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agentcomstock · 2 years

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A Katlas Christmas

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Atlas was nervous. She was never nervous.

After everything she's been through, she thought nervousness didn't exist past the age of 12.

Never scared during her combat trials. Never scared in the wild of Alaska. It was almost a new and unprocessed emotion. her stomach soured over the inkling of an idea that made her palms sweat and heart palpitate.

She had no idea what to get K.A.T for Christmas. She didn't even know if he celebrated! Oh for goodness sake, she hasn't celebrated since she was 5! Why does Christmas exist? To confide in family, eat to your heart's content and celebrate togetherness? Not to Atlas. Christmas meant more chores around the Church, including outside. Being the tallest, she was in charge of putting and taking down every single light that went into a tree or building. Rain, shine, and even snow.

She roamed the streets of her hometown, wondering what to gift him. She still really didn't know much about K.A.T besides his love of boba and a shared interest in EDM and rock music.

Maybe an album? A record player?

She finally ducked her head into an antique shop. It smelled like baby's breath flower and old cigarettes, coating her clothes and mask in the sickly sweet scent.

Shelves and tables full of old oil lamp, glass cups and bowls, and kids toys.

She spotted something out of the corner of her eye — a large stuffed bear with creamy caramel brown fur adorned with a bright red bow on its neck. She immediately picked it up and examined it. Perfect.

She walked through the music section, finding broken record players, Walkmans, and even a sealed 1977 "Heroes" album from David Bowie.

On a shelf hidden away she spotted a music box. It was made of metal and wood, at least 50 years old. She moved the hand crank and a beautiful rendition of "You are my Sunshine" started to play.

Smiling to herself, she clutched the box tighter in her hand.

Maybe this Christmas wouldn't be so bad after all?

She stopped by another store and picked up some wrapping paper and a bow for the music box. She could have settled with a small bag, but Christmas was honestly a foreign concept.

Back at her studio, she began wrapping it in a cartoon reindeer paper, making sure the metal didn't rip the corners and placed the bow on top.

She waited for the time to come where he'd be over. Maybe he forgot the invite. Maybe she forgot to tell him? Her worries mounted until a soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. With a sigh of relief, she opened the door and smiled brighter than she ever has.

"Merry Christmas, Atlas!"

"Merry Christmas, K.A.T"

——————

"I'm... really happy you came. It means a lot, K.A.T." Atlas greeted shyly. Heat rose to her face and her skin prickled with threats of sweat. It was by no means warm in the apartment, but K.A.T brought her all the warmth she needed.

She went to the kitchenette and grabbed a bottle of wine; Stella Berry. It was sweet and tasted like juice. She needed something to distract her mind for the moment.

"Want anything to drink? I have these like... Premade boba drinks. I remember you mentioning you like boba awhile back, but Cops Bay doesn't really have any of those shops."

She lived on the coast of Oregon, a couple hours outside of Eugene. It was a quiet but large city of about 15,000 with a lot of lumbering and ironwork as it's cliche job area.

Atlas heard K.A.T's helmet chirp and she looked over at him — his screen was lit up with hearts. She giggled to herself and made him a brown sugar boba; the classic.

"I don't have much else, I'm sorry." She walked over and handed him the glass, gestured to the lack of decoration besides a crude looking table top tree and string lights.

"No no! I think it's cozy. Don't need a whole lot if you're not living here, right? We don't get to go home often, so it only makes sense." K.A.T reassured her, grabbing the cup from her hands. He looked up and flashed a smile. He hadn't noticed before, but she wore a simple mask instead of the one she wears on base. He smiled softly beneath his helmet, but couldn't help to wonder what lies beyond that. What she could possibly be covering up. He shook the thought as quickly as it came, not wanting to hold onto the thought for much longer.

They chatted for awhile as Atlas built a fire in a small wood stove that was nestled into a corner.

Hours passed and Atlas found herself curled up next to K.A.T, her head resting on his chest.

What was supposed to be one glass of wine turned into three bottles. Miracle on 34th Street was playing on the TV in front of them. She might not have had much, but a functional living room was a must.

"Hey Atlas... I got you something for Christmas." K.A.T gently poked her forehead, waking her up from a micro nap.

"Y'didnt need to get me anything silly..." Her words trailed off, as if she were still half asleep. He laughed and carefully set her upright and went near the door to grab her present. He didn't see this side of her on base. She was cold and sharp, always on the lookout for threats, no matter how much he tried to tell her that if there was anyone nearby that would hurt her, he would be there in a heartbeat to save her. If not him, then Ghost and Soap. They've seemed to take a liking to her. A little too much for his taste.

Atlas was coherent and standing by the time K.A.T came back over and handed her the present.

"Here! Open it."

"Oh my god you actually got me something..." She said quietly. Atlas meticulously opened the box to find a small stuffed cat holding a star that said "press me"

"Ta da! I uh, wasn't sure what to get you. I hope you like plushies!"

Atlas pressed the star and a small message saying "hewwo! I wuv you!" played from the soundbox. Her chest tightened and her eyes stung, tears threatening to pour.

"I can't have this..." She said, looking at where K.A.T's eyes might be behind the helmet.

"What?? You don't like it??" K.A.T's screen module displayed a text emoticon of a crying face. She shook her head and explained.

"It's not that... I just don't think I can keep it safe." She bit her lip, trying to hold back tears. It was the first gift she had received in years. The nuns at the orphanage she lived in would constantly take her toys and comfort items. Why? They wanted to make her life hell to coerce her into attending service.

"Well! It's a good thing it's pocket sized! You can just keep it on you. You're pretty strong, so the safest place to keep it is you, no?" He redirected her thoughts back to what they should be; happy and content. The ability to keep something safe. Just anything to keep safe. She would put her life on the line for this plushie.

"Yeah... You're right. Thank you, K.A.T" she was still looking down at the cat when she made the decision to hug him.

K.A.T was taken aback, stuttering too fast for the voice module to keep up. He was essentially glitching. He eventually brought it together and hugged her back. The person he was hugging felt so fragile, as if a pebble was enough to break her entire being. The moment passed as soon as it came, and she ducked back where her bed was.

"I also... Got you something. Great minds think alike, yeah?" She handed him the bear and music box she had picked up earlier in the day.

"Oh my god! This is amazing!" K.A.T did a little dance where he stood, like a kid being brought ice cream. He took the bear first, hugging it tight and petting the fur. "He's adorable! Oh my goodness I love him! Thank you thank you!" He couldn't contain his excitement. She laughed a little too loud, and K.A.T heard her. His display showed two exclamation marks that morphed into question marks.

"Your laugh is cute. Why don't you do that around base?" He inquired, forgetting about imaginary boundaries he set for her. He immediately back pedaled and started apologizing.

"No it's okay. I'm just on guard on base. I try to be all the time, but the wine said not tonight." She jeered, giving him the wrapped box. He unwrapped it as carefully as he could.

The box shown brightly. The edges were made of iron and the box of cherry. There was a woodburned design on top of a Celtic knot with smaller runes and symbols around it.

"I also... wasn't sure what to get you, but the music box called to me." Atlas said sheepishly. She was looking down, picking at her nails nervously as K.A.T had been silent for a little longer than she wanted him to be. He opened the music box and started turning the handle.

"Atlas this is... amazing. No one's ever given me something like this before." His voice was raw, as if he were choking back tears. He hummed along to the tune and started walking around the room. The humming turned into singing. The most beautiful voice Atlas has ever heard. The heat returned to her face and she silently thanked herself for still wearing the mask.

"Sing for me again sometime. Please?" She asked anxiously.

K.A.T rapidly nodded in response.

The two eventually returned to the couch, watching some more cult classic Christmas movies.

Atlas was sound asleep by 10:30 and K.A.T needed to leave before a majority of the holiday traffic took hold of the roads.

He gently picked her up bridal style and placed her in the bed, making sure to cover her up and take off her glasses. He quickly went to the kitchen and grabbed her a cup of water and scrounged for some Advil for the next morning.

Once he was sure she was settled and comfortable, he turned to leave the bedside when suddenly, Atlas' hand found itself intertwined with his.

"stay… please stay…" she mumbled. K.A.T's heart skipped several beats as he realized what situation he was in. "Don't wanna be alone… " K.A.T sighed tentatively, obliging her request. Thankfully, his bag had an extra pair of comfortable clothes. He stripped down in the bathroom and came out, forgetting his only bottoms were shorts. The metal of his prosthetics glistened softly from the lights outside. He already agreed, there was no backing out.

"I'm probably not gonna be the most comfortable person to lay next to. Kinda made of metal." He joked, sliding in next to her.

"Mmm don't care…" she rolled over and looked at him. Her mask was off, and she smiled softly at him. "You're all I wanted for Christmas… " She leaned over, almost being able to fog up his screen with her breath, and put her forehead to his.

"Thank you, K.A.T" she closed her eyes, almost instantly asleep again. He watched her breathe. Chest slowly rising and falling. Her face and arms twitching at different intervals, as if she were fighting back on the field.

If K.A.T and Atlas were sure of anything at this moment in time, it was that this was serendipitous and neither of them wanted to go back in a few days time. Just to lay here, safe and comfortable, was all they both wanted.

#long post #cod mw2 #oc x oc #Atlas Comstock #K.A.T #nighty_pimmmy #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #drabble #one shot

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wizkiddx · 3 years

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work with me

this is for @worldoftom 'lolbrosgetsicktoo' challenge event thing - go check it out bcos lots of much better writers have got involved too✨! I'm v new to these things but I tried :) the prompt was: 'would you quit whining and just get in the bath' . (also look at me acc posting sort of regularly, who'd of thought?!?!)

warnings: sickness / fever (more dramatic than it needs to be) / LOTS of medical inaccuracies

summary: when tom doesn't take advice and ends up very ill, very far from home, there's one person whose stuck dealing with it

“Please Tom… I need you to work with me!”

It wasn’t his fault he was being a complete nightmare, though your patience was wearing off somewhat.

For context, you were in Morocco, where he had been filming part of his next film, which only made trying to take care of him that bit harder.

Everyone got ill sometimes. It wasn’t his fault.

That was the mantra ringing through your head, even if you had a more challenging time believing it. Tom wasn’t stupid, as much as he liked to joke about it. HOWEVER, what he was less good at was heeding warnings. He was a white boy in Morrocco; the health and safety briefing had literally been aimed at him. Had he taken the advice not to eat any dodgy looking meats at the market?

Of course not; that’d be boring.

Everyone else was fine. You’d all sampled Morroccos culture without giving yourselves the worst case of food poisoning you’d ever witnessed. But not Tom - possibly one of the only ‘indispensable’ people on the set. If you, or one of the minor characters, or even the director, had got ill - the show could continue.

When you’d been rudely awoken by your phone going off, you’d known instantly. It was as if you’d told him not to take a bite out of the weird burger once you were away from the eager view of the street vendor. Sure enough, with bleary eyes, you hissed at the brightness of the phone screen before seeing ‘Tom H’ on the screen.

“Y/n?” His voice was croaky, but just from the single call of your name, it was clear he was feeling sorry for himself.

“Are you okay? It’s late T.”

“Um I… can you come over? You…you might need the key I’m - um- in the bathroom.”

As his stylist, it technically wasn’t part of your job description to also be mother when he was sick, but (unfortunately for you) after the 3 years working side by side with him - you were also friends.

Which you were almost regretting by the second time rinsing the toilet bowl clean after he’d evacuated what seemed to be the majority of his vital organs into it. Honestly, it was impressive how he managed to keep going.

That had been at around 4 in the morning- the doctor had been called at 8, coinciding beautifully with his 5th toilet extravaganza. Once the doctor had confirmed your original, if completely unqualified, diagnosis of food poisoning - you hadn’t been able to bite your tongue. Perhaps an ‘i told you so’ might’ve slipped past your lips, but Tom was a bit too out of it to argue back.

You’d been given firm advice from the doctor - he said little sips of water, rest and control his temperature. It all had seen pretty simple - though the action? Not so much.

It wasn’t his fault, yet Tom was not super compliant. You and Harry had both been taking turns in practically forcing him to take sips of water, having to turn off ‘modern family’ till he did. The blackmail had put you both in his bad book.

Honestly, thank the lord Harry was here too. You’d woken him up at seven, begging for help and since then, you’d tagged teamed. While one was looking after Tom, the other was phoning the director, the doctor, and the crew to inform them of the current situation.

Again, of all people. Why’d it have to be Tom?

Mainly because you knew how mortifying he found this. He didn’t like people fussing over him, never had. He liked to work hard, liked to make people happy - definitely didn’t like to feel a burden. Perhaps what made him feel ten times worse was that he knew he was inconveniencing the whole production team massively.

And yes, as you’d unhelpfully reminded him, it was ‘his fault’.

The lavish hotel room, big bathroom and pretty efficient AC still didn’t manage to mask the pungent in-the-back-of-your-throat smell from the bathroom. At the doctor’s advice, who had been a little concerned at Toms fever, Harry had cranked the AC on high. It had forced you to steal one of Tom’s big hoodies and a pair of joggers- you hadn’t left his room since he first called you, still wearing your tiny pyjama shorts and an old tee.

“Please turn the air con off.” His little voice whined from where he was lying, huddled up under the covers. Perched on the other side of the double bed, but over the covers with your laptop on his lap, you could actually feel him shivering with the chills. It felt like you were torturing the poor boy.

“T you know I can’t. It’ll make your fever worse.” The way he looked up at you, like a little Labrador that you were refusing to pet, actually pained your heart.

Okay, so yes it was his fault, but you weren’t mad, you just felt so awful for him.

“Please I’ll- I’ll pay you more.” His voice was hoarse; though he denied a sore throat, it sounded like the constant sickness was burning his windpipe.

“Tommm” you pouted, sticking your bottom lip out “I don’t want your money, want you to get better.”

Apparently giving up, brown eyes shot you the filthiest look in disappointment, rolling to face away from you. You thought he was giving you the silent treatment in a huff, but instead, he was praying on the weaker one.

“Harry, I’ll buy you that set of golf clubs-“

“NO!” You had to interrupt before Harry would say yes - because from the way his younger brother shot up from the arm chair, he was about to. Scowling eyes slowly focused back on you in annoyance, making you huff - shutting the laptop and kneeling on the bed to face him. After pressing the back of your palm to his forehead, which was scorching hot, you sighed. “I know you feel shitty and I’m so so sorry but I’m trying to make you better. So shut up, drink this and go to sleep!”

Like a child scorned, you received another death glare however, then he complied, taking a sip of the water you offered before lying back - huddling even tighter.

And it had been relatively peaceful for a few hours; Tom seemed to be getting some sleep - even if he was tossing and turning. Eventually, a prescription that the doctor had requested worked its way through the system, Harry getting a text to say he could go pick it up. The nearest pharmacy was probably a 30 minute drive from the hotel, so he left as soon as.

This left you alone with Tom, where the situation only descended into more chaos.

Almost as soon as Harry had left, Tom had stirred with a grunt. All it took was one look at his face for you to know. Both of you leapt up and flew into the toilet, Tom once again getting very familiar with the Moroccan toilet bowl.

This time though, when he had leant backwards, he’d sort of lost control and flopped most the way - you catching him before he could hit his head on the tiled floor.

“Woah, easy there!” It wasn’t like he’d passed out, but the look in his eye as he slumped into your lap… he wasn’t all there either. “Hey Tom… you with me? Tom?”

Lazily he blinked up at you, not really replying except for groans of half-formed words.

Deciding this had all got a bit direr, you almost sprinted back into the room, grabbing your phone and returning. He was still on the floor, his thumb and first finger pressing into each eye - groaning again.

“Hey Tom? I’m gonna call the doctor you need anything?” He whined in response, stopping only when you stroked his sweaty hair back, most of your attention on dialling the correct number.

The solution he’d given wasn’t pretty: Tom’s fever was too high hence why he was all woozy and groany. Until the doctor could get over with the stronger medications, you needed to lower his temperature in other ways or take him to hospital. He’d absolutely hate hospital, but the other choice? Boy, was he not going to like it either.

Ignoring Tom’s croaked question of what you were doing, you busied yourself switching on the bath taps. You let the water run until it was the right (very mild) temperate, then turned back to Tom, who’d managed to work himself up to sit against the sink unit.

“The doctor says you need it.” His brain was foggy, his mind was slow but your tone told him enough to know something was wrong with the bath. “Just take your clothes off and then I’ll help you-“

“Absolutely fucking not.” Good. He was still with it enough to argue.

“I am just as uncomfortable as you are Tom, but we both know you can’t stand up without fainting, so you are going to need my help.”

“Y/n!”

“Keep your boxers on and it’s just like a fitting! I’ve seen you have those before!”

It was clear as day just how emasculated he felt, especially because he knew you were right. Sitting up at this current moment was a push; there was no way he was getting in the bath without some help. Defeatedly he nodded, but gave you a piercing look to turn around before he started wiggling himself out of the flannel pyjama trousers and light cotton t-shirt. Most confusingly, he still felt freezing cold, yet he had long since learned not to argue with you - especially when your justification came from the advice of a doctor.

Your cue to turn around came in the form of an extra angry-sounding grunt- the look you got when you did wasn’t much better either. It was a weird contrast, though, having someone who physically appeared so indestructible (a superhero for crying out loud); to have been absolutely beaten to a pulp by a few mouth fulls of weird meat. You had seen his bare torso before, although it still wasn’t something easy to get used to - making you clench your teeth together just slightly. A very welcome view.

Perhaps you looked just a little too long at the man who was technically your boss, hunched angrily on the floor in nothing but his calvins - another grunt shaking you out of it. By now, the bath was almost full and you hurried to shut off the water, feeling your cheeks heat up as you cursed silently to yourself.

“Okay come on, gimme your arm.” Begrudgingly Tom followed your request, slinging his arm heavily over your shoulder as you crouched beside him. As strong as he looked, you knew right now he felt powerlessly weak - all that muscle was just going to be almost dead weight.

Now it was your turn to grunt and groan as you pulled Tom up to stand, him focusing on blinking away the headrush he got.

“Come on T work with me here.” Getting him to the side of the bath wasn’t too difficult, the issue came when he stepped with one foot into the bath and yelped, instantly withdrawing as if it was a literal ice bath.

The sudden movement had you both losing balance, ending with Tom sitting on the edge of the bath and you leaning over him, in between his legs, and slapping your hand on the wall opposite purely so you both didn’t end up in the bath.

“Tom!”

“It’s like ice water!”

“Its lukewarm like the doctor said!”

“It is not its from the fucking arctic!”

“Oh for god sake!” Exasperated, you paced up and down the bathroom shaking your head at his ridiculousness. This was ALL. HIS. FAULT.

You came back to him with an ultimatum.

“It’s this or the doctor said I had to drag your ass to hospital.”

“Nooooooo.” The 25 year old seemed to convert into a whiny three year old again.

“Those are the two options. So will you PLEASE quit complaining and get in the bath.”

Keeping up the toddler persona, Tom huffed but reluctantly nodded in agreement - you had come up trumps. It didn’t stop him yelping when you helped to lower him in. His breath was shaky, as a response to the ‘cold’, but he was firming it. At least when you felt his forehead after a couple of minutes, it certainly seemed as though the fever was starting to ease off .

“You can go if you want.” His voice was murmured and as you looked up at him, he did his very best to avoid your gaze.

“Not a chance, if you drown on my watch, Nikki will never forgive me.” At the very least he seemed to appreciate your joke, scoffing a little with a small nod. “If you don’t want me here I get it. As soon as Harry’s back, I’ll swap with him.”

“No! It’s not that its… I’m just an ass when I’m ill.”

“A self aware ass, though.” Again he chuckled a little, as you folded your arms on the edge of the porcelain tub, resting your head lying to one side. “You had me pretty scared there for a moment, you know?”

