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amindofstone · 3 years

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ONE PIECE! Deep talk, No. 2

a/n: Annyeonghaseyo! (*says that in a poorly done imitation of the voice of Jackson Wang XXD). How are you doing guys! How´s life? Are you happy? Are you sad? Y´all families doing good? I hope that each and every one of you s doing great and gets to experience happy days.

My dear readers and followers, I think I don´t deserve. I decided to work on my “ONE PIECE! Deep talk” and give you a no. 2. Like mentioned before if there is anything you want me to talk about just tell me and I will do my best. No matter if it´s about a character, a scene, an episode, the way the story developed etc. Just give me an input and I will see if there is anything my over thinking brain has to say. Other than that, happy reading!

· In the following I would like to talk about a character I instantly fell in love with as a child. I always thought that he was really cool and super strong in many ways. But next to that I also saw that character as someone really funny and super hilarious for many ways.

· The character I am referring to is Roronoa Zoro aka. “Pirate Hunter” (aka. “The vice captain of the strawhats” since Bartolomeo likes to call him that XD)

· There are some things about Zoro that caught my eye as an adult One Piece watcher and made me like him even more.

· I always saw Zoro as an amazingly well done character by Oda and never actually found any flaws until I realized that some characteristic traits (?) and or habits he has are his flaws, if one thinks about it for some time. But this is not what I want to talk about this time. I will leave it for some other time.

· This time I would like to talk about his loyalty to Luffy.

· Yeah, I know! I know that all of the Strawhats are loyal to him but still it´s a specific something that makes him even more loyal to Luffy in my eyes.

· Starting from his trust in him. Zoro blindly follows his orders without even thinking twice about the after. He runs head first into every situation with him no matter the circumstances.

· Man wanted to fight Kaido with just his crew and the heart pirates and he just went along with it stating that if his captain wanted to fight a yonko he will surly follow him

· In here I would like to mention one specific thing that really made me clap and say “Mans damn right!”. I even would have gave him a standing ovation if it only wasn´t 2 in the morning.

· Remember the “Water 7 Arc”. In which the strawhats had to get a new ship because the going merry was not in the shape to be used anymore but Usopp was against it what was the beginning of a huge drama. Remember that?

· I sadly don´t remember the whole thing anymore but it came that they wanted to leave and take Usopp with them who actually left the crew because of the disagreement he had with Luffy. Luffy was ready to go and get him but Zoro did not let him go. In fact he even said that he would leave the crew if their captain went to get Usopp back just like that.

· I was so impressed by his action and his words. I really couldn´t believe what was happening there.

· He couldn´t accept the fact that Usopp could go against the word of their captain Luffy. Their captain who wanted to become the pirate king and cross the grand line. He did not accept the fact that Luffy didn´t dare do anything about Usopps behavior and resistance.

· Zoro saying that being in a pirate crew is all about trust and loyalty towards the crew mates but most of all the captain. He stated that he dared to go against Luffys orders now and surely will do so in the future too if he does not show him the consequences of his actions. In my opinion Usopps actions were purely out of emotional events in his live, which why I cana absolutely understand Zoros state of mind.

· There were on their way to find the laughtale and live the life of pirates. Pirates that are hated and feared by the world, its people and most of all the government. They weren´t playing pirate like he used to back in his hometown. I really like Usopp because he is a funny and also relatable character but in this arc he made me really mad over his actions.

· Now back to Zoro.

· His words and his state of mind in the episode of 325 (I guess) showed how much he values loyalty.

· He was strictly against Luffy taking him back before he apologized properly to him. Him, Luffy who was his Captain, the man that allowed him to sail with him and his friends he trusted and cared for.

· Another moment that showed his loyalty to his captain was his solo fight with Kuma

· Kuma was sent to come back to the government with the head of Luffy. During the fight between the strawhats Kuma said that the only thing that would make him stop hurting the pirates and the civilians of the Thriller Bark was the strawhats handing him Luffy so he could bring the higher ups his head. Zoro thus got on his knees and offered him his live in exchange of Luffys. Sanji in that moment also made a move but at the end it was Zoro who made a deal with Kuma. He took all of Luffys pain and threw away his live and determination to become the worlds best swordman just so he could become the pirate king.

· “If I can´t even protect my captains dreams then whatever ambition I have is nothing but talk.”

· Maybe it was his position of the first mate that made him go that far but I personally think that it was the fact that he simply cherishes loyalty and of course Luffy a lot.

