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pigtownchronicles · 3 years

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Chapter 2.4 - The Broker

The phone call on Monday had been cryptic:

“Brokerage,” a rather deep voice had said on the other end of the line, after Barry dialed the number he’d been given.

“Yes, hello. My name is Barry Gersholm. I was given a card with this number to contact a Mr. Ian Miller.”

There was a bit of silence. “Who gave you the number?”

“A fellow named Hugh.”

“Are you buying or selling?”

“Excuse me?”

“Buying or selling?”

“I guess...I’m not sure? I was told that I...uh...had some assets that might be valuable. Selling, I guess?”

A little more silence than before. The man asked him for his name again, gave Barry an address to write down, didn’t repeat it, and then hung up.

It was not the sort of business contact Barry was used to dealing with, but then, nothing about Hugh, or Depot, had been anything like he’d expected. The more he thought about it, though, the less likely it seemed like something he ought to do. He had no idea who this person was. If he told Dennis where he was going, he would have a conniption--taking a drug dealer up on a possible job offer with a third party, without knowing anything about what they did? Was he an idiot? Maybe he was, he thought, but at the same time, it was exciting. He couldn’t really remember the last time he’d taken a risk--an actual risk, barebacking while on PrEP didn’t really count, not that Dennis could know about that either. That evening, he thought about telling him, but didn’t. Tuesday morning, at the office, he spent all day trying to figure out how to get out early. He had never been good at believable excuses. Richard checked in with him again, and his smarmy fucking demeanor made him want to be there even less.

“Hey Richard, I’m gonna take off early, get a little work down at home this evening,” he said, “I got a doctor’s appointment, hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, any meetings you might miss?”

“Nothing on the schedule.”

“Then no problem. Oh, but in exchange, you have to promise to come out with the rest of the team on Friday. I want us to have a little party, you know, to celebrate our near completion of the project.”

More likely, it was to celebrate his own promotion, but Barry agreed to go. If nothing else, it would be beer he didn’t have to buy on a Friday night. Around three-thirty, he packed up his stuff and left the building, and about ten to four, he arrived at the address that had been given to him. It was a rather dilapidated house, looking like it had survived a few rezonings in its time--on one side was a liquor store, and on the other, a little string of businesses being run out of repurposed buildings like this one, until they ran up against a sizable apartment building that took up the rest of the block. Unlike those other little shops, this one didn’t seem to have a sign anywhere around it, but the address was right. He walked up the steps, gave a knock on the door, and after a moment, it opened up, revealing a rather tall fellow in business casual, maybe a bit younger than Barry was. “Barry, right?” he asked. It was the same voice from over the phone, but in person, he was putting off a little more charm.

“Yeah, you must be Ian,” Barry said, and the man nodded as they shook hands.

“Come on in, let’s have a chat.”

Barry followed him into the living room, which still felt more like a living room than the meeting room it might be used as. There, sitting in a sagging armchair, was Hugh. Ian sat in a second armchair, leaving Barry the couch in front of them both. He gave a little nod to Hugh, but he wasn’t quite sure what to make of this. If he’d been suspicious that they were selling drugs before, he was almost certain of it now, and he wasn’t sure this was the sort of move he wanted to make. Best to go through the motions, though. He pulled his resume out and handed it to Ian, who set it aside without looking at it. “Hugh and I have been talking about his impression of you on Friday, and I asked him to join me for our chat today, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t,” Barry said, “I suppose I just feel a bit in the dark about all of this. What exactly is it you do here?”

“The growth in this part of the city over the last year has opened up a number of possibilities that would have been unimaginable before,” Ian said, putting on a tone not unlike half the tech startup gurus who were rotated through his office for various seminars each year, “I have found myself in a rather fortuitous position, to be able to offer folks the ability to take part in a commodities trade unlike anything that has been in existence before this.”

Barry nodded along, and then decided he didn’t quite feel like nodding. He was being sold a line of bullshit already. “That all sounds very fascinating, but it doesn’t tell me anything--I’ve been in sales long enough to know a pitch when I hear one. Just be straight with me.”

Ian looked over at Hugh, and gave him a look that could have meant a number of things, part shrug, part curiosity, perhaps.

“I’m a broker, as it says on my card. But what I buy and sell isn’t anything...physical, exactly. I’m in the business of buying and selling emotions, experiences, pasts and futures. Livelihoods.”

“Sounds like drugs.”

Ian gave another one of his little shrugs. “You sound like that’s what you were expecting, but no. I know Hugh has many hustles, but this isn’t drugs, not exactly. Like I said, I’m merely a broker, trying to help men find their way to happiness. Everyone has things they don’t like about their life, of course. But to someone walking down the street, perhaps that life you have is exactly what might make them happy. You in turn, might desire aspects of another. My services and skills help men like this connect, and make one another happy. To give each other the assets that they no longer appreciate.”

“That...what does that even mean?”

“Here, let me show you something,” Ian said, picked up a remote control, and turned on the TV hanging on the wall.

Barry recognized the location--it was the couch where he was currently sitting, but instead, a rather slender, twinky fellow was sitting there. “I’ve tried to gain weight all my life, I guess. I’ve always just had this strange desire to be...fatter. I can’t really explain it. I know I should be happy with how I look, but I’m not,” the young man said, “Can...you really help me?”

The video cut to the young man lying on a table in a sterile looking room. It looked like hyperlapse, what came next, but it was too smooth. The man’s body began to swell, packing on weight while he laid there, seemingly in a matter of moments. He went from a lean 170 to well over 300 pounds, and after the strange transformation, the video cut back to the couch, where the...new man was sitting, grinning with delight.

“How are you feeling? Adjusting well?” Ian’s voice said from off screen.

“Fuck, I’ve never felt better man, I finally...feel like I have the body I was supposed to have. I know that sounds a bit sick, but I can’t thank you enough.”

Ian paused the video, and waited a moment while Barry digested what he’d just witnessed. “That’s just one of many, many testimonials I could show you. Some changes are physical, like this young man. Others want a different persona. Others want a different line of work, a different past, a different family. Anything that you want to sell, I can try and find a buyer to connect you with, or if not, I’m also happy to take unwanted aspects in exchange for payment.”

“I...that’s unbelievable.”

They watched a few more videos, and either Ian should have been in Hollywood doing special effects, or he was telling the truth. Hugh slipped in then, and made a pitch. “I could see that you wanted another chance there at the club. A younger body, carefree, able to dance the night away, resilience and vigor and all of those wonderful things. You, in turn, have a respectable career, a husband who you seem at odds with. But those things could be an asset to someone else, and you, in turn, could have what you wanted on Friday night.”

Ian had gotten up for a moment, went to a glass display case on the wall, pulled a little jar from it, and returned to where they were sitting. He tapped a small bit of the powder out from inside the jar, and made a small line on the coffee table. “Here, this isn’t the real thing, but I’ve managed to...synthesize, some of what I do downstairs for folks. If you want a little taste of what I can offer you, try this.”

“So it is drugs.”

“It’s an emerging product line, still in development. I merely want to help you fully understand what I can offer you. I assure you they’re completely safe. The effect only will last a few minutes.”

A bit suspicious, and thinking it would probably be just a little bit of coke, since all of this had to be a very complex ruse, or scam, or...something. He took the hit anyway, because he felt like he deserved a little coke for listening to this bullshit, but what happened when it hit him was unlike any drug he’d experienced before.

He wasn’t...in the house anymore. He was in a club. What club didn’t matter, what did matter was the pounding of the music, the throbbing energy in his body, and when Barry looked down at himself, it wasn’t...his body he was looking at. He was slender, and young, and vibrant, with a...sizable bulge in the front of the skimpy underwear he was wearing with nothing else. But he wasn’t there to look at himself, he was there to dance, and vibe, and it felt like he could do this forever. The euphoria that washed over him wasn’t from a drug, it was the sheer thrill of that moment, and just as he grasped it and held it, believed it, it was gone--and he was sitting on the couch again, eyes tearing up slightly, while Hugh and Ian watched.

“Now do you understand? That could be you. For real.”

“I think...I think I need to go,” Barry said, wiping his eyes. That had been....too exquisite. Too tempting. He needed some distance to think about this.

“No worries, my offers are always open ended. You take the time you need to come to the decision that would make you happy. You wouldn’t be the first to walk away from it--sometimes, knowing what you could have is enough to make you appreciate what you already possess. I’m merely offering you the possibility of something else, alright?”

Barry retreated back to his car, and just sat in the silence for a while. He could feel it, the pulse of the music in his bones again...but was that really what he wanted? It would be pleasurable, sure. Fleeting, maybe. But what was really missing from his life didn’t seem like something that could be bought and sold. But then, what if it could be?

***

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#pigtown #age regression #drugs #hallucination

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soullistrations · 4 years

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Summer’s Best Hairstyle

(crossposted to ao3, link in the notes)

“Hey. Hey.”

Someone is tugging on Luo Ji’s blanket. Why is someone tugging on his blanket? He groans, pulling back on the blanket unhappily and squeezing his eyes further shut as he rolls away from whoever it is that’s trying to get him out of bed. His alarm has not gone off yet, and no way is he getting up until it does.

The tugging stops, and Luo Ji is momentarily, sleepily grateful until a hand thumps onto his shoulder and starts shaking him. “Hey, Luo Ji. Are you awake?”

It’s Baozi. Of course it’s fucking Baozi. Luo Ji gathers up all the ire he can muster this early in the morning as he rolls back over, and opens his eyes long enough to level a bleary-eyed glower at his terrible roommate. “What. Do you want.” he says.

