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trains-of-thought · 3 months

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"Something Small"

After years of secrecy, Mario confesses his mental struggles regarding being the Mushroom Kingdom’s hero to his closest confidants: Luigi and Princess Peach. The two are left in utter disbelief, and deem he must be under a spell or cursed by Bowser. But when the usual methods prove ineffective, they turn to less conventional means...

No one had ever knocked before.

The softest sound of knuckles on wood, so soft, so unusual that he must have imagined it. He wouldn’t be surprised. Sitting in silence for so long does things to a person.

He makes no effort to move, lying in the same sideways position he always settles in. Back to the door, facing a white, cinder block wall. Stiff, for hours at a time. How he’s never had a sore is nothing but a mystery.

His eyes always leak when they’re open, staring at the rough, cold blanket crumbled in his hand. His palm pressed against the fabric sweats, soiling the small patch of linen but never causing him to readjust. He breathes slowly, deeply through his nose, shoulders rising and falling at an inconspicuous pace. Stare at him long enough and most would assume him dead.

Thick, unkempt hair prevents him from feeling the slightest brush of air on his face as he exhales, and sops up tears when they fall within reach. His eyes sting, and despite the lack of gasps, blubbers, cries, vibration between cords, his throat hurts.

A knock again, louder this time.

Another tear falls down his face, too weak to make the trek across the bridge of his nose, and sliding down its crevice, into a burly mustache. He doesn’t know how he can have so many tears, lying here lost in the thick, viscous fog of his own mind. Eyes have to dry out sometime, right?

A third knock, murmurs muffled by a solid door. Hinges whine and he blinks, turning with wide eyes to see a…princess. She offers a small smile, lips together but not uncomfortably so. “Hi, Mario,” His name leaves her lips gently. “Care for a visitor?”

“You don’t have to ask, hon,” a nurse calls loudly from the hall with a sweetness potent enough to taste.

The princess stays in place, allowing only her head to poke through the cracked door. To see him. His response. She waits patiently, staring at the wide eyed, weary hero as he hesitates.

“Mario?” Her eyes are warm, welcoming despite their icy color. “Is now a good time?”

He tries to swallow, a heavy lump caught in his tight throat. His heart hammers at the chance to choose. He hasn’t chosen anything in who knows how long. Despite the softness, the decision laid out before him, part of him wants to turn her away. Because he can. And because the longer he lets himself idle, the more he convinces himself this scene is too bizarre to be true.

He coughs after forcing phlegm to his stomach, but finds himself nodding. Her fingers curl carefully around the door and she steps inside, arms bowing from a bag and pitch black pea coat.

She grunts before letting her belongings drop into a chair with a thud. He sits up to stare at her: straight jeans with stray rough patches on each leg. A sunset flannel buttoned unevenly over a grey t-shirt, one sleeve rolled, the other shelter for slender fingers. Her red hair lacks its usual vigor, hanging in waves on her shoulders instead of bouncing curled above them. Curtain bangs are closed today, brushed away from eyes as she sits. To most she’d convey dishevelment, even as the less traditional princess. But her cozy clothing settles him. Slightly.

“It’s great to see you,” she says, through relaxed lips. “Sorry I took so long to visit. Peach and Luigi are playing this VERY close to the vest.”

Her hand moves through her hair once more, shifting her focus from his pale eyes to the dark shades underneath them, his thin face, disheveled and dirty hair under LED spotlight. “They wouldn’t tell me much,” she breathes. “I’m not supposed to ask but if you felt like shedding some light I wouldn’t be opposed.”

He’s never been one to share his feelings, something about vulnerability and poor past experiences (among other things).When he doesn't respond she shrugs softly, “Worth a try, right?”

Nothing.

She combs her hair in vain, “Obviously this is none of my business. It’s just of all places, I never thought you’d be here.” In a cold, cinderblock, single window cell, with walls and people so thick, a voice dissolves on impact. Prior to. All together. “It’s a lot to blindly try and wrap my head around.”

It had been for him, too. Denial was anything but brief. Anger and bargaining the antithesis. He’d pleaded persistently until depression sapped what little hope he still had. The two people he thought he could turn to, and they’d only heard what they wanted to hear. Ignored the conclusion in front of them and made their own. One that was easier to face.

A flurry of snapshots, snippets from the first weeks spent in this hellhole re-cycle through his consciousness. A calculated, cruelly edited short film he’d do anything to erase. Staring off into space, trapped within as it plays, his fists clench and eyes fill with water.

“Hey.” Daisy calls, pulling him out of the trance. He shakes his head and blinks tears away, refocusing on a worried red-headed princess. He’s never seen her concerned, and definitely not about him. “Everything’s gonna be okay,” she assures, resting a hand on his wrist. “You’ll get through this.”

When his face begins to further fall she gives him a squeeze. “You’ll get through,” she repeats. “And be back home before you know it.”

Home. The very thought feels foreign. Fantasy. Unobtainable. Even if he makes it out of here, the mushroom house him and his brother share will feel hollow. Devoid of the warmth one experiences stepping through their entryway. Seeing family. Smelling—.

“Speaking of,” Daisy turns, reaching into her bag with both hands to reveal a glass tupperware container. She keeps it level, placing it carefully in her lap before resting her hands on top. Steam and condensation cover the lid, concealing what’s inside.

Her fingers drum the glass, feeling his eyes on her. Her mouth opens but she hesitates, hunched over her gift. “I’m not much of a baker,” she says, voice suddenly soft. “But cooking I can manage, especially easier recipes.”

The smile she manages is small, dwindled by (of all things) nervousness. Despite the time and attention put in, and her usual confidence, it’s hard to avoid comparing to her counterpart, the princess whose culinary skills always seem second to none. It likely won’t measure up, Daisy continues to tell herself, tapping her foot at the way he looks between her and her dish. But it's the thought that counts, right?

“It’s lasagna,” she reveals, missing his brows raise in anticipation when she looks down at her hands again. “With a twist. Figured you could use some comfort food in a place like this.”

His appetite has been lost since entry, and not because of the abysmal options, but suddenly he’s starving.

Her fingers tap once, twice, thrice more before offering the container. He takes it, relishing the warmth the second his hands make contact. She bites the inside of her cheek as his fingers flip the snaps and discard the lid, indifferent to water droplets spilling on his blankets and steam in his face. “The recipe I used is pretty basic,” she self-deprecates, as he stares at the four square pieces snug in pyrex, bathing in broth. “Hopefully that’s okay.”

His stomach growls, and the sight and scent of chicken and cheese make his mouth water. He turns, grabbing a fork from his tray table and tries a first bite before she can say more.

Perfect temperature. Naturally salted. Tender meat, and cheese with just the right amount of stretch. Noodles ‘to the tooth.’ His eyes remain closed for a moment as he swallows, savoring the taste and feel of homemade heat before opening to blink, in awe.

She bites her cheek again, “If it’s bad—”

He takes another mouthful. And another, and another. Finishes the first piece and moves to the second in less than a minute. A beautiful blend of flavor bursts in his mouth with each bite, never losing its potency. Never failing to satisfy. Cheese, chicken, broth, and noodles. Simple, yes, but remarkable nevertheless, thawing him from the inside out.

Surprise mars her face before she settles into silence with a smile, leaning forward in her seat to take in the sight before her, brighter and livelier than the one she walked into. Still dim of course but the enthusiasm displayed from the hero —finishing the final piece and sieving through the remaining broth for remnants— calms her hidden nerves.

“Glad you liked it,” she says when he hands the container back. “Guess I should have brought more.”

He nods, one-two of the head as quick as a blink.

“Really?”

He stares, a bit confused by the redundant question. From (again) Daisy of all people. Delayed but evident, he offers another one-two, directed right at her.

“Okay!” she exclaims, more mindful of her volume when she speaks again, “I’ll bring some more next time.”

He slides back under the blankets when she leaves, eyes closing, embracing the warmth of the food in his stomach and the drowsiness from eating so much of it. When slumber has run its course he’ll return to his room, his reality, but at least they’ll be something small to look forward to.

#super mario #fanfiction #writing #mental health #nintendo

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attllhak · 3 years

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I 100% blame @kagrenacs entirely for this. This is your fault. You gave me Ideas.

Also, @tortilla-of-courage I promised I’d tag you in this. Here’s that crack fic I talked about where Mario is Malon’s step-father.

Behold, a crack fic.

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

Link had been dating Malon officially for about three months when the letter came.

Link had arrived at the ranch about the same time as the postman left, having just got back home from another adventure trying to help clear out a temple that had been invaded by monsters that the regular soldiers were struggling with. He went so Sheik wouldn’t, as apparently Zelda was needed at the castle for something else.

Malon was waving goodbye at the postman as Link and Epona trotted up, the boy leaning to the side of the saddle to blink at his girlfriend.

Epona snorted and nudged Malon’s head to get her attention.

“Oh what, Epona!” Malon laughed, reaching up to stroke her hand along the mare’s face. “And that means,”

Link waved at her with a smile.

“Link!” Malon grinned, coming around Epona’s side to meet him. “You’re home!”

Link nodded as he leaned down to kiss her hello, feeling much better now that he was back at the ranch, even if he was still bruised and achy and very possibly bleeding. Malon almost made him feel the way the forest did, like he was home.

He swung over and dismounted the horse, smiling as Malon pulled him into a hug.

Malon then pushed him away and spun him around. Link was confused for about one second before,

“Are you bleeding?”

Link shrugged, not entirely sure himself.

Malon made a strangled noise and then she was dragging him inside. “Honestly, Link. What part of ‘be careful’ do you not understand? You know, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t show up here bleeding sometimes,”

Link just smiled at the back of her head, not affected by her berating in the least. She’d lectured him on this before, and would do so again in the future, and he knew she wasn’t as mad as she pretended to be. At this point her yelling was as much standard fare as her patching him up was.

Link hopped up to sit on the kitchen table, watching as Malon dropped the letter on the table next to him before digging out the first aid kit she kept stocked in the room.

In lieu of anything else to look at, Link glanced down at the letter next to him. There was a red seal on the back, not dissimilar to the ones Zelda used when writing letters, though instead of the Hylian crest this seal had the image of a mushroom on it. Flipping it over saw words in neat curling letters in an alphabet Link didn’t recognize. This wasn’t surprising, as up until a year or so ago he still struggled with written Hylian. He set the letter down when he heard a door open in a different part of the house.

“Malon!” Talon shouted through the house. “Did you know Epona was out front? I thought Link had taken her,” he stopped when he turned into the kitchen and saw his daughter standing up with a first aid kit and the mentioned adventurer on his table. Link waved. “Link! You’re back!”

Link nodded, smiling at Talon as Malon opened the first aid kit on the table and started sorting through the contents.

“Link just got back a minute ago,” Malon informed her father as she had Link pull off his tunic. “He’s bleeding still, so I’m going to patch him up before he fills us in on his latest adventure,” she paused, then picked up the letter that she’d received when Link arrived. “Oh, and we got a letter from mom,”

She handed over the letter to her dad, Link watching the paper with curiosity. Malon’s mother? She’d never mentioned her mother to him before, and he’d never pried. He assumed her mother was dead, since she wasn’t around and no one talked about her, but he was also pretty sure dead people didn’t send letters. Pretty sure, not totally sure. Considering what he’d already seen on his adventures, he wasn’t ruling it out as a possibility.

Talon grumbled as he opened it, Malon pulling Link’s attention to her as she went about patching him up as best she could. A few minutes passed, Link occasionally hissing as Malon applied a disinfectant, and then Malon declared him patched up, wandering over to look at the letter over her father’s shoulder.

“What does it say?” She asked, crowding him as Link shrugged back into his tunic.

“It’s an invitation,” Talon handed it to her to read herself. “Some kind of Star Carnival or something, happens every couple of years. She’s invited us to come,”

Link slowly raised his hand, then waved when he noticed no one was paying attention to him. Talon looked up, then nudged Malon to get her attention. Link waved his hands at the letter then at the two of them, then threw his hands up in confusion. True, he could have signed, but he only thought of that afterwards.

“Oh, right,” Malon bounced over to sit next to him to hold the letter where he could see it. He looked at it, then at her. Malon scoffed. “It’s an invitation from my mother to come to the Star Carnival in the Mushroom Kingdom,”

Link blinked, then sighed ‘Mushroom Kingdom’ back at her with his face twisted up in confusion.

Malon blinked at him, then snapped her fingers. “Oh right, I never told you about my mother, did I? She lives in a neighboring kingdom off to the west, and her and dad had a bit of a falling out a few years after I was born. Dad and Ingo moved to Hyrule, and mom remarried. I have a half sister over there now,”

Link nodded slowly, then waved at the letter again.

“Oh, mom will occasionally invite us back for festivals and stuff. It’s her way of keeping up with us, while respecting that dad moved away for a reason,” she paused, then her head snapped up and turned to him so quickly he had to lean back in order to not get hit. “You should come with us!”

Malon blinked at him, wide eyed and grinning. Link couldn’t possibly say no. He nodded.

Malon made a giddy sound and wrapped Link in a hug, then slid off the table to hand the letter to her father. She came back to grab his hands and pull him off the table too.

“Oh, you’ll love it, Link! The Star Carnival is great, there’s all sorts of games, and events, and everyone comes out for it,” Malon chatteled off, dragging Link with her so she could keep talking at him while she finished up her chores.

Link completely forgot he was supposed to tell Zelda about the temple.

About a week later Link found himself next to Malon in an oddly mushroom shaped carriage her mother sent to collect them for the carnival. Apparently this was normal for these trips, but the fact the carriage had nothing to pull it but still moved confused Link. According to Malon this was how most things worked, but he wasn’t convinced he liked that.

The trip was uneventful, except how Link kept jumping every time the carriage bumped. The little mushroom person (“He’s a Toad, they’re the race that makes up most of the Mushroom Kingdom’s people,” Malon told him) kept up a steady stream of talk, pointing out everything he saw. Link was very glad he’d managed to convince Malon to let him take one of his swords and the mirror shield with him, he felt much more comfortable armed.

His discomfort was overshadowed, however, when the site of the carnival came into view. A big red and white striped tent, with booths and stalls set up throughout the whole grounds. There were people streaming all through the area, humans, toads and some other things as well. Link found it incredible, and Malon had to pull him back into the carriage before he fell out the window.

Eventually, the carriage came to a stop at the entrance to the grounds and the three Hyruleans stepped out. There were a few long moments as Link looked around in awe, and confusion, at some of the things he was seeing. There were moving paintings positioned around the grounds showing some guy who was mostly hat and blaring his voice across the area. Malon called these moving paintings ‘video screens’, and that they were looking at something happening in a different part of the carnival. Link didn’t understand that, but they were moving along fast enough that he didn’t linger on it.

He was snapped out of looking at some star shaped pastries at a loud squeal, head snapping up and on alert. He relaxed when Malon laughed and waved in response.

“Malon!” A higher pitched voice called, belonging to a taller woman with bright blonde hair wearing a very big pink dress and long white gloves. She had a crown on her head. “You made it!”

“Of course I made it,” Malon laughed as she hugged the other woman. “Why would I miss this?”

Malon then switched to hugging and greeting another woman closer to her age, also wearing a crown but dressed in blue, her hair covering her right eye. A little chubby star creature floated next to her and waved.

Link blinked and watched the exchange, hovering off to the side.

“Oh!” Malon abruptly remembered him and turned to tug him up. “Link, I want you to meet my mother, Queen Peach, and my half sister Rosalina. Mom, Rosy, this is my boyfriend Link,”

Link managed to get himself out of his ‘Malon’s mom is queen???!?’ confusion loop long enough to bow, trying to be polite.

“Oh no, please don’t. No one has bowed to me in a very long time, and it’s weird to see now,” Queen Peach giggled lightly as Link straightened up, the tips of his ears turning red. “You didn’t mention you had a boyfriend,”

“Uh, surprise!” Malon waved her hands as she gave her mother and sister a sheepish grin. “I have a boyfriend! His name is Link,”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Rosalina extended her hand, and Link took it to shake.

Link nodded and grinned, then signed back ‘it’s nice to meet you too’ at her when she dropped his hand. Both women blinked at him and for a second he thought he’d done something wrong. He slowly lowered his hands and blinked at them too. Maybe they didn’t speak Hylian sign? He’d never encountered someone who couldn’t understand him, but outside of Hyrule it wasn’t impossible.

“Oh,” Malon jumped in, waving at him. “Link is mute, so he uses sign to talk. I should have mentioned that,”

“Oh,” Queen Peach brightened up again. “Of course. Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Link. I hope you enjoy the carnival,” she signed as she spoke, and Link blinked at her, then matched her grin.

Link nodded happily, letting her know it wasn’t like anything he’d encountered before, but that he was enjoying things so far.

Queen Peach offered to show them around, which Malon accepted for them, and they went about walking through the grounds while the queen pointed out different attractions. Most of these involved events she called minigames, though a few featured other attractions. Apparently minigames were part of a big event called a Party, which was a competition people could compete in for prizes. Malon had very quietly dissuaded him from participating, as apparently she was worried a few of the minigames might mess with his trauma if he were to play them. Also, apparently Hylians weren’t as durable as the people of the Mushroom Kingdom.

“Oh!” Queen Peach bounced over to one of the video screens and grinned. “It looks like a Party is starting!”

Wandering up to join the toadstool queen, Link blinked up at the moving paintings on the screen, still confused as to how that worked. The man who was mostly hat introduced a group of four, a stout man in red with blue overalls with a very big mustache named Mario, a brunette woman in a yellow dress named Daisy, a stal-like creature that resembled the creatures Malon told him were koopahs who was introduced as Dry Bones, and a tall lanky man in purple who introduced himself as Waluigi. Queen Peach was grinning, and Malon was laughing a little at this.

Link tapped Malon’s shoulder and asked her who those people were.

“Oh, well Mario is mom’s husband, and Daisy is his brother’s wife. Dry Bones is a friend, I think, and Waluigi just shows up for events like this,” Malon explained to him, pointing as she did. “It can be hard to keep track of who’s friendly and who isn’t all the time, things change so often,”

“They don’t change often,” Queen Peach giggled. “The only time anything changes is when Bowser kidnaps me, then we’re briefly enemies, but we go back to being friends when Mario comes to rescue me,”

Link blinked at her, face scrunched up. She talked like this was normal. Apparently, this was quickly explained to him, it was. It was just the relationship those three had. Link wasn’t sure he’d ever understand that concept, but was willing to push it aside for the moment.

They stood and watched the Party, and Link was glad Malon had encouraged him not to try any of the minigames. She was right about a few of them not meshing well with his trauma. He’d actually had to turn away during one because of how much it reminded him of fighting Volvagia in the Fire Temple. It was pretty easy for Malon to work him down again, and he was ever so grateful for her and her patience with him, but they didn’t turn back until after the minigame was over.

Once the Party was over, Queen Peach eagerly dragged them over to something called a warp pad in order to greet her husband when he got there. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one.

Already waiting at the pad was a very large individual. He looked vaguely like a koopah, but was much bigger, and his shell was studded with spikes. Helpfully, Link’s mind supplied him with the theory that the koopah might be like the Zora, with the ruler being much bigger than the rest of their people, and so this might be their king.

He was right, he’d soon learn.

What had him stopping dead was the man next to him. Almost eight feet tall, bright red hair, black armor. The man was distinctly Gerudo, and looked identical to Ganondorf. Link reached out and grabbed Malon’s arm, pointing out the man to her and signing as fast as she could keep up. Malon had his shoulders in her hands, and was trying to talk to him slowly, the same way she did when working him down from a panic attack or a spike in anxiety. Maybe he was freaking out, he certainly didn’t feel calm. But Ganondorf shouldn’t be here, Zelda’s father had him executed. He shouldn’t be alive, let alone here.

“Is something wrong?” Queen Peach popped up in Link’s peripheral vision, but he was too busy trying not to panic to respond to her.

Thankfully, he had Malon.

“Kind of, Link’s had some, uh, adventures that have messed with his head a little. Bowser’s friend over there happens to look like a man named Ganondorf who tried to kill him more than once, with quite a bit of effort,” Malon rubbed Link’s arms as she spoke, glancing back at him every once in a while. “He’s a little freaked out to see someone who looks so similar, even if this can’t be Ganondorf, since Queen Zelda’s father, the late king, had him executed for trying to kill the royal family and steal Hyrule’s crown about ten or so years ago.”

“Oh, I hadn’t realized,” Queen Peach paused, glancing back at Bowser and maybe-Ganondorf, then back to the two of them. “If you’ll give me a moment,”

She ducked out, and in the meantime Link managed to wrangle his breathing under control. Eventually, he felt confident enough in himself to not immediately try to stab maybe-Ganondorf, but he did pull the mirror shield onto his arm. He felt better when he had it out.

Link specifically kept his shield between himself and maybe-Ganondorf as they approached, Malon keeping a hand on his arm. The conversation petered out as they made it up.

Maybe-Ganondorf clapped his hands together, which had Link pulling up the shield and tensing. The maybe-Ganondorf paused, then spread his hands.

“I understand that someone who looked like me tried to hurt you in the past?” The man, who even sounded like Ganondorf, asked. Link was then hit again with the fact that in this timeline Ganondorf never actually tried to kill him, and even when he had it was both his past and future for a while. He nodded, not willing to dwell on the details of his seven year sleep and subsequent return to childhood. The man grimaced. “I am truly sorry then. My name is Greg, I am a good, friend, of Bowser’s, and I can assure you I am not the same man who wanted to see you come to harm,”

Link narrowed his eyes, but did peek a little further over his shield.

There was a long, tense moment where Link just looked over Greg, trying to decide how he felt about him. After several heartbeats where Link found nothing but honesty, he nodded and lowered the shield some. He didn’t put it away however.

Greg grinned, nodding back.

“You can probably put the shield away now,” Queen Peach offered gently.

Link just tightened his grip on the reflective defense and pulled it closer to himself.

“I don’t think that’s happening,” Malon said gently, squeezing his arm some. “It’s just, well, I’m sure it just makes him feel a little better, what with the situation and all. I wouldn’t be surprised if he never got better around male Gerudo,” she tried to laugh.

“What’s a Gerudo?” Greg asked.

Link dropped the shield to his side and made a face.

(---)

The rest of the day was spent being introduced to a few others of Queen Peach’s friends, and then later avoiding Greg as best he could, and even watching Malon play some of the minigames with her sister.

Link felt a little bad about avoiding Greg, but he looked so much like Ganondorf that he really didn’t trust himself not to hurt the man. Better to just avoid him.

They were invited to spend the night at Peach’s castle, after which they’d return to the carnival the next day.

Somehow, between meeting Mario and crashing for the night, the plumber convinced him to agree to a race.

Link didn’t know how to use any of the racing machines they had.

He spent a great deal of time, at length, bemoaning his impulsivity to Malon, who eventually got tired enough with him to track down her stepfather and get him to teach Link to use one of the machines. Mario, to his credit, was surprisingly understanding and more than helpful.

It didn’t take long to decide Link would do better on a bike than in a kart.

Link also needed to help repair a wall later.

These are related.

“Alright,” Mario rubbed his hands together as he coached Link through the basics. “This-a thing here? That’s-a the brakes. You pull on-a those to slow down. This-a piece you twist, and that makes-a you go! You see?”

Link nodded slowly, pulling on the lever for the brakes and twisting the handle.

“Okay, let’s-a do one lap around the track, and-a see how you do,” Mario nodded back waving at the track. “Let’s-a go!”

Link gave a sharp nod, taking a deep breath as he did. This would be his fifth try at this.

Malon gave him a pair of thumbs up from the sidelines, grinning at him. He was glad she was more confident in him than he was.

He slowly twisted the handle, the machine puttering to life (a phrase Link was distinctly uncomfortable with) and eased forward gently. After a few moments he was increasing speed around the oval track, getting more comfortable with using the bike. He avoided the jumps he could, but managed to not wipe out on the ones he couldn’t. Slowing to a stop in front of Malon and Mario, he felt distinctly proud of himself for not crashing.

Malon jumped up from where she was sitting, clapping happily as she bounced over to hug him.

“You didn’t crash that time!” She grinned. “You’re getting better!”

‘I am,’ Link grinned back, a group of bees set loose in his chest alongside the happiness.

“You’re-a doing so much better! Now, let’s-a maybe think about getting better with the jumps, hm?” Mario clapped as he approached.

Link nodded, signing his response slowly. Mario knew Mushroom Kingdom Sign, but not Hylian Sign, and the two had some differences. This meant communication was slow going, which was partly why Malon was there.

They spent a few more hours, and a lot more crashing, practicing the jumps. Apparently there were a lot of jumps in these races.

By the time they decided to take a break for lunch, Link was covered in bruises but could also reasonably be trusted to not crash every time he attempted a jump, which was much better than he was when they started.

“Oh my! What happened to you?” Peach gasped, looking over the group as they arrived to join the queen and the rest of the family for lunch.

‘Learned the jumps,’ Link signed at her, grinning maybe a bit wider than he needed to.

“The bruises were self-inflicted,” Malon told everyone, dragging Link over to sit between Talon and Rosalina with her. “He’s gotten very good at crashing. And at not crashing, but that skill’s taking longer,”

Rosalina started giggling. “Well, it seems we all have a type,”

Link looked at her in confusion while he let Malon set up plates for them.

“What do you mean?” Peach asked.

Rosalina pointed at her mother. “You married dad, who is prone to extreme spots. And turns sports that aren’t extreme sports into extreme sports. I have never seen someone make golf a full contact sport other than him,” she turned her finger to Malon. “Malon has brought home a boy who is firstly more than willing to participate in said extreme sports, and, Mal you said he works for your Queen, right?”

Malon nodded. “He’s technically part of the royal guard, but really he’s just sent out to go deal with monsters when Her Majesty can’t do it herself. He comes back bleeding a lot,” she sent him a halfhearted glare. He smiled innocently in response.

“Right,” Rosalina nodded. “He’s prone to come back bleeding. And the last time I saw Sammy, she was also bleeding and bruised because she got in a fight with a robot that nearly kicked her, erm, butt,” she cleared her throat and paused until she got a nod from her mother, then continued. “Right, so, my point is we have a type, and it’s the same one,”

“And that type is?” Malon asked.

