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sevsnapeposts · 3 years

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Snapetober Day 5: Apple orchard.

hello, this one was a bit hard t imagine, but it was oh so fun to write. i love interactions between severus and the other professors. please, feel free to read it over in ao3 if you'd like, and also if yoou'd be kind enough, go give me some kudos over there. thanks, hope you enjoy~.

Day 5 - Apple orchard.

Hogwarts was a college of the highest prestige, and as such it had a reputation to uphold. One could doubt its safety, the responsibility professors had in handing out certain punishments to students, and even the expertise of said professors themselves (people pointed to Remus Lupin, although honestly, Lockhart was the blackest sheep ever), but there was something that could never be reproached: The quality of the food.

From mashed potatoes to the most elaborate cake to all kinds of drinks, every meal at Hogwarts was a pleasure. Elves cooked everything to perfection, and if it weren't for a certain professor, everyone thoroughly enjoyed the cooking. Much of it was due to the quality of the products, all being the best of the best, natural and fresh. The elves gathered the very first harvest at the end of the summer holidays, leading to the Great Banquet, the best dinner of the year in the opinion of the vast majority.

And speaking of it, it was primordial to get things done. This year they would have Beauxbatons and Durmstrang as guests, and Hogwarts couldn’t disappoint.

Somewhere in the castle, Dumbledore had an idea.

"I seem unable to understand why we had to come".

Severus hated many things: teenagers, the smell of wet dog, physical contact, Potter, Potter's godfather, Potter's father, and lately Lucius for nagging him about going to see the Quidditch World Cup. But if there was one thing Severus hated more than all those things put together, it was the sun. Especially the summer sun. He had nothing against the nice hot, light-filled days of that time of year, as long as he could be tucked underground, in the sweet, cold shade, surrounded by water and silence and not a drop of sunlight.

Unfortunately for him, the poor man was walking along with all the other Heads of House, and Dumbledore of course, under the tireless and exhausting gaze of the major star. They were on their way to an apple orchard, the one that supplied Hogwarts and where the elves would appear in a few hours. It had occurred to Dumbledore that it would be a fun outing for the five of them, and Severus couldn't have disagreed more, but everyone else was largely ignoring him, determined to have some fun.

In any case, Severus felt his face hot, certain that his pale skin was quite flushed, which bothered him even more. He looked at his companions, for a second envying how fresh they all looked: Pomona was wearing jeans and a plaid shirt, while Filius was wearing some sort of scout outfit that gave him an almost, almost , funny look; Minerva, on the other side, was wearing a dress that reached below the knee, white with small flowers of different colors that made her look much younger; even Dumbledore had changed his usual outfits that (in the young professor's eyes) looked like pajamas to a pair of shorts from which his slender legs peeked out, the long beard braided to keep it out of the way. The only one who had steadfastly refused to change was Severus, who wore his capes and capes of clothing black as the abyss, and thanks to which he was slowly dying of heat. Not even the cooling spell he had cast on himself could do much more than keep him from perspiring.

But he didn't care. He had a reputation to uphold, for fuck's sake.

“Because it's fun!”, Dumbledore exclaimed. Severus walked between him and Minerva, as usual, while Pomona and Filius walked a bit ahead, marveling like little children at every damn plant in the field. “Also, I know you love our summer vacation expeditions and activities”.

Severus didn't reply, but he shot him a cold, unamused look, as for the last time they'd been out on ‘summer vacation expeditions and activities’ he was almost eaten by a dragon.

"Come on Severus, chill", Minerva chimed in, pulling a hat from her enchanted purse. It was huge and colorful, clearly not one that she would ever wear herself. The woman looked at him with almost sadistic amusement. “Look what I got you! It should help you cool down a bit”.

"No thanks", said the young man, looking listlessly at the hat. He noticed that it also had a cleat that was attached into a bun at the back.

He didn't even want to imagine the teasing if word got out. If they had already been unbearable about Longbottom's grandmother’s outfit...

"Tsk, you're going to get a heatstroke at this rate, and neither of us are going to carry you", the professor reproached him, handing the hat to Dumbledore for examination. Severus raised an eyebrow.

"I don't think I have that much luck”.

With another annoyed snort, the group decided to ignore the miserable man again, opting instead to go ahead with the other two teachers. Severus noticed that Dumbledore had put on the hat he was wearing himself and barely had the strength to not snort.

A short time later they reached the top of the hill, where the orchard was. The orchard was somewhat visited, so the landowner had hired some workers to properly care for the people coming and going. At the moment, two young witches were waiting for them standing there, with shorts and shirts tied mid-torso, and thin, light-toned capes tangled around their shoulders and falling to the ground.

Severus was tempted to petrify one of them and change clothes.

The girls welcomed them, very animated, and provided a basket to each one, as well as a tablecloth so that they could sit and watch the sunset if they wanted to. Dumbledore thanked them kindly, and Severus finally put on Minerva's hat when he heard one of the witches comment that smoke was coming out of his head. Minerva laughed at him.

"Shut up".

What had started out as a simple and boring day picking apples ended up being a visceral competition to see who put more fruits in their respective basket after Dumbledore bet 5 galleons that he would be the one with the most. Severus had been in the middle of all the mess, watching as Filius sneakily enchanted apples to fly from Minerva's basket into his own while Dumbledore helped him by distracting the Transfiguration teacher; how Pomona ‘accidentally’ tripped over the headmaster's basket, and in the process of helping him pick them up she took a load of them with her; how Minerva would transform twigs into fake apples to add to her collection.

He hadn't participated in their affairs, of course, because he thought it was the stupidest thing in the world, but he didn't hesitate to gossip to others, starting an argument that ended in apples flying through the air and more than one trampled basket.

Now it was dusk, the ravaging sun being only a bright half disk out on the horizon, slowly fading away. The five teachers had already cleaned up their mess by then, and were sitting on the red and white checkered tablecloth, relaxing after their pitched battle. The only basket that was left intact and capable of carrying apples was Severus', so this had been placed in the center of the group so that anyone could reach out and grab one of the fruits. No one was surprised that Severus was the only one who didn't want to eat one, despite Minerva's scolding look.

But still, the man had already overcome his annoyance, although he wasn’t going to show it out of pure pride. He told himself it was because the damn heat was finally subsiding, which meant he was already able to take off the stupid hat; it had nothing to do with how hilarious he thought the professors' quarrel was, having so much fun with it that he often didn't even realize he was smiling, and that by the end of the day he didn't even remember that he was hot.

"What are we going to do? There are so many! I think if I eat one more I might as well explode”, Pomona complained, who by then had already eaten at least 5 apples. No one could blame her, as they were very sweet, firm without being too harsh, and so juicy that one ran the risk of getting both chin and chest dirty.

How Dumbledore didn’t get his beard dirty, nobody knew.

"The elves will take them to the castle when they come to collect the others. For now, we can leave them with those young ladies”, Dumbledore replied, biting his apple as he gazed at the horizon. Severus noticed how he shot him a sideways glance and braced himself for the worst. “By the way, Severus, I think you... caught the eye of one of them. The redhead, Lauren. Maybe you should go talk to her”.

Severus grimaced, trying to ignore the howl whistles the other teachers were making, as well as Minerva's elbow, which had dug into hir ribs as the woman taunted him.

He already had enough with being one person's crush.

"I think it’d be a better idea if you paid me the galleons you owe me", he replied, sitting upright. The other adults exchanged glances before making heated comments.

"And why would we give you something?".

"I wasn't serious about the bet...".

"You weren't even participating!".

"The way I see it", Severus said, raising his voice above the others, sure that he looked much more serious than the rest as he was the only one with enough dignity to still wear wizard clothes and not Muggle rags, "Dumbledore said whoever had the most apples in the basket was the winner, and the only basket I see is mine”.

"That's because you refused to participate!" Minerva growled, arms folded. Her eyes sparkled.

"I refused to cheat. I had fewer apples than you, but since they have to be in the basket and not in the memory… For instance, victory is mine”.

"That doesn't make any sense, Severus!", Pomona cried. The man waved his hand in a dismissive manner.

“If all players on a Quidditch team break their brooms over petty arguments during a match, would the opposing team be denied victory when only they are left in the air?”, he argued.

There was a heavy silence whilst the others, again, exchanged glances. And then, between reluctance and curses, his four companions searched their pockets and gave him the agreed galleons. Even Dumbledore looked dumbfounded. Severus didn't comment on it, but everyone noticed that his expression was much more smug than before when he reached out to finally eat an apple.

Minerva wasn’t about to be left with such a bitter loss.

"I bet Lauren would like to see that face on you”.

“Oh bloody hell Minerva, do shut up”.

#snapedom #snapetober #snapetober 2021 #snape community #snape fandom #snape fanfiction #snape fic #severus snape #albus dumbledore #minerva mcgonagall #pomona sprout #filius flitwick

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le-poor-writer · 3 years

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A Christmas Miracle

A cold winter night, with lights from shops and street lamps illuminating the square. From each shop, you can see colourful decorations of shiny or glittery ornaments and green garlands. Jolly voices singing blessed songs about the holidays, blasting from the speakers. Drowned out by the chatter of city folk as their feet hustle along the walkway. Each and every one of them dressed in layers to keep themselves warm. Vapour from their mouths rising and disappearing into the sky. Colliding with gentle fluffy snow that fall ever so lightly. So many movements at this moment which people called Christmas Eve. Amidst all of this, an angel watches over them silently.

Simeon sat on one of the benches. His gloved hands tucked away in the pockets of his long grey coat. A white scarf wrapped around his neck, showing people how warm he felt. Well, winter in the human world wouldn't be that cold for angels. But he had to dress the part. The last thing he wanted was people staring at him for dressing so lightly and he was also well aware that his usual angel garb would definitely defy the fashion standards of the human world. He had to admit, he's doing pretty great to camouflage himself among the humans. Still, he somehow earned a few stares. Their gaze kept darting between him and the ground. Was there something on his face? He took a glimpse of his reflection on one of the windowed stores, nothing seemed to be strange.

The angel tilted his head to the sky and leaned against the bench, waiting for his coworker. Every angel of the Celestial Realm was assigned by Michael to spread Father's blessing to the humans on Earth. Simeon and Luke were assigned to this bustling city. They had started from the church and went around the streets and buildings. For every person they pass will receive the blessing. Simeon rarely worked alongside Luke, but he can already tell that they will get along fine. Luke might be boisterous and opinionated at most times, but that is because he is honest, genuine and has a strict set of values. Simeon can see why Micheal has him under his wing. Hence he looks forward to be Luke's partner in the future. Before Luke, he was always working together with Lucifer.

A deep sigh escaped his lips. Simeon wondered how Lucifer is doing in Devildom. How long has it been since The Great Celestial War. Decades? Centuries? He suppose it has been a few hundred years. He couldn't really be bothered anymore to keep track of the exact time. Despite how the situation has cooled down since then, he knew Father was still a little angry at Lucy. He was after all the Lucifer Morningstar, a magnificent and beautiful angel. To think that he would wage a war against Father and going as far as becoming a demon. However, Simeon was well aware of the reason behind the war. Perhaps Lucy too is still mad at Father until this very moment. Simeon just hoped that he was no longer angry at him.

It was never his intention to have made his brother into his enemy. However, during that time they both had very different opinions. Lucifer would forsake the rules of Celestial Realm for love and Simeon believed that the laws existed for a reason and are to be abided. Yet, as those long years passed he wondered whether it was truly worth it. He did not regret holding on to his belief. It happened, his choice had already been made. And as he closed his eyes he could see the deep wounds from both parties. Arrows fell upon them all like rain and weapons clanging in their ears. He could hear cries of battle and agony. The metallic smell of blood and how smoke choked their lungs.

"Simeon."

The angel opened his eyes. He noticed a blond boy standing in front of him. "Are you done, Luke?" he asked, eyeing the big fancy red paper bag.

Luke lifted the bag towards Simeon. "There were a lot delicious looking sweets in there. So I tried getting a little bit of everything including the one that Michael wanted."

Of course Michael would ask Luke to get human world confectionaries. That darn sweet-toothed angel. But Luke seems to be getting a fair share for himself too. Baking is his hobby after all and sampling sweets from another realm would certainly add to his ever growing list of recipes.

"Is there something wrong, Simeon?" Luke stared at him with his big blue and yellow eyes.

Simeon smiled gently. "Nothing Luke. I'm just feeling a little tired."

"Oh... let's go back then."

They both strolled among the crowd. Simeon would like to hold Luke's hand so he would not get lost, but got scolded by the young angel instead. Grumbling about treating him like a little kid when he was in fact already serving directly under Michael. Simeon could only listen quietly in amusement. He was mesmerized with the twinkling decorative lights draped over the leafless trees dusted with snow. Admiring how the humans managed to find beauty even in the bleakest object. Everything was already aesthetically pleasing in the Celestial Realm. However, at times he found it hard to appreciate the beauty of his environment. Not that he did not appreciate Father's creation. It just felt different after whom he considered his brother, left.

"Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas!"

They passed the centre of the city square where an old man sat under a huge decorated pine tree. The man was big. He had a thick white moustache with a long beard that reached his chest. He was donned in a red coat with furry white collar and cuffs. His trousers were also red with white fur cuffs. A red hat with a white furry pompom attached was sitting on his head, it looked like a nightcap to Simeon. The only thing not red and white was the black leather belt and boots he was wearing. This old man was sitting on a lounge chair with a line of children in front of him. Simeon wondered what on earth is going on.

"It's Santa Clause!" Luke exclaimed.

"Santa Clause?"

"Children of the human world believe that this old man called Santa Clause would grant any wish they had for Christmas. He has a factory in the north pole and hundreds of elves work for him. Most of the time children asked for toys but in the movies sometimes people wish for Christmas miracles."

Simeon stared at Santa Claus for a moment before making eye contact with Luke. "Do you want to go meet Santa Clause?"

"Simeon! Don't treat me like one of those human kids. I'm an angel and I'll have you know that I-" Luke began to chastise as he stomped away from the square.

Simeon apologized as he scurried after him. Chuckling softly as his ears endured another one of Luke's grumbling. At the same time, he found it funny how human children put faith in such make believe, though they had always been imaginative beings. He could also see how this was a capitalistic marketing strategy in the human business world. The toys and the movies. A franchise after the infamous Santa Clause. The idea of it all was intriguing. A being that could grant whatever you want for Christmas. It's like Father, but the once in a year fairy tale like holiday version. And the idea of a Christmas miracle that comes with it.

There is a nice ring to it. For thousands of years, humans had always asked for miracles. An event that could change their lives for the better. Or even something that brings assurance to their rocky hearts. And the idea of a miracle that happens with Christmas does give a special feel to it. Miracles don't always happen on the spot, or they could never happen at all. Yet humans still ask for it. They hoped for it. Simeon looked at the stars in the sky and wondered. Father had granted some of the miracles that humans wished. If an angel were to ask for it, would Father grant it too? He didn't know any angels that had asked for a miracle. That was because there was never a need to, everything they needed and wanted was already there in the Celestial Realm. Everyone is happy and content there. Except for Simeon.

There was something in the Celestial Realm that he wanted but does not exist there. Or at least what he wanted was in a different realm. But would Father allowed it? Simeon's heart began to beat faster in both excitement and nervousness. He did not know whether he should ask for it or not. But tonight is Christmas Eve isn't it? The night where Father tells them to spread his blessings to every being on earth. Simeon at this moment is walking on earth. And a Christmas miracle is also a blessing right? Right?! The angel took a deep breath and whispered a little wish to his heart. A feeling of relieved washed over him and his shoulders began to feel lighter than before.