Baozi grins and crouches down quickly to rest his elbows on the edge of the mattress. “Oh, good, you’re up! Do you know how to braid hair?”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Luo Ji groans incredulously, burying his face in his pillow.

It’s supposed to be a rhetorical question—it’s supposed to tell Baozi to take a hint and let him sleep—but Baozi answers anyway. “Well, it’s summer, which is the best season for braids, and I found this cool tutorial online for something called a fishtail braid, but I tried to do it and it didn’t work because I think it’s one of those braids that someone else has to do for you. Back in X City, I have this friend who’s really good at braiding my hair…one sec, let me send you the video.” Baozi pauses and a second later Luo Ji’s phone buzzes from his nightstand just to the right of where Baozi is already kneeling.

Luo Ji doesn’t move, but Baozi, undeterred, rattles on for a moment about how complicated this braid is. Then chirpy music starts playing and a female voice says, “Hi, and welcome to Hair Sense!”

Luo Ji calculates the probability of Baozi just giving up and going away, and then sits up with a mournful sigh. Baozi is still kneeling by the side of Luo Ji’s bed, one hand propping up his chin and the other hand holding his phone. In the morning light filtering through their window, Luo Ji finally gets a good look at his roommate, and a (very small) part of his anger fades into amusement. Baozi’s hair is pulled into an attempt at a side braid, but it looks more like a bird’s nest than any discernible hairstyle. Flyaways stick out at all angles, and the braid itself is a knotted mess.

As soon as Baozi sees Luo Ji sit up, he hops up from his spot on the floor and plops down next to Luo Ji on the bed. He drapes the arm holding the phone around Luo Ji’s shoulder and leans in close so they can both watch the hair tutorial blaring from the small screen. The woman in the video is currently brushing out her hair and talking about the merits of different hairsprays. Baozi huffs in annoyance and reaches out with his other hand to fast forward through the video to the actual braiding.

A year, or even six months ago, having the tall blonde sprawled over him like this would have sent Luo Ji into conniptions. Now, though, the contact barely even registers, even when Baozi rests his chin on Luo Ji’s shoulder to get a closer look at the video. It’s just how Baozi, his terrible roommate, is.

Although, Luo Ji amends in his head, he’s not…completely terrible. Contrary to what some of their teammates may think, Baozi’s not that messy—or at least, there are as many piles of notes on Luo Ji’s desk as there are piles of magazines and interesting rocks on Baozi’s dresser. And during the regular season Baozi always picked up Pocky for him, even though Luo Ji was only in H City on the weekends. It’s really just things like this. Like waking him up when it’s summer and Luo Ji still has—he checks the clock on Baozi’s phone—24 minutes before his alarm goes off.

“Okay, this next part is a little tricky,” Baozi says. “But if you can’t figure it out, I can always talk you through it. I mean, if I taught you Glory, we can figure out anything, right, bro?” Baozi laughs, and Luo Ji decides that, never mind, Baozi is the worst.

He’s about to curse and shove him off when his half-awake brain registers what Baozi has just said. “Wait, you want me to braid your hair?”

Baozi nods, pressing his chin into Luo Ji’s shoulder some more. “Yeah, I need a hair-braiding friend at Happy headquarters.”  “We’re not friends,” Luo Ji mutters half-heartedly, but that just makes Baozi laugh again and ruffle his hair.  “Haha, okay, sure.”

“Why not ask Tang Rou? She’s a girl, I bet she can do it.”

Baozi hums speculatively, then shrugs. “Nah, being a girl doesn’t necessarily mean she’s better at braiding. And plus, she’s scary when you wake her up, and you’re already awake.”

I wasn’t until you shook me awake! Luo Ji thinks desperately. “Well, I don’t know how to braid hair, so you’re out of luck.”

“Come on, please?”

“I’m not braiding your hair.”

“Pleeaaaaaseee?”

“No.”

“If it’s too hard for you to figure out, I can help you!” Baozi repeats. He waves the phone still playing the video in front of Luo Ji’s face, and Luo Ji grits his teeth. Too hard to figure out? Who does he think I am? Luo Ji shoves Baozi away from him and retorts, “Fine! But I’m brushing my teeth first.”

Luo Ji climbs out of his bed, grabs his phone and shower kit, and walks down the quiet hallway to the bathroom. It’s still early, and the other three occupied rooms are predictably silent. With their seniors either cavorting with other All-Stars at Team China headquarters or hard at work in the guild division, Happy’s six glorious rookies had decided as a group to come back in July for extra training. When they moved back in, Luo Ji had briefly considered taking Ye Xiu and Wei Chen’s now-empty room, but… Luo Ji pauses outside the room now. The silence from behind this door is different than the others. Sadder. Luo Ji shakes his head and continues to the bathroom. He’s not sleeping in his retired captain’s old room, not yet at least.

After Luo Ji starts brushing his teeth, he pulls out his phone and clicks on the link Baozi sent him. The braid is different than normal braids he’s seen—there are more strands of hair in play, which might be what led to the knot of hair Baozi is currently sporting. But overall, the process doesn’t seem too complicated. Luo Ji rinses his toothbrush, gargles some water, and heads back to his and Baozi’s room.

Baozi is pacing up and down the length of the room, the handle of his hairbrush clamped between his teeth and his long fingers working at a knot in his hair. He raises his eyebrows in greeting and sits back down on Luo Ji’s bed. “A-os ‘un,” he says. With a noise of triumph, he loosens the large tangle he’s been picking at and takes his hairbrush out of his mouth. Luo Ji nods and sits down. Where do people sit when they do things like this? he thinks, then crawls over to the space behind Baozi and sits with legs crossed.

With the other man in front of him, Luo Ji gets a good look at the back of his hair. It’s certainly less of a mess than it was, but there are still some tangles that Baozi’s missed. “Give me your brush,” Luo Ji says, and Baozi hands it back over his shoulder. Luo Ji considers the hair in front of him. Where to start? After a moment, he gathers up a chunk of hair and starts running the brush through it.

Baozi’s hair is surprisingly soft, and the more Luo Ji brushes it, the smoother it falls across his roommate’s shoulders. It’s actually kind of calming, organizing the tangles into a straight, golden curtain. Satisfied, Luo Ji puts down the brush and runs his fingers through Baozi’s hair from scalp to ends to check for any hidden knots. Baozi hums happily, and Luo Ji’s hands stutter. Oh, right, he remembers. This hair is connected to Baozi’s head. Luo Ji can feel his ears getting hot, and there’s a sudden strange feeling in his gut, so he fumbles for his phone.

“Um, Baozi. Can you—can you hold this so I can see it?” Luo Ji says, pressing play on the hair tutorial again and handing his phone over Baozi’s shoulder. Baozi takes the phone and holds it up, then turns his head to look at Luo Ji. “This good?”

Luo Ji nods, and Baozi smiles, turning back around. Luo Ji looks again at the curtain of hair, but as he reaches out, the strange feeling in his stomach returns. Why are you being weird?! he reprimands himself, clenching his hands.

On the phone, the hairstylist is telling him to section the hair into two parts. It’s just like a puzzle, Luo Ji tells himself, and with a deep breath, resolutely starts to part Baozi’s hair. A hair puzzle.

Once the hair is parted, he watches the video again for a few seconds, and then takes a strand from the right, twists it, and folds it over to the left side. He repeats the process on the opposite side, and soon falls into a comfortable pattern. At some point, Baozi has started humming along with the background music in the video. Between the humming and the repetitive braiding, Luo Ji feels his stomach slowly unclenching and his ears returning to their normal temperature.

As he braids, Luo Ji wonders what, exactly, the weird feeling from before was. It’s just Baozi, isn’t it? It’s just his roommate, who is always, always touching him, whether it’s tossing his arm around his shoulders, messing up his hair, shaking his arm, hip checking him on the way into the training room—it’s not like physical contact is anything new. On the other hand… Luo Ji thinks. Has he ever been the one to initiate contact with Baozi? He runs through his memories, but he can’t remember anything. Strange, I would have thought by now…well, that must be it. Luo Ji mentally shrugs, and then looks down at the braid in his hands and realizes with alarm that the last two inches have become a tangled mess as his mind wandered.

“Shit.” Luo Ji carefully starts to undo the bottom of the braid. But with a yank, it suddenly flies out of his hands as Baozi turns around. “What?” the blonde asks.

Luo Ji shoves at his shoulder. “Turn back around,” he orders, and Baozi does with a nod and an “okay.” And that’s new too, isn’t it, Luo Ji marvels. No arguing? He asked him to do something and he just did it? Is this how Ye Xiu feels? A small smile spreads across his face as he undoes the messed-up part of the braid.

The video ends, and Baozi stops holding up Luo Ji’s phone. Luo Ji hears the sound of tapping, and then Baozi says, “Hey, this sounds promising for you! ‘Recently, a new beginning commenced where love, romance, and self-expression are concerned. It may take time before you can connect with how far-reaching and potentially promising this new era can be.’”

“What’s that?”

“Your horoscope. New beginnings, huh? Have you met any new—“ Baozi starts to turn around again, but Luo Ji stops him with a hand on top of his head. “Oh, right,” he says, and turns back around. Luo Ji grins again at Baozi’s unarguing compliance. I have to do this more often.

Baozi taps some more on the phone and then reads out his own horoscope in a dramatic voice. Something about a “building a stronger bond,” and how “the only way is up!” Luo Ji isn’t really paying attention, instead focused on finishing the bottom of the braid. He ties it off with a hair tie and leans back to consider his work. Baozi’s hair is tucked into an even, clean braid that tapers neatly. Luo Ji nods in satisfaction. Not bad at all for a first attempt. “I’m done,” he tells Baozi, and the blonde hops up from the bed and grabs a mirror from his dresser.

