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falloutjay · 3 years

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Eric x careless/troublemaker reader, reader was always a crazy kid, she felt no one really understood her, and her only real friend was Esther Stoley, Annie Knitts and Nicole. But Reader has always admired Eric and never gotten why everyone hated him (she finds both Kyle and Wendy very annoying). One day, she finds him and Butters making their next scheme, and she wants in. After an effective day of pranking, they (well Eric but reader likes Butters's company) take her under their wing. They generally start hanging out and starts to be the 'girl' of the main group (she thinks of Stan, Butters and Kenny has her brothers) and she finds Eric and Kyle's banter hilarious. It gets better (for her at least): she always defends him now (be it irrationally, rationally, verbally or physically) like: Heidi tried to warn Reader about Eric...but the poor girl leaves with a broken nose or Wendy was just upset how someone so awful, could have someone advocate for them and starts to plan to tell her about the breast cancer incident when Bebe would tell that it's Y/n and if anything, what she did to him would just make her stay more, making Wendy stop. She was also a big fan of the Coon and would just gush about how cool he was (she does like Wonder Tweek, Mosquito and Toolshed but she loves Coon the best). Everyone was pretty divsive, some people thought it was funny and teased him on it (like: Craig, Stan and Kenny), some people shipped it (like: Clyde, Butters and weirdly Nicole/Tweek), but some people were afraid of those two becoming a couple (Kyle, Heidi and Wendy). Eric is strangely 'no comment'y about all this until one day, Eric is just about to be turned into the principal when suddenly Reader in a elorate plan, knocks out the witness and pins the blame on someone else. After that's over, Reader can't take it anymore and happily asks him to be her partner/boyfriend and Eric proudly accepts and the two go on to create to create anarchy. May others pray for their safety.

Hey guys! It's me! I'm back! :D

I'm still stressed AF, but after my day was really nice, I felt super motivated to finally continue this lovely prompt, so I did.

I'm currently still in the process of moving and my exams are still not over, but I'm trying!

So I hope I can publish the next request soon and I love all you guys, thank you for all the likes, reblogs, follows and most importantly your patience! <3

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Eric Cartman x careless!troublemaker!female!Reader

“Don’t you think that’s a bit extreme Eric?” Butters asked, eyebrow raised as he listened to Erics new pranking plan. “No, it’s not at all, “eXtRemE”.” Eric retorted and shook his head.

They didn’t notice that someone approached them, listening to their plan. “W-well if you say so, I trust you, Eric.” As the fatter one of the two heard a twig snap, his head turned immediately and look at a kid from their class. What was her name again? “Who are you?” Eric asked unimpressed. “Y/N.” She answered dryly.

Butters kept looking between the two, moving his head, whenever someone said something. “What do you want?” “I want in on your plan.” “What makes you think I want someone like you in this? You normally play with the girls.”

“What does that have to do with anything. Just because I hang out with Esther, Annie and Nicole…That changes nothing about the fact that I love what you’re planning here, and I want in.” Eric seemed to think about the proposition for a second.

“Okay. I think I need one more person around here. Butters can barely do one fucking job.” So, he explained the plan to you in big detail. And in your humble opinion, it was brilliant. Once Eric had finished explaining, he looked at you with a sly smile.

“So, what do you think?” You pretended to think for a second, before an evil grin appeared on your face. “Why stop there? We can also pull a prank on the teachers and the school buses if we put in a little more effort.” “Never thought about that one before. I like your way of thinking, Y/N.”

The two looked into each other’s eyes, clearly seeing that mischievous spark in each pair of eyes. Butters watched you in horror, afraid of what he had just now witnessed. “Ohhh hamburgers.”

Y/N became a regular in Stans gang rather fast. Kenny and Stan love her to bits, just like she does. They love hanging out with her and to Kenny she’s like Karen. One thing that Y/N really enjoys is listening to Kyle and Eric's bickering. No matter the topic and no matter how loud or extreme the two get, she just sits there like it’s a cinema and the two are the newest marvel movie. Speaking of superhero movies, South Parks very own heroes are a topic ever so often too. And to Cartman’s delight, his trusted friend loves talking about The Coon. His super-secret hero identity. She would also gush about Wonder Storm, Mosquito and Toolshed but she would always praise The Coon, which is a melody in Cartman’s ears. Another thing Cartman loves about his only female friend is how she loves defending him to anyone. Be it teachers, her fellow girl friends, or anyone else. When Heidi tried to warn her that Eric means bad news, she had to visit the nurse afterwards. Y/N had detention for breaking the poor girl’s nose, but she sure as hell didn’t regret her decision. Even when she was shunned by the girls from there on.

“I just can’t believe her. Maybe she will change her mind when I tell her about the whole Breast cancer thing? You know… It could affect her too, maybe that’s wha-Wendy…” Bebe interrupted her and sighted. “You remember how Heidi was? How every time we said something mean about Cartman, she would only try harder to prove us wrong?” “Of course, I remember. How could I forget.” Wendy mumbled and stabbed her fork through her salad. “If you try to reason with her, she will just hit you with the whole “He isn’t like that”-schtick. You can’t change her mind, okay?” Bebe eyed their classmate who was happily chatting with Eric and Kenny a few tables away. “I guess.” Wendy said defeated and closed her eyes, asking herself how Eric could even make a girl interested in him.

On another table across the cafeteria, Craig and those guys were seated. Oddly enough, their topic was similar. Y/N L/N and Eric Cartman. “I don’t know why but they’d make quite a cute couple you know?” Clyde said with a smile before biting into his burger. “I know, right?” Nicole agreed and to everyone’s surprise, even Tweek nodded along. “I don’t think they’d become a thing though.” Craig mumbled lazily. “Why?” Clyde asked, obviously interested in the gossip.

“Well, Kenny, Stan and I teased him about it in History class, but he keeps saying he doesn’t like her that way.” “Aww, come on Craig, you know very well that he would never admit it just like that. Guys don’t just admit they have a crush. I’m sure he likes her. I mean, she the only one who can stand him for longer than a day.” Nicole commented, a sly smile spread across her face. “I just think the anti-Cartman fraction would rather die than see those two become a thing.” Token commented and his eyes darted across the room, looking at Kyle, Heidi and Wendy. “Well, I guess we will have some funerals to visit sometime soon.” Nicole replied and everyone at their table had to involuntarily smile.

“That’s it. ERIC. To the Principal. Now.” Mister Garrisons voice thundered through the hallways and a confused Y/N closed her locker. She let out a deep sigh, knowing something must have gone wrong with his new plan.

“Guess I gotta bust him out again.”

Knowing the way to the principal by heart she made her way there, only catching a glimpse of the in pink paint and glitter covered Mister Garrison, who kept cursing like crazy.

Y/N happily skipped past the not-occupied secretary desk and took a seat next to Eric. “I already wondered where you are.” Cartman commented unimpressed. “Sorry, I had to look at Garrison for a second. So what went wrong?” “This stupid asshole over there saw me set up the paint bomb in Garrisons locker thing.” The brown-haired whispered and pointed at the kid that was sitting across from them. “Thanks to that asshat, I will probably be suspended for some days or some shit.”

“Okay, I’ll handle it.” The h/c-haired said and got up to go over. She hovered over the boy who was looking up to her. “What?” He asked annoyed. “You’re Jonas Miller, right?” Y/N asked with the sweetest voice she could manage. “Yeah, what makes you care?” He asked, before a fist connected with his face. Surprised by her own strength, he seemed to be dazed and fell onto the other chairs.

“Y/N, what the fuck?” Cartman cried out confused. “Fast, hit me!” She said, not fazed at all. “What? Why?” “God, just do it!” Trusting his mischievous partner Erics fist landed on Y/N pretty face and he even felt a hint of remorse. “Good punch Eric. Now the other side.” Once again, trusting his opposite, he did what was asked. Despite now feeling rather woozy, Y/N grabbed Jonas and laid him down in a different position. She then made Eric kneel next to her and hold her.

“If you ever tell anyone I cried, I will tell everyone about your dirty little secrets, yeah?” Eric nodded, somewhat intimidated, and impressed, watched her do her best to cry heavily.

Hearing the blood-curdling scream, Mister Mackey and the secretary came running, looking at the scene before them. Mister Mackey immediately made sure that everyone was okay, before asking the roughed-up Y/N what happened. With a trembling voice, she answered: “J-Jonas over there did the prank on Mister Garrison and-and tried to pin it on-on Eric. So, I c-came here t-t-to tell everyone t-that Eric was with me t-the whole time. When Jonas n-noticed that, he hit m-m-me and Eric punched him, to-to help me.” The now fully awake again Jonas looked at the girl in horror. “N-No! That’s not the story! I- I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT, M'KAY?!” Mister Mackey interrupted him. “Hitting an innocent girl?! Jonas Miller, you will have to face the consequences!” Y/N still held up her best puppy eyes and Mister Mackey finally turned to the two troublemakers. “Eric, will you bring Y/n to the nurse, please. I will bring Jonas to PC Principal personally, m'kay.” Eric nodded, somewhat petrified, and guided Y/N along the corridors. He felt shocked. He didn’t know why. He never felt this scared before.

Once in the nurse’s office and after Y/N was handed an icepack, she was the first one to speak, once the nurse left them alone.

“You’re so quiet.” She commented dryly. “Thank you.” “For what?” “Getting me out of there. I never- It’s fine, okay? Don’t worry.” Silence fell over the two once more. Y/N just enjoyed the cooling ice on her burning skin and Eric still felt thankful for what she did for him. For him. And no one else. She would have never done this for Kyle. Not for Kenny. She did it for him.

“Hey Eric?” The boy next to her nodded. “You know I wouldn’t have done this for anyone else right?” Eric nodded once more. “Can I ask you for something?” “Of course.”

“You know, I like you a lot. So, would you maybe like to be my boyfriend?”

Bonus:

Eric gave no answer. He just slowly intertwined his fingers with hers and that was answer enough. “Are your cheeks red from blushing or is it from me hitting you?” “Maybe a bit of both.” She laughed and to Eric, it was the most beautiful sound he ever listened to. His girlfriend’s laugh.

Kyle was doing his math homework and started to get annoyed with the harder and harder becoming questions. A vibration ripped him out of his thoughts. He fished for his iPhone without taking his eyes off the paper and unlocked it. The contact read “FATASS” and it was a picture. Kyle's eyes widened in horror as his eyes scanned the picture. It was a picture of a list with dozens of prank ideas. The caption was what truly terrified him. “Me and my GIRLFRIEND brainstormed a bit, hope you’re ready Kahl <3”

Kyle felt like crying. Not only because of his math homework but also because his worst nightmare became a reality. Cartman has a Girlfriend. And it was no other than the infamous Y/N L/N.

#south park x reader #south park fanfiction #eric cartman x reader

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let-it-raines · 3 years

Text

I Hope We Never See October (6/?)

When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

ao3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

August

“I come bearing food.”

No one responds, and Emma knows there has to be at least five people in this house. And while David and Mary Margaret live in a really nice place thanks to Mary Margaret’s dad, it’s not so big that no one can hear her when she walks in the front door.

“Hello?” she repeats, shifting the bags of food in her arms. She’s got approximately eight hundred pounds of appetizers in her car, and she needs help carrying them in. “Hello, it’s me, the lowly caterer. Should I have used a separate entrance than the front, or is someone as lowly as me allowed to use that one? What if the neighbors see?”

Still, no answer, and Emma walks down the hallway until she’s in the kitchen. Every inch of the countertop is covered with food, drinks, cutlery, and the works. It’s an organized mess, much like Mary Margaret herself, and Emma puts the bags she’s carrying on the kitchen table before looking out the window to the pool.

“Oh my God,” she whispers to herself. “Like, oh my God.”

Killian Jones is standing on the pool house roof with what looks like garland or bubble lights or some kind of string object, and David is standing below him to...catch him. It looks like David is there to catch Killian.

Emma pushes open the French double doors and steps outside. “What the hell is happening here?”

Killian drops one of the strings he’s holding, causing David to move to catch it, and Emma swears she sees Killian’s life flash before her eyes before he catches himself on the flattest part of the roof.

“Bloody hell, Swan,” he gasps, out of breath, “warn a man.”

“Consider yourself warned.” She closes the door behind her and crosses her arms over her chest. It’s ridiculously hot out today, and she can already feel the sweat gathering down her back and underneath her bikini top. “What are you doing here so early?”

“Ah, well,” Killian starts as he picks up the dropped string of lights and starts adjusting them again, “I ran into Dave here at the market, we got to talking, and since I had nothing else to do, I’ve agreed to risk my life to hang his lights.”

“He’s more nimble than I am,” David says, like that explains all of this.

“Trust me, mate, Emma knows that.”

“Oh my God,” Emma whispers to herself as Killian and David keep talking, not paying her any attention.

Emma opens the door back and steps inside, away from the madness. She doesn’t know what’s happening out there, and she doesn’t want to know. Some things are better left not talked about or questioned, and this is definitely one of those things. She knows her friends all know Killian. The night at the bar where he met Mary Margaret and Ruby really snowballed things, and it’s fine. It is. She swears it’s fine. Except.

Except, well, they usually never meet the people she’s sleeping with. They’ve met her boyfriends, if only because it was nearly impossible to keep them away after so long, and they liked...Graham. They really liked Graham, not so much the others, and Emma feels the exact same way. But her casual flings, like with Killian, her friends don’t meet them. They don’t meet them, and they really don’t invite them to their big almost end of summer parties. They don’t ask them to help hang they string lights and get ice. She bets they asked him to get ice.

What is happening?

This is…this is a lot, and Emma doesn’t know how to feel about it.

She doesn’t know how to feel about a lot of things, mostly Killian Jones, but there are other things included in there. Those things just aren’t quite so in her face.

Shit.

When Mary Margaret invited him to the party a few weeks ago, Emma was fine with it. It’s just a party. There are going to be a lot of people here, and what was the harm in inviting one more? Besides, it’s not like she could have said no when Mary Margaret asked. That would have been rude, and despite what a few select people say, Emma is not rude.

Emma picks at a grape on the counter, popping it in her mouth, and then gets another one as she watches David and Killian outside. Killian takes another string of lights from David and hooks them over a nail on the roof.

He’s different from her past few flings. They’re usually as big of a mess as she is, and while she assumes Killian is as well, she doesn’t know enough about him to truly know. They’ve got a pretty good deal with their one personal question of the day thing. She knows it’s usually more than that, little things coming out in bed or when he stops by the Blue Dog, but she has comfort in being able to veto any question that gets a little too personal.

If Emma could have a veto in most things in life, it’d be a hell of a lot easier.

Emma grabs another grape and then starts unpacking the food she brought. Mary Margaret must have run to the store to get something else, but Emma knows how she’ll want to arrange things. She’s been to enough Nolan parties to know what happens. If she focuses on this, she’ll be able to ignore the man outside and all the pesky little thoughts in her head.

“Swan,” Killian says from behind her, and Emma lets out a little curse. “What are you doing, love?”

“Helping out in the air conditioning instead of outside.”

He hums and steps up behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist as his scruff scratches her neck. It’s a contrast to the softness of his lips that are running down the side of her throat. Arousal rises in her veins, quick like lightning, and it continues when one of his hands glides down her body and cups her ass as he presses against her.

“Killian,” she whispers, biting her bottom lip, “this is not the place for this.”

“What? Your friends’ kitchen isn’t the place for us to have a little fun?”

“No,” she laughs as she tilts her neck to give him more space, “it’s not. They may know we’re sleeping together, but I don’t think they want to witness it.”

He laughs and twists her around. His fingers skim her collarbone, lifting up the strap of her bikini. “I like this.”

“You’re such a man.” She pushes against his chest and moves away, going back to arranging the charcuterie boards. Multiple. “I’m sorry David roped you into helping. You could have said no.”

“It’s fine. Can I help you in here?”

She wants to say no, to send him back outside, but it might be nice to have company that’s okay sitting in silence with her. The rest of the day is going to be filled with people celebrating the near end of summer, even if it tends to linger for another month midway into September, and Emma could use a little quiet time before the chaos.

“If you could slice those apples for me, that would be great.”

“Aye, love, no problem.”

They work in silence setting up the boards. Killian catches on quickly, copying her arrangements, and eventually Mary Margaret comes home with more fruit and cheese and a car full of hamburger buns. She takes one look at the mess in her kitchen, has a bit of a meltdown, but then Ruby shows up with Mulan and it all starts coming together enough for everything to calm down.

For about five minutes before the neighbors start showing up with their own food and alcohol, and suddenly all the quiet, familiar voices are drowned out by loud new ones. Emma pours herself a glass of lemonade and sinks into a corner of the kitchen before moving outside. It’s miserably hot, the sun warming her skin immediately, but she knows it’ll cool soon. Until then, she finds her spot in a rattan chair in the shade, curling her legs up with her, and she watches as more and more people begin to filter in.

Emma doesn’t know how any two people have this many friends. She keeps a small circle, and they’ve been around for years. She’s slow to trust after spending her entire childhood in foster care, and while she likes to think her past doesn’t define her, she knows sometimes it does. Right now, when she’s cornering herself off while everyone else is having fun, she knows it’s a time where some old demons are knocking at the unlocked door waiting to get in.

She twists the lock and tells them to go away. She doesn’t need this today.

Ruby jumps into the pool, splashing everyone around her, and Emma laughs to herself. Ruby is one of the people that’s allowed in her head, and sometimes when Emma thinks her life is falling apart, she remembers being eighteen years old, desperate for food and a place to stay, and Ruby and Granny taking her in. they gave her a job and a place to stay because Ruby told Granny she would throw a fit if she didn’t take Emma in. So, it was a threat, sure, but it worked.

It’s good. Emma’s life is good. It’s messy and confusing, but it’s good.

Mostly.

Killian walks toward her, tilting his head in question, and she nods, scooting over on the cushion to give him room. Killian takes it, his thigh warm against hers, and then offers her a beer.

“No thanks. Not quite late enough in the day for me to want something to drink. I’ve got to save it all for when David starts telling the bad jokes once he’s finished cooking and can get plastered.” Killian chuckles then puts the bottle down on the grass. “What? You don’t want it either?”

“No.” He wraps his arm around her, letting it lightly fall on her shoulder. His fingertips pull on the ends of her hair, and a shiver runs down her spine. She’s always loved when people play with her hair. “It’s too early for me to be drinking as well. I try to stay away from the stuff when I can.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Have you now?”

Emma nods and leans a little further into him. She shouldn’t. This all feels a little too couple-like, but she does anyway. “You tend not to drink and when you do, you’re very calculated. You don’t just drink a bunch of wine like I will. It’s almost like you measure it out, literally.”

Killian clicks his tongue and yanks on her hair a little more before he draws his nail over the bare skin of her arm. He doesn’t answer, though. He stays silent, so Emma pulls her legs up and curls into herself while staying next to Killian. Ruby is jumping in the pool again, and Mary Margaret is walking around the pool with a platter of appetizers Emma brought from the Blue Dog.

When Killian still doesn’t answer, Emma decides to change the subject.

“So, tell me, how did you end up being some kind of soccer superstar?”

Killian chuckles and scratches at his chin. “Ah, that’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time. I don’t plan on giving up this chair any time soon. And it’s my one legitimate personal question of the day, so answer or veto.”

His brow raises, like it’s tempting her to take back her statement. She doesn’t. She must be really good at asking the worst questions possible today. They never really talk about what he used to do for a living, mostly because she doesn’t care, but she never thought it would be a sensitive subject. Then again, she should know better. She’s got enough sensitive subjects herself.

She waits for the veto, but it never comes.

“My mum got me into it as something to do after school to keep me active, and I loved it, mostly because Liam, my brother, did it too.” Killian smiles, one of his more genuine ones, and Emma leans back to get a better look at him. She likes the little lines around his eyes much better than the ones around hers. “Long story short, I was bloody good, my father learned there was a way to bet on children’s matches, and he kept me in it to make money. I nearly quit when I found out about it, but then I was too invested in the camps and in training. I loved it, and by some miracle, I ended up being able to do it for a living. I got the dream.”

“So why’d you stop?”

He laughs, but she can tell he finds nothing about this funny, especially when his fingers tighten around her arm. “Well, my brother died, I fell apart, and by professional standards, I was too old to have any kind of time to redeem myself. I nearly drank myself to death, which answers your earlier question, so I’m careful about how much I consume now. That’s actually why I came here...to get away from it all.”

That was...that was much more than Emma was expecting, and she doesn’t know what to say. That’s a common theme in her life. She knows what she feels, but she doesn’t have a damn clue how to express it. So she leans over and wraps her arm around Killian, matching him, and presses up until she can slowly glide her lips over his. It’s soft and sweet, just a taste of how they usually kiss, and she knows it goes against every rule she has for herself.

He��s leaving soon.

This is okay because he’s leaving soon, and when they leave, Emma rarely has to worry about the consequences.

“I wanted to be a ballerina when I was a kid,” she says against his lips, foreheads pressed together. “I never took a class or owned a tutu, but all I wanted was to be able to do the Nutcracker dance because that’s what they did at the community theater. I didn’t have any money as a kid, and I just thought it was the most luxurious thing in the world.”

Emma pulls back. She can’t believe she said any of that, but she did. It’s out there, one tiny piece of the gigantic, five-thousand-piece puzzle that is her life.

“You would have made a hell of a ballerina with those legs of yours, Swan. What an apt last name as well. It could have been a match made in heaven.”

“Ha,” she scoffs, getting up from the chair. “You haven’t seen me dance. Unless it’s, like, in a club where all I really have to do is grind my body on a man, I can’t do it.”

“It’s easy. All you need is a partner who knows what he's doing.”

“And what if I want to be a soloist?”

His brows go up at that. “Well, then you need a teacher because apparently you make a poor excuse for a dancer.”

Killian stands from the chair, and in two quick steps, he’s next to her with his hands on her ass lifting her up. She doesn’t register what’s happening quickly enough for her legs to go dead, and by the time she’s in the air over his shoulder, she doesn’t care enough to fight what’s coming.

It’s a party, she reminds herself, might as well have a good time.

“Get my phone out of my back pocket before you throw me in, would ya?” she asks, and Killian slips his hand in and gets her phone. “Thank you. I’m totally getting back at you for this later.”

Killian stops as Ruby wolf whistles, Mary Margaret gasps, David chuckles, and everyone else starts whispering about whether or not Killian is actually going to throw her in.

He does.

The water is cold at first, like a shock to the system, but by the time she rises to the surface, it’s just the burst of energy that she needed. Killian is sitting at the edge of the water smirking, and yeah, she’s definitely got to get him back for this later.

-/-

@qualitycoffeethings @marrtinski @klynn-stormz @scarletslippers @elizabeethan @jrob64 @therealstartraveller776 @thejollyroger-writer @galadriel26 @galaxyzxstark @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @teamhook @searchingwardrobes @jamif @shireness-says @ultimiflos @onepunintendid @bluewildcatfanatic @superchocovian @killianswannn @carpedzem @captainkillianswanjones @mayquita @mariakov81 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @a-faekindagirl @scientificapricot @xellewoods @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @singersdd @tornadoamy @cluttermind @andiirivera @itsfabianadocarmo @captain-emmajones @ilovemesomekillianjones @taylrsversion @dramioneswan @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @gloriousfemaleworrier @spartanguard @snowbellewells

#I hope we never see october #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan

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leviachaan · 4 years

Note

would ask for a matchup but i decided to go w/ a headcannon request. how would the brothers or undateables (whichever you’re more experienced at writing ^^) react to MC taking them to ikea? apparently the furniture names are like demon summoning rituals if you try to pronounce them. 👀

//This is honestly so amusing to imagine siajdjks we need to somehow bring them all to IKEA for real

Lucifer 🎲

"MC, stay close to me so you don't get lost. It could be dangerous in this labyrinth" "Lucifer, honey, this is a furniture store" "oh"

You cannot change my mind that this man would be staring at the most gothic yet elegant pieces of furniture ever (I thought of lamps for some reason)

His eyes would be constantly glued on you. You never know what could come out from under those beds, MC.

He would do his best to stifle a laugh from your poor attempt of pronouncing a word.