· Sticking to that I also want to talk about his decision to keep the deal he had with Kuma to himself and not tell others or let anyone know why Luffy was feeling so healthy and good after a tough fight with the pacifista.

· It kinda made me think that his action and the decision he made were a matter of course to him. It kind of made me think that it was something natural to do. To sacrifice his life for his captains. He didn´t wanted any of his crew mates to know what he did because he saw it as a part of his job and duty when he decided to join Luffy on his journey.

· And that was what made me truly fall in love with him. He might not show many emotions or sometimes even any at all but he truly and always cares for his crew.

· Oh and there is something else I would like to drop. For those who watched the movie Gold probably would know or remember that. But the scene in which Tesoro came seeing Zoro telling him that he will die and his crew will never be able to get the amount of money he asked for in exchange for his live. Remember what Zoro said! His words made me so damn proud! He said something like

· “If I don’t believe in them there is nothing to believe in.”

· Anyways, that’s it for know I guess.

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cheri-translates · 4 years

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[CN] Victor’s Patio Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

MC: It’s finally over!

I stretch, basking in the warm afternoon sunlight.

MC: The air-conditioning in the meeting room was so strong. I almost sneezed...

Victor: That’s why you held your breath till your face turned red?

MC: I did not...

I want to retort, but both our phones vibrate at the same time.

Curious, I tap and open the message. The sender is Ronan. The beginning of the message reads: “Inviting Mr Victor and Miss MC...”

[Note: If you don't know who Ronan is, check out Victor’s Understanding the Human World date before continuing]

Victor: To attend an appointment on the sky garden of the CR Building, a subsidiary company of LFG, after three days, at 7pm.

Victor softly reads the bottom half of the message aloud - he has received the same message.

MC: I remember that Ronan invited internationally renowned architects to build the film sets for his new movie. It should be this sky garden then? Since he has invited us, could it have something to do with the new movie?

Victor: We’ll know when we get there.

He looks at the phone in his hand indifferently. Despite his expression, it seems he already has an answer.

Three days later.

Victor and I reach the CR Building punctually.

Ronan: The two of you are here. Come, the movie preview is on the top floor.

Without much idle chat, we exchange greetings, and he enthusiastically leads us to the elevator.

MC: The shoot has already been completed? That’s pretty fast.

Ronan: Mm, the shoot this time went really smoothly. Whether in the capacity of a friend, or the biggest investor, I want the both of you to be the first few to see my movie.

MC: Why did I receive an invitation too...

Hearing my soft confusion, Ronan laughs loudly while he responds.

Ronan: When we were shooting Dévotion, it was only because of your cooperation that I could shoot a romantic and poetic Chinese wedding. Also, the movie this time was largely inspired by the two of you, so inviting you is definitely reasonable. For example, Victor revealed that, to him, you are actually...

Victor: Often impudent, and require improvement in time management. But once you slow down, your work capabilities have indeed improved quite a bit.

MC: ...why do I feel like what you told Ronan had nothing to do with my work capabilities.

I arch my eyebrows, not wanting to show signs of weakness. I toss a grimace towards Victor.

Before phrases in my mind such as “a woman’s instincts are very accurate” leave my mouth, Ronan starts laughing as he watches us from the side.

Ding--

Along with a soft ring, the elevator halts steadily at the highest level of the building. The exquisite sky garden greets my vision as the elevator doors open slowly.

Green trees display their leaves on mid-air platforms, and flowers of differing colours are scattered around, decorating the area.

The course of a river is guided by steel, flowing into a waterfall, gathering into a river, and slowly flowing around the trees and flowers.

Victor: The movie preview will start in ten minutes. How much longer do you plan to dillydally?

As though he isn’t drawn to the view at all, Victor simply holds his hand out in front of me.

MC: Yes, yes. As expected of the Mr CEO who has seen the big world - displaying an unchanging expression even after seeing such a view.

I hold onto his hand readily, and subtly lean against his side a little more.

The corners of Victor’s lips seem to curl upwards slightly. He accommodates to my footsteps, and we head to the venue together.

The movie preview is extremely successful.

Summarising the legend of the sky garden, Ronan illustrated a story of the male lead’s struggle at the end of the world, looking for an oasis.

And the climax of the story occurred at this very sky garden--

Lights and shadows merged with drifting flower petals, the last green leaf, and the last water source at the very end of the world...