He nodded a little, creating a wave of ripples in the water which you watched to avoid his gaze - which you knew was tracing all your features inquisitively.

“Hey it’s in the job description, always a bit dramatic... I’m sorry though I should never of called you- don’t know why I didn’t just get Harry.” In response you tutted, taking a moment to lean up and push his sweaty curls back a bit.

Just because you could, it was allowed in this moment.

“’m glad you did.”

“Yeh me too” He sighed, eyes fluttering shut in the easy silence of the bathroom. You kept a vigilant eye on him for the next 20 minutes, checking the temperature of his forehead using the back of your hand, whilst he seemed to finally get a bit of proper restbite, appearing like the worst had passed. You had no idea what was taking Harry so long; in fact it was the doctor that arrived first- who you ran to let in (not wanting to leave Tom asleep in the bath one bit).

Whilst the doctor did all his checks, taking his temperature properly this time, satisfied that it was much more manageable. He still wanted to set him up with some oral rehydration rescue packs to get his hydration status a bit better and give some anti-sickness tablets and antipyretics.

Having actually been getting some rest before all the prodding and poking, Tom was back to being a grumbling dick - now not wanting to leave the bath (the irony was real - making you roll your eyes). Once again, he appeared embarrassed to have you see him like this, so you left the doctor to help him get out and changed- instead going down to reception to get a fresh set of sheets, as he’d done a pretty impressive job of sweating through the old ones.

Even if tired and grumpy, when Tom exited the bathroom, he looked much better - he was walking himself without the doctor’s help. Which honestly was such a relief because when he had passed out on you, you genuinely were terrified. Thankfully the doctor stayed for the next 20 or so minutes, which was just when Harry returned with a bag of medications - which were now wholly redundant, given the doctor had already supplied everything.

“What happened?” Harry asked you in a hushed voice, whilst Tom was distracted with getting his medications. Recounting the story of Tom pretty much passing out, Harry grimaced for you, then launching over to give you a tight hug.

“Are you okay?” That was a novel idea, you hadn’t really thought about yourself at all - but honestly, you were a bit shaken, having been running on adrenalin for most of the night.

“I-uhm… yeh I think so… just-just was a bit scared, I guess? Felt bad too because he didn’t want me there but-“

“I can promise you Y/n, he did want you there. Just probably embarrassed he wasn’t all manly and that…” With a nod, you smiled softly at the frizzy-haired boy.

Whilst working with Tom, it also meant getting pretty close to his younger brother. The two Hollands were almost attached at the hip, which you were very much okay with.

It was weird though... your relationships were completely different. Harry was just your brother, through and through. He wound you up like a sibling but also knew you as if he had your whole life. With Tom… it wasn’t that. Arguably, you were closer to Tom, but on a different level. It was more exciting, more nerve-wracking and heartwarming all at the same time. Honestly, you couldn’t get your head around it properly.

“Hey, you’re probably shattered. Why don’t you go back to your room and get some sleep? I got it in here.” You knew Hary was trying to offer something nice, and now all the excitement had worn off, you were unbelievably shattered. But you didn’t like the idea of not being there, as a just in case.

“Uhm, I think I might just stay, you know?” And he did, with a deliberate, knowing smile, he nodded.

He knew you were worried. He knew Tom had really really scared you. He also knew how much you cared about his brother.

Just like how Harry knew Tom wanted you there, even if he felt embarrassed. Well, anyone would- when you are passing out half-naked in front of the one person that really matters.

It was just at this point that the doctor was done, giving Harry instructions about the rest of the day, when you made a beeline for the bed. Tom was propped up against the headboard, still with a pale sullen look and tired eyes, but a bit less clammy and more human. He cracked a smile as you crawled up onto the other side of the bed, kneeling next to him.

“How’re you doin’?”

“All drugged up, just feel fucking exhausted.” Instinctively you reached up to feel his forehead, really appreciating the fact it felt almost normal.

“Join the club mate, I had a 5am wake up call too.” You almost whispered, intending to make Tom laugh, but instead only getting a pout.

“I am sorry, a-are you going to go back to your room?”

“Nah” Tom’s eyes didn’t light up, except the fact that they very much did. “Can’t trust you not to get into trouble while I’m gone Holland.”

“Thanks.” He laughed weakly before shimmying down on the bed, so he was much more comfortable. “And thankyou, I-I’m sorry I’m a dickhead and made your life-“

“Shut up Tom!” Laughing, you lightly slapped his arm, also leaning down on the bed, so you were lying facing him. “You’re all feverish; go to sleep before you say something stupid.”

There was a long pause, Tom just gazing deep into your eyes, because he was pretty sure what he was thinking was nothing to do with the dodgy unidentified meat he’d had the evening before.

“What... like asking you out?”

…..