"Take your time" remarks here and there to piss you off Lucifer you little shit

MC: "These words feel like I'm summoning a demon"

Lucifer: "????? excUSE-"

He ends up buying the gothic lamp. Another addition to his dungeon looking bedroom.

After his fascination for the lamp is over, he would mostly be focused on you and your cute little outbursts of excitement over random things.

"Lucifer, look at all those candles! Don't they look great??" "Of course, my dear"

Your room would be 90% candles the next morning.

And a matching lamp

Mammon💴

For the love of Diavolo

Don't. Leave. Him. Alone.

He will steal buy everything that he finds on his way the second you turn your head away.

The whole building is like a Mammon harem. He needs to buy everything. He needs it, MC.

"How many bucks if I fit this whole table in my pockets" "maMMON NO-"

You bet he would find a way to piss the employees off to the point you two would have to run and hide inside one of the closets.

"Y-you sure must be feeling grateful to be stuck with someone like me inside a closet, human" "Mammon, I swear to everything holy-"

The whole walk would be you having to babysit Mammon and sweet talk him out of buying every object in the bloody building and him criticising stuff.

Mammon: "Who would even buy a bed like that?"

MC: "I like that bed"

Mammon: "I love that bed"

He would end up getting lost and you would have to ask one of the employees to help you search for him.

"Sir, please follow me, your guardian is looking for you"

Leviathan 🐍

It would take l o t s and l o t s of convincing to even bring him out of his room. You had to promise him two nights of TSL binge watching as compensation.

Why go there when we can enjoy the online IKEA simulator?

Would 1000% stick to you like a lost puppy. He's not used to being outside and in such a huge building, please don't leave him alone.

He would shyly hold the hem of your shirt for comfort (would try to hold your hand as well, but if you mentioned it he would be like "ROTF how did my hand get there? LOL!"

At some point he saw you staring at a love seat.

MC, please no

You: >:)

MC, NO

You ended up pulling him down with you on the love seat. Congrats! You broke Leviathan!

He would bury his face inside his shirt like an ostrich, anything to avoid you seeing the ridiculously prominent blush on his face.

He felt pride swelling in him though once people looked at you sitting on the love seat together.

"They are mine. Take that, normies"

Satan📖

He would s p r i n t to every vintage bookcase that caught his eye.

Probably the only one of the brothers to actually look at the furniture.

You would turn away for 0.1 seconds and you would find him sitting on one of the chairs for display already having read 3 of the books meant for props.

"Dear, do you know where an employee is? I want to borrow this book-"

Will definitely try to buy the book

It was an accident, but you got really excited by a small plant and wandered around, leaving Satan behind as a result.

Needless to say, you would find him soon enough as he would be punching through every fake door in his way and yeeting chairs to the Gods thinking that someone kidnapped you.

"DID YOU TAKE THEM???" *insert terrified employee*

You would have to literally tackle him to prevent him from murdering everyone on sight.

You would have to explain his demon form to everyone as part of a Halloween themed party

Even if it's August

Asmodeus👛

If you think this man would do anything else but stare at the mirrors, you are wrong.

"Darling, look how amazing this mirror looks! Oh wait, it's just me~"

If you are interested in actually buying something, he's your demon.

People would actually ask him things, because they would think he works there.

You are in for a 2 hour long presentation for the reasons the pale pink chair fits the shade of your bedroom wall more than the pastel orange one.

He would insist on you two taking pictures in front of absolutely every mirror on display.

He maintains that he did it because he wants to decide which one to get later back at home, but in reality he really wants his phone to be full of pictures of you.

You are the most beautiful thing in his eyes and he wants to stare at you all the time 💖

Beelzebub🍔

Food detected

This hungry boi would locate the cafeteria as soon as you two stepped inside the building.

MC: "We could eat lunch here! But it takes a while to get to the cafeteria and to find it-"

Beel: "Found it "

He's really hungry, but he doesn't want to ruin your date so he will follow you around everywhere you go and patiently wait for you to say it's time to eat.

Poor boi will feel his heart pounding louder than his stomach once you show him a small hamburger plushie with a smile on it and told him it reminds you of him.

MC: "It's cute, just like you!" Beel: 🥺

He bought the plushie and is now officially sleeping with it every night and if anyone dares to touch it, he will eat their hands.

He has to hold back from eating it, but it reminds him of you and he holds it close to his chest every night so he won't have nightmares.

His smile could beat heaven itself once you two sit to eat.

Belphegor 💤

You thought persuading Levi was hard? Take a look at this fool.

You would have to literally b e g this damn cow to get out of his bed and come with you.

You promised him cuddles and naps when you come back so you better stick to your word.

As soon as he locates the beds, you are done.

Not even the three realms together could make this man stand back up.

MC: "Belphie, please, get up"

Belphie: "Make me"

Fun fact: you couldn't make him.

This demon grabbed your hand and pulled you down on the bed with him.

He clang to you like a koala and wouldn't let go no matter what.

You would softly try to remind him that there are people watching.

He would straight up growl at anyone that looked at you or tried to make you two get up.

You were eventually kicked out and Belphie couldn't be happier.

Time to go home and cuddle you.

Diavolo 👑

"So this is how humans spend their time! So intriguing!"

He would act like an excited puppy the whole time. Yes, this man is the prince of hell.

He would be thrilled by e v e r y t h i n g and I mean e v e r y t h i n g.

You two would end up playing hide and seek and he would easily find you every time.

He's a demon, he can smell your scent from 1 kilometer away. That's the only reason he would let you roam around like that without being worried about your well-being.

He can't really hide from you either considering how tall and buff he is.

You would pretend not to see him so you could see that beautiful grin on his face thinking that he hid well. Protect him.

Mentally writes down anything you seem to like so he can buy it for you.

He wants you to feel safe and accepted in the Devildom so he will get you anything he can to make you feel like home 🥺

You wake up the next day with your room fully redecorated and a heartwarming letter from Diavolo thanking you for taking him with you and him hoping you had fun as well with a small smily face at the end.

I'm weak for this man

This took me a while to write, but it was so fun! I hope you enjoyed it! I will try to practise more on writing for Simeon and Solomon and make sure to write about them too next time! Thank you for the request 💖

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo

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chubbyjungkook · 3 years

Note

Hello! I’m super nervous to ask something since i’ve never asked or requested anything yet.. but maybe something of Namjoon or Hoseok? Maybe they get stuck in something aksjdkdjd I don’t really have a preference honestly just whatever you’re comfortable with🥺

Hi !! I’m super sorry I took so long to write this but here it is. I hope you like it 💜

Being an idol wasn't easy and Namjoon knew that for sure. They have a lot of pressure for their comebacks and strict diets, it all stresses him that it worries the rest of the members. He had tried so many ways to cope with the stress but none of them worked. Until thanks to the pandemic, the management decided that this year would be more relaxed for them and make them stop having such a strict diet, all of them were happy to eat whatever they want without being scolded and Namjoon discovered that food helped him to cope with stress. And obviously, after all those months of indulgence, it started to show some changes. His once toned and slim body was now chubby and soft, most of his clothes barely fit anymore. His tummy pressed against his skin-tight t-shirts, love handles oozing over the sides of his jeans, and his cheeks were chubbier. He was a bit worried about what the other members thought of his weight gain but all of them seem to be ok with his added weight saying that he looked healthier now

With their comeback so near, all of them were stressed and busy. That morning after having a large breakfast he was locked in his studio, working on one of their new album’s songs. An hour had passed when he unconsciously opened one of the drawers of his desk taking out a big package of cookies, eating one by one until it was all gone. He squirmed uncomfortably on his chair as the armrest were digging a bit painfully on his plush hips and love handles. Once he was comfortable again, he grabs some chips from the cabinet and started eating them while correcting somethings in the songs lyrics

He continued eating and eating for at least 2 more until when his hand reached the cabinet, his fingers touched the bottom of it. It was empty. He looks down at his belly realizing how full he feels, pressed his hand on the hard swell rubbing circles on it, and pressed his finger on the hard spots, belching loudly not caring to cover his mouth since he was alone

After eating a lot of salty and sweet snacks, he started to feel thirsty and some soda really sounded nice. Unluckily he didn't have any in his studio, he sighed tiredly as he rubs his belly, belching as he did so. When his belly stopped hurting, he decided to get up and go to the bending machine to get some soda

But he realized he couldn't get up, his belly and love handles were squeezed by the armrest of the chair making it impossible for him to get up no matter how much he was trying.

He tried 3 times more but nothing happened. Fuck he was really stuck there. He tried to think how would he got up from there, maybe he should call one of the members

After thinking about it for a while he decided to call taehyung since he was free after his vocal lessons

" hey Hyung! What's up?" he asked a bit worried because namjoon normally doesn't call them, he always sends them a message

" hi, taehyung-ah. I need your help, are you free right now ? " he mumbled softly as he hears a door creak from the phone assuming that taehyung was already coming

" Yes, I finished my vocal lessons some minutes ago. You're in your studio, right ? " he says as he walked there

" yes, I’m he-" he was cut back by a knock on his studio door and he heard taehyung voice saying that he was there " its open taehyung." he says

The younger man entered, smiling softly at him " so Hyung, what do you need me for ? " he asks, chuckling

" Uhm well, I’m stuck." he says shyly, blushing madly

There was a pregnant silence between them until taehyung finally spoke

He chuckled softly " so you need me to help you up ? " he asked softly as he gives a glance over the older's desk which was full of wrappers, he smirked softly at the older making him blush

" yeah, I have tried but I really can't " he giggled softly

The younger got closer to him grabbing the older's arms and pulled him using all his force which didn't seem to work. He tried for a bit but it didn't work. He groans as he throws himself on the small couch there

"Fuck Hyung, you're really stuck there " he mumbled softly as he rests for a bit as his arms were aching a bit for using so much force

" God what am I gonna do ? " he groans loudly as he massaged his temple

" Uhm maybe we can call jungkookie? He is stronger than me I’m sure he would be able to get you out of there " he suggested already taking his phone to call jungkook

He sighed softly feeling so embarrassed to have to ask for help to their maknae " mhm, okay please call him tae" he finally said

" okay Hyung ~ " he chuckled as he looks for the maknae number on his phone and presses the call button, waiting for jungkook to answer

Jungkook answered the phone after some minutes and Taehyung put him on speaker “ hi Hyung, what happened ? “ the younger asked softly as they both hear the keyboard in the background

“ hey jungkookie~ Well I’m in namjoon’s Hyung studio and he needs your help, can you come please ? “ taehyung asked softly as he watched namjoon cheeks started to heat up more

“ Uhm yeah, Hyung don't worry. I’m going “ the younger replies quietly before hanging up

-----------

It didn't take so long before they heard a knock on the door. Namjoon glanced at Taehyung, he chuckled softly before getting up to open the door

“Uhm soo what do you need help with ? “ the younger asked as he enters the studio looking at his Hyungs

“ I’m stuck …. I need you to help me out of here “ Namjoon says softly, feeling completely embarrassed. He saw the way the younger’s cheeks tinted pink and taehyung let out a soft smirk

Jungkook stay still with blushed cheeks before he stutters

" stuck? Y-you're stuck? " Jungkook asked softly

" yep, would you be a good boy and help Hyung, kookie ?'' Taehyung was the one who answers this time

The younger nodded eagerly as soon as his brain processed taehyung’s words

bounding over to namjoon, grabbing the older’s arms and pulling him hard.

Namjoon could see the maknae’s struggle to help him up as he heard taehyung chuckling softly, he must feel embarrassed but the situation was hot and luckily none of them could see his semi-hard dick under his massive belly

After some minutes of struggles, he finally pulled him hard enough to free him from the chair. Jungkook yelled softly as they both fell down on the couch in the older’s studio, when Namjoon opened his eyes he realized he was on top of Jungkook. His plush belly was pressed against the younger’s toned and flat one

He looked at jungkook’s face when he let out a breathy whine, the younger’s cheeks were flushed and he was avoiding the older’s eyes. He chuckled softly as he asked softly as he got off of jungkook

“Ow, are you okay kookie ?” he says in a soft teasing tone, laughing softly as he saw jungkook nodded eagerly

“Y-yeah, I’m fine Hyung “ jungkook shutters softly

Taehyung coughed fakely as he smiled when he got their attention

“ It’s kinda late tho, I’m pretty sure you’re hungry Hyung. Maybe we can order some food don't you think so ggukie ?” taehyung asked with a low tone

Namjoon saw jungkook nodding softly

“ Oh I eat a lot of snacks so I’m not that hungry “ the older mumbled softly

“ b-but Hyung snacking it’s not actually eating. We can order some fast food from that place you like! “ Jungkook says softly as he gives him a small bunny smile

He sighs softly as he saw Jungkook's soft glance and Taehyung's sharp one on him. He just nodded

“Well some more food sounds nice “ he shrugs as he saw taehyung smirk grow bigger as he grabs his phone and starts ordering some food as jungkook fondled the older’s thick thighs with a shy smile

Sometime after, the food had finally arrived. Taehyung pays for the food and places it on a small table near there. When namjoon bend over to grab, taehyung grabs his wrist softly making the older look at him with a frown

“Let us feed you Hyung ~ we can take care of you “ Taehyung’s voice was soft even tho his low tone showing a bit of arousal on it

“Yeah, Hyung you have been working a lot for the new album. You deserve to rest “ Jungkook says right after the older maknae with his doe eyes looking at Namjoon as he just nodded softly making both of the maknae’s smile

Jungkook grabbed a huge and greasy hamburger as namjoon opens his mouth letting the younger shove it into his mouth, taking a big bite. Taehyung sits next to namjoon with a proud smirk as he feeds him some fries.

The air in the room was hot, the youngers keep feeding him as taehyung rubs his tight-packed belly. He could hear the maknae’s small whimpers when namjoon feel the maknaes boner against his soft body, making his own dick harden but one of them could see it because his huge belly

Namjoon places his hand on jungkook’s small and slim waist, feeling him tremble at his touch. Jungkook bit his bottom lip as he started bucking his hips back and forward, practically riding the older’s thigh and taehyung dick digging into his back roll, hearing him groan into his ear

They continue like that until all the burger was gone, he squeezes jungkook’s waist. Jungkook let out a whine as he looks at the older

Namjoon clears his throat “Come on kookie, I thought you say you would feed me “ he says with his voice an octave lower, Jungkook quickly grabs another burger and feed it to the older

“ Kookie come on ~ Show Hyung you’re such a good boy and keep feeding him “ taehyung voice was calm yet demanding, running a hand down jungkook’s back

Jungkook started to feed the older again with blushed cheeks, taehyung bit his lip enjoying the erotic sight

Namjoon take a big bite shallowing it quickly as he looks at Jungkook with a soft smirk

“Mhm, you’re being a good boy for me ggukie ~ maybe I should reward you later, don’t you think so tae ? “ he asked playfully

“Of course Hyung, good boys get reward, “ he says softly as he caresses the younger’s waist as Jungkook nodded eagerly, feeding the older

Namjoon arched his back when he finished all the food the maknaes had order for him, he let a loud belch as jungkook hands started to rub his distended stomach, making him groan softly

“Come on Hyung, you’re almost done. Just finish the coke or are you full already? “ taehyung’s tone was sweet but teasing him softly

“Give me it, tae “ he mumbled with a smirk as taehyung grabbed the big cup of soda and bring it to the older’s lips. Namjoon began to drink it quickly as Jungkook rubs the older’s belly feeling it getting harder and harder under his hand

Namjoon keeps burping loudly until the uncomfortable feeling was gone, Taehyung smiled playfully at him and kiss him. The kiss was messy and sloppy both of them groaning and moaning on it. They pull away when they heard a whimper coming from the maknae, Namjoon chuckled softly as he cupped jungkook’s cheeks and kiss him too. He smirked when he pulled away, watching the younger’s blushed cheeks

He feels a hand on his crotch making him moan loudly as he looks up to Taehyung

“Hyung, don’t you want some help with that. Ggukie and I could help you if you want “ he hummed, biting his lip

“Come on, help Hyung with this “ he said in a lower tone as he squeezes taehyung’s thighs and jungkook’s waist

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btsmakesmehappy · 4 years

Text

Sweet Scent | 2

Genre: Agent au. Colleague au. Mutual pining. Angst. Fluff. a little thriller.

Pairing: Agent!Jungkook x Forensic Doctor!reader

Word Count: 5,6k

Rating: 18+ (M)

Warning: Shy boy Jungkook. A lot of flirting and teasing. Mention of death (murder case). Threats using human organ (Not explicit)

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | completed

Summary: Why does he always look so nervous in front of you? Is it because of your excessive flirting? But how come you don’t tease him when he looks so incredibly cute every time he blushes?

Series Masterlist: The Company

A/N: wew, It took me longer to write this. Thankyou @arizonapoppy for cheering me up and beta reading this story. and again: this writer doesn’t know how agents work.

Send me an ask if you want to be added in the taglist!

The smell of coffee sneaks into your nose, waking you up. You open your eyes slowly, stealing a glance at your watch on your wrist. 8.13 am.

Immediately you sit up on the mattress, stretching your body. You blink as you realize Jungkook is standing in front of the coffee machine with his back to you. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” you ask groggily, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. It’s so weird how your throat feels so dry when you only sleep for an hour.

Jungkook turns away from the machine and walks over to you, handing you a cup of hot coffee. “I did, fifteen minutes ago. But you didn’t even move a bit. You were literally sleeping like a log there.”

You hum as you drink the coffee. It’s weird how the coffee is perfectly to your taste, but that’s not important right now. “So what do you need again? I told you that I’ll call you as soon as I get the lab results, right? I swear, if you want that right now, I am gonna-”

“No. That’s not what I want right now.” He walks to your desk and sits on the chair, facing you. The nervousness can be seen in his doe eyes. “I think we also need to check the victim’s belongings again.”

You sigh and take a big gulp of coffee. “Fine, but let me finish checking the specimens first. I am afraid they will be damaged if I don’t work fast.”

The corners of Jungkook’s mouth perk up. “Thank you. That’s fine.”

You rise from the mattress and walk over to him, putting one of your hands on your hips. “You are asking this much and I only got a hamburger?” you pout.

Jungkook’s eyes wander anxiously, avoiding your eyes. He lets out an awkward laugh as he sips his coffee. “What do you want then? Pizza?”

“What about dinner? Preferably date-style?”

Your suggestion makes him choke in his coffee. A faint blush painted on his cheeks. “Wh-what?” his coffee drips from his chin to his shirt, leaving a trace of black liquid on the blue shirt. You are almost sure that it will leave a stain.

The panic he showed seems like a rejection to you and it somehow leaves a sting in your chest. You reach his shoulder and pat it lightly. “Just kidding; I am okay with that hamburger. And well, this is my job also.” You laugh awkwardly as you grab your lab coat. “So let’s get to work then.” You walk to the lab beside your office as you tie your hair into a bun.

Jungkook watches your receding back as he takes a deep breath. Your scent is still lingering in the room, the scent of lavender mixed with something musky. Relaxing and intoxicating. He always wonders what makes you smell like that, how unique it is that he can notice it with just a small whiff. How your scent is so you.

The scent that makes his hands turn clammy. The scent that makes his heart beat faster. The scent that always takes his breath away.

Thankfully for him, you didn’t ask him any further. Never occurred in his mind to go on a date with you. Just the thought of him being with you in the same room has already bothered him so much, he can barely think. If only he would admit that deep down he wants to go on a date with you. And just like that, gratitude turns into regret.

You let out another sigh as you massage your sore neck. The smell of substances fills the lab, all mixed together, making you nauseous. And the lack of sleep doesn’t help either. “Do you remember anything from the crime scene? Anything could help.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “You can’t find anything?” he asks. Jungkook lets you work by yourself as he watches you from afar. Not because he wants to stay as far as possible from you and the conflicted feelings you give him, or because he’s already felt comfortable sitting at your desk, but he doesn’t understand any of it and he doesn’t want to disturb you. True to be told, he loves seeing you working.

You shake your head weakly. Maybe it is because of your lack of sleep, your brain is not functioning well. You silently regret your decision for doing this alone. This is literally going nowhere.

“Good morning, guys!” A man dressed in what seem to be plaid pajamas enters your lab suddenly. “Geez, Y/N! Could your face be anymore tired?” His smile plastered on his face, in contrast with your own face.

You roll your eyes. “Fuck off, Tae.” It’s one of Taehyung’s traits that you dislike, how his bubbly exterior just somehow gets on your nerves, especially in times like this. Not that you hate him. Hell no. He’s an amazing friend. He might be the first agent that you’ve become friends with, but only God knows why whenever you’re with him, you just feel tired after. You really think that he’s absorbing all of your energy into him.

He lays a brown bag on the table and gives you a light hug. “Cranky. Did Jungkook make you stay up late?” he says, winking to both of you.

Jungkook stutters as the blush creeps on his cheeks. “Wh-what. Well I sort of did…” You shoot Jungkook a glare to stop him from saying anything that would make Taehyung make fun of both of you, which makes him cough awkwardly. “But that’s not.. anyway, why are you here, Hyung?”

Taehyung chuckles. “I’m just dropping off some pieces of bread from my girlfriend. She wants to say thanks.”

“Woah, thank you so much, Hyung.” Jungkook’s eyes twinkle as he walks faster to the bag. “I don’t think she’ll return to the bakery this fast.”

“Hey, my girlfriend is a strong woman! Although I also hope that she takes a day off. Anyway, just share them with Y/N, okay?” Taehyung waves and walks to the door. “I’m going to drop this other bag of bread off for the others, and maybe help them too. I don’t think Jungkook would want me here.” Taehyung says as he smiles meaningfully to him and walks away.

“Hyung!” Jungkook whines, his face is reddened.

You giggle at Jungkook’s antics. “Why don’t you want him here, Kook?”

His eyes turn shaky with you looking directly into his face. “No reason.” He avoids your gaze again. He rummages through the brown bag and pulls out a piece of bread. “Just eat some if you want to.“

He bites his bread and slowly chews it. Today, he is eating a piece of cream-cheese and almond bread. It is his most favorite bread from the bakery, Palate Cleanser.

It is a bakery that Taehyung has been talking about for several weeks. Not only does it belong to his new girlfriend, it serves delicious bread. Sure, Jungkook has never been a picky-eater, but he loves it. So after Taehyung gave him a tester, he became a new loyal customer of that bakery. Well, the bakery is just a few blocks from the Company too, so it is rather convenient.

You are still working with that huge-ass machine that whirrs like a washer. He perches on one of the desks, while he watches you from behind. And suddenly he smells something.

A smell that is familiar to him.

A smell that he noticed when he was in the crime scene.

"Do you smell this?”

You turn your head to him, confused. “Huh, what?”

He hops off the desk and walks around. “This smell. I smelled it in the crime scene. What is it?”

His statement perks your interest and you take a big breath. “I don’t smell anything.”

Jungkook takes a bigger sniff. “It’s there. Why can’t you smell it?”

“Well, sure that bread of yours is smellier than you think. I can only smell your bread.” You shrug as you turn again to face the machine.

“What?” Jungkook looks at the bread in his hand and takes a sniff at it. His eyes widen as he is realizing something. “This is it. This is what I smelled. Well, kinda.” He yells as he pushes his bread to you.

You raise one of your eyebrows as you hesitantly sniff his half-eaten bread. “This sour thingy?”

“What? No! It is the cream-cheese. What I meant is this bittery smell,” he picks some pieces from the bread and hands it to you after he smells it.

Your eyes widen as you see what is in Jungkook’s hand.

Almonds.

“Cyanide…” you whisper.

Jungkook tilts his head. “What?”

You walk quickly to the computer. “It must have been it. It just makes sense now.”

“Cyanide? Why can’t you smell it too?” Jungkook asks as he follows you from behind.

“There’s only a handful of people that can smell it. It is not specific, actually. Oh my God, I totally forgot about it.” You tap on the keyboards and hit the enter key. “Yes. It is cyanide poisoning.”

Jungkook looks at the screen, “so he was poisoned?”

You nod. “Yes. I need to check his toxicology report first. Will you tell Jin about it?”

“Got it. I’ll tell him and get a warrant to search the hall.” Jungkook walks quickly and grabs his phone from his pocket. He taps his phone to call and puts it on his ear. Jungkook stops in front of the door and turns back to face you. “Thank you, Y/N.”

You clear your throat. “Just go already!”

