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leewritesstuff · 3 years

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Keeping Up With The Hollands | 02

Summary: You and Tom were offered to document your life since you are both famous in the entertainment industry. Now as you got older you left the entertainment industry and head for the medical field. How difficult can it be? Also, did I mention that you have kids?

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Series Masterlist

VIDEO: The Return of Superman (Triplets Special)

WORDS: 3.0K

WARNING: [ narrator thoughts/edit ] , {scene switch/confession}

Was supposed to be uploaded yesterday but because Tumblr was being an ass, it deleted 2K OF THE FUCKING WORDS. Had to start over.

[ 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 + 1 (adult)]

Tom got off the bed and sat in the middle, watching his four boys sleep. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he leans down and gave each of the boys a kiss.

"They're angels when they're asleep, but once they get up its chaos.."

He heads straight to the kitchen to prepare their breakfast, wasting no time. He stood in front of the fridge trying to figure out what they could eat. He decided on simple eggs and sausage.

{switch}

In the other room, whines could be heard, Tom heard the noise and enters the room quietly, trying not to wake the others

"Pa, Pa!"

He picked up the boy, give his cheeks a kiss and head to the kitchen.

"Where is Maxton?" Tom asked making the child smile.

"Here"

{switch}

Maxton Rolland Holland: 27 months old

Youngest of the four

The shyiest but artistic one out of the group. Can always be found painting or drawing.

"Here, here I am. Pa"

Max notices the camera in the house, watching them with a curious gaze. He poked his father's back, trying to gain his attention.

"What's that?" He questions, Tom looks around and smiled at what he was pointing at. "Not sure bub, what do you think it is?"

"Dinosaur~"

Tom laughed at that, he put the boy down and watched as he runs to the camera, he watched as Max licked the camera, "Oi, don't lick that. It's not to eat"

Nodding towards his father, he went to poke it instead. Maxton was amazed by the camera.

[ There are so many dinosaurs...]

Max went to the other end of the room and played with the other set of 'dinosaurs'. When the camera moved, Maxton froze, wondering if he was seeing things. He was surprised. He carefully studies the 'dinosaur' He moved around and watched as the camera moves with him.

Feeling a bit scared, he goes to the joint kitchen, to stay with his father. He goes to his high chair and climbs on it. He watched as Tom prepares the food.

"You hungry?"

"Yes"

As Tom scrambles the egg, Max started singing, "Food, food, food, food~"

{switch}

Hearing Maxton's loud singing, Chase got up from his sleep. He sat on the bed, watching the room.

Chase Spencer Holland: 27 Months old

Eldest of the four

The most bold and athletic one out of the four.

Tom came into the room and picked him up, giving him a good morning kiss on his cheeks. "Chase is up"

He carried the boy to the living room watching as Maxton run past him. Chase grabbed the vacuum cleaner from the living room and handed it to his father, he jumped when Tom put it on.

"Let's catch Chase," Tom said as he ran around trying to catch the boy with the vacuum. The loud screams woke up Edward who was now standing by the fence. Realizing that no one is paying attention to him, he shakes up the fence making even more noise.

"Papa! Papa! Papa, open!" Tom quickly goes to the fence and open it, releasing the boy.

Edward Hunter Holland: 27 Months Old

The second child of the four.

The strongest and musical one.

He watched as Edward runs to the camera. Being the mischievous boy he is, he knocked on the camera lens.

"Hey, hey! No. Don't do that" He cheekily smiled at Tom then ran away.

{switch/confession}

"I'm really not sure how Y/N did it...it's only 7:30 and I'm tired"

{switch}

Hearing Tom's yell woke up the last sleeping child. Jacob walked quietly to the fence and stood there watching everyone playing.

Jacob Jaxton Holland: 27 months old

The third child of the four.

The outgoing one, always ready to talk to people.

He watched as his father ignores him and goes into the kitchen.

[ Someone notice me please... ]

Chase, while he was walking he notices his other brother behind the fence. He runs into the kitchen and grabs Tom's attention. He grabbed his hands and carried him to the fence.

"Ah, sorry. I told you to let me know if you're up okay?"

Tom grabbed his four children and carried them to the kitchen so that they could have their breakfast.

After eating, Tom tried brushing the boy's teeth, keyword tried. Maxton and Jake didn't like brushing their teeth. Tom had to lock Maxton between his legs, trapping the boy in order to brush his teeth.

When the boys were dressed, Tom heads into the kitchen to clean up the mess they had made. his room to change into his outwear. While he was doing that, Chase, Ed, Jake, and Max was in the other room playing with their toys. Chase and Jake were in the corner playing with the building blocks while Maxton was in the folding mat laying down. Edward, being the mischievous one, took the end of the mat and flipped it over, turning Maxton over. He then stands on top of the mat, crushing his brother.

Hearing Maxton cry, Tom enters the room and frowns at the scene. He grabbed Edward's hand and pulled him off of the mat, then with his free hand, he went to pick up the crying child.

"Ed, Ed. Stop picking on your little brother. Go hug him, now" Seeing that the boy didn't want to listen, he pushed the two boys together, trying to make them hug. That made Ed cry, not wanting to cooperate, Tom took him into the other room, excluding him from the playroom and put him in the corner.

"Listen. you can not be bullying your little brother. That's not what brothers do. You wouldn't like someone doing that to you right?"

"N-No..."

"Good, now I want you to go inside and say you're sorry" Nodding his head, Ed grabbed Tom's hand and they both head back to the playroom. Tom watched as Ed runs up to his brother and hugs him. Maxton being the soft one out of the four, returned the hug and kissed his brother.

Before closing the gate, Tom turned towards his sons and said. "Don't fight okay?"

Jake slide halfway on the slide while Chase pushed the toy slide, showing off how 'strong' he is. Maxton goes to the corner to play with the stuffed bears they had. Ed was in the corner, playing with the building blocks.

Chase climbs up on the steps of the slide and plays with the buttons on the walls. Jake noticing came and asked him what he was doing but he was ignored. His eyes widen when he saw that Chase was playing with the remote.

"Put it back" Ignoring his brother, Chase kept on playing with the remote. Having enough, Jake climbs the steps and grabs the remote from his brother. Not liking that, Chase grabbed it back which started an argument between the two. Ed watches the two play with the remote.

"You'll get hurt, put it back!" But Chase ignored his brother's second warning. Maxton came over, holding one of the stuffed toys in his hand, climbs the steps, and stood with his other two brothers.

"Bad boy. No no"

Feeling anxious at how quiet the room is, Tom went to check on them. When he saw what they were doing he yelled

"Hey, hey, hey, hey! What are you doing?" The three boys froze, not expecting their dad to come in. "You naughty boys!" Tom pushed back the slide to the corner of the room.

After putting on the other three hat's Tom was feeling frustrated with his second oldest. Ed thought his father was playing with him, so every time Tom would try to put the hat on his head, the boy would move, giggling. Having enough, Tom put the boy flat on the ground and strap him down, locking him, he raised the boy's head and slipped the hat on. Feeling satisfied, he got up, grabbed all of their hands, and headed out the door. They followed their father like little ducklings outside towards their vehicle.

Tom walks out of the house rolling the car train with, Chase, Ed, Jake, and Max on it. He sat on the bike and peddle his way.

"Wow, this is a good workout!" He exclaimed peddling around the neighborhood, he talked about the colours of the grass and the different types of cars.

Tom put all four of his kids in the toy train seats, in order of Chase, Ed, Jake then Max, then he put himself on the bike and peddles away.

As he peddles, he was showing them the different types of objects around the area. Everyone was mostly hearing the yells of Jake and Edward.

{confessions}

"Since I'm an actor and I would need to be um fit for the roles, I'd need to go to the gym, but I have four kids, and it would be difficult trying to take them to the gym, plus it isn't safe, so I had to find another method. This seems to be easier."

{switch}

Tom peddles quickly, feeling the breeze dry his sweaty forehead. He peddles by a bridge that's connected to the park, he slowly rolled up on the bridge then went down quickly, hearing the joyful screams coming from the back.

"Again! Again!" He turned and looked at Ed who had his hands in the air, smiling at the boy he turns around and peddles back on the bridge but this time feeling the pain, panting loudly. His action was gaining people's attention.

Soon they made it inside the park where the bathing fountain was located. He takes out three of the boys and removed their helmets, then handing them a ball to play with. A few fans walked up to him and asked if they could get an autograph.

Chase quickly takes the ball out of his brother, Jack's hand, and runs to the fountain, loving the feeling of the water on his back. Runs Ed and Jack following after.

When he takes out Maxton, he realizes that the boy's diapers were full, "Oh my god, seriously?" He holds the boy and grabbed the diaper bag and heads to the male's washroom.

While he was changing Maxton, Jake ended up wandering off on his own. Chase somehow removed his clothes and was bathing naked, Ed, who didn't want to get wet, came over, trying to sheld his brother's nudity from people.

While Jake was wondering, he ended up talking to a few people, making him laugh at how cheerful and energetic he was, but because of his socializing, he got himself lost.

"Pa?" He questions, he walks to a tent filled with people to see if he was there but got sad when he wasn't, he counties looking around for him.

Tom came out with his youngest son, he looked around as to where his other sons were. He found Chase and Ed together, he quickly grabbed the boy, trying to cover him. When he realized that one of his children was missing he started yelling. "Jake!"

The said boy heard his name and came running towards his father, he fell but got back up and kept running. Seeing his son running, Tom, (also holding Chase) ran to the child, he grabbed him and carry the two back to where they originally were.

He put Jake down who went by Max and started playing, he put Chase on his lap, trying to put on the boy's pants for him. "Keep your clothes on" Nodding his head, he gave his father a cheeky smile.

He put the boy down and took off his socks and shoes he went by Ed who was standing on the side, grabbed the boy and carried him to the fountain, realizing that his son was scared of the fountain, he tried his best to make him feel safe.

He goes and picks up, Chase, the trio were playing until Max came, wanting to be picked up as well, Tom feeling unsure, although he struggled, he picked up the three boys. Then Jake came to him, "You want a lift?"

Nodding his head, he made grabby hands at his dad. Feeling Chase move to his back, Tom picked up Jake amazing everyone around him, started taking pictures of the family.

After a while, it was time to change. Tom took off Maxton's shirt while he was doing that, he noticed that Jake wasn't there. "Jake! Jake!"

The camera switches to the boy, holding a ball running to the girl's washroom. He watched the girl's smiling at them, he smiled back. While changing Max, Chase decided to follow his little brother. They both entertain into the girl's washroom, smiling and talking to them.

Max was changed, then Tom quickly went and change Ed, after changing him, he straps the two on the train then heads off to find his other sons.

"Chase! Jake! God these two will get me old quick. Chase! Jake!"

When the two saw their dad running towards them, they went back into the girls' washroom but were stopped by one of the mothers. Tom thanked them and walked away with his sons, trying to change them as quickly as he can.

After having lunch in a restaurant Tom took his ducklings home and changed them for the evening. Night came and it was almost their bedtime. In the playroom, Tom took out a toy goal post

"Okay so this is a goal post, you kick the ball in it" Ed took the ball and push it in the goal post, screaming happily.

Tom chuckled at the boy's silliness, "No Ed, that's not how you do it bub"

[Tom tries to show them how to play football, for the first time]

He took the ball and ut his foot on it. "You don't use your hands, you use your feet, now look at daddy" Tom starts to dribble the ball "I'm dribbling the ball. Gosh, it's been a while." But he notices his sons weren't paying attention, instead, they were more paying with the goal post and spare ball. When he did try to get their attention, he tried to shoot in the goal post.

He failed.

The only one who really understood the game was Chase since he kicked the ball and it went in the goal post. He patted the boy on his head, then he watched as Max and Ed push the ball in the goal post.

Feeling tired, Tom laid on the ground trying to take a small rest, but that was soon ended when Ed throws himself on his dad's stomach. He covered his head when Jake went to sit on his face. "You guys are hurting daddy, he needs his face"

Feeling a bit annoyed, Jake and Ed went to the camera dinosaur.

[If you won't play with us the dinosaur will]

Max laid his body on Tom's chest, slowly falling asleep to the breathing of his heart. He got up slowly and put Max into his bed, he picked the other three boys from the ground and carried them to their room.

Tom goes to call his wife girlfriend on the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi love"

"How was it? Taking care of them I mean?"

"Ah it was decent, good actually"

"Tom..."

"Alright, so it was a bit difficult but we had a good day today, we went bike riding."

"Okay, is that all?"

"No, you know the park with the fountain? Chase seemed to love it too much. We gotta get that boy to keep his clothes on" You laughed at that, already imgaining Chase running around in public naked.

"Ed didn't like it at all, kept screaming. Jake made a few friends today. Maxton mostly made mud pies for me."

"Really? I expected Ed to be the one to love it, huh."

"I know. I was really shocked."

"Did you put the waterproof diapers on them?" Tom's eyes widen at that.

"What?"

"I bought waterproof diapers to use in the pool."

"That's a thing?!"

"Yes Tom, I told you this before. If you wanted to take them to the pool you could use-don't tell me you use regular diapers?!"

When you didn't hear anything you laughed at him, not surprised that Tom would do this.

"Okay well, next time use them. Hey, I have work for 7. I love you alright?"

"Love you too, sleep well, bye" He hangs up the phone and stared at the picture on his phone screen.

{confession}

"I'm honestly amazed at my wife. When we found out that she was having quadruplets, the doctor strongly suggested that it would be good for both my wife and the babies...if we let two of them go. It was hard. They said it would pressure her heart if she didn't. I couldn't tell her no but.. I didn't want to lose any of them. She said she was going full out, that she wasn't going to give up, so one day I came home, I think we had a month or so left and she was standing there crying. Full-on tears. So I asked her what's wrong and she goes 'It hurts to walk' So..."

Tom had tears in his eyes, he wiped them and continued "I had to pick her up. We cried together. In the car. She was in so much pain, her legs and face were swollen...so many unexpected things happen, I kept asking the nurses if she was going to be alright. They were born a few weeks later, they didn't need to go into this incubator. I'm so proud of my girlfriend. I hope later on I could call her Mrs. Holland" He let out a laugh and smiled at the camera.

T A G L I S T

@webmeupspiderdaddy @runawayolives @nerdy-collector-festival @hopelessromm @bi-lmg @speedyhandsbonkpalace

(If you see this then I couldn't tag you)

Want to be added? Then message me!

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #x reader #tom holland angst #tom holland masterlist #masterlist #fanfiction #pregnant #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland #dad tom holland x reader

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flightlessangelwings · 4 years

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The Interlude: A Marcus Pike Love Story

Chapter 1/7 (complete, more in masterlist, story also tagged)

Marcus Pike x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Tags/warnings: none right now really, no use of y/n, reader’s bf is a douche (it’s not Marcus don’t worry), Marcus is a sweetheart, pining, romance, fluff

I was nervous about this, but @tintinwrites “gently nudged” me into writing this ;)

Marcus Pike couldn’t believe how quickly six months went by since he moved to DC for his new job. He buried himself in his work to deal with his heartbreak over Lisbon, which actually did help. It didn’t give him the time to stay stuck inside his own head and as a result, he had never been more successful in his job. Marcus didn’t even entertain the idea of going on a date or anything, and instead chose to be married to his work.

However, the case he was currently on hit a roadblock. Marcus and his team had been after a prominent art thief for weeks now and they didn’t have a single solid lead. The guy was so elusive that they didn’t even know exactly what he looked like. Somehow, the thief always managed to avoid cameras or any other type of identifier, and it frustrated the hell out of the art theft team.

But, Agent Pike had an idea. It was risky, but he felt backed into a corner and didn’t see any other options. He got in contact with a prominent local artist and got him to agree to set up a sting at his next art show. It would be too tempting for the thief to pass up, and Marcus banked on an appearance from their slippery friend at the show.

It was mid afternoon when Marcus and his team arrived at the gallery to meet with the artist and get themselves set up.

“Johnny Luna?” Marcus asked the man who stood in the middle of the room.

He turned around from the portrait he focused on and greeted the agent with a wide smile, “Agent Pike, I assume?” he extended his hand, “Nice to meet you in person.” Johnny was the definition of tall, dark and handsome, and he had a smile that lit up a room. He had a kind face and flawless skin, and Marcus found himself envious of the man at how effortlessly charming he was.

“Nice to meet you too,” he replied cheerfully, “Thank you for letting us do this. It means a lot here.”

“Happy to help,” Johnny looked around the room, “Just promise me nothing will happen to my babies.”

“We’ll have agents posted throughout the whole gallery, and we’ll stick around all night,” Marcus took note of his team in the midst of their set up, “Nothing’s gonna happen to any of your paintings. You have my word.”

Johnny was about to answer when a figure approached behind him, “Hey Johnny,” your voice broke into the conversation, “Sorry to interrupt, but I need your opinion over here real quick,” your eyes met with Marcus’ and they lit up, “I just need him for a second, I promise,” you added with a quick wink.

Marcus nodded as he watched the two of you walk towards the large painting that was the centerpiece of the collection. As he studied you, he felt something awaken within himself that he tried so hard to keep dormant. You were so beautiful, and there was just something about you that immediately pulled him in, even after just a few words. But as much as Marcus wanted to make a move, he reminded himself about what happened last time and he forced himself to refocus on his work.

“Agent Pike,” Johnny’s voice knocked him out of his thoughts, “Let me introduce you to the best event planner in DC,” he introduced you with your name and swung an arm over your shoulders as you extended your hand to the agent.

“Call me Marcus, please,” he took the opportunity to really study your face, and he couldn’t find a single thing that he didn’t like. He hoped his gaze didn’t linger too long, but he didn’t want to look away from you.

“Marcus,” you repeated his name with a wide smile. The two of you stood in silence for a moment with your hands still connected until you felt the need to talk to him more, “So what drew you to working in the art department?”

“Big fan of art I guess,” he shrugged as he reluctantly let go of your hand and suddenly felt nervous under your soft gaze, “What drew you to event planning?”

“I saw The Wedding Planner when I was young and it sparked the party planner in me,” you replied with a giggle, “Although I have to say I’m a big fan of art and history as well. Federico Andreotti is one of my favorite artists.”

Marcus’ eyes lit up, “The Interlude is one of my absolute favorites,” he felt as if he could run in every direction at once with how much life filled his veins at how perfect you were.

The smile on your face only grew and you felt your heart pound in your chest, “I love that too! Serenade is my personal favorite,” you opened your mouth to say something more but just then, a member of your staff called your attention, “Excuse me gentlemen, duty calls.” You bit your lip before you slowly turned away from the agent and got back to your work.