“Maybe that wouldn’t be so stupid.”

~~~~im really not sure how I feel about this one, let me know what you thought ;) ~~~~

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter@hollandfanficlove

#tomholland #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n #hurt comfort #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #harry holland

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insomniamamma · 3 years

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Late Bloomers: Ezra x F! Reader w/Cee

A/n: Set in the "Liminal" AU in which Ezra becomes his niece, Cee's legal guardian after a car accident kills his brother, Damon, and costs him his arm. Set sometime between "Ferris Wheels Are For Old People" and "Surf City Goodness." Reader is Ezra's neighbor. Established relationship (sort of, IDK how to tag what they are). For @autumnleaves1991-blog and @clydesducktape Writer Wednesday.

Warnings: Not a whole lot. Kissing. Touching. A little spicier than I usually go, which isn't saying whole lot. A little language. Cee, as usual, needs her own warning. Set during the pandemic shut down. Mentions of covid. Also, I feel like 'The Apple' needs it's own warning. I'll link the trailer at the end.

"You sure you don't want to come with us, Birdie?" Cee sits at their scarred kitchen table, her laptop, textbooks and a pile of papers around her. She frowns. "I gotta study," she says, "Ms Stewart is really serious about this quiz. She's not grading on a curve this time." Ezra narrows his eyes. "You have never spent a Saturday night studying in your life," he says. Cee frowns up at him. "You've never been in Ms. Stewart's physics class," says Cee, "She's a hard ass. Anyway, I'm still pulling an 'A' in her class, but I don't want to fuck up my average." "Jesus, Cee," Ezra mutters, and you have to smile. She rolls her eyes. "I know, I know--" "Don't say 'fuck' at school," they say in unison. "They're doing double features all summer," says Cee, "I can miss one. I've seen all these movies anyway." She smirks, "I want to hear what you think of 'The Apple.'" Ezra rummages around for his keys and Cee drops you the most exaggerated wink you've ever seen in your life. "Have fun, guys," she says.

Covid has nuked most of the things you used to do for fun, restaurants and shows, hell, even the libraries are closed. The only business in town that's thriving is the Star-City Drive In. There haven't been any big studio releases in a while, so they've been doing Fright Night Fridays and Sci-Fi Saturdays. Tonight's double feature is Flash Gordon and The Apple. "They've got this weird way of operating the concession stand now," says Ezra, "Cause of the pandemic. You've gotta text them your order and I guess they bring it out to you--" Ezra's gotten pretty good at working his phone one-handed, but you can see the frustration clouding his face. "Let me," you say, loading the menu onto your phone, "Let's get a big popcorn and share it. You okay with the fake butter?" "Of course I'm okay with the fake butter, what kind of monster do you take me for?" "How about candy?" You ask, scrolling through, "It's the usual suspects." "Sno-caps," he says, "How about you?" "I'm thinking Milk Duds," you say. "Now that is an excellent way to lose a filling, Sunshine." "Popcorn and Milk Duds together? Worth the risk," you say and text your order off to the concession stand. It's not quite dark yet, a reel of movie trivia that no one cares about shines ghost pale on the screen. Ez has got the radio tuned to pick up the sound, but there's not much to listen to yet so it's turned down low, background noise with the cicadas and birdsong. The big screen backs up against a farmer's field run wild and a dark stand of trees. "Switch places with me," says Ezra, and gets out of the truck. He comes around to your side and opens the door for you. "Why?" "Indulge me," says Ezra, so you do as he asks and settle in to the driver's side. Ezra's truck has bench seats with vinyl that creaks and cushions that hiss slightly as you move around. There's a tap at the window and you hook your mask over your ears and crank it down, popcorn and candy and you already payed with your phone, but press some rumpled bills into their gloved hands. "Why'd you want to switch places?" You ask around a mouthful of popcorn. "Shhh," says Ezra, "The movie's starting."

Flash Gordon is just as fun as you remember it being, majestic in its absurdity, a big love letter to all the terrible pulp sci-fi movies that came before, the two of you watch and snark and laugh and sing "Aaa-ahhh" whenever someone says Flash's name. We owe it to Queen, you say, and Ezra smiles big the way he does when something's caught him off guard, the way that crinkles his eyes and reveals his dimples, indeed we do. We owe it to Freddie Mercury. At some point his arm finds it's way around your shoulders and you lean into him. "So this is why you wanted to switch spots," you murmur. He raises his prosthetic arm, flickering movie light shining on the double hook at the end. "Can't exactly get handsy with Mr. Claw, now can I?" He grins, "These hooks might be a little chilly." "And pokey," you say, demonstrating with a dig to his ribs. The end credits are rolling. "You ever seen this next movie?" "The Apple?" He says, "No. Some sort of cult-movie thing. Cee made me promise not to IMDB it. She said I should go in with an open mind." "Oh boy," you laugh. "Right? Cee's tastes are all over the place. I suspect this will be either amazing or terrible on a scale that recalibrates our internal gauge of what terrible is." "You know she set us up, right?" "Yeah," says Ezra, "Little Bird fancies herself quite the matchmaker." "She winked at me." Ezra dimples. "Did she now?" "She looked like a cartoon," you laugh, "About as subtle as a ton of bricks." Ezra brays laughter and leans against you, squeezes you closer to him at the same time. He is beautiful when he laughs, all dimples and teeth eyes screwed shut in mirth and you take this opportunity to press a kiss against that tender place on his jaw where his beard refuses to grow. Ezra freezes, you feel his body go rigid against yours, and your first thought is to apologize, to pull back, and then he reaches for you, his broad, calloused palm cradling your face, drawing you to him, presses his lips to yours, a soft, reverent kiss that he does not fully withdraw from, his hand now resting on the nape of your neck, forehead pressed to yours, somehow more intimate than a kiss, this closeness, breathing each others exhalations, leaning against each other. "Cee's not wrong," you say, "We're good together." "We are, aren't we?" He gives your nape a gentle squeeze, and lets you go. The opening titles of The Apple flicker on screen and the music starts up.

"Oh, Ezra, what the fuck did we just watch?" "I don't know if 'watch' is the right word, Sunshine, we did not 'watch' The Apple. The Apple happened to us." "I don't think I've ever understood Stockholm syndrome until now." "I have been assaulted," says Ezra, "My civil rights have been violated." "It's like..." You trail off, "It's like if someone took '1984', 'A Star Is Born' and 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show' and put them in a blender. I'm pretty sure this movie violates the Geneva conventions." Ezra laughs and so do you, leaning in to each other, giggles that become kisses, soft at first, but increasingly hungry, laced with need, your arms twine around his shoulders, his hand lingers at your side, toying with the hem of your shirt. "S'okay, Ez," you say as he nips at your jaw and then your neck, gentle graze of teeth that makes you shiver, "You can touch me." He kisses you deep, his tongue fever-hot against yours, hand sliding up the soft slope of your belly, cupping your breast, and you arch into his touch-- Tap Tap Tap. And there's a bright light shining through the passenger's side window. "Oh shit," says Ezra. You frantically yank your shirt back down, heat creeping up your neck, your cheeks, your earlobes flaming. "Movie's over guys," says the shadowed figure behind the flashlight's glare, "Take it someplace else." You open the door to switch places back with Ezra, the overhead light shows him red faced and horrified. "I'm sorry, I just--" "Get us out of here, Ez."

You stare out into the dark past the window, half-moon shining over fields and trees like a lazy eye. You snort laughter. "What's so funny?" "We got caught," you say, "We got caught necking at the drive-in like a couple of teenagers." "You're laughing because we got caught?" "I'm laughing because I've never made out with anyone at a drive-in, even when I was a teenager, and I'm laughing cause we got caught. After watching that trash-fire of a movie. We got caught making out over the end credits of 'The Apple'. I feel like we deserve some kind of award." You rest your hand on Ezra's leg, can just pick his smile in the dim lights from the dash. Ezra chuckles. "I never made out with anyone at the drive in before tonight either," says Ezra. "Bullshit," you say, and give him a good-natured poke. "It's true," he says, "For one, I didn't have access to a car. I would've had to borrow Ma's car, and there was no way that was ever going to happen. Also, I was not what the girls back then referred to as 'dating material'. Skinny as a rake with a mouthful of braces and an obvious birthmark? I was like a puppy trying to grow into it's ears and feet, a late bloomer if you will." You move your hand higher up along his thigh and give him a squeeze. "Better late than never." "Indeed."

Flash Gordon Trailer

The Apple Trailer

#writer wednesday #ezra x f!reader #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra (prospect) x f!reader #ezra and cee

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impala1967dwinchester · 4 years

Text

Dean Winchester: Pose

Picture found off of Google search

Pairing: Dean x reader

Pov: Deans (Mentions of Sam X Eileen only once)

Warning: cute Dean, Dean being funny, posing for Dean, maybe a kink i don't know, lots of sleep

Summary: Dean buys you a new and very expensive camera thinking about how you said that you wanted to take pictures while you guys were in different states for hunts. What you don't realize is that Dean wants to take pictures of different scenery.

Word Count: 1.6k

Masterlist

Taglist: @akshi8278 @deanswaywardgirl

I bought her a camera, not any camera an expensive camera. She always fussed about how on trips to motels and long drives she wanted to be able to have memories about where we were.

Like any good boyfriend would do I bought her a camera. Partly to stop her from pushing my buttons about a camera, but mostly because I wanted to see her smile.

I gave it to her as a random gift. Setting the box in front of her and sitting down next to her. She was in the library, just her and I. "What's this?" She asked.

"This my dear is called a gift." I said lightly pulling on the string connected to the green bow that was wrapped around the box.

"I can see that Sherlock, but I'm asking you what it is?" She said having a sassy tone. I rolled my eyes and spoke. "Well, that would ruin your gift now wouldn't it."

I pushed the gift closer to her. She dramatically huffed and set her phone on her lap. She quickly undid the green bow and tore through the newspaper that wrapped the gift.

Y/n could just barely see what the box said. "Dean?" She said excitement starting to crack through her voice. "Hmm." I hummed in response.

"Dean did you... is this..." Y/n said getting caught up in her words and most likely her emotions as well. "Yes, I did. And yes, it is." I said gently patting her thigh.

The camera was a brand-new Canon camera. Mostly made for taking scenery pictures. A wonderful camera according to all of the Amazon comments.

Unwrapping her gift Y/n tore into the box. Unfolding the flaps and opening the box. Taking the bubble wrap off of the many accessories that came with said camera.

Y/n pulled out her phone, searching up a video trying to figure out how to use her camera. “You know that there’s a packet of instructions and other such things in the box, right?” I asked her, taking her phone from her grasp.

Looking up at me her eyebrow frowning, and giving me a stink eye. “I thought you didn’t know what instructions were?” She said coming back with a sassy comment.

“Here.” I said pulling the packet from the box along with the camera. I unwrapped that. Setting it up, putting in an SD card, and taking the first picture on the camera.

The very first picture on her camera, was Y/n. She was smiling, dimples showing, eye bright under the flash of the camera. I can see the bookshelves, and the bindings of all books behind her.

“Does it look good?” She questions me. I roll my eyes in love and frustrations for her question. “Of course, you look amazing my dear.” I said turning the camera around so she can see herself in the screen.

At the start of our next hunt, I pack my bags, along with Y/n doing same. For this hunt it is just her and I. Sam and Eileen already on route to another hunt out near the coast.

We pack the impala, and we are off. What I didn’t know was that Y/n and both packed her camera with her, and was going to use it the entire drive to our destination.

Our drive was peaceful, the radio playing my rock music, and both Y/n and I humming and singing. At one point I looked over at Y/n and she had her camera out taking pictures of the passing lands and hills. Bringing my attention back to the road, I continued to drive.

A few miles down the road I again look over at Y/n, this time instead of Y/n facing and looking out the window, she has her camera pointed towards me, I could see her finger pointer bouncing rather quickly on the button.

“How many of those pictures are you going to take of me?” I asked bringing my attention back to the road again. “I plan on taking as many pictures of you as I want.” She said moving her head in a very odd way.

The rest of the drive was fine. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Y/n set her camera done, and back into her bag. I then feel her, lightly place her head on my shoulder snuggling closer to me.

“Are you tired dear?” I asked her. The only response I get it is a soft hum. “Okay my dear, I’ll wake you when we get there.” I spoke. Turning down the radio and cranking the heat up.

The sun sets, and rises again. Just barely rising over the hills. I pulled in to another shitty motel. I pull into a spot, shutting the engine off, and gently waking Y/n up.

“We are here, love bug.” I said kissing her forehead. Her eye flutter open, and she yawns, stretching her arms. Talking through her yawn “Where are we staying?” Y/n asks.

“At another shitty motel, I thinks it's called the Clover” I said, “Let’s go get us a room, I need my four hours of sleep.” I said squeezing her tightly in my grasp, before letting her go and getting out of the impala.

I headed to the front desk, getting a key to our room. A small flirt with the young lady at the front desk to speed the process up. When I leave the front desk, I see Y/n had her bags and my bags are next to her on the ground.

“Let’s go get some sleep baby.” Y/n said, handing me her bag and linking her pinky together. I of course unlocked our room, and let Y/n walk in first, setting out things on the small kitchen table.

Y/n flops onto the not so bouncy bed. I strip of my boots, jeans, and to many flannels. “Wow, big boy. I thought we were going to sleep.” Y/n said a silly tone falling into her words.

“I’m going to sleep, but I would like to sleep next to your bitchin’ body.” Y/n rolled her eyes before removing her boots, jeans, bra and then her shirt. Dean watched, something that he always did, something that Y/n had allowed long before they were together.

I watched as Y/n lightly lifted the back of her shirt up unclasping her bra and removing it from the bottom front of her shirt. “You’ll have to show me that trick.” I said winking at her before falling into bed with her. “I sure will, lets sleep now.” She said, curling up against my side.

I wake up long before Y/n does, like I had said before I only ever really need four hours of sleep. I leave Y/n to go find coffee and food, when I come back Y/n is still asleep now cuddling against the pillow that I was laying with.

Sitting and looking through my phone. I wanted so badly to get on with this hunt, but the idea of it being just Y/n and I for a few days before the adrenaline and rush of this hunt was needed. Seemed like a great idea. Still seeing that Y/n was asleep.

I dug out Y/n’s camera, and turned it on. I went over to the blinds just barely opening the shades. So, the morning afternoon sun can stream in finding their way to beam over Y/n’s body.

I moved around the room, finding that as I did so I could get better angles of her face, body and hole frame. After what seemed like ten pictures, I had taken Y/n stirred in her sleep. Opening her eyes and cringing at the sunlight that had fallen on her face.

“What are you doing?” She asked her morning voice a little deeper than her normal everyday “Well my dear, I’m taking pictures of this lovely creature in front of me.” I said pointing at her. In return she pointed back at herself.

She giggled and smiled, taking the moment because it was there, I caught another picture of her smiling, hair a mess, the tips of her ears deepening as she giggled more, the top of her chest just barely showing.

“You know you are beautifully photogenic.” I spoke. Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed and she gave me a look of ‘I’m sorry what did you just say’ her nose scrunched. “I’m sorry. That makes utterly no sense.” She said turning her face away from the beaming sun.

“You understood what I meant, so that means it meant sense.” I said, knowing that I had only confused myself with my statement. I sat down next to Y/n leaning against the headboard.

“Are we going to the hunt today? Because if so, I need to go get a shower, and get my FBI suit on.” Y/n said. I grabbed Y/ns hands before she could slip from the comfort of her boyfriend, “No hunt for today. We can start in a few days' time.” I said dragging her slower to my body.

Grabbing the camera from the night stand table. I looked over at Y/n, “Take a picture with me my love.” I spoke. She smiles and slightly shook her head before leaving her head against my black Henley, I could feel like heat of her cheeks even through my shirt.

“Alright you ready baby?” I asked. Again Y/n shook her head, figuring it out I was able to take that picture the flash now not needed because of the sun light falling into the room.

“I love you.” Y/n said cuddling up closer to my frame. Smiling down to her, kissing her temple and speaking into her temple an. “I love you too my dear.”

Completed on: 03/21/2021

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softpine · 4 years

Photo

- recoloring tutorial -

WHAT YOU’LL LEARN:

how to recolor with solid colors, patterns, and graphics

how to find patterns & import them into photoshop

how to recolor an item that doesn’t have a white or solid swatch

WHAT YOU NEED:

sims 4 studio

any photo editing software (i’ll be using photoshop cs6)

dds plug-in

difficulty level: beginner

1. open the clothing you want to recolor in sims 4 studio (s4s) and find the white swatch.

if there’s no solid swatch at all, skip to the very end of this tutorial where i’ll show you how to fix this! (look for the pink line)

if there are solid swatches but no white swatch, find the lightest color you can. even though there’s a white swatch in my example top, i’ll use a colorful one to show you how to fix it.

[for this tutorial, i’ll be using simiracle’s judd shirt.]

2. click the green “export” button. save it as “white swatch”.

3. open it in photoshop.

optional; if your swatch is already white, skip this step: to get rid of the color, simply decrease the saturation & vibrance all the way down. if it still looks too grey or dark, increase the brightness & contrast. finally, merge your layers. here are my settings and what i ended up with:

4. create a new layer and check “use previous layer to create clipping mask”. color everything in completely with a pure white brush.

5. on the layer tab towards the right side of your screen, change “normal” to “multiply”.

now your texture should look exactly like it did back in step 3! (i promise you didn’t just waste your time lol)

optional: if you have recoloring actions ready, now would be the time to apply them. if not, carry on!

6. right click on your new layer and click “blending options” at the top. here, you can either click “color overlay” or “pattern overlay”.

either way, you’ll want to change the blending mode to “multiply”.

here’s an example of what you can do with color overlay:

and here’s an example of pattern overlay:

but wait! you might be thinking “where do i get cute patterns like that?” and my answer is... everywhere. try searching for things like “seamless patterns”, “tileable patterns”, “fabric swatches”, etc. it’s even easier if they come in a .pat file (here’s a quick guide to using .pat files!)

here are some good patterns or places to find them:

my patterns pinterest board

mothz patterns

free pattern site

deviantart patterns

free .pat files

more .pat files

even more .pat files

yeah... more .pat files

okay, now that you’re all loaded up with patterns, let’s get back to the tutorial!

7. adjust to your liking. i prefer my recolors to be more faded and worn-looking, so i turn down the opacity a bit and i tend to use patterns that already have a vintage look to them. but do whatever you prefer! you can even mix color overlay & pattern overlay together to create an entirely new design.

8. save as a PSD!! trust me, you’ll be really sorry if photoshop crashes and you have to do all of this over again.

9. merge your layers and save as dds.

optional: now i’m going to show you how to add graphics. if you’re not interested in this, skip ahead to the next green line.

1. find your graphic. preferably, it’ll be flat, on a plain colored background, with minimal wrinkles.

2. i like to use the website 6 dollar shirts because they have a nice worn look already!

here’s the image i’ll be using for now:

3. make it transparent. there’s many ways to do this! if your image is really simple, you can outline it with the lasso tool and delete everything outside of it. but my image is a bit more complicated than that, and i don’t have all day... so let’s use the color range tool. (select → color range)

click on the color you’re trying to get rid of (in this case, the light tan color) and crank up the fuzziness to the max. press OK.

now all of your background color should be selected. press ctrl + X to delete it.

4. make it look nicer, depending on the image. if it’s blurry, try sharpening it. if it’s crunchy, try using topaz clean. if there are still some spots of color, use the color range tool again as many times as you want. make it black and white. decrease the brightness & increase the contrast to the max. it all varies, just try new things and see how it looks!

5. when you’re done adjusting, copy your image and paste it onto your shirt. you can do this on a solid color shirt or, if you really want to go crazy (lol), paste it onto a patterned shirt. adjust the opacity settings so it looks like it’s blending into the shirt nicely, not just sitting on top of it.

ta-da! you now have a cheesy graphic tee :-)

BONUS TIP: if your graphic doesn’t look worn, but you want it to, you can use these free overlays to roughen up the design! there’s even a little tutorial on the page.

10. if you haven’t already, add the file you’re recoloring to your sims 4 studio mods folder. here’s what it looks like:

11. reload s4s. under “cas” click “create cas standalone”.

12. sort by custom content, click the first swatch of whatever item you’re recoloring, and click next. name your file.

13. now click the blue “import” button and import your first texture. then click “add swatch” and import again for all your other swatches.

BONUS TIP: for the swatch thumbnails, you can right click one of the empty boxes and it will pull up a dropper tool that you can use to match the color of your cc.

14. save!

you’re done!!

if the item you’re recoloring doesn’t have a solid swatch...

1. find the simplest swatch you can. some swatches won’t work no matter how hard you try, but it’s always worth a shot!

i’ll use the yellow moon-patterned recolor i just made as an example.

2. turn the saturation & vibrance all the way down. increase your brightness & contrast. increase curves (if necessary). here are my settings and what i ended up with:

now comes the tedious part...

3. use the patch tool to remove the pattern, piece by piece.

here’s a demonstration:

here’s my progress so far:

you may notice that the patch tool doesn’t work well on the outer edges of your clothing. for that part, i use the clone tool.

i can’t screenshot this part, but basically all you do is hold alt and select a blank spot directly next to the pattern you’re covering up. then hover over the pattern and click down. make sure you move your cursor in a completely straight line, otherwise the seam will look wiggly.

we’re finally done! here’s what my final image looks like:

now that you have a white swatch, jump back to step 4 to continue the tutorial ♡

#my god i spent my entire night on this..... :o #tutorial #sims 4 #ts4 #recolor #recoloring #recolor tutorial #graphics #graphic tutorial #just trying to make sure this shows up when someone searches my blog for it lmao

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silksandcravats · 4 years

Text

Love Language Series: Quality Time with Charlie

A/N: Well I’m certainly not cranking these out as often as I’d hoped but at least I’m getting through them lol.

masterlist

love langauge series masterlist

He already owed you on. Big time. It was a big birthday for your mom and he had promised he would be there for the brunch. But Nicole had switched the hours up on him last minute. He could find a way to get on a flight to LA asap and spend this week with Henry, or he could go another month not seeing his son. He had missed his visit month after you had fallen ill to some particularly cruel strain of some virus going around the theatre company, he knew he was probably responsible for bringing it home to you and he just couldn’t leave you sick and alone.

