No, you weren’t their Jedi, you were their, well. Everything. You were a mechanic, pilot, and a trained medic. Plus, according to all of them, even Crosshair. You were a hell of a cook. You and Clone Force 99 were off to a ball. Whether they liked it or not.

“A ball.. Like a dance?” Crosshair asked you as you stood next to Hunter and explained the plan of attack to them all. “Yeah, did I stutter?” You spat and Wrecker laughed at that. He always enjoyed how you wouldn’t take crap from his vod. “No, what, you expect us to be let into a Kriffing dance?” Crosshair fired back and you sighed. Pinching the bridge of your nose. Crossing your other arm under your chest. “Yes, because we were ordered to attend. I just need one of you to dress up and pretend to be my date, and it’s either you, Wrecker, or Hunter.” You added. “What about Tech?” “He has his own job, were you not listening to me at all? You have ears for a reason. I didn’t realize you needed hearing aids, too.” You hissed. “Tech will be keeping tabs and hacking into the cameras. So which-“ You weren’t even able to finish your sentence and Hunter was speaking up. “I can.”

Crosshair looked over to his brother with a shocked look, but then a smirk. The both having a small stare off. Cross smirking like he knew something you all didn’t and Hunter glaring daggers. Unspoken words that you weren’t about to intrude on. “Awesome, now we just need to meet up with Padmé and then we can get our outfits.” You added, and Crosshair scoffed walking off. “Hey, you try wearing a dress I’d MUCH rather wear a suit!” You snapped. Shaking your head and turning to walk off yourself. “Fucking prick.” You muttered, and headed back off to the project you were previously working on.

Hunter stood in place for a second. Wrecker and Tech smiling over to their brother. Hunter shooting the two of them a look. “What?” Tech grinned and shook his head. “Nothing,” Wrecker wasn’t as secretive about what he was thinking, though. “You just wanna dance with y/n.” Hunter looked to the larger male with shock. Blush creeping up the back of his neck. “What? No I don’t this is for a mission and the two of you weren’t volunteering. I was just tired of y/n and Crosshairs bickering.” He informed them, and Wrecker chuckled and walked off. Tech snickering and saying a quick, ‘uh-huh, sure,’ before he was walking off himself. Leaving Hunter alone in his thoughts. So what if he just wanted an excuse to dance with you, or even just fake being your date for one night. Was that too much to ask for?

It didn’t take you all long to get to your destination. Last mission you were only one jump away. Padmé was thrilled to see you, as you were her. The two of you sharing a hug and a small catching up. Before the boys seemed to get too antsy, and caught her attention. “These must be Clone Force 99?” She spoke and you nodded, looking over to your boys with a grin. “Yeah, don’t mind them, they’re shy.” You tittered, smirking over to Cross who shot you a displeased look and an eye roll. “There’s Wrecker, Tech, Hunter, and Crosshair.” You spoke, holding back the urge to make a comment on all of them. Padmé smiling sweetly and waving her hand when they saluted her. “At ease, no need for that here. Now let’s get going. You all need to look like you came to a dance, not like you just got out of the war.” She spoke, you and the gang following her inside.

The boys all headed off with a man to get their suits fitted, you heading off with Padmé to get your outfit. “Do I have to wear a dress?” You asked her with almost a whine. “I can’t fight in a dress, you better not make me wear heels, stars I’d rather get shot!” You exclaimed and she laughed at that. “You don’t have to wear heels, but you have to wear a dress. I’m sure your date would love to see you in one, anyways.” Curse your stupid girls night you had with her a few months back when you were passing through Naboo without the boys. You told her all about your stupid feelings for Hunter, and she obviously didn’t forget. “What? No! I don’t like him anymore, he doesn’t like me anyways.” You lied. You did still like him, and she knew it. “Uh-huh, and I’m in love with a Sith Lord, are we sharing more lies?” She teased and you ducked your head down. “Come on, I’ll make the dress simple.”

Oh, the dress was nothing simple. It may have been in Padmés point of view, but not yours. It was a a flowing red and black dress that matched with her own. It wasn’t sparkly or anything, thankfully, but it was just too much in your perspective. Plus she had her servants put your hair up ina fancy bun that you didn’t even know was considered a bun. Then your nails were painted, since you refused the acrylics, and last but not least. The make up. “If I get bad acne after tonight, I’ll never forgive you.” You spoke with a frown and she laughed. She laughed at you. “Y/n, if you get acne from what little makeup you have on your skin is too sensitive.” You huffed at that, and followed her to sit and wait, until you were supposed to head out for the dance.

Tech took off shortly after he got his suit. He headed to hack into the cameras to keep an eye on things inside and out. Along with being able to watch the vents. Which were the main worries. Something could easily come in and out without them knowing about it.

Crosshair and Wrecker were the next to leave. Cross was able to head above the dance floor and scope out the place on the floor above. He wasn’t allowed his rifle, which pissed him off a bit, but he did have a blaster under his suit jacket like the rest of the boys did. Wrecker was on the main floor, where Hunter was following shortly after. Waiting for you to join him so the two of you could pose as a couple talking with Padmé.

You were the last to leave and enter the ball room. Padmé had left and told you to take your time. You were overthinking all of this. Hands trembling and face flushed red. This was way out of your comfort zone, and not only that, but Hunter would see you. Eyes darting around and then you inhaled. This isn’t for you, this is for your friend. You are here to protect Padmé. Feeling for the blaster hooked to your thigh with a holster. Then you were opening the door and heading for the dance floor.

You were scanning the crowd, looking for any signs of Padme or Hunter. Pushing through the crowd best you could. Lips pressed together, firmly, as you ventured the crowds. Letting out nervous chuckles and ‘excuse me’s. Bumping into someone for what felt like the hundredth time. You looked up with a nervous smile. Opening your mouth to say a quick apology. Until they turned and you saw it was Hunter. He looked so different, so.. Handsome. He wasn’t wearing his bandana, he was shaved, clean. Plus his suit was stunning. Not only that, but it complimented your outfit perfectly.. Padmé, working her wonders.

“Kriff..” He basically breathed out, and your smile faded a bit. Eyes darting to the side nervously. “You’re hot.” He finished, and your eyes looked back to his. Gulping. Did he really just? “Or I mean, um, you look nice,” He awkwardly stammered. He was shaking, and you couldn’t tell if he was getting overstimulated and anxious, or if it was because of you? It had to be overstimulation. “Hey, Padmé should be away from the crowd, let’s get you out of here.” You told him. Motioning for him to follow. He nodded and accompanied you. Eyes never leaving you, not even for a second.

The two of you found Padmé talking with some other political people. You weren’t sure who though. You could honestly care less. “Hey,” you chimed when she smiled over to you. Padmé excusing herself and coming over to stand in front of the two of you. “Well, if it isn’t the dashing couple,” She teased. The both of you looking away sheepishly, and you glared at her. Just a bit. “We aren’t,” “Hunter, I was only teasing, I know you aren’t a pair. A shame, you two look absolutely amazing.” Padmé added with a sigh and you glared at her full force this time. “Ooh, I love this song, Come on guys, look less awkward.” She added, shoving the two of you back into the crowd. You were starting to wonder if there were even assassins that this point.

You got lost, again. Hunter was looking for you in a bit of a panic. “Y/n,” He blurted, trying to make himself taller to look over the crowd and find you. A hand grabbing yours and pulling you further. “Hey!” You snapped, and turned to see another guy. “Aren’t you here to dance?” He asked with a grin. Grabbing your hands and swinging you around. You did your best to not punch and kick him to the ground, but just went along with it at first. Hunter finally spotting you. Noticing your uncomfortable look as the guy, obviously wasted. Danced with you. It wasn’t so much that he was jealous, he just didn’t want you in a situation you weren’t comfortable in. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

“Hey, that’s my date,” He gruffed and the guy looked over to hunter with a brow raised. “How’d this pretty girl end with you?” He blurted in a slur and Hunter rolled his eyes. “She’s mine,” He snapped and the guy sighed, letting you go. “Alright, if he doesn’t dance with you. You know where to find me.” He spoke, before kissing your hand and drifting into the crowd.

You were at a loss for words, the two of you staring off in the direction the man went off in. “What an ass,” The two of you blurted. Looking to one another with a blank stare. Then bursted into a small fit of laughter. “A dance then? Padmé asked us to look less awkward.” Hunter spoke. “Plus, I don’t want that creep stealing my date again.” Holding a hand out with a smile. Stars, this had to be a dream. You taking his hand hesitantly. Allowing him to pull you towards him. One hand on your hip, the other in your hand. Your own free hand resting on his shoulder. “Look, about earlier, when I said.” You smiled and shook your head. Raising your hand. Gently touching his lips. “Shh, Hunter you’re fine, I know, you probably didn’t mean it.” You spoke with a smile. Stars you couldn’t even take the hint when it was right in front of you.

Hunter furrowed his brows and shook his head. “What? No.. I meant it, mesh’la, what do you take me as?” He asked, smiling and looking down at you. Now was your turn to get nervous and for your face to go red. “I uhm- I take you as.. Someone who wouldn’t flirt with their pilot. I thought one of the others dared you to..” You started and he shook his head. Stopping the sway of the dance you were both in. Hand releasing yours so he could raise it to cup your cheek. His other hand still on your hip. “Y/n, you look beautiful, I mean it, too. No one dared me to do anything, I promise.”

This felt like a dream come true. hunter was leaning down. Your lips were inches apart and you were squirming. “Prove it then,” You murmured, and he leaned in. Though before he could capture your lips with his you heard a shout in your ear pieces. It was Tech. “Kriff..” You both murmured. Hunter pulling away so the two of you could listen to the others words. “If we make it out of this alive, I’ll show you tonight.” Hunter spoke with a small smirk. Squeezing your hip and you smirked back. “That better be a promise, Sargent.” He snickered and pulled back from you, his hands still shaking a bit, and this time you knew it was from the crowd. “I would never lie to you, ever.” And off he went. You taking off in your own separate way. Now you had a reason to complete this mission, and a thank you that needed delivered right to Padmé.

#bad batch x reader #star wars #star wars writing #the bad batch #the clone wars #writing #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #bad batch

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reki-of-the-valley · 3 years

Text

Boy Like a Fading Dream

A part two of the uni AU? More like a "I wanted to characterize the Langa of this AU". Wrote it a couple of days ago but didn't want to back-to-back post, just give a few days for the first part to settle in.

Find it on AO3 here!

Context: For his skills on a snowboard, Langa landed himself a scholarship. But he hates it. He hates his studies. He hates the athletic training. He just wants to go back to the time when it was fun, racing his dad to the bottom of the mountain.

“Where’s dad?”

Langa lets his bag hit the ground with a thud as he kicks off his shoes. His mother is in the living room; she’s cutting carrots in front of some sitcom. She lifts her head to smile at her son as soon as he enters her line of sight.

“How was your day, baby?”

Langa sighs as he crashes next to her. He feels her watch him as he picks up a carrot from the bowl before snapping it in half between his teeth. He feels her gaze, just as heavy as his eyelids are.

“Tiring.”

It’s all he manages to say to her. It��s all he finds to say. Tiring. His days are always just tiring.

“Did you have fun at practice?”

Fun? Langa barely remembers what that feels like. Fun, it feels like a foreign word now. He knows he must have felt it in the past, the thrill of gliding down the snowy slopes, but now it’s anything but fun. Snowboarding isn’t fun anymore, especially when there’s no snow outside. Especially when he’s cooped up in a gym rather than out on the open mountains.

So was training fun? No. No, it wasn’t.

“It was fine,” he lies. He can’t tell his mother how much he hates it. He can’t tell her when it’s what’s paying for his education – an education he also hates. “The usual, you know.”

Nanako pats his arm, her smile sweet and ever so motherly. “That’s good, baby. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

Langa sucks in a breath as his mother presses a kiss to his hair. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. If only she knew how big a lie that was. He would have done anything to just quit everything right now and lay in bed for the next ten years. Everything lost its appeal. If only everything could stop just for a moment, just for a minute, just enough time for Langa to catch his breath.

“Dad’s not home yet, is he?”

Nanako shakes her head. “He’s staying late tonight. He has a project that’s due, I think, tomorrow? Something about his team not being up-to-date so he has to stay late.”

Langa sighs again as he straightens out on the couch. He grabs another carrot before getting up to fetch his bag.

“I have to go study.”

Nanako doesn’t say anything as he leaves to climb the stairs that lead to his bedroom. Langa knows she’s watching him, watching his every move, but she doesn’t say anything. Maybe she can sense his disappointment. Maybe she knows that he’s lying to her.

Langa crashes in his bed, slinging his bag at the end of his mattress where it bounced before falling among the pile of dirty clothes he’s thrown aside. His room is a mess, but he can’t bring himself to clear out his trash. He’s already in a deficit of energy when just doing his mundane daily tasks. So he crashes among his pillows and pulls out his phone.

It's automatic, the swiping left and clicking on the app. It’s become a routine, crashing in bed and opening Instagram to scroll mindlessly. Langa doesn’t actually care for what’s on his screen, he just needs something to do, something to make him forget about the emptiness that’s formed in his chest.

So he scrolls. Pictures of old friends from high school, professional pictures and reels of snowboarders, screenshots of old Tumblr posts, reels of animals being cute, Langa scrolls through them all. He scrolls, scrolls until everything on his phone becomes a big blur. He scrolls until his phone slips from his fingers, falling flat on his face.

Another sigh as he turns to his side. His phone rests against his pillow as he goes back to scrolling. Always scrolling, numbing everything he’s ever felt. Because Langa does feel. He feels a million things, but none of those feelings are good. Frustration, loneliness, exhaustion, the list can go on. He hates all his feelings, especially that hollow feeling of disappointment that has been growing over the past year or so.

A notification pulls Langa out of his mindless scrolling. He usually ignores them, swiping them away, but for some reason, this one catches his attention. For some reason, he clicks it rather than get rid of it. The flash of red catches his attention.

.MechanicStarReki. – Suggested for you

Langa squints at his screen. The name doesn’t ring a bell but the face seems familiar. Familiar, but he can’t pinpoint where exactly it is that he’s seen it. His memory of the familiar face is hazy, like that of a dream starting to fade as morning takes shape. Familiar yet so foreign.

Langa scrolls through the profile, careful to not make his presence known. Most of the captions are in Japanese and he can’t find it in himself to decipher their meaning. He knows with a little effort, and maybe a little help from a translator app or from his mother, he could read the words, but he doesn’t bother. He contents himself with the scarce English. He contents himself with the many pictures of a boy with red hair.

The last post dates back a few weeks, a set of pictures with the caption “See you for Christmas.” The pictures show the redhead hugging who Langa assumes to be his sisters. They all look too much alike for them to not be family. Langa swipes between the pictures, taking in the scene: two school-aged girls cling to the boy, identical in all ways except the color of their dresses. He’s hugging them, a wide grin stretching across his face. Langa swipes again. Another girl is shown in the picture – she must be around 15. She’s pouting, but the sun reflects against the tears that had started to form at the corner of her eyes as she hugs the boy. Her eyes are the same color as his, a deep amber color that Langa knows he’s seen somewhere. He knows he's seen the boy, but he also knows it’s impossible. He can’t have seen him, not with the location associated with the picture: Okinawa, Japan. There’s no way he’s ever seen this boy; Langa’s only been to Japan once, the summer before he started high school.

Langa moves on from the set of pictures. He scrolls down, analyzing everything that has been posted over the years. Skateboards, sketches of various types, doodles, the boy with his friends, more of his family. Langa always pauses on the pictures of him. He always squints at him as if that would help him remember where he’s seen him.

A part of Langa knows that this is obsessive behavior, that he should just let it go, but he needs to know. He needs to know where he’s seen those faded freckles against sun-kissed skin. He needs to know where he’s seen those bright amber eyes. He needs to know where he’s seen that lopsided grin. He needs to know where he’s seen this boy, this boy that feels like a fading dream.

Does he resemble an actor from one of his mother’s shows, the Japanese ones she puts on while she cooks? No, that’s not it. He’s too young to look like any of those actors. Anyway, Langa never pays attention to the actors on the screen; he only knows the story because his mother has been following the ridiculous drama for years now. So the boy doesn’t just look like someone Langa might have seen on tv.

Does he look like an athlete Langa’s watched perform time after time, desperately trying to analyze his technique in hopes of recreating whatever is being done? No, it isn’t that either. Langa never recognizes the athletes, even when they tell him they've been competing against each other for years. He remembers their boards, but never their faces. So it isn’t that.

No matter how much Langa rakes his brain, he can’t find where it is that he’s seen the grin, the bright eyes, the freckles. Maybe the boy really is a figment of his imagination, a face given to a faceless dream that comes back every so often. Maybe he’s caught a glance of someone who looks like him in the street, or maybe it’s just a mere coincidence that the boy Langa’s made up looks like him, a mixture of a bunch of features that gave someone real. Or maybe Langa is delusional from his lack of sleep.

Langa drops his phone as his door is pushed open. He knows his mother knocked, but when he gets lost in his own little world, nothing else exists. Nothing exists until his bubble bursts.

“Langa sweetheart?” Nanako is standing in the doorway. She's looking at him, a slight frown pulling at the corners of her mouth. Her usual worry is evident in her features. “Is everything alright?”

Langa shifts, pushing his legs off of his bed to sit up. He nods at his mother, his words failing him. He hates how he finds himself unable to speak.

“Are you sure?” She shifts her weight to the side. Worry. “I’ve been calling you to set the table for the past 10 minutes now.”

Langa blinks at his mother before apologizing. He hadn’t heard her, he says. He had gotten lost in his own little world. He’s sorry, he’ll be down in a minute to set the table.

“Langa.” Nanako’s voice pierces through him as he fishes his phone out from under his pillow. “Are you sure nothing’s bothering you?”

Langa almost cracks. He almost tells her. He almost admits that he hates everything he’s doing. He almost admits that he hates going to school. He almost admits that he hates training. He almost admits that the thing he hates most is himself. Almost, but he doesn’t. He wouldn’t be able to survive the disappointed look on his mother’s face. He knows she would understand, that she’d tell him he’s allowed to quit, that she would support him no matter what, but he also knows she would be disappointed.

So he just smiles at her, that closed-mouthed smile he’s been practicing for years.

“I’m just tired.”

Nanako nods before making her way to him. She holds him tightly against herself, the warm embrace of a mother. And for a moment, Langa doesn’t hate himself.

“If you’re tired, I can bring your food up. You don’t have to eat downstairs if it’s too much.”

Langa shakes his head. Dinnertime is the only time of the day where he can spend time with his parents. Between classes and training, he’s barely ever home. It’s the only time where things feel normal, like they were back in the day when Langa was young, doing homework at the kitchen table while his mother cooked, explaining to him what he had to do. It’s the only time where he feels like they’re a family again.

“Just give me a minute and I’ll be down.”

Nanako sighs as she steps away from him, nodding. A small, tired smile pulls at the corner of her mouth as she turns back to him, halfway through the door.

“You promise you’d tell me if something was bothering you?”

Langa nods, promising, but the promise is hollow, his fingers crossed behind his back. It’s broken before even being uttered because Langa knows that he can’t make that promise. There’s just no way that he can promise such a thing. He can’t bring himself to tell anyone about how he feels. But still, he smiles and nods at his mother as she makes her way out of his room, down the stairs, back to the kitchen. He smiles until he can’t bear it anymore and crystal tears fall from his eyes, fall right onto the picture of the grinning boy in his phone, the phone he's been gripping so tightly.

#oh yeah Oliver is alive for this one #Given that I want to make Langa miserable I had to give him back one happy thing #and his dad seemed like a good thing to give back #And without a dead dad he can stay in Canada #Sorry for the lack of concrete Renga #Given that I like this AU but don't actually have a plot for it it'll be a bunch of snippets #and snippets means that there will eventually be concrete renga content #but I had to establish this 'background' first #Also it's 2021 all the kids are miserable in one way or another because I'm mean and have been feeling like shit lately #I really hate the titles of these but I don't have the energy to think of something good #renga #snowgear #lanreki #langa x reki #reki x langa #langa hasegawa #langa #hasegawa langa #reki #kyan reki #reki kyan #nanako hasegawa #hasegawa nanako #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #lils writes

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mermaidenisaacs · 4 years

Text

isaac went to college and became a fratboy, part 2

the aftermath of hooking up with isaac lahey at a frat party includes: shame, regret, and the stupid thrill of leaving him on read

TW: sexual language, sexist language, some impure thoughts

I finally saw Isaac again.

After a fire alarm interrupted my study session at the library (some idiot burned Poptarts in the microwave again), I was forced to evacuate to a nearby dining hall. I was annoyed by the whole ordeal until the hunger pangs kicked in.

I was waiting in line for tacos when I saw him. He was sitting at a table by the windows, laughing with his head thrown back while another guy, presumably one of his frat bros, playfully shoved his shoulder and laughed along. He was surrounded by three attractive boys, one of which I recognized from my political science class last semester. I remembered him because he was unnaturally attractive, with swooped brown hair and warm chocolate eyes, and also because he had saved me from the embarrassment of forgetting to bring a scantron for the midterm by offering me one of his extras. His fratboy status aside, he was surprisingly decent. His name may have started with an ‘S.’ Steven maybe? Sam?

I couldn’t focus on him for long, not when Isaac suddenly turned in my direction and met my gaze. I froze, caught in the act of staring. The corner of Isaac’s mouth tilted upwards into a smirk, and his gaze dropped shamelessly to my legs and drifted slowly back up, and in that moment, all the memories of our night together came rushing back.