It was only a few minutes later when he thought everything was rather ridiculous. He did not get the sense that something amazing was about to happen. The atmosphere was the same as it had been hours ago. Well, he suppose that all he needed to do was really acknowledge that he was still very much upset over the fact that Lucifer left the Celestial Realm and that his scars had not yet healed. And that he really did regret some of his choices. He should really accept the outcome already and start moving forward. Besides, now he has Luke. And he swears he will try to be a good mentor and brother figure to the young angel.

Simeon and Luke had finally reached the Celestial Realm after a lot of detouring in the human world. Simeon couldn't wait to get home and rest. It certainly has been a long day for all the angels. Luke has invited him to taste the confectionaries he bought earlier. He seemed extra jubilant to return. Hugging the paper bag that was a little too big for his size. Simeon had offered to carry it, but Luke insisted it was his duty to have the sweets delivered to Michael personally and he will see through it. Which reminds Simeon, he would like to have a word with Michael about his habits of having people get him his large amount of souvenirs. Though, he wasn't sure how to approach his superior about. Lucifer would have easily told Michael off... or not.

At a distance, one of the angels called out to Simeon and Luke. She approached them immediately and relayed her message. Apparently Michael was waiting at their humble abode and wishes to see them as soon as possible. Luke cheered and skipped off happily while Simeon internally groaned. Seems that the guardian angel of confectionaries could not wait for his sweets and pastries. He swears one day he will think of a way to tell him off. Luke seems to not mind however. So now he's not sure what exactly he needed to tell Michael. Perhaps if Luke feels alright about it then everything is well?

"Simeon!" Michael greeted him, a Belgium waffle in his hand. "You took your sweet time."

Was that pun intended?

"I'm sorry for the delay Michael. But it seems that Luke has already arrived with your sweet delicacies." Simeon motioned towards the said waffle.

"Yes, I was waiting for this." he popped the remaining waffle into his mouth and chewed quickly. "But that's not the only reason why I wanted to see you both."

Was it not?

Michael handed him a letter. "I received this today and I believe both you and Luke are suited for this."

Simeon took the envelope carefully. On the back of it the name of the sender surprised him, Lord Diavolo of Devildom. Wasn't he the son of the Demon King. If Simeon remember correctly, the last time he saw the Demon King was a thousand years ago during a ceremony. Now, what could the future king of Devildom possibly want from Michael or even the Celestial Realm? Surely this isn't a Christmas greeting card like the ones he had seen in the human world. He turned the envelope over and saw a seal with initials R.A.D..

#obeymember #obey me #obey me simeon #angel simeon #om! simeon #om! luke #lucifer #om! lucifer #christmas #slight angst #simeon #obey me fanfic #obey me shall we date #miracle

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valeptraglia · 4 years

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The Chronicles of Narnia: The Battle of Calormen

Still not C. S. Lewis

...

Chapter 2: "The King's Tent."

(Edmund's POV)

I slowly opened my eyes and felt a sharp pain in the back of my head, I grown. I blinked a few times to get used to the light and I looked around.

I was in what looked like a camp situated in a clearing. Men were talking animatedly to each other sitting in the ground, sharpening their swords or battle-axes, or simply walking, all with armors on.

«Wait, that man has hooves, wait what? » I was losing it, I was completely crazy. But then I remembered crossing the door and getting into the forest, and I realized they weren't men, well not most of them, they were creatures, fauns, centaurs, minotaurs and even dwarfs could be seen amongst the group.

Quickly I got up and in the hurry I almost lost my balance and fell to the ground as my head started hurting.

«Where the hell am I? What happened? I was with the girls and Peter hearing the trees but then? Everything is black. » I tried to think harder but then fear run through me «My siblings, where are they? » I looked around but there wasn't any sign of them, so I started to panic and my head started to pound. «What if something happened to them? Oh, no» I felt a horrible feeling in my stomach and I instantly got up.

Suddenly I heard heavy hoofs against the ground and I turned around. A centaur was galloping, coming in my direction, so I stand still, waiting for him. I couldn't help the nasty look I threw him. I know I'm not supposed to judge anyone in advance, but hey, I'm not in my best mood.

As he was coming closer I could see him better. He was tall and with piercing blue eyes, his skin was dark, his features sharp, and his hair was tied up in a low ponytail. He had his armor on.

Finally he was in front of me. He stared at me and then bowed.

"Your majesty" he said with a deep voice.

"Who are you?" I questioned him.

"My name is Diácano, your majesty, I'm King Erasmus captain's army. Welcome back". He greeted.

I looked him in the eyes. He seemed to be nice."Nice to meet you Diácano. Do you know where my sisters and brother are?" I asked him so respectful that Susan would be very proud of me.

"Yes your majesty, they are with the king" he answer and then with a smile he add, "safe".

I nod with relieve and gratitude and asked him "Would you care to take me with them?"

"Of course your majesty" and with bow he lead the way.

We walked beside a river where some creatures and men were drinking water or washing their faces, or in some occasions men watching with desiring eyes to the dryads while they batted their eyelashes to them. I chuckled; the dryads could play dirty tricks on men, I know it for own experience.

They all bowed as I walk beside them making me feel uncomfortable. I was never one of manners or titles, it really embarrassed me, and when I am embarrassed it is inevitable the blush that creep my cheeks, and that makes me moody.

I tried to smile to them until we FINALLY, finally reach a tend. Diácano step aside allowing me to go first and he followed.

As I stepped in my vision became blurry when something threw it self at me, and a pair of arms wrapped around my torso and another pair around my neck. I immediately tensed but then I heard a too familiar voice.

"Susan, Lucy! Let him breathe!" Peter said laughing.

I've never known what to do in this situations, I wasn't too affectionate. But I awkwardly hugged them back happy they were okay.

"Ed I'm so happy you're alright!" said Susan letting me go as well as Lucy.

"I thought you were dead when I saw you lying on the ground with that blow on your head. Are you alright?" Lucy asked with concern..

"Ah, I'm alright Lucy, don't worry about me" I said forcing a smile. Was I going to have to smiles all the time today? But as truthful I thought my smile was, apparently I couldn't lie to Peter because he arch an eyebrow.

"You really scared us" he said patting my back and with a serious tone, I knew he was telling the truth. Aww, look who is the emotional one here.

"I know Pete, you can't live without me" I said jokingly. He rolled his eyes at me and then I heard a chuckle and I turned around.

I guess we weren't alone. There was a man, of about thirty years, beard and short brown hair, he was muscular and was wearing silver armor with a bright red lion on the chest, attached to his hip there was a belt with a sword on it. He was standing behind a table cover in parchments.

He walked around the table and bowed at me.

"Your Majesty, it's a pleasure to meet you; I'm Erasmus King of Narnia" he said with a gentle smile shaking my hand.

I shook his hand and replied "The pleasure is all mine".

"I'm happy to see you got back to consciousness, and I apologize for the blow one of my men gave you" he said looking out of the corner of his eye with a mix of nervousness and compassion.

I followed his gaze and I realized that in one corner of the tend there was a faun in bronze armor and with a bludgeon on his hand. First I thought he was ill 'cause he was shaking uncontrollably, but then I saw the look on his face while he looked at me. There was fear on it. He was quivering with fear. He was afraid… of me? Really? Do I look that bad?

I looked again at him but this time I look his hand and it hit me. He was the one who hit me. He hit me with bludgeon, that little… I swallowed hard and looking back at the King and said:

"Well, no harm has been done, I'm alright. I am glad to see you have very effective men in your army King Erasmus" and I smiled reassuringly to the faun.

"Perfect!" he said clapping his hands and with a huge smile "Diácano, Barbra you can go" he ordered to the centaur and the faun."Seriously Barbra stop quivering" he said looking at the poor faun "didn't you hear what King Edmund said? Now go take a drink my friend" He said giving him a wink and patting his back with a warm smile.

The centaur and the faun bowed to us and they got out of the tend. As soon as they were out, Susan slapped hard the back of my head, right were that faun had hit me.

As they stepped out of the tent the King pointed the chairs around the table. Peter sat at one at the end of the table, I sat on his right, Susan next to me, and next to her Lucy. The King sat on the other end of the table and looked at us.

"So… you called us?" asked Peter breaking the silence.

"Yes, it was me, but… I wasn't expecting you to actually come" he said scratching his chin with a thoughtful expression.

"Why wouldn't we come?" asked Lucy in disconcert.

"Because someone has already come".

What?

"What? Who?" asked Susan surprised.

"Well it is a long story" said Erasmus reclining on his chair.

"We have time" I said quickly. Patience is not one of my qualities.

King Erasmus smiled and said:

"Lately we've been having trouble with Calormen"

"What a surprise" said Peter sarcastically.

"Well yes, our relationship has never been the best one, but in the last two years it has worsen. Now that Theron, the Tisroc son, has taken charge it seems he is trying to do what his ancestors couldn't!

"Enlarge their territory" I said angrily realizing what he was talking about.

"Exactly. They sent messengers and now the giants in the North are against us. We also have trouble in the West, with what's left of Telmar, and although, in the South, Archenland is still with us, carlormens are taking the hole south of their territory, so they have to fight their own war"

"They are surrounding us" said Peter.

The King cleaned up a part of the table where he put on a map of Narnia and its adjacent territories. I leaned in.

"Then" he said "we are being attacked by: the giants of Ettinsmoor," he stick a sharp knife in the north part of the map "telmarines, " he stick another sharp knife in the west part of the map "and carlomens in Archenland" he stick the last sharp knife in the south part of the map.

I was too angry to say anything. I couldn't believe it. We fought hard to win Narnia back from Miraz, from the White Witch. It still make me shiver to think about her, it still make me feel ashamed to remember the traitor I was myself. I couldn't take it. We fought too hard to win Narnia back, and now we were losing it again.

"Edmund, are you okay?" whispered Lucy in my ear with concern.

I haven't realized that I had my hands clenched into fists and my knuckles were turning white. I opened my hands and flexed my sore fingers while I nodded to her. She didn't buy it but said nothing.

"And when did you call us?" asked Peter.

"Almost a year ago, when we realized we wouldn't achieve anything by ourselves. They were segueing us, we couldn't trade with Archenland because they too were running out of provisions with the war. We tried with Galma and Terebinthia, but in some way the provisions never arrived, the ships never touched narnian port, they got lost in the sea.

So, after a devastated battle in the Western Marches, our own territory, I came to the conclusion that it was time to ask for help. That same night, I went down to the old treasure chamber and blew Queen Susan's horn. "here he smiles at Susan to which she nodded and returned the smile "We wait for about eight days. The eighth night, some guards, came to me carrying with them a young woman and a young man I have never seen in my life. They were using the strangest clothes, similar to the ones you have on, your majesties. Obviously I interrogated them, quite rudely I might add" he said, but seeing Lucy's and Susan's faces he quickly added: "it was my duty, after all they could have been spies, I have to put Narnia first. Anyways they didn't really say anything that I could comprehend. They were in shock . The guards told me they found them marauding on the Great Woods and when they asked them what were they doing there and who they were, they run off. They followed them thinking they were bandits, because of their attitude, and brought them to Cair Paravel. I sent them to the dungeons. But in the middle of the night a maid came running to my room and asked my permission to take the girl to the infirmary because she was bleeding by a wound in her shoulder. I said yes and went with her to see the girl. She was pale and had a deep wound in her left shoulder. The maid and some other guards take the girl to the infirmary and I stayed with Diácano in the dungeons with the young boy.

By sunrise he had told us, that the girl was her sister and he presumed, she got that wound from some men with turbans who had chased them through the forest, and that was why they had run off when they saw the guards. He also told us something very interesting. He said" here the King spoke almost whispering "that they came from another world, were Narnia didn't exist. I think he said they were from England?" he said to himself with uncertainty.

I looked at my siblings and saw the same expression in their faces. Surprise. Except for Susan, she had such a distraught face.

"England? Are you sure?"Peter asked.

"Yes, yes. Or he said Englond? Or was it Inglaand? I can't remember but it was something like that"

"And what happened to them?" I asked.

"I believed them. It was strange but something told me they were saying the truth. I can't really explain it but I am sure Aslan sent them" Hearing Aslan's name, somehow, warmed my heart. "Anyways, their arrival coincided with a halt in the enemy's attacks, so we had a good amount of time to put ourselves together. Or kind of."

"And where are they now?" asked Lucy.

"Anne is at Cair Paravel, fortunately her wound wasn't that serious, and Bill is in the Stormness Head, with an army helping Archenland. Actually, he must be heading home by now. He trained hard and turned out to be quite a swordsman"

We were all silent. Everyone in their own thoughts.

"Where are we?" I asked suddenly.

"Oh! We are in the Caldron Pool. We came from a battle with the giants in Ettinsmoor. But tomorrow by nightfall we should be in Cair Paravel"

"And how was it?" asked Peter excited.

We all looked at him with confused faces.

"Eh how was it what, your Majesty?" asked the King hesitantly.

"The battle! Of course! Did we win?"

"Oh! Yes, your Majesty, we won" he said with a huge smile on his face. We all smile.

"Excellent!" exclaimed Peter clapping. He looked like a four-year-old to who someone had given a puppy.

"But we still have a lot to do. Basically we are hanging on here".

"When are we leaving?" asked Lucy smiling at Peter's conduct.

"Tomorrow by dawn"

"Good"

"Now I think it would be the best to give you some armors and weapons, just in case. What do you think?" said King Erasmus.

"Perfect!"

"I am sorry your majesties but we don't have female clothes for you. Can you use some of mines?" he apologized to the girls.

"Its okay, we understand. It is not the first time" said Lucy with a reassuring smile. Susan nodded. She was so quiet. And quite paler than her usual.

"Alright, then I'll grab some clothes for your brothers and leave you alone for you to change" he said standing up and going to a trunk from which he took some clothes. "Use my clothes as you pleased" he said with a smile to Susan and Lucy and signaling Peter and me the exit.

As I passed besides Susan I gently squeezed her arm discretly, her lips turn up in a forced smile.

#narnia fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #narnia #chronicles of narnia #edmund pevensie #king edmund the just #peter pevensie #king peter the magnificent #susan pevensie #queen susan the gentle #lucy pevensie #queen lucy the valiant #The Battle of Calormen

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lustresky · 4 years

Text

hochelaga [peter parker]

summary: Peter never really had a ton of positive male influences in his life, and at this point he had given up his hopes of ever having one— that is, until he meets Happy.

wc: 4200ish.

themes: angst, peter’s a misunderstood and troubled teen, some happy stuff in the end (cuz i physically can’t write shit that doesn’t end in a happy ending ok), trust issues, happy cares about peter, some family fluff because i just want peter to be happy ok:’’(

warnings: cursing (da usual), underage smoking & mentions of nicotine addiction, me trying to be deep haha yikes!

a/n: title is a song by alexandre poulin. (it’s a really good song, i highly recommend listening to it in the background while reading/listening to it after! i translated the lyrics in english but it isn’t an exact translation, i changed a bit of the words to fit in more with the story!!) i recently listened to it again and it inspired me to write this. a lot of fics have tony as a parental figure in peter’s life, and he was my first choice for this fic too, but in the end happy just... made more sense. but honestly?? idek if this fic makes any sense. hopefully it does lmao

if you have any questions about this fic, feel free to send me an ask!

please note that the plots of CIVIL WAR, INFINITY WAR & ENDGAME are excused in this fic.

available on ao3.

T’es pas mon père, tu t’prends pour qui? (You’re not my dad, who do you think you are?) Tu sais rien de moi pis de mes amis. (You know nothing about me or my friends.)

Peter scoffs to himself as he hears May laugh in the living room; he hisses at the contact of alcohol on his skin, groaning at the large gash on his forearm. He quickly bandages it up, making sure to wear a long sleeve shirt in order to hide the large white cotton wrapping around his injured limb.

As soon as he hears footsteps, he swiftly hides the first-aid kit under his bed.