After Jungkook leaves, you still have the weird feeling that has accumulated in your chest from proximity to him. Just a mere sentence from his mouth is enough to leave your chest in turmoil. It took you just ten minutes to finally function normally again.

Well, you are lucky enough to find out the poison as soon as you did. If you had let the body lie in that room without any investigation, the evidence could have been lost. You wouldn’t have found the truth.

Still, after you know how he was killed, your work doesn’t get any easier. There’s no other trace of cyanide in the victim’s belongings.

It’s another roadblock.

That’s why you have been dialing Jungkook for the thirteenth time. And in the midst of your fourteenth call, you decide to end your call sooner. It’s no use calling him right now.

You close your laptop and gather all of your lab papers. After making sure that you have everything, you walk out to the door to find Jungkook. The sooner you finish this work, the sooner you’ll go home.

You hop into the elevator with much difficulty, given your full arms. Why didn’t you use a bag for all of your stuff? Your elbow hovers next to the “7” button, and after a moment you resolutely bump it. Your mind wanders. Was this the right idea?

Well, why wouldn’t you?

This floor is for elite agents only. You have never stepped foot on this floor until now. It is not that you were curious, but you know that this mission, or rather this case, is an important one. If Jungkook wanted the report as soon as possible, then he should want it as soon as possible, right?

It’s your job.

It’s not because you want to see Jungkook.

It is not.

At the sound of the “ding,” you step out of the elevator. Which way to his desk? The floor is huge and there’s no map or anyone who can help you. It’s Sunday, after all. You close your eyes to sharpen your hearing, but you still can’t hear anything.

You sigh in defeat as you shuffle your armload of paper to reach into your coat pocket to find your phone. Your fingers have just grazed it when you are jostled by someone bumping into you from behind. You barely avoid spilling your report file and you turn around to face the one who has collided with you.

“Oops. Sssowry.” A skinny man with fair skin apologizes as he bows to you, slurring his speech. The fumes of his breath threaten to pickle you like one of your cadavers. His eyes are kinda reddish, too. Still, his walking posture is as you saw him in the past, ignoring the fact how he has turned this giddy.

“Min Yoongi?”

He raises his eyes to meet yours as he straightens back up. He squints, trying to remember your face. “Oh!” He beams. “You are the hot forensic doctor. What’re you doin’ here?”

Your cheeks feel hot as you hear the awkward nickname. Sure, you know that your appearance is above average, but that doesn’t mean that you deserve that name. You let out an awkward laugh. “I’m Y/N. I need to see Jungkook, he didn’t answer my call…”

Yoongi nods in understanding and points to a blue door with his thumb. “He must be at the meeting then. I’ll let him know, or you know what, just come along, I’m already late too.”

You raise one of your eyebrows, but still walk behind him closely. “Is it okay? I don’t want to disturb the meeting.”

“Nah. It is actually about your case too, so what’s the harm?” He knocks the door rhythmically and after hearing a permission he goes in. Yoongi’s eyes travel to the young man sitting in the corner. “Jungkook-ah. You got a visitor.”

Jungkook raises his eyebrow and sneaks a glance to the door. When he sees you, his eyes turn wide in panic. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” He stands up quickly and walks toward you.

You smile awkwardly. “I called you several times but I got no response so here I am.” In the silence, you finally look around. There are five other men sitting around the conference table looking back at you and Jungkook, intrigued. The tension in the room gets less serious than before as you look around the meeting. “Sorry, guys, for interrupting.”

A smaller man with plump lips sends you a mischievous smile as he nodges Taehyung’s elbow. His eyes turn into crescent. “Nonsense! Great to see you again, Y/N.”

“Hey, Jimin. Long time no see. Sorry, it won’t take long. I just need to hand off this report.” You set your case file on the meeting table and start searching for the report you mentioned before.

“You can join us, if you want. It will be helpful, too.” Jin, a wide-shouldered-man, the leader of this mission, speaks without looking up from the laptop in front of him.

“Yeah! Join us. It sucks to only see these brats all the time.” Jimin says as he indicates an empty chair.

You clear your throat awkwardly. “Sure, if you say so, but I think I’ll go grab my other stuff too from my office. I also think I left a machine running.” You take a few steps back as you laugh dryly. “I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, I’m coming with you too.” Jimin rises from his seat and follows you.

The meeting room turns silent as Jimin closes the door behind him, there is only the sound from the projector on the table.

Jungkook freezes, not knowing what to do. His eyes just stare at the spot where you stood before. This action somehow attracts the attention of the older agents as they all share knowing glances between them.

“You know, Kook. If you really like her, you should just say so,” Taehyung says as he smiles softly to Jungkook. He props his chin on his hand, studying Jungkook’s response.

Jungkook’s doe eyes widen and turn shaky with the sudden suggestion. His cheeks turn bright red. “Wha-what? No. I don’t like her. I mean, I don’t like her like that…”

“So it’s okay if Jimin likes her then?” Yoongi speaks up abruptly, making all of the other agents turn his head to him. The agents hide their smiles and then turn again to Jungkook who is looking more nervous than before, anticipating his answer.

Jungkook casts his head down, looking at the floor. He bites his lower lip harshly, trying to hold his lips from muttering a word that he’ll regret.

“What’ll you do, Kook?” Hoseok asks again, softly. This time it sounds like a reassurance rather than a question. The way Jungkook acts is a new thing for him. He’s never seen Jungkook like this and it needs no licensed therapist to see how whipped Jungkook is for the doctor. If only Jungkook himself knows it.

Just the time Jungkook is about to open his mouth, Jin slams his hand to the table. “Sure, maknae’s love story is very exciting, but we have a job, okay? Let’s resume our meeting.”

Taehyung snorts as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Party-pooper.”

Jin turns his head to Taehyung. “Yah. You have been a pain in my ass since you joined this mission. What do you want to do then?” he throws his hand in the air in frustration. Their conflict from the night before is still hot in his mind.

Yoongi pats Jin’s shoulder softly. “Just think of this as a break, Hyung. You’ve been working non-stop. I also suggest that we should just call it a day and get some sleep. We won’t get anything more if we force ourselves like this.”

“But, still…”

A sudden ring fills the room. Hoseok pulls his phone from his pocket and puts it on his ear. “Hey, Jimin. What’s up?” His eyes widen and his expression hardens as he listens to the rest of the call. “Okay, we’ll be there soon.” He says as he ends the call and puts the phone into his pocket. The other agents look at him quizzically.

“What happened?” Jin asks warily.

Hoseok sighs and says quietly, “Someone broke into Y/N’s office.”

You stand quietly in the elevator with Jimin still smiling weirdly beside you. “Why are you following me?”

“No reason. I’m just bored.” He hums. He’s not as bulky as Jungkook, and, compared to Jungkook, Jimin is like a thin child, even though Jimin is two years older than Jungkook. Well, you do recall that Jimin has just started his field mission just for a several weeks, and he worked as a handler before.

You snort. “Sure.”

Jimin turns his head to you with his hands clenching his chest. “What? You don’t believe me? I feel hurt!” he widens his eyes comically.

“Sure.” you say, rolling your eyes.

Jimin pouts and sighs in defeat. “Fine. I just need to put something inside Sehun’s drawer.” He pulls a black-leathery curled thing from his pocket and shows you. “I want to get my revenge.”

You laugh and to think that he brings it everyday to find a perfect opportunity is amusing to you. “And you think I won’t tell him that you put a fake snake in his drawer?”

“Y/N, don’t tell him, pleasee~” he whines cutely as both of you step out of the elevator. Sure, you know that he’s cute, whining like that, but Jungkook’s cuter for you.

Why the hell do I keep thinking of him?

“Just give me a reason not to tell him then.” you walk past him as he stands with a pout on his face.

He puts his hands under his chin, thinking deeply and suddenly he smiles knowingly. “I can tell you anything you’d want to know about Jungkook.”

It’s your turn to freeze on the spot. You turn your head slowly to meet Jimin’s eyes, giving him the widest smile you can give. “And why would I want that?”

Jimin shrugs and walks again to the office, still his smile doesn’t leave his face. He looks confident, overly confident. “I don’t know. I just thought that maybe you’d want it.”

You stomp ahead of him as you approach your office’s door. “Fine, I won’t tell Sehun about the snake.” You turn back and point your index finger at him. “Only because I know how Sehun hates snakes and his reaction is hilarious.” Your narrow your eyes as you continue. “Not because of Jungkook.” you whisper.

Jimin hides his smile. “Sure.”

You tap your card on the door and open it. Your eyes widen as you step inside your office. The sight inside your office makes you shiver immediately. Papers are scattered everywhere. The chair is thrown into the corner of the room. The glass cabinet’s shattered to pieces. “What the-” Color drains from your face as you proceed further, carefully stepping around the glass shards on the floor.

Jimin turns pale as he stands in front of the door, not knowing what to do. “Y/N, I think we shouldn’t enter for the time being. I’ll call the others first.” He grabs his phone and rapidly taps it. “Just don’t go any farther!”

His voice however doesn’t register, as your feet draw you closer to your desk. A burglar? What would a burglar want to steal in this office? There’s no expensive things in the office, well, except your coffee machine. But they didn’t need to trash this place in the first place, right?

At the sight of your desk, your knees weaken. Your eyes widen in fear and shock as you struggle to hold your body upright. Finally your legs give away, and you collapse to the floor. Your hands scrabble to regain any strength and hold your upper body from falling.

You breathe faster. You want to scream as loud as you can, but there is nothing left from your lips. Your hands tremble. You try hard to stop it by pushing them harder on the floor, pushing the glass shards right into your palms. The pain doesn’t make it to your mind right now, when what lies in front of you has every power to take your mind away.

Tears trickle from your eyes. Your vision turns blurry covered by your tears. As you blink them away, you also hope that the sight is gone too. But no matter how many times you blink, you still see the same thing.

And it is nauseating.

Pounding hurried footsteps in the hall outside your office finally helps you regain some of your senses. You open your mouth slowly, trying your best to gather as much sound-air-or anything as you can as the breaths come too quickly to be of any use. “Help…” you whisper.

The other agents barge inside your office. Their faces have a mixture of expressions: mad-shock-confused-worry, and somehow you can see all of it on Jungkook’s face when he sees you slumped on the floor with bloodied hands. “Y/N?” Jungkook calls cautiously, trying to gain your attention.

“Kook…” you sob harder, which makes Jungkook immediately run to your side.

Jungkook holds your shoulders softly and studies your face, his eyebrows frown in worry. “Are you okay?”

Instead of answering him, you weakly lift up your arm to point to your desk. The agents all turn their heads to your desk, and terror overtakes their faces.

There’s a heart stabbed with a scalpel on your desk.

“What the..” Jin whispers.

Taehyung steps backward, hand to his face as he fights the urge to vomit. “Is that a fucking human heart?”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, he just pulls the blanket from your makeshift bed to wrap your wounds. Gently supporting your elbow, he helps you stand. He doesn’t leave your side, holding you close to him to prevent you from falling. He turns your face to his chest, away from your desk, while Yoongi examines the heart.

Insistent tears keep falling from your eyes, even though you try your hardest to hold them back. What the hell is that? What does that mean? Why on my desk? Why?

“Hey…” Jungkook whispers into your ear. “Don’t think of anything. Just take a deep breath. Count in for four, out for four, slowly.”

You follow his instructions, looking up from his chest, searching deep into his eyes. Those brown eyes don’t run away from you this time, instead they look back into yours softly, calming your nerves. Those eyes travel to other parts of your face as well, making sure you’re okay.

Jungkook tightens his hands into fists, trying to stop himself from brushing your tears away from your face. How he hates to see you crying; He’s never realized it until now. He hates it. He always sees you with a smile on your face, and it always makes his heart beat faster. And now? With tears falling from your tired but still beautiful eyes, his heart aches.

“…. It’s just my opinion.” Yoongi’s voice breaks through your reverie as you calmed down. You turn to the speakers, giving them both of your attention again.

“So it’s from a dead body?” Hoseok asks warily.

Jin runs his hand through his hair, “Alright, someone please take a look at the mortuary. Jungkook?”

Jungkook looks at your wet face once more, hesitant to leave your side. Finally he nods and moves his body away from you.

“I’m coming with you…” you whisper as you grip his shoulder, forgetting that your hands are still covered in glass shards wrapped in the edge of a now-destroyed blanket.

Jungkook turns back to face you, glancing at your bloodied hands. It must have hurt. He holds your shoulder softly. “No. You should treat your wounds.”

“But…” I want to be with you.

“Jimin-hyung, please help Y/N?” Jungkook asks Jimin, ignoring your protest. Jimin stands by your side, slowly and gently gesturing you to follow him out of the door. You sigh in defeat as you follow Jimin, your eyes keep stealing glances to Jungkook.

Jungkook’s eyes are still lingering on your back when you walk away and his heart aches harder. I want to be with you too.

“What’ll you do, Kook?” Hoseok asks again. This time it sounds like a reassurance rather than a question.

“You know, Kook. If you really like her, you should just say so,” Taehyung says as he smiles softly to Jungkook. He props his chin on his hand, studying Jungkook’s response.

Does he like you?

Maybe.

Actually, he has never thought of this.

Feelings. They have never been programmed as part of his routine. He is an agent, a soldier. Feelings make him weak. Feeling is messy, messier than blood splattered on the wall when he bombarded a body with bullets. He once told himself not to trust his feelings. That’s why it was so hard for him to talk or be with you. His feelings are growing stronger after time and it’s suffocating him.

And the harder he denies his feelings, the stronger they get.

What is this feeling? Why is it so painful to see her like that?

No matter how many times he repeats his question in his mind, the answer is the same. It is the only rational reason for such an irrational topic.

He swallows the four-lettered-word that almost slipped from his lips and shakes his head to clear his mind.

He’s gonna investigate this case quickly. Just so he can see you. Just so he can look after you. And with that thought, he runs from your office.

You sit on the bed in the infirmary, gazing on the white wall. This room is supposed to smell like an antiseptic, just like a hospital, but instead it is just dusty. Everything is cleaned every single day, but it is just like there’s no one working here for a long time.

Jimin rummages in the cabinet beside you trying to find what he needs. After he finds the disinfection solution, tweezers, and some gauzes, he puts them on the metal tray and sets it on the bed.

Jimin reaches for your hand, opening the ruined blanket softly. You wince as the movement shoots another pain through your hand. “Sorry.” He purses his lips.

You shake your head weakly, tears threatening to fall. Why am I only feeling the pain now? “It’s okay.”

He looks at your both hands, examining them carefully. “There’s a lot of shards. It’s gonna be painful.”

You gulp. “I know.”

“We still don’t have a new doctor assigned here, so would you mind if I do it instead? You can tell me if I do it wrong.”

“Okay,” you answer.

He pours the disinfection solution over your hand. The pain starts accumulating as you bite your lips to stop yourself from screaming. He takes a pair of tweezers with his right hand and using his other hand to hold your wounded hand gently. Slowly, he begins to pick the shards from your hand.

After fifteen minutes working on the wounds, Jimin smiles in satisfaction and rises from his seat to get a bandage.

A knock on the door fills the room and Jungkook walks inside slowly and stops just before you. His eyes darted to yours immediately, looking worried. “How’s her wound, Hyung?”

Jimin returns with some rolls of bandages. “There’s a lot of wounds, but luckily they weren’t too deep.” Jimin begins to cover the cuts slowly.

“Whose is it?” you whisper to Jungkook. You’re not gonna lie that it’s been bothering you. To think that someone stole an organ from supposedly protected cadaver sends shivers to your spine.

Jungkook clears his throat and looks at your face hesitantly. “It’s from Baekho’s body. That body is ruined now.”

Your eyes glisten with new tears as your hands begin to tremble. The sight of a human heart stabbed on your desk filling your mind. You see organs everyday, it’s part of your job, you are used to seeing it. But it’s a different feeling when that organ was stabbed unknowingly to your desk. “What’s happening? Wa-Was that a threat?”

Jungkook hesitates, you can see it in his brown eyes. He sits beside you and reaches for your now-bandaged-hand and holds it gently, afraid of hurting you any further. “I’m sorry.”

His honeyed-voice, that you love, sounds as if he is in pain, and it somehow pains you even more. “That’s okay. I’m the one who agreed to it in the first place. And besides, I chose to work in this field, it’s only a matter of time that I get something like this, isn’t it?” you laugh dryly, but deep inside, you’re afraid. Well, how can’t you?

Jungkook’s hand tightens. “Still, I shouldn’t put you in any danger.” He sighs. “Which is why I’m gonna take you home after this.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“If they don’t want you to investigate about Baekho, then you shouldn’t do it.” He looks straight at you. “It’s for your safety.”

You turn your palm to meet his, holding him back. “Kook, I must finish it.”

“No. This is a dangerous case and it was stupid of me to ask your help. I don’t want you involved any further.” He closes his mouth for a moment, trying to mutter appropriate words. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Y/N.”

You shake your head profusely. “I don’t want to. I have to finish it. It’s my job.”

“Y/N…”

“See, I’m fine! It’s just a few cuts.” You desperately move your bandaged hand; you can still feel the pain shooting through your hands, but it’s not the point right now.

Jungkook holds your hand tighter and looks deep into your eyes. “I know, you’re not okay. Your hands are still trembling, Y/N. Please listen to me.”

You sigh. You know that Jungkook is stubborn, it won’t be easy to persuade him, but you know that he’s right. Maybe this case is too dangerous for you. “At least until I finish the report for today, please?”

He bites his lower lips, deep in his own thoughts. Jungkook lifts his hand to bring your bandaged hand to his lips, grazing your knuckles softly. “Are you sure?” His eyes never leave yours.

It takes your breath and your mind away, his hot breath against your skin and his brown eyes looking straight into yours. You can still feel his soft lips, hot on your skin when he puts your hand down, still holding it gently. Your heart thumps inside your chest and down to your wrist. Can he hear it? How does it feel so right with your hand in his? You nod. “I’m sure. I have you, right?”

“Yes.” Jungkook squeezes your hand gently one more time to reassure you. “You have me.”

A cough interrupts your interaction with Jungkook. “Well, this is awkward.” Jimin puts your other bandaged hand on your thigh as he rises to clean up the mess. “I’m just- I’m gonna take this call. Bye.” Jimin points at his phone, even though the screen is dark, and hurries out of the infirmary.

Heat rushes to your face; you forget that Jimin was still beside you. You look at Jungkook’s reddened face, completely sure that he also did the same. With that thought, the smiles slipped on your faces.

He releases your hands immediately and scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry, I ruined your blanket.”

You tilt your head in confusion. Then your eyes dart to the blanket on the floor. “Ah… That’s fine. It was good first aid.”

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

You nod and smile. “Sure, thanks Kook.”

“I-I also want to buy you dinner.” He clears his throat, his eyes travel to the wall in front of you. “Not in this building. I’ll take you to a proper restaurant.”

Your eyes widen with the sudden invitation. It’s weird but somehow it brings a smile to your face. Your smile turns into a wider one and you hide it by biting your lower lip. “I’d love that.”

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a-sirens-melody · 3 years

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Darkwing Duck’s Greatest Enemy: Type 1 Diabetes (And Definitely Not Self Loathing)

Quick author's note: Launchpad switches between he/they throughout the fic, just so no one gets confused! If you have any questions abt diabetes, feel free to ask me. With that said, enjoy!

***

So far, tonight has gone really well.

It's date night, and this time they're spending it eating takeout from Hamburger Hippo and watching Darkwing Duck at Launchpad's place. Wrappers lay on the floor, ignored in favor of watching Darkwing kick Megavolt’s ass on screen.

Drake is currently leaning into Launchpad's side on the couch, his partner’s arm wrapped around his waist. It all feels so cozy and domestic that he never wants it to end.

And then, because Drake must have seriously pissed off some powerful being in a past life, it happens.

Megavolt’s face becomes blurry, and it's a little harder to focus on the TV. A quick look around the room tells him that, actually, it's hard to focus on anything right now. He knows what this means; he's gotten better at picking up on the signs after twenty-eight years of living with a half-functioning pancreas.

His blood sugar’s starting to drop.

He tries to close his eyes and listen instead, but the shake of his hands quickly corrects him. He is dropping and he needs to find something to eat. Even though he just ate, like, an hour ago.

Dammit.

“Drake?”

He opens his eyes and notices that the episode is paused. He hadn't even realized, he was so caught up in his symptoms. The second thing he notices is Launchpad looking right at him.

He guesses that they felt his shaking because there's concern in their eyes now. A brief wave of guilt sweeps over him and he almost misses their question. “Is your blood sugar low?”

He finds it's a little hard to form words right now (and that scares him, it always does), so he nods his head slightly and hums.

“I'm gonna go get you a juice box.”

The arm wrapped around him vanishes as LP gets up. He helps him lay down on the couch, head pillowed on the armrest. He's still cold without his boyfriend, though, so Drake can't help the small whine that escapes him. God, he sounds pathetic.

Launchpad's eyes soften and they lean down to kiss his forehead. “I'll be right back, okay?”

A little embarrassed, Drake nods and watches the other duck head to his fridge. He closes his eyes again and almost sighs in relief as he's met with darkness. You can't lose your focus if there's nothing to focus on in the first place.

Did that even make sense? Whatever. His brain’s not working properly right now.

The sounds of his partner rummaging through the shelves fill the air. Drake is reminded of earlier when things felt so domestic between them. It's only been a couple of months since they started dating, but Launchpad already feels like the home he never had.

Drake doesn't know how he got so lucky; sometimes it all feels like a dream.

Launchpad leaving is his worst nightmare. He knows he's being a little dramatic, but his anxiety gets the better of him sometimes. He's too much, too expensive, too-

“Found it!” Footsteps pull Drake out of his thoughts and he cracks his eyes open. Launchpad already tore off the wrapping on the plastic straw and stuck it in the box. He holds it out now and places it near Drake's beak. “Drink this, okay?”

He moves the straw into his mouth with a hum and starts sucking the juice down, only stunned for a second at the chill. Fruit punch, his mind distantly informs him. It's his favorite flavor, but he's too focused on getting it into his system to really appreciate it right now.

When the juice box is thoroughly drained, he gives his boyfriend a small smile. He feels like he can talk without sounding like he's drunk now, so he says, “thanks, LP.”

“Anytime,” is the warm reply he receives. If Drake was of sound mind, he would kiss Launchpad breathless and maybe, maybe, utter those three little words that have grown harder to ignore as of late.

I love you.

The words are barely on the tip of his tongue even now. Yikes, his filter's pretty weak already. He tries to stuff the words down by chewing on the straw. Struggling with one of the disadvantages of diabetes is not his ideal confession scenario. Besides, it's way too soon to say that. Right? Right.

“Didn't think you kept juice boxes in your fridge,” he says instead. Not only is he trying to distract himself from his low brain feelings, he's genuinely curious. He doesn't recall seeing any juice boxes in LP’s fridge the last time he was here, and their favorite flavor is apple.

“Nah. Not for myself, at least.” They smile fondly at him. “I remembered that it's your favorite flavor, though, and I wanted to have something for whenever you went low over here.”

Wait.

Launchpad bought those for him? Specifically for him? And remembered his favorite flavor from a conversation they had three months ago when they asked Drake what he usually ate when his blood sugar went low?

That's...

“That's really sweet of you, LP. Thanks.” He says, because he's not really sure what to say. It's such a small act of kindness, something he's not used to, and he doesn't know how to deal with the sudden warmth in his chest.

He's too low for this. Feeling more intense emotions is a very frequent symptom of his when he's low, that's what this is. Yeah. Definitely.

His boyfriend's smile turns shy. “You don't have to thank me. Whatever helps you the most. Speaking of which, do you want me to bring your kit over here? I mean, obviously you feel low, but. Better to have an exact number, right?” Launchpad rambles, hand reaching to brush through the hair at the back of his neck.

That's a good point, actually. He has to be in the 40’s if he's feeling this bad. “Yes, please.”

Launchpad reaches to the side of his couch where Drake's bag is. Inside is his blood sugar kit (complete with a pricker, replaceable barrels, meter, test strips, insulin, and syringes), various small snacks in case he goes low when he's out, and a glucagon. He really hopes that last item is not going to be needed tonight.

He probably shouldn't have dropped the bag there, but he wanted to start their date. Can you really blame him?