So, in turn, when Nicole called him up, you had to let him go. Charlie deserved to see his son and your family understood. You got a few cute pics of the two throughout the week, and Charlie swore he was going to bring you with him next time.

When he finally made it home Friday night he was all yours for the weekend. He had assured you he was happy to do whatever you felt like, but you knew the trip and the time with his ex wife likely wore him out, and you’d had quite the week yourself. So you had just asked to spend some down time together, and he was happy to provide- or so you thought.

You were 20 minutes into a baking show you had been meaning to watch when it became apparent that you were the only one paying attention. His laptop had found home on his lap, as it so often did, and the bright screen lighted up his features as he frowned slightly, answering whatever emails he did have a chance to get to over the week.

The third time you giggled at the presenter's joke, only to turn and see he was totally uninvested, you couldn’t help the frustrated exhale that came out of your nose.

“Babe,” you tried to sound as calm as possible, “is there something else you’d rather watch.”

“This is fine honey,” he shook his head, glancing up at the screen, clearly finding it uninteresting, and turning back to his screen.

“We can see if there’s any new movies out?” You tried again, frustrated by his lack of response.

“Whatever you want is fine,” was all you got in response.

“Ok.” You reached for the remote, pausing the show. “Well if you’re not into this then I think I’m going to call it a night.” You stood up to leave the room, but a big hand caught your wrist stopping you.

“Hey,” he slid his computer off his lap, standing up straight and pulling you to face him. He leaned down a bit to be eye level with you, catching you in his gaze. “What’s wrong sweetie?”

“It’s just,” you have to take a moment to reach around for the right words, not sure how to ask for what you wanted. “I thought we were going to spend time together.” You watched his brows knit together in concern, and you could see the gears turning in his head, he wasn’t following.

“We’re spending time together right now honey?” You knew he wasn’t trying to dismiss your feelings, but he really didn’t understand. He’d spent the entire evening a mere inches away from you, he allowed you to pick out the film and everything. Wasn’t that spending time together?

“No, well kind of but,” you dropped your gaze and shifted your focus, playing with Charlie’s big fingers in your hand. You felt like you were being difficult now, and you didn’t mean to be. You were ready to just apologise for being off tonight and let it go when Charlie pulled his hand from your grasp and reached up and to hold your cheek gently.

He didn’t say anything, but you held all of his attention. His face was relaxed and his eyes were open and gentle, he wanted to understand.

“You’re here with me, it’s just… you’re not here with me. Is there any chance the emails can wait?” Charlie’s face seemed to soften even more, if it were possible.

“Oh my love,” he sighed, pulling you in, tucking your head under his chin. “Of course I can. I’m sorry honey I didn’t know the show meant so much to you.”

“It’s not the show baby,” you laughed gently, pulling back, “I don’t care what we watch, I just want to enjoy something together you know?”

“I think I can do that.” He smiled, pressing his pink lips to your forehead.

And it would be a lie to say that Charlie never made that mistake again. But he always tried for you.

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myrandom-fandomlife · 4 years

Text

Expect The Unexpected

JJ Maybank x Carrera! Reader

In which something unexpected happens but you and JJ make the best of it.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Vomiting, Mentions of sex, some smutty themes in there, teen pregnancy, lots and lots of fluff, angst if you squint

A/N: So this has been about 3-4 days in the making, because I hit a bit of a block the other day but then I accidentally cranked out almost 2k more words than planned. I was gonna do some heavy editing but I ended up going back and adding a whole extra part of the story so it’s heavily unedited lmao. Let me know if you like it!

Finding Out

“So, your period is late, and you have had migraines, nausea, and food cravings for the last two weeks?” Your best friend Sarah Cameron says to you, walking back from her massive en suite bathroom into her even bigger bedroom. “We need to get you a test,” She’s currently helping you figure out your situation. You think you might be pregnant. It makes sense when you start thinking back to the times you and your boyfriend, JJ, had sex to see if you could remember a time you didn’t use protection. There were a few that came to mind. The most recent being when the two of you had been making out in the hammocks and things got a little too heated. That was a month and a half ago.

Your stomach is turning from anxiety. You were only 18, and JJ 19. What would you do about school? Or Kie, your sister? Not to mention the fact that your parents would probably die. You can feel your eyes welling up but then your stomach turns and you have to rush to Sarah’s bathroom to puke for what seems like the 10th time today.

Sarah follows you, holding your hair and rubbing your back while you empty your insides into her toilet. When you’re about done she stands up to fill a small cup with water and hand it to you for you to sip on. She grabs a towel and dampens it with some warm water to dab at your sweaty face and forehead, “I’m sorry, Sarah.” You manage weakly.

“Oh, no, babes. You have nothing to be sorry for. How about you lay down on my bed while I see if I can find you a test? Want me to call JJ and see if he would come to see you?”

“Oh, shit. I completely forgot about JJ. No, don’t call him. I need to see the tests for myself first before I talk to him about it.” Sarah nods in understanding, helping you back to her bed and covering you with a blanket before leaving for what you assume is the store. Despite all you’re worried, you drift off, exhausted from puking your guts out all morning.

You wake up to the sound of Sarah clicking away on her keyboard at her desk. When she sees you sit up she turns to you, “Feeling any better? I got a couple of tests at the store, but I didn’t want to wake you when I got back.”

“A lot better actually,” Your head had stopped its incessant pounding and your stomach had settled. “Thank you for this, Sarah. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You walk over to the older girl, hugging her.

“Of course, anytime. Now, you have some sticks to pee on!” She tries to brighten the mood, making you chuckle. You take a deep breath and head to the bathroom.

Wait 8 minutes and if you are pregnant, two bold pink lines will appear on the screen.

It had been 7 minutes and you were pacing around Sarah’s bedroom. “Y/N, calm down.” She grabs your arm, “Whatever the outcome, it will be okay.”

You sigh, trying to slow your breathing, “I know, I’m just anxious. Why do these tests take so long?” Just then, your 8-minute timer rings and you jump at the sudden noise, “Sarah I can’t look.”

“I’ll look with you, okay? You have to know.” She grips your arm tight as you walk to the bathroom, looking at the 3 tests on the counter. You gasp when you see six bold pink lines from all the tests.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” You walk to Sarah’s bed again, feeling like you might fall over. “Oh my god, Sarah. What am I gonna do? How am I gonna tell JJ? What will Kie, or my parents say?” You ramble, your breaths getting quicker with each word.

“Hey, hey. One thing at a time, okay?” You nod, “First thing you need to do, tell JJ. You may not want to but he needs to know, and I am pretty sure it would take a lot more than a product of your love to make him stop loving you. That boy is whipped, he’s not going anywhere. Also, if he tries to leave you Kie and I will kick his ass.”

You smile, Sarah’s words reassuring you, “Okay, you’re right. I just need the right time to tell him. My parents are going on a date tonight, so Kie is working The Wreck. I could invite him over?”

“Perfect!”

Telling JJ

You breathe deeply, trying to calm yourself about the night ahead of you. You were going to tell JJ tonight. Sarah had offered to be there but you knew this was something you had to do on your own. Luckily, your nausea had calmed down after your nap at Sarah’s and your anxiety about the situation was doing much better due to Sarah’s reassurances.

Just as you were pulling your hair into a messy bun, you hear a knock on the door. Taking one more calming breath, you go downstairs and open the door.

The blonde boy’s eyes trail up your body clad in his hoodie and short shorts, “You look so pretty in my clothes, babe.” He moves forward to wrap his arms around you, “Are you feeling better? Sarah said you were pretty sick this morning,” He presses a soft kiss to your neck, nuzzling his nose into you.

You pull away and look up at his bright blue eyes. He frowns when you leave his embrace, sensing your tension. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, J.”

You see the panic rise in him, “Oh my god, are you okay? Is something wrong? You aren’t badly sick, are you? You’re doing okay and everything? I couldn’t stand it if-”

“I’m pregnant,” You cut off his rambles and his eyes widen.

“What did you just say?”

You feel fear rising in you, “I’m pregnant,” You repeat softly.

You’re about to start crying with the silence that follows when his face breaks into a smile. “Oh my god, you’re pregnant? My baby is in you? Oh my god, baby!” He picks you up in a hug and spins you around. He must feel your tears on his shoulder because he puts you down, looking at you with concern, “Why’re you crying, princess? I mean, I know we’re young but I’ve known since before we started dating that I wanted to have a family with you. This is like a head start.”

His words make you sob, “No, it’s happy tears. I’m so relieved you’re happy. I can handle Kie and my parents and the pogues being mad, but not you. I have my first ultrasound on Friday and I want you to come. I figure we can get a few extra copies of it as our way of telling people.”

He smiles softly, “Anything for you and our little one. How are you feeling now? Are you hungry? Wanna sit down?”

You laugh at his antics, “I’m craving some spaghetti and I really wanna snuggle with my boyfriend while watching Disney movies.”

“One plate of spaghetti and a boyfriend who loves watching Tangled with his baby mama.” He winks at you, knowing your favorite Disney movie since you made him watch it on one of your first dates. He presses a kiss to your cheek, heading to the kitchen to make dinner for the two of you.

Later, when you’re lying on the couch together watching Flynn and Rapunzel launch lanterns into the sky, JJ looks at you seriously, “I don’t want to be like him.”

This makes your heart clench for the boy, “You won’t, J. I promise you won’t. You’re already nothing like them. When you met my little cousins for the first time, you were so compassionate and patient with them. That was the first time I really knew I wanted you to be the father of my children.”

He kisses your forehead, “I love you so much gorgeous, we’re in this together.”

You lay your head back on his warm chest, “I love you too, so much, J.”

Telling Everyone

Your ultrasound went well, you found out that you were 6 weeks along. JJ and you both tearing up at the sound of your baby’s heartbeat. You got a few extra copies of the ultrasound and that’s when you started getting nervous about telling your parents. About half an hour ago you had told the pogues to meet you at The Wreck where you knew your parents and sister already were. Now, you and JJ were standing outside hand in hand. He gave yours a little squeeze and you guys went inside.

“Hey guys! What’s this meeting about?” Your mom immediately asked upon you walking in.

You saw that your dad was next to her, Kie and the rest of the pogues at a table near you also looking at you. “So, I called you guys here to tell you something and I don’t want any of you to overreact, okay?” There was a chorus of agreements from your loved ones, “I called you guys here to tell you that I’m pregnant.”

You winced at the multiple gasps you heard, but you got reassuring looks from Sarah and JJ who was still holding on to your hand tight. “Before you get angry, JJ and I have decided to keep the baby and we want to raise it together.”

“Well, if you’re sure you want to keep it, then I’m not mad.” Your mom spoke first.

“I agree with your mom. Though, I need to have some words with JJ.” Your dad sent a pointed look his way, you knew it was all fun though. Your dad always had a soft spot for JJ given his home situation. He had been allowed to stay the night when it got really bad and you just knew your dad loved JJ as if he were his son.

“As long as I’m godfather, it’s cool,” came from Pope.

“Hey! No, it’s only fair that I am!” John B argued with him.

You turned toward Kiara, wanting approval from your big sister, “Kie, are you okay with this?”

She sighed, “Yeah, I’m honestly just in shock. Debating smashing JJ’s skull in, but I’m good,” But you knew she was joking because she had a huge smile on her face, “I can’t wait to be an aunt, though I’m a little disappointed you didn’t tell me sooner.”

“She only found out a few days ago,” Sarah jumped in.

“You knew before me?!” Kie was incredulous.

“Well, when she had a sleepover at my house earlier this week and was throwing up every ten minutes I was concerned so I asked her how long it had been going on. Then she told me her other symptoms so I got her a few tests,” Sarah shrugged.

Kie seems to accept it because she launches into another question, “How far along are you?”

“Well, we went and got an ultrasound today, and I’m six weeks along. I got some pictures too.” You hand the few strips of photos to your parents and the pogues to pass around.

“Ah! My first grandchild! I’m getting this framed!” Your mom exclaims with tears in her eyes.

“Aw Miss C, don’t cry! You’ll be the best grandma!” JJ wraps his arms around her making you smile.

Kie holds her arms out for a hug from you which you gladly accept, “I love you all so much. This baby is going to have the best family.”

The Baby Bump

Seven months into the pregnancy, you were ready for it to be over. Your bump was pretty big now, and your back constantly hurt. Though the morning sickness had ceased, you still got migraines, cravings, and you couldn’t sleep comfortably for the life of you. Even with JJ there, you struggled to get to sleep every night.

Now, you were putting on a bikini because the pogues were all going boating today. When you managed to get into your swimsuit, you looked in the mirror, feeling self-conscious. Your baby bump just made you feel fat. Pulling at the bottoms to try and cover your butt a little more, you frowned. You had definitely gained weight from this pregnancy.

Before you could dwell on it more, JJ came into your bedroom, donning his favorite swim trunks. He came up behind you, putting his hands on your waist and pressing kisses to your neck and jaw. “You. Look. So. Hot. Right. Now.” He said in between kissing your soft skin.

“Really baby? I feel disgusting.”

“No, you look so sexy. Knowing you’re carrying my baby is even better.” He nips at your skin making your breath catch in your throat.

You could feel his hard-on starting to poke your back, “Really babe? Now? We have to leave in 15 minutes.” Despite your words, your hand reaches up to tug at his hair.

He moans into your neck, “Guess we have to be quick then, yeah?”

Baby Shower

Even though you protested, your mom, sister, and Sarah had decided to throw you a baby shower. You were about 8 months along now and so ready to have your baby. You never found out the gender, wanting it to be a surprise.

Your gender-neutral themed shower, held at The Wreck, was a success. You ate good food and played some fun games. Your friends wished you congratulations, asking to feel the bump and making small talk.

Your favorite part was the gifts, though. Your mom and dad agreed it would be best for the two of you to stay with them, at least until after college, that way everyone could help with the baby while you were getting an education. God knows you have enough rooms.

Your mom was so excited about decorating the nursery, so you weren’t surprised when she bought you a matching crib and rocking chair for the baby’s room. Sarah bought you a very nice stroller and Kie got you a nice changing table that doubled as a dresser.

You received lots of diapers and wipes, so many cute clothes, bottles, a diaper bag, and a ton of cute toys.

You, Sarah, your mom, and Kiara were cleaning up from the party when JJ arrived. You were trying to clean up some of the trash but he immediately kissed you and said, “Woah, take it, easy princess. I got this, you sit down.”

You scoff, “JJ, I’m pregnant, not dying.” You still sit down, but reluctantly. He had been acting like this around you since you guys found out, even though you told him it was okay and you could actually do more than sit down. You appreciated the gesture, a lot, but it was a little over the top. Even for JJ.

“I know, babe. I just don’t want you to be stressed. I want the next month to go as smoothly as possible for you.”

You swear your heart melted, “I get it, J. Wanna see the new baby clothes? They’re so cute!”

“Sure do, baby,” He pulls a chair up and wraps an arm around your shoulders, kissing your forehead. “I love you and the baby so so much. I didn’t even think it was possible.

“I love you so so much, too. I can’t wait to have our baby.” You lean your head on his shoulder, showing him the new baby items from the shower.

Labor

When you couldn’t get to sleep because of a pain in your stomach, you thought nothing of it. This had happened multiple times before where the baby was kicking too hard for you to sleep. But, when the pains kept getting worse, JJ made you go to the hospital. Your mom, dad, sister, him, and you all scrambled to get dressed in the middle of the night. When you were pulling on a pair of his sweatpants, your water broke, so it was officially go time.

You all piled in the car with the baby bag that had been packed since the day of your shower. When you arrived, they brought you to a room in a wheelchair, immediately putting you on epidural.

When you were fully dilated, it was time to start pushing. JJ was the only one allowed in the room for this part. He held your hand and let you squeeze it for the whole 2 hours but it felt like 2 minutes.

You heard the first cries of your baby and JJ saying, “It’s a girl. Princess, we have a daughter.” He sounded choked up and when the doctor let you hold her, you started crying too.

“Stella Marie Maybank,” You said softly as you looked up at JJ. You had discussed names for both genders for a long time and you were in love with the ones you picked out.

JJ took Stella from your arms to hold her himself and he looked down at you with the biggest smile on his face, “Thank you.”

“For what?” You were confused by his words, wondering what he meant.

“For this beautiful baby. For sticking by me even when I didn’t deserve it. Thank you for giving me the family I always wanted. I love you.”

“I love you too, J. So much.”

Tags: @overly-b @midnightmagicmusings

#outer banks #obx #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank angst #jj maybank imagine #jj x reader #jj obx #jj x carrera! reader #jj maybank x carrera! reader #kiara carrera #pope heyward #john b routledge #sarah cameron

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kaijusplotch · 3 years

Text

Far From Home (self insert/Tech the bad batch fic part 1)

The storm was raging with all the strength that the summer heat that day had given. Driving at night was not Lynn’s favorite thing, but such was the work of a paleontologist who gets too into her work. She frowned and tried not to jump when the flashes of lightning lit up the road she was on. Of all the days she got lost in time on a dig site.

“Dammit...Good going, Lynn,” she grumbled to herself. At least her truck was able to handle the heavy rain on the road. A strange blue flash; less intense than lightning, and far more vibrant blue, caught her attention.

“What the fu-SHIT!” Lynn screamed, slamming on the breaks as a sudden flash of lightning illuminated a figure in the road. She swerved the truck to the side of the road, missing the figure in bright white clothing.

Lynn’s heart was pounding wildly as she threw the truck to park and stared at the mirrors. The figure was wandering and staggering in the road. She glared and practically kicked open the door to her truck before getting out.

“What the FUCK are you doing?! You could have gotten killed!” She screamed into the storm at the figure. She was getting soaked but as her eyes adjusted to the darkness; illuminated only by flashing lightning, she got a better look at the figure.

What she first thought was fabric or a suit was armor of some kind; metal painted white with red and dark gray markings. There was a light, or something glowing, near the individual’s face. They were wearing a rather distinctive helmet, and something familiar sparked in Lynn’s mind.

“Is there a fucking con going on? Hey! You’re going to get killed dammit!” She rushed forward into the road to grab the man in the road.

“What…? Where?”

Lynn grabbed his arms and pulled the man back; surprised at how tall he was, taller than her by over six inches. Yet he was built like a swimmer, lean strong muscle where she could feel between the plates of armor. A flash of growing light around the corner of the road; the rain pouring down, and crashing thunder did nothing to hide the sound of a diesel engine.

“Get out of the road!” she screamed pulling the man back and off the road, landing on her back with the man in cosplay on top of her.

The tractor trailer blew past with a roar of it’s engine and Lynn clutched to the man on top of her, her heart racing.

“Shit...oh...oh fuck,” Lynn prayed carefully rolling the stranger off of her and looking down at him in the flashing lightning. “Hey...hey wake up. C’mon man.” She wrangled her phone from her pocket and shook the flashlight app on.

In the steady light of her phone, the costume was well made but the helmet had sustained damage to the right side. The man’s eyes were closed behind well made goggles, making Lynn’s heart leap to her throat as she checked for a pulse. She let go of the breath she didn’t know she was holding as she found a strong pulse. Running her hands carefully on the underside of the helmet, her fingers touched the seal that ran just under the rim.

“This is some damn good costume work,” she muttered. Her fingers caught a pair of buttons and the seal hissed as it was released. Pulling the helmet off was a little difficult but not complicated. Lynn carefully put her hand behind the man’s head and rested it on the muddy ground.

He had a severe widow’s peak of brown-red hair that was spot on for the costume. His face was lean with sharp cheekbones. The stranger’s skin was a rich brown; not too dissimilar to the shrubland soil in the badlands. Lynn squinted in the rain and the light of her flashlight wondering how the fuck the man got his skin so smooth; that was for another time; though as he groaned and a small trail of blood from his left temple

“Shit...Hey….hey c’mon man wake up.” Lynn gently patted his cheek before reaching up to touch his temple, her hand coming away sticky and warm.

“Nnnng…’Hunter?” Warm brown eyes fluttered open and Lynn carefully put her hand on his shoulder.

“Easy...you got a bad knock to the head. Can you stand?”

“Y-yes,” the man said, his accent bright even through obvious pain, with a British sound. “I believe I can with assistance.”

Lynn carefully gripped his arm and threw her free arm around his shoulders. “One, two, three!” Leveraging her weight back as the cosplayer moved forward they both got back to their feet. “All right. My truck’s right over there. I have a small med pack to patch you up before I get you to a hospital.”

“No! No Hospitals!” The man’s eyes were wide behind the goggles, turning his head toward Lynn and spraying her with water and a bit of blood.

“Okay...okay, no hospital.” Lynn conceded. She wasn’t one to argue with someone’s phobias. “I’ve got a first aid kid in my truck.”

The stranger nodded and walked with her through the rain to the beat up pickup on the shoulder of the road. It would be a pain in the ass and she would get soaked but Lynn would deal with it later.

She opened the passenger door and pushed her dig kit to the middle of the seat. “Here, sit down and relax. I’ll get my bag.” She hurried to the bed and opened the cap door before grabbing the red and white first aid kit. Rushing back to the cab she put the bag on his lap. “Okay. Hang on, this is going to sting a little.”

She got a piece of gauze soaked in alcohol and cleaned the wound on his scalp. She grimaced in sympathy as he hissed. “Sorry. At least it’s not deep…” Lynn continued to clean the wound and got a bit of neosporin out and a bandage.

“No bacta?”

Lynn laughed a bit. “Going really into character huh? Can’t say I don’t wish we had bacta, it would probably be a lot quicker and less scaring.” She bit her lip as she carefully moved some of his hair out of the wound. “Neosporin should help keep it clean though with the butterfly bandages.” She carefully leaned forward, smiling at the man and looking him over for any other injuries.

“I don’t understand…where am I?” He reached up to touch his head.