May opens his bedroom door, still wearing her work clothes and a huge smile on her face. “Peter!” She grins, walking towards him and grabbing his arm— the one that had been sliced open just an hour ago. He inwardly winces, but keeps on his indifferent face.

He has a front to maintain.

“Come on! I have someone for you to meet.”

Ma mère ’n’a ramené des ben plus tough, (My mom has brought home tougher guys,) Moi, les gars comme toi j’les mets dans ma poche. (Guys like you are nothing to me.)

Peter trudges to the living room, mentally preparing himself to see another man that he knows he would hate in a few days’ time.

To his surprise, however, he’s greeted by a man who’s the exact opposite of the image that he had been used to. Where the black leather jacket had been, there’s a formal black suit— complete with a tie and all. Where the gelled up hair and five o’clock shadow had been, there’s curly, salt and pepper hair with a white beard to match.

Where a smirk that seemed to size him up had been, there’s a genuine smile.

“This is Harold,” May introduces the man in front of him with such a wide grin that her eyes crinkle. “Harold “Happy” Hogan.”

What kind of fucking name is Happy?

Harold clears his throat and offers his right hand to Peter; a first for all the men that May had brought back home.

“I’m Peter.” Peter says, taking his hand. The man gently grips it, hands warm yet firm at the same time as he shook it with one of them on top of Peter’s own. “Nice to meet you, Harold.” He adds, forcing out the manners May had ingrained in him even if he doesn’t like it.

“Nice to meet you too, Peter,” Harold smiles. “And Harold’s too formal—”

“Just call me Happy.”

Pis tu vas ben faire comme tous les autres, (You’d be just like the others,) Tu vas claquer la porte en mettant ton coat. (You’d slam the door closed whilst wearing your coat.)

Harold— no, Happy, stays over for dinner. Peter left the conversation to May and him as he focuses on the news being displayed on the TV while he chews on the food that she had prepared.

“Rising vigilante, Spider-Man, spotted!” The female TV reporter announces, hair swishing left and right as she animates her words with hand gestures. “Six thieves have been found, bound with the ever familiar web and with the oh-so-famous venom puncture holes in their necks!”

“As much as his work is appreciated by many,” The announcer continues. “Is his way of justice acceptable, when these men—” The TV flickers to show the mug-shots of the six men, now incapacitated due to the poison. Peter recognizes the one who had cut his arm immediately. “Have not yet faced trial? Tonight, we will be discussing this with J. Jonah Jameson, editor in chief of The Daily—”

The TV screen suddenly goes black. Peter groans at May as he looks over at her; her arm outstretched with the remote in her hand aimed at the now blank display.

“No watching TV while we’re eating dinner.”

C’est moi du haut de mes 14 ans, (It’s my 14 year old self,) Qui veille sur le bonheur de ma maman. (Who grows old because of my mom’s happiness.)

Peter had quickly retreated in his bedroom after dinner, telling May that he still had homework to do.

The truth is that he just can’t stomach seeing Happy and his legal guardian sending love eyes to one another for another fucking hour.

Especially when he had already told himself numerous times in the past few years to never attach himself to any of the men that she brought home— no matter how happy they make her, because he knows better.

He tries to disregard their laughter outside of his bedroom. He tries to ignore the creaks of the floorboard as May sent Happy home. He tries to be oblivious to the peck that they both shared as a goodbye.

Tries; because his enhanced senses completely made sure that he notices every single one of them.

Much to his dismay.

T’es pas mon père, m’as-tu compris? (You’re not my dad, don’t you understand?) J’les connais les grands secrets d’la vie. (I already know life’s greatest secrets.)

Peter still remembers his first smoke.

He had been twelve.

It had been an experience— and when his senses got even more enhanced after he got bit, it didn’t take long for him to get addicted.

May doesn’t know about it. Just like she doesn’t know about him being a vigilante.

As soon as he hears a scream from an alley not too far from where he’s perched, Peter drops his smoke onto the cement— squishing and therefore extinguishing it with his foot.

He shoots a web onto the light pole to his right, hoping that whoever it is that he’ll save, that they’ll give him money for his services; just like what most people would do.

Peter lets out a breath, missing the nicotine in his lungs.

He’ll need it for another hit.

Garde tes histoires pis tes conseils, (Keep your stories and advices to yourself,) Check, fais tes affaires, j’vas faire pareil. (Look, mind your business and I’ll do the same.)

Happy comes over again for dinner.

As May cooks, they both sit on the sofa, watching the news.

“Spider-Man strikes again!” The same female reporter from a few days ago announces. “This time it seems that he has saved over a dozen people in a department store by binding the attacker in his webs and incapacitating him with his ‘venom’!”

Happy groans beside him and Peter looks up at him, annoyed. What’s his deal?

As if he can read minds, Happy looks back at him, a stern look on his face.

“Listen,” He starts, head downcast to stare at him in the eye. “If something like that ever happens to you, you go and run the other way— alright?”

Peter scoffs at his words and breaks eye contact. As if.

Happy doesn’t seem to be content with his answer. So stubbornly, he asks, “Peter? Do you understand?”

Peter subtly rolls his eyes. Who does he think he is?

“Yeah,” He just replies back, not wanting to strike another conversation with another person who thinks that they have more power than him.

He has had enough of those.

Mais si jamais tu mets l’pied dans ma chambre, (If you even enter a foot in my room,) J’te jure que j’te paye des vacances. (I’ll make sure that you’ll regret it.)

“Peter!”

Peter quickly fumbles out of his suit, pulling the red and blue cloth off rapidly as he opens his closet door to stuff it in. At full speed, he grabs his venom and web shooters and locks them inside his desk drawer.

The footsteps don’t cease, and Peter only manages to get a shirt over his head and a pair of boxers over his legs before his door opens to reveal Happy; an eyebrow raised at him.

It doesn’t take long before the man’s eyes widen upon casting sight onto his bleeding legs.

“Jesus Christ, Peter, what happened to you?” He asks, opening the door even more to let himself in. “Are you okay?”

Peter doesn’t even try to keep the bubbling rage inside him as Happy carelessly welcomes himself into his bedroom; the only space that he has to himself. The only place that understands him.

“Yes!” Peter cries out, anger coursing through his veins. Fucking hell, he doesn’t have time for this. “Now please— get out!”

Happy, surprised at his outburst, moves backwards until his feet were a mere inches away from Peter’s bedroom door frame. “Okay, okay— I’m glad that you’re okay,” He raises his hands up in retaliation, sighing. “But still, what in the hell happened to you, kid?”

Peter doesn’t answer, instead he ignores the burning pain across his legs while walking towards the door with the goal of closing it. He grits his teeth in the process.

“That’s none of your business.”

Ma mère pense ’t’es l’homme de sa vie, (My mom thinks that you’re the love of her life,) Moi, j’te donne pas trois semaines pis t’es parti. (Me? I’ll bet that you’ll leave after three weeks.)

Peter had been genuinely surprised when he had come back home to find May and Happy in the kitchen, flour and eggs scattered everywhere.

Their smiles are bright.

Peter clears his throat, effectively gaining their attention as he crosses his arms across his chest. “What are you guys doing?” He asks, throwing a pointed look at May who just laughs at his question.

“What does it seem like we’re doing, Pete?” She replies, a huge smile still displayed on her face. “We’re trying to bake a cake!”

That still isn’t enough of an answer. “What for?” He adds; from what he remembers— which was almost everything, nobody has their birthdays today.

May just sticks her tongue out at Peter.

“It’s Happy and I’s first month anniversary, babe!”

S’rais-tu mon père jusqu’à midi? (Will you be my dad till’ noon?) J’me suis mis dans l’trouble pis comme t’es ici. (I got myself in trouble, and now you’re here.)

Peter curses at himself as he holds his head down in between his arms.

The principal doesn’t say anything to him as the air remains tense.

“I’m sorry—” Peter’s head pops up at the unexpected voice. That isn’t May. “I had a meeting— I came here as fast as I can.”

Looking to his right, Peter sees Happy taking the chair beside him; his own face stoic.

“That’s alright, Mr. Hogan,” The principal gives him a tight lipped smile. “Now, shall we discuss why I called you here?”

Happy looks at Peter, an eyebrow raised. Peter doesn't— no, he can’t bring himself to say nor explain anything.

Everything is clear.

He had fucked up.

Ç’a l’air qu’à l’école y auraient trouvé, (It seems that the school has found,) 10 grammes de shit dans mon casier. (The ten grams in my locker.)

Peter had known that he should’ve been more cautious; he knew that his school had a strict rule against cigarettes. He had known.

However, did that knowledge still stop him from lighting one up?

No.

Is it a surprise that he was caught?

No.

Peter bites his tongue as he tries to even out his breathing.

The next thought passes by his mind and he can’t help but wholeheartedly agree.

I’m a disappointment.

Faudrait pas l’dire à ma mère, (Please, don’t tell my mom,) Elle s’rait ben capable de trop s’en faire. (She wouldn’t be able to handle it.)

Happy took him home.

The whole car ride had been silent; neither party focusing more on the road than one another.

Peter forces himself to speak up once Happy has parked his car in front of the brick building.

“Please..” He croaks out, feeling the tears welling up in his eyes. “Don’t tell May.”

God, he hated being like this.

A pause follows, and Peter worries for a second that Happy will spill everything.

However, the man beside him lets out a sigh as he places a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

He squeezes, and for the first time, Peter doesn’t flinch at the touch of a man.

“Don’t worry kid,” Happy says.

“I won’t.’

Toi, tu sais comme moi qu’on passe par là, (You know just as well as me that we all go through this,) Quand on devient un homme dans Hochelaga. (That this is how we grow up in Hochelaga.)

May gives them both a bright smile as they enter the apartment.

“Dinner will be ready in a sec!” She tells them both; giving Peter a warm hug and Happy a peck on the cheek before sprinting back to the kitchen.

Peter just looks up at the man beside him who grew red at his guardian’s antic.

He doesn’t even try to stop the genuine laugh coming out of his throat as Happy looks back at him, trying his best to mask his fondness for May with annoyance. “What?” He scrunches his nose up at Peter, trying to act tough but failing as his flushed face goes against him.

Peter just continues snickering. “Nothing.”

The sudden happiness in his stomach’s overwhelming.

S’rais-tu mon père jusqu’à cette nuit? (Will you be my dad until tonight?) J’me souviens même plus quand l’mien est parti. (I don’t even remember when mine left.)

After dinner, Peter had mustered up the courage to ask both May and Happy if they wanted to watch a movie. They both had said yes— but Peter knew that May never really had a thing for sci-fi movies, and so it isn’t a surprise for him when she had blacked out thirty minutes into ‘The Empire Strikes Back.’

Happy, however, still has his eye focused on the film. In fact, he seems to be enjoying it way more than Peter— which was a complete yet welcomed surprise.

He doesn’t ever remember having witnessed something so nice like this after his passing: May curling up against someone, a smile on her face as she slept; completely serene as the man who she loved cradles her back. It was a sight that pulled at Peter’s heartstrings, yet also tied them into pretty bows at the same time.

As the sounds of the movie fills the air, Peter realizes something which made him smile.

He can get used to this.

Y avait pas grand temps pour dire « Je t’aime ». (There wasn’t really a lot of time to say “I love you.”) Entre la DPJ pis le HLM. (Between the CSS and the DSS.)

After that night, May and Happy had started saying “I love you”‘s to one another more often.

He and Happy got closer— and slowly…

Peter let his walls down bit by bit.

On pourrait p’t’être r’garder la T.V., (Maybe we can watch some TV,) Quand maman rentrera d’son shift au PFK. (When mom does her shift at KFC.)

“What‘cha doing there, kid?” Happy asks him as he knocks on Peter’s door, slowly pulling it ajar.

Peter looks up from his papers, rubbing at his eyes as he lets out a yawn. He gives Happy a nod to let him know that it’s okay to come in.

The man then walks up beside him, a hand on his hip as he looks over at Peter’s calculations. He makes a face. “Yeah no, if you’re gonna ask help for this stuff, you better ask Tony and not me.”

Peter makes a face at him, not sure if he’s joking or being serious. What is it with him bringing up this Tony dude? He doesn’t even know who he is.

“Ask who?” He snorts, shaking his head. “Tony Stark?” He jokes.

“Uh, yeah? Who else?” Happy looks at him like he doesn’t know if Peter’s joking or not. “Tony Stark, billionaire, inventor, Iron-man? AKA the guy that I work for?”

Peter’s eyes widen. “Wait a minute—- this whole time you’ve been talking about Tony Stark and not your like— eccentric best friend?” He lets his jaw touch the floor in shock.

Happy just laughs at him. “Yeah?”

Peter blinks his eyes and shakes his head, and now it suddenly made so much more sense as to why Happy seems to always be in a full suit.

“Anyway,” Happy interrupts Peter’s thoughts, hands going in his pockets. “I was just thinking that you may want to take a break, kid— maybe watch a movie or something before you burn yourself out. Netflix just added Aliens, and May isn’t here.” He raises an eyebrow as his lip quirks up.

Peter’s ears perk up upon hearing the movie title. He’s been dying to watch the movie ever since Happy had suggested it, but most of the time he never got to as May had forbidden him to watch— as she so eloquently put it— “Those disgusting and disturbing movies.”

“Fine, fine—“ He waves off Happy, turning his front back to his desk, trying not to sound too giddy. “Lemme just clean this up.”

“It’s gonna be fun, kid, trust me.”

Peter just shakes his head, a hint of a smile on his face.

Happy turned out to be right.

Ce serait drôle un jour d’aller jouer aux quilles, (It would be fun to go bowling, one day.) Ç’a l’air qui font ça dans les vraies familles. (It seems like real families do that.)

May had suggested that they all go bowling one Sunday night.

Happy taught Peter and May how to strike.

Peter doesn’t know if, in the end, it had been a good idea as Happy ended up losing.

Still, Peter appreciates him going out of his way to teach him something that he doesn’t know.

It had been such a long time since he hasn’t taught himself something.

It was a nice change.

S’rais-tu mon père pour toute la vie? (Will you be my dad for the rest of time?) L’temps passe, pourtant t’es pas parti. (Time has passed, but you still haven’t left.)

“Happy anniversary!” May laughs as she hands something to Happy.

It’s been two years since they’ve been together. Peter still can’t believe that time can fly by so fast.

Happy kisses her on the cheek as he pulls out something from his pocket; a small, velvet box.

Peter tries his best not to shake the camera in his hands. He already knew that this was going to happen— hell, he had planned it with Happy himself, but the happiness and excitement bubbles in his stomach and rushes through every limb in his body as Happy gets down on one knee.

If it isn’t for the fact that his eyes are getting teary, he would’ve laughed at May’s shriek.

“Will you, May—“

Happy didn’t even get to finish his sentence.

“Yes!”

Moi, j’suis fatigué de jouer au tough. (I’m tired of acting tough.) J’ai dans l’ventre une carrière de roches. (My stomach is full of rocks.)

Peter stumbles into his bedroom through his window, chest-heaving as he takes off his homemade mask. He grits his teeth as he continues applying pressure onto the wound, closing his window with one of his legs.

He hears a stack of papers drop.

Peter quickly whips his head around.

Happy’s face, morphing into shock— then disbelief, then concern, then rage, greets him back.

“Is this what you’ve been doing, sneaking out all these years?” He asks Peter, gaze hard and almost deadly.

Happy rarely gets angry.

“Yes,” Peter wheezes as he stands upright; his lungs screaming for more oxygen. He winces as he continues putting pressure on the wound on his left shoulder. “I know, I know— I’m sorry but I’m—“

Happy quickly notices his discomfort. He drops his disapproving parental act for a moment and goes on full mother hen mode. “What— what is it, kid? What happened?” He moves towards Peter’s side in less than a second and Peter let’s his tired and aching body fall onto him.