Apart from the excellent narrative, the visual effects from the film alone gives one unparalleled enjoyment.

After the movie ends, I can’t help but give a standing ovation.

A few members of the audience, who were immersed in the movie like I was, send their cheers to the directors and actors.

MC: As expected of Ronan’s movie - it’s really brilliant.

Victor: Mm. It’s his usual standard.

Although Victor says this, he isn’t stingy with his applause.

MC: There’s a really immersive feeling knowing that we’re in the most beautiful scene of the movie...

Victor: Let’s go then.

Right after the words land, my palm is already encased in warmth.

Victor: To look at the garden you’ve been thinking about in your heart since just now.

MC: Okay! It’s a rare opportunity to walk into the beautiful scenery crafted by world-class directors and architects. If we don’t take a proper look, it’d be such a pity.

Victor: In that case, follow me and don’t let go of my hand again.

MC: Anyway, no matter where I am, you’ll always find me in the end. I won’t get lost.

We stand up, and I smile while holding onto his hand tightly.

He lets out a soft laugh. Maybe it’s my misperception, but the night seems to become gentler along with him.

I hear the sound of gurgling water in my ears, and red corn poppies bloom among the shadows of trees.

My fingers brush against the tips of bushes, and I feel the branches carrying the coolness of night.

MC: Sigh... it’s a shame that this place would be torn down after a while. And it’s such a beautiful set-up designed by a famous architect...

The more we stroll in the garden, the more I feel sorry for its impending disappearance.

Victor: You really can’t bear to see it gone?

MC: In the bustling city, such a garden is just too precious.

The corners of Victor’s lips lift in response to my words. He responds calmly.

Victor: The garden will be retained, and will become a cafe open to the public in the long-term.

MC: So in the future... it will also be LFG’s property?!

Victor doesn’t comment.

Victor: Once the movie preview is over, there will be a gradual adjustment of the layout and decor.

MC: ...it’s really nice to have money.

Victor: That’s your biggest takeaway after watching the preview?

MC: Of course not. I have very deep thoughts regarding this movie!

Victor arches his brows, as though waiting for my “deep thoughts” and review.

I clear my throat, temporarily tossing aside my feelings towards capitalism. In my mind, I start recalling the images from the movie.

MC: In Ronan’s movie, the lead keeps searching for an “oasis” in order to settle down and have sustenance. Every person needs his own “oasis”. It’s only when one has a foothold and a place to rest can he continually move forward.

Victor: Looks like you really watched it seriously.

MC: Which is why I’m very surprised by your decision to retain this garden. Perhaps it can become an oasis for busy people in this bustling city.

Victor: If it’s possible, that would be best.

MC: You don't think such an idea is overly vague or idealistic?

Victor: You can only move forward with some resources. This is the same for everyone. Moreover, it’s only when you have a goal in mind and know where you’re heading towards, can you walk far, and walk steadily.

I run a few steps in front, then turn around to stick out my tongue at him.

MC: Are we here to participate in the movie preview, or to do an inspection with you?

Victor: Watch where you’re going.

Slightly resigned, Victor pushes aside some branches sticking out along the path. He reaches out and pulls me back to his side.

Suddenly, a different view from the slender and delicate poppies enters my vision.

MC: Roses!

I blink. In one corner of the garden, in replacement of poppies, crimson roses bloom warmly under the moonlight.

At the side, there are even a few bean bags and a small coffee table.

In the luxurious and majestic garden, the roses, while sharing the same colour as poppies, add a different style to the courtyard.

My thoughts drift to the rose-scented town I had once taken a slow walk with him in.

[Note: This is a reference to Victor’s Magnificent Date]

I can’t help but smile and ask Victor a question.

MC: Is this one of the methods to attract visitors and raise property value?

Victor: Yes.

Victor admits it matter-of-factly, but there’s a smile in his eyes.

Victor: Ronan’s team insisted on adding different understandings of this theme in order to portray a richer definition of an “oasis”. Since they asked for my opinion, I naturally gave them my view.

Standing under the warm yellow street lamp, Victor’s expression looks exceptionally tender.

Victor: From what I see, the result isn’t bad.

There is a subtle sweet aroma of roses in the air. I sit comfortably on a bean bag, asking Victor with a grin:

MC: What other adjustments will be made?

Dressed in a well-ironed suit, Victor is also half-lying on the bean bag, looking somewhat languid. The aura surrounding him has become much more gentle.