It was the first time I’d seen him since that night he had invited me to a party at his frat house, where he unceremoniously fucked me head-first into his bedroom door, then kicked me out, leaving me to retreat with my hair disheveled, makeup smudged, traces of him between my thighs. Anyone who wasn’t too drunk or high could piece together why I looked absolutely wrecked. I’m sure many girls had been seen doing the walk of shame out of Isaac’s room, and now I really was just one of the many, another notch on his bedpost.

Isaac succeeded in living up to his fuckboy reputation. After that party, he texted almost every other midnight, snapchatted borderline nude selfies of his shirtless chest or his hand palming his erection over his sweatpants, with captions like “wyd,” “you up,” or “miss this?” That last one always sent waves of arousal, tainted with shame, reminders of the way I let Isaac degrade me and use my body, the way I loved every second of it and craved to feel it again.

So far, I hadn’t texted him back, but I couldn’t resist leaving him on read. I smirked at the thought that Isaac might feel the sting of my cold indifference. It wasn’t much, and it was stupid, but it was the only power I could salvage back for myself. I avoided him in class too, and nearly gave myself leg cramps every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday to sprint across campus and get to class early so I could choose a seat far away from our usual spots. I sat towards the front, an area I knew he wouldn’t encroach in fear that the professor would see him dozing off during lecture. He even texted me dirty things during class to get my attention. It was taxing to ignore the distraction, but I ignored the buzzing on my desk, letting Isaac’s stare burn a hole into the back of my head.

Eventually he got the hint and the texts stopped, and it left me with the somewhat bittersweet realization that we had reached the end of our… whatever it was.

Or so I thought. Three weeks and one burnt poptart later, there he was, staring back at me with the knowing glint in his eyes that only comes when you’ve seen someone naked.

The only available table in the dining hall was one near the windows, and I would have to walk past Isaac’s table to get there. With my tray in hand and my bag hanging off one shoulder, I steeled myself and walked in his direction.

I hung my head, letting my hair drape my face from his view, but my attempt at hiding was useless. He called out my name anyway. I tried to continue in my path and pretend I hadn’t heard him, but he called my name louder. Begrudgingly, I stopped and turned around.

“Isaac.” I said.

“So, she lives. I was starting to get worried. You never responded to my messages,” he said, subtly referencing his obscene attempts at luring me back into his bed.

I rolled my eyes and smiled back tight-lipped. “I was hoping you’d take the hint and leave me alone, but clearly you’re too dense.”

One of Isaac’s friends snorted loudly at my remark, the one I recognized from last semester. Isaac glared at him. “Sorry,” the boy said. “First time seeing a girl call you on your bullshit. I like her.”

I smiled at him, bashfully tucking my hair behind my ear. “Um, I remember you, but I’m blanking on your name. Sorry,” I said to him.

“No worries! I don’t think we were ever properly introduced. I’m Scott. We had political science last semester, right?” I nodded. “Yeah, you were the girl who forgot a scantron.”

“Yes.” I chuckled in slight embarrassment. “Thanks for that, by the way. You really saved my ass.”

“Of course! I was happy to have an excuse to talk to the pretty girl who sat next to me all semester, even if it was just for a few seconds,” he said charmingly, flashing an adorable smile. I scoffed playfully at the compliment. His gentle flirting was a welcomed change from the texts I’d been receiving from Isaac, who I noticed was suddenly glaring daggers at me. “Hey,” Scott said, “since you’re here and you know Isaac, and now you know me too, why don’t you join us?”

My eyes went wide and my mind blanked. I stuttered for an excuse. “Oh, th-that’s okay, I don’t want to intrude. Besides, there aren’t even any empty seats--”

“Oh no worries, I got you.” Scott stood up and looked around, then approached a nearby table. He spoke a few words to the group of girls studying there, who giggled at something he said and nodded. Scott picked up an empty chair at their table and brought it over, proudly presenting his contribution. “There! Please, sit.” He gestured towards the seat and smiled at me so sweetly, I felt it would be rude to reject his offer. I nodded and gingerly perched on the seat. I set down my bag and my food, and cordially gave a tiny wave to all the other boys at the table, who exchanged knowing grins.

~*~*~*~

Isaac couldn’t believe you actually accepted Scott’s offer to take a seat.

Not that Scott had left you much of a choice. He had these big brown eyes that girls usually fell for. And then there was the way he so valiantly brought a chair over for you. Isaac chewed on the flesh inside his cheek, unable to plaster on his usual easy grin. He couldn’t help it, especially now that you were sitting with him and his friends, acting all cute and polite, playing the act of the good girl again.

Normally, his pride would swell if he saw you act all prim and proper. He could bask in the satisfaction of being the only one who knew who you really were, what you really were. He knew your ticks, your kinks, what you looked like when you were coming apart all over his cock and begging him for more.

He couldn’t enjoy that knowledge today, not when his friends were staring at you like that. To any outsider, they just looked three boys engrossed in chit chat, but Isaac knew better. Behind their friendly, clean cut facade, they were all thinking the same thing, and it was far from clean. Isaac didn’t care who his friends slept with, and on occasion they even passed around the same girls, those special ones who didn’t care who they fucked as long as they had a good time.

But for some reason, the thought that any one of them, Theo or Liam, or especially Scott, laying a finger on you, made Isaac’s blood boil. Isaac tried to extract this ugly feeling, this primal possesiveness he couldn’t seem to shake when he saw another guy looking at you.

Isaac somehow managed to keep his expression neutral as you giggled at something Liam just said. The kid had managed to endear himself to you already. He was young, and in the newest pledge class, but he was a quick learner. Isaac had taken a fondness to him and decided to mentor him, taken him under his wing and transformed him into his image. Liam’s arrogance and eagerness to prove himself was something Isaac remembered from his freshman year. What he didn’t expect was that Liam would hone Isaac’s techniques to make girls fall at his feet and use them on you.

You giggled again. “Oh my god, Liam, I can’t believe you did that!” Liam had just finished telling a story about the time he knocked over a TV trying to do a drunken keg stand. “You could’ve broken your arm or something. What were you thinking?”

Liam shrugged sheepishly and grinned. “I don’t know. There was a girl I wanted to impress and she was older than me, so I just went for it ya know?”

You smiled fondly at him. “That is adorable. How much older was she? And what year are you?”

“She’s a senior and… I’m a freshman.” Liam looked down shyly and rubbed the back of his head, just like Isaac had taught him to. The lesson was to use your age to your advantage. Girls loved that cute shit.

“Aww, Liam you’re so cute! And I’m sure she thought so too.”

“You think so? That’s good. I’m kinda into older girls.” Liam bowed his head again and smiled, and Isaac would’ve been proud of how well he’d taught him, if only you weren’t on the receiving end of his little performance.

Thankfully, it didn’t seem to be working. You hummed casually in response. “Hm, I know what you mean. My philosophy professor last semester was so hot. She was maybe in her late 30s, and I still have no clue what she went on and on about, but it was my favorite lecture of the day.”

Isaac inwardly grinned at the way Liam’s accomplished smile faded at your unaffected response.

Theo snorted. “You had a crush on your female professor?” he drawled. “That’s kinda hot.”

“Is it? It’s not really that big of a deal. Haven’t you ever found any of your male professors attractive? I feel like the place is swarming with hot male professors.”

Theo looked at you in amusement, with a twinkle in his eyes that Isaac was all too familiar with. It was clear now Theo had his sights set on you, and usually when that happened, Theo got exactly what he wanted. “Can’t say I’ve had time to think about the men around here. I’ve been a bit too distracted with the girls.”

When Liam flirted with you, Isaac could manage his jealousy, since the kid was still mostly innocent, all talk and no real game. With Theo, all bets were off. He didn’t have an innocent bone in his body and he wasn’t afraid to let girls know, and they were always very happy to know. Isaac knew he himself had strayed far from purity a long time ago, but Theo was something else. Isaac preferred you choose anyone over Theo, maybe even Scott, who was Isaac’s closest friend, if it meant you would stay away from Theo.

“So, I’m curious,” Theo continued. “How exactly do you know Isaac?”

Isaac noticed the way your eyes widened the tiniest bit. “Oh, uh, we um, have a class together,” you said. Isaac could hear the nervous wobble in your voice as you spoke, and his lip curled up in amusement at the realization that you were nervous because you were thinking about him.

author’s note: i came across a google doc of a draft i wrote 3 years ago. a continuation of a fratboy!isaac fic that made people feel some kinda way. the fic, along with all my other fics, got zapped when my old blog got terminated. but since i found the draft and remembered how many requests i got for a part 2, here it is (kinda). 3 years later. i’m sorry.

#isaac lahey imagine #isaac lahey smut #isaac lahey fanfiction #isaac lahey #teen wolf #hey it's mar

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dreamiesdotcom · 4 years

Text

of inked pages and adventures | n.jm

Summary: Jaemin plays rock-paper-scissors, loses, ends up being dared to spend one boring hour every day in a boring library, and finds love in a person who's spent more time behind a book than under the Sun.

Word Count: 1975

a/n: so I tried to give y'all a fic with a happy ending bc some people yelled at me after slow akshdjdj

Of course, as to most of Jaemin's life-changing decisions, it starts with losing rock-paper-scissors, a dare, and Lee Donghyuck.

The second rule to life is to never listen to Donghyuck sober. Renjun kinds of disagrees with that, but in his defense, listening to sober Hyuck got him a boyfriend, after all — but in Jaemin's case, it's only given him headaches and careless adrenaline. Jaemin stands true to his words: the second rule to life is to never listen to Donghyuck sober. The first rule is to never listen to him drunk.

Everybody knows how terrible some people are at following such rules, and unfortunately, Jaemin is one of those people. Right now, he momentarily hates that.

It's nothing wild, per se, just strange — normally, the dares are either risking your life, reputation, or morals. Today, they've chosen for him to suffer; "Go and read books for at least an hour in the library. You can't fall asleep."

So here he is, standing in this dimly lit room full of books. He takes one of them blindly, dragging himself to a table in the farthest corner, and doesn't realize it yet that someone is already sitting there. You looked at him with an exhausted gaze, but as your eyes catch at the book's cover, they quickly brim with life.

"Psychology? Interesting."

"What?" he says, pouting a little, used to talking to people. Normally, it would make most people melt — your still expression doesn't change, so he tries a joke. "A handsome guy can't read psychology now?"

It doesn't work, but the barest hints of a smirk tugs at the sides of your lips, and you shake your head as if to say no.

"It's not everyday a cute boy reads the same books as I do."

Red stains his cheeks and in his panic, he keeps his eyes on his book. He feels distracted, kind of heady, a little lost; butterflies seem to soar in his stomach, a feeling he's only ever caused, not experienced. It sucks for him that he doesn't know what to do about it — because what do you do when you've met someone for the first time, and they told you such things like that, and your stupid heart won't calm the fuck down?

What kind of first meeting, right?

The first week was nothing compared to the first day. He learned to stay comfortable with this kind of silence, the type that's somber and kind of lonely; the one that makes whispers reverberate inside the room, almost haunted. He's grown familiar with some books, be it the ones that smell like fresh paper and ink or the musky ones with sweet undertones, both scents lingering around the room.

He learned how to exist in silence. For days, surely, he missed the noise even if the loss was just for an hour, being used to Donghyuck chattering the time away and Renjun calling him out on it. The quarrels were always there, and as much as back then, all he wanted was for it to stop, right now he wants nothing but for someone to speak.

But as days pass by, he starts to see its charm. He starts to grow fond of the small talks. More specifically, he starts to get used to the way all the words that needed to be said are laid out like exposed cards, no guessing of intentions or games. They're just words that mean exactly as they should, and that's all that Jaemin needs. Certainty. Assurance. Truth.

He looks up from his books, scanning the cover of yours. "You got a classic now?"

"Exams," you say, shoulders rising slightly. Your eyes don't lift from the sentences, but he's certain you've stopped reading. Only then does he notice the heaviness in your eyes, the invisible wall you've put up around yourself against everybody else.

"Shouldn't you be reviewing by this time?"

"No."

Amusement fills his gut, and he shakes his head a little. You go back to reading and he tries to do the same as well, but for a reason or two, he couldn't focus — under the warm library lights and beside the strange person he's shared counted words with, he flourishes like a rose in a full-blown spring.

To be true, Jaemin no longer has to spend an hour in the library. It was a silly dare, and it's over, and he can go back to going to parties or hanging out with his best friends. He doesn't even really like reading; to be fair, they're interesting. He just doesn't feel them as hard as people like Renjun does.

He can go back to his old ways now, to the lively nights and tiring thrills. In fact, he could've done so weeks ago — but these days, as if a habit, his feet take him back to the street he spent a month getting to know, walking to a place he spent hours trying to understand. There was a dull something about the library that makes him breathe.

It's not the books. It was never the books — he's heard of these magical things, the way they bring you to different places and timelines, each time a different person with a different story. He's heard of the spark they have and the addicting scent of ink on paper. He's heard it all, and that's pretty much it — he never got to experience the entertainment they seemed to hold for a special kind of people. He's seen a glimpse of it, though, in the reflection of your eyes; the way they gloom when something bad happens, the way they shine when something good does. He finds bits of magic there, alongside the wanderlust glittering behind your lids.

And if the books couldn't take him to an adventure, your eyes do.

"Why're you staring?"

Why was he staring?

"Poetry, huh?" he hides his nervousness with a grin. He rests his chin on his palms, staring at you as if he was in a reverie because he is. "Cute."

You run your fingers at the spine of the book, tracing the delicate covers with equally as delicate fingers, a heavy sigh hanging on your lips. "They're mostly free verses about world tragedies."

He couldn't help but grimace, "Oh, damn. That's hardcore."

Something in the proud smirk on your smile screams rebelliously regal, and he somewhat struggles to look away.

The first time you two meet outside the library, it's at a convenience store and you were pretty much half-awake. Jaemin points an accusing finger at you, "What're you doing here?"

"Buying coffee."

"At 4am?"

"Dude, you're doing the same thing?" you ask, amused. "Just let me pass."

And just like everything with Jaemin, it begins with a straightforward question: "Wanna walk together?" You can't really pinpoint who asked first, just that you both wanted it, and that you both spent minutes walking in circles until you decided on going to the park. It's a silent trip, something he's not used to, but either way, it's something he liked. The emptiness of the streets, the gloaming of midnight.

By the time you've reached the park, it's already five a.m and what's left to the darkness is the lingering scent of nighttime, fleeting around the breeze and cold touches. The shiver this phantom gives you is shortlived, the sun starting to make itself known through first warm rays. The foggy image of the street ahead stains golden, and to watch the town rouse awake stirs in your gut something oddly specific yet unnamed.

You let out a dreamy sigh.

"I just want melodrama, is that too much to ask?" you kick at a rock. "Can't a person just run in an empty hallway looking fancy as hell? Can't a person just scream angrily at the world as they hold their dying lover in their arms?"

Jaemin momentarily chokes on his coffee, eyes widening in horror. "Can't a person just what?!"

You laugh, a pleasant sound comparable to tinkling bells you'd probably hear when you enter a fantasy land. It's not a delicate laugh, nor is it a careless one; it's just a laugh, beautiful even if it's obvious that you didn't let your guards down. His heart swells in adoration.

###

Jaemin doesn't go to the library after that morning.

He's heard of the different ways some people fall in love; his friends didn't do it much, but whenever they do, it had been interesting. Donghyuck only experienced it once before he declares he's given up on it; it was young love, the kind of love that's what you knew it to be at the moment. Jaemin calls it the first kind of love, the one that's hard to forget.

Renjun's was a difficult kind. It longed for people who didn't want to love anymore, hearts that had been closed to the world after it tried to break it. Jaemin understood it as the kind that waits — through the pain, after most everything.

Jeno's was the most simple. He didn't understand a single bit of what he tried to say, but Jaemin called it the most simple because it's the hardest to understand; the in denial kind, the complicated kind, the thing most people feel.

This one, he hasn't heard of. He hasn't been warned about it, either; it came without notice, no alarms. It came blindly, and it looked nothing like what he thought love should look like. Every wall he's built crumbles down, and he ignores the fact that you've known each other for short months and barely even knew each other's names. This one, he calls a tunnel. To him who's quite confused, it's as if a deep, dark, and chilly tunnel; maybe a museum of realizations and you come out of it feeling like something's not quite right of yourself.

Once he accepts it, he finds himself here again, in that same table. After his long absence, he expected some anger, he expected coldness. Instead what he gets is softness, an empty seat directly in front of yours, and a very emotional string of words: "It's been lonely without you."

Jaemin doesn't think much before he speaks and it's one of the flaws that he didn't really mind because all he's said are nice words. He kind of rethinks that thought as he lays both arms on the table, resting his cheek on one and them dreamily staring at you; "You're gonna be the death of me."

There's no books this time. Instead, papers scatter uselessly, notebooks opened and pens of different colors rest wherever. Somewhere inside his brain, he almost hears Renjun scoff at how he's blatantly not studying despite having everything he needs to review, but he doesn't mind that. He sets his eyes on you, focused on jotting down important terms and their meanings. Under a trick of the light, he sees angel wings spread behind you.

Your stare shifts to him, and he basks in the sunshine it never fails to make him feel. You glow like fantasy and the admiration surges straight to his head, skipping his logic and rushing for his feelings; he thinks of you as a person who was never meant to be human — such etherealness simply couldn't be meant to be mortal.

"Huh?"

"I kind of fell in love with you and I just won't stop falling," he mutters, eyes closed. "You're gonna be the death of me."

"Are you trying to ask me out on a date?" you laugh, and he shoots up, sitting straight. Red flushes his cheeks again, much like the first day, but this time he couldn't look away — your hand rests atop of his, warm against each other. "If so, then yes."

"What?"

"Take me on a date first." you say, slower this time. "and then hopefully, many more."

#nct dream #na jaemin #nct dream x reader #nct dream imagines #nct dream blurbs #nct dream timestamps #nct dream drabbles #nct dream scenarios #nct dream reactions #jaemin drabble #jaemin fluff #jaemin scenarios #jaemin imagines #jaemin x reader #nct dream fluff #jaemin timestamps #bc i did him dirty with that angst on his bday

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that-crazy-five-foot-two-chick · 3 years

Text

I've been so excited to write for the Mystic Messenger Reverse Big Bang 2021 (go check out other amazing fics and art in the collection at @mysme-rbb), and it's the first fanfic/art event I've participated in! @madiebelleadventures and I teamed up to brainstorm this beast, so her art is at the very end (because I ain't spoilin nothin)!

Rating: T

Word Count: 5.1k

Summary: One day after the end of a work week, Vanderwood surprises MC with some husband-wife baking time—with a twist. Inspired by his agent training, he suggests that they bake as a team but have MC blindfolded. In order to make a cake that's actually edible, she must follow his directions to the letter. All that's left after that is chaos, banter, and spouse-flustering. And figuring out how to actually make a cake.

A/N: Fyi MC is definitely more of her own character than a reader-insert on this one. Also as per usual with me, I headcanon Vanderwood as British, so I tried heavily to align his phrasing accordingly, despite being an American myself. Enjoy seeing exactly how much fluff I can possibly cram into 5k words!

MC sighed happily at the feeling of the wind in her hair as she drove home from work one Friday evening. Windows down, jacket off, music blasting—the air itself felt like freedom. She had nothing against her job—in fact, she enjoyed it for the most part. She prided herself in a job well done, she liked being able to manage a team of her own, and the paycheck and benefits were good. Nothing extravagant, of course, but enough to comfortably support a couple newlyweds.

And that was the real reason MC nearly jumped out the door every day when everything wrapped up at the office. Who wouldn't, with a husband as unfairly hot as Vanderwood? Completely unfair how he could make leopard print and what was practically a mullet actually look attractive. Thank goodness his fashion sense had mellowed out over time, if only a little bit. With Vanderwood's past being what it was, they had mutually come to the conclusion that it would be best for their well-being if he stayed at their apartment during the day to keep the household running. He was very particular about how he cooked, cleaned, and did the laundry, and he handled their finances conscientiously and precisely. Admittedly, she did have to occasionally remind him that as sleek as that new top-of-the-line taser was, there was no real need for it, but that was just part of her husband's charm.

And boy, was he charming.

She truly couldn't wait to get home, past this rush hour traffic. She'd get home and be pulled in for a deep kiss moments after walking in the door. Maybe he'd slip a gentle but insistent hand into her hair. Maybe they'd take it a little further. Or a lot further.

"HOLY FUDGE NUGGETS ON BACON ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME???"

MC swerved to avoid a collision and waited for her heartbeat to settle down again. There was no freaking way she was going to die in some stupid car wreck before their date tonight. A surprise, he'd said. No matter how hard she'd tried to weasel more out of him, he wouldn’t bend. Darn agent training. Good thing it wouldn't be a surprise for much longer. Within minutes, the streets got smaller and quieter as she neared her apartment building. Another minute, and she flung open the apartment door and leapt on her husband.

MC's fantasies were soon replaced by an even better reality when Vanderwood's lips landed on hers. Kissing back enthusiastically, MC wrapped her arms around his middle so tight that a less sturdy man would be coughing for air. Vanderwood snatched her keys and purse and hung them by the doorway, never breaking his focus for a second. His kisses grew slower, but no less fervent, as he smoothed her wind-strewn hair. Eventually, their lips reluctantly parted, and MC broke the silence.

"How did I manage to snag the best kisser on earth on top of marrying the most insanely attractive man on earth?"

Vanderwood smirked. "Good taste, I guess." He kissed her once more soundly for good measure.

"Maybe. Will my insanely attractive husband tell me what our surprise date is now?"

"Perhaps."

"No perhapses! I've been dying waiting!"