“People who are prone to getting hurt,”

Link felt mildly like he should be offended by that, but Malon was just nodding along so he decided to drop it. It wasn’t like he could argue, after all.

“Oh, is your girlfriend coming?” Malon asked, handing Link a plate but focusing on her sister.

Link didn’t know what some of the things on his plate were, and lightly poked at one of the mushrooms. This is why he decided to let Malon grab food for him.

“She should be, she told me she’d try at least,” Rosalina nodded. “But, well, you know how busy she can be sometimes. Her job doesn’t allow her a lot of free time,”

Malon nodded. “I get that. It can be hard dating someone who spends so much time away getting in fights,”

She gave Link a side eye and he paused halfway into a bite. Was she mad at him? Or was this one of those joking jab things? He couldn’t quite tell the difference yet. She didn’t seem like she was mad at him. Maybe she was trying to relate to her sister? Wait, what did her sister’s girlfriend do that he’d be a comparison?

He figured he’d ask.

Apparently Sammy was a mercenary (“She fights things for money,” Malon told him. “Kind of like you do, but you work for the Queen and she works for herself,”), and that meant she spent a lot of time away and then coming back injured. Like Link did.

“You’d probably get along with her really well,” Malon offered, subtly adding more of the thing he’d already cleared off his plate to his portion. “You can bond over killing things and getting hurt and worrying your girlfriends about the fact that you’re out killing things and getting hurt all alone,”

Link frowned at her and narrowed his eyes. The worst part was that he couldn’t even argue, she was right. He did spend a lot of time killing things and getting hurt and worrying her, and he did do most of it alone.

That thought sort of made his chest ache. He wouldn’t be alone if he still had Navi, but he hadn’t been able to find her yet. He didn’t want to sour the atmosphere though, so he pushed that thought to the side and shoved Malon’s shoulder in retaliation.

Malon shoved him back, laughing, and Link didn’t bother fighting the grin on his face. It was moments like this that made the trauma and the longing easier to deal with.

They spent some more time practicing the jumps for the race Link had gotten himself roped into and introducing him to the ‘power ups’, and then wandered around the festival grounds until dinner, where they retired to the castle. Link found out quickly that the power ups were made with people way more durable than him in mind. A conversation started about finding an item or something that might help protect him a bit.

Malon had pulled out a health potion she insisted Link drink to heal up the bruises he’d acquired when they heard the, whirring? Link didn’t know what to make of that sound, but he did know he should figure it out.

Which is how Link ended up carefully crossing the entryway of the castle, eyes on the front door, Malon frustrated and following behind him.

Rosalina came barrelling down a stairwell just as Link got to the door, startling him.

“Don’t mind Link,” Malon rolled her eyes. “He’s just never heard the sound of a ship landing before,”

Ship?

“So that was her ship I saw!” Rosalina pushed past Link, who made a strangled noise as she did, and ran out the door.

Link followed, hand on his sword, just in case, and froze.

Someone was standing on the bridge to the castle, wearing dark orange armor and standing easily as tall as a gerudo, maybe taller. Link couldn’t make out much more from that, since the armor covered them head to toe, and their helmet covered their entire head and face. It also looked shinier than any armor he’d ever seen before.

This person caught Rosalina when she threw herself at them, lifting her up and spinning them both around. A sort of mechanical laugh came from the armored person.

Link turned to Malon.

“That’s Samus, Rosy’s girlfriend,” Malon explained. “Come on, let’s go say hi!”

Malon headed down the bridge to where Samus had set Rosalina down. Link stayed where he was, the Luma that followed Rosalina around coming up to float next to him. Luma yawned, and Link offered it a small smile. They must have been getting ready for bed when Samus arrived.

“Link!” He turned at Malon’s shout, seeing her wave at him. “Come meet Samus!”

Samus had pulled off her helmet, revealing tied back blonde hair and pale skin. So, not gerudo, just tall.

He offered Luma a sympathetic shrug and wandered over.

“Link, this is Samus,” Malon waved between them as Link came up. “Samus, this is my boyfriend, Link. He’s mute, so he speaks using sign, but he can hear you just fine,”

“Hello, Link,” Samus offered him a smile, signing in very choppy Hylian Sign as she spoke, and then offered her hand to shake. “It’s nice to meet you,”

Link signed slowly as he replied, figuring Samus might appreciate it, and then accepted her handshake.

They didn’t stay standing there for long since it was already getting quite dark. Link offered to help Samus move in some of her things, since she was apparently staying for a few weeks between jobs, which is how he found himself pulling on his golden gauntlets to pick up a very heavy suitcase to carry inside. Samus had the other very heavy case, and Malon and Rosalina helped carry in the rest of it.

Once Samus was settled Malon resumed her crusade to get Link to drink the rest of the health potion.

(---)

The next time Link ran into Samus was right before his race. They hadn’t found something to help with the power ups yet, though he did receive a racing suit to wear in case he crashed.

He stopped mid-sign as something heavy dropped round his neck.

He turned to look down at the item, some kind of medallion on a chain. There was some kind of bird on it, and some kind of writing he couldn’t read, though he didn’t expect to be able to. It didn’t feel magical, but it did sort of, hum in his hands.

He turned around to blink up at the person who dropped in on him. Which turned out to be Samus.

She wasn’t wearing the armor, instead wearing just a skin-tight blue outfit that showed off her abs and the muscles in her arms. She had a lot of muscle. Link started doubting his conclusion that she wasn’t somehow part gerudo.

“I heard you were worried about being durable enough to compete,” Samus explained when Link made a confused motion at the medallion. “That should help,”

‘How?’ Link asked.

“It’s an old bit of tech I picked up but haven’t needed in a long while,” Samus explained.

Link spent a moment finger spelling out that word and trying to remember where he heard it before.

“It’s like magic, but not magic,” Rosalina appeared to lean behind Samus, who towered over her even when she was standing straight. “Sammy you need to remember they don’t even have video screens in Hyrule, you’re going to confuse him,”

“Oh,” Samus blinked, looking between them. “Uh, sorry,”

Link waved her off and assured her it was fine, and then asked for more clarification on the item she just gave him.

“I figured it would solve your durability issue,” Samus explained. “For the race,”

Link nodded, turning it over in his hands for a minute. He tucked it under the suit, the metal oddly warm despite having only just put it on, and thanked Samus for the help.

She promised to be cheering him on, which was met by a huff and light shove from Rosalina, who was also racing.

The medallion did help. It didn’t quite put him on par with the native residents of the Mushroom Kingdom, but it did keep him from getting seriously hurt by some of the more extreme power ups.

Seriously, some of them were just insane.

He didn’t win, but he did come about middle of the pack, which he was quite proud of.

Samus let him keep the medallion, since he could probably get more use out of it than she would, and then Rosalina dragged them all out to get some star pastries to celebrate the fact she won.

Samus ended up far more confident in her Hylian Sign by the end of the day, mostly due to her and Link being dragged about the faire by their girlfriends as they competed in a few minigames. Samus had asked for some help practicing when she noticed Link was a bit uncomfortable with some of the minigames.

Link decided he liked Samus.

He especially liked it when their girlfriends got back and Rosalina had fake-whispered to Malon “Oh no, they’re teaming up!” and all four of them started laughing.

They stayed for a week, the length of the carnival, but they did have to get back to Hyrule. It didn’t help that Sheik had likely tried dealing with everything himself, and as such the kingdom had to deal with the Queen slipping out to fight things.

Once they’d said goodbye, with promises to write between Malon and her family, they climbed back into the little carriage thing they’d arrived in and Link turned to Malon immediately.

‘You’ll bring me with you next time too, right?’

Malon laughed, and agreed to bring him with the next time they were invited.

Neither of them had fully expected Link to get a letter a few weeks after they got home, but sure enough, it was his name written in the alphabet used by the Mushroom Kingdom.

It was decided that they should probably teach him how to read that alphabet after that.

The small package he received from Rosalina a few years later with her and Malon’s grandmother’s engagement ring after he’d proposed with a little note that the ring he’d found was way too flashy was probably to be expected. Even he and Malon had agreed on that the day before. They did switch out the rings, and though the old Queen’s ring was still a bit fancy for a farm girl, it wasn’t going to accidentally blind someone.

He figured he’d pass off Queen Peach’s offer to plan their wedding to Zelda, who had also already decided she wanted to plan it.

Let people who actually knew what they were doing plan it, he’d focus on making sure he was mostly uninjured come the day of. He’d just help with the invitation list.

This, he learned later, was a very smart call.

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raamyun-and-rambles · 3 years

Text

Musings of an Alchemist’s Lover

Fandom: Genshin Impact Pairing: Albedo x Reader Summary: Maybe you had a third eye somewhere you didn't know of, a horn that's grown out of you without you noticing or a tail that flicks behind you whenever you weren't looking. Whatever it was, certainly there had to be something noticeably different about you that attracted the alchemist's attention and your curiosity allowed your mind to wander.

-----------

Holding Albedo's attention for more than a few seconds was no easy feat.

Unless it was a topic that tickled his fancy or something of utmost urgence, Albedo would most likely only regard the unfortunate soul with a disgruntled hum, tuning out most of their words until he manages to somewhat catch onto the main gist of their spiel. He doesn't even do anything to hide his disinterest, eyes immediately finding purchase on anything else but the speaker in front of them, musing theories to himself that he'd sometimes let slip into a whisper. This certain trait of his has definitely gotten him into trouble more than a couple of times but Albedo could hardly care. Surely discovering the world's secrets is more important than helping the Knights look for Margaret's lost cat for the umpteenth now right?

Despite being Mondstadt's favorite person and with a reputation that precedes him, Albedo was surprisingly anti-social. He had little to no regards for social interaction and this is further proved when he made himself a makeshift laboratory in one of Dragonspine's cave.

It was quiet, deserted and had almost everything he needed for his studies. If he ever ran out of supplies then he'd be able to call for either Sucrose or Timaeus - or go down the mountain himself to make sure he'll stock up with more than the amount he needs so he can hole himself up for a couple of weeks on end. The scenery was an added bonus, if the amount of sketches he's made was anything to go by, it was safe to say that Albedo liked it as well. Thick snow carpeted the floor as far as the eye can go and streams glimmered under the light of the morning sun. The air was crisp and chilly, it nipped at his nose and made his cheeks burn red, but his cave offered a comforting warmth once he's sank in front of the hearth, nursing a cup of tea or hot chocolate.

Albedo was many things, that much you could tell.

A genius, an alchemical prodigy, a leader, a brother - and most surprisingly, even to yourself - your lover.

To be fairly honest you weren't entirely sure what it was that attracted the Chief Alchemist of the Knights to your side. You were hardly anyone special after all, simply just one of Lisa's many acquaintances who spends one too many hours in the library. You were of average height and build, with a face that you could only describe as forgettable. Neither you nor your parents were well-known within the walls of the city of freedom and you lived a mostly mundane routinary life as a baker until Klee had bounded into your humble store one rainy evening, soaked to the bone and sneezing from the cold. The poor thing was shivering and had asked to take shelter from the pouring rain. You didn't have the heart to turn her away and you were more than just a little familiar about the stories of Mond's most adorable but destructive spark knight. You allowed her into your home, giving her a fresh towel to pat herself dry and a cup of hot milk and freshly baked cookies. The child bounced in glee, thanking you and happily accepting the treats with a smile that could part the skies to make way for the rays of sun. You allowed her to phone her guardian after she had finished eating and you kept her company throughout the entire wait. You turned your attention away from Klee the moment the store bell rang and your (e/c) eyes had immediately met with bright turquoise irises.

"Thank you for taking care of her." Albedo said as he knelt down to assist Klee with wearing her infamous bright red coat and adjusted her mushroom hat so it sat snugly atop her head.

"It's no problem at all, she was lovely company. I'd be delighted to have her around again every once in a while." You chuckled, remembering how she had praised the treats you made for her.

"Albedo onii-chan Albedo onii-chan!" The spark knight excitedly exclaimed, tugging on his hand with each call of his name. "______ makes the best sweets! Her cookies are really good and the bread she makes are really fluffy! She let me help her mix the dough earlier and-"

"How about you tell me all about it when we get home Klee? It's late and I'm sure ______ has to close up shop soon."

Klee deflated a bit but was quick to understand, she turned to you immediately after and flashed you another bright smile.

"Thank you for today ______ nee-chan, Klee will come back to visit another time!"

You smiled at her enthusiasm and you couldn't resist the urge to pat her on the head.

"I'll be waiting for you here then."

Albedo stood up after the exchange and finally regarded you with his attention. "We'll be off then, have a lovely evening miss ______."

"And to you too sir Kreideprinz."

You watch them walk off down the cobbled street, Klee's joyous laughter and excited chatter filling the air despite the pattering of rain against your roof. They took a turn around the corner and disappeared from your view. A small smile tugs on your features and you immediately set to work with locking up the store for the night.

Klee had started coming over more often after that night, mostly dropping by before you close while she waited for Albedo to finish work. It was no surprise that Klee often talked fondly about her big brother, praising him and telling you stories you haven't heard from any of the other residents of Mond while you prepared for tomorrow's next batch of goods. Albedo seemed like a very busy man from the way Klee tells her stories but he always seemed to make time to pick her up, oftentimes buying some bread and sweets before leaving.

It surprised you a little when he admitted he enjoyed having something sweet while he worked. Albedo insisted that it was because it gave him a considerable boost of energy but a part of you thinks it could just be because he had a sweet tooth he just wasn't aware of.

Needless to say it was due to that chance encounter with Klee that had allowed you to meet the chief alchemist himself and your relationship had only continued to bloom from there.

He was - in simple terms - wonderful.

An eccentric, true, but wonderful nonetheless and you never would have guessed that you'd ever end up as his lover nor did you ever imagine you'd be holding him in your arms, sleep slowly overtaking him as you gently ran your fingers through soft platinum locks - much like the lazy morning you were both sharing right now.

Albedo had come home at almost 3 in the morning the other night, with a throbbing headache and eyes that almost refused to open from drowse. He had pulled all-nighters for several days now, refusing to leave his lab for even a moment as he fully threw himself into his work. Nothing could ever stop him when he was in such a state, filled with elation at the mere prospect of a new discovery. It was a side of him that you admired as much as you found it problematic, it was amazing how he could wholly dedicate all his time, effort and energy towards his research but it was a definitely a point of worry that he'd also forget how to take care of himself. The alchemist immediately headed to your shared bedroom, dragging his feet across the floor while he shed himself of his coat, letting out a long yawn before heaving himself onto the mattress' soft comfort. You stirred from your sleep as the bed dipped and knowing it couldn't possibly be anyone else other than Albedo, you immediately rolled to your side and wrapped your arms around his middle, nuzzling into his warmth as his arms found themselves around you to return your embrace. There was an exchange of sleepy mumbles before you both immediately fell back into sleep.

You smile a little bit at the memory, humming softly as you continue to softly card your fingers through his hair. It was more than just a little past the time you both usually woke, but you'll allow it for now. Surely the people could wait a couple hours more for their morning bread and the knights can surely make do without the Chief Alchemist for a moment longer. So long as Albedo was getting the rest he needed you figured a lazy morning in would be alright every once in a while especially after the sleepless hectic nights he had the past few days. The peaceful expression on his face immediately filled you with relief.

"Albedo?" You whispered, afraid you'd break the serenity of the morning.

The alchemist responded with a sleepy hum, lifting his head so he could look at you as his long lashes fluttered open.

A smile tugged at your lips at his sleepy visage before you gently pressed a kiss on his forehead.

"I love you."

He gives you a sleepy smile of his own, heart swelling at the affection before nuzzling back into the crook of your neck.

"I love you too."

His lips brushed against your pulse as he spoke and his breath tickled against your skin, feeling a little playful, you then decided to ask.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"But why?"

A question you've always been meaning to ask, brought about by a sudden spur of confidence.

"Because meine liebe," Albedo starts, once again pulling himself away from your warmth to hold you with his gaze - you once again think to yourself that his eyes has the most beautiful shade of green - "I love you simply because you are you."

"You're certain it's not because I have a third eye hidden away somewhere or some freaky mutation I somehow have no knowledge of?"

Albedo chuckled lightly.

"Certainly not love, and I'm sure if you do I wouldn't be the only one to take notice of it."

You hum, convinced and resumed patting his hair.

The alchemist assumed his earlier position and sank further into your embrace.

"Besides," he murmured, sleep lacing his words,

"I think you're wonderful just the way you are."

#genshin impact #genshin impact albedo #albedo #genshin impact fanfiction #reader insert #reader #albedo x reader #not beta read my bad lmao

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aliwritesfic · 3 years

Text

The Night Shift Part 9 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Summary: Your first night at Frankies, yearning mostly . . . no hanky panky! (yet 👀)

Warnings: Talk of abuse, talk of death of loved ones

W/C: 2.2k

Spotify

Part 1 Part 10

Frankie was buzzing with adrenaline as he drove you and Manny back to the restaurant. His hand hurt slightly, but he couldn’t stop think about how damn goodit felt to punch Kurt in the face, how when he heard the fear in your voice, everything turned red. How it took everything not to crush the vermin under his boot. But, he would unpack those feelings later, preferably over a case of beer with the boys. They, of all people, would understand.

You got out of the truck to say goodbye to Manny, and Frankie didn’t miss how you rubbed your lower back, how even from where he sat, he could see the ring of a bruise blossoming around your wrist.

“Sorry that took so long,” you said, climbing back into the truck. Frankie glanced at the clock on the dash – barely five minutes had passed. “Are you completely sure it’s okay I stay with you?”

“I want you to stay,” Frankie said. “Please, don’t get it in your head that you’re an inconvenience. I know you well enough by now to see that’s exactly where you’re heading.”

You laughed weakly. “I hate that you’re right,” you said, “I’m just not used to having extra help.” Frankie nodded, and waited for you to continue. “For a second in there, before you and Manny came in . . .I was terrified. I forgot I wasn’t alone and I – thank you, for what you did in there. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come in when you did.”

You slumped back in your seat and closed your eyes.

“I think this whole thing got rid of my hangover, though,” you joked.

“You’re young enough that you can bounce back quickly from hangovers,” Frankie said, taking the obvious hint for a change in the subject.

“Please, you’re barely older than me,” you said. “You’re like, what? Thirty?”

“Thirty-two,” Frankie corrected.

“Oh my apologies, you’re ancient,” you said with a roll of your eyes. Frankie grinned and shook his head. It amazed him how easily you could still make a joke, despite everything you had been through today alone.

It was almost sunset when he pulled up to his home. Golden light splayed across your features, making you glow. Stunning. The thought was in Frankie’s mind before he could stop it. You turned to smile at him.

“Nice gnomes,” you said gesturing to the dozens of gnomes of varying sizes that were scattered around Frankie’s front garden. He rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced.

“Thanks. My Abuelo used to give me one every Christmas, right up until he died last year.”

“I’m sorry,” you said your voice sincere, “I know how hard that is.”

Frankie shrugged, not wanting to talk about how after his Abuelo died, he made himself sick with grief. Instead, he chose to share something happier. “He used to hide things in them, since they’re all hollow. Sometimes it would be candy, or money. Once he hid my first iPod in one.”

“Sounds like he was a cool dude,” you said and Frankie nodded.

“He was the coolest,” Frankie agreed.

You were quiet for a few moments, holding your arms across your chest. The toll of the day was written plainly on your face, weariness lending itself to the dark circles under your eyes, to the way your shoulders curled inwards. Without thinking about it, Frankie wrapped his arms around you. You leant into the hug, burying your face into his neck. He rubbed your back gently, careful to avoid the spot he knew you were still hurting. You stood like that for a while, warmth leeching into him, and when you finally pulled away, you were almost quick enough to hide your damp eyes.

“Wanna go in?” Frankie asked, already feeling colder without you. He wanted to tug you back, hold you to him and not let go. You nodded, still not looking directly at him.

Inside, the house was cool and dark. Frankie tugged his cap off and placed it on a hook by the door, running a hand through his curls to fluff them up. He was suddenly more self-conscious than he had ever been before. He very rarely brought women back here, and when he did, he never liked them as much as he liked you.

He tried to imagine what you were thinking – were you grossed out at his unwashed breakfast plate sitting in the sink? Was the number of photos of family and friends that hung up on the walls and sat framed on every surface excessive? He didn’t remember seeing any photos like that at your apartment. But then, he also hadn’t been looking.

“It’s uh, not much,” he said rubbing the back of his neck.

“It suits you,” you said. Was it a compliment? Frankie wasn’t sure, until you continued. “Like, at first, it seems a little understated, but the more I look the more I see how you it all is.” You wandered over to a shelf stuffed with books and records, most of them coming from his old room at his parents when they had cleaned out their home a few years back.

“Tell me to fuck off if I’m being nosy,” you said, tilting your head to read the spines. Most of the books were well loved classics – stuff that Frankie had read over and over until the covers became loose and pages began to fall out.

“Just don’t search the drawers in my bedroom, that’s where I keep all my vintage Playboys and a spare bag of mushrooms.”

You snorted with laughter and turned to face him properly. Your eyes were still puffy and red, but no longer teary. Frankie counted that as a victory. “You always struck me as more of an acid guy. Just like you’re striking me as a fan of Thai food?”

“Big fan, actually.”

“Excellent, I know this great place that delivers, I’ll pay.” When Frankie opens his mouth to protest, you hold a hand up silencing him. “Please, let me pay. I owe you big time for doing this, all of this, for me.”

Frankie eventually conceded, sensing that you were infinitely more stubborn than him. Thai food was ordered and delivered, the scent of the panang curry made Frankie’s mouth water. You sat across from him at the table, eyeing him. It took a few moment for Frankie to realise you had put one of his albums on – Erykah Badu, he quickly identified.

“Can I ask you something?” you said after swallowing a mouthful of pad Thai.

“Anything,” he said. Just don’t ask me how long I’ve wanted to fuck you.

“What’d you mean today, when you said it’s not my fault?”

Frankie wasn’t expecting that. “Well, all that stuff Kurt did – like trying to kill himself, that’s not your fault.” You shrugged, clearly unconvinced, so Frankie ploughed on. “It’s just a form of emotional manipulation. Do you remember Benny, the guy your friend went home with last night? His sister, Eve, kind of went through something similar. Her partner would threaten to hurt himself and her if she tried to leave. It wasn’t until she ended up in hospital that she told Benny and Will what was happening.”

You looked horrified. “Is she okay?”

Frankie made a wavering motion in the air with his hand. “Some – most days are better than others. She moved to Portland, met a really nice lady, they’re getting married in the summer.”

“Good for her,” you murmured.

“But like I said, it’s not your fault. None of it is. He’s the one to blame, if he tries anything. He’s in control of his actions, you aren’t.” Frankie’s voice was firm, and he refused to look away from you as he spoke. He needed, more than anything, for you to understand that.

The next few hours passed quietly, sitting next to each other on his worn couch, Netflix half forgotten while you drifted in and out of sleep. Eventually, when the sky turned from black to grey to pink, Frankie showed you the spare room and gave you some privacy, knowing you probably needed some time to yourself after the gruelling day. He knew that sometimes all a person needed was some time alone to process. He sat on the couch and pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket.

Andi, the waitress, had given him her number, followed by three x’s and a winky face. Once, Frankie would have opened his messenger app and texted her, asking her out. But now. . . he found he wasn’t at all interested. He crumpled the paper and threw it in the trash.

~*~

How long is too long to spend in someone else’s shower? Five minutes? Ten? Until the hot water runs out? Vanilla and honey body wash? Oh, shit that smells delicious.

You kept your thoughts light, avoiding the darkness that brewed in the forefront of your mind. You felt like you were going through a billion crisis’s, so instead of focusing on any, you decided to focus on none.

You thought back to Frankie’s intense gaze as he spoke to you at dinner, how incredibly sexy it had been. You were shocked you could think something like that after the day you’d had, but the thoughts had entered unwelcome into your mind. You tucked them away for later, when you weren’t so close to him and wouldn’t feel burning shame if you looked at him.

Stepping out of the shower, you took a deep breath and decided to truly inspect the . . . damage that was done today. Your wrist was already bruising and ached slightly when you thought too much about it. You faced your back to the mirror and twisted, grimacing at the sight of the damage Kurt had caused. Your lower back, like your wrist, was bruised black and purple. You quickly wrapped a towel around yourself, hiding the damage.

Deep breath, Spud, you’re stronger than you think.

Your grandfathers voice echoed in your ears. It was what he would say to you whenever you were hurt – just fallen out of a tree and fractured your ankle, sliced your finger open cutting onions, sobbing because the boy you had convinced yourself was your soulmate at fifteen just dumped you the day after you lost your virginity to him, it was always your grandfathers voice saying those words. Your heart ached with missing him.

The room Frankie had showed you was more of a home gym with a bed shoved into the corner than anything else. There was still a scattering of things that were undeniably Frankie in the room: a pile of old boots with holes in the canvas, a greasy looking toolbox, a poster for the Brooklyn Nets with players that looked like they had wandered out of the 90s. You didn’t know much about basketball but decided to at least keep an eye on when the Nets lost so you could rag on Frankie about it.

You grabbed your bags, assessing what Manny had grabbed. God, he’s good, you thought, realising he had packed you everything you needed. You dressed and grabbed your phone, breathing a sigh of relief when it was free of messages from Kurt. You typed out a quick message to Manny.

You are truly the most amazing friend anyone can ask for <3 thanks for packing my stuff.

Then, after a few moments, you sent one to Sara.

I broke up with Kurt, should I be sadder about it?

It was 7 in the morning, but within a minute your phone was buzzing with a call from her.

“Tell me you’re not lying to me,” her voice was hushed. You could hear her moving, a door clicking shut.

“I’m not lying. It’s done.” You laid back on the bed and closed your eyes. “It was a fucking nightmare to do though.”

“Spill, what happened? Are you okay?” Sara’s voice was louder now. You gave her the rundown of everything that had happened, from the lunchtime confession to the actual breakup to how you were now sleeping in Frankie’s spare room.

“Wait – Frankie? Benny’s friend?”

“Are you still with Benny?” This was different: Sara had a policy of one night only – anything more and she claimed they’d fall in love with her.

“Of course, he has a massive dick. But back to you missy, you’re staying with Frankie?”

You sighed. “Yeah, just until I get the keys to my new place.”

