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leonfucker3000 · 1 month

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Gotcha

Bounty Hunter/Cowboy!Leon S. Kennedy x outlaw!fem!reader

Warnings: smut, feelings (of regret) (and slight yearning), oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, fucking against metal bars. 16+ because I was you once just don’t be weird

Ummm I wrote this last year in, like, March? I posted and finished it December, though (yikes) with that being said I’m sorry if the writing is…I suppose questionable? Yeah, sure, questionable. On ao3 here if you prefer that site. Not proofread btw.

oh, right, reader’s outlaw name is ‘ranger’ but it’s mentioned once. I was inspired by Leon’s Arthur Morgan mod but you can imagine him in any outfit, all that’s mentioned is that he wears a leather hat (I think). cowboy Leon is the reason I keep on going, thanks.

tumblr is a scary, new place for me. Please be kind😱

The sound of the horse's feet running in the desert sand fills the hollow night. Gunshots and gunpowder making Leon’s nostrils flare, the metallic smoke filling up his lungs uncomfortably.

Close. He’s so fucking close.

You stop your horse and bolt for the abandoned bank you robbed just a month prior and wait . It’s hot and cold, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin as you try to keep your breathing still. The weight of your revolver is the only thing that feels remotely natural, the only thing that reminds you that you have at least some control.

His horse blows and grunts as it comes to a halt, a cloud of sand threatening his vision until he bats it away. The swinging door of the bank creaks along with the wooden floorboards of each step he takes.

You can hear him grow closer, the spurs on his boots jingling—a warning, a taunt. He’s got you, and had it not been from how fucking tired you were, you would’ve kept going.

“There’s not much use in hidin’ anymore,” Leon’s gruff voice breaks the low whistling wind, “Think we both know the only way you’re getting outta here is in cuffs or in a rug dragged across the sand.”

You hold in a scoff, the bandana muffling your steadying breath. Hiding behind the wall, you hear his steps come and go, small curses falling from under his breath and muttering you can’t put together.

After a moment of silence, you muster up the courage to peek around the corner. A mistake.

“Gotcha.” His cowboy hat casts a dark shadow across his face, the dim moonlight barely making the whites of his eyes visible. His own revolver is pointed to your head, the reflecting metal almost blinding — another taunt to your capture.

“Kennedy.” You speak through gritted teeth, sour and bitter as you say his name.

“Ranger.” A humorless chuckle escapes his lips, “Not one day goes by that I don’t get sick of hearin’ that name. Can’t even get a beer without a sad sap waiting to tell their story about encountering you.”

“Good to know I’m on your mind at least. Hadn’t seen you in sometime, thought you died.” You watch as his hand tightens around the grip of his gun, his index finger sliding towards the trigger.

“I’m not gonna die before I catch you, or kill you. One or the other.” He rolls his eyes as he watches you point the gun to his leg, “Put that down before I blow your brains out. The sheriff’ll get mad at me for the mess.”

“I think he’d be happier if you killed me, really.”

“Maybe, but I think they’d rather kill you themselves, and slower.” A sigh leaves you as you drop your revolver to the floor, not bothering to put your hands up because, well, there’s no use for it. “Back up. Don’t need you gettin’ any ideas. Get in the vault.”

The vault? He doesn’t give you time to protest, taking a step forward so his gun grazes your forehead, “Fuck, alright, I get it .”

You back into the vault, the metal bars making it your makeshift jail. He closes the door shut, watching you through the spaces between the bars and giving you an annoying smug smirk, “Look at that . Behind bars is a natural look on you. Can’t believe it’s taken this long.”

Leon takes a walk around, finding the key and locking the ‘jail’. Convenient. “Y’wanna start by telling me why you’ve been doing this? They’re gonna get it outta you anyway, best to let it out now. A pretty face ain’t gonna getcha freedom.”

“Pretty?” You muse.

“Shut up.” He scoffs.

“I don’t think my reason would really make a difference.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Maybe not, but every outlaw has some kind of story to tell.”

You slump against the back wall of the vault, letting out a small groan as your hand runs down your face. If you’re going to get locked up and eventually hung, you guess it wouldn’t hurt for at least one person to know the truth. He’s not…the best person but out of everyone else, maybe he is. “My family. Dead broke. Needed the money.”

He stares at you for a moment before laughing, gripping one of the metal bars as he snickers, “you really expect me to believe that? If I wouldn’t let a bastard cheat me in poker, I’m not gonna have you cheat me now.”

“‘M not cheating you for anything, I gotta family at home. Mouths to feed, debts to pay, shit to do.”

“That’s a real shitty thing, lying about your family like that.” He grumbles, looking at you like ‘lying’ was worse than all the money you’ve stolen. The lives you threatened.

This man’s priorities seriously needed to be straightened out. You pull down your bandana and toss it to the side as you get comfortable on the floor, the bank door’s small creaks making the night all the more eerie.

When you look up, he’s still staring at you. His lips are curled into a slight snarl and, had it not been for the bars, he might’ve lunged at you.

Leon’s wondering what your game is, he knows what you do when you lie—how you look away from him and take a step back and your lip always twitches without fail—you’re not doing any of that. “Even if you did do it to keep your family afloat, what about the rest of the people you wronged?”

“What, the rich? They don’t give a damn about us, why should I give a damn about them?”

“I’m talkin’ about the public robberies. Like the train robbery down in Georgetown, or the bank in Laredo, those were all big jobs, you tellin’ me those were victimless crimes? Bullshit. There’s oughta be a casualty.”

“If there was a casualty, it wasn’t from me. I’ve never fired a gun at an innocent.”

He scorns, “but you’ll fire a gun at the people tryna protect the innocents.”

“None of them are dead, are they? They’re at home with their families not needing to worry about eatin’.”

He feels conflicted, because fuck if you’re telling the truth then he feels like an asshole all those times he’s almost killed you. A family. You have children, a husband, maybe, unless he’s dead—is that why you’re doing this?—And he’s fought with you more than he can remember. He sniffles, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb and shaking his head, “how old are your kids?”

It was your turn to chuckle, “i don’t have kids. Well, sort of, if you include takin’ care of my siblings.”

Guess he got it wrong. He doesn’t know if he feels better or worse, his stomach churns at the thought of your younger siblings waiting for you to come home just to never return. Never to know if you died or ran away. No, he’s sure they’d figure out you died, if you were doing this for them, why would you leave them? God he needs a drink. “You don’t gotta momma or daddy or what?”

“My momma’s sick. Daddy’s gone.” You shrug as if it’s nothing, maybe it is nothing to you but it’s everything to him. He hates that he’s so easily swayed. You being fine with this should tell him this is a lie but—

But what? He doesn’t know. You’re a criminal that has added unnecessary stress to the public, even have other outlaws mad at you for taking their money. It’s simple as to what he needs to do.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m sure after your first three robberies you woulda had enough money to feed a church for the next 5 years. Didn’t need all of that, that’s just fucking greed.”

“I don’t keep all of it. I give it to people like me. Too many families have lost their kids just because they couldn’t feed ‘em for a week. Bet they don’t tell you that, though, do they?”

He knows better. He knows that he knows better. This is a lie, he’s the law, he needs to uphold the law, no exceptions. No hesitation. “So, what? You’re a modern day Robin Hood?”

“If I say yes will you shut the fuck up?”

“If you tell me the truth I will.”

“Mother fucker— I am. You have a gun, have me in a fucking vault, I’m unarmed say for my knife, but I’ll give it to you if it’ll shut you up. what do I have to gain from this shit? You’ve caught up people for way less, I don’t have shit up my sleeve to leave.”

A moment passes, and suddenly? He hates himself.

“God damnit.” He curses under his breath, turning his body away as he groans. He can still hear the horses outside, can hear the wind chiming, playing a small song. You keep quiet, watching him pace back and forth once before pinching the bridge of his nose. “‘M gonna fuckin’ regret this.” He mumbled to himself, putting in the key and swinging the metal door open.

He shifts to the side, motioning with his head, “Go. Get. Leave.”

“What’re you doing, Kennedy?”

His lips press into a fine line as he exhales through his nose, “What kinda man would I be if I took you away from them when I had the chance to save you?” He sighs, “They need you. God knows no one else will give a damn.”

You hesitate, you don’t know why—you should’ve ran as soon as the key went in the damn hole. You grab your bandana you threw off earlier, wrapping it around your neck with a curt nod. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t meet your gaze, a small frown on his face before he speaks, “yeah, yeah, just turn your ass around before I find a reason to lock you up again.”

You tip your hat to him, walking out of the vault. Your spurs are the one to jingle this time.

“ ‘sides, I always did like the back of you.”

You planned to keep going. You really fucking did.

When you turned around, your bodies were only two feet away. You swore you walked further from him but honestly, you couldn’t tell anymore. “Those are dangerous words you’re playing with.”

His back straightens and he peers down at you, “Are they?”

“You’re a confusing man, Kennedy.”

“I don’t remember telling you I was simple.”

You tut, “Haven’t you made enough mistakes already?”

He has, he knows it. The first damn mistake he’s made was making it a point to try and capture you. A year and 4 months he’s spent on this–on you. But, really, what bad would one last mistake do? He’s already made so many, it’ll just be another bullet to his chamber. He takes a step closer, chests nearly touching as his hands twitch to grab you, feel you without the mission of needing to hurt you and take you in. “I’d say not enough.”

All those times during his chase he could’ve gotten close, on top of you, felt your breath against his as you cornered one another. He hasn't, and he’s tired of letting it sit at bay. Learning a new side of you made him crazy. Crazier.

God is he an idiot.

Your breaths fill the tense atmosphere as he takes another small step closer, was it always so hot in here?

“We shouldn’t.”

“Who says?”

“ Everyone .” You stay like this for what seems like an eternity until Leon pulls you in by the back of your neck, his free hand moving to your waist as his lips crush against yours in a hasty kiss. He groans against your mouth and your fist coils the fabric of his shirt. Your hats tipped one another’s off and fell to the floor.

After a few seconds, he is the one to pull away from you. Your eyebrows furrow as you look at him in confusion, he looks at you like it was the answer. He clears his throat and takes a step back, wiping away your kiss and he looks away, trying to deny himself of what he wants.

Who he wants so, so badly.

He struggles to speak, to move, to think. He watches you and you watch him, both of your breaths at a skewed pace.

“Make a mistake with me.” He whispers, he looks different. You can finally see his face, moonlight highlighting his sharp features. Never noticed how handsomely-pretty he was before.

God, fuck it.

You step forward this time, pulling him in by the collar of his button up and pressing your lips against his. He licks the seam of your lips and you part them, teeth clacking and tongues entwining as he grabs the wide of your hips and pushes you against the metal bars. Ouch.

He pulls away from you with a sigh, looking offended at the fact that he even had to leave the plush of your lips. His hand leaves you to unbuckle your belt with fervor and slip his hand inside your pants and panties.

His fingers slip between your wet folds and he dips his head down to kiss your neck. Small moans escape you as he slowly rubs your clit, feeling your wet slick coat his fingers. “All those pretty sounds for me? I think I’m flattered.”

You groan, “of course you’re a bitch even when doing this.”

“I take my words back, then.” He rolls his eyes and opts to bite down on your shoulder, your nails dig into his back through the fabric of his shirt and he shudders when you bite him back. “fuck, ‘s not enough. Gotta taste you.”

He drops to his knees and fumbles with your belt until it’s off and shoves your pants down, his breath stuttering when he sees the soaked fabric. He drags them off you and pulls one of your legs over his shoulder. You hold onto the bars for balance, “Jesus Christ, wait . Almost made me fucking fall—“

You’re cut off when he spreads your lips and licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit. You moan, fingers grabbing a fistful of his hair and his eyes fluttered shut. He sighs at the taste of you, “fuckin’ delicious, can’t believe I didn’t do this shit sooner.” His voice, almost a groan, wavered before pushing his face back between your legs.

His tongue lapped at your entrance and his nose bumped up against your swollen clit. His fingers dimple the fat of your thigh and his cock twitches the louder your sounds get. He curled his tongue and pressed it deeper, despite the proximity, he needed to get closer somehow.

Trying to close your legs doesn’t work, smushing your thighs against his face only adds fuel to the fire.

You nearly sob when he pushed a finger inside your cunt, thrusting against your g-spot with a quick, steady rhythm. “ Leon , shit, shit , don’t you fucking stop. “ He slips in another finger, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes and a shit eating grin.

First time you’ve said his name, not kennedy or bastard or asshole – his name . And fuck, does it sound pretty coming out of you like that, how that alone makes his cock strain against his zipper.

Filthy squelches and moans flood the empty bank while Leon eats your pussy like a starved man. His own moans escaping as you buck your hips against his face. You pull on his hair roughly and you swear you hear him whine

“Gotta get you nice ‘n wet f’me,” He muttered against your pussy and his eyes fluttered as he tried to keep open to watch you. He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks hard — a cry of his name and you’re so fucking close to coming on his face, panting and feeling uncomfortably hot.

“Too much—“ you gasp, “Oh shit, fuck, it’s too much.” You choke, uneven moans escaping you as you finally come. You expect him to pull away but he doesn’t falter. “Mnh, wait, fuck, get off, get off . ” You beg breathlessly.

Leon groaned again and pressed closer, “need it, give it to me, honey. Gonna make you feel good, just don’t make me fucking stop.” He pleaded, feeling dizzy as he got high off your taste. You attempt to push his head and mouth away but your attempts are in vain.

You let out yet another choked sob when he forces another orgasm out of you, reluctantly, he pulled away, licking his lips clean and wiping the rest with the back of his hand. His free hand rubbed your thigh to try and soothe you, asshole turned caring in a matter of seconds. “Sorry.” He murmurs, “couldn’t help myself.”

Your breaths are uneven pants as you look down at him on his knees still. “ Fuck me , Kennedy apologizing? I’m speechless.”

“Oh, we’re back to Kennedy?”

He gets off his knees while yours quiver, “It was a mistake. A fluke.”

A smirk plays on his lips, “yeah, sure. We’ll see.” He turns you around and wraps his arm around your hips and pulls them against his own, pushing you forward slightly so you’re bent over, “grab the bars.” And you do.

You can feel the outline of his cock press against you, “so fucking ready, didn’t waste a goddamn second—y’sure that was a fluke? Getting my pants all dirty, honey.” You feel embarrassed, but not for long when you hear his belt buckle clink and the sound of fabric rustling – heart racing and pussy throbbing as to what’s happening. You turn your head and see him spit and runs his hand over his cock to get it wet. He smirks when he catches you, you shake your head and look forward again. “Gotta be sweet to me or I’ll make you work for it.”

“God, kennedy–” You gasp when he slides the head between your folds and nudges it at your entrance.

“Leon.” he corrects, pushing the tip inside you, “C’mon baby, I know you can say it.” he grabs your hips to keep you from pushing back onto him. Fucker .

“ Leon.”

“Atta girl.”

He snaps his hips into you, body shuddering and your mouth opens with a sharp gasp and choked back moan. His grip on your hips tighten when he pulls out and pushes back inside to the hilt. His breathing is nothing but grunts, groans, and pants, you’re not much different – if anything else, you’re worse. “Can’t– fuck –handle it? Can rob every fucking bank but you can’t take some dick.”The way he fucks you is merciless, he wants you to feel good but also wants to punish you for everything you’ve done. Everything you’ve done to him.

He dips his hand lower to smack your ass, “Answer me. Had a lot to say just minutes ago.”

“Sh-shit, I can take it,” you shudder, “I can take it–” Your skin is wet with sweat and it gets harder to hold onto the bars, each thrust making you lose a bit more of yourself. Fuck him and fuck this but holy shit do you suddenly not regret everything you’ve ever done.

You’re mewling beneath him, happily and prettily so. “Pussy’s so tight, just needed a good dicking down.” he moans, “That all it took to get you to – fuck that’s good – listen?” he moves one of his hands from your hip to your clit, stimulating it as he fucks you a little harder, “Say my name, God, I need it.” he groans.

“Leon, Leon, Leon– ” You moan loudly, you don’t know when the sheriff is coming, but if he’s close you’re sure he can hear you easily. Your vision blurs when he touches you and your legs tremble with each spot his cock hits.

“Don’t worry, I’ve gotcha, not lettin’ you go.” Leon’s an idiot, but if his mistakes will make him feel this good again, he’ll keep making them. His composure starts to dwindle when sweat beads his forehead and you start squeezing him like a vice. Made for him, he thinks. “ Take it , fuck yourself onto me honey, atta girl.” his breath stutters.

Who are you to deny him – you do as you’re told and he moans. His hand goes up to your neck and pulls your back against his chest. Within seconds, you come around him with his name on your tongue and a scream. He bites down on your shoulder with a desperate groan before he pulls out and streams of hot come hit your ass.

He holds onto you like you’re his life line, like he’ll fall if he lets you go (he will). You two stay like that for a good 20 seconds before he lets go of you and takes a couple of steps back. He turns away from you and you can hear him zip up his pants and belt clunk when he fixes himself. You do the same, a little slower, both out of lack of energy and embarrassment.

Leon also feels embarrassed. This is the part where he’d usually get whoever he was sleeping with a glass of water, a quick bath, and ask if they’d rather go home tonight or he takes them home tomorrow. He can’t do either of that, and he’s supposed to hate you and definitely not fuck you or let you go.

He swallows, “You need to get going. He’ll be here soon and he won’t hesitate to shoot if he sees you run.”

“Right.” you whisper, taking a deep breath to steady yourself as you bend down to pick up your hat. You’re both in a daze, he looks at you, all guilty and nervous. His hair is wet with sweat and his cheeks are flushed, had it been anyone else you would’ve pushed his hair back to get a better look at him. But he’s not anyone else, and this was all a mistake . “Gonna stop coming after me now?”

A weak smile tugs his lips, “In both ways, no. Can’t promise anything.”

You fight back a laugh but return his smile, turning away so he can’t see it. He picks up his hat next and watches as you walk away from him to the front of the bank. Like a lost puppy, he follows. “Need help getting up?” he motions to your horse.

“I’ll be fine, Kennedy. You need to worry about yourself rather than me.”

“Like I said, can’t promise anything.”

You hop on your horse, ready to put all that you did with him in a box and stuffed away.

“Stay safe. Be seeing you.” he whispers.

You don’t trust yourself to speak so you nod, not looking back as your horse takes you away.

You’re a good mile out when Leon hears a horse’s footsteps behind him, then heavy human ones. “Where is she?”

“I told you to follow me quick, Chris. She’s gone. Just thought I’d give you the message personally so you didn’t have to wait here alone.”

Chris sighs and looks at Leon with nothing but hate. Ironic. “It’s not hard to do your damn job.”

“Can say the same about you – so, drinks? Need one after today.”

Chris looks Leon up and down, eyebrows furrowed when he does so. “When did you change your hat?”

He blinks, suddenly realizing his is a little tighter.

Miles out, you realize yours is a little looser.

You suppose you two will be seeing another again after all. When you do, you'll finally be ready.

#resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x you #cowboy!leon #leonfucker3000

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dixonzzgirl · 4 months

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imagine…

finding daryl a really cool zippo lighter and seeing him mindlessly flick it open and close throughout the day.

sitting with your feet in his lap while you both relax on the porch swing (alexandria era).

pinky linking instead of full on hand holding.

finally getting to the playful butt swat stage of your relationship + him winding up his t-shirt and chasing you around the house.

him praising you whenever you kill an animal: “nice shot, girl.” “look at you.“ “atta girl.”

reading a book with your legs crossed on his work bench as he tinkers with his bike.

getting a cold and when daryl dips down to kiss your lips, you turn your head away from him. “daryl, don’t! i don’t wanna get you sick!” and then he grabs your chin and presses a firm kiss on your lips anyway.

daryl finds a cowboy hat and drops it on your head. you let out a giggle. “what’s that saying? save a horse, ride a cowboy?” you smirk. his cheeks darken and he turns away from you. “think ya’ got tha’ backwards..” he drawls. “no? pretty sure i’m right…”

eating a lollipop and daryl walks right up and pulls it out of your mouth and puts it in his (or vise versa).

having a journal that you can both communicate in. we all know daryl isn’t the best at communicating his feelings verbally and maybe you aren’t either, so you just write back and forth to each other.

i love the journal idea because you would use it for everything. daryl has to be up early to help rick with something? he’ll scribble a quick “helping rick. come find me.” and as soon as you wake up and feel the void in bed beside you, you go right to the journal.

him getting hard as fuck when you give shane attitude (farm era).

you get into an accident on a run and ending up losing a lot of blood and you wake up later in the infirmary. “ya’ lost a lotta blood,” he says. “then i bet you did too…” you smiled groggily knowing that he gave you some of his (he’s a universal donor).

rubbing aloe vera on his sunburnt skin and he just lets out these sexy ass heavy breaths.

him watching you get visibly frustrated when someone else is helping you with something, but not doing it the way you want it done, so daryl steps in and tells them to get lost.

daryl giving you cold medicine while you’re sick and he makes you take it in front of him and open your mouth to show him that you swallowed it.

a/n: these are my favorite scenarios to imagine when I'm in class :) if you wanna use any of these ideas for a fic, tag me! i'd love to see them!

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jamminvroomvroom · 7 months

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helping hand.

ln x fem!reader

in which you’re getting ready for a date and lando knows it’s a waste of time

back with more lando brainrot :D obsessed with best friend!lando atm, on a bit of a roll with the writing so send me your ideas! lemme know what you think! 🫶

songs to set the mood: kiss me more by doja cat, moth to a flame by the weeknd, i think by tyler, the creator, all of the girls you loved before by taylor swift

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! porn with plot, smut, fluff, angst if you squint? choking, biting like once, best friend!lando

2.9k words

a key turning in the lock made you jump, groaning when you realised who it was. lando had been home for a few days now, it was about time he showed up. he’d had a key since you moved in.

you know, for emergencies.

he’d already called you a few times that day, and you’d let it ring out each time. talking to lando while you were supposed to be getting ready for a date was never a good idea. it would be end up being his face you’d imagine sipping wine on the other side of the table, his face you’d picture when you fell messily into bed while someone else’s hands roamed your body, his face you would hope to see when your eyes fluttered open the next morning.

so, yeah. answering the phone was a recipe for disaster.

you scurried across the floor in the heels you were trying to break in, scavenging for your robe to cover your bare skin. by the time the door swung open, you’d managed to disappear into your bedroom, bare skin somewhat covered.

“why don’t you answer your phone?” you heard lando whinging down the hallway.

“i’m getting ready to go out, didn’t see your call.” you called back. it was a blatant lie but he didn’t need to know that.

“oooh, girls night out?” you could hear his footsteps getting closer and then he appeared in the doorway.

he looked cosy, bundled up in a thick jacket layered over a hoodie. a beanie covered most of his curls, a few hanging loose over his eyes. the cold weather had left him flushed, rubbing his hands together for warmth. you, on the other hand, were wearing much less, a silky robe covering soft pink lingerie. your makeup was half done, an outfit strewn together on your bed.

“nope. got a date.” you replied, grabbing your eyeshadow brush. you tried not to look at him too much, otherwise you’d never get out the door.

you couldn’t see the way he was looking at you, eyes half bulging out of his head. this was too much skin, too much much everything, the lingerie that was covering not a lot telling him information that made his stomach twist. he pulled it together, clearing his throat.

“not that finance guy again, surely.” lando teased, shedding his coat and hat at the end of your bed. your sigh confirmed that, yes, it was that finance guy again.

“i’m just trying to see where it goes. he’s not that bad.” you reasoned, dropping the brush back onto your vanity. your eyelids were shimmering under the light, but all you could focus on was the image of your best friend sprawled out on your bed, watching you watch him.

“trust me, sweetie, he seems it.” lando quipped, sarcastic sympathy spilling from his quirked up lips. “so are you going out like that?” he laughed, eyeing your half dressed body. in all your years of friendship, he’d seen a lot more of you, and that’s why you hadn’t kicked him out screaming, or shied away. you ignored the sick and twisted feeling that you wanted* him to see you like this

“no,” you drew the word out, slow, as if you were making fun of him. “actually, you’re laying all over my outfit.” you raised an eyebrow, still holding eye contact with him through the mirror.

“damn,” he breathed through his teeth. “someones tryna get laid.” lando picked up the sheer top in one hand, the mini skirt in the other, a knowing look on his smug, beautiful, evil face.

“shut up!” you threw an eye pencil at him, but he ducked successfully. “listen, some of us have needs, okay? we can’t all be super famous formula 1 drivers.”

“well, i’m just saying. you don’t need to waste your time on stock bro steve if all you need is a shag.” lando was smirking now, and you were blushing redder than a ferrari.

“be quiet, you.” you scoffed.

you tried to shake off his words, but you couldn’t quite help the way your thighs clenched at what he was implying.

“i mean it. you have other options.” lando was sat up now, resting against your headboard, intently watching the way you were fumbling through your makeup bag.

“if i had other options, lando, i would have explored them by now. trust me.” you sounded frustrated, and lando was beyond intrigued.

“that bad, huh? how longs it been?” he was looking at you intently, craving an answer. the dim lighting couldn’t disguise the blush on your face and he was loving it.

“piss off.” you mumbled.

“you can tell me, sweetie. i don’t bite. unless you’re into that.”

another eyebrow pencil went flying in his direction.

“fuck you.”

“is that what you wanna do? i don’t have anywhere to be.” he was killing himself laughing at you, watching you squirm.

“a couple months.” you muttered.

“oh, honey.” lando cooed.

“why do you even care about this?” you whined, shaky hands fighting to unscrew your mascara.

“because i don’t like the idea of that dickhead touching you.” he said it so nonchalantly, as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

“lando-“

“am i reading this wrong? because something tells me that he’s not the one you want touching you.”

you watched, bewildered, as he pushed himself off your mattress, stalking towards you. he shrugged his hoodie off, adding it to his pile of garments at the end of the bed.

“what are you doing?” you questioned, dropping the mascara onto the table, sitting up straighter in anticipation.

“tell me now that it’s him you want.” he was getting closer and closer.

“i- i dont-“

“c’mon, sweetheart, tell me, and i’ll let you get ready in peace.”

he was right behind you now, body heat radiating against your back, goose bumps littering your bare shoulder where your robe had slipped.

“i don’t want him.” you whispered.

“who do you want? did you miss me as much as i missed you?”

“i always miss you.” you whispered.

“and yet, you’re getting ready for another man to fuck you, honey, when i’m right here.”

“what do you- lando, what are you doing?” you rambled, hands flat on your vanity, as if you were trying to ground yourself. you were shaking.

“helping you. is that okay, honey? do you want me to help you?” he spoke so softly, you could feel your legs quivering.

“yes.” you breathed and the way his eyes darkened made your thighs clench even harder.

lando leaned over you, until his head rested in the crook of your neck, hands finding your waist. he pulled you up from your stool, kicking it along the floor so that nothing separated you. you were flush against him, his nose nuzzling against your cheek. and then he was kissing your skin, your neck exposed to his assault. he trailed his lips over the taut flesh, teeth scraping that spot just below your ear.

all you could do was stare, disbelief in your eyes as you watched him touch you, hands pulling your hips into his. you’d wondered, now and then, if this would ever happen, and now here you were, falling into his touch like it was made to be all over your body.

lando turned you around, dropping you on the vanity. he crouched down in front you, pulling your ankle into his hands. nimble fingers worked over the clasp, fiddling with the buckle while he kissed over the sensitive skin of your thighs. one shoe dropped to the floor, and he made quick work of the other, lips trailing further and further up your legs. the bastard had the nerve to keep eye contact the entire time, and you keened at his touch, jolting when he moved under the hem of your robe.

lando pulled away, despite your groan of protest. he tugged you off the dresser, spinning you back to face the mirror, one of his hands slipping down your legs and finding your knee, picking you up and planting it on the dresser. you were spread out for him, now, sprawled out in front of the mirror.

“let’s get this off, yeah?” he whispered, hands smoothing over the silky material of your robe. it slipped off easily, one tug at the tie and it was on the floor, leaving you clad in your set. “all for me, right?”

“do something.” you gasped out, one of your hands thrown back to thread through his curls.

“all for me, right?” he repeated, biting down on your neck.

“yes, god, please.” you whimpered, needier for him than the guy you’d spent all afternoon getting ready for, yet you couldn’t spare him a thought when lando was toying with you like this.

“‘m gonna fuck you like this, make you watch so that you learn your lesson.”

“what lesson?” you choked out.

“that i’m the only one that can satisfy you like this.” he mumbled, so matter of fact.

“prove it.”

he liked the challenge, it seemed, because his hand was inside your panties before you could breathe. you could see his fingers working over you, the skimpy lace doing nothing to hide his movements. you arched into him the second he found your clit, your fingers tightening in his hair. your eyes fluttered shut, the pleasure eating away at you and your ability to control yourself.

“eyes open.”

you tried your hardest, but it was near impossible when he was working over your pussy like he’d done it a million times, like he already knew the ins and outs of your body, what made you tick. you cried out when he slipped a finger in you, the action simultaneous with his free hand finding a home at the base of your throat.

“no wonder you can’t find someone to get you off, no one’s ever fucked some manners into you.” he growled into your ear, and your eyes shot open. his grip tightened, a second finger sliding through your wetness. “you’re gonna listen to me from now on, baby, or you get nothing.”

“‘m trying.” you breathed, slurring your words already. if only you’d done this sooner.

“not hard enough, clearly.” he was grinding his fingers in harder, deeper, palm flat against your clit. you were panting out moans, heart beating so hard you could hear it in your ears, and now that you’d obeyed, eyes as wide as they could be, you couldn’t take them off his. he looked so smug, so pretty as he had his way with you, and you loved it, the way he was watching you sending an extra shot of heat to the pleasure pooling in your belly.

“is this what you needed, honey? do you think he could have done better? bet he couldn’t even make you come.” lando spat, fucking you even faster somehow. you felt drunk.

“no, lando. you’re so good.” you whined, pushing your ass back into him again.

you could feel how hard he was, taken aback at how filthy he was being, how dominant he was. you never could have imagined this, and honestly, you’d tried.

“you gonna come for me, sweetie? i can feel how bad you want it.” lando coaxed your orgasm out of you, your soft tummy tightening as you clamped down on his fingers. his thumb found your clit, circles left on the glistening flesh and all you could do was pray the hand wrapped around your neck would keep you upright.

one last flick of the wrist had you screaming, gushing all over his fingers. you could feel yourself dripping, your slick painting your inner thighs as you came, and he helped your through it. slow strokes brought you down from your high, and you slumped backwards into his arms.

“i’m not done yet.” he groaned, fingers dragged out of your panties and into his mouth. you watched the way his tongue licked over the digits, stomach fluttering at the sinful sight.

“good.” you replied, reaching behind you to search for the button of his jeans. he laughed lowly, batting your hands away.

“i’ll do the work, you deserve it.” his hand cupped your cheek, turning your head so that you were facing him, your body still facing the mirror.

you looked between his eyes and his lips, and he did the same, taking in your tired features, the lazy smile on your lips. you wanted him to kiss you, wanted to see if that drove you as crazy as everything else he’d done. you were quickly proved right. he slotted his lips over yours, your nose bumping his. a quiet moan sounded from the back of his throat and you shivered, deepening the kiss. his tongue moved with yours deliciously, sweet mint lingering in his mouth.

“need you.” you muttered against his lips, your words swallowed by the lingering kiss. he hummed in agreement, prying himself away from your swollen lips, his lack of self control making it harder than necessary. the faint trace of his lips made you delirious, and you feared you’d always crave more now that you’d had a taste.

“i’ve got you, honey. hands flat for me.”

you positioned yourself how he wanted, your palms flat against the vanity. he pushed your knee across the surface, makeup that you couldn’t care less about clattering to the ground. one of his hands snaked around your body, toying with the lace of your bra as he grabbed a handful of your breast. you watched the way his strong grip held you in place, breathing shakily when his free hand dipped between your thighs. you could see how wet you were when he tugged the flimsy lace aside, cupping your cunt one last time to spread your wetness around.

you heard the zip of his jeans, the rustle of clothing, your eyes rolling back as he kissed behind your ear. he slid into your slowly, feeling every part of him as he went deeper and deeper. the stretch made your tear up, the way he was filling you up scratching a itch that you hadn’t been able to satisfy in far too long.

“oh.” you gasped, clenching around him. he hissed at the sensation, grip tightening on your chest.

“that is the tightest fucking thing.” he moaned, thick neck on display as he bottomed out. “no one’s fucked you properly, have they, baby?”

“need it, lando.” you tried to push your hips back, tried to feel him even deeper somehow, but he held you down.

he moved slow, feeling you out, looking for a rhythm. you couldn’t breathe, watching the way he could barely keep his eyes open. you were obsessed, never so thankful for him barging into your apartment uninvited.

as fucking good as it felt, you needed more, just a bit more, desperate to not be able to walk after. you grabbed his hand, guiding it up your body, meeting his eyes in the mirror as you placed it at the base of your throat. a look was exchanged, one of pleading, and trust, and maybe even a little bit of something else, and everything in him changed.

your back collided with his front, the pressure on your neck and the power of his thrust making you dizzy. the pace was rapid, hips hitting yours with a point to prove. you mouth hung open, unable to take your eyes off the way his body rolled against yours. this was addictive, so far clear of any sex you’d ever had, maybe even of any you’d have again.

“so good for me. not gonna be able to forget those pretty eyes watching me.” he slurred, breathing heavily into your ear.

you nodded frantically, begs for more, please, more tumbling from your lips.

“no more dates. no more of these little boys trying to get you off. it’s gonna be me from now on.”

“better be.” you choked out, your head falling into the crook of his neck.

“that’s right, baby. gonna watch me make you come?” he crooned into your ear.

and you did, eyes locked with his once again as he finished you off. you were slick with sweat, trying to catch your breath.

“good?” he pressed a kiss to your hairline, slowly untangling himself from you.

“very.”

“let’s get you cleaned up, honey.”

lando helped you off the vanity, carrying you back over to your bed and placing you on the end. you watched him look around for some clothes, but you stole his hoodie, the one he’d left on the end of the bed. his scent surrounded you as you slipped it over your head, spicy and sweet.

you heard your phone buzzing, reaching around for it blindly but lando got to it first. the shit eating grin he wore made you sweat, eyes widening in horror when it dawned on you.

“stock market steve’s wondering where you are. think i should set him straight.” he teased.

“lando, don’t-“ you couldn’t even stop him, your body aching too much.

“hello?” lando sing songed down the line and you hid your face in your hands. “as much as i just know she’d love to hear you talk about how many watches you have and then finish in six seconds, she’s occupied.” and with that, he put the phone down.

“you are so lucky i can’t walk right now.” you threatened, flopping back onto your bed. he was quickly hovering over you, resting above you on his forearms.

“care to make it worse?” he grinned mischievously, and you knew that you were well and truly done for, ruined for anybody else.

“do your best.”

lord knows, he did.

hehe

taglist

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removed any tags that weren’t working! lemme know if you wanna be added or removed 🫶

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ineffable-suffering · 9 months

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Aziraphale, I love you. But you lied. And here's why.

Okay. I’m not gonna beat around the bush for too long. It’s time now for me to also throw my try at a personal Good Omens Season 2 Magnum Opus into the mix of already existing magnum op..i? Opusses? (Smited? Smote?)

If I’m honest, it isn’t fully my own magnum opus, as I read this meta not too long ago that made me go: „Oh! My God! That’s it!“ And I’m pretty sure a lot of other people have clocked this too by now. Of course I’m not saying it’s the objective truth but after having mulled it over for many endless nights and days, wading through the onslaught of coffee theories, body swap theories, The Metatron re-writing the Book of Life theories and many, many more, this is the one I think is most plausible and, if you look closely, most obvious.

And it goes as such: Aziraphale lied.

To all of us. All of them. And most of all, to Crowley. He lied to him. Well, he sort of did and also sort of didn’t. He certainly didn’t tell the truth. At least not all of it. I hear you ask: “OP, what the fuck are you talking about”. I answer you: Let’s start from the top and under the cut.

(Small note: this meta ended up being way too large for Tumblr, which is why I will redirect you to an external doc at the end of the post, where I have written it all down nicely and accurately. It's about 35 digital A4-pages long, just in case you want to save it for later.)

(Word count: 12.831 | Approximate reading time: 50 minutes)

Let’s start with a short recap of what happens before the Metatron crashes the bookshop party and everything goes to shit. The proper visuals for this are in my Tumblr post but I am absolutely convinced that right up until when the Metatron comes to take Aziraphale away and talk to him, the angel is fully ready to get into Crowley’s Bentley-chariot and finally ride off into the sunset (or Alpha Centauri-set or whatever). You can see it in his face and body language. You can see when the penny drops for him that a) Crowley loves him b) he loves Crowley and c) they can finally start their happily ever after. Aziraphale realizes this all throughout said Brielzebub reveal in the bookshop. And he’s such a lost cause once he does.

I mean, look at that. Look at it. This (very shitty recording, sorry, I'm not tech-savvy enough to avoid the Amazon Prime screen recording blocker) is the very second Aziraphale realizes hat Crowley loves him. When he hears him suggest Alpha bloody Centauri as a getaway for Gabriel and Beelzebub, as Crowley has done to Aziraphale for so, so many times now. He finally understands what Crowley was trying to tell him with that all those times.

Aziraphale realizes this all throughout the Brielzebub reveal in the bookshop. And he’s such a lost cause once he does.

Right when Crowley suggest Alpha Centauri as a nice getaway spot to the two, Aziraphale looks at him and he gets it. That Crowley has loved him, has been loving him for millennia. Truthfully, they've both known that for a long while now. But there's a difference between knowing, wanting, craving and actually being able to finally have something. And that's exactly what we see on Aziraphale's face here. This is it. This is where it all starts working out for Crowley and him. This is were they can start their eternity together.

So from that second on, Aziraphale only has eyes for Crowley. He keeps physically pawing at Crowley with complete heart eyes, as if to say „Look, look, that’s gonna be us too! Finally!" He’s actually so smitten that he doesn’t even hear what Crowley is saying when he asks Shax if he can have back his apartment now because he’s sick of living in his car. (Also, what way to drop that bomb right in this moment Crowley, lmao).

Once the Metatron comes in, the first thing Aziraphale says is that they don’t need to talk because „he’s made his position quite clear“. He doesn’t even want to talk to the Metatron, because in his mind, he’s already made the choice. Actually, he made the choice way before the bookshop showdown. For starters, I’m convinced that the Jane Austen Ball actually never was for Maggie and Nina but for Crowley and him (you can read more about that here). And apart from that, for this whole season we have seen Aziraphale trying to advance his relationship with Crowley romantically and domestically and move them to the literal next base (our car!). And after everything he just witnessed with Brielzebub, the final nail in the coffin of ethereal-infernal romance being possible, his choice is absolutely crystal clear: It’s Crowley. It’s always been Crowley and it always will be Crowley. And now it can be Crowley. They can be an us.