The two men watched you walk away, and Marcus couldn’t help the question that left his lips, “Are you two… together?” he motioned between you and Johnny and found his heart beat faster in his chest.

“Nah man, she’s my best friend. Known each other forever,” Johnny replied right away as he faced him, “You’re more my type anyway,” he added with a wink.

Marcus chuckled at the comment, “I’m flattered, but she is more my type,” he retorted playfully.

Johnny smiled brightly at him, “I knew it!” he laughed as he clasped his shoulder, “And honestly, I know we just met and all, but I can tell already you’d be so much better for her than Tom.” He watched your whole interaction silently, and it made an idea pop into his head. Johnny knew you well enough to know when you liked someone, and he definitely knew you liked this agent.

Marcus’ face dropped, “So she’s with someone?” He couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice.

“Yeah, a huge douchebag if you ask me,” he scoffed.

Clearly there was more to the story than that, but one of Marcus’ colleagues walked up then and wanted to go over some details with them. They spoke for a while, and the entire time Marcus snuck glances over at you across the room.

“One thing we have learned about this guy is he seems to take a liking to the ladies,” the other agent said, “The few images we have of him, he’s always talking to good-looking women at galas when he comes to scope it out.”

Agent Pike scanned the room and studied his team and he found himself wondering when so many men were on the art theft team. The only two women were much older, and he knew he couldn’t use them for the setup. Chatter filled the space around him as everyone put in their opinions and ideas; everyone knew that they couldn’t blow this opportunity to finally catch this guy.

“What if I help?” your voice chimed in from behind him.

Marcus jumped and turned around to face you and he wondered how long you had been standing there. “No, this is something for my team to handle. I can’t ask you to do something like that.”

“No offence Agent,” you quipped back, “But your team is kind of a sausage fest. Besides, how much risk can there be in the middle of a crowded art show with a whole FBI team here?” you were light with your words, but held firm in your stance.

Marcus turned back to his team, who all seemed to be in agreement. It was unconventional for sure, but no one saw a better option. With a sigh, he turned back to you and extended his hand once more, “You’re right. I guess you’re an honorary agent for tonight,” he used his humor to hide his nerves before he went through the plan with you and his team. You were to arrive early and wear a wire and a hidden camera while you talked to several men at the show to give them a better shot at identifying their thief.

Once the plan was set, you left with a nod so you could get ready for the evening. Marcus felt a similar feeling in his chest as he watched you leave. Johnny stood by the door to lock it behind you and he shot Marcus a knowing smile when he turned around and caught his eye. He looked away and pretended to be occupied, but he could still feel Johnny’s gaze on him.

The afternoon flew by and before he realized what time it was, you were back at the gallery, all dressed up. Marcus stopped in his tracks when you walked through the doors in your little black dress, your hair and makeup styled to perfection. You greeted Johnny before you looked around, and your face lit up when you met Marcus’ gaze.

“Wow,” he breathed out when you made your way over to him, “You look stunning,” Marcus complimented you as he felt himself get flustered. But he kept it together; he had to be extra focused now that you were involved in the sting here, “You ready?”

You nodded with a fierce determination in your eyes, “I’m ready, Agent Pike.”

Marcus felt a tightness in his chest at your bravery. Beautiful and brave, he hardly knew you but you were already a dream come true for him. And Marcus found that he wanted to do anything to get to know you more, not to mention he felt a fierce determination to keep you protected during the art show tonight.

He pinned a small hidden camera to your dress and handed you an earpiece so he could stay in touch with you throughout the evening as he explained his plan. You were to float around and chat up men in hopes that they could get enough to successfully identify their culprit once and for all.

“Don’t worry, I’ll always be close by,” Marcus said in a soft voice, “I’ll watch over you.”

“I know you will Marcus,” your voice was equally as soft as you gave him a look that he couldn’t decipher the meaning behind.

Marcus’ fears were soon pushed aside as the show started and people filtered in. You moved throughout the crowd, and made sure to take the time to talk to any men who lingered. The tech team went right to work and analyzed the images from each of the men you spoke to and so far came up with nothing. And true to his word, Marcus was always close by just in case something went wrong.

As you made your way around the room, you approached a tall thin man who studied the centerpiece of the collection.

“Hey there,” you broke him out of his trace as you cleared your throat. You seemed to startle him, and you couldn’t see his face until you were right next to him. Immediately you became suspicious.

The man soon recovered, however, and he grinned at you, “Well hello there,” his voice felt like ice and you wanted to back away from him. Yet, you stayed determined. “Shouldn’t you be hung on these walls too? Because you are a piece of work.”

You forced a chuckle at the terrible line, “You’re too kind, but thank you,” you shifted yourself to make sure that your hidden camera got a good look at the man, “This is real art though. You can really feel the emotion the artist put into this piece,” you of course knew just how much your friend poured into the painting before you, but you kept that to yourself.

“For you sweetness, I’d buy it in a heartbeat,” he leaned in close to you.

“You don’t even know me,” your reaction was genuine, “Besides I couldn’t ask someone to spend that much money on me. I’d feel too guilty.”

“Well maybe I won’t actually pay for it then…” he spoke under his breath. When you looked at him in surprise, he shook his head and changed the subject, “I mean…” for the first time he seemed unsure of himself, “There’s things other than money that can buy affection. If you get my drift.”

At that, you visibly cringed and took a step away, “I…. I have to go. Excuse me,” you turned around and walked away, suddenly very uncomfortable. You scanned the crowd for a familiar face and you let out a sigh of relief when you saw Marcus in the distance and you all but ran to him.

“You alright?” Marcus asked in concern as he placed a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m fine,” your voice didn’t convince him in the slightest , “He just seriously creeped me out. I did not get the warm fuzzies from him at all,” you made yourself laugh for a moment at your words, and Marcus relaxed along with you.

“You did really good tonight,” he said your name with admiration, “I think we got what we need here so you can enjoy the rest of the show now,” he paused and looked you over once more, “Thank you.”

At his words, your nerves completely disappeared as you looked into his soft, kind eyes. You let yourself exhale as you handed the hidden camera pin back to him. Once your hands connected, neither of you pulled away for a few moments, and you let your touch linger with his. You were about to close your hand around his when a voice called your name.

You jumped and turned around to find your boyfriend, Tom, walked up with a scowl on his face. He was taller than Marcus, and had a lean, muscular body, though he was not as handsome as Marcus or Johnny. “There you are. You haven’t answered your phone. I’ve been looking all over for you,” there was more annoyance than concern in his voice as he spoke to you.

“I’m sorry,” your once confident and sparkly demeanor changed as you suddenly became a shadow of yourself, “I told you I’d be here and I’d be busy.”

Tom sighed as he ran a hand through his light brown hair, “Well, are you ready to go then?”

“Yeah, just give me a few minutes?”

He nodded with a huff and gave Marcus a disapproving glance before he turned and walked away. You turned back to Marcus and tried to smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes like before, “Sorry, I gotta get going. Is there anything I need to do before I go?”

Marcus watched the whole interaction with a subtle frown on his face, but he softened his expression when you turned back around, “No, you’ve done more than enough,” he paused. He didn’t want you to go so he tried to think of a reason to keep you in front of him for even a moment longer, “Here’s my card. It’s got my cell on it so give me a call if you ever need anything,” his breath caught in his throat when your fingers touched again as you took the card from him, “I’ll probably need to follow up with you if we successfully ID our perp.”

You were about to pull out your phone when Tom shouted your name again. You let out a shaky breath before you decided not to irritate him further, “You can get my number from Johnny, just tell him I said it’s ok,” you lingered for another moment, “I’m sorry, I gotta go.” With that, you rushed to meet your boyfriend, who put his arm around you the second you were close enough. But it wasn’t a comforting or loving embrace, and he seemed to treat you more like an object or a possession than a person. And it made Marcus furious.

“I see you’ve met Tom,” Johnny’s voice came from behind Marcus, “I told you: total douchebag.”

Marcus nodded in agreement, “Is he…” he cleared his throat as he struggled to find the words, “He’s not hurting her or anything, is he?”

Johnny shook his head, “What kind of best friend do you think I am? I wouldn’t let her stay with him if he was.”

Marcus sighed as he watched the door in the futile hope that you would walk back inside. The two men stood together in silence for a moment before he remembered, “Oh, she told me I can get her number from you. I need to follow up if we get a lead,” Marcus said.

Johnny smiled widely, “I would love to give you her number.”

Meanwhile, you sat in the passenger seat of your boyfriend’s car as gazed out the window as he rambled on about himself yet again, not even bothering to ask you about your day. But then again, he rarely did. You were brought back to the present when your phone buzzed, and you looked down to a text from a number you had just saved in your phone.

It’s Agent Pike. Thanks again for your help today, the sausage fest art department appreciates it. I’ll be in touch. :)

For the first time since you got into the car, you smiled.

Notes: I’m not sure how long this is going to be, but right now I’ve got it at about 5 or 6 chapters. Most likely though, it’ll end up longer. Thank you to @tintinwrites for encouraging me to write this and for giving it a read over for me! And thank you @thirsty-flygirl for your help on this as well! Taglists are open so let me know if you’d like to be added! :)

Everything taglist: @thirsty-flygirl

Pedro Characters taglist: @tintinwrites @ollypopp @starwarswh0re @emesispo @mrschiltoncat @perropascal @shadow-assassin-blix @huliabitch @randomness501

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike imagine #marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x y/n #marcus pike fic #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike story #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist fic #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #the interlude

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redgillan · 4 years

Text

Under Pastel Skies - 2

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 2,024

Warnings: none

A/N: I’m just going to remind you that this sugar daddy fic isn’t about smut. I love smut but it’s not what I’m focusing on here.

Bucky stood under the glass awning in front of the hotel, the neon green light illuminating the path to the automatic doors. He forced his eyes closed and listened to the sound of rain hitting the glass shelter.

It was just after 6:30 in the morning and he had been standing there for over ten minutes, trying to work up the courage to enter the building. He was sweating, trembling, breathing like he’d just run a marathon. Every sound around him seemed amplified; cars honking, people talking or listening to music. It was hell.

He desperately wanted to take a cab ride back to Brooklyn and hide in his apartment. Bucky had a strict routine -get up at six, eat, shave, shower, go for a walk, etc- and he needed it to keep his mind focused and his body healthy. Though lately, his therapist had encouraged him to stray from his routine if he felt like it. And he wanted to, but his body wasn’t cooperating.

Instead he just stood here, stuck between two choices that terrified him. He could go back home and hate himself for taking the ‘easy way out’, or he could take the plunge and enter the building. He had come here on a whim, but now that he was here he felt as if he really needed to see you. He didn’t even know if you were working.

He looked over his shoulder, he could almost see the metaphorical pack of wolves waiting for him. It would be easy to give in and let them take him. He could go back to his old life, his old habits, or he could jump off that metaphorical cliff and hope for the best.

Your chances are infinite. Anything can happen.

“Can I help you, sir?”

Bucky greeted the receptionist with a smile. He asked if he could have breakfast at the hotel restaurant and she agreed before leading him to the Bar Lounge.

The room was large, with row after row of square tables perfectly aligned. There were a few more private seats close to the bar and an oval buffet in the middle of the room. A woman in a dark grey suit scooped a small portion of scrambled eggs onto her plate next to two slices of toasted white bread. She raised her gaze to his and nodded in greeting.

The swing door that led to the kitchen burst open and Bucky turned his attention to the sound. You were carrying a large tank of orange juice to the buffet table, a pen tucked behind your ear and a piece of paper between your lips. There was a slight furrow between your brows as you set the tank on the table.

Your scuffed boots were gone, replaced by black ballet flats. Your pencil skirt rose up as you stretched to reach the highest part of the buffet. Bucky hastily looked away from your bare legs, not wanting to look like a total creep. Once you were done, you smoothed down your skirt and tucked your white shirt into your skirt.

Your hair was brushed away from your face and your lips were painted red, something dark and empowering, and it contrasted beautifully with your strict, uninspiring uniform, which only intended to erase any sense of individuality.

“Hi, how can I h- Hey, I know you,” you said, approaching him. “You’re Bucky.”

He bashfully looked at his shoes. “Yeah, hi.” He cleared his throat and raised his gaze to yours. “I was hoping to run into you. I, uh, I can’t stop thinking about our talk.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I was rude and brusque, and you were incredibly nice. I really feel like an ass.”

You chuckled. “It’s fine. Honestly, I was nervous, too. You should have seen me –I was a complete mess.”

“Could have fooled me,” he replied with a grin. “Though you did say that meeting me was like choosing between a pack of wolves or jumping off a cliff.”

“Gosh!” You facepalmed. “See? A complete mess!” You gestured to the table behind you. “Have you eaten yet? Sit down, it’s on me.” He opened his mouth to protest but you cut him off. “You paid for the taxi. It’s only fair.”

Amused, he shook his head and followed you to the buffet table. Everything looked and smelled delicious. He spotted several glass cereal dispensers filled with frosted flakes, Cap'n Crunch, Lucky Charms and good old Fruit Loops.

“We also have French toasts, pancakes, croissants, turnovers, omelettes, eggs, four different types of bread with margarine, butter, jam, Nutella, or marmalade,” you said without pausing for a breath, “freshly sliced fruits, a variety of yogurts, granola, oatmeal, orange juice, apple juice, Danish pastries, muffins and a great selection of teas.”

“And that’s it?” Bucky asked, his face breaking into a teasing smile. You liked the way his eyes crinkled at the corners right before he smiled.

You pouted your lips while you thought. “Actually no, we also have scrambled eggs –which, frankly, I don’t recommend. They come in a plastic bag and we have to heat them up in the microwave. It’s a little gross. You can try the sausage and bacon though, unless you don’t eat meat.”

“And coffee?” He found your flustered reaction to his teasing absolutely adorable.

“Yes, of course,” you said, biting your bottom lip. “Sorry, I get a little excited sometimes.”

“I understand,” he nodded. “That’s a pretty great buffet, though I’ll stay clear of the scrambled eggs.”

You took a few steps toward the kitchen and turned back to him, a little apologetic cringe on your face. “Um, how do you take your coffee? Expresso, Americano, latte, cappuccino, macchiato, mocha, ristretto-” you paused to take a breath “-or iced coffee?”

A laugh bubbled out of him. He couldn’t help it, you were just too endearing. “Black,” he said, grinning. “I know I’m boring.”

“Oh, no! You’re not boring,” you rushed to say, then realized what he was doing. “Ugh, you’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

“A little.” His nose scrunched up as he said it.

You went to the kitchen to make his cup of coffee and Bucky began to browse the length of the buffet table. Scooping food onto his plate with only one hand proved more challenging than he expected, and he was glad that the lounge was mostly empty.

He could feel the lady in the grey suit’s eyes on him as he moved around. He set his plate on the bar, removed the glass lid, scooped up two hefty pancakes and stacked them on his plate. They looked pretty fluffy, it wouldn’t be hard to cut them with the edge of a fork. Then he replaced the lid and moved his plate closer to the maple syrup bottle.

He glanced at the woman who hastily looked away as if she hadn’t been staring at him the whole time. Annoyed, he kept looking at her while he poured maple syrup over his pancakes. He hated when people stared at him as if he were a freak. He narrowed his eyes menacingly and grinned to himself when she started fidgeting in her seat.

“You must really love maple syrup.”

Bucky paused at the sound of your voice, his features immediately softened. He looked down at his plate and realised he had drowned his pancakes in a gooey river of maple syrup. He must have spaced out during his staring contest with the business woman.

He had a strange look in his eyes, his expression a mix of confusion and anguish. Finally his eyes found yours and you smiled warmly at him, making him fight back a blink. You pried the bottle out of his rigid hand, and he let you take it.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice weak.

You weren’t sure what he was apologizing for but it wasn’t something you were going to analyse right now. “There’s a cup of coffee waiting for you. Best cup in Manhattan.”

He laughed, the crinkles were back. “You’re an angel.”

Bucky returned to his table and loaded his coffee with three teaspoons of sugar before he took a sip. He had always preferred sweet to savoury, and coffee was way too bitter for him.

There wasn’t much to do in the lounge. The television was behind him, the sound kept to a minimum. The lady in the grey suit left soon after and Bucky watched you clean her table.

You moved back and forth between the main room and the kitchen, going about your work and occasionally shooting him a smile. The food was good, not spectacular, but still better than his usual breakfast –two slices of toasted white bread with butter and a cup of coffee.

“Do you need anything else?” you asked, standing next to his table.

“Company?” he said with a hopeful look. “Please.”

You offered him a pained grimace when he gestured at the seat across from him. “I’m not allowed to sit. Sorry.”

It was hard to resist his puppy dog eyes but you needed to keep your job if you wanted to be able to afford your own place.

“Do you like working here?”

“It’s okay,” you shrugged. “I’m glad I have a job.”

“Sam mentioned you’re an artist.”

You shyly looked around you, you were the only two people in the room now. “I haven’t painted since I got this job,” you revealed. “I’m pretty sure my artist membership card has been cancelled.”

“Nope, those are for life.”

You laughed. “I hope so.”

You looked at each other before he asked, “Do you have any pictures of your work?”

You were genuinely surprised that someone wanted to see your work. Usually people offered a half-hearted ‘oh, that nice. I paint, too, occasionally” and changed the subject. You patted your pockets, searching for your phone, and groaned when you remembered that it was in your locker.

“I don’t have my phone with me but wait-” You took a napkin from the table and started writing. “This is my Instagram. I do a bit of everything, mostly landscapes and portraits.”

Bucky took the piece of paper and, before he could comment, a family of four walked into the lounge area. You apologized to him and walked over to the family, greeting them with a smile and asking them if they had a good night’s sleep.

The children looked like walking zombies until they spotted the cereal bar, and then chaos ensued. More people went down to breakfast and you didn’t have time to chat with him anymore.

He stayed a little longer, watching you help the kids pour cereal and milk into their bowls. A man who didn’t speak English very well asked you a question and you froze, trying to make him understand since you didn’t speak his language. Bucky smiled when you mimed the answer. The man laughed and gave you a thumb’s up.

There was something about you, something soft and caring, that made people at ease. Even when people started complaining that the platter of scrambled eggs was empty, you defused the situation so smoothly that they left with a smile on their face. It was the kind of person you were, kind-hearted and willing to help.

An angel.

When you looked in his direction again, Bucky was gone. You felt a pang of disappointment that he hadn’t said goodbye, but you had been so busy that even if he had been trying to get your attention, chances are you wouldn’t have noticed him.