"Very well. Start by changing your clothes, because I am not scrubbing stains out of your good work clothes."

"Do I otherwise have to wear anything in particular? That's not a lot to go off of."

"Doesn't matter to me. Now go change before I do the job myself."

"I wouldn't complain."

"This is not that kind of date! Go!"

"Fine, Sir Panties-in-a-bunch."

MC went to the bedroom and took stock of her clothing options. She had to choose something practical that could be easily washed, but she still wanted to look a little cute. After all, it was a date. It was a tough balance to strike. Eh, she could always stick an apron or an old shirt over it. She grabbed her oversized paint shirt just in case before snagging a light pink shirt. Now for the bottoms. She debated on a simple skirt, but decided to go for it. After all, if it didn't fit with Vanderwood's plans, he would tell her. MC changed quickly and weaved her hair into a side braid, slipping a tendril out on each side to frame her face. Mirror-MC nodded in approval. Time to see what on earth her husband had been planning.

She cracked open the door and peeked through before skipping over to Vanderwood, who had made himself comfortable on the couch. His amber eyes widened in interest.

"You have no business looking this pretty for a baking date."

MC grinned. "Ha! I did get it out of you! A baking date sounds cute. What made you think of that? Are you just really getting into the whole house husband gig?"

"It was my agent training, actually." Seeing the puzzled look on his wife's face, Vanderwood continued, "There's a bit of a twist to it, you see. I will hardly be doing any of the actual baking. You, my dear, on the other hand, will be completely blindfolded. You will have to follow my instructions explicitly, or else the result will be completely inedible."

"I still fail to see how the setup doesn't sound like 'that kind of date', but it sounds like fun! What does this have to do with your agent training, though?"

"Various exercises used similar techniques. Many times in the field, we had to follow orders to the letter with no questions asked if we wanted to make it out in one piece. We also did training to be able to operate blindly or in the dark if our vision was compromised. But none of it was as enjoyable as watching a beautiful woman bake a cake by pure trust."

"You're such a flatterer. Keep it coming," MC smirked.

"At least get into the kitchen first," Vanderwood said, handing her a blindfold that looked suspiciously like his nap mask.

"Okay, but if you don't want me in the kitchen until I'm blindfolded, you're gonna have to get my apron yourself."

"I thought I was the one giving out orders tonight?"

"A girl's gotta get her kicks somewhere."

"Such a docile wife I have. Never difficult, never demanding."

"You think it's sexy. Don't even try to deny it."

"I would have filed for immediate divorce if the description 'docile' actually fit you." He stepped into the kitchen and emerged a moment later with the apron. MC slipped it on and, after ducking briefly into the bathroom to wash her hands, covered her eyes with the blindfold.

"I'm at your mercy now. Don't abuse that privilege."

He materialized behind her, winding his arms around her waist. "I wouldn't dream of it," he murmured into her ear before attacking her stomach. MC burst into uncontrollable giggles.

"I swear—!" she giggled "—I swear I'm going to punch the living daylights out of you!"

"You're certainly welcome to try. You know I wouldn't even feel it."

"But I could try. How am I supposed to trust you to give me decent directions to bake whatever the heck we're making if I can't even trust you not to tickle me?"

"You don't. That's the thrill of it."

"You'd better have me make something actually edible for all our trouble."

"That all depends on how well you follow my instructions."

"And how decent your instructions are. Let's not forget that tiny detail," she reminded.

"Hmm, we'll see," The smile was evident in his voice. "Now if we're going to start, we need to go ahead and do it."

"Probably."

He guided MC by her upper arms into the narrow kitchen.

"Fortunately," he said, halting and holding her in place, "we're only baking a cake and not an entire meal, so it won't take an eternity."

"I sure hope not! It's pizza night and I'm already a little hungry!"

He wound his hands around his wife's waist, lightly patting her stomach. "Well, the faster we start, the faster we can eat. I've already laid everything out for you as best I can, so you just have to follow my directions, all right, love?"

"Got it."

"All right, can you feel the worktop?" A nod. "Raise your right hand just a bit...and over…now grab the box with the cake mix, because heaven knows neither of us knows or cares enough to make it from scratch. Got it? Now open it up. The mixing bowl is straight to the left. Go ahead and pour it in."

"Just so you know, if I spill anything, you're the one taking responsibility."

"And why is that, darling?" Vanderwood asked, feigning shock.

"Because you're the one who had this idea in the first place! Not to mention if I make a mess it’s because of your faulty directions."

Unfortunately, MC failed to prove her point, pouring the mix into the bowl and barely spilling a few crumbs.

"Looks like we may not have to worry about that," Vanderwood smirked.

"You have met me, right? You know something's going to get spilled, right?"

Ignoring her, he moved the empty box toward the back and continued, "The milk should be right around where the cake mix was, if you can remember where you just were. The measuring jug is right next to it. Do you think you can pour it in correctly?"

"We'll see, now won't we?"

"There you go. Just try to take it slowly, just in case, and stop when I say so."

MC obeyed, gradually tilting the milk jug until a thin stream hit the center of the measuring cup.

"Brilliant! Now careful, careful, slightly to the left...that's it! Now slow down...almost done...stop!" He kissed her cheek. "That was amazing. Now pour it into the bowl."

MC felt around for the mixing bowl again. She managed to find it and poured in the milk. "Where's the cap for the milk jug?"

"Hm...where did it go? Oh, there it is. Right by the sink."

She batted at the air around her right side to find the inside of the sink. Instead, her hand bumped the side of the milk jug. Vanderwood's hand shot out to catch it, but a small puddle had already sloshed onto the counter. MC's hand shot up to take off the blindfold, but Vanderwood caught her wrist first. She sighed.

"Vandy, give it to me straight. How bad is it?"

"Not bad at all. I caught it before much got out. Stay put for a moment while I wipe it up so it doesn't start to smell or dry up."

"Not to say I told you, but I definitely told you."

Her husband stuck out his tongue at her—one of the few ways he had begun to let himself be childish lately. Then the obvious dawned on him. "I'm sticking out my tongue. I thought you ought to know that."

"Crucial information. Are you done yet?"

"Yep. You ready to get your hands a little dirty?"

"Isn't that expected in all this?"

"That's probably a large part of why you demanded an apron first, yes."

"You would be right about that, also yes. And you're so dramatic. I did not demand."

"Up to interpretation. Reach up to the left of the mixing bowl and just grab it off the plate and toss it in."

As instructed, MC reached over and let out a tiny shriek when her hand came into contact with the soft butter. Vanderwood guffawed.

"I was waiting for that."

MC gasped. "You did this on purpose!" She flung the butter into the bowl with an extra dash of vindictiveness.

"Maybe so. I like hearing your reactions," he purred.

"Don't try to be all smooth when you're being a twit. It doesn't suit you," MC sniffed, then muttered under her breath, "actually it totally works for you but it doesn't make me less ticked at you."

"By the way, don't bother trying to wash your hands just yet. The next part is probably going to be the messiest. I'll go get the bin so it'll be close by for you."

"Appreciated. What's the next part?"

"Eggs."

"Yikes, okay. That's why I needed the trash can, then. And where are the eggs?"

"To your left. You're going to need four of them. I read somewhere that adding an extra egg makes it better, hypothetically."

"You're the one giving the instructions."

"Alright, the bin is to your left, whenever you're ready."

"I could hear the thunk when you set it down, but thank you," MC said wryly.

"I live to serve."

There was silence for a moment as MC cracked the first egg into the bowl, and a soft smile rose on her face like the dawn. "Not anymore, you don't. I thank God every day that you and Saeyoung were able to free yourselves from the agency. I never could have forgotten you even if you hadn't, but I never would have known the immense joy I've gotten to have by being your wife." She sniffed, then laughed. "Sorry for being so sentimental all of a sudden, I don't know what got into me. It's just that knowing how many things could have gotten between us makes me that much more grateful for what we have."

"Ah!" Vanderwood shot a hand out to correct the second egg's trajectory into the mixing bowl.

"Oops, thank you."

"No problem, love. We're a team." He settled against her back, rubbing her arms lightly and placing a tender kiss on her cheek. "And never feel sorry for your so-called sentimentality. In fact, I really think you hold back sometimes. You shouldn't. I know that I used to scoff at these things, but locking out your emotions for job after job really takes a toll on a man. The agency had no room for love of any sort, and I've long come to the realization that every person is hardwired to desire love of one kind or another. I know I'm still unlearning all of my coping mechanisms, and I know I'm still sharp with some people, but with you?" He smoothed a hair back from her face. "I'll take whatever love you can give me."

She cracked the third egg into the bowl and threw out the shell. "I always knew you could be a softie, very deep down. I'm just glad that I get to be the one to see it."

After the fourth egg was in the bowl, Vanderwood directed, "Okay, time to wash up. The next thing is mixing for two minutes. While I love you, I do not trust you to use an electric mixer while blindfolded, so you're going to use a whisk for that job."

"I suppose that's fair. Can you put away the trash can while I wash my hands?"

"Already on it."

"Where's the whisk, again?"

"I kind of put it toward the back, so either be careful or wait for me to move a few things."

"Oh, I've got it. Don't worry," MC waved a hand in dismissal and groped around for the whisk, but her arm was a bit too low, and she dipped her clothed elbow in the plate where the butter had been. She sighed. "What did I just decorate my elbow with?"

"Butter. Try it. It might be tasty," he teased.

"Come on, Vandy, this is not the time. Help me get it off before it soaks in too much."

"Alright, alright, I just had to pick on you a little bit for not listening to me." He carefully scooped off the top layer of the butter with a paper towel before trying to absorb the rest. "I'm going to roll up your sleeves a bit more so that this hopefully won't happen again."

"Well, not until I slosh half the cake out of this bowl trying and failing to mix it."

"You'll be fine. Just stick to mixing the center and bringing the outside of it toward the center so everything gets mixed. But mix it well and mix it fast. The timer starts...now!"

MC held the bowl against her stomach to steady it while she mixed the batter vigorously. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one trying to mix furiously while keeping it all in the bowl on top of being blindfolded!"

"Calm down, you're doing great. A couple drips, maybe, but it's staying in."

"So far, anyway. But that's good, I guess."

"No guessing. It's quite good." Vanderwood leaned against the counter. "We've got a minute and a half to kill. Should I spend it telling you how you look right now?"

"Oh gosh, do I even want to know?"

He shook his head in near disbelief, smiling. "Magnetic. Adorable. More delicious than the cake we're making."

MC cackled. "You cannot be serious. I've got to be a mess right now."

"You act as if that's a contradiction. It's the mess that makes you more beautiful. Is every single hair of yours in place? No. But they fall around your face in the most delicately beautiful way. Even the places where the ingredients got smudged on you somehow add to your charm." He leaned in so that his lips touched her ear, his voice lowering to a gravelly timbre. "Did you know that your cheeks are all rosy from the effort you're putting into stirring? It's unbelievably attractive. And the way your lips press together when you're concentrating? It makes me want to kiss them apart. In fact—"

"Vanderwood, how much time is left?" MC interrupted, suppressing a vivid blush and a shiver.

"Our entire lives," he said, happily ignoring the real question.

"The timer, Vanderwood. How much is left on the timer?"

The sound of the timer going off answered the question for him. "None," he grinned. "I'll go spray the cake pan while you rest for a moment. You've earned it."

She exhaled, set the mixing bowl aside, and stretched. Then a thought made her panic. "Vandy, we forgot to preheat the oven."

He held her face in his hands. "MC. Darling. Breathe. I set the oven when I grabbed the apron."

Her breathing gradually slowed. "Sorry, love. I'm just really hungry and kind of tired and I think not being able to see is doing weird things to my brain and you kind of flustered me a minute ago with what you were saying and I'm sorry, I—" her voice cracked, but Vanderwood cut her off and held her close.

"Hey...hey...you're alright. There's nothing to be sorry about. I kept you going after a long day of work without feeding you first. I should have known better." He smoothed her hair and tucked it into her braid. "I'll tell you what. How about we get this cake in the oven and then order some pizza and watch another episode of Cucumber Fish?"

MC sniffled and hummed in agreement. Vanderwood loosened his hold around her and gently brought her hands to the bowl again before grabbing the cake pan. "Okay, all you've got to do now is pour it into the pan that I've put just to the left of the bowl. Just take it nice and easy. There you go. Perfect. You're almost done. Now let me get a spatula to scoop the last of it out." After he finished, he slid the cake pan into the oven and started the timer. "There. All done." He slipped the mask off her eyes and gave her a peck on the lips as she blinked to adjust to the light. "I'll clean all this up, alright? Go ahead and relax on the sofa. You can order the pizza and get Cucumber Fish queued up while I finish up in here."

"Okay," she murmured. Another peck, and she curled up on the couch. She pulled out her phone to order the pizza and smiled at the notifications she'd gotten from the RFA chatroom. They were up to their normal antics again. Hopefully, Saeyoung wouldn't exasperate Saeran too much with his crazy propositions. But there was nothing she could do about that, and she was starving and in desperate need of pizza. Once it was ordered, she turned on the TV and selected the episode, making sure to let it run past the ads before pausing it.

After Vanderwood joined her on the couch, the next forty-five minutes was filled with lots of cuddling and pizza devouring, more kissing than watching the show, a few glances at the cake's progress, an agreement to actually watch the episode while they ate the cake, and several minutes of cooling time after the cake was removed from the oven. Vanderwood emerged from the kitchen after a few minutes of setting up to decorate.

"Are you sure you want to put on the mask again?" he asked. "I don't want it to mess with your head like it did last time."

"I'll be fine, babe. I'm pretty sure it was like that last time just because I was starving."

"Are you positive?"

"Yes."

"If you say so. Go ahead and get them on, then," he said, handing MC the apron and mask.

"Just make sure to lead me into the kitchen again."

"Hmm, we'll see."

"We'll see?" she repeated, but shrieked soon after when she no longer felt the ground beneath her feet. Vanderwood had scooped her up to carry her into the kitchen bridal-style and sank his lips against hers with intentionality. He bumped into the counter but managed to avoid any damage to his wife. He deposited one last kiss on her lips before setting her down.

"What have you done to me, woman? Years and years of agent skills, undone in a moment. If it were anything or anyone else, I never would have bumped into that worktop. But when it's you kissing me, you're the only thing that exists." He grinned. "It's a shame, really. I thought my dexterity was an impressive skill, but I don't even have that anymore, it seems."

"Shame indeed," MC parroted, trying to steal another kiss from his lips and stealing one from his nostrils instead. She made a face, causing Vanderwood to laugh.

"Well, at least I still have the ability to order you around." MC smacked him in response, and he continued, "Alright, alright, let's get to it then. This is where it'll get really interesting, since decorating requires more precision. Which, no offense, is a skill you don't have, since you're not exactly used to being blind."

"Now wait just a—okay, I can't argue that," MC sighed. He placed a spatula in one hand and a jar of frosting in her other.

"Turn around. Can you find where the cake is?"

"Ye—wait, Vandy! I thought you said you cleaned up!"

"I did…sort of." Before she could protest, he interjected, "I wiped the worktop! I just pushed all the dishes to one side so we could put all of it in the dishwasher at once when we were done!" He added with a mumble, "I just wanted to get back to you."

"You think you can charm your way out of anything," MC responded airily. "Well, you're right." She squared up as best she could with a frosting jar in hand. "I found the cake. I'll try to do my best."

"Well, in this part, I won't let you go completely solo. I can rotate the cake for you as you go, if you want."

"Please."

MC scooped a large helping of frosting from the jar and started spreading around the perimeter. Her spatula made a slight detour for a moment to donate some frosting to the top of the cake, and Vanderwood halted and reversed his rotation slightly to avoid confusion. A few seconds later, she went for another, slightly smaller, scoop to finish frosting the circumference of the cake. Another scoop, added to the deposit from the first, finished off the top.

"Is there a big corner around the top edge? Or any dry spots?" she asked.

"Just a slight corner. Grab a little bit more frosting to round it off a bit and thicken the top."

She did as directed while he helped rotate, and stepped back. "Better?"

"Much better. Maybe we can add a little artistic touch by making some...what do you call them? Swoops? Around the sides from the top?"

"Sounds great. You're definitely going to have to help me, though."

"Alright, I'll rotate again and stop you when you're done. Then you can smooth off the top edge again quick."

Six slightly lopsided arcs later, he stepped back for a moment, observing. "This is certainly not the prettiest cake I've seen, but it all adds to the fun, yeah?"

"I guess," she laughed.

"Now here's the part that'll really get a laugh when you take off the blindfold. I've got a bowl over here with some frosting for smaller decorating, and you get to pick the food coloring that goes in it."

"Oh no."

"Oh yes," he snickered while guiding her over to a trio of colored bottles that she couldn't discern. "Take your pick," he said cheerily. MC gingerly selected one, and he suppressed a snort poorly. "Excellent choice!"

MC groaned. "I'm going to regret all my life choices, aren't I?"

"Of course not! Only your decision to marry me."

"Hey." She squeezed his wrist. "I could never regret that."

"You might reevaluate that statement when you take off the blindfold and see the cake. Or at least my ugly mug."

"Vanderwood. Don't you even start with me. You're so hot that if we were working with chocolate instead of a cake, we wouldn't need the microwave to melt it."

"You're so hot that the beach would need sunblock instead of you."

"You're so hot that the sun goes to you when it needs to warm up."

They collapsed against each other, gasping for air. Vanderwood caught his breath first. "Let's get this food coloring in the bowl, shall we? The spoon and frosting are already in it. All you have to do is put a few drops in and stir until I say so. The bowl's on your left."

"As you wish," she said as she did so.

After a few moments, he spoke. "That's enough. Let me get you back over to the cake, and I'll get the frosting in the decorating bag. Which is really just an ordinary plastic bag, but I did pick up some cheap decorating tips when I got the ingredients."

"Splendid. How am I going to decorate, though? Even if I could see, I don't know the first thing about cake decorating. Oh yeah, and I can't see."

"Don't get your 'panties in a bunch,' as you like to tell me so often. I'll do it with you this time."

"But you don't know how to decorate cakes, either!"

"Ah-ah-ah!” he chided. “Do you trust me or not?"

"Not particularly."

"Hey!"

"But! We should just go ahead and do it anyway, because even though neither of us knows what we're doing, we're the only ones in this apartment who can. And the frosting smells too good not to eat soon."

"That's my girl." Vanderwood curled around her. He molded one hand around hers and slid the other over her stomach. As they formed a few swirls on the top, he murmured, "We did this whole thing together. How impressive is that? Was it as fun for you as it was for me?"

MC smiled. "Of course it was. I know I got a little hangry for a bit there, but I know how much thought you put into this. None of my old deadbeat ex-boyfriends ever would have cared so much, let alone shown it. These are the things that make me love you that much more."

"I never experienced any permanent love until you showed it to me. And it's been so...world-altering—that I've been trying to wrap my head around it ever since. I still can't. But I swear I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to give you the same love you've given me. I certainly don't deserve it, after the things I've done. But you do. You deserve all the happiness a person can have."

MC paused and blushed slightly. "Vandy…" She exhaled. "We've gone over this whole 'not deserving it' thing. Whether you deserve it or not doesn't matter. To me, what matters is your heart. You have such a beautiful heart, Vandy. I love the kind of man you've become. I've seen you strive every day to be better than you were the day before, and that is so inspiring."

"Well, whether or not I deserve happiness, I would choose to be happy every day if my being happy made you happy." He squeezed her hip affectionately and pulled her in for a tender kiss.

"It would." She kissed him back. They added one last swirl and a border before they set down the bag of frosting. He uncurled her fingers and fiddled with her wedding ring.

"Are you ready to see it?"

"Sure."

He slipped off the blindfold, and she gasped.

"What have we done?" she exclaimed as her laughing grew louder by the second.

"Whatever do you mean, dear?" Vanderwood asked, feigning ignorance.

"The cake is bright flaming orange, Vandy!" She let out a snort, then covered her face. "Hey, wait! All the food coloring was the same color too, you little twit!"

He shrugged innocently. MC sputtered. "Nuh-uh. Don't you shrug at me, mister. Saeyoung has rubbed off on you way too much."

"Has not."

She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe the tiniest bit."

"Uh huh, that's what I thought. Now are you as ready as I am to eat this cake and watch Cucumber Fish?"

"Let me take a picture first. And another one with you in it? You look so lovely, I can't not have one with you in it."

She tried desperately to keep a frown on her face as he snapped a picture but couldn't quite hold back the quirk at the corner of her mouth. He cut a slice for each of them and handed one to her. He curled the paper plate around his slice, and she did likewise. They looked each other in the eyes, both knowing exactly what would come next. Vanderwood solidified his stance. "Ready...steady...GO!" The couple raced to the living room and took a running jump onto the couch, ready for the wonderful night ahead.

#mysmerbb #mystic messenger #mysme #mysme vanderwood #vanderwood x mc #my writing #my fic #mysme fic #collab #art collab

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backtobackbakubabe · 4 years

Text

I am the Alpha Now Part 7

Bakugo X Reader

Words : 3523

Reader is from America and somewhat of a delinquent with an alpha quirk that allows her to turn into a wolf as well as bond with dogs. She is sent to UA to straighten out her attitude. She ends up in a power struggle with none other than our favorite hot head. Words in Italics are words said telepathically

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

Nothing could compare to this feeling. You were still tucked into Bakugo’s arms, his warmth radiating from his bare chest into your back. His chin was on top of your head and his arm was wrapped tightly around you. You could stayed like this forever but the sunlight from your window was now directly in your eyes... wait no... that wasn’t right. The sun shouldn't be up while you were in bed.