It’s as though we aren’t at a bustling movie preview, or a sky garden on the top floor of a building.

It’s just a normal weekend evening, in a small courtyard belonging to us, as we shed off the week’s worth of fatigue.

I can’t help but think of the afternoon he slept in front of me, and remember the day he had revealed an almost imperceptible state of relaxation to me.

[Note: This is a reference to Victor’s Return Home Date]

Victor: You look like you have a lot of thoughts?

MC: Of course I do! I’ve been to various shooting locations, and have met mature producers with differing styles. Apart from that, I’m also a contemporary member of society with a delicate mind and good aesthetic sense. Which is why I’m clearer than anyone else about what a stressed worker needs most in terms of external care. Just look - even my house is very warm, right?

Victor: If you can change your habit of leaving things lying around, it might be considered a “warm” house.

MC: This is called “integrating with the masses” - it’s a small beauty in life.

Recalling the earlier topic, I stand up, pulling Victor as we head to the inner area of the park.

MC: For example, I think this place could have a few more elegant seats.

I point at the hanging rattan chair underneath the flower stand.

MC: That way, visitors would be more comfortable when sitting down. Also, this path we walked on - although it looks very pretty in the movie, it’s easy to get hooked by bushes at the side. If it weren’t for your words just now, I would have definitely bumped into it. Also...

I look towards the trail lined with trees on both sides, leading towards the centre of the park.

MC: Maybe this is just my selfish thought, and has nothing to do with increasing practicality or comfort. However, if I had a choice, I would change these trees to Platanus trees.

Several strands of shock flash across Victor’s dark eyes. Then, he opens his mouth to ask in slight amusement:

Victor: Why is that so?

MC: Legend says that the Hanging Gardens was created by the king of Babylon for his wife who was suffering from homesickness.

[Note: Platanus trees were part of the Hanging Gardens. Platanus trees, also known as Oriental Plane Trees, are a frequent motif featured in Classical Chinese poetry as an embodiment of sorrowful sentiments due to its autumnal shedding of leaves]

I walk along the small trail, staring at the poppies swaying in the wind.

I wonder if that king, all those thousands of years ago, carried such a heart - wanting to give such a luxurious gift to the person he loved.

MC: No matter what others may say, I also wish to leave the best things to the person most important to me. To build an oasis within his sight and touch where he can have a peace of mind. You’ve left a corner of the camellia garden for me, so I also wish to give you a small trail lined with Platanus trees.

[Note: This is a reference to Victor’s Maze date, which is available in EN]

I raise my head with a smile, not caring that my cheeks have already heated up. I observe Victor’s dark coloured eyes carefully, and tell him what’s in my heart calmly and sincerely.

Victor pauses for a moment. Apart from surprise, his eyes also contain an undercurrent of a deeper and heavier emotion.

Victor: With so many ideas, not letting you write a proposal to collaborate with the design team would be a waste of talent. When exactly did you learn to say such things?

In the end, all his emotions culminate into his usual ridicule, which is more tender than usual.

Curling his fingers, he taps me on the forehead with some affection.

MC: If you feel happy, you can just say it directly, really.

Victor: And when did you hear me say that?

MC: I felt it!

While laughing, I step onto the stairs, looking at the blooming poppy flowerbed.

The flowerbed, which is suspended in mid-air, is the highest point of the garden. It is held up firmly by chains above the pool.

MC: Do you feel like I’m especially thoughtful and especially cute right now?

Victor: I only feel that you’re especially childish.

While Victor says this, he walks up to the stairs and holds onto my hand.

Victor: And that you’re truly a dummy.

It is only when he draws nearer that I can clearly see the upward curve of his lips.

Apart from the faraway lights and the water under us, his eyes also reflect my brilliantly smiling face.

The flowerbed sways back and forth in small motions.

Sitting here, I not only have a panoramic view of the garden, but can also overlook the entirety of Loveland City.

In the distance, the city lights are scattered around, artificial light sources forming another galaxy on earth.

MC: Victor, you once said that you would look at Loveland City from a height whenever you’re in a bad mood. I think I can understand something I didn’t think of before!

Victor: What do you understand this time?

MC: This garden on the top level of the building, where you can overlook Loveland City, is perhaps your oasis. Now that I think about it, everything I said just now was unnecessary, right?

Recalling my eloquent suggestions to Victor earlier, I start feeling slightly embarrassed.