“Nice!” Baozi says appreciatively. He reaches up and pulls a couple strands free at his forehead, and then turns around to smile at Luo Ji. “Huh? Huh? What do you think?” he says, and poses a few times.

The weird feeling in his stomach is back, and Luo Ji can only nod dumbly. “Yeah,” he manages. I did a really good job with the braid, actually.

“Take a picture!” Baozi says. Luo Ji holds up his phone, and Baozi turns slightly so the fishtail braid and his face are both visible. Luo Ji snaps the picture. Baozi runs back over and leans over Luo Ji to look at the picture. The end of his braid brushes against Luo Ji’s shoulder as he nods and says, “Yeah, that looks great! Text it to me, I want to show the others.”

Luo Ji sends him the picture, and as soon as Baozi’s phone buzzes at the end of the bed, Baozi picks it up and dashes out of the room. There’s a knock at a door in the hallway, and then another, louder knock, and then the muffled sound of An Wenyi’s voice through his door. Luo Ji laughs and looks down at his phone. The picture is still pulled up. His thumb hovers over the delete button for a long second, but then he saves the picture and closes the app. It’s always good to keep a record of good work, he thinks, and lays back down in bed.

Maybe next time he should do a flower crown.

Horoscopes lifted from here: Baozi: https://www.astrolis.com/horoscopes/aquarius/love/2020-07-10 Luo Ji: https://www.astrolis.com/horoscopes/virgo

#qzgs #bao rongxing #luo ji #the king's avatar #bad roommates #my stuff #rebamble #thanks to the tka discord for this prompt that WOULD NOT leave me alone #i may write more later but for now this is all i've got

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seasonofthegeek · 4 years

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A Fortress of Your Own Design, Part 1

I made a post about how much I would like to see Max as the Guardian of the Miraculous and it made me realize I wanted to do a story with all the heroes grown and trying to juggle the hero gig and adult life so here we go. :D

___

“Perimeter breach,” Hawking squawked in his artificial voice. “Initiating security protocol alpha-three-tango--”

“It appears King Monkey is paying us a visit,” Markov interrupted, swinging over to Hawking’s charging bay. “Override security protocol.” The floating AI turned to his creator. “I’ll make a note to have his body scans put into the security system so his perimeter breaches can be ignored. Hawking’s hasn’t learned the difference between friend and foe yet. We need to reconfigure his knowledge banks.”

Max watched his friend stroll towards the building on the security feed, the large fence with its prominent NO TRESPASSING sign at his back. “He knows better than to try to sneak in. He doesn’t get any special treatment. Hawking, initiate the security protocol.”

“Max!” Markov’s digital eyes slanted in disapproval.

“It’s a lesson he needs to learn.” He rolled his chair to a bank of monitors. “Bring up the last ten calls over the police scanner please, Olivia.”

“Yes, sir,” the computer replied in a pleasant tone. “Listed in order from oldest to most recent and will update for the next hour.”

“Thank you.”

“He’s taken down the shockbot you posted by the door,” Markov announced with a hint of amusement in his tone. “Knocked it against the wall with the back of his hand and laughed. I don’t think there will be any piecing it back together.”

Max ignored him. “Olivia, more information on line five please.”

“Silent alarm tripped in the Louvre Museum, exhibit four-nine-seven-bee,” she replied evenly. “Police have been notified and are in route.”

“Security footage?” Max sat forward in his chair to watch as the grainy night vision footage played across the screen closest to him.

“Firewall is temporarily keeping me out on the inside but street and perimeter cameras show five possible perpetrators.”

“Five is a lot for a quick heist. Chat’s on patrol. I’ll see if he can swing by in case the police need help.” He held out his hand and Hawking crossed the room to drop a tablet into his palm and floated back to its station. Max opened the communication app and moved back to his computer bank to pull up the security feeds around the museum as Olivia brought down the firewalls. “Chat Noir, do you copy?”

“Loud and clear. I was just finishing up my route, and I have the sneaking suspicion you’re going to tell me that’s not the case,” Chat Noir answered back. Ambient city sounds filtered in behind his voice.

“Louvre break-in. I can see if someone else is nearby.” Max pulled up the contact list on the tablet and checked GPS coordinates. “King Monkey is currently breaking in here so I can easily send him.”

“Sounds about right. You trying to electrocute him again?” he chuckled over the line. "I don’t mind swinging by the museum.”

“He knows what to expect when he comes here.” Max felt his lips tug up in a smirk as he watched the paw print icon on one of his monitors change direction to head to the museum. “If you’re sure you can handle it on your own, I’ll hold off on calling in reinforcements.”

“Hey, been doing this longer than you have, Oracle.”

“Not my name.”

Chat Noir laughed over the comm line. “Sure, sure. I’ll let you know what I see when I get there. Ladybug is busy tonight though so don’t bother her.”

“I’m aware and I’ll be waiting to here from you.” Max muted his line and leaned in to review the security footage Olivia had sent to his screen. “Any I.D. scans come through?”

“Running partial face scans through databases now. Currently no hits.”

“Hmmm.” He sat back in his chair and the springs creaked. “Big move for first offenders.”

“Hey, are you going to let me in or do you want me to break this door down too? I know you’ve been watching me, man,” Kim bellowed from the other side of the steel door blocking passage to the room.

“You didn’t follow protocol,” Max replied, opening up the video line so he could see his friend on the other side of the door.

Kim stared up at him through the screen with a confused expression. “Huh?”

“No one is supposed to come here except for emergencies. Is there an emergency?”

Xuppu stuck his tongue out from his place on Kim’s shoulder. “This guy,” he scoffed. “Are we sure he’s really the Guardian?”

“The emergency is I bet you haven’t eaten anything except those power bar thingies you keep in there and I know for a fact you haven’t been home in a few days. I checked with Marcus. He’s the best doorman ever. He even gave me one of the donuts he was eating during his break.” Kim lifted a paper bag and grinned. “And I brought something really good for you for dinner. Let me in, Max.”

“Code names,” he reminded him with a sigh. “And I’m fine. You might need to meet up with Chat Noir at the Louvre. There’s a break-in.”

“Cool. Let me in and I can meet up with him after I make sure you eat this.”

“I’m not a child. I know the exact amount of nutrients I need to function at my best level. Actually I knew that as a child as well. I was the one telling you what to eat, if you’ll recall.”

“Come on, Ma...Pegasus. Just let me in.”

“This place is supposed to stay secret. You can’t keep drawing attention to it by visiting so much.” Max shook his head. “Make sure you aren’t seen when you leave.”

“It’s an old office building with a construction fence around it. No one is paying any attention,” Kim whined. “Come on. I miss hanging out with you. You’ve been holed up in there for ages.”

“He has a point,” Markov chimed in to the irritation of his creator. “More human interaction would be good for your overall well-being. I can bring up statistics if you would like.”

“All the calculations show that it’s safer if I stay here for longer and varied bouts of time so an observer couldn’t pinpoint my schedule since there isn’t one,” Max pointed out. “I have everything I need. I’ll let Chat know you’ll be meeting him, King Monkey.”

Kim stared into the screen for a long minute before his shoulders dropped and he sighed. “Fine. I’m going to leave the bag outside the door so if you don’t get it soon, it’s gonna start smelling up the place. Your mom says hi, by the way. She misses you too.” He turned without another word and faded into the darkness of the hall.

“He’s trouble, that one.” Kaalki stretched and rose from the pillow she’d been napping on. “But I think I rather like him.”

Max watched the empty screen and tried to ignore the familiar lonely feeling creeping up on him.

___

“The wine and cheese is lovely and all, Marinette, but do you want to tell us why you really called this emergency girls’ night?” Alya set her empty wine glass on the coffee table and looked to her best friend expectantly.

Marinette stood and smoothed her dress down in a nervous gesture. “Right, uh, well, so here’s the thing... So there was this, um, offer, I guess? Wait, maybe I need to go back further than that.”

Alix snorted. “Come on, just get it out. It’s not going to be as bad as you think.”

“Wait, you’ve been to this moment? Can you just tell what to do?” Marinette perked up hopefully.

“Nope. I like to keep the future in the future. It’s safer that way.” The other woman grinned and plucked a piece of cheese of the tray. “But you’re going to be fine so go ahead and spill the beans already.” She popped the cheese into her mouth with a self-satisfied hum.

“You know whatever it is, we’ll support you,” Mylene added with a gentle smile.

“I was offered a job with a fashion house. Like a real position, not just an internship.” Marinette bit her lip and tensed for the reaction.

“That’s amazing, girl! Why wouldn’t you want to tell us that?!” Alya got off the couch and pulled her into a hug.

“Well, um, it’s not exactly local.”

“How not local?” Rose asked.

Marinette winced, feeling Alya’s arms around her loosen. “New York.”

“Is there a New York in France now? Because I hope that’s what you mean.” Alya stepped back. “New York, really?”

“I never thought they would call me back,” Marinette explained in a rush. “I was looking for job openings and sent in my portfolio, and seriously, never in a million years did I think they would actually want me, but they called for a phone interview and then they called for another one and then the third one was today and the head designer herself offered me the job and I just...” She took in a shaky breath and met Alya’s eyes. “It’s an amazing opportunity.”

“You’ve had three phone interviews?” Alya raised an eyebrow. “And you didn’t tell anyone, not even...?”

“No...”

“But she’s telling us now!” Rose interjected.