Pouting exaggeratedly to yourself, you went to his table with your tray and a clean rag to collect the dirty dishes. You moved the unfolded napkin and what you saw underneath made you stop. You blinked, once, twice, three times, certain that you were hallucinating. You scooped up the bills and counted them.

$300

Your eyes were the size of saucers as you ran back to the lobby. You checked outside for Bucky but he was gone. You stood there, under the glass awning, with a bewildered look on your face, still clutching the bills.

Part 3

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #marvel imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagines #bucky barnes imagine #redgillan #redgillanwrites

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thearvariblues · 4 years

Text

Valdo Marx Plays Matchmaker

AKA Geralt has to deal with the fact that Valdo Marx isn’t quite as he had imagined him. To begin with, he’s not, in fact, a he.

“She’s a woman,” Geralt announced, his yellow eyes wide with disbelief.

Jaskier snorted, staring into his beer.

“Thank you for the information, I had no idea.”

“No, I mean… A woman.”

“Yes, Geralt, you’ve already said that.”

“You never told me she was a woman!”

“Shut up. I must have.”

“Never,” Geralt said firmly, shaking his head.

“I must have referred to her by a pronoun at some point, you just never listen to me.”

“I do listen to you, Jaskier, and you never did.”

Jaskier took a large gulp of beer and shrugged.

“Well, now you know. So what?”

“So what? I always thought it was some old, wrinkled… ballsack from Oxenfurt! A pompous prick, you always said, an insufferable cockalorum–”

“Yes, and?”

“And now I find out that he’s… she’s… That Valdo fucking Marx is a…”

“Woman, yes, Geralt, we’ve been through this!” Jaskier moaned, desperately trying to ignore the ridiculously boring music and the high, melodic voice that filled the air.

“It’s a shock, that’s all I’m saying,” Geralt grunted.

“Yeah, well, whatever. Finish your fucking beer, I want to get out of here.”

“Writing a new song?” Geralt smirked. “Because that rhymed.”

“Fuck off,” Jaskier groaned.

Geralt took a drink, contemplating.

“You know, I don’t even know why you hate her so much. She’s quite good, actually. Reminds me of you.”

“She is nothing like me!” Jaskier hissed.

“Well, if you listen carefully–”

“Don’t you ever dare comparing me to Valdo Marx!” Jaskier growled. “I have enough of it every fucking time I go home to Lettenhove. Oh, Julian, have you heard Valdo’s new composition? It’s so good, don’t you think? Julian, couldn’t you be more like Valdo instead of following a Witcher around, it’s so unbecoming of a young man like you. Oh, Julian, have you heard that your sister–”

“Wait, your what?” Geralt blinked.

“Sister, Geralt, try to keep up.”

“Trust me, I am. Desperately,” Geralt said. “But you don’t make sense, Jaskier. You talk about Valdo one second, and then you start about your… Hold on. Are you telling me that Valdo Marx, the troubadour of Cidaris, is…”

“Is, in fact, my sister Madeleine, yes.”

“Your sister Madeleine,” Geralt repeated. “Fuck.”

“I’d rather if you didn’t,” Jaskier sneered.

“Are we talking older or younger here?” Geralt asked, eyeing the troubadour on a tiny makeshift stage. She was wearing a plain, dark blue dress made of some kind of a glossy fabric. Her skirt was so long it brushed the boards of the stage with her every movement, but it didn’t look like she cared, she just played her lute and sang and had no idea how entrancing she was. And she did remind Geralt of Jaskier.

The bard muttered something unintelligibly.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“For fuck’s…” Jaskier sighed. “Twin. My twin sister.”

“Oh.”

“Older by three fucking minutes, and she’ll never let me forget it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Jaskier snorted. “Always better than me, our Madeleine. Born first, learned to walk first, learned to read first… The only thing I started to do first was playing the lute and singing, and what does she do the second I decide to travel and become a bard? She follows in my footsteps, trying to outdo me once again. And she fucking succeeds!”

“That’s not true, Jaskier,” Geralt smiled, placing a hand on Jaskier’s forearm. “She might be the more… artistic one of you two, but she will never be a better a´performer. And I can’t hear people singing her songs like they do yours, can you?”

“Well… If you put it like that… Oh, fuck.”

“What’s wrong?”

The song had ended a few seconds ago, Geralt realized. And Jaskier was now staring, utterly terrified, towards the stage.

“She’s noticed us,” the bard mumbled. “She’s coming here.”

“Oh,” Geralt said. “Fuck.”

Jaskier huffed, watching as Geralt pulled a clean shirt over his head.

“What?” Geralt grunted.

“Nothing,” Jaskier muttered, looking away.

He was sitting on a bed in their shared room in the tavern and trying his very best not to brood. And he knew very well that he was failing spectacularly.

“I had to say yes, Jaskier,” Geralt sighed. “It would have been impolite not to.”

“And you’re all about politeness,” Jaskier mumbled. “Like every time you show up covered in blood and guts and brain occasionally–”

“That was one time.”

“Well it’s not very polite to barge into the room, tell my lovely date to go fuck herself and immediately start taking off your filthy clothes, is it?! The moment she saw your impossible, muscular, god-like torso, I stood no chance!”

“Is there any point to this babbling, Jaskier?” Geralt sighed.

“Well, yes. That you should have said no to my fucking sister when she asked you to have dinner with her!”

Geralt smirked.

“Are you jealous, bard? Did you want to have dinner with her yourself?”

“No, I wanted to have dinner with–” Jaskier started before promptly cutting himself off. “It’s just so… Madeleine, you know?!”

“What is?” Geralt frowned.

“She always has to steal what’s mine!” Jaskier groaned, letting his body fall onto the hard palliase. “My success in music, my parents’ affection, and now my Witcher.”

“She won’t steal me, Jaskier,” the Witcher in question said. “I would first have to allow myself to be stolen.”

“Yeah, wait until you’ve talked to her for five minutes. I bet you’ll like her way more than you like me.”

“Nonsense. There’s no one I like more than I like you.”

Jaskier blinked in confusion, raising his head to look at Geralt, who was, for some reason, blushing.

“What did you just say?” the bard asked.

“Fuck,” Geralt muttered, fleeing the room.

Valdo Marx was nothing like Jaskier had ever described her, that was the first thing Geralt realized.

She wasn’t pompous. She definitely wasn’t insufferable. And she wasn’t a, well, cockalorum.

She was quite nice, actually, and she really did remind Geralt of her brother. She was intelligent, she was funny… And well, she was pretty, he had to give her that.

Not nearly as pretty as Jaskier, though, his traitorous brain put in, and Geralt nearly choked on his beer.

“Are you alright?” the woman smiled. “I’m not boring you, I hope.”

Geralt shook his head.

“No. Please, go on.”

Oh, and she spent the entire evening talking not about herself, like Geralt had expected, but about her brother, about his songs, about his successful students from Oxenfurt… About their childhood. And Geralt, who had never heard a single word about Jaskier’s life before Posada, was beyond fascinated.

“Well, as I was saying, Jaskier’s always so competitive,” she chuckled. “Everything’s a race for him. I don’t know how many times I told him, dear heart, we don’t have to be enemies, but he just doesn’t listen.”

Geralt nodded solemnly.

“I know. He even accused you of trying to steal me from him.”

“Dear, I would never,” she said. “I know how madly in love he is with you, I couldn’t–”

“He’s what?!” Geralt gaped.

Valdo’s eyes went wide and she covered her mouth in shock.

“Oh, my. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud, it just slipped,” she gasped. “Please, don’t tell Jaskier that I revealed his secret so carelessly!”

But Geralt was already rising to his feet, finishing his beer on the way up.

“Excuse me, madam,” he croaked, slamming the tankard on the table. “I need to go and speak with your brother. Right fucking now.”

Valdo Marx was busy wolfing down the boiled eggs and sausages she was having for breakfast when, suddenly, a shadow fell on her table. Before she even managed to lift her eyes up, her brother unceremoniously plopped himself down on the bench opposite of her.

“You traitorous bitch,” he growled.

“And good morning to you too, Julian,” she grinned at him. “Sausage?”

“I hate you,” Jaskier muttered, grabbing one from her plate. “You did it on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Of course not. What do you think of me, little brother?!”

“Only the worst.”

She chuckled.

“It was mother’s idea, if you absolutely need to know,” she muttered with her mouth full of scrambled eggs. “She told me to do anything to make you pull your head out of your arse and finally confess to that Wolf of yours.”

“Lies. Mother would never say arse.”

“Right. She said backside. My bad.”

“Hmpf,” Jaskier hummed. “May I remark that making me confess and telling him about my feelings, making it seem like an accident is not the same thing?”

“You may not.” She shook her head, sighing. “Besides, it’s not my fault you’re both denser than cousin Amelia, is it? Look, I tried. I wrote that romantic ballad about him, claiming it was a new song by the famous Jaskier–”

“Oh, of course. I should have known that complete atrocity was your doing! That sloppy excuse for a ballad that could have ruined my reputation!”

“Jaskier, one of your most popular songs is about a girl wanting to jerk you off.”

“Your point being?”

She laughed, letting him steal another sausage.

“Nothing, my dear. How was your night, anyway?”

“I think you know damn well,” Jaskier said, smiling. “Actually, I think the whole town knows.”

“To be honest, I think our mother in Lettenhove knows that your Witcher loves and desires you back. He wasn’t exactly trying to keep his voice down.”

“Believe it or not, but he was,” Jaskier grinned. “He just wasn’t very successful.”

She nodded, finishing her breakfast and getting to her feet.

“Well, my work here is done, dear brother. Will you pay for my meal? I think I deserve it for what I’ve done for you.”

“Always so humble,” he said. “I still hate you, Madeleine, you know?”

“I love you too, Julian,” she winked. “Oh, and by the way, mother sends her love and demands that you bring the Witcher the next time you come to visit. She said there is a monster in Lettenhove that desperately needs to be slain.”

“Well, if it’s urgent, I could try convincing Geralt to…” Jaskier started before pausing. “Right. She meant grandmother, didn’t she?”

“I’m afraid so,” Valdo chuckled, grabbing her cloak. “Well, I’ll be on my way. See you around, Jaskier.”

“See you,” the bard replied, trying to hide a smile. “Valdo Marx.”

#geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #my fics

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ashyblondwaves · 3 years

Text

Outnumbered: Mother's Day

In honor of Mother's Day, here is a little piece about Vision, Billy, Tommy and Florence spoiling Wanda on her special day.

You can also read this installment on AO3 if you prefer!

As always, reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated!

****

"Happy Mother's Day!"

The door swung open with stunning force as Tommy sped in, jumping triumphantly.

"I said it first!" He teased, sticking his tongue out at the doorway.

"That's not fair!" Billy whined, walking into the room. "You can't use superspeed, it's cheating!"

"It is not!" Tommy retorted, backing up slightly as Billy's hands started to glow, blue orbs floating on his fingers.

"Boys!" Vision called, walking in with a tray of food and Florence not far behind. "What do we say to your mother?"

"HAPPY MUVERS DAY!"

A small little figure at Vision's side piped up, still dressed in her dark pink watermelon pajamas. Her dark hair was in lopsided pigtails, off-center from sleep.

"Billy?" Vision said, eyeing his angry son. "What do you say to your mother?"

"Happy Mother's Day," Billy muttered, letting the orbs disappear. "But Tommy--"

"Not today, Billy," Vision reminded him. "This is your mom's special day."

Billy nodded and turned to Wanda who was sat up in bed, the covers over the bottom half of her body as she smiled down at her little brood. Tommy, standing at the side of the bed, Billy with his head down in sorrow and Florence. Tiny little Florence, just four years old, flying in the air and landing in the middle of the bed. She sidled up next to Wanda and hugged her tight.

"We made breffass!"

"I see!" Wanda replied, sitting back as Vision placed the tray of food in front of her. Toast, two eggs - sunny side up - and sausage. A half full glass of orange juice was placed next to the plate and underneath it, two cards.

As the twins climbed up onto the bed with Wanda, they grew excited. At six years old and learning how to spell, they could finally make their own cards for their mother instead of coloring on the one that dad bought at the store.

"We made a card," Billy said quietly, pointing to the bright yellow piece of construction paper folded in half under the glass of orange juice.

"Dad didn't help!" Tommy chimed in, pulling the card from under the glass and shoving it in Wanda's face. "Read it!"

"Okay, buddy," Wanda laughed, pulling the card from hands that were no longer tiny and dimpled but leaner, stronger. More like a kid, less like a baby. She gazed down at the front of the card, the words scrawled in crayon stared back at her.

"Hapy Mothers Day! Your the breast mom!"

Wanda looked up at Vision whose eyes were focused on the floor under him.

"Did you proofread this?" she asked, her laugh just milliseconds away from breaking through her serious facade.

"Yes," Vision said, his own laugh coming out in quiet huffs, shoulders shaking. "But I wanted their card to be authentic. Straight from them, no corrections."

Wanda shook her head, letting a small laugh escape as she opened the card and peered inside. They'd drawn a family scene, five stick figures standing outside. The flowers were big and bright, some bigger than the stick figures, even. Florence. Everything was big and bright for Florence. Even her name, etched backwards in purple crayon, the biggest name on the page. Above it were Billy and Tommy's names, written much neater and smaller than their sister's, and on the bottom of the card the words "We luv u."

"This is a beautiful card, kids," Wanda said with a sincere smile, hugging the construction paper to her chest. "I will treasure it forever. Thank you."

Billy and Tommy beamed while Florence stayed curled up next to her mother, still hugging her tight as Wanda grabbed a piece of sausage and popped it into her mouth before grabbing the second card. Vision's card.

He always had a way of finding the most perfect cards for special occasions, even if he spent an entire trip to the store reading every single card while insisting he's not nearly artistic enough to make a card himself, so he needed to find what he wanted to say written in a pre-made card and that wasn't always easy.

The card was black and white, adorned with purple accents and abstract mandalas. Wanda read the front of the card:

"First you were a wonderful wife, Then you became an amazing mother."

Wanda looked at Vision with a smile as he nodded for her to read the inside:

"In every way, you make an unforgettable difference in so many lives...most of all mine. Happy Mother's Day."

And right at the bottom, printed in Vision's familiar handwriting were the words, "I love our family, and I love you. V."

Wanda looked up at Vision, tears dotting the corners of her eyes as she mouthed the words thank you to him. Vision reached out, wrapping his wife in a tight hug and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"I was hoping we could have a family picnic at the park this afternoon," Vision said, finally sitting down on the bed and placing a hand on Wanda's leg. "Would that be something you'd like to do today, darling?"

The Twins gasped at the mention of the park and Florence jumped up, smiling big and bouncing on the bed.

"Please mommy," Tommy pleaded. "Can we go to the park?"

"I wanna go on the swides wif daddy again," Florence added, jumping into Vision's arms. "Go on the swides wif me, daddy?"

"If mommy says she wants to go to the park," Vision started, looking at Wanda to convey that she didn't have to say yes. "I'd be simply honored to go on the slides with you."

Wanda looked out the bedroom window. The sun was shining, the trees had finally gotten their leaves back and swayed - lush and green - with the breeze.

"I think the park sounds like a wonderful idea," Wanda said, grabbing the cup of orange juice in a panic as Billy and Tommy started jumping on the bed happily.

Vision stood up, Florence clinging to him. "Why don't we let your mother have her breakfast in peace while we go get ready for the day."

The twins bounced off the bed, Tommy speeding out of the room in a streak of light while Billy ran after him.

"Wash up and pick out clothes!" Vision called out.

"And please pick something that matches, this time!" Wanda added.

"What do you say, little lady?" Vision said, tickling Florence. "Let's get ready for the slides?"

Florence nodded wildly.

"Enjoy your quiet time, my love," Vision said as he made his way to the door with Florence in his arms. "Happy Mother's Day."

#scarletivision #scarletvision fic #wanda maximoff #vision #billy maximoff #tommy maximoff #outnumbered au drabble #wandavision #wandavision fic #wanda x vision #wanda/vision

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buckysflannelpajamas · 3 years

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Bleeding Hearts

Summary: Being Tony Starks daughter has its pros and cons. One of the pros being you get to live with your best friends, the Avengers. One of the cons you will soon find out is having to deal with the one and only, James Buchanan Barnes...

Takes place during the imaginary time after Civil War where everyone love in the tower and goes through to Endgame.

Trigger warning: Talks of depression/depressing thoughts

Chapter 5

2nd person POV

Fading. That's how you describe the feeling when you start to stoop into a depressive episode. You can feel your emotions fading to numbness, and eventually an all encompassing emotional down. Each avenger has their own way of trying to help you through it. Honestly you want to be left alone for the most part, alone to dwell in the sadness you think you deserve. It was harder when you first decided to move back into the tower after living on your own when you had been released from the hospital. In the beginning, you couldn't even get a moment alone. But eventually everyone got into a pattern of how they help you deal with your depression.

Wanda and Vision make you baked goods. Mainly strawberry cupcakes. Wanda comes to deliver them to your room every morning, and subtly implies she will be going shopping later and hinting at you coming. It worked a total of one time. But after having a mental breakdown in the Gucci dressing room you realized it probably wasn’t best for you to be in public when you feel this way.

Steve and your dad are always the most worried. They check on you multiple times a day. Steve also draws you caricatures of avengers and writes something funny underneath them. This is the closest Steve has ever gotten to understanding memes. Tony on the other hand tries to lure you out of your funk by bribing you with a trip to your favorite Korean food restaurant in South Korea via his private jet.

Pepper sends you flowers. The two of you aren’t close and aren't overly fond of eachother. You assume she mainly sends the flowers to please Tony.

Peter constantly sends you memes throughout the day, which you mostly ignore.

No one knows where Thor and Bruce are so it’s safe to say they don't know when you’re suffering, and no one wants to call Clint just to inform him you’re sad again.

Uncle Rhodey usually finds out because Tony needs to vent to someone about his worries. What he does for you by far one of the coolest things. He has a military buddy of his hack into the computers of major entertainment companies so you can see blockbuster movies before they are released.

Natasha, who is sort of a mother figure to you though the two of you would never admit it, comes to you late at night when your insomnia kicks in. Neither of you speak, she simply sits down on your bed beside you and braids your hair while the TV show ‘how it’s made’ plays softly in the background. The two activities always help you to sleep. And on the nights you can’t stop crying, she’ll lie there with you, rubbing your back like a mother calming her child until her tears stop.

Finally, Sam comes in the moment you need it most, right when you are so tired and drained that you’re ready to open up about how you're feeling.

It’s day 3 of your depression and you have just reached that point. Somehow, Sam always knows when you’re ready.

You’re sitting up in bed, bundled up in an exuberant amount of blankets and staring blankly at the wall in front of you. Your mind drifts through a series of depressing thoughts.