Victor: Looks like you still don’t know anything.

MC: Tell me - what should I know then?

Supporting myself on the flowerbed with one hand, I grin, turning around to ask him.

The suspended flowerbed sways violently from my sudden movement. Only then do I remember that there are only a few fulcrums holding up the flower bed.

With an unstable footing, I subconsciously reach out to clutch onto Victor, trying to maintain my balance. However, I still fall against the flower bed, hurting my shoulder blade.

Victor: You’re being impatient again.

[Note: There isn’t a direct translation of the phrase used here, 毛毛躁躁 (”mao mao zao zao”), but it conveys the idea of doing things hurriedly and inattentively]

His voice resounds very close to me. I open my eyes, and directly meet his line of sight.

Because of my sudden movement, Victor has also been pulled towards me.

One of his hands is wrapped around the back of my head, preventing me from hitting it. Another hand is at my ear, holding me steady.

Right now, this action seems to be imprisoning me between the fresh flowers and himself.

MC: S...sorry, I’ll pay more attention next time...

I stammer, my heart rate speeding up.

Victor: You said this the last time as well.

The heat from summer has not fully dissipated. Humidity lingers in the air.

The poppies in the garden bloom quietly, and the night is warm. It’s as though everything I see and feel have become gentle.

Even Victor’s eyes and outline grow blurry from the light and shadows, encasing him in a layer of tenderness.

Our sudden proximity causes my heart rate to accelerate, and it feels like my thoughts have been stuck in place.

I avert my gaze, slightly guilty. I raise my palm to put some distance between us.

MC: We’re about done with the viewing. The dinner is about to begin, so we should head down... I remember it’s one level below?

Victor: ...do you know that your ability to change the topic is very poor.

Victor sighs softly, then gently shifts his hand away from the back of my head.

When the warmth belonging to him vanishes, a sense of longing floods my heart.

It’s as though I have awakened from a charming dream surrounded by warm currents, returning to reality once again.

But in the next second, the warmth I’m most familiar with envelops my wrist.

Looking into his dark eyes, I think I must have truly misunderstood.

Whether it’s the Babylonian king from thousands of years ago, or any other ordinary person, the thing people truly want isn’t the view from their memory. It’s the person they want to share the view with.

Victor: I’m going to answer your question from just now. Listen carefully.

Victor: The words you said are not unnecessary.

Victor: And I am indeed very happy.

Victor shifts upwards, encircling me in front of him again.

He is so close that the entire world seems to be condensed into his pair of eyes.

The fountain spurts at regular intervals, shattering the calm of the water. Water vapour floating in the air refracts light, caging us in a colourful curtain of light.

Victor: Just now, someone eloquently mentioned wanting to build an oasis within my sight and touch. And now you’re so anxious - where do you want to run off to?

Perhaps the temperature of the evening is overly gentle, and the light from the water is too fine. I’m unable to see what emotions lie in Victor’s eyes.

As the distance between us closes, I can clearly see every gentle quiver of his eyelashes, and can feel the heat from every lingering breath from our noses.

His lips move slightly, as though wanting to say something to me.

Before he can speak, the fountain spurts again. This time, the cool water happens to spray onto us.

MC: Ah...

I want to hurriedly straighten up and dry Victor, but a gentle yet irresistible pressure pushes me back down.

The water columns from the fountain change, forming into different heights and shapes. Scattered droplets of water patter on us like light rain.

Victor’s hair, which has always been tidied meticulously, droops slightly because of the water droplets.

The slender poppies beside us sway slightly. Water vapour condenses on the flower petals, dripping down along the body of the flower.

Victor: No need to care about that. Having you here is enough.

His slightly hoarse voice brushes against my ear along with his breath. It circles past the nape of my neck, evoking a certain numbness.

Victor’s body temperature continuously travels to my wrist, entering my heart.

Victor: My “oasis”... has already belonged to me since a very long time ago.

🌹

Phone Call: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc victor

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tchallasbabymama · 3 years

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M’Baku’s Love Chapter 7

Hey lovelies! I originally wanted to get this done by Valentines day so y’all could get a double update. Close enough, right?

Anyways, check out my masterlist HERE to catch up and check out my other stories.

Word count: ~5500

CW: smut, drug use

Monae’s heart started beating out of her chest the moment he turned and left her at her apartment door. She hadn’t been on a date with someone new in seven years and had just started to panic when she remembered that she and M’Baku had already gone on what most people would consider dates. The only exception was that now they were both free to express their feelings for eachother.