“Bullet grazed me,” were the only words that he had managed to spew out through the pain.

Happy inhales a breath. “Do you have a first aid kit in here somewhere?”

“Under— under my bed.” Peter groans as Happy slowly let’s him sit on the ground; pain pulsating in his arm.

Within seconds, Happy has a needle in his hand and Peter’s trying his best not to wince nor flinch every time the sharp metal goes through his skin.

There was a pause— and then;

“I think it’s time for you to meet him.”

Peter looks up at Happy, making eye contact.

The man’s eyes are glassy.

“Who?”

Another pause. Happy lets out a sigh.

“Tony.”

Peter shakes his head. “Why?”

Happy breaks eye contact as he sets the medical instrument back down in the box.

“Because you need to know that you aren’t alone, kid.”

Pis comme c’est ma fête le mois prochain, (And since it’s my birthday next month,) M’emmènerais-tu voir une game des Canadiens? (Will you take me to a game and lunch?)

Meeting Tony Stark had been an experience, to say the least.

An experience that had ended with a brand new suit.

As Happy drives back home, Peter’s body shakes with excitement.

Once they’re both parked, Peter almost bursts open the car door— but Happy has locked it before he can even try.

“Happy?” Peter asks, an eyebrow raised. “Can you open the door?”

Happy’s hands fell from the steering wheel and onto his own lap.

“Listen, kid,” He starts, clearing his throat. “When I told Tony about you— I didn’t think that he would, you know—“ He waves his hand towards the metallic suitcase on Peter’s lap.

Peter, not a clue as to where the conversation is going, doesn’t respond.

“I just—“ Happy sighs. “You’re a smart kid. I have absolute faith in you and what you do.”

“I trust you, Peter…” Happy looks back at him, making eye contact. His voice wavers.

Peter swallows the lump in his throat. He ignores the familiar feeling of tears welling up in his eyes as Happy says one last thing;

“Just… be safe. Please.”

Pis si personne entend pis que c’est juste une fois… (And if no one else hears, and it’s just once...)

The wedding had been extravagant.

May had been wearing the white dress that his grandmother had worn; a family tradition, she had said.

Happy had worn his best suit.

Families and friends had attended. Joyful music had played.

A few of the Avengers had even showed up, wishing them both happiness.

As Peter clicks through the pictures that had been taken, a warm feeling blossoms in his chest upon seeing a specific one.

It’s a picture of him, May and Happy. The two adults were showing off their rings to the camera as both of their arms were wrapped around Peter’s shoulders, squeezing him into a one armed hug in between them both. All three of them had their lips curled up into the brightest smiles that they had ever had.

It’s his favourite.

Voudrais-tu que j’t’appelle papa? (Would you want me to call you dad?)

Peter looks at the black packet in his hand.

He shakes his head and promptly throws it to the garbage can.

Peter then swings himself home, going through his window as always to get inside. Today had been an uneventful day.

As he takes off his suit, someone knocks on his door. “Hey kid, you free for a bit? We wanna show you something.” Happy calls out.

“Just a sec!” Peter replies, putting on a hoodie and pajama pants.

As soon as he’s done he walks to the living room, seeing May and Happy on the sofa with a pile of papers on the coffee table.

Peter quirks an eyebrow. “What? Is this some sort of test?”

“No, Pete,” May chuckles at him, shaking her head. She intertwines her arm with Happy’s. “Just… sit down, will you?”

Peter does as he’s told, sitting down onto the armchair adjacent to the sofa that Happy and May are both sitting in. “Well?” He asks as soon he plops down.

Happy clears his throat. “Well—“ He starts, placing a hand on top of May’s hand. “Your Aunt— that is, if you want to call her your aunt and not… I don’t know, your mo—“

Before Happy can even finish his sentence, Peter stands up. His eyes landing and focusing themselves on the papers.

There, written in big, bold letters are the words: ADOPTION FORM.

May, upon his sudden reaction, untangles her arm from Happy’s and instead places a hand on top of Peter’s. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, Pete—“

Peter looks up at May, and this time, he lets the tears fall free.

Instantly, May’s arms are around him— and it didn’t take long before Happy’s own are around him too.

“Peter? Are you okay?” May fumbles with her words, unsure on how to address his sudden outburst. “We don’t have to—“

“No,” Peter replies as he lifts his head up from their arms. “I— I want to.”

Happy, still unsure, pipes up. “Are… are you sure, kid? I mean, I understand that maybe it’s a bit too fast—“

Peter just shakes his head. He’s sobbing, but his whole body is filled with joy and excitement and glee and he’s so sure that he wants this.

“I am,” He says, as May and Happy wipe the tears off of his face.

“A hundred percent.” He smiles.

and as always, requests are open! pls don’t forget to like and reblog, thank you! :]

#lily’s lil’ stories #peter parker #spiderman #happy hogan #may parker #tony stark #fanfic #harold happy hogan #happy x may #happy hogan x may parker #marvel #aunt may #aunt may x happy

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fanfics4all · 5 years

Text

Santa Is Real!

Request: Yes / No

Request are closed <3 Have a nice day/night

Archie Andrews x Fem!Reader

Word count: 5197

Warnings: Nothing

Y/N: Your Name

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you!

Masterlist

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

It was almost Christmas! I was so excited and I couldn’t wait! Santa was coming and my little brother was so excited. He wouldn’t stop talking about Santa and how he was so excited about what he asked for.

“I even asked Santa for something for you!” Jack said happily. I giggled watching him plop down on the couch next to me.

“That’s very sweet of you!” I said picking him up and kissed his cheek.

“Can I come to your party?” He asked.

“Yes you can. Y/N your father and I have to go out for a little while so your brother will be here, watch him.” My mother said.

“But mom, what about my party?” I asked.

“It’ll only be for an hour or so, then we’ll come pick him up.” Dad answered walking into the room. I sighed.

“Okay, but you have to wear something festive!” I said looking at my brother.

“Yay!” He cheered and clapped his hands.

“Thank you dear.” My mother said with a smile.

*A few hours later*

Jack spent the next few hours decorating for the party. Once we finished we ran up to our rooms and got dressed. I put on a white long sleeved shirt with silver sparkles all over, a red skirt, white heels, a red bow, and some cute silver earrings. For makeup I put on a red lip with sparkles, and I did a silver sparkle eye with a little bit of red and brown, and I did a wing.

Once I was dress I went to my brother’s room to see if he was ready. I knocked on his door and he answered it. I looked down at him and saw he had a black and white striped long sleeved shirt, overalls with a cute little snowman on them, a pair of sneakers and a Santa hat on.

I picked him up and kissed his cheek. He looked adorable! Before I could tell him we heard the doorbell ring. Jack squirmed in my grip so I put him down. He rushed downstairs and opened the door to reveal my friends.

“Hi guys!” He said happily and let them in. I smiled watching him.

“Hey Jack, you’ve gotten so big!” Betty said with a sweet smile.

“He’ll be a lady killer pretty soon.” Archie said. Then my brother spotted Veronica. He smiled and walked over to her. He had a crush on her and it was so adorable.

“Hi Veronica.” He said and smiled.

“Hi Jacky!” She said kneeling down to his level.

“You look very dashing in your Christmas outfit.” She complimented and he blushed.

“You look very pretty too.” He said and Veronica smiled.

“Are you joining the party?” She asked and his face lit up.

“Yeah! Mommy and Daddy said I get to stay here for a little while.” He answered and everyone giggled at how cute he was.

“Well, we’ll have to dance before you leave.” She said and he blushed even more.

“Umm… Would you like a cookie?” He asked and she smiled. He took that as a yes and ran into the kitchen.

“So your brother is gonna be here for a while?” Reggie asked.

“Yeah, my parents are picking him up in about an hour.” I said and Reggie groaned.

“But what about the special drinks I bought!” He groaned.

“We can have them when he leave.” I answered. Reggie sighed but nodded.

The party was going well. Everyone was having fun and Jack couldn’t stop making everyone smile. Right now he was dancing with Veronica and I was standing off to the side watching them. The song ended and Jack went to get Veronica another cookie. Archie came up behind me and wrapped me in his arms.

“You know you’re standing under a mistletoe right?” He asked and I looked up. I turned around in his arms and wrapped my arms around his neck.

“Guess you’ll just have to kiss me, but we should be careful. After all Santa is watching.” I said with a giggle. Archie paused and looked at me for a second, I looked at him confused.

“You know Santa isn’t real right?” He asked and I stared at him like he was crazy for a second before I heard a crash. I got out of Archie’s arms and turned around. I saw Jack standing there with tears in his eyes and a broken plate with a cookie on the floor.

“What do you mean Santa's not real?” He asked and a tear fell down his face. Everyone’s eyes widened and I rushed over to him.

“Jack, Arch was only kidding!” I said trying to calm him. He shook his head and started crying.

“Santa isn’t real?” He asked crying hard. I bit my lip and picked him up.

“I’ll be right back okay guys?” I said to my friends and they nodded sadly. I went upstairs to Jack’s room and sat him down.

“How can Santa not be real?” He asked. I wiped his tears and kissed his head.

“Oh kido, Santa is real. Archie was just joking okay?” I tried again.

“But he said-”

“I know what he said but he was just being silly!” I said. Suddenly my phone went off, it was my parents telling me they were here and to bring Jack out. I sighed and looked at him.

“Mom and dad are here, but when you come home I’ll prove to you that Santa is real okay?” I said with a smile.

“How?” He asked.

“Well, mom and dad gave me Santa’s number so that way if I have to watch you I can call him if you’re bad.” I said and he looked at me shocked.

“You have Santa’s number!?” He asked and I nodded.

“I’ll see if he can take a little break and come visit you. But you can’t tell anyone that you saw Santa before Christmas.” I said and he nodded with a huge smile.

“Okay, now you gotta go.” I lifted him up and walked him downstairs. He left and I turned back to my friends.

“Is he okay?” Kevin asked and I nodded with a sigh.

“We can still party, but I need your guys help.” I said and everyone nodded.

“Great, so I need someone to dress as Santa for when Jack comes home.” I said.

“I’ll do it, I’m the one that messed up.” Archie said and I smiled at him. I walked over and pecked his lips.

“Thank you babe. Now we need to get a Santa costume, a wig, and a beard!” I said.

“My dad all those things, he dresses up for the Serpent’s kids.” Jughead said and I smiled.

“Perfect!” I said.

“I’ll go get it, I’ll be back in a few.” Jughead said and walked out.

“So until your brother gets home can we have those special drinks?” Reggie asked and I shook my head with a laugh.

“Yes, but we can’t get drunk!” I said.

“Fineee!” Reggie said and we all started partying again.

*Four hours later*

I got a text from my parents that said they would be home in a few minutes. I handed Archie the costume and shoved him upstairs. I told him not to come down until I called him. Jack ran in and up to me.

“Where’s Santa?” He asked full of excitement.

“He’s upstairs, he needed to use the bathroom after such a long trip.” I said and he squealed.

“Santa? Are you done?” I called up. My friends sat on the couch and watched as Archie walked downstairs dressed as Santa.

“Santa!” Jack called happily.

“Hello Jack, your sister told me that you needed to see me because someone was being silly and said I wasn’t real.” He said in an old man voice and kneeled down.

“Yeah, my sister’s boyfriend. He’s right-” Jack looked around but didn’t see Archie.

“Hey where is he?” Jack asked.

“Oh, Archie needed to go help his dad, he said he’ll be back in a little while.” I said and Jack nodded. I quietly sighed happy that he bought that.

“Did you get my letter Santa?” He asked and Archie nodded.

“I did.” He said.

“Then what did I ask for my sister?” Jack challenged. My eyes widened and I bit my lip.

“If I say it out loud she’ll hear.” He said.

“Then whisper it to me!” Jack said and moved his ear next to Archie’s mouth. I looked at them nervously. Archie whispered something into his ear and Jack pulled away with a blank expression.

“You really are Santa…” He said and shock and my eyes widened.

“Of course I am.” Archie said and then looked at his watch.

“I have to go Jack, if I’m not back soon the reindeer won’t get fed.” He said getting up.

“Wait! Can we take a picture? So I can prove Archie wrong?” He asked and Archie smiled.

“Sure.” He said and Jack ran up to me.

“Will you take my picture with Santa?” He asked and I nodded with a smile. I took out my phone and took a few pictures with them. Then Archie left. He was going to go behind my house and take the costume off then put it in Jug’s bike. Sure enough, a couple minutes later Archie walked back in.

“Archie!” Jack called and ran up to him. Archie picked him up and and smiled.

“Hey buddy.” He said.

“You missed Santa!” Jack said.

“Did I? Oh man! Am I on the naughty list for joking that he wasn’t real?” He asked. Jack shook his head.

“No but Y/N, show him the pictures!” I laughed and walked over showing Archie the pictures.

“Wow!” Archie said and then we sat down next to our friends.

So how’d you know it was actually Santa?” Veronica asked him.

“He knew what I asked him to get Y/N.” Jack answered happily and I looked at Archie. Archie just smiled and pecked my lips.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @xrosesareredx @herokyolachan @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs @schisbro87 @lover-of-books-and-teas @nerdygaloresposts @alex--awesome--22 @teenwolfbitches2 @genius2050 @drw0301bieber @tigermillionaire-philanthropist @emo-godess-loves-you @hiya-imthatgirl @answer-the-sirens @mindsetjupiter @averysinclaire @mittelerde1999 @sweetest-peas @rousewriter @jjkingston @k-is-cray @camiconfessions @nixdunbarhale @nixdunbarhale2 @mysticrebelwerewolf

#riverdale #riverdale imagine #archie andrews #archie x reader #archie andrews imagine #archie andrews x reader #veronica lodge #betty cooper #jughead jones #betty x jughead #reggie mantle #kevin keller #fanfic #holliday #christmas #santa

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therearemonstersinthedark · 6 years

Text

Astronautical Book 1: Epilogue

Title is from “Things We Lost in the Fire” by Bastille

Epilogue: The Things We Lost in the Fire

[Meanwhile, on Terra: Early 2015]

"Hey Peter!"

Peter Parker looked up from his backpack to give Michelle a quick shushing gesture.

"What are you doing?" he whisper-shouted between his teeth, glancing around the empty store as though expecting someone to come bursting forth from one of the other aisles any moment. "You can't be that loud!"

"This place is empty," Michelle said, crossing her arms and giving a tin can in front of her a light kick as she passed, sending it rolling through the rubble and trash scattered across the floor. "No one's around to hear anything."

"You don't know that." Peter quickly zipped up his backpack and hefted it over his shoulder. The cans inside clanked together and dug little bruises into his spine and ribs. The worn straps cut into his shoulders and he shifted the bag around, trying to find a position that was almost tolerable. "This place is a red-zone, we shouldn't even be here."

"Whatever," she huffed, adjusting the bag across her own back. "Those maps are probably as outdated as the rest of this junk. Let's just get out of here. I think it's officially been picked clean. You know, figuratively."

"Sounds good." Peter followed as she lead the way towards the front of the little corner store and pharmacy, picking his way through the glass scattered across the doorway. Most of it had been tracked away or crushed underneath the boots of past looters, but the pieces that remained, dusty and dulled slightly by the passage of time, were still plenty sharp enough to slice through the worn soles of his Convers if he wasn't careful. "Did you find anything good?"

"You might say that," she said, pulling a little paper bag out from her jacket pocket. "Look what I found wedged in a corner between a desk and the wall. I dug it out from under a pile of trash that some mice were using as a nest."

Michelle handed the paper bag over to Peter. It was a sad, crumpled little thing. The edges were all bent, one corner eaten away, probably by the aforementioned mice, and rippled with water stains, but when he unrolled the top and peered inside, the contents made his heart skip with disbelief.