You opened your eyes and saw the time, “Shit.” You tapped Bakugo’s arm, “Bakugo, wake up. Bakugo... Bakugo!”

His arm tightened, “Hmm?”

You wanted to be annoyed, you really did. But he was just so cute. “Bakugo, we are very, very late. We missed our morning workout and the beginning of class. We are in so much trouble.” Bakugo made no move to get up which surprised you. You mentally went over what day it was to make sure it wasn’t a weekend day.

Nope it’s Wednesday. “Bakugo what gives? We are late we need to get up!” The more you struggled to pull away from him the tighter his hold became.

“Would you fucking relax... we got the day off.” You went to protest but his hand slapped over your mouth, “I talked to Aizawa and we agreed you could use a day to recover.”

You licked his hand expecting him to pull away but instead he nuzzled into your neck and licked from your bare shoulder to just below you ear. A shiver ran down your spine as you squirmed in his grasp. “Two can play at that game pup.”

You wiggled your butt back and pressed it against his growing erection. He quickly let go of you and pushed himself away, “Nope! None of that. Not right now.”

You giggled and rolled over to face him. “And may I ask why not?”

He ran a hand through your messy hair, “Because we have a lot to talk about, and I’m not having sex with you again until we do.”

You stuck your bottom lip out in a pout, “I guess I can’t be mad at that... but I’m not thrilled about it either.”

He ran his thumb over your protruding lip, “What do you say we play hooky today and I take you into town. You haven't really seen much of Japan outside of this shitty school.” Your eyes widened with excitement, “We could consider it a cultural lesson.”

You kissed his cheek, “How in the world did you convince Aizawa to let us... wait... when did you talk to him about us having the day off?” He had been with you ever since the accident yesterday and you didn’t remember any such conversation. “Oh no he didn’t come here did he?”

He rolled his eyes as he rubbed your temple. He could see you were starting to panic, “No I saw him early this morning. I got up and let Mercy out for a run and he was outside on his way to check on you. He asked how you were doing and I said you were still sound asleep so... the rest you already know. We got the day off.”

You sat up and stretched. Wincing just slightly at your sore muscles. It didn’t escape Bakugo's attention. He sat up behind you and started to rub your shoulders, “How are you feeling by the way?”

You bit your lip to keep from smiling, “Did grumpy cat just ask me how I was feeling?”

His hand snaked up your neck and tightened just slightly, “Just answer the question pup...” His thumb rubbed circles behind your ear, a direct contrast to the pressure of the rest of his hand squeezing your throat.

You relaxed into his embrace, “I’d say I’m fine, but I get the feeling you wouldn't believe me.” His lips lightly brushed your shoulder. “I’m sore. But nothing too bad. I didn’t have a recovery girl in the states so believe me when I say I’ve had worse.” The hand on your throat pulled your head to the side to give him access to your neck. Was this way of rewarding you for being honest? For behaving? “I thought we weren’t having sex right now?”

His hand dropped from your neck, “We’re not...” His weight disappeared from behind you. “Now get dressed... something warm.” He was in front of you now looking at Mercy, “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Make sure she actually gets out of bed.”

Mercy barked in confirmation but as soon as Bakugo left he turned to you, “He does know that you’re my alpha right? He knows I can’t make sure you do anything...”

You laughed, “I think he conveniently forgets that I am the alpha here.”

“I think he believes he is the alpha.”

You dragged your sore body over to the closet, “Yeah well he can believe whatever he wants.” You pushed the clothes around until you found the jeans you were looking for. “But at the end of the day he’s the one drooling over me.”

The jeans were very tight and fit you like a glove. You tucked them into a pair of black ankle boots. You looked at your ass in the mirror and you smiled knowing Bakugo would struggle to keep his hands off of it. Now for your shirt. You went back and forth between a cropped sweater and a tank top. He had asked that you dress warmly... were you going to listen.

You held both options up in front of the mirror as you debated on how bratty you wanted to be today. On one hand, he asked you to dress warmly out of practicality. On the other hand he needed to know he didn’t have the right to order you around. You looked into the corner of your mirror and saw a black shirt on the floor beside your bed. It wasn’t yours, so it must have been Bakugo’s. He hadn’t worn it yesterday so it must have been there a while. There were often days in the past month he’d eat dinner in your room while you watched tv. Some of those nights he’d take his shirt off, claiming he was dying of heat stroke. You had just shrugged it off at the time because he did run hotter than most people.

You hung your shirts back up in the closet and picked up the t-shirt. It was a Metallica shirt. You raised it up to your nose and took a deep whiff. Yup... it’s Bakugo’s. You quickly pulled the shirt on and tucked it in to your jeans. Finally you pulled on your favorite fleece lined denim jacket. “Hm... five minutes to spare.”

You put Mercy’s collar on and grabbed a leash just in case and walked out into the hallway. You started to pull your hair into a messy bun when Bakugo left his own room. “Don’t, I like it when your hairs down. You always have it up.”

You paused. You don’t like leaving your hair down because it can get in the way if you need to fight. You shrugged. “I want it up and it’s my hair.”

He strolled over to you and narrowed his eyes at the shirt you were wearing, “I was wondering where that went.” He looked up to you as you continued to pull your hair up, “I really wish you’d leave it down.”

You huffed as you conceded. “Fine. Compromise.” You let your hair back down and ran your fingers through it. You pulled half of it up now and left it in top knot. “Better?”

He nodded, “I can live with that.” He took your hand and led you to the kitchen where he started making a pot of coffee.

You hopped up on the counter and kicked your legs back and forth. “Those damn animals drank all the coffee this morning huh?”

He snorted, “No one here drinks coffee except you.”

You cocked your head to the side, “But you bring me coffee almost every morning.”

He rolled his eyes at you, “Yeah dumbass because I get my ass out of bed in the morning and make it.”

“Oh…”

He handed you a to go cup and put himself between your legs. Placing one hand on each thigh. “So… we’re going to go into town. You need groceries, I’m sick of you eating my food all the time.”

“Hey! You’re the one who keeps giving me your food!”

He rubbed his palms up your thighs, “If I didn’t then you wouldn’t have eaten.” He was so sweet when he was like this. If only he could always be like this. But then again maybe you wouldn’t like him so much if he was…

Bakugo was right. It was a bit colder today than usual. You huddled up next to him as you left campus. Mercy for now was walking next to you without a leash but you knew eventually he’d have to use it. “Can we at least try to do it without a leash… I hate the leash.”

“I know buddy… but these people don’t know you. We don’t want to scare them.”

Bakugo looked at the leash in your head and nodded, “She’s right man. You’re massive. You’d make most people shit their pants. But hey one day you guys will be big time heros and people will know who you are and you’ll never have to wear a leash again.”

Mercy just huffed as he ran ahead while he still had his freedom. You grabbed Bakugo’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I dont know if I’ve ever thanked you for being so cool with him. But I appreciate it and I know he does too.”

He shrugged, “It’s no big deal. I figured he must be going crazy only being able to talk to you all day.”

You smiled and swatted at his chest, “Oh come on I know you’re jealous you don’t get to be in the pack. You don’t have to hide it.”

He smirked, “Oh no... you got me... I secretly wish I could be your little bitch boy.” Mercy growled not liking that comment at all. “Sorry man, no offense. You’re not a bitch... but you also do everything she tells you...” Mercy lunged for Bakugo’s ankles in an attempt to trip him. “HEY! Easy! I said I’m sorry.”

You giggled, “I’d say you deserved that. He’s a little sensitive about our bond and our pack dynamic. It’s such a strong connection that’s almost impossible to explain. We just are. It’s like two computers sharing the same data base. We are always connected. We’re not very good at it yet but sometimes I can even see through his eyes. We are just extensions of each other. So you can understand why he gets upset when people mock it.”

Bakugo nodded as he reached out to pat Mercy’s head, “Yeah my bad dude. I wasn’t trying to make fun of you, I was just making a joke.” He slung an arm around your shoulder, “So how does it work? The whole bonding thing? Did you choose to bond with Mercy or?”

You played with a strand of your hair, “I don’t exactly know actually. When I was little, probably around 6, and started showing signs of my quirk my parents thought it would be good to get me a dog to help me practice. At the time we had no idea about the bonding thing. We just thought I could talk to dogs and shift.”

Mercy was next to you now, he loved hearing this story. “So we went to the shelter and I played with all the puppies. They can’t exactly speak right away you know, it’s something they have to learn. So I was going off more of a gut feeling. There was like this gravitational pull that drove me to the back of the room where there was a very dirty and feisty wolf pup absolutely destroying an old shoe. My parents were horrified at the thought of bringing him home but I just knew. We learned to communicate through our emotions first because that’s what he understood best. He slowly started picking up words and now twelve years later here we are.”

“So you were bonded from the beginning?”

“No, not at all. It actually took a few years and I still don’t know how I did it. I was almost thirteen when it happened. It’s like something just clicked one day and that was that. We’ve been bonded for the better part of the last five years now.”

The market came into view and you could feel your excitement blooming in your chest. This was the first time you had actually left campus on your own. I mean sure Bakugo was there but he hardly counted, he was with you all the tie anyways. He pulled you down aisle after aisle of fresh food. Each time you pointed something out he would say it’s name in Japanese before telling you what it was in English. There were a few things here you had never even seen before. Your favorite part however had to have been when you walked down the “American” aisle at one of the convenient stores.

You were wiping tears from your eyes you were laughing hard, “No wonder you guys think all Americans are fat.” There was an assortment of sugary cereals, pop tarts, candy, and cookies. “We eat more than this junk you know?”

Bakugo laughed, “Yeah like what? McDonalds?”

Your eyes widened, “How dare you? We also eat Wendy’s, taco bell, and Chipotle.” You then proceeded to try to explain to him why in the south you drink your tea iced and with a pound of sugar when you both heard a scream. You both froze as you went into hero mode. Your ears twitched as you tried to find where it was coming from. You could hear a conversation from the front of the store, “Someone is trying to rob the place… the person who screamed was the cashier.”

Bakugo looked at you very impressed, “You can hear all that?”

Your eyes started to glow, “Yeah, I can also hear him threatening to kill her, we need to help.”

Bakugo’s hand gripped tightly on your elbow, “No y/n. Your wolf form is was too fucking big. He’ll see you coming!”

You nodded he was right. You ripped your arm from his grasp and laid on you belly, “So I’ll crawl.”

“What the fu..” You shifted now laying on your stomach in the middle of the aisle, “You stubborn crazy woman.” You wanted him to get on your back but you didn’t know how to tell him that. So you ended up turning your head to him and cutting your eyes back and forth between him and your back.

“What? What do you want? You want me to climb on top of you?” You licked his face which only seemed to piss him off. “Disgusting.” He hopped up anyways and you had to admit it felt very natural him sitting up there.

You stood up to a crouch and slowly made you way to the front of the store. As you got closer the arguing got louder. The poor woman was trying to empty the register with shaky hands but she kept dropping things which just upset the villain. It was then you realized she wasn’t dropping things because she was nervous, she was dropping things because she couldn’t see. She felt around as she looked for the register. That must be the villains quirk. Blindness. You wanted to tell Bakugo but you were too close now to play a game of charades. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “On three you jump on top of the guy and I’ll get her out of here. Just keep him pinned and don’t try anything stupid.” You nodded back. “One… two… three!”

You leapt out from your hiding sport tackling the man to the ground. You put a paw over his face just in case his quirk was somehow activated by him looking at you like Aizawa’s was. You herd the bell ring as Bakugo got the woman out of the store and to safety. The man beneath you thrashed around trying so hard to free himself. At one point he pulled a knife from his pocket and stabbed your shoulder. To you it was the equivalent of getting stung by a bee. Sure it hurt a little, but not enough to get you to budge.

“Shit! Get off of me you overgrown flea bag! GET OFF!”

The bell on the door rang again and this time you could see Mercy running inside with Bakugo. “Is that a knife in your shoulder?” You barked like Mercy did when he was trying to talk to him. He ran a hand over his face, “I literally can’t take you anywhere.” He looked down at the man who was still struggling, “Here’s how this is going to work. We’ve already called the police. She is going to let you up and when she does you aren’t going to move. If you decide to try and run, I will blow your ass up. I’m the maniac who won the UA school festival a few years back so I think you know I’m being serious.”

The man froze for a bit before going limp. “Mercy don’t look at him. I think his quirk messes with people senses. I don’t know how to tell Bakugo though… any ideas?”

Mercy jumped up and put his paws on Bakugo’s shoulders, “Oi what the fuck? Get down!” Mercy took his paw and rubbing it over his own eye before shaking his head and doing it again. “Okay so you’re obviously trying to tell me something but I don’t know what…”

This was going to take forever. You shifted back to your human form, “He said don’t look him in the e-.” The man punched you in the face and scrambled to get to his feet. “Damnit!” You jumped and grabbed his ankle tripping him yet again. This time he turned to look at you and just like you had predicted. You couldn’t see. “SHIT! Bakugo I can’t see! Don’t look him in the eye!”

A loud explosion rang from outside the store so you assumed Bakugo followed through with his threat. You reached out for Mercy with your mind. You could tell he was outside with Bakugo. You focused really hard, almost sweating with how hard you were pushing your limits and you could finally see again. Except it wasn’t through your eyes, it was through Mercy’s. “Well this is a bit disorienting.”

You had to use your other senses to try and find your way to the door. “Wow! Relax you can’t even see. Do you have a death wish dumbass.”

You scoffed, “I’ll have you know that I can see actually!” “Mercy come over here now I need your help.”

“Oh yeah is that why I just watched you trip over the curb? The police chief already said his quirk doesn’t wear off for like an hour.”

You crossed your arms over your chest in frustration, “I CAN SEE !” Mercy came and sat down next to you, “Hey I’m kinda using your eyes right now. So just try to look out for where I’m going. You’re literally my seeing eye dog.”

Mercy bit the end of his leash and put it in your hand, “You got it! I guess it’s a good thing we have the leash.”

You could now see Bakugo’s skeptical expression as he stared at you. You did your best to match his glare but you had no idea if you were even looking in the right direction. “Alright then…. How many fingers am I holding up?” He held up three.

“THREE!”

He looked between you and Mercy, “You cheated! Mercy told you!”

“NO HE DIDN’T!”

Bakugo walked towards you and put a hand over Mercy’s eyes, “Okay and now?”

You growled, “One?”

“HAH! You can’t see. I knew it.”

As soon as he removed his hands from Mercy’s eyes you took a step forward and slapped his ass. “Oh yeah? Then how did I do that?”

His eyes went back and forth between you and Mercy again, “You’re doing that thing you were talking about… You’re looking through his eyes.”

Your face fell, “So what? I can still see… I don’t want to go home yet. We were having fun!”

Bakugo leaned forward and kissed your forehead, “It only lasts an hour. What do you say we just take a quick break and get something to eat?”

You nodded, “Okay…”

He took your hand that wasn’t holding Mercy’s leash and lead you through the crowd. He led you to a quiet little tea shop, “I know you said you liked your tea cold, which I still think is gross, but this is my favorite place for tea around here. I figured we’d get some tea and have that talk we mentioned this morning.”

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

Tags : @tspice283 , @realityisoftendisapointing , @imbi-101 , @thoughtfulpandazine2 , @hotarumorikawa , @huh-iwasntpayingattention , @starfishlovingbnha

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fanficoutlet · 4 years

Text

The Friend

Ian Lightfoot x Male!Reader

Fandom: Onward

Genre: Fluff

Description: Barley brings the reader over to his house to play Quests of Yore, where he finally meets his brother Ian.

Warning: Ian being all flustered and cute, reader is also an elf, pretty fast developed feelings, dumb pickup lines, forehead kisses 🥺

Words: 1,822

Y/N had never been over to Barley Lightfoot’s house. They’ve been best friends for years, and yet he had never set foot inside.

Until today.

“Welcome to my humble abode, dear friend!” Barley clasped his hand onto Y/N’s shoulder and shook him.

The other elf laughed and wrapped his arm around Barley’s neck, “Thank you, kind sir! Would you escort me inside like the good host you are?” He gestured to the small yet cozy looking home. Barley nodded enthusiastically and practically kicked open the door. The two of them laughed rather loudly as they entered the house. The noise immediately attracted Blazey, who Y/N had seen pictures of in Barley’s phone. The dragon sped up to them in a hurry, tackling Barley to the ground before licking his face like she hadn’t seen him in ages. Barley cackled and gently pushed her off of him. Then the dragon’s attention was turned to Y/N. She lit up like a lightbulb at the sight of someone new, jumping up and into Y/N’s arms. The elf was startled, but immediately took a liking to the pet. He scratched under her chin, “Oh you are just the sweetest!”

“Blazey!” A woman’s voice sounded from down the hall. She ran up with a squirt bottle and squeezed the plastic trigger, shooting water at her, “Get down, we do not jump on people!” Blazey blew a tiny flicker of fire before scurrying off to her lair. The woman from before adjusted her glasses with a smile and raised her hand out, “I am so sorry about that. She’s just easily excited. I’m Laurel, Barley’s mom.” Y/N took her hand and shook it.

“It’s really no problem! I’m Y/N. It’s so great to finally meet you.”

“Right back at you,” Laurel grinned, “Barley’s talked about you and your campaigns quite a lot. We were wondering when you would finally show up.”

Y/N shrugged and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, “My mother… She can be a little controlling. My sister and I aren’t normally allowed over other’s houses.”

Laurel cocked an eyebrow, “So what changed for today?”

“Well I’m eighteen,” Y/N started, “She can’t really tell me what I can and can’t do now.” Laurel nodded her head in understanding.

“I see… Well! We’re happy to have you here.” She set a hand onto Y/N’s shoulder before yelling, “IAN!” Her sudden shout made both Y/N and Barley jump. She didn’t sound mean or angry, she was just trying to get his attention.

“Yeah?” A timid voice yelled back, muffled by the distance between him and everyone else.

“WE HAVE A GUEST!”

“I’ll be there in a minute!”

“Hurry up, brother of mine!” Barley declared. He grabbed a fake sword out of the cane holder near the door and held it triumphantly in the air, “We have quests to begin and people to save!” He then ran to the dining room and began setting up the game. Y/N chuckled to himself and waited by the front door. He didn’t really know what to do with himself. Laurel had already walked away, probably to the living room or her bedroom, and Y/N hadn’t really been to another friend’s house before. He was about to take out his phone when he heard a creak from the top of the stairs. His head shot up and saw a lanky elf walking down. The boy didn’t seem to notice the company as he struggled to fix the flannel he was wearing. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, fighting with one of the buttons on the shirt.

“Hi there.” Y/N said, making the boy jump.

“H-Hey!” His cheeks flushed when he saw Y/N leaning against the front door, “You must be the friend that Barley’s been talking about!” Y/N smiled at how easily flustered he got, “I-I’m Ian, by the way.”

“I’m Y/N. AKA, the friend. It’s nice to meet you, Ian.”

“Yeah, you too!” Ian rocked back and forth on his feet, “So how come I’ve never seen you before?”

Y/N rubbed the back of his neck, “Strict mom. But I’m eighteen now! So that’s why I’m finally here.” Ian nodded. The two of them sat in silence for what seemed like hours. It didn’t feel awkward, at least not to Y/N. Ian on the other hand, felt like the entire weight of the conversation rested on his shoulders. He felt an obligation to keep it going, like he wanted to keep talking, but he didn’t know how or why.

Barley peeked in from the dining room, “Y/N, the game’s almost set up!”

“Alright. Now we just gotta wait for the others to show up, right?” Barley nodded and went back to finish setting up.

Y/N glanced over at Ian to see him fidgeting, “Hey, Ian. You play?” He gestured to the dining room. Ian shook his head.

“No, no, I don’t.”

“Have you ever played?”

“No?”

“Well, if you wanna join this campaign, we could use another party member.” Ian didn’t respond, just looked away from him, still fidgeting. Y/N frowned, “I’m sure everyone would love to have you.” He said, before leaving to join Barley.

•

Later that night, the campaign was in full swing. Y/N was the Quest Master, of course, guiding the travelers through epic quests and dangerous obstacles. Ian could hear everything from his room. He didn’t think he would ever want to play the dumb game, but something about tonight made him want to go downstairs and join the party. Even if it was just for one night. Suddenly, he thought about Barley’s friend, Y/N. He felt his cheeks heat up and he groaned.

“What is wrong with me?” He barely even knew the guy, and yet he had him as flustered as a school girl looking at her crush. A loud groan from downstairs shook him out of his thoughts.

“Oh my god, we need a wizard,” Ian heard one of Barley’s friends say, “if we try to fight even one more monster, we’re done for.”

“You can say that again!” Barley shouted. Ian groaned and ran a hand through his hair. He was going to regret this.

“I-I wanna join the party,” Ian said. He found himself standing in the doorway to the dining room. Barley’s mouth dropped in absolute shock.

“You’re kidding,” he said.

Ian shook his head, “No, I wanna join.”

Y/N’s face lit up, “That's great! Do you have a character?” Ian’s cheeks flushed once again and he nodded.

“Y-Yeah! I wanna be a… A wizard?”

“Perfect,” Y/N smiled and gave him a character sheet along with a pencil. He gestured to the seat next to him, “Take a seat! The real quest is just about to begin.”

That night was one Ian was never going to forget. His first time playing Quests of Yore was better than he ever thought it would be. Y/N seemed to be a great Quest Master, and the rest of the party was happy to take him in. Ian had never felt so accepted into a group before, and he was so happy that Y/N was the most accepting out of all of them, save for his brother.

Time flew by as if it was nothing. It got late, and everyone had to leave. Y/N was the last one to go, as he was helping the brothers clean up.