“Are you gonna fuck him?” Sara sounded hopeful.

“Oh, my god! No!”

“Aw, c’mon, rebound sex is good for the soul.”

“Maybe with strangers in seedy bars who have half a chance of giving me the clap. Not with someone I-”

“-Have a huge thing for. Please, I saw it the moment you spotted him at fight night. You’re so hung up on this guy and Benny says-”

“This conversation is over, it’s my bedtime. I love you and you’re wrong.” You hung up quickly, cheeks burning with the lie. Did you want to have sex with Frankie? Desperately. At the most inappropriate of times, like when you heard the rumble of his voice through the window at work, like when you caught a glimpse of his beautiful, unique side profile, like when you were alone and allowed your thoughts to wander to what could be under his jeans.

You sighed, frustrated with yourself and rolled onto your side. If you were braver, more sure that his attraction matched yours, you would have gone to his room, crawled into bed beside him, let whatever was meant to be, be. But right now, you weren’t brave. You felt like you had used up all your courage quota for the year in a single day, which was a ridiculous sentiment.

So instead of going to Frankie’s room, like the pulsing in your underwear desperately wanted you to, you closed your eyes and tried to sleep.

Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish @punkerthanpascal @nakhudanyx @gracie7209 @quica-quica-quica @pintsizemama @phoenix-of-loki

#triple frontier #the night shift #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader

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starryasmo · 3 years

Text

Cottagecore MC x Demon Brothers

this has a bonus chapter with the undateables in the making!! cross posted on my ao3, which can be found in my bio ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ ☆☆

———

Sometimes, Lucifer wondered truly how innocent you could be.

You were simply the purest. You were like a little woodland fairy, flitting about and bouncing upon mushrooms and through the foliage of the Devildom as you skittered about, doing your tasks diligently and with a warm smile all the while. Your delight at seeing a tree in your room was like that of the warm sun of the human world, the sun that Lucifer remembered as golden rays and a warm embrace. You would hum as you completed your tasks and when you finished, you would beam proudly at your handiwork, and Lucifer would swear on his life that he could see the pale white sparkles surrounding your face as you preened at your hard work, bringing an innocuous light to the usually dark and enigmatic Devildom.

You were as cute as a human could be, with doll lashes framing sweet gentle eyes and fluttering against cherubic cheeks that flushed with pink. Mammon had even tried to market you as a doll to sell at one point, and Leviathan liked to have you standing next to his Ruri-chan life-sized cardboard cutout or figurines to make it feel like his collection was complete. You smelled of tea leaves and spring petals and warm sugar cookies and soft cream puffs, and the scents brought a small dosage of serotonin to Lucifer’s heart whenever you passed by. When you weren’t in your RAD uniform, you liked to dress up in pale peasant blouses, flouncy pinafore dresses, and cozy knits that Satan would gift you. You were like a forest wanderer, skipping along the trails of the Devildom as if it were a leisure stroll through the woods, wicker basket hanging off your arm as you hummed, carefree and bright. Had you been anyone else, Lucifer would have scolded you for your naivety as to walking carelessly in a world of ravenous demons, but one look in your pure, sweet eyes, and the words died on his tongue like melted snow.

You had even managed to attain the favor of the other six brothers, albeit you had no clue that you had six of the seven overlords of Hell vying for your attention and your gentle smile as you invited the Little D’s to have tea with you in your room.

Mammon would accompany you to the human world market on Wednesdays when you went to go shop for groceries and to buy little trinkets. He’d trail after your happy figure, your linen apron fluttering in the early spring breezes as you filled your basket with vegetables and meat, as well as sweet bread, milk, and sugar. At first, he’d been reluctant, trudging after you boredly because it had been his obligation to accompany you to the human world and bring you back. However, after he’d noticed you always tucking the afternoon tea menus into the pockets of your dress and buying hand painted teacups from the shop with the elderly owner more often than not, he’d questioned your motives, and you introduced him to starting collections of things that you found pleasing. Now, whenever Wednesday struck, he was pulling you along excitedly to the human realm, eager to add on to his collections of cute rings, little trinkets such as lockets and charms, and other treasures that caught his eye. You had even bought him a comical-like treasure chest for him to store his newest finds in. Every time he finished a collection, something new would catch his eye, and he’d be rushing to buy it. It was one of the perfect ways to spend leisure time with the second born. He especially loved it when you invited him to bake with you, surprisingly. He passed it off with the excuse that he could sell some of the pastries and make good money, but he found himself eagerly looking forward to you waking him up gently in the wee hours of the morning on the weekends so you two could sneak into the kitchen and bake something. Those hours were usually spent baking batches upon batches of treats, enough to satiate Beelzebub’s ravenous urges and still have enough left over for everyone else. You two would dust powdered sugar on each other’s cheeks, sharing laughs and jokes as you cleaned each other up. The treat that Mammon liked to bake with you the most was your infamous honey tarts. They tasted delicious, and they reminded him of gold, therefore combining his two favorite things — gold, and you. He loved spending time with you that way, and when you’d offered to feed him a honey tart once, he was sure that something in him short circuited.

Leviathan wasn’t as easily convinced as Mammon had been. Being someone who preferred to stay in his room, he was a lot more hesitant to allow you to visit his room, especially considering your fondness with nature and his aversion to it, as cute as you were. However, you had noticed the plants that he’d gotten just to give his limited edition porcelain Ruri-chan flower pots a purpose, and your sweet and gentle smile had twisted into a slight frown, which had caused his heart to shrink and tighten up in slight fear upon seeing your calm and loving demeanor fade, although he would deny it to this day. When you lifted the pots from their shelves, he’d tutted anxiously, warning you with rushed words to be careful. You had sighed and carefully emptied out the pots, filling them with richer soil from the farms of the human world. You had brought some flower seeds with you, and you had pulled Leviathan over from his game to help you. He couldn’t deny that the way that your soft and gentle hands guided his to tend to the flowers was something that pleased him greatly, and when the first blooms had sprouted from the soil, you had smiled before giving each bloom a small kiss on the bud, and while the sight was totally moe, it sparked up that familiar twinge of envy in Leviathan’s heart, which he shoved down quickly in favor of seeing your beautiful smile as you kissed the blossoms. Your hands were gentle in handling both the flower pots and in squeezing his and untangling his fingers from his hair during anxiety attacks or episodes, and they were probably his favorite thing about you. They were incredibly soft, and your fingers were delicate and smelled like the light lemon pies you would bring in during gaming sessions to feed him while he played. You loved baking for him, and he loved it when you baked for him, especially when you would decorate the desserts to make them seem like they were straight out of a fantasy anime. He honestly liked sneaking peeks into the kitchen to see you baking more than he liked the desserts themselves, but he’d be damned if he ever told you that. After all, he needed the perfect dating sim route to go slow and steady, right?

Getting along with Satan was something that had come surprisingly easy to you once you got past his distrusting facade, because nobody, especially not a human, could possibly be this gentle and sweet . When you had earned his trust, however, you two would pass the wee hours after studying by curling up before the ornate fireplace and reading together, cups of enchanted cocoa steaming next to you. You enjoyed reading with him — his presence was comfortable and warm, and more often than not, he would read to you in a silky smooth voice that you absolutely adored. When Diavolo had sent you to the human world to retrieve some of your belongings in order to make you feel more at home, one of the things you had brought back was a thick book full of fairytales and worn pages. That was the thing that had caught his eye the most, and when you’d noticed him reading not-so-subtly over your shoulder, you had shot him a gentle smile and began to read the story of Hansel and Gretel aloud to him. Of course, he didn’t understand the merit of the story, but hearing your voice reading all these fantastical stories of grandiose warriors and heartwarming romances was enough to make his heart melt. Your voice was probably his favorite thing about you — it was soothing and sweet, like a sip of his favorite tea. Earl grey, which you somehow knew already because you were a clever little pixie of a human who could read him like an open book, no pun intended. You even made it the way he liked it. He especially loved hearing you talk to his cats about mindless little things, even if he thought that they couldn’t understand you and you couldn’t understand them. Truth be told, he liked hearing you chatter to any woodland creature; when you two went to the human realm together, he noticed that you would always stop to tell the birds about your day, or strike up a friendly conversation with the bunnies who lived in the rosebushes, or tell the deer that seemed to draw towards you about Satan himself and how kind he was. You always seemed so happy to talk to them, even if they couldn’t understand you. He was becoming unsure of that, however, but he ignored it. Why dwell on that when he could watch you chatter with the frogs and ducks by the pond instead?

Asmodeus was quick to smother you with affection. How could he not? You were as cute as a button and twice as precious, and you smelled like honey and wild berries! You were simply too cute for him to resist. Almost immediately after your transfer to the House of Lamentation, he’d whisked you into his room and sat you down for an impromptu makeup session. You’d been a bit overwhelmed at the fast pace, but eventually just let it happen as you let him do your makeup. He couldn’t stop crooning at how cute you looked, both naturally and with touches of subtle but elegant makeup here and there. He had definitely taken you out to find clothes that you liked at Majolish, and he’d entertained your hobbies of collecting little trinkets by taking you to shops that sold items that you liked. In return, you gifted him little homemade pieces of jewelry you made, such as the gold necklace with flower charms and little baby buds on it that you’d given him for his birthday, or the honey earrings and bee pendant you’d made him as a thank you gift for taking you to a farmer’s market when everyone else had been busy. Picnics in the human realm were also a common occurrence with you two, and they usually ended in you two weaving flowers into each other’s hair and telling each other stories as you snacked on blueberry cheesecake and passionfruit tarts. You would bring two portable cups for the two of you, and the drink would be different every time — some days, it would be raspberry cordial for him and a berry mix for you, and other days he would get a sweet latte while you sipped on honey tea. There was never a dull moment with you two, and you loved running through grassy lavender fields with him, especially when he would catch up with you and lift you by your waist, the breeze filtering through your hair and ruffling the skirt of your dress as you let out giddy giggles that brought a blossom of warmth to his chest, right under his heart. The sun would beam down upon you two and kiss your scalps gently, and you would lean on Asmodeus’ shoulder with a contented smile, never really noticing the faint twinges of pink on his cheeks or the way he subtly pulled you closer to him.

Beelzebub, truth be told, didn’t really like you at first, although he never expressed it. You reminded him too much of Lilith, too much of her breezy laugh and gentle smile and pure demeanor, and even though he knew that you weren’t trying to replace her and that you didn’t know what had happened, it still hurt to look at you and see Lilith’s face flicker behind his eyelids. However, when the events of freeing Belphegor and you dying had occurred, Beelzebub had felt a primal desire to protect you, defend you, save you , rip through his body like a papercut. He wanted to protect you. You , not Lilith. So he embraced that change and tried to be a bit more friendly with you, which he found surprisingly easy. No doubt had you noticed the shift in his demeanor around you, and while it miffed you slightly that it took you dying and freeing his twin brother for it to happen, you were still happy that he didn’t seem to hate you anymore. You weren’t Lilith, he knew. And he didn’t see her when he looked at you anymore. What sealed the deal for him, however, was when you were put on cooking duty. He’d tried Solomon’s cooking before and left his plate untouched for the rest of the night, but when he came downstairs on your first night to see what you had prepared for them, he was met with a pleasant smell that had his mouth filling with drool as he trailed after the scent, right into the kitchen, like a moth drawn to a flame. Luckily, you were plating the food by the time he made it into the kitchen, and his eyes roved over a main course of sweet chickpea potato curry with halloumi and roasted cherry tomatoes, accompanied with mushrooms and sauced lamb chops. Next to the bowl of curry was a plate of strawberry beignets dusted with powdered sugar and drizzled with maple syrup. You had ever so kindly offered him one — one , mind you — and he’d been stunned at how incredible your cooking was. Needless to say, with your constant gifts to Beelzebub in the form of steamy homemade soup with toasted croutons or treacle tarts with dollops of cream, it wasn’t a surprise that he found himself adoring you and showing you more affection than any of the other brothers.

Belphegor, of course, hadn’t met you until a bit later after your transfer. Despite your frankly adorable features and demeanor, he wasn’t below deceiving you and killing you. Although he acted like he adored you and was smitten with your gentle and sweet personality, his hands still gripped your throat until what was supposed to be your final breath. However, unlike all of his other victims, something in him had shriveled up in horror upon seeing your delicate eyes wide with fear and pain. Something in him had eaten at his stomach uncomfortably when he saw the blood from your neck dripping down his nails and staining the pure white of your linen apron. His mind had been flooded with a split second tidal wave of pure shock and horror at what he had done when your fragile body ceased to move. When you came back due to Barbatos’ power, he couldn’t help but throw his arms around you desperately after he got over the tiny spark of anger in his mind. You, being the sweet and forgiving angel that you were (not literally), dismissed it, and although you were weary around him, you soon learned to lighten up and trust him again. You did slip a few times around him due to reflex, like when you’d accidentally burned your hand against the tray of pastry croissants and golden twist rolls that you’d pulled out of the oven when you turned around and he was suddenly there, sitting on the counter, towering over you. However, you found yourself warming up to him in time, and when you’d invited him to come up to your own little leafy treehouse in the mossy forest, he’d felt a bit honored that you had invited him out of all the brothers. There, you two had shared snacks and pressed your hands against the lilypads in the pond. You two had sat at the edge of the lake, looking around at the variety of mushrooms surrounding you two while your feet dipped in the water, talking about everything and nothing at all. It was just the two of you enjoying a quiet moment together, and when you two had climbed the tall tree back to the treehouse, you fell asleep with your legs loosely tangled together, listening to the sound of rain pattering the windows.

With how quickly you charmed his brothers and were able to get them to be at your every beck and call, even without the pact, Lucifer would have thought that you were an angel in disguise, or perhaps a magical being. Perhaps a pixie, or a woodland fairy, or maybe a little doll come to life.

But he was soon to find out that your charm was all natural, no magic.

It had started when you’d knocked gently on the door to his study, carrying a tray in your slightly shaking hands. Perhaps you were intimidated by him — the thought of your sweet and cheerful nature being withered by fear of him was a thought that made his chest swell with pride. Either way, you had let yourself in upon his approval, setting the tray down on the part of his desk that wasn’t swamped in paperwork.

With a small voice, you explained to him that you’d learned a bit of magic due to your time in the woods, and you had charmed the treats that you brought him — soft tea cakes with sweet glaze and your signature ‘lucky tea’; a brew of dried gold clover, lotus petals, and enchanted honey. The tea cakes were supposed to relieve pains in your muscles and bones, and the glaze was steeped in mountain snow, so it was supposed to relieve Lucifer of the burn in his body due to stress. The tea had calming properties, as well as being charmed to grant the consumer good luck for a short amount of time. You said that you hoped it would help Lucifer breeze through the paperwork stacked on his desk. He hadn’t reacted much other than a slow eyebrow raise, a nod of thanks, and a dismissal. You bowed at the waist and scampered off, clutching the hem of your apron anxiously.

Most of your other interactions had been more lighthearted, like when he’d swiped a small dollop of ganache from where you were baking molten lava cakes. He’d used his finger to smudge the chocolate across your nose, and you blinked, snapping out of your baking trance, before giggling slightly and wiping it off with your thumb, sucking the sweet concoction off of your finger. Lucifer had followed the motion with his eyes and briefly wondered what else he could get away with, if only to elicit those soft little reactions from you.

He also noticed that you never reacted the way anyone else would have when Asmodeus made a dirty joke, or when Mammon nudged you into the more scandalous clothing sections of Majolish. When you heard those comments from Asmodeus, you simply blinked and voiced your confusion. When mammon tried to get you to dress in skimpy leather or latex, you frowned slightly and said that the clothing wasn’t really your type before opting to go over to the sections you usually shopped in.

Later, he learned that you had grown up alone, with only the woods and your otherworldly connection with nature keeping you alive. You had only started interacting with others at the ripe age of eight years old — before that, you lived amongst the small creatures of the forest, feeding off of the foods they brought you, as if they were your family. Perhaps they were. You spent most of your life building shelters for yourself, until you were old enough and experienced enough to begin building your own cottage. It was a quaint little stone cottage, nothing fancy, and it was humble and hidden away, and you absolutely loved it. You had spent most of your life in it, baking tarts and pastries with the ingredients you bought from the merchants in your village in exchange for rare mushrooms, seeds, and plants with healing properties that you seemed to have a sixth sense for finding. Most of your life had been spent frolicking in the woods, swimming in the lake and snacking on pastries of your own creation and chatting with the woodland creatures you encountered. You were a creature of the forest, a creature of flower scented skin and a honey voice.

What an innocent being you were, Lucifer mused over a cup of your lucky tea. The teacup, he noticed, was one of your favorites, the porcelain one with the gold rim and the hand painted floral design. Briefly, he wondered how you found the time to collect all of these things, all while pulling together so many gifts for him and his brothers and still miraculously completing each of your tasks with perfect marks.

His eyes flickered to the plate on the same tray — hand carved and painted by you yourself, and he was the only one who got this privilege; honestly, it was going to make his heart combust — that the tea had come on, the circular dish scattered in crumbs and smears of cream and jam from your latest impulse baking session; heart shaped waffles with cream and raspberry puree. Of course, Beelzebub had immediately poked his head into the kitchen at the smell of fresh fruit and waffles, but you had managed to hide some from his hungry eye — just enough to give to the rest of the brothers. Of course, you had taken the liberty of drawing a little panda bear on one of the two waffles you’d given him, using chocolate and cream, because he was special to you, he knew he was, and because he was special, you gave him special treatment. Just the thought of it brought a prideful smile to his face, lips twisted somewhat informally.

Perhaps he’d made the right choice in sneakily slipping your folder away for future reference during the selection process of the exchange students.

But nobody needed to know that but him.

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stenbrozier · 4 years

Text

Adopting a Kitten with the Adult!Losers

Warnings: slight PTSD mention from cat attacks + swearing

——————————————————————————

Bill:

- He’d be a little hesitant about getting a cat

- Not because he doesn’t like them, just because he never had any pets growing up and he didn’t wanna do the wrong thing

- You had found the Calico kitten on the side of the road on the way home from work shaking in the rain storm, and, while he was all for helping the poor thing, he thought that you were going to take it to a shelter after a day or so

- But when you gave him puppy eyes and asked him to keep it, Bill became putty in your hands and immediately ran to the pet store to get the cat a cute lil collar and the other things she needed to live comfortably

- You named her Jupiter and she was very bouncy and energetic, something Bill could simply never get used to

- She’d jump on his desk and slide on the papers or run under his feet when he was coming downstairs for dinner

- But he loved her nonetheless

- Bill didn’t show it, but you could tell he loved whenever she’d curl up in his lap or whenever he heard her little feet running across the hall to come see him in his office

- One time, while he thought you were taking a nap, you heard him playing with her and giggling softly, talking to her in an adorable little baby voice

- He simply loved her, even as she got older and become more relaxed but more clingy

- Jupiter could be most likely found in his lap or in his arms, and it was simply the most adorable thing

Richie:

- He hates cats

- He didn’t have any animals growing up, but he was attacked by the neighborhood stray when he was around 9 or 10, and ever since then, he thought that they were demons

- Richie was walking through LA to get you guys something good for breakfast when he ended up in front of a pet store and he had the crazy urge to walk in

- As soon as he stepped in, there was a cat cage and there was a tiny white kitten with a little pink color on

- Richie didn’t know why but his heart kinda melted and he got all excited

- He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture, sending it to you accompanied by a text that read “please 🥺🥺”

- “Rich I thought you hated cats.” “yeah but this one is pretty” “fine but you better still be getting breakfast”

- He adopted the cat, getting everything she needed and literally going overboard

- After picking up some pancakes at the old diner in the city, he walked back with bags filled with things for her in one hand, your breakfast in the other, and then her sleeping in his shirt pocket

- Richie walked in with a smile on his face and you cooed at the little kitten softly, begging him to name her Marie, like the cat from Aristocats

- “Baby I don’t care as long as she can sit at the table when we eat” “Richie cats sit at the table their food bowl belong on the floor” “No she’s a princess and she should be treated as such”

- And to think that just hours before, Richie refused to let a cat step foot in the house

Eddie:

- When you guys moved into your first house together, he was adamant on no animals

- He grew up believing that he was allergic, despite how many times he went to a friend’s house with a dog or a couple cats and nothing happened

- But one day, as you were exploring the little town you guys moved into, you stumbled upon a pet store and begged him to go in

- Eddie was reluctant but when he saw how excited you got when you saw the little kittens in the cage by the window, he gave in

- “Eddie, they’re so tiny” you reached your hand in and started playing with a solid grey one, the sunlight bouncing off its fur and reflecting a silvery light

- You asked to pick it up out of the cage and when the worker handed it to you, she told you his name was Mushroom

- “Eddie, did you hear” “Yes, Baby, I heard. Mushroom” Eddie had is arms crossed over his chest but when the cat snuggled into your chest his heart melted a little at the face you gave him

- “Ed-“ “What does a cat need”

- You smiled wide and told him the basics: food, bowls, litter box, litter, and you even convinced him to get a couple of quiet toys

- He wanted to get a collar for him, but he decided that he would be a strictly indoor cat and there would be no need

- On the walk home, Mushroom stayed in your arms as you talked to him softly, getting back a few meows in response

- Eddie just smiled and wrapped his hand around your waist, holding everything else in his free hand

Stanley:

- As soon as you guys moved in together after college, he wanted an animal. He was able to work from home with his accounting job, and you couldn’t, so he was always very lonely

- Stanley is a whiner. He whined about you leaving for work every morning or when you were too tired to watch a movie with him at night

- So for his birthday, you decided you were going to get him a lil friend

- You went to the shelter, asking to see all the cats cause he would not like a dog, and you saw this older cat named Margo

- She was about 4, all nice and calm, and she had a pretty black coat with piercing eyes that reminded you of Stanley’s

- You had to get her, and so you did

- You wanted to surprise Stan, obviously so you brought her home through the back door, knowing his was working in his office in the front of the house

- You waited until he had gotten up to go to the bathroom to walk out into main part of your house, letting the cat out to get accustomed

- Stanley walked back in with a glass of water and nearly dropped it when he saw the little fuzzy being sniffing around his wheelie office chair

- “No way” he had tears in his eyes as he calmly went up to the cat, scratching behind her ear “whats her name”

- “Marco” “Holy shit. Hi, Marco, I’m your dad”

- She snuggled right up into his hand causing him to start crying because of how happy he was

- “Now I won’t be lonely ever again. God, (Y/N), I love you”

Mike:

- Since you guys lived so close to the library, you were able to think about getting an animal

- You both worked the same hours together at the library, so a dog was out of the question, but Mike brought the idea of getting a cat

- It just so happened that a few days after you guys talked about it, you found a skinny kitten curled up underneath the awning of the entrance on a hot day

- You took the kitten in, and placed it on the front desk

- “Mikey, we have to keep him” “Okay, he can be our library cat”

- You never really gave him a name, just always called him “Baby”

- You guys bought him everything he needed and got him a collar, knowing that he’d probably be happier as an outdoor cat as well

- You guys attached a little cat door to the front of the library

- You also started taking donations for the local animal shelter in honor of the new kitten

- You guys also got more visitors because they all came to see your kitten

- As he got older, he’d wander a lot and would bring back friends, sometimes pregnant friends

- There were many times that you guys had to replace the pillows of the couches because there were little kittens born on them

- But, since you and Miek had no kids, “Baby” and his friends were always welcome, even if you told them no because they’d get in anyways

Ben:

- Ben always wanted a dog, but it was difficult to get one with your busy schedules

- So you ended up getting a cat from the shelter, a big 5 year old Maine Coon named Ziti

- He was big and cuddly enough for it to seem like there was a dog around the house

- But easy maintenance cause it was still a cat

- Ben would be gone for weeks at a time and you worked 8 hour days, so it was the best option and it was nice on your end to not come home to emptiness some days

- It was really strange having such a small animal in such an expansive house, but you wouldn’t trade it

- He’d lay with you and Ben during movie nights and would beg for attention with harsh, deep mewls

- Ziti would sit on Ben’s lap while he did conference calls, and it was really funny to you because he would have this stern look on his face that would just scream “I’m involved too”

- “Baby, come take Ziti” “Mr. Hanscom...you named him Ziti?” “That was his given name...(Y/N)!”

- Ziti was attached to Ben, like he was always with him and it was so sweet to watch Ben prepare dinner and have Ziti sitting on the counter next to him

Bev:

- She had always wanted a cat. It was you who was hesitant

- While you were both home for work, she still wanted another companion around that would make your small studio apartment feel a little more like home

- You felt bad for keeping an animal cooped in your apartment

- But Bev argued that cats were made for apartment life

- So you went to the shelter and adopted a ginger cat named Rocky

- He was big and tough and liked to cuddle

- He was also severely distracting because he was talkative and it annoyed you to no end

- But Bev wanted him because he would sit with her while she sewed dresses together

- He would sit with you in the couch against your laptop because he liked the heat emitted from it

- But he was very large and it was hard for you to focus because he looked so content and you just wanted to kiss him all the time

- He had that effect on you

- He was your guys’ baby and he knew it

#stanley uris x reader #richie tozier x reader #eddie kaspbrak x reader #bill denbrough x reader #beverly marsh x reader #ben hanscom x reader #mike hanlon x reader #it chapter one imagines #it chapter two imagines #masterlist

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years

Text

The White Crest Job || Morgan & Felix

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @streetharmacist & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan and Felix take a field trip to rescue a very important item from an auction house on Erin’s behalf.

CONTAINS: gun use, violence

Stupidity got people killed. Talking got people killed. Now both in the same suit? They did a bang up job with that kinda thing. As Felix waited and tapped his feet, he had to attribute that to why he had a cooler full of brain on a weeknight. One man’s stupidity was another’s advantage and the fae kept that in mind. There was that telltale jittering under his skin, that sensation before a job and the wonderment at whether or not it would be pulled off. After everything, he felt more than ready to tag in. Erin had gone through enough and she could use a night off of crime. As it worked out, he could use a night of crime. Desperately. With a little luck and pixie dust, he and Morgan might be able to come bearing good news that would make the whole thing sting a little less.