Pathetic.

Worthless.

Burden.

These are the words that are most consistently in your mind.

For a moment you consider no longer taking your meds. Sometimes it feels as though they don't work anyway.

That’s when you hear the knock outside your living room door.

“Friday, tell Sam he can come on in.” You mumble to the disembodied AI, your voice raw from all the crying you’ve been doing.

“Of course, miss.” Even Friday sounds saddened by your less than pleasant mental state.

You don’t bother to wipe your tears away, you would be crying soon again anyway.

You hear Sam make his way through your front door, passing through the living area and opening the door to your room.

You notice Sam holding a steaming plate of eggs, sausage, and hash browns in one hand. He must have found out from Friday that all you’ve really eaten this week is Wanda and Visions strawberry cupcakes.

“I would have brought some OJ too but then I wouldn’t have been able to open the door.” Sam jokes. He takes a quick glance around your room, trying to gauge how bad the episode is. Used tissues cover the floor by the right side of the bed. Worn pajamas are strewn around on the floor and the pile of clothes you leave on your chair hasn’t been cleaned up. You usually clean it once a week. Not to mention your greasy hair makes it obvious that you haven’t showered in a few days.

“Pretty bad, huh?” Sam asks.

“Yeah.” You answer honestly. You don’t need to bullshit with Sam.

He takes a seat by you on the bed, placing the food in front of you. “You hungry?”

“Yeah, but-“

“But you feel like you deserve the pain?”

“You know that.” You sigh.

“Tell me why.”

“You know why too.”

Sam pushes a fork in your hand. “I’m trusting you with this.” He jokes, earning an actual laugh from you before moving on. “I have a general idea, but I don’t like to make assumptions.”

You poke at the eggs with your fork. “I-“ it’s hard to speak. You know at any moment you’re going to break out sobbing. “I feel so weak.” You choke out. “I put the whole team at risk by being naive enough to think a guy wouldn’t try drugging my drink at a crowded party. Even if it is my house.”

Sam doesn't speak yet. He always waits for you to let it all out.

“How could I be so fucking stupid?!” You sob. “I was selfish. Why do you all even keep me around? I’m a liability and a burden to the team. I hate that about myself and I hate that I’m so weak! I hate that no matter how hard I train, I’ll never be strong like any of you! And I know that that’s also selfish because you all went through so much pain to be what you are, but I can’t help but feel insignificant. I’m just some dumb fucking artist that sits around all day doddling while you all are actually doing something meaningfull in the world!” There it is. The root of what triggered your episode. It’s not just about Authur. It's about the fact that you can’t protect yourself. It’s the constant feeling of insignificance that lingers in the back of your mind.

Sam puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes it gently. “First of all, you’re not just some dumb fucking artist.” He quotes you. “You are a world renowned artist and you should be proud of it. More importantly, you are not insignificant or a burden. Ok? If we didn’t want you around, you wouldn’t be here. We all love you and want you to be here with us. You’re part of our family. You might not be on the front lines, but you do more for the world than you know.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah I doubt that.”

“I mean it.” Sam Insists. “You said so yourself that you know how much pain we’ve been through. How do you think the avengers would keep it together without their own little therapist.” He laughs lightly.

You furrow your brows. “Um, Sam, I’m not a therapist. I can barely keep myself together.”

“You might not be licensed but you are always there for us. Getting us to talk through our thoughts and feelings. Giving us advice and helping us come to a resolution.”

“That’s what friends are for.” You shrug.

“Yeah well friends don’t usually have to deal with their other friends' war trauma and helping them deal with finding out their best friend they thought was dead is actually alive and actively trying to kill them.”

You stay silent for a moment. “I guess that’s true.”

Sam pats you lightly on the back. “You keep the avengers sane so that we can help the world. Which is just as important.”

Finally, you take a bite of your eggs. “I disagree that it’s just important but I know that argument won’t go anywhere, so I’ll just accept it.”

“I know that this conversation won’t solve all of life's problems, but maybe it helped you feel good enough to to get up out of bed? Maybe get up and take a shower? No offense, but you don’t exactly smell like daisies.” He laughs.

You shove Sam in the arm. “Hey! You should take a whiff of yourself after you come back from a mission.”

“Touché.” Sam pauses, noticing something on your bedside table.

“Sour gummy worms? That’s not part of your usual routine…” Sam trails of, reaching over you to grab the box of candy before you have a chance to stop him.

“Wait-”

It's too late, he sees the note written in scribbly cursive on the piece of paper attached to the back of the box.

“Who’s this from?” He asks curiously, hoping from your bed and moving around as you chase him down, frantically trying to remove the letter from his grasp.

“Sam stop!”

“Dear y/n,” Sam starts to read aloud. “I don’t pity you. I relate to you. When I said I’m sorry I meant it.”

You jump, reaching for the letter but Sam moves it high above his head.

He continues to read. “I meant to tell you sorry before the party. I only blew up at the hospital because I was mad at myself for letting someone on the team get hurt. I shouldn’t have been such an asshole to you. I know it’s a lousy excuse but I was just jealous of your happiness. If you give me the chance, I’d like to make it up to you. I heard you like Star Wars. I haven’t seen the movies… maybe we can watch them sometime? Sincerely, James Buchanan Barnes.”

Sam looks at you with the biggest shit eating grin on his face. “You two got a movie date?”

You finally snatch the candy and letter from his hand. “See this is why I didn’t want you to read it! I knew you would take it that way.” You pout.

“How else am I supposed to take it?” Sam laughs.

“Like a guy with a guilty conscience is trying to be nice to the sad girl.” You say as if it’s the most obvious thing ever.

“You can be so blind to some things.” He shakes his head.

You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?”

Sam takes a seat back down at the end of your bed. “Everyone living in the tower can tell he has the hots for you.” He pauses in thought. “Expect for Tony. Barnes would be as good as dead if he knew.”

“You’ve been talking to Nat and Wanda, haven’t you?”

“And Steve and Vision.” He grins. “We have a whole group text dedicated to the conversation.”

“Great.” You groan, rubbing your temples as you take a seat by Sam on the bed.

“Look, you don’t have to believe me. But you should at least give him a chance to make it up to you. I’m not Barnes biggest fan, but he’s really not a bad guy.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Sam interrupts you.

“Just think about it, ok?” Sam gets up from your bed, making his way to the door. “And take a shower in the meantime! You stink little sister!”

You grab a pillow and throw it at him, the pillow only managing to hit the door as he closes it.

“And eat some food too!”

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #sam wilson #bucky barnes x stark!reader #bucky barnes x reader

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algernoninwonderland · 3 years

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Yeah, no. Wonder Egg Priority is pedo-pandering suffering-porn written by and for men who want stories about how girls kill themselves for stupid reasons because they're controlled by their emotions.

Hi to you too, Anon!

I appreciate your using an anon, this is very courageous of you and it’ll definitely make this conversation much easier to have in depth with you personally (seriously, though, couldn’t you have shot me a DM? Consider doing so now)

I’ll try to address all of your points.

“It’s a story about how girls kill themselves for stupid reasons because they’re controlled by their emotions”

It’s a story that isn’t over yet. It’s a really short show, a single cour, and it isn’t over yet. You can make inferences, and so can I, but the show hasn’t reached its conclusion, we’ll have to wait a couple more episodes for that. If WEP fumbles the bag and doesn’t stick its landing, you’ll have been right. Except... I don’t think the show’s writing and directing choices are there to make us think, “look how dumb and stupid these stupid emotional characters are for killing themselves.” Why do you think that? Is the show making the case that these characters should be feeling different things and that they’re idiots who deserve what’s happening to them because they let their emotions get the better of them, and also, weird gender essentialism? (see that’s when knowing who you are and being able to talk to you comes in handy, because we can exchange ideas and points of view and maybe come to a mutual understanding). I don’t think you’re sincerely engaging with the show and what it’s trying to do here.

“it’s p*do-pandering suffering-pron”

Is it nonce-pandering stuff though? Anime has a deeply-ingrained nonce problem. Japan has a deeply-ingrained nonce problem. Nonces are bad and shouldn’t be given a platform to spread nonce imagery because that’d be awful. When nonce stuff is present in a work, it should be pointed out and denounced for what it is. I’m glad we seem to be agreeing on that.

Now, Anon, is WEP made to titillate nonces, are the people making WEP nonces? I must say I tend to avoid shows that give me nonce vibes, and WEP doesn’t give me these vibes, but perhaps you and I see different things in this show. Here’s what I think. The characters who are teenagers sometimes behave childishly, the character design makes them cute and KyoAni-like, but is that nonce-pandering? No, of course, that alone wouldn’t make you think that. You’d need creative decisions that have the nonce audience feel hot and bothered. Are these directing decisions there? Is there iffy fanservice in WEP? I only watched each episode once and I can’t say I recall that happening in a recurring fashion or at all? Is it about teenage characters wearing relaxed indoors clothes that real teenagers would wear indoors to relax? I don’t see the nonce-ness in that. There’s that one leg shot in one episode but it seems like it’s an isolated incident, and more like general anime bs than purposefully nonce stuff, plus it’s very much in-character. I didn’t like it, but is that nonce-pandering? Is it the fact that these characters sometimes discuss sex and have sexual encounters? Boy have I got some news about what allo teenagers sometimes talk about and go through. (it’s not like the anime isn’t not telling us something about that either) I don’t think the directing and the writing turns its characters into sexual objects or portrays them as mini-adults, you aren’t meant to feel hot and bothered by these moments. (If you could point out what you think is nonce-ness in WEP so we can discuss that without being vague, I’d be happy to have this conversation with you, Anon)

If there’s nonce-ness in WEP that is meant to be appealing to nonces, it flew right past me. Maybe it’s really well-hidden. Maybe I’ve been distracted by the plot and the symbolism. But you aren’t meant to think that the nonce character is a good guy, ever? He’s not physically monstrous but he clearly gives off awful vibes and that’s a deliberate artistic choice, and each and every scene he is in doesn’t portray what he does as good and acceptable. Have we been watching the same show? As I’ve said, I’ll rewatch the entire show once it’s over to have a better, more complete appreciation of it. (and hearing your more complete perspective on that would have been really useful, Anon, again, please DM me if you really want to talk)

WEP has a lot of its characters suffering, yes, undeniably. Is their suffering the main draw of the story? (I don’t think so) Are you supposed to feel some kind of pleasure seeing the girls hurt like that? (I don’t think so either) Is the main draw to the show the fact that there’s blood and girls who get hurt? (You guessed it, I don’t think so). Is this a show about endless suffering and girls getting punished for being girls? (Maybe there’s more to it than that?) The violence is spectacular, it is part of the spectacle. What is the function of suffering in WEP? Is this suffering literal or metaphorical? Who causes that suffering? Is there a point being made about that? I’d like to have this conversation again when the show is over to be able to give you a definitive answer. I wouldn’t say that this is suffering pron at all.

“All of that is written BY and FOR men”

The Anime industry still is, for the most part, a sausage fest when it comes to high ranking positions, that is art directors, lead writers and overall directors. That’s something that still needs to change, and to change quickly. If that’s part of the point you’re trying to make, I agree with you on that wholeheartedly. It is a shame, because there are tons of really talented women in anime, writers and directors who aren’t Naoko Yamada, Sayo Yamamoto and Mari Okada, who aren’t given the opportunity to make more shows and to have leading roles that would allow for different creative directions. And WEP would perhaps be a very different show if women were occupying the lead creative roles. So far, Maiko Kobayashi has been the only woman directing an episode of WEP.

Yes, WEP’s lead writer is a man. Yes, it’s unclear what he’s trying to do with that weird gender essentialism stuff, if that’s on purpose to make a point later on or if that’s him being disappointing. But also he’s been writing for decades now and here’s pretty experienced and he’s been able to reach many kinds of audiences over his career? He’s not incompetent is what I’m saying.

You know what show was written by and directed by men and is rightfully hailed as a feminist masterpiece? That’s right, Utena. It’s not perfect by any means, but many women found themselves resonating with Utena and it’s an excellent show (and my personal favourite). It has two girls as the lead characters, and many other characters being girls too. I feel like the manga by Chiho Saito on which the anime is based isn’t nearly as progressive as the show, it has fewer things to say about gender, cycles of abuse and oppression than the anime (once again, written by men) had.

Does this mean that men should be the only ones telling these stories? No, of course not. Does that mean we should run away from any and all productions that have girls as the lead characters when it’s written and directed by men? Also no. Does that mean that women are inherently incapable of making very regressive awful garbage set in a school setting with teenage girls as the lead characters? No, obviously.

WEP’s creative team being almost strictly men is certainly disappointing, but is this, in and as of itself, a disqualifying factor that makes it being a good show impossible? Not in my mind, no. Does it make it trickier, considering the topics the show attempts to tackle? Undeniably. Does it mean it’s an ontologically doomed project? No.

Is the show made with an audience of adult men in mind? I… Don’t feel like it is? Are there signs of that in the creative process and in the finished product? Are there smexy figures being sold, or articles in anime magazines, or official art explicitly pandering to an audience of adult men?

There’s a really interesting conversation to be had about this, but you’ve given me very little to work with here, Anon. I’m not going to do the job for you and find arguments and examples to accommodate your vision. You expect me to make sense of the thirty-two words you’ve written and find things that support these thirty-two words so that I can refute your point in good faith later on.

You’ll have to do that first part yourself. You’ll have to do a bit more than thirty-two words.

You say a handful of words and you expect people to give very thorough answers. You raise a few vague points and then run away.

That’s not exactly brave or a show of intellectual honesty now is it, Anon? Surely, you are better than that.

My DMs are open, if you really want us to have this conversation, just send me a message, if you don’t, maybe don’t send me anonymous asks again?

#wonder egg priority #wep #weird asks #seriously though anon #anime

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wide-eyedscottishlass · 3 years

Text

Scarlett and the Professor - a lazy Sunday morn

[continued from]

moodboard by @strangelock221b 💙

Scarlett flipped onto her side, instinctively turning away from the sunlight filtering through her closed lids. The silk sheets cocooning her were slick and cool, but the sun had warmed her face enough to awaken her senses. In moments more, she breathed deeply--taking in the heady scent of all that sex, that astonishing, wicked, glorious sex--and gave out a purr of satisfaction. She was smiling before she even opened her eyes, remembering herself--happy and sappy and deeply in love.

“Ah, at last,” he chuckled; she heard not only his genuine amusement, but the crinkle and flip of some large pieces of paper. Newsprint? A newspaper than. Scarlett smiled into her pillow; of course he would prefer paper over the digital version. True hedonist that he was, Hennessy would always opt for the most tactile sensations.

“There’s my little sleepyhead,” he added with true affection, so that she popped one eye open and then the other. Hennessy sat up against the headboard, a couple of pillows propped behind him, bare to the waist. His long legs stretched out before him, covered in a pair of dark grey, silk pajama bottoms, and his feet were also bare. Scarlett sighed softly; when even his feet appeared to her as sexy, it must certainly mean there was no saving her from the beautiful fall she was taking.

She reached up to check the tangle of her hair, blinking at the strong sunlight filling the room. “Mmmmm...why didn’t you wake me?”

He flicked the top of his newspaper down to the crease, favoring her above his reading glasses with indulgent mirth. “My darling Scarlett, you needed your rest, of course. My fault too, as you were rather spent by the time I finally let you sleep uninterrupted.” His grin was smug, yet still she saw his genuine fondness for her, weakening her heart all over again.

“I’m not spent now,” she urged him, shimmying close enough to lay her hand on his bicep.

He pursed his lips, his eyes widening, “Well, haven’t you learned your lessons well! And now looking for extra credit...”

Scarlett batted her lashes and replied breathily, “Extra, extra...Hennessy.” She had already come to love how he looked when she dared call him by name.

His mouth dropped open as if to respond, but he was interrupted by the loud buzz of a text alert on his mobile. “Hold that thought, little lamb,” he commanded, “And I promise to give you all the attention you so deserve.” Hennessy took a perfunctory look at his phone, them jumped up from the bed, taking giant strides to the door. He turned back her way, eyeing her as though he saw right through the sheets, while his smile grew salacious. “Mmmm...mmmm...mmmm! You could almost make a man forgo his other hungers, Scarlett. But we don’t want out breakfast growing cold now, do we?” He dashed from the room.

Perplexed and a bit stymied--god, how perfectly divine he’d looked framed in the doorway, all firm, warm flesh, so srtong and long and lanky, that all she wanted was to mold her body to his as she lay beneath him--Scarlett turned onto her back and gave a long, languorous stretch, waiting upon his return. She heard his heavy front doors close and then imagined him taking two steps at a time back up to his bedroom suite. The mouthwatering scents of fresh pancakes and bacon preceded him into the room.

“Voila! Here’s my version of breakfast in bed.” Hennessy seemed very pleased with himself and with surprising her, crossing to the bed and setting down two plastic sacks filled with cardboard containers. He put a smaller paper bag on his bedside table, which turned out to hold coffee and orange juice.

Scarlett’s stomach had begun to rumble the moment the aromas reminded her that she hadn’t eaten anything in over twelve hours. She scooted up against the headboard, keeping the sheet decorously across her breasts, while Hennessy took his place beside her and began to dole out their meal. “There’s bacon and sausage, darling. Wasn’t sure you had a preference, but there’s more than enough of both.” There was plenty of syrup and butter, too, and a container of sliced and sugared strawberries, along with whipped cream, to top the pancakes. And a heaping serving of cheese-topped scrambled eggs.

She tucked in with relish, and Hennessy laughed good-naturedly at the evidence of her hunger, the smile lines beside his pale blue eyes (Scarlett sighed inwardly; they always look so astonishingly pale in strong sunlight!) grown dearer than ever to her heart. Since the moment that he’d taken her in full, she’d already stopped herself from saying that she loved him a half dozen times--and he was making it very hard for her to continue to suppress that urge.

“What?” He asked, around a forkful of pancakes and eggs. He must’ve have seen a flicker of that thought cross her face.

“Oh...ah...nothing...really,” she fibbed, lowering her eyes so he wouldn’t read more, “I’d been hoping to make some scones this morning---but this...this is so much better...”

“It is, isn’t it!” He hummed a jaunty tune as he set himself a second serving of everything. “But please don’t be too disappointed about your scones, love. The morning paper and breakfast takeaway in bed is a Sunday ritual I will never go without, come hell or high water.”

“Of course...” The danger of him guessing how soft she was for him seemed to have passed for the moment.

“But if it would make you happy, we can have them with tea this afternoon. Or failing that, another breakfast morning. Would that work for you?”