“South Dakota, just outside of the badlands,” Lynn popped the internal bubble of an ice pack and shook it before wrapping it in the towel she kept in the bag. “Here it’ll help the swelling. You get dumped out here by your buddies from a Con?” she asked as she grabbed a small bottle of pills and a water bottle from her cooler. “You don’t have any allergies to medicine do you? All I have is Excedrin and midol.”

“No, no allergies. South Dakota? Where is my datapad? I must have hit my head harder than you thought.” The man reached down at his hip and grabbed a strangely shaped tablet case from his hip.

“Don’t know how well your tablet will work. Had to kind of throw you back with me so you didn’t get turned into a roadkill pancake.” Lynn rolled her eyes and closed the door to the truck before running to the other side.

She was soaked to the bone and the chill from the wind was enough to make her crank the heat in her old truck. She glanced over at the man, eyes trailing to the tablet in his hands. The glow of the screen and the strange-yet-familiar alphabet trailing across it made her chest constrict nervously as the storm continued to shake the sky. “What….kind of app do you have on that thing? That looks like Aurebesh.” she laughed nervously.

“That’s because it is.”

Lynn bit her lip and tried to keep herself focused on the reality of the situation, not the strange possibility that was building in her mind. “Do you have a place to go? I mean you’re pretty much out in the middle of nowhere…”

“I’m afraid not. Until I am able to exactly pinpoint where this planet is, I’m without any ability to contact and inform my squad.” The man looked up at her and Lynn swallowed hard.

“What the fuck is going on…?” she asked, staring at him. “You’re Tech? You’re REALLY Tech from Clone Force 99? The Bad Batch?”

The stranger met Lynn’s shocked look with one of nervous apprehension. “You know who I am, who my squad is?” His hands gripped the sides of the tablet and he leaned away from her just slightly.

“This...I have to have been hit by something. The truck hit me right? I’m dead and this is all some kind of death dream? Oh my fucking god.” Lynn leaned her head against the steering wheel, her eyes wide as she stared at the dashboard.

“No,” Tech said, his voice softer. “We are both very much alive. I’m only alive because of you. Thank you.”

Lynn felt his hand on her shoulder and she looked up at him, focusing on the fact that his hand was warm through his glove and her shirt. His eyes, even through the yellow tinted goggles, were wide and flicking across her face as if he didn’t want to keep eye contact.

“You’re lucky I’m not an asshole. otherwise you would have been pasted on the front of that semi.” She laughed bitterly and gently put her hand on top of his. “Let’s...get home; my home. We can figure everything else out once we’re dry.”

“And what should I call you? You know who I am,” Tech said dryly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Lynn. You can call me Lynn.” She smiled, putting the truck into gear.

#star wars clone wars #fanfiction #the bad batch #tech the bad batch #self insert fanfiction #self insert

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sorcererinthestars · 4 years

Text

That Which Lurks in the Dark [FAHC]

My contribution to the @rtwritingcommunity‘s Secret Santa fic exchange. I love this exchange because it forces me to write and this year, I got a delight because I got to write something for one of my very best friends, @shadeofazmeinya! I hope you enjoy, my love! <3

Everyone else, enjoy as well.

WC: 4583 Summary: Sent out to Boston in the middle of the winter to make relations with a new gun-running squad, the Lads don't realize how badly this could go. Furious, bleeding, and cold, they take shelter in a shitty motel room and are forced to confront the reason they're in this mess... and the feelings that lurk in their hearts.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28073598

It was that kind of storm that stole breath away, tore the sight from your eyes and made you weep with the fear of it. The storm howled around their little car, made every mile treacherous and dangerous, the potential of it stopping seemed to diminish with every passing second.

Inside the car it was no less dangerous. Three men sat hunched and breathless, trying to flee where they came from and yet make it to their destination unharmed. While they were out of the storm, the atmosphere inside the car was tense, able to be cut with a knife.

Michael, in the back, is bleeding. It slips crimson red down his side, across his pants, and stains the car seat. There’s no way they could return this rental — yet another thing Gavin had to deal with when they got somewhere safe. But the road almost unpassable now, not yet plowed, and the wind continued to howl its rage into the skies around them.

Gavin shifts, gritting his teeth as he tries his best to keep his hands on Michael’s wound. “How’re you doing, boi?”

The resulting wince is enough of an answer, but Michael wasn’t one to stay silent. He huffs an angry grumble. “Fine,” he snorts. Obviously untrue, but what was he supposed to do? The blood flow was thankfully stopping, but stab wounds needed treatment — none he was going to get here. “Or, fine enough.”

“We need to fuckin’ get back to the hotel,” Jeremy growls. His whole body is fixated on the road and not on the two men in the back seat. “If you had just listened to me…”

“Don’t fucking start!” Michael snaps back, his fury igniting like a piece of ripcord. If Gavin hadn’t quickly ducked out of the way, he would have been clipped by Michael’s head as the man straightens up quickly to throw his words at Jeremy like missiles. “Don’t you dare.”

“I knew it was a trap from the moment we walked in!” Jeremy hisses. “But no, you said we still had to go like you’re the fuckin’ leader or something…”

“I AM the fucking leader of the Lads!” Michael shoots back before Gavin wrestles him back down. “Boys, boys, you’re both pretty!” he snaps. “But Michael, you’re gonna bleed out if you continue to fight like this. Sit back, damn it. And Jeremy, you’re gonna crash the damn car. We need to find a place to stop.”

Stop? Jeremy turns to look at him owlishly before having to skid to avoid an ice patch in the center of the road. “This is Boston,” he retorts. “It’s what it’s like in the winter.”

“Doesn’t stop us from havin’ a half-dead guy in the back,” Gavin shoots back. “We need to stop and deal with Michael’s wounds. And look at it! You can’t see.”

It was true. The wind was just getting worse, threatening to toss the car off the road. A full out blizzard. They would need to ditch off for fear of losing everything in a crash. The money in the back seat wasn’t remotely how much they were supposed to get, but it was something, and Geoff would be upset if it didn’t make it home.

Not to mention, probably upset if three of his best crewmates didn’t return home either. Jeremy sighs. “Fine. Google a hotel or a motel closer to here then. Somewhere that won’t ask a lot of questions if we stain shit red with Michael’s blood.”

Gavin nods, pushing Michael’s hand over so he would keep pressure on his own wound. The other shifts, leaning against the car door and pressing firmly down on the stab wound. It wasn’t critical - they wouldn’t have made it out of that damn warehouse if it was. But it was fucking painful as hell and would need stitches for sure. Michael wasn’t quite looking forward to that procedure.

With hands covered in blood, Gavin pokes at his phone, grimacing at the stains that get all over the screen. “Looks like there’s a ... Motel 6 about ten...ten-ish miles down the road. Take the next right.”

Jeremy does, the car skittering and causing them all to grab on tight with shouts of alarm. “Sorry, sorry...,” Jeremy mutters, focusing again on the road and getting traction. He had forgotten how to drive in the snow after so long away.

Michael grunts under his breath and with Gavin’s directions and Jeremy’s partially safe driving, they manage to navigate towards the motel. Its lights barely puncture the maelstrom, providing a somewhat sickly flush of yellow light against the howling winds. But it’s shelter and warmth and a bed, and right now that’s all they need.

Pulling in, Jeremy takes stock of the situation. He’s probably the least bloody of the three of them, just a few stains on his jacket that he wipes off with the back of his hand. “Look. I’m gonna go in and see if I can get a fuckin’ room or two for us. You just... wait here.”

Michael glares at him from the back seat. “Like I’m g-gonna go anywhere,” he winces sarcastically. Jeremy just grunts. He knows he looks ridiculous in his purple and orange getup, but at least he has a big black parka to throw on over it. He snatches it, shouldering the heavy material, and stomps off towards the main building.

As they watch him disappear into the storm, Michael leans back against the leather. Maybe he shouldn’t be so frustrated - it certainly wasn’t Jeremy’s fault they were stood up and attacked during what should have been a simple gun-running meeting - but the sickening feeling that he failed... failed Geoff, failed them, failed himself... still twists in his stomach.

The assignment was simple. They were meeting some east coast gunrunners who were looking to start making shipments across the USA. These guys were cheap and would be a great addition to the Fake portfolio, so Geoff had Gavin research them and then sent his Lads to Boston. They’d meet with the dealers, Gavin would negotiate a deal, and then they’d fly home with money and deal secured.

But shit went tit’s up, and well...

Gavin knocks Michael out of his train of thought by adjusting his pressure on the wound, sending another wave of pain through Michael’s abdomen. He grunts. “Just ... just climb in the back and get some bandages or some shit,” he says forcefully, shoving on Gavin’s shoulder.

Glancing out the back window, Gavin frowns. “I - uh. It’s ... well, Micoo, it’s snowing, and I don’t really want -”

“Baby,” he shoots back, but before he could make another quip, Jeremy comes stomping back. His nose and ears are bright red and his eyes are shining under the hood, which is caked in snow. He hops back into the car and hovers over the heating vent for a few breathless moments, shivering. “FUCK.”

“Cold?” Michael says dryly. “Never would’ve guessed.”

He shoots him the bird and shakes himself off. “They’ve only got one room left,” he announces. “With a King bed. Which means some of us are sleepin’ on the fucking floor. But there’s heat. And a roof.”

“Good enough,” Gavin says quietly, glancing between the two of them with a somewhat uneasy expression. Jeremy starts the car and with a bit of slipping and sliding in the snow that gathered, they make it to the space outside their hotel room. A deliberate effort between all three of them manages to get Michael out of the car, Gavin gagging a bit at the bloodstain on the seat. They hobble Michael to the door and Gavin stands, shivering and supporting Michael’s dead weight as Jeremy fumbles with the lock.

The door opens with a whoosh of warm air and they stagger inside, frantically throwing the door shut behind them with finality. It’s a basic motel room, certainly nothing fancy, but thankfully warm and clean enough. Michael sags onto the bed, holding his side with a grunt. “...ugh.”

“Ugh indeed,” Jeremy shoots back. “Gav, can you stay with him? I’m going to unload the car.” He adjusts his parka. “See if you can get some hot water going, we’re all gonna need a shower.”

The room turns into a flurry of activity with Michael as an oasis of calm. Jeremy drags their few things inside - a black duffel bag full of cash, a few guns, and that’s it. All their clothes and supplies are back in the five-star hotel they had booked, a twenty-five minute drive back into the city. It may as well be sixty miles, based on how fast they could drive and as much as they could see.

Gavin, in the bathroom, fiddles with the old pipes. He cranks the hot water on as high as it would go and waits, hearing the rattle and hiss as the pipes pull the water and tries to heat it. The first blast is ice cold, sending him skittering away like a kicked puppy as he almost gets a blast of the artic against his already cold skin. The pipes rattle and groan and the water turns very slightly less miserable.

He frowns at it and leaves the bathroom. “...gonna take a while,” he announces, “if it ever gets there at all.” Then he immediately gags and almost runs back into the bathroom to vom, as Jeremy has Michael’s shirt off and is probing the wound that weeps miserably down his side.

“I can do it,” Michael grits. “I’ve dressed my own wounds before.”

“Alone, in the middle of a heist, maybe - and I’ve seen the results of your self-stitching in all the bubbled scars on your skin,” Jeremy retorts. “Just shut up and let me help you, you whiny baby.”

Michael squeezes his eyes closed as Jeremy probes the edges of the wound before digging into his first aid kit. Thankfully, they had brought it along, figuring their meeting may involve a bit of a scuffle but never realizing it would devolve as much as it had. Controlling his stomach as best he could, Gavin pads over to sit next to Michael and watch owlishly as Jeremy starts doing what he can for the wound.

First he cleans it with strong antiseptic, to the point where Michael has to bite on the side of his sweatshirt to stop from howling and alerting all their neighbors to something nefarious going on in the next room. Then he sterilizes a needle as best he can and lays Michael back.

“No fuckin’ booze?” he grunts. “Just going to have you stitch me up stone cold sober?”

“This kind of place doesn’t have a fuckin’ minibar,” Jeremy retorts. “Just shut up and let me do this.”

Gavin elects to go check on the water as Jeremy works to clean and stitch Michael up. Despite the apparent frustration between the two, Jeremy’s stitches are neat and clean and as painless as he can make them. At least until Michael mutters a rude comment under his breath, making Jeremy tug the sutures harder than necessary. Michael gasps in agony. “Bitch!”

“Don’t be a dick when someone’s got a needle in your flesh,” Jeremy retorts calmly, tying off the string. He cleans the wound again and wraps it in clean, bright white bandages. “There. You won’t die.”

“Glad for that,” Michael says stiffly, moving so he could kind of lean against the top of the bed. Jeremy glances over to the shower when Gavin pops back out. “So...,” he says hesitantly. “There’s - uh. Really no hot water.”

Jeremy groans and goes to put his face in his hands but stops when he sees the blood all over them. Gavin weakly tries to smile. “Enough for a quick one?” he says hesitantly and then squawks as Jeremy shoulders him aside to claim the stall. He tries to close the door but Gavin shoves his arm in the way to block it.

“.... we’re both covered in sweat and blood,” he retorts. “Just share, yeah? I won’t look if you won’t.”

Both try to ignore the blooming red on their cheeks, but it’s kind of a hard thing. But what is Jeremy going to say? Neither of them could bathe in ice cold water, not tonight when it was only nominally warmer inside than it was outside. They’d get sick. And they needed enough hot water to bring Michael a cloth to sponge himself off. So reluctantly - with Michael making joking noises in the other room - Jeremy opens the door for Gavin to follow.

They undress quietly, trying not to look. It’s hard not to. Jeremy’s eyes keep flicking to Gavin’s long, lithe figure. He’s got scars, they all do, but they seem to work on him more than they do on the two brawlers. They’re smooth and slight white lines instead of bubbled, dark little things. Gavin’s skin is still tanned despite the winter cold and he’s got hair all over. Tasteful hair, though. Hair Jeremy really has to stop himself from wanting to run his hands through.

For fuck’s sake, J. Get yourself together. He frantically tears his eyes away and focuses on trying not to be caught looking. It had been a stressful night, he just was aching for a quick tug that he would have got if Gav wasn’t sharing the fucking shower with him. He just had to focus solely on not giving himself away with any ... unsavory uncontrollable actions in his nether regions.

For Gavin, he hadn’t ever really hid his attraction in Jeremy and tonight was no different. He gazes long at Jeremy’s back and the curve where it swelled into his ass. But he was too cold and tired to dwell on his thoughts for too long, instead jumping under the lukewarm spray and huddling there until Jeremy viciously shoves him out of the way.

They wrestle for the prime spot under the water for a bit before starting to focus on cleaning themselves off. Thankfully the stall was big enough that they weren’t chest to chest - this would be impossible otherwise. They dance around each other enough to get all the grime and blood and sweat off. Jeremy even offers to clean Gavin’s back of anything he can’t reach.

“.... are you and Michael gonna bitch at each other all night?” Gavin asks reluctantly as they shut the water off and climb out, starting to towel down and change back into the only clothes they got. Jeremy elects to stay in his boxers and throws his ruined bloodstained pants into the tub to try to wash them out. He shrugs a bit. “Guy’s an ass.”

“You know he’s not. You know he’s just scared.” Gavin shifts, glancing over at Jeremy where he’s pulling his tshirt back on, grimacing at how dirty it feels on his clean form. “He got stabbed to save you, y’know.”

Jeremy jerks a bit, straightening quickly. “I know,” he shoots back. “But if he had listened to me, we would never have be --”

“Are you two fuckin’ done in there? I gotta pee!” Michael slams his hand on the door and Jeremy frantically opens it to find Michael holding himself up against the wall sluggishly, having hauled his own ass off the bed and hobbled over to the bathroom.

Jeremy sighs and helps Michael to the toilet, where he braces himself on the side of the sink and gives Jeremy a baleful look. “I can do this part myself, thanks,” he says coldly, and Jeremy holds up his hands. “Fine, fine. We’ll let you pee. If it’s bloody let me know.”

They clamber out of the bathroom and Jeremy and Gavin are left considering the big elephant - or rather, bed - in the room. One bed. Three angry men. Jeremy runs an exasperated hand over his face. “I - who’s taking the floor?”

“I can,” Michael says, opening the door and hobbling forward. “You dicks can take the bed.”

“No way,” Jeremy retorts. “You’re still bleeding. You take the bed, I don’t want to risk anything getting worse. I can sleep on the floor.”

“Can’t we all just share the bed?” Gavin asks with a raised eyebrow. “It’s a King. There’s more than enough room if we squish.”

Jeremy glances over at Michael, who groans and throws his hands up in the air as best he can without toppling over. “I don’t -”

“I’ll just take the floor then,” Gavin shoots back. “You two work out your issues.” They can all hear the exasperation in his voice as he grabs a pillow and one of the spare blankets out of the cabinet and makes a small nest on the floor. “Go to bed,” he snaps. “It’s late.”

Jeremy stands a bit dumbfounded, staring owlishly at the now pile of Gavin that was laying among the blanket on the ground. “I - Gav...”

“Just fucking stop being kids!” he snaps. “Michael, you should have listened to Jeremy when he said it’s probably a trap. Jeremy, you should have left your gun inside because that’s what tipped them off and made them start shooting. But me!” Gavin’s face contorts and he sits up a bit. “Me? I should have fucking researched this team a bit more and saw a setup when one was right in front of me. But I didn’t! None of us did. But we’re alive and for the moment safe, so can you stop being such mongs and just drop it?!”

Michael’s mouth had sort of ... dropped open. Gavin normally didn’t give such impassioned speeches, particularly ones that ended with him curling back up with his back to them on the floor in a somewhat dirty looking fleece blanket. His eyes flick to Jeremy, who is looking back at him.

“I’m sor--”

“Michael, I - “

They blink. Michael turns a bit red. “Look, I should’ve listened to you, okay...”

“No,” Jeremy shoots back. “I never should have brought my gun. If you didn’t shove me out of the way, that knife that guy threw probably would have blinded me, or worse. So uh.... thanks.”

Michael nods a bit. “I - yeah. Come on. If Gav is so comfortable on the floor with all the jizz or whatever the fuck else is down there on that shit carpet, you can take the spot next to me.” He pats the bed and, chuckling slightly, Jeremy climbs in. Gavin, meanwhile, squawks a bit at the thought and shifts, grumbling. “Micoo, why’d you have to remind me....?!”

Before he could reply, there’s a big snapping sound, what sounds like a mini explosion which makes them all jump partially to their feet, and the room plunges into darkness. And cold. “.... shit,” Michael retorts, holding his side and easing back down with a pained gasp. “Transformer blew. No power.”

It’s quiet for a few moments as the cool air starts winning the battle against the now useless heating system. They wouldn’t freeze to death in their sheltered room, but it was going to get a lot colder. Gavin whimpers a bit and pulls his blanket closer to him as Michael adjusts and pulls the covers up and over him and Jeremy.

“....guys?” Gavin’s voice is small. “I ... I know I just yelled at you, but... it’s cold...”

“Oh, get up here,” Michael sighs. Jeremy nods and moves to make a small warm place for Gavin to slip into. He leaps to his feet and clambers over Jeremy to nuzzle between the two of them, dragging his blanket over them all.

For a moment, they just lay there, squished into one bed and breathing into the cool, dark room. Under the covers, Gavin shivers a bit and his hand finds Jeremy’s, latching onto it. Surprisingly, Jeremy squeezes it and holds it close.

“...you guys okay now?” Gavin asks softly. A beat and then two communal noises of affirmation from the other two boys. Michael moves a bit to get himself upright, hissing in pain, but pulls Gavin a bit closer to him. There’s something a bit possessive in the gesture.

“I’m sorry,” he says to the room, to the faces he can’t really see. “I - I almost lost you both because... because of my stupid fuckin’ decision and I...”

“Micoo,” Gavin purrs a bit, stroking his face with a blundering hand, as he could just see shadows and shapes in the dark room. But Michael’s eyes still close at the caress, loving the touch of Gavin’s hand against his skin.

“Me too,” Jeremy admits, turning. His eyes glint in the bit of light they had through the window and Michael meets his eyes. The silent apology is obvious. He snuggles closer to Gavin and they all hunch a bit tighter. More for skin contact and touch than for warmth.

Gavin’s the one, in the end, that starts it. He squirms a bit, sandwiched between the two, and holds them close - his two burly boys. One hand drifts a bit too far over and brushes against Jeremy’s crotch. Clothed in only his boxers, Jeremy gasps and shivers at the sensation, unable to stop himself.

No one can see the smirk that arrives on Gavin’s face, but he turns and Jeremy knows the expression despite not being able to see it. “Just sleep, Gav,” he retorts, a bit strained, but no chance now. “Michael... Jeremy likes being in the bed with us, Michael.”

“Shut up, Gav.”

“I think he’s just being grumpy because he secretly loves us and doesn’t like it when we all fight,” Gavin whispers conspiratorially, playfully, to Michael, who chuckles. “Don’t tease him, Gav.”

He grins down at Jeremy, squirming closer to him, but doesn’t realize when a spark kind of ... ignites behind Jeremy’s eyes. He grabs him and yanks him closer, so Gavin’s kind of on top of him and looks down at him breathlessly. “You’re a little shit, aren’t you?”

Gavin giggles a bit. “Mm. Maybe. You’re just a very pretty boy, Jeremy.” He just likes to see the smile on Jeremy’s face, despite the fact that it was almost too dark to see. Michael next to them just watches with an amused look ... that turns into shock as Jeremy yanks Gavin down and seals their lips together.

If Michael was shocked, that was nothing like what Gavin felt. He tugs back for half a second in surprise and Jeremy immediately goes to let him go before he’s surging back down to kiss him deeper. Gavin had wanted this from the very first time Jeremy appeared on the doorsteps to the Fakes, a bag in one hand and a gun in the other, demanding a job.

“Shit,” Michael grins, face red. He wants to turn more but can’t, gasping again in pain. “Don’t... ah! Don’t leave me out of the fun.”

Two heads pop up, just shadows. “You?” Gavin says brightly. “Michael?” Jeremy whispers. “Are - I mean... we just...”

“You don’t think I take a stab wound for just anyone, do you?” Michael says dryly. “Now give me kisses, you dicks, before I have to demand more. I’m currently the invalid, you have to help me feel better you know.”

Gavin’s squeal of pleasure is all he needs, clambering as safely as he can over Michael so they could get the man comfortably between them. Gavin’s lips are very soft. Michael had always imagined them to be so, but it was one thing to use his imagination and another thing to taste them for himself. He tries to pull Gavin closer, but the move hurts and he gasps into the kiss making Gavin pull back.

As soon as he does so, Jeremy is stealing a kiss. It’s rougher than Gavin’s. As if Jeremy’s trying to apologize or make him apologize through a simple kiss. Michael does what he can to push back into it without much control of his ab muscles, meeting rough lips with rough lips.

What he doesn’t expect is Gavin’s hands on his hips. Wrapping around him and jerking. Michael’s eyes fly open with surprise and he jolts, pain and pleasure combining in a spasm. “Jesus, Gavin!”

“No good?” Gavin says quickly, retracting his hand. “I thought - it’s been a stressful night and Jeremy... and you.... “

“No, no, no...,” Michael gasps against Jeremy’s lips before he pulls away. “Very good. Very good. Just - are you sure you...”