“This was possibly one of the best campaigns yet,” he said, glancing up at Ian.

Ian gave him a shy smile, then looked down to the character figurines he was picking up, “Yeah. That was fun.” When they finished picking up all the pieces and parts, they realized that Barley was nowhere to be seen.

“Did you see where Barley went?” Y/N asked, Ian shook his head.

“No…”

The two of them leaned onto the dining room table next to one another, in a period of silence similar to the one they had earlier. Ian felt the familiar heaviness of needing to continue the conversation.

“Say something, say anything!”

“You’re really cool, Y/N.”

“No! No, not that!”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, “Really? You think so?” Ian felt a drop of sweat trickle down the side of his head as he tried to avoid looking at Y/N. He definitely just weirded him out.

“Yeah, I do,” Ian nodded and let out a nervous laugh, “You put on a really awesome campaign, and I had a lot of fun.” When he looked up, he noticed that Y/N had inched closer to him, their faces were only inches away from one another’s.

“I’m really glad to hear that,” Y/N gave him a soft smile and slid his hand over Ian’s. Maybe he hadn’t ruined everything. Ian’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink than they were before, making Y/N chuckle to himself, “Maybe we could hang out sometime, without the guys? Would you be down?”

Ian grinned, “Yeah! I mean— Yeah, I’d totally be down…” he tried to play it cool, but failed rather miserably. Y/N laughed, his hand lightly squeezing Ian’s.

“Awesome.”

Barley suddenly barged into the doorway, forcing the two of them to pull away from each other, “Till next time, my friend!” He pat Y/N on the back, “I bid you adieu…”

“I-I’ll walk you out!” Ian stuttered and sped to the front door.

“Such a gentleman, Ian! That’s my boy!” Barley shouted. Him and Y/N said their goodbyes before Y/N walked out the front door. He turned to Ian, taking his hand in his own and putting on his best proper accent he could.

“Till we meet again, sweet prince.” The sentence alone could’ve made Ian laugh, but the effort Y/N put in just to say it made him snort. It was probably the most embarrassing line he had ever heard.

The elf clutched his stomach, his laughter making it almost impossible for him to say anything, “Y-You did not just say that!”

“But I did!” Y/N kept up the accent. He used his free hand to move Ian’s curly hair away from his forehead, leaned in, and placed a small kiss upon it. Ian’s laughter ceased immediately, blush creeping onto his cheeks instead. A chuckle erupted from Y/N’s throat, “Goodnight, Ian.” Before he could say a word, Y/N had let go of his hand and walked away. The moment before he got into his car, Y/N waved goodbye. Ian couldn’t stop himself from waving back with an obvious glee. He didn’t know what it was, but something about that boy made him absolutely thrilled for the next time they met. He sighed and leaned against the front door, watching as Y/N drove off.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

#onward #onward x male reader #ian lightfoot #ian lightfoot x male reader #x male reader #male reader #barley lightfoot #laurel lightfoot #quests of yore #ian onward #barley onward #laurel onward #blazey #blazey onward

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bazwillendinflames · 3 years

Text

Gravity Falls/LIS2 AU

The last place Sean wants to spend his Summer is in a weird town in the middle of no where, Oregon, reconnecting with a Mother who hadn’t wanted to see them in years in her weird tourist trap. But Daniel is determined to go and his Dad gives Sean little choice but to babysit him.

But soon it becomes clear there is more to Beaver Creek than meets the eye and the strangeness of the town soon unlocks some family secrets and strange abilities. Maybe their Summer won’t be so boring after all.

AO3

“Lyla, I will die of boredom.”

“It can’t be that bad,” she replied, her voice a little tinny still. The bad reception was just one of many reasons that Sean was having an awful time. (In the week and a half since they had arrived, he’d already made a list.)

“Nope, it is exactly as bad as I’m saying.”

“I mean, come on, you’re Mom’s there. What’s that like that?”

Sean scowled. “Number one on reasons this place sucks. All she talks to us about is all this weird mystic stuff she likes. Her store is so weird, it’s all crystals and bad poetry.”

Lyla snorted. “Really?”

“Yep. Not to mention this is the whitest town ever.” He glanced out the window, where Karen was smoking, notebook in hand and ducked his head before she could spot him. “There are no cool people.”

“Come on, you have Danny.”

“I get enough babysitting at home thanks.” He glanced outside again, wondering exactly how long he could bitch on the phone for and call it a break. “Anyway, this place is just making Daniel weirder. He’s convinced this place is magic or something.”

“That’s sweet. Hey, we used to play witches when we were kids, remember?”

“Hey, you were the witch, I was a manly wizard.”

That time Lyla actually laughed. “Sure dude. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Anyway, we were into the Harry Potter books, you know before terf-face ruined them. Daniel is into the ancient runes and fake spell cards Mo- Karen sells.”

“That’s adorable.”

“Ugh, only you could find him adorable. That’s only because Daniel doesn’t kick you in your sleep-”

“Did Lyla call me adorable?”

Sean sighed as Daniel barged in. Not much had changed since home tehre at least, apart from the fact they now shared Karen’s attic room. (Bunk beds, making the being kicked in the shin at night thing even more annoying.)

“Hey, I’m kinda on the-”

Daniel yanked the phone and rolled on the bed. “Hiiiiii Lyla. Do you miss us?”

“Give me that back.”

He wiggled out of his grap. “Did you know Sean talks in his sleep, it’s so weird-”

“You would know about weird,” he grumbled, snatching his phone back, only to find the shitty signal had finally cut out on Lyla. “Dude.”

“Sorry.” Daniel grinned at him. “Hey, I’m helping Mom restock, can you help me reach the top shelves?”

He checked the time on his phone. He had almost managed a whole brother-free hour.

“Guess I should I get back to work.”

“Cool.” Daniel followed him downstairs, bouncing with energy. “Hey, Sean what does terf-face mean?”

Sean was stuck behind the register, although the store was still empty. He wasn’t sure why Karen insisted on such early opening hours when no one else showed up.

He rubbed his eyes, the early start not helped by the fact Daniel had been reading with a torch all night. He had picked up a weird book from the store or something. Of course he would pick up a late night reading habit once they were sharing a room.

“I brought you guys some toast.” Karen balanced the plate on the top of some unsold art books. (Her organization was as great as her parenting.)

“Thanks Mom!”

Sean poked at a black spot under a thick layer of peanut butter. “Yeah, thanks.”

“I gotta do some inventory but I’ll be back up for lunch.”

“Can we go to the cool diner? Chris says the milkshakes are great.”

Karen smiled. “Yeah. Does that sound good Sean?”

He grunted in response and her grin flickered.

“Right, work. You boys got this.”

“We’re not your boys,” Sean muttered, although she didn’t hear.

“Why are you so mean to Mom?” Daniel asked, his mouth full of toast. “She’s always nice.”

“Right, she’s been real nice the first nine years of your life.”

Daniel looked up at him with big eyes. “Sean…”

“Fine, I’ll try. Put those eyes away Bambi.”

He smiled. “So, I was thinking the strawberry milkshakes are Chris’ favourite but I like chocolate more so you could get one and we could share?”

“Huh, yeah, sure.” Sean had only been half listening, distracted by the newest customer. Waking up early suddenly had its appeal. The girl had matted purple hair, an arm full of tattoos and a guitar strapped to her back. She caught him looking and winked.

“Are you okay Sean? You just went really red and-”

“What? No. Shut up.” Sean moved into a more casual position, his eyes still fixed on the pretty girl. His elbow knocked the tip jar and it fell off the edge. “Shit-”

“Here.” Daniel put it back. “Woah…”

“Good catch Enano.”

“Yeah. Catch! I totally caught it.” Daniel smiled a little suspiciously. “Hey, you said a swear, you owe me a dollar.”

“A dollar? It’s only a quarter at home.”

“Now we’re away from Dad, you’re supposed to be a good influence.”

“You get a quarter.” Sean dropped the coin in his hand. “Be cool.”

“What?”

“Hey boys.” The purple-haired girl leaned against the other end of the counter, an easy smile on her face. Her voice had a faint Southern tang. “So, I come to this town every Summer and I don’t recognise either of you cuties.”

“I- we- um-”

His brother beat him to it. “I’m Daniel.”

Cursing his stammering, he finally managed to introduce himself. “I’m Sean.”

“Why hello. I’m Cassidy.”

“Hi. Um, cool guitar. You play?” (Internally, Sean cringed: You play? Why else would she have a guitar?)

“Yeah, funnily enough. I’m actually here to hand out flyers for my band’s show. Could you hang it up?”

“Yeah.” Sean took the flyer. “Your show is this Friday?”

“And every other Friday. You wanna come?”

“I’m invited?”

Cassidy laughed. “Yeah sure. It is a concert. You’re lucky you’re cute, City Boy.”

“City boy?”

“It’s on your sweatshirt idiot,” Daniel whispered. Seattle Track Meet, 2015. He was frowning in the general direction of Cassidy. “We’re busy Friday so-”

“No. Nope, I’m not busy. Ignore him.” Sean flattened his hair. “I’ll be there Friday.”

“I’ll look out for you City Boy. Nice to meet you.”

Sean waited until Cassidy had left before pumping his fist. “Yes! She called me cute Dan!”

“You’re the worst.”

“What?”

Daniel pouted. “You promised you’d take me camping in the woods Friday. I already brought us marshmallows and walkie-talkies.”

“Hey, there is plenty of time to camp in those freaky woods. But I only have one chance with a girl like Cassidy.”

“Wrong, you have zero chances with any girl.” Daniel stomped off to the corner of the store. “You’re the worst.”

“Dan- come on.” His brother went back to ignoring him. Sean crossed his arms. “Fine. Be like that!”

There was the only sound of a raspberry in response.

“Nope, I’m totally with Danny. That was a jerk move.”

“What? Lyla, you’re supposed to be my hype man- er woman. You’re always trying to set me up on dates.”

“Dude, three weeks ago you were so into Jenn.”

He sighed. “And Jenn was into Derek Anderson. We had ice cream and everything.”

“Dude, don’t fuck up your relationship with Danny over a dumb Summer romance.”

Sean buried his head in his pillow. “You sound like my Dad.”

“Go to this hippy girl’s show next time. You Danny will do the face.”

“The Bambi face?” Sean groaned. “I have been facing the Bambi face all week.”

Lyla scoffed. “Is there anything else to add?”

“Fine. I’ll go camping. But only for the s’mores.”

“Okay, brother of the year.”

“Thanks jerk.”

Lyla blew him an exaggerated kiss. “Aw, love you too.”

Sean grabbed his backpack, moving to shove in his hoodie and torch. Daniel had already shoved one of the walkie-talkies inside.

“Calling little wolf, we are back on for camping.”

There was nothing but static on the other end. Sean pocketed the walkie-talkie and headed downstairs, calling his brother’s name. There was no one in the kitchen and only Karen sitting in the living room, chewing on the edge of a pen.

“Hey, have you seen Daniel?”

Karen looked up. “Oh, I thought you already left? Daniel passed by twenty minutes ago with the sleeping bags.”

“That little-” Sean wasn’t panicking, but he was maybe sweating a little more than he had been before. “Um, right. I just forget a…” he scanned the room and grabbed Daniel’s weird book, “scary story. Classic camping right?”

“Oh. Have a nice time then.” Karen hesitated. “I know you’re not thrilled to be here. But I hope by the end of the Summer we can understand each other better.

“Me too.” Sean tried to look as un-guilty as possible. “See you tomorrow Karen.”

“Daniel!” He yelled, running head first into the spooky mass of woodlands beyond their store. “Dan, I’m sorry okay. Quit hiding!”

No answer. Sean went digging for the walkie-talkie, now glowing an eerie blue.

“Dan?”

The walkie-talkie crackled again- “Sean?”

“Dan.” He let out a shaky breath. “Hey, I’m sorry I ditched you-”

“Sean, help!”

He was clutching the walkie-talkie so hard his knuckles went white. “What’s wrong? I’m coming okay. What’s happening?”

“Creature- help- monster- ahh!”

Sean scanned the trees around him, suddenly aware he was lost too. Daniel had been the one eager to explore the woods but he had said it was too creepy and now it seemed he was being proven right.

“Sean- book- monster-”

He dug around to find the weird book Daniel had been carrying around all week. He had assumed it was from one of Karen’s displays but now he was looking at it, the journal seemed too real to go with the modern witchcraft bullshit she was trying to sell. The cover was dark blue and the pages thick with drawings and polaroids.

“Dan, I have the book, what do I need to look for? What is this thing?”

“Page- tree- monster-” Daniel was breathing heavily. “Hear?”

“I can hear you,” he said comfortingly, “I’m coming.”

He held the torch in his teeth, flicking through pages until he came across a few marked with Daniel’s doodles and writing. He seemed to be studying telekinetic powers, complete with a superhero sketch: SUPER /DUDE DAN/ WOLF? ask Sean for name ideas

He finally came across the page that looked like a bush drawn with yellow eyes.

Dangerous

camouflage shape shifters

Hard to photograph shush ma-

Likes dark

Under the original writing Daniel had added his own note: babies in woods.

“Hey,” Sean held up the walkie-talkie, “is it these moss creatures? What well?”

“Sean!” This time Daniel’s voice was clearer, his voice steadier.

“Dan. What happened? Please tell me you had a good reason to go into the woods alone without telling me or Karen.”

“Come on, that’s it? Can you yell at me when I’m not being chased?”

“Okay. I’m coming, where are you?”

“Where are you?”

“By some trees. There’s a sign for a lake?”

“Go to the lake, I’ll meet you there.” Daniel was cut off by some more static. “Hey, stop chewing that Mushroom!”

Sean followed the signs, hoping Daniel at least would know a way out. How did he know the woods so well already? Was Sean that much of a shitty brother he hadn’t noticed him running off into these haunted-ass woods?

The lake slowly came into the view but it was empty.

“Daniel? Dan?”

The lake was weirdly normal, just muddy water and a few droopy looking frogs. Still, Sean was still on edge, swinging the heavy torch from hand to hand. The faster they got home, the better.

His relative peace was interrupted by the rustling of tree branches and heavy footsteps. Daniel came barging through the trees, a small bundle of something wrapped in his checked shirt. Something was chasing him and fast- Sean barely had time to move out the way as Daniel crashed into him. Something big and fast ran past.

“Sean!” Daniel threw himself into his arms. “I’m sorry, don’t yell at me.”

“I’m not mad. But you did scare the shit out of me.”

“Sean-”

“Fine, you get a dollar, let’s just go-”

“No, look.”

Sean turned slowly, met with amber eyes and a large face of bark and weeds. The creature sniffed at him curiously.

“Um-”

Daniel hid behind him. “Any ideas?”

“You have the stupid haunted book!” The creature snorted, blowing hot air in his face. “Wait, the book said-” Sean slowly moved for his pocket, finding Dad’s lighter.

“Dan, on three, we run.”

“One-” he reached for a branch, “two-” he flicked the lighter on, “three!” Sean held the flaming branch up the creature’s face, dragging Daniel out the way as it squirmed. “What, the light should have scared it off.”

“Remember when you said you weren’t going to get mad?”

Sean turned to him, as Daniel revealed the squirming mass of moss in his arms.

“You stole it’s kid?”

“I always wanted a puppy! She’s called Mushroom-”

Seeing it’s child, the larger creature started inching slowly towards Daniel.

“Put it down! We can’t keep this weird monster-baby!”

“We bonded!” The larger creature nudged its nose towards the smaller one, poking his chest with a spikey horn. “Okay, I’ll give her back.”

Daniel held out his arms, placing the small creature on the floor. It wiggled a loose vine that could almost be a tail and followed its parents into the woods.

Sean punched him in the arm. “That’s for trying to adopt an actual monster.”

Daniel rubbed his arm. “Ouch.”

Sean pulled him into a hug. “And that’s for scaring the shit out of me. I’m glad you’re okay though.”

“Me too.” Daniel smiled. “Hey, now you owe me two dollars!”

After all the excitement, the brothers’ settled on camping in Karen’s yard.

“So, you found that spooky book in a tree and didn’t think to tell me?”

“You were being the worst!”

Sean laughed. “Okay, I deserve that. But, next time you find a weird monster thing, tell me. We’re in this together.”

“Okay promise.” Daniel threw another marshmallow at him. “Sorry I made you miss your concert. I guess Cassidy wasn’t that bad.”

“Hey, I saved your butt, that’s more important.” Sean took a bite out a s’more. “Hey, there isn’t anything else you’re not telling me right?”

“Actually,” Daniel held out his hand, a marshmallow hoovering a few inches above his palm. “Surprise?”

(A boring Summer suddenly looked so much more appealing.)

#Life is Strange 2 #Daniel Diaz #Sean Diaz #gravity falls #lis2

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galoots · 4 years

Text

A Hatchling’s Tale

Don’t forget to leave me a comment and/or kudos on AO3 if you enjoyed this piece!

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“Tell me a story.”

It was Donald’s nightly request.

Putting Donald to bed was always an arduous affair. It started early in the evening with Scrooge chasing Donald around for hours to wear the boy out. More often than not, it was Scrooge who would end up exhausted while Donald would still be zipping around full of energy. Then came bath time, and the usual struggles that came along with it. Most kids hated baths and getting them in the tub was the trouble. For Donald, it was getting him out. The wee bairn could stay there all night, sailing his little tugboat bath toy around the bubbles until the water grew ice cold. Scrooge had to all but pull Donald out of the bath, kicking and screaming. After that came the ordeal of wrestling Donald into his footie jammies, always difficult when his baby much preferred running around in a towel and causing havoc around the house.

Sooner or later, Scrooge would catch up to his duckling and carry him giggling and squirming to his bed. He’d tuck him in tight, pulling the blankets up to Donald’s chin and kissing him on the forehead. Then—and only then—was it time for a story.

The mattress dipped as Scrooge settled his weight upon it. “What story shall we spin tonight then?”

Donald’s face scrunched up as he considered his options. “I got one!” He snuggled closer to his uncle, leaning his head against Scrooge’s side. “Tell me the story of when I hatched.”

“When you hatched?” Scrooge swung an arm around his duckling, pulling him in for a snug embrace. “Alright. That I can do.”

Scrooge cleared his throat with aplomb before he began. “It was May Day when your mother laid you—"

“No! Stop!” Donald slapped his covers with irritation. The sudden interruption startled Scrooge so much, his glasses fell off his beak and onto the bedspread.

Scrooge felt around blindly for his glasses. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s not how it happened.”

Finding his bifocals, Scrooge placed them back on the bridge of his beak. With his glasses back on, Donald’s sullen face was suddenly clear to see. “Laddie, I’ve barely even begun!”

“And you’re already messing it up, unca!”

“If you’re the expert, why don’t you tell it?”

An inspired smile spread across Donald’s beak at the idea. “I will tell it! I’ll tell the real story of how I was hatched.”

And so began Donald’s tale:

Once upon a time, in a far-off land, a man was engaged in fierce battle with a powerful witch. The man was Scrooge McDuck, the richest duck in the world. And the witch? She was the fearsome Magica de Spell, the most powerful spellcaster the world had ever known. The two were perched atop the famed Mount Vesuvius engaged in a battle that had raged for hours now. So deeply embroiled in their turmoil were they, that they failed to notice when the ground beneath their feet began to rumble. A sound echoed forth like hell had opened its maw and grew in intensity until a cacophony emerged so loud it was heard in the farthest reaches of space. With its terrible cry, a gush of lava issued from the volcano’s throat and poured down the sides of the mountain. Forgetting their scuffle, Scrooge and Magica rushed down the mountain, hopping over streams of red-hot lava carving its way through the igneous rock. Only one moment was spared to glance back at the oncoming threat, but to the pair’s great surprise, riding the crest of a magnificent flare of magma was an egg!

“An egg?” Scrooge asked.

“My egg.” Donald informed him. “Please don’t interrupt, unca.”

“Darling, you’d be hard-boiled.”

Donald placed a tiny finger on his uncle’s beak. “Shh. This is my story, unca.”

Upon seeing the definitely not hardboiled egg, both Scrooge and Magica knew they had to have it.

Once they had fled to safety, their fight began anew. But this time it was over who would get the privilege of raising such a clearly rad baby. For hours they fought, Magic hurled spells with all her might and Scrooge did some sick backflips and roundhouse kicks.

Scrooge laughed. “I am not, nor have I ever been, capable of that kind of athleticism, kiddo.”

“Shh!”

Magica’s might was great, but Scrooge’s love was a force even greater than the witch’s spellcraft. He overcame her might and defeated Magica de Spell. She skulked away from the fight, cursing Scrooge McDuck’s name, and swearing to return to visit me and shower me with love.

“Mm-hmm.” Scrooge nodded. “That’s definitely why Magica always bothers me.”

Donald allowed this one interruption. “I knew it!” He whispered to himself.

Scrooge examined his newly won bounty. My egg was dark-blue with a sick yellow lightning bolt across its circumference. Detailed on the eggshell was a tableau of my birth, the volcano’s eruption, the legendary fight, my unca’s victory—all of this had been foretold.

“Your eggshell was white. With a few off-white speckles.”

“That isn’t cool at all! That’s boring!”

“The cool part was the life generating inside.” Scrooge booped Donald on the beak, but Donald frowned despite the affectionate gesture.

ANYWAY—tired and sore from the long battle, unca—I mean Scrooge—scooped me up into his arms and cradled me. It was time to begin their long journey home. It was an expedition fraught with peril… Scrooge crossed stormy seas that teemed with sharks, bounded over cragged pits filled with monsters and their terrible gnashing teeth, and battled with a tiger in the dense Amazonian jungle who wanted to eat me! Through all this, Scrooge prevailed, and he dreamed about the duck that would soon emerge from his egg. He was certain he’d be amazing, and strong, and handsome, and—

“Cute as a button!” Scrooge supplied with a smile.