“Oh, yes,” she nodded, happier at the implication that there were further breakfasts together in their future, than for the promise of the scones themselves. “Whatever you want...darling.” His smile was pure sunshine as he leaned in and kissed her mouth, before returning to his meal.

After they broke their fast, he had her in the shower, amid a thick wall of steam created by the dual showerheads--taking her with such a stunning ferocity that he left her filled with speechless bliss, and legs shaking so badly that she had to lean on him for several minutes until she felt strong enough to support herself. Though he was both amused---his low rumbles of laughter at her very flattering reaction had echoed all around them---and highly satisfied, he also became the soft, solicitous lover in the aftermath, smoothing gentle hands upon her wet hair and scattering loving kisses on her face, murmuring endearments against her skin.

’My darling...my angel...my lovely, little lamb. My sweet, sweet Scarlett...’ Spurring her to ask herself: how can he see to my needs this way and still not know he owns my heart?

Why, he’d even stepped from the shower first--telling her to just hold on a tic--grabbing a thick, thirsty towel to swaddle her in before he wrapped one around himself, and then had guided her to sit on the padded vanity stool next to the long bathroom counter. Never having observed a grown man in his morning ablutions, Scarlett found herself fascinated watching him run gel through his thick, dark hair, trying to get it to behave as he preferred, and then lather up and shave. Shaving with meticulous care, the quiet scrape of the razor against his skin reminding her that this was all very real. That this complicated, brilliant, perpetual temptation of a man had welcomed her not only into his bed, but into the privacy of his home and the rhythm of his life.

The air was soon rich with his scent--Bleu de Chanel--as he applied a generous dose of aftershave. When he grabbed his toothbrush, he turned to her with a grin, “I’m almost all set, love. Then you can have the room to yourself to do...whatever it is you do to keep yourself looking so...hmmm...scrumptious.”

Scarlett nodded, though she would have been just as content to simply watch her magnificent lover--her private Hennessy--in the domain which reflected exactly who he was, going about even his most ordinary tasks. Her heart was so entranced now that she wanted to memorize his every detail.

He gave her another toothy grin, then strode over to deposit his towel in the hamper, casually revealing the full glory of the form she had come to worship. He flashed her a wink when he caught her staring-- she just couldn’t help herself, and odds were he knew that. “You might want to suit up, darling. It looks to be the perfect day for a swim.” Then he was out the door, leaving Scarlett to daydream her way through her own morning toilette, wondering what new lessons Hennessy might have in store for her. Eager to learn--and even more eager to please.

____________________________________________

Scarlett had plaited her damp hair into a Dutch braid, draped across her shoulder, hoping to keep her hair tidy if they did end up taking a swim. She slipped into a modest tankini with her denim capris over that, and then grabbed her rucksack before she headed downstairs. If Hennessy was busy--she’d noted he had taken his newspaper to wherever he’d gone off to--she had a bit of actual course work to do. Sketches for a study of the natural world, prep for an end of term project--a large, landscape painting in the artist’s choice of medium, along with a portfolio of drawings and any other work she did towards the completion of the final piece. She’d found the seeds of inspiration in Hennessy’s wild-grown garden, as well as in his serene shingle of private beach, and she was keen to make a start.

She found him with his paper beneath the patio umbrella, with an iced pitcher of lemonade, one empty glass and one half-full, upon the wrought iron table. As he had advised her, he was clad in swim trunks and a matching, athletic fit surf tee. In blues and sea greens of course, the hues that not only dominated his casual color palette, but flattered him perfectly.

Scarlett set her bag on one of the spare chairs, poured herself some lemonade and then topped off Hennessy’s glass. He thanked her before turning his attention back to the crossword puzzle he was working on. “You do them in pen?” she observed.

“Is there any other way?” he had narrowed his eyes while he was trying to work out a clue, rhythmically tapping his ball point pen on the glass table top. “Six letter word ending in k-a...an exclamation...hmmmmm...”

She couldn’t resist chiming in, ‘eureka’ just as she began to set out her supplies, then pulled her sketchpad from her rucksack.

“Eureka, indeed,” he chuckled, glancing over to watch her preparations. “And what’s this, little lambkin? Another hidden talent?”

“Depends on what you would consider talent, Professor,” she stated modestly, “I draw a little, I paint a little. Always looking to improve.” She opened up to the middle of her sketchpad, several pages past the drawing she had indulged in the previous afternoon, meaning to avoid him catching sight of it.

“And what sort of things give you inspiration, my dear? People, places...things, mayhap?” Hennessy’s curiosity had been piqued, and he was craning his neck to get at least a little peek.

”Well, yes, of course,” she teased innocently, not ready to volunteer a thing, while setting the edge of her pencil onto the rough surface of the blank page. There was the scrape of chair legs dragged across the calypso coral stone beneath their feet as he drew nearer, and soon he’d made it impossible for her not to acknowledge that he was leaning in close, laying his hand on the back of her neck, toying with the few stray hairs that had escaped her braid. Scarlett turned her head slightly, just enough to see Hennessy from the corner of her eye, catching enough of him to recognize the mischievous glint in his. “What,” she asked quietly, realizing that she would accomplish nothing until she had at least humored him.

“Just curious, darling.” He ran a single finger across her bare shoulder and down her arm, a sure and pleasant distraction, softening her resolve. “I think you’d like to show me your work. Wouldn’t you, Scarlett?”

“I suppose,” she replied with a sigh, though she remained uneasy about how he would react to the liberty she had taken, of sketching him.

“Always my good girl.” He brushed a quiet kiss upon her cheek and then rested his hand on the center of her back, waiting patiently as she flipped back to the opening page.

“Some of these are incomplete,” she noted, “Mostly just for practice, or because I haven’t decided yet what other elements should be part of the composition.” Scarlett could feel his eyes study the page she had revealed, a very flawed study of the little cottage of her youth. “And of course, there’s a lot of trials and error.”

“That’s home,” he observed, sounding more fascinated than such a simple thing usually allowed for.

“Uh-huh.” Encouraged by that sign of his sincere interest, she turned a few pages more, where her work depicted rustic exteriors of her native Scotland, and several sketches of the village-side inlet that she would forever think of as her own. Next came several studies of a sunny, seaside bay, ringed to the beach’s edge with one and two story buildings set very close together. To the last of these, she’d chalked in traces of color--vivid blue for the water, pale pastels on random buildings--and had treated the sketch with a fixative to keep the chalk from rubbing off.

“These are lovely, Scarlett,” he exclaimed, absentmindedly massaging the stretch of skin between her shoulder blades. His touch felt blessedly cool on her sun warmed flesh.

“You needn’t sound so surprised, Professor,” she replied coyly, so that he chuckled and laid a kiss on her shoulder.

“I’m not, darling. Truly, I’m not.” He drew a deep breath, then added, “Though I’m curious about where these are from.”

Scarlett paused a moment, recalling those endless, sunny days and balmy, starlit nights. “They’re from my time in Mykonos, at the end of my gap year.”

“Clearly, you found the place enchanting, my dear. Why, it nearly leaps off the page!”

She watched his profile as he leaned in for a closer look. “Do you really think so?” How happy it made her to see his enthusiastic response!

“Absolutely,” he assured her, giving a low whistle of appreciation, “And if I had to guess, I’d say that you were at least a little bit in love with the place.”

“I...I was...” she breathed softly. And with a beautiful young man there. My dear Benedicktos.

Inevitably, the next series of sketches raised Hennessy’s curiosity even further. “And who’s this?” Scarlett heard a trace of judginess creep into his voice.

“Oh...um...an artist I met while I was there...” Artist, sculptor--and if only our stars had aligned properly, he would have been my first. My first lover.

“I see...” And surely Hennessy could see her true feelings for her Bene, pictured in the loving way she had drawn his lines and angles. One page was filled with thumbnail sketches of just his face in profile. She had worked a couple of those into larger versions, and chalked color onto them as well. They showed a thick, unruly crown of dark, windswept curls. Smooth, well tanned skin and a sensuous looking mouth. And eyes of pure sea green.

“I think you were at least a little bit in love with this boy, too,” he observed quietly, and he gave her a beat to respond, though she could not for the lump in her throat. “Weren’t you, Scarlett?”

She took a deep breath, gathering her composure as well as her wits; she would not share that golden time with Hennessy. Not yet, anyway. “I suppose I was, at least a little bit...but then, it’s easy to fall in love in a place like that...”

“I suppose it is, little lamb. And lucky boy he must’ve been.” To her wonder, his smile felt a little false. He couldn’t possibly be jealous, she told herself; doesn’t he realize I’m his completely?

She tried to turn rapidly over the following pages, but Hennessy stayed her hand, determined to see the full story. Scarlett had draw Benedicktos sitting shirtless and cross-legged at the water’s edge. Standing and gazing out at sea, watching the sun set. Smiling vibrantly, cheeks creased with rows of dimples, while he appeared to be laughing. The last sketch showed him shirtless again, his smile softer but no less dazzling, as he stood in the prow of a fishing boat, a tall line of verdant cliff tops in the distance, the blue of the sky just a little lighter than that of the Mediterranean.

Her teacher had gone silent as she flipped past the last page in that series and put the pad down. “Hennessy?” She placed her hand on his, where it rested on the table. “That was years ago. Sometimes it feels like a lifetime--once I got home, my mother fell ill for some time, and...and we fell out of touch right away.” He nodded and smiled, but she felt she needed to offer more. “That’s how holiday romances go, right? Golden but fleeting...” And now my heart belongs to you. Forever, by the feel of it.

“Yes,” he nodded again, and she wondered if he caught the flavor of that thought, for he raised her hand to brush his lips against her fingers. He studied her face a moment, and his sunshine smile returned. “But I want to see them all, darling. You do have quite a talent.”

And so they continued. Hennessy laughed genially at her studies of her little black kitten, Chaucer, ranging across her book shelves, warming himself on her laptop keyboard, and curled into a fluffy little ball upon her bed pillow. “I swear, he really did all those things,” she confided, glowing a little in the face of her lover’s generous regard, “It’s like he owns the place now, and I’m just the guest.”

Hennessy clucked his tongue. “Bosh. We’ll see who runs the place when I come to visit. My will is certainly far stronger than his.”

A little thunderstruck, she asked him breathlessly, “You’d come to see me at my flat?”

“I don’t see why not,” he grinned, and then seeing what it meant to her, he issued a hasty disclaimer. “Of course, that’s no promise it’ll be any time soon, my dear. Timetable to be determined.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Scarlett nodded, doing her best not to seem disappointed. It was too much, too soon to have expected, anyway.

At last they arrived at the sketch, the one over which her anxiety had been gradually growing. The moment of truth. She averted her eyes at his sound of surprise, as he stood up and took the pad right out of her hand, to finally exclaim, “Well, I’ll be damned!” In the brief silence that followed, she could hear the thump of her own heart, hoping against hope that he had meant that in a good way. “Scarlett...darling...when did you do this?”

She finally raised her eyes, to find such an open, soft expression on his features that her heart just about skipped a beat. “Yesterday. After I...left you in the study...”

Hennessy crooked his trademark, honest half-smile her way. “This...this is really good, my dear. And I have to say...quite...flattering.”

Scarlett was memorizing the look of genuine wonder in those eyes that had the power to command her and cajole her. Frighten her for breathless moments, and just as effortlessly mesmerize her. Fancying that someday soon she’d capture the chameleon beauty of those eyes in this particular moment, in charcoal and in chalk, so to frame them and keep them well beyond the days when his interest in her finally waned. “I just drew the truth, my jo,” she shrugged, “Exactly as I saw it.”

His mouth hung open as he reached to brush back some strands of hair that had fallen across her forehead, then stroked his thumb across her cheek. “You have a true artist’s eye, love.” His voice was the velvet caress she had come to crave. “And your romantic nature shines through in...all of these pieces. I am both flattered and honored by this...gentle version of me. By the beauty you’ve rendered to even my most...jarring...defects.”

She bit her lip, and could only bow her head in thanks, else her voice might break with the tenderness he stirred her to. Jarring defects. His mysterious scars. How she ached to know their origin, and to give him comfort for whatever pain he’d suffered from them--though she knew she could not, should not, ask. But at least she knew she’d touched his heart in their regard, and that would have to be enough for now.

Still tracing her cheek, Hennessy moved into a crouch beside her. The heat had brought a ruddiness to his face and the bright sunlight allowed her to study the soft smattering of freckles across his skin. Scarlett had a moment to think about how very much she’d like to capture this look on him, deciding that her Prismacolors colored pencils might be best, before he moved in close enough for kissing. “Would it be too vain of me to say that sketch is my favorite, darling?”

“No. Not at all,” she breathed, contemplating how she might express on paper, the perfection of his cupid’s bow, the temptation of his tender lower lip. Even unto the wee scar that couldn’t mar it’s beauty, and which she had already tasted countless times, and hoped to taste countless more.

“Perhaps someday you’ll sketch me with the passion you expended on your Greek boy.” He was teasing her, of course; he had to be. He couldn’t know she was thinking exactly that. “In fact, I would enjoy that very much, Scarlett. To have you ply your...talent...on me.”

Hennessy’s breath was on her lips now, the promise of his kiss achingly close. She shut her eyes, panting in anticipation. “Yes...on me, sweet Scarlett. On me, and me alone.” She whimpered beneath the searing power of his kiss, as though by accepting it, she’d made some sort of Faustian bargain--and thus he had claimed yet another piece of her soul.

_________________________________________________

tagging: @strangelock221b @ben-locked @ben-c-group-therapy @thelostsmiles @splunge4me2art @humanbornarchangel @tsukuyomi011 @ravencatart @doctor-stephenstrange @letterstosherlock @emilyinnj4real @aeterna-auroral-avenger @frowerssx2 @groovyfluxie @candie-girl22

(And yes, my friends, I promise there will be watery fun to come in the next installment *grinning wickedly*.)

#my writing #Scarlett and the Professor #I hope you find it worth the wait!#Scarlett Cambell #OFC #her devilish lover #Scarlett's Professor #OMC #not my OMC and used with permission #as long as tacit permission remains #Professor Hennessy #Hennessy #[I have to be honest - when I wrapped this chapter up the other day]#[before editing it ofc - I felt like a 'real writer; like this could really be a book]

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alice-beaumont-ravenclaw · 4 years

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A Wonderful Surprise

A/N #1: This is fic #2 of the Brazil series. It was inpired by the ! prompt of the 30 days OTP alphabet challenge as well as Prompt #2 of Fictober 2020 by @hphm-fictober . You can find Alice’s outfit HERE, and the suggested music HERE. (Here are Part 1 & Part 2 of the first fic of the series.)

“Alanza told me she would join us here.”

Alice and her friends were standing near the bronze statue of Floriano Peixoto, the second Brazilian president, in the neighbourhood known as Cinelândia. They were surrounded by buildings built in the Beaux-Arts architectural style, which gave the area a certain European cachet with their columns, symmetry, and highly decorative façades.

“Are you sure about the time?” asked Diego.

“Noon seems like an odd time to meet up,” said Penny, who was wearing a large sunhat.

“That’s what she told me. She said she knew of this place where we could eat lunch close to here, and that it would be simpler to visit the area after,” explained Alice, fanning herself with her map of Rio.

“Olá!” they heard from behind them.

“Alanza!” they exclaimed, running to her.

“How are you? I hope you didn’t wait too long,” she said beaming.

“No, not at all,” said Barnaby, blushing.

“Long enough for us to overheat,” mumbled Tonks and Tulip.

“Oh! I’m so sorry! Come, come. Let’s go and eat. I know this boteco that’s been around since 1921.”

“What kind of food do they serve?” asked Alice.

“Various stuff. You can get pizza, fish, churrasco, feijoada…”

“What are the last two things?” asked Penny.

“Well, churrasco is basically meat barbecued on skewers, while feijoada has black beans, some pork or beef product, and at least two types of smoked sausage and jerked beef,” explained Alanza.

“Black beans, you say?” said Alice. “Well, as I do not want to spend the afternoon passing wind, and that I don’t want to eat something too heavy, I think I’ll stick to pizza.”

“The meat on skewers sounds great,” said Barnaby as they sat at a table under the yellow awning.

After a hearty meal, they headed to the Theatro Municipal, a theatre that borrowed from the Parisian Opéra Garnier’s architectural style. The roof was a vibrant shade of turquoise, and the central dome was adorned with a majestic golden eagle.

“Can we go inside?” asked Andre, using his hand to shade his eyes from the sun.

“Unfortunately, no. We can only go in to see a performance or if we are part of a tour, which were all full when I checked,” replied Alanza.

“Too bad. It looks really nice from the outside, would have loved to see the inside,” said Alice.

“Oh, I doubt it compares to the Paris Opera,” said Alanza.

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been inside the Opéra Garnier.”

“What? But don’t you have family in Paris?” asked Tulip.

“I do, but it’s not like the law mandates us to go inside the Opera every time we’re in town. I walked past it when I’ve been to the Galeries as a kid, but until last summer, I hadn’t been to Paris after Jacob’s disappearance.”

“I wonder if this one has a ghost, like the one in Paris,” said Penny.

“A ghost?” asked Barnaby and Charlie as they started to walk past the theatre.

“A phantom, actually. This French author wrote a story at the beginning of the century about a Phantom haunting the Opéra. It turns out that the Phantom is a deformed man named Erik. An excellent musical was made based on this story. I honestly could listen to the soundtrack over and over again,” said Alice, softly sighing.

“So, where are we heading next?” asked Tonks as they strolled through Largo da Carioca.

“Igreja São Francisco de Penitência. It’s a church. The interior is really impressive,” said Alanza.

“Where is it?” asked Diego.

“Right there,” replied Alanza, pointing to a building up a small hill.

“Doesn’t look super impressive from the outside,” said Andre.

“Don’t judge a book by its cover, Andre,” said Alice, nudging her friend on the shoulder.

“Oh, sweetheart, everyone judges books by their cover. Why do you think I put so much importance in my outfits, as well as yours?”

“Believe me, the exterior doesn’t do justice to the interior,” said their Carioca friend as they made their way up the stairs to reach the church.

When they finally made it inside the church, they were greeted by exquisite gilded carvings on the walls and altars, as well as magnificent paintings on the ceiling depicting the glorification of Saint Francis in a Baroque illusionist style.

“Wow,” simply said Andre, his mouth ajar.

“So much gold,” said Tulip.

“Good thing we didn’t bring Jae. He’d be salivating,” said Tonks.

“He’d probably try to take something to sell it,” said Penny as she removed her hat.

“Come on. He’s not that bad,” said Alice as she looked at the ceiling.