The kit is found and placed onto the couch. Drake starts to reach for it, but suddenly there's a hand covering his.

“Can I check you, please?” He looks up and finds Launchpad staring at him. “I don't- if you don't want me to touch your stuff, I get it, but. You feel bad. So will you let me do it?”

You...want to help me? You don't want me to do this on my own?

“Sure. Just ask if you dunno what goes where, okay?” Drake says, thankful that his voice is somewhat steadier than his hands.

His partner nods and gets to work. They asked once how everything in the kit worked so Drake laid it all out and taught him. It felt nice having someone who wanted to listen to him talk about diabetes stuff.

He hears the test strip bottle close with a pop and the pricker calibrate with a ca-click. Just as Launchpad asks, he holds out a finger and lets his mind drift.

It's really not something he's used to, having someone around that he trusts will take care of him. For as long as he can remember, Drake could only rely on himself to get through whatever diabetic crisis he faced.

He was eight when he was diagnosed. At first, his parents did most of the hard work. He picked up on checking his blood sugar pretty quickly, but they would manage all his carb ratios and injections.

Then, they just sort of…stopped. Like they had only done it for him in the first place because he was too young to fully understand. By the time he was thirteen, he did pretty much everything on his own. So much so that more often than not on the tri-monthly visits to his endocrinologist, the car ride would be spent drilling his parents on what the past three months had been like.

Not that they ever told him they didn't care or want to care to his face. No, Drake had just picked up on it. But the night he overheard them talking about medical expenses was a particularly rude awakening.

He couldn't sleep for some reason and decided to watch some Darkwing Duck. He barely made it out of his bedroom when he heard voices.

“Why's everything gotta be so damn expensive!?”

Ah. His dad was looking at bills. So much for a DW marathon in peace and quiet. Drake had one foot back in his bedroom when he heard his mother reply.

“It doesn't really help that our current bank account looks like that, either…”

Forget going back to bed, his curiosity was peaked. He stayed still, straining to hear.

He wished he hadn't at what he heard next.

“Yeah, well, having a defective kid ain't cheap. Why couldn't you have had a normal one?”

To this day, he still remembers how his heart sank to his stomach.

Defective.

Is that why they stopped helping? Why, at age sixteen, it was unspoken knowledge that Drake managed everything on his own? They didn't see a literal child in need, they saw a column of dollar signs. A black hole that sucked up all their cash and never gave it back.

His mom stayed quiet, and that hurt even more. She didn't care, either. Neither one of them did.

They were both selfish assholes that only cared about the alcohol they could've had stocked in their kitchen.

He cried himself to sleep that night, mourning the days when he could still trust his parents to take care of him and wishing he didn't have to live like this. If no one wanted to help him, he’d suck it up on his own. No one wanted to take care of him? Fine. Drake Mallard didn't need anyone else. He was better off on his own.

Those horrible feelings crash over him like a tidal wave now, twenty years later, and he doesn't know why they're here but he's overwhelmed by it all.

Why can't he just have a normal body? Why does his condition have to be so expensive and annoying and miserable sometimes? Why does he have to be so dependent on people when he tells himself that he’s better off working alone, when no one in his life has loved him enough to care anyway?

There's a price tag on his head (not just physical, because diabetes is a greedy little bitch), and it's only a matter of time until Launchpad figures this out. He won't want to stay up late to keep checking, to keep buying syringes or insulin or tests strips. He won't stay forever, and it's all Drake's fault, for getting so attached and having a broken, shitty body.

“Drake? Did I do something wrong?”

He blinks. There are tears in his eyes, a few of which have spilled down his cheeks.

“Uh,” his voice cracks. He wipes away the tears with his other hand. “No. N-no, you didn't do anything wrong. What were you doing?”

Launchpad cocks his head to the side and squints in concern. He knows there's more to Drake's answer, but he doesn't push yet. “I pricked your finger and put the blood in. You didn't even flinch, but I thought that was ‘cause you're used to this. Was there another reason?”

“I'm sorry.” And before Launchpad can start to ask for what? with his mouth already open, Drake rushes to say, “I'm sorry that out of all the people you could date, you got stuck with a chronically ill mess like me. You deserve a normal partner, and god you have no idea how badly I wish I was, but I'm not. I'll always be a burden and I know you won't want to stick around to deal with all the shit that comes with diabetes.

“Not that I don't want you to stay, please don't think that, but…” More tears fall and he brushes them aside, accidentally smearing blood on his feathers. “I’m not used to someone wanting to take care of me, and I don't want it to stop.”

He doesn't take his eyes off of Launchpad as he cries. If this were a cartoon, he would laugh at how quickly their expression changes. Confusion, concern, and realization flash across their face before their eyes soften again in concern.

“Baby,” they say, reaching out to cradle Drake's face. They gently wipe away the blood with their thumb, and Drake feels weak. Loving touches were something he was never given as a child, and it's taken some getting used to. It burns, unfamiliar and wonderful, every time Launchpad touches him. All he can do in this moment is lean into it and shut his eyes.

“Look at me, please?” He groans internally as he opens his eyes. Later, when his blood sugar isn't so low and he can properly think, he’ll recall the look on his boyfriend's face as determined. “I love you, so much. You're not a burden, and you never will be. Being with you is a new experience, sure, but it's a good one. It's not your fault your body's like this, and it doesn't make you any less amazing.

“Heck, if anything, it makes you even more so. You have to do more to stay healthy than most people, and you're really good at it! St. Canard is a better place with Darkwing Duck and Drake Mallard.” Launchpad leans in to kiss his forehead. “They were wrong, you're not unlovable.”

He's so gentle, so sweet, and it's all too much for Drake to wrap his mind around. Never mind the low, he's just heard what he's secretly always wanted to. He is good. He is loved. He...needs to know what his blood sugar actually was before he cries an entire ocean. One more thing, though.

“Uh,” seems like a good place to start as he scrambles to pick up the pieces of himself. He takes a shaky breath. “Thank you. Sorry I dumped all of that onto you, I don't know where it came from tonight, but. Thanks. I really needed that.”

LP still looks a little sad and it makes his heart hurt, but he bites down on his beak to avoid apologizing again. “No problem. Sometimes it just comes out of nowhere.” He strokes his cheek some more, and Drake sighs.

“This is nice and all, but,” his eyes dart to the meter still sitting in front of him. They got distracted for too long and now the little screen is dark. “Did you catch the number that showed up?”

“Buh?” Launchpad's eyes widen as he remembers what they were doing before. “Oh, dang it! Sorry! Do I need to do it again, or-”

Eh, they probably should, but Drake doesn't want to. It hasn't been too long anyways, maybe five minutes? He’ll be fine. “No, you're good, just press the button with the arrows. All the pricks get stored so you can look at them later.”

Any distress on their face is quickly replaced by a beaming smile. “Neat!” They do as Drake asked, and a number pops up: 46.

“Lovely,” Drake groans. “And I just ate. Maybe I just took too much insulin. Or am I getting sick? If I can't keep anything down in the next hour, I swear-”

LP snapping his fingers in his face pulls him away from his rambling. “Hello? Earth to Drake Mallard. I dunno what made you low, but we gotta fix it first. Would more juice work?”

Oh yeah. Hm, more juice or something else? Even though he feels exhausted, going to sleep is a bad idea. He's gotta stay up until he's back in range, so…

“Actually, do you have any Pep?” Launchpad tilts his head and furrows his brow as Drake explains. “Normally I wouldn't ask, but I think something with that much sugar would really help. Plus, the caffeine will keep me awake.”

They look less confused now, but their head remains tilted slightly. “There's not that much caffeine in Pep, though.”

“You forget I don't drink the regular Peps nearly as often as you do, LP.” The last time he actually had one was...ten years ago? They work great for treating a low quickly and that's the only time he ever cares to drink them. It's not worth the extra insulin or highs to try to look normal.

“Oh yeah! So you're not used to the sugar.” He nods. “Okay, be right back.” Launchpad takes about twenty seconds to get a Pep and come back to Drake. The tab's already open. “Uh, do you need to drink the whole thing right now?”

He really shouldn't, the juice is probably still processing. Still, it's very tempting to chug the entire thing just to put more sugar in his body. But he wants his blood sugar to be normal, not sky high. “No, I'll probably drink half of it right now. Thank you.” He takes the Pep and sips, blinking at the sheer amount of sugar flooding his taste buds.

The fact that most people drink enough of this stuff to where they hardly notice it boggles his mind. Not that the diet stuff is really healthier, but it's definitely a different taste.

Guess he's pulling a graveyard shift tonight. But at least he's with Launchpad.

(That's the other thing about drinking regular sodas; he gets really hyper. Last time, he couldn't fall asleep until exactly two am. Being tired but unable to sleep is the absolute worst feeling, and you can't change Drake's mind.)

Now that he can think a little more clearly, he realizes something.

“I can't drive like this,” he says. Driving with a low blood sugar is really dangerous, and not his usual kind. It's the kind of dangerous that could get himself, or someone else, or even both, killed. “And I'm definitely not walking home anytime soon, so. Guess our date’s been extended?”

Launchpad blinks at him, then claps his hands together and grins. “You're staying overnight! I mean, I wish it was under better circumstances, obviously, but. Yay!” He rocks on his heels before catching himself and looking away, a faint blush appearing on his face. “Anyways, is there anything else you need?”

Drake's about to reply not right now, thank you, but then he realizes something that's actually pretty important.

“Wait, since I'm staying here tonight, could I use your bathroom really quick? I, uh, need to take my binder off,” he admits. He’d forgotten it was even there until he remembered wait, you need to take that off before you go to sleep. He put it on about a half hour after he woke up, which was at noon, and it's midnight now so...oops. It's past time to take it off.

His boyfriend nods. “Yeah, no worries! Do what you gotta do. Wait.” His brow furrows. “You need me to help you over there?”

“I,” he falters. “Wouldn't mind it if you did.” The sugar's kicking in now, but he still doesn't trust himself. Given how clumsy he is? Better safe than sorry.

Launchpad holds his arms as he walks to the bathroom. He closes the door, Launchpad sitting in front of it just in case, and turns to the mirror. His shirt hits the floor, soon followed by his binder. A sigh of relief fills the air as he folds it. He hadn't realized how long he'd been wearing it. Tomorrow will have to be a skip day just to stay on the safe side.

(Hormones aren't a concern; he's not on them right now and is perfectly fine with that. The cost of that and insulin would be hard to juggle, anyways.)

He opens the door to find Launchpad staring at him, and he smiles shyly. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Launchpad smiles back, and holds out his hand. Drake takes it and pulls his boyfriend to his feet. They walk back to the couch together. “So, what are we doing? You can't go to sleep until your blood sugar's back up and we were in the middle of an episode of Darkwing Duck.”

“I like the way you think,” Drake teases. “So long as you check every now and then to make sure I haven't fallen asleep yet.” He sits down in his original spot.

“Whatever you need,” they reply, and sit down next to him. They wrap their around his waist and Drake leans into their side as he tries to find the remote. It occurs to him just then that there's still something he hasn't said yet. Something bigger than “thank you.”

He taps LP on the shoulder. They turn to look at him and oh no, he's already flustered. “I just. You said you, uh, loved me earlier and I wanted to say that, that I love you too.” His face is burning, and he got quieter at the end, but at least it’s out in the open now.

Launchpad’s eyes soften and he tilts his head close enough to kiss Drake. It's a quick peck, but sweet nonetheless. When he pulls away, he's smiling. “You're wonderful, you know that?”

Drake only blushes more and buries his face in Launchpad's chest. He can feel Launchpad chuckle and oh. Oh, that's really nice. He likes that a lot. He would stay right here, but the sounds of the Darkwing Duck episode are a siren song that never fails to lure him in.

They stay there, watching episode after episode and Launchpad checking in every so often. By the time Drake's blood sugar has gone back to normal, he stops watching and starts really thinking about the events of the night.

He doesn't have to do this on his own anymore. Someone actually wants to take care of him now.

He is loved. Really, truly loved. And he’ll never let Launchpad go.

#IT WORKS ON MOBILE #thank you god #anyways tada!!#ducktales #darkwing duck #drakepad #drake mallard #launchpad mcquack #my writing #drake has t1d the fic basically #and really bad parents but that's not new

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hope-to-hell · 3 years

Text

A Possession, part three: Dissolution. August Walker x Henry Cavill. Warnings for the entire fic: possession, dubcon (possession-related; our hero never asked for this), mentions of past torture (prior to story events), some degradation, praise kink. Roughly 6k words altogether. Section heading titles largely pulled from whatever music I was listening to at the time. This is it: the last chapter. A little smut, a little angst. Nothing lasts. Part one is here, part two is here

—-

Shake, shake

—-

Somehow, impossibly, you make it more than a week without touching him. And somehow, you figure out a way to exist in the same space. Thank god for quarantine, at least, so you have an excuse to stay at home, to keep this weirdness out of the public eye.

Walker turns out to be a surprisingly competent cook, but hesitates when you ask what his favorite foods are. And despite everything, it’s so hard to shake the feeling of being a host, of providing for your guest, however uninvited he might be. So you make a grocery order and start in on the best dishes you know: pies and roast lamb, hamburgers, risotto, whatever comes to mind when you think of meals you’ve enjoyed. He eats them all dutifully, but it’s not until you hit upon rainbow trout in parchment that you get your first real sigh of pleasure. Huh. You would’ve pegged him for a red meat kind of guy.

And everything you do, everywhere you go, he’s there, watching. Considering. Ten feet away.

It’s like this. One evening he braces one hand against the wall of the shower and drops his head in a pose you know so well. You don’t mean to look, but Christ, he must want you to. Must, because he draws open the shower door to stare straight at you from under his sopping curls as he fists his cock. Must, because he kicks his legs apart to press hard behind his balls with his other hand. Must, because he hisses your name like a curse when he paints the bathroom floor white. And the whole time his eyes are locked on yours.

“I wouldn’t mind,” he says again, and somehow you find the voice to answer.

“Wouldn’t mind isn’t good enough. You’ve got to tell me you want it.” And you have the satisfaction of seeing August Walker poleaxed, however briefly. He hmms a little, thoughtfully, and brushes past you into the bedroom, water droplets shining on the curve of his ass. His gait hitches as he approaches the limits of separation, and you hurry to follow, clean enough to get by for another night but feeling filthier than you have any right to. And when you slide carefully under the covers, he inhales deeply, like he’s scenting you. He smiles, victorious, in the half-dark as you lie there with both hands fisted in the sheets just like you have for days, but now you know exactly what he looks like when he comes.

Fuck.

He escalates, because of course he does. He waits until you’re soaking up sunshine in the kitchen window, then presses in close to cage your body against the counter. He brushes scarred fingertips down the side of your face, and it’s like your mind has been ripped straight out of your body. You feel him touching you, and fuck. You feel him touching you. It’s the strangest sensation, touches doubling and echoing. Licking into his mouth and tasting your own tongue, pulling him in by the hips and feeling matching bruises rise on your own body. And from the way he surges against you, he must feel it too.

Remember. Your nerves are my nerves. You want me to say it? Here it is, directly from my mind to yours. I. Want. This.

This is the part of the movie where it fades to black, where the last thing the audience sees is the lovers, entwined, maybe a flash of light on a naked thigh. This is the part where the music swells, climaxes, spills into silence.

This is the part where the next scene is either a soft, affectionate embrace or a hasty exit from the bed, a quick redressing and an angsty downtempo tune, maybe a walk in the rain.

This is the part where he starts to rise, where you wrap your hand around his wrist and whisper, “stay.”

—-

Untethering

—-

It isn’t clear, at first, what’s happening. A little extra hair in the drain is easy to explain away; you’ve got two people sharing the shower now. Same with the bruising that appears on his arms, his back, his ribs, because for all he grips at you, you give back in equal measure. And if he takes a little longer in the shower than before, if he seems to spend an awfully long time just leaning back and letting the spray hit him, well, maybe he’s finally relaxing a little.

It’s days and days of rutting against one another, of watching in the mirror as he takes you apart. And he loves it, that grinding ache in his fingers as he presses them inside you. He loves it, and you know because you feel it; you feel an answering ache in your own hands and a twinge in your cock that’s almost but not quite unlike anything you’ve felt before (it’s close, so close, to the first time, when he was still just a voice in your head).

Somehow, it’s still a surprise when he shakes you awake and hisses, “Get inside me. Now.” And when you reach for him, a little hesitant because you’ve had each other in nearly every way except this, you taste something strange and metallic, chilly on your tongue. He’s anxious, desperate. The metallic taste increases in its intensity as he surges at your mouth, licking into you with savage competency.

“Are you—“ are you sure is what you want to say, but he’s pressing lube at you with one hand while trying to tear your sleep pants off with the other, and it feels like he’s got half a dozen hands roaming all around you, and it’s unfair because he knows exactly what this does to you, exactly how you respond to every touch. It’s overwhelming, and soon you lose that peculiar metallic taste in the static that sparks hot down your spine and right into where you swell and pulse with the sudden desperate need of him.

And you want to watch his face, watch those eyes shine in the darkness, want to rub your face against his as you open him but he’s turning away, over, hitching a knee under himself and reaching blindly back for your hand. “Now,” he grits out in a voice like the bottom of a dry well. And it’s too soon, has to be, before he’s demanding two and then three fingers and then “godfuckingdammit, that’s enough. Get in me already.”

And when you press into him it’s, fuck, for a moment your vision whites out and you are nowhere, hurling aimlessly through a great expense of nothing, and it’s simultaneously the most terrifying and exhilarating thing you’ve ever felt. Is it like this for him? Can’t be, he’s always so controlled, so precise. It’s impossible even to think like this,

I’ll think for you. Don’t worry, just act.

so you don’t think, and when you return to your body it’s to find yourself draped over him, clinging, rolling your hips like a ship in a storm. Desperation doubles back and builds on itself until you feel as though if you don’t come right now you will die. And you don’t want to die, but you also aren’t sure what the rules are, so you try to withdraw and that’s when his hand closes around your wrist, hard and tight and don’t you fucking dare.

And that’s it, that’s all it takes, his touch and his blessing, before you’re spilling inside him in long shivering pulses. And even then, even when he clenches so tight around you it’s like he’s pulling all the blood from your body, he doesn’t let you go.

You stay with him, in him, until you soften and slip free, and when you wrap an arm over his belly he lets you. He feels warm, as relaxed as he ever gets, and most of all relieved. “Better?” you ask, and in return he twists his neck, rolling his shoulders back till he can reach to kiss you. It’s soft, but almost mathematical in its precision. And he still tastes like metal.

—-

Waves and light (how bold I was)

—-

He’s stopped sleeping. In the night you reach for him and find the bed cold. He’s there, of course, ten feet away, staring out the window. He’s all hard muscle, luminous in the moonlight, a demigod or an avenging angel. He turns and tilts his head, and you can see his breath hang frosty in the air. You wake in the morning to find him still standing at the window, and for a split second you could swear the light passes right through him.

He’s stopped sleeping, and he hovers a little closer than he used to but he doesn’t touch, not until you sigh and tell him to “get over here. C’mon. I don’t have to touch you to know you’re worried about something.”

So you enclose him in the circle of your arms, bump your face against his scars to feel that little spark, that staticky sensation from nerve damage, to feed him the pleasure that touching him brings. You breathe softly, saying nothing, until he relaxes by degrees.

He smells like blood, but then again he always does. Chaos and death are embedded into every fiber of his being. If he were to shed his skin, to slither pink and naked into the world as a man reborn, maybe it would be different. But he is who he is, and you are who you are, although tangled like this it’s sometimes hard to tell the difference. One of you sparks a slow-burning arousal, the kind that takes hours to come to a head if it does at all, a slow soft yearning. You sigh into it, nuzzling at him a bit, feeling your stubble scrape across his cheek. Like this, you can almost forget who and what he is.

And he hears you, huffs a little. What I am doesn’t matter anymore, not outside these walls. And I—

He sucks in a breath, harsh and wet, sucking air up from your lungs. It burns, scraping bloody up your throat.

Metal again. And pressed against him like this, you can catch the echoes of fear, of a strange sort of dissolution. Light through greasepaper, snow drifting through broken windows. Shoulders straining against his jacket. Blood and bone and a lonely valley. Trying to breathe but the shards of his ribs dig into his lungs—

Oh.

Oh fuck. You realize, then, that he’s dying, pulled back to that moment. None of this mattered in the end; all it did was delay the inexorable march of fate. You can almost see it happening, scars brightening and blooming into wounds, bruises rising where he hit the ground. And you hear it too, the slow scrape of metal across the floor, the heavy tread of boots and a soft susurration of fabric. She’s here.

And it’s strange: you’d expect her to revel in this, finally capturing this soul that’s eluded her for so long. But it’s almost like she’s trying to be comforting. Things fall apart. Entropy comes for us all, in the end. And you got more time than most.

Listen, I don’t want to you have to go. His fingers tremble against yours, coppery fear blooming heavy on your tongue.

I’m not unkind, you know. It’s just the way it has to be. Think of this as a gift. Better than falling apart piece by piece, isn’t that right?

Is it? Maybe, with more time, you could figure something out, maybe if he took just a little more, a few of your years, you don’t need that much time, you could spare him that—

No. Hey. We. We had a good run, didn’t we? Just, remember me. Please.

He’s terrified, pulse rabbiting in his chest, fingers clutching yours as the scythe descends. And you feel it when the connection breaks, tension dissolving as he fades, the cruel hard core of him pulling free from your chest. Your hand is your hand again, grasping at nothing. He manages a smile, almost, shimmering through a film of tears. Hey, listen. I—

And then he’s gone, nothing more than motes of dust in the air, as you blink hard, trying to pull him back into your sight.

—-

Epilogue (the last thing inside the box was)

—-

You see him sometimes, a flash of cold eyes in the crowd or a particular way someone has of standing. You listen to the wind, and watch frost crawling up the windows in winter, and you miss him.

You return to the world, you smile and wave and show your teeth. It’s not a real smile, not quite, but you’ll get there. You always have.

You bake trout in parchment, and American biscuits, and you eat alone.

On a wintery afternoon you climb aboard a packed train, mercifully anonymous in the crowd. Your bare hand brushes against a stranger’s. You feel a spark, pins and needles, like a waking limb.

#henry cavill #august walker #my fic #mission impossible #mission impossible fallout #Henry cavill fic #august walker fic #Henry cavill smut #august walker smut #august walker x henry cavill smut #august walker x henry cavill #mission: impossible fallout fic #mission: impossible smut

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phantomnostalgist · 3 years

Text

Ethan Freeman Phantom interview

An interview with Ethan Freeman from about 1994 or 1995, printed in “Beneath the Mask” #8 (which I haven’t found my print copy of yet, but the interview was reproduced on our old POTO fan site).

Also of note about Ethan: at the time he was one of the two youngest actors to have played the Phantom - he and Anthony Warlow were both 28 or 29 when first cast in the role.

Are there any differences between London and Vienna - if so, what are they? The general tone of the production in Vienna was slightly more Operetta-like, probably due to the language, the sound of the translation and style of acting of some of the players. The tempo was also at some points quite different depending on who was conducting, and would undoubtedly feel strange to me now. The audience tended to be less tuned in to the humorous moments in the show in general, and some scenes like "Managers I & II" for example, simply run better and are more clever in English.

How did you get the role? I got the role of the Phantom after auditioning for Hal Prince and Gillian Lynne and the Viennese producer and musical staff. They appeared very excited about the audition. I'd sung "Music of the Night" which they praised in a friendly manner (Hal is always positive and encouraging), and they sent me off to learn the segment from the Final Lair "Order your fine horses... This is the choice. This is the point of no return!" When I came back the next day to do it (the Phantom candidates appeared by then to have been reduced to three) Hal said "OK Ethan I want you to scare me!" So I did the section with as much power and venom as I could muster (Id never seen the show - I think Id heard the record once or twice...) and after it was done, Hal just said "Great. You scared me!" and that was that really. Later that day they explained to Alexander Goebel and me what they would like and would we be willing to share, obviously with Alex, who was very well known, being the dominant of the two. So we split 5/2 which frequently ended up being 4/3 as the run went along.