The whole of Season 2 is such a massive learning curve for Aziraphale’s character, with him remembering all those important pivotal points of his past, and this very moment is the peak, with him not only understanding that Crowley loves him (because he certainly knew for quite some centuries now) but accepting that love, letting himself have that love, being allowed to want that love and taking that love and starting their new and final chapter with it. Nevertheless, the plot clock ticks for them. The Metatron saunters into the bookshop, evil and stinky as Metatrons do, and urges Aziraphale to come with him with his whole Take The Coffee schtick, which I will get into later. And Aziraphale, immediately sensing there’s Something Up, does. Can’t really turn down someone as high-ranking as the the voice of God, after all. Even if you were currently already planning how you were going to elope with a certain red-haired serpent of Eden.

he next time we see Aziraphale on screen, it’s so painfully evident on his face that he is neither happy nor excited. Not even the slightest bit. We’d know if he was, thanks to Mr. Michael master-of-microexpressions Sheen. None of the usual “Aziraphale is happy”-signs are there. No blinding eye-smile, no giddy wriggling, not giggles and gasps. No, when the Metatron tells Aziraphale to „go tell your friend the good news“, his expression looks like this:

I’m gonna go out on an entire limb here and say: That does not look like someone who’s absolutely tickety-boo hyped to tell his demon soulmate that he just got the juiciest promotion and that they can both be angels and live happily ever after in ethereal eternity now.

This, folks, looks like someone who knows exactly that the news he has to break right now, are going to be tickety-shit awful and very upsetting to said demon soulmate. And already, from that very short snippet of conversation, we can tell that Aziraphale isn’t really given a choice by the Metatron. Because while the Metatron does tell him that he doesn’t have to „answer right away“, he immediately follows it up by: „Go ahead and tell your friend the good news!“ Very distinct and definitive choice of words here. It’s “good news” because it’s already been decided. Because it’s already a done deal. There is no “yes, no, maybe”. This is the only choice he’s giving to Aziraphale. Because it’s ‘Coffee or death’.

And he already gave him the coffee.

***

Tumblr won't let me continue this over a certain character limit and I am not even remotely done yet – so, I feel like this is a good moment to redirect you to the continuation of this insane meta before we're in too deep. You can do so right here!

I'd love to hear your thoughts and opinions about this once you've fought your way through it. Hope you have a good time with it!

#good omens #good omens s2 #good omens season 2 #good omens meta #good omens analysis #neil gaiman #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #good omens predictions #i lost my mind writing this #it must be nice to be able to be a casual enjoyer of media #who doesnt spend 5 days writing a 22 page document on an angle and why he lied to his demon boyfriend #my own meta

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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the-californicationist · 3 months

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Good Fences (Fluffuary #18)

FEB18: Healing

TW: wound care, hurt/comfort

When John came back from his most recent tour, it had been months since you’d seen him. The summer had come and gone, and it was nearly mid-October by the time he had leave again. Over the course of his time away on his mission, communication had been almost non-existent, which you weren’t used to. He would reply in short, vague messages, and sometimes a simple “I love you” was all you would see for a week. Needless to say, you had been worried sick.

On the afternoon you were set to pick him up from the airport, you got a call from Kyle.

“Kyle? Hey! Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, babes. All good. We all came back in one piece. Look, I’m not supposed to be calling you. He’s gonna kill me for it, but it can’t be helped.”

“Why? What’s happened?”

“He’s hurt his shoulder pretty badly. He won’t ask you to, but you are probably going to have to help him change the bandages. Didn’t want him thinking he could hide it like he’s been trying to.”

“Oh, my God,” your stomach dropped, “Is he alright?”

“He’ll be good as new in a few weeks. Swear. But, he’ll try to do it alone. I know you haven’t seen him hurt, but he’s just that way. I wanted you to know.”

“Thanks so much for telling me, Kyle.”

“You bet, babes. Hope to see you in a few weeks if I get a chance to fly over.”

“Sounds good. See you then,” you hung up the phone.

The whole drive to the airport was nerve wracking. You wondered how bad it was. You also wondered how he had been hurt. You mind fed you horror story after horror story, until you decided you were majorly overreacting.

You took some deep breaths as you waited in baggage claim, and when you finally saw him and his dirty boonie hat coming up the stairs, you nearly broke past the TSA line to get to him.

“John!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around his neck and feeling him wrap only one arm around you.

You held him back to study him, and he noticed, asking,

“Who called? It was Garrick, wasn’t it?”

You sighed, not answering him but not lying to him either,

“Where are you hurt? Show me your shoulder.”

“C’mon, let’s go home at least. I’m tired, pretty girl,” he kissed your cheek and grabbed your hand.

You huffed a bit, still worried, but you were relieved that he was home where he belonged.

Back at your apartment, you waited a full ten minutes before insisting that you go into the bathroom to clean and dress his wound.

“Alright, love,” John sighed, “Alright.”

You didn’t like how tired he sounded. Watching him grimace as he removed his shirt hurt your heart, and you gasped when you saw his bandages.

There was a huge gash beneath his dressings, and more than twenty stitches held it together. Luckily, it was clean and free of infection, but it would definitely require weeks of care.

“Oh, John,” you breathed, kissing his other shoulder tenderly.

He sighed,

“I know, love. I’m sorry. Comes with the territory, I’m afraid.”

“It’s alright,” you reassured him, “I’ll take care of you. You’re safe with me, now. You’re safe here.”

He turned and grabbed you by the arm, dragging you to his side, hugging you tightly to him, staring down into your face with an odd intensity.

John’s eyes were looking into yours, searching them almost frantically before settling into a loving, fiery gaze, and he told you,

“Pretty girl, you have no idea how bloody true that is, and that’s why I love you so damn much.”

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wardenparker · 2 months

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CONGRATS on 2.5k!! You deserve every follow! ❤️ For the co-writer (along with @absurdthirst) of the Whiskey fic that made brain go BRRRRR and got me into reading/writing our fave corndog, how about our Agent with the prompts: "Should we make it official?" and/or "Put me down!" Have fun!

Agent Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels. 2,300 words. "Put me down!"/"Should we make it official?" (Sequel to: "Wait! Please don't go!"/"There is no 'us'." ) Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack hits the door, heads turn. The sharp, confident gait of a man on a mission who will not be stopped just shimmers in the air around him. Eyes sharp and narrowed, they scan the floor, looking for someone. For you.

“Can I help you, sir?” It’s the weekend, so a greeter is stationed at the door of the upscale retail store, to help direct customers through the maze of shelves and displays. It is the middle of the city so there are plenty of different kinds who come in every day, but this is definitely the first cowboy that’s ever set foot inside the Lexington Avenue Sephora.

Jack says your name and throws the woman a charming grin. “She’s helped me before so I’m hoping to see her again.” He lies, knowing that you won’t talk to him otherwise.

"Sure! Of course." The new girl smiles warmly, blushing a little as she's easily taken in by the charm that drips off of Jack like dew drops. "She's in fragrances today. All the way at the back of the store."

“Thank you kindly.” He tips his hat like a gentleman and starts for the back of the store. The past two weeks have been miserable. He’s drank, he’s raged, he’s blamed you for expecting too much. Then, when you rejected the bouquet of flowers he had sent to your parent’s house after misusing Statesman resources to find where you were, he had come to a hard truth. He had done you wrong. He hadn’t spoken from heart, not made himself uncomfortable for the sake of growth. Holding onto the fear of losing you if he loved you had caused him to lose you. And no surprise, he had loved you, because he is miserable without your voice in his ear, your fragrance on his sheets and your love in his heart. Now, he’s here to get you back.

You're there in the last aisle, helping a young lady find a specific gift she came looking for, in the uniform dress that you hate but tolerate for the sake of your new job. It doesn't pay well enough and it doesn't distract you enough to dull the constant aching hurt inside you after having walked out of Jack's place, but that's why you had started it the second after arriving back at your parents' place. To try to forget him. It isn't working. Not at all.

"I'll be right wit—" The figure looming a few feet away was only a shadow. It's the second you look up that your mouth runs dry and you feel sick to your stomach all over again. "I'm not sure I can help you, sir," you manage, hating the way your heart wings with so much hope. Hope that he wouldn't be here unless he had come for a good goddamn reason. But you have to stay strong. "You might want to try elsewhere."

“But sugar—” Jack drawls, grinning in pure relief at seeing your pretty face again somewhere else than in his dreams or the photos that haunt his walls. “You’re the only one who can help me.”

“Then you’ll have to wait.” Jack’s appearance has thrown you off completely, but you manage to finish up with your customer and take a deep breath — even hide your shaking hands behind your back — before you look at him again. “You came to my work?” Your voice is incredulous. Quiet. “It had better because you’re out of cologne.”

“You blocked my number and your daddy— well, I didn’t think you’d want there to be a brawl on your parent’s front lawn.” He huffs, annoyed that the old man had waved a hammer at him. He knows he could disarm him, but that would make you even madder at him.

“Ginger helped you find me?” You guess with disappointment. But Ginger is his friend. You can’t blame her for being on his side. “I left Jack. And I did it on purpose. Hell, we didn’t even have enough of a relationship to call it a breakup.”

“We had a relationship.” Jack snorts. “We have one still, this ain’t over, sugar.” He promises, “Not by a long shot.”

"We can't do this here." If he wants to have it out all over again, the least he can do is pay you the courtesy of not getting you in trouble at work. This is definitely going to get you in trouble. "I'm not going to lose my job because you can't take no for an answer."

“I love you, sugar.” Jack breaths out, finally saying the words he’s needed to for a long time. The words you deserve.

If there had been anything in your hands, you would have dropped it immediately. As it is, you feel like crumbling – falling down on the spot or running to him – something utterly undignified that would definitely get you written up at minimum. Your eyes mist and your shaking hands tangle around each other, but you can't break down on the sales floor. And beyond that? As much as you want to believe him, to let the anger and the heartache drip away so you can just go home to him where you want to be? It seems completely unbelievable to you that you walking out his door was somehow the magic tonic he needed to learn those damn words.

"My manager is watching," you murmur to him, glancing past him to the petite ice queen several yard away who has zeroed in on an employee not forcing product on every single person in the store. "We can't—it's not—you have to go, Jack."

“I’m not leaving.” He frowns, tossing the overly made-up manager a single look before focusing on you. “Did you not hear what I said?” He asks. “I love you, sugar. I need you.”

"I heard you." The water pressing at the back of your eyes is proof of that, and the way your voice cracks, but you can feel your manager's eyes drilling into your face and that gaze is angry. "I heard you. And we will talk about this, but I can't afford to lose this job and that might happen if you don't go."

“You don’t need this job.” Jack reminds you. You hadn’t had it when you left, so it’s not like you’ve been here for years.

"I have bills to pay," you remind him, rolling that tick in your jaw backward a little and swallowing the bitter pill that you decided to take all on your own. The undefined thing you had going with Jack had come with a big allowance, but it wasn't a sugar situation. That would have at least been a title. "Therefore, I need to keep my job. And the girl who just got hired can get sent out the door just as easily."

“You don’t need to worry about that.” He shakes his head and reaches for your hand. “Come on, sugar.”

“Why, Jack?” You have to keep your voice down as you snatch your hand back, but it’s still a hiss. “So I can be your stay-at-home friend-with-benefits again?”

Jack has many, many faults and one of them is impatience. His jaw clenches and he knows that he needs to get you alone to talk to you, others starting to warily gaze your way. Instead of answering you, Jack drops his shoulder and scoops you up like it’s nothing.

“Oh my fucking god, Jack!” The screech it earns from you is nearly instant, knowing that you have absolutely just lost your job over his stunt and not really knowing what in the hell he plans to do now. “Put me down! Right now!” He’s stronger than you and you don’t stand a chance of wriggling free in the dress you’re wearing. It will be up over your head if you even try.

“Nope.” His gait is just as determined as he passes by your manager, her jaw on the floor. “She quits.” He tells her and continues on to the door and outside.

“JACK!” Your shit is still in your locker and that’s going to be a black mark on your resume, but right now all you can do is beat your fists on his back and shoulder in protest. “What the hell are you doing? Put me down!”

By his Bronco, Jack finally relents, bending down and setting you on your feet. “Now, we can talk.”

Huffing and puffing like you’re about to summon a personal tornado, you don’t even hear him for all the blood pounding in your ears. “What the fuck was that?! Do you know how embarrassed I’m going to be when I have to go back in there and get my purse?”

“It’ll be the last time you go in there.” He predicts and he smirks at you. “And you’ll be flustered too badly to even think about what those crusted old biddies think.”

It’s a reasonable threat, considering how good he is at flustering you. The whole reason you’ve been so upset is because you do love Jack and you wanted this to work out. But standing out there on the street pressed between him and his Bronco? You feel like you’re about to be sold a familiar looking head of cattle after your own just happened to go missing.

“So what’s the play here?” You work very hard to keep your tone skeptical. “You tell me how much you need me so that I’ll come back to you and then nothing really changes? As usual?” He did say the words, but you’re so scared to believe them. To believe him. There’s a chance he doesn’t mean it and that terrifies you.

His eyes narrow, aware that he deserves that little barb but he shakes his head. “No. That’s not what’s going to happen, baby girl.” He huffs. “You are going to go get your purse and then I’m taking you home, where you belong. And I’m going to make you scream my name before you fall asleep on my chest as we plan.”

That all sounds…ridiculously good, actually. It would be a relief to go back to him. To not have to miss him anymore and feel like your heart has been split in two. But all you do is raise one eyebrow in a show of disbelief. “Plan what, exactly?”

“You’re marrying me sugar, today, tomorrow, or the next day.” He growls, smashing his lips against yours and moaning in relief when you melt against him. Pulling away to caress your cheek. “What do you say, baby girl? Should we make it official?”

“Do you…really mean it?” Months of telling him that you wanted to know where you stood with him — wanted commitment from him — only to be sidelined or waylaid or otherwise put off for just a little while longer, they all melt away in the face of the biggest offer of commitment he could possibly make.

“Gotta ring in my pocket.” He confesses, leaning in and brushing your nose with his. “Sugar, I’ve been such a damn fool.” He murmurs. “I thought I could avoid losing you if I didn’t admit I love you. And I just hurt you, something I never wanted to do.”

“That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense cowboy.” It makes Jack Sense, which is not much at all, but still your arms twine around his waist right there on the sidewalk. “But I’m just gonna brush past how long it took you to show up at the party and embrace the fact you’re here at all. Because I didn’t want to leave. I miss the hell out of you.”

“I’m a damaged soul, sugar.” He admits softly. “But I want to be better, I want to give you everything.” He sighs and leans in to kiss you again. “Come home?”

“Everyone is damaged somehow, cowboy.” Melting measurably more with another press of his lips to yours, you lean into the solid wall of Jack’s body completely. “We just have to talk about things from now on, so we don’t get more damage along the way. Okay?”

“Whatever it takes, baby girl.” Jack promises, wrapping his arms around you and holding tight. “I’m never letting you go.”

You’ve cried so much these last few weeks, it’s almost startling to realize that the tears in your eyes now are happy ones. Ecstatic. Overjoyed at having your Jack back in your life, and for the right reasons. If you were separated by more than a few inches it would have been a lunge to kiss him again, but as it is you wrap up in him and hold on tight. “You really have that ring? Because I’m gonna flash it everywhere when I go back into that damn place to get my purse, and then you’re gonna take me home. Our home.”

“I sure do, baby girl.” He has to take one hand out from around you and it almost kills him, but he wants to prove how serious he is. Pulling a small black velvet box from his sports coat. “Tell me what you think. If you don’t like it, we can go pick out any ring you want.”

"How could I not like it?" It's from him and that's all that matters. But the second he pops the little velvet box open, the tears in your eyes spill over and your heart is in your throat. "Baby...it's...it's...I love it. I love you." It's beautiful, and it's real, and he means it.

Leaving was the hardest thing you ever had to do, but if it was the kick in the pants that you both needed to know that the love you have is real? Then it was worth a little ache.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Whiskey Daniels #Jack Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Daniels x f!reader #microfic #angst #break up #reconciliation

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pink-sparkly-witch · 6 months

Text

Just Like This

Summary: Working a second job in a bar to help pay for Sammy’s education, Dean finds a kindred spirit in bar manager Y/N. When a drunk Douchebag gets too handsy with her, Dean quickly jumps to her defence but faces harsh consequences.

Pairing: Bartender!Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Rating: Teen

Bingo Square: Getting Fired for @j3bingo

Warnings: tw: sexual assault (groping), fluff, angst, fighting, minor violence, Chuck is a complete and utter asshole in this, getting fired, quitting in solidarity, first kiss, friends to lovers

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Okay, it feels like an age since I’ve written anything that’s just pure floof. I hope you enjoy this fluffy, protective, besotted Dean fic. Please be kind. I’ve had my angst hat on for a long time, and though this was really refreshing, it’s also a little daunting!

My Masterlist AO3 Ko-Fi

Consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leave a comment. It really does fuel a creative’s muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

It wasn’t the best job in the world, but as part-time work went, Dean knew it could be a hell of a lot worse than this. He worked with his dad in the garage during the day and worked four nights a week and two shifts at the weekend in Shurley’s Sports Bar. His wages and tips went to his dad to help pay for Sammy’s education. Sure, the kid had a full ride to Stanford; however, he still needed to pay for accommodation after freshman year and the thousands of books he needed for his coursework. And at least this way, his dad didn’t put himself in an early grave by working all the hours God gave him. Lord knows he’d done enough of that when they were kids.

Shurley’s was a decent bar. It had a prime location between the University of Kansas campus and downtown, so it always has a steady stream of customers. It quietened during the summer when the students went home or on their travels, but the locals still made trade steady enough. The owner, Chuck, was a bit of a dick, but he barely showed his face around the place, and the other staff were decent, making it a great place to work.

“Hey, Dean,” Y/N said as she came out of the back office. Y/N was the bar manager and a great girl. They had a lot in common; both lost their mothers when they were young and looked after their younger siblings while their fathers worked three jobs to try and make ends meet. Y/N’d had to drop out of college when her father took unexpectedly sick, having to take care of him and her little sister. Now that her father had passed and her sister had a full ride to another prestigious college, Harvard, Y/N lived in the tiny apartment above the bakery where she worked four days a week and in the bar four nights a week and every Saturday night. The rest of the time, she studied part-time to finish her college education and sent every spare cent she had to her sister in Boston.

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiled at her. She was pretty, too, and Dean wasn’t afraid to admit that he had a massive crush on her. Not that anything would ever happen because she was her, and he was… well, he wasn’t good enough for a girl like that. “How are ya, sweetheart?”

“I’m good, Dean. How are you? Oh! Did you manage to get Sam’s apartment sorted?” Y/N asked, and he smiled that she’d remember such a thing.

“Yeah, it’s all good now. We managed to get the rest of the deposit together,” Dean said. “Thanks for the extra shifts, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it,” Y/N smiled. “I still can’t believe landlords can actually do that,” Y/N shook her head as she headed behind the bar and started filling the refrigerators with bottles of beer and wine to prepare for the busy Friday night shift.

“Yeah, us either. But it’s done, and he has somewhere to live,” Dean said as he put the last menus and condiment buckets on the tables. “What needs to be done next, boss?” he asked, smirking when Y/N chuckled. She hated being called that, but he seemed to be the only one she didn’t scold for it.

“I could use a hand changing over the barrels if you’ve got time?” she said, breaking up the cardboard that the bottles had been housed in.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Dean headed into the storeroom and started shifting the beer barrels behind the bar as Y/N continued putting bottles in the fridges and replacing the almost empty spirit bottles with full ones to accommodate the busiest night of the year: Friday night football and Freshers Week.

The bar was packed with customers, the warm, sunny weather drawing even more of them in than usual, and of course, Chuck had decided tonight was a good night to show face and ‘help’, putting the staff on edge. Dean had gone with the head down and get on with it attitude, glad it was three deep at the bar so he had an excuse not to have to entertain Chuck for very long.