“Right, uh, now we know,” Juleka added after a nudge from her girlfriend.

“Are you mad?” Marinette asked aloud but it was obvious who the question was meant for.

Alya shook her head. “Surprised but not mad. You deserve something like this, girl. Your work is amazing and you’re amazing and I think you already know what your decision is.” Marinette pulled her into tight hug, murmuring thanks into her hair.

“So now that that’s settled,” Alix stood and stretched. “Who wants to go grab some real food?”

“We should crash Kagami’s lawyer gala downtown,” Mylene teased. “Chloe would have a conniption.”

“We mere mortals can’t be seen among the royal elite of Paris.” Alya flipped her hair dramatically while still keeping an arm around Marinette. “I could kill for some pasta though. I’ve been craving it all week.”

“Ooo, I think Japanese sounds good. Some teriyaki chicken maybe?” Rose added.

“I was just talking about a pizza or something,” Alix shrugged.

“Call in night?” Marinette suggested, wiping a few stray tears from her eyes after finally releasing her best friend.

“Yes!”

___

“Wait, did Max send you too because I’m starting to feel a little self-conscious about his faith in my abilities.” Chat Noir looked over at Carapace as he settled down beside him and King Monkey.

“Nah, Wayzz and I just needed to get out of the house and spotted you guys on the app. What’s going on?”

“One of the exhibit alarms was triggered and five perps were seen breaking into the museum on camera but the police haven’t found anything out of the ordinary,” he reported.

“So we’re waiting in case they’re hiding inside until they think the coast is clear,” King Monkey finished. “And at least you guys want to hang out.”

“Still no luck getting Max to leave his Guardian fortress?”

“Not so much,” he sighed. “I worry about him in there.”

“He’ll be okay. I think he’s just taking his role seriously.”

“You don’t know him like I do. He gets too caught up in stuff. He has to be reminded that there’s more to life.” The bigger man shook his head. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, but it’d make me feel better if I could get him to take a break.”

“Maybe we can storm his fortress and kidnap him,” Chat Noir suggested, amusement in his tone. “I just don’t want to get electrocuted or shot or something.”

“Eh, it doesn’t hurt as much as you would think.” King Monkey grinned at him. “I think I’m starting to like it actually.”

“That’s troubling.”

___

“Looks like we’re in for the night. Spotted three heroes staked out across the street. We’ll wait ‘em out.” The leader of the museum heist made a show of stretching his arms over his head. “All right, let’s get back into the wall. No need to get caught now when we’ve already gotten what we came for.”

“It’s so cramped in there, man. Can’t we just leave one at a time?” Another thief complained.

“Sure. You get caught and see what she does to you. I’ll see ya at your funeral.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

A third thief visibly shivered. “I’m just ready to be done with this job. The client gives me bad vibes.”

“Says the criminal,” the leader scoffed. “A job’s a job and this one pays well. Now shut up and get hidden with the others in case security comes sniffing around again.”

___

Follow the story on AO3

Buy me a cherry coke?

#a fortress of your own design #i'm still trying to decide ships #i have some ideas though #things might go back and forth #i have a good feeling about this story so yay #miraculous ladybug

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tonystarkissist · 5 years

Text

IronDad Bingo Fic #3

Trope: Protective Tony

Tony sighed dramatically and pressed the palm of his hand to his face in exasperation. This kid was going to drive him insane. “I can't believe I actually have to tell you this… No, you cannot test your new ‘venomous’ webs on yourself.”

Peter rolled his eyes and Tony had the sudden urge to give him a light smack upside the head for being ridiculous and teenager-y, but he couldn't do that… because Peter wasn't there in the lab with him. The kid was face-calling him from school for some God-knows reason, claiming to be bored in study hall with no homework to do to pass the time.

“Whatever. Are you picking me up today?” Peter questioned, fiddling with the earbuds in his ear, then dropping his gaze to pick at some tape stuck to his desk with his fingernails, looking bored and tired as he propped his elbow on the desk and rested his cheek in his hand.

“I thought you were spider-manning today,” Tony hummed, looking down at his own desk, examining the guts of his most recent project sprawled across the surface.

“Well, yeah, but um…” Peter paused, looking up at the phone with a sheepish laugh, and Tony should know, because Peter was sheepish a lot.

His eyes narrowed when he picked up on the nervous tone lined with faux amusement in an attempt to lighten the mood. He lifted his head to look at Peter and glared, because what could he have possibly done this time?

“What did you do?” He questioned calmly, narrowing his eyes, leaving no room for debate because the obnoxious child would most certainly try to veer around it if given the opportunity.

“I didn't die…” Is what the kid decided to start with.

No wonder he, the child's mentor, had so many grey hairs.

“And?” Tony prodded, becoming increasingly more desperate for answers the more Peter screwed his face up into pure humiliation and resentment.

“And I didn't get hurt… bad.”

“Oh God, kid. What. Did. You. Do??”

He saw Peter's gaze flicker around his classroom silently, as if looking for eavesdroppers before bowing his head and dropping his voice to a soft whisper.

“I might have tore up my suit on the last night’s patrol.”

“The multimillion dollar one?”

Tony tried not to sound panicked, because the kid was fine. He was sitting right there, painless, and joyful. There was nothing wrong. But goodness, that stirring in his gut started again, and the taste in his mouth went really, really sour. Why did he have to choose the reckless, teenage vigilante to mentor? He could have gone for one of the older, more mellow ones. One of the ones that weren’t reckless and stupid, and all around crazy. The ones that wouldn't give him so much stress and panic at all hours of the day.

“Peter,” he grit out slowly, “What. Did. You. Do?”

He tried repeating the question again. Maybe Peter would get the hint and answer it right that time.

“There was a dude, and he had a lot of knives. And I mean a lot-”

Tony didn't like where it was headed, but then there was another voice speaking, and it took precedence over current revelation he was slowly squeezing out of his spiderkid. It was an obnoxiously loud, teasing tone growing louder with each syllable while it drew closer to Peter. Tony didn't like the voice, or the words used in the least. He most definitely didn’t like the notification he received on his watch when Peter’s heart rate spiked a substantial amount.

“Who you talking to Penis?” The boy taunted.

Tony's back stiffened and his gaze hardened as he turned to look at the screen intently, searching for the source of the voice. He couldn't find it, because Peter had already laid his phone flat on the desk to hide both parties from the other, giving Tony a perfect view of a completely black screen with his frowning face reflecting back at him in the top corner.

“Peter.” He pressed sternly, “Peter, who is that?”

Peter didn't answer him, instead he answered the boy who taunted him, and being the smart spider he was, he didn't use a name to address him. Sometimes Tony hated how smart his kid was.

“Nobody of concern to you,” he stammered out. “Just leave me alone.”

“What, you embarrassed or something?” The boy taunted even more, his voice dropping between the lines of smug and demeaning.

Tony was seething, and his grip on the screwdriver tightened.

“Peter! So help me, you better tell me who this kid is. What's he doing? Is this the kid that hit you last week? He better not lay a hand on you-”

Peter still didn't answer.

“Is it your boyfriend or something, Penis? I saw you grinning and whispering like a little girl. Who is it??” The kid prodded, his voice growing clearer to Tony as his face apparently drew closer and closer to the microphone on Peter's headphones.

“No-no, it's not my-my boyfriend!” Peter insisted, sounding small and wrecked as he tried to get rid of his tormentor. “Just-just leave me alone.”

“What're you gonna do?” The boy continued to taunt, “you gonna stick your ol’ pal Tony Stark on me for bullying his little boy-toy of an intern?”

“THAT’S IT!!” Tony shouted, throwing down his screwdriver angrily onto the table, resulting in a loud clang and series of crashes and shatters as it tumbled across the parts on his desk. “PETER! I swear you better tell me who this little prick is before I blast over there and take care of this myself.”

He swore he heard Peter swallow nervously. He wasn’t sure if it was because of him, or the bully patronizing him, but he didn’t care. Nobody messed with his kid like that.

“Oh, I can hear him getting all angry,” the kid mused, laughter in his voice. “What’s he saying? Is your boyfriend upset that I’m messing with his favorite little-”

“Flash,” Peter’s voice wavered dangerously, “I really, really think you might want to stop talking now.”

Tony felt mildly triumphant at the name given to him. It obviously wasn’t his ‘legal’ name, and if it was then goodness that kid’s parents must have been on drugs, but it still gave him something to work with.

Peter felt a smidgen of relief when his mentor stopped badgering him in his ear and he released a breath as he turned to look at Flash with a serious, calm expression. He lowered his voice to a whisper, in hopes that Tony would miss his next words over the loud, determined clickety-clack of his keyboard.

“Flash,” he whispered softly, garnering the confused and slightly wary boy’s expression, “you really, really should have stopped talking.”

“Wha-what?” Flash scoffed indignantly. “Was that supposed to be a threat, Penis?”

“No!” He replied immediately, shaking his head emphatically. “I just meant…”

He chewed on his lip worriedly, hoping for some excuse to come to him. Any excuse would work. Anything that would make Flash go away and prevent Tony from flying all the way from the Tower to beat the crap out of him, because if Flash opened his mouth again, Tony might just do it. Then, an idea hit him. One that would make Flash sit down and shut up and one that would appease the angry Tony on the other end of the line and potentially even distract him enough to blow if all off as fun-looking teasing.

“My-my Dad’s the one on the phone,” he screwed his mouth into an apologetic grimace at the way Flash’s face paled. The bully tried to make it seem like it didn’t faze him, but it was obvious that the admission didn’t settle well in his stomach.