How did you research the character? I read the novel finally, all the way through. Ruth Hale, my partner in "Cats" at the time, later to premiere as Mme Giry in the Hamburg production, gave me a copy as a present. I'd seen several of the films over the years so I knew there wasn't much to be mined from those - although Lon Chaney Snr did display some magnificent body language, and I've nicked at least one dramatic gesture from him. Principally though, I had several long meetings with Hal in New York to talk about the role and show. He instructed me to go watch Michael a few times then come back and talk some more. Crawford was magnificent, at the peak of his vocal power and still fairly fresh in the role and I was moved and impressed as I have not been since by a Phantom. (Though Dave Willetts, I must say, also made a huge impression the first time I saw him, for his power and well-delineated psychotic behaviour.) At first I thought boy, you've got your work cut out for you on all fronts. So, I would say my "research" of the role was principally based on my own discussions with Hal and also largely on my own thoughts and feelings. Obviously most of the physical manifestations of the role, make-up, costume, blocking, etc were predetermined so there wasn't much scope for change. To be honest, I feel some of the Phantoms I've seen tend, in an effort to be different, to stray from the basic line of the drama and weaken themselves as a result. Michael's acting was extreme, yet very clear and economical at the same time, and I also try to offer the audience a complicated and ambiguous character going through clear, unambiguous moments of his life - otherwise it's so easy for the audience not to "get" everything that's there - or to "get" things that aren't intended to be there at all.

How do you feel on stage? So varied in thought and feeling that I can't really give a concise answer. I feel quite differently now to how I felt 600 odd shows ago. I used to have to concentrate on staying concentrated - now it just happens. I know what to achieve and just try to let it happen. I'd say I'm both in and out of Erik at the same time and he in me.

Do you think it's based on a true story ie. did the Phantom exist? I doubt it - I haven't read this newer novel "Phantom" yet and don't intend to until I finish playing the part. However I've been to the Palais Garnier and in all senses of the word it is a 'phantastic' theatre, one which easily conjures up many stirring images - beautifully represented in the Phantom designs, I'd say!

What do you think of Erik? I wish he'd let me have a little more time to myself! Oh, I don't know. He's a sad, bitter, brilliant man. He has a great brain and can be a real bastard. I find him easy to understand - he's motivated by a terrible profound loneliness and has been forced to create his own universe which has its own laws. Anyone who has known some kind of loneliness or feeling of apartness when they were children or growing up can tune in to this crucial aspect of the Man, which is his great mythical attraction. He is so powerful, awesome, in control and yet so hurt and vulnerable. He must epitomise great beauty and great ugliness at war with each other, reason and insanity, God/Satan, Id/Ego battling it out. In the end, he learns about sacrifice, shows mercy and is redeemed by love - a great, archetypal Romantic drama - another reason why the story has always been so popular. I can't stand it when I see Erik played as a "nutter". Yes, he goes "crazy" a few times, but in general he is not insane in the pathological sense. I feel if he is played as a schizophrenic or a psychopath, the romantic ideal of the story is dashed, because both of those conditions would indicate a "determination" that makes any hope of redemption impossible, and would break with the "Romantic" style. He is very melancholy, angry, egocentric, neurotic perhaps, and goes off into rages of frustrated sexuality, but he is not insane. And I'll kill anyone who thinks otherwise!

What do you think happens to him at the end? That's our little secret! I think the different fan magazines have probably spent pages on that so I don't see I need to contribute. He goes!

Why do you think the show is so appealing? Some lovely songs, great orchestrations, a nice mixture of melodrama and light comedy, some stunning sets and a lot of good theatrical magic: and on the thematic side, many of the things I've mentioned before, which I suppose you could define as the archetypal Beauty and the Beast scenario which, if honestly portrayed, can tug the heartstrings of even the most urbane Japanese businessman.

What is your favourite role of those you've played? Obviously Phantom is the supreme role in my repertoire to date. I did however, really enjoy my stints in other Lloyd Webber shows as well. Che in "Evita" was very cool to play and Gus/Growltiger, while exceedingly 'uncool' thanks to the heavy knitted costumes, was a joy to play, despite being totally knackering, and one that I was surely born to do. I really enjoyed doing Hajj, the Poet in "Kismet" with the BBC Radio 2 last year, working with the composers, and would love to have the chance to do that again on stage someday.

What role would you like to play? I'd quite hope to have a go at Sweeney Todd somewhere down the line and would still like to play the Celebrant in "Bernstein's Mass" at some point. (I've nearly done that a couple of times.) Add to that a heap of great operatic roles I'd love to do but probably never will and whatever new, unknown roles lie lurking up ahead. We'll wait and see!

End note from me - Ethan’s wrong about schizophrenia, but hey, this interview was 25 years ago and actors can’t be expected to be experts on mental illness. But I really love this interview, the depth he goes into, and how his sense of humour comes through too.

#the phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera #ethan freeman #classic phantoms #poto #poto legends #phantom legends

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spacecorpscans · 4 years

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Yoshino Chiaki no Baai Vol. 2 Ch.3 Translation

Creators: Miyako Fujisaki, Nakamura Shungiku | Translation: Taz

Chapter 3

I wonder what he’s been up to these days. It was close to sundown, so Hatori was probably working. Yoshino was enjoying his dinner with Yuu, but no matter what he did to distract himself, all he could think about was Hatori. I want to eat Hatori’s hamburgers. “This was more delicious than I thought it’d be.” “Ye- yeah. You’re right.” He came here to relax, so it was silly to trouble himself thinking about unnecessary things. In the middle of his thoughts he was interrupted when a cake was brought into the room “This is a Japanese hotel, but they bring cake for dessert?” Although it was small, it was also whole. Yoshino wondered what was going on as he looked down at the cake; there was a nameplate that read “Happy Birthday”. “I hear that today is your birthday, and this hotel offers small gifts for such an occasion.” said the hostess, and she set down fruit champagne as well. Oh yeah, today is my birthday. Yoshino completely forgot, but it seemed like Yanase didn’t. “I had this prepared in secret; I bet you’re surprised.” Before coming to appreciate how Yanase had prepared all of this for him, Yoshino remembered his last conversation with Hatori. ‘So you do know what day that is, the day you’re going to go?’ Hatori said. He was probably referring to Yoshino’s birthday; Since he brought it up, he must have prepared something as well. This is my first birthday since we started dating. Come to think of it, Hatori had given him something for his birthday every year; If Yoshino was looking for out-of-print comics, Hatori would find a way to buy them for him. If he ran out of drawing supplies, Hatori bought more for him. Although these presents weren’t romantic, each of them always had a lot of thought put into them. He never thought too much about it then and always went along with it when Hatori would say he only happened to find those things, but now Yoshino knew there was more to it than that. Even when he asked Hatori to bring him materials that he knew weren’t easy to come by, Hatori brought them for him anyway. Ultimately there were times when Yoshino treated Hatori out for fast food back in high school, but ever since debuting in manga he was always busy chasing deadlines, and Hatori’s birthday wasn’t something he kept track of. What’s there to like about someone as inconsiderate as me? He reasoned. His actions were inconsiderate and even somewhat rude; If he apologized to Hatori he would only be doing so to save his own conscience. He bit his lip at that thought. “You’re bored if Hatori isn’t around, huh?” “Eh?” Yanase’s sudden question startled him. “You’re thinking ‘I wish he was here’, aren’t you, Chiaki?” “What are you talking about?! Of course not! I’m actually glad that he’s not here; if he were, he would just lecture me again. I swear that guy is always on my back-- it’s so annoying!” His relationship with Hatori was still a secret to Yanase, so he quickly covered it up. Hearing this, Yanase gave Yoshino an uncertain smile. “Well, that’s his job, I guess.” “Ye- yeah, that’s why I don’t want to see him on my day off,” he laughed. Yanase probably wasn’t thinking too deeply about it because he didn’t ask Yoshino any further. I’m nervous. Sometimes he was worried that Yanase could see right through him; He was often very nervous, especially when he was hiding something. Yanase stared at Yoshino, but his expression changed rather suddenly. “How about we go to the hot springs after you’re done eating? I hear you can get a good shoulder massage here.” “Oh, okay.” “I don’t like sweets, so you can have the whole cake. I’ll take the champagne instead; You can’t handle wine anyway, right?” Yanase reached for the cold bottle and started chugging it down. *** “Now that’s how a bath should be!” When they returned to their room, Yoshino gulped down his fruit milk. “You sure like that drink. That’s your second one.” “What’s wrong with that? I couldn’t decide if I wanted coffee milk or something else.” “You’re like a kid,” said Yanase, drinking a can of beer. “Shut up. Weren’t the hot springs great, though? Let’s go again tomorrow morning.” “If you wake up early.” The baths here were outdoors and the mist was very beautiful; The temperature of the water was perfect, too, and it helped to relax his tense muscles. If only I had a massage today. He sighed to himself. He reminded himself to check in with his personal chiropractor after this trip, and Yanase jumped back in after his next beer. “Oh yeah. You said you’d let me draw you nude, so let’s do it now.” “What are you saying, you idiot? Besides, I never said that!” “Don’t be so stubborn.” “You’re drunk, aren’t you?” It was rare for him not to know whether Yanase was serious or not. “I wouldn’t say I am.” “Well, you don’t even have your drawing supplies.” Yanase smugly searched through his bag and pulled out his art materials. “I brought them with me. I make sure to take this when I travel.” “What?!” “I draw scenery and stuff. I use it like a camera. Anyway, get undressed.” So Yanase was serious. “I’m not getting naked!” “I’m not telling you to take off your underwear. You know, it would be nice if you did things for me every once in a while,” Yanase said. It was hard for Yoshino to refuse that. After hesitating, he made a proposal. “Fine, but only my upper body.” “Okay, that’s fine.” He reluctantly pulled his arms from the sleeves of his yukata. When they were at the hot springs together he hadn’t been embarrassed, but now he felt self-conscious. “Sit over there then.” “Ok-kay.” Yoshino sat cross-legged on the chair in the middle of the veranda, giving his friend a questioning look. “I don’t exactly look very fun to draw, but you still draw me so much. Isn’t it boring? You could make an art portfolio out of me at this point.” “It’s not boring. I love you, Chiaki.” “Huh?!” Yoshino looked at him in shock, but Yanase was not perturbed and continued drawing, his expression unchanged. “I love your bone structure.” Yoshino’s heartbeat slowed down a little. Oh I see. He just likes me to be his model. “Oh, yeah, yeah. Of course, my bones. Hahaha…” Heart still trembling, he hid his nervousness by laughing it off. “Yeah, your bones as well.” Yanase looked up from his sketchbook. “So wait, are you actually saying that you love me?” he asked jokingly, but Yanase only stared at him silently. Wha- what’s with this atmosphere?! Having a bad feeling about this, Yoshino slowly put his yukata back on.“I’m- I’m thirsty. I’m gonna go buy something to drink. Do you want something too, Yuu?” “You just drank milk. Stay still for a bit,” Yanase said as he moved towards Yoshino. That very moment, Yoshino felt a chill. He sensed something strange and tried to get up, but Yanase grabbed the chair armrests and faced him so he couldn’t move. “Wha- what?!” “You asked me if I liked anyone. Do you still want to know? I’ll tell you if you do,” Yanase asked, egging on Yoshino’s raging anxiety. I have to play it cool no matter what he says! Intuitively he knew that it was better not to know, but it would be strange to say that now when he had been so curious about it before. Surely Yanase’s suggestive behavior was all an act and he was only teasing Yoshino. I’m gonna ask casually, just casually, he told himself, but when he was about to open his mouth his cellphone rang. I’m- I’m saved! Thank god! “The phone! I need to see who it is,” Yoshino blurted, shoving Yanase out of the way. When he answered, it was Hatori on the other end. “It’s me. Is now a good time?” It’s Tori of all people! God hates me… “Yeah, it’s fine. Oh wait, my signal isn’t very good. Hold on, I’m gonna go somewhere to fix it.” After making up this excuse, Yoshino covered the mouthpiece and told Yanase he would step out onto the courtyard veranda for a bit. He wanted to be away from the awkward atmosphere in that room; He put on a pair of wooden clogs and clip-clopped across the stone steps. Only when he arrived at the gazebo did he press his phone back to his ear.

“Hey, Yoshino? Are you really okay?” “Ye- yeah. I’m okay. Um, is something up?” he asked nervously. “I wouldn’t call you for nothing. I looked over the storyboard corrections; I don’t think there are any problems with it for the most part, just one or two lines that I want you to fix. I sent you a fax of the corrections I made.” “Got it. Oh, is the extra illustration alright?” “Yeah, it’s good.” They were only talking about work, but he was still relieved that they could interact like usual. Now Hatori grew silent; He was still on the line with Yoshino, but it was quiet on his side. “Tori?” “I’m sorry.” Hatori interrupted his worry. “About?” Hatori seemed uneasy, probably thinking that Yoshino was still mad at him. “Sorry I behaved so childishly the other day.” “No- no, it’s okay.” Yoshino was going to add that he wasn’t angry but held his tongue. He certainly had been angry, but that was only because he didn’t understand Hatori’s feelings. Even now he wouldn’t say that he understood, but he did realize that he’d been in the wrong. I made Tori apologize before me again...Why is he so nice to me? “Are you still angry?” “No, that’s not it.” There were many things he wanted to ask but he couldn’t put them into words; Since Yoshino was faltering, Hatori misinterpreted this as him being offended again and ended the conversation. “This is all I have to say. I’m sorry I disturbed you.” “Ah, um-” “Happy birthday, Yoshino.” Hatori finished with that before hanging up. “Wai-! Hey! Tori?!” He tried to stop him, but the connection was already cut. Maybe the reason he called me was to tell me that? Thinking about it, hre realized that the storyboard conversation could have waited until the next day. Besides, Hatori faxed the corrections to Yoshino’s house anyway so there was no need to call him about it. He made the phone call seem like it was about work and yet added that birthday wish in the end. Yoshino fretted; now he really wanted to see Hatori. Unable to stand it any longer, he returned to the room and began changing clothes. Seeing this, Yanase shot him a questioning look. “Yoshino? Did something happen?” “Sorry, um, something came up. I have to go to my parent’s house,” Yoshino quickly packed his things. Even he knew that what he was doing was selfish, but he couldn’t hold down the urge. “Right now? Can’t you go in the morning?” “No, I have to go now. Sorry I’m being so selfish. I’ll make it up to you!” With that, Yoshino dashed out of the hotel, leaving Yanase alone. *** He took a taxi from the train station and somehow made it back home before the day was done. Yoshino’s feet moved quickly on their own accord and before he knew it he was running. When he reached Hatori’s place, he pressed the intercom button with force. Hatori’s voice was suspicious over the speaker. “Yes? Who is this?” “Ah, um, it’s me.” “Yoshino?!” Noticing Hatori’s surprise, Yoshino then heard a harsh rattling sound. It seemed that Hatori dropped the intercom receiver. After more bustling from inside, the front door opened and Hatori appeared in sweats and a t-shirt, probably already prepared for bed. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at the hot springs?” “Yeah, but I came back.” “Did something happen?!” If he told him about the incident with Yanase, he felt like things would get complicated, so he decided to keep quiet about it. “No- no, that’s not it. I just wanted to see your face.” “…Huh?” “Ah! I mean, I wanted to get started on work! I mistook your place for my place!” He blurted. Unable to hide his flushed cheeks, Yoshino turned on his heel and readied to leave, but Hatori grabbed his hand and stopped him. “Say that again.” “Whi- which part?” There was no way he could say that again. As Yoshino pretended to play innocent, Hatori revised his question. “Did you really want to see me?” “Oh, did I say that?!” “I understand. It’s already late, so stay over tonight. Work can wait until tomorrow, right?” Hatori gently insisted, and Yoshino obediently followed him inside. “Okay.” He felt nervous and the atmosphere felt tense, even though Hatori’s place was somewhere he could always call his second home. He watched Hatori’s back as he slowly took off his coat. This is really awkward. Perhaps to break this atmosphere, Hatori called out to him like his usual. “You were at the hot springs, right? Did you eat?” “Ye- yeah. I ate and took a bath.” “Just a beer then? I think I have some snacks somewhere.” Hatori peered into the fridge, muttering to himself. Yoshino finally gathered up his courage. “Um!” “Yeah?” Hatori turned, holding two cans of beer and snacks. Yoshino flinched when Hatori looked his way. “I forgot that today is my birthday.” Hatori’s eyes widened at this and he let out a small smile. “Idiot, that’s why you came back?” “Do- don’t call me an idiot! I know this is my fault, I’m sorry if you were planning something for us.” “You don’t need to apologize. You being here is enough.” “…!” Yoshino’s heart skipped a beat with Hatori looking at him so lovingly. Okay, why is my heart pounding now for someone I’ve known for over twenty years?! Hatori placed the snacks and beer on the kitchen counter and took out a cardboard box. Yoshino let his curiosity get the better of him. “What’s that?” “A present. I didn’t know what to get you, but I thought something practical would be best. I’m glad I can give this to you today.” Hatori held the box out in front of him. Yoshino didn’t think Hatori would prepare him a present, so he was touched. He took the gift excitedly and found that it was very heavy. “Thank you. It’s a bit heavy…” Naturally, his curiosity grew with the weight of it. I wonder what Tori is giving me? Yoshino sat down on the sofa to peel it all open and look inside. He raised a questioning eyebrow at the contents within. “…What’s this?” “It’s manuscript paper. With all these supplies you won’t ever run out; Now you can draw as much as you want.” “Hey! You thought I’d be happy with this? You’re supposed to give a more romantic present on my birthday!” Although he was happy to receive something practical, it was kind of cold for a present. Forgetting his manners, Yoshino complained about it and Hatori asked him another question. “What then?” “I- I don’t know, but definitely not this.” He hadn’t been thinking of what would be considered romantic when he’d blurted that out. The girls in my manga usually get some sort of accessory on their birthdays, but I’m not a girl. As Yoshino racked his brain, Hatori took Yoshino’s hand and brought it to his mouth. “To- Tori?” Hatori kissed his palm. “Then I’ll give you myself.” “Wha- what you are saying? You’re embarrassing yourself by saying something like that!” Yoshino flustered as his face turned red. I seriously can’t believe this. How can he say that with a straight face? “If you don’t want me, that’s fine too.” “Wh- who said anything about not wanting you?” He attempted to hide his embarrassment and grabbed Hatori’s hand before he could pull it away. Uwa, I just did something really embarrassing, didn’t I? He didn’t let go of Hatori’s hand; he couldn’t look him in the eyes. “Yoshino,” Hatori hit him lightly on the forehead. From this distance he felt Hatori’s breath and his heartbeat increased. Hatori gently grabbed at his hand and all Yoshino could feel was how sweaty his own hand was from being so nervous. Hatori lifted Yoshino’s chin with his other hand, and the moment their eyes met Hatori kissed him on the lips. “Mm…” Hatori lightly bit Yoshino’s lower lip and earned a soft gasp in response. Hatori took the opportunity to slip his tongue between his lips; He wasn’t being rough in the least and Yoshino began to relax. As they stood in this unnatural position he wondered if he should wrap his hands around Hatori’s back, but Hatori broke the kiss apart too soon. “I can’t resist today.” “Is- is that something to complain about?” “Well, no? Are you saying you also want to do it?” “Yea- yeah, so shut up already!” “Ow.” Yoshino hit Hatori on the head and flushed when Hatori laughed to himself.

“Tori…?” Just when Yoshino was about to ask what was wrong, Hatori muttered, “You smell different.” “Hm? That’s because I used the hotel’s shampoo.” “Did you take a bath with him?” “Eh? Well, it’s a public bath so- wha-!” Hatori clasped the back of Yoshino’s neck and pushed him down on the sofa. “What are you doing?” “From now one, don’t ever let anyone see you naked.” Hatori looked scary staring him down like this; he clearly wasn’t joking. “That would mean I can never go to the hot springs!” “Who cares about that? I was going to be gentle with you today, but now I won’t.” “Huh?!” “This will be your punishment,” Hatori said, holding both of Yoshino’s hands together above his head. “Wh- what do you mean when you say punishment?!” Yoshino glared. He had no idea what Hatori was thinking, but the grasp his lover had on him was becoming painful. “Telling you would take the fun out of it, right?” “There’s nothing fun about it! Mm- nnh-!” Hatori couldn’t control the way he was kissing Yoshino; He was ruthless with Yoshino’s lips and became quick to slip his tongue between them. Being intertwined like this sent a sweet chill throughout Yoshino’s body. “Hh…nn- mmh-!” Hatori’s hands traced Yoshino’s body down from his waist to his crotch, rubbing lewdly between his thighs. Yoshino was beginning to feel cramped beneath his clothing, but with them kissing like this it was close to impossible to get any words out. Hatori seemed to notice his struggle and slipped his hand into Yoshino’s boxers, stroking him with vigor. “Nn, ngh- mm…!” Yoshino’s hips rutted upwards into Hatori’s ruthless hand. He felt wet from his own precum, and thinking of Hatori’s hand slick with it enticed Yoshino even more. “Haa, ah- ahh…” Pulling away from their kiss, Hatori’s hand continued at it’s same, fluid pace. He knew from experience how fast Yoshino liked to be rubbed and picked up speed. With his mouth free, Yoshino couldn’t hold back his desperate moans; He tried to put up with it, but his body was already numb with ecstasy. Yoshino threw his neck back and Hatori sucked at the skin there, stimulating him impossibly further. “Aah- ah! Hh- no more!” Just when he was about to come, Hatori stopped the urge with a harsh squeeze. “No- why-?!” “I told you this was punishment, right? I’ll let you come when you behave.” “Huh?! Don’t screw with- Hha-!” Hatori lubricated a hand and rolled Yoshino’s shirt up to spread the gel over his abdomen. Yoshino swallowed at the feeling before Hatori pulled his underwear all the way off. He spread both of Yoshino’s bare legs open and smeared lubricant between them. “Ngh-!” “I don’t want anyone to see you, but I can tolerate you going to the hot springs. Just don’t let Yanase see you naked. Promise that you won’t go out with him anymore if it’s just the two of you alone.” “Haa- Why?” “Cause I’m jealous, okay? You draw romance, you should know this.” “I should know this? Ah-!” He was going to glare, but Hatori rubbed a finger inside of him, causing Yoshino to arch his back. His lip quivered at the foreign sensation, but Hatori paid him no mind and pushed further inside. Why do I have to go through this? He tried to remove Hatori’s hands, but he had no power in his fingers. “Let go- Ah, ngh-!” Hatori’s finger curled, pressing on Yoshino’s soft insides and pulling in and out, all while stroking Yoshino from the front and holding back his climax each time. “It’s simple; Just promise me.” “No, please-!” “Hate it all you want, we can stay like this forever,” Hatori said, moving faster as his grip on Yoshino tightened. “Ah, no- It hurts, stop!” Yoshino felt like he was losing his mind when Hatori added a second finger. “Then swear right now.” “I swear…! I promise, so-” He nodded, unable to think properly; The tears in his eyes reached their limit, one slipping down as he begged. “Really?” “Really, so ple-please- I want to come!” “Okay. I’ll let you come as much as you want.” Finally when Hatori released him, Yoshino’s legs were pushed up to his chest and he felt Hatori’s own erection press against him. He barely had time to register how fast it was happening before Hatori pushed inside. “Ngh-!” Yoshino came as soon as Hatori sheathed himself fully inside, and his mind went blank as he saw lights behind his eyelids; Hatori mercilessly pounded against Yoshino’s hips, trembling sweetly with the effects of his climax. Yoshino could feel Hatori deep inside of him, convulsing with Hatori’s movements; he knew himself how tight he was but couldn’t control it. Pain engraved into him, but his pleasure exceeded it and he sighed lovingly with each thrust. Even though he just came, Yoshino felt himself getting aroused again. Hatori continued fucking him through it, purposely avoiding his prostate. It was hard for Yoshino to express how he felt about this so he tried to move his hips himself. “Ngh, ugh- ah! Hah-!” “What’s gotten into you? You’re so forward today, moving all on your own.” “Ah! Ca- cause…you’re…” “‘I’m’ what? I’ll do anything if you tell me how you want it.” “…!” There was no way he could say that; He was feeling extremely scatterbrained, but he still had some reason left in him. It’s not like it wasn’t embarrassing to move on his own, but it was much better than having to say it out loud. “There’s no need to be embarrassed by now, right? Your body is much more honest than you are.” Chucking, Hatori let his hips go wild. He bore right into Yoshino’s prostate and Yoshino tightened around him again. “Haa! Ah- I’m gonna come again!” Each of his words were punctuated with Hatori’s thrusts. “It’s fine, I told you I’ll let you come as much as you want.” “Ngh-! Tori, you too…” “Yeah, I’m almost at my limit.” Hatori greatly increased his speed as soon as he said that. Yoshino tightly grabbed Hatori by the neck, feeling as though he was going to be thrown off due to the vigorous movements. He panted heavily and Hatori planted a kiss on his lips. Hatori pushed impossible deeper and Yoshino clenched tightly around him, urging him to come. At the feeling of Hatori spilling hotly into him, his own body flinched with his second orgasm.