“Are you so sure of that?” asked Charlie, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at Alice.

“Well… Ok, maybe not, but he mostly deals in magical contraband, so I don’t think he would see anything here worth selling,” admitted Alice.

“I wouldn’t put it past him to still try and make a quick buck from something here,” whispered Diego.

“Is it common for Muggle churches to be covered in gold?” asked Barnaby.

“Can’t say I’ve ever seen a Catholic church with so much gold. Russian Orthodox churches have their fair share, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen this amount of gold in a church,” said Alice, looking around.

“How do you know so much about churches?” asked Diego.

“I’ve seen some when I travelled with my parents when I was a kid. Even if you aren’t religious, churches can be of cultural interest, as artists were often commissioned to paint and decorate them to show how grand and powerful the Church was,” explained Alice.

“And if you didn’t already know, Alice is in Ravenclaw,” said Tonks, Alice sticking out her tongue at her.

“Hey, where did Charlie go?” asked Andre.

“He’s right…” started saying Alice as she looked beside her, only to see no one was standing there. She turned on herself trying to spot her boyfriend, to no avail.

“Hum, I think he went outside,” said Diego. “He found it stuffy in here.”

“Why didn’t he tell me? I should go with him,” said Alice.

Before she could turn around, Diego wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her further inside the church. “Come on; I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to miss all the art in here.”

Alice gave Diego a suspicious look, furrowing her brows, before glancing behind her. She figured that if Charlie had wanted her to be with him, he would have told her. She shook Diego’s arms off of her shoulders and joined the girls at the altar, where Tulip was busy imagining Dennis getting married to the love of his life. Once they were done visiting the church, they went back outside, where Charlie was waiting for them in the shade.

“Are you ok?” asked Alice as she ran up to him.

“What do you mean?”

“Diego told us you went out because you felt it was stuffy in the church…”

“Oh! Yeah, I just needed some air, but I’m perfectly fine now.”

“Glad to hear you’re feeling better, mate,” said Andre as they made their way down the stairs.

“Ok, next up is a sweet treat: pastéis de nata. And it will give us the chance to relax a bit and step away from the heat,” said Alanza.

“Hum, actually, you guys can go ahead. We’ll join you later. There’s something I want to show Alice,” said Charlie, taking Alice’s hand.

She looked up at him, her cheeks turning pink.

“Ok, you two have fun!” said Diego as he guided the rest of the group away from the couple.

“We’ll be at the Confeitaria Colombo!” shouted Alanza as Alice and Charlie walked away.

They left the street they were on, taking a narrow road to lead them to the larger Rua Sete de Setembro.

“Where are you taking me?” asked Alice as she let Charlie lead the way.

“You’ll see,” simply replied Charlie.

“Is it what you and Diego were talking about yesterday?” asked Alice.

Charlie stopped in his tracks and looked at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Diego was looking for you yesterday before lunch, and he went straight to talk to you when I told him where you were. Also, you two looked like you were cooking up some plan last night at dinner,” said Alice as they started walking again.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” replied Charlie, avoiding Alice’s gaze.

“Ah! I knew it! You were planning something with Diego!” said Alice as they turned into a small deserted street next to an old theatre. “Seriously, where are you taking me?” she said, looking worriedly around.

They crossed a plaza and stopped in front of a building built in limestone that looked like a church. Four statues were on the façade: one on each side of the building, and the other two were on each side of the door. Before she had time to read what was written at the top of the building, Charlie took both of her hands and made her look at him.

“Close your eyes,” he said, smiling.

Alice looked at him, skeptically.

“Please,” he pleaded.

She furrowed her brows, smiling lightly as she closed her eyes after removing her sunglasses. He waved a hand in front of her closed eyes to make sure she wasn’t looking. He gently took her hand and guided her inside the building.

“You can open your eyes now,” said Charlie as he stood behind her.

Alice opened her eyes and what she saw rendered her speechless. Three floors of walls covered in books. A magnificent chandelier dangled from the ceiling, which also had a skylight in iron structure. The intricate details of the wooden frame of the library’s galleries were sublime. Alice felt like she was in a dream. Sure, Hogwarts’ library was big, but it was dark, a little gloomy, and unwelcoming; Madam Pince having a lot to do with that last impression. This library was luminous. The blue walls contrasting with the wood’s darkness and the touches of gold on the wood contributed to Alice’s warm feeling as she stood in this great library.

“Oh, Charlie,” whispered Alice, turning around, the skirt of her dress twirling as she did so.

“You like it?” asked Charlie as Alice wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Like it? I love it!” she said before kissing him on the lips, her straw hat falling backward.

Charlie placed his hands on her waist, closing his eyes as he leaned into the kiss until he realized something. He opened his eyes and cleared his throat.

“What?” asked Alice as she took a step back.

“Hum… there are people around…” whispered Charlie, looking around the room.

Alice turned her head, noticing some people looking at them as her face grew hot.

“Sorry,” she mouthed before looking back at Charlie. “Let’s take a look around,” she whispered as she grabbed her hat from the floor.

They walked around the bookcases on the ground floor, looking at all the old books’ spines. They didn’t dare touch any, as they felt the gaze of the librarian on their back.

“I guess every library comes with a Madam Pince,” whispered Alice.

“I guess kissing in a library won’t get you on the librarian’s good books,” said Charlie, looking behind him. “Anyway, it’s not like we can read anything here. Everything seems to be in Portuguese. We should go back to the others… Alice! What are you doing?”

Alice held a book in her hand while holding her wand over a page with the other. “Shhh, be quiet. It’s just this book had ‘Contos de fadas brasileiros’ written on it.”

“But it’s in Portuguese! And your wand…”

“I need it to use a translation spell Rowan taught me.”

“Taught you? When?”

“Well, she didn’t actually teach it to me in person. I just found it on a note in a book she read,” explained Alice as she read the page her wand was hovering over.

“Quick,” said Charlie, as he looked behind them, “the librarian is coming.”

Alice closed the book and promptly replaced it on the shelf as she surreptitiously slid her wand back into her crossbody handbag. “Obrigada,” said Alice, turning to face the librarian with a sweet smile, her angelic face seemingly calming any worries the librarian had as the couple swiftly left the library.

“That was a close call,” said Charlie once they were outside. “Anyway, what did you say to the librarian?”

“I simply said ‘thank you.’”

“Why?”

“Because it’s polite and one of the few things I can say in Portuguese,” explained Alice as they made their way back to the Rua Sete de Setembro. “Figured something polite, and my sweet face would get her off our backs.”

They leisurely made their way to the Confeitaria Colombo, holding hands and talking about their vacation so far. As they approached it, they saw their friends leaving the restaurant.

“Here are the two lovebirds!” exclaimed Tulip.

“We got some custard tarts to go when we figured you wouldn’t be back in time,” said Penny, holding up a small plastic bag.

“They were delicious!” said Barnaby, rubbing his stomach as he smiled.

“Mate, you have some coloured lip balm on your lips,” pointed out Andre, smirking.

“So I guess Alice liked her surprise,” said Diego, grinning.

Charlie used the back of his hand to wipe off the lip balm as he and Alice blushed.

“Wait, did you two abandon us just to make out somewhere?” asked Tonks.

“What? No! We visited a library!” exclaimed Alice.

“A library? Why would you visit a library instead of eating custard tarts? Are you trying to cover up for the fact that you did spend all that time making out?” asked Tulip, her face inches from Alice’s as she looked at her suspiciously.

“No, they did go to a library: The Real Gabinete Português de Leitura, or Royal Portuguese Reading Room,” explained Diego, making Alanza wince at his Portuguese pronunciation. “The two Argentinian girls I spoke to yesterday said it was a really nice place to see, so I told Charlie he should take Alice there.”

“Wait, when you left the church…” started saying Alanza.

“I went to locate the library, make sure I had the right directions,” completed Charlie.

“Aw, all that for Alice… Makes me sick,” said Tonks, sticking out her tongue in fake disgust.

“Jealous,” said Alice, lightly nudging her friend.

“You wish,” replied Tonks, linking her arm with her friend’s. “Now, come on. We’re supposed to go see a royal palace.”

“Actually, it is the Imperial Palace,” explained Alanza as they made their way down the street. “It became the prince regent of Portugal’s residence when he moved here with his family to escape Napoleon’s invasion of Portugal. It is at that time that Rio became the royal seat of power.”

“Bloody French,” said Tonks, smirking as she glanced at Alice.

“He wasn’t French, he was Corsican, and his ancestors were Italian,” said Alice.

“But he was the emperor of France, no?”

“For, like, ten years.”

“His army was French?”

“Yes…”

“Therefore, I reiterate what I said: Bloody French,” said Tonks, sticking out her tongue.

“Stop bickering, you two,” said Andre. “As long as I get to see a palace, I’m happy.”

“We are not bickering. We are having a friendly conversation,” said Tonks and Alice in unison, making Alanza raise her eyebrows and look around in confusion.

“Don’t ask. That’s how they are,” explained Penny to Alanza, rolling her eyes.

When they finally arrived at the Imperial Palace, what stood in front of them was a white three-storey building in a simple baroque style with a tiled roof.

“That’s it?” asked Tulip.

“Well, it has its charms,” said Alice.

“There are some details around the windows,” said Penny.

“It is not what Europeans think of when they hear ‘Imperial Palace,’” pointed out Alanza.

“Thank Merlin, you see it too! I mean, it’s lovely, sure, but it’s no Versaille or Buckingham. Please tell me it’s like that golden church, and the interior is grand,” said Andre with pleading eyes.

“Unfortunately, no. It was stripped at the end of the 19th century and became a central mail office. It mostly serves as a cultural center nowadays, with temporary art exhibitions.”

“Then why is it called the Imperial Palace?” asked Barnaby.

“Because when Brasil became independent, it became the Império do Brasil, or Empire of Brasil,” explained Alanza. “When it was the Portuguese royal family’s residence, it was known as the Royal Palace. Before that, it was the house of the Governor.”

“How come you know so much?” asked Tulip.

“She’s from around here,” said Diego.

“Alice, you live in London. Do you know who first lived in Buckingham Palace?”

“Hum, no?”

“See! I live in London as well, and I don’t know the history of any buildings, except the Tower of London because executions,” pointed out Tulip.

“Alright, when Alice told me you wanted to visit the historic part of Centro, I may have studied up on my Trouxa history. The map I have with me is full of my notes,” she said, showing the scribbles on her map.

“Trouxa?” asked Barnaby.

“People who can’t do magic.”

“Ah! We call them Muggles,” said Charlie.

“So, as much as standing in the sun learning about cultural differences is fun, what is next?” asked Penny.

“Well, that’s pretty much it. Next up for you is to head back to the hotel to relax, so you are ready for tomorrow’s hike,” said Alanza.

“Hike?!” said Alice and Penny.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have any outfits that are intended for nature,” said Andre.

“I was actually planning to go to the National History Museum tomorrow, since it’s free on Sundays,” said Alice.

“Says the rich girl,” said Tonks.

“Rich people are notoriously cheap,” replied Alice.

“But I don’t want to go to a stuffy museum,” complained Tulip.

“We can separate for the day. You guys can go hike in nature, while Penny, Andre, and I go to the museum.”

“Will there be dragons on that hike?” asked Charlie.

“Charlie. Always asking the important questions,” said Diego.

“Hum, no, sorry,” replied Alanza.

“Meh, then I’ll go to the museum with Alice.”

“Are you sure? There won’t be any dragons in the museum either,” said Alice.

“No, but you’ll be there,” replied Charlie, making Alice blush.

“Ok! I think this is our cue to head back to the hotel before those two start snogging in front of the palace,” said Tulip as she ran towards the street to hail two cabs.

“Well, see you tomorrow then! Tchau!” said Alanza waiving to the group as they joined Tulip.

A/N #2: Hope you enjoyed it! Next up: the museum, where I will describe every single exhibit they see... Joking. Anyway, just wanted to let you know something regarding the Imperial Palace. So, in the fic, Alanza said they interior is rather ordinary, it’s mostly based on pictures of the interior. According to Culture Trip, “in 1980 it was restored to its former glory with the interior replicated to how it was in the 19th century.” Unfortunately couldn’t find any information regarding the current state of the interior.

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fangyymusic · 4 years

Text

Some things I could imagine happening between my boyfriend and I’s fursonas and OCs:

1. Fang has his two friends over- Boris and K9- and they’re all playing a dumb game of Truth or Dare. Because K9 “Isn’t a wuss”, he picks dare. Fang clears his throat and asks for a pizza. Already realizing how he shouldn’t have said dare, K9 reluctantly pulls up his phone.

“What do you want?”

“Get us a medium pizza. Split it in half. One side just plain cheese and the other sausage. For Sirus.”

K9 sighs.

“Is that all?”

“Cheese sticks.” Sirus hisses while he stares K9 down and K9 proceeds to hate himself more as he puts that in.

“Are you going to at least share?” K9 asks the two boyfriends, whom are cuddling on the couch.

“No, you owe me.”

And, as usual, Fang was right. That dipshit always owes Fang money.

2. Sirus literally tying into Fang and playing Rocket League while they both wait. Fang has no idea how to feel about this.

3. Sirus tends to fall asleep in a variety of places around the house. Fang finds him napping in the corner of the couch curled up, under surfaces, and sometimes lodged in weird spaces like behind the couch or on the floor, plopped down right where that perfect, single ray of sunlight hits.

4. Fang makes breakfast for Sirus before he leaves to work. He likes to leave sticky notes for him too.

5. Something tells me Sirus’s diet is 5% spaghetti and the other 95% is Fang’s boy syrup (hAh boy syrup).

6. Sirus catches Fang listening to one of his songs. He’s humiliated, super flustered, and flattered at most. Then Fang proceeds to ask him if he’d like to make a song with them. Sirus melts, as per usual.

7. Sirus gets lonely super quickly when Fang isn’t around. Fang works most weekdays, so Sirus is usually home by himself. I feel like to cope with his loneliness, he’d call his friend Styrix over to hang out.

But he’s still lonely.

So he whips out his phone and begins to call Fang. When Fang answers, Sirus whines.

“Fang, honey, I miss you... I’m lonely and it’s been foreverrrr...”

Right in front of Styrix. Poor guy is a third wheel.

8. Fang has flowers in the front yard. Something tells me Sirus waters them if Fang forgets. Something about that is super cute.

9. Fang definitely squish’s Sirus’s cheeks.

10. Sirus blushing when Fang and Styrix begin showing off how impressive their maws are. He just has this dumb obsession with how big Fang’s teeth are.

11. They probably both have a height difference fetish to be honest.

12. Sirus REFUSES to let go of Fang’s tail and probably has gotten lost in it several times. He sleeps with it and is just obsessed.

13. Fang makes a self-deprecating joke and Sirus stops him and makes him eat his words. Sirus makes a self-deprecating joke and suddenly he’s showered with gifts, a fancy dinner is planned and probably some one-on-one sexy time. Nice.

14. Them. Freaking out over Monstercat artists. Essentially my boyfriend and I on that field.

15. I feel like Fang pays Styrix to cash in on his weird shenanigans.

16. If Styrix ever met Boris and K9 and got along with them, they’d all be the chaotic, stupid boy group to constantly annoy Fang and Sirus. Not that they don’t already, just the floor may be coated in soap one afternoon.

17. Boris and K9 are British so that means they don’t exist.

18. Fang and Sirus have like no friends and chronic crippling depression.

19. Sirus definitely likes to get Fang “excited” before important work meetings just for his own enjoyment.

20. Sirus definitely squeezes into weird spaces for no reason. He gets stuck often and needs his heroic boyfriend to get him out.

21. FANG. AND SIRUS. SINGING TOGETHER. ABOUT. THEIR. LOVE. Or just in general, that’s cool too.

22. Fang and Sirus dressing edgy together.

23. Fang is having a breakdown so he dabs on some glittery eyeshadow and sticks on some bizarre long lashes and Sirus walks in and casually asks to be done too. Just to accompany Fang.

24. If Fang is too anxious to check out in a store, Sirus will do it. And vice versa.

25. Fang sitting on the couch and Sirus is curled up around him, napping and purring.

26. Fang’s constant expression is simply just flat out exhausted and angry. His brows are always furrowed and you can visibly see how little sleep he got. Same with Sirus; his face is usually void to most emotion. Suddenly they see eachother and smiles explode on their faces and they become a hugging, kissing mess.

27. They hold hands in public.

28. Fang playing guitar and singing to Sirus during a hill picnic. He’s a hopeless romantic like that.

29. Sirus watching Fang furiously and precisely brush his precious teeth.

30. If any sort of mention of “parent” is brought up, I feel like Sirus would deck somebody on the spot if Fang’s around.

31. Although I do, Fang doesn’t make jokes about his dead parents. Please don’t. His feelings will be very hurt.

32. Fang makes weird fox noises at Sirus, probably.

33. Since Sirus is short, he can probably sit on Fang’s shoulders and purr,,

34. Sirus likes to go get his hair cut and every time Fang freaks out over it and insists taking a few pictures to keep for himself.

35. Neither of them would ever ask for the other’s passwords to anything. Privacy means everything to them.

36. Sirus cheering on Fang deepthroating whole eggs.

37. “E.” “Agreed.”

38. Don’t touch either of them. They don’t like being touched. Funny because nobody wants to be around them anyways.

39. Fang LOVES cooking for Sirus. He will cook anything Sirus wants and do it out of the blue. I can imagine Sirus minding his business playing Xbox with his friends and suddenly Fang walks in with a plate. It has a sandwich on it. He cut the crust off and cut it into triangles. On the side, some cinnamon applesauce. As he sets the food and a can of soda for him down he says,

“Here, sweetie. I made you something to gnaw on. If you need absolutely anything else, let me know, okay?” And he goes and kisses Sirus on the forehead and Sirus is all blushy and everything. Sirus tells him he loves him and briefly explains to his friends his boyfriend’s odd, caring nature.

40. In case I haven’t mentioned before, Fang is super motherly toward his boyfriend and just in general. He cleans and cooks idly like some sort of NPC.

41. Fang, Sirus, Styrix, Boris and K9 all on the floor playing DnD.

“Can I roll to fuck the dragon?”

“No.” - Probably Fang.

42. Fang using a laser pointer to play with Sirus.

43. If alcohol is mentioned you will be bashed in the head by your mom, Fang.

44. Fang casually walking up to Sirus with a broom and several other things in his other hand asking for help making a cover art for a song.

45. Fang humming Sirus to sleep.

46. If Fang doesn’t hear from Sirus in ten minutes tops (nice) he will probably sob in a pillow hoping he didn’t do anything wrong.