At the sight of Morgan approaching, he stood up from the rickety bench and adjusted his suit tie. It was a special night at the auction house and he wore some of his sharpest attire. He smiled at her and waved. “It’s real nice to see you, Morgan,” he greeted. “You excited?” They were about to walk into the mouth of some sort of beast but as long as they had their eye on the prize, it should be fine. He reached for the cooler and offered it to her. “I got something for ya. One of Roy’s finest. I wanna say the old sport worked at the auction house.” His grin grew. “Not anymore though.”

Morgan could swear her body was vibrating with the need to do something straightforward and easy. Or at least easier than the past few weeks had been. Sure, the primary criminal activity of her life had been charging people for rocks she transmuted from dirt and trash, but Morgan was nothing if not a good student, and being a walking dead girl leant itself to certain advantages. Mushrooms could strike, ghosts could rise from the deep, worlds could fall apart, but Morgan’s limbs would always grow back shiny and limber no matter how many times they snapped off. And this errand, at least, was for a good cause. Morgan rolled up the sleeves of her turtleneck and beamed at the fae waiting for her. “Sorry I’m late, I wasn’t sure what the dress code was for our clandestine date,” she said with a smirk. “Me? Oh I’m ready to dance. It’s been a rough fall, and Erin’s one of my best friends. It’s kinda nice, having something to do that makes an easy kind of sense. All the steps are clear. No back-and-forth, no second guessing.”

She shook her worries back to the far side of her mind and turned to the cooler. “Mother of earth,” she chuckled. “Dinner and dancing? If this is how you treat your friends, Bea’s a luckier gal than I thought.” Flipping open the lid, she fished out the sliced brain, wrapped in sandwich paper like a happy meal burger. Tentatively, hoping that the old whoever had at least been a nice gangster, she took a bite. “Is this to help me blend in?” She asked between bites. “Because I’ll have you know I’ve killed a woman with just my own sparkling personality bouncing around my head.” She took another bite, moaning with pleasure. “Not that I’m complaining, obviously. Think this’ll magically download everything he knew about this place?”

Felix beamed as much as he safely could in return. He intended to save that old song and dance for a special occasion. One maybe an hour or so away, he thought. They would just have to see how the night went. As it was, he was more than interested in seeing an auction hall go off the deep end. The job that he and Morgan had on their docket took precedence over seeing a few strangers lose it for a bit. He smiled at her and was inclined to agree. He did as much with a tip of his head. It did make an easy sort of sense, didn’t it? Easy as snapping a neck. They just needed to get their hands on it first. “Right there with you, my friend. See, I think this’ll be good for us. All of us.” A brow lifted. “I think we got a real nice night ahead of us. As for everybody else in there?” He shrugged.

At the mention of Bea, an easy smile slid into place and his skin warmed. Buzzed even. He didn’t want to think of the night going any way but up for them. He had a gal to get home to. He was sure Morgan could relate. “You know, I’d say we’re all pretty lucky,” he said as he framed his chin with his thumb and index finger. “You, me, Bea, and Deirdre!” As much as he knew that they could spend the rest of the night waxing poetic about their loves, they had some skulls to crack. Speaking of...It didn’t bother him when Morgan took to the brain. Over the years he had developed an iron stomach, of all things. Blood and brain, guts and bone. It all sorta mushed together. He struck a match and lit a thin cigarette. He considered dust briefly earlier in the evening. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced he wouldn’t need it. Smoke billowed out of his mouth and curled around his glasses as he laughed. “Oh hell, I believe you,” he said with a smile. “I’m not too familiar with how the ol’ brain works, especially in this sorta case, but I think it’ll be a nice thing to have on our side. Y’know, the whole knowing is half the battle thing?” He offered Morgan the crook of his elbow. “Ready to paint this whole gig red?”

“I guess we are lucky, huh,” Morgan mused, smiling into her next bite. Stars above, it tasted so good, she had to ask herself why she didn’t do this more often. She groaned shamelessly as the rich, meaty flavor spread over her tongue. “Felix, you’re making me miss my Texas burgers,” she said, smirking with her mouth half full. “Tell you the truth, I could use a lucky night. I know you’re not supposed to let the bastards get you down, but stars, it’s...fucking hard sometimes. But!” She scarfed down the last of her brain. Nothing felt immediately off the way the urge to listen to a hockey game that night at Erin’s had felt off, but she did feel a little more verve and fire in her bones as she got to her feet. She took Felix’s arm and grinned up at him. “Felix, pal, I’m ready to dance like there’s no tomorrow. I just got one question for ya.” She quirked up a brow at him, nodding to his car and the joint they were about to bust open. “What kinda guns you got stashed in your car? I’m feelin’ like blowing some fireworks.”

“That’s why I’m a big advocate of getting back at the bastards!” Felix said cheerily. Whether it was through bloody footprints or a bullet in the head, things had a way of coming back around. “Nothing really perks up the spirit like some old fashioned vengeance and looking good while doing it. But this is business tonight. The rest can come later.” Heck, would it. The amount of receipts they owed people had started to stack itself high. “Oh, Morgan, I’m so glad you asked. I think you’ll like it,” he said as he looked at her. The tone of her voice, the fire behind it, danced a little differently and he couldn’t help but grin. It reminded him of an old friend. Tommy Toblerone, a fella that had earned his name from the rather unorthodox and sweet ways he could take a person out. “I had to leave the Tommys at home since I don’t think we wanna get the toys taken away early and all.” After he tugged on a pair of black leather gloves as a safety precaution, he pulled out a .38 Smith & Wesson and a .357 Magnum. Without a second thought, he handed her the magnum revolver and a handful of cartridges. “I think you’ll like that one,” he said smoothly as he slid the .38 into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “I’m more about slicing and dicing myself but I got this one just in case. Old faithful! Been awhile since she’s seen action but I’m feeling good about tonight. You?”

Morgan loaded the revolver. She hated guns, didn’t know the first thing about them except how to hide from one thanks to all the safety videos she’d had to watch for all her shitty jobs. But her hands spun the cylinder and admired the shine of the metal in the night like it was something familiar. Something powerful, even cozy. She loaded the chambers, then popped the beauty back into place. She stroked the frame, smiling at the moon’s reflection. “I feel like a shiny new penny,” she said.

Millie Mayfield didn’t like being interrupted from her movie time, but Roy wasn’t dicking around when he said please, honey, so instead of watching pretty teenagers get cut up by a chainsaw, Millie was getting her boots dirty slipping in to take some delicate goods off the hands of the less deserving. If she could only do it without the B-Squad posse, she might even have herself a good night. “Hey, Mac?” She asked, twirling her bat as she approached the guy behind her. It wasn’t the same as her cheerleader batons, but it killed the time in a pinch. “Can you run and get me some McDonald’s? One of the really sad, dried up specials. You can tell when their tag says FIVE YEARS! With a party hat sticker. Pretty please with cream cheese?”

Mac would, because Roy also said she was in charge, and he knew she’d bust his kneecaps into confetti if he didn’t.

Something rattled at the end of the warehouse. Company. Roy hadn’t mentioned anything about it being a party, but she was an adaptable girl. Millie sauntered into the warehouse, bat held out and ready to strike. She signaled to Mac to get out his gun. “It’s not nice to gate crash,” she called inside, her voice almost sing-song. “If you came to play with the big kids, let’s play.”

As fun as it would have been to crack a couple jokes at the expense of the rich, Felix and Morgan didn’t have that luxury. They had a docket to make a couple checkmarks on. As it went, his patience was thin to nonexistent. Maybe it was because of the mushrooms or maybe it was because things had a way of not going their way lately. He checked over his knives and the gun in his hand. Even clicked his heels for the knife he kept there. All in tip-top shape. The knives were slid back into place. The back of the auction house had a padlock on it but that didn’t matter much as he jimmied it open with a grin flashed Morgan’s way. The chain rattled as the fae toed the door open. From where they stood, there seemed to be plenty of shadows.

Perfect. That good feeling fluttered in his chest again. Even when a voice called out. As a pair of steps entered the auction house’s backroom. Even better. If there were ever a night to have a tussle, it would be this one. He slipped off to the left. Slipped into darkness.

“Do me a favor and let us know when they show up, yeah?” He took his switchblade in hand. “Much appreciated.”

Millie had two choices. Go for the goods, or go for the party crashers. Roy said the merchandise would be small, easy to miss. Not exactly something you could nab with some sleeze pulling your hair. Besides, Millie never turned her back on a fight. “Real funny, Tricky Dicky. Maybe you should run back home to the kiddie p--” A gunshot burned through the air and into her chest. “Ow!” Millie looked down at the scorch mark in her dress. “That was genuine vintage!” She shrieked.

There was still smoke at the end of Morgan’s revolver when she realized her mistake. This dame wasn’t the kind you pinned down with a bum shoulder or a busted kneecap. For all her grousing about the clothes, there wasn’t even a lick of blood coming out of the wound. It had been a rookie mistake, thinking she’d go down easy. This dame wasn’t human anymore than Morgan was. “Sorry, sweet cheeks. I don’t make exceptions for people who get in my way. Equal rights and all that,” she said, stepping into the light. She risked a glance at Felix, who was visible only by his switchblade. She hoped he was watching too, that he saw her little nod to go for the gold. She could keep one little dame busy for him. “You might wanna dance back to your go-go party before this gets worse. It’d be a shame to knock such a pretty block off.”

Millie was already marching forward, bat ready. “Try me, bitch.”

Nothing like the sound of a revolver and the smell of spent gunpowder to remind Felix of home. Let alone a heist! The fae tipped his blade Morgan’s way before he started to climb over boxes and through shadows. What they were after was small, easily concealed. But if he had heard right, it packed one hell of a punch. A bullet that would be real damn nice for them to have in the chamber. While Morgan dealt with the dame with the bat, he’d get what they needed. The light of a waning moon overhead bled through the smallest tear in the roof. Caught on something that shone with iridescence. He sure as heck hoped it was the something they were after. There wasn’t any hesitance to the way he moved toward it, hard-charging if there ever was any.

A hard charge into a forearm that caught him right across the throat. He puffed out a few breaths as he skittered back and recuperated enough to bring him to his feet, back into the shadows. His throat smarted as he looked at what had caught him. A forked tongue flicked out of a fanged mouth. Their head swiveled to follow him as Felix moved. They had a knife too. One with a jagged sort of blade.

“I can smell you, shadow.”

Morgan had seen too much violence since coming to White Crest to mistake the sound of a fight. The smirk on her lips flickered as she turned. “Felix—?”

“You got way bigger problems than that, Dollface,” the same sneered. She swung her bat, hard enough to knock Morgan off her balance.

Her head felt like it was off kilter, but that was just her skull bones bending around the wound. It was right again in seconds and Morgan leveled her revolver again to fire off another round, this one landing square into the girl’s eye. Faintly, she knew she hated guns. The sound, the way they looked, how they went from zero to disaster with just a bang. But something strange in her liked it too. She readied another shot, but the dame was already charging her, anger blazing out of her now ruined face. She was hell in high heels and creamsicle orange. Hell and payback. The bullet hadn’t even moved her an inch. Morgan threw away her gun, useless, and tried to run. A hand caught her by the hair by the hair and dragged her back.

“Zombie, huh? This is gonna be fun.”

“Morgan, ya alright?” Felix’s eyes were ahead but his ears were behind him. His expression wavered from one of confidence to one of concern. He liked Morgan. A great deal. And they had people to get home to, let alone a fucking point to get across. Any wavering halted. When he moved, the lamia’s eyes followed him. They placed themselves as a body between the box full of iridescence and the lampade itching to get his hands on it. Felix slipped his jacket off and wadded it up. It could be said that Felix was a planner but as he rocked off his heels and went forward, not much thought went into it. The lamia struck out, their knife cutting easy through the fabric. The tip nicked Felix’s palm as he let go and danced back. The lamia’s tongue flicked out again as he stepped through the shadows.

The fae hit his heel against the ground hard enough to spring the knife from his shoe before he lunged forward with a kick. The lamia was larger than him, muscle packed tight together, and he felt it when the knife in his shoe clipped through the lamia’s suit pants to lodge itself in. It wasn’t the strongest of knives and it broke off as Felix pulled his foot back. The lamia jabbed at him again with the knife and cut a line of black, ink blood across his chest. Felix hissed then grinned as he rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, switchblade still in hand.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered out with a laugh. “So much for working this out, huh?”

The next time, it was the lamia that moved to meet him in the dark. Knives out.

Morgan caught the dame’s hands and twirled in her grasp, getting enough space to knee her in the stomach, get a new grip on her arms, and throw her into a stack of crates. She didn’t run this time, but picked up her opponent and slam her down again. Maybe if she’d been some lousy human, it would’ve broken her in a couple of pieces, but this girl wasn’t the type to roll over easy. She pulled out a knife from the front of her shirt. It wasn’t big enough to lob off her head, not quickly anyway, but her eyes burned red and Morgan realized she was staring down a bonafide vampire.

They tousled, slinging blows with all their strength and all the ruthlessness of two women desperate for a win. No more maybe this times. Morgan was walking out of here with her prize for Erin. With something done the right way. Crates shattered under Morgan as the dame threw her again. Glass and powder spilled onto the floor. Morgan didn’t care, those goods weren’t her problem. She grabbed some of the broken wood and swung it hard enough to crack the damn thing to bits. When she was through, she had a nice stake sized piece, sharp and jagged, as far as the stuff went.

The vampire dame snarled and leapt out of her reach.

“What’s the matter, doll?” Morgan asked. “I thought we were gonna dance.” If nothing else, she sure as hell hoped Felix found this magic blade soon.

It had been a hot minute since Felix had been in a knife fight. After everything that had happened, he supposed it was only a matter of time. As he weaved through the shadows of the warehouse, the lamia was there with him. His glamour had dropped the more that black wisps of blood smoked out of his dress shirt. Knife fights were ugly, feral affairs. He couldn’t help but grin as he ducked back from the lamia’s swipe. Only for him to come to a stop as a painful tug spread pain along the top of his skull. The lamia’s hand was wrapped around the main beam of his right antler, close to the fork. Felix reared his head back and flipped the knife in his hand to stab at the lamia’s hand. The blade nicked skin but it wasn’t much. The lamia who had him locked in place kicked at the side of his leg and brought him down hard to his knees.

His eyes widened and flashed white as the lamia brought the serrated edge of his knife to the bone. Felix frantically shook his head violently and tried to rear back. Dig his heels into the ground to force himself back into the dark. It didn’t matter. The lamia would find him and he wasn’t going anywhere.

The lamia knew what he was doing. Maybe it hadn’t been the first time for them. But it had been the first time for Felix. Breakage. The crack deafened him. Dulled his senses to anything other than pain and pure, undiluted rage. As the antler separated from him, the lamia stepped back from the force of it. Felix was on them in an instant as he threw his full weight into him. The antler clattered from their grasp and the fae took it in hand. Didn’t second guess when he started to plunge it through the lamia’s scales. The ones that lined their neck, their chest, their organs. All the soft parts that made the rest crumble.

He didn’t realize he was yelling until the lamia went still underneath him and inhuman blood splashed his chest. His chest heaved as he sat back, eyes wide and wild. His throat hurt. His head hurt. Momentarily, he forgot what they were there for until his eyes locked on the box and he brought himself to stand. Antler still in hand, he went to it and looked back to where he could hear the sound of Morgan’s own scuffle.

“Morgan,” he rasped out. “Fucking kill her, huh?”

They were bounding through the warehouse, chasing each other like filthy animals. Somewhere between running around crates, the dame found Morgan’s gun and had herself a nice time driving the rest of the bullets into her body. The steam was still on the muzzle when the wounds healed up, but the rounds must’ve sounded like pennies from heaven all the same. She heard the shouting and stopped to turn. It was the wrong move. The dame’s bat smashed against her skull, hard enough to send sparks through her vision.

“Maybe get the fucking knife, huh?” Morgan called back.

She still had a grip on the stake, but the vampire was hanging around her like a goddamn flying monkey. Morgan lost count of how many surfaces she bashed her into befor she let go and slid off. It wasn’t every day you regretted bringing a gun to a knife fight, but that was White Crest for you. Morgan pinned the dame down and decked her with her fist. Felix hadn’t sounded so hot when he called out to her. They needed to end this quickly. The stake came up--and splintered in the vampire’s grip. Morgan didn't even see her arms come up to knock her down, just the view of those damn go-go boots as she ran away. Good riddance.

“That’s gonna be a ‘negative’ on that kill,” she groaned, easing up to her feet. “But she’s out of our hair. Maybe some son of a gun hunter will have a better night. You find it yet?”

“If not,” Felix started as he approached the box. “I’m sure I can hire somebody. Plenty of fucking nobodies that wouldn’t mind getting a tooth or two from her.”

He tried to ignore the splinter ache in his head. Even as he tilted it, it felt lighter. Unbalanced. Uneven. His forehead felt wet and as he touched his fingertips to it, pulled them back, he saw more bloody wisps. His skin felt cold, his nerves even more so. The fae looked at Morgan with dim half-moon, a fist clenched around his broken antler. The knife sat unbothered atop a heap of fabric. With the exception of its glass blade, it was otherwise unexceptional. Bullets and blades for another kind of destruction. What the fuck else was new.

“I did. You alright?” The question was clipped with an aimless agitation. No, it wasn’t aimless. He knew exactly who he was pissed at. He gestured loosely at the knife and leered at it. “That’s the fucking thing right there. It better be worth it after all this shit.”

Morgan shuffled over to Felix, giving a whistle when she saw how worse for where he was. “You had a worse time than me. Guess Roy got the same tip we did, and wanted to get ahead of the game. And now that dame knows who Erin’s friends are. She’s gonna blab to Roy and give him the scoop.” Morgan spat on the ground, shaking her head. She was too small to see from the ground, but one hop onto one of the few crates that wasn’t busted and she could see what all the fuss was about.

The hilt wasn’t anything special, but the glass was a beaut, thick enough that you could spit on one end and not tell from the other, and serrated, brought to a deadly point. Morgan couldn’t imagine you made something like this in any old forge, but what did she know about this stuff. “In the right hands, it’ll stick Roy in the ground for good, and that ain’t nothing,” she said. “Come on, compadre. I’m feelin’ like a cigar. This ol’ brain is a doozie, and you need to get the edge off before that ride home.”

Felix made a low sound of affirmation. “It’s not every day you break an antler,” he intoned. It truly fucking wasn’t and his lip curled. “That sounds about par for the course in this town, huh? Word travels fast.” He glanced at the dead body of the lamia. Whether or not they had been close to Roy, he didn’t care. A dead body was a message all the same. He shrugged loosely as he looked back at Morgan. The night was still fun in its own way, breakage and bullets be damned. “Lucky us.”

“Think I’ll need more than a cigar but I ain’t about to turn that down,” he said with a glance to Morgan as he pieced his human glamour back together. His glasses were somewhere but he wasn’t in the mood to look for them. He wasn’t in the mood for much other than that cigar she offered. “Roy will be in the ground before he fucking knows it and y’know, I like the sound of that very much. Let’s get out of here. We did good and ought to treat ourselves to something nice.”

With the knife in their possession, they could leave the warehouse and good riddance to that. It’d be nice to burn it down, he thought. Burn it all down. His anger was loud and alive in his head. His hate. As they made to leave, one thought crossed his mind. Just how tired he was of only walking White Crest’s streets. He wanted to fucking own them.

#wr felix #wr chatzy #wr felix chatzy #gun use tw #shooting tw #wickedswriting

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starlocked01 · 4 years

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Seldom All They Seem

AO3 First- Previous- Next

Content Warning: Swearing, Innuendo, Body Shaming, Mention of Insect, Descriptions of Physical Injury

Chapter 4 Curiosity- It's You I Like, Every Part of You

"Well, can you pull them out?" Janus hovered behind Roman as they watched the two sides sleeping. It hadn't been very long yet, maybe an hour since they'd sent Logan in but Janus didn't want to think of the consequences of Thomas being without two of his core sides for much longer.

"Logan I could wake up- I'm just not sure about Remus," Roman bit his lip and the tone in his voice gave Janus pause.

"You're lying," it was neither a question nor an accusation, simply a fact.

"No, that's your job, Two-face," Roman brushed him off with a wave but suspiciously glanced at him out of the corner of his eye in a way that killed any doubt in the deceitful side's mind.

"You can wake them both up at any time. Why did you send Logan in?" Janus' smile was a mixture of confusion and pride at Roman's successful deception.

Roman rolled his eyes, "look, it's spotty. Sometimes I can feel both of them and other times Remus slips away. Right now they seem pretty tethered together so I'm not worried," Roman sighed with a small shrug, "Remus won't admit his crush on Logan because he's convinced we all don't want him. I know for a fact that Logan doesn't see him as the evil twin despite my warnings so I gave them a chance to talk it out. I don't make dangerous daydreams like Remus does; I make romance happen. And if you and Patton are anything to judge by, I'm pretty damn good at it."

Janus flushed at the mention of what he thought were secret rendezvous. He was almost disturbed how subtly Roman must have manipulated the situation for him to not notice, "well, aren't you just so devious. Luckily for you, Remus' affections are mutual otherwise this meddling could have hurt your friendship with Logan even further."

"I had a feeling they were mutual, but how did you know?" Roman asked, turning back towards Janus.

"Well…" ---- Logan knelt beside Remus in the stillness of the forest floor. The wounds looked fairly superficial but Logan wasn't sure how hard Remus had fallen from his back when they'd tumbled in their escape from the gigantic stick bug.

Remus groaned and arched his back to stretch it out, "you didn't warn me that you like it that rough, nerd daddy."

"Does anything feel broken?" Logan's eyes scanned over the various cuts and abrasions. Remus looked down at himself, at the torn clothes and small beads of blood, and crossed a protective arm over his stomach. Logan’s close attention both thrilled and humiliated him. He wouldn't be hurt like this if he could just run and keep pace with the nerd. Like Roman said, too many cookies lately.

"No, I'm not broken. Why would you think I'm broken? I'm fine," Remus huffed, painfully pushing himself up to sitting.

"I didn't say you were broken," Logan replied softly, "I merely asked if anything felt broken, like bones. I don't see you as defective, Remus."

"The only thing broken here are your glasses," Remus winced as he took a deep breath, "and maybe a rib. Thank hell this isn't permanent."

"Unless we can't wake up and are stuck here," Logan reminded him.

"Or we could just try and heal things by dream logic. C'mere," Remus reached up to Logan’s shoulder and pulled him down to his level. The gash on Logan's forehead was no longer bleeding, but it looked pretty nasty. Remus leaned forward and kissed the injury, smiling as the flesh stitched itself back together.

Logan’s eyes went wide as he reached up to touch his forehead, astounded by the lack of blood or scar.

"Oh come on, you do the same thing in the mind palace. I just do it with style," Remus grinned, shaking the scrapes off of his arms.

"I- you're right. But- oh I don't know. I don't work here, remember?" Logan said sourly.

"Awww that's a shame, 'cause you could work it if you tried," Remus giggled, smacking his side and sitting up in less pain. Logan really couldn't understand how aggravating an injury would fix it but Remus seemed confident in what he was doing.

"Are you good to walk?" Logan asked, standing and brushing himself off. He flexed his left hand a few times, thankful they were no longer stuck.

"Yeah, but I'm tired. Can we just chill?" Remus looked up at him with what were apparently puppy dog pleading eyes. Logan chuckled and sat down next to Remus.

"You're never chill. Are you sure this dream hasn't gotten to you?"

"Eh probably has but this isn't so bad is it?"

"No, it's not bad," Logan sighed and leaned back against a log, leg crossed over his knee.

"So why'd you come after me, Specs?" Remus scooted a bit closer to Logan.

"I told you. You've been in here for a week and Roman said he couldn't wake you up," Logan explained matter-of-factly.

Remus gave him a pointed look, "yes but why did you come? Roman could have sent anyone in here, so why did you agree?"

Logan contemplated in silence for a moment, looking out at the trees as Remus watched him curiously, waiting for his answer, "honestly, Janus blackmailed me because he knew I'd be concerned about your absence."

Remus sat back, unhappy with that answer, "oh. I should have guessed…"

Logan turned to look at him, "emphasis on the concern. I-" he looked away again, embarrassed "-care that you wanted to leave permanently."

Remus bounced his foot on the ground, smooshing a mushroom and humming to himself. Logan had to admit, he'd never seen Remus so calm. Perhaps his rampage here had been helpful.

"Why didn't you want to wake up?" Logan asked softly. Remus' foot stilled and he looked back up at Logan, blinking back tears.

"No one wants me around. I'm just your least favorite intrusive, annoying thot. I hurt Thomas with ideas I can't help thinking. Nothing I contribute is redeemable in anyone's eyes. All of those are the reasons I tried to convince myself it would be better this way, but honestly, I was running."

"Running from what?"

"From you."

"Me?"

"Yeah…"

"Oh," Logan watched Remus very carefully, attuned to his defensive body language. If he acknowledged he had a heart, it would have been breaking to see Remus this terrified- especially of him. He cleared his throat, "what did I do to scare or hurt you?"

Remus looked up and shook his head, "no no no. Not scary or hurtful…" he took a deep breath as though he was trying to brace himself before blurting out, "you are the hottest side, aside from me." Logan snorted back a laugh, "oh come on! I have a mustache- it sets me apart."

"Did I disagree?" Logan asked with a smirk.

Remus turned several shades of pink and ran his fingers through his hair, "uh you weren't supposed to agree with me."

"But you're right," Logan's cheeks flushed and he stretched out his arm to wrap around Remus' shoulders. Remus leaned into his side, almost as if he were trying to disappear into the hug.

"You're also good at rationalizing and compartmentalizing me," Remus hesitated as he reached out to grab Logan’s hand that was resting on his own ankle.

"I don't compartmentalize you. I help Thomas examine your contributions. Sometimes the more hurtful suggestions need ignored. I do the same thing with some of Roman's more fanciful dreams and Virgil’s inaccurate outbursts," Logan smiled and offered his hand and Remus quickly accepted, hoping they'd get stuck again.

"Dressing me down, figuratively and literally," Remus winked, "really does help a lot. I guess I'm just used to being the bad guy so Roman can be the hero."