“...Chiaki,” Hatori held him and kissed him soothingly, Yoshino slowly closing his eyes. *** “Ow, ow, ow…” Yoshino hardly exercised so his entire body was worn out; for quite some time now, Hatori had been giving him a massage. “Geez, you could’ve been more gentle, you know.” “What are you talking about? I tried to stop but you were the one who kept saying you wanted more.” “Who said something like that?! Ow, ow!” Hatori was putting the right pressure into Yoshino’s muscles and it felt extremely good, even despite the pain from being so stiff. Hatori only did this every once in a while, but the next day he always felt like he’d been born again. As Hatori massaged Yoshino’s shoulder blades, he reminded Yoshino about the promise he made earlier. “You didn’t forget, right?” “You’re so stubborn. I always keep my word!” “And yet you always miss deadlines.” “That’s different!” It wasn’t like he completed his manuscripts late on purpose. I probably shouldn’t be alone with Yuu for a while. He was uneasy remembering the incident at the hot springs; Yanase had probably been a little drunk, but it was still scary. What was that all about? I think I kind of understand why Tori is so weird around him. “…Tori.” “Hm?” “Let’s go on a trip together next time.” “…” At Yoshino’s statement, Hatori stopped for a moment. Yoshino wasn’t expecting this reaction and pouted. “What? You don’t want to?” “No, that’s not it. I’m just a little surprised. You want to go with me?” “Yeah, I want to go with you.” “Maybe so. I hope we can go someday.” “Not just ‘I hope’! We’ll definitely go! It’s a promise, okay?” “Alright, alright, it’s a promise. Now are you tired? It’s fine if you need to go to sleep.” “I’m alright…” Yoshino couldn’t keep his eyes open even as he slurred this. “Good night.” Hatori’s words were his last memory for the night.

#yoshino chiaki no baai #sekaiichi hatsukoi #sih

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axwalker · 4 years

Text

Now and then 3: Crush

I’m participating in the Wacky Drabbles prompts. (Sorry for the delay! 😬 )

This week is prompt #42: Let’s be honest with ourselves, we knew this was going to happen. It will appear in bold in the text.

I also used the prompt sent by @burnsoslow : High school AU - Drake x Lexie - childhood friends - 16. “my hands are really dry. sorry about that.”

Synopsis: The story of Alexis’s and Drake’s friendship since they met when they were 10 years old until they become roommates after college. (AU)

MASTERLIST

Warning: No one under 18 should read my stories. Mention of alcohol.

Pairing: Drake x ?, Alexis x ?

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry

Permatag list (Drake x Mc): @mskaneko @pedudley @burnsoslow @ac27dj

@twinkle-320 @kimmiedoo5 @marshmallowsandfire @loveellamae @lauzales @pug-bitch @debramcg1106 @ravenpuff02

Wacky Drabbles: @dcbbw @texaskitten30 @bebepac @pedudley @bbrandy2002 @katedrakeohd @sirbeepsalot @bobasheebaby @flutistbyday2020 @soheila-1996 @kingliam-rys

2010

Fifteen years-old

Lexie took her tray and looked for her friends at the cafeteria. She spotted Drake and Liam at the end of the hall; they were eating their usual meal consisting in an extra-large hamburger with fries, an apple, a bag of Doritos and a chocolate pudding, each.

She sat next to Drake. “I don’t know how you guys do it. I love eating but that’s just disgusting.”

Liam and Drake shrugged and kept eating. After cleaning his plate, Liam leaned on his chair and asked casually, “are you coming to the Beaumonts tonight, Lexie?”

“To Max’s party? Of course,” she answered, before taking a bite of her grilled cheese sandwich.

Liam elbowed Drake, who coughed before speaking. “And that new girl, Olivia? Is she coming?”

Lexie smiled, looking at Liam. “You’re so damn obvious is actually sad, Li.” She giggled when she saw Liam turning crimson red. “Yes, she’s coming too, and I’ll be sure to slip one or two things about how amazing you are,” she added, winking.

Liam stretched his arms behind his head then clasped his hands behind his neck “Well, you don’t have to lie a lot.”

“I won’t be adding modest to the list, that’s for sure.” Lexie laughed, as she took a Dorito from Drake’s bag. She actually thought Liam would be good for Liv, he was kind and sweet and Olivia definitely needed someone like that in her life. “You’ll come too, right, Drake?”

Drake got distracted when he saw Katie coming into the cafeteria.

“Draake!” She turned her head and saw Katie sitting down and smiling at Drake. She sighed, annoyed. “Earth to Walker!”

“Yeah. I will,” he answered, distractedly.

“Cool, my mom will let me stay longer if you come. She’s such a hypocrite. She can’t shut up about feminism, but I still need a boy to go to a party.”

“Please, Lex. I beg you, spare us the feminist speech, we know it by heart,” Drake said, still exchanging looks with Katie.

Lexie stood up, exasperated. “Whatever. See you at 9:00.”

---------------------------------------------------------------

Drake was laying down in Lexie’s bed watching a football match as she tried different outfits.

“It’s already 10:00 p.m., Lex. You promised,” Drake said in a tired voice.

She poked her head out of her closet door. “I’m sorry! I’ll be ready in a sec.” Finally, she stood up in front of Drake with a black tank top, ripped jeans and her red Converse.

“Well?” Lexie asked.

“It looks comfortable,” Drake said, shrugging.

“That’s it?” Lexie asked, disappointed. She knew she was too skinny; all the other girls of her class were full of curves and she was still so fricking flat.

“Uhm, yeah? Being comfortable is important, right?” Drake didn’t understand why his best friend looked so pissed.

“Yeah, it’s what I need anyway.” Lex turned to look at Drake who was watching the match again. “I’m getting wasted tonight.”

Drake muted the TV and turned his head to her. “What do you mean?”

“I’m fifteen and I’ve never been drunk; I need to live, Drake!”

“You’re so dramatic. And, you can’t get drunk. Elena will kill me if I bring you back wasted.”

“First of all, I can come back by myself and second of all, she’ll never know.”

Drake shook his head. “Have you meet your mom? She knows everything.”

“God! You idolize her. She doesn’t know everything. Come one, Liv must be already waiting for us,” Lexie said looking at her watch.

Lexie, Drake and Liam joined Olivia who was waiting for them in front of the Beaumont’s house.

Olivia was wearing sneakers and a short green dress that highlighted her red hair. She looked angry.

“Finally, Alexis. I’ve been waiting here for ten minutes. I was about to leave”

“Lexie is always late. Next time try to arrive ten minutes after the time she told you, Liv,” Liam teased her.

Liv arched an eyebrow. “I don’t remember telling you to call me Liv. My name is Olivia, golden boy. If you don’t mind, I was talking to Alexis.”

Drake and Lexie exchanged a half-worried, half-amused look. Liam was the most popular guy at school, so, he wasn’t used to girls talking to him like that. He clearly didn’t mind because he was still smiling at the red head.

Max led them to his basement where his parents had practically installed a bar. They had music, drinks, a pool table and a foosball.

CeeLo Green’s ‘Fuck You’ was playing in Max’s Bose speakers. Alexis joined Max on the dancefloor. Drake watched them dance for a few seconds. He smiled at Lex; she was a great dancer. Suddenly, Drake saw Katie and Maddie Amaranth arriving to the party. He dried his sweaty palms on his jeans and went looking for something to drink. Liam and Olivia were still bickering, but they were dancing with each other. And Olivia seemed to be having fun.

Katie saw Drake going to the table with the drinks and followed him. “Hi, Drake.” She smiled coquettishly.

Drake blushed but smiled back. “Hi!” For a few painful seconds, he didn’t know what to add, so he said the first thing that popped into his head. “It’s a cool basement, right?” – It’s a cool basement??- He wanted to slap himself. What a fucking stupid thing to say.

Katie giggled. “You’re so funny. And you’re right, it is cool.”

Drake didn’t understand what was so funny about his comment, but he wasn’t going to question his luck.

One hour later, Lexie was dancing with Max when she saw Drake making out with Katie. “That was fast,” she said to Max nodding at the couch where they were, an unpleasant feeling in the pitch of her stomach.

“It was only a matter of time.” They witnessed Drake kiss Katie passionately. “Wow! They’re really into each other’s tonsils.” Max laughed.

Lexie grimaced. “Ugh! That’s disgusting, they should get a freaking room. Come on, Max, I want another beer.”

Around midnight, Drake looked for Alexis, she was nowhere to be seen and it was already past her curfew. Bastien wasn’t very strict, so he didn’t have one, but Elena was going to kill them both.

Finally, he saw her playing foosball with Max and Rashad.

“Drake!” She shrieked when she saw him. “I’m winning!”

Drake chuckled. “I see that you fulfilled your mission of getting drunk.”

“I’m not drunk I’m the soberestest person in this room! Howdareyou?” She sloshed beer all over them.

Drake took a paper towel and cleaned his shirt. “You’ll regret it tomorrow. You remember that day after Leo’s birthday when I spend the morning throwing up, right?”

She waved her fingers no. “But, see that direfent, I mean, different. ‘Cause you were like super drunk, and Imma like not.”

Drake laughed. “Yeah, my bad. You’re clearly the poster girl for abstinence. I think we should go, anyway, Lex. Elena will kill us.”

“You’re such a party pooper. What happened, Katie ditched you?”

Katie was behind Drake. She smiled affectedly, and answered, “no, I didn’t. Come on, Drake. Some of us are going to Maddie’s house. She has a pool.” Katie took his hand, but Drake didn’t move.

“Lex is completely wasted. I can’t leave her like this,” Drake said as he watched Lexie try to play foosball with a drunk Maxwell.

“She’s a big girl, Drake. She can take care of herself.” Katie placed her hand in his shoulder. “If you come, I promise, we’ll have fun,” Katie urged him.

-I’m going to fucking kill Lex tomorrow-. “I’m sorry, Katie, you have no idea how much. But I can’t leave Lex like this. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked.

Katie was a popular, pretty girl, there was no way she was going to lose Drake for Lexie O’Brien, that’d be humiliating. “No, it’s tonight or never, Drake. You have to choose, now.”

Drake shook his head, he wasn’t going to leave his best friend like that, so he answered, “Then is never. I’m sorry, Katie.”

She shoved him on her wait out and went to join Madeleine.

Lexie sat. “Drake everything is spinning. And the music is so loud,” she complained, holding her head between her hands.

He kneeled down. “I told you not to drink this much. I mean, let’s be honest with ourselves, we knew this was going to happen. You’re not used to alcohol.”

“I’m fine” She stood up and walked to the door but tripped with the stairs. Drake tried to catch her, but it was too late. She fell down.

“I twisted my ankle. Hell! It hurts,” she complained as she rubbed it.

Drake sighed deeply and turned to Max. “Can I take her to your dad’s study? Only while she sobers up.”

Maxwell nodded. “Go on, Drake. My parents are sleeping anyway. You can make some coffee in the kitchen.”

“Come on, Lex,” Drake told her. She put her arms around his shoulders and limped to the studio.

Drake helped Alexis sit. She took off her left Converse. “My ankle hurts, Drake. And this room spins too.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I know, Lex. Everything will be spinning for a while. Let’s see if it’s not broken.” He rubbed her ankle checking for any fracture like coach Evans had taught him. “My hands are really dry. Sorry about that.”

Suddenly, Lexie was very aware that Drake was rubbing her leg. They played a lot of sports together, this wasn’t the first time he touched her, and yet this time it felt… different.

Drake shook his head. “Do you have pain in the bone or here?” He asked as he pressed in the soft part of the muscle.

“Ouch! You’re such a savage! Yes, the second time.”

“Me a savage? You could be more grateful, you know?” He asked, angrily.

“Why? Because you couldn’t leave for Maddie’s pool with Katie? She has slept with half the school, Leo Rys included. She must have like a hundred STDs. I probably saved your life”

Drake chortled. “Oh, I see; I should be thanking you.”

Lexie stayed silence for a few seconds. Then, emboldened by the alcohol she asked, “Is she a good kisser?”

Drake blushed but nodded. “Very good.”

She rubbed her head, it hurt. “I never kissed anyone like that.”

“The right guy is waiting for you, Lex. You’re too special to make out with just anyone,” Drake empathized.

She rubbed her eyes. “You say that because you’re my best friend, but we both know that if I was really too special, I would be dating someone,” she said with a small voice.

Drake looked at her with his big brown eyes. Lexie had never noticed how handsome Drake was. It was no wonder that half the girls at school wanted to date him.

Drake sat next to her. “You’re the coolest person I know. You’re smart and funny. I mean you’re also a gigantic pain in the ass.” He laughed when she playfully punched him in the arm. “but you’re amazing, Lex. You just need to be patient.” He put an arm around her, amicably. Lexie felt her heart race, as she never had before. His arm around her shoulders made her feel aflutter, and she noticed for the first time how good he smelled. She blushed.

Drake’s voice startled her. “I’ll go get you some coffee, so you can sober up.” He tousled her hair, and added smirking, “I knew you would be a sappy drunk, O’Brien.”

Lexie didn’t reply. For a few minutes, she stayed on the couch, shocked. She had a big problem, a huge crush on her best friend.

#wacky drabbles #axwalker writes #drake x mc #drake walker #tw alchohol mention

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imperialstark · 4 years

Text

oh! darling

a/n: I wrote this because I was sad over stony, and if I have to be sad, so do you guys. Be aware, Steve does have panic attacks throughout this fic, so if that's something that might trigger you, please take care of yourselves. I don't want any of you to seriously hurt yourselves. That being said, I cried four times while writing this. Enjoy! Also, friendly reminder that I don't own Marvel or anything related to it. This is all just for shits and giggles.

summary: Steve Rogers was no stranger to pain. From birth, he had dealt with a whole slew of illnesses ranging from asthma to scarlet fever. Chronic colds that left him bedridden and trembling. Heart palpitations that stole the breath from his lungs...But the pain of seeing Tony slumped against a stray bit of wreckage that had once been their compound—their home—outclassed every wound Steve had ever received. No stab wound, no gunshot, no repulsor blast had brought him closer to death than this moment.

ship(s): steve rogers/tony stark

rating: teen and up

warning(s): canonical character death, grief, unhealthy coping mechanisms, panic attacks

—————

Steve Rogers was no stranger to pain. From birth, he had dealt with a whole slew of illnesses ranging from asthma to scarlet fever. Chronic colds that left him bedridden and trembling. Heart palpitations that stole the breath from his lungs.

One particular moment was forever ingrained in his perfect memory. The Great Depression had just kicked off. Steve had been 12 when his mother took on extra shifts at Mount Sinai, treating tuberculosis patients just to make ends meet. She had never meant to bring it home with her.

The same disease that had taken her life six years later had first tried to take her son.

He remembered feeling like he was in Hell as the fever and chills swept over him in excruciating waves. Each breath felt as if someone had wrapped his lungs in barbed wire. When his mother had seen the blood he had coughed into his handkerchief, her face had paled.

One night as the fever burned its way through his body, taking what little strength he had with it, Steve finally heard her. During the few hours he was awake, Steve had only been allowed to see his mother; she had already been exposed to TB. Each hour he spent with her, not once did she fall apart. She would smooth back his sweat-soaked hair and press cold compresses to his forehead to break the fever as much as she could. She had stood tall, a pillar of strength, just for him.

But at night, Sarah Rogers let her suffering show.

“Not my son,” Steve had heard her say, and he could see her then, even though he barely had the strength to open his eyes. Her frail shoulders wracked with sobs, her arms wrapped around herself as if it would keep her from crumbling. “Please, God, don’t take my son.”

The inferno in his lungs paled in comparison to the pain that had erupted in his heart that night.

His mother didn’t deserve to sound like that. She didn’t deserve to sound so broken. As the fever ravaged his body, Steve vowed that he would fight. He would fight this disease and anything else that tried to knock him down, to make sure his mother never sounded like that for the rest of her life.

The serum had been his ticket to freedom. His mother may have been long gone by that point, but part of Steve hoped that when she looked down on him, she could rest in peace knowing that her son wouldn’t be on death’s door anytime soon. Steve remembered the first breath he had taken after the serum went into effect. He had reveled in the rush of air that swelled in his lungs. Gone was the tightness in his chest, the lightness in his head. He had been reborn, devoid of every scar, bruise, and ailment that had troubled him for 25 years. Not even the war and HYDRA and all of their enhanced weapons could leave a mark on him, although they did hurt like a bitch; wounds that would have killed any other man, Steve recovered from within a day.

But the pain of seeing Tony slumped against a stray bit of wreckage that had once been their compound—their home—outclassed every wound Steve had ever received. No stab wound, no gunshot, no repulsor blast had brought him closer to death than this moment.

For the first time in over a hundred years, he couldn’t breathe. A long-dormant part of his brain thought “asthma attack,” but that couldn’t be possible. Why would the serum fail him now? After serving him dutifully all these years? So why couldn’t he breathe? Why, with every intake of breath, could he only taste ashes and blood and smoke?

Tony’s dead eyes, black and unseeing, bored into him, and something inside of Steve’s chest snapped. Bile rose up, searing his throat. This was wrong. Everything was wrong. Tony wasn’t dead, he couldn’t be dead. Men like Tony couldn’t just die.

“Not him,” he thought. His heart stuttered in his chest. The cut on his arm twinged as he lowered the remains of his shield. “Please, God, not him, too.”

The light in the arc reactor flickered once, twice, before fluttering out completely as if to mock him.

“Mr. Stark?” a boy who could only be Spider-Man, given his spider-themed suit said, his voice wavering.

“I lost the kid.” The memory slammed into him with all the force of a freight train. A half-dead Tony with his skin pale and stretched taut over his bones. They had lost that first battle and with it, Tony’s child in all but blood; it had nearly killed Tony.

The kid’s—and that’s what he was, God, how could they bring a kid into this—shoulders started to tremble.

“Mr. Stark, please.”

It was the “please” that twisted the knife into Steve’s heart. The “please” that brought fresh tears to his eyes. After Natasha’s death, Steve thought he had cried them all away, but apparently, his body had made more. There was always more.

Did the kid even know what he was begging for? But how could Steve judge him when he had done the same?

Theirs was the pleading of children, scared and confused and desperate for the hurt to stop.

Pepper kneeled next to Tony, her head bowed in grief over the love of her life’s chest, and Steve remembered that this wasn’t his wound to bear. He willed himself to stop hurting, to stop feeling altogether, but he couldn’t.

“He’s not yours,” his brain supplied as if that would help him. “He was never yours.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged. The pain didn’t go away.

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

Steve stood tall and rigid like a column at the funeral. Like a soldier. It had been two weeks since that final battle that had taken everything from him. He had tried to make his peace with it. He had tried to go on with his life. But that night before the funeral, he had broken, leaving his apartment a wreck. In public, Steve had always been silent in his grief. Reclusive. He hated feeling weak around others and only let go when he was by himself, raging at the cruelty and the injustice of the world with a fury that scared even him.

He had screamed until his voice was hoarse, thrown furniture, and even tried getting drunk despite knowing it was in vain. He remembered begging at some point, just like the kid had, with bitterness in his blood and hard liquor on his breath.

“Why did it have to be him?” he had said. No one had answered.

By morning, Steve had been entirely devoid of all emotion, aside from shame at the state of his apartment. At least that’s what he wanted to project. Because the alternative...the alternative would have caused him more harm in the end.

So he stood there and paid his respects in a way that had suited his role in Tony’s life; an acquaintance. A stranger.

The only one who had noticed something was amiss was Bucky, who had stared pointedly at Steve’s hands, which he had buried in his pockets. They had scabbed over in time for the funeral, but just barely. Steve had said nothing. What was there to say?

When the boat carrying Tony’s heart floated off into the distance, hugs and condolences were exchanged, and slowly, almost reluctantly, their group of mourners began to peel off one by one. Soon it was just Pepper and Steve left standing in the yard. Happy and Rhodey had left with Morgan to feed her. “Hamburgers,” Happy had said.

Steve wasn’t sure why he had stayed. He had no business intruding on their home. But he couldn’t bear the thought of going back to that little Brooklyn apartment that felt more like a tomb than home these days. Part of him feared that if he went back, it would all start to feel real; Tony was dead, and there was no bringing him back.

Pepper pulled Steve aside, taking his head in hers, sitting on the wood and rope swing affixed to her front porch. A stray breeze carried the scent of sweet-smelling violets their way.

She looked beautiful, devastatingly so, and Steve was reminded of everything that Tony had sacrificed. She leveled him with a smile, although this close, he could see that her eyes were puffy.

His suit was too tight around his neck. Steve was hot, too hot, and the sudden urge to tug it off was overwhelming. Hadn’t there just been a breeze? Why was he hot? The damper on his emotions loosened—there was the familiar pinprick of tears welling in his eyes, the tightness in his throat—before he got a grip.

He shouldn’t have stayed. He had no right. He had no right to Tony. He had thrown that away the day he had decided to drive his shield into Tony’s chest.

“I’m glad you came, Steve,” Pepper said.

At first, Steve figured she was lying, just for the sake of being polite, but no, this was Pepper Potts—“Stark,” his mind hissed—if she had an issue with him, she would let him know.

“I’m glad I was invited,” Steve said, his voice coming out steady, much to his relief. “Thank you, Pepper.”

Pepper’s tilted her head. Her hair shifted with the movement, flashing like copper in the evening sun. “There’s no need to thank me, Steve. He would’ve wanted you here.”

The disbelief must have shown on his face.

“Oh,” Pepper started. “Oh, Steve.”

Why was she comforting him? When he was the one who took her husband from her? When he was the one who killed Tony Stark? The tightness in his chest was back. He wasn’t sure if it had ever truly left him.

He tried desperately to clear his throat, to wrestle some kind of control over his emotions before they broke through his carefully constructed walls, but goddamn it, he couldn’t breathe—

“Steve, you’re okay,” Pepper said, her hands gripping his shoulders. The contact grounded him, brought him back to earth for a moment; Steve sucked in a gust of air that rattled in his chest.

“That’s it,” she said. “You’re okay. You’re home.”

No, he wasn’t. This cabin wasn’t his home, and neither was that lonely apartment in Brooklyn. Home was...home was…

“You are home,” Pepper said firmly. “You’re with family. That’s your home.”

“I’m not—we’re not—“

“Later,” he had promised himself earlier as he had gotten ready for the day ahead of him. “You can fall apart again later.” He didn’t want anyone to see him like this, let alone Pepper.

“We’re your family. Tony was your family.” One of her hands left his shoulders to smooth his hair back, just like his mom had done when he was a child. Steve found himself leaning into her touch, letting her words soak into his skin like ink.

“I killed him,” he said, his voice cracking. Steve was cracking. He could feel the fissures in his heart, spider-webbing their way through his chest, his arms, his legs. One more blow and he’d shatter completely. “I took him from you, and I killed him.”

He was so selfish. Pepper was the one who’d have to go on without her husband, her soulmate. She’d have to look after Morgan all by herself, and once again, he had made it about him.

“You didn’t take him from me,” she said. Her voice had taken on a brittle edge. “And you didn’t kill him. I let him go.”

She let him go. She made it sound like it was the most natural thing in the world. How good of a person did you have to be to release lightning after you caught it in a bottle?

“You should hate me,” Steve said.

Pepper shook her head. “I don’t. Tony didn’t. I can’t hate what he loved. And he did love you, Steve.”

His mouth opened, but no words came out.