Her buzzer rang out as she finished the sharp point of her eyeliner, and suddenly all of her nerves vanished. It's just M’Baku, she told herself, chill out. Just the thought of him made her giddy and she ran to the living room to buzz him up. She bit her lip in anticipation and waited for the knock on her door.

It didn’t come when she thought it would, so she looked out the peephole and saw him fidgeting with his hands, pacing back and forth before he turned to knock on the door. She couldn’t get over how handsome he looked, but she wanted to play it cool. She waited a few seconds before opening the door so he wouldn’t think she was standing there waiting for him the whole time...even though she definitely was. His eyes trailed up and down her physique and she was thankful her brown skin hid her blushing. Her outfit was doing exactly what she had intended.

“Hi”

“Hi, yourself,” her eyes raked up and down his body, too.

They stared at each other for a moment before she moved aside so he could come in. The moment the door closed he pulled her in for a kiss.

“You look amazing,” he held her hand and twirled her around so he could get the full view.

“And you look like a whole snack. You sure you don’t want to just stay in?”

He laughed and snaked his arms around her waist, “I’m sure.” He kissed her forehead and let her go right as Juju came over to say hello to her new favorite person.

“Can I get you anything? Water, juice, whiskey?”

“Water would be great, thank you.”

“So about this art festival, have you ever been to one?” she asked as she poured him a glass of cold water and handed it to him.

“Of course, we have them at home all the time,” he sat on the couch with Juju and let her curl up in his lap. “We Jabari are very talented people.”

Monae loved how prideful he could be when it came to his tribe, but it was always accompanied by a bittersweet feeling deep inside her. As much as she loved that about him, it always hurt to think about him returning home to rule over his people.

“Well, I’m almost done getting ready, so just give me like five more minutes.”

“No rush, I will just be here with my new best friend, Juju,” he said, partially to Monae and partially to the cat.

Monae playfully rolled her eyes and shuffled back to her room to put the finishing touches on her makeup. She put her shoes on while she let the liquid lipstick dry on her lips, and grabbed her purse before heading back to her living room to find M’Baku on the floor trying to get Juju to play with a cat toy. She snuck a quick picture on her phone before she made her presence known.

“Having fun?”

“I was trying to, but someone will not cooperate,” he looked up before turning back to the cat, “I thought we were friends.”

Monae couldn’t help but laugh at his antics, bringing a smile to his face as well. He dropped the cat toy and hopped up, pulling her in by her waist and kissing her cheek so as not to mess up her lipstick.

“Ready?”

“Let’s go!”

M’Baku went to wash his hands as Monae searched for her keys.

“Where the- oh, duh, there they are. Ok now I’m actually ready,” she said excitedly before turning to her fur baby, “Be good, Juju.”

The cat meowed and the two humans were out the door.

When they arrived at the festival, Monae’s eyes lit up at all the sights and sounds and he couldn't help but stare at her face as it brightened.

“So where to first?” he asked, looking around at all the vendors and stages set up around the park.

Monae looked up and saw someone pass by eating elote that looked like it tasted like heaven.

“Excuse me, where’d you get that?” she stopped a lady walking by.

M’Baku simply stared at Monae’s beauty as the stranger directed them to the food truck.

“Thank you!” she said excitedly before pulling M’Baku over in the direction of the food court section of the park.

“You’re hungry already?”

“The food is like half the fun of these things, come on!”

Monae found the elote truck and gladly waited in the quickly-moving line. M’Baku’s arms wrapped around her waist and he rested his head on top of hers as they slowly swayed to the music coming from the stage on the other side of the food trucks. She loved when he did that, he made her feel safe and secure.

When they finally made it to the front of the line she ordered two elotes, one for both of them. The vendor handed them to her and she took a bite of hers, doing her usual little food dance as she handed M’Baku his.

“Ohhh my god, this is so good. Try it.”

M’Baku bit into it and his eyes widened, “Hanuman, that is good.”

“Told you! Ok now that we’ve taken in some of the culinary arts, lets see what else there is. Visual art, vendors, or performance art/music?”

“Let us start with visual art, then performance, then vendors.”

“Deal,” she rose to her tiptoes and pecked his lips. He smiled and held out his arm for her as they walked towards the visual art section of the festival. They both enjoyed the small art galleries, but yet again M’Baku mostly found himself staring at her as her eyes examined the pieces. Whenever she had the opportunity she would always stop and talk to the artists, some she knew some she didn’t. She even suggested a couple apply for positions at the center.