Y/N had been running around after Chuck all night, finding this paperwork and that invoice and the employee payroll for the past six weeks. Eventually, when he couldn’t possibly ask for anything more, she’d escaped the office, having brazenly told her boss that she was needed front of house to help serve customers.

“I swear,” she’d said as she tied her little black server’s apron around her waist, “It’s like he fucking knew tonight would be the busiest night but still came to check months old paperwork! God, that man is insufferable!”

It wasn’t often that Y/N showed her annoyance, and Dean couldn’t help but think it was cute. Though, admittedly, that could be his crush talking, her furrowed brow and tiny pout were adorable.

“What can I do to help?” he asked as she took her place behind the bar.

“I should be asking you that question!” she giggled. “What do you need me to do?”

“We could do with someone collecting and cleaning the empty glasses, if you wouldn’t mind?” he responded, smiling as she picked up a basket, cleaning spray, and a cloth before he’d finished his sentence.

“You got it,” she winked and headed onto the floor to clear and wipe the tables down. And that, Dean thought, is what makes a good boss. Someone who works with the team to achieve the same goal. Someone who isn’t afraid of stepping in to help by doing the most mundane tasks that are below their pay grade.

Y/N was a breath of fresh air for him in so many ways. She was bubbly and caring, and no matter what was thrown her way, she responded with an air of calmness and dignity that he admired.

“Hey, man. What can I get ya?” Dean asked the next patron, finally taking his eyes off the girl slowly taking over his every thought.

“Be careful,” Dean said as Y/N headed back onto the floor to clear more glasses and tables. “It’s getting rowdy out there. You know what those college boys can be like.”

“Thanks, Dean,” she smiled. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

He knew she would be. He’d seen her handling every kind of drunk customer. Still, he’d watch her closely because he was more worried than usual. The crowd tonight seemed even more enthused thanks to the local sports team playing. It still surprised him how often the female staff got touched inappropriately and had the most vulgar things said to them by too drunk and far too confident men. More than once Dean had had to step in and stop something from going too far, and he’d do it as many times as he needed to for Y/N or any of the other female staff.

Y/N managed to get around most of the bar unscathed, but there was a particularly boisterous table of men who only frequented the bar when the Chiefs played. Dean had been watching them all night because they seemed to have forgotten their age and tried to out-drink their much younger counterparts. They’d already run their mouths off to the bar staff, and now one of them in particular had their beady eye on Y/N as she moved from table to table, collecting empty glasses and bottles.

Swapping her tray out for an empty one, Y/N made her way over to their table, and the second she got close enough, the balding guy with the beady eye was quick to rear his hand back and smack her ass. Dean’s hackles rose, and he was on high alert as he watched her give the douchebag a piece of her mind. But he didn’t stop. Douchebag wrapped his arms around her waist and tried pulling her onto his lap. All the while, his douchebag little friends laughed and cheered him on like he’d won a fucking prize.

Dean saw red as he ran around the bar and strode purposely over to the group of middle-aged men amid a mid-life crisis and pulled Y/N from his hold, dragging her behind him to protect her.

“The lady told you to leave her alone. I suggest you do that,” Dean fumed, only getting angrier at Douchebag’s smirk.

“Oh, ladies and gentlemen, we have a jealous boyfriend trying to protect his girl! You know, if she were my girlfriend, I wouldn’t let her out the house wearing something so…” he paused as he leered up and down Y/N’s body, “revealing.”

“Listen, asshole, you don’t want to piss me off right now. Why don’t you and your buddies call it a night and go home? You’ve clearly had too much to drink, and we don’t take kindly to people assaulting our staff here,” Dean’s jaw was clenched, but he’d somehow managed to keep his voice steady.

“Sorry, man,” Douchebag smirked as he stood. “Just can’t help myself when I see a pretty girl showing off half her body like a Goddamn little tease. She’s asking for it, really.”

That was the last straw, and as Douchebag made one final (and unfortunately successful) attempt to get his hands on Y/N, Dean pulled his fist back and punched him square on the nose. The resounding crack as Dean broke the guy’s nose was satisfying, as were the synchronised grimacing ‘oohs’ that the audience this little corner of the bar had attracted.

“You broke my nose, asshole!” Douchebag spluttered. “I’m reporting you for assault!”

“You do that,” Y/N said, “and I’ll have you arrested, too. This whole bar and the CCTV saw you grope me twice and clearly saw me trying to get you off me! What he did,” she pointed at Dean, “was save me from being sexually assaulted!”

“Come on, man,” one of Douchebag’s friends said, patting him on the back. “Let’s get you to the hospital. It’s not worth it.”

“Damn straight it’s not!” Dean yelled. “Any way you spin this, he doesn’t win, so get the hell out and don’t come back!”

Tail between their legs, Douchebag and his friends left the bar. The second the door shut behind them, Dean was next to Y/N, checking her for injuries.

“I’m fine, Dean,” she insisted, but her eyes told a different story. The encounter had shaken her up, and Dean wanted to fix it, needed to fix it.

“No, sweetheart, you’re not. You’re–” Dean began but was interrupted by the shrill voice of Chuck.

“Winchester, my office, now! You too, Y/N.”

Seeing Y/N sitting beside him on the other side of the desk was strange. This was where she did all the paperwork, payroll, ordering, and invoicing, so to see Chuck on her chair was disconcerting. And not good.

“I don’t know what was going on out there–” Chuck began, and Dean scoffed in disbelief.

“You’re bar manager was sexually assaulted by a customer. That’s what happened!” Dean sat forward on his chair, raising his voice. He only calmed when Y/N placed her hand on his forearm.

Chuck pursed his lips at his outburst and continued speaking as if Dean hadn’t interrupted.

“I don’t know what happened, but whatever it was, sexual assault or not,” Chuck looked pointedly at Y/N before he continued. “It’s no excuse for my staff to behave violently.”

“You have got to be kidding me!” Dean fumed. “That… scumbag… touched her ass and her breasts and tried to force her into his lap! You see those bruises, right?” he asked as he pointed to the dark purple fingerprint marks on her arms.

“Inappropriate comments, slurs, even touching, is to be expected when you work in a bar–” Chuck was interrupted again, this time by Y/N.

“There are no touching policies in every strip club in the country for a reason, Chuck! You cannot expect it to be any different in a fratboy sports bar! No one should go to work expecting that being sexually assaulted is okay!”

“For God’s sake, Y/N! So what a guy touched your ass and tits! You should be flattered!”

“It was sexual assault, Chuck! That guy,” Y/N pointed behind her in the general direction of the bar, “touched me without permission, and I could have him charged! You too with how you’re behaving!”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic! I feel sorry for your boyfriend if this is how prudish you are!”

“Hey, that is–” Dean interjected, but Chuck kept talking.

“Dean, you’re fired. I cannot, and will not, allow a violent brute to work in my bar.”

“You can’t do that!” Y/N protested.

“Watch it, or you’ll be gone, too!” Chuck threatened, but Dean knew it was an empty one with her. He needed her too much. The bar would burn to the ground without her in charge.

“No need. I quit. Effective immediately. I cannot, and will not,” Y/N glared at Chuck as she repeated his words to him, “work in a place where I’m expected to be sexually harassed and assaulted and ignore it. I cannot, and will not, work for a man who fires a good person for helping someone in need.”

Standing, Y/N took off her apron and name tag and threw them on the desk. She unhooked the keys from her belt and pulled the cash box towards her, opening it and pulling out two brown envelopes, handing one to Dean and putting the other in her pocket. Once she’d locked the cash box, she tossed her keys down on the cheap metal desk with a satisfying clang.

“Really? You’re going to quit over him?” Chuck scoffed.

“Yes. Dean is worth a thousand shitty bar jobs like this one, and I’d choose him over any of them in a heartbeat,” Y/N said with her head held high. “I hope you know you’ve just lost your two best workers on the busiest night of the year. Come on, Dean. Let’s get out of this shithole.”

Dean didn’t protest. He stood up, smirked at Chuck because he just couldn’t help himself, and followed Y/N out of the bar and onto the street.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t need to do that. I’m a big boy, and I can look after myself,” Dean said after walking in silence for a few minutes.

“I know you can, and yes, I did. That was unfair and undeserved. Especially because it was my fault,” Y/N responded.

“Hey, don’t ever… it wasn’t your fault. Things like that are never the woman’s fault, you know that, right?” Dean couldn’t believe she’d ever think something like that would be her own doing.

“I know, but if I’d listened to you and let Marcus clear tables instead of me, none of this would’ve happened.”

“No. I won’t hear it. You didn’t ask to be groped by a balding douchebag going through a mid-life crisis, sweetheart. Don’t ever apologise for someone else’s wrongdoing,” he reassured her.

“So, what do we do now? We both kinda needed that job,” Y/N chuckled, but it held no humour.

“Well, I might know a guy who owns a wine bar downtown. A classy establishment, so the tips are better. And we’d be treated right,” Dean said, thinking of the bar Cas had tried to get him to work in for months.

“You have a buddy with a bar, and you chose to stay working in that shithole?” Y/N asked in disbelief. “Why? What would possess you to stay there? Willingly?”

“It wasn’t all bad,” Dean smirked. This wasn’t where he envisioned this conversation going–if it ever happened at all, that is–but the perfect opportunity had presented itself and he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t take it. “I got to see you almost every day.”

“Come on! You did not stay there for me!” Y/N scoffed, and Dean shrugged his shoulders, his lips tugging upwards in a shy smile.

“I did, actually. Can’t think of anyone better to spend so much time with.”

“Dean Winchester,” she grinned. “Are you flirting with me?” The teasing tone in her words was one he’d never heard before, and he liked it.

“Do you want me to be flirting with you?” he’d asked, needing to hear her say it before he did something stupid because he’d misread the signals.

“Yeah… I think I do,” Y/N giggled, stepping closer to him, bumping their arms together as they stepped in sync down the sidewalk.

“Yeah?” he asked, checking again because, quite frankly, she was her and he was him.

“Yeah.”

Dean stopped walking and gently grabbed her forearm to stop her from walking ahead. Feeling brave, Dean placed his hands on her cheeks and dipped his head, slowly lowering his lips to hers. Every inch closer he got, he switched his gaze between her lips and her eyes, making sure this was what she wanted.

When there was no hesitation and nowhere else to go, he closed his eyes and pressed his lips to hers. They were as soft as they always looked, softer even, and tasted as sweet as he’d imagined they would.

Y/N pressed herself closer to him with a low hum and slid her arms up his chest, resting one hand on his pec and the other curling around his neck. Dean licked her bottom lip, encouraging her to open her mouth and let him deepen their kiss.

He failed to hold back a groan when his tongue met hers, the feeling so much better than anything his mind could’ve conjured up. Dean couldn’t remember how long he’d wanted this, and now that it was happening, he knew he’d do whatever he could to keep her in his arms, just like this.

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720

#j3bingo #just like this #au dean winchester x reader #bartender!dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #au dean winchester #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #fluff

271 notes · View notes

luveline · 9 months

Note

first of all CONGRATS ON YOUR AMAZING MILESTONE!!! Wowwwwwww I’m so happy for u 🥺💘💘💘 you deserve all the love and praise in the world!

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 + 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞

plsss I beg 🥺 either for tasm!peter or miguel o’hara or even joel miller 😭😭😭 I’d think about idiots in love… both pinning for each other but too oblivious to the others feelings. everyone can see it but them. if you can make it super fluffy I’d dieeeeee. I’m obsessed with all 3 of them but tasm!peter will always have my heart <3

hope u have the loveliest of days sweet ! 💘💘💘

luveline's 40k party ☆ thank you so much baby!! have a good day too ♡ shy fat fem!reader

"I look weird," Peter says.

You bite your lip in surprise. Peter reaches for you like he might take your face into his hand, but you bow out of his touch. "No," you say, hissing at the sudden pain, "you look nice, you don't look weird."

"A haircut was a bad idea. Now you're injured," he says with a laugh.

You bring your hand away from your lip and find it unsullied. Peter wants to look anyhow, fighting you for a hand on your cheek. A couple of months ago you would've squirmed away from him, worried he'd feel the soft line of your jaw and drop his hand in disgust, but these days you let him do whatever he wants.

"Pout at me," he demands.

You, reluctant, poke your lip out. Peter has the gall to touch it with his thumb, seemingly unaware of the shiver it prompts. He smells like cherry gum today, a little wedge of it between his molars as he strokes your face and pushes you gently back into your chair. He's a sick individual, he doesn't even know what he's doing. Peter's joking and doting is done as your friend.

"What inspired the haircut?" you ask. He hasn't gone too short with it since his first year of college, but the cute little flicks under his ears have been chopped.

"Kept getting stuck in my hat."

"What hat?" you ask.

"My baseball cap."

"Since when do you wear a baseball cap?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Peter croons, to the outrage of the women sitting across from you. They shush simultaneously, two pit vipers.

You put your head down, sheepish. Peter rolls his desk chair closer to yours as he chuckles under his breath, to copy your notes no doubt, which is ridiculous. He's the smarter of the two of you. He speaks in mathematics like it's English, chemistry something innate.

You knock your pencil into his hand, "Do your own work."

"But you've already done it for me." Peter moves your hand aside, his naked arm rubbing up against yours, rigid cord against softer fat. "Thanks, beautiful."

You roll your eyes at him but let him copy your work. After a few minutes you swear you can feel eyes on you, glancing up to find the pit vipers talking behind a laptop screen. They look at you at the same time and then quickly look away, spelling out for you what it is that's so interesting. People do this all the time, puzzling at you and Pete like it's insanity. The majority of people aren't as judgemental, but you can guess exactly what it is that they're thinking. Why is he spending his time with her? Handsome, muscled Peter and meek, chubby you.

It's not the most important thing in your life, but it is a constant. Some people think fat is unlovable, and the rest love without qualm. Peter hasn't ever once been mean to you since he met you; your weight can't bother him. If anything, you'd think he quite likes the way you look. Peter's always calling you beautiful, pretty girl, telling you to get changed before you put other girls out.

It's a shame he doesn't like you as anything more than a friend.

"I think those girls are looking at us," Peter whispers, pulling you toward him by the shoulder. It's not unlike him to touch you suddenly. "Is the haircut that bad?"

"It looks nice, Pete!" you insist.

He wraps his arm around your shoulder, rubbing his cheek against yours quickly. You choke through a laugh. "Daww," he says, "you're just saying that."

He giggles as you push him away, "Get off me, you loon," you say.

"You're the loon, loon," he says back. His cheeks are pinking. His sweater must be hotter than it looks.

"Can you just accept it, Peter? Your hair looks nice, you look great, stop worrying about what people think." You look away as you say it, startled by your own brazenness.

He gasps at you. "Hypocrite! You're the worst hypocrite ever, you're always worrying about what people think, and it's stupid because you're so pretty." He shakes his from side to side, eyes dramatically downcast. "Breaks my heart. A babe in denial."

"Stop kidding around, we have too many assignments for this," you beg, tapping your pencil under the remaining questions you've yet to answer.

"A babe in denial and distress."

You give up. He's overwhelmingly affectionate, homework sucks, and you're ashamed to know that if you flop down in defeat, he'll hug your arm. He always does. Diving into your space, Peter breathes cool cherry at your cheek as he says, "You know I'm gonna explain them to you until you get them, sweetheart. Don't stress."

You put yourself in this position, but his closeness has your heart skipping. "I'm not stressed."

"You're too cute to stress."

"Pete…"

"Sorry, I'll stop, I'm stopping. Pass your notebook, I'll fix your equation."

You pass him your notebook without looking up. You need a few seconds to collect yourself. "Thank you, Peter."

He sounds dangerously fond, the kind of tone that feeds your delusion, as though he could like you as you like him, "You're welcome."

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undercoverpena · 7 months

Text

its the sniffles

Frankie Morales x Reader

He wants nothing more than to come home and take care of you.

an: I’m sick with the flu, and I’m self-indulging so, thought I’d share. No warnings: just fluff, maybe my spelling as I am very ill.

Frankie would know, even if you keep pretending down the phone it isn’t as bad as it seems. “Its the sniffles”, the lie rolling free, dripping from your tongue as you fight that tickle in the back of your throat. Trying to bury it. Smother it. Only for a sneeze to rip out and echo around your home.

He doesn’t blame you for lying—he’d been looking forward to this job for weeks. What he doesn’t like is that he knows you’re suffering, that it’s likely the days are beginning to blur into one.

The last time you were this bad, it took you weeks to admit to him that you became so delirious you forgot he was working away and went looking for him.

It’s because he knows it’s bad if you’re lying, as to why he comes home early.

Knows you’re fighting dizzy spells, exhaustions, as well as scratches in your throat, because he did notice that you kept trying to mute the phone when you went to cough or sneeze—only to mute it when you were talking instead.

It fuelled him, the need to be there for you. Each image of you he concocted of you on the sofa or crawling out of bed tugging on him, wrapping fingers around threads inside of him, and yanking. So much so, he drives back through the night—stepping through the front door as the sun begins to rise, spotting how the coffee table (that had once been wood, magazines and candles) is now tissues, mugs and medicine.

Removing his boots, dropping his duffel and hanging his hat, all in that order, Frankie moves in pursuit to find you. He passes the bathroom bin in the doorway of the living room, used tissues spilling out over it. Finds the blanket, usually folded over the sofa, now thrown across one of the dining room chairs and the sea of mugs, so many of them, bottles and tablets (all cold and flu), cluttering across the usually tidy kitchen counter. All of it making his heart hurt, ache.

He’s only pleased when he finds you in the centre of your two’s bed. One of his old t-shirts on, eyes closed, breathing heavy—there’s a balled up tissues in your palm and the sheets pulled up to your chin. And without touching you, he knows you’re warm, clammy—riddled with an illness he wished he’d been here to help you fight.

Sitting beside you, he brushes his fingers against your cheeks. Hearing the way you breathing changes, your nose blocked, congested, before you slowly flutter your lashes open, finding him, basking him in warmth and happiness that he’s there. But still you blink—quite a few times—likely ensuring you’re aware and not dreaming. Before your cough smothers the room, words lost, buried in a sea of spluttering as you sit up, and his hand finds your back. Just distinctly, between each hacking and a sneeze, he just makes out you mumbling ‘you’re here?’

It’s then he spots his jumper, the thick one—the one with flecks of gold and white embedded in blues and greens, hanging on the door of the wardrobe. Your voice down the phone coming to him, “can I wear your jumper?” “You missing me?” Your feeble yes falling as his something tightened in his chest when you thanked him for saying yes. He wants to pull it over your head now, pull you close, something he suggests, before beginning to offer to make you food, bring the duvet to the sofa and have a movie day, weekend—

“You should stay away. I don’t want—you could get really sick.”

Hands still rubbing circles on your back as he hands you the glass of water from the table. “Don’t care, baby. I wanted to come home and take care of you,” he whispers, kissing your forehead, pulling you close. “Wish I’d been here sooner, honestly.”

Because you’re worse than he thought. Far worse. And all he can do is wear a smile, guilt swelling in his chest—because he should have been here, should have come home sooner.

You must read him, the same way he does you. Your head tilting to look up at him, eyes weary, full of tears from your coughing, as your hand slides over his. “You’re here now.”

“I am,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head, feeling your body curl into his. His eyes closing, feeling content.

And then you sneeze.

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #Frankie catfish morales x reader #Frankie morales fanfiction #Frankie morales x you #Francisco morales x you #triple frontier fanfiction

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demonic0angel · 20 days

Text

What if Jazz replaced Dan in another timeline?

CW: attempted murder via strangulation

Also on AO3 here :)

"Could you leave me alone?!" Danny shouted. "Stay out of my business!"

Jazz looked affronted. "How can I stay out of your business if I'm also part of your business?!"

Sputtering, he cried out, “Just— Just leave me alone!”