“Before we go down this road too much, I need to remind you two that Michael fucking has a hole in his side,” Jeremy cuts in. “Nothing too crazy, please.” But he says it so easily and its so dark Michael can’t really see faces but there’s just such quiet longing in Gavin’s tone, in Jeremy’s, that he can just fall back on the bed and gasp a bit. “We’re idiots.”

“Hmm?” Jeremy asks, chuckling. “How so?”

“Yelling at each other when we were worried instead of doing this,” Michael mutters. “This is much more fun.”

Jeremy laughs. “Sure is.” Then he bends back down to kiss Michael again as Gavin kisses above his wound and gently runs his hand up and down Michael’s length.

In the end, it doesn’t take long before Michael is bucking into Gavin’s hand and gasping. Jeremy and Gavin follow him through to the end and curl up next to him, pressing kisses on both cheeks. Michael closes his eyes, a sleepy breathless mess, pain still intense but more manageable with two warm bodies next to him.

They may be lost in a hotel room in the middle of nowhere, hundreds of thousands of miles from home. They may have no power and not be able to see each other’s faces, and maybe thats’ why things escalated the way that it did. Maybe. But all Michael can think about now was that he had his Lads in his arms. And they were safe, at the end of the day, despite all the fear he held that made him lash out.

He’s hurt, but they’re with him. And they’ll stay with him until the bitter end.

And that’s all he needs.

#fahc #ragehappy #jeremavin #rt community secret santa #my writing #a gift for shade!#OH NO THERE'S ONLY ONE BED!

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webslinger-holland · 4 years

Text

The Hidden Hero | Peter Parker Series

Summary: In an alternative universe, Peter Parker has the biggest crush on the reader. Even though the reader doesn’t know his secret, the reader is obsessed with the webslinger. So Spiderman decides to show up at Liz’s Party to impress everyone, specifically the reader.

Warning: some spoilers

Pairing: Peter Parker (Spiderman) x reader

Type: The Hidden Hero Series

MASTERLIST

A/N: THIS IS A HEAVILY EDITED VERSION OF MY VERY FIRST FANFICTION. IT PROBABLY REALLY SUCKS SO I AM SO SORRY ABOUT THAT. BUT IT WAS MY FIRST ONE SO I WANTED TO POST IT.

The bright yellow buses were pulling up to the curb of the school grounds. The large crowd of high school students hustling and bustling down the corridors. The monotone buzz of several-hundred voices hummed like an orchestra throughout the hallways.

The small group of gossiping girls were hanging around the lockers. They giggled amongst themselves. They always wore those mini skirts and tight shirts. The cliquey jocks were currently talking about the football game last night. They were wearing the exact same athletic jacket that they wore every single day. The parade of band geeks had just walked past them with their huge instrument cases. There were the aerospace tech kids who never did anything but make different robot models to battle between periods.

The familiar squeaking sound of sneakers were catching against the newly waxed floors. The metal locker doors were slammed shut once the students had gathered their textbooks for that period. The bell was ringing loudly on the sidelines, signaling the start of classes for the day.

At the given moment, Peter Parker was maneuvering his way through the crowd of students with his best friend Ned Leeds. He was currently carrying his textbooks because he had lost his backpack yesterday. The two of them were making their way to their first class of the day.

Last night, Ned had caught Peter sneaking into his bedroom dressed as the Spiderman. He had seen him crawling on the ceiling! It was quite a shock to find out that his best friend was the webslinger that he had saw on youtube. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to keep his secret. And he had a million questions for him.

Throughout the whole day, Ned was asking questions about Peter’s alter-ego. He was able to come up with a handful of different questions in each class. Those questions mostly consisted of the range of the webslinger’s abilities, such as whether or not he could summon an army of spiders or how far he could shoot his webs. He was always given short or curt answers.

Near the end of the day, Peter and Ned were forced to go to gym class. They watched a short video that had Captain America talking about the fitness challenge. As if on cue, Ned asked his friend if he knew the infamous avenger. He said that he did and that he stole his shield.

Now the students were told to get into pairs of two. They would be doing sit-ups. They would alternate every few minutes between partners. At the moment, Ned was holding down Peter’s feet so he crank out those sit-ups. He actually found that they weren’t so hard to do anymore, now that he had this weird radioactive spider venom in his blood.

“Can I be your guy in the chair?” Ned wondered spontaneously.

“What?” Peter whispered. He had spoken in this low tone of voice so that nobody would be able to hear them. He didn’t quite understand his question.

“You know there is a guy with a headset telling the other guy where to go. Like if you were stuck in a burning building, I could tell you where to go because there would be screens around me. You know? I could swivel around them. And I could be your guy in the chair,” Ned explained.

“I don’t need a guy in the chair,” Peter insisted. He shook his head at the idea. He heard the gym teacher praising him on the sidelines, causing him to pause momentarily. He was quick to resume his sit-ups.

In the background, Y/N had forced herself to walk into the gymnasium. She had immediately hurried towards the gym teacher to explain why she was late to class. She had been tutoring another student during the hour. She quickly handed him a slip of paper. He took one glance at him, nodding his head in confirmation. He told her that she could just sit on the bleachers for the rest of the class because it was almost over anyways.

Out of instinct, Peter had shifted into a sitting position and stopped doing his sit-ups. He could feel the little hairs on his arm raise. His spider senses were telling him that someone had just walked into the gym, but it wasn’t just anyone. It was his crush.

“She’s here, isn’t she?” Peter said. He didn’t seem to take his eyes away from his best friend in front of him. He waited for a response. His friend turned his head to look across the small stretch of the room, settling his gaze on the familiar looking student. He nodded his head.

“Yeah. How’d you know?” Ned questioned. He had furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He was slightly taken back by his comment.

“Spider senses,” Peter waved off. He had just briefly turned his head to look at her through the corner of his eye. He could barely see her talking with the gym teacher. He was quick to start doing his sit-ups again. “Can she see me? Do you know if she’s looking at me?” Peter whispered in question.

“Oh yeah,” Ned said with a firm nod of the head. He could see her heading towards the bleachers right behind them. He caught her turn her head slightly towards them. “She saw you,” Ned confirmed.

On the bleachers, Y/N had found herself settling down beside her small group of friends. They were currently playing the game called ‘fuck, marry, kill.’ They would list off three random names of celebrities or artists. Then they would have to decide who they would fuck, marry, and kill. They listed three of the avengers.

“You see for me it would be…fuck Thor...marry Iron Man...and kill Hulk,” Betty Brant concluded. Some of her friends had totally agreed with her lineup, but there were a few friends who would have made a completely different choice.

“What about the Spiderman?” Y/N wondered. She had lowered herself down onto the bleachers, looking at each of her friends with curious eyes. She could see her friend Liz Allen shrug her shoulders at the thought.

“It’s just Spiderman,” Liz claimed. She made a face of disgust. She must not have thought that he was that impressive or attractive.

“Did you guys see that big security cam on youtube? He fought off four guys!” Y/N exclaimed. She was now leaning forward in her place. She was quite eager to defend her opinion. She was practically praising him.

In the background, Peter and Ned had turned their heads to look towards the small group sitting on the bleachers. Neither one of them could believe the words they were hearing coming out of her mouth. They looked at each other in slight shock.

“Oh my gosh. She’s crushing on Spiderman,” Betty joked. Her face had twisted into this playful smirk. She leaned over to nudge her friend in the side.

“No way!” Liz laughed.

“Kinda,” Y/N shrugged. She had dropped her gaze to stare down at her hands in her lap. She tried to hide the bright blush creeping up onto her face. She smiled to herself.

“Ugh. Gross,” Betty scoffed. “He’s probably like thirty,” Betty claimed.

“You don’t even know what he looks like. What if he is like seriously burned?” Liz suggested. She had waved her hands in a dramatic manner. She was just trying to make a point.

“I wouldn’t care. I would still love him for the person he is on the inside,” Y/N said with a small smile on her face. “He’s a good man! And its obvious he really cares about this city. That is something I really admire about him,” Y/N confessed.

“Peter knows Spiderman!” Ned blurted out. He didn’t really know what came over him, but he couldn’t stop those words from coming out of his mouth. He could see that everyone in the room had stopped what they were doing upon hearing his comment.

In response, Peter’s mouth dropped open in absolute shock. He turned his head to look at his best friend with wide eyes. He was quick to scramble to his feet, shaking his head in denial.

“Uh, no. I don’t,” Peter said. He had taken a few steps forward in his place, standing in front of the small group of friends on the bleachers. He was trying to find the right words to explain himself. “No. I-I mean,” Peter stuttered.

“They’re friends,” Ned added with a smile on his face.

“Yeah. Like Coach Wilson and Captain America are friends,” Flash teased. He had stopped climbing the rope in the background, landing on the floor with a thump. He started to walk towards his rival because he was very interested in this conversation.

“I-I’ve met him a couple times but its uh…through the Stark internship,” Peter clarified. He stumbled over his choice of words. He had lifted his hand to scratch the back of his head in a nervous manner. He nodded his head in confirmation. “Mhmm. Yeah. But I am not really suppose to talk about it,” Peter claimed.

“Well, that’s awesome,” Flash replied. His voice was laced with sarcasm. He had stopped in his place. He had turned his body towards the small group of friends sitting on the bleachers, gesturing to them with the small wave of the hand. “Hey, you know what? Maybe you should invite him to Liz’s party,” Flash said.

“Yeah, I am having people over tonight. You are more than welcome to come,” Liz said. She could feel the strong sense of embarrassment creeping through her body because she hadn't invited them to the party beforehand. She just felt like they were kinda losers so she didn’t want to invite them. But at least she was kind enough to invite them now.

“You’re having a party?” Ned wondered. He knew that this was the first time that he was hearing about this party. He could only wonder why he hadn’t already been invited to the party.

“W-Will you be there, Y/N?” Peter stuttered. She had lifted her head to look directly into his soft brown eyes. She had smiled shyly at him. She nodded her head in confirmation. He could feel his heart fluttering in the confines of his chest.

“Yeah! It’s gonna be dope. You should totally invite your personal friend Spiderman,” Flash said in a persistent tone of voice. He stood directly in front of his rival, staring him down. He was puffing out his chest to be more intimidating (and maybe a little taller than him).

“Flash,” Y/N warned. “Leave him alone.”

“Ah come on. He’ll be there,” Flash promised. He turned his head to look at her with this playful expression on his face. He winked at her. He smirked to himself in triumph. But he didn’t seem to catch the moment where she rolled her eyes at him.

The whole conversation would come to an abrupt end when the bell rang to dismiss the last class of the day. The students were quick to stand to their feet and make their way towards the door. Meanwhile, Peter had watched his crush stand to her feet. The two of them briefly met each other’s gaze for a split second. She sent him a small smile. She didn’t even know that his eyes were following her figure out of the gym.

“What are you doing?!?” Peter turned his attention back towards his best friend standing behind him. He had thrown his hands up in exaggeration. He just couldn't believe that his friend would do that to him.

“Helping you out. Did you not hear her? She has a crush on you!” Ned exclaimed. He could feel the smile growing at the corners of his lips. He watched his best friend open his mouth to say something against him, but nothing could come out. “You are an avenger! If any one of us has a chance with her, it’s you.” Ned confessed.

Previously, Peter had actually known her since grade school. The two of them had become pretty close friends. He had developed his first crush on her, but he was never able to gather enough courage to tell her. Now here she was, years later with a crush on his alter ego. It almost didn’t feel real to him.

That night, Aunt May had driven Peter and Ned to the house for the party. She parked the car in front of the house. For a brief second, Peter had said that this would be a mistake and that he wanted to just go home. His aunt said that she totally understood how he was feeling. She was eventually able to convince him to go to the party after all.

The two teenage boys turned to look at the grand house in front of them. They had started walking up the sidewalk, heading towards the house. The two of them had passed by plenty of other students that went to their same high school. And they could hear the music blasting from inside the house.

“You have the suit, right?” Ned questioned. Very discreetly, Peter lifted up his flannel sleeve to show him the web shooters and red costume underneath his clothing. “This is going to change our lives!” Ned exclaimed.

The music was so loud that it would be hard to hear the person talking right beside them. The bass thumped in time with the boys’ heart beat as though they were one with the song. Over the roar of music, a distant hazy chatter could be heard throughout the entire house. The high school students could be found holding red solo cups with harmless non-alcoholic drinks.

Of course, Flash would be in charge of the music for the night. He had a pair of heavy headphones around his neck. He rubbed his hands against the two records at the station to create that iconic record scratch sound. He was just trying to look cool.

“Okay. We are gonna have Spiderman swing in, say you guys are tight. And then I get a fist bump or one of those half bro hugs,” Ned said in a low tone of voice. He really had this whole thing planned out.

A familiar figure had found herself walking around the corner of the hallway. She had turned her head to look at the two teenage boys standing in the short distance. She was quick to make her way towards them, feeling a smile stretching across her face.

“Oh! Hey guys,” Y/N said. She waved at them. She had walked towards them until she was standing right in front of them. She quickly looked between the two of them with the softest and kindest look on her face.

“Hey Y/N,” Ned said with a silly grin on his face. He had forced himself to straighten his back in posture, standing at attention. He turned his head to look at his best friend through the corner of his eye. He nudged him in the side.

“Hey Y/N,” Peter’s voice squeaked.

“I’m glad you guys came,” Y/N confessed. She was holding onto her own red solo cup in her hands. She lifted her other hand to gesture to the table behind her. “There is pizza and drinks so feel free to help yourself,” Y/N claimed.

“Wow! What a great party,” Peter had choked on his own words. He had turned his head to look at her with this sweet boyish grin on his face. He could feel his heart hammering on the inside of his chest.

“Thanks. I barely did anything. It was all Liz,” Y/N insisted with the wave of the hand. She could hear someone calling her name in the background. She turned her head towards the sound of the voice, spotting one of her friends in the crowd. “Oh! I should go,” Y/N said.

“Yeah,” Peter nodded his head. She found herself hurrying towards her small group of friends in the short distance. She had looked over the small stretch of her shoulder, waving goodbye to them.

“Dude! What are you doing?” Ned wondered. “She’s here, spider it up!”

“No. No. No. I can’t. I cannot do this. Spiderman is not a party trick,” Peter said. He shook his head in denial. He quickly straightened his back in posture. He ran his hands over the invisible wrinkles in his shirt. He shrugged his shoulders to himself. “Look, I am just gonna…be myself,” Peter whispered.

“Peter,” Ned groaned. He had closed his eyes for a brief second. He shook his head at his friend’s comment. “No one wants that,” Ned said harshly.

“Dude,” Peter said hurtfully. He was quick to turn his body to walk away from his friend. He heard his name being called over the speakers in the room. He turned his head to look across the small stretch of the room, looking directly at his rival holding the microphone.

“Penis Parker! What’s up? Where is your pal, Spiderman? Let me guess, in Canada with your imaginary girlfriend?” Flash teased him. He was only encouraged by the sound of laughter coming from the high school students in the room. “That’s not Spiderman. That’s just Ned in a red shirt,” Flash joked.

Somehow, through peer pressure, Peter found himself standing on the roof of the house. He had disregarded his regular clothing onto the top of the roof. He was now wearing his red and blue suit of his alter-ego. He knelt down on the rooftop and gazed down at the small house.

“Hey! What’s up? I am Spiderman,” Peter whispered to himself. He lifted his hands to the neckline of his white shirt. He pulled the shirt over his head. “Just thought I would swing by...say hello to my buddy Peter. Oh hey! What’s up, Ned? Where is Peter anyways?” Peter said to himself.

Now Peter could see his best friend standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. He felt bad that he had left him alone for a few minutes. However, there was still this part of Peter that did not want to make his presence known at the party. He just didn’t think that it was right.

“I can’t do this.” Peter whispered. He shook his head at the crazy idea. He could see his crush walk across the small stretch of the room, stopping to stand beside his best friend. She had asked him a question, only receiving a small shrug of the shoulders in response. She sighed to herself in defeat.

In that moment, Ned had yanked out his phone to dial his best friend’s number. He had turned his body so that his backside was facing the large crowd of students in the room. His best friend had answered his phone without hesitation.

“Peter! Where are you? She is asking for you,” Ned said desperately. He turned his head to look over the small stretch of his shoulder, spotting her familiar figure in the distance. He waited for some kind of response.

“I will be there in a second,” Peter concluded. He had this fluttery feeling in the confines of his chest, thumping against his chest in a violent manner. He didn’t know if he was nervous or excited.

With great hesitation, Peter had pulled his mask over his head. He stood to his feet. He had jumped down to the ground, landing on his feet with a small thump. He had started walking towards the house, making his way through the heavy crowd of people.

“Oh sorry,” Spiderman apologized. Every single person had turned their heads to look at the infamous superhero standing amongst them. The high schoolers’ mouths had dropped open in absolute disbelief. The webslinger was currently maneuvering his way through the crowd of students until he was finally inside the house. “Sorry, I just gotta…find my friend Peter,” Spiderman claimed.

“Spiderman?” He forced himself to turn around upon hearing the sound of that sweet voice. His robotic eyes had dilated subconsciously. His head moved up and down her body. His actions did not go unnoticed by her. “W-What are you doing here?” Y/N wondered.

“Oh, you know. Peter called me and asked if I could show,” Spiderman claimed. He had lifted his hand to wave in dismissal (like it wasn’t a big deal).

“No way,” Flash said. His voice was laced in the tone of disbelief. He pushed his way past the crowd. He had shifted to stand in the middle of the room, stopping in his place. He soon came face to face with the webslinger himself. “You’re really him? Are you really friends with Peter Parker?”

In response, Spiderman had turned his head to look over his rival’s shoulder. His large robotic eyes had settled on that familiar figure standing behind his face. He found himself pushing right past him to approach her. He stood directly in front of her. “Hi,” he said awkwardly.

“Hi,” she smiled at him.

“What’s your name? Wait. No. Let me guess,” Spiderman teased. He had lifted his gloved hand towards the front of his face, tapping his chin in thought. He pointed his finger at her. He was able to ‘guess’ her name pretty easily.

“Y-Yeah!” Y/N exclaimed. She was more than surprised to hear that the webslinger actually knew her name. She could only feel her smile growing bigger and bigger with each passing second. “How did you know?” Y/N wondered.

“Peter talks a lot about you,” Spiderman explained. He was hoping that his other persona could score some points with her. He could only wonder if she would give his other self a chance.

“H-He does?” She gasped.

“Spiderman!” Ned shouted. He had found himself taking a few steps forward in his place, shifting through the heavy crowd of students. He just knew that every single person was looking at him. He smiled at his best friend. “Hi! It’s Ned. Remember me?” Ned said with a bright smile on his face.

“Yeah! I do. How are you doing?” Spiderman said enthusiastically. He did give him the fist bump that he so desperately asked for. Of course, Ned was trying to play it cool. But he could hardly contain himself knowing that he would be popular for the rest of his life.

"I am doing fine,” Ned said cooly. He had this smug look on his face. He crossed his arms over his chest. He was hoping to maintain that cool looking stance. “But I’ll let you get back to Y/N. She’s a big fan of you,” Ned observed.

“Really?” Spiderman teased her. He had turned his head to look back towards the smaller figure standing behind him. His robotic eyes had made it look like he was quirking an eyebrow at her in amusement. He could easily spot the bright blush flooding her cheeks.

“Well, kinda,” she replied shyly. She didn’t mean to fiddle with her fingers nervously. She had dropped her gaze to stare down at the ground, feeling the blood rushing to her cheeks. She shuffled on the heels of her feet in her stance.

“Well, I should get going.” Spiderman didn’t want to prolong his stay at the party for his own sake. He placed his hands on his hips. He held that heroic stance for dramatic effect. “New York isn’t going to save itself,” Spiderman came up with a lame excuse.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. She couldn’t help but dreamily admire him. She could only imagine that he was this incredibly handsome looking young man underneath the mask. She smiled at him.

“It was nice to finally meet you. Could you also tell Peter that Mr Stark needs him at the internship at four thirty tomorrow?” Spiderman had tried to make another excuse for her to talk to his other self tomorrow. “Can you do that for me?” Spiderman wondered.

She had nodded her head in confirmation. He did not hesitate to wink at her with those big robotic eyes, which only caused her heart to flutter in her chest. He used his web shooters to swing away from the party. He made his way back up to the rooftop to change back into his regular clothes.

“I can’t believe he actually showed,” Flash said to her. He had turned his head to look in the general direction they had last seen the famous webslinger swing off to. He crossed his arms over his chest. He shook his head and scoffed to himself.

“What’s the matter, Flash? Jealous of Peter or Spiderman?”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker au #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker smut #peter parker oneshot #peter parker imagine #peter parker series #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman fluff #spiderman angst #spiderman smut #spiderman oneshot #spiderman imagine #spiderman series

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mhdiaries · 4 years

Photo

Monster Exchange Marisol Coxi Passport

06.01