He could also hear the keyboard clicking stop, and he knew Tony was listening.

“Kid, what?”

But Peter ignored it, swallowed down the minute embarrassment at Tony hearing him refer to him as ‘my Dad’, and went along.

“He’s um, now he’s kinda pissed. And-yeah. You really should have stopped talking.”

“Wha?” Flash spluttered, reeling back at the insinuation Peter was making. Then, after a moment of reflection, the boy’s face contorted into an angry scowl and an accusing finger was jabbed into his chest.

It took Peter by surprise, because he wasn't expecting for Flash to attack him when he knew his ‘dad' was on the phone, listening.

“What are you even talking about you little liar? Your parents are dead. You’ve been a sad little orphan for years. Stop lying about everything. You don’t know Spider-man, you don't know Tony Stark, and you don’t have parents who love you. None of that is true no matter how much you want it to be.”

Well, that plan sure did burn and fail. And Tony was back at it, spiraling through another one of his little conniption fits. Peter couldn’t help but wince at the high-pitched screech of the genius launching into a long string of various, foul curses, some Peter had never even heard of before.

“I’m going to kill him. I’m coming over there right now,” the man seethed after finishing with his little tantrum. Then, Peter heard the distinct sound of repulsors and the call immediately cut off.

He panicked, full on panicked. Because oh god, Tony Stark was coming to his school to tell of his bully. Oh god. It was actually happening.

“Oh, no. No-no-no-no,” He grabbed his phone frantically and stared dubiously at the lingering icon of him and Tony smiling in a picture. “Oh god.” He finally relented, dropping the device back onto the desk and cradling his face in his hands, wishing desperately it weren’t true.

Flash obviously wasn’t very sure how to digest the look on Peter’s face. He just sorta stared at him with a confused, yet irritated, lilt to his brow; not quite sure how to proceed.

“Flash, oh god, you gotta get out of here.” Peter pressed, standing from his seat, and trying to usher the bully away. The teacher certainly didn’t care, because she left the room long ago. The bully wouldn't be missed. He just had to GO, now.

“What the heck, Penis? What do you think you’re doing? Get your hands off of me!” Flash slapped his hands away and gave him a good shove backwards, but Peter didn’t let it faze him. He couldn’t let Tony kill one of his classmates, because that’s exactly what was going to happen if Flash were still here when Tony came barging in, blasters ready.

“You don’t understand,” Peter backpedaled, pleading for the bully to listen to him. “He’s coming. He’s coming to the school, and he’s going to kill you! He's going to legit kill you!”

By then, they’ve garnered the attention of the rest of their classmates, and they looked up at the pair in confusion.

Flash seemed worried, but quickly built up the facade of unperturbed as he laughed in Peter’s face.

“Who? Your imaginary dad? That’s a bit pathetic. Even for you Parker.”

“No, it’s worse,” Peter squeaked helplessly.

That admittance just got another laugh out of Flash, and a few of the other students joined in.

“It’s Tony Stark,” Peter whispered frantically, desperate for Flash to understand the deep, dark hold he had just dug himself into. “I was on the phone with Tony Stark.”

For a second it looked like Flash actually believed him, but he brushed it off with a roll of his eyes and another accusatory finger jabbed into Peter’s chest.

“You’re just a dirty, fat, little liar looking for attention. That’s all you are you dork. Stop lying, stop making up these ridiculous stories, because nobody believes you.”

When Flash said that, Peter frowned and took a moment to reflect, asking himself why exactly he was trying to protect his bully. In fact, he should be happy that his mentor was coming down to set things straight, and it'd definitely shut everyone up about the internship. Why should he be so upset?

So, Peter rolled with it, sighing, and dropping his head, wearing a smug little grin. If Flash was too dense to listen to him… it wouldn’t be his fault, because he tried. He tried warning him, but he didn’t listen. Not his fault. He was done putting up with the jerk. It’d be nice to see a bit of fear in his eyes; give him a bit of humility… Goodness, that sounded terribly cruel of him…

“Whatever Flash,” he relented, narrowing his eyes challengingly, “just remember that I warned you.” He was the one to jab his finger in Flash’s chest that time.

“I’ll give you one last warning to make it a little clearer. Tony Stark is coming here, to kill you, because you messed with me. Well, not literally kill... more like, mentally and emotionally scar for life...” He smirked triumphantly and crossed his arms over his chest at Flash’s terrified, befuddled expression that quickly spread across his face when he came to the heart-stopping realization that Parker was not, in fact, lying. “So… if I were you… I’d start running.”

For a second, Flash looked as if he might have done just that, but it was too late.

The door swung wide open, and in strut a seething, red faced Tony Stark with his suit disengaged, waiting idle a few feet beyond the doorway.

“Where’s this little prick?”

Flash paled at the sight of him, and Peter was happy to point him out.

What was the use in having an overprotective Dad if you didn't take advantage of it from time to time, right?

This one was kinda fun to write :) Thx, @scaredhuman88 and @annofarkansas for requesting it, and thank you @irondadbingo again for setting this whole thing up. It’s crazy fun :D

Um, yeah, besides that, I’m sorry if Peter seems a bit OOC when it comes to confronting Flash, I just love the idea of Peter putting him in his place because the little prick really deserves it.

Thx for reading :)

#irondad #irondad fic #fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker gets bullied a lot #and his dad tony really doesn't like it #tony stark #tony stark is so done with peter parker #peter is a total gen z #spiderson #spiderson loves his irondad #protective tony stark #bullying #flash thompson #flash being put in his place

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esterofila · 4 years

Text

H-hi... so.... this is my ZADR story on Wattpad! I’ll be posting the Prologue here, in case you’d wanna see it, but if you’re interested, I’d really appreciate your support! The username is UnknownIrken, and that’s my only ZADR story on there. Please, read it if you’re interested! I update ~somewhat~ often (when I get the inspritarion to), and I don’t think it’s that bad of a story, myself. Anyways, here’s the prologue, and if you like it, please read the rest of the story and share! Thank you!! 💕

——————————-

It's happening. It's finally happening.

Dib was about to be a father. He could hardly contain his glee, as he paced around Zim's labs, both nervous and ecstatic.

He, unfortunately, wasn't allowed to be present for the birth. If there was one thing to know about Irkens...

It was that they gave birth ALONE.

The stress of birth, pain, blood, etc. is enough to kick up their primal instincts. Pregnant Irkens in labor tend to attack anything, even their own mates, while giving birth. Only the baby is spared from their wrath. So Dib, for his own safety, was locked outside Zim's little birthing room, waiting, waiting, waiting.

"Z-Zim can handle this...", The Irken smiled weakly before going into the room. His face was pale, but flushed, and his legs shook. "Don't even think about us. I do not typically know how long birthing lasts, but I expect it will take a while..."

"And what, you expect me to just forget about you?"

Dib was in quite the panic. Moments ago, they were talking about something mindless on the living room couch when Zim let out an agonized screech. With horrible shuddering gasps, he croaked out "Baby!"

"Not a chance. W-what if you pass out and can't do it, or-"

"The computer will handle it!", the Irken hissed in pain, impatience, and his instinct kicking in. "Please, do not worry for us! I'll be back out before you know it, with baby in arms!"

Zim pressed a hasty, but loving kiss to Dib's face, and then made his way into the birthing room they had set up weeks earlier. The door closed right behind the alien, and Dib was left alone for now.

18 hours.

18 hours his partner was locked away in the room, taking his time. Dib was about to go into conniptions when the computer alerted him that the birthing was finally taking effect, and he'd see his child and spouse within a few hours.

Dib had not slept, eaten, or even sat down for all 18 hours. All he did was pace, mumble, and beg for the computer to let him know what was happening. All it replied was, "Just relax. They're both fine."

The poor distressed yet excited human was about an inch from going more insane, when the door *clicked *, and gently swung open.

Zim lay on the bed put inside the room, weary, tired, and had huge sticky tears running down his face. But not from pain, from joy. Their baby was here!

Dib practically sprinted over, but slowed his pace when he saw his daughter for the first time.

She was stunning. The perfect mixture of Irken and Human.

Finally.... he could have a perfect family.

~***~

"Incoming Transmission from Irk's Capital", the computer called out, beeping softly.

"What? why?"

Zim held their baby, glaring at the screen with rage, confusion, and concern. The Empire couldn't have possibly known about Zim's birth only days before... He took the right precautions..... However, if he didn't answer, they'd know he wasn't on his "mission." He silently quit his job years ago, only pretending to be an Invader should the need arise. But in reality, he himself had not harmed the planet in near 8 years.

Zim gently but firmly pressed baby Pluvio into Dib's arms, and shooed him off to the other side of the room, where the two of them couldn't be seen. Zim straightened out his uniform, stood to attention, and told Computer to accept the call.

The screen flickered, and an Irken stood before him. Zim had no idea who this Irken was.

"Greetings.....", Zim said, with a respectful bow. "May I help you?"

The Irken held a tablet in their hands, and cleared their throat.

"Invader Zimmari.."

Uh oh. Zim swallowed hard. His full name... This didn't sound good.

The other Irken continued. "It is with great honor to announce that due to your Royal Irken ancestry, and the lack of Tall Irkens to stand line for leadership, that YOU are our next Tallest." The Irken sat down their tablet, and clapped.

Zim's blood froze, and he felt himself swaying. "N-no.... that can't be right!"

Dib's eyes widened. He also felt like swaying, but he was sure falling to the floor with a baby in his arms would be completely stupid. Instead, he leaned against the wall, shooting Zim a "What the crap" look from across the room.