“No! You’re not taking the proper safety precautions! You’re going to get hurt one of these days and I’ll laugh in your face! You’re always so reckless! It’s not my fault that I have to watch over you!”

His eye twitched as he crossed his arms. “I’m not a baby anymore! You can’t control me like you used to when I was a kid! I’m a teenager and I’m way more powerful than you! I don’t need you to watch over me!”

“Danny! Don’t be so stubborn!” She insisted. “I’m just asking you to be safe!”

“I said. I. Don’t. Need it!!”

Danny had enough and stormed away from her. Jazz cried out, "Get back over here!" but he ignored her and continued walking.

He ran into his room and threw himself on his bed. He stretched out his hand, went partial ghost, and then locked his door. However, Jazz didn't follow him inside.

Danny groaned, burying himself in his pillow. He loved his sister, but sometimes, her love for him was just too overbearing! He couldn't stand the feeling of being watched over and babied like she had always done since he was a child, but he quickly realized that he had probably overreacted. Danny grimaced, realizing that he would have to apologize to his sister soon, but he was mentally exhauated.

Just as he pushed the idea of apologizing to her to later in the back of his mind, his phone rang. He picked it up with an exhausted, “Hello?”

“Dang, Danny, what’s going on with you?” Tucker asked, sounding concerned and also amused. He was holding his camera in one hand while the other held the phone to his face.

Danny groaned. “Jazz is being a total control freak again! I can’t even go out without her having to force more equipment onto me! I’m sick and tired of her always being in my business!”

“Dude, that sucks, but she’s looking out for you! Cut her some slack.”

“I know, but it’s so annoying. I wish she could understand that I’m not a baby anymore.”

Tucker hummed. “Mhm.”

Danny huffed and although Tucker’s expression didn’t show it, he realized that he was bringing down the mood somewhat.

“How’s Boston?” He asked.

“It’s cool,” Tucker said with a smile. “Do you want a pen or a keychain for your souvenir?”

“Oh screw you!” Danny laughed, pretending to be annoyed by the lackluster presents.

The phone beeped again, and Sam jumped into the call. “What’s up?” She said, a pair of sunglasses on her nose while a wide brimmed sun hat covered her face in shadows.

Danny sighed, reminded even more of the fact that his two and only best friends were on vacation. Even Valerie couldn’t spend time with him, too busy working for an internship under her dad.

Danny’s own parents were in Virginia, trekking on the Appalachian mountains to find more ghosts.

So basically, Danny was alone. With his sister.

Great.

“Oh! Sam! How’s Greece?”

“It’s great. I’ll bring you guys here in a few weeks,” she promised, turning her camera around so they could also take a view of the busy streets.

Tucker put his hands together and pretended to pray to her. “Oh, great Sugar Mommy Sam, please deliver us to Greece soon.”

“Never mind. Tucker, you’re staying home. I’m taking Danny and the two of us are going to eat souvlaki and seafood, look at Ancient Greek monuments, and learn about the lives of the fallen gods without you.”

Tucker gave a cry of pretend panic and Danny laughed too, already comforted by the sound of his two best friends and putting away the thought of Jazz.

They chatted for a few more minutes before Sam and Tucker had to leave, although not before promising to bring him souvenirs.

Danny laughed and smiled but when they left, it slipped off of his face. He sighed, pressing his head down onto his pillow again, dropping his phone carelessly.

Was a single summer without anyone bothering him too much to ask?

After a while, as Danny lazed about, he finally got up to get lunch.

When he went down to the kitchen, Jazz was sitting at the table, a book open in front of her alongside two plates of food. The one that wasn't directly in front of her was underneath a Fenton™ heating lamp.

Now the guilt mixed together with the irritation.

He knew that he was supposed to apologize, but he couldn't help the hostility that rose up in him. No matter how much he felt guilty, he refused to back down. Danny stomped to his seat, pulling back the chair and taking the plate. Then he began eating without saying a word.

Jazz peeked at him from behind her book a few times.

Danny scowled before looking up. "What?"

She hesitated, and then finally said, "Danny, you know that I love you, right?"

Oh Ancients, here she went again.

Danny loved his sister, but he couldn't stand how she tried to act better than him simply because she had more "experience" than him living in the world. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't truly relate to him and his experiences.

"... just get out with it," he snapped, putting down his fork and slumping back in his seat.

Jazz's eyebrows furrowed, disapproving but she didn't say anything about his disrespectful appearance.

"I know that you think I'm controlling, but I'm doing this for your own good. You're only a kid, and you're being forced to fight against ghosts. Of course I worry! We can never know for sure if you can beat up everyone you see... so I just want you to be safe. That's why I—"

"Jazz." His voice was hard. Jazz startled at the sound of it, looking shocked. "I'm not a baby. I'm my own person, and I don't need your help! You putting your nose in my business doesn’t help me!"

Jazz flinched and then glared back at him. "Well, I wouldn't have to, if you would listen and be careful!"

"I'm plenty careful! I'm literally the most careful person you'll ever know!" Which wasn't true, but Danny was incensed enough to say anything.

"Don't you lie to my face! Danny, you are so—!"

That was when there was the sound of something popping and the both of them turned to the door in confused silence. The sudden appearance of a pair of slow, clacking heels against the floor made the both of them tense.

No one should've been home but them.

So who was this?

With his hands underneath the table, Danny transformed halfway, ready with a ghost ray if it was an enemy. His ghost senses told him that it probably wasn’t a ghost, but he still had to be careful. Jazz picked up her plate, ready to toss it at a moment's notice.

The person who entered their home stopped at the door to the kitchen.

The first thing Danny noticed was that she was tall. Freakishly tall. His dad was the tallest person he knew, and this person wouldn't even be completely dwarfed by him if she was standing next to him.

The second thing he noticed was that she looked just like Jazz, only older. Her facial features were all the same, the same sweet smile, the same heart shaped face, the same long hair. The only thing that was noticeably different were her eyes, which shone with a light that he had never seen before and watched with a focus that almost unsettled him. She was dressed in a trench coat and a dark dress shirt. Her heeled boots clicked on the floor, drawing attention even further to her monstrous height.

This woman, this older doppelgänger of Jazz, paused at the doorway, studying them before she gasped and then rushed forward to pull Danny into her hug.

"Danny! Oh, it's you!" The Jazz lookalike cried, and her hold was tight and warm, pressing him against her chest like she was trying to absorb him through her skin. Danny stumbled and then just stayed in her embrace, dumbfounded. Her hug felt familiar, just like the hand that cradled the back of his head and the other that rubbed at his back.

"Jazz?" Danny blurted, eyes wide.

The Jazz clone pulled him back, smiling through teary eyes and nodded. "That’s right. It's me, Jazz."

Jazz was probably as confused as Danny, but she didn't hesitate to stand up and take a closer look. The older version of Jazz continued to hug Danny while Jazz flitted around them nervously. The two of them sank to the floor and it took a moment for Danny to understand what was happening before he pulled away, bewildered.

Something flashed through the Jazz clone's face too quickly for him to decipher.

"I'm sorry, but what? What's going on? If you're Jazz then... why are you in the past?" And why had Clockwork not said a single thing?

The Jazz before them pressed a hand against Danny's cheek. Her skin was gloved, and the coolness of the leather against his skin made him shiver. The look in Jazz's doppelgänger's watery eyes was intense and focused, her lips pulled into a small smile. "I am Jazz Fenton. I came here in hopes of finding a world where I could live."

Both Danny and Jazz became excited immediately.

"Wow! You're so beautiful! You're really me?" Jazz asked excitedly. "What do you do in the future? What's our job? Do we have a partner? How is everyone in the future?"

"Jazz! Let her breathe!" Danny felt a small sense of vindication for correcting his sister. However, he also looked at the older version of Jazz eagerly, wanting to know if he remained a hero and if their city was alright, if he got married to Valerie, and if Sam and Tucker were still his friends.

The older version of Jazz paused before she pursed her lips. "I'm afraid... it's not great in my timeline. That's why I came here. To escape." A flash of a strange smile crossed her face but it disappeared before Danny could try and decipher it.

He blinked, his stomach dropping as he tried to understand what she was hinting at. "Are you saying... that some of us are dead?"

The older Jazz smiled sadly. "You're all dead. I lost you, Danny. I lost you, Mom, Dad— I didn't even have Sam or Tucker. Everyone is dead. Humanity has been almost completely wiped out. I'm the sole survivor of our family in that world."

Both Danny and Jazz were dumbfounded.

A pit immediately formed inside of Danny's stomach as his blood turned cold.

The sole survivor? Humanity was almost wiped out? What on earth had happened in that world??

"Wait... you mean everyone? Like everyone everyone?? What happened?" He asked desperately. "Wasn't I a hero? How did I let this happen??"

How could this have happened? How could he have been so careless as to let everyone but Jazz die? A small part of him was a little happy that Jazz of all people survived, knowing that she was resilient and strong, but the larger part of him just felt sad. His core ached with the thought of her being alone in a possibly devastated world.

"Everyone died after you died," older Jazz said in quiet resignation. "People started dying in droves... there's only me left in the entirety of America."

Jazz clasped her hands over her mouth in horror, while Danny clenched his fists. "How did we die?"

"You... our family was at the Nasty Burger, when an accident occured and then the entire place exploded. You were on your way there when... you also got caught in the accident. Even your powers weren't enough to keep you alive when you were in the middle of such a large explosion." She looked down, her expression twisted in sorrow. "I was at home when it happened. And then... I was alone."

Danny's stomach twisted itself into knots. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth and he didn't know what to say.

Jazz whispered, hushed, "... it sounds like Dan."

Danny had to agree. However, older Jazz looked at the two with confusion.

"Dan? Who's that?"

Danny blinked. "You don't know...? Oh, it's because your timeline is different. Er, Dan is an alternate version of me. He's kind of like you, but more evil."

Jazz sighed and explained, "Danny from that timeline watched us die at the Nasty Burger too and then he started killing everyone. He's a little similar to you that way. But then he went to our world to try and kill us all again, so we trapped him in the Fenton thermos."

Older Jazz stared at them, her mouth open in shock before she burst out into laughter. The sound of her bell-like laughter was sweet, but the context was jarring and Danny and Jazz couldn't help but share a look of 'what the heck?'

Older Jazz eventually quieted down and she said softly, "How interesting. You're saying that he also had his family killed and then he killed everyone in his world?"

Something was definitely wrong but Danny didn't know what. Jazz was the one who replied, and she nodded slowly, "Yeah."

"You defeated this Dan?" Older Jazz looked at Danny with bright eyes.

Danny slowly nodded. "He's in the Fenton thermos."

Older Jazz smiled, her eyes narrowing into crescents. "How quaint. I know it's a bit presumptuous, but could I stay here for a little?"

Jazz startled and said, "Oh! Your world is destroyed, right? Yeah, y-you can stay if you want!" Then she flushed red at her stuttering.

Danny raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything as he turned to the Jazz from another timeline. "We should find you another name. Something like... Minnie?"

"From Jasmine? If you say so, Danny," Minnie said amicably. "Call me Minnie then, to avoid confusion."

"Are you hungry?" Jazz asked. Minnie shook her head and stared at her with half lidded eyes.

Jazz noticed the look and asked, "What?"

"Nothing. You're just so innocent."

For some odd reason, it didn't sound that nice coming from her mouth.

However, Danny wasn’t that concerned about it, more preoccupied with the presence of his big sister from a post-apocalypse world. They pulled her to the kitchen table anyways and thus, Minnie joined the duo for the summer.

————

Minnie spent a few days with them. As the only actual adult in the house, she quickly took control over the house's chores and Danny was relieved to know that he wouldn't have to do his daily chores with her around. Jazz had griped about it, but Minnie laughed it off.

She seemed to enjoy the domesticity of their daily life, content to be doing anything, even something as mundane as folding clothes as long as Danny was within her sight.

Losing him must've hurt her a lot. He understood. He had, after all, also gone completely crazy after losing his family in another timeline.

She had many similarities to Jazz. However, she was also different from Jazz in that she was far more capable. When she was worried about him on his patrols, she would just follow him out instead of nagging him. With her long legs and advanced technology, she was able to keep up with him and even catch a few ghosts herself. Even when he flew over the city, she could find him wherever he was and defeat ghosts along the way.

Minnie soon proved herself to be a more advanced and grown up version of herself very quickly. She was mature and patient, with a quiet confidence to herself that didn't come as naturally to Jazz. The age and grief that she had experienced had surely attributed to her mature personality, but it couldn't be denied that Jazz would grow up into an awesome person.

It kind of made Danny proud in a way.

Look at how cool his sister was!

Like now, Minnie was tinkering with her watch, a sleek and black piece of technology that she used to get here. Danny and Jazz had learned that Minnie taught herself bioengineering and weapons manufacturing in order to cope with her stress and depression. Apparently, she was currently learning how to program robots in her world.

If Tucker was here, he would probably fall onto his knees to beg her to take him in as an apprentice.

"Is that what you used to fight in the future?" Danny asked, pointing at the watch. The two of them sat in the kitchen, both in their own little world.

Minnie hummed, taking a screwdriver to take apart a piece. "No. I had something else helping me."

He blinked at the wording. "Oh. Can I see it?"

"I'm afraid not," her tone was very kind and she stopped working to pat his hair, "It couldn't come with me."

He didn't pay much attention to her after that, just soaking in the attention before she went back to work.

He laid his head on his arms, closing his eyes to the sound of Minnie fiddling with her machinery as he thought about the past few days.

Minnie had been a welcome addition to their household, not only because she took over the role of the adult in the house, but also because she was a calming presence between Jazz and Danny. She had quickly become a mediator between him and Jazz. Their fights had lessened in quantity because of Minnie's presence, but the quality had definitely gotten worse in animosity. And while he and Jazz weren't getting along, Jazz and Minnie were the exact opposite.

He didn't really know what he had expected, but he had thought that Jazz and Minnie's relationship would be as hostile as his with Dan's. Instead, the two of them were friendly and Jazz even had a bit of hero worship towards Minnie. Which was a bit narcissic, but he could understand it.

"Where's Jazz?" Minnie asked suddenly.

Danny opened his eyes. "She's in her room."

"Did you two fight again?" She asked, putting down her tools to raise an amused eyebrow at him.

Danny frowned.

"It's not my fault!" Ever since Minnie had arrived, Jazz had grown even more overzealous with her overprotectiveness. Danny was completely over it. He was a growing boy! He didn't need to be coddled any longer!

He didn’t like fighting with his sister either, but was he so wrong in believing that he could be on his own? Jazz had her own problems fo worry about. It was just like his childhood, when she would disregard herself and the opportunities given to her to take care of him. It infuriated him, saddened him, and made him ashamed all at once.

He just wanted to prove himself. He wanted to be seen as an adult, not a little kid like she believed.

He unleashed his grievances to Minnie, who was quiet and thoughtful the entire tale.

As he was finishing up his complaints, he huffed. "I just want to be taken seriously."

"She just loves you. I would know, I also love you very much," Minnie said.

Danny blushed pink at that but he continued to insist, "I know! But I'm a superhero! I need to be able to take care of myself without my big sister hovering over me like a helicopter mom!"

Minnie laughed softly. "Maybe you just need to prove to her that you can take care of yourself. We did grow up taking care of you after all."

He just groaned.

Minnie looked at Danny with a small smile for some time. “Danny,” she began softly, “how would you feel if I stayed here indefinitely?”

Danny blinked, a little bewildered by the topic change, but he then returned the smile. “That’d be nice. You could help us out around the house! I think we could convince mom and dad to let you stay. And you and Tucker would probably get along, since you two work with technology!”

Minnie stared at him with that ever present smile on her face. The way her bright eyes peered into him was intense with its color and piercing scrutiny.

In some ways, she was even more haunting than him, who was an actual ghost.

Minnie then chuckled a little. “That would be nice. But I can’t exactly stay in a place that already has a Jazz Fenton.”

Danny blinked. “Really? Why?”

Minnie replied, “We’re both alive, that’s why.”

Then she paused, tilting her head.

“Do I need to be worried?” Danny asked.

Minnie shook her head slowly. Her expression was considering, like something had just popped into her head to make her think. She was thoughtful, before she finally smiled even wider.

“I’ve forgotten how smart you were,” Minnie finally murmured, reaching some unspoken conclusion.

Danny tilted his head, asking a silent question.

Minnie smiled, a flash of her pearly teeth enough to get his hair rising. “But that’s alright. We’ll soon have all of the time in the world for me to relearn your habits.”

And from then on, she wouldn’t answer any of his questions. No matter how much he pressed, she did not say a word. Danny was hesitant, but in the end, he let it go.

He had begun to realize that Minnie had a darkness to her that was sometimes really unsettling. She didn’t seem like she noticed it or purposely kept it down, but it was quite creepy to see it when it rose in her eyes. Sometimes, he wondered if she knew that she couldn’t hide it and if she knew that it made Danny’s skin crawl when he saw it.

However, he wasn’t too concerned about her inner darkness or whatever she was talking about.

No matter what, he knew that any version of Jazz wouldn’t intentionally harm him.

He’d probably find out soon anyway.

————

The day ended quietly and night began quietly. It was still early dawn when Danny crawled back to his bed after a long night of patrol around Amity Park. Although he was exhausted, he was filled with a sense of pride and happiness from protecting his city once more. His muscles ached and his eyes stung from being awake for so long, but he knew that because it was summer, he could sleep the whole day away.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, there was a bang and a knocking sound, like something had fallen to the ground.

Startling away from his light doze, Danny sat up from his bed. Rubbing his eyes, he trudged out of his room to investigate what it was.

He poked his head out of his room and called out to her. “Jazz? Are you alright?”

The sound seemed to have come from her room.

There was only some muffled noises.

Had she fallen down from her bed?

Not entirely that concerned about what Jazz was up to, Danny called out again, “If you need help, just call Minnie! I have to get some shuteye!”

He began to close the door, but then paused.

His core was tingling slightly, a bad feeling rising up in his throat.

Danny sighed, cursing his own Obsession before he went to Jazz’s room and then knocked on her door. “Are you okay?” He asked.

There was another faint noise but Jazz didn’t seem to be replying.

Danny sighed again, now a little more annoyed, before he opened the door.

There, on the floor, was Jazz. Straddling on top of her was Minnie, her hands wrapped around her throat and mouth, pressing down at her throat with an unsettling smile on her face, like she wasn’t trying to kill Jazz at that moment. Their red hair was scattered around and the room looked like there was a bit of a struggle.

Jazz was still struggling, muffled noises coming out of her as she wriggled underneath Minnie, but Minnie’s weight and frame kept her settled as she began to choke the life out of her.

The two of them paused as they stared at Danny. Although Jazz was wide eyed and still trying to twist out of her grip, Minnie didn’t look alarmed and only smiled sweetly.

However, in this moment, she looked just like the Devil.

Danny stared, dumbfounded for only a split second, before he immediately reacted and transformed, blasting at Minnie with his ghost rays.

“Get off of my sister!!” He shouted, his heart nearly choking up his throat as he noticed Jazz’s weak kicking.

Minnie laughed quietly and her watch flashed, lighting up instantly with a shield that rebounded Danny’s ghost ray. Jazz whimpered and knocked her head against the ground with her flinch.

Danny didn’t relent, shooting out more and more beams as he desperately flew over in an attempt to throw Minnie off.

The shield bounced him back, making him land painfully onto the wall. His vision shook and his bones felt like they were rattling inside of him. His breath was punched out of him in an instant and he gasped, blinking away the stars in his eyes from the pain.

“What the—?!”

“Oh, Danny,” Minnie crooned. “I’m from the future. You think I don't have the technology to defeat halfas like you?”

Danny gasped, struggling to find air, and hit her with an energy ring in desperation. The shield blocked it once more.

“Minnie!” He tried to reason urgently, “You don’t have to do this! You don’t need to do this!”