"No way!" he gasped, barely remembering to keep his voice down as he pulled one of several orange bottles out. The pills inside rattled while he rolled it over to read the lable. "You found real antibiotics? I can't believe it. Are they still good?"

"I think so," she said, taking the bottle and the bag back and shoving them into her pocket again. "They're past their expiration date on the label, but they're all still sealed, and antibiotics last like, a decade after expiration, right?"

"I think so..." Peter kept his eyes on the surroundings as they walked down the empty street. The only sounds were the rustling of leaves and trash in the light autumn breeze, and their voices echoing oddly against the empty streets. "We can check with Mr. Miller when we get back, he'll probably know, but that's a great find."

"I know." Michelle ducked her head, but the smile that tugged at her mouth and the corners of her eyes was enough to make Peter's heart flutter. "I told you it was worth coming here."

Definitely worth it, Peter thought. Michelle almost never smiled anymore.

"I guess," Peter admitted. "but we should still get back before anyone realizes we're not where we said we'd be."

"You worry too much." A fist knocked against his shoulder, so soft he barely felt it, but Peter still pretended to stumble as if from a mighty blow.

"Someone has to," Peter shrugged.

"I mean it." Michelle turned to look at him as she walked and her face was suddenly serious. "You work too hard. You're so thin you could hide behind a lamp post, and if the pools under your eyes get any bigger we're going to have to start calling you Robin."

"Robin?"

"Like the comics, Batman and Robin. I talked to the others. We had a vote. For the record, I voted to start calling you a raccoon and find you a nice box to live in beside the dumpster."

"Why couldn't I live in the dumpster?"

"Because we're using it."

"I'd rather be Batman."

"Batman would know when to take a break."

"As the bigger comic book nerd here, I strongly disagree."

"Shut up!" Michelle hissed, grabbing his sleeve.

"What? You started it."

"No, shut up. I think I heard something."

Peter froze and immediately began listening for anything out of the ordinary. At first, all he heard was the endless shuffling of dry leaves and decaying trash. Then he heard it, too. A distant hum that made his blood run cold.

"Oh, no," Peter breathed, freezing in his tracks. "Oh, crap. We gotta hide!"

At the end of the street sat an old bank, according to the bold lettering still bolted over the doorway. Peter and Michelle quickly scrambled through the broken windows and fled into the shadows of the interior.

"There! The counter!" Michelle grabbed Peter's sleeve and steered them behind the teller's counter. The thick glass that used to divide the bank workers from their patrons was fractured in several places, like some early rioters had tried to break through. Peter poked his head up behind one of these points, hoping the dirty, distorted glass would hide him from any passing glances. One hand reached for the wooden baseball bat that hung from his bag, slipping it free and twisting it anxiously in his grip.

Michelle was kneeling next to him, the whites of her eyes glinting bright in the light filtering in through the broken windows.

Outside, the humming was growing louder at an alarming speed. Peter held his breath as something huge and silver glided past the window. The alien on top of the scooter twisted its head around as it peered into the passing buildings. Those creepy yellow eyes met his and for a moment Peter could swear even his blood had frozen in fear. Then the eyes were passing on and the scooter rolled out of sight, it's unearthly hum fading now down the street.

"It's gone," Michelle breathed.

"That was way too close." Peter's fingers were still trembling where they gripped onto the counter. "Let's get out of here before it comes back."

-x-

After giving some time for the humming to fade away, Michelle and Peter made a run for the chain-link fence that marked the edge of the red-zone. No words were exchanged until long after they had slipped under the hole Michelle had discovered on her last run and the sight of the small town had been swallowed up by the thin forest on the other side.

The dingy old sedan was right where they'd left it, parked behind some bushes just off the main road. Peter threw his bag through the back window that didn't work anymore and slipped into the driver's seat while Michelle ripped the branches off the hood that they had left there for camouflage.

"We're good," she said as she took her place in the passenger's seat, her bag held on her lap.

Peter turned the key and the engine came to life with a reluctant whine. "You should put on your seatbelt," he said for the thousandth time, but he was too shaken to sit here and have the usual argument with her, so he hit the gas and they tore off down the street anyways.

-x-

Michelle was curled up in her seat, the bag hugged against her stomach and her head leaning against the dusty window, still not wearing her seat belt when they pulled into view of the camp a very long hour later.

"So what's your plan to explain all the stuff we found?" Peter asked, glancing at his bag in the back seat. "There's no way Mr. Miller is going to believe we got all of this from where we were supposed to be going. It's all been picked clean by now."

Mr. Miller had been one of the teachers at Peter's school, and was one of the very few adults in their camp, alongside Mr. Engler, their bus driver who had lost his leg in a crash during the initial blast, and Mrs. Twohey, a history teacher that Peter had only ever known in passing before all of this. She had already been well on her way to retirement before things fell apart. Some retirement.

"It's Thursday, right? Ned's in charge of inventory today. We can sneak in the back way and have him add it in quietly. Mr. Miller never even has to know."

"Wait, it's Thursday?" Peter asked, pulling up to one of the makeshift gates and flickering the headlights in a pattern he would probably have memorized for the rest of his life. "Are you sure?"

"Yep." Michelle dug around in her bag for a moment and pulled out something Peter hadn't seen in so long he nearly did a double take. "Happy birthday idiot," she said, handing over the Hostess Twinkie to a very speechless Peter. "Now stop gaping and hurry up, they're not going to hold the gates open forever."

"Oh!" Peter hit the gas a little to hard and the car lurched gracelessly forward through the open gateway.

"Just park behind the inventory, it'll be easier to sneak in that way," Michelle instructed. "So now that you're fourteen, what are your plans?"

"Oh you know, early retirement, enjoy the golden years. Fourteen's a pretty good age nowadays I hear. Maybe grow a mustache, that's all the rage."

Michelle burst into a laugh and smiled for the second time that day. "A mustache? You? I'm pretty sure I'll grow a mustache before you do."

"Do you... have plans to grow a mustache?" Peter asked through his own grin as he pulled to car to a shuddering halt behind a sturdy cabin. "Are you going to grow a beard to go with it?"

"I might. Why? You jealous?"

"Totally."

Michelle rolled here eyes with a small but definite smile and slipped from the car, shutting the door quietly behind herself. After taking a moment to check the surrounding area, she snuck up to the nearest window. "Ned!" she hissed, tapping on the glass. "Open up!"

End

#Astronautical #Book 1 #Epilogue #Avengers #Peter Parker #Michelle #Chitauri #Fanfic #ff.net #fanfiction #Ao3

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g-othboiclique · 6 years

Text

Andy was waiting for Ashley, who had wanted him to go to the gay pride parade. Ashley knew that Andy was gay, but he didn’t know that Andy had a huge crush on him. Ashley was as straight as a flagpole though. “I don’t want to, Ash,” Andy said swatting Ashley’s hands from his face. Ashley had painted a tiny rainbow flag on his cheek and he was trying to do the same to Andy. Ashley was holding both of Andy’s hands in one of his and trying to paint a rainbow on his face with the other one. “You’re gonna do this whether you want to or not, Biersack. Besides, you’ll look adorable,” Ashley said. If Ashley would think Andy would look cute he’d do it, but he was still going to put up a fight, just for fun. Andy tried to get up but was pulled back down. Ashley straddle Andy’s lap and looked him in the eyes. “Please!” He begged. “Just let me paint a rainbow on your face. Look I did it, and I’m straight!” Andy gave in. He let Ashley sit on his lap, which he was secretly enjoying a lot, and paint a little rainbow on his left cheek. “I hate you so much right now,” Andy murmured. “So much, Ashley Purdy!” “Naw, you love me,” Ashley teased, smiling at Andy. Their faces were so close together. Andy was holding five colorful cans of face paint and Ashley was holding the one he was currently working with. Andy was calmly resting his fists on Ashley’s thighs, and watching Ashley face closely as he admired the concentration of the older boy’s working. He seemed so concentrated on making the perfect little rainbow for Andy. “Can I have the green one?” Ash said, screwing the top onto the tiny plastic container that held the yellow paint. Andy handed him the green and took the yellow in his other hand. “This is taking to long,” Andy complained. He wasn’t really complaining about Ashley being so incredibly close to him, he was just excited to leave, more now than he was before. “Stop whining, you baby,” Ashley teased, tickling Andy's sides lightly. “I’m not whining, I only said one thing,” Andy grumbled. Ashley giggled at his childlike behavior. Andy liked that he made Ashly laugh and smile. He did find him amazingly beautiful and astonishingly handsome. “Why do you want to go to the parade anyway?” “I don’t know, I just thought we would have fun, and I thought it would be weird to ask the other guys because they’re all straight,” Ashley continued painting the green. “And you,” Ashley bopped Andy’s nose, “need a boyfriend, which shouldn’t be too hard ‘cause your a cutie.” He grinned. “I need the blue.” Andy thought about if Ashley was aware of how much he was teasing him. Sitting on his lap, and being all adorable, even calling him cute. He was driving Andy absolutely insane and he had no clue what he was doing. “What if I don’t want a boyfriend yet? I don’t know that I’m ready,” Andy said. The question was only partly a lie. He desperately wanted a boyfriend. But he wanted Ashley. “That’s why I’m taking you to the parade, to see if there is anyone you might like,” Ashley had finished the blue and was onto the purple. Andy was almost sad that Ashley time on his lap was almost over. “What if I don’t like anyone there?” That was a lie too. Ashley would be there. “C’HYPERLINK "note-insight.2c3ca038-66a9-3fc8-fce6-b6683c0a2a29"mon, Andy. There’s gotta be a silver lining,” Ashley said. “Even if you don’t find anyone we can still have fun. And if someone is hitting on you, and you want them to stop, you can always just grab my hand or swing your arm around me, okay?” “Yeah, thanks,” Andy smiled. Ashley smiled too. “What if I meet a guy who wants to top?” “Oh God, Andy! Let’s go!” Ashley said getting up and offering a hand. Andy was grinning and sniggering as if he had won some sort of imaginary award of mischief. - When Ashley and Andy got to the parade a few guys were looking at them. One guy, who looked about in his forties, and also looked like drug addict came up to them. “You boys together or can a take one a yous home wit meh?” He said in a gruffy, country accent. “Nope we’re married,” Ashley said panicking and wrapping his arm tight around Andy’s waist. “That’s alright, I’cn deal wit two a’ya,” he said, he smelled like rotting fish and his breath smelled like beer and cigarettes, he was missing half his mouth of teeth and his white shirt had stains all over it. “Yeah, our sex life is just fine with the two of us, thanks,” Andy said pulling Ashley away. “How did that creep even get in here?” Andy whispered after they were far enough away. “I don’t know but he’s still looking still looking at me,” Ashley said peering over his shoulder. Andy instinctively, and protectively, pushed Ashley over in front of him a little bit. Ashley was still holding Andy’s hand and he had a death grip on it. Andy was walking them to a food truck to hopefully get some tacos. And had stopped being a vegan when he and Juliet split up. Andy laid for two meals and he and Ashley went to sit down at some picnic tables that lined the sidewalk. They HYPERLINK "note-insight.eabe4ad2-2863-580c-4762-56a4005c7fee"sat next to each other and looked at a the crowd of people. “Hey, Ands, what about him? He’s got tattoos and he wearing a Black Veil shirt,” Ashley said pointing to a tall boy who HYPERLINK "note-insight.eabe4ad2-2863-580c-4762-56a4005c7fee"sat alone. “I guess he’s kinda cute, but I-“ “Then go talk to him!” Ashley encouraged. “Come on, he obviously likes you or he wouldn’t be wearing that shirt.” “But what if he’s, like, a crazy super fan, who wants to kidnap me?” Andy said, avoiding the real reason why he didn’t want to talk to the boy. “Do you want me to go talk to him for you?” Ashley offered. He’s obviously totally oblivious to the fact that and just wants to kiss his perfect lips. “Sure, Ash,” Andy said. He was a little hurt because he knew Ashley would never like him the same way. He was straight after all. Ashley got up and started walking through a few people and over to the boy. “Hi,” Ashley smiled. The boy looked up at him and his smile grew. “Umm hi,” he said. “So, I came here with my friend and he thinks your cute, but he was too shy to come talk to you, so I did it myself,” Ashley grinned. “Oh, I have a boyfriend already. I’m just waiting for him to get here,” he smiled apologetically. “Oh, okay. Sorry,” Ashley smiled. “Hey, can I get a picture with you, I kinda like your band a lot,” “Yeah totally,” Ash smiled for a picture and then left on his way back to find Andy. Some muscular guy with a beard and no shirt was talking to Andy. He was smiling and laughing. Ashley smiled hoping his devious plan had worked. Meanwhile Andy’s converHYPERLINK "note-insight.eabe4ad2-2863-580c-4762-56a4005c7fee"sation went like this: “So are you here alone?” The guy asked. He was short and buff, with a blond beard and hair that came down to his shoulders. “Umm no I’m actually here with someone,” Andy smiled. “Well, I’m Danny. It’s nice to meet you,” he smiled looking at Andy’s eyes then his lips, and back to his eyes. “Hi, Danny, I’m Andy,” Andy said grinning. “So what are you into? I mean like, in guys, and sex?” Danny asked. Andy laughed. “I’m not really looking for a boyfriend,” “That’s a shame, your so cute. I like your voice,” Danny said. Andy could tell he was trying to be seductive. “You know, you look so strong and handsome, and your so tall. I’d love to take you in the bathroom and see your not so little friend, that is if you don’t mind.” “Like I said, I’m not looking for a boyfriend. I already have one, he was just going to the car to get the phone. He left t in there, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to go see if I could find him.” Andy scolded the man before walking off. He knew exactly where Ashley was. He saw him spying. “What about that boy with our shirt?” “He’s already got a boyfriend. What did you walk away from that other guy?” “He was trying too add to get in my pants,” Andy murmured grabbing Ashley’s hand. “I want to leave. So far everyone has either been a creep or taken.” “Alright let's go,” Ashley said, and they walked back to the bus, which wasn’t too far away. They held hands the whole way until Andy spoke. “We’re not there anymore, you know you don’t have to god my hand anymore,” Ashley last go and Andy kinda wished he hadn’t said anything. “Sorry,” Ashley giggled. “No, it’s fine,” “Oh,” When they got back to bus, Jinxx, CC, and Jake were all piled up, asleep on the couch. “Should we wake them up?” Ashley whispered. “No, let's leave them,” Andy said snapping a few pictures. - Later that night while Andy was in his bunk, he heard Ashley softly singing. He smiled to himself and listened to his sweet voice. And then he heard him sniffle and lightly sob. Andy’s smile had faded, and he wanted to get up from his bunk and go to Ashley’s. He wanted to hold him, and kiss him, and cuddle him while telling him that everything would be okay. He pulled his curtain back just a little. “Hey, Ash, are you alright?” Andy cooed soothingly. “I’m fine,” Ashley muttered. He pulled his curtain away too. Their bunks were right across from each other. Ashley’s eyes where red and glossy. His cheeks were puffy and wet. His lips curled down into a frown. “Your not fine, honey, your sad. Come talk to me,” Andy said. “I guess I just feel really guilty because I know someone who I care about a lot is hopelessly in love with someone else, but that person doesn’t like them back and probably won’t,” Ashley didn’t mean to, but he made it painfully clear that Andy needed to move on. “But this person is just assuming that the other one has a crush on them and is hoping it isn’t true, because he loves that person dearly, and doesn’t want to lose their friendship.” Andy let the tears fall, he wasn’t even trying to stop them any more. He was going to admit it. And he was building up the courage to do it now. When he had talked himself into it, he said it. “I’m hopelessly in love with you, Ashley,” Andy cried. “I’m sorry Andy. I am so fucking sorry!” Ashley exclaimed. “I love you, but I’m straight, I don’t like guys. And it’s not you-“ “It’s alright, Ash,” Andy whispered, closing his curtain. Ashley hated how broken Andy sounded. They both silently cried themselves to sleep. And the next HYPERLINK "note-insight.3fd450df-5e09-bdde-66cf-f098cd05148b"morning was hell. - “You wanna come with me to get HYPERLINK "note-insight.cd1d4ab9-c973-6114-6846-e9c603f46a04"breakfast?” Ashley said. He was trying to fix Andy. “No, no, I’m fine. You can go,” Andy said. He crossed his arms over his stomach. ‘Ashley doesn’t love me because I’m too fat.’ He thought. “Oh, okay, see you later,” Ashley left. He didn’t want to go without Andy. That was his whole motive for going to HYPERLINK "note-insight.cd1d4ab9-c973-6114-6846-e9c603f46a04"breakfast. So he just walked around for a while. Sound check didn’t start until HYPERLINK "note-insight.6eb8da63-2fb5-6fc9-7f92-a5478fa1856d"5:00 because they had a late show today. It was only 10:30, and Ashley didn’t typically get out of bed until HYPERLINK "note-insight.334507dd-4cfc-9e8b-6be4-82ac3968e41e"1pm. Andy spent the majority of his alone time in the bathroom that HYPERLINK "note-insight.3fd450df-5e09-bdde-66cf-f098cd05148b"morning. He hadn’t eaten much anyway, but he didn’t want it to stay in him. Andy and Ashley didn’t talk for HYPERLINK "note-insight.2c3ca038-66a9-3fc8-fce6-b6683c0a2a29"months, and when they did, it would be small things, or something that was absolutely necessary for them to say to each other, and absolutely meaningless. Andy had been restricting everything he ate, calorie limits becoming lower and lower, fasts becoming longer, and purges growing. His list of safe foods shrunk to a mere nothing. Ashley and the rest of the band had noticed a change in Andy, mostly Ashley, but they all brushed it off. Ashley noticed Andy grimacing at the sight of himself, taking less pictures, and eating less. Andy always had quite a fondness for himself, and Ashley always knew this was true, but as of late, Andy seemed to dislike his appearance or even hate it. Andy did indeed hate is appearance, and everything about him that pushed Ashley away. He thought if he was thinner, he would be more attractive to Ash. But even deep down he knew that wasn’t true because Ash was still straight and Andy was still a man. - Ashley had walked by the bathroom around ten minutes after lunch with the band. He heard Andy puking and he was alerted for the well being of his friend. Little did he know, Andy was shoving his fingers down his throat to make it happen. All for Ashley, his love for Ashley kept him going. “Hey, are you alright?” Ashley asked cautiously, tapping his knuckles on the door. “Yeah, I think I got food poisoning or something,” Andy said panicking. He flushed the toilet and rinsed his mouth, popping in a piece of bubble-mint. He opened the door and walked out, but was pulled back by the wrist. “We ordered the same thing and I feel fine, why are you making yourself sick?” Ashley whispered. Everyone else was on the bus too, and Ash didn’t want them to hear. “I-uh, I don’t know that it was from lunch, I’m not making myself sick though,” Andy chuckled nervously and swallowed a lump in his throat. “Andy, take your shirt off,” Ashley said calmly. “No I-“ “I didn’t ask,” Ashley repeated, tears and anger in his eyes. Andy’s head hung as he pulled his shirt off. A single tear rolled down Ashley’s cheek, he could see the bones in Andy’s chest, his ribs were very prominent, and his pants hovered over his waits, elevated by his protruding hips bones. “Andy…” Ashley reached his fingers out to Andy’s ribs. “Your not even here. There is none of you.” Ashley was crying now. A lot. Andy felt like he couldn’t breath. “I’m sorry,” Andy whispered. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far.” “But, Baby, your too thin,” Ashley cried. Andy’s breath hitched in his throat, did Ashley just call him baby? “Come eat, please.” “No. I’m t-“ Andy stopped himself. “I’m not hungry.” “I never, ever, saw this in you, Andy. Why?” Ashley murmured. “For you, Ashley. I love you, and I know it won’t happen, but I just want you to love me back!” Andy had tears now, lots of them, falling down his face, running down his neck. Ashley grabbed his face and kissed his lips. Andy put his bony little fingers around the back of Ashley’s neck and kissed him back hard. “You big fucking idiot, Andy,” Ashley whispered. He rested his forehead against Andy’s “Of courses I love you!”

