Post by Molly on Aug 11, 2006 6:53:52 GMT
So, was inspired by our dear Clez the other day. XD Wrote this, posted it in my LJ, and then figured I might as well share, lol. It's horrifically sweet and fluffy, so read at your own risk. XD And the title is from a song by a band called Spoon.
***
The cowboy hat was far too big on her head. It slid down, practically to her nose and obstructed her view -- not good, considering she was running full-tilt down the hallway. But Molly Cullen knew this corridor well enough to prevent any horrific accidents as she ran like her very life depended on it. In a way, it sort of did.
“MOLLY!”
Brody Elliot was not pleased; she could tell by the fantic pace of his footsteps and the way he’d just bellowed. He wasn’t about to get violent or anything, but Molly was sure that she’d be in for it if he caught up -- he was more than fond of the aforementioned hat, which was currently sliding down her nose. At the very least, she would be tickled mercilessly until she hollered, ‘Uncle!’ Given the fact that she was coming between the pack's self-proclaimed cowboy and his precious Stetson, the Irish werewolf was quite sure that Brody’s ‘punishment’ would not be a light one.
Giggling frantically, she bolted around a corner and saw the stairwell that led down to the main lobby. An idea formed: if she vaulted the railing, she could tear through the lobby and out to the courtyard, making the chase far more interesting. A burst of speed carried her to the railing -- almost home free!
“Gotcha!”
Or not. Molly gave a little scream when a pair of strong arms pulled her away from the rail, and subsequently, away from freedom. Desperate, she clamped her hands down upon her head, holding the hat there.
“No you don’t!” she heard Brody growl. One arm stayed cinched around her waist, effectively pinning her back to his chest, and his free hand slide under the thick material of her hoodie to the skin just above her hip to poke ticklishly. “Gimme the hat!”
“No!” Molly replied in a shriek of laughter. Brody’s hand then moved to the worst possible location of ticklishness: the back of her knee. She practically screamed, flailing helplessly as she tried to escape. “Oh-kay,” she finally hollered. “Take the hat! Just lemme go! UNCLE!”
Molly’s vision was swiftly cleared when her cowboy companion lifted his hat from her head and plopped it proudly onto his own. He allowed his torment to continue until the dark-haired wolf had tears of laughter streaming from her eyes and then, abruptly, he stopped. Molly could only wheeze and giggle when both his arms returned to her waist and he dodged nimbly when she tried to swat him.
“You suck,” she proclaimed, voice still choked with laughter.
“I know,” was his smart-alecky retort. Molly gave another yelping giggle when he peppered the side of her face with loud, obnoxious kisses. “But you deserved it, and you love me anyway.”
Yeah, Brods. I do. Molly smirked. “Shut up, you.”
***
The cowboy hat was far too big on her head. It slid down, practically to her nose and obstructed her view -- not good, considering she was running full-tilt down the hallway. But Molly Cullen knew this corridor well enough to prevent any horrific accidents as she ran like her very life depended on it. In a way, it sort of did.
“MOLLY!”
Brody Elliot was not pleased; she could tell by the fantic pace of his footsteps and the way he’d just bellowed. He wasn’t about to get violent or anything, but Molly was sure that she’d be in for it if he caught up -- he was more than fond of the aforementioned hat, which was currently sliding down her nose. At the very least, she would be tickled mercilessly until she hollered, ‘Uncle!’ Given the fact that she was coming between the pack's self-proclaimed cowboy and his precious Stetson, the Irish werewolf was quite sure that Brody’s ‘punishment’ would not be a light one.
Giggling frantically, she bolted around a corner and saw the stairwell that led down to the main lobby. An idea formed: if she vaulted the railing, she could tear through the lobby and out to the courtyard, making the chase far more interesting. A burst of speed carried her to the railing -- almost home free!
“Gotcha!”
Or not. Molly gave a little scream when a pair of strong arms pulled her away from the rail, and subsequently, away from freedom. Desperate, she clamped her hands down upon her head, holding the hat there.
“No you don’t!” she heard Brody growl. One arm stayed cinched around her waist, effectively pinning her back to his chest, and his free hand slide under the thick material of her hoodie to the skin just above her hip to poke ticklishly. “Gimme the hat!”
“No!” Molly replied in a shriek of laughter. Brody’s hand then moved to the worst possible location of ticklishness: the back of her knee. She practically screamed, flailing helplessly as she tried to escape. “Oh-kay,” she finally hollered. “Take the hat! Just lemme go! UNCLE!”
Molly’s vision was swiftly cleared when her cowboy companion lifted his hat from her head and plopped it proudly onto his own. He allowed his torment to continue until the dark-haired wolf had tears of laughter streaming from her eyes and then, abruptly, he stopped. Molly could only wheeze and giggle when both his arms returned to her waist and he dodged nimbly when she tried to swat him.
“You suck,” she proclaimed, voice still choked with laughter.
“I know,” was his smart-alecky retort. Molly gave another yelping giggle when he peppered the side of her face with loud, obnoxious kisses. “But you deserved it, and you love me anyway.”
Yeah, Brods. I do. Molly smirked. “Shut up, you.”
Fin