Donald poked his uncle hard in the side as punishment for interrupting his tale. “I’m not cute! I’m super cool and awesome!”

“And adorable.” Scrooge whispered this addition under his breath so as not to incur more punishment from the temperamental duckling.

Finally, after many woes and trials, Scrooge arrived back home and collapsed into the awaiting arms of his beloved.

“My what?”

Donald gawked at his uncle. Surely, he was playing dumb. “Duckworth!”

A blush colored Scrooge’s white feathered face. “My b-beloved…? You mean my… beloved butler? Pal? Workmate proximity associate?”

A scoff emanated from Donald’s throat that sounded near identical to the kind Duckworth would let out whenever he was fed-up with Scrooge’s shenanigans. Donald ignored his uncle’s blundering and continued on with his story.

Home once again, Scrooge relayed his epic tale of discovery, danger, and thrill. As he recounted each harrowing detail, cracks started to form in the shell of my egg. I was ready to hatch! With a decisive karate kick, I burst from my egg, vaporizing the shell in an instant and leaving behind only a fine powdery dust. I emerged from my egg clad toe to tip in a pirate’s outfit. Complete with pirate boots, eyepatch, and a cutlass.

Scrooge clutched his sides as he chortled. “You weren’t born with a pirate costume on!”

“What was I wearing then?” Donald leveled his uncle with an incredulous eye.

Scrooge wiped away a tear from his eye. “O-ho, that was priceless. Dearie, you were naked when you hatched.”

Donald’s beak gaped wide with shock. He couldn’t believe the blasphemous words his uncle had uttered. No pirate outfit? No clothes at all? “Unca! I was not born…” Donald lowered his voice to a whisper, “naked.”

“You sure were. Naked as the day, well, you were born! You had the cutest little tush.” Scrooge pinched Donald’s behind with a wink.

“Ouch!” Donald slapped away his uncle’s hand. “I was not born naked and I do not have a cute tush!”

Scrooge heaved his shoulders up in a shrug. “I think the pictures in your baby book would prove otherwise, but have it your way.” He ruffled Donald’s messy head of feathers. “Is that all then? That’s the story of your hatching?”

Donald crossed his arms testily. “Yes! And it was way better than your lame story.”

Scrooge yawned and pulled his angry little duckling into a warm hug. “If you say so, dear.”

“I do say so.” Donald’s eyes fluttered shut as he wormed deeper into his uncle’s feathers.

Their argument ended there as the two of them drifted off to sleep, cuddled together in Donald’s small bed. Perhaps they’d renew their argument in the morning, but for now, they were just happy to have found each other.

#teamuncleweek2020 #LDU #loots duck universe #duckverse #disney ducks #donald duck #Scrooge mcduck #team uncle

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tightaroundthewebshooter · 4 years

Text

any thrill will do

spiderio serial killer au, 1.4k, title from someone new by hozier

warnings: smut, choking, light daddy kink and d/s, some very very light dub-con, gratuitious use of commas.

tagging: @peterparkerstarker !!! thanks for the motivation and support, ily queen <3

read on ao3

_________________

Peter smiles, contemplative as he catches the eye of the man who had been watching him all night. He doesn’t really want this one, at least not like that; he’s handsome, and the right age, but he’s bigger and stronger looking than Peter usually goes for. It’s risky, choosing him, but he’s the only one who stands out to him in the small Wednesday crowd and the itch under his skin just can’t wait until the weekend. Yes, he’ll just have to make do.

He practically struts over, slides right up next to him, and plays the part of the innocent, adorable twink so well it’s practically Oscar-worthy. It was at least good enough that it only took about ten minutes of small talk, a well-placed hand on his thigh, and a gently bitten lip to have the man, who said his name was Quentin, agree to come up to his hotel room. Peter almost wants to laugh at how desperate he was, but he wasn’t going to pass up easy prey.

***

The boy is obvious. Beautiful, with drive and raw talent, but glaringly, painfully green. Unsophisticated. Unpolished. Wet behind the ears. He needs him. Needs a mentor, a confidant, a daddy. Quentin will be all of that for him.

He hadn’t been hard to find, only 4 months since he started killing and he had already made so many mistakes that Quentin was shocked the police hadn’t already caught him, no matter how low-grade and ineffective they were. He had gotten his last two victims from the same bar, and that’s what gave him away.

Peter Parker, 19, doe-eyed and sweet, working two jobs to pay MIT tuition, obsessed with Star Wars. Quentin supposes the innocent looks and soft personality are what made the detectives look over him. Indeed, his first kill was most likely an accident, and the rush of comfort, release from stress, is what made him do it again.

The boy is impatient too. As soon as Quentin caught his eye he sauntered over, sitting right by him and starting to flirt after barely introducing himself. Arrogant. Luckily for him Quentin isn’t looking to play any games tonight, so when he slides his hand up his thigh and suggests they go to his room, he readily agrees. It hasn’t even been 15 minutes. Easy.

***

He had been right about the man being strong. The moment the doors shut they’re all over each other, stripping in between aggressive kisses and then he’s pushing him face-first onto the bed and pulling his legs apart like its nothing. It probably is nothing, but Peter is a little bit nervous about the vulnerable position he’s in until the man drops to his knees behind him and starts licking into him. It feels good, fantastic, and Peter lets himself enjoy it for a few minutes, until a finger breaches him and he realizes his time is almost up. The knife is under the pillow on the left side of the bed, and if he’s to reach it, and reach Quentin’s neck, he’s going to need to get on top. A second finger presses in, right against his prostate, and he loses his train of thought, clenching down and trying to push back.

“You wanna ride daddy’s cock, baby?” his voice is low and rumbly and makes him shake, but his head is clear enough for him to realize that this is the perfect opportunity. He nods, frantically, and lets himself be manhandled into position. He’s panting by the end of it, and the rest of his breath is knocked out of him when he’s pulled down onto Quentin’s cock. It’s big, stretching and pushing against his walls, and he has to scramble to get a grip on the man’s chest so he won’t fall over as he gets bounced up and down. It’s so, so good.

So good he almost forgets what he’s here to do, until a particularly rough thrust from Quentin brings him to his senses. He leans forward and plants on arm by his head, and slips the other underneath the pillow, looking for that heavy leather handle. He doesn’t find it. Panic builds in his chest, and he tries to remember if he had actually put it in position before he went to the bar. Christ, if it isn’t there than where the fuck is it, and what is Peter supposed to do without it? He’s so busy trying to make a new plan that he almost doesn’t notice Quentin stop.

He tries to school his face, and glances down at the man, who’s smirking up at him, but before he can ask why he stopped he says something that makes Peter’s heart stop.

“Looking for something?”

***

The face he makes is adorable, fear and confusion apparent even as he tries to hide it. He stops his stuttered response almost before it starts by rolling them over and pinning him down, cock still inside of him, and grabbing his throat.

“Don’t play dumb with me, baby. I know exactly what you are, I’ve been watching you for months.” he watches with satisfaction as tears well up in his eyes and he shakes his head. He squeezes tighter. “You think you’re so smart? You are, of course, but not that smart. You got sloppy, honey, and you’re lucky it was me who found you first.” he punctuates his words with a roll of his hips, and lets up on his throat so that he could gasp for air.

“P-Please, you’re not- don’t h-hurt me.” he’s crying for real now, and Quentin wants to coo at how cute it is. “I’m not going to hurt you, Peter, I’m here to help.” he angles his hips on the next thrust, and Peter wails, thrashing around. “You’re cocky, greedy. You need someone to show you what to do. If you keep going like this you’ll get caught within the month.” He glares down at him, and stills his hips to lean down and press a gentle kiss to his tear-stained cheek.

“But it’s okay, baby, I’m gonna take care of you.” there’s a little bit of hope in his eyes now, even as he whimpers. “Y-you are?”

It makes him smile, and he resumes rocking into him “Of course I will, you don’t have to worry about anything.” he whines, pushing back against him “P-please-”

“Please what?”

“Please daddy! I- I need it!” he groans, thrusting a little faster, and tightening his grip again. “Yeah, baby, gonna fucking take care of you, teach you how to be good at this.” Peter’s pulse is hammering under his fingers, and he feels himself getting close “And when you aren’t good…” he cuts his breathing off completely.

He expected him to struggle, kick, something, but instead he just stares up at him, eyes wide and trusting. “Jesus Christ.” he hisses, “You fucking want it, don’t you?” he lets up again, lets him gasp for a couple of seconds, before speaking “I’m going to squeeze again, and this time I won’t let up until I come, got it?” Peter nods, tilting his head to give him better access. Oh, Quentin’s going to have so much fun with him.

He starts slamming into him, hard enough to leave bruises on his ass for days, and squeezes his neck without care. Within seconds he’s coming, cock untouched, hole going so tight around him that he follows him right over the edge, filling him to the brim.

When he releases him he stays lax, eyes glassy and unfocused, but he still whines as Quentin pulls out. He ignores it, pulling him into his lap and running his hand through his sweat matted curl, giving him a minute to collect himself.

“What happens now?”

He smiles, trails his hand from his hair to his mouth, and lets his thumb slip between his lips. “Now, we’re going to go get cleaned up, and I’m taking you home with me. We’ll figure the rest out in the morning.” Peter stops sucking his thumb and gazes at him, eyes still half-lidded “You’re really going to take care of me?” he whispers. and Quentin promises him he will, starts showing it by wiping him down and helping him get dressed. He can’t help but be smug, by the way Peter is already so willing to follow his orders, teaching should be easier than he thought. They’re going to be good together, he can tell.

#spiderio #peter x quentin #peter/quentin #my works #my writing #nff

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eeveevie · 4 years

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Salvation is a Last Minute Business

Prologue: You’re Dead. Lay Down

1958—Boston, Massachusetts.One year after witnessing her husband’s murder, Madelyn Hardy is struggling to survive in a city full of political corruption and crime. Together with Nick Valentine, the two investigate a string of mysterious disappearances and work to take down Eddie Winter’s reign of terror. But who, or what is really pulling the strings in the shadows? And who is the mysterious spy that’s been following Madelyn as she draws closer to the truth? In this town, everybody is looking for redemption. (A Fallout Noir AU)

“Salvation is a last-minute business, boy.” - Reverend Harry Powell as played by Robert Mitchum (The Night of the Hunter, 1955)

“Nobody’s your pal now. You’re dead. Lay down.” - Charlie as played by John Kellogg (Johnny O’Clock, 1947)

x - x

On-going Story Tags: Alternate Universe, Slow Burn, Depictions of Violence, Minor Character Death(s), Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Established Relationships/Past Relationships, Friendship/Love, Loss, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Baggage, Historical Easter Eggs

[read on Ao3] | [chapter masterpost]

December 24th, 1956

Boston Common.

A sprawling network of tourist attractions and bars, beautiful parks and scenery—it was an idyllic place as any for couples to spend their holiday. It was picturesque, with the fifty-foot Christmas tree standing near the frozen-over pond’s edge, lights sparkling over the skating residents. Hot cocoa vendors strolled with their carts as a soft dusting of snow fell from the evening sky. It was beautiful—something out of a Hallmark greeting card. It was safe.

That all was about to change.

“Madelyn James—attorney at law,” Nate’s voice was jubilant as he read over the small, embossed business card, thumb brushing over the bolded name. “Still think you should’ve gone with Maddie Hardy—catchier.”

Madelyn regarded her husband with a fond smile, still unsure of what she thought of this gesture. “It’s all a bit preemptive, don’t you think? I haven’t even passed the bar—”

“Yet,” he interrupted, pressing the eggshell colored card into her palm. “Two more weeks, after the new year, and you’ve got it in the bag, babe.”

She smirked, tucking the paper away in her front coat pocket. “This isn’t your Christmas present, is it?” she teased, looping her arm around his elbow as they walked along the sidewalk. “I saw that big box in the laundry room the other day…”

Nate raised his eyebrows up, feigning surprise as he glanced down at her. “It’s just an empty box. Nothing to get excited about. I’m going to use it to ship you away to Paris so you can finally learn how to cook like you’ve always wanted to—ahh!”

Madelyn playfully smacked his arm as she pulled away from him, the two laughing at his tease. Earlier in the afternoon, she had burnt the Christmas Eve roast, but the apple pie had survived the oven unscathed. Full on sweets, the two decided to drive out into the city for a late-night meal at their favorite diner before taking a romantic stroll in the park. She giggled as he grabbed her hand again, twirling her back into his embrace. This time she was facing him, flush against his chest and angled her chin up to stare into the dark green eyes she had fallen for as a lovestruck teenager.

“Oh, you better kiss me, Mr. James,” she breathed, gripping her hand into his coat to steady herself on her toes to reach his height. She wasn’t always one for public displays, but where they were, on the eastern side of the Commons where most businesses had closed for the evening, they could go unnoticed.

He grinned, free hand appearing to hold the side of her face, fingers dancing through her light blonde curls. “Yes, I better, Mrs. James.”

There really was no sweeter sensation that Madelyn could ever compare her husband’s kisses to. Every kiss still made her toes curl like it was the first time, like she was a nervous sixteen-year-old sneaking out from her bedroom window. Every caress still made her heart race, every touch exciting—it was thrilling to know that after ten years of marriage, a simple kiss could still be everything. She didn’t want it to end.

“How cute.”

Madelyn dismissed the voice that echoed behind her, only pulling away when she felt Nate hesitating to continue their little escapade. She felt him tense, turn and tuck her behind his back but she stubbornly fought to see what he was so spooked about. A chill electrified her, and her throat tightened with the taste of bile and fear at what she saw. A man—tall and broad shouldered, dressed in military garbs and a leather jacket, shaved head and a long scar that crossed over his left eye. In his hand, hanging by his side, he gripped a large gun.

“Whatever you want, we’ll give it to you,” Nate offered quickly, trying to stay calm. Madelyn tightened her grip on his arm, clenching her teeth as she breathed out so she could stay focused. If they followed the man’s orders, they would make it out with their lives. Except the mugger didn’t seem interested in whatever was in Nate’s pockets or the contents of Madelyn’s purse.

“I’d like you to beg for your life,” he said slowly, in a low voice that had Nate gripping Madelyn’s hand so tight she thought he might break her bones out of sheer terror.

“Excuse me?” Nate responded, more out of confusion than defiance.

The gruff man took a half step closer, this time raising his gun, so it was level with their heads. “You heard me. I want you to beg.”

Nate reluctantly let go of Madelyn’s hand as he raised his arms to the air, spreading his fingers wide defensively. She copied, trying to stay where she was half-hidden behind her husband until their captor motioned for her to come forward. She hesitated, sharing a silent look with her husband but ultimately decided it was best to follow through with the demands, even if they were starting to sound unhinged. Dread settled in her gut as her heart fluttered wildly against her ribcage.

“On your knees.”

“No!” Nate took a half step forward to protest, voice wavering. She didn’t need to see her husband’s face to know that he had begun to cry, wondering if she was too in shock to do the same. She followed the stern directions, lowering herself to the concrete where the snow began to dampen her dress.

Madelyn assumed the request was of a sexual nature but instead, the man stared down at her, gun aimed perfectly at her head. His fingers ghosted across her scalp, tangling through her hair before he yanked out a few strands, causing her to yelp. He chortled. “I prefer brunettes.”

Nate’s resolve must’ve broken—military training kicked in—either way, he leapt forward, forcing the gunman’s arm upwards as they stumbled into the street. Madelyn pushed herself to her feet, rubbing at her temple as she looked on. Her husband landed a punch against the assailant’s jaw but earned a swift elbow to the gut in return, the two twisting and writhing over the weapon. And then it happened. With one swift shove, their attacker pushed Nate away, nearly sending him toppling. In the created space, Madelyn saw a flash of silver and shouted in unison with the deafening gunshot.

Silence.

She looked at the shooter, at the smoking barrel and at the menacing grin she’d never forget for the rest of her days. He was gone before Nate collapsed to the ground, blood pooling rapidly from the wound in his chest. Madelyn was at his side in an instant gripping his hand tightly in her own as she inspected his injury. But the blood staining the ground and snow was far too much, spilling out of him at a rate that no emergency room doctor could fix. A choking sob rattled her body at the stunning realization that he was dying. Nathaniel James—Nate—her husband of ten years lay dying in her arms.

“Hey, hey,” he struggled, sputtering out the blood from his mouth. The bullet had likely punctured his lung. Madelyn gasped, reaching up to wipe away the red, uncaring about the stains on her gloves, on her skin, on her dress—she’d never wash them, never wear them again. “Don’t—”

“Stop,” she hushed, shaking her head, biting back her tears. She smoothed a hand across his auburn hair, glancing up for a moment to see if anyone—anybody—had witnessed their nightmare. Surely somebody had heard the gunshot and had called the police? Why didn’t she hear sirens? “Oh God,” she lamented, closing her eyes tight.

“No, no. Look at me,” Nate barely whispered, fingers squeezing the best they could around her own. They were already so cold. “Maddie, look at me.”

She did. She would make sure the last thing he saw was her face, her bright blue eyes locked on his. Despite it all, she forced a smile through her tears, leaning close to press a soft kiss to his temple. “I love you, Nate.”

There was one last rattling breath that fell from his lips. “Maddie…”

The life faded from Nate’s eyes. Madelyn turned her head to the sky and screamed.

#fallout 4 #fallout au #deacon x f!solesurvivor #madelyn hardy #well eventually it gets to that 👀#sole survivor x spouse #check the tags on Ao3 #chapter 1 coming tuesday :)#I am sorry for angst train #please tell me how you feel in the asks #screams into the void

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pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles · 5 years

Text

Watching You Walking Away

Haven’t posted much original content lately so here’s some Michael smut. Hope you enjoy!! Feedback is much appreciated

Michael kicked back in the booth, enjoying the taste of a pint of Sharp's. He'd always loved British beer, and he was already on round four. Or was it five? It had rained since they touched down in London, and Calum was spending the day with his sister before their show tomorrow. Luke had a cold so it was just Ashton with him in the pub tonight. It was next door to the hotel they always stayed at and had great food. They'd started the night washing down greasy sausages and chips with a couple pints of ale. Ashton, always chatty but worse when he was drinking, was sharing tour horror stories with another drummer in town for the festival they were also playing. Michael laughed at how Ashton always drew a crowd wherever he went. He was about to chime in with some details Ashton forgot when his voice died in his throat.

The way she moved was so familiar but hard to place from across the room with alcohol clouding his brain. Until she laughed, and Michael was suddenly transported back to when he was 17 and she was his whole world.

"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost," Ashton nudged his arm and Michael, at a loss for words, could only nod towards the table across the room in response.

Ashton followed his eyes, "holy shit is that Lux?" Michael shivered at the nickname he'd given her. He cursed Ashton silently for being so loud as she looked up at the sound of her name, lighting up in a smile as she saw the drummer. She leapt up and met Ashton halfway as he wrapped her up in a giant hug. Michael watched them chatting unable to hear anything but his pulse pounding in his ears.

He'd met Lucy when they were both skinny 14 year olds obsessed with guitars and punk rock. He'd taught her chords, and she'd taught him how to french kiss. They'd written songs together, and promised they'd always be friends. Hazy memories that now competed with the present of how good she looked tonight. Her hair was longer, and the skirt she had on teased a tattoo on her thigh he was instantly curious to see. Lux was laughing with Ashton when her eyes met Michael's. Her eyes went wide and she grinned at him causing his heart, at least he thought it was his heart, to start doing flips. She rushed over to him and he quickly stood up to greet her. They stumbled into a hug, electricity dancing across his skin as they touched.

"Wow it's been years, you still look decent though. How's everything with the guys?" Lux asked smirking when Michael just stared and couldn't answer right away.

"You look beautiful, but you always have," he stammered out. Oh yeah real smooth Clifford, he thought.

"So you gonna buy me a drink or not?" Lux teased and he nodded, signaling the waitress.

"How's things with your band?" Michael asked trying to keep the conversation neutral.

"Everything is good. We're doing two nights here in London before doing a quick tour of the UK and then it's off to Europe for a couple months. We switched record labels last year, and they're more supportive . They're allowing us more freedom to try new things instead of wanting to remake that first album again and again." Lux eyes flickered away and he saw the pain that still lingered.

Her first album, Sinking Ships, had gone #1 in several countries and even cracked the top 10 in the US. The first two singles, Bruise Me and You, had been fairly successful. She'd followed that with Return To Me, a haunting ballad about a cheating lover, that had been a big hit. The entire album was about their breakup, and Michael still felt gut punched anytime he heard those songs.

"Yeah record labels can be difficult, we just signed a new deal ourselves," he finished his beer in two gulps. He noticed her glass was almost empty as well.

"You want another?" He asked and Lux nodded. After he ordered she leaned in and whispered in his ear, "you probably shouldn't get too drunk if you want to have a chance later."

Michael choked on the breath in his throat and she cracked up knowing the effect she was having on him. Neither were virgins when they slept together at 16 but neither had had a particularly good sexual encounter yet. They learned together, taking time to learn each other's bodies. Sneaking off every chance they got, practicing with hands and tongues before Lux got on the pill and they went all the way.

They were drunk that night too. She'd swiped a bottle of wine from her mom's pantry and Calum managed to get a 12 pack of beer and he snuck the booze and his girlfriend into Michael's. They'd played truth or dare, girls kissing girls, boys kissing boys, tops came off, fantasies discussed until Calum pulled Michael aside. Not long after that Lux and Michael were making out and giggling on Michael's bed at Calum's efforts to keep his girl quiet while they banged. Michael's hands found their way into her jeans and soon they were the ones trying to keep quiet. Before long she was sneaking out every weekend to spend the night with him.