“Stop working and just enjoy the festival,” he whispered in her ear after she handed a sculptor her business card.

“I’m not-” she was cut off by him giving her the look with one of his bushy eyebrows raised, “Ok fine. It’s hard to turn it off sometimes.” She shrugged and he grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

“Ready to see some of the performances?”

“Of course.”

“Without scouting for talent.”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“Fine.”

M’Baku chuckled at her attitude, he’d have something for that later.

They arrived at one of the stages just in time to catch the beginnings of an interpretive dance to “Whitey’s on the Moon.”

M’Baku hung onto Gil Scott-Heron’s words as the dancer moved across the stage in a hauntingly beautiful display of his raw talent. When he finished to a standing ovation and left the stage, making room for the next performer, M'Baku and Monae decided to stay there for a while until their stomachs rumbled again, reminding them that all they’d had to eat that day was breakfast and elote.

“Damn, I heard that all the way over here,” she joked as they got up to go find more food. This time M’Baku found a vegan food truck and they fell in love with their seitan Philly cheese steaks before heading back into the festival. The sounds of a popular local spoken word artist reciting a poem about gentrification filled their ears as they made their way over to the vendors.

M’Baku and Monae walked through the crowded marketplace hand in hand, stopping periodically to take a look at what the artists had to offer. He noticed Monae had stopped at the booth of an old man with salt and pepper locs down his back to check out a delicate handmade amethyst necklace. He smiled when he saw how her eyes lit up when she looked at it, but she put the necklace back and walked towards M’Baku, grabbing his hand so they could head to the next booth. He stopped her and pulled her back into him.

“You changed your mind about the necklace?”

“It’s a little out of my budget right now, I just gave Jazz her tuition money for the fall.”

“But you want it?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“Then it is yours, love,” he turned to the artist. “Excuse me, could we purchase this necklace along with the matching bracelet and earrings.”

“M’Baku!”

He leaned down and tilted her chin up to peck her on the lips, “Hush, you are getting the set.”

Monae blushed and tried to fight the smile creeping up her face. While she wanted to protest, she had never had a man spoil her before and she found that she liked the feeling. Sure Derrick had money, but he was Ebenezer Scrooge when it came to spending it, so this...this was new.

“Did you want to wear them out or should I wrap it up?” the older man asked Monae.

“Um, I’ll wear it out.”

M’Baku reached for the necklace and she turned around so he could place it on her. The cool metal of the gold chain shocked her skin as his hands dusted over her collarbone and carefully clasped the necklace together. He bent down and planted a soft kiss on her shoulder before turning her around to get a good look at the necklace that contrasted so beautifully against her brown skin.

She had goosebumps all over as she slid on the bracelet and popped her earrings off. She put her new earrings in and modeled them for M’Baku.

“Lookin good, miss!” said the jewelry-maker.

“Thanks!” she responded excitedly and M’Baku chuckled at how adorable she could be sometimes. “And thank you.” she turned around and planted a kiss on his lips

“No problem, love. You forget I am rich,” he winked at her and she stood there shocked for a moment before he led her to the next tent. He bought her a handwoven basket, and at the next tent he bought her the most beautiful painting she had ever seen. She was really enjoying the sugar baby treatment and he loved spoiling her. The whole day he barely bought anything for himself, instead just spending money on his lady.

-------

When they couldn’t carry any more they decided it was time to go back to her place for the next part of their date. Monae had convinced him to smoke with her tonight and watch Friday, and she couldn’t wait to see how he would be while high. Would he be talkative? Would he have a panic attack? Would he get the munchies? She would soon find out.

When they got to her place they set her loot down in the living room and she immediately jumped on him.

“Thank you for everything,” she said between open-mouth kisses. He grunted in response and pushed her back into the wall, hands gripping under her thighs as her legs wrapped tight around him. His lips traveled to her neck and he bit down.

“Please just fuck me already, M’Baku,” she moaned out.

That was all he needed to hear and he walked them down the hall to her bedroom with his face still partially buried in her neck.

When he made it to her room he laid her down on the bed and crawled on top of her.

“I had to watch you walking around in these shorts all day, getting jealous when they would get stuck between your thighs...watching your ass jiggle. You did that on purpose.” His hand traveled down and unzipped her vintage high-waisted denim shorts, sneaking it’s way into her underwear and teasing the soft patch of hair above her pussy. His fingers travelled even lower and she let out a moan as he circled her clit.