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girlwsoftsound · 7 years

Text

Beautiful Eyes || Ross MacDonald Oneshot

Word Count: 2,244 Summary: “Reader and best friend go to a pub and Ross is there as well. Best friend notices how reader and Ross had been sharing looks from across the room so best friend buys him a drink under readers name without reader knowing and Ross goes to talk to reader and she’s startled.” Author’s Note: Dedicating this to @figuremyheartout-1975 aka my #1 Ross fan friend <3 Please feel free to send more requests here! Also, be sure to throw in a like or comment if you liked it! I love seeing feedback from you all. Enjoy!

“I didn’t want to come here, did I?”

Truthfully, you did not. Your friend Blake had brought you out that night. She was a pub crawler at heart, with a conflicting fear of going to them alone. Being her roommate and best friend, you often were the one brought along on these pub crawls of hers, occasionally partaking in the drinking but usually finding a relatively quiet place to sit aside from the crowd and relax. It was not like you didn’t enjoy a good drink every now and then. You simply did not like the whole fanfare around it. Besides, most of the guys who ever bought drinks for girls at these bars were jerks. Without the fun of getting a free drink from a nice guy, the pubs did not really offer you much. You continued to go simply out of love for Blake.

Tonight however, your love for Blake was wearing thin. She did not do anything personally, but the people at the pub were utterly horrid. Every guy’s eye you met was either hungry for sex or far from kind. You wanted to be anywhere but there, and you were tired of hiding it from Blake. Her cherry red lips pout back at you, unamused at your distaste. She had been having a wonderful time so far, if the two phone numbers sitting in front of her scribbled on slips of paper had anything to say for it.

“You’re just being silly,” she told you as she took a sip from her drink. Handing it over to you to take a sip from, she waited until you gave in and tried it before taking it back. It wasn’t the worst thing she had made you try. It was fruity. Really fruity. “{Y/N}, there has to be some guy you fancy here. It’s a huge bar! There are plenty of guys to choose from.”

Rolling your eyes, you went to take a sip from your own drink, a glass of water. Blake had groaned multiple times at the choice, but you cared nothing of it. “I don’t. Just...go have fun, alright? Find a good guy for yourself. I’m happy sitting here. Honestly.”

Blake hardly believed you, but she knew you all-too-well to ever think you would give in and join her. With a sigh, she picked up her drink and went off, away to add to her long list of numbers in her phone and the small list she had growing in her pocket. You shook your head and turned back to your phone. Before Blake had come along, you were reading a good story on it, and you fully intended to continue it in her absence.

But, you felt someone looking at you and decided reading could wait. Gazing up, your suspicions were confirmed. Across the bar and sitting with a group of what you assumed to be his friends was a lovely fellow. Through any other eyes, he would be viewed as a rather average fellow. Brown hair, brown eyes, beard, firm build. He did not come off as striking as, for example, the curly-haired lad sitting to his right in what had to be women’s clothing and glasses. He was a character. But, the guy examining you with his eyes across the room stirred something up within you. Something about him made you want to talk to him. You, the introvert in the corner drinking water at a bar, wanted to pick his brain.

He looked away the moment he caught on to you staring back at him. You watched as his face flushed, embarrassed to be seen, shocked to have met your gaze at all. His friend, the character, caught his reaction and chuckled. You saw him elbow the boy, causing him to smile behind his blush. The sight of his brilliant smile was enough to make your heart flutter. He might not have looked special, but his smile was something of magic.

You go back to your phone. You thanked your lucky stars that the story you found was so enticing to read, for had it not been, you would have surely gone mad under your mystery-man’s gaze. It provided the best type of distraction. You couldn’t do much about him if your eyes and mind were focused on a story. You were busy.

Startling you, Blake’s hand settled down on your shoulder. You looked up to her to see her lipstick smudged and a silly look on her face. She looked far too happy.

“I just found the man of my dreams.”

“Or your makeup’s worst nightmare,” you commented, wiping off some of it that got on her cheek. She giggled and pushed your hand away.

“Oh live a little {Y/N}. He was so wonderful. You really should go get yourself a man. I saw you looking at the boy with a beard over there before I found Patrick.”

“Patrick?”

Blake held up a new paper. “Lipstick boy. Seriously though, you should go talk to him. He keeps looking your way, you know.” Eyes leaving Blake, you looked back to the group. Sure enough, he was watching you again. Just like before, he quickly averted his eyes. Beside you, Blake laughed and patted your back. “Go to him. He seems friendly.”

“Blake, you know how I feel about guys in pubs-”

“Dammit {Y/N}, go give him a chance! You never will know if he’s good if you don’t see for yourself!”

Sighing, you blushed and shook your head, burying back into your phone. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to go talk to the boy. Hell, he was compelling you to. The thought just terrified you. You didn’t want to ruin whatever idea of you the boy had when talking to him. That alone was scary. It would benefit you most to seem disinterested. Blake frowned.

“Well, it’s your loss then. I’m going to go enjoy myself.”

With that, the girl was gone, and you again were alone, though sadder than before. You shifted in your seat, and got back to reading. Five minutes passed, and then you felt another hand on your shoulder. Groaning, you spun around.

“For fuck sake Blake, I don’t want to-”

“Who’s Blake?”

Your blood ran cold. Standing before you, drink in hand and as handsome as you had found him, was your bearded admirer. Dressed in a suit jacket, white button-down undershirt, and jeans, he looked handsome. You had a brief thought about how great he would look without the buttons buttoned-up, and it sent your cheeks flaring red. He offered you a kind smile, sensing how flustered you were by him. Thankfully, he didn’t mention it.

“Do you mind if I sit with you, love?”

You were unable to find words, simply nodding at him. He took his place at your side and looked into your eyes the same way he had been doing at his table. Those brown eyes were more stunning in person. You felt like swooning.

“Thanks for the drink, by the way.”

You frowned. “I-I didn’t-”

Behind him, you caught sight of Blake. She winked at you and gave you a thumbs up. You sighed, looking back at the boy. “You’re welcome.”

“So, what’s your name?”

“{Y/N}. Yours?”

“Ross,” he confidently replied. “I-I um...I think you look utterly gorgeous tonight, {Y/N}. Truly.”

Smiling, you raised your glass to him. “Thanks. You look handsome tonight yourself, Ross.”

“I’m sorry if I was being too forward looking at you earlier. I swear I’m not some creep, I just think you are one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen before. Shit, that’s forward too.” He sighed, rather adorably sulking. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Blushing, you nodded. “I would love that, Ross.”

He ordered you a fruity drink similar to what Blake had shown up with before. You liked this one more though as it was not as overly fruity and had a bit of a bite to it. You felt like you needed that bite to keep yourself calm. You were increasingly so getting lost in his eyes, and it was sending your heart into a flurry. Nothing quite prepared your heart for the feeling of his hand resting on the small of your back. That nearly made it fly out of your chest.

“Do you like it?”

Nodding, you took one more sip and set it down. “I do, thank you.”

“Good. I was working up the courage actually to get it for you earlier,” he said with a chuckle. “I went back and forth with Matty on what to get you for so long that you beat me to it.”

You looked down at the table with a nervous laugh. You really owed Blake, as much as you wanted to yell at her. “W-Who’s Matty?”

Ross grinned and turned with you to look back at his table. He motioned towards the character. His face was now buried in his phone. “He’s a great guy, though completely mental. Gives good advice, though.”

“Was he pushing you to talk to me?”

“How did you know?”

“My friend Blake was doing the same,” you told him, motioning over to the girl with her eyes on a tall man with navy hair. “She told me that I needed to give you a chance.”

Nodding, Ross sipped from his drink. “Really? Were you scared to?”

Fuck. “I-I don’t normally look for guys at pubs. They aren’t as kind as you.”

The brilliant smile returned to Ross’ face. “I’m glad to break the stereotype for you. So, random question, but do you like music {Y/N}?”

You nod, raising your glass slightly. “Love it, actually. Why?”

“I’m in a band with Matty and the rest of them,” he mentioned. “We are set to perform here actually in a few days. I mean, not in this place, but you know...here. We could get you tickets, and maybe backstage passes if you want!”

Your jaw dropped. “No way. You’re serious, right?”

Ross crossed his heart with his finger. “Bass players never lie. Had Matty told you this? Well, that would be one thing. You can trust me, though. And Adam, our guitar player. We aren’t cryptic pricks.”

“Matty’s a cryptic prick?”

“He has his moments.” Ross smirked. “I love him, though. I’m sure he’d love to meet you.”

You smiled. “I’d love to meet him, too. Though, I’m quite partial to you.”

Your eyes widened. You never were that forward. Ever. Scrambling, you opened your mouth to apologize profusely with all your might. Ross’ hand gently rubbing your back made you speechless.

“Hey, it’s alright love, you can say how you feel. I won’t mind.” He gave you a soft, comforting smile. “I think it’s quite endearing, honestly. It’s rare to find a girl genuinely truthful about it.”

“Really?”

Sending your heart fluttering again, Ross leaned in and kissed your cheek. “Really. Look, I um...I think we have to go soon, but I really want to see more of you, {Y/N}. I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t see your pretty eyes again or see you blush again.” As if on cue, you blushed, making Ross laugh. “You’re adorable. Here, can I have your number? I can send you info about our concert, too.”

You nodded and quickly exchanged numbers with the boy. Ross MacDonald. His name was so fitting as it swam through your mind. You briefly thought about how your name would sound pretty great with that last name. {Y/N} MacDonald. It wouldn’t be the worst thing. You’re brought out of your thoughts with his hand moving from your back to take your hand. His hands were soft, warm, and just big enough to engulf yours into them. It sent a spark through you.

“I really want to know more about you,” he told you, squeezing your hand. “I cannot wait to see you again.”

“I can’t wait either,” you replied, eyes near sparkling look at him. “Save a pass for me, alright?”

He grinned. “Of course. Anything for you, beautiful eyes.”

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours, passionate, soft, conveying all that could not be said due to your time being cut short. The thrill it brought you was electric, and only heightened with the addition of his hand cupping your cheek to deepen the kiss. You kissed for a good minute before he pulled back, blushing, blinking down at you with those beautiful brown eyes. It was a sight you could never get over. Squeezing your hand once more, he bid you goodbye with a wave and headed back over to his friends. You watched with a dopey look on your face as the character, Matty, patted him on the back and grinned your way. His silly smiled made you smile back. He looked so proud of his friend for finally getting the courage to talk to you. Bounding over equally as proud came Blake. She grinned and hugged you tight.

“I saw you finally talk to him! You have to tell me everything! He was so cute with you. So feelsy, too!”

Gazing over at Ross again, you smiled and took another sip from the drink he had bought you. “Well...for starters, he has really, really beautiful eyes. And you know what? I think...I think I could really fall in love with that guy.”

Across the room, Ross turned to Matty and smiled, saying the exact same thing about you.

#ross macdonald #Ross MacDonald fanfiction #Ross MacDonald fanfic #the 1975 fanfiction #The 1975 fic #The 1975 imagine #The 1975 #The 1975 Oneshot #The 1975 preference #The 1975 writing #Ross MacDonald preference #Ross MacDonald imagine #Ross MacDonald writing #oneshot #Beautiful Eyes

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imsfire2 · 7 years

Text

The wedding

[My May the Fourth story for the lovely @hanorganaas]

[The prompt was “Jyn and Cassian’s wedding night”; I got a bit carried away with it and did the whole wedding]

“On Perralt they drink salt water at a wedding,” Bodhi says. Cassian looks up from his data pad and wrinkles his brow in distaste.