"Oh, but it is!", The Irken said, with a smile. They were clearly oblivious to Zim's reaction. "You are our new leader!"

"W-what about our current Tallests?!"

"Fired! The control brains feel as though they wasted too much time with snacks and parties.... they were never leadership material in my opinion, anyways. But you are!"

Zim swallowed again, antenna lowering down to his back. "I'm not even tall!", he squeaked out quietly.

"Recent studies show that height has nothing to do with leadership. It truly takes a great brain, strategic skills, and fearlessness!"

"I NEARLY BLEW UP OUR OWN PLANET!"

"Nobody will care with you in charge. We will see you shortly. Congratulations, my Tallest! We look forward to a bright new era!"

The Irken ended the transmission, and Zim instantly fell to the floor.

Dib walked over solemnly. He tried to say something.... but he couldn't.

Life, from now on, was supposed to be whole and perfect. Zim obviously couldn't bring Dib and Pluvio with him.... Despite him being Tallest, there was a strict "No Oustiders" allowed. Besides.... Zim broke quite possibly the most important rule in the Empire.

No. Falling. In. Love.

Zim shuddered, looking up at Dib. He, too, didn't know what to say.

The alien slowly stood up, walking into Dib and wrapping his thin arms around his taller mate's middle. Dib rubbed his back softly, without saying a word.

Now what?

~***~

Dib and Pluvio had to leave Zim's base shortly. If they were caught in the base with him.... they'd likely be killed on the spot by guards coming to escort their new Tallest.

So, they spent their limited time together in the living room, on the couch. Zim held his baby, hugging her and nuzzling her sleeping figure, not wanting to leave his mate and child.

"Why can't we just run?", Dib suggested through tears that slipped out without his knowing. "The universe is so huge.... they'll never find us."

"Yes they will.", Zim said in the same hollow, gray voice he had used since he first heard the news. "I can't run. They'd get suspicious and kill all three of us."

Dib bit his lips and wiped his unwelcome tears away. "Then why can't we--"

"We just can't.", Zim interrupted, still hollow. "I can't do anything."

"Zim... I can't raise a baby on my own, and I can't live my life without you."

"You have to.", Zim said, looking up at Dib. "She needs you."

"She needs you too! Pluvio needs the both of us!"

"Our baby needs you more.... I swear, I'll keep in touch as much as I can.... But I'm afraid the only option I have is becoming a Tallest.... and who knows? Maybe Zim will be able to bend the rules...."

The alien's face lit up slightly. "If I prove to them my leadership, they all might follow when I recommend taking down the 'No Mating' rule...."

Dib bit his lips harder. He felt it was a long shot.... but to be honest, anything that gave him hope was worth holding onto at the moment. He said nothing in reply. He only pulled Zim closer into his lap, and enjoyed his company while he could.

They stayed in a melancholy silence for a while, when the computer chimed. The Carrier, a ship specifically designed for transporting Tallests discreetly, has entered the solar system. Zim stood up, turning to Dib. They had to leave. Now.

Zim kissed Pluvio's head one final time. "Remember mama loves you, and I swear I'll be back one day. Please, grow up well, and happy, and safe."

He handed the still sleeping baby over to Dib, and then pulled the human into what would be their last kiss for years. The pair both had tears streaming down their faces, Dib's tears lightly burning Zim's face. Not that the Irken cared.

They finally pulled away after several minutes. They were losing time.

"Keep her safe, and make sure she grows up well. I want her to be proud, happy, and fine without me.... And you need to be strong too, Dib."

"I know.... it'll be so hard, though.", the Human said, sadly.

Zim nodded, his antenna still drooped.

"The Carrier has passed Pluto.", the computer alerted.

Zim perked, starting to feel panicked. "Agh! They're moving so quickly.... Remember, go far, far away until you KNOW the Carrier leaves, Dib. And then, the base is yours. Every door, safe, and secret is unlocked. I love you. Now run!"

Dib nodded, turning towards the door. "I love you too! Please, be a good Ruler!"

And then, Dib and Pluvio left. He walked down to a park nearby, sat under a tree, and tried to soothe the waking baby.

The Carrier quickly transported Zim from the base. Dib could see the small magenta ship from here, and watched it leave.

Dib felt his heart shatter.

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

This was the Prologue. Hope all who read it like it! I stole the name Zimmari from a fanfic I read years ago. I don't remember the fanfic's name, or author. But know I don't take credit for the name.

Hope you liked it!

#invaderzim #zadr #invaderzimzadr #zim #zimxdib #dibxzim #dib #zadrkid #lovechild #kid #wattpad #story #invaderzimfanfiction

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bettercallsabs · 6 years

Text

The Troubles of Life 4

A/N: I know some of you have been waiting ages for this, and I can’t thank you enough for your patience and support. I adore you all more than you know! Taglist is open, so never miss a post. Requests are welcome and encouraged. I hope you all enjoy!

Series Masterlist // Thee Masterlist

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Adult language. Pregnancy. Talk of violence. Some fluff. Some angst.