There is only one place in all of Monster Picchu where I can buy shoes off the rack that fit me, and when I walked by it today, all the shoes were gone. I went inside and found out that the business is being sold. I clearly voiced my displeasure about this situation to the store’s owner, Señor G., who was cleaning out his back room. “I am sorry, señorita, but I am retiring to the coast in order to be closer to my grandchildren, and to go fishing every day.” I asked if the new owners would be selling shoes as well, but he said they are going to be selling CANDLES! Now I will be able to get all the bayscary-scented candles I can sniff, but now even one pair of anything in a size 42EEE! I was caught totally flat-footed by this news, and in my heart I was feeling very tiny. I could tell he felt bad for me, and as I was about to leave, he asked me to wait for a moment. He disappeared back into the stockroom and soon returned with a beautiful gold box. “Please to be seated,” he said. I sat down on the last bench left in the store as he knelt down and opened the box to reveal a pair of pumps and OHMYGHOUL! They were red and black and clawsome all over! I quickly drew my feet up and turned away. “Señorita, do you not wish to try them on?” I told him that, of course, I did, but I did not want to go for a test drive in something I could not afford to take home with me. He laughed. “Ah, but Señorita Coxi, these were meant to be displayed only, not to be sold. There is not even a price or size on them, but I think maybe they fit you. Besides, if I leave them, the new owners will probably just fill them with wax and turn them into candles.” Cautiously I slipped my toes into them, and THEY FIT! Almost like they had been made for me. I grabbed Señor G. and gave him a ginormous hug. He put the shoes back in the box for me and thanked me for being such a large part of his business over the years. We waved goodbye, and I practically skipped all the way home. When I got there I put the box on the kitchen table and ran upstairs to find Ma to tell her my story. We got down to the kitchen at the same time Pa got home from work, and I put the shoes on to show them both. Pa was looking at the box and pulled out a slip of paper. He looked at the slip and cleared his throat the way he does when he’s about to be angry. “Marisol Coxi! Did you pay this much money for these shoes?” He handed me the slip, which turned out to be some kind of invoice. I saw the price at the bottom, and for once in my unlife I was actually quiet. I told Pa the story exactly as it happened. He asked me what I wanted to do. I thought about it for a moment and then I boxed up the shoes and went back to return them. I knew that I could not keep such an expensive gift. It was too much. When I got to the store, the lights were off and the doors were locked. In the window was a sign that read “Gone Fishing.” As I was standing there wondering what I should do now, a shopkeeper from across the street came running over with something in his hand. It was a note from Señor G.

Señorita Coxi,

After you left, and I could not find the invoice for the shoes, I knew that I must have absentmindedly returned it to the box. They really were display models meant to be placed in the window to attract customers, but it just so happens they are a display model in your size. I had intended on leaving the shoes for you without the invoice, regardless, as they are too big for me to wear and to small for me to fish from; plus I really would have hated to see them turned into candles. Please to wear them loud and proud!

Sincerely yours,

Señor G.

06.05

I found out today that I have been accepted into the monster exchange program and that I’ll be attending MONSTER HIGH THIS FALL! I am afraid I may have startled the Head Mistress when she told me the news. I think I whooped rather loudly, and she disappeared for a moment. It is her first year at our school, and she is such a prim and proper spirit, that I am thinking she has never experienced a student who loves unlife as much as me. Once she returned, she congratulated me, and I told her that I would be sure to call her to give her updates on all my new experiences. I could tell that my gesture had touched her because I saw a small tear of ectoplasm roll down her cheek. She said, “How kind of you, but perhaps something less auditory, like an email, or even a handwritten letter would suffice in this situation.” I was going to give her a hug, but she suddenly remembered an appointment she had to keep and disappeared again. There is so much to do to get ready. I must start right away or maybe tomorrow. I think my writing is so loud, it is keeping Ma and Pa awake.

06.13

I wanted to get some more information on the school - wouldn’t want to get off on the wrong foot - so I talked to mi prima segunda Abbey on video chat tonight. We have not seen each other since our last family reunion, and it was good to catch up with her. Abbey is much quieter than myself, but we always have a good time hanging out together. I asked her about her family, she asked about mine, and then we started talking about Monster High. I’m not sure how much I ended up learning, though, since her answers to most of my questions were, “Is good”, “Is okay”, or “Abbey has no comment.” Because her answers were so vague, I finally had to ask her if she really liked the school or not. She got a very strange look on her face and said, “Is beast school in world, haven’t you been listening?” I guess if Abbey is this enthusiastic, it must be the beast school indeed.

06.18

Okay. Usually I like to do my own hair and nails because I think I intimidate most stylists. I am not being boastful, I am being truthful. They either go too subtle or too over the top, so I come out either looking like I did when I walked in or like a lost clown in search of a circus. So when Ma and I left the mountain for a day of shopping on the river down below, we made sure to leave some time so that we could visit our favorite salon. It is a little off the beaten tributary, but it is deadfinitely worth the trip. The main stylist is an encantada who dresses so plain that you wouldn’t think she would know hip from hop, but she is fierce with the styling of her clients. I told her that I was going to MH as an exchange monster and jokingly asked if I could take her with me. She said that she was such a home-monster that she could never imagine going that far away, but was excited for me. She also told me that she would make room in her schedule to get me in for a pre-flight check so that I could be at my big-haired best before I fly out on my big adventure. It was a great way to end a ghouls’ day out with Ma.

06.30

I got a personal email from Headless Headmistress Bloodgood with the contact information for another exchange student who is going to be at Monster High the same time as me. Her name is Lorna McNessie, and she lives in Rotland. I took a chance that she might be up and pinged her for a video chat. Ma and Pa were out for the evening, so I had the music cranked and I was doing my nails in a color so bright you could read by it. I wasn’t sitting in front of the screen when we connected, and I might have missed her if it hadn’t been in-between songs when I heard “Helloooh?” I popped back in front of my camera, and she must have accidently knocked hers over, because all I could see was the ceiling in her room and I heard her say something that sounded like “Strewth!” She straightened out her camera, and I saw red hair, freckles and a pair of eyes with some definite mischief behind them. I introduced myself and told her I would be coming to Monster High at the same time she was. After we got past the “accent barrier” and some problems with the volume on her end, which she kept having to adjust for some reason, we had a killer time. She really loved my nails and I thought the hat she was wearing was to die for. We talked for a long time, and by the time we were done I felt as if I had made a new friend. Now I will know two ghouls when I get to Monster High - which looks like the beginning of a beautiful party.

#monster high #monster high diary #monster exchange #passport #marisol coxi

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kieraswriting · 4 years

Text

Coffin Chapter Fourteen

Masterpost

It was almost as if the world froze when the phone rang. It was Patton’s phone. The instant it started chiming out the song Patton froze, his face paling. Logan and Roman both had horrified looks on their faces. Virgil was standing near Patton, and looked at the screen, before also going pale.

“What is it?” Thomas asked.

“It’s my dad,” Patton said in a hushed whisper.

The phone continued to ring. No one moved.

“Just let it ring, tell him later it went dead or something,” Roman suggested.

“Patton has never failed to answer the phone for his dad in the whole time I’ve known him.” Logan countered. “It wouldn’t be believable.”

The phone was still ringing.

Patton reached for it where it was sitting on the table. His hand was trembling. He picked it up.

“Hi, dad!” He said, but his voice was strained.

“No, I’m doing better. Not quite. I’ve just had to spend a lot of time in bed.” There was a brief silence, and Patton’s face turned bright red. “I-I’m a friend’s house. You probably haven’t met him. No, it’s because they thought I might have gotten sick partially because of my location, like an allergy. I didn’t want to tell you, cause I was worried it would hurt your feelings.” There was another pause. “Y-yeah,” Patton squeaked. “I can. Maybe tomorrow? Ok. I love you too.”

Patton dropped the phone, burying his head in his arms and letting out a long groan.

“His dad came to their house,” Virgil said. “He wants Patton to see him tomorrow.”

“It’s worse than that!” Patton whined into his hands. “He doesn’t believe me. I just know he doesn’t. I can’t—I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about this!”

Roman scooped Patton up in a bridal carry. “First of all, you’re going to calm down. After that we‘ll plan.”

Virgil hovered awkwardly, like he wanted to help but didn’t know how. Roman carried Patton to the living room and sat down with him on the couch, starting a movie.

“Hey, if you need, I could be the friend,” Thomas offered to Logan. “He’s been around my house before, I’m a hunter, it would be reasonable.”

Logan nodded. “Thank you. That may be very useful.”

Logan also went into the living room, offering Patton comfort by his presence.

•^*^••

Thomas was going with Patton. He was driving, and Patton was chewing his fingernails to the quick in the passenger seat.

Patton let out a squeak as Thomas turned. “We’re close now. I haven’t been scared of my dad in years. What if I can’t do it?”

“Patton, you’ll do fine. And if not, there’s two of us, and only one of him.”

Patton shook his head, but Thomas was now pulling into the driveway. Patton squeezed his eyes shut, his whole face going tight. When the car stopped he opened his eyes, and plastered a smile over his face.

“Ok! I’m ready!” His voice was a good imitation of happy, so good Thomas wondered how many times he’d been taken in by it himself.

The door opened before they’d reached it, and a man came out, smiling and with his arms open wide. “Pat!”

“Hi, Dad!”

Patton was swept up in a bear hug.

“Who’s this?” Patton’s dad asked.

“This is Thomas, he’s my friend. He’s been letting me stay with him. Thomas, this is my dad.”

He stuck out his hand. “Liam Hart. Nice to meet you, Thomas.”

Thomas shook his hand, slightly stumbling over the ‘nice to meet you too.’ Patton’s dad looked so— normal. He was stronger than most people his age Thomas had seen, but his face was just as round as Patton’s, though without the freckles, and his smile appeared just as genuine. His hair was kept shorter than Patton’s, but it was clear that Patton got his curls from his dad.

“Well, come inside! I’ve got coffee, and I’m sure we can work out something for lunch in a little bit.”

Soon they were sitting in a cozy living room, cups of coffee in hand, with Patton and his dad both smiling and Thomas feeling rather uncomfortable.

“So what’s been going on?” Liam asked. “Last I knew, you were headed to the hospital, and since then I’ve heard nothing from you.”

“Yeah…” Patton gave an embarrassed smile. “I was told that it’s some kind of allergy in the area, that because I had that virus a while ago it affected me more strongly, and maybe it was brought on by the cold snap. I didn’t want you to feel bad, since you gave us the house, and it would probably be here too.”

“Well, are you ok to be here then?”

“For a little bit. I shouldn’t stay much longer than an hour. I did take the medicine though, so I should be fine for a little bit.”

Liam nodded, rubbing at his chin. “Well, I understand, but really, Pat, I’m not upset at you. You can’t control an allergy.” He chuckled. “Cats, at least, prove that one.”

Patton laughed.

“But you could still call me to say hi. There’s no reason you couldn’t call.”

Patton nodded. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I just didn’t want it to slip out on accident. I just didn’t want you to feel bad about it.”

Liam nodded. “That’s very kind of you, Pat. But it’s also a lie.”

Patton paled.

Thomas gripped the arm of his chair tightly, ready to jump up and grab Patton if needed.

“And who is this?” Liam asked, gesturing towards Thomas. “I haven’t heard a word about him, and now you’re living in his house secretly? And he comes with you to talk to me? Did you get a secret boyfriend?”

Patton flushed bright red. “What? No! Dad!”

“Then who is he?”

“He’s a friend, I met him a few weeks ago.”

“You’re staying in someone’s house that you only met a few weeks ago? Pat, I can get you somewhere to stay.”

“I offered,” Thomas spoke up.

Patton’s dad turned to him. Not angry exactly, but with a kind of intensity that was hard to argue with. “Look, Thomas, thank you for letting Patton stay with you, and for driving him here. But I would like to speak with my son now, alone.”

Thomas looked at Patton, who gave him a slight nod, though he was pale again.

Patton’s dad stood up, and Thomas scrambled out of the chair and let himself be escorted out of the house.

He couldn’t help but feel as if he should have stayed.

•^*^••

Emile hung up the phone. “He won’t be back for a few days.”

Roman groaned. “Then what are we supposed to do about the guard? We should’ve dealt with him first.”

“For the moment, I suggest we take him lunch.”

Roman sighed. “Yeah. I just feel terrible about keeping him locked up like this.”

Emile raised an eyebrow, and Roman could see the question written all over his face. ‘And what about all the vampires you’ve kept captive or killed?’

Roman walked away, ignoring the unspoken question. He made a sandwich and grabbed a bottle of Gatorade, and went downstairs.

There was a quick shuffling as Roman opened the door, and the man tried to hide his cuffed hand behind him.

The room they were keeping him in had no windows, and they had cuffed one of his hands to the bedpost and kept the door locked. Roman’s eyes narrowed, and he put on a stiff exterior.

“What are you doing?”

The man glared.

Roman glared right back. “I’ve got a dozen vampires out there. Even if you make it out of the room, you won’t get out of the house alive.”

The man paled, but his glare didn’t fade in the slightest. “You may think you’re smarter than the hunters, but you aren’t! There’s more hunters in high places than you could ever imagine! Your pitiful operation will be crushed.”

Roman rolled his eyes and set the food down within reach. “I know more about hunters than you’d guess.”

The man sneered. “Whatever you think you know, I promise it’s so much more than that.”

Roman sighed. “I’ll warn you again, you don’t want to find out what happens if you don’t stay put.”

Roman left, ignoring the thump as the bottle was thrown at the door.

•^*^••

It was much later in the evening when Roman heard a cry, and then a scream. He ran back to the room the guard was in, and saw Emile, clutching his head, and a plate of spilled food on the ground. Virgil had the guard pinned to the ground, and was hissing with bared teeth.

“Dude, I just warned you.” Roman said, exasperated. “Hold him, Virgil, I’ll go get new cuffs.”

“Don’t leave me with a vampire!” The man yelled, half aggressive and half terrified.

Roman just walked out. He got some cuffs and came back.

The man had shifted fully to scared, and was trembling under Virgil, who still hissed at any movement. Roman easily cuffed his hands together and used a second pair of cuffs to connect him to the bedpost yet again.

“Alright, you can let him go now.”

Virgil backed off, still glaring intensely.

Emile walked back into the room, holding an ice pack to his head. He set a hand on Virgil, who visibly calmed.

“I’m fine. Why don’t we go get him another plate of dinner.”

Virgil bristled, but a soft squeeze of Emile’s hand made his protests die before they were spoken.

Roman started cleaning up the spilled plate. “You’re lucky he’s here, you know.” He scooped the majority of the food onto the plate. “But you’re really, really unlucky that you chose him to hit. Virgil might not kill you, but if Remy gets back and there’s still a mark, you’re going to wish he had.”

The man was pale and trembling. He hadn’t moved except to curl in on himself at the threat.

Roman dumped the food and came back with a rag to wipe up the floor. “I would advise that you behave when they come back.”

The man nodded.

Roman slumped on the couch in the living room. He didn’t like this. He wished that they were better organized. That they had a leader. He didn’t like keeping the guy captive, much less scaring the wits out of him, but if they let him go they’d be hours away from annihilation.

•^*^••

It was fully dark when Patton emerged from the house. He was kind of slumped over. Thomas cranked the car and waited for him to get in.

“Are you alright?”

Patton nodded. “I didn’t tell him anything.”

“Patton, while I do appreciate that, it’s not at all what I’m worried about right now.”

Patton’s face twitched with a hint of a smile, before going back to profound tiredness. “I will be alright. Just not right now.”

Thomas nodded, concerned, but not knowing what to do about it. He drove along in silence for a minute, and then a sign caught his eye.

“Would ice cream make things better?”

Patton gave a huff that didn’t really resemble a laugh, but he had a tiny crooked smile. “Ice cream always makes things better.”

•^*^••

Roman had looked depressed ever since they’d given the guard dinner. Virgil was sitting on the couch, sandwiched between him and Emile, and they were watching cartoons again.

The door opened. “Hi,” Thomas said tiredly.

Dee appeared suddenly to stand next to Thomas, and lead him away.

“I need a hug,” Patton said, and Roman was happy to oblige, scooping him up and carrying him to the couch.

Virgil moved closer to Emile to make room, and Emile tucked him under his arm.

Virgil didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he was woken by Emile trying to get up.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“Come on, Virge, Patton’s going to bed now too.” Roman was successfully standing with a sleeping Patton in his arms.

Virgil blearily followed, laying down on the far end of the bed from where Roman had put Patton.

By the time he woke the next morning, Patton was using him as a teddy bear again, and Virgil found that he didn’t mind at all.

#sanders sides #vampire au #vampires #blood #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #emile picani #remy sleep #my own work #coffin #violence #speciesism #vampire virgil #platonic moxiety

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goindownshipping · 4 years

Text

Take me back to the night we met

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark (Starker)

Rating: Teen (T)

Notes: Cranked out the second and final chapter of this fun story today. I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: None, light angst/miscommuncation. All with a happy ending!

Word count: 3k

Summary:

What will happen when Tony and Peter leave their small town and head back to New York?

Read chapter 1 here

Read full story on AO3 here

6 weeks later

“Tony!” Natasha called.

Tony’s gaze snapped up from his desk to his red-headed assistant, immediately pulled out of whatever trance he was in this time. He shook his head rather violently and focused on Natasha’s impatient glare.

“Yeah, yep! Sorry Nat, what’s up?” he rushed.

Natasha just gaped at him, realizing she’d be repeating the last several minutes of updates about various plans she needed Tony’s approval on.

“I needed your signature on these documents, like a week ago. Now, I’m late to a meeting, so please, I beg you, look over these and I’ll pick them up from you by the end of the day.” Natasha left the room in a tizzy. Tony didn’t even have time to respond before the door was closing behind her.

He glanced down at his desk, his numerous unsent text messages mocking him in broad daylight. He couldn’t bring himself to pay any mind to the far more important documents directly in front of him; for some reason, unbeknownst to even himself, he still couldn’t manage to pull his thoughts away from one Peter Parker.

It had been over a month since he returned home from Springdale with a new number in his phone and the silliest crush he’d had since high school. For what must have been the millionth time in a month, he let his mind wander to the all-too-brief interactions with Peter that weekend. That first night in town had been just the beginning of Peter worming his way into Tony’s previously impermeable heart.

How he managed to get under Tony’s skin so quickly, Tony couldn’t possibly comprehend. Maybe it had something to do with that thing Peter did with his tongue, but in all reality, Tony knew it was much more than that. It was Peter’s ability to challenge Tony intellectually, his knack for making Tony smile more earnestly than anyone in years, his insistence that Tony didn’t owe anyone any explanations for why he left Springdale or why he now called New York home, and so much more. Peter made Tony feel seen. Any other time, and by any other person, Tony hated being seen for all that he was. But with Peter, he relished that feeling. That entire weekend in Springdale, Tony selfishly soaked up moment after moment with Peter, imagining what it would be like to feel this content with himself on a regular basis.

They danced, they flirted, they kissed, and they fell into bed together after the wedding. It was a short trip for both of them, but neither man seemed concerned with the passing of time. Whispered promises between sheets and under the stars encouraged Tony to believe that maybe this wasn’t just a passing moment for the two of them. Maybe, finally, Tony found someone that could keep up with him. Someone that wanted Tony for everything he came with.

He headed home with butterflies in his stomach, eager to see Peter again and find out what would come next for the two of them. He’d sent him a text before his plane even left the ground in Springdale, not giving himself the time to second-guess anything:

Tony: Hey Pete, it’s Tony! I’m just heading back to NYC. I hope I’ll see you soon ;)

That was more than one month ago. No response, no acknowledgement of the message, nothing. Peter had gone completely radio-silent.

At first, Tony didn’t panic. It was a busy time for Peter’s team at work, and Tony even lost himself in his work for a while. But after a couple weeks with nothing, Tony began to feel the pit in his stomach. Realization dawned on him that if Peter, millennial Peter who was always attached to his phone, hadn’t responded at that point, Tony shouldn’t expect anything.

When that realization came about, he lost the newfound pep in his step, his self-deprecation returned in full force, and he was no longer pleasant nor productive at work. Sure, he could have ventured a few floors below his office to seek out Peter, but that was crossing a line, even for Tony. it would be unprofessional and unfair to put him in that position. Instead, Tony wallowed. He pretended nothing had happened; that he hadn’t returned from his trip as a different person and then suddenly reverted back to his destructive ways.

So here he was now. The essential documents requiring his attention and signature mocked him while his phone sat open with dozens of texts he’d never managed to send to Peter. He wasn’t sure where to start or what to say. Each time he thought he was finally going to just hit send, he managed to convince himself not to.

Peter knew how to contact him. He would have if he really wanted anything to do with Tony.

Tony shook his head before tossing his phone in a random desk drawer and finally buckled down. By the end of the day he’d made it through each of the documents Nat needed him to sign, and he even managed to bring them to her office to save her the trip, and annoyance.

“Hey, Tony!” she called out before he could leave her office.

“Yeah, Nat?”

“Development wanted me to remind you that they have a new StarkPhone prototype they want you to check out. I can have them leave a sample on your desk sometime this week. Does that work for you?”

“Sure, yeah. Just make sure they get my info on the phone so I can actually use it. What’s the point of testing if it’s not functional?”

Nat nodded and made a note on her computer. “Sure thing, boss. Just keep an eye out for it by Friday.”

“Thanks, Nat. I’m headed out for the day, have a good night.”

He offered a small wave before retreating down the hallway.

A few days later, Tony found a sleek new phone on his desk. He was immediately impressed by his developers and engineers. He clicked around the various applications and settings, habitually checking his messages. Unsurprisingly, there weren’t any messages from Peter, and, gratefully, it appeared that his unsent drafts must have been cleared out when his information and settings were uploaded onto this phone. He let out a long, slow breath, willing himself to see this as a way to move forward without the constant reminder of words that had gone unsaid.

Little did he know, Peter Parker woke up to his phone buzzing incessantly as dozens of text messages from an unknown number flooded his phone.

Peter was suddenly awoken by his cell phone repeatedly buzzing on his nightstand, so consistently that he couldn’t help but worry that something was seriously wrong. He snatched his phone and was shocked to find more messages than he could count flooding his notifications. All the messages were from the same unknown number. Through his sleep-blurred vision he couldn’t make much out, but the messages didn’t seem to be coherent, and some of them were incomplete thoughts. When his vision finally focused on the too-bright screen in his dark bedroom, he felt his heart drop to his stomach.

Unknown Number: I’m so sorry for whatever I did between Springdale and now. I was really hoping you and I would have a chance Pete. I hope you’re doing well xx

Unknown Number: Hey Pete! I hope you got back home safely :) I’d love to grab a coffee if you have any free time in the next couple days. Lmk!

Unknown Number: For once, I thought I found someone. I just wish you’d tell me if