“Drinking salt water causes insanity and hallucinations in humans.” K-2 sounds intrigued. “Perhaps it’s symbolic.”

“It says here it’s supposed to make the bride and groom thirst for one another forevermore.”

Cassian turns to look across the cabin at Jyn as she moves about in the aft section, bending and stretching as she checks on the stowed shipment. As if cued by his silence, Jyn glances round and meets his gaze.

Her eyes go dream-swept for a moment and her lips curve. “That’s hardly a problem we need worry about.”

Cassian grins appreciatively. “Also we’re not planning a Perralti ceremony.” He shakes himself, imagining her skin against his own; goes back to the report he’s been writing for the last half hour. Scratches his beard and scribes another few lines before glancing up at Bodhi. ”Isn’t it Perralt where the best man and the bride’s attendant also have to marry?”

“No,” Bodhi says “That’s on Hroshor. And it’s only if the bride and groom both pass away before the wedding.”

“No plans for that,” Jyn says dryly.

“And I have no plans for marrying anyone,” K adds. “Even if it were legal. Which it is not.” He releases the connection catch on the gun he is cleaning and takes the sections apart carefully.

“Ah – ah, but –“ Bodhi scrolls through about ten back screens, searching – “on Eb’Isa it is. Here it is: ‘Eb’Isan droids, and off-world droids resident on Eb’Isa more than eight planetary months, may contract a marriage with other droids or organics, and may also act as proxy spouses in the event of –‘ - oh, this is fascinating! I wonder why that arose…” He reads on, silently, absorbed again in the encyclopaedia.

Cassian chuckles. “Well, there you have it, K. If you ever lose the heart of your circuits to a shiny astromech, you know where to go.”

“That is unlikely. Astromechs are very seldom shiny. And I have never understood why people consider them cute.”

“People like it when someone small and insignificant-looking is feisty and outspoken and brave beyond their size. It is cute. Especially if they bleep. You know, this is why I love Jyn.”

“I’ll make you bleep if you’re not careful,” his fiancée tells him, coming back into the main cabin. “Come on, Bodhi, surely you’ve read enough wedding customs by now?”

Bodhi shakes his head. “Barely started, I’m afraid. It’s a big old galaxy out there.” He grins up at them. “There’s got to be a perfect tradition somewhere for the two of you. Just let me keep researching, something’ll come up.”

Cassian asks “Did you go to any weddings when you were a child?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think my parents knew anyone well enough on Coruscant. And we were on Lah’mu less than a year. I’m sure there was a certain amount of sleeping around among the partisans but Saw frowned upon anyone forming close attachments. Said it was a sign of weakness.”

Her face has gone quiet. He reaches across to her, strokes her arm. Shifts along on the bench, inviting her to take the empty space beside him. “If it’s weakness, then we’re weak together.”

Jyn’s smile is small and closed-lipped as she sits down, but her eyes meet his with warmth, and stay. He falls into their sea-green beauty. For a moment the only sound is the throb of his pulse; that and the click and tap of K’s durasteel fingers working on the blaster.

“What are Festi weddings like?” Jyn asks. “I know you’ve never been back. But that’s where you got the idea of paired rings, isn’t it?”

He knows she wants a quiet wedding; practically the first thing she said when they discussed it was “simple, no fuss”. He’s thought about this but in the end it had seemed easier to avoid mentioning the other traditions of his home; he simply can’t picture the fireworks and drinking contests being what she has in mind. And the shouting, and the dancing; and the brilliant colours, all that red and yellow and violet blue. She’s put him on the spot now, and he tries to prevaricate. “They’re pretty loud and messy, not really what we’d been planning.” Jyn looks worried for a moment, and he offers the one thing that doesn’t make marrying on Fest sound like mayhem. “I remember there were always flowers. But flowers aren’t easy to get hold of, and it’s not important. All that matters is that we’re together and we’re with our friends.”

She squeezes his hand.

K-2 locks the gun barrel back together. “All done, ready for use!”

Standing at the front of the small chamber of ceremonies, waiting and waiting like this, is weirdly terrifying. He’s been in so many situations where torture or even death were imminent, and it shocks him to realise this feels worse. It should be the happiest moment of his life but he has never been so nervous.

At some point K has become as attached to the concept of “wedding traditions” as Bodhi, and is now refusing to allow him to look round at the guests as they come in, in case of incurring something he refers to, with completely deadpan solemnity, as “bad luck”. Cassian can hear the doors hissing open and shut, the sound of footsteps and murmuring voices. But with the exception of the two beings in front of him and the droid at his side, he cannot see anyone.

The celebrant and co-celebrant are both, in their different ways, pretty impressive. Admiral Ackbar has turned out in full ceremonial dress uniform, snow-white and gold, with huge padded sleeves and massive pleated ruffles that mount up his back like fins. General Draven looks as though he’s been ironed to within an inch of his life; and he’s smiling, which is downright intimidating.

K-2 chatters. If he didn’t know better he would think his best man was nervous too. But it’s probably meant to be reassuring.

Cassian picks at the starched cuff of his jacket. This is all taking so long…

“Good luck, Cassian,” says K; and reaches out to turn him gently round.

There’s music playing; bright, joyful music with woodwind and brass and a march rhythm. It helps him to smile as his best man repositions him; as he wonders whether he really would have been incapable of turning unaided (his legs feel strange enough that it’s not impossible); as he sees Jyn approaching, down the centre aisle between the ranks of guests, with Bodhi at her back grinning like a kid.

Like him, she’s wearing uniform. The formal grey-green jacket and snug pants fit her figure closely. Like him she has a line of small medals and ribbons on her chest; fewer than his, but just as well-polished. Like him, she has a smile that is 20% nerves and 80% sudden incredulous happiness.

Unlike him, she’s wearing flowers.

Her dark hair is brushed and parted but where normally it would be bound into a bun with a plain tie, today it hangs over her shoulders and down her back in loose chestnut brown waves. Wrapped over her head, holding the swept-back locks away from her face, is a broad, piled up band of crimson and gold and violet-blue flowers.

Bodhi is wearing one, too, and carrying what looks like a third. The brilliant colours of a traditional Festi wedding crown. As they reach the front of the aisle he passes it to Jyn and she reaches up to place it on Cassian’s head.

Her lip quivers, and he has a struggle not to cry. He’s biting his own lip as they turn, hand in hand at last, to face the Admiral.

“Friends and comrades, welcome to this happy gathering…”

The ceremony itself is short and simple. Elements of it will stay in Cassian’s memory forever. Discovering that his flowers must have been kept in water till the very last minute, as a hundred icy-cold drips sink into his hair. Jyn’s expression when K-2 produces the rings from his thoracic storage slot. Admiral Ackbar’s improvised flourishes of poetic language, and the astonishing realisation at one moment that Draven is trying not to laugh at a particularly choice phrase.

Signing the register and seeing Jyn sign her name beside his. She writes “Jyn Andor”, without hesitation. One would almost think she had been practising.

The realisation, as the wedding party comes into the main canteen to eat afterwards, that the reason rations have seemed unusually dull of late has been because the cooks were preparing baked goods and saving up fresh ingredients for today.

K-2’s speech, spectacular even by his standards.

Chirrut and Baze dancing. The Twi’leks dancing. The sword dances, the candle dances…

The extraordinary amounts of alcohol, from high quality wines to the rawest hooch, that people have brought.

Bodhi, drunk. Luke Skywalker drunk. Leia Organa Solo, quietly tipsy, admitting it was she who three years ago set up the SkyPilot Kiss Sweepstake that has run so successfully since, and raised so much credit for the Alderaan refugee relief fund. Her husband laughing so much he falls off his seat.

Chewbacca and the diminutive Takodanan pirate singing duets, very drunk indeed.

The fireworks.

In lieu of the honeymoon they won’t be able to begin till it’s operationally feasible, they’ve been assigned an unoccupied suite in Command quarters for their wedding night. It’s huge, easily four times the size of their room in officers’ quarters. A bed made up in crisp, ironed sheets and soft quilts, a ‘fresher so big there’d be room to dance in the shower; even a tiny personal kitchen unit.

“Look, Jyn, I can cook for you!”

“Cassian, I’m stuffed. All that fruit cake. All that cheese!”

“You didn’t have to eat all the cheese.”

“Oh, I did…”

“Okay, maybe you did. Mrs Andor.”

Jyn strolls into the refresher and he hears the taps running at the basin. After a moment she calls “I’m putting my flowers in water – do you want to put yours in, too?”

He follows her and leans on the doorframe, watching.

One of the dahlias in her crown has begun to collapse, and when she lifts it away from her head it leaves a scattering of hot gold petals in her hair. She settles the crown carefully on the surface of the water, stems immersed and flowers floating.

“Did Bodhi get the flowers right?” she asks. “He was worried they’d be the wrong kind, or the wrong colours…”

“They’re beautiful. He found the right colours, just perfect, the traditional ones. Flowers – flowers were such a huge luxury on Fest, because of the cold. So we only wore them for really special occasions, to show how highly we honour someone or how much we love them. I still can’t believe how stunning you looked when I turned round. It was like a dream.” He takes off his own crown and examines it thoughtfully. “You’re supposed to press one bloom from each of them in a big book and keep them forever. But we don’t have any paper books.”

“We could freeze them?” Jyn suggests. “Or preserve them in liquid nitro?”

“Let’s think about that tomorrow, shall we?”

He lowers the circlet of crimson and gold and blue into the water beside hers.

There’s a mirror above the basin. Cassian slides his arms round her and pulls her close, her back warm against his chest, and they stand looking at their reflections above the basin full of colour.

“Captain and Mrs Andor,” Jyn says. “Well, well…”

“So, Mrs Andor…” He nuzzles under her ear and kisses her. “Do you want to have a shower – or a bath, look - when did you last see an actual bath tub? – or do you want to consummate our marriage?”

In the glass he sees Jyn’s smile slowly blossom into a wide open grin. Even now it’s unusual to see her smile so broadly. “Consummate,” she says. “I like that word. And after all, it is our wedding night.”

After years when being together meant the rare bits of time they could snatch between missions, days numbered as soon as they began, exhausted nights sleeping curled against one another, it still seems strange to have leisure. The bed looks unnervingly luxurious, and the cleanliness and spaciousness and excess of comfort all make Cassian feel oddly nervous.

He toes off his shoes carelessly and pushes them under the console shelf. Fiddles with his collar, unused to this formal wear with all the extra buttons. Hears Jyn mutter a swear word, and looks up to find she too is struggling with fastenings, with her head down and slightly turned away. This is supposed to be the most romantic moment of their lives, and here they both are, awkwardly undressing, shy of one another and of the solemnity of the night.

But this is Jyn, who he trusts more than any living being in the universe. The heart of his heart.

He moves to her side of the bed quickly. She’s got the jacket off now and is folding it neatly, glancing round for somewhere to put it. The tension that has made him discard his shoes has got her suddenly tidy and anxious. She looks up startled into his face as he joins her, and he takes the jacket and tosses it on the console; raises his hands to help her with the shirt. It strikes him as ridiculous that it should be easier to undo someone else’s clothing than one’s own.

His hands move quickly and neatly down, slipping each button free. As he reaches her waist she lays her own hands over his, stilling him. He looks up, meets her eyes.

There’s heat in their sea-coloured depths that catches a fire in him, now as always. Now and forever, he thinks, and is glad.

They are standing very close now, almost breathing one another’s breath. He thinks of their first time, both of them still stiff and bruised from Scarif, scars barely scabbed, hair smelling of bacta in the humid air; of the mingled perspiration, the clumsy, desperate need, overwhelming, insatiable, fulfilled at last. Thinks of nights on the ice, clinging, trying to conserve every scrap of body heat. He pushes the fabric of her dress uniform shirt slowly off her shoulders, first one side and then the other; slides it down her arms, those deceptively slender arms, hard with muscle. The shirt falls behind her as she pulls its tails out of her waistband and lets it drop to the floor. Very gently she raises one arm to embrace his neck while the other steals round his back.

She’s still gazing into his face. He’s still burning and drowning in her eyes, he sees how her gaze flicks across his features, taking him in as she’s done so many times. If he were bloody or beaten now, she would be noting each wound. He remembers standing like this, light passing in broad bands, the vibration of the elevator almost too much for him to stay standing; seeing her take in how broken he was, how he shook with pain and exhaustion. Seeing her joy break and fall in the face of his injuries, her eyes filling with loss anticipated, with the knowledge they were descending not to hope but to death, his death and very probably hers.

The memory must be in his eyes now; Jyn moves her hand to his cheek, stroking him, her thumb brushing across his lips. A faint crease of concern comes and goes between her brows.

He pulls her to him, as he had wanted to do that day when he’d lacked the strength to make another move unaided. All her warmth presses against him and she raises her mouth to his. The intensity of desire and the intensity of memory twine together through every feeling, every thought; what they have been and what they are now, inseparable. He would not change it, because all that pain led to this now. Will there ever be a day when Jyn’s mouth on his does not feel sacred? He is a man born on the grey ice, and he holds fire in his arms and is bathed in it, and knows it is his life.

These lips parting on his, tender, inviting; lips he has seen split and bruised, bloodied, clenched in pain. These hands caressing him, that he has seen gone limp in unconsciousness, or shaking, strapped in reddened bandages, cradled against her panting breast.

All of his longing still unassuaged, trembling, welcoming and begging, just as hers does. Life, not death; hope, and the certainty of something more than a dead ending. One another.

Hands touch, and every grazing contact is like the kiss of sunlight. Jyn’s mouth on his is hot and wet, her tongue teasing his; he presses back joyfully and suddenly she begins to giggle.

“What?” He breaks off from her lips, breathless, aching, alive. Begins to grin stupidly at the sight in his arms; Jyn the taciturn shield-maiden who allowed no-one to approach her; Jyn laughing, half-naked, with flower petals in her hair.

“I am so happy,” she says. Sparkling-eyed; then her smile clamps shut in disbelief for a moment at the sound of the words. It wavers back and returns with a little doubting gasp. “So happy – I don’t know how to be so happy…”

Cassian takes her face between his hands, presses his own smile to hers. “Querida…”

“Te quiero,” Jyn says when their lips part again; speaking very precisely and carefully, as though it is she teaching him the words.

“Te quiero, te amo,” he murmurs back. He kisses down her neck into the hollow of her collar bone. “Mi amor…”

“Mi amor…” Her hands are in his hair, fingertips stroking, smoothing then ruffling it again, probing in to draw the shape of his skull. “Oh, my love.”

“My love…” Cassian slips the straps of her bra off her shoulders and pushes the soft cups down with his mouth, trailing kisses onto one breast. A bubble of triumphant amusement escapes him as he manages to udo the back clasp one-handed. “Ah, got it first time!”

“Mi amor – how do you say ‘hurry up and finish undressing me’ in Festi?”

She has that challenge look on her face that he’s seen countless times and loves more than he knows how to say; as though she’ll fight him even in play, and trusts him never to retaliate except in the same way. The last ghosts of past pain vanish as he starts to chuckle. “What about me? When do I start to get undressed?”

For answer Jyn reaches out and carefully unfastens one jacket button for him. “Kiss me.”

He kisses her upper lip.

She shrugs off the bra and lets it fall.

“Again?” he asks.

“Yes please, Cassian. Husband.”

Another kiss, to the corner of her smiling mouth. Another button. Then she slides her hands inside the half-opened jacket and tugs the shirt out of his pants; works her hands inside it, strokes up his spine till she’s clasping the wings of his shoulder blades.