Word Count: 2.7k

Standing behind Bucky, you waited, curious to see who was on the other side of the door, as He peered through the peephole. He quickly unlocked and pulled open the door, a blood soaked Steve tumbling in. Bucky wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist, slinging Steve’s arm over his shoulder, gesturing for you to close the door. “What the hell happened?” Bucky sat Steve into a dining table chair, as you urgently grabbed towels from the linen closet. “They came out of nowhere… I have to go, I have to get Nat.” Steve tried to get up, causing his open wounds to bleed faster. “No, sit down.. Y/N, we need to pack his wounds. The gauze is in the closet, grab it.” You did as instructed, grabbing the cases of gauze from closest. Steve grabbed at Bucky’s shoulder, “Bucky, we have to find Nat and Sam.” “Okay, I’ll go find them. Where did you see them last?” “About 10 Miles north east of here. That’s all I know.” Steve winced grabbing at his side, as he tried to steady his breathing. “Be careful out there. I’m not sure what we’re up against, but it isn’t good.” Your eyes grew wide with worry, as the panic set in. Not even three minutes ago, you and Bucky were happy, planning a trip together, and now this? You rushed to Bucky’s side, clasping at his forearm, pleading with him not to go. “Bucky. Please don’t go. You don’t even know what’s going on. You could-“ “I have to go. I’ll be back. Watch over Steve, please. I’ll be right back.” Caressing your face in the palm of his hand, Bucky’s lips pressed against yours in a hasty kiss. As quick as they met yours, coldness was left on their wake. “I’ll be back before you know it.” Tears welled in your eyes, as you watched Bucky slip out of the apartment, the heavy door slamming shut behind him. “He is going to be alright Y/N, trust him.” Steve squeezed your hand tight, as you wiped the tears from your eyes. You hand to remind yourself, Bucky took these risks every day. It was his duty as an Avenger to protect and serve. As much as it hurt you to watch him run into the face of danger, you had to believe that he was going to be alright. Taking in a deep, shaky breath, you turned back to Steve, and began dressing his wounds. “These don’t look like any wound I’ve ever seen before...” you gazed upon bullet wounds that left large gaping holes in Steve’s abdomen. You’re lucky they’ve missed your bowels. Good thing you heal quick.” “It’s a blessing and a curse.” Helping a patched up steve to the sofa, you finally took a moment to breathe. Your head was swimming with emotions. Yummy we’re so angry with Steve, with Bucky. You didn’t care that Captain America was lounging on your sofa, injured. Or that he was Bucky’s dearest friend. You were furious that Bucky went running into the face of danger. You were mortified that something would happen to Bucky. You couldn’t bare to lose him. He was the love of your life. You needed him to come back alive. Sinking against the back of the couch, you ran your hand down the length of your face, now wet with your tears. You were suddenly disappointed in yourself, that you felt such hostility towards Steve. This wasn’t his fault. Steve had always been so kind to you. He didn’t deserve this. Taking in a deep breath, you rose from the floor, making your way around the sofa to Steve. “Can I get you anything?” Steve looked up at you, his eyes glistening with sympathy. “I’m sorry Y/N. I know you don’t need this stress right now, especially with my future godchild in there-“ Raising and eyebrow with confusion, your scuffed. Bucky. Of course. “I’m sorry Y/N. I’m truly sorry.” Taking a seat next to Steve, you squeezed his hand. You knew he was truly sorry, and it made the guilt even worse. “What happened out there?” “I’m not sure. Nat, Sam and I were on our way over - Bucky invited us over by the way - with cake, because he’s really excited to be a father. It’s all he’s been talking about since he found out. And out of nowhere. Boom. A massive explosion. It was chaos. Then the rounds of gunshots. It all happened so quick. We were caught off guard.” “Well, I’m glad you’re okay Capo.” Your lips turned up in a faint smile as you gave his hand a strong squeeze. “Can I get you anything? Water maybe?” Steve nodded. “Please.” Making your way into the kitchen, you grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, a single tear streaking down your cheek, trickling onto the peak of your lip. Clearly your throat, you bit at your upper lip. The salty taste of tears engulfing your tongue. Setting the water bottle on the counter, your rested your palms on the quartz surface, a lump growing in your throat as you tried to choke back the tears. Stop it Y/N. Stop it right now. Bucky will be fine. Everything will be fine. Wiping the tears from your face, you rested your hand in your little swollen bump. You let out a shaking breath, as you pulled yourself together. Grabbing the water bottle off the counter, you hustled your way back to the sofa where Steve was resting. “Do you need me to open it for you, or do you think you can handle it?” You forced a laugh as you tried to make light of an unbearable situation. Steve scoffed as he snatched the water bottle from your hands. “Ha ha. I’m not that weak. I can manage it myself, thanks.” A soft chuckle slipped through your lips. “Roger that Captain.” Steve snores softly as he snoozed on the sofa. It had been an hour. 60 minutes since Bucky went off to find Sam and Nat, and you felt sick to your stomach. He should have been back by now. You could feel the panic rising in your chest. You felt like you were going to vomit. What was taking him so long? You paced the room, trying to calm your nerves. You had to stop stressing out. Stress was not good for the baby. You needed to cook it for them. Cradling your belly in your hands, you closed your eyes as you leaned against counter. “Daddy’s going to be alright. We don’t need to worry little one, he’ll be back. He always comes back.” Feeling the movements of your baby brought some ease to your heart. This baby was everything. Unplanned, yes, but so very loved. You let memories of Bucky fill your head. You knew Bucky was going to make an amazing father. How happy he was only hours ago, how his eyes glistened with euphoria. He was supportive of everything, even though you knew he struggled with his inner demons, he never let that get in the way of anything. He was everything to you. The turning of the knob pulled you from your thoughts. Your eyes sprung open as you lunged for the door. There stood a bruised and battered Bucky, blood trickling down his face from a cut on his forehead. You felt your heart sinking in your chest, but he was alive, and that’s all that mattered. You flew into his chest, wrapping your arms securely around his neck, tears springing from your eyes. “I thought I lost you.” “You can’t get rid of me that easy.” Bucky chuckled, ass he kissed the top of your head. “I don’t mean to interrupt this precious moment, but, we need to get inside.” Sam chimed in. You handing even noticed him standing there, a limp Nat in his arms. “Fuck. Oh my god.” You stepped out of the doorway, allowing them to enter the apartment. Sam laid her on the couch next to Steve, as you looked her over. Aside from minor cuts and bruises, and a broken arm, Nat looked fine. “What happened to her?” “We got thrown into a building. The forces knocked her out.” Sam replied, taking a seat in the oversized comfy chair. “She looks fine for the most part, her pupils are still dilating, so that’s a good sign. How about the two of you?” You liked between the two of them, concern in your eyes. “We’re fine.” Both agreed. “I could use something to drink though. I am parched.” Sam said, dramatically sighing as he fluttered his hand in front of his face. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed two more water bottles from the fridge, handing one to each of them. “Do you know what happened yet?” Sam took a long chug from the water bottle before answering your question. “No. And we can’t get ahold of Tony either. All we know is, it’s maintained for the time being. But there’s no telling when or if they’ll be back.” “Okay. What’s the plan?” “Don’t worry, we’ll think of one. I think you should call your mom. Flights are cancelled for the time being, and I’m sure she’s seen the news and-“ “Oh shit.” There was no doubt in your mind that your mother had seen the news, and was currently have a conniption. Grabbing your phone from the coffee table, your screen illuminated to reveal 49 texts and 27 missed calls. “I’ll be right back.” You headed into your room, closing the door behind you, as you dialed your mom’s number. “Y/N! Omg. I’ve been worried sick! I thought you were dead! Would it kill you to answer your phone?Are you okay? Is Bucky okay?” “I’m sorry mom. my phone was in silent, and it’s been a bit hectic here. But we’re fine. Everything’s okay. But mom, I don’t think I will be making it out there tomorrow.” “Pishposh, I can wait, All I care about is that you’re okay.” “Thanks mom. I love you.” “I love you too Y/N. Now please stay safe. And keep me updated. And for the love of god, answer your phone next time. Don’t give me a heart attack again. Alright?” “I’ll turn my phone of silent now. I’ll talk to you later mom.” “I love you sweetheart.” “Love you too mom.” That had gone better than you expected. Making your way out of the bedroom, Steve- now awake- was mingling in the kitchen with Sam and Bucky. Nat was still fast asleep on the couch as you passed by her. Pulling the throw blanket that was slung over the back of the couch, you dropped it over Nat, before heading into the kitchen. “I’m assuming you three have made a plan?” You asked as you fumbled through the fridge. A sudden pang of hunger growing in the pit of your stomach. “Yes. We need to get to the compound. Most of the roads are blocked, so we’re trying to devise a plan.” Steve was leaning against the counter, awkwardly fidgeting with his phone. Closing the fridge you looked at steve, a smirk playing at your lips. He looked absolutely ridiculous. You would think by now he would have figured out how to properly use a cellphone. “Would you like some help with that?” “I just can’t get the google maps to open. Back in my day, we just used physical maps. Now you have this...Tony says it’s sooo easy, but I beg to differ!” “God, you’re such an old man. Just give it here.” Taking the phone from Steve, in less than 15 seconds you were in google maps with the address set and ready to go. “Here.” You handed the phone back with a snicker. Steve’s brow furrowed as you mocked him. “Should we wait for Nat to wake? Or should we just carry her and get on with it?” Sam asked as he rose from the dinning table chair. “We should let her rest for now and leave in the next few hours. Gives us time to compose a plan.” “Roger that Cap.” Sam looked pleased, a quick grin spread across his face. “Ha ha. You are so funny Sam.” Steve glared at Sam, as you and Bucky burst into laughter. “What can I say. I bring the comedic flare to this group. It’s my calling.” Shrugging nonchalantly, Sam day back into the chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “So, what’s your plan Steve?” —— Standing in your closet, you grabbed a medium sized duffle bag from the top shelf. You began gathering tips - yours and Bucky- from hangers, folding them and placing them into the bag, when you felt strong arms wrapping around you. Bucky. You leaned into him, letting the back of your head rest against his chest, his hands resting on your belly. Your eyes closed gently as you enjoyed the embrace, listening to the soft thudding of his heart beat. “I’m sorry.” Bucky whispered into your neck, as he nimbly kissed it. “I didn’t mean to worry you today, I just-“ Spinning around in his arms, you held his face between your hands, as you searched his saddened eyes. “Bucky. It’s okay. You did the right thing. You have nothing to be sorry for. If you hadn’t gone out there, who know what could have happened to Nat or Sam. You did the right thing.” Your lips met his in a tender kiss, that left your body feeling warm and fuzzy. “I love you Bucky.” You whispered against his lips. “I love you too Y/N.” “Now, go away, or I’ll never get this packing done.” “I mean, we have time. . .” Bucky’s voice was low and seductive has he placed his hand at the small of your back. Shaking your head you pushed him back, a sparse chuckle resonating from your throat. “No. Now go away.” Bucky attempted the puppy dog eyes, but you weren’t going to have it. Ignoring his advances, you turned away from him, returning to your packing. “Maybe later then.” Looking over your shoulder you gave him a sideways glance, your head shaking no, from side to side. “In your dreams Barnes.” You shouted over your shoulder as you watched Bucky make his way out of the room. “Oh, definitely in my dreams.” —— Collapsing onto the bed, you let out an exasperated sigh. It was 3:26am and you were exhausted beyond words. Today had been a whirlwind of emotions and all you wanted to do was sleep... or eat, or both. Bucky set the duffle bag down next to the bed, flinging off his shoes, before climbing in next to you. He pulled you into his arms- you neck resting on his toned bicep- as he cuddled you close. “Get some rest babe. You and baby need it.” You didn’t have the energy to reply, your eyes fluttering shut, as you swiftly drifted off into a deep sleep. Stirring in the bed, you pushed the heavy covers from your body. Bright light stung your eyes as you attempted to open them, still heavy from sleep. You had forgotten where you were for a moment, as sunlight poured through the large window. The compound. Your stomach growled something fierce, sending a wave of nausea through you. You need food, and you needed it now. Grabbing your purse, you pulled out your emergency pop tart. Opening it as quietly as possible, trying not to wake a sleeping Bucky next you, you took an obnoxiously large bite, crumbs falling down your shirt. “Dammit.” You muttered, trying to collect the cumblies. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you joy to eat in the bed?” You jumped at the unexpected sound of Bucky’s voice, dropping your partially eaten poptart onto the floor. “Jesus Buck. Way to startle a girl.” You looked down at your poptart, wondering how clean this floor was, contemplating whether or not you wanted to eat the fallen faux pastry. “Sorry sweetie, but your loud wrapper woke me.” “God. I tried to open it stealthily, but these things are impossible!” Scowling, you shook the wrapper in your fist. “Well, there is a fully stocked kitchen here. Fresh fruit.” Your brows perked I’m excitement. Fruit sounded delicious. “Well, what are we waiting for? To the kitchen.” @crawlingnightmares it’s back boo! 😬 FOREVER TAGS: @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @itsanerdlife @sea040561 @dsakita @princess-evans-addict @marvels-queen-bee

TTOL: @bucky-to-my-barnes @mellorine-paprika @marvelouspottering@supernatural-fan-from-lithuania

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squirrel-moose-winchester · 6 years

Text

Because You’re an Idiot

Title: Because You’re an Idiot

Dean x Reader AU

Word Count: 2168

Warnings: Nothing but pure FLUFF!!!, and some “inappropriate” words.

A/N: This story is my submission to Jordan’s (@queen-of-deans-booty) 2K Fluff Challenge! My prompt for this challenge was, “wearing his clothes.” Also, I just want to congratulate Jordan on her milestone achievement! And… I hope this is fluffy enough!

Dean Winchester. Your best friend since childhood, despite him being two years older. You two had managed to become closer than ever imaginable from the day you met. Like a gift from God, he had somehow showed up at the right place at the right time and now you couldn’t imagine a life without him. He was your superhero – always there when the neighborhood boys would pick on you just because you were the new girl.