How could he have trusted her so much?

How had he not know that Minnie's darkness wasn't just from grief? That her darkness actually came from the killings she had probably done and that she wasn't as simple as she looked?

Had Danny's underestimation of Minnie caused Jazz to be hurt?

Minnie smiled, and the expression on her face was mocking and sweet. It made Danny’s blood curdle in his veins and he clenched his fists, knowing that he had to find a way to bypass Minnie’s shields and save Jazz.

He had to find a way to buy some time!

“But I do. I can’t stay if there’s two living versions of Jazz Fenton in one world. We’ll pull apart the fabric of his universe. If I want to stay, I’ll have to get rid of her.”

Her hands slipped down from Jazz’s mouth to press against her throat.

Jazz began coughing, tears filling the corner of her eyes as she clawed at Minnie’s hands. Her face was almost looking blue as she tossed her head around in an effort to get away. Her fingers could not even pull at Minnie’s watch. Her legs kicked weakly and she tried to buck off Minnie, but it was useless.

Danny had never wanted to curse the fact that Jazz grew up to be such a strong woman more.

Danny couldn’t watch this anymore.

“Please! Please, we can find another way!” He pleaded, almost getting on his hands and knees as he begged Minnie to spare Jazz’s life.

Anything.

He would do anything as long as his big sister got to live.

“There is no other way,” Minnie’s voice was impossibly and jarringly gentle. “I want to stay with you. So I’ll just have to kill her. But it’s okay. You’ll still have me after she’s gone.”

The thought of it made Danny sick.

Jazz struggled weakly as Minnie’s grip seemingly grew in strength.

Danny was full on panicking now.

“No! No, please, you can’t! You can’t do this!”

“It’s alright, Danny. I’ll still be here, even if she’s gone. I’ll still be your big sister,” Minnie said soothingly, but it only frayed his nerves even more.

He would lose it if he lost Jazz. If Jazz died, he really would go crazy!

“W-W-Wait.”

Minnie paused, just as Danny threw himself at the shield again, only to be thrown off. In that moment as Minnie was distracted by Danny’s self-sacrifice, Jazz was able to get the barest amounts of air into her lungs to speak further.

“I-I have an idea.”

Suddenly feeling like Jazz was going to make the stupid decision of letting her psychopathic doppelgänger kill her, Danny cried out, “No!!”

Jazz ignored him. Minnie similarly took her eyes off of him to inspect her younger counterpart.

“Y-You’re lonely, right? What if… what if we give you Dan? The one from the other dimension? He’s also Danny and you could go back to your world with him…”

Minnie looked at her with a considering gaze, her hands still wrapped tightly around her neck.

“You’re saying that I take Dan off of your hands?”

She tilted her head. She didn’t seem adverse to the idea.

Danny could not believe that Jazz was genuinely negotiating with the crazy version of herself that was actively trying to kill her.

Jazz nodded weakly, tears being squeezed out of her eyes as her lips turned white. Her feet scrabbled on the floor slightly as she struggled to speak.

Danny couldn’t breathe either.

“Yeah,” Jazz said hoarsely, and Minnie watched her struggle for a little longer as she thought about it.

Danny wanted to drag her off and he nearly did so, but Jazz seemed to have a plan and he didn't want to ruin it. However, he thought to himself that if he saw any sign of Minnie finishing the kill, he would tear her apart.

Minnie was still, her hands continuing to press into Jazz’s windpipe. Then she let go and got off of Jazz with a beaming smile. She dusted herself off as Jazz finally caught her breath, coughing hoarsely, and Danny couldn’t do anything but stare at the two of them in horror. Standing on top of Jazz, Minnie then reached down with a hand to help her up.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said, her voice calm and sinisterly sweet, “I shouldn’t have overreacted.”

Jazz shivered hard and turned to Danny with wide, wet eyes. Danny felt his heart drop in his chest and he had the overwhelming urge to push away the despicable clone that was on top of his sister.

“D-Danny, go and get Dan.”

Immediately, Danny wanted to refuse.

He looked at Minnie, who didn’t look offended as she watched the two of them with interest. Her hand was still stretched downwards in the air, waiting for Jazz to take it, like a demonic entity that was waiting for her to sell off her soul. She just stood there, tall and long-limbed, like some sort of skeletal grim reaper.

The worst part of it all was that he couldn’t fight back against her. Dan was full ghost, and he was able to be fought off. However, Minnie was human, and she had built the technology necessary to combat him.

How could he have forgotten that she was an adult with all of the time in the world to create the tech needed to take him down?

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Danny was still weak and it was the worst feeling in the world for that realization to sink in.

Even worse, Minnie was his sister.

Danny could fight himself all day and feel no remorse— which would give him another therapy session if he ever told Jazz this— but his sister? His big sister, who had cared for and protected him since the day he was born? His big sister, who had taken care of him more than their parents? His big sister, who despite all of her shortcomings and his flaws, loved and cherished him?

He couldn’t.

He was scared.

Even though Minnie was probably evil incarnate, she was still his sister. His big sister who he also loved with all of his heart.

Danny looked at Jazz again and despite how she was shaking and teary eyed, she gave him a hard look and ordered, “Go!” before she turned her head around and took Minnie’s hand.

Danny took off.

He raced down to the basement, immediately blasting the cabinets open with his powers. If he could have focused, he probably would’ve opened it a little less destructively. However, his sister was still in the same room as her evil doppelgänger and he couldn’t think. His chest heaved with his hurried and quick breaths, his vision felt blurry, he was a mess.

He needed to hurry.

He needed to get back to Jazz before anything else could happen to her!

Danny grabbed the Fenton thermos that contained Dan and then flew back up to Jazz’s room, immediately slamming the door open. Jazz sat on her bed, shivering, with Minnie standing beside her, tall and impossibly towering.

Danny threw the thermos towards Minnie, who caught it with a gleam of delight in her eyes as her lips stretched further. She cradled the thermos to herself closer, and smiled.

“Thank you very much,” she said softly, nails tapping against the metal like she was testing its durability. She looked down at the thermos and the way she held it was like how a mother would hold a baby, careful and affectionate.

It only sent chills down Danny’s spine.

He could not forget the image of her choking the life out of his sister.

Danny grabbed a blanket and threw it over Jazz, pulling her closer to him. Jazz squeaked but didn’t say a word. Danny glared at Minnie, shielding Jazz with his body as he snapped, “There. You have the thermos, so leave.”

Minnie smiled. “Alright,” she said. “I will take this with me. Would you like a replacement for it?”

“Just leave!”

Why did she insist on acting so kind despite having no problem in killing others?!

Danny was freaked out even further by the contrast in her actions and her words, and he clutched Jazz to himself, glaring at Minnie with all of his might. No matter what, she had to leave. He wouldn’t stand for this psycho to be anywhere near them again!

Minnie paused and then smiled. She walked closer and Danny immediately blocked Jazz from her view, fear rising once more as he tensed like a hostile cat. All of his hair rose and he couldn't help the growl that climbed up his throat.

Minnie reached forward and Danny immediately blocked it. She dodged past the weak move and reached... behind his ear.

She pulled away something small and black, making Danny freeze.

What?

What was that?

Why was it attached to him?

Minnie chuckled, looking amused by his reaction. She pocketed the small device and then with a zap, she pressed a button on the watch on her wrist. A blue-green portal opened up, flickering with sparks and little lights. Something dark and shadowy writhed within, unable to enter but the sight of it made Danny's skin rise with goosebumps. Jazz gasped when she saw it, but Danny didn’t let go, not until he knew for sure that Minnie was gone.

Minnie held the thermos in one arm as she said, “I’m leaving now. Thank you for your hospitality. Oh, and another thing… be careful, Danny. I’m sure you don’t want what happened to me to happen to Jazz, after all.”

The smile on her face was eerie, a calm and simple smile that made her eyes narrow and her expression even more insidious, like she was cursing them. Horrifyingly enough, Danny could recognize the love in her eyes. She loved him, and this love paired with her grief made her this way. Despite everything, she loved him and it made Danny’s blood go cold and his chest feel warm in unison.

Suddenly, he couldn’t help but wonder, “What did you do in your dimension after I died?”

Minnie chuckled, a foot already stepping over the edge of the portal, disappearing into its depths.

She smiled at them both, her expression radiant.

“I killed everyone, of course.” Her tone was so cheery that Danny didn’t have time to truly process her words before Minnie then went through the portal and disappeared completely.

Both Jazz and Danny remained silent.

Danny was suddenly struck with another epiphany.

Minnie and Dan were exactly alike, weren't they? Two siblings who lost each other and then decided to go on a killing spree to vent their anguish.

Danny was overcome with the sudden, overwhelming fear that he and Jazz were destined for unhappiness.

Then slowly, Jazz reached out and touched his hand, which clutched at her shoulders, unknowingly shaking.

“Danny, you alright?” Her voice was a croak, beaten raw from being squeezed out by Minnie’s hands.

Danny immediately dropped onto his knees onto the bed, pulling open the blanket to look at Jazz’s throat.

Around her neck was a ring of dark bruises, already turning a deep purple and red, spotted with the imprints of Minnie’s fingers.

A bloody taste filled Danny’s mouth as he bit his tongue to suppress his rage, and he felt the urge to open up a portal so he could beat up Minnie, screw her identity being his older sister from another timeline!

“I should be asking you that!” He cried, hands tremblingly tracing the marks. “Are you okay??”

Jazz didn’t reply, just reaching out to pull him close. Danny slumped against her hold and returned the hug, holding her tight. He hated it. He hated how powerless he was, how he could do nothing against Minnie. Even now, he was powerless as she held him. He couldn’t even do the right job of comforting her. If anyone else saw this, they would’ve thought that he had been the one who was attacked instead.

“Are you okay?” He asked again, voice weak. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m okay,” she whispered. She put her head on his and they sat in silence for a little while.

Danny felt sick. His shame and self-blame all mixed inside of him and he couldn’t help thinking that he was useless.

He hadn’t even been the one to save her. She had done that all on her own.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, after some time.

For being mad.

For being weak.

For dying and leaving her alone in another world.

Jazz hummed. “It’s okay, little brother. I forgive you.”

Danny clutched at the fabric of her shirt and said, “I-I’ll try to keep myself safe. I’ll take care of myself. Then we’ll both live long lives and by the time we’re 90, you’re going to wish one of us dropped dead so I could stop annoying you!”

It was a promise.

Jazz said, “I wouldn’t think that.”

Danny buried his head into her shoulder, careful to avoid her fragile neck and he felt something hot rush to his face, threatening to leave his eyes.

He clutched at Jazz like she was a lifeline as he said in a small voice, "I-I... we'll always be together, okay? You'll always be my sister and I'll always love you, even if you annoy me. You'll love me even if I'm annoying too, right?"

"Even if you're a pain in the butt, I won't ever leave you," Jazz promised, laughing a little.

Already feeling the mood brighten, Danny perked up and said mischievously, “We’ll see about that. I’ll chase away all of the boys and girls that come near you.”

“Even the girls? I’m not sure if I should be proud of you for being inclusive or annoyed that you’ll be keeping me single,” Jazz joked, and the two of them laughed.

Jazz rubbed her cheek against his hair when their laughter finally died down.

"I'm sorry for being too controlling. I'll... I'll try to keep it cool, okay? But promise me that you'll be safe. And that you'll try to come back to me no matter what, even if you lose the fight."

Danny nodded in silent acceptance of her apology, clutching at her shirt again. Oddly enough, he was reminded of when they were children, when Jazz used to be the only other person in his life.

He had Sam and Tucker now, but sometimes he wished that he was still a child, tucked into his big sister's embrace while she chattered on and on about nonsensical things that only toddlers could care about, when everything was normal and kind and made sense.

Danny loved Jazz. He loved all of his friends and family. His Obsession was one that formed around protection, but most of all, it formed around his family. He would still be happy and whole if his family was with him, even if the city they lived in was different. Dan and Minnie were just different facets of their reality. They had lost their family and in their grief, they took it out on the innocent lives around them. Like them, Danny's Obsession lied with the ones he loved, not the place where they lived.

But he was different from them.

His family wouldn't be the first ones to die and leave him.

In many worlds, Jazz and Danny lost their family and lost each other.

But in this world, they were still together. Blood continued to tie them together, and they were still a team of brother and sister, protecting and caring for each other.

In this world, their family wouldn’t be so tragic.

And that was a promise.

||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Would you guys like a short continuation for Dan and Minnie? :3

I need to write more sibling fics for these two, I’m kind of obsessed. I love codependent relationships and I think I nailed it in this fic, but sometimes I wonder if it's too sickly sweet 😅 this fic is full of the headcanons that I have for dp, can you tell?

I hope that any of you won't dislike Danny for being a kid. Both he and Jazz have their character flaws and I hope it shows within this fic :)

In Minnie’s world, Jazz was the sole survivor of the Nasty Burger incident, and she lost her mind right after she was taken in by Vlad. After that, she began to create biological weapons and unleashed them on the world. She killed all of the scientists that could oppose her and then she just watched the world die. She’s 100% insane but you won’t notice it bc she’s trying to convince herself that she’s normal. As such, she acts calm, pretends to be pleasant, and her only noticeable abnormality is that she doesn’t react to things like a normal person. She has endless amounts of patience for a lot of things bc she spent most of her years watching people die slowly. Inspired by this tumblr ask I got

Minnie actually had a plan to kill Jazz, but a weapon was too messy so she planned to drag Jazz to a portal and then kill her in a different place. However, Danny was approaching and Minnie changed her mind to just choking Jazz in the little time she had left. That’s why her plan seems a little amateurish. (Otherwise, Jazz would actually die and that isn’t the point of this story 💀)

#jazz fenton #danny fenton #danny phantom #dp au #dp headcanons #dp fanfic #dp fic #evil jazz fenton #dark jazz #phantom family #phandom #this fic is giving sam and dean winchester lol #cw strangulation #tw strangulation #tucker foley #sam manson #cw attempted murder #dan phantom

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lunajay33 · 2 months

Text

Just Us🩶Part.4

Summary: In a world full of walkers y/n was able to escape with her best friend, but maybe that friendship turns into something more

Pairing: Carl Grimes x f!reader

A/n: This story starts when the group is on the road after Terminus but I’m gonna make y/n and Carl 18 just to speed along the story!! This is also my first Carl Grimes series! This story includes 18+ scenes, pregnancy and more

Part.3

•Masterlist•

It’s been a week since Carl and I took our relationship to the next level, we tried to find private times to fool around but with Daryl and Rick watching our every move like hawks it was kinda hard but it wasn’t that big of a deal at the moment as I felt like a I got hit by a train

I sat up in bed seeing Carl fast asleep, I know he’s barely gotten any sleep lately so I left him be, I felt really hot and my stomach started to turn so I got up quickly and went to the bathroom across the hall just in time to throw up in the toilet

Then I felt my hair being pulled back and a cold cloth against my forehead, I sat back against the wall after throwing up all I had in my stomach which wasn’t a lot

“Baby are you okay?” Carl asked as he continued to pat my face helping me cool down

“I don’t know, must have just been something I ate” I said weakly seeing how worried he is

“Come on let’s get you to bed” he said as he helped me up and tucked me back into bed laying next to me

“Can I get you anything?” He asked brushing my hair back

“No just…..stay with me”

“Of course” he laid with me for another hour until the sun started to rise and the light was pouring through the window

He groaned as he sat up putting his hat on from the night stand, I always thought he was so handsome with it

“Wanna go get some breakfast?” He asked smiling down at me

“Ya I should probably get some food in me” I said still a little groggy

We went downstairs and sat with Daryl Rick Michonne and Judith

“You guys are up early” Rick said as Carl put some berries and toast on my plate

“Ya I got sick last night so I didn’t really sleep all that well”

Carl picked up a sausage and the smell of it came across me and I was instantly sick again, I got up and went to the kitchen sink dry heaving since my stomach was empty, it hurt but then I felt a hand rubbing my back

“It’s okay, just breath” he said as a few tears dropped into the sink, it always happened when I was sick and I was glad Carl was there with me

“What’s wrong with her?” Michonne asked coming over to help same with Daryl

“I don’t know we should take you to the doctor” Carl said as he led me to the door, but before we left I stopped and turned back to look at them

“Daryl……will you come with us……please” I asked nervously, I knew he wasn’t really one for emotions but he always made me feel protected, so having both of them there would help

“ ‘course” he grumbled as he picked up his crossbow at the doorway and left with us

Daryl stood in the corner while I waited in the bed with Carl standing beside me as we waiting for the doctor, Denise was new but she was smart

“Y/n what can I help you with today?” She asked as she came from the back office

“I’ve been throwing up recently, certain smell upsets my stomach, I don’t know maybe it was something I ate but Carl wanted to be sure” I said leaning my head against his chest

“Hmmm, this might be personal but it’s all to get to the bottom of the problem okay?”

“Okay that’s fine”

“Have your breasts been tender?”

“A little yeah but it usually happens before my period” being starved and out of the road I wasn’t regular so I wasn’t really sure when my period was suppose to come it was all over the place now

“Have you been having some headaches?”

“A little”

“And have you been……..having sexual temptations lately more than often?” She asked clearing her throat, my face was getting really hot and I could see Daryl’s obvious discomfort

“Definitely” Carl answered for me laughing at my shyness

“Well it seems like you’re checking all the boxes off, have you both been intimate lately?”

“Yes” we answered at the same time

“I think you’re pregnant” my heart dropped I looked up at Carl but he had a smile on his face

“Why are you smiling?”

“If I’m gonna have a baby I’m glad it’s with you and we are in a safe place, plus I’ve dreamed of this for a long time” he said kissing my forehead

The three of us left walking back to the house

“I’m sorry dad…..I MEAN DARYL” he stopped and turned to me Carl holding my side

“I ain’t mad sunshine, just worried”

“I’m scared too” my heart was still pounding from the news

They both looked at me with sad expressions

“I’m really scared” I said breaking into tears covering my face embarrassed from being so emotional but it was true after Lori I was scared I’d never get to see the baby and I’d leave Carl alone

“Hey you’ll be okay baby, we’ve got the doctor and supplies and you have all of us now, I promise” Carl said holding my shoulders reassuringly

“Yeah, we got ya sunshine, ya ain’t alone” Daryl helped reassure me as well, as we started walking back to the house again

Carl and I sat down in my room and just took in the fact that we were really having a baby together, a little baby that was both me and Carl

“Do you want a boy or a girl?” I asked starting to warm up to the idea

“Hmm I don’t mind, but I’d love them to look like you, they’d be so cute” he said placing his hand on my still flat stomach

“No I think they’d be even cuter if they looked like you, blue eyes and pretty brown hair with little freckles” I said as I lightly traced my fingers over his freckles and I could see him share to blush

“I’m happy either way as long as I get to have this baby with you and start a family” he said smiling and it made my heart flutter

“How do we tell your dad, he’s gonna be so mad”

“I don’t think he will, I think he’ll be the same as Daryl hopefully”

Part.5<-

Ooooooooo how will Rick react??

Taglist: @carlsdarling @eiirqgi

#twd fanfiction #carl grimes series #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes smut #carl grimes fic #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes fanfiction #twd carl #carl grimes #carl grimes x you #twd fic #the walking dead series

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catscidr · 5 months

Text

natural remedy

cw: written in the third person, childe being slightly obsessive and weird, fluff and comfort to an extent. allusions to previous self-harm but nothing graphic, nonsexual intimacy includes: gn!reader, childe wc: 2,7k a/n: i wrote this a couple of months ago when i was sick and delirious and was just craving a strong russian bf (childe) to take care of me(༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ) ssoooo if this reads weird it's because i couldn't rly process my own thoughts when i wrote it out LOL. i fixed it up as best as i could but i dont wanna spend my time rewriting 5 whole pages...... posting this and then going through my inbox and Not answering asks in third person

Equipped with a backpack full of various sized logs, some berries he had managed to scavenge and a dead hare that he held by the scruff of its neck, the young man tossed his blade away, the weapon dissipating in the air as mist. Though the wind nipped at the small bits of skin he left exposed through his winter garbs, it was still enough to leave him shivering- even if he was used to the harsh winters of his homeland. The redhead had the misfortune to get caught in a scuffle with a wandering man and, though he usually reveled in any opportunity to get his hands bloody, this time he couldn’t allow himself to enjoy the bloodshed.