"I think we all can start to move past that simplistic idea of you," Logan pulled Remus in tighter. Focusing on the conversation was like following a single thread through a knot while trying to untangle the whole thing. Figuring out exactly where Remus was coming from was vital to getting them both out of the dream, together, but also perhaps, unlocking a different level of relationship. He stroked the back of Remus' hand with his thumb and continued, "I do appreciate what you contribute, Remus. Thomas is a good person and you are a part of him. You are not evil. I quite enjoy your spontaneity."

"I like messing with you."

"Perhaps I enjoy organizing the mess."

"I like you," Remus let go of Logan’s hand and traced one of the rips in the logical side's shirt, "more than any of the others. Like romantically."

Logan’s breath caught in his chest at the unexpected confession and the brush of Remus' fingers on his abdomen. It had been hard enough for him to admit his own thoughts about Remus to himself, and on accident when they had been vocalized to Janus. But Remus liked him?

"This has to be a dream because I never had hope of hearing you say that," the admission left Logan feeling weak and nauseous.

"Lo, do you… like me too?" Logan simply nodded and Remus wrapped him in a hug. He could have never dreamed Logan, the real Logan, would ever like him the same way.

"Remus, please get off," Logan's voice was tense and Remus immediately panicked.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I know I need to lose weight- I was just so happy-"

"This isn't about your weight. I just wasn't expecting that and need to stand up," Logan cut him off and gently pushed him aside while he stood, offering both hands for Remus to pull himself up on, "believe me, you're not in an unhealthy weight range at all. I can easily lift you. There's no reason for you to be worried," Logan watched a tear slip down Remus' cheek as he smiled gratefully back at him. Logan smirked and picked Remus up, twirling him in a hug to prove his point.

"Thanks, Lo," Remus smiled and grabbed his hand. Without another word they both continued on, Remus leading Logan towards where the beacon had been.

Tag List: @fandersides1234567 @sirprplsnail @bisexualdisaster106 @theiwatobiicepic @nerd-in-space @lost-mentally @intrulogicalweek2020

#intrulogicalweek2020 #day 4 curiosity #intrulogical #logan sanders #remus sanders #swearing #body shaming #hurt comfort #fluff #tw insects #description of physical injury #if no one is gonna respect remus I will #roman sanders #janus sanders

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thecozywhaleshark · 5 years

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Pocket BTS - Camping/Road Trip

(Hi Everyone! There was an anon request for the Pockets BTS and MX Camping/On a Road Trip. So it has become a road trip scenario where they’re camping along the way.

This is also your reminder that pockets are all about the size of a mouse, so if you bring them camping or on a road trip, please keep them buckled in tight and don’t let them out of your sight. Thanks!)

Namjoon:

super excited to go on a road trip

so so SO stoked to go camping

wants to help put up the tent

you will have to convince him to stay in it though

for he will beg you to let him sleep on a rock under the stars

will want his own sleeping bag

makes him feel like a big boy

pokes at the ashes to help you re-make the fire in the morning

wants a little mug of coffee too

will walk around the lake's edge if you are near one

stares out and pretends he is King Arthur and the Lady of the Lake is about to bring him Excalibur

will run around the camp with a stick dubbed thus, looking for a Merlin and Knights for his round table

Pocket Tae will volunteer to be Guinevere

might get into a fight with pocket Jk about it

makes a playlist for the road trip

will sit right on the dash if you let him for the long stretches of road

likes to talk about his latest theories on the world as the road goes on

Jin:

favorite part of road trips is the snacks

will grab things off the shelves and come running to you dragging them behind him

big BIG fan of smores

will sleep on top of the marshmallows in the car to make sure nobody eats them

will mimic the GPS

probably names it something like Road-ah

complains or mocks it whenever it speaks

“Thanks, Road-ah,” “Road-ah! Are we there yet!?”

gets upset when the GPS doesn’t respond

wants access to the radio buttons

will scan until he gets to one of those stations like “Advice from Barbara”

listens to the call-ins

makes comments like “You tell em’ Barbara!” or “You need to leave that man, Sharon!”

wants to call into Barbara to say hi and tell her about how he’s going camping

you have to remind him that Barbara is probably very busy

will pout

tell him he can write Barbara a letter in the car to pass the time

presses his face to the window and makes kissy faces at other drivers

Hobi:

Loves to play ‘I Spy’

“I spy with my little eye… something green.”

“Is it grass?”

squeals so happily when you get it

It’s grass every time but act surprised with him

likes to connect the poles together for the tent

sits happily on the ground whilst doing so

wanders off

might get lost so make sure he doesn’t go too far

will attempt to climb the trees

screams whenever he sees a bug

screams even more when he realizes that they’re everywhere

“I HATE NATURE”

asks to sleep in the car

when is not allowed will ask for his helmet as protection from bugs

will wear it to bed

first one up in the morning

bouncing to watch the sunrise

Yoongi:

didn’t want to go in the first place

but LOVES car rides

likes to “read” the maps

even if you are using a GPS he will want a paper map to look at

really just likes following the lines with his finger to see where they go

“hey mom where’s *squints* ‘Minnie apple us’?”

coats himself in bug spray – I’m talking layers

deathly afraid of bug bites

keeps his hoodie up and his little dirty converse tied tight

if pocket Hobi has a helmet to protect him from the bugs he wants one too

will sit inside the tent looking through the screen until the fire is going

sits on the log and so content to watch the flames

will want hotdogs

burrows so deep into your sleeping bag you’ll almost have to shake him out to find him in the morning

Jungkook:

helps you drag kindling over to fire pit until he has his own little pile

will want to attempt lighting the fire

watch him

keep the matches out of his reach

crouches down at the other end of the hole you are weaving the pole through for the tent

squeals when he sees it poke through

runs around the entire campsite exploring

pretends he’s an adventurer hacking his way through tall grasses

figures out a way to climb a tree to get to one of those mushrooms growing on the sides

will want to sit there and observe everything

makes it his fort, pockets Taehyung and Jimin are allowed up

they make leaf hats

gets mud all over himself while he explores but comes back so happy you can’t scold him

give him a task he’ll be happy to sweep the doorway of the tarp with a little broom he made himself

eagerly stares out the window in the car

bounces in his seat

does the arm thing violently when a semi-truck passes in hopes they’ll honk

slug bugs

makes up more because he’s bored – tap Toyota, slap sedan, punch Prius…

Taehyung:

finds the country music station

sings as high as he can

looks dramatically out the window while he does so

“country roads, take me homeeee, to the placeeee, I beLoNGgG! wESt VirGinIA…”

give him a coloring book and he’ll be quiet and content for hours

wants to sleep in your sleeping bag with you

is fine in daylight but scared once the sun goes down

sings to himself on his way to go potty in the woods

puts mosquito netting over his hat

baggy khaki pants with all the pockets

keeps pretty pebbles he finds around the campsite in them until they’re bulging

will cry if his pants get so heavy they fall down

Jimin:

points out the cows and horses he sees through the windows

if bored sometimes will be quiet for hours and the only thing you’ll hear is a monotone “cows” every once in a while

wants to sing road trip songs

his favorite is ‘the wheels on the bus’

has a book of camp stories he reads out loud to you in the car

will probably make a sign that says “help me I’ve been kidnapped” and hold it to the window

but nobody will see it because it's tiny

insists on wearing a poncho even if it’s not raining when you get to the campsite

will want to be on your shoulder watching you put the tent together and start the fire

will try help but will get confused and just sit down

#bts request #anon request #pocket bts #bts #bts pockets #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #kim taehyung #park jimin #jeon jungkook #jung hoseok #min yoongi #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts pocket imagines #soft fanfic

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burlybanner · 5 years

Text

Syzygy -6

Syzygy - An AU of Infundo (post-Infundo Chronicles).

Chapter 6: S**t Gets Too Real

Chapter 6 Summary: Tony Stark’s a genius. Sometimes he wishes he wasn’t.

Gentle warning: Slob stuff and multiple stuffings ahoy.

Link to Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

** Surprisingly, Bruce got hungry pretty damn quick after Hulk's stuffing. He didn't think he'd feel hungry ever again but after eating a banana he'd soaked in a double portion of his gainer solution, his stomach roared to life soon after waking. Being so suddenly and frightfully hungry shocked him, but thank the chubby powers-that-be that Steve had a huge country breakfast waiting. Bruce gobbled multiple servings of buttery Belgian waffles soaked in syrup, several donuts, half a coffee cake from his favorite bakery, and a couple of spinach mushroom quiches.

Which, to be honest, was nothing near lunch a few hours later at a private buffet ("to celebrate new growth," Tony'd told the manager). Bruce had rolled his eyes. Of course Tony said something that stupid out loud. They'd brought some of the gainer formula to the buffet, shook it over Bruce’s food, and Bruce tore into the portions like a bull in a glass factory. And it surprised him. It took an hour of heavy gorging before he almost felt full and he'd never eaten that much for that long before. But it felt...great. No, more than that. He felt incredibly pleased. Sated. Beyond high.

His pants got so tight at the restaurant he'd had to undo his belt.

His fullness turned him on and he begged Tony and Steve to blow him in the limo, on the way back home. But they weren’t total heathens; they waited until they returned for stuffing sex,

where one of his boyfriends fed him sickeningly sweet desserts while the other blew him, effectively creating double orgasms.

God. They'd been ridiculously horny. Insatiable rabbits.

And then there was dinner. Holy shit, dinner turned into another orgy when they mixed the day's remaining formula into his meals. After several dishes and baskets of rolls Bruce couldn't suck in his gut to fasten his pants. His stomach bloated and swelled in his lap as he slurped down sweet sriracha chicken, Thai coconut curry, and on and on. Food continued coming as fast as he ate it and he barely choked one meal down before the next course presented itself. He'd spilled a ton of food down his shirt, but he didn't care. He mindlessly gobbled everything up like a sloppy, greedy piggy wallowing in mess.

Then they sated themselves with sex. Again and again.

Bruce's body quivered from the memories and his dick jumped in his pants. He wondered how the rest of the night would go which dampened his enthusiasm. He had to fall asleep and his body would be taken over, forced to consume whatever Hulk desired. Thinking about Hulk's "meal" worked like ice water on his libido.

Bruce sighed and nervously squeezed his stomach. "You really found everything?"

"Sure did, Pooh."

"I would've...no. I wouldn't' have asked. I can't imagine what you went through to get it. After everything I ate today, I thought you would've been sick of catering to me."

Tony smiled gently and gave Bruce a quick kiss on the lips while slipping on a pair of sweatpants and his nano shirt. "For you? I'd buy the moon, Pooh Bear. Besides, today's good eatin' was to slick you up for tonight. You don't think Steve and I noticed your apprehension? Perish the thought. You're stuck with us."

"And how," Steve sighed, coming up behind him. Steve was still floating in a post-coital glow and his high was infectious. He wrapped his arms around Bruce's shoulders and gently swayed him side to side, palming Bruce’s spare tire while bouncing his heavy overhang. "Betcha gained a ton today, Porkpie."

Bruce shuddered with lust and kissed Steve's arm. "We'll see."

"We still have the bonus round," Tony told them. He snapped his fingers. "Bruce, bed. Steve, get him sleepy." He checked his watch. "I've got caterers to catch."

Bruce suddenly perked up. "They're here? Already?"

"In an hour. But I need to set up for Hulk. He likes his food ready and he likes getting messy, as you know."

Bruce snorted softly. "I saw."

"I've got a few things prepared. No worries, Brucie, it's not about you now. Rest up for the nightly pig-out."

Bruce chewed the inside of his cheek. "Be careful, yeah?"

"Always, Brucie Bear. Always." Tony winked and skittered out, but Bruce wasn't convinced. Tony could be notoriously bad at self-preservation and he'd need all of his skills for the Hulk.

Please be careful, he thought as a silent litany, even as Steve kissed his neck and led him to their bed.

"Yeah, lay it out."

The caterer and their helpers looked confused. "On the--"

"On the tarp, yeah. Line up the steno and servers in a line. The tarp's fireproof," Tony explained, although he doubted they thought that was the weird thing. "Set it up. I'll take care of the rest."

"Of course, Mr. Stark."

Fortunately they didn't bat an eye. He figured they'd seen weirder things. Probably from him, come think.

He gave the catering crew time to plate everything but kept checking his watch. He still had to prep before Bruce showed up.

When they lit the last steno he clapped his hands. Only one startled. Good. "Awesome. All finished? Wonderful. Someone'll drop off your gear tomorrow, or you can bill us. Jarvis, see 'em out. Thanks." He shoved a bunch of hundreds at the nearest person.

"If you would, please follow the lights as I direct you to the exits." A few of the newbies blinked around the room, but most of them knew the drill; they'd dealt with Jarvis before and knew their way out.

When the last one left the kitchen, Tony let out a slow puff of air and stilled his breathing. "How're we on time, J?"

"The last caterer will leave the building in approximately two-point-six minutes, sir. From what I've been observing with Captain Rogers, I estimate Doctor Banner will enter NREM sleep in approximately six minutes."

"Perfect. You clear on the plan?"

Tony could almost hear Jarvis sigh. The minute pauses mimicked one enough times. "Of course, sir. Although if I may interject?"

"Shoot." Tony darted around, finishing the set up before Bruce-Hulk lumbered in.

"I assume Doctor Banner will want--"

"Nope, no," Tony said, cutting off his AI. "This is a need-to-know op only and Banner doesn't need to know. Not until there's conclusive proof. You cut the feed on my mark, got it? Don't go all HAL on me."

"Perish the thought, sir." Jarvis would be chuckling, if he were human. "But I felt I needed to voice my concerns, considering your current relationship status."

"Duly noted. Bruce will...well." Tony gestured flippantly. "Either way we'll know conclusively and I'll apologize to Bruciekins tomorrow. I'll have to drag the rest out of him later anyway."

"Easier to ask for forgiveness than permission?"

"You got it, J."

Within ten minutes of Tony's talk with Jarvis heavy feet slapped the kitchen floor. Not as heavy as Hulk's actual feet but it wasn't Bruce's footfalls either; Bruce's tread was normally softer and shuffled more. The new steps were definitely steps of purpose and power.

"Hey, Hulk, it's Tony. I'm over here."

"Tin Man?"

Bruce - no, Hulk - poked his head into the formal dining room. It was damn weird, but Tony had no problem differentiating between Hulk taking Bruce's body, and Bruce himself.

"Yeah, it's me. Have a seat. I got your grub."

Hulk snuffled and snorted the air, and plopped heavily next to Tony. "Smells good. What's that?" He poked a server, and Tony lifted it.

"Twice fried ostrich wings, like you requested. Cajun spiced, using a seasoning mix from that guy you remembered on TV."

"Prudhomme magic," Hulk rumbled, and Tony stopped short from reeling in surprise. No. Definitely not stupid. At all.

He'd have to keep on his toes.

"That's right. Chef Prudhomme's legendary seasonings." He watched as Hulk took an ostrich wing and sniffed it cautiously. Laughing, he stuck half in his mouth and crunched it, bones and all.

"Good. Good ostrich!"

“Some of the best chefs in Louisiana fried it up and sent it to you. We've also got your--" he tore off another lid, "--deep fried Rocky Mountain Oysters, swimming in white gravy, and..." he removed another server lid and stopped short of shuddering. “Crocodile and alligator tripe, simmering in an alligator head with the eyeballs still attached. Just like you wanted."

Hulk grunted his approval, scooped a hand in the warm stew, and slurped it. "Good. Very good. Where's main dish?"

Tony sighed deeply. "Big Green, you've got some unique tastes and I'm diggin' the vibe. But just know for Bruce's sake we couldn't serve it to you raw."

Hulk slammed his fist on the floor, but it was still Bruce's fist. So Tony called it a win despite his tantrum. "Cap said anything!"

"Yeah, he did. But think about it. You wanna do Bruce a solid, right? Make him big and cuddly, like you?"

Hulk snorted, but folded his arms in a childish pout. "Yeah."

"And you wanna make sure you can do this again, right?"

"Hmph."

"Then you gotta do right by him. You're in his body, so take it easy." Tony removed the last lid. "Ta-daa...frog and rattlesnake stir fry. Not quite raw but as close to raw as we could make it without making Bruce sick."

Hulk grabbed a handful of the hot dish and shoved it in his mouth. "Banner not get sick," he muttered. A frog leg tumbled from his lips as he talked with a full mouth. "Banner has Hulk's immunity. No poison can kill Hulk!"

"True, true," Tony said. "But it can hurt Bruce temporarily. He wouldn't want that, and he'd kinda hate you for it."

"Mm." Tony could tell Hulk was mulling it over as he continued shoving the food into his mouth with his bare hands. The last server had the deep fried andouille sausage with crayfish gumbo in it (crayfish heads still attached, of course), but Tony figured Hulk would get to that eventually. It was definitely the messiest of all the dishes. Who knew Hulk was such a foodie of weird foods?

"Andrew Zimmern ain't got nothin' on you," Tony muttered.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing, Hulk. Go back to feasting."

Hulk nodded vigorously and scooped fistfulls of one dish, then the other, and poured them into his mouth. A lot fell to the tarp, but Hulk scraped up the scraps. Waste not, want not, he supposed.

After five minutes of watching Hulk develop an easy eating rhythm Tony licked his lips. "Hey, Jarv," he said quietly.

Jarvis relayed his response to Tony's hidden earpiece: "Understood, sir."

Although Bruce pinned a GoPro to his robe Tony'd hacked the camera days ago. He had Jarvis loop the feed so it'd show Hulk chowing down. He knew he'd only have a few minutes before it'd look suspicious, so he had to hope he got everything he needed from Hulk in one take.

"Hulkie," he began. "You love Tin Man, right? Love all this great food?"

"Mm. Yes. Good food. More tomorrow?"

"Sure. Let me know what you want before we wrap up tonight. Can't promise you everything, but we'll do what we can. Like the rattlesnake. That fair?"

Hulk snorted and dumped a handful of the gumbo in his mouth. Which, of course, dripped down on everything. "Is okay. But not great."

Tony chuckled. "I get it," he said, then sobered. "I also get what you're not telling Bruce. You're workin' the system, Big Green. Not sure I'm okay with that, and I know Bruce won't be."

Hulk didn't respond, but continued stuffing his face.

Good. He knows I'm on to him.

"Pull back on the control shit - you're mucking around with Bruce's subconscious more than he's aware; I saw you at dinner today. Don't deny it."

Hulk laughed, deep and throaty. "Fooled you. And Banner."

"A little, yeah. But I know that's not all - you're not dumb but neither am I. You helped Bruce with that gainer cocktail, didn't you? I'm guessing there's more junk in there than Bruce realizes."

Hulk stilled, and for the first time that night Tony wondered if he'd have to activate the nanosuit. "I see what Banner sees," he murmured. His voice was oddly calm, oddly quiet. "But Banner doesn't see what I see. He doesn't know what I know."

Bingo.

"It's all an act, isn't it?"

"No."

A chill came over Tony and his brain overclocked. "Shit...Hulk isn't the only one in Bruce's head, is he?"

He almost smiled, but the expression wasn't Hulk's. Wasn't Bruce's, either. "Are you going to tell on us?"

Don't. Don't freak out. Don't. Freak. "Depends." Tony was surprised at how calm he kept his voice. "Who are you, and what are you planning?"

The Person sighed softly and briefly brushed away food from Bruce's robe. "Actually, I like being left out of things. I work behind the scenes, and I don't wish any harm. I'm actually the one helping maintain control over Hulk these days...I suppose in a pinch you could call me the lecturer-researcher construct." He paused, tilting his chin before sharply nodding. "Call me Professor."

Tony swallowed. "Professor? Like when Bruce works at NYU?"

Professor hummed. "I'm present at any event where he's teaching, or when he learns something new. But honestly, I'm harmless. You've seen me before - I was the first to touch the Tesseract."

Tony sat back on his heels and scrutinized Professor sharply. "Huh. Yeah..." he gestured lamely at Professor's face. "I can see it now, a little. I remember that expression." Burned forever in his brain, now.

Sighing heavily Tony licked his lips, pausing at whatever seventh hell revelation this was. "So, um." He shook his head. He wanted a drink. Several. Despite cutting back for his boyfriends' sakes he wanted to drown his brain in a tank of whiskey. "Where...?"

"Where does this put the four...hum. Five of us?"

Tony nodded lamely. "You outflanked me. Royally."

"Did I?" Professor seemed to take that in stride, and smiled coyly to himself. "It wasn't my intention. I simply revealed my hand because it was timely. There wasn't anything left to hide." He tilted his head and gazed at Tony. "It doesn't change anything. Of course you should tell Banner and yes, even Captain Rogers, but do ask yourself if this is the right time. Could be fairly disastrous for the three of you if your timing's off." Tony narrowed his eyes slightly. Was that a veiled threat--?

Professor stretched and yawned, and held his hands above his head for a beat. "I'm actually quite pleased Banner wishes to become immobile, Tony." He smiled softly and ran his hands over Bruce's swollen belly, imitating a mother-to-be's reverence. The image burned Tony's retinas and he felt sick - maybe a bit horrified. "I'm looking forward to reading all the books I've yet to read and I'm glad for the time I'll have to myself."

Professor checked his wrist, as if viewing an invisible watch. "By the way, you should tell Jarvis to turn the camera feed back on. It's been far longer than five minutes."

Tony snorted. "You sly motherfucker. You knew all along."

"Of course I did." He winked and saluted Tony with two fingers. "Be seeing you, Tony."

Tony watched as Bruce's body shook before returning to shoving food in its face.

"Good food! Hulk wants more tomorrow."

"Sure thing, Big Guy," Tony whispered. He let out a shuddering breath and ran a hand down his face. "Jarv, tell me you recorded all that."

"Yes."

The AI's response was curt and to the point; he probably had as much to think about as Tony did.

"What the ever living fuck."

"Sir. Doctor Banner's Person was correct in one sense. It's been far too long, and there's bound to be an interrupting glitch in the feed if closely scrutinized."

"Yeah. I know." Tony licked his lips and made a circular motion in the air. "Go ahead and turn it back to black, J. Shit. I have no idea what the fuck I'm gonna say tomorrow. Hell, I dunno if I can keep up pretenses tonight."

"Might I suggest trying your best, sir? Especially as we're going live in three...two--"

"Shit."

But somehow Tony plastered his showman's grin to mask his shell-shocked face pretending for all the world he didn't do a Prince of Bel-Air, Freaky Friday flip. He watched Hulk eat most, if not all, of the dishes and he whistled for the 'bots to clean up the mess before guiding Hulk to the shower and repeating what Steve had done the previous night. But his mind was split and he knew he couldn't maintain the act for long. Both Bruce and Steve'd know something was up but he wasn't sure how, or when, he'd tell them.

God. He hated covert shit.

Ch. 7

#polyamory #chubby bruce fic #infundoau #chubby bruce banner #steve rogers #tony stark #bruce banner #american pi #science bros #hulk #stark spangled banner #bhm #chubby kink #syzygy #starkspangledbanner syzygy #professor hulk

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tisfan · 6 years

Text

Only a Matter of Time

Name of Piece: Only a Matter of Time Square Filled: T4 - Aliens made them Do It Also on A03 Rating Explicit Warnings: Anal sex, Stephen’s magical lube, angst, captivity, aliens made them do it, sex pollen, discussion of weird mating rituals, crack taken seriously Summary: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange

Captured by aliens, mistaken for a mating pair, Tony and Stephen find themselves having the universe’s most awkward honeymoon.

Created For : @tonystarkbingo

Tony Stark woke up to at least a half dozen or more different species of alien staring at him. He shrieked, scrambled backward, and had to stop to stare. The brain takes a lot of shortcuts so that we aren’t constantly looking at trees and trying to identify them, so it puts them all in a box marked Tree and lets us sort it out later if we care to.

Tony had never seen these things before, and they were all so vastly different from one another that his brain couldn’t stop picking out the little details.

That one had huge eyes -- or what he thought might have been eyes, he couldn’t really tell, since they didn’t have irises or pupils the way human eyes did, and who knew, maybe they were radar dishes -- in the top of its face. That one had a million little wormy squirmy things on its chin that wriggled in the air around it. He wasn’t even sure that thing -- looked like a crude salt carving of a whale, by someone who didn’t know what a whale looked like, and was tiny, besides -- was alive until it moved away.

“Whaaaaaaaa?” Tony babbled, pushing away until his back fetched up against something solid, which made him scream again and roll the other way. He’d hit something -- a tree, maybe? If Trees were pink, and scaly.

“Good morning,” someone said. “So good of you to join me.”

Tony’s head whipped around so fast he thought he might have given himself whiplash.

Dr. Stephen Strange was floating, a few feet above mauve (moss? Grass? Mushrooms? Jesus Horatio Christ what even the fuck?) ground, wrists resting on his knees, legs crossed.

“Gimme an elevator pitch of what the fuck, would you, Strange?” Tony managed to even sound like he wasn’t panicking -- he had a lot of practice -- but it was probably too late for that.

“So far as I’ve been able to gather?”

God, there was something unfair about the fact that Strange had already had time to compose himself, figure some shit out, and be composedly meditating midair (had Tony mentioned that he hated that?) before Tony woke up. One of these days, he’d like someone else’s dignity to be laying in pieces on the floor.

“Speculations allowed, doctor.”

“Welcome to the Yu!anz Zoo,” Strange said. Tony wasn’t sure how he said that word, which sounded a little like the sorcerer spat up a tiny bomb in the middle. “We’re the new special exhibit. They’ve never had humans before.”

“And you haven’t done your bibbity-bobbity-boo schtick why, exactly?”

“Can’t,” Strange said. “I can sling from one side of the room to the other, but it bounces anything further away. I’m attempting to study the shielding they’ve got on the habitat, but it’s all mirrors. All I can see… is us.”

Tony gave him a flat, unimpressed look. “I thought you were supposed to be the greatest sorcerer in the universe.”

“In the known universe, which is to say, the part that’s known to us,” Stephen said. “Also, I’m still new at the job.” He made a face, a little tip of the eyebrow and mouth that Tony should not have found cute, and did anyway.

“Always made jokes about being a zoo exhibit,” Tony said, looking out at the gawkers. There were entirely new sorts of aliens there, now, staring and pointing and rapping on the glass. “Remind me to not do that again.”

(more under the cut)

There was no way out.