47. Spoiler alert, Fang and Sirus never fight and always come to eachother maturely if something is up. It’s usually fixed in seconds but Fang is an anxious mess and wants his precious boyfriend to be happy all the time.

48. Fang hates his birthday and the day it’s on. Sirus goes out of his way to make it enjoyable for him.

49. Styrix texting and calling Sirus at like 6 AM to the point Sirus wakes up and just questions his existence.

50. “I have this pretty bad stomach ache... I don’t know from what though.”

“Mm... Could it have something to do with the fact we cooperatively ate two large pizzas together?”

“Couldn’t be.”

51. Fang is hemophobic. Not so much if he himself bleeds, but if Sirus bleeds as much as a paper cut he will literally pass out.

52. They definitely sing in the car together.

🎶“When you say I’m the only one I must admit it!” 🎶

53. Fang sucks ass at games, but Sirus doesn’t mind at all when it comes to him. When it comes to anyone else, however...

54. Fang’s room is freezing cold so they kind of have to snuggle.

55. Homemade dinner is common from Fang. If you go over to have dinner you’re in for something special.

56. Sirus loves Fang’s food. I’d imagine Fang cooks steak one night and Sirus is hesitant until he tries it. He then concludes he only likes Fang’s steak. (Nice.)

57. Pet names galore. They love gushing over eachother like weirdos and never ever leave eachother alone. They’re so dumbly in love.

58. Fang and Sirus making out on Styrix’s couch and Styrix is just like “This is fine.”

59. Fang and Sirus have Styrix over and say something relatively dirty. Styrix is an innocent, good-looking dumbass and just furrows his eyebrows and questions what’s going on. This is hard for everybody.

60. K9 and Fang are talking. K9 briefly mentions his daughter and Sirus just “Wait, how old are you?”

61. Fang is really closeted. Yet is cool with usual PDA and won’t hesitate to stand up for his homosexuality.

62. Soda.

63. Sirus, a 5’3 petite Canadian Lynx absolutely tops and dominates his 6’1 fox boyfriend.

64. Both of them are covered in questionable marks and scars. They both try to hide it.

65. “You’re adorable!” “No! You are!” And then they make out to make a point.

66. Them eating ice-cream together,,,

67. Their relationship is 40% wholesomeness and 50% other kinky dirty shit.

68. Fang’s closet is just full of questionable things he’d rather only Sirus see.

69. They definitely do this.

70. Making out but, like, all the time.

71. Sirus getting a body pillow that smells like Fang in order to cope with his separation anxiety. Chances are he fucks the pillow- So- That must be interesting.

72. Fang comes home and the first thing Sirus does is ask to be fucked. He sighs.

73. You mention something remotely dirty and Sirus gets a boner somehow.

74. Styrix sitting on their couch and doing something on his phone. He just looks up at Sirus and asks, “What’s a ‘handjob’ and why are they so expensive?” And Fang and Sirus just. Die.

75. Styrix just walks in on Sirus getting beat off from Fang and he doesn’t get why they screamed.

76. K9 getting “kicked out” of his house (he lives with his siblings). Fang and Sirus are snuggling in bed late at night and K9 just. Knocks on Fang’s window and scares the hell out of him. And he just begs to stay the night. He sleeps on the couch in the living room but fails to sleep due to questionable noises. He then begs Fang for breakfast because he likes his food. I for some reason feel like he’d bother the fuck out of Sirus because he’s like that and Sirus just chills in Fang’s room, probably snuggling his body pillow and being horny and just trying to ignore the fact someone is using his Xbox. I mean, not that he cares... or does he?

77. Sirus expressing his dislike toward Amy to Fang while Fang tiredly makes himself coffee. Sirus is ranting while eating his spaghetti and Fang chimes in to wipe the bit of marinara sauce on his chin.

78. Fang and Sirus casually listening to music and suddenly Monochrome Romance plays and Fang just “WAIT” and Sirus just morphs into a tomato.

79. “My aunt wants to come over.”

“Does she know you’re gay?”

“Good question.”

“Should we be worried?”

“Maybe if we take her out to dinner she’ll be too focused on the food to care if I’m being pegged.”

80. Sirus’s gallery is just full of pictures he took of Fang without him knowing.

81. I feel, for some reason, Fang and Sirus have each other’s nudes on their phones so they hesitate giving their phones to other people.

82. Styrix calling Sirus and Fang picks up.

“He can’t talk right now-“ All while he’s breathing uneasily.

“What? Why not? Are you okay? Your voice is all shaky.”

Then he just hears the phone drop and Fang “Sirus!” In the background followed by other concerning sounds. Two minutes later Sirus picks up his phone.

“Can we talk later?”

“Why?? I need to talk now-“

Then he just hangs up and Styrix proceeds to annoy him in every way possible,,

83. What even IS Styrix’s size?

84. (Again with the K9 staying over concept) Sirus walks into the dark kitchen to see Fang making something and he’s all like

“Baby, you left bed. What are you doing?”

“I’m making hot chocolate with rainbow marshmallows for K9.”

Sirus squints.

“Isn’t he our age...?”

Fang just looks over at him with bags under his eyes.

“Yes.”

85. K9 is riding in Fang’s car and Sirus is in the passenger seat. K9 leans in toward Fang through the back seat and he just whines, “Faaang, can we pleaaaase get McDonald’s? I’m hungry...”

Fang thinks about it and flicks his eyes over to his boyfriend. He knows Sirus likes fries. He also likes fries.

“Well, that means I don’t have to cook; but you’re paying.”

“That’s fine! Just don’t get something super expensive!”

It was easy to tell K9 was super excited. As they waited in the drive-thru Fang’s fingers curl within Sirus’s. He somewhat shyly looks up at him.

“What do you want?”

K9 at this point knew Fang only pulled into McDonald’s to feed Sirus but who cares when you have McNuggets.

86. “You underestimate my love for steak.” “Fang, I literally didn’t say anything.” “My original statement still stands.”

87. Fang and Sirus run into K9 in public with his daughter. Fang goes up to K9′s daughter and introduces his boyfriend to her.

“Hey, Maple! How are you doing?”

“Oh, you know.” She fumbles around and crosses her arms. “School... Yourself?” She eyes Sirus next to him.

“I’m fine! Have you met my boyfriend? I don’t think you have. This is Sirus. Sirus, this is K9′s daughter. Her name is Mapleleaf.”

He gives Sirus a hearty smooch on the cheek, Maple giving off a funny smile.

“I had no idea you were gay, uncle Fang.”

“Well, neither did I half of high school.”

88. K9 is on an important Zoom call but Fang and Sirus just begin violently fucking behind him and he just picks up his camera and says “Right, I’m moving out of this room.”

89. K9 playing on the Xbox Fang keeps in the living room while Fang sweeps in front of him.

“Could you get out the way? I’m trying to play Skyrim. This is like, the eighth time you cleaned today.”

Fang stares at him with tired, angry eyes.

“Does it matter? You can’t play Skyrim worth shit.”

“... Is that a no, then?”

“I swear there’s this one speck of dust I just can’t get.”

90. Fang and Sirus are lying awake in bed. Sirus is recording the whole ordeal on his phone and it’s easy to see Fang is very annoyed at the fact his friend K9 invited his brother and a friend over- very late at night.

You can clearly hear them talking and laughing loudly and Sirus can’t help but snicker at Fang’s temper very slowly leaving him. Fang finally gets up and starts putting some clothes on.

Sirus turns his head over to the doorway and watches Fang leave. This is the conversation he hears them yelling.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Sirus hears in a deep, stern tone that could have the potential to turn him on probably.

There’s a silence until K9 speaks up.

“Oh, I just invited Boris and Amy over...-“

“Do you have any idea of what time it is?”

There’s another silence.

“It is three. In the FUCKING. MORNING. I wake up at five every fucking morning for work. Did I mention it’s Monday? Do you know how long it takes for my fur to dry? An hour. I work hard every fucking week. I work overtime whenever I can to squeeze in every little penny possible. I cook for you, offered you a place to stay because you have the weirdest FUCKING relationship with your siblings, I give you money that- oh yeah, YOU NEED TO PAY BACK. You owe me about one thousand... ten? Dollars now and I expect it. All of it, every penny of it. I do all this for you and you don’t even let me sleep so I can work tomorrow? This ISN’T your house. This is me and my boyfriend’s house. OUR house. You’re just staying in it. I’d personally appreciate if you could let me fucking sleep so I can wake back up, shower, wait an hour just to dry my fucking fur, put on my suit, make breakfast, and whatever the fuck so I can afford a ring and support Sirus and I’s dreams. The LEAST you could do. Is ASK to invite someone over. The LEAST.”

Sirus has his eyes wide in bed and he’s staring at the doorway. He could hear the living room be dead silent for a hot minute, then an unfamiliar female voice shyly rose.

“Do... do you want me to leave?”

“Whatever. Whatever. Make youself at home, Amy, Boris. At three in the morning. Uninvited. Without me or Sirus’s permission.”

Fang walks back into the bedroom, closing the door. He begins to button his shirt back off and his eyebrows immediately soften.

“Are you okay darling...?”

Sirus snorted and laughed into his pillow.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“You- you just... grew soft so fast... I’ve never heard you be so mad...”

“Mm...” Fang slid back into bed next to Sirus, Sirus quickly returns to his place on Fang’s chest. As soon as Sirus considered stopping the recording, K9 walks into their room. Ah, this is gonna be good...

K9 clears his throat.

“Look, sorry for not asking either of you for permisson, but please... come on Fang, even you usually have some decency when it comes to this stuff-“

“This isn’t your house.”

“I’m not finished!”

“I wouldn’t care if it kept me from getting sleep!”

“Oh! So you care about getting sleep, huh?? Well it sure is hard to tell when I lay on your couch every night to... to hear you and Sirus just FUCKING!! Fucking every fucking night! How do you expect ME to sleep when all I can hear is ‘Aahh! Sirus! Deeper, please!’?! If anything, this is payback!”

Fang quietly lipped at Sirus, “Are... are we that loud?”

“I tend not to pay attention.” Sirus said and shrugged, laughing internally at the two’s arguing.

“Oh, so you do it on purpose? Wow! But you come in and scream at me like you’re my mom that you can’t sleep-“

“I work tomorrow. Get the fuck out our room.”

K9 turns and stubbornly slams their door. Fang completely slides himself free of all his clothes and holds Sirus real close.

Sirus began to purr... “A ring...? You’re saving up to marry me?”

Fang put a finger to the lynx’s lips. “Rest love... rest...”

91. Fang eats ice-cream religiously and his freezer is full of nothing else.

92. Fang wearing a variety of gay looking outfits.

93. Wouldn’t it be cute if Fang owned Monstercat merch?

94. It’s canon Fang’s laptop is covered in Monstercat artist stickers.

95. Sirus is blogging through his phone and walking throughout the house just talking. He walks across the living room to a coat closet next to the front door.

“Uhh, yeah. This is our coat closet, and-“ He opens the door to reveal it’s Fang’s storage for his weird, expensive emo boots, chains, belts and whatever else. He steps inside just to circle around.

“I don’t know what the hell he’s doing... I don’t think I’m interested in knowing how much money went into this but some of these I’ve just never seen him wear... look, we have coats, but they’re...” He pushes other clothes like jackets a little farther up the clothes rack to show that the coats here are old and clearly have been forgotten about. “We only have like, two coats in our coat closet. The rest is just shoes and stuff.”

He stops touching things and starts moving out the door.

“So... anyways, he wants to fix this door, because, for some reason? The doorknob is really weird,”

He closes the door to the closet and shows off the doorknob that looks perfectly fine.

“I told him it’s been bothering me because this doorknob looks different from every other doorknob in this house... I don’t know what we’re gonna do about it because neither of us are very ‘handy’...” He turns the camera toward him while he’s running his fingers through his hair. “I think that’s a gay thing. I don’t know. I haven’t met a single homosexual who can fix stuff...”

96. Fang screaming, “Sirus! Sirus! Sirus! Sirus!!!! Look at me!! Look!!” And Sirus tiredly looks up at him to see him holding a roll of toilet paper. He puts it on top of his head.

“I’m Marshmello.”

97. A picture of Fang holding Sirus by the scruff captioned “Capped me one of those Canadian Lynx bfs”

98. Sirus gets the slightest upset with Fang and Fang is on his knees trying to make it up to his tiny boyfriend.

99. Sirus is showing Fang a song in process. Fang hums.

“Ooh, oh wow! That sounds amazing! And when you add the vocals it’ll be even more amazing! Just one thing though... that reverb is way too wet on the master. Why do you even have reverb on the master?”

Sirus looks really confused, and he furrows his eyebrows at Fang.

“... You... can have too much reverb?”

“Way too much. Turn that reverb down and maybe even consider taking it off the master.”

“I need... it on the master...”

“No, you don’t. It sounds way too wet throughout the entire song. That’s not what you want.”

“I like wet.”

Fang sighs.

100. Why is the thought of Sirus having a potentially thick Canadian accent so hot?

101. I’m pretty sure Styrix doesn’t even know his own sexuality. He’s too busy looking in a mirror to care about that.

102. If Sirus did have a Canadian accent, Fang would beg him to just keep talking.

103. (Again with the accent) Sirus is talking on the phone to Styrix. Fang is next to him, doing work on his laptop.

Sirus looks over at Fang.

“Fang, Styrix is wondering if he can come over to our house?”

Fang pauses for a minute. He slowly smiles and looks at Sirus with loving eyes. He begins to to repeat him.

“‘House’ huh?” Fang said, mimicking Sirus’s accent.

“Oh my god, not this again. House.”

“‘House’.~”

“... House!”

“‘House’.”

“Can he come over or not?!”

“Sure thing, cutie.”

Now Sirus is angy.

104. Neither of them have self-control. I know for a fact Fang won’t hesitate to suddenly and randomly hug Sirus just so he could start feeling around his body. Best thing? Sirus won’t be able to do anything about it. Fang’s got a tight grip on him and now he can play with Sirus’s body as much as he wants.

... Same with Sirus. Sirus may be small but he can still make dirty remarks and fondle with Fang’s crotch- sitting on it, taking off his shirt, any of that.

To be fair just Sirus talking turns Fang on, so. Nice.

105. Fang is snuggling Sirus in bed. He starts to feel him a little bit, Sirus whining.

“Is that poke I feel you?” Fang chuckles, sliding his hand down Sirus’s pants.

“Shame.~”

106. Sirus fake moans just for shits and giggles. In response, Fang pins him down and dares him to do it again.

107. Fang threatens to beat Sirus up for jokes. He takes off his belt and immediately Sirus starts blushing when he’s trying to escape getting hit.

108. Sirus wakes up early to feel a tender, warm rubbing at his crotch along with something a little heavy resting on his leg.

“Sleep well, little lynx?” Fang whispers in a bass-y tone, kissing his cheek. Sirus mumbles.

“What time is it?... What are you doing?...”

“Just thought I’d help you wake up a little bit, kitty.”

“... Why are you so horny...” Sirus squeaks, moving around a little bit.

“Mmh... woke up this way... like the way that feels, sugarplum?~”

Sirus sighed longingly. “Ghh... yeah...”

109. Fang is groping at Sirus’s ass softly on the couch, holding him tight.

“Hey kitty... you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

“Mhm...” Sirus groans, his face snuggled into the fox’s chest.

“All mine... nobody else’s... my lynx... right?~”

“Yes, darlin’... I am... ghh...”

He spanks Sirus softly and listens to him hiss in pain. He rubs the spot gently. Sirus moans.

“I-I am all yours, daddy! I am!”

110. Sirus looking rabid with a chicken leg in his mouth.

111. “Imagine having dead parents, couldn’t be me.” Fang says as Sirus stares at him and watches his eyes tear up.

112. Sirus is being pouty.

“I’m not cute!”

Fang pushes him right up against the wall and smooshes their lips together, making out with him passionately. He pulls back to Sirus blushing and says,

“Yes you are.”

113. Fang is snuggling with Sirus.

“Are you purring?” Fang leans into the lynx, listening to his body and feeling the vibrations.

“... Y... Yes...?”

Fang melts and covers him in kisses. He absolutely LOVES it when his baby purrs.

114. Fang is wearing a blue polo with small, colorful geometric shapes on it. You know, casual clothing.

Sirus squints at him.

“What is your obsession with looking like a bus seat?”

115. Fang fucking Sirus so raw that Sirus can’t move for like, a week.

#furry #fursonas #fursona #oc #ocs #boyfriend #gay #lgbtq #lgbt #homosexual #furries #canons #headcanons #headcanon #concept #concepts #idea #ideas #mxm #fox #lynx #list

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avatarnao · 4 years

Text

A Million Dreams Ch. 2

A/N: I made some changes to this story. Please reread the first chapter before proceeding with this one!

First, Next

A03

******

Sokka has many thoughts when he wakes up that morning. His dream replays in his head, clear as day as if he’s still experiencing it. Then he thinks, holy shit, I can remember my dream, and the world seems to come crashing down on him.

Somewhere between moving Katara and Aang into their place, then moving into his dorm, and getting dinner with Yue and Suki…. Sokka ran into his soulmate.

Someone on this campus is his soulmate and he has no idea who they might be.

Groaning, he rolls to his side and discovers an empty bed. It seems Zuko’s up and left already. He’d be surprised he slept through it, but he’s not exactly a light sleeper. Then again, he’s not exactly a heavy sleeper either and Zuko did say he would be quiet so as not to disturb him.

His phone sits next to his pillow, the light blinking with an unread message. Katara wants to meet up for breakfast. He’s not sure why she wants to eat in the dining hall of all places but maybe they just haven’t made it to the market for food yet. It looks like the text was sent an hour ago though. Hopefully they haven’t left yet, or that they’re still there. Thankfully, Katara’s always been quick to respond and twenty minutes later, Sokka’s running out the door, pulling his hair back into its wolf tail.

He spends the entire short walk over to the dining hall eyeing every person he passes, wondering if one of them is his soulmate. Of course, there’s no way of knowing without asking outright. Not with a dream as vague as his had been.

So… how is he supposed to find his soulmate? It’s not like he can just recreate the dream himself… he doesn’t have the artistic abilities for something like that. Well… he could certainly try but Katara and Suki always laugh at his paintings.

He'd ask someone to make the pictures for him but…. Soul dreams are personal… he doesn't want to tell them to just anyone .

Thoughts continue to swirl through his head as he steps into the dining hall and waits to be swiped in. His eyes roam each face he passes, hoping that maybe that person had the same dream.