With his breath creating small clouds of air in front of his face and droplets of blood drying on his coat, Tartaglia had only one thing on his mind; to get back to the cabin as soon as he could. The sun was setting at a rapid pace- he looked up at the beautiful, hazy orange and pink sky and scoffed. He was still about half a mile away from the secluded cabin. He couldn’t spare any more time away from it and, with a determined scowl, picked up the pace of his strides.

Murmuring under his breath, the young man keeps on trudging through the thick snow as light began to grow sparser. All he could see was snow, dead trees and old, dried blood on top of the crystal white sheet covering the ground. Tartaglia readjusts the backpack on his back, making the straps around his torso tighter and continues his journey with an empty, quiet mind. Usually, he would walk the other way and seek out some more poor souls to fight in the tundra forest and even hunt for some more animals to bring back to his abode like a trophy, but the knowledge that his beloved was alone, ill and hungry wouldn’t let him rest and enjoy the joys of his crazed mind for even a moment.

He leaves a trail of prickles of blood behind him as he walks sluggishly through the snow. It would soon be covered by even more snow, as the snowstorm went on. Clutching onto the dead hare tightly, Tartaglia holds back the urge to mutilate the animal out of anger. Or was it frustration, or even maybe desperation? Bitterness?

No, nothing of the sort. All Tartaglia felt was a mix of disheartenment, defeat, and in some way even failure. It had been three days and his beloved’s physical state wasn’t getting any better- what was there left to do? He tried all of his mother’s home remedies that he remembered and yet they would stay bedridden, struggling to even lift their spoon up to their face to drink the warm, soothing broth. He felt powerless, like all there was left to do was to watch them wither away. It felt like the forest was closing in on him, the trees seeming taller and thicker the more he made his way through the storm. He shuddered, a shaky sigh leaving his chapped lips.

With a trembling hand he lifted his red scarf high enough to cover his nose, and tried to focus on getting home.

✧✧✧

“I’m back!” he shouts as soon as he opens the door of the cabin, doorknob hitting the wall roughly from the harsh winds whipping into the abode. Using his foot, he swiftly closes it and takes off his thick hat, soft snow falling on the wooden floorboards of the entrance. After a few moments of tinkering with the straps of the backpack, it drops to the floor with a thud and Tartaglia takes off his large boots, tossing them aside. He heads into the small kitchen area, placing the- now practically frozen- dead hare on the counter and then heads into the doorway, grabbing the backpack with a huff.

“Darling?” Tartaglia calls out, glancing at the closed door at the end of the hallway. He pauses, awaiting an answer. A million thoughts were floating in his head- was his beloved alright? Did they try to get out of bed and accidentally hit their head? They were most likely just asleep... but what if they got out and he didn’t notice because their footprints got covered by the snowfall? Were they stuck outside, cold and hungry, slowly dying as life faded from their frail body-

“Welcome back,” he hears a quiet voice say after a few seconds, right when he was about to shout again and make a beeline for the bedroom. Sighing from relief, the ginger runs a hand through his hair and grabs a handful of logs from the backpack and tosses them near the fireplace to fuel later.

He opens the bedroom door softly, peeking in at first before opening it fully, revealing the huddled form of his beloved in the blankets of their shared bed.

“How are you feeling?” the ginger asks softly, crouching to their level to brush away a few strands of hair that had fallen over their forehead. They groan, shifting to uncover their mouth from the large duvet- even just a motion as small and insignificant as moving their head was strenuous.

“Gross,” they say, voice hoarse. Tartaglia frowns but doesn’t move from his crouched position as he takes off one of his gloves, placing the back of his hand on their forehead. His brows furrow, displeasure clear on his face.

“You’re still burning up,” the ginger murmurs back. “And you’re sweating now. Have you taken your medication?” he asks.

He had been gone since early in the morning, having left to gather materials to sustain them for a bit longer while they both recuperated in the cabin. Although he wasn’t gone too long, Tartaglia had developed a habit of being overly protective of his beloved in the past few weeks. If they weren’t going to take care of themselves then he would do it for them- the fact that they got sick only further drove him to being as overbearing as he was now, so he wasn’t in the wrong for it.

“I’m too tired,” they slur, whining as they bury their face in the plush blanket once more. The fabric touching them made their skin crawl but as the uncomfortable feeling passed, they sighed contentedly.

Tartaglia clicks his tongue, displeased that they were being so uncooperative. But that wasn’t exactly unexpected- so he stands up and holds onto the corner of the blanket coddling the body in the bed below him and rips it off harshly. A startled whimper leaves their lips, and they immediately curl into themselves to preserve their (unregulated) body heat.

“You need to shower,” the ginger says with an unreadable gaze, his cerulean eyes scanning his darling’s body like a security camera would an intruder. “You sweat through the bed sheets and your shirt is sticking to your skin. Have you even gotten out of the room since I left?” he asks with a tilt of his head, seemingly not paying attention to the way his darling shivered and squirmed. They respond with a meek shake of their head, face buried in the pillow as they quiver uncomfortably because of how cold the air is in the cabin. The man says nothing in response, instead deciding to toss the duvet to the edge of the bed as he slips his arms beneath his lover’s shivering form, picking them up off the bed.

“It's good that you’re sweating your sickness away, but you still need to be clean.” he says tenderly, bringing them to the bathroom in a bridal carry. They tuck their face into the crook of Tartaglia’s neck, desperately trying to regulate their body heat- to no avail. The movement of the redhead walking was enough to bring his darling discomfort, making their skin tingle unpleasantly. Dazed and lightheaded, they don’t notice him shutting the door with his foot as he steps through the threshold of the bathroom.

Tartaglia carefully sets them down on the edge of the sink’s counter, his hands lingering against their skin for a moment.

“Strip. Your cold is gonna get worse if you stay in those sweaty clothes,” he says, bringing one hand up to stroke their hair. With a huff, they shake their head slowly, eyes cast downwards. Tartaglia frowns, sliding the hand that was in their hair down to their chin to lift their head up. The movement makes them grunt in discomfort, skin prickling unpleasantly. He sighs, heart clenching at the sight of his beloved in such a sorry state.

“I’ll run a bath for you, it’ll be nice and warm. You’ll feel much better when you get out, so just cooperate for me, yeah?” he says softly, though his brows crease in frustration that only ignited within him because he was just so worried for them. Reluctantly, they give in and nod, earning a kiss on the cheek from Tartaglia. He smiles, soft lips lingering on their skin for a second too long before turning around, crouching to turn on the bath’s tap.

The sound echoes in the bathroom, loud and overwhelming for the poor sick individual, shaky hands coming up to cover their ears. Tartaglia, still focused on trying to get the bath to be warm enough to be comforting but not too much that it’ll burn his lover, stays oblivious to the distress they were silently enduring.

When finally satisfied, he swivels around to pay attention to his darling, his calloused hands coming up to take their smaller ones away from their ears. “C’mon,” he murmured. “I’ll help you out of your clothes.”

Too weak to argue they simply nod, raising their arms as best as they could while Tartaglia grabs the hem of their shirt and lifts it up over their head. The fabric catches onto their arms, inducing in a sharp hiss from the sick individual, and Tartaglia mumbles a soft apology as he frees them from their sweaty top. The redhead notices them shivering ever so slightly; he wraps an arm around their shoulder, gently bringing them down off the counter to slip their shorts off.

“Step out of them for me,” he says quietly. Taking a wobbly step, they do just that while holding onto Tartaglia for support. He smiles, satisfied, and carefully guides them to the bath.

“I’m going to take off your underwear now, that alright?” Tartaglia asks for courtesy’s sake, holding their hand tenderly. They squeak out a quiet yeah and, without wanting to keep them out of the comfort of the bath, he rids them of their undergarments and helps them into the warm water as quickly as he can without putting too much strain on their body.

Now sat in the small porcelain tub, his beloved sighs contentedly, head leaning back to relax the strain on their weak muscles, comforting warmth engulfing their tired body. Tartaglia smiles at the sight; he quietly gets up to grab a wash rag and a bar of soap to help get his darling clean. Sitting on the floor next to the bath, he gazes at his lover’s closed eyes, love pouring out of his being. A few minutes pass of this- of Tartaglia carefully observing the peaceful expression on their face- before he speaks up again.

“Sit up, I’m going to start washing you now.” he says sternly, voice laced with concern. They shake their head stubbornly, too comfortable to move. “Baby...” he drawls, raising a brow at the attitude. “C’mon. Work with me here? Please?” he asks, lip jutting out in a pout as he watches his dear begrudgingly sit up, wincing at their muscles working overtime to do so. He smiles at that and gets the rag wet, lathering it with soap. “Thank you,” he murmurs softly, massaging their shoulders, suds beginning to form on their arm.

The redhead brings the rag down, down until he reaches their forearm which, thankfully, was out of the water without him having to ask. He sighs quietly, carefully running the washrag over the textured skin, thumb brushing over it in soothing motions.

“Feeling better?” he asks, peeling his eyes away from their arm back to their face. His eyes meet theirs, and he notices an almost disconnected expression on his lover’s face. But they nod slowly, exhaustion clear on their face though still lucid and aware enough of their surroundings. His smile falters slightly at their tired face, his hand coming down to hold theirs. Tartaglia rubs his thumb along their skin, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to their temple.

“That’s good,” he murmurs. “Can you turn around for me? I need to wash your other side,” he asks gently. Without answering verbally, they do as he asks and painstakingly turn their body, water sloshing lightly in the bathtub. The sight almost reminded Tartaglia of a newborn deer wobbling over constantly, except this time his darling was the doe. Grabbing the washcloth again, he scrubs away at their skin to get them clean and comfortable again, cloth washing away the bad bacteria. He carefully scrubs their chest, not letting his hands linger for longer than they need to.

“All done with your upper body. Could you sit on the edge of the bath, sweetheart?” Tartaglia asks just as patiently as before.

He scrubs their lower body clean, mindful of where he touched as he finally got their body clean of sweat.

“All clean, baby. Want to wash your hair too?” he asks gently, his hand lightly pushing any hair that had fallen over his beloved’s forehead. They lean into his touch, brows furrowing ever so slightly.

“No,” they respond quietly. “Can I just go back to bed?” they ask meekly, voice hoarse. Tartaglia disapproves but doesn’t argue, understanding how draining it must have been to take a bath. He leaves their side to grab a plush towel, helping them up as he wraps it around their tired body. A sigh escapes their lips as their arms hold onto the towel as best as they could to preserve warmth. Tartaglia chuckles at the cute sight, patting their head fondly.

“You can stand now, that’s good. Let’s go to the bedroom and I’ll help you get dressed, then you can sleep some more.” he says, wrapping an arm around their shoulders to help them walk should the need arise. Thankfully, they both make it to the bedroom in one piece, however Tartaglia’s beloved almost collapses on the bed, strength leaving them from walking and straining their tired muscles. Tartaglia helps them sit down, pulling the towel away as he dries them properly.

He comes back shortly after, holding a pair of underwear and one of his tee shirts. “Lift up your arms,” he says gently, pulling the shirt over their head, a shudder wracking their body as they feel the texture of the fabric brush against their bare skin. He pays no mind to it, instead helping them put on their underwear as casually and quickly as he could. When that’s done, he tosses the towel to the side and places his hands on their arms, looking down at his lover with a tender gaze.

Tartaglia doesn’t speak for a while, lost in his thoughts.

“Sure you don’t want to eat something? You must be hungry,” he says, trying to subtly persuade them to eat. They shake their head, declining, and he has to hold back the urge to sigh. He was just so damn worried- why couldn’t they let him do this for them? But he shakes those thoughts away, focusing on making them comfortable.

His beloved lays down on the bed with a quiet oof, curling in on themselves to warm themselves up. Tartaglia notices and quickly lays down in front of them, manhandling them just enough to move their position so he can hold them on the side while still able to look at them. They curl themselves against him, nuzzling themselves under his neck for warmth. He chuckles, light and airy, before pulling the sheets up over their body and tangling his legs with theirs, bringing his free hand down to caress their arm. Slowly and carefully, the redhead brings their inner wrist up to his face, kissing it softly. He hums, content, and closes his eyes.

“Goodnight love,” he says quietly, lowering their arm to a comfortable position between them and leaning forward to kiss their forehead gently as they both drift off.

#idk why i wrote this in third person i think i was a little Too out of it when i typed this out help #childe x reader #childe x you #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x you #childe x gn reader #tartaglia x gn reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #୧ ‧₊˚cat's work!

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marimbles · 8 months

Text

Ey I forgot to post this here but! I wrote a lil ladrien fic!

Word count: 3.2k

Summary:

Ladybug sniffed. “I saw through you right away. You look just like a celebrity trying to sneak past the paparazzi.”

Adrien frowned. “Well, I think I blend in better than you do. What are you supposed to be, a film noir detective on holiday?”

Or, Incognito Adrien runs into I'm-Not-Here Ladybug on the bus.

Mr. Perfect Disguise

13:38

adrienagrestbrand

HALLELUJAH! My shoot was canceled!

lahiffesbeats

oh sweet!

wait the one with Lila?

adrienagrestbrand

Yes!!!

Apparently she caught the flu

lahiffesbeats

uhh why are you so excited that lila’s sick. that’s not cool man

adrienagrestbrand

Oh um I’m not excited that she’s sick! I’m just glad to have some extra time.

One of my mom’s movies is playing at this indie cinema downtown. Want to go see it with me?

lahiffesbeats

aw man, i cant :( im watching chris

adrienagrestbrand

Maybe you could bring him?

lahiffesbeats

nah, he can’t sit still during a movie lol

maybe alya is free?

adrienagrestbrand

Uh, you don’t think that would be a bit awkward?

lahiffesbeats

why

adrienagrestbrand

I mean, Alya is great, but we never hang out with just the two of us.

lahiffesbeats

ok so ask marinette

adrienagrestbrand

I don’t think Marinette would want to go with me 😅 Last time we went to the movies together, Gorizilla showed up and it was kind of a disaster.

I think I’ll just go on my own. I’m not sure the movie would be that interesting to any of you anyway, haha.

lahiffesbeats

well i know for a fact that marinette would be 3000% down to go to literally any movie with u but ok lmao

adrienagrestbrand

What do you mean? How do you know for a fact?

lahiffesbeats

nvm

have fun dude!

adrienagrestbrand

Sorry, but would you mind covering for me? I told Gorilla I was going to study with you.

lahiffesbeats

sure thing bro. i’m honored to protect your scandalous sneaky ways

i’m proud. honestly i might tear up

adrienagrestbrand

Thanks

And shut up

Gorilla will drop me off in a few, OK? Then when the coast is clear I’ll head over to the theater

lahiffesbeats

How are you gonna get there

adrienagrestbrand

I’ll take the bus

lahiffesbeats

the bus?

mr. famous rich boy teenage heartthrob model adrien agreste is gonna take the bus

adrienagrestbrand

Yes

And shut up

lahiffesbeats

bro i hate to ask but have you ever been on a bus

like do you know how it works

adrienagrestbrand

Yes!!!!

But how hard can it be? You just get on and pay the driver and ride it, right?

Wait, do they give change back for 100€?

lahiffesbeats

probably not lol

just take my travel pass

adrienagrestbrand

Really? You’d do that?

lahiffesbeats

ofc. i’m very invested in your teenage rebellion

u can give it back tmw

adrienagrestbrand

Thanks, Nino!! You’re the best

lahiffesbeats

yeah, yeah. i know

just have ur bodydude drop u off here and i will help u turn on Incognito Mode. for maximum stealth

i will make you a kit

adrienagrestbrand

A kit?

lahiffesbeats

yee

for Operation Teenage Rebellion

just trust me

see u in a few

adrienagrestbrand

See you

— — —

“Uh, Nino, are you sure about this?”

Adrien frowned down at his outfit. Nino’s “Incognito Mode” had turned out to be a pair of sunglasses, his signature red hat, and an old denim jacket with a mysterious stain on it, which he insisted Adrien wear to hide the fact that his shirt “cost literally a million Euros, dude.” He’d even made Adrien swap out his orange Agreste-brand sneakers for pair of Nino’s old Nike slides, which were the only thing small enough to fit him.

“Have I ever led you wrong?” Nino grinned. “Just trust me.”

Adrien opened his mouth to name a time or two when Nino had, maybe, actually, led him wrong, but before he could say anything, Nino was nudging him out the door.

“Sorry, man, I really gotta get back to Chris. And you gotta get to the bus.” He shoved a plastic sack into Adrien’s hands. “Later! Keep me posted.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

Adrien peered into the bag. It contained a neon yellow sports drink, a pack of American crisps with a cartoon cheetah on them, and a plastic blue card, which he assumed was Nino’s transit pass.

The bus would arrive in just a few minutes. Adrien hurried down the steps of Nino’s building and jogged to the corner to wait.

Soon, the bus rolled to a stop in front of him. He climbed aboard, pulling Nino’s hat lower over his eyes. The woman in front of him drew a ticket from her pocket.

“Oh—shoot.” Adrien reached into the bag and grabbed the blue card. The plastic rustled loudly. Blushing, he tapped the plastic card on the reader with a beep.

There was photo of Nino on the back of the card. Adrien’s hand shot back. He glanced up nervously at the bus driver, who was busy adjusting his mirror. Adrien’s muscles relaxed.

He followed the woman into the aisle. At this time of day, it was a crowded ride—standing room only. He squeezed through to an empty space next to a girl in a sunhat, pulling out his phone.

adrienagrestbrand

Why didn’t you tell me your transit card is also an ID??

lahiffesbeats

eh, they never check

how is operation teenage rebellion going

adrienagrestbrand

Well, I’m on the bus, at least.

lahiffesbeats

:’) proud of you, bud. my little rebel bro. breaking the law and everything

adrienagrestbrand

Wait, using someone else’s travel pass is illegal???

Before Adrien had a chance to fixate on the horror of his father bailing him out of jail (in this outfit), the bus took off with a lurch. He stumbled forward, nearly dropping his phone and treading on the toes of the girl in the hat.

“Sorry,” he said with a wince. So much for staying inconspicuous. He reached out and gripped one of the metal handlebars, tucking his other hand into his pocket. His fingers found his Marinette lucky charm, rolling the beads between his fingers.

“Oh, um, it’s fine!” The girl ducked her head. “It’s not a problem.”

Adrien blinked. There was something familiar about her. And something strange. Maybe it was the dark trenchcoat, which looked too heavy for the mild weather. Or maybe it was her wide-brimmed hat, more suitable for a beach than a crowded city bus.

He glanced down at her black leather gloves. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she was trying to hide, just like him.

The bus rounded a corner, and despite his hold on the bar, Adrien staggered to the side. His free hand was thrown out wildly to try to keep his balance, and he nearly hit the girl on the nose.

“Sorry! Sorry,” he said quickly, scrambling back into place. His neck burned underneath the collar of his jacket.

“Don’t worry about it,” the girl mumbled.

Adrien shoved his hand back into his pocket and froze. His lucky charm was missing.

He scanned the floor and spotted it next to the girl’s boot.

“Um, excuse me, miss,” he said. “Would you mind handing me that? I dropped it.”