Pepper pushed on. “He loved you. Maybe it wasn’t like he loved me, or Rhodey, or Morgan. But I do know he loved you.”

There was no way. Tony was the type who had seen what he wanted and went for it no matter what anyone else said. He would have said something... wouldn’t he? But this was Tony Stark, Steve remembered. The same man who had kept the fact that he was slowly dying a secret for nearly a year. If he did love Steve, that secret had gone to the grave with him.

There had been a time before the Accords, before Ultron, when Steve had thought...he thought there might have been something building between them. Slaps on the back that had lingered too long. Their heads bent too close together for two colleagues, pouring over a file. And those late nights…those late nights when Steve couldn’t stay warm no matter how many blankets he piled onto his bed. When Tony couldn’t close his eyes without seeing exploding stars behind them. On those nights, they had found each other. And they had talked. About anything. Everything. Just because they could. Anything to make the nightmares stop.

And then Ultron had happened. The Accords. Siberia. And here they were eight years later. One of them dead, and the other halfway there.

“I,” Steve began, but he didn’t even know what he was going to say. “He,” he tried again. “He was mine,” he finally decided. It was the worst possible thing to say to a grieving widow, but Pepper didn’t seem to mind. She had an eerie way of understanding him. “He was mine. He was my—he was my person.” That didn’t sound any better.

“I know,” she said. Steve’s resolve turned to water. His arms left his sides and engulfed Pepper in his embrace. “He was mine,” his voice broke on the last word, and so did the tenuous control he had over his emotions. He had always been prone to silent tears followed by hiccups and raging headaches that left him bedridden. The serum had taken care of the hiccups and the headaches. All that was left for him was to cry. So he did. He held onto Pepper, buried his face into her soft, long hair, and let himself die. A wet patch grew on his shoulder; Pepper was crying too.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He knew it was useless. It did nothing to ease the godawful ache in his chest. The serum refused to cure that. Not even time would heal it. For as long as he breathed, he would carry this with him. Maybe eventually he’d be able to grin and bear it. Smile through the pain.

Steve Rogers was no stranger to pain.

#stony #stevetony #steve rogers #tony stark #avengers: endgame #marvel #mcu #my fic #imperialstark fic #stony fic #stony fanfic #stony fanfiction #my writing #imperialstark writing

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rpmemesbyarat · 3 years

Conversation

RP memes based on "Juno"

The little pink plus sign is so unholy.

Will you still think I’m cute if I’m huge?

I never realize how much I like being home unless I’ve been somewhere really different for a while.

I knew this girl who like had this crazy freak out because she took too many behavioral meds at once and she like ripped off her clothes, and dove into the fountain at Ridgedale Mall and was like, “Blah I am a Kraken from the sea!”

I could sell you some of my Adderall if you want.

THUNDERCATS ARE GO!

It’s Morgan Freeman. Do you have any bones that need collecting?

Honest to blog?

I’ve taken like three pregnancy tests, and I’m forshizz up the spout.

Oh my GOD. Oh shit! Phuket, Thailand!

Wow your [clothing item] are like especially [color/quality] today.

Look, in my opinion, the best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you, the right person is still going to think the sun shines out your ass. That’s the kind of person that’s worth sticking with.

Well, it’s kind of skanky. Isn’t that what you girls call it? Skanky? Skeevy?

Tore up from the floor up?

You’re, like, the coolest person I’ve ever met, and you don’t even have to try, you know

I try really hard, actually.

What other kind of shenanigans could I get into?

Your Egg-o is preggo

Is your nipples real brown?

Thanks a heap, Coyote Ugly

They’re just, like, greedy little bitches.

His mouth tasted really tangy and delicious.

I need to know that it’s possible that two people can stay happy together forever.

She just hates when I sit around watching movies and ‘not contributing.’

This is the most magnificent discarded living room set I’ve ever seen.

That ain’t no Etch-A-Sketch. This is one doodle that can’t be un-did, Homeskillet.

I want a parakeet.

Can you just hold on for a second, I’m on my hamburger phone.

But you know, boys have endured worse things for nookie.

I thought you were the kind of girl who knew when to say when.

I don’t know what kind of girl I am.

I could so go for like a huge cookie right now, with like, a lamb kabob simultaneously.

Jocks like him always want freaky girls. Girls with horn-rimmed glasses and vegan footwear and Goth makeup. Girls who play the cello and wear Converse All-Stars and want to be children’s librarians when they grow up. Oh yeah, jocks eat that shit up.

She looks like a hobbit. You know, the fat one, that was in the Goonies.

Don’t think it’s yours just because you marked it with your urine!

I’m gonna stop wearing underwear. Raise my sperm count.

It’s not like the baby’s going to storm in here any second and demand dessert-colored walls.

Being pregnant makes me pee like Seabiscuit!

Nesting, huh? Are you planning to build the crib out of twigs and saliva?

It makes his junk smell like pie.

You know, you can go into early labor sucking face like that!

When I see them all running like that, with their things bouncing around in their shorts, I always picture them naked, even if I don’t want to.

All I see is pork swords.

If you put one more baco on that potato, I’m gonna kick your little monkey butt.

She smells like soup. Have you ever smelled her? I mean, her whole house smells like soup!

[Name] is actually great… in chair.

You are so young.

Must you always feed?

Wow! That shirt’s workin’ hard.

Doctors are sadists who like to play God and watch lesser people scream.

I’m gonna punch that [Name] kid in the wiener next time I see him!

You weren’t even alive!

Did you put like, a hundred things of tic-tacs in my mailbox?

Well, aren’t you the cool guy?

It’s not an apartment, it’s a loft.

They have ads for parents?

Oh, what’s another ten pounds?

She won’t even let me stand in front of the microwave or eat red M&Ms.

Well, it can really only go two ways.

Geez, [Name]! Shut your freakin’ gob!

Silencio, old man!

All babies want to get borned!

Can we make out now?

I’ll handle this. I’m really good at diffusing mom-type rage.

I am giving you the gift of life, screaming pooping life, and you don’t even have to be there when it comes out all covered in blood and guts!

Yum, this pretzel tastes like a freaking DONUT!

Why does everyone think yellow is gender neutral? I never knew a guy with a yellow room.

I need to know that it’s possible that two people can stay happy together forever.

Supposedly they can hear you even though it’s all, like, ten-thousand leagues under the sea.

They were talking about in health class how pregnancy, it can often lead to an infant.

It started with a chair.

It ended with a chair.

I just want something a little more edgier.

I was thinking more, like, graphic designer… mid thirties, you know, with a cool Asian girlfriend who, like, dresses awesome and rocks out on the bass guitar. But I don’t want to be too particular.

I’m not crying, I’m just allergic to fine home furnishing.

I wish my funbags would get bigger.

Yeesh, they sound like a cult, is what the sound like!

I was hoping she was expelled, or into hard drugs.

Yeah, I’m a legend. You know, they call me the cautionary whale.

I’m just saying that this is—this is something that’s never gonna happen.

I don’t take orders. Not from you and not from any man.

Call me when you get off the rag!

I’ve actually heard the the snow peak peach flavor is the best flavor of Boone’s.

Who’s ready for some chromo magnificence?

I am a sacred vessel, alright? All you’ve got in your stomach is Taco Bell.

Yeah, if I could just have the thing and give it to you now, I totally would. But I’m guessing it looks probably like a sea monkey right now and we should let it get a little cuter.

Hey there, big puffy version of [Name]!

He is the cheese to my macaroni.

Oh, go fly a kite!

Whoa! Dream big!

When you move out I’m getting two Weimaraners!

Did you by any chance barf in my urn?

I would never barf in your urn.

There was some blue shit, I mean, gunk, stuff, in there this morning.

This cactus-gram stings even worse than your abandonment.

She inexplicably mails me a cactus every Valentine’s Day.

You’d be the meanest wife ever, okay?

Well, I still have your underwear!

I still have your virginity.

You have no reason to be mad at me, I mean, you know, you broke MY heart. I should be royally ticked off at you. I should be really cheesed off, I shouldn’t want to talk to you anymore.

I have heartburn that is radiating in my knee caps and I haven’t taken a dump since like Wednesday… morning.

Why don’t you go back to night school in Mantino and learn a real trade.

Maybe they’ll do a far shittier job of raising a kid than my dumbass [relation] would. Have you considered that?

Somebody else is going to find a precious blessing from Jesus in this garbage dump of a situation.

[Name] verbally abused the ultrasound tech and we got escorted off the premises.

I named my guitar “Roosevelt”-not Ted, Franklin. You know, the hot one, with polio.

When do I get that spinal tap thing?

You should’ve gone to China, you know, 'cause I hear they give away babies like free iPods. You know, they pretty much just put them in those t-shirt guns and shoot them out at sporting events.

Look, I just drank my weight in Sunny-D and I gotta go pronto!

Can’t we just, like, kick this old school? Like, I have the baby, put it in a basket and send it your way, like, Moses and the reeds?

You seem to be getting pregnanter these days.

I wonder if the baby’s claws could scratch your vag on the way out?

As boyfriends/girlfriendsjoyfriends go, [Name] is totally boss

#rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay memes #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #juno

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wayward-mikaelson · 4 years

Text

Come Back pt 7

Word Count: 3323

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Characters: Dean, Sam, Cas (Mentioned), and Reader

About: A month after the Reader and Sam slept together, the Reader tries to make it work with Dean who knows something is up but still tries anyways. But all the Reader can think about is Sam. During that time the brothers go on hunting trip and while they hunt the Reader and Sam can’t stop talking. The morning after they comes back, the reader is welcomed by something unexpected.

Warnings: Language, Unplanned Pregnancy, and Fantasizing

A/N: I am taking requests as soon as this next part is over! So send them in!

Tag List: @hobby27 @donnaintx @myinconnelly1 @elansaidaris @magssteenkamp @squirrelnotsam

The next month is hard and almost a blur.

As I knew it already, the next morning I wake up feeling just fine. There isn't a shred of guilt or conviction of sleeping with Sam. I lay there in bed thinking about all of it over and over again. The way his hands felt on my bare skin. The way he looked at me when thrusted inside of me. The way our bodies felt against each other. It will forever be embedded into my mind.

I get up and get dressed into something comfortable. When I open the door, there stand Dean in jeans and a t-shirt. The same thing he wore yesterday and what he was wearing while sleeping when I went to peek on him after my 'shower' with Sam.

"Hey," I say catching my breath. "What's up?" My heart races as Dean looks me up and down. I may not feel guilty for having sex with is brother but I surely didn't want him to find out if it isn't through me first. Good thing I got dressed too, Sam let me take his flannel when i saw that my shirt was wet.

"I just wanted to know if you wanted to get a quick breakfast and work on Baby with me this before it gets too hot," He says brushing his hair back. Damn that was hot too.

"Um, sure," I say closing my door behind myself.

"Perfect," Dean smiles and leans in and kisses my cheek. "Let me shower up and we will be on our way. I do wish you could join me though and help me get those hard to reach places." With that he walks away. He probably thinks I'll follow him or that I'll say screw and have sex with im. Not going to happen. One, I had sex with Sam last night. Two, I'm still confused as fuck as to what my feelings for both Winchester brothers are. Finally, three, he must think me stupid or desperate.

I make my way to the kitchen and see Sam already up and dressed and making a smoothie. I have some dirty thoughts about the smoothie and where it all could go so he could lick it all up. If Dean weren't here I would jump onto that real quick, but I remember Sam's words from last night. He's going to wait until I make up my mind.

"Morning," I say standing next to him handing him the spinach.

Sam takes the spinach and smiles. "Morning," He lets his hand brush mine. The movement leaves a trail of goosebumps and a small shiver runs down my spine. "No regerts?" His voice is in a hush tone. "Cause I don't." Sam's takes a step behind me and leans his face down to where I feel his breath on my neck. "In fact, I had a dream where we continued to my room. Sadly, I woke to a hard dick with nowhere to put it in. So I had to take care of myself."

I begin to feel hot and wet. I bite my lip an turn to face Sam whose face is just inches from mine. "I can see how that can be problematic," I whisper as I slowly run my fingertips up his arm. "And no," I then start to trail them down his chest to the waistband of his pants. Sam shifts his legs around. That alone makes me even more wet and the longing for him more urgent. "I don't have any regrets about last night."

Sam senses what I am felling. He lifts his hands and brushes loose strands of hair behind your ear. "Don't get too excited," he whispers. "Unless you want Dean to walk in on us. Cause I can bend you over the counter and get deep inside you."

I smirk and step aside. "You're right," I grab a glass and get some water. "Speaking of Dean, he's taking me to breakfast and we will be working on the impala. To be honest, I don't know how to feel about it."

The rest of the day is a full blown blur. Sam kept busy with some reading while Dean and I worked on the Impala. I have a hard time focusing on helping Dean that I tell Dean that i need to take a break . He offers to come with me and I tell him he should stay and continue on the impala. He nods and continues working.

As I am about to leave Sam spots me. He wonders where I'm going and decides he wants to tag along. I know I should say no because I am actually enjoying my time with Dean and wanted a break to think. How can I think when the younger attractive Winchester is sitting next to me in the car?

Once at the gas station, I go in and tell Sam to just stay put. As I'm grabbing beer and snacks, I see her. The ginger bitch that makes me want throttle her. But I don't because I know I am no better than her. She notices me and stares me up and down. Her look is pure hatred. I ball my fist and move on. She isn't even worth.

Back in the car I pull out the two mini bottles of Captain Morgan and shoot them back. I almost never shoot back straight rum without mixing it. The burn of the alcohol coats my throat and I start to feel the buzz. Sam watches and take the keys from me.

"Hey," I say tossing the bottles in the back.

"Nope," Sam is already out and motioning me to the passenger seat. "I'm not going to let you drive after you just downed those. Are you okay?" He starts the car and before I answer the ginger walks out and I stare at her as she walks away. I envision of me pull her to the back alley behind the gas station and putting the fear of God into her. Sam notices and pulls the car out of the parking lot before I act on my thoughts.

"Do you think I should confront Dean about what he did? Or should I see if he tells me?" I ask once we were on the road. I am starting to feel the effects of the rum. "Or we can pull over and have some really hot sex. I'm pretty felxible."

Sam laughs. "YN," He says. "I am super tempted but I won't. One, you're buzzed and I don't take advantage of buzzed beautiful women. Two, we need to get something you to soak up the alcohol. Finally three, I do think you should confront Dean about it when you're ready and right now, honey, you are not ready."

Sam goes through a drives thru and orders me a giant hamburger and fries. Once I'm done eating it and chugged the water he got, I start to feel better and less buzzed. "Thanks for coming with me," I rest my hand on Sams leg. He takes my hand and holds it there.

"Me too," He says kissing my hand and letting it go.

When we get back to the bunker, Dean has the impala parked up front. He's putting a few bags into the trunk. Dean must have found a case or someone called him about something. This will be perfect time to just stay behind and think.

"Hey, I was wondering where you went," Dean says as Sam gets out of the car.

"Yeah, I insisted on going with YN," Sam says pulling out the three bags. "Good thing too, She decided she just wanted to down two mini bottles of rum."

"Just because?" Dean asks.

"Just because," Sam says. I sigh knowing that Sam has my back.

Sam passes Dean who grabs his arm. "Is that pie?" He points to the bag and looks at me.

"Yep," I make my way and take the bag. "But it looks like you're headed out somewhere so you'll have to wait until you're back to have some fun with it."

Dean rolls his eyes and follows both Sam and I inside. "About that," Dean keeps following the pie. "Jody called and said she thinks that she has a vamp problem and wants some back up."

I nod. "Well in that case, "I hand him the pie. "Share with Jody and the girls. I will be staying back to relax."

Dean closes the gap between the two of us and pulls my face towards his. His lips were soft gentle. "Don't get to freaky while I'm gone," and he walks out the bunker.

Sam is looking at me. "It looks like he's trying." Sam sounds sad but he walks up to you and set the bags on the library table. He runs his hands on the table probably thinking of the night before. "But the look you give says you don't want to."

I shake my head. "I don't know, Sammy," my voice is quiet. "We shared something last night that I never felt with him." I look down and lick my lips thinking back to that spark that I felt with Sam and how safe I felt with him. Dean may make me orgasm two times but, I never felt that spark with him.

"Help me pack a bag," Sam says taking my hand and pulling me to his room. I am extremely confused why he wants me to help him pack a bag but, the moment we get to the doorway of his room, he spins around and pulls me into a soft kiss. Now, I understand. I smile against his lips and then pull away. "I wanted my lips to be the last thing you feel."

The boys left shortly after that.

I spend the next week reading and studying some of ancient books in the bunker. Something that Sam and I had in common. Something Dean and I didn't. When I'm not reading I am baking. I bake a few pies, breads, and muffins. When I'm not baking I am shopping at the local farmers market. Something that Dean would be confused at because I love fast food as well.

When I'm not doing any of those things, I am laying down in my bed either watching a pointless show on Netflix or staring at the ceiling. Thinking of ways to confront Dean about that ginger chick. But nothing good comes from it. Everything I think about leads to an argument or me leaving. But I can't do that to Sam. Not since I'm falling in love with him.

By the end of the week, while I am soaking in an herb bath to relax my muscles, I get a text from Sam. I dry my hands and pick up my phone that is laying on the ground.

Sam: Hey, some good news and bad news. What do you want first?

YN: Bad news.

Sam: We won't be home for at least another week or two. That nest was part of two other nests. One nest is in Michigan and the other is in Illinois. Shouldn't take too long. How are you holding up?

YN: I'm doing well. Just soaking in a nice warm bath.

Sam: If my brother weren't next to me I would ask for a picture.

YN: Oh stop it! I miss you. These books are boring without you here.

Sam: I miss you too, YN. I should probably go, Dean just gave me a side glance. I don't need him getting upset. Especially during a hunt.

YN: If he asks, Tell him I baked some goodies to donate to the nursing home here in town.

Sam: On it.

I set my phone back down on the ground. That wasn't the first time Sam texted during that week. Sam always made sure to check in once a day where as Dean, he barely did so when he tried to sext the other night, I couldn't do it. Nothing he did or said or sent turned me on. But this simple exchange with Sam makes me long for him even more. I can already feel his hands on my skin, trailing it inch by in. It's in this moment that I realize that I am done with Dean Winchester.

Over the next few weeks. I do the same things. I read, I bake to donate to shelters or nursery homes, and go shopping at the farmers market. I text the boys every now and then. They call if they have something they need looked up and they can't do it.

By the end of the third week that they are gone, I start to feel sick. Massive headaches, body aches, extreme tiredness, and then not to mention I'm always hungry. Every morning feels like I've been hit by bus. I even sleep most of the days and snack on crackers and ginger ale. The night that the boys are supposed to return, I text them saying I wasn't feeling well and that they were more than welcome to eating the baked goods I made.

The morning after the boys get back, I wake feeling one hundred perfect. Finally, I think to myself, I beat whatever virus wanted to kill me. I get up and dressed for the day. I am starving as I make my way to the kitchen. I see both boys are awake. Dean is at the stove making eggs and bacon. The smell hits me like a bag of bricks. I feel my stomach turn and in the next minute I am rushing to the bathroom with my hand over my mouth.

"YN," I hear Sam call after me.

I ignore him as I slide into the bathroom on my knees and let whatever wants to come up, out. And it doesn't stop. I am fully aware of Sam coming in and pulling back my hair and just being there. By the time I'm finish, Sam hands me a towel. I lean back and bury my face into the towel.

"Are you okay?" Sam asks rubbing my back. The action feel super nice and I try and focus on that.

"I think so," I mumble into the towel.

I never puke unless I've over done with alcohol. Which I didn't. I am a super light drinker most of the time and these last few weeks I rarely drank. I think long and hard when it hits me. My stomach turns again and I drop the towel and am back to hacking up stomach acid. Sam is back to holding back my hair until I'm done.

"I'm going to shower," I rest a hand on Sams knee when the realization becomes stronger as to why I'm hacking my guys out.

"Okay," Sam rubs my back again. "I'll head out to the store to get you something to help settle your stomach." Sam gets up and walks out the door, closing the door behind him.

I get up as fast as my stomach will let me and turn the shower on. I open the bottom of the sink and dig through my stash of tampons for the hidden tests. I learned with sleeping with Dean that he's really good at convincing me not to use a condom or the pull out method. And me being stupid, never bought birth control either. So far, I never needed a test until now. I rip open the one test I do find and sit back on the toilet. When I'm done, I cap the test and set it on the counter and get into the shower. I need to have proof that I actually showered.

The water feels amazing on my skin and my stomach starts to feel better. I focus on other things than the test I took but I can't. I quickly wash my body and brush my teeth before getting out. I dry off and get dressed. I close my eyes and say a little prayer. Whatever the results are, I will figure it all out.

PREGNANT

The words stare right up at me and I feel a little dizzy. "Okay," I whisper. "It's okay. You know who the father is. You know everything will be alright." There's a knock at the door. You stash the test back into my pants pocket and open the door. It's Dean, he's got a worried look on his face.

"Sam said you were hacking your guts away in here before leaving to get stuff for you," he says. I can detect a hint of jealousy in his voice.

"Yeah," I slip on out of the bathroom. "Can we talk before he gets back?" I ask.

Dean and I walk to the library. The test is poking my side and thigh as I walk. We sit at the table I can see that Dean was aware of what I was planning on saying. He was smart like that.

"I cheated on you," He blurts out before I can get a word out. "The night that we got back and found out that the blade the shifter used on you was poisoned and Cas had a hard time healing her, I thought I was going to loose you. So I went to the bar and got drunk and next thing I knew I was walking up next to some ginger. I did it again a few times. Then Cas saw signs of you improving and I felt really guilty. I told Sam and he begged me to tell you but all I wanted to do was forget."

I sat back and with nothing to say. I had this whole thing planned out. Pregnant or not. Dean continues, "I feel you start to pull away after you woke up and I guess you found out. Then that day you went out with Sam to get beer and stuff, I was jealous and started to have some doubt. I started to hope that maybe going hunting with just Sam would fix that and we would be close again but then I saw you guys kiss. That's when I knew I lost you. I'm an Asshole for what I did"

I look down at the table. There is guilt rising up to the surface. I knew in the back of mind I needed to leave the boys. Leave and never return. But about about the baby? I shake my head and pull out the test and sit it in the table. Dean sees it and before he could talk I speak.

"No, you're not the father," I pick up the test and just stare at the big bold words that tell me that I'm going to be sober for nine freaking months.

"When?" Dean doesn't sound upset. Sad but not upset.

"The night that we got back from the burger place. Sam told me about the ginger." I look up at Dean who's nodding. "Then Sam and I had sex." Literally steamy hot shower sex.

"Okay," Dean gets up and storms out of the bunker, slamming the door behind him making me flinch.

The hormones start to make themselves known. The tears start to form in the corner or my eyes. I'm not sad for what happened. I still don't regret that night with Sam. I wipe a few away and notice Sam standing at the bottom of the stairs. He sets the bag in his hand on the table and before he could get to me, I slide the test over to him. He sees it and picks it up.

"Are you sure?" He asks. I hear worry in his voice but I see a glint of happiness his eyes. I nod and wipe a few more tears aside. Why couldn't they stop? Sam walks up to me and pulls me from the chair. He brushes a hair back behind my ears and cups my cheek. "We got this," he says, "Everything will be just fine."

Sam presses his lips to mine. I smile against his lips and knew that he speaks the truth.

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elisaphoenix13 · 4 years

Text

Companion For A God

They were all spending a full week at the lake house with the Stark-Strange family. Of course Stephen had to use magic on the cabin so they could comfortably accommodate everyone, but it was a nice way to spend spring break. It was warm enough that the kids could go swimming and the adults spread around the property with their choice activity. Whether it be physical or just sitting around with a drink and talking to each other. Quill chose the latter, but his beer bottle quickly went empty and got up to get everyone they were sitting with another one. Scott, Sam, Clint, and Nat specifically. Stephen had felt too lazy to make lunch for everyone so he ordered a ton of platters. Veggie, fruit, lunch meat and cheese for sandwiches, even some dessert. Quill was going to make himself a sandwich after throwing the empty beer bottles into the recycling bin at the side of the house, but then the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

He closed the lid of the bin and looked toward the start of the grove a few feet away which seemed to be what was calling to his sixth sense. Something wasn't right and he wanted to make sure things were still safe, so he walked over to the grove and looked around for any potential danger. There were kids on the property and if anything wasn't supposed to be--

A whine caught Quill's attention and he followed the sound until he came across what looked to be a baby fox. If it hadn't been whining, Quill very likely would have looked him over since it was so small. The cause of its cries was what had the celestial fuming though. It was caught in a fox sized bear trap. Quill had no idea if it was leftover from the time he and Scott were turned into animals, or if it was new, but it made him livid. It was like seeing Scott trapped all over again, even more so when the small creature whined and struggled even more when Quill approached.