Peter felt his hands start to shake as he scrolled through the messages. Everything was scrambled - he had no idea when any of these were sent or in what order. It was as if the floodgates had opened and Peter had a direct glimpse into Tony’s thoughts.

Peter knew there was nothing to be done at 5:00 AM, and he really didn’t want to try to piece everything together over text. He took a deep breath resolving to attempt to talk to Tony in-person at work. Knowing there was no point in attempting to get back to sleep, Peter went about his morning routine, determined to get to the office early. If he had any hope of talking to Tony, it had to be soon.

He managed to get to work on autopilot, his thoughts never leaving the older man he’d fallen for back in Springdale. He was beyond disappointed when Tony never actually contacted him, but Peter just assumed it was par for the course with Tony Stark. What more could he have expected? Sure, it felt like they’d had a real connection, but Peter knew how different they really were. Tony owned the damn company Peter worked for! It had been a tough pill to swallow, but he’d managed to stop dwelling on it after a few weeks and some sharp words from MJ.

But now, Peter didn’t know what to think. His mind was as scrambled as these messages from Tony. Why now? Did Tony even mean to send these? Oh god, was he drunk? Did he even know what he’d done?

Peter shook his head in an attempt to clear it as he made his way up from the Subway toward the office. It was barely 7:00 AM; Peter made a silent wish that he’d be able to talk to Tony. Forgoing his own floor, Peter went straight to the executive floor, shocked that his badge was cleared when he pressed the highest button in the elevator.

The executive floor was nearly silent and most of the lights were out. Peter could see a soft glow coming from underneath the door to Tony’s office and he steeled himself as he took long steps down the corridor. Upon reaching the door, Peter took a deep breath and knocked softly.

“It’s open!” Tony called, clearly expecting anyone besides Peter.

Peter hesitantly pushed the door open, but didn’t move an inch. Tony looked up from his desk and froze. Peter could hear the breath catch in his throat and didn’t miss the slight flinch throughout his entire body.

“Um, what?” Tony blurted.

“I-”

“No. No, you don’t get to just show up here like this. After what, a month? No, Peter this isn’t fair-”

“Not fair?” Peter exclaimed. “You know what’s not fair Tony? Nothing from you this whole time and then you just spam my phone in the middle of the night? What the hell is that about!”

Tony just blinked at Peter. Peter huffed, hurt and frustrated by Tony’s lack of acknowledgement for what he’d done. Peter just shook his head.

“I don’t know what I thought I was doing coming up here. Never mind. See you, Tony.”

He moved to pull the door shut and retreat from the doorway.

“Wait! Peter, wait!” Tony jumped up from his chair, nearly knocking everything off his desk with the force of his hip knocking into the corner.

Peter stood, waiting.

“Will you just… will you come in here so we can talk? I literally have no idea what you’re talking about, Peter.”

Peter let out another frustrated sigh, but acquiesced. He stepped through the doorway and gently pulled the door shut behind him. When he turned to face Tony, he was surprised by how close they were standing.

“Tony,” Peter started softly. “What’s going on? I don’t understand.”

“That makes two of us Pete.” Tony shook his head, unable to bring himself to look at Peter.

“Well,” Peter pulled his phone out of his back pocket, “how about we start with these.”

As Peter turned his phone so Tony could see the screen, Tony could feel the color drain from his face. There, he saw a thread of messages that were never sent from him to Peter. Tony shook his head and pulled out his own phone, pulling up his unsent message drafts to confirm that they had been cleared out when he switched phones. When he pulled up his messages, he suddenly wished the floor would open up and swallow him. All his drafts had been sent; every single one now had a little check mark next to them, indicating that they’d been delivered rather than deleted as he assumed.

“Peter, I’m so sorry,” Tony rushed out. “You were never supposed to get those messages, I never meant to bother you like this, oh my god. Oh god, I’m a disaster, how could-”

“Whoa, Tony! It’s okay!” Peter reassured him. Peter wanted to move just a bit closer, enough to reach out and soothe Tony himself. But he stopped himself short, his hand twitching at his side.

“I was happy to hear from you, Tony,” Peter said softly, careful not to spook Tony where he still refused to make eye contact. “I just don’t understand why you never sent any of these to me.”

At that, Tony’s head whipped up and he fixed Peter with a cold stare. “I texted you before I even left Springdale. Don’t act like this is on me. The ball has been in your court, Peter. That’s why I didn’t send any of these to you. It was pretty damn clear you didn’t want to hear from me!”

Peter just gaped at Tony. “Tony, I never got any messages from you. See!” Peter scrolled to the top of the thread, where the earliest message was dated as that morning. “These all came in this morning. They’re all out of order, but I didn’t get anything from you before now. I thought you didn’t want to talk to me!”

“What?!” Tony snatched Peter’s phone without thinking and scrolled through the messages that his phone had betrayed him with. As he scrolled through the mixed up messages, he came upon the one that Peter was meant to have received. Instead of receiving it six weeks prior, it was delivered in the flurry of drafts this morning.

“I don’t… how did this happen?” Tony muttered to himself.

He thought back to the day he left Springdale. He remembered being in a rush to get some work messages sent as he was taking off, going back and forth between emails and texts. Nat was insistent on getting some documents from Tony, and he had been late, as usual. He distinctly remembered finishing his message to Peter after responding to Nat right as his plane was taking off.

“Stupid old fucking phone,” Tony whispered.

“What?” Peter finally asked.

Finally, Tony made eye contact with Peter that didn’t make Peter feel like he was being hit with ice. In fact, Tony looked a bit sheepish.

“For a self-proclaimed tech genius, I’m really very stupid.”

Peter let himself smile ever so slightly.

“Turns out if I’d just checked my phone like a normal person, I would’ve noticed that I never actually hit send on that first message to you. And since I’m anything but normal, I’ve spent the last six weeks convincing myself that you didn’t want anything to do with me. Hence the message drafts that were never supposed to be sent to you. Again, I’m a stupid genius and my phone went ahead and sent out all my drafts when I updated to a new prototype.”

Peter took a deep breath as Tony handed his phone back to him. “You mean to tell me,” Peter grinned carefully, “that you, Tony Stark, forgot to hit send ?” He took a hesitant step toward Tony. “And then,” he continued, and took another step, “you wrote 20 texts that you never sent , all of which were sent to me when you got a new phone?”

“Um, yes,” Tony admitted as he looked up at Peter who had now entered his personal space.

In an instant, Peter threw back his head and let out an incredulous laugh. Before he could think about it, he wrapped an arm around Tony’s waist and hauled him across the last few inches between them. Tony stumbled into him and gripped Peter’s shoulders to stabilize himself. Peter quickly slid his phone into his pocket and brought his hand up to cradle the back of Tony’s head.

The touch was gentle and intimate, but neither man seemed to think anything of it. Peter leaned his forehead against Tony’s and the older man loosened his grip on Peter to loop his arms around his neck.

“Tony,” Peter murmured softly.

Tony couldn’t hide the way his body quivered at the feeling of Peter’s breath on his face, their proximity, and the tone of Peter’s voice in that moment. Peter only gripped him tighter to his body as Tony buried his face in Peter’s neck. Forget moving too fast or being dignified, Tony missed him.

Tony stiffened, realizing he must’ve said that out loud when Peter whispered, “I missed you too, Tony.”

Peter craned his head back just enough to nose his way along Tony’s temple as his lips lightly brushed Tony’s cheek. Tony got the hint and angled his face up just slightly, inviting Peter in. Peter didn’t hesitate for a second, immediately feeling his way to Tony’s lips and slotting his against Tony’s. It was firm and soft, comforting and intense, brand new and like coming home. Peter let out a soft moan as Tony’s lips parted and his tongue darted out to run along the seam of Peter’s lips. Peter parted his lips in response and pulled Tony impossibly closer. Peter’s hand at the back of Tony’s head tangled in his hair, pulling just enough to make Tony gasp and part his lips even more. Peter took the opportunity to slip his tongue into Tony’s hot mouth, and they both moaned at the contact.

Peter pulled away with a wet smack, catching Tony’s weight as he leaned in for more. “Tony,” Peter breathed as he leaned his forehead against Tony’s again. Tony looked up at him through long eyelashes, and Peter could’ve melted right there. Peter just sighed and pressed a soft kiss to the top of Tony’s head before taking a small step back.

“Just to be clear,” Peter says softly. “I want you, I want us, Tony.”

Tony let out one final sigh of relief, not realizing how much he’d needed to hear that. “Oh thank god, Pete,” Tony grinned.

“But I swear to god Tony, if you ever wake me up with 25 unsent text messages, ever again, I swear-”

“Hey! It’s not my fault that I’m bad with technology.”

“Says the CEO and founder of Stark Industries. I’m sure your customers will be thrilled to hear that,” Peter teased.

“Be nice,” Tony pouted. “I missed you and I’m fragile.”

Peter just smiled. “Yeah, I missed you too, Tony. But you’re stuck with me now, I promise”.

Before Tony could reply, Natasha stormed into the office, mid-rant. “Tony Stark! What are all these damn emails you spammed me with this morning?!”

Tony just smiled sheepishly and hid his face in Peter’s neck. He had some learning to do.

#mine #starker #starker au #starker fanfic #tony stark x peter parker

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seokiloquy · 4 years

Text

Lost In- What Word? Pt 2 - Akaashi Keiji

AU: Single Parent

Requested

Word Count: 2.7k+

Disclaimer: Fem! Reader, Time skip spoilers, just fluff

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3

Another Saturday rolled around and the open field of the nearby park was close to empty. It was partially cloudy outside, letting the sun pour out periodically onto the grassy field. You kicked back, keeping a lackadaisical watch over your bags while trying not to fall asleep from the warm blanket that the sun gave you. The gentle heat that was settled into your stomach wrapped around your sides in a hug, it made it difficult to keep your eyes open and watch your son practice. It definitely didn’t help that in the moments when your eyes were open, your attention was mostly captured by the sturdy movements Akaashi made as he coached Naoko, and not Naoko himself.

This was one of those moments. Back facing you, the older man fell into a deep lunge, one leg stretching out further than the other. With his hands clasped together in an arrowhead shape and arms strengthened underneath his slim-fitting t-shirt, the ball fell right into the fleshy part of his forearm, bouncing high into the air with a satisfying smack. You quickly turned your gaze away toward the incoming dark clouds, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Nice spike, Naoko!” Akaashi encouraged.

You looked back to the rally that was taking place before you, smiling at Naoko’s large grin as he hit every ball with the near-perfect ability that had been developing over the past few weeks. Something hitting your cheek stopped you from spouting your own support for your boy. Looking up to the sky, your eye was assaulted by the same light sensation. Within seconds it began to pelt your skin harshly.

“Mama, it’s raining!” Naoko cheered, spinning with a large grin in his quickly soaking clothes.

You screeched at the feeling of cold water seep through your shirt to roll down your spine. Quickly, you grabbed the three bags off the ground, wrapping your arms as tightly around them as you could. From the corner of your eye, you could see Akaashi swipe a giggling Naoko off the lawn and point in the direction of the street. Naoko thrashed around happily in the older man’s arms.

The strong rain continued to stab into your skin as the three of you sprinted. Once at the dark-haired man’s car, he set Naoko down and began patting down at the non-existent pockets of his track shorts. “Keys,” he muttered repeatedly before spinning to pull his back out from your arms.

With the back door quickly swinging the door open, Akaashi lifted the young boy off the ground and pushed him into the back seats before helping you load the bags. The rain continued to pour down your back in small, cold waves. You shivered as the last bag was thrown in and the two of you began to round the sides of the car, hoping into the front seat.

Akaashi turned on the engine and cranked up the heat as you spun in your chair to try and dry off your son’s face, using your thumbs to wipe at his cheeks. “Keiji, do you have any— uh, clothes.. no, towels in here?” you asked.

He groaned, ruffling his hair to shake the water out. “Sadly no.”

A dissatisfied hum escaped you, as you spun back to face the front of the vehicle, listening to the rain as it bounced off the metal exterior. A roll of thunder echoed in the distance, soon followed by a flash of lighting. You sighed, “I guess we’re stuck here for a bit.”

Akaashi pulled the dar out of its lane, hand coming to rest behind your seat’s shoulder as he reversed. “I’ll drive you two home,” he said, smiling at Naoko as his eyes skimmed over the boy’s damp cheeks, “how are you doing bud, cold back there?”

Naoko hummed defiantly, shaking his head quickly, sending a few stray droplets of water Akaashi’s way. “Can we go play in the rain some more?”

You tried not to laugh.

Akaashi shook his head, finally pulling into the open lane, and faced the steering wheel. “Sorry kiddo, no can do.”

Akaashi felt a tingle tickle the back of his neck as he flipped through the storyboard sketches that Udai had prepared. The pages were messily put together and had misspelt notes covering the margins. Akaashi stared at a crude sketch of a newly introduced character on the page, trying not to laugh at the silly expression before flipping the sheet over.

"I think it looks good," he said, eyes skimming over the last page.

"Really? Not too bland? It is sort of a filler chapter," Udai yawned quietly as he splayed out on his chair as much as possible.

"I think you've included enough information that it isn't redundant."

"Wow. Thanks," the artist scoffed.

Early morning checks-ins, though required in the name of productivity, often left the undesirable feeling of doing a whole day's work in just under an hour. So when Akaashi stepped out of the small meeting space and saw that the sun was still high in the sky, he couldn't stop the audible groan that escaped him.

Chiyo laughed lightly, "long day?"

"The day's hardly started," Akaashi sighed, carding a hand through his hair, ruffling it at the back of his head. "I just want to sleep. I had a long weekend."

Ena gave the editor a smirk, "had fun with (Y/N) I presume."

"Oh shut up, Ena," Chiyo chuckled.

Akaashi slumped into his spinny chair, making it squeak at the fast movement and extra weight. Despite facing the other way, the light pouring through the window was incredibly bright, making him squint uncomfortably as he glared Ena's way. The other man gave him a conniving smirk.

"I wish that were the case. But not quite, I was dragged out by one of my friends to play volleyball yesterday. Apparently, their setter got bailed out and they needed a substitute. Everything's sore." Akaashi let out a pained groan, stretching his casual blazer covered arms above his head. He peaked a look over to your cubicle glancing at the unruly organization of sticky notes and pens that touched every surface except for your frames and monitor screen. "Where's (Y/N) anyway?"

"Naoko caught a cold, so (Y/N) is working from home today." Chiyo let out a pitiful whine.

The door to Udai's office opened slowly as the artist finished her sentence. It creaked as a mop of wavy black hair poked through. His nose pushed against the edge of the door as his eyes peaked over. "Poor baby Naoko is sick?" He asked, voice curling upwards. “If I could, I would make him some warm stew.”

“If you don’t get back to work you’ll fall behind,” Chiyo warned, not taking her eyes off of the large screen she drew on. With his frown becoming an unsightly grimace, Udai rushed back into his little office, berating himself for taking his eyes off of the paper for even a second.

Akaashi continued to stare at the empty seat on the other side of the frosted cubicle, biting his lip. He sighed, turning on the monitor on his desk, just barely ready to face the work he had to do for the next few hours.

Yukie opened the door, giving the taller man a familiar curled grin as she gestured for him to enter the apartment. He noticed the tall ceiling that had a fan hanging down from it and the plain couches that were covered with a soft-looking blanket. To his left was the open kitchen, where he carried over the stiff bag that he had been holding tightly onto. Yukie coughed, still holding the door open as she kicked on her shoes, umbrella in hand.

“I’m off to see some old friends,” she said. “I would say not to burn the place down, but it seems you brought food. See you.” The door shut gently behind her.

Down the hall, in Naoko’s room, you placed a cool towel against the boy’s forehead. “You really shouldn’t have played in the rain when Keiji dropped us off, now you’re sick.”

He moaned tiredly in response, trying to turn his head to feel more comfortable, nearly letting the towel slip. Shimmying the heavy fabric back into place, you let the tips of your finger trail along his hairline, feeling for his raised temperature as you soothed him. “Oh sweetie, it’ll be okay.” You pecked his forehead lightly, grabbing the empty glass that sat on his bedside table and tucking his soft orange blanket over his shoulders. “Go to sleep, it’s okay.” His eyes were already half-closed and you were rising to your feet when the door opened.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Akaashi pitched, having waited a few moments in the hallway to listen to the melting tone of your voice as you spoke to your son in words the editor couldn’t understand.

Awe immediately filled your stomach, fluttering like little moths trying to find the nearest light. You watch as the man bowed slightly in the doorway before taking a few steps to meet your side. Leaning down, the back of his hand came to cup the younger boy’s cheek. Your eyes widened as Naoko's head fell limp in Akaashi’s palm, nuzzling into the strong muscle beneath the man’s skin. The strange feeling nagged at you again, making your lips pull into a pursed smile.

“He played in the rain didn’t he?”

“Even after I told him not to. Maybe he would’ve listened to you better,” you chuckled, crossing your arms against your stomach as your brain took a moment to switch back to the staccato paced language, different from your native tongue.

“It’s a shame though,” Akaashi said, walking to the door, hand coming up to hover behind your back. “I brought some warm soup for him to eat, I guess it’s just us then.”

The both of you walked toward the kitchen/livingroom split, and Akaashi gestured for you to sit down as if he were the host instead of the other way around. He reached into the cabinets to pull out two bowls.

“Let me help yo—”

“You’ve done enough today by taking care of Naoko. Let me at least do this for you.”

The light soup, despite not being the sick one in the house, warmed you up easily as it’s delicate flavour ran over your taste buds with each spoonful. The two of you ate in silence, listening to the rain that spat against your windows with every gust of wind. You didn’t even realize that you had asked for seconds before the bowl was once again placed in front of you by one of his sturdy hands.

You quickly looked up to inspect the sharp corners of his eyes that smiled at you without needing any assistance from his mouth. The stare you were holding was quickly diverted to the bowl in front of you.

Before you even had the chance to notice Akaashi’s adoring gaze or the syllables that were about to fall off his lips, you blurted out.

“Thank you, Keiji. For everything.” You looked up just in time to see his mouth shut, waiting. “I honestly couldn’t be more thankful for everything you’ve done for us, I can’t put it into words.” You furrowed your brow as you maintained eye contact with him. “No, I seriously don’t know the words in Japanese. Don’t expect me to start spouting out a haiku for you just yet.”

He chuckled lightly, letting the melodic sound dance into your ears, making it even more difficult to put the right words together. You could feel heat burn the skin of your cheeks.

“I want to repay you somehow, so how abo—”

“How about I take you on a date?” he asked, leaning his elbows onto the counter.

You gulped, completely unable to get the words to escape you, and nodded.

Naoko, as you noticed over time since his initial meeting of Akaashi, has grown in unprecedented ways. Now, seven years since he was born, those small insignificant memories from when he was little had slowly faded into your subconscious, despite their images being engraved into your brain in those earlier years.

Your lip swelled from the bite mark you left as you watched him bounce on the wooden court, heals never planting into the ground.

Yukie, the sports-loving and nutrition enthusiast, was the first substance added to this boy of a chemical reaction; introducing Naoko (and by association you) to the keep up sport at the ripe age of three. Working with athletes on a day to day basis and being near them since middle school gave the maroon haired woman a leg up in understanding in comparison to non-sporty parents. As soon as she was able, she took on the position of something akin to a soccer-mom. Helping you enroll Naoko in sports as soon as he was able to walk.

At the time, Naoko never seemed all too interested in volleyball itself. More attracted to the notion of being able to bounce something around. It at least kept him away from your phone. But as he grew older, and people began to notice that he wasn’t originally from Japan, Naoko’s outer shell seemed to build a bit, only opening the door for a stray volleyball to roll in. He was so shy.

Akaashi, so similar in some respects, made an unknowing catalyst in the young boy’s reaction. Suddenly and rapidly evolving the young, shy boy into one whose outer shell had carved out a bigger door, letting more things in, and a lot more out.

At the beginning of the volleyball season, only a couple weeks ago, Naoko’s coach came up to you after a practice, asking if the young player would be interested in moving up a level in the club, joining the representative (Or Rep) team for his age group. Naoko had stared at you like a tiny tawny owl until you agreed.

Now, you sat on the small metal bleachers set up for parents to watch their kids play, letting the excitement bubble in your stomach as your eyes trained on the young boy set a ball up into the air for his teammate to spike into the opposing club’s side of the court. The blue and yellow ball smacked into the floor after flying over the short net.

“Good Job!”

Your vision, as the players set up for the next serve, shot to Akaashi who was standing next to you, hands open on either side of his mouth as he yelled out in support. You smiled as he sat down again.

“Thank you for inviting me to come watch him play.”

A laugh escaped you as your hand waved defiantly. “To be honest, it was Naoko’s request. I was just the messenger. Besides,” you prompted, gesturing slightly to your son, who’s smile tore at the corner of his squishable cheeks, the largest you’ve ever seen from him. “He wanted you to see his first ‘real’ game.”

Akaashi’s charming grin was hard to look away from and at.

“You know,” you continued, nodding over at the larger man that stood on the opposite side of the court with the rest of the players. “His coach told me that Naoko was a true prodigy after his try-out.” You bit your lip as you looked down at your fiddling fingers, feeling the light throbs begin to push against the back of your eyes. “Volleyball makes him so happy, and for him to know that he has talent is only pushing him further. God, he’s only seven and he’s already told me that he wants to be a volleyball player.”

You sniffled, hands clenching each other tightly. “I owe you so much Akaashi, you don’t even realize.”

His larger hand came to pull yours apart before holding the closest one gently in his palm. Letting his thumb swipe over the back of it. “You don’t owe me a single Yen, (Y/N). But hey,” he said, making you pick your chin up to face him. “If he wants to be a professional, I know a few cool guys he might want to meet.”

Sometimes I think about the fact that some of the people that have read our one-shots might share them with their friends or have a platform where they are popular, and it scares me and makes me happy at the same time.

Also, we changed our upload date to Sunday because it works better for Kiwi. - Bacon

Posted: 13/09/2020

#akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #Haikyuu x reader #Haikyuu #x reader #oneshot #oneshots #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu reader insert #reader insert #aus #haikyuu aus #fluff #haikyu #anime x reader #anime #manga x reader #manga

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