"Here ya go," The waitress brought them both out of their thoughts and back to reality setting down two fresh pints giving Michael a once over and a knowing smile at Lux.

"Truth or dare?" she asked him watching his jaw drop at the question.

"How did you know I was thinking about that?" Michael chuckled.

"We've always been on the same wavelength," she teased back. "Come on darling, truth or dare?"

He took another swallow of beer, pacing himself a bit. "Truth," he said, biting his bottom lip.

Lux almost groaned at the sight. She remembered those lips, and it was taking everything she had not to kiss him right now.

"Did you ever feel bad?" She asked, not caring if it killed the mood. She might never get this chance again.

"Of course I did. I knew I fucked up, but didn't know how to fix it. When Sinking Ships came out I spent an entire weekend listening to it while drinking and sobbing. We'd always had difficulties but that tour just broke everything. We were too young and life was moving too fast," he confessed.

"That's an interesting way to look at it. I hope it really hurt, I stopped hating you, but it took years," Lux looked down but didn't pull away when he took her hand.

"I hated myself, I spent the next two years trying to drink enough to forget. I'm really sorry, if that means anything,"

"Thank you," she nodded. "What do you mean we always had difficulties? I was a delight."

"Says the girl who kissed Calum right in front of me at my own birthday party," Michael reminded her.

"I should've known you'd bring that up," Lux rolled her eyes. "What about when I caught you kissing Jaslene over at Ashton's."

"Completely unrelated, you'd broken up with me and went to your grandma's during school holiday. I had no idea you were even back," he protested.

"I forgot how irritating you can be," she griped.

"You used to think it was cute," Michael smirked.

"Did I? Can't remember that." Lux was defiant.

"Remember that time you thought I was hitting on that girl and you pushed me into the pool." He laughed at the memory.

"What about when I caught you wanking off in my bedroom because you thought I was downstairs talking to my mom," she hit back and he blushed.

"Remember how both those stories end?" His voice husky and low raising chills along her spine.

"I should probably go," she told him scooting away from him as she finished her beer.

"You can't leave yet, it's still my turn," he said and she looked at him puzzled. "Truth or Dare Lux." He saw the answer in her eyes before she opened her mouth.

"Dare." Her dark eyes met his with a challenge.

"Kiss me.” He'd barely finished speaking when her lips were on his. His hands wrapped around her pulling her into him as his tongue met hers. She squeezed his thigh making him moan into her mouth. He broke away to kiss her neck when she stopped him.

"Let's get out of here," she panted, before landing a kiss on his jaw.

Michael paid his tab and followed Lux outside. He trailed behind her silently to the hotel listening to her boots click on the pavement. They got in the elevator and Lux winked at him and licked her lips. He pushed the button for his floor while Lux chatted with other guests. She followed him to his room smacking his ass playfully as he fiddled with his key card.

When he got the door open she pushed her way in, taking off her leather jacket and dropping it in a chair. Michael stood there a minute staring in disbelief that this was actually happening. His brain was cloudy with memories and booze, and suddenly he knew this was a bad idea.

"I have tattoos and piercings you've never seen before," she murmured as she stepped closer to him pushing his jacket off his shoulders and it hit the floor.

That woke him from his thoughts and when her lips met his again he was done for. A surge of desire hit him as he deepened the kiss. His hands wrapped around her waist before sliding down to cup her ass. She pulled back, his bottom lip between her teeth raking it roughly causing him to hiss.

"Weak," she laughed at him while tugging at his shirt and belt.

He pulled his shirt off and reached around her to unzip her dress while he kissed and nibbled his way up her throat thrilling at the gasps she made and the way she was pressing her body against his. Lux kicked her dress to the side.

"Jump," Michael whispered in her ear. When she did he caught her wrapping her thighs around his waist, sucking a mark on his neck as he carried her to the bed. Michael laid her on the bed, before stepping back to look at her. Lux smirked at him, pulling her bra over her head causing Michael to groan at the sight of her bare breasts adorned with silver barbells through her dark nipples. He fell upon her sucking a trail from one nipple to another as his fingers crept under the elastic of her panties.

"Oh you've gotten better," Lux moaned as he teased her clit with his thumb while two fingers easily slid inside her wetness. He turned his attention away from her breasts to kiss her while he slowly pumped his fingers inside her.

The whimpers coming from her had his cock straining against his jeans, but he ignored his own needs wanting to focus on her. He returned his tongue to her stiff nipples seeking his attention as his fingers curled inside of her stroking her g-spot at a tortuously slow pace.

"Shit," she yelled bucking her hips needing more from him than his teasing. He moved his head between her legs pulling her panties off, leaving her knee high boots on and pulling one leg so it was resting on his shoulder.

"I thought you didn't eat pussy," Lux teased him but her voice was breathy.

"I'm not a kid anymore." He winked at her before landing a kiss on the inside of her thigh. He sank his teeth into her soft flesh and she thrust her hips up towards him. Michael chuckled pulling his fingers out of her and sucking them clean while looking up at her. He planted light fluttery kisses on her thighs working his way towards her core. Lux bit her lip determined not to beg, but when Michael landed a soft kiss on her clit she shuddered and dug her nails into the duvet.

Michael ignored his own almost painful arousal to concentrate on her dragging his tongue through her slick folds reveling in the sweet taste of her desire. He proceeded to deliver a flurry of kitten licks to her sensitive bud before wrapping his lips around it gently tugging and sucking simultaneously.

"Oh shit," Lux squeezed her eyes shut and he forced her legs farther apart so he could fuck her with his tongue. Despite her thighs pressing against his ears, he could hear her cries becoming louder, more desperate. Returning his mouth to work on her clit he pushed his fingers back inside of her pumping a steady rhythm.

"Oh God, Yesssss, right there, right there," she moaned watching as the beautiful blonde boy brought her to the peak of pleasure. Her senses tumbled as she bucked her hips uncontrollably against his face clutching at his hair curses of ecstasy spilling from her lips. Michael lapped up the nectar of her orgasm until her thighs were shaking and she begged him to stop.

He stood up and looked down at her, a wicked grin across his face as she caught her breath. Next thing he knew she sat up and yanked his jeans down palming him through his boxer briefs. He moaned loudly as she rubbed the tip of his cock through the increasingly large wet spot on the fabric. She eased his boxers down his legs grazing her nails along his thighs watching his cock twitch against his stomach at the sensation. She ran her tongue along the ridge under the head before parting her lips and taking him in her mouth.

Lux bobbed her head, not taking him all the way down teasing him before releasing his cock with an audible pop. "You're not the only one who's learned new tricks," she smirked up at him batting her lashes innocently. "I want you to pull my hair and fuck my throat."

Michael's jaw dropped at her words but he only hesitated for a second. Grabbing her curls he let out a long moan as she swallowed his cock until her lips brushed the base. He went slow at first letting her adjust until they were moving together. Watching her brown eyes looking up at him while her pretty lips were wrapped around his cock was the hottest thing he'd ever seen. She began to choke a little and he saw tears in her eyes.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked pulling back.

Lux smacked her lips, "I want you to cum baby, let me taste you." She hummed as she began sucking him off again getting turned on by the grunts Michael was making each time she took him all the way down. She rubbed her nipples getting incredibly aroused as she let him use her for his pleasure. It wasn't long before she felt his cock filling up and his speed increasing. With a shout he threw his head back and erupted down her throat. She swallowed most of his cum but some escaped her lips and began to drip down her chin. Lux pulled back and pumped him a few times rubbing her face against his shaft before he shuddered and pulled back. His eyes went wide as she wiped her chin clean and licked her fingers smacking her lips loudly.

Michael had to sit on the edge of the bed before his legs gave out, and Lux hopped up and walked across the room to pick up her jacket.

"Are you leaving?" He asked a bit embarrassed at how pitiful he sounded.

Lux just laughed and grabbed her wallet it out of her jacket pocket pulling out two condoms. She looked back at Michael, his green eyes glazed over with lust, and his chest rising and falling as his breathing returning to normal. The paleness of his skin contrasting with the black ink of his tattoos and the purple hickeys blooming on his neck. He wasn't the skinny teenager she'd remembered fumbling around in the dark.

He kicked his shoes and pants off quickly unable to stop staring. The way she was so bold and forward was incredibly sexy, and not like the girl he used to know. That girl never had the confidence to walk around stark naked in nothing but leather boots and silver jewelry. He could feel himself already starting to stir again.

Lux tossed him the condoms, "I hope you can get it up again so you can fuck me." She ran her hands up her sides to her breasts tugging her nipples while slightly swaying her hips. His eyes followed her hands across her body and she could see he was starting to get hard again. She stepped closer to him placing one leg between his, her hand reaching behind his head tugging his head back so he was looking up at her.

"Touch yourself, but keep your hands to yourself until I say so," she whispered before kissing him. Her other hand trailed doesn't his chest raising chills under her nails causing him to hum against her lips. Lux straightened up brushing her nipple against his lips which he immediately flicked his tongue across the puckered skin feeling it stiffen for him. He swirled his tongue again this time ghosting his teeth across it causing them both to whimper. She glanced down to see him slowly stroking dick which was now hard and starting to leak.

"Turn your back to the bed and put the condom on," she told him stepping back and he quickly jumped to his feet, ripping the foil open. When he turned back around Lux was on knees and elbows on the bed looking back at him, wiggling her ass in the air.

"I remember how you like it baby," she giggled using her best baby girl voice.

His smile transformed into a smirk as he got behind her on his knees teasing her entrance with the head of his cock. She tried to push back but he wouldn't let that happen riding his length against her pussy. She grunted in frustration and tried again, but he did the same thing.

"Quit playing Mikey and just fuck me," she snapped glaring at him over her shoulder.

"Patience babe, I'm enjoying the view." He smacked her ass grinning at her.

"If you don't get on with--OHHHHHH." Michael waited till mid sentence to push deep inside her in one stroke. He closed his eyes taking a second to savor the feeling before pulling almost all the way out and then drive his cock back inside her. Deep slow strokes so they felt every inch of each other, her walls welcoming and grasping his thick shaft as he hit every pleasure spot. He reached around to allow his fingers to find her clit working slow circles to match his strokes as the sounds of skin on skin and their moans filled the room.

"Harder, harder," she gasped begging him.

"What was that?" Michael wanted her to say it again.

"Fuck me harder daddy, make me cum," Lux whined, "please Mikey."

"Oh hell yeah." He smacked her ass and went harder, pounding her pussy relentlessly. His fingers rubbing her clit giving it a couple little slaps which made her squeal with delight.

"I'm so close, right there, harder dammit," she commanded, the sheets tightly balled in her fists.

He felt her body tense up and squeeze him tightly and he kept fucking her through her orgasm, as she buried her face in a pillow to contain her shreiks. He pulled out admiring and running his fingers lightly along her glistening quivering sex before lying next to her on the bed.

She rolled over so she was on her side pressed against him tracing her nails along his chest down to his happy trail for a minute while kissing his neck. When she'd recovered she slung her leg over his hips hovering above him.

She sank down on his cock digging her nails into his chest as she did making him moan out a curse. Lux threw her head back and began to grind her hips. Michael had one hand on her hip and the other snaked up to her breasts. She began to ride his dick. Bouncing and twerking while she rolled her hips and touched herself. Michael watched her through half open eyes cursing and calling out whenever she squeezed him tighter inside of her. He grabbed her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh as he fucked up into her.

"Oh fuck, oh God, I can't," Lux gasped her legs starting to shake again.

"Yes you can, cum for me again baby. Look at me when you cum," he groaned knowing his own climax was getting closer.

"No, no, no, shit, fuck." She tried to keep her eyes on him as her orgasm hit but her eyes rolled back as she began to shake. Michael grabbed her hips, sat up and pushed her onto her back hooking one arm under her knee. Her nails dug into his shoulders as his hips rutted into her chasing his own high.

"Yes baby cum for me Mikey, feels so good baby," she moaned in his ear leaving kisses on his chest.

"Lux, Lucy, baby." Michael was moaning over her. "FUCK." He slammed into her with a shout as he came hard, his orgasm coursing through his entire body. he lay on top of her trembling while she squeezed around him milking his cock. Afterwards he pulled out carefully and went into the bathroom to dispose of the condom and get her a towel.

He helped her clean up and they laid back on the bed sweaty and still panting, her head on his chest. "That was much better than I remembered," she joked.

"You were pretty amazing then too, but that was amazing," he replied kissing her hairline.

They dozed off together like that and when Michael woke up he was surprised to find Lux up and getting dressed.

"You're leaving?" He sat up and started looking for his clothes.

"Don't get up, I've gotta get up in the morning so I'm gonna go," she found her bra and pulled her dress back on. She turned her back to him, "Can you zip me up?"

He tried to sneak his hands inside her dress but she shook her head with a laugh, "Just zip it."

"At least let me get your number, we can talk or something. I'll take you out to dinner maybe," he stammered pulling his pants on.

"And then what? We become friends? Give it another go? Nah that's not gonna end well, I'm never gonna be able to forget how badly you broke my heart. I even have a Grammy on my mantle to remind me that I still kind of hate you." Lux looked almost sad but she shook it off.

"Then why did you come back with me? Was this out of spite?" Michael stared at her in disbelief.

"No, I came back with you because as much as I still kinda hate you there's part of me that still kinda loves you. I wanted a better goodbye for us. This is better." Lux kissed his cheek and turned to go before she stopped. "I also did it because I really wanted to fuck you and I'm glad I did. That was the best sex I've ever had, no regrets."

He swallowed, nodding, not willing to fight her now when he wouldn’t fight for her then.

Michael watched her walk away, their roles were reversed this time. He wondered if he'd ever see her again, or if it was the best ending they could've hoped for. He pulled out his notebook, and began to write his thoughts. He'd find her again in a song.

@spookymashton @h0tsos @toofadedtofight @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @kchillout

#michael clifford #michael clifford imagine #michael clifford smut #5SOS Michael #michael 5sos #5seconds of summer #5sosfanfic #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos smut

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captainkippen · 4 years

Text

I don't know where I'm going with this, it's just a piece of free writing because I felt inspired. Might keep going and turn it into a short story or something.

TW: Implied abuse.

1994.

The door clatters open like a twister is blowing through and I jerk up with such violence I almost slide right off my seat. There are a few bleary-eyed moments of confusion as my heart calms down before a takeaway cup of coffee is thrust under my nose and I'm forced to take it before it ends up decorating my shirt.

"Rise and shine, loser. You fall asleep at your desk again? You know you're gonna have permanent keyboard marks on your face if you keep doing that."

I bat Jay's hands away from my neck, saving myself from one of his terrible massages. He keeps telling me he has magic hands, but I'm pretty sure the crick in my neck only sticks more stubbornly when he tries to get rid of it. I give my shoulders a roll, sighing into the satisfaction of feeling my joints click, and swivel around to face him.

He's dressed in the same clothes he wore to mall yesterday and the heavy stench of too many cigarettes clings to him which means he probably spent the night at Ricky's - our local 24 hour diner - periodically ducking into the alley to burn through a new pack of Marlboroughs. A fresh smudge of dark purples and blues stains the skin around his eye. I hope he at least gave his brother a bruise back to match.

"What time is it?" I punctuate my question with a yawn just to make a point, but he just grins and holds up his watch.

7:15AM. Wonderful. At least he waited until he used the front door for once. My parents fret about him breaking his neck every time he leaves scuff marks on the window ledge to avoid waking them up.

"Did you actually get any sleep last night?"

"Did you?" He fires back with a raised eyebrow, shrugging off his jacket and flopping onto my bed to grab the latest issue of Rolling Stone from where he left it strewn across one of the pillows last time he crashed here. Comfortable silence falls as I admire the way his fingers bend the magazine back. There's this little crease that forms between his brows whenever he's concentrating, physical evidence of him trying to force his brain to focus on one thing at a time and not the myriad of random thoughts bouncing in there at any given time. I hide my smile in my coffee - he knows I'm not really annoyed, but I refuse to give up the illusion. It's a ageing routine, but one I never get bored of.

I count the minutes until the silence breaks. One. Two. Thr-

"So I was thinking," he says, the sighs like he's exasperated at his own inability to keep words in. It's one of the many things I like about Jay - he always speaks his mind. It makes it easier to understand him.

"Dangerous task for you."

An unimpressed middle finger greets my words before they're completely out. I hold back a snort.

"Sorry. Go on?"

We've known each other since we were seven. Across the street neighbours. He was the first person I met when I moved in with my foster parents. In a street full of unfamiliar tree and looming white houses he sat there on the curb pretending to fish with a stick and a piece of string. He'd called over as I got out of the car, asked if I liked trout. I didn't even know what trout was. That was okay. It was gross anyway, apparently.

I don't remember ever making friends so easily, like we just fell together and that was it. No fuss. Ten years on and the surprise hasn't waned.

"You guys want breakfast?" My mom pokes her head around the door with a tired smile, interrupting whatever train of thought Jay was hopping on.

I shake my head and lift my coffee, ignoring the disapproving look she gives me. Coffee is not food nor is it particularly good for you, but it's also not worth a battle over nutrition before eight o'clock.

"All good here, Mrs H." Jay smiles, all teeth and charm and twinkling eyes, then pats his stomach as if to confirm it. It's a smile that's impossible to disagree with when it's directed right at you.

"You sure? Alrighty then," Mom says, doubt creeping into her tone despite her fond look. She was forever trying to feed Jay, convinced he was too skinny. Worried he wasn't getting enough to eat. I can't say I blame her - some days Jay looks like he's auditioning to play Mike Teevee right after he got put through Willy Wonka's stretching machine, but it's all an illusion. I've watched him consume an entire box of donuts in one sitting more than once. His stomach might as well be a trash compactor for all the junk he eats. Plus he always has snacks tucked into the glove compartment of his car in case of emergencies, right alongside a sock full of laundromat destined quarters, a spare toothbrush and his shaving kit.

"Sawyer, honey, can you please clean up a bit in here? It looks like a bomb hit it. Guests don't want to sit in this."

"Half of this is his mess!" I splutter as my mom smiles and disappears back down the hall. "He's not even a real guest!"

Jay only laughs and ducks out of the way when I throw a balled up sock at his head. Asshole.

"So as I was saying..."

"As you were saying," I roll my eyes, gesturing for him to continue.

"I think we should do something."

"What, like go to the movies?" There's nothing good out at the moment, I'm pretty sure. We spent all last weekend debating whether or not to go see the latest Keanu Reeves movie only to spend all our cash on popcorn and get kicked out halfway through because Jay's running commentary made me laugh so hard I choked.

"No man, like... something interesting."

"...bowling?"

He shoots me an unimpressed look and I raise my hands in surrender. What else could he possibly have in mind? Our town only has three things to do; movies, bowling or the mall. We've been cycling through each option all summer. It's the same thing every year and it does get old after a while, but it beats sweating to death outside and spending all day playing video games sets my dad off on the perils of computer addiction. If I ever have to hear another lecture about technology rotting my brain it'll be too soon.

"For a writer you sure are lacking imagination."

"Well what do you suggest, then?" I huff.

There's a gleam in his eye and the warning lights start flashing in my brain just a beat too late. I know that look, it's the kind that got me put in detention three weeks in a row last semester for filling Roy Jackson's football helmet with food dye after he called spread a false rumour that Mary Harring blew him in his backseat. In my defence, it was all Jay. In his defence, I didn't stop him. Principle Ikener's never looked so disappointed. Roy Jackson's face was pink for a week. Scraping gum off the bleachers has never been so satisfying.

"Okay, hear me out first, alright," he says as I groan. We both know I'm already doomed to agree, but we play the part like he has to convince me anyway. Like I said, an ageing routine.

There's a pause in which I repress a sigh and let him dramatically drum roll his fists through the air and then he says, "Europe."

The word is emphasised with jazz hands and I can only stare at him for a moment, my brain trying to compute it. Did I mishear? Did he get part way through a sentence then forget the rest? He stares at me expectantly and it's all I can do to repeat the word slowly after him. His resulting nod is reminiscent of my aunt's excitable golden retriever.

"What about Europe...?"

"We should go."

"What?"

"To Europe," he insists. "We should go."

"You want us to go to Europe."

He looks at me like I'm being deliberately stupid. "That's what I said."

"But... why?"

Summers at home are dull. Three long months of sweltering heat and so many snow cones we make ourselves sick, and weeks on end of trying to think of new things to do, but it has never been so bad that we've resorted to leaving the country before. I'm confused.

"You're always talking about how much you want to travel! And we've got time. two and a half months before school. Think about it, we could be spending that time on the beaches in Spain, or looking at fancy architecture in Italy! I can drag you 'round some museums, you can force me on a tour of places famous English writers lived and we can get sick of each other in style."

Morning light spills through the window and highlights the dustmotes in the air. The bruises on his face seem darker with his face haloed in gold. I get another whiff of cigarettes and realise the smell is staler than usual.

"I don't know," I say. "My parents-"

I get a set of pursed lips in response. His expression is strained.

"Your dad is always saying we should broaden our horizons. He'll be thrilled. Besides, think of all the cute European girls we'll meet."

"How would we even afford it?"

It's a deflection. For a pair of teenage boys, we're both pretty good with money. Weekend jobs at Blockbuster and Baskin Robbins. I still have money saved from my Bar Mitvah, mostly because I've never really wanted anything enough to really splash out. My clunky computer works just fine and I'm content with books and notepads. Jay saves like his life depends on it, and maybe it does. Money for gas and food for the infinite hours spent avoiding his own home. Money for college. Money for escaping.