The girl peered down where he was pointing, face still hidden from view. Then she seemed to stiffen, frozen in place as she stared at the charm.

“Um, miss?”

She scooped it up and held it out to him, head bowed. “Here you go.”

“Thank y—” he started to say, but the words got lost on their way out. The girl’s hand was still outstretched, and he stared at the gap between her sleeve and her glove.

It was bright red, with a black spot.

The bus hissed to a stop. People clamored to their feet.

“Ladybug?” he whispered.

Her head snapped up. He caught a glimpse of her wide eyes through a pair of oversized sunglasses. Then she shot to her feet and pushed past him.

“Wait!” he called. He stumbled after her, down the steps and out the door. “Wait, please!”

She didn’t turn around. Just strode quickly down the street, the brim of her hat flopping with each step.

He broke into a jog and to catch up with her. “Ladybug!”

“I’m not—uh—who’s Ladybug?” She let out a breathless laugh. “Or, I mean, of course I’m not Ladybug. Why would you think that?”

“I, uh, saw your suit. Could you stop for a second?”

“No! I have to ca—I have … important business to attend to.”

“Um, before you do that, would you mind giving me back my lucky charm?”

She came to a halt, and he almost ran into her.

“Right,” she said quickly. “Here you go.”

She shoved the charm at him—he had to fumble not to drop it—and kept walking. But Adrien wasn’t willing to lose her that fast.

“What kind of business?” he asked quickly, dropping the charm into his plastic sack.

“Superhero business. Top secret.”

“Well, if it’s superhero stuff, then, um … why isn’t Chat Noir here too?”

“Because! It’s not—he isn’t—” She let out a little huff. “Because he wouldn’t get it. I have to do this alone.”

“I don’t think you ever have to do anything alone,” Adrien said. “Maybe he would get it if you explained.”

Finally, she stopped. Even with the double layer of her mask and her sunglasses, he could feel the weight of her gaze. “Why are you following me, Adrien?”

He blinked. “I … I didn’t realize you’d recognized me.”

“Well, um, that disguise isn’t very good.”

“It’s not?” He glanced down, suddenly feeling very self-conscious of the stained jacket and open-toed shoes. There was even a hole in the toe of his sock—Plagg kept stealing all of his good ones, and he always forgot to ask Nathalie for more.

Ladybug sniffed. “Not for me, anyway. I saw through you right away. You look just like a celebrity trying to sneak past the paparazzi.”

Adrien frowned. “Well, I think I blend in better than you do. What are you supposed to be, a film noir detective on holiday?”

Ladybug stiffened, and Adrien’s stomach dropped. He’d done it again. He’d let a stupid joke fall out of his stupid mouth, and now his lady was upset with him—this time, with Adrien him.

But Ladybug didn’t scoff, or cross her arms, or do any of the things she usually did when she didn’t like his jokes. Instead, she groaned, flattening the sides of her big, floppy hat to her head.

“This is so embarrassing,” she muttered. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“It’s—it’s not that bad,” Adrien tried, but Ladybug just buried her face in her hands.

“Ugh! This stupid suit!” Her head snapped up. “If you have any better suggestions, Mr. Perfect Disguise, I’m all ears.”

“You could just … detransform?”

She froze again, and before she could say anything, he went on in a rush.

“I mean, if you don’t want to be noticed, couldn’t you just take the bus as, like, yourself? And then just transform when you get to wherever you’re going? That would draw less attention. Unless, by chance, you daylight as a circus clown.”

He laughed awkwardly, mentally kicking himself for cracking another bad joke. But to his surprise, she laughed too.

“Nope,” she said. “That’s Chat Noir’s civilian identity. I’m just a normal girl with a normal life.”

He clung to the echo of her laugh, letting it fill him up with a hesitant sort of confidence he couldn’t resist testing.

“Aw, come on, mila—Ladybug,” he dared to say. “I’m sure there is nothing about you that isn’t special. Spots or no spots.”

“You’re wrong. I’m super normal. The normalest.”

“No way.

“Yes way! I bet—” She seemed to hesitate. “I bet I could sit behind you at school and you wouldn’t even notice me.”

“Lies,” Adrien said. “I would definitely notice.”

“Right. Well … um, wow, would you look at the time!” She let out a nervous laugh, glancing down at an invisible watch on her wrist. “I’d better be off. It was nice to love you, Adrien—I mean, nice to see you. Bug out!”

She spun on her heel, and without his permission, his hand shot out to stop her.

“Um,” he said, “do you—I mean … well, I still don’t get why you’re in disguise. Do you need help with something?”

“No! I mean, thanks, that’s okay, but I really need to … oh.” Her voice trailed off, mouth falling open.

“What is it?”

“I was going somewhere, but I guess now I don’t … need to.”

“What do you mean?”

She held his gaze, biting her lip, and then released a breath, her words spilling out in a rush. “I heard you and Lila were gonna have a photoshoot today, so I was going over there to, like, stake it out and stop her from whatever terrible thing she was planning. But I was worried that if I wasn’t suited up already I’d have to find a place to transform and that could take forever because do you even know how hard it is to find a decent hiding place in one of the biggest cities in Europe?”

“Well—”

“And by the time I hid and transformed and got back, who knows what kind of damage she could’ve done? So I was like, ‘Okay, I’ll just have to suit up beforehand so I’m ready for action at a moment’s notice.’ But there really isn’t much that can cover a whole supersuit, so I stole—borrowed—my mom’s coat and the hat she bought for her trip to Côte d'Azur last year because, I mean, she literally never wears it, and I was gonna put it right back when I was done, and I couldn’t use any of my hats because they don’t have a big enough brim to hide my mask. Because, like, even with sunglasses on you can still see it, so I thought I could just kind of, like, bow my head and it would be fine—”

“Ladybug—”

“—and of course Tik—my friend told me it wasn’t a good idea, but I just couldn’t let anything happen because I’m the only one who knows what Lila’s capable of. So I’m the only one who can stop her.”

At last, Ladybug paused, breathing heavily, looking flushed beneath her mask.

“This is about Lila?” Adrien asked. “What were you afraid she was gonna do?”

She was definitely blushing now, pink spilling out from under all her layers of disguise. “Well—I don’t know! She would think of something! She’s a liar. Or—I mean …” She breathed in, closing her eyes briefly. “She is at high risk for akumatization. Or getting others akumatized.”

Adrien nodded. “I know.”

“You—you do?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I thought you did, at one point, but then you started doing all these photoshoots with her, and you guys seem pretty … friendly.” She made a face at the word, like it was something slimy and poisonous. “I mean, like, being all cuddly and couple-y and—like, if you’re dating Lila, that’s … that’s fine, I just have to, um, warn you that—”

“We’re not dating,” Adrien cut in. “We’re not even friends.”

“You’re not?”

“No,” he said firmly. “The photoshoots are my father’s idea, and I kind of let Lila do what she wants with them because, well, I made a deal with her.”

Ladybug frowned. “What kind of deal?”

“I told her I would do the shoots with her if she’d leave my friend Marinette alone. Lila got her expelled from school temporarily. She almost got her akumatized. It was terrible.”

“You … you did that?” Ladybug asked, sounding strangely distant. “You did that for Marinette?”

Adrien nodded. “She’s really important to me. I couldn’t let anything else happen to her. I mean, I hate having to hang around Lila and pretend to be her friend, but”—he shrugged—“it’s worth it. To keep Marinette safe.”

Ladybug appeared to be in some kind of daze. She wandered to the edge of the walkway, sinking down onto a bench.

“Is something wrong?” Adrien asked.

She shook her head slowly, taking in a deep breath. “That’s, um, really nice of you, Adrien.” A pause. “You’re a good friend.”

He sat down beside her. “You know Marinette, right?”

“Yeah,” Ladybug said. “Yeah, I know her.”

“Then please don’t tell her about this. I don’t want her to feel guilty or anything. She has enough on her plate already. She does so much, and she cares about people more than anyone I know, and I don’t want this to be one more thing for her to worry about, you know?”

“Right.”

Adrien pulled his lucky charm from the sack. “She’s the one who gave this to me. Maybe it’s silly, but I feel like it brings me good luck. I always carry it with me wherever I go. My Marinette lucky charm.”

“That’s …” She looked down, hiding her face under the brim of her hat. “That’s really sweet.”

“Maybe … maybe this is what made me run into you today. At least, I feel like it’s good luck to see you.” He paused, smile faltering. “But maybe it wasn’t so lucky for you that I, like, chased you down. Sorry about that.”

She raised her head. “No! I’m really glad we ran into each other. Maybe that thing is lucky after all.”

“But you don’t need luck anyway, huh? You’re Ladybug.”

She laughed, and for the first time, she leaned her head back, lifting her face to the sky. “Trust me. I need all the luck I can get.”

For a moment, they just sat there, watching the people passing by. It was strange, to sit side by side like this with Ladybug—exactly like he’d done a thousand times before, but nothing was the same. A bench instead of a rooftop. The street instead of the sky. And Paris, bustling all around them, instead of twinkling from below.

He liked it like this. (He liked it any way, with her.)

“So,” she said, “were you not actually supposed to have a photoshoot today?”

“I was, but it was canceled.”

“Oh? Why?”

“Because Lila has a huge zit.”

Ladybug’s eyes widened, and then she snorted as her face crumpled with laughter.

“I’m serious,” Adrien went on. “It’s enormous. Like, a category 5 disaster event.”

“You’re lying! They’d just cover it with makeup.”

“You can’t cover a geographical landmark with makeup,” Adrien said gravely.

Ladybug doubled over, clutching her sides as she howled. He laughed with her, feeling almost weightless with the thrill of it. He was laughing with his lady, without his mask. He’d made her laugh, and she knew it was him, and when she lifted her head again, the smile on her face (big, bright, beautiful, brilliant) was for him, Adrien Agreste, and no one else.

Finally, Ladybug straightened, nudging her sunglasses up on her nose to wipe at her eye.

“Wanna go out with me?” Adrien blurted.

She froze. “What?”

“I mean—sorry!” Adrien shook his head quickly. “I was on my way to a movie. And since you’re free now, and you’ve already got your disguise, I thought maybe you’d want to … come with me? Or—or not! I don’t mean to presume any—”

“Yes,” she said.

“Wait. Really?”

“Yes, I’d, um …” She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’d love to go with you.”

Warmth shot through him like a firecracker, and he felt his face split into a grin. “Great. I’ve always wanted to see a movie with Beach Vibes Sherlock Holmes.”

She laughed. “Lead the way, Mr. Perfect Disguise.”

#ml #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #ladrien #ml fanfics #mine #my fics

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discount-shades · 10 months

Text

Dead or Alive Chapter 3

Chapter 3 The Wild Bunch

A/N: Gold stars are still going out to people who get the references.

Pairing: Jake Seresin/Reader

Warning: Western themed violence. Talk of prostitution

Word Count: 2100 ish

Summary: They finally make it to Penny’s

Previous Masterlist Next

The squawk of birds and the angry chatter of a squirrel bring you back to the land of consciousness and you find Jake's arms around you. In the night you had both rolled over. Your head is tucked into his chest and you are using his arm as a pillow. His other hand was pressed against your lower back, flattening your body to his. Slowly you retract the arm you had wrapped around him.

He is still sleeping so you carefully move away. With his face relaxed he looks younger than he does when he is constantly scowling at you. The lines on his face are softer and you know if he were to open his eyes they would be piercing green. Taking care not to wake him you slip out from under the blanket and quickly dress. The petticoats and dress are still a little damp but will soon dry.

Slipping out of the tent you stretch in the morning sun. The wood you had gathered last night is dry under your tree so you set to work lighting a fire. Jet is grazing in the sun, turned sideways so the sun can warm him in the cool morning air. Shivering you gather water for the morning coffee.

The fire is burning well and coals are starting to form when Jake finally emerges from the tent. He is carrying his chaps and holstered pistols as he stretches and you rake your eyes down his lean form. He walks over and drops a bag of coffee grounds on your lap and you quickly set about getting a pot going. The peaceful expression he wore while sleeping is replaced with a squinty eyed grimace.

Jake sits on the ground beside you and silently hands out breakfast, more hardtack and jerky, but you have no room for complaints.

“How many days to get where we are going?” You ask between sips of coffee out of the bowl he had lent you.

“We should be there tonight.” Jake looks at you over the hard tack he is dunking in his coffee. “Then you can start to think about how you are going to buy me a new hat.”

Your mood immediately sours. “I said I would buy you a new one. Quit bringing it up.”

“It was a Stetson.” His voice has a superiority to it and you scowl.

“It's still just a hat.”

“It was $25.” You choke on your coffee at the price. “I expect one of similar value.”

“I call bullshit!” The look he gives you is condescending with his stupid pretty green eyes and smug grin. “You just want me to buy you an expensive hat!”

“I think $25 to replace the hat I lost while saving your life is a fair exchange.” The fire flickers as you pick up a stick and angrily begin poking at the coals. There is nothing you can say to that. The man did save your life and until you can replace his hat you will be in his debt. A flutter of anxiety settles in your stomach at owing someone something and the powerless feeling it gives you.

You finish eating and pack up in silence. Jake mounts first and helps you mount up behind him. The bedroll is folded rather than rolled to give you more of a seat than yesterday and when you thank Jake he just grunts.

“It’s easier on Jets back.” He says after a few minutes down the trail.

“He’s such a calm horse.” You reach behind you and pat Jet on the rump. “You’re a good boy, Jet!” The horse doesn't even flick an ear and just carries on down the path.

“You didn’t know that when you jumped on his back.” At Jake’s snide remark you roll your eyes, already sick of being stuck with the man. “He could have been green. You didn’t know.”

“I didn’t have a lot of options.” Your voice is clipped.

“He could have reared.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t.” What is he going to get mad at you for next? It feels like no matter what you do or did there is something for Jake to be angry about.

“But what if he did? What if we both fell off?”

You sigh in defeat, your forehead hitting his back as you bow your head. “I’m not playing the ‘what if’ game with you, Jake.”

– – –

Jake groans internally, he can't explain how every conversation he has with you ends in an argument. He had been trying to be nicer but that seems to end the minute he opens his mouth. He had folded the bedroll and packed the saddle bags in a way to give you a more comfortable ride. Why couldn't he have just admitted it to you? It was better for Jet but he did it with you in mind.

“Hang on, we're going to a canter.” At the warning he feels your hands wrap around him and he revels in the feel of your chest pressing into his back before his nudges Jet into a gentle canter down the trail. The sooner they got to Penny’s the better.

– – –

Dusk is falling when you finally arrive at your destination. You are not sure what you expected, but it is not that. The Hard Deck sits on the edge of town and is a combination of a saloon, hotel, boarding house, and brothel, all catering to the less upstanding of travelers.

Jake takes Jet to a stable out back and unsaddles him for the night. You stand quietly by his side, watching, and follow him meekly into the saloon entrance. All the confidence you had earlier escapes you.

There is a man plinking away on a piano and you can see some dance hall girls with their scandalously short, calf length, skirts dancing with some men. Some of the girls are sitting in men's laps while they play poker or talk with friends. You hesitate to call them women. You have been in their position before and know that most aged out of the profession in their late teens. If they didn’t marry soon, most would transition into prostitution like you had, and that only lasted so long as well.

Your heart is thudding in your chest as Jake nods to the bartender and leads you through the back door. The tightness in your chest eases at the sight of Bradley and Pete along with the others who had been part of the rescue. You and Jake are the last to arrive and at your entrance a cheer goes up.

“Hangman!” Bradley slurs, holding up a glass of whiskey. “You made it!” When he gets up to give you a hug Jake pushes him away from you. You frown at Jake, wondering where this new found protective streak came from.

“Sit down, Rooster, you’re drunk.”

Bradley just cackles. “One night together and already won’t let anyone touch her!” He turns to you from where he is flopped in his chair. “I’m glad you made it.”

“Yeah me too,” a grin spreads across your face as you ignore his first comment. “I’m even happier I met you guys when I did.” You glance around at all the faces and Pete introduces everybody.

“Come with me.” Penny, the owner, takes your hand and leads you up a set of stairs to a room. The room is small with a table and chairs crowded into it and a bed big enough for two. Memories of a past you would like to forget cloud your mind and you feel panic set in. Your panicked expression shows in the cloudy mirror above a small vanity.

“How much does it cost?” The room is simple but you are already $25 in debt, if Jake is to be believed, and you have no money to your name. “I don’t have any money.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“If you want to go downstairs and bring someone up to make some money, I take 50% of anything you earn. I cover the room, two meals a day, and the weekly doctor visit.” She surveys you knowingly, It’s always easy to spot people in the business. It's a big cut for a madam to take but with her covering the other expenses it’s fair. You feel hollow, shattered at the prospect of going back to what you did not want to do.

There is a long pause as you stare around the room. “If you are with the Daggers it’s free and I take a cut out of the jobs they pull.” She cocks her head to the side observing you. “Pete said to give you a few weeks to figure out what you are going to do.” She lays a motherly hand on your shoulder. “There is a bath downstairs with hot water on demand. I’ll lend you some clothes and send one of the boys up with some food when you are done. You don’t have to decide anything tonight, we’ll talk more in the morning.”

Penny is kind enough to give you some soap as well and you quickly wash weeks of grime from your body. The hot water is heavenly and soothes your aching muscles from riding. You even use the soap on your hair despite the fact that it will dry out the strands.

When your skin is tingling from the scrubbing you leave the tub and dress in the borrowed clothes. They don’t fit quite right but it is close enough until you are able to wash your own. You head back to the room Penny had shown you.

Maybe Penny needed a cook, or a maid. You could do laundry as well. None of those would pay well enough to get you out of debt with Jake. You could return to pickpocketing, you used to be really good at it. Penny wouldn't want you robbing clients but it's a decent sized town, a small city really. Within a few weeks you could steal enough to buy Jake another stupid Stetson. There might even be the chance you could get a real job.

– – –

Jake volunteers to bring you your dinner. He fidgets in the doorway outside of the kitchen waiting for you to finish your bath. Eventually he grabs a bowl of Penny’s stew and carefully carries it up the stairs. He has to talk to you. “I don’t have your hat yet.” There is exhaustion in your voice when you open the door.

“That’s not why I’m here, Sugar.” He pauses while pushing past you to inhale the faint scent of lavender coming off of your skin. When you scowl at him he sets the bowl down on the table before taking a seat in the other chair. “Eat.” You scoff at the order but dig in, eyes widening at the taste. Penny always has good food.

“I overheard you and Penny talking about you being a working girl here.” He can see your muscles tense and your face harden.

“I’m not giving you a discount, In fact you couldn’t afford the asshole tax I’d charge.” There is no trace of humor on your face. “And I’m not going to ‘work off’ the cost of your stupid hat.”

“No, that’s not what I…” Jake groans and buries his face in his hands. Every time he talks to you he feels like he either puts his foot in his mouth or gets mad at you. He can’t recall one civil conversation between the two of you.

“I wanted to tell you that you don’t have to do something like that just to get me a new hat, the hat can wait.” He wants to reach across the table and grab your hands but he doesn’t know how you would respond.

“Oh.” He watches you spin the spoon in your hand, deep in thought, before you go back to eating.

“I still want a new hat.” He clarifies and you roll your eyes. He sees the hint of a smile on your lips and feels unreasonably happy he put it there.

“Know anybody who is hiring?” He shrugs at your question.

“I don't. But Mav is always looking for leads so if you know of any jobs let him know.” Jake leans back, rocking the chair back on two legs. “He pays for information and if you help work the job you’ll get a cut of the take.”

You hum in thought before stretching your foot out and kicking the front leg of his chair. He lurches forward to keep himself from falling over backwards and crashing to the ground.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you ‘four on the floor?’” He can see the hint of a grin hiding behind your innocent expression and can’t help the laugh that escapes him.

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