The next kiss is long and hot again, till they are both breathless.

“You want to get another button for me?” Cassian pants. “Or shall I just rip everything off now?”

She laughs, as out of breath as he, and begins systematically unfastening his jacket and then his shirt. He throws both garments off and catches hold of her hands; draws them to his lips, kisses each fingertip in turn. Then bends and scoops her up, and carries her to the bed, and the next embrace.

He wakes with the taste of salt on his lips, and Jyn’s body warm against his side. The lamps are still burning, and he’s fallen asleep with his head pillowed on her bosom, her left hand resting in his hair. His mouth is mere inches from a long scar, one that puckers down from the collar bone almost to her nipple.

He remembers the day she took that blow. So many times he has almost lost her. So many scars like this, left behind.

Cassian raises his head, props himself on his elbows, and looks at his wife.

Her hair is down, tangled around her on the pillow, and her face is soft in sleep, all the lines and shadows eased, at rest. She almost looks just her age; a bare twenty-six, still not much more than a girl in some societies, and no older than he was when they first knew one another. But the shuttered, broken fury he met on Yavin 4 has gone; has changed, has flowered and grown strong. And his own shut, broken life has opened and grown with hers. He never thought to see his thirtieth year. Never thought to see the peace.

Scarred, sleeping Jyn beside him, the catalyst that changed the course of the war, and saved countless billions of lives, his own among them.

They’ll build some kind of a future together; make some kind of home, find some kind of new roles, now the Alliance is beginning to wind down intelligence operations at last. They’ll raise a child together, and face that and all the other challenges of this new life, together.

He kisses the length of the nearest scar, from the shoulder down to her breast. Lingers for a moment at the lower end, feeling Jyn stir in her sleep and shift her weight beneath him. The hand that had slipped from his hair comes back, feeling for him, finding him. He moves his lips slowly down, onto the nipple, and kisses and nibbles at her there; hears her voice give a happy mumble, still half asleep, feels a breath of laughter moving through her body.

“Good morning,” she murmurs.

“Good morning,” Cassian says, and goes on kissing.

He moves to the old burn at the side of her ribs; then to the knife scar just below her sternum. Corellia, Lothal. The knife wound had been small, but deep, she’d bled quietly for hours while outside the viewports the frenzied blue of hyperspace blurred time, and Cassian swore and sweated in fear and tried to gun some tiny further margin of speed from the engines.

The next scar is the neat one on the right side of her abdomen; the mission to infiltrate a medical facility on Ennoch 3, where their cover was inadvertently improved instead of blown, by Jyn’s appendicitis.

There’s a circular pucker next to her hip bone, a direct hit from a projectile gun on Naator; and below that another long one, jagged and irregular as an earthquake fracture, scissoring round her left thigh; shrapnel that tore through her quadriceps, one of the few times he’s ever heard her scream aloud in pain. That was another bleeder, another close call. He kisses the scar slowly and tenderly; every inch of healed skin holding the life in, the death out.

Jyn’s hand strokes his hair sleepily. “Do I get to kiss all your scars next?” she asks.

“If you want to.”

“I’d like that. There are a lot of them…”

“This is true…”

Reaching the inner edge of the shrapnel scar he nuzzles in; spreads her thighs slowly, works his way in between her legs. Tender rose-red flesh throbs under his tongue and Jyn groans softly.

That bittersweet taste, the musk of her body, with its edge of salt seas and sweetness; her movements under him suddenly going weak and soft; it’s the fire he’s never extinguished, the turn-on he’s never come close to exhausting, feeling her trust in every helpless sound she makes, every unresisting muscle. He pulses his tongue against her, quick and hard, licking and sucking while she shivers, shudders, moans, gasps his name. When she comes he slides a finger inside her and presses home while her walls flutter and clench in a wild grip. He’ll never be able to get enough of this; it’s still as much a shock and a delight today as it first was five years ago, to hear and feel her coming apart, allowing herself to let go, for him.

As the pulse of her orgasm begins to slow he works his way back up her body, and she touches him, and guides him in, slowly, till he is sheathed in her wet, close heat, hanging breathless above her. Her eyes open, the fire of oceans, melting, dissolving, and there’s no defence between them, nothing but skin on skin, heart on heart. The weakening throbbing inside her as she comes down is almost unbearably arousing and he pushes deep and draws back, moaning into her neck “Jyn, Jyn…” unsure how long he can hold on. Wanting never to come, and to keep coming forever, never to lose this perfect tenderness, this vulnerability; his strength safe inside hers, this miracle…

Jyn clutches onto him, quickening again, muscles pulsating and tightening. Her hands grip his back convulsively and her voice in his ear is small and fearless and ecstatic: “I love you, I love you…” Cassian whimpers and comes, losing everything in her embrace, the world going dark; nothing left but her arms wrapped round him, her body holding him, her heartbeat drumming against his skin. “Yes, yes, yes…”

They sleep again, tangled together, limb upon limb and breast against breast. This night and all the many nights to come.

#hanorganaas #rebelcaptainmay4 #therebelcaptainnetwork #story swap #may the fourth be with you #happy star wars day #fluff feels and smut #I hope you enjoy #my writing

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volatileuniverse-blog · 7 years

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TRAILBLAZER - THE SCORCHING SPEEDSTER EPISODE 2: THE ZERO TO HERO SCHEME

LATER AT THE PERCEPTION CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT…

“HE GOT AWAY!?” The police chief thunders at TrailBlazer with a mild Italian accent. They are both standing in The Chief’s office in front of his large desk with scatted papers on it.

The chief is wearing a police outfit, only decorated with a lot of small different colored ribbons. On the left side of his chest, there is a name tag with “Giuseppe” plated on it. His hair is full and styled to the right with hints of grey on both sides. His eyes are green and sharp with crow’s feet and light bags underneath. His nose is large and pointed and his lips are thin and pink with a light, full, beard that’s starting to grey. “HOW DO YOU LOSE SOMETHING THAT BIG?”

“I couldn’t see, I burned out my contacts.” TrailBlazer counters.

“Why do you even wear them when you’re just going to use your heat vision?!” Giuseppe exclaims.

“I didn’t know that was going to happen!” TrailBlazer argues. “It just happened.”

“Why the hell are you using powers that you have no control over, then!?” Giuseppe asks.

“It’s a high-stress reflex! I’m not going to just shoot beams from my eyes from sneezing.” He answers.

“Ok,” Giuseppe says lowering his tone. “Aside from you being a blind beam of heat, how did you lose him when he was right in front of you?”

“He psyched me out.” TrailBlazer starts. “He looked at me and I just…”

“Why?” Giuseppe questions, throwing his hands out.

“I have arachnophobia…”

“GOT DAMNIT!” Giuseppe bursts while turning and swiping his hand, violently, across the table, sweeping papers along with his distinguished chief hat. TrailBlazer's eyes expand before Giuseppe quickly turns back around. “You mean to tell me you let a huge ass spider man get away because of a fucking phobia?” Giuseppe blurts, slightly turning red. “Well, look at you! You just think you’re special, huh? You think you can go through life just avoiding things you’re afraid of?”

“If possible.” TrailBlazer answers shortly after.

“If any of my officers were afraid of doing a drug bust because ‘there might be rats in there’ I’ll smoke their ass so fast they’ll think they’re chopped fucking ham!”

“Do you know how hard it is for me to just look at a spider?”

“And there it is!” Giuseppe shouts. “You didn’t catch Tyrantula because you couldn’t look at him. Well, now I can’t look at you.”

“That’s harsh, chief.” TrailBlazer adds with a straight face.

“You’re useless, TrailBlazer.” Giuseppe retorts.

“Hold on a sec.” TrailBlazer squints. “I’ve brought damn near seven Malformed into custody by myself. How does not catching one man knock me down to zero?”

“Because you’re on my team, and on my team, it’s either ‘do’ or ‘don’t expect a damn pat on the back for failing’.” Giuseppe states.

“Could have fooled me.” Says under his voice.

“What?” Giuseppe questions, raising one eyebrow.

“I said ‘I’m seeing a lot of blame being thrown around but no solutions’.”

“You want a solution?” Giuseppe answers with anger before walking behind his desk. “Alright, I got a solution for your ass.” He says digging into his drawer, TrailBlazer’s eyes widening. Giuseppe places a portable radio transceiver on his table as TrailBlazer softly exhales. “Take this radio. If anything remotely looks like a spider, call it in.” He states. “I’m putting together a special task force that uses this radio’s frequency,” Giuseppe explains. “I was going to lead the investigation myself but why do that when you have all the super powers.”

“See?” TrailBlazer starts, taking the radio. “Solutions.”

“Now get the hell out of my office.” Giuseppe orders.

“Ok, gladly.” TrailBlazer complies, starting to walk for the door.

“And if that radio breaks, it’s coming out of your paycheck.” Giuseppe adds as TrailBlazer turns around, mouth agape. “Get the hell out of my office before I fasten your black ass to a chair.” Giuseppe threatens as TrailBlazer exhales before turning around and heading out. TrailBlazer closes Giuseppe’s door and heads down the hallway towards the exit to the back of the station. He presses the door open walking out onto the parking lot, cool breezes blowing by.

“How you doing, Boopie?” A woman’s, playful, voice sounds off behind him. TrailBlazer turns around to see a woman smiling and sitting on the roof of the station, swinging her legs.

The woman’s skin is a pure white. She’s wearing a pitch black, full body unitard with an inverted heart-shaped cleavage window. Over her tights, she’s wearing a neck-high, pure red, corset, with thin vertical black trim, that pushes up her bust. On her lower body, she sports a white, small pouched, utility belt that wraps around her small pair of matching red, spandex short-shorts. Her red heeled boots are knee-high and she has a pair of red gloves with white trim around the opening, on her hands. Her face is round, her nose is small and pointed and her lips are thin and a distracting red to match the rest of her outfit. She’s also wearing a black domino mask over her eyes and has very shiny, wavy, brown hair that hangs down to her butt.

“Hey, Queen,” TrailBlazer says in a low tone. “I’m alright.”

”I don’t believe you,” She starts. “You’re not as red as you usually are when you see me.” She explains before extending her hand between her legs for TrailBlazer to take. “Come up here and tell me what’s the matter, baby.” She offers, softly. TrailBlazer sighs before running up the side of the precinct and taking Queen’s hand. She pulls him up with ease and places him on her lap. TrailBlazer’s eyes lower as he scoots off her lap, sitting next to her. “Aww.” She says in disappointment.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of that spider guy running around town causing trouble.” TrailBlazer starts.

“Oh no, not spiders! You have arachnophobia.” She states, worried.

“Yeah, and I can count on three hands how many fucks The Chief gives. And now I’m on a man-hunt to find that ugly bastard.”

“Giuseppe?”

“What? No! Tyrantula.” TrailBlazer corrects with a confused look on his face. “That fucker pinned me and I blasted him right in the face with my heat vision but it burned my contacts in the process so I couldn’t see anymore.”

“Aww, not your contacts, again.” Queen tells, sincerely.

“Yep…” TrailBlazer says.

“Well, I don’t think it’s fair that you have to find something you’re afraid of so I’m going to help you find him.” She insists, determined.

“But I thought you didn’t want to be my partner.” TrailBlazer tells, puzzled.

“This isn’t about being your partner, it’s about me making sure you don’t face your fears alone.” She clarifies.

“I appreciate it but I can’t have you help me on this one.” He rejects as she looks at him with animosity.

“Why not? Is there a ho that’s going to help you ‘on this one’?” Queen questions, squinting.

“What? No!” TrailBlazer assures. “If I find thi-”

“Good.” She states with a straight face as he stares back at her with a slight squint for a short bit.

“…If I find this guy,” He slowly continues. “I’ll have to call it in.” He explains. “Which means if you’re there when Giuseppe’s new task force comes in, I’m going to have to take you in too.”

“I’m sure you didn’t give your boss your cell phone number to contact this ‘ho force’.” Queen says, certain.

“No.” He answers

“Good, because you haven’t given me your number, yet.” She states. “So what are you using to call them in?” She asks before TrailBlazer digs into his utility belt. He pulls out the transceiver, closing the pouch.

“This.” He shows her as she places both her hands on her cheeks flabbergasted.

“Ooo! Can I see it?!” She asks

“No…” He denies.

“Aww come on, I’m not going to break it.” Queen prods, smiling.

“I never said you were and now it’s a definite ‘no’.” He states placing back into his belt.

“Fine.” Queen, submits, crossing her arms, pouting. “Well, now we’re never going to find Tyrantula.” She adds.

“How is using my radio going to help us find Tyrantula?” TrailBlazer quizzes as Queen grins.

“What do tarantulas eat?” Queen questions.

“I don’t know, little black boys?” TrailBlazer shrugs.

“No, that’s racist. Try again.” She insists.

“Radios?” TrailBlazer answers, unsure.

“No, that’s techist.” She corrects.

“Queen!” TrailBlazer chastises.

“Tarantulas eat bugs.” She finally educates.

“What are you getting at?” TrailBlazer asks.

“If tarantulas eat bugs then high chance Tyrantula’s tap-dancing in the Keenston Forest where all the bugs are.” She clarifies, smiling wide.

“Tap dancing?” TrailBlazer questions, squinting.

“Yeah, so all we have to do is lure him out and I know just how to do it.” She tells with a mischievous smile, standing up.

“How?” TrailBlazer asks, standing up as well.

“First, I’ll need your walkie talkie.” She states holding her hand out.

“For what?” TrailBlazer queries, skeptical, as Queen lets out a loud groan.

“Do you want to catch Tyrantula or not?” She crosses her arms, holding one hand out.

“Fine!” TrailBlazer succumbs, digging back into his utility belt. He holds the radio over her hand then reluctantly drops it into her hand.

“Thank-ie kindly!” She appreciates. Without hesitation, she throws the tech onto the ground and stomps it under her boot. TrailBlazer freaks out, placing his hands on his head.

“WHAT THE FUCK, QUEEN!?” He bursts.

“Shhh… shhhh.” She says, placing her gloved finger to his thick lips. “That’s the first step.” She tells removing her finger. “Now your boss won’t get mad for not calling him.”

“Yeah, but that shit comes out of my paycheck!” He illuminates, pissed, as she realizes.

“Oh… I’m sorry.” She apologizes as she turns her back to him, stepping backwards into his arms. “So what are you going to do to me for breaking your toy, TrailBlazer? She seductively asks, kicking away pieces of the transceiver. “Are you going to break me?” She asks as she presses her butt into him.

“What? No! I’m mad at you. Let’s just go.” He states as she giggles with glee.

“Aww, okay. But take me home first?” She asks.

“You mean to that abandoned hospital you said I’m not allowed to go inside of? What for?” TrailBlazer asks.

“I can give you something there that might help your vision problem.” She explains as TrailBlazer’s eyebrow raises.

“Queen, that’s never helped my vision before.” He says with emphases making her giggle again.

“Not that, silly… that’s for later. I have been working on something there that’ll help your vision.” She explains before jumping into his arms. “Carry me?” She asks, looking up at him with her big brown eyes as he sighs out of inevitable affection.

“Alright.” He says looking down at her with a grin. “Just hold on tight, okay?”

“YAY!” She cheers. “Kisses?” She asks, batting her eyes and making him chuckle a bit.

“Come here, girl.” He orders as he leans down but soon stops. “Just one, okay?” He adds as she nods with agreement. TrailBlazer gently presses his soft lips to hers, holding her firmly in his arms. She moans a bit as they detach their lips from one another. Holding his queen, firmly, TrailBlazer hops off the roof and lands without struggle. “WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” She cheers as TrailBlazer takes off down the road, leaving a trail of dust.

#my ocs #writing #original characters #romantic #romance #trailblazer #queenofhearts #volatile universe

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