Aang shouting his name across the hall very quickly pushes the thoughts aside, however. Him, Katara, and Toph have found a table in one of the corners, out of the way from everyone else. Thank the spirits too. Sokka doesn’t really want to deal with all the attention the avatar will doubt draw. As it is, people close by are eyeing Aang suspiciously.

“Guys,” he says as he slides into his seat across from Toph. His hands slap on the table, startling Katara. “You won’t believe what happened!”

“Did you meet your soulmate?” Toph asks. Katara and Aang gasp, grins wide as they stare at him across the table. Sokka sputters and scowls at the girl, hands slapping on the table again.

“Toph!” he whines. “Don’t steal my moment!” Toph sofa, waving a hand over her shoulder.

“It’s a new year at school,” she says like she’s not a freshman. Then again, this has been a part of the new school year for their entire lives. As far back as Sokka can remember, the first week is full of students meeting their soulmates. “The dining hall has been filled with people talking about it all morning.”

“Who are they?” Aang asks and Sokka wilts in his seat. His eyes scan the dining hall wondering if maybe they’re here now. If only his dream hadn’t been so vague…. The total opposite of Katara and Aang. They had the pleasure of meeting one on one and saw each other in their dream that same night.

No… he just had to meet his soulmate on one of the busiest days of the semester and have the world’s vaguest dream… at least he has solace in knowing they also dreamt the same thing.

“No idea,” he confesses, eyeing the omelette station. His stomach rumbles and he rises from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

Sokka groans as he steps into line. Of course they have the crappy omelette lady. She’s got to be the most unpleasant person to deal with and is well known for being entirely unfriendly. Still, omelettes are omelettes and the other station is no longer open. This is his only choice. He listens idly to the conversations around him as he loads up his plate with ingredients.

The girl in front of him asks for scrambled eggs. Omelette lady claims they’re too hard to make and Sokka nearly leaves the line. How on earth are scrambled eggs too hard to make? They’re literally what happens when a person messes up all the other egg options!

He stops and swipes a few komodo sausages on his way back to the table. Oh and an egg custard tart. Aang likes those.

“That lady is the worst ,” Sokka announces the moment he returns to the table. “She refused to make scrambled eggs! Those aren’t even hard to make!” Katara scoffs.

“Tell me about it,” she agrees. “I asked if she could mix some rice in, and she gave me the nastiest look!”

“She’s always like that,” Sokka tells them. “Go to the other station if it’s ever available.” No amount of complaining about that lady has kicked her off the omelette line. He’s tried asking Suki about it but even she doesn’t understand.

“Enough about omelettes,” Toph snaps. “Tell us about your maybe-soulmate.”

“Oh yeah!” Aang says, perking up, only for his face to fall. “Did you not see them in the dream?” Sokka shakes his head with a frown, trying to decide if he should tell them the dream or not. They’re his friends though so it probably wouldn’t be that awkward but it seems almost too personal to do it.

“We can’t all be like you two lovebirds, you know,” Toph says, leaning back in her seat. She thankfully refrains from propping her feet on the table. “Some of us have to work to find our soulmates.”

“You know,” Aang begins, smile returning to his face as if it never left to begin with. “The Air Nomads believe dreams are linked to how open both soulmates are to meeting.”

“What,” Sokka says, sausage halfway raised to his mouth. Aang shrugs.

“I don’t think there’s any real proof to it,” he says. “But it explains why some connect on the first dream and why it takes longer for others. If a person isn’t really open to it, it’s going to take longer.”

Huh… that…. That might not be too far of a stretch. So…. Does that mean his soulmate doesn’t want to meet him? He frowns at the thought. Who wouldn’t want to be his soulmate? Sokka’s a catch in his humble opinion.

“Maybe it would help if we knew what the dream was about,” Katara suggests.

“I just…” Sokka huffs, casting a hand in the air as he takes a bite. He takes a moment to chew and swallow before continuing. “I was in the ocean? Swimming towards something…. But I never caught up to it.” He frowns. Does that mean his soulmate would rather run from their inevitable meeting? Is he the only one willing to meet? He groans, head flopping onto the table. “I’m never going to meet them…”

“Well, it’s only a matter of time before you connect in a dream,” Aang says, trying to reassure him. “It happens eventually.” Sokka sighs and pokes his omelette, appetite suddenly gone. So what if they meet? His soulmate doesn’t even want him. Does he even want someone like that?

Soulmates aren’t strictly romantic though…. They could just be good friends… Sokka would accept it even if it’s not really what he was hoping for.

“Well if they don’t want me then I don’t want them,” he declares, sitting up.

“Sokka,” Katara says in that annoying ‘mom’ voice of hers. “You don’t mean that.”

No. He doesn’t. He’s spent his whole life waiting for this moment. Had hoped that it would be Yue after meeting her. Was disappointed when it wasn’t Suki. Still, he never gave up hoping that the day they met would be as exciting as when Katara and Aang had their first connection. He wants to bring them home to his family and have a huge celebration.

Instead, he’s going to spend the next semester trying to find a person who wants nothing to do with him.

“Just because some Air Nomads believe that doesn’t mean it’s true,” Toph points out. Aang huffs, shooting her a disapproving look. Not that she can even see it. Katara's face is like a mirror image, clearly unhappy with the girl's attitude toward Aang's people. Both of them keep quiet though, much to Sokka's relief. He really doesn't want to get stuck in an argument over cultural sensitivities. Top presses on as if nothing happened. “Besides, it was only the first dream. Don’t get so mopey over it.”

“Just be patient, Sokka,” Katara says. Sokka huffs. Logically, he knows he should just wait it out. Patience is working against him though and he just wants to know . Besides, it’s not fair that all his friends met theirs already and now he’s stuck waiting. Well… Toph hasn’t but she doesn’t seem too fussed about it.

“That’s easy for you to say,” he grumbles, picking at his food.

“We were going to go shopping after this,” Aang says, thankfully changing the subject. “Do you want to come with us?” He perks up a little at the thought of shopping. Some retail therapy might make him feel better. There’s probably some new shops nearby too and there’s that tea shop Suki mentioned. Though she might be upset if he goes without her.

Also he should probably head over to the pool and check in with his boss.

“I would love to,” he starts. “But I actually have some things to do around campus, so I’ll pass this time.”

Conversation from there shifts to the upcoming semester and what classes everyone is looking forward to. Sokka can’t say any specific class stands out to him. He’s just taking gen ed classes right now and getting those requirements out of the way. Hopefully, by the end of the year though he’ll have settled on a major.

Toph declares her excitement over being able to lick some rocks, and Sokka’s not even sure that’s a thing. What class would that even be? Seems like a strange thing to look forward to in his opinion. Then again, Sokka’s never been particularly invested in rocks. Must be a bending thing.

Katara, ever the over achiever, is already looking to get into prereq and honors courses. Sokka can only roll his eyes at her. He told her to take it easy for the first semester but does she listen? Of course she doesn’t. She just has to go and overload her schedule.

After breakfast, Sokka returns to his room and unsurprisingly finds it empty. It hasn’t even been a full day and he’s already beginning to suspect Zuko will be one of those ghost roommates, only ever appearing to sleep. Sokka’s more than fine with that. Means he’ll have the place to himself more often than not.

He digs around in his files and pulls out the paperwork he’ll need to lifeguard again then heads off for the pool.

Pakku is… somewhat sexist. Okay…. Scratch that, he’s super sexist. Won’t let the girls sit on the stand. Insists on having the guys do all the heavy lifting. Hell, Sokka’s convinced the guy wouldn’t even employ girls if he had any say. Sokka doesn’t really care for the guy but lifeguarding pays better than any other campus job and school doesn’t pay for itself.

Katara had also been interested in lifeguarding up until she received the first email from the guy. He’d said some pretty unsavory things to her and that just about ended any chance of her taking the job. She spent half the summer lecturing Sokka because why on earth would he work for that man?

He is also, unfortunately, the coach of the probending team. Katara just about lost it when she showed up for tryouts. Despite the guy’s feelings towards women, he was more than welcoming to Katara joining the team. Whether that has to do with her wearing Gran-Gran’s betrothal necklace or not is unknown to them. Katara’s a master bender though and more than deserves a spot on the team.

Sokka wonders who the other starting members are going to be but Katara wasn’t sure the last time they spoke. Apparently, they do separate tryouts for fire and earth benders. Apparently, there is more than one coach as well, which makes sense and Sokka’s not sure why he just assumed there would be one. A waterbender can’t exactly give pointers to a firebender.

At least the other two don’t have to deal with Pakku’s sexism… well, not until they have their first official practice.

So yeah, while Sokka knows Pakku is sexist, the pool pays stupidly well so he’s willing to overlook some things. The guy also knows how to run a tight ship too, and work schedules are always out a month in advance. They have monthly team meetings to go over anything and everything and he even helps out with renewing certifications when needed.

Pakku is far from perfect, but he’s an okay boss and Sokka finds he can live with it.

Chlorine fills the air as Sokka steps into the locker room. The place is practically sparkling, it’s so clean, but he knows it won’t last for long. Despite how often they clean the showers and locker rooms, they’ll never look as good as the first week of the semester. He walks through the area and exits out onto the pool.

Sokka finds Pakku in the supply closet taking inventory.

“Hey, Pakku,” he greets, holding his paperwork up. “Just here to drop this stuff off.” Pakku lowers his clipboard and gives him a small smile.

“Good to see you again, Sokka,” he responds. “You can just set that on my desk and I’ll take care of it when I’m done here. Oh and there’s a meeting on Friday for returning staff. Don’t be late.”

“Got it, boss.” Sokka gives a small wave as he steps out of the closet. “See you on Friday.” He walks across the length of the pool and leaves the documents on his desk.

Sokka heads to the campus center next, hoping to check out whatever new school pride merch they might have. He ends up buying a new bag featuring a design of the school mascot, Boscoe the bear. Because who doesn’t love bags? And this one is fantastic and will hold all his stuff for class!

Happy with his purchase, Sokka goes back to his room and spends the remainder of the day dicking around on his laptop. At some point, he meets up with Suki and the others for dinner.

Zuko still hasn’t returned by the time he goes to bed.

He tries not to be bothered by that. Tries not to feel worried about some roommate he just met and who he barely knows.

He can’t help but be concerned though and hopes Zuko comes back soon.

Eventually, sleep claims him.

He’s running but he doesn't know where he's going. Tonight, the surroundings are constantly shifting. They never stop moving. One moment, he’s in a city and then a forest. At one point, he’s swimming but one thing never changes; he’s running away from something or maybe to it. He can’t be sure who’s chasing who. It’s always close enough that he can feel it but not see it. What is this thing that he’s running from? Why is it chasing him?

He trips and stumbles across the ground. He’s back in the forest. The trees stretch far above him closing the sky off from this world. It’s dark down here, where no sunlight shines. He looks and finds he’d tripped on a tree root. The trees rustle, giving him the impression of a mocking laughter. They silently watch him stumble through the darkness lost and confused. Where is he and where does he go? How does he get out of here? There are creatures in these woods. They too watch him like the trees watch him. They watch from a distance whispering words of encouragement. Unlike them, he can gain freedom. If only he knew where to go. He could stumble around for hours and when he finally finds this freedom, the scene changes.

He’s in a city now; people walking all over the place oblivious to someone lying on the ground. They don’t care. City people never care; they just simply go about their lives ignoring anything insignificant to them. He gazes around at all the faces, too blurry to truly distinguish any of them. Again, he feels the presence of the being chased. They’re here too, looking for him but in the city he’s harder to find.

He rises to his feet and turns into the crowd, quickly cutting between people to try and hide amongst them. Something swipes at his shoulder, fingers just a little too out of reach to grab him.

The feeling of being chased fades and he turns around only to trip on the sidewalk, and fall into darkness.

#zukka #fanfic #A Million Dreams #atla #Zuko #sokka

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lilyvandersteen · 4 years

Text

Out of the Blue: Chapter 1

Presenting: my Blaine Big Bang 2020 story!

A huge big thank you to my beta @hkvoyage for her invaluable feedback and never-flagging encouragement, and to my artist @redheadgleek for the lovely cover art she made for this fic!

I hope you enjoy this story, and by all means, let me know what you think, I love hearing from you :-)

Links: AO3, FF.net)

Chapter 1: Plus One

Between him and Darcy there was a very steady friendship, in spite of a great opposition of character. -- Bingley was endeared to Darcy by the easiness, openness, ductility of his temper, though no disposition could offer a greater contrast to his own, and though with his own he never appeared dissatisfied.

(An excerpt from Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen)

“What do you need a plus one for? A charity dinner?” Blaine asked, buttering a piece of baguette and taking a big bite. He’d been up and about since six that morning, and was too hungry to wait until his soup was heated up.

Cooper grinned. “A wedding. This Saturday.”

“Oh no, no, no, not again! Remember that drunk old man the last time who kept groping me? I’m not coming with you. No way.

Cooper put his arm around Blaine’s shoulder. “Now, Blainey, don’t be like that. We’ve always had good times at these weddings together, haven’t we? I love this new hobby of mine! Relieves more stress than a deep tissue massage. Touching ceremonies, good food, singing and dancing, and tons of people in the mood for some fun. Can’t fathom why I ever turned down wedding invitations before. Why did I? Oh yeah, probably because I worked 24/7. Glad I’m past that stage now. It’s way more fun spending money than making it. And everybody loves the gifts I show up with at weddings. Remember that time I bought the newlyweds a brand new Aston Martin? They were so happy!”

Well, it was certainly true that Cooper had worked his ass off to get where he was now. When Blaine was a child, his brother starred in so many ads that Blaine saw him more often on television than in real life. And then, Cooper had moved away to Los Angeles to start his own advertising business, and in a few years, his firm had become a household name. The flipside of that was that Cooper hardly ever came home for a visit anymore. He missed even Christmas, and though he sent amazing presents for Blaine’s birthdays, he never once showed up.

Cooper HAD been there when it mattered, though. When Blaine ended up in hospital after the Sadie Hawkins dance, Coop had dropped everything and flown to Ohio immediately, where he’d spent the next weeks entertaining Blaine by reading to him and singing with him and telling funny stories about shoots he’d done.

And when Blaine graduated high school and his father refused to pay for college because he wanted to study music composition instead of something ‘practical’, Cooper had smoothed the way at once. He had relocated to New York, bought a brownstone close to the NYU campus and invited Blaine to come live with him, ‘to keep him company’, and had paid him handsomely to help him out with work, doing odd jobs. In no time, Blaine had learned how to build sets, apply make-up, spray long hair to make it look enticingly windswept, arrange food on a plate in the most appetizing way and produce all sorts of sound effects. He’d even written a jingle or two – which made him money every time it was played on the radio and on TV!

By the time school started, Blaine had found out that Cooper had paid his NYU attendance fees and bought all his course books for him.

Cooper had waved away Blaine’s thanks. “You’ve worked hard this summer, and I know I’ll be able to count on you again when I need you.”

“Of course.”

And in the years that followed, Cooper did call on him from time to time, but he made sure not to overtax his brother, and to leave him alone when he had too much school work.

Yes, all in all, Cooper was an amazing brother. Blaine just wished he’d get another hobby. He hated being tagged along to a wedding where he didn’t know anybody.

Cooper shot Blaine a winning smile and turned his laptop in Blaine’s direction. “And these two have such INTERESTING things on their wedding registry list. Look! They’re asking for a Louis XV pet pavilion. And look at this Swarovski-studded cat flap! It’s all cat stuff. I don’t think there’s one thing on the list that’s for themselves. Isn’t that FASCINATING? Oh, I want to go!”

“So take your secretary,” Blaine suggested. “Or that leggy blonde that sneaked out of the house at five o’clock this morning.”

“Ew, no! They’d both think I was serious about them if I took them to a wedding.”

Blaine rolled his eyes at his brother. “Why don’t you go stag, then?”

Cooper pouted. “But it’s no fun turning up there all by my lonesome! I won’t know anyone!”

“What do you mean you don’t know anyone?” Blaine probed. “It’s not the daughter of a business associate this time?”

“Nope.”

“A friend from high school or a cousin twice removed who knows you’re filthy rich now and wants a piece of that?”

Cooper shook his head. “Nope and nope.”

“Ugh, don’t tell me you’re crashing a wedding you’re not even invited to? Not again! One day, you’re going to get in trouble for that, and you will only have yourself to blame!”

Cooper grinned and fanned himself with an ivory card. “Nope. Got the invitation right here!”

Blaine furrowed his eyebrows. “So what, you got a wedding invite from total strangers?”

“Weeell…” Cooper drawled, letting the sentence trail off with a shoulder wiggle.

“Well what?”

Cooper studied the photograph on the invitation and tilted his head to the side. “It’s possible I slept with one of the brides. The blonde one looks kind of familiar.”

Blaine side-eyed his brother. “Kind of? As in, you’re not even sure?”

Cooper shrugged. “Hard to keep track of them all.”

Blaine sniffed in disgust.

Cooper studied the card again. “But I’m 80% sure. And isn’t it sporting of her to invite me to her wedding? I don’t want to get married, but I’m all for other people tying the knot. And inviting me to the party.”

The microwave pinged, and Blaine got his soup out and started to eat, paying no more attention to his ridiculous brother.

Cooper left him alone for a few minutes, scrolling through the wedding registry and occasionally exclaiming about another idiotic cat accessory. Then he wheedled, “Come with me? Pretty please? With cherries and cream on top? I really want to go!”

Blaine glared at Cooper. “No. Find someone else. I have essays to work on this weekend, and I have a gig Sunday evening. An actual paying gig this time, not just an open mic thing. So I have to be sober and well rested. I want them to ask me back.”

Cooper pouted. “Ruin my fun.”

“Oh, I’m all for you having fun,” Blaine said, rinsing out his bowl and putting it in the dishwasher. “Just don’t expect me to tag along.”

He took his satchel and headed towards his room, but Cooper stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I’ll buy you a vintage Martin guitar like that guy from across the street has. I’ve seen you looking, that time he invited us for a barbecue. More hungry for that guitar than for the ribs and sausages Ted was grilling.”

“He doesn’t even PLAY it!” Blaine whined. “It’s hanging on the wall for show. Because it costs the earth. Why would you buy a guitar that sounds THAT good to just hang it on a wall?”

Coop nodded. “Exactly. You would never. That’s settled then. I’ll get you your guitar, and you’ll come to the wedding with me. Thanks, squirt, I knew I could count on you!”

And off he was, taking the stairs two at a time, whistling.

Blaine stared after him, then shook his head and chuckled. Coop always knew how to get his way. All right then, where was his grey suit?

#bbb2020 #blaine big bang 2020 #klaine fanfiction #my fic #out of the blue

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