He stares me down.

One, two, three days since he left the Rolling Stone on my pillow only to pick it back up this morning. I'd noted his lengthy absence yesterday, but I'd just assumed he'd gone fishing. I should have known something was off.

"Please?" There's a desperate edge to his tone that rugs at my heartstrings and it's all I can do not to demand he tell me why he's suddenly so keen on visiting Europe when he's never expressed any such desire before. Instead I just sigh.

"Okay, but you get to convince my mom."

#my writing #tw implied abuse

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batskulldrag · 4 years

Text

Phoenix by Fallout Boy

Here’s a fluff finisher. No real warnings, I know I don’t believe it either

Chapter Sixteen: Phoenix by Fallout Boy

“Ok sweetie.” Patton ruffled Virgil’s hair. “Why don’t you go lay down for a little while? And when you get up, we’ll celebrate.”

“Aren’t I a little old for naptime?” Virgil protested.

“No. Naps are awesome. Just wait until you get older, all you’re gonna wanna do is nap.”

“And you did just take some pills that are meant to make you tired.” Logan interjected.

“Alright.” Virgil pulled on his sleeves. “Maybe I should, you know, just to be doing it.”

“You’re right, you need to stop resisting a rest.”

Virgil smiled at that and walked up the stairs and into his room, they didn’t hear his door close. But Virgil was prone to forget to close his door. And as long as he didn’t sleep naked or something ridiculous like that, it was fine.

“Logan, we’re parents.” Patton pounced his husband with a hug, almost knocking him over.

“Oh, my gosh.” Logan said, stunned. “We’re parents. What if I’m a bad parent? The only example of parenting I’ve had was those two cavemen! And what if he is straight? I can’t give him advice for that!”

“Logan, you’re already a great dad.” Patton didn’t let go. “You even got Virgil to open up to you about Payton. And he really likes you. Just because your parents were the worst doesn’t mean you’re gonna be a bad dad.”

“He’s right, Calculator Watch.” Roman agreed. “Your only parental flaw is that you don’t like dad jokes.”

“But what if they were right!?” Logan pulled himself back to look Patton in the eyes, clutching his jacket so hard that he was probably digging holes in it. “What if they were right!?”

“Logan, we’ve been through this before.” Patton gently framed Logan’s face in his hands. “They were wrong. There’s nothing wrong with you, you’re not broken or damaged. And you don’t think it’s a good idea to hurt people who don’t fit in your mold. You’re already a great dad, and a way better parent than those useless circle queens.”

“And relationship advice isn’t tied to gender.” Roman rolled his eyes and slapped Logan on the shoulder. “You and Padre are relationship goals, all single people study at your feet. Except me, I’m an expert in my own right.”

“I thought you moved in with us to study us.” Logan smiled at him.

“No, it was just because the rent is cheap.”

“Ok.” Patton kissed Logan’s nose. “Come help me make a cake.”

“I was waiting for you to pull out an excuse to make dessert.”

“Well, if our baby isn’t something to celebrate, then what is?”

“You think you’re so cute.” Logan rolled his eyes.

“I am.” Patton grabbed his hand and pulled him into the kitchen.

Logan quietly watched as Patton pulled out his baking supplies.

“Ok, do you think he’ll want chocolate or vanilla?” Patton bounced up and down with his recipe book pressed to his chest.

“Chocolate.” Roman said confidently. “Everyone likes chocolate.”

“Logan doesn’t.” Patton argued.

“He eats dark chocolate, it’s just sweets he doesn’t like.”

“I tend to abstain from desserts in general,” Logan intervened. “I’m not exactly the best example.”

“I know he liked chocolate when he was a baby.” Patton considered. “But he hasn’t had any sweets since then. His tastes may have changed.”

“Good point.” Roman put his hand on his chin as if he were thinking.

“Go see if he’s asleep yet and ask him.” Logan sighed.

Patton set his book down and scampered upstairs. On his way he kicked himself for not thinking of asking Virgil in the first place. He found Virgil’s door slightly ajar (funny, he could have sworn that it was a door) and knocked on it gently.

“Honey, are you awake?”

“yeah.”

“Ok, quick question, what kind of cake do you like?”

There was a brief pause.

“Chocolate, I guess. It’s been a while.”

“Ok, and would you use chocolate frosting or butter cream?”

“I don’t know, chocolate too.”

“Ok.” Patton beamed. “You get some rest I’ll see you in a bit. I love you.”

“Thank you.” Virgil said sincerely from his end of the door.

Poor baby. Patton thought sadly at that remark.

He really wanted Virgil to be ok, but that was going to take a lot of time. He could almost hear Logan telling him to be patient. He dumped his jacket and vest on the couch as he walked back towards the kitchen and rolled up his sleeves. He almost wished that they had stayed at the courthouse long enough to see Payton taken out in hand cuffs. But he had decided that they had punished his brother enough.

“He says he wants chocolate.” Patton chirped as he picked his recipes back up.

“I told you.” Roman announced triumphantly.

Patton gathered what he needed and contentedly mixed the cake batter. Logan just kind of watched with a pensive expression. But Logan usually looked like he was thinking about something.

“Patton.” Logan finally spoke. “I don’t want to be the one to do this to you, but I’m really the only one who can.”

“What do you mean?” Patton looked around in terror, did Logan want a divorce? But everything was perfect, they were comfortable with each other. They just adopted a kid.

“I know you’re probably hoping for Virgil to start calling you dad.” Logan continued, what a relief, he didn’t want a divorce. “But that may take a while. Until now the word ‘dad’ was used to describe a villain who wanted to hurt him. So, that’s not a label he’s going to use anytime soon, especially on anyone that he likes.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Patton looked down into the batter and back up again. “But I’ll wait until he’s ready. I wasn’t just going to insist he call me dad. But if a ‘hi hungry, I’m dad’ opportunity comes up, I’m taking it.”

“Even I would be sad if you didn’t.” Logan smiled

# # #

Virgil stared up at the ceiling and absentmindedly ran his hand over his stuffed bear. This was it. It was really over. His dad had finally lost custody of him. And sure, he was still worried about how things would play out between him and his uncles but nothing bad had happened yet. For now, at least, he would just have to trust that they believed child abuse to be wrong.

Besides Patton seemed thrilled to have him, and despite being hard to read, Logan seemed happy as well. And they even still thought that they loved him. Virgil moved the bears arms up and down.

“Maybe…” He said out loud to make it real. “Maybe they actually do.”

He sat up and pulled the picture of his birth parents out of his sock drawer. As he gazed at the couple, he could be sure that Payton was just using her. But he didn’t know whether she was using him as well. Granted, Payton probably didn’t have anything she wanted, he certainly didn’t have anything he wanted. Not anymore. Neither of them did anymore.

It was pointless to want something from someone who wasn’t going to give it to you anyway. And while he had to admit that he did want it, he could safely say that he didn’t need it from them anymore. His mom could have her happy family that he wasn’t a part of, and Payton could rot in prison for the next decade. He didn’t need them. He didn’t need them to want him, he didn’t need him to love him.

And as far as Patton and Logan went, at the very least they did care about him. Hell, maybe they did love him. For the longest time he had thought something like that was impossible. But he had also completely believed that people would believe Payton’s word over his. And today the exact opposite happened.

He set his bear on the pillow. His pillow, in his room. What a thought. He was home. He ran his hand over his door as he walked out of his room. A true luxury item.

Virgil lurked downstairs and wandered into the kitchen when he couldn’t find anyone in the living room. The three of them were laughing and joking about something while Patton mixed frosting.

“Virgil.” Patton called happily upon seeing him. “Come have some frosting.”

“Are you feeling any better?” Logan asked, feeling his forehead and grabbing his arm to check his pulse.

“I’m fine.” Virgil laughed.

“Hi fine, I’m dad.” Patton yelled ecstatically.

“Well, he did it.” Roman sighed.

“We knew he would.” Logan shrugged.

“That wasn’t a one off.” Patton pointed his spoon at them. “I’m gonna do that forever.”

Virgil laughed at Patton’s level of enthusiasm and Patton beamed at the idea that someone liked his jokes.

“Logan,” Roman put a hand on his shoulder. “Get ready for twice the number of dad jokes.”

“That’s twice the number of fun.” Patton dabbed a bit of frosting on Virgil’s nose. “And Virgil nose it.”

“Hey, that’s batter-ry.” Virgil teased, taking a step back.

“Well on you it’s dark chocolate.” Patton grinned. “Get it? ‘Cause you’re an emo?”

“I get it.”

“Ok, how can you tell if a cake is sad?” Patton bounced up and down.

“How?”

“It’s in tiers!”

“What do you call a fake noodle?” Virgil laughed.

“What?”

“An impasta.”

“What do you call man with a broken leg?”

“What?”

“An ambulance!”

“I’m in hell.” Logan interrupted.

“Ok we’d better stop.” Virgil smiled. “He might be tempted to pull out a lo-gun.”

Patton and Roman both doubled over laughing while Logan stood quietly.

“Of all the things to be genetic.” Logan smiled and ruffled his hair. “I’m tempted to think they gave you to the wrong brother when you were born.”

“Well, we fixed that.”

“I have one.” Roman announced, wiping away a tear. “What does Payton have in common with a vacuum cleaner?”

“Well they both suck.” Virgil speculated.

“Almost,” Roman corrected. “They both suck and they both have dirt bags inside.”

“Roman that’s mean.” Patton scolded.

“The truth hurts sometimes.” Logan added.

“Logan that was low.” Patton gasped. “gun.”

“Why is that so easy for you?”

“Oh, just try to be a guy named Roman and sit through a history class with him.” Roman rolled his eyes. “Or with anyone. Oh, your names are Roman and Remus, like Romulus and Remus. Are you going home to the wolf?”

“Someone should tell him.” Patton said quickly.

“Not it.” Logan held up his hands.

“Tell me what?” Roman demanded.

“Ain’t nothing but a heart ache.” Virgil took his chance.

“Tell you what Lupine means.” Patton said softly.

“I know what it means.” Roman rolled his eyes. “It means wolf, ha, ha, ha.”

“So, was it a hard birth?” Virgil asked. “Was your mom upset?”

“They were born conjoined at the chest.” Logan answered. “Like all conjoined twins who survive to term they were born through C-section.”

“Had to cut them out, isn’t that easier?”

“No, it’s major abdominal surgery.”

“Oh, that’s why she was mad.” Virgil nodded.

“Ok, your name is Virgil.” Roman accused. “They named you after a poet that I guarantee neither of them ever heard of.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m named after the perfect human, as explained in The Inferno.”

“You were named after Static Shock.” Roman rolled his eyes. “No teenager has read Dante’s work. Or Virgil’s.”

“My work is under rated,” Virgil nodded. “I need a publicity stunt.”

“Not you, Static Shock.”

“Cool, I get to be the perfect man and a superhero. Anything else you want to give me?”

“I think Virgil’s a great name.” Patton interrupted.

“Yeah, you yell ‘Virgil’ in a crowded mall or something and maybe two kids will turn around.” Virgil nodded.

“Yeah, and you’re both of them.” Roman muttered.

“Because we love him twice as much?” Patton beamed, wrapping himself around him.

“Words are losing their meaning.” Logan rubbed his temples.

“Sorry.” Patton looked up apologetically. “We’ll stop repeating that word for now.”

The timer on the oven went off and Virgil jumped a mile at the intrusion.

“The cake!” Patton let go and ran to the oven.

Patton gently set two round trays on top of the oven and switched it off. He clapped happily and bounced back over to the group.

“It needs to cool off for a while.” He announced contentedly. “How about we watch a movie while it chills out?”

Halfway through One Hundred and One Dalmatians Virgil’s eye lids started feeling heavy. He rested his head on Patton’s shoulder, relishing that warm safe feeling that he had first been introduced to in the hospital. Now he could accept something that he hadn’t dared to so much as hope for in the past. He could accept that this was normal. This was how things were supposed to be. He slid his head into Patton’s lap.

“You getting sleepy kiddo?” Patton cooed, running his fingers through his hair.

“Just a little.” Virgil mumbled.

“Well, you have had quite a day.” Logan added. “I think we’ve all earned a rest.”

“You’re gonna be ok from now on.”

“Thank you.” Virgil sighed.

#logicality #parentalmoxiety #parentalanological #platoniclamp #sanderssidesfic #humanau #pattonsanders #logansanders #romansanders #virgilsanders #famILY

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laedraws · 5 years

Text

I had to exercise myself with writing and I found a prompt generator. This is probably very bad but I tried

Warning: language

Your prompt: Eddie is the barista at a coffee shop and always screws up Richie’s name on purpose + Your prompt: Richie hates coffee, but goes to a coffee shop and drinks some just so they can see Eddie, who works there

Richie Tozier enters the coffee shop that’s across the street the way he always does.

It’s quiet, and it’s a nice change from all the noise he’s usually exposed to.

Eddie Kaspbrak walked through the same door hours ago, half an hour before the start of his shift. He’s not thrilled about his job, but it’s not the worst he could be doing, either.

It’s quiet, and it’s a nice change from all the noise his thoughts make inside his head.

Richie Tozier hesitates only a few seconds before taking his place in line, not needing to mentally rehearse his order.

Eddie Kaspbrak has had anxiety all of his life, he still checks every order twice, despite knowing each one by heart.

Richie Tozier hates coffee. Don’t get him wrong, he usually gladly throws himself onto everything that could possibly make him develop some sort of addiction; but the light adrenaline wave coffee provides just isn’t worth the shitty taste.

Eddie Kaspbrak has learnt from a very young age that sometimes you have to just pinch your nose and swallow whatever substance your body does (or doesn’t) need. He grew up weak, and medicines helped him, or so his mother said. Caffeine was just another help, a boost for when his useless body claimed sleep too early or too often. A necessity, really.

Richie Tozier hated caffeine, but ordered a cup of coffee anyway. He always did, because the only reason he even entered the coffee nearly every other day was to tell said order to the brown eyed boy working at the counter.

Eddie Kaspbrak saw him the moment he got in line. He ordered the same thing every day, and it was the only time of the day Eddie didn’t need to repeat the order in his head until he had handed the cup to the customer in line.

Richie smiled, Eddie smirked.

“Your name?”

Your name is Richie. I know this. I heard your friends call after you. I heard you saying it yourself while you were trying to sound professional on the phone. You failed, by the way.

“Richie”

Please remember it right this time. I spelled it clearly, for you. I’m only here because of you. Fuck. I don’t even care how much this shit’s overpriced if I get to hear you call me correctly for once. (I want to hear my name on your lips)

Eddie grabbed a sharpie and scribbled something onto the soft cardboard. It made a soothing sound and he dared to quickly look up to the other, curly black hair partly hiding the huge frame of his glasses. He looked so hopeful Eddie almost felt bad.

It’s a cute name really. R-I-C-H-I-E. Has a nice ring to it, too. It would be a shame if someone put a T in there.

He finished writing, turned the cup so that Richie couldn’t see it, and moved to make his coffee. Cupboards sounds tingled in the air. He was aware of Richie’s presence somewhere behind him, but it didn’t make him nervous. He wasn’t overthinking for once. It was their little game, or Eddie’s at least, if the other somehow hadn’t caught up yet.

“Here you go” he said as he finished pouring it, half smiling but carefully avoiding the other’s eyes.

Richie smiled back and took his coffee, then quickly stopped in his tracks.

Are you fucking kid-

“-ding me?”

Eddie turned around, eyebrow raised.

Him and his fucking trashmouth. While he mentally zeroed any possibility he may have had with the cute boy from the shop he could clearly hear the distinct voice of Stanley Uris himself, telling him to stop being so freaking loud all the time. Serves him well for never listening to Stan the Man.

“Is something wrong?”

If Eddie was having a mini panic attack the moment he heard Richie complain (which he was), he didn’t show it.

And then something incredible happened, something so rare it could be comparable to the passage of some comets in the sky. Richie Tozier was left speechless.

“I-“ he started, flushing through his pale skin. “I’m sorry” he finished. “I just…was wondering how you think it’s pronounced? Maybe RiTchy?” He added, a sincere smile softening the joke.

It took some seconds for Eddie to blink away his confusion and pick up that the other was in fact fucking with him.

“You pay for the coffee, not for accuracy”

What the actual fuck was that, Kaspbrak.

“Excuse me?” It was Richie’s turn to be confused now.

“We put names on the cups so they don’t get mixed up, it’s a practical tip which also happens to do wonders for health codes, ‘cause imagine picking someone else’s cup that’d be so anti-hygienic and have you ever heard of a staph infection-”

Richie had honestly lost himself trying to follow the other’s train of thoughts, the only thing he could think about was that all the rambling made the boy in front of him look strangely cute.

“…and basically my point is that in the end the name is not really relevant for the service, so-”

(cute, cute, cute)

“Well yeah okay I’m sorry, I got it, I was kind of a dick-” And then Richie snorted because of course, he had to add “A Dick, get it? Because my name’s Richard?”

The barista blinked, but otherwise had no response. If Stan had been there, he would have smacked Richie in the head, which, fair enough. He suddenly became painfully aware of the line growing behind him.

“Alright, for real now, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you, just… uh, you’ve been butchering my name for weeks now and I guess I overthought it a little? Thought that maybe you didn’t like me which, I guess you’d be right in doing after this..”

Eddie felt like the shittiest person on the planet because you see, Richie’s eyes looked like those of a kicked dog behind those stupid glasses.

So when the other reached for his money and paid, muttering a ‘keep the change’ under his breath, Eddie took a deep sigh and- where’s my inhaler when I need it?

“It’s Eddie!”

“Uh?” Richie turned around, the cup of coffee still warm in his hand, the steam fogging the base of his glasses.

“Eddie. It’s my name. In case you wanna butcher it back”

As Richie looked at him Eddie felt his cheeks go down two shades. And then a wide, heartfelt grin pictured himself on the black haired boy’s face and Eddie felt his chest relax as if he really took a huge spray out of his inhaler.

“Nice one” he decided, and then, as a grin formed on his face: “Mind if I call you Eds?”

Eddie shook his head. Yes, he did mind, but he guessed they were even now.

“No” he lied while moving to the next costumer: “I owe you one”

And with that Richie could have considered himself satisfied, really. Not only the cute boy- Eddie, he quickly reminded himself, would call him by his correct name from now on, but Richie knew his, too.

You could just have asked, he heard Stan’s voice echo in his mind.

But isn’t it enough to just sit into my Hawaiian shirt, lovestruck? He would have probably said back.

(Yes that is the variation of a meme I just quoted. No, Stan, I physically cannot talk ‘normal’)

And so he refused to walk through the door, lingering on the back of the counter, respectfully out of line: “That’s nice to know, Eds. How about Eddie Spaghetti?”

That’s where Eddie drew the line.

“I said I owed you one, don’t push it”, but he was smiling.

Richie noticed it, and that’s why he said: “Alright Spaghetti-head”

He forgot he was holding coffee, because the smug face he was picturing having fell apart as he took a sip of his drink and almost spit it all out. Luckily the other was too busy to notice it.

Eddie handed the order to his current costumer, and forgot all about work policies and ‘professionalism’ as he absent-mindedly slipped in a conversation with the boy he had been purposely misnaming for weeks: “Beep-beep Richie”

“Did you just beeped me?” Richie added, faking indignation.

“Yeah, you’re annoying”. But there was no serious tone in his voice. Then, he quickly added: “Can I ask you something?”

Richie was glowing: “Yeah, sure”

“Why don’t you order something else if you dislike coffee?”

Richie’s heart did something funny in his chest as he realized he was panicking in his spot.

“Huh?”

“Yeah I can see you throwing it away as you walk out, you know. The poor plant outside has probably become addicted to caffeine by now. At first I thought it was me, that I had fucked up your order or something. That’s why I started to spell your name wrong, I was pissed because I thought you didn’t like the service or something. And I used to check every time, and I’m pretty sure that I had done alright”

Richie started to understand how Stan must feel while dealing with his shenanigans, because he suddenly had the urge to smack himself in the head, too.

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry if you thought that! I swear it has nothing to do with you-

(It has everything to do with you, just not in the way you’d think)

“-I just like coming here, and it wouldn’t sit well with me if I didn’t support the place, somehow. Does it make sense?”

Eddie didn’t look too convinced but he wasn’t one to push people too much. He just nodded and bit his lip, going on another tour to the coffee machine.

“If that’s how it is then, I was thinking, how about I make you another one? Another order, I mean. One that you actually like. I promise I’ll spell your name right this time”

“That’d be cool, actually. Do you have anything with chocolate?”

Eddie smiles and gestures him to go back in line.

Richie patiently waits, and when Eddie hands him his new order he forgets about checking his name’s spelling. He smiles at Eddie and maybe stares a little too long before thanking him and finally walking out the place.

It’s only when he passes the poor plant he’d been accidentally feeding with caffeine that he remembers the previous conversation.

On the cup, truth to his word, Eddie wrote “Richie”, the clear handwriting striking on the white cardboard. Under it, there’s a row of numbers Richie takes some seconds too long to decipher.

When it finally hits him, it makes his body warm despite the weather and a sincere smile brightens his face.

Richie Tozier goes home and doesn’t hear the noises of the street over the memory of Eddie’s voice he’s playing in his head.

Eddie Kaspbrak finishes his shift hours later, takes out his umbrella and lets the sound of the rain silence his overthinking, as thoughts of Richie bloom at the edge of his mind.

#it #it chapter one #it chapter two #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #losers club #the losers club #Richie x Eddie #prompt generator #fanfic

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