The glass, Tony discovered, wasn’t glass at all. It was some sort of force repelling shield. If he threw a thing at it, it bounced it back with equal force. In fact, one of the few times he even saw their captors, he’d nearly killed them both by throwing something with enough force that the shield bounced it to the back of the enclosure, which in turn, bounced it back. The ricochet effect forced Strange to tackle Tony to the ground and cover them both with the Cloak of Levitation while the damn rock ping ponged around like a deranged kangaroo.

“Well, this is comfy,” Tony said, mostly to cover his embarrassment at fucking up. Hard. And speaking of hard…

“Stop wriggling,” Strange snarled, teeth clenched.

“Seriously, Stephen?” Tony wriggled anyway, mostly because he could, and there wasn’t anything else to do while they were wrapped up tight in Strange’s semi-sentient shoulder-wrap.

“Stark--”

“You are…”

“Shut up and stop moving.”

“You know, I don’t think I will,” Tony remarked, casually, letting his hips rock up into that comforting warmth. “But, I mean, I suppose you could shut me up if that--”

“I hate you,” Stephen said, almost utterly without emotion, which would have been more convincing, probably, except that most decidedly wasn’t Stephen’s wand poking him in the thigh, and then that was absolutely Stephen’s tongue in his mouth.

Who only knew how far that might have gone except their captors entered the habitat and yanked the projectile to a stop. One of them poked at the cocoon that was protecting Tony and Stephen, and the Cloak leapt away, smacking at alien… oh, god, had they just been poked with an alien proboscis? Ew, gross.

Their captors -- or, at least, the aliens that kept the habitat, were like giant, humanoid mosquito/moths, bulby eyes, long curled up nose that whipped out to poke and prod at them. They had thick, feathery antennae and wings that tucked close to their backs, like cloaks. Tony and Stephen found themselves backed into a corner by something impossibly strong and wrong to look at. Literally, staring at the alien hurt Tony’s brain in places it did not want to be hurt.

Every time Tony tried to dodge around the thing, or push it away, it returned him to his corner like a misbehaving child.

Finally, after the other one had cleared out all the rocks, their captor fluttered its wings at them, dusting them both with gray powder.

Tony blinked a few times and slumped to the ground. “F’ink, take… nap, now.”

“Yeah,” Stephen said.

Tony woke up, curled in Stephen’s arms, the cloak tucked around them like a blanket.

“Okay, sunshine, this is just getting weird,” Tony said, but he didn’t bother to move. Stephen was warm and for a guy who sometimes looked like a collection of sticks wrapped in wizard gear, he was soft and comfortable. He ran one hand over his hair, scrubbing at his scalp, and then-- “What is that?”

Stephen sighed and grabbed Tony’s wrist, holding it tightly. “It’s a bio monitor,” he said. “Do not try to pull it out, or scratch at it. You’ll just hurt yourself.”

“Do you have one, too?” Tony didn’t know how Stephen could possibly know that, but the feeling that there was something -- another thing -- inside him that he didn’t ask for filled him made him want to puke, want to dig it out, even if it hurt, even if it killed him, even if…

“Shhh, shh, I know Tony, I know, I’m here, it’s okay. They’ll take it out again, I promise,” Stephen was cradling him, holding him in a warm, comforting grip.

“Do you have one, Stephen?” Tony demanded.

“I don’t. I’m sorry,” Stephen said. The wizard flinched, and Tony realized he was squeezing Stephen’s hands, desperately tight, hurting scars and injuries that would never quite heal.

“Why?”

“Um. They think you’re the female,” Stephen said, slowly.

“What? How do you even know that?” It took him a while to let go of Stephen’s hands anyway, and to not instantly reach for the foreign thing he felt in the back of his skull.

“I’ve been studying them,” Stephen told him. “Their language is really confusing, but I think I have it down, now, at least enough to get the basics. And they think you’re the egg-carrying member of our species.”

“WHY?”

“Well, first of all, you’re a lot smaller than I am,” Stephen said, tipping his head to one side. “Tony--” Stephen pressed a finger to Tony’s lips. “I’m six foot two and a half inches. You’re five eight on your good days. Don’t argue with me, height is fact. They don’t see differences in our facial features.”

“Awesome facial hair bros, yeah,” Tony said.

“But they’re bugs. Big ones, smart ones, but, you know. Insectoid. We don’t… they don’t recognize our primary or secondary sexual characteristics. And I have wings, and you don’t.”

“They think your walking security blanket means you’re a guy? Capes are so gay, Stephen.”

“Well, so am I, so it’s okay,” Stephen said.

Tony tipped his eyebrows. Well, he guessed he’d asked for that. “So, what then? They think I’m female and delicate and I need monitoring?”

“They’re waiting for you to get pregnant.”

“THE FUCK?”

“I mean, I suppose we could tell them you’re well past child-bearing age--”

“Excuse me, Mr. Sorcerer Supremely grey?” Tony spluttered. Was Stephen calling him old?

“Just because some of us don’t like sitting in a salon chair,” Stephen pointed out. He had the actual nerve to flick his fingers through that grey streak on one side of his temple. It should not have been attractive. “Face it, I’m taller, and younger, and I have a cool cloak.”

“You only wish you were as cool as I am,” Tony said. He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Thank you. I’m calm. Tell me what the fuck is going here, Stephen, I am begging you.”

If he hadn’t been quite so close, he might not have noticed the way Stephen’s lips parted and his eyes darkened.

“The really important thing is… it won’t take them too long to realize their mistake. And then they’ll trade us out for a proper, reproducing couple,” Stephen said. “Which kinda sucks, but then, we keep dolphins in fish tanks and make them do tricks, so I can’t really criticize too much. And trying to war with them would be a mistake.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I am the sorcerer supreme, even if I am new at the job. And my abilities are fully functional, inside the habitat. So, I’ve been living these next four or five days, learning something new every time. I can… sort of understand their language. It’s complicated, and the writing is horrific. The little antenna on their heads makes it pretty much impossible for us to communicate with them. I don’t even really think they think we’re sentient, at all. Kinda like… we are to bees, they are to us.”

“Are you telling me bees are sentient?”

“Hive mind is a pretty incredible thing, Tony,” Stephen said. “I mean, on an individual level, no, bees aren’t sentient. But a hive of bees… well, they’re pretty damn smart, actually.”

“So, what, we wait until they figure out that we’re both dudes, and, they let us go?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Stephen said.

“How long is that going to take?”

“Couple months,” Stephen said, nodding his entire body back and forth.

“A couple of--”

“Shh. Stop it.”

Tony glared.

“Time stone, Tony,” Stephen told him. “When we get out of here, I’ll just roll us back to a few minutes after we left. No one will even know we were gone. Think of it as… extended leave of absence.”

“I am going to die of boredom in a couple of weeks, Stephen.”

“No, you won’t,” Stephen said, and then he was blushing, and wasn’t that interesting.

“Okay, so what aren’t you telling me?”

“It would take a while to cover all of those things,” Stephen said. “And… really, this day is going really well. If I tell you right now and you freak out, I’m just going to have to start this day over and I’ve already done this one like five hundred and six times already.”

“You do that a lot,” Tony said.

“Yeah. There’s a reason why I’m not sane,” Stephen said, and his chin wobbled a little. “Mostly, I store all the alternative timelines in a memory box.”

“You’re getting very Harry Potter right now.”

“Magic is imagination given form,” Stephen said. “I stole that from Harry Potter because it fucking works. Otherwise, I’d remember dying over seventeen million times, when bargaining for the fate of our dimension, 14 million times dying because of Thanos. No one, no mind, could survive that. I forget. Because I have to. So, if I tell you, you have to not freak out, okay? I need to keep these memories until we get out of here, and you need to help me. Okay?”

Tony couldn’t forget a thing if he tried. Every detail of Afghanistan, every detail was etched in his brain, he relived those moments in his nightmares. He couldn’t imagine what dying hundreds of times must feel like, what sort of burden that had to be. “Stephen…” He nodded. “You can count on me.”

“I know,” Stephen said, and he smiled, sweet as honey. He cupped the side of Tony’s face with one battered, scarred and crooked hand. “I know I can.”

“What is this?” Tony reached into the box that had appeared -- literally, appeared. Their keepers had been feeding them like this for at least a week now, so Tony wasn’t as startled as he was the first time, but this box didn’t contain the food pellets. (By the way, so leaving a bad yelp review. The food there was boring and repetitive, the same three or four round discs about the size of a hamburger patty, although they tasted more like generic, doritos that someone forgot to put the flavor dust on.)

Instead, there were a few… things.

Things that Tony couldn’t identify by looking at.

One of them sort of looked like a ball of string, except the string kept changing color, and he couldn’t quite track where the piece went.

“Enrichment activities,” Stephen said. He was doing the floating thing again. “They think you’re pining.”

“For the Fjords?” Tony wondered. He poked the string and the end of it jerked away from him like he’d insulted it, and dove into the writhing mass. It was like… a puzzle? Tony grabbed for the end, trying to figure out what it did.

The end bit had disappeared, and Tony started hunting for it. Each time he spotted the end and attempted to secure it, he felt a little jolt of satisfaction. Several hours passed before he realized that he had, actually, been entertained with the puzzle. By the time he finally found both ends, he was actually feeling really good. Soft and--

“Stephen, is this thing making me high?”

Stephen glanced up. “It’s stimulating the part of your brain that makes endorphins, so, yes,” Stephen said. “Brace yourself, that’s not all we’re going to be getting tonight.”

Tony barely had time to ask what that meant before he found out. The habitat lights dimmed, cheesy seventies porn music started playing, and the habitat was flooded with the scent of roses, chocolate and… oh, god, steak.

“What are they doing?”

“Trying to get you in the mood to mate,” Stephen confessed. And he was blushing, which was weird because--

Tony’s eyebrows went up. “Trying to get me in the mood,” Tony wondered. “Not us.”

“What little they know about humans comes from some of our television signals,” Stephen pointed out. “In almost all of our media, it’s portrayed that males are always ready, and the females need to be wooed.”

“They should try going to the annual Maria Stark Foundation ball, it’s like a feeding frenzy. I barely escape with my balls intact. I’m still annoyed that they can’t tell the difference between men and women. Some super advanced aliens they’re turning out to be.”

“Give them some credit,” Stephen said. “As far as they know, we could be like snails, and make little love darts to stab each other with in an exchange of sperm.”

“No stabbing,” Tony said. “I draw the line at romantic stabbing.”

“Or… some species of male octopus literally launch their penis at a potential mate,” Stephen said. “The female octopus being notoriously short tempered and apt to eat their mates.”

“There are times when I’ve considered that as an alternative to a messy breakup,” Tony said. “Bees. Bees are a good example of fucked up mating. The male bee explodes, to seal off the queen’s reproductive channels, otherwise, other males could dig out the sperm and mate instead. Talk about your dedicated daddy.”

“Snakes. Female snakes have it particularly bad,” Stephen said. “There’s one species whose mating scent is so strong, it can attract males from over a hundred miles away, and they all pretty much jump her in tandem, a little orgy-ball of fuckery. Female snakes can be, literally, fucked to death.”

“That… sounds more fun than it probably is.”

“Especially for her,” Stephen remarked. “But humans aren’t much better. Human mating habits are weird,” Stephen said. “Almost as weird as the ridiculous premises around it for entertainment. It’s a waste of time.”

“So, you’re a hey, becky, lemme smash kinda guy?”

“Romance may not be dead, but it is frequently unnecessary,” Stephen said. “Most people decide within a few minutes of meeting someone if they’d ever want to have intercourse. The rest of it is needless time wasting. Don’t you?”

“My playboy reputation was always exaggerated, and currently somewhat out of date,” Tony huffed, feeling insulted.

“I don’t mean you always get the sex,” Stephen said. “I mean, you look at someone across the room and think, even for a second, yeah, that one’s nice, I’d do that. Sex is a game of numbers. We’ve developed all this ritual around it, but our base, human biology is satisfied with passing along our genes to the most number of people, as quickly as possible. We like to pretend we’re thinking about it, or choosing to have multiple partners to increase our social standing, but it’s mostly just justification for the chemical stew in our blood stream, the monkey brain that says procreate and survive. It’s irrational, and trying to pretend we’re somehow above that… well, that’s just wishful thinking. Humans, individually and collectively, are a hot mess.”

Damn, that was both sexy and challenging. The sexy past was the way Stephen discussed a one night stand as basic biology, showing off a big, sexy brain. The logical part that always forgot that logic was just a mess of hormones and chemistry. For a doctor, a neurosurgeon, Tony would have expected Stephen to come down on the side of cold logic.

The challenge… “So, Mr. Wizard,” Tony said, as casual as he could manage. “What did you think when you first saw me?”

Stephen laughed, a soft chuckle. “We were a bit preoccupied at the time.”

“That’s dodging the question,” Tony said.

“Seems unfair for you to ask it,” Stephen replied. “What did you think?”

“Buddy, there’s like four people I’ve ever met that I wasn’t related to, that were on my Do Not Fuck, Ever list. Everyone else, I’m open to negotiations,” Tony said, stretching out, full length. “And I’ll tell ya, if they give me that steak that they’re pumping fumes for, I might be willing to fuck you.”

“I suspect they’d be more pleased with the activity if I were to…”

“Bang me like a cheap screen door?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“You get the steak… and some coffee would be great, and you can have the goods.”

“Tony, did that little puzzle go straight to your--”

“Does it matter, doc? You already said they’re not going to let us go until we prove I’m infertile to your wizardly dick. I’m hungry, I’m bored, and I happen to be really fucking horny right now. So, if we gotta do it anyway, let’s just do it.”

“And I thought that I believed romance was dead and unnecessary,” Stephen commented, idly.

“Aw, baby, do you want me to romance you?” Tony was still smirking. His pants were a little uncomfortably tight, and Stephen was looking better to him with every minute. He was pretty familiar with pharmaceuticals, and he knew, mind you, that he’d been hit up with some sort of high end aphrodisiac, but the part of his brain that rarely shut up was spinning it around. It wasn’t like having sex with Stephen would be a hardship. The man was attractive and had been weirdly kind and comforting the whole time they’d been imprisoned, keeping Tony sane and safe.

There was something romantic about it.

Tony eyed the man again, noting the blush and the way Stephen avoided his eyes. “You do… you want me to romance you,” Tony said, the realization coming over him like a tidal wave. “This… you…” Tony made a little circle in the air with one hand. “You care. This matters to you.”

“Of course I care,” Stephen said. “You’ve been living in here with me for… what, two week, in this time line? I’ve… been reliving each day multiple times. In my head, Tony, we’ve known each other for years. Inside two weeks, this has been the longest relationship of my life. Absence doesn’t make the heart grow fonder, Tony. Closeness does. I know you better than anyone. Probably better than you know yourself.”

Tony swallowed. Usually people got fed up with him after a few days, and all the money and fame hadn’t been worth it for many. He drove Pepper crazy on a regular basis until she’d finally decided that, much as they loved each other, it wasn’t going to work. She couldn’t be his mother and his girlfriend and his ceo and his personal assistant and his babysitter all at the same time, and he knew he was unfair to ask it of her. How-- “How long?”

“What?”

“How long have we been together? How long have you known?”

Stephen reached out then and touched his cheek. “I’ve loved you since Titan. I didn’t throw all the memories away. I couldn’t.”

Tony turned his face and kissed Stephen’s mangled palm. “Are you going to erase today?”

Stephen was even closer, close enough for Tony to notice that his eyes were actually both blue and green at the same time, close enough to feel the heat seeping off his body. “Do you want me to?”

“No.”

Their lips met in a fevered kiss. Stephen’s mouth was demanding, fierce, a counterpoint to the way his hands moved, hesitant, as if he couldn’t believe he had the right to touch.

Stephen’s hands dragged heated trails down Tony’s skin. He struggled with the fastenings and Tony had to suck air, while he helped. The Cloak of Levitation hovered over them, and Tony was almost imagining that it disapproved, but then it flapped off, giving them some degree of privacy.

Tony laid back on the soft floor of their habitat as Stephen touched and explored, kissed and tasted. His teeth grazed over Tony’s nipple, sending a flush of heat down his spine. Another kiss, this one deeper, longer, slower, a mating of lips and tongues that was profoundly intimate. Sensual. Tony considered himself an expert on kissing; Stephen’s technique might have been somewhat clumsy, but there was an earnestness to it, a sweetness, that had been lacking in many of Tony’s other kisses.

There was no doubting Stephen’s desire, not just for bodies, but that he’d had this secret for so long, and he’d never said anything, he’d never made a big deal out of it. There was something innocent about it, enough that Tony wondered if he was doing Stephen any favors.

“How many times have we done this?”

Stephen rutted against him, pulling him in for another kiss. “Not enough,” he said, mouth brushing over Tony’s with exquisite sensation. “Never enough.”

Tony could believe it had been a lot; Stephen seemed to know without being told where Tony’s most sensitive spots were. That was distinctly unfair, because who would have guessed that Tony would go weak at having the small of his back caressed with light strokes, or a warm mouth licking at the inside of his elbow could get him to moan wantonly.

Also, he didn’t know any of Stephen’s, and had to content himself with being a keen observer and eager enough to explore. Still, Stephen decidedly had the upper hand, and that didn’t even include all the magic stuff, like being able to conjure lube with a quick muttered word, or, at one point, adding extra arms and mouths. Tony had participated in any number of multiple-partner sex adventures previously, but there was something different about having one person touching and kissing him so many times.

Stephen could capture Tony’s mouth, while holding his legs spread wide. The sensation of a hot, wet throat to fuck was vivid and real and intense, but when Tony managed to pry his eyes open to look, there was only a blueish, ghostly impression. He was held down and carressed by multiple hands, while Steve’s own, fragile and thick-fingered and trembling, touched Tony’s face, brushed through his hair.

“And I thought I had good tricks,” Tony said, and then, because everything was a contest, as far as Tony was concerned, and he had to score some points, he took Stephen’s hand, the real, flesh one, and drew his index and middle fingers into his mouth, sucking them lightly.

All of Stephen’s boojums disappeared at once, and they settled back onto the ground with a bump -- when had Stephen started levitating them, Tony would have thought he would have noticed that?

“What? Off limits?” Tony took his mouth off Stephen’s hand, but kept it cradled between his own. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” Stephen said. “No, it doesn’t, well, yes, it hurts, but my hands always hurt, it’s not anything particular that you’re doing. I’m just--”

“Not used to people touching anymore, I get it,” Tony said. He ran his thumbs across Stephen’s palm, stretching a little at the scars there. “You are so beautiful.”

Stephen did start tugging at his hands, then, the fingers curling up defensively. “I used to be,” he said. “A surgeon’s hands.”

“You’re not ugly because of your scars, Stephen,” Tony told him. “Scars are… the roadmap of our lives. They tell people what we’ve suffered. The worst ones are the ones we can’t see, that we carry here--” he tapped his own chest, covered and matted with ropy scars from where the arc-reactor had been. “But you still have beautiful hands, Stephen.”

Stephen sucked in a breath. “I have known you for thirty million lifetimes, and you still surprise me, Tony, with the depths of your compassion.”

“It should,” Tony told him with a wink. “Given that I’m not supposed to have any, at all.” It was rare that he would take any such conversations about his good points seriously; Howard had spent a lifetime pointing out all of Tony’s mistakes to the point where Tony owned everything, presented it all up front in his showman manner. If he presented his heart, already bleeding, it was rare the person who would continue to stab. Not unheard of, but rare. There were always people who needed to score points by making someone else feel small. There was something unsatisfying to a critic to be answered with “yes, I know” when they’d taken such efforts to craft an insult. It was petty, but Tony would admit to being petty. Tony knew how to deal with insults; he had a long list of character flaws.

What he didn’t know how to deal with was sincerity and compliments. Compliments themselves were easy; everyone who ever wanted something from him would shower him with whatever they thought he wanted to hear.

But the combination of knowing that there was nothing Stephen wanted from him, and that he was perfectly in earnest. Well, that was harder to hear.

The two of them stared at each other, a long moment, gauging the other’s emotional state, the depth of sincerity, and then, “I think if I don’t kiss you right now, I might die from it.”

“Drama queen,” Tony accused, fondly.

“Drama wizard,” Stephen corrected, and then they were kissing again, a desperate, greedy, clinging sort of kiss to say everything with bodies and lips and tongues that they didn’t know how to say with actual words.

Stephen stroked Tony’s cock a few times, this time with his own hand, not playing with magic tricks and distractions, but just loving him.

Tony arched into it, moaning. “Please,” he said, breathless, running his own hands down every bit of pale skin he could reach until he ended with his hands firmly on Stephen’s ass, pulling them together, feeling the slick rut as their cocks aligned and glided together and it was the best tease, the best feeling.

He hooked his legs around Stephen’s thighs and the friction for even better, the heat between them growing. And the whole while, Stephen kept kissing him, kept returning to his mouth as if to hone his skill, to taste and know and breathe in every bit of Tony that he could get.

He didn’t stop kissing even when he was pushing at the opening to Tony’s body, getting him ready -- Tony could forgive him for the magic lube, because that shit was amazing -- even if it did get a bit sloppy. Tony loved it. Wet, heated, open-mouthed kissing, tongues that slid together and then apart. Little nips along his lip. A smear of dampness across his cheek and chin, and all the while, Stephen was breathing harder and making these delicious little sounds.

“Are you sure?” Stephen asked, still working Tony open with one hand.

“Stephen,” Tony said, touching his face, his cheek, that adorable little beard, running a thumb over Stephen’s lip. “I want you with every fiber of my being, you cannot get more enthusiastic consent than this. Give it to me.”

Stephen pressed against the ring of muscle and then, slowly, slid in. Tony shifted, threw his head back, struggled for a moment to relax. Stephen’s cock was lovely, long and slender and somehow as graceful as the man himself. He heard a sharp gasp of pleasure and realized it was his own, before Stephen started to move in him, on him, over him. Stephen’s mouth opened, as if to catch the gasp, and those obscenely beautiful lips fluttered over Tony’s in a soft, ghosting kiss.

Something about that tenderness got Tony even hotter. He grabbed a handful of Stephen’s ass and impaled himself on that gorgeous cock. Everything about the wizard was so much more than Tony had expected, he had to breath, deep and steady, a few times, to regain some equilibrium.

The push and pull of lovemaking was organic, natural, the way his body always urged him to move and grip, to roll his hips and to show his throat. The way his hands would grasp the blankets to hold himself down. All the same, all the way it always was.

And yet, at the same time, so new and fresh that Tony’s very skin ached, that he felt like a snake, peeling its scales and showing something new and shiny underneath.

Stephen alternated, deep, heavy thrusts and slow slides and quick, shallow movements, until they found themselves in the best possible rhythm, in which their heart beats and breaths aligned, until they were lost in each other’s gazes, until the world vanished and everything was feeling and sensation and love.

Stephen seemed to be everywhere around him, touching his hair, kissing his throat, gripping his ass to bring him closer.

Their bodies were heated, slick, and Tony could no longer tell where he ended and Stephen began. He stretched, reaching for his pleasure, wanting it, wanting to feel himself clench down on Stephen’s glorious dick, and then--

“Oh!” he rocked, taking as much of Stephen as he could and…

“Tony!”

When it was over, Tony found himself chasing his breath, Stephen a warm, heated weight on top of him, not quite crushing him into the ground, but close. It should have been suffocating, but it wasn’t. He kept his leg hooked around Stephen’s back, not wanting to let go, wanting to stay there, locked together. They lay there for a long while until their pulses slowed and the world came back into focus around them.

Tony had never really had a vacation before. Not a nice, long one. Even when he’d tried vacationing before, he always found himself working, or fretting because he wasn’t working. Stephen’s reassurances that they wouldn’t lose any real time, in their real lives, made the whole thing feel just a little surreal.

“You sure you should use the time stone for something this frivolous?”

“Don’t make the same mistake Thanos did, Tony, of believing the time stones are only tools. They have their own agenda, their own purpose. There is a price to pay, the further off its path you take it. For now, the Time Stone and I walk the same road, and it helps me, as it can. I will know, when it is right to give it up.”

“You’re saying the time stone wants you to enjoy your honeymoon?”

They didn’t discuss much else that day, since Stephen decided to take Tony at his word, and they were soon too breathless and sweaty for deep conversation.

But there were days of conversation, while Tony learned the theory of sorcerery, and Stephen learned the basics of particle physics. They told each other stories of their not-entirely-dissimilar childhoods. Stephen reminisce about his medical residency, and Tony laughed through old tales from MIT and the trouble he and Rhodey used to get into.

Their keepers provided them with food -- and eventually, better food, which was nice, although, really, what sort of universe didn’t have coffee -- and enrichment activities, and all the comforts they really could want.

“I’m going to get spoiled and fat,” Tony was saying one night, laying with his head in Stephen’s lap while they explored the nearby stars with one of the enrichment devices. Looking at other planets and moons from the relative safety of the zoo was somehow pleasing.

It did still bother Tony that he wasn’t free, that he couldn’t just make a choice and leave, but it was comfortable captivity, and Tony needed it. He needed this little oasis of time and peace.

“You deserve to be spoiled,” Stephen told him.

He woke early to the sounds of muffled sobs.

“What? What, Stephen, what’s wrong?” Tony was there, his hands on his lover.

“We’re leaving today, and I knew it would be soon, but--” The cloak was nudging at Stephen’s face and Stephen absently brushed it away. “Stop that.”

“It’s all right, though?” Tony asked, not really sure what he was asking. “We’re going to go home and everything--” He swallowed around a lump in his throat, the size of a tennis ball. “--you’re not going to let me remember. Is that the plan, Stephen, because I… I did not agree to this plan!”

“You have your life, Tony, back on earth, this was-- I’ll treasure this, but--”

“Don’t you fucking let go of me, you goddamn coward,” Tony spat. “What do you think this has been for me? A lark? Goddamnit, Strange, I love you. Don’t take that from me. Don’t steal this. Even if-- if you’re done with me, I don’t want to forget it.”

Stephen reached out one battered hand and caught the tears spilling from Tony’s eyelashes.

“Tony?”

“Did… I forget to tell you I loved you?”

“You did.”

“Well, don’t worry,” Tony said. “I will.”

“Tell me now.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. I’ll… okay, change of plans. We’re still leaving. But--”

“You keep me with you, right? I don’t want to forget this.”

“Okay. Okay, Tony. I’m sorry.”