"Easy buddy." The celestial said gently as he crouched down.

The fox cowered and whined more and Quill readied some healing energy for when he released the trap. The animal would bolt the second it was released, but Quill didn't want to send it off back into the wild with an injured leg. So with one hand, he somehow managed to open the trap, and with the other he sent the healing energy into the fox's leg as it ran a good distance away. It stopped a few yards away and turned to look back at the god after stopping to lick its now healed paw, and then scampered away out of sight. Only then did Quill turn back to rejoin everyone after finally grabbing more beers for those (hopefully) still waiting for them.

"What took you so long?" Sam asked as Quill distributed the beers and took his place next to Scott.

"Oh...just had to check something. Sorry about that." He responded as he popped the cap off his bottle with his thumb and then opened Scott's.

They sat around and talked some more for about another hour until Quill was roped into throwing the girls and Nathaniel into the lake, and then into helping Clint barbeque dinner for everyone. Seemingly endless amounts of hamburgers and hotdogs were cooked and consumed until everyone was full, and then when it got dark enough, everyone gathered near the fire pit where Steve had built a fire. Marshmallows were broken out and handed around to everyone to roast them to eat as is or to make smores...and Gerald got a little too interested. Since alpacas couldn't consume marshmallows, Stephen asked Thomas to put the creature in his pen for the night so he didn't accidentally get into a bag or three. Gerald was given an apple so he wasn't left out.

Valerie was old enough to enjoy the sugary treats, and she loved them. She helped Stephen eat a couple of his roasted marshmallows that he gave to her in small pieces, and Quill of course licked the small bit that stuck to Scott's bottom lip. He got something thrown at him for the display of affection in front of the kids in addition to being pushed away by his spouse. By his face.

Quill looked back at the fire with a chuckle and then up at the youngest member of the family when he saw her yawn. "Looks like it's bedtime for the baby."

"Sure is." Stephen nodded as he stood up with Valerie. "I'll be right back."

As the sorcerer walked toward the house, Tony came out and gave the baby a kiss on the top of her head as the couple passed each other. During the brief exchange, Quill watched Athena follow Stephen inside the moment he stood up and it still amazed the celestial. She was so incredibly loyal and it was of her own free will. Stephen used magic on her a total of two times, once to communicate telepathically before the wolf first came home with the sorcerer, and second to bind her lifeline with his. It would give Athena the immortality Stephen had, and when the sorcerer died, she would too. Of course, Stephen made sure the wolf was amiable to staying with him like that and she supposedly agreed.

It made Quill wonder what it was like to have an animal so loyal to oneself. He, of course, would have Scott for much longer than the normal human because of his ability to share his immortality, but even Scott could still be taken from him. Death would be permanent for the younger man unlike Quill. The celestial had already hidden his light so that if he was killed he would be able to revive, and only his light being destroyed would kill him permanently. Like with Ego.

Sometimes thinking about it was depressing. He hoped that he would have Scott by his side forever, but even he knew that was improbable. Quill would try his damndest to protect Scott (and Cassie), but he was slowly coming to terms with the idea that he would eventually be alone. Eternity begot loneliness.

Quill and Scott went to bed a couple hours after Stephen returned from putting Valerie to bed, and after a quiet romp in the sheets, they went to sleep for the night. They did get cleaned up and dressed after their carnal activities before they fell asleep, and Quill woke very briefly when he felt Scott leave the bed. He woke again just long enough to wrap an arm around the younger man when he returned to bed...but then a little while later he was woken up again. By some licking. On his face.

What the fuck kind of kinky shit was Scott trying to get him into now and at ass o'clock at night?

"Babe...I love you, but can we please revisit whatever this is at an hour that normal people--pbhft!"

Quill sputtered and hacked when a tongue entered his mouth that definitely wasn't Scott's, and he opened his eyes to look at whoever was licking him. It wasn't a who, it was more like a what. It was the fox from earlier.

"What the fuck?"

"It was just a dream big guy. Go back to sleep." Scott mumbled.

"No. No no. This is not a dream." Quill rubbed his eyes when the fox curled up in the crook of his neck. "Scotty...there's a fox sleeping with us."

"That's great Spaceman. Now sl--" Golden eyes snapped open before Scott sat up and turned on his lamp to look at their new bedmate. "There's a fox."

"You think?" Quill asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "How did it get in here?"

"It must have used Athena's pet door...and I left our bedroom door cracked open when I came back in." Scott surmised and the celestial sighed when the fox licked his face again from its position next to Quill's neck. "It's just a baby. What is it doing here?"

"It's the reason I took a while getting the beer. I released him from a trap." Quill admitted.

"Well it looks comfy and unlikely to go anywhere." Scott turned off the lamp and laid back down. "Just like me. Go to sleep."

That had been the end of it. Scott went right back to sleep with his arm slung over Quill's chest, and the fox followed his example, leaving the celestial to wonder what had happened. He fell asleep to the sound of the tiny snores coming from the small creature, and when he woke up the next morning, he got out of bed while somehow remembering there was a tiny fox sharing the bed with him and Scott now. The moment he finished getting dressed for the day, the fox jumped onto his chest and climbed up to his shoulder where it draped itself loosely around Quill's shoulders until it was comfortably laying it's head on one of them.

Scott coincidentally woke up when it happened and burst into laughter the second the creature was settled happily. "You've got an animal version of Val." He said as he rolled out of bed and got dressed.

"I think he's worse."

"He?"

"Yes, he. Which reminds me...I better talk to Tony about the trap. I don't know if it's been there since our incident or what, but he should probably sweep the property for them before one of the kids gets hurt." Quill walked out of the room with Scott as the younger nodded and looked at the fox thoughtfully.

"What are you going to name him? He's clearly not going anywhere." Scott asked.

"I'm not. I'm taking him back."

"Quill, he may be a baby but he's old enough that he was probably recently left on his own. He'll just come back."

Quill sighed as they walked down to the kitchen and Stephen looked up from cutting fruit and raised an eyebrow when he saw the fox.

"Tony doesn't run a zoo."

"He doesn't run an orphanage either." Quill snarked and the sorcerer threw a strawberry at him. The fox just watched it fall to the floor. "He came to me."

Stephen looked back down at the fruit. "Well don't let that strawberry go to waste. Pick it up and give it to him."

"Is Athena going to try to eat him?"

"I'll make sure she knows he's like Tibbs and Gerald. Does he have a name?" Stephen wondered as Quill picked up the piece of fruit from the floor.

"Not yet. I'm still wrapping my head around the fact that I was woken up by him in the middle of the night and he's not leaving."

Stephen nodded and Scott joined him to help with breakfast while Quill walked outside to look for Tony after asking Stephen where he was. When he did find the engineer, he hardly blinked when he saw the fox, but he did scowl when Quill mentioned the traps. Tony didn't waste any time setting out to fly around the property with a magnet to hopefully pick up any remaining traps, and Quill made sure the kids didn't get too far from the house while Tony was cleaning up. Their biggest concern was Thomas who used the property as a place to run around and he was the one most likely to step in one while doing so.

Quill grimaced when the fox started licking his ear and he reached up to gently grab his muzzle to stop him. "Stop that. You'll get breakfast when the rest of us do."

After a brief thought, Quill released the fox's mouth (who playfully snapped at the celestial's hand) and grabbed the animal by his scruff to hold up in front of him. He squirmed in Quill's hold in an attempt to get back to his perch, but the god wanted to get a good look at him if he was going to name him. The fox had barely been with him for eight hours and Quill already knew he was going to be a big baby. He couldn't call him anything similar to that though.

"...you look like a Flynn." Quill finally said after a few more minutes of deliberation and the fox yipped happily.

"Like Rapunzel's boyfriend!" Diana said from behind him.

The god sighed. "Damn it."

The fox had his name the second he responded enthusiastically and Quill was too lazy to think of a different one anyway. He tried setting Flynn down on the ground, but the second his paws touched the dirt, he scrambled back up Quill's clothes and to his earlier perch which only confirmed Scott's theory. Quill was stuck with this fox.

At least he was cute.

#antlord #peter quill #scott lang #celestial quill #the avengers #the avengers kids #mama bear au #flynn the fox

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thejacketandthehook · 3 years

Text

The Art of Pretending 5/?

Title: The Art of Pretending 5/?

Author: thejacketandthehook (aka everystareverywhere)

Summary: Killian Jones needs a family and needs one now. In order to impress his boss, Killian hires a single mother and her son to pretend to be his wife and son for the weekend. Nothing can go wrong, right?

Rating: Teen (for language)

Words: 16,587

Author’s Notes: Hello all! Here is my submission for the @captainswanmoviemarathon! This is based off of the Lifetime movie, “Borrowed Hearts,” starring Eric McCormack and Roma Downey. The movie came out in 1997, and I consider it to be one of the first made-for-tv Christmas movies.

A couple of years ago I was watching it and thought this would be a fantastic scenario for our favorite Captain and Savior. I wrote it and then stopped, and then started it again, only to stop again. When I saw this movie marathon, I knew instantly this was the movie I wanted to do and I wanted to make sure that I finished it this time.

I hope you enjoy it!

A30

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

And because she asked, @kmomof4. I’m so glad you’re enjoying this!

“So it has come to our attention that perhaps a dinner between the three of you would be a good idea.”

Emma looked over at Killian who was looking up at Regina, like an obedient student following the teacher’s instructions. She then looked over at Henry, who was playing with his napkin. Okay, maybe he wasn’t playing with it as much as he was trying to get it to lay smoothly across his lap.

“Great idea,” Emma replied looking up at Regina. And it was a great idea, honestly, when David first brought it up to her. This way they can take care of all the details. All the small things that form when people spend a lot of time together, hashing out the particulars.

And the fact that they were eating hamburgers at Killian’s fancy ass dining room table made the whole juxtaposition that much funnier to Emma for some reason.

“I agree,” Killian piped up, taking the napkin off the table and placing it across his lap before reaching for the mustard bottle. “This way we can—”

“You like mustard on your hamburger?” Emma asked, probably more forcibly than she should have.

Killian looked at her before he finally grabbed onto the bottle. Opening it up with one hand, he replied, “Aye. Is that a deal breaker?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course not. I just don’t think…I’ve ever met anyone who prefers mustard on their burger as opposed to ketchup.”

“I don’t like ketchup.”

Emma was squeezing the bottle itself when he made that declaration, and she almost squirted it all over herself. “How can you not like ketchup?”

“I just don’t.”

“I thought that we could discuss other kinds of details about ourselves,” Regina sighed, “then what condiments you liked on your food.”

“Right. Okay,” Emma replied placing the bottle back on the table before putting the top bun on top. She passed the bottle to Henry, who took it gladly. “So. What kind of questions?”

“How long have you two been married?”

“Ten years,” Killian replied at the same time Emma replied, “Twelve years.”

Regina raised an eyebrow. “These are the kind of details I’m talking about, Ms. Swan.”

“Mrs. Jones,” David piped up, his mouth full of burger.

“What?” Killian asked, leaning forward.

“You’re not going to be ‘Ms. Swan,’ for the weekend, you’re going to be ‘Mrs. Jones.’”

“Oh,” Emma took her glass of soda and quickly took a sip. Why the idea of losing her last name (even temporarily) was something that made her want to blush was not something that she wanted to think about too deeply. “‘Course, yeah. Right.”

“Is this a problem, Mrs. Jones?” Regina asked pointedly.

“Nope. No problem at all,” she weakly responded.

“Do I have to change my name?” Henry piped up.

“Only for the weekend,” Regina said a nicer tone. At least Regina was nice to her kid, Emma thought. She had that going for her. “For that one weekend, you’re going to be Henry Jones. Is that alright?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, sounds good.” He then took a bite of his burger, the ketchup falling out of the other side. “What else do we need to know?”

“Okay,” Regina looked at Henry before giving an almost warm smile. “Henry, where was your favorite vacation?”

“Disney World!” he replied happily, bouncing in his seat. “I met Mickey Mouse and Peter Pan and Cinderella!” He then jumped up out of his chair and held out his arm, like he was holding a sword at the end. “Peter Pan was standing in front of the sign—”

“Adventureland sign,” Emma added, giving a small smile to Regina and Killian, who, she couldn’t help but notice, was intrigued with her son’s story and was actually looking at him when he spoke.

“Right, that sign. Anyway, we were walking along, and Peter Pan came out and said to me ‘Any pirates come this way?’ And I—” He looked at his mother, not sure on how to continue. “Mom? What did I say?”

“You cried, Henry,” she said with a chuckle. She looked at the adults at the table and informed them of the details Henry was leaving out. “Henry was like three at the time, and Peter Pan came out of nowhere. He got scared.”

“Oh, right. I got scared.” Henry sat back down before picking up his burger. “Anyway, I liked Disney World.”

“Okay,” Regina smiled before looking at a notepad next to her plate. She was using a knife and fork to eat. Figures. “Let’s see. Now, you should know some details about each other. Just in case.”

Just in case. Emma has heard those words so many times over the course of the week she’s ready to scream. “Like what?”

“Family.”

Emma gestures to Henry. “You’re looking at it.”

“She means more than that, love,” Killian piped up, before sipping on his rum.

“I’m not your love,” she replied more harshly than she should have. “And that’s it. Just Henry.”

Killian looked at her, his eyes wide before asking in almost a dumbfounded way, “You don’t have anyone else?”

“Mommy’s an—” Henry starts to say before Emma cuts him off.

Emma, herself, however, looked down at her plate and asked, “Do we really need to get into all of this? I thought this Mr. Woodman guy was only staying for forty-eight hours. I don’t think he needs to know my life story.”

“Normally, I would say you were right, Emma,” David says as he wipes his mouth with the cloth napkin. “But we want to make sure that we’ve covered every spot. That includes,” he pauses before looking at her, “backstories.”

“No.” Emma puts her napkin next to her plate. That’s all she says before she pushes back her chair and gets up from the table, walking towards…well, she’s not really sure until she feels the cold air biting at her cheeks and realizes that her thin long sleeve shirt is not appropriate for the outdoors in December.

But she can’t do this. She can’t have a virtual stranger know her story. No way. Yes, she’s attracted to Killian, she won’t deny that. But one kiss in the badly lit hallway does not mean that he gets to know her story. That he gets to know her. Besides, after the weekend is over, Henry and Emma will walk out of Killian’s life, and this Mr. Woodman guy will never see either of them again. So why does everyone need to know her story for one lousy weekend?

“My father abandoned my brother and I.”

Emma quickly turned around and saw Killian leaning against one of the pillars leading up to his front door. He was so casual about it, she was sure that she misheard him, because there was no way that he just—

“What?”

He looks up at her before straightening himself and walking closer to her. “My father abandoned my brother and I. I was seven years old when I woke one morning and he was gone.”

Her mind is racing from the conversation inside and now this one, that she shakes her head because she just can’t keep up with these conversations. “That’s, um –”

Because what do you say in reply to that?

“I’m telling you this,” he says, taking a step closer, though remaining a distance away from her, “because I want you to know that you don’t need to share your story if you’re not comfortable. I get it. I had a horrible childhood, but I don’t think Mr. Woodman is going to quiz us about it.” He pauses for a moment before saying, “I just want you to be comfortable.”

“Killian—”

“I know that I’m asking a lot, but knowing your backstory…that’s obviously private, and I don’t need to know it for this weekend. So,” he shrugs, “we make something up. If you want.”

“Make up my backstory?”

He nods. “Yeah. In case Marco asks. I don’t think he will, but you know. Something for us. Just in case.”

She huffs. “I’m so sick of those three words.”

He chuckles. “I know. Me too.” He looks at her for a second, and Emma thinks about that night, two years ago. It was clear that they made a connection, even if it was just lust. But it seems that they’re making another one right now. “I can’t do this without you. And I know you’re getting paid, and I know you don’t feel right about it—”

“Oh, I’m definitely taking your money. There’s no way that I’m not.”

He shakes his head with a small smile. “Of course. But you need to be comfortable about this.”

“Just like you need to be comfortable with your furniture being moved around,” she retorts.

He stills for a moment, asking, “How did you…” He sighs. “David.”

She nods. “Yeah, he and his wife are not great at keeping secrets. FYI.”

“I hope they can keep one for a weekend,” he mutters.

Emma crosses her arms, rubbing them as she says, “I’m sure they can.”

He looks at her for saying, “Bloody hell, you must be freezing.” Before she can say anything in response, he takes off his zipped up sweater and stepping closer, places it against her shoulders.

“You don’t have to—You’re going to be cold.”

He takes a step back. “Ah, the cold doesn’t bother me.”

She shakes her head before replying, “Okay, Elsa.”

He grins. “That’s my sister-in-law’s name.”

She smiles now, like she can’t believe it. “Get out. I didn’t think there was anyone actually named Elsa.”

“Oh yeah. When they met, my brother asked her if she wanted to let it go.”

She starts laughing before saying, “Oh God, no! He didn’t!”

“He did!” he laughs along with her. “She almost punched him! I was dying.”

“And she married him?”

He smirks. “Well, the Jones Brothers have a way with the ladies.”

She snorts as she shakes her head. “I think you just think you have a way with the ladies.”

He takes a step closer and gives a wicked grin. “I have a memory from two years ago that disputes that, love.”

Emma looks to side and scoffs, hoping that he thinks the redness in her cheeks is nothing more than the wind. Clearing her throat (and her mind from the memories from that night), instead she replies, “Listen, I’ll help you out. ‘Cause I’m nice like that,” she gives a big smile and he grins back. “But my private life is that. Private.”

“Duly noted, love. If he asks, and he won’t, but if he does, just make something up.”

She agrees, muttering a “Yeah,” under her breath. She looks back at the house and sees Henry looking out the window. She gives him a small wave, and he waves back before she turns to Killian. “Thanks. For coming out and for…” She clears her throat. “I’m sorry. About your dad. That…that sucks.”

He breaths out heavily before looking away, putting his thumbs through the loopholes of his belt. “Thanks.”

He holds his elbow out for her to take and leads them to the door as he says, “Oh, by the way, my favorite color is blue. Just in case.”

Emma chuckles and for the first time this began thinks that maybe everything will be alright in the end.

~*~

Marco Woodman was due to arrive by Friday, December 20 at 6:00pm local time. Killian kept looking at the calendar. It was Thursday, December 19, 9:00 am local time and Killian has already panicked. This was going to end in disaster. He just knew it. Not because of Emma or Henry, no. Of that he was certain. He has spent the equivalent of six hours with them (more than that if he counts how much he and Emma have messaged each other), and he knows that he has nothing to worry about when it comes to either of them. Henry’s a great kid and Emma…

No, he’s not worried about them. He’s worried about himself. Killian may be a lot of things, but he does not like to lie or be deceitful. What you see is what you get, that’s Killian’s motto. He may have some skeletons in his closet, to be sure, but nothing that would be deemed absolutely horrible. Mostly bad mistakes and things he wishes he could have done differently.

But this whole situation with Emma and Marco…He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like lying. He’s sure that he will be the one to mess up; he’s so sure that he’ll say or do the wrong thing and blow his chances of ever getting to run the corporation in London.

33 hours. But you know, who’s counting? :p

Killian smiles at the text from Emma. Ever since her minor…well, panic attack basically, she’s gotten a tiny bit more open with him. And he likes it. She’s funny, and incredibly intelligent, and….

Well, it’s nice having someone in the same boat as him. True that she doesn’t have the same outcome as him, but she’s also pretending here. Anyway, it’s just nice having someone in his corner.

He types back. Aye. Not like anything big is happening, right?

I think the Mets are playing

Love, I don’t follow baseball, and even I know they don’t play in the winter.

Argh! I was trying to go for a joke

Anyway, Henry and I will arrive tomorrow at your place at ETA 4:00

You can’t get there earlier??

Dude I have work and he has school. You’re lucky it’s 4:00 and not later

Please don’t be late.

I’m going to ignore that because we haven’t been late once

How come you end every sentence with a period? You know you’re not writing a paper right?

Because I like it.

Period.

Weirdo

He laughs before putting his phone back on his desk. His secretary, a young man named Arthur who, while good at his job, needs to learn the meaning of the word ‘humble,’ pops his head in. “David is here for you,” he says.

Killian waves him in and Arthur closes to door behind David. He looks back to make sure the door is closed before asking, “You ready for tomorrow?”

He nods. “Aye. I believe so. I’m so bloody nervous, though.”

David laughs before sitting in the seat opposite Killian. “Why?”

“Oh, it’s just my future on the line, nothing more.”

“Killian, they’re going to be fine.”

“I know.”

“And so are you.”

He pauses. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

Killian releases a breath before looking at his watch. “32 and a half hours to go.”

“Stop worrying. It’s like a damn rocking chair.”

Killian raised an eyebrow. “Mate, you’re going to need to explain that one.”

“Worrying is like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but you’re not going anywhere.”

Shaking his head, Killian gets up from his desk and walks over to the filing cabinet. “Well, thank you so much for that bit of fortune cookie wisdom.”

“Sure.” He’s quiet for a second as Killian gets out the file he needs. “You know I’ll be there every step of the way. Regina too.”

“Regina better be there. She’s the reason I’m in this mess.” He turns back around and walks over to his desk.

“She meant well.”

“I know.”

David sighs before asking, “33 hours?”

“33 hours.”

~*~

Killian looks at his watch. It’s ten past 6 on Friday, December 20, and David messaged that they were on their way back from the airport, but just got stuck in traffic.

The house currently smells like cooked meat and spices, and while that smell usually makes his mouth water, right now it’s just making his stomach turn.

He’s barely gotten a second to talk to Emma or Henry, since they were both taken immediately by a team that Regina hired to “spruce up their imagine,” whatever the hell that meant. They were currently upstairs in her guest room, doing God knows what, and all Killian can think about is that Emma and Henry both looked fine the other night.

When Regina comes down the stairs, she looking at her phone and how she doesn’t trip is something that is beyond him. “What’s going on up there?”

“Just making them look like they are a family that has money,” Regina replies nonchalantly without looking up.

“They were fine the other night.”

That makes her look up at him. “Killian, I hate to break it to you, but you have money. Your “wife” is supposed to look like she shares that money. Rich wives don’t weather red leather jackets they found at Goodwill.”

“I like the red leather jacket,” he mutters.

“And when it’s Sunday night, by all means, you can tell her. But for right now, she needs to look a tad more elegant.”

“And Henry?”

She shrugs. “He wants to talk to his mother about something.”

“Does he look elegant?” he asks, stressing elegant like it’s a word associated with horrible bodily functions.

“He looks like an eight-year-old boy. He’s fine.” Her phone beeps and she immediately looks down at it. His phone beeps too. His stomach sinks and his heart pounds. His head is rushing from the amount of bloody pumping into it (maybe? He’s not sure.)

She clears her throat before lifting her head. “He’s here.”

Killian nods and tries to remember how to breath. This was such a stupid idea.

Regina walks towards the door.

He never should have agreed to this. He should have told the truth from the beginning.

“Wait!” he shouts, just as she’s about to put her hand on the doorknob.

“What?” she hisses at him.

“The ring!”

Regina’s hand drops towards the pocket of her pantsuit. “Shit, I have it somewhere,” she mutters before pulling out a silver circle. She walks back over to him and grabs his hand roughly and tries to get it on, but he mutters, “Wrong finger, wrong finger, wrong finger!”

“God!” she huffs before shoving the ring in his hand. “You do it!”

“Thanks,” he mutters as the doorbell rings. He quickly put it on the correct finger and fixes his suit (Regina insisted) before he walks over to the door. “Show time,” he mutters before he throws open the door.

“Mr. Woodman! Welcome!”

#cs fanfiction #csmm #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan movie marathon #the art of pretending

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