Now, years later, you two were still inseparable. Relationships never got in the way, fights only made your friendship stronger, and the trust you put on each other would literally end worlds if it ever were broken.

Currently, it was both of your day off, and like you spent most days off, you were on your way to meet up with Dean at his place. Sometimes it was the other way around.

“Y/N, where are you? You should already be here,” Dean’s voice rushed out from the other end of the phone call.

“I’m on my way!” You shouted, trying to hear yourself over the crashing sound of the rain.

“Why are you yelling at me?” He whined.

“I’m not! The rain is just really loud.”

“Please tell me you’re not walking in this weather?” His voice was stern and full of worry.

“I thought I could make it,” you confessed. You lived only a few blocks away; in the house your parents had left you when they passed. “Don’t worry, I’m almost there!”

Before Dean could speak, he heard you yelp. You had tripped over a crack in the sidewalk, one you should have known was there considering you made it a routine to trip over it every single time. You’d think you’d already be conditioned to maneuver around it by now.

“Y/N?” Dean called, but your phone had fallen out of your hands and slid a good foot away from you.

“Dammit,” Dean heard you curse, but you sounded as if you were far away. He heard ruffling and scratching before your voice was loud and clear again. “Sorry, I tripped,” you hissed, seeing blood mixing with the rain water and washing away onto the pavement.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked, his voice panicked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little scratched up. I’m almost there,” you assured him. When he didn’t reply you called out his name, but there was still no answer. You pulled the phone away from your face to view the screen only to see that he was still connected. “Dean!” You yelled, worry building in your voice and stomach.

“Y/N!” Dean’s voice was heard once again.

“Dean?” You spoke into the phone.

“Hey, doofus!” He shouted again, this time, your head snapped upward seeing him standing in front of you, getting soaked in the downpour. His plain black shirt sticking to his broad chest and trim waist, enabling the lines of his body to be shown off to a lucky audience of one.

“Dean!” You called, as he examined your drenched figure. To him you looked like you had just gotten out of a tub filled with water. Your hair was matted to your face and neck, your knees and shin coated with streaks and blotches of blood. You were a hot mess. A beautiful one at that.

Dean chuckled walking over to you, taking your bag and threading it through his arm before taking your hand and running back to his apartment. Once under the shelter of the lobby, Dean took some tissues from the front desk to wipe up your knees.

“You sure are a major klutz, you know that?” He teased. “Always have been and always will be,” he laughed.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, your cheeks flaring in embarrassment. It really wasn’t your fault that the invisible, magical, fairies liked to pick on you.

“What did you do to piss off the fairies this time?” He humored, having been told many times that maybe fairies liked to play tricks and pranks on people. You had gotten the idea from one of your favorite books, and it really put things in perspective. What if? The world was filled with mystery after all.

“Hey man, you never know!” You pointed at him in all seriousness. Dean laughed just as the owner of the apartment building, who was currently managing the front desk, appeared from the back room. Her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when she noticed your soaking wet forms. “Dean, Y/N! What on earth?” She questioned.

“Hey Mrs. Harvelle. It’s nothing to worry about, it’s just the result of one of Y/N’s bad decisions,” Dean laughed, causing you to whack him upside the head. “Ow,” he chuckled, taking your hand in his once again.

“Honey, you really need to work on that,” Mrs. Harvelle added as she watched on, smiling at the pair of you. She was sure that one day, the two of you will get together and live happily ever after. God knows the both of you deserve it. She knew love when she saw it. No matter how much you and Dean denied it, always trying to convince her that you were just best friends, she knew better. She was older and wiser, and had seen her fair shares of love stories.

“You know, some of the best relationships start off as friendships,” she announced.

You looked up at her, as Dean turned his head to peek over his shoulder. “Mrs. Harvelle, really, it’s not like that between Dean and me,” you smiled adoringly. Mrs. Harvelle was a sweet and overly generous woman, and happens to be the mother of your other best friend.

“That’s not what my little Joanna tells me,” she grinned.

“Really? Jo is really something,” you giggled.

“Sorry for tracking water in here, do you have a mop that I can clean it up with?” Dean asked, being the considerate man that he has always been.

“Honey, I got that. You kids, better get changed into some dry clothes before y’all get sick,” she ordered, waving her pointer finger at the both of you from head to toe.

“Yes ma’am.” You and Dean looked at each other giggling as you spoke the same words at the same time.

When you finally reached Dean’s floor, you were quivering. The building was air conditioned. The cool air and being out in the rain for so long was getting to you. “C’mon, I’ll get you something to wear,” Dean ushered you into his apartment, making a bee-line to his bedroom.

While Dean was gone, you walked into his bathroom, peeling off your flannel, shoes, and socks. You were sitting at the edge of the tub, using your flannel to wipe up the blood on your knees when Dean walked in. He had some spare clothes for you to wear and a towel.

“Why don’t you take the first shower?” He offered.

“Thanks,” you smiled, taking the clothes and towel out of his hands.

Dean left you to get cleaned up. When you were finished, you wiped yourself dry before putting on the clothes he had lent you. His scent swarmed your sense and you surprisingly felt completely relaxed. Everything felt safe, warm, and comfortable. You double checked your knees to see that they were no longer bleeding, which meant covering it up would be useless.

Exiting the bathroom, you headed into the kitchen to find a note scribbled with Dean’s handwriting. He had gone out to help Mrs. Harvelle with starting her car. Shrugging, you went into Dean’s bedroom, plucking his large fluffy blanket from his bed and brought it over to the couch, where he was once watching TV. Plopping yourself down, you noticed that an eerie movie with creepy music was playing.

Dean returned finding you snuggled up on the couch, extremely focused on the movie. He had called your name but you never acknowledged him. He smiled, before making his way to his bedroom for some clothes and then into the shower.

Once Dean was all cleaned up, he found you in the same spot, this time with the blanket draped over your head like a hood. He walked over silently, creeping closer from behind you. He had seen this movie before and knew that a scary part was coming. Waiting for the right moment, Dean lunged towards you, leaping over the back of the couch and tackling you. You shrieked bloody murder, flailing your arms around you.

Dean started to laugh at your reaction, his voice deep and loud. “Dean Winchester you fucking asshole!” You shouted, punching him on his arm, head, leg, side, back, anywhere you could. That only made Dean break into conniption!

“Holy shit! That was fucking amazing!” Dean roared, his words mixing in with his laughter. “OW!” He shouted, shooting up into a sitting position despite it being in an uncomfortable angle. “You bit me!”

“Because you almost gave me a heart attack, you jerk!” Your face was serious which brought Dean back into a chuckling mess.

You shoved the blanket over Dean’s head and jumped on top of him, continuously punching him again. He was mumbling something through the thick fabric and incessant laughing, but you couldn’t quite understand. Dean suddenly shot upwards causing you to topple backwards onto the couch, your legs bent on either side of his waist.

He looked down at you with his hair tousled in all sorts of directions. He looked incredibly adorable in the handsome sort of way. He had always been good looking, but for some odd reason, he looked peculiarly, much more, handsome than usual. The both of you were panting heavily from your friendly rough housing, Dean still smiling as his eyes raked over your form. You observed him carefully, your heart dropping when you noticed that his smile faded in a blink of an eye.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, pushing yourself into a seated position. When you looked at him, you noticed that his cheeks were red, making his freckles all the more prominent. Your first initial thought was that he had caught something from being out in the cold rain. “Are you okay?” You questioned, placing a hand on his forehead. When you couldn’t feel anything, and wanting to be sure, you instinctively pressed your forehead against his. His eyes went wide before he pushed you away, holding you at arms length.

“I-I’m fine,” he stuttered, which was weird. The only time he stuttered was when he was nervous about something.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“You…”

“Spill it Winchester!” You demanded.

“You just look really hot in my clothes.” The words came out in a rush that you could barley comprehend him, but you did.

It was now your turn to flush cherry red. You were not expecting that to slip from his mouth. His eyes were casted sideways, unwilling to meet yours. In that moment, something about him just made your heart pound, then without thinking, you did it. You stretched your arms forward, placing his head between your hands and forcing him to meet your gaze. It was only for a second before you pulled him in and pressed your lips against his, molding them together.

There were no sparks or fireworks, but there was surely something there that was unexplainable. It was a warmth that swallowed you whole, it was the feeling of butterflies picking you up from the ground, there was this undeniable need to have this feeling forever.

When you both pulled away, Dean had his forehead leaning against yours, not willing to be too far from you. His breath danced on your lips, enticing you for more. “Dean,” you breathed.

“Hmm?”

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not gonna lie, I like it.” His gorgeous emerald orbs met with your dark ones. “I really like it.”

Your vision fell back to his lips, wanting to taste them again. And as if he could read your mind, he leaned forwards, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. Naturally, your arms snaked their way around Dean’s neck, your fingers slithering through his short dirty blonde locks. When you tugged on the short strands, a deep groan escaped from deep within his throat, the vibrations reverberating through your lips and straight to your core.

“I don’t know why I never noticed before,” you panted as you broke the kiss.

“What?” Dean asked breathlessly.

“That it’s always been you?” You confessed.

“What?”

“I’ve always loved you,” your voice became timid at your confession. Dean smiled, kissing you again. This time with more passion and too short for your liking. “How did I not figure it out?” You questioned mostly to yourself.

“Because you’re an idiot,” he chuckled, pulling away.

“Excuse me?” You mocked offense.

“I’ve been in love with you for years,” he admitted, your cheeks staining red.

“You’re the idiot, idiot,” you smiled wide, dragging him into another breathtaking kiss.

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