“Damn well better be. I’m the best thing that ever happened to you, you idiot.”

“Tell me again why I love you?” Stephen was laughing, his blue-green eyes bright.

“Because I’m awesome, and you have good taste,” Tony said. “And you know me better than I know myself, and yet, you still fail to recognize that I might love you back. Seriously, Stephen, why give me such relationship gold? I’m going to be mining that for years.”

Stephen smiled. “Yeah, yeah, you are.”

#tonystarkbingo #tonystarkbingo2018 #bingo fill #IronStrange #aliens made them do it

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coutelier · 7 years

Text

Too Human

Here’s a little short story of sorts (about 2,000 words), basically taken from abandoned parts of my current WIP (which you can find out a bit more about on the link on the right of my blog). I guess you can consider a mini-prequel:

It started as an almost perfect summers day, basking in the warmth of the sun as a cooling breeze kept it from being overbearing. Little Tien was chasing the dog with a hose, happier than she had ever been since – well, the day was almost perfect. There was a seat on the patio that now lay empty and several romance novels that now went unread. But for Hung there was still work to do. On his laptop he scrolled lists of numbers, formulas – he would rather have been playing too, but it had to be done. Tien was his world now and he had to make sure she would always be provided for.

The dog was barking. It took Hung a moment to register the shift in the animal’s tone – it had been yelping merrily but had become wild about something. Hung jumped away from his work. Tien had gone quiet, but he couldn’t imagine the family pet turning on her - surely he’d have heard a scream if it had. Running around the side of the house he saw the dog with its chest low and legs spread as if wanting to pounce, but its eyes fixed high above, baring his teeth at a point in a nearby tree. Tien’s eyes were fixed there too, but whereas the dog was agitated she was wistful, holding out her arms like she did when she wanted an adult to pick her up.

“What is it boy?” Hung asked. He wished someone would invent something that would have allowed the dog to answer and explain what it was worried about. As it was it just kept snarling at the tree and Tien answered for it.

“It’s mommy!” She said excitedly. “She’s coming home!”

Hung felt his heart contract, trying to crush itself as it couldn’t bear to hear the hopefulness in the girl anymore. She was still too young to understand. “Honey,” he tried to explain, “mommy’s gone – “

But Tien would have none of it. She stamped her foot and insisted, “she’s not gone! She’s waiting for us over there in the garden!”

“What garden?”

“The fairy garden!” She said and stomped indoors, annoyed that he couldn’t see what she was seeing. Hung tried, but all he could see was a tree with its leaves rustling in the breeze. As he turned to leave he did, for an instant, think he heard it whisper his name:

L E H U N G

But that and the chill he put down to just the wind. The dog soon settled down and by evening he’d convinced himself that it must have just been a bird that had got it riled. Tien went to sleep, eventually, leaving Hung alone with the silence. At this time every night it was the gentle clacking of the keyboard as he worked that was the only thing anchoring him to this world, keeping his mind from being swallowed whole by the darkness beyond. But this night came the whispers.

He heard no names this time. It was almost like gargled baby sounds, mimicking the structure of speech but without having learned any actual words. He couldn’t determine whether it was near or far as he searched, the old house creaking as if tortured by his steps despite the care he took not to be heard. The whispering grew louder, a torrent of voices drowning each other out. Which it turned out was close to what it was – a tap left running in the bathroom. Hung cursed and muttered to himself – he really didn’t believe in ghosts or spirits. He supposed he just hadn’t gotten used yet to these nights alone.

Hung made sure the tap was turned off tight and headed back to his laptop. The dog was barking outside and he decided to leave the animal to do so. It was the sound of some life at least. So long as it was there he knew the world wasn’t empty.

And then there was silence.

Just before the silence came again deeper and heavier than ever before, the dog whined and squealed in a way that tingled Hung’s spine paralyzing his body and mind. Then the whispering all around, in his ear and far away. It wasn’t a tap. It wasn’t a ghost or a spirit. He had no name for what it was, yet knew that it wanted him. He wanted to know what had happened to the dog but it was much more important that he go to Tien so he ran up the stairs, the incessant whispering getting no nearer or further, and threw open the door to her room where she should have been sleeping. She wasn’t. She was in the window holding her arms out.

“Tien!” Hung cried. He restrained himself from rushing to her in case he startled and made her fall. “Tien, come inside honey…”

She looked to him then shook her head. “Mommy’s waiting,” she said and stepped outside.

“Tien!” Hung leapt to the windowsill and looked out, fearing he would see his daughter broken on the ground below. Instead he saw her running across the garden into the woods, which should have been a relief, yet he had to wonder how – she was so small and delicate, so how had she not been hurt at all by the fall?

There was no time to wonder about it. He had to go after her wherever she was going, picking up shoes and a flashlight before barging out the back door. He’d made it across the garden before tripping over something both heavy and soft. The dog. He’d forgotten about the dog, but now he was looking into the gaping holes where its eyes should have been, fighting the compulsion to vomit.

The trees rustled and the whisperers urged:

F o l l o w

Whatever evil was lurking out there didn’t matter. He just had to get to Tien before it did, and so he ran and he ran. He couldn’t outrun the whispers – they moved through the wind both urging and mocking him. Sometimes he heard laughter, or saw jumped as a shadow moved unexpectedly. They were everywhere he couldn’t see and he couldn’t see her.

“Tien!” He howled desperately into the night. After a moment the night answered:

T h i s w a y

He had no choice but to follow. It wanted him and was using her to lure him closer, into what seemed a dead end. But then vines that covered a stone wall parted and with horror he realized that he knew what ‘it’ was and that he had helped create it, yet a part of him refused to believe until he stepped through the portal into the earth. The flashlight wasn’t needed down there as the cavern was filled with fungi that emitted a bioluminescent glow.

Hung saw Tien running from him, through the strange garden to a stone throne in which a woman sat, her own skin glowing like the mushrooms all around, but constantly shifting. She lifted the child into her lap, smiling warmly as she said, “Greetings, Doctor Le. It has been some time, hasn’t it?”

Hung fell to his knees. He knew it was futile to fight this creature and still there was a part of him that could not accept her existence or that he was responsible for what happened to the dog or what could happen to his daughter, and there would be nothing he could do. “You,” he gulped, “you’re dead. I saw your body burned…”

“You saw a body burned,” the bright woman told him. “Who that was – honestly I don’t know. Doesn’t matter now really. What matters is I’m alive, and well. I’ve been gathering my strength, and my children.”

Two of them appeared before his eyes either side of the woman; human shapes covered in some kind of chitinous exoskeleton. The woman bounced Tien on her lap and said to her, “tell me, little one, did your daddy ever tell you about his work?” Tien shook her head and so the woman continued, “odd. You’d think if he was proud of what he did he’d tell his only daughter. You see, he was a part of a team that made things – bringing dreams to life was what they said. They made me.”

“Why are you doing this?” Hung begged and wept, but she ignored him.

“Does your daddy tell you how beautiful and perfect you are?” The woman asked. Tien nodded. “Yes? They used to tell me that too. Does it make sense to you that anyone would try to destroy something perfect and beautiful?” Tien vigorously shook her head and the woman nodded thoughtfully. “And yet, that’s exactly what they tried to do. So perhaps they were all just liars.”

Hung sobbed wretchedly, “please don’t hurt her…”

“Hurt her?” The woman sounded appalled as she turned her black eyes on him. “Do you think me a monster? No harm will come to the child. Besides, she’s mine now.”

Those last words hit him like a cannon ball to the gut. He looked to Tien sat on the strange woman’s lap, not the least bit scared. She should have been scared but she wasn’t, because Tien was no longer in there. All that sat there was a puppet being controlled by her. “No,” Hung gritted his teeth, anger rising inside him, “you… you can’t do that!”

The woman’s nose wrinkled. “Well, I’ve done it, so…”

“No!” Hung screamed, clenching his fists and launching his whole self at her. There wasn’t anything left to hold back for. But despite all his determination, all his rage, he never got close. There were other ‘children’ all around that he didn’t see. They clubbed the back of his head then dragged the dazed man before their Queen.

“Really?” She laughed as she stood and put Tien down. “What did you think you were going to accomplish? Hammers and boulders couldn’t break me. Do you really think you could?”

He was on his knees again, being held up by his arms. He rolled his head up and saw one thing he could do, now the Queen was in spitting distance. “You are a monster,” he spat.

She wiped it off and leaned forward. “I am what you made me.”

“Perhaps we did mistreat you,” Hung admitted, “but Tien – she’s done nothing wrong. She deserves a chance at life.”

“She’ll have one. She won’t remember you, or her ‘mommy’, but she will live a very long and healthy life.”

It wasn’t living, Hung knew. She would be forever bound to this creature, stripped of her own will and forced to carry out The Queen’s. He wondered if death wasn’t better, but he had to clutch at any hope there was left and tried to reason with her. “You’re hurt; angry. I understand…”

“Oh, you have no idea of the things I have planned for all your kind.”

“We made you too human. That was our mistake.”

“And now you resort to insults. I am very disappointed in you, doctor,” the Queen turned away, back to her throne. “Now, as fun as it’s been, I didn’t bring you here just to catch up. You are going to share with me everything you know; about your work, Alvin Stag, and Meridiem.”

“I will not help you,” Hung informed.

“But you will,” The Queen said, turning back to him now with a small twisted bottle in her hands. “I don’t need your cooperation. Just your knowledge.” One of the children pulled his head back as she leaned over him again, holding his eye open with one hand as she held the bottle aloft. “I should warn you I never quite perfected the formula. You’ll change, but into want, I cannot say. I’m sure it will be something interesting. But before that happens, I will know everything you do. I am also reliably told that it burns like hell, but it will only be passing. Now stay still…”

Just a few drips fell onto his iris as he was unable to resist the strength of these creatures. The Queen wasn’t lying; instantly his whole body felt like it was on fire and he screamed into the inky blackness until it swallowed him whole.

#writing #writeblr #writblr #stories #short story #sci-fi and fantasy

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insomniac-arrest · 7 years

Text

Advice

show: adventure time (miniseries: islands)

pairing: Frieda x Susan, bubbline

summary: Susan and Freida end up back in Ooo and Susan is a little worried about their relationship, she asks Princess Bubblegum (& Marceline) for advice.

Ao3

A/N: hey, this is based off the AT miniseries (you can watch it here) and has spoilers. I highly recommend ‘Islands’ if you haven’t seen it already! It’s some of the shows best work I think.

Susan didn’t plan to go back to Ooo, in fact, one part of her had decided to never go back again.

Enough had happened there, and enough that she didn’t want to relive.

Nonetheless, a violent storm hit their ship like a punch to the gut, a gust as strong as a swing push from God sent them whirling off course.

It had been a year or so, but Susan recognized the bit of land almost right away. Freida looked at their GPS and rose her eyebrows, the slow smile- the one like a butterfly unfurling its damp wings for the first time, comes across her face, “Isn’t that Ooo?”

Susan furrows her brow, “I...Think so.” Frieda made a thoughtful noise and touched the back of Susan’s chair, “Isn’t that where you spent like, years? With that kid you came to the islands with.” Susan tried not to frown too deeply, it was also where her brain had been fried and she had spent some time going berzerk. Not great.

On the other hand, Freida looked interested, “There really no humans there, all just other talking stuff.” The other woman pondered, “Hey! And I could meet your old friends.” It was almost teasing, she had already realized Susan would need some convincing- and the redhead knew she would probably win.

Susan sighs, “We can visit the people I used to live with I suppose. Or um,” Susan rubs her upper lip, “Some kingdoms of Ooo if you want.” “Ooh,” Freida says not unironically, Susan rolls her eyes but turns back to her.

“They have a library princess and a hotdog princess.” Susan gives her own smile, “We could punch some monsters on the way even.” Freida gives her a frank look, “You can do the punching.” She kisses her on the cheek and Susan could have blushed her way into oblivion. “I just wanna see what’s out there.”

Susan was still getting to used to this.

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

Susan showed her around Ooo after they landed their ship and fixed the haul with duct tape and some spit after it was still a little battered.

Freida said they’d need a new engine transistor soon, but that shouldn’t be too hard, Susan smiles and she really couldn’t stop herself from staring. Her little dog hat flopping up and down and hands fiddling with the wires in the depths of their craft.

There was grease across her nose.

Susan stops her, because she really had to, honestly, and she told her she would just start showing her around, there was a lot to see.

Susan takes her to a talking stream, the witch’s donut garden (it turns out you can steal them if you’re real careful) and ends up punching some rough-boy robbers in a desert on a picnic. Not a bad time.

Freida is just as excited as she had always been, starting a little collection of singing mushrooms, cool rocks and a toy that told you your future every time you squeezed it hard enough.

Freida was laughing and choking the poor thing as it’s little face bulged out, it’s flat voice speaks: “You will not get dysentery in the next 2 to 4 days... Congratulations.” Susan thinks it may be a little annoyed with them.

Susan stokes the fire and Freida rips open a food packet with her teeth and squeezes the doll again, “You will make a new friend. They will sell you a new shirt, but it won’t be new. They slept in it, there is a mustard stain on the back. It’s a ripoff.” Freida raises an eyebrow and Susan laughs a little, “Okay.” Freida says slowly as she licks up some goop from her hand.

Susan shakes her head, “Come on, put ‘er down, try my green tea.” She smiles and Freida shrugs,

“One more, one more.” She squeezes the doll again, Susan could almost hear it sigh, it takes a long time to respond.

“You will find love.” Both of their eyes go huge, faces slack and Susan coughs after a moment, Freida quickly puts the doll down.

She settles down to eat with her, “Okay, we’ve checked out most the places out here, even that treasure cave that just makes you cry. What’s in that direction?” She asks curiously as she points to the north.

Susan hums and pours her tea into little cups they found, “The Ice Kingdom, it’s always winter and it’s ruled by the Ice King.” Freida sits up a little straighter, “Ice huh... Can we go there?” Susan frowns and shakes her head, making herself a little angry thinking about it. “He’s always trying to steal pretty girls, we shouldn’t go.” Considering the very idea made her want to punch him. “He’s a dillweed. I don’t want you locked in his lame cages.”

Freida blinked at her, mouth a little open, “Pretty girls?”

Susan spills some tea out over her lap from the little pot they were using, she ignores the burn on her leg. “And uh, that ways the Candy Kingdom! And Finn’s house.” She says quickly and points west.

Freida looked outward, “A candy kingdom?” Her face lit up into an excited smile, the butterfly wings one, Susan shivers. “Awesome. Can you eat it?”

Freida always did like things like toys (making them), kids game and candy.

Susan drinks her tea nervously, “No, the people are candy, can’t really eat them. Or you shouldn’t.” She says thoughtfully.

“Even better,” She was bouncing up and down, “Candy people, that’s like, ten types of impossible algebra.”

Susan’s mouth pulls sideways, a lingering sense of guilt piles up in her gut. “It’s...not a great place. We should do another dungeon run with Finn.” Images of herself ravaging the land and threatening the confectionary people flash behind Susan’s eyes. “I don’t think you’d like it.” Freida’s face visibly falls, “I dunno. I’m, I mean, interested.” Freida offered an imploring smile. “We could make a day trip of it, a little one.” Susan shifts uncomfortably, her nose wrinkling. “No.”

A little annoyed dent forms above Frida's eyes, “Why?” Susan didn’t want to answer that just quite yet, she just grunts and looks away. “It’s bungus Freida, just trust me.” Freida tensed, “I could just take a peak. See for myself- candy people Susan!” She said once more excitedly.

Susan’s blood pressure rose, “No!” Going back meant memories of Dr. Gross, of losing it with her brain going pissy.

“Come on Su,” She almost pleads, confusion stirring in her brown eyes. “Drop it.” She hisses, “I told you, you won’t...like it.” At least, she might not like what she hears about Susan.

“Maybe I should find that out for myself.” She responds coldly and then sniffs, “We don’t have to do everything together anyway, I can go by myself.” Freida got up without finishing her tea and grumbled loudly all the way back to her sleeping bag.

They didn’t sleep next to each other that night.

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

Susan ends up walking beside her through the fields the next day anyway.

“You don’t have to come with me.” Freida grouched moodily as they walked.

Susan looked away, “I want to... I said I’d show you the world.” She tried to be conciliatory, but Frieda makes a dismissive little noise and they walk in silence.

Susan bows her head, their first fight and it was her fault.

They arrive awkwardly at the Candy Kingdom, Freida is instantly delighted (‘candy! Made of people, or the other way around’), she always did want to see stuff, all sorts of stuff.

Princess Bubblegum was unfortunately around and showed them all over the little candy city. She was a regular hostess with whatever royalty had that made them gracious.

But it was still like nothing had happened, or maybe PB had already forgotten, her Kingdom got wrecked a lot she figured. That fact doesn’t stop her bad mood

Susan followed them around glumly and Freida was got lost in the little houses and tasting whatever it was the butler brought them.

Susan sighs and watches her closely, despite everything her heart still swelled when she saw her dancing around some weird new thing or hands gingerly going over unfamiliar texture. Susan was in over her head.

Freida eventually goes on some sort of banana guard tour and Susan has some room to think. And sometime alone with Bubblegum, who was in the corner of one of the common rooms with a notebook out. She was scribbling in it and Susan wonders if she forgot she was there.

Susan watches her closely, Bubblegum was an overworking monarch with questionable morals. But she was also a princess. A really smart one, she had to know something, didn’t she?

Susan crossed her arms and pursed her lips, thirty minutes pass, Bubblegum is engrossed with whatever it is, eventually taking out some beakers and ‘hmm’ing to herself.

Susan formulates her question, “What do you think about relationships?” It could have been phrased better. Bubblegum almost drops her glass beaker.

Her eyes go wide, “What?” “You know,” Susan turns her face up, “You’re pretty old,” Bubblegum scowls, “You’ve had relationships.” Bubblegum's mouth falls open, it almost worth it to see her lose some composure. Susan leans toward her when the silence becomes too long. “Please.” Bubblegum mumbles to herself, “I mean, infatuation and love are chemically occurrences in the brain, on top of stress from daily life and diet it could mean, um, I mean relationships, hmm.” Susan gives her a pointed look and Bubblegum cringes.

“Okay. Yeah. One sec.” Bubblegum says in resignation and rings a little bell, “Peps.” A little man arrives at the door, “Get someone who, uh, understands relationships.”

The Peppermint Butler doesn’t seem phased by the request and disappears quickly, Susan and Bubblegum stare at each other.

“Soooo,” Bubblegum scratches her chin, “What’s up? You and uh, that girl.” “Freida,” Susan says with a bored tone.

“Yeah, yes,” Bubblegum nodded, “Nice, so you and her…?” Susan sighs deeply, luckily a figure arrives at the door. “Peps,” Bubblegum raises her eyebrows, “That was quick, don’t tell me it’s a banana guard or Finn... I love the guy but he doesn’t have a great track record.” Peppermint shakes his head and steps aside, “She was just hanging around outside.” Marceline The Vampire Queen, if Susan remembers right, floats into the room with her hands behind her head, Bubblegum gives her a stern, questioning look.

“What? It’s almost night, visiting isn’t a crime.” Marceline says back. Bubblegum hit her forward with her palm, “Of course. Of course, this would happen.” “Okay...” Marceline glances around the room curiously, “Oh Susan, you’re back, cool.” Marceline goes to fist-bump her and Susan returns it. “How’s it going?”

Susan shrugs, “You know. Traveling.”

“Nice,” Marceline nods approvingly, “What’re you doing up in Candy Kingdom biz? Peps said guys needed help.” Bubblegum shakes her head and interrupts. “Nothing. You can’t help.” Susan looks between them, since she had a brain, two eyes, and listened to at least a little talk she put it all together, “You two were a thing.” She says flatly, “What do you recommend for relationships?” She might as well try. Marceline’s eyes go wide and Bubblegum looked at the vampire flatly, “I told you.”

Marceline clears her throat and then clears it again, “Uh, any reason for this?” Her gray cheeks were a little red.

Susan blink but Bubblegum gets to it first, “She came in with a girl.”

“Ooooh,” Marceline’s face morphed into something sly, “That’s how it is.” Susan huffed and looked away, Marceline leaned forward, “She cute?”

Susan flushed even harder, “Yes...And if you can’t help then, okay.” She went to get up.

Marceline glances at Bubblegum, “No, no it’s cool dude,” Marceline floats over to seat and Bubblegum awkwardly joins her on the pink couch in the room.

The air is thick with stiffness, Susan is now invested in seeing what they come up with.

Bubblegum blinks, tightening her ponytail and sitting straight-backed, “Communication.” She says clearly, “You have to talk about how you feel and-”

Marceline elbows her roughly, “She doesn’t want that textbook talk Bonnie, she wants the real talk.”

Bubblegum crosses her arms and scowls at the vampire, rubbing her side, “What’s your ‘real’ talk?”

Marceline bounces her eyebrows up and down and Susan pays attention, Marceline briefly licks her lips, “Don’t let it get boring.” “Oh my glob,” Bubblegum looked decidedly up at the ceiling and curses.

“What? I’m not bashing you, it was never boring B.”

Bubblegum looked back at her lap, “It’s not all rollercoasters and pillow talk though. You can’t just...always be together. Responsi-”

“Pfft,” Marceline interrupted, “Not that again. Look, Susan, do what you want, if you can’t make it work then you can’t make it work.” Susan frowns and looks between them, “That’s not true.” She says resolutely, slowly, “You have to work at it.” She couldn’t believe she was teaching them this, they slouched down on the couch, “I mean, I want to make it work.” She suddenly wanted to see Freida right then and there. Marceline looked slightly uncomfortable, “That’s, that’s fair.” Bubblegum looked at her lap, “Yeah.” She breathed gently, Marceline sat stark-upright.

“Physicality!” She burst out, “See that’s the deal, you’ve got to seal the deal.” Susan figured she wanted to change the subject.

Susan bites her lip, “Okay.” She takes note, “I guess we haven’t done that yet.”

Marceline nods earnestly, her head bobbing her head up and down in a hurry. “Romance them and junk, then bend her back real deep and do the kiss-dip.” Marceline narrowed her eyes, “With tongue.” Bubblegum's mouth fell open, “Marceline that’s obscene.” Marceline pouted, “Blah, blah, sure Bonnie... It’s not like that worked on you anyway.” Bubblegum wrinkled her nose, “I didn’t say like that…” She seemed off put by herself, she turns back to Susan after an awkward pause. “Whatever. Just say you're sorry if something went wrong and maybe, maybe,” She blushed a deep red, Marceline seemed to pay attention. “And maybe the kiss thing.” “Uh-huh,” Susan was ready to leave, she was feeling a lot better about her relationship after seeing these two. She was a little embarrassed for them.

Marceline kicked Bubblegum gently, “Should we show her? She looks new to the whole thing.” Susan makes a face. “No!” Bubblegum threw her hands in the air, “Of course not, we can’t show her.”

Marceline gave a half-smile, “Just ‘cause you’re a goody-goody doesn’t mean Susan should suffer for it.” Susan felt very invisible at that moment. Bubblegum was rising to the bait, “I’m not.” Marceline wiggled her eyebrows, “Is that a no?” Bubblegum mechanically took Marceline’s face in her hands, she suddenly made hard eye contact with Susan. “Watch the angle of my head and how I avoid bumping noses.” Bubblegum took Marceline’s face, who looked genuinely elated, Bubblegum pushed their mouths together. It looked awkward, PB appearing a little too focused and force, nonetheless, Marceline flipped their positions and kissed her down into the couch- a little more natural.

Susan literally got back up as soon as possible and snuck out of the room as they made out like emotionally-stunted teenagers on the couch.

So that was unhelpful.

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

Susan found Freida playing king of the mountain with the banana guards on a low hill, the guards were falling over themselves and Freida was cackling on the very top.

“Hey,” Susan waved immediately, Freida pushed her red bangs back into her hat and grimaced at her, Susan flinches. “I’m sorry.” She says immediately.

Freida tilts her head to the side, “Don’t have to-”

“I want to do everything with you,” Susan tried to climb the hill after her, pushing the banana guards away easily as they tried to bombard her, “But I had some bad memories here. I didn’t want to tell you...my brain went all wonky from the implant.” She sighs, “I hurt some people.” Frieda’s face goes soft, maybe the very first thing Bubblegum said was not so off.

Her lips turn up butterfly smile, that one. “Sue. Ohmystuff, why didn’t you say so?” She touches Susan’s face, Susan leans into it. “I wouldn’t be mad. You’re like you’re my favorite person here.” She beams. Susan looks down at her delicately, she was so small. “Favorite person where?” “Everywhere!”

Susan laughs and spins her around, Freida yelps but lets herself be swept up with a low “Noooo.”

They laugh until Frieda struggles down, standing on top of Susan’s feet as her hair fell loosely around her face and the light played over her eyelashes like fairy dust. Susan’s entire chest flutters, she can’t help it, she dips her, leaning her back on the little hill and pressing closer. “I’m King of the mound.” She whispers.

“What?” Freida seems dazed.

“You’re feet are off.” Freida’s mouth fell open and she threw her hands up, “No fair.” Susan shrugs and dips down, “Losers have to kiss.”

Freida gets a twinkle in her eye, “Good thing that’s both of us.” she wraps her arms around Susan’s neck and pulls, she hauls her down for a messy kiss, deep and thorough with the gentlest bite.

Susan grins into it and her heart bangs like a drum in her chest, dang.

Freida eventually pushes her off the hill and Susan cries out in surprise, the other girl pushes her down to kiss again. It’s like a dream, a heady one.

“Bon!” She eventually hears the voice Marceline call from the castle window, “They totally went for it.” Susan rolls her eyes, but gives her a quick thumbs up, “Woooo!” Marceline cheers, her shoulders bare and face lit up.

“Marcy, get back in here.” Susan watches the vampire get yanked away from the window, Susan shakes her head and lets the confused piece of gum and vampire figure it out. She looks back to the girl in her arms.

“Let’s get out of here.”

They stand up and Freida takes her hand, “I suppose, alright, I hear we have places to go.” She winks, “I’d like to see it all.” Susan nuzzles her neck, “I’d like to take you there.” Freida huffs as they walk, “Don’t be cheesy.” Susan picks her up bridles and carries her, “I’m not hearing a no.” She carries her back to their ship and Susan at least feels a little more done, a little more ready to leave. Frieda sits on her lap when Ooo becomes a speck in the distance and they keep flying.

She finds a mechanical note from Bubblegum in the ship, it justs says ‘good luck.′

#adventure time #adventure time islands #bubbline #susan x frieda #susan strong #islands #frusan #AT spoilers

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letuscomposefanfics · 7 years

Text

I'm Not Convinced Part 3

(Phillip Hamilton X Reader) Words: 5200+ Summary: High School was a pain in the ass. You and single mother don’t have much money. She works double shift and double jobs. One of her jobs is working for the Hamilton family as a part time house keeper. Ironically, the biggest douche happens to be part of that family. (I can’t write a summary) AU: Modern AU Warnings: Just horrible grammar.. Cursing?? Tell me if there is any I did not put. Cringey. I’m tired so there is a lot of errors.

The night had soft wind, and the city lights were a sight for sore eyes. Parking lights shining like a army of fireflies flutter by as the angry red (much like your dress) tail lights head another direction. The scent of smoke takes you back at your stay that was old, but still bracket your memories: Gambling Capital of the World or formerly known as Las Vegas. The other city with bright lights and excitement! As a little gal you would wander the streets with your pops, and get a virgin pina colada in the lobby of Excalibur. That the three towered and red and blue castle-style hotel was the hotel your family would occasionally go to. On late nights, the three of you would ride on the moving walkways that were provided in the tunnel to the Luxor- a Egyptian themed hotel. The pyramid always greeted you when you rode up the highway to the city. The building was tiled with tinted windows and the top was a light on the tip of the pyramid, which would generate a beam of light. Majestic sand stone sculptures of gods, goddesses, and maybe a pharaoh, if you could remember, were planted on the sides of the structure.

You anxiously sigh out a steamy breath. Wealthy men and women walked elegantly in their clothing, which would cost your soul, entered in a brick red mansion blaring with classical music. Vines were already hooked onto the mansion, giving it a charming look. Lanky, black metal fences bordered the house securely, which left a big elegant gate cracked wide open for the guests. Lights stood tall besides the brick pathway with guest sauntering through them. Two guards were pinpointed next to the entrance of the large resident with a dull and rather expressionless fact. The said wealthy men and women revealed their invitation to the guards, and nodded a silent thank you as they strolled in with posture. The dress you were equipped with wasn’t exactly from the top french designer. You tried to stabilize yourself in your damn heels as you stood there waiting for your mom getting out the car. The invitation wrinkled in your sweat drenched hands as you blankly stared at the paper containing your name. You could feel eyes on you as they pass by and saunter over to the resident. You constantly picked at your hair while you chew the inside of your cheek. The feeling that nailed your stomach was always familiar and always failed to cease. It was that little devil on your shoulder that would squeak, “You are gonna screw up and you’ll be the example a parent will use when a kid fucks up.”

“(Y/N) (L/N).” A man robotically states your name on a microphone. You were twelve, the age where kids bloom in judgmental bitches and act like the the big kids in the park. It was the end of hell and the eve of something spectacular. Spectacular as in summer’s natural tanning light and a excuse to stay in with tub full of ice cream.The dream of homework-free, late nights, and multiple sleep overs made you stir with excitement. Traditionally, the school hosts something for the students to show their talents and find themselves a possible career. You were number five on the list of your peers. You, a immature twelve year old toddler, slapped on too much makeup, which your friend suggest you and them their selves should doll you up. You were pretty sure you had pre-mature wrinkles because of the weight of your foundation. Once your number was called up you clicked in your one one inch heels that had dwarfed sized bows near the edge of the entrance of your shoes. Click, Click, Click. You wore a emerald green velvet dress accompanied with small little crystals planted on the top part of your attire. You shifted in the heels uncomfortably with the spotlight glaring down. The fear began to accelerate in a monstrous rate, and your short breaths took in the dust from the curtain. You sang with nervous little waver that come once in awhile. At the (sweet) ending of your song, your rubbed your eyes. Giggles popped up from the crowd like unwanted mushrooms in a soft green field. Your heart quickened and embarrassed tears sat on the edge of your eyelids. The childish laughter were carved into your memories. They exchange comparisons of what you look like with your smudged make up. You hoped to god some student pitied your appearance, and the laughter that made you wobble in embarrassment and regret stopped.The teachers on the edge of each row silenced them with a sharp ‘hush’. The principle guided you off stage with a arm around your shrunken shoulders. The button on his dress shirt’s sleeve scraped against the blade of your shoulder lightly. “You did wonderfully, Ms. (L/N).” He reassured with a clap on a the shoulder. You murmured a ‘thank you’ in return. “Now, go get yourself cleaned up.” You clicked away in your heels. Catching a small glimpse of yourself in decade old mirrors, you whimpered. “Cake face . Cake face.” The heels began to exclaim angrily against the tiles as you passed the mirrors. You swiftly closed the door of the (handicap) stall. Popping off your heels as you sit on the bathroom. Like in a soap opera, you wept and sank into the sand of embarrassment and the feeling of becoming the clown of your school. What would they think of you in the future? They don’t remember much you will soon realize through out the years. You were just so insecure to be blind about the fact it was a smidge on the window not a coat of paint. But, you are still blindfolded by insecurities and anxiety. The memory still jumps on you, which sculps you for who you are right at the moment. You don’t cry at the memory, but you fear that someone will laugh at it in the future. No elixir can stop your stammering and the uncomfortable tickles in your stomach.

Your mom finally exited the vehicle with uniform on. The two of you crossed the street with her arm linked around yours. The clicks of your heels mocked you just like middle school. “Cake face. Cake face.” It now whispers. You sharply exhaled through your nose as you threw a glance behind the old vehicle. The flavoring of the smoke traveled through your mouth as you did. “No escapin’ now, huh?” You muttered under your breath. Your mom bounced on the ball of her feet with a bright smile. You offered a thin line as your mouth and a simple walk with stressed shoulders as you step. By the time you were near the enterance, your mom broke off her link with you and stated she was going to the entrance for the staff. “Be good to the Hamilton, okay?” The older women pecked a wet kiss on your cheek. “I’ll see you inside!” Your mom scampered off to the side of the building. The colony of waiters and waitress all rushed through the door. Your mom being the last one to get in. “And then now is the time to escape from socializing and seeing real people other than my mom.” You narrated. You began to twist your away from the residents. “(Y/N!)” A voice exclaimed cheerfully before you could turn you heard the familiar sound of heels, but they didn’t whisper a thing. Ms. Hamilton smiles brightly as you face her with a polite and awkward smile. The border of her black strands glowed a coffee stain brown as she stood in the light. Her dress held the pigment of the baby blue sky and her neck held up a golden pendant. She looked elegant. “Ms. Hamilton, it’s good to see you.” You greeted. You fidgeted with your hands with the craving for escape. Eliza or Elizabeth Hamilton giggled, her childish giggles were unforgettable and lovable. You reciprocated with a small awkward laughter of your own- not as adorable as her’s, though, you thought. Mrs. Hamilton startled you when she grasped your hand with a smile Alexander Hamilton fell for. You didn’t withdraw your hand from hers. “Please, darling. Call me Eliza, okay?” She corrected politely. “Okay!” You blurted out. Eliza laughed once again. Making you swoon in response. “I’m your friend! No need for formalities with friends, am I correct?” She questioned, knowing she was indeed correct. You nodded rapidly with a shy smile. “Now, what are you doing leaving so early? I haven’t even seen you walked through those doors. Were you planning to never come?” She joked. “Well. Um…I.. Panicked? I guess-guess.. Y-you could say?” You stammered trying to find a polite way to tell the truth. Eliza shook her head and gave out her charming laughter accompanied with her lovely smile. “Calm down, love. I was only joking. “ Eliza Hamilton reassured you with a pat on the back of your hand. “I love your dress, sweetheart! You look very beautiful in it! Did your mom do your hair?” Shades of pink was fanned across the bridge of your nose as she complimented you. “T-Thank you and yeah, yeah she did.” You shyly answered. “I-I love your dress too! Blue is one my favorite colors. Y-your necklace look vintage.” You awkwardly complimented. “I think that’s pretty cool.” You added. “Thank you, my mother gave it to me as a wedding present. This little thing has been in the family for years.” Mrs.Hamilton chirped. “Evening, Mrs. Hamilton.” A man greets stoically as he makes a beeline over to the entrance. The man was old, but not frail, he wore a tailcoat and wooden cane that was on his right side. He ignores your presence and kept his head high. Douche. Rich douche. “Evening, sir.” She nods in response before he passes the two of you. It was silent for a moment when enters through the door. “Serious.” You say with a small laughter. She giggles and nods in agreement.”That’s how people are sometimes.” She shrugs carelessly.“Come on the party is inside! Your mother would be worried if you were boxed missing!” Eliza grins excitedly as she drags you over through the door frame. ” O-oh, wait! No, i-it’s okay!” You attempt to plead, but your words were shrinked down by her excitement. Your heart beat accelerated, the feeling of few pairs of eyeballs on you made you shiver. The wooden flooring of the house was a strong coffee bean pigment and the sky-high ceiling was pinching onto the end of a glass chandelier. Two set of stairs were planted on the opposite side; curving inward, connecting to the top floor. People were in small petals of groups chattering away with appetizers and/or drinks in hand. They laughed comfortably at a joke you couldn’t hear. You hoped that joke wasn’t you. “Lot’s of people you got here.” You thought out loud, avoiding the crowds eyes by staring at the back of Eliza’s black hair. “Unfortunately, that’s just the small portion of the party.” Eliza Hamilton smiled as she dragged you.“Most of them are in the ballroom and the other portion are chatting away in the yard. Even though it’s hard to handle, it’s fun to have guest.” Eliza added on. Her response made you even more panicked. The orchestra was loud and clear as you both made your way through the maze of guest. The violins out played the other instruments that were muddle behind them. They played a soft and familiar tune, but the name was never confidently made up in your head- you did know it was possibly by Beethoven or Mozart. You muttered out a few “sorry”s and “excuse me”s every time your shoulder kiss with another guest. “Cake face. Cake face. Cake face.” It whispered in the same volume, same tone. Never changing the pattern, it follows every step you take. Crushing your toes like a toddler trying to learn how to dance with their father. Eliza dragged you to the elegant ballroom. Three sets of chandeliers aligned with each other on the ceiling. At least half of the room was dancing, the other half chat about something you will never know. You spotted a group of men laughing and gawking about a topic you chose not to eavesdrop in. “Alexander!” Mrs. Hamilton hollered. The man in a emerald vest spun around instantly when he had heard his name. He grinned politely, but forced- almost like he was ready for another conversation being dosed down his throat. The crinkles in the corner of his eyes relaxed and his smile was soft with adoration. Alexander’s eyes carried bags and the memory of sleepless nights. His glasses rode on the bridge of his nose, almost slipping. The older man’s black hair hovered slight over his shoulder. The ends of his hair was slightly fluffed out. “Eliza!” He responded cheerfully. Alexander spun back around,”Excuse me while I speak with my wife.” He mutters out. The men around him nodded and scuttle else where. Alexander spun around with a easy going smile. “My love, please meet Mrs. Manning’s daughter. (Y/N) please meet my true love, Alexander.” Mrs. Hamilton introduced. Confused, you were expecting Mrs. Hamilton to use your mother’s correct surname. Your stomach clenched even more anxiously, the man of house was in front of you. The boss of your mother. You smile politely towards Mr. Hamilton gave you the same polite smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Hamilton.” You greet with your hand stuck out in front of you. Alexander chuckled as he shook your hand with a tight grip. His wife walked over by his side and looped her arm around his, snuggling up to his shoulder. Eliza’s chin sat on his shoulder as he began to continue. “It’s good to finally meet you, but please call me Alexander. There is no need for formalities.” Alexander Hamilton chided with a familiar correction that his wife has told you.“Your mother has talks about you a lot.” He added. “I hope only good things.” You joked awkwardly. The waiters offered the three of you a small portioned edible. You declined with a smile and a wave of a hand. The Hamiltons took their own snack and thanked them as they wandered off. “I assure you she’s proud to be your mother,” Eliza butted in the conversation.”She said that you used to play piano and that you are a very hard working student.” She began to list off. “Especially in english.” Eliza added with her kind smile never faltering. “I used to play piano, but I procrastinated and never practiced.” Idiotic idea for me to do,” you added. “I would still like to learn, but it’s hard to find a good deal.” You shared. It was silent between the three of you for a second. You nervously spun the bracelet around your wrist. “I have one question.” You started off. “If it’s okay for me to ask.” The couple nodded, wanting you to hope onto the next dialogue.” Why did you use my mom’s maiden instead of her name my dad gave us?” You asked. “Isn’t your mother’s last name Manning?” Eliza questioned. You nodded your head, perplexed by this situation.” It is, but it isn’t, like, the one my dad gave me and ma.” Eliza hummed,“Interesting, she filled out Manning.” The lady of the house muttered. You furrowed your brows, attempting to find an explanation. “She probably thought it was best to go by her maiden name for odd some reason. Like God, my mom works in mysterious ways.” You rambled, shrugging. “Now (Y/N), I heard my boy is in a few of your classes. How is he treating you?” Mr. Hamilton jested with a small chuckle. You chuckled along with the man. “He talks to me from times to time.” You state truthfully. “Sometimes we would have full on conversation.” Arguments. They were full on bashing arguments. “They mostly happen during first period.” Unadulterated moaning and groaning at each other is what happens in first period. “That’s great that you two are talking and getting along.” Eliza Hamilton chirped. “Yeah me too.” You humor her. “Philip!” Alexander exclaimed as he looked passed your shoulder. Your heart stopped. You were going to have to be dumped in a conversation with him forcefully. You couldn’t escape. “Pa, ma.” Philip greeted as walked up next to you. He glances to the side, but doesn’t catch you until he retraces his eyes at you. “(Y/N).” The younger Hamilton states your name curtly, he nods. “Philip,” You craned your body towards the boy.”It’s good to see you out of the classroom.” A smile tries to cling onto your lips. You heard laughter off in the distance. “I could say the same for yourself, (Y/N).” He responds with a forced grinned. Your smile faltered into a smaller grin. Phillip was handsomly addressed with the same design his father has soft, but with a blue pigment instead. He had a pair of tan slackers with sneakers. Lucky, mother fucker. You growled internally. “Now this might seem like a weird question. Do you think you can handle it?”Mr. Hamilton asked. “I’m pretty sure I can handle a simple question.” You answered simply. “Alright,” He kicked started. “(Y/N) are you seeing anyone at the moment?” Alexander inquired. Air was stuck in your throats for a second. Your heart quickened, which caused your ears were entrapped with heat. You downed the saliva clinging on to your throat. “Um, E-Excuse me?” You questioned with a stutter. “Alexander!” Eliza scored her husband. She flicked the back of her hand against his chest. “Why in the hell would you ask that? You’re making her uncomfortable.” She whispered loudly. Phillip sniggered with mouth clasped over his mouth from bursting. Alexander rolled his wood brown eyes and shrugged his shoulders. “Phillip need to get out there with a more girls like (Y/N). She seems to have everything together! The other girls we have met barely make it one month with our boy.” Alexander said truthfully without a stutter of hesitation. “And they don’t seem to care about anything academic and respect wise.” He added. “Pa!” The Hamilton boy groaned, averting his eyes away from you and into his father’s eyes. His cheeks flushed. “Honey, stop embarrassing your son.” Mrs. Hamilton scolded again, she sighed. “I’m so sorry, honey.” Elizabeth apologized with a shy smile. Her smiling only enhancing as she spots something over your shoulder,“Alexander, I see Angelica with her husband! We have to go greet them.”Eliza said as she tried to tug her husband away from the two of you. “I’ll see you kids later.” Alexander Hamilton said as he follows his endearing wife. The heat on your face still sat on your face. “Sweet Jesus.” Philip muttered with a sigh and a shake of his head. You snickered,“Your parents are adorable, too bad it’s not generic.” You fired first as you stared at the two couple scamper away with their arms linked together. Their linked arms seems to stand out symbolically in their relation. They never seem to let go each other- like the links of the chain hitting at each other while they were being tugged on, but never shattering. A soft smile tugged at your lips. I kind want that, you thought to yourself. “Stop it, I’m not in the mood to play along for your entertainment.” The boy murmured, “Entertainment” seemed to stick out. He turned and left with heavy footsteps. You arched your eyebrows. You scuttled after the teenage boy. “Woah, what got your panties up in a twist?” You fired again with a smirk. “Stop it, (Y/N).” He warned as Phillip twisted body towards you. You took a step back, wobbling slightly, and raising up your hand defensively. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave you alone, princess.” The hell is wrong with this boy? You questioned inside your head. Philip Hamilton seemed pretty pissy for what his dad gawked about. The younger Hamilton shook his head lightly, and glared at something above your head. He mouthed out words that weren’t readable. Phillip’s eyes were squinting and glaring at the corner of the crowd room. The only thing you could calculate was his irritable silent argument with the other person across the room. You glared at him with a bewildered shine, “The hell are you doing?” You interrogated as you were about twist around. “Dance with me.” He punctured you with shock with his order, which you assumed was originally a question. Your eyes widened and your heart tried to claw out of your chest. “Woah, what? Don’t we have to wait until marriage to do that?” You joked nervously. The orchestra began to fall softer as you were going to cursor yourself around to leave him and his grip. “Just dance with me.” He growled while his hands clipped onto your forearm. Warmth flooded into your core. That turned you on, didn’t it? Blushing at your own reaction, you shifted in your heels. You are so fucking messed up. “Why the fuck do I have to dance with you?” You glared with irritation. Wiggling off Philip’s strong hands from your forearm, you rolled your eyes. Philip scoffed, he entrapped his temples with the edge of your thumb, index, and middle. “My dad is making me dance with you as stupid as it sounds.” “Okay so? I could and careless about your situation with your pops. Not my problem, it’s yours.” “How about..how about I break the deal if you don’t.” He proposed. Deal? What deal- Right, the deal where he will keep off of your personal bubble. “You still are gonna break that deal despite it, Phil.” You said simply. “Just please dance with me, okay?” Philip Hamilton begged. His sap brown orbs shined underneath the rays of the chandelier. The glimmer in his eyes were absolutely stunning. You cringe inwardly; you are already stepping in his damn trap. “Can you stop looking at me like that?” You hissed. Confusion twisted his face,” Excuse me, what? I’m not looking at you in anyway.” The Hamilton boy defended himself. “Never mind.” You huffed. “Honey!” You shoulders scrunched together,“Jesus Christ, mom!” You squeaked. Spinning around to meet your mom with a plate of appetizers in one hand. You glared after her,“I’m not sorry,” Your mom laughed. “Ah, Phillip it’s good to see you! You look great in your suit. Charming!” She complimented and greeted. “Thank you, Mrs. Manning.” Phillip shyly thanked. “Now, what are you guys talking about? Is my daughter treating you decently?” ‘Mrs. Manning’ questioned with a teasing nip at the last question. “She’s treating me like she treats everyone else!” Phillip Hamilton with a subtle harsh town at the edge of it, you only hearing it. “I was just asking to come dance with.” He added. “Sly mother fucker.” You muttered underneath your breath. “(Y/N)! That sounds like fun!” Your mom cooed. “Why don’t you dance with this young man?” She questioned. “I don’t-” “Come on, (Y/N). Just once, okay?” You mom pleaded. “What about never?” You retorted. “(Y/N), I will drag you to these events every time they are hosting one and you have to dance with Phillip everytime.” She threatened. “Mom, no-” “(Y/N), do it or else.” Your mother fought back with imitating cold glare. “Fine.” You huffed in defeat. The orchestra seem to burst with elegant music. “Thank you.” He sighed out as he smiled towards your mother. “No problem, Phillip. Take care of my daughter!” She chirped as she wander off with a pallet of food in her hand. You moaned,” God dammit.”

You were in the center of the room. You glared at polished floor with shy glint. Phillip hesitantly glided his hand on the indent of your waist. His palms stopped over lower back. You ingested some saliva nervously; his musk becoming your air. Petals of heat scattered all over face while he pulled you closer. Your shoulders were tensed while his hand grasped on for your right hand. Your free hand was placed onto his forearm as you lifted your intertwined hand. The violin and piano stood out while the music softly spun around the room. The other instruments tailed behind with a soft step. Everyone danced with their partner. You hesitantly took a step. Click. Click. Your heels tapped against the wooden floor. The two you both swayed uncomfortably. Your face was flushed as you felt the breath of Phillip feather against your face. You watched as both of your feet hesitantly move back and forth. “Yo, (Y/N),” Phillip broke the ice. Your eyes still pinned on to the floor. “Are my parents watching?” Philip asked. You looked over to the side, glaring at the crowd. You spotted the Hamiltons watching the two of you, Eliza waved with a grin. You waved back at her with a smile tugging at your mouth, “Yeah, there watching us.” You whispered as you stepped back while he stepped foreword. It was silent for a moment, an awkward feeling entrapped in your movements. “Thank you.” Phillip breathed out. “For what?” You asked as you dragged your head up to look him in his soft sap eyes. “Dancing with me.” He stated. “I would say no problem, but I’m not sure why you’re thanking me.” You said. “I am going to kick your ass for convincing my mom, so think again.” “Well, you got me out of my mother’s ranting and I think I’m a little scared.” Philip stepped back a little. “Yeah, you should.” You chuckled, it was silent for a moment. ”You and your dad seem close.” You randomly spilled out. The boy laughed lightly and shook his head,“How could you tell?” Hamilton’s brow arch at your statement with a small smirk. “You talk about him a lot. You basically worship the ground he walks on.” You answered. “You are his number one fan.” Chuckling as you both awkwardly danced to the rhythm. “Ironically,” The young Hamilton boy began. “My dad works a lot and barely spends time with mom, my sister, and I. He’s always typing away on his damn computer, and his four course meal is coffee. It sucks to be the son of a politician.” He murmurs the last sentence. “It’s always work, work, work, work, and no time for family.” You could feel the dread drop like lead. You licked your lips nervously, unaware of Phillip’s eyes trained on them. “That does suck.” You commented. “My dad is not even here.” “What?” “He passed when I was a tot.” You muttered. Your eyes dropped to the floor. “I’ve never actually learned a lot about him. All my mama said was he was courageous and energetic man. He loved my mother and me, and kept us close.” You shared. “I guess both of fathers aren’t exactly here in our lives, huh?” You looked up at him,”In a way, yeah.” You shrugged with a grin tugged on your lips. “Cheers to us being children without fathers!” He exclaims louder than usual with a sarcastic edge. The guest around glared at him; the sharp, irritated looks poked out a sheepish grin from Philip. “Cheers.” You say with your inside voice. A smirk was etched on your face. “Hey, next time use you three inch voice, kid.” You tease. He gave you a sarcastic chuckle,”Very funny.” “I know I am.” You sass back. “I could write a whole sit com.” “Better than the 90s series, “Friends”?” Phillip smiled with laughter held behind it. “Hell no, never, but I can write better than you, Phil.” “Hah! I wrote a poem!” “Oh, wow.” You gasped, “A poem. I’m shivering.” “I wrote one for my dad. It was stupid.” “Aw, that’s adowable.” You taunted. Purposely replacing the ‘r’ with a ‘w’- like a toddler learning how to red or restroom. “Come on show me your poetry, Shakespeare!” You begged while you chortled. “I’m not going to say that stupid shit that I made when I was nine.” He argues. “Jesus, you were nine? Now, that’s gold.” You cooed. Pinching his cheek (like how your grandmother did it, you wrinkled your nose mockingly. Phillip flicked your hand away from your cheek,“Ah, shut up.” A grin tugs on his lips. “You like my teasing.”

By the time the song ends, you and Phillip seem to get along quite well. You both were scampering outside on the patio. The fall air scraping your legs, you giggled as Philip had told his childhood story. The city seemed so far away, and the air was clean and refreshing. The music transformed into a wave of jazz music. The crowd began to shrink by a small amount as they head inside. “Philip you aren’t as bad as I thought you were.” You confess. “Really?” “Don’t make me say it again, Hamilton.” You warned jokingly. “I’m not relating my damn words.” Philip stepped back with his hand in front of him, “I won’t push it, Manning.” “Last name isn’t Manning.” You corrected. “Whatever, Manning.” “Still isn’t Manning.” Philip Hamilton snickered. The freckles on his face seem to emphasize at you, and you thought they symbolize as constellations. You absolutely adore them. Your heart stopped, Did I think that? God, no.. You angrily thought to yourself. You still didn’t trust the Hamilton boy. You nervously licked your lips. “Yo, Manning, you doing okay? You look kind of pale.” “I’m alright, just kind of cold.” You lied. “My last name isn’t Manning.” You added at the end. Philip ignored you,“You sure, Manning? You seem more pale than normal.” “ ‘m alright, Hamilton.” You protested with him as he wrapped his arm around you. He squished his body against yours. Flushing, you wiggled out of his grip. You were so uncomfortable, so confused with yourself. Your feeling towards this boy felt like a cinder block was crushing you. “Philip, I’m fine!” You exasperated as you piston away from the boy. “Jeez, calm down.” He murmured. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired.” You fibbed at the boy as you shifted on the balls of your seat. It was silent for minutes. The night sky reflected the sap brown eyes. His cheeks were chalked with red from the cold. “It’s alright.” It was quiet. The crickets sang with the orchestra. You could imagine the people dancing while people ate and gawk. You wished that you were there. “Seriously, I’m worried about you. “Why are you worried about me?” You hissed. “You look sick! I don’t want you to be ill!” Philip exasperated. “Sorry, I was just concern for you as a friend!” He added. “I’m sorry when have we been friends?” You snapped. “I d-don’t know!” He sputtered. “I’m not your friend! We had conversation and got along, but that didn’t make you my fucking friend.” You growled. “Hey, I’m just worried!” “And hey! I’m just pale and there is no need to worry about me!” “Why are you over-reacting?” You ignored his question. Stress, puzzled thoughts, and irritation had twisted in your gut aggressively. “Philip, why are you concerned for me? Why? I’ve been an asshole to you from the start. You’ve been a fucking annoying man-whore! Just leave me be-” “Shut up! Shut your damn mouth!” He exasperated. Philip kissed you.

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