“I did.”

“Tell me why.”

“Because I wanted you to w-want me. I wanted you to watch my hips move so you could see what they can do to you.”

“Oh I’ve seen what they can do,” he thought back to when he played drums for her as she danced. Her hips were mesmerizing and even then he imagined how they would feel grinding on him with his dick buried deep inside her.

His fingers found their way even lower to her dripping pussy and lightly trailed up and down her lips.

“Show me again.” He commanded as he pulled her up off the bed and undressed her slowly, planting kisses on every new visible patch of skin. When he got to her thong, he grabbed it with his teeth and pulled it down and off her legs. He dove into her pussy like he was starving for her and his fingers found their way inside her. His tongue lapped at her pussy and twirled around her clit before he sucked it into his mouth, tongue still swirling around her pearl as he sucked and she moaned louder and louder. His fingers sped up inside her and he rolled his neck from side to side, moaning into her pussy. The movements of his head and the deep vibration of his voice made her legs tremble. The repeated “Mhmm” coming from between her legs sent her over the edge and her body convulsed before letting out a deluge of her juices onto his eager tongue.

M’Baku licked her sensitive pussy clean, teasing her with his thumb lightly circling her clit.

“M’Baku, baby, please.” her voice was soft as she begged for his dick to stretch her wide open.

“I like how you sound when you beg. Do it again,” he said with a devilish smirk on his face.

She sat up on her knees and crawled to him, making sure to keep the deep arch in her back as she moved. When she reached him she sat back on her heels and looked at him with her best puppy dog eyes.

“Please, M’Baku. I need you inside me.”

His already hard dick got increasingly uncomfortable behind his zipper, so he reached down and freed the monster, laughing as he stepped out of his pants at the stunned look on Monae’s face.

“I knew it was big, but...damn, that’s a lot,” she said with her eyes wide and barely blinking.

He moved closer to the bed and stuck his tongue out as he leaned down. She did the same and their tongues met in a wet and nasty kiss right as she reached out to feel his velvety smooth dick. She traced the vein along the bottom of his shaft and he moaned, rutting into her hand.

“Please,” she begged against his lips. Before she could register what was happening M’Baku had her on her back and his head was rubbing against her entrance as he kissed her deeply.

He pushed in slightly and she let out a sharp moan so he pulled back out.

“Relax, babygirl.” he cooed, “This is going to take some time but you have to work with me, ok?”

She nodded and bit her lip, “Ok. It’s just...a lot.”

“I know, but you can take it,” he kissed her deeply again, pushing in a little deeper, then pulling back out. He repeated this over and over until he bottomed out and she was a moaning mess. He stayed still inside her, just reveling in how she fit around him and allowing her to feel every inch of him as he stretched her out. Her hips started grinding up into his and he took that as her sign to start moving.

He pulled his hips back and rolled them forward, pulling a deep moan out of her and making her nails dig deeper into his back. He slow-stroked her until she had tears in her eyes and was begging to cum, but he wouldn’t let her. He wanted her out of her mind when she came, and she wasn’t quite to that point yet. He grabbed her legs and flipped her over on her stomach without pulling out and pulled her hips up towards him. She threw her ass back on him and he met every thrust with a deep stroke of his own, slapping her ass and adding to the clapping sounds they made with their bodies. His balls hung at the perfect height to stimulate her clit at that angle and as his thick uncut dick slipped and slid deep inside her, her eyes rolled back in her head at the overstimulation.

“Mmmm’Bakuu!”

“You like that?”

“Y-yes!”

“Mmm, I know you do.” his hand wrapped around her neck and pulled her face around to kiss him as he plowed even harder into her.

“Oh my god! M’Baku, Mmm’Baku, ooh baby right there. Yesssss, yes, yes, yes.” she cried out as he slowed down and stirred his dick inside her, whining his hips as he held her down by the back of her neck. Just as she had gotten used to his flow he slowly sped his thrusts back up and the bed slammed against the wall. Monae worried about her neighbors for a moment but the thought left her mind as soon as his fingers found their way to her clit.

“I need you to cum for me so I can cum on this pretty ass of yours.”

Monae loved the thought of him cumming all over her ass and allowed the rising tension to take over her body.

“Mmm, I feel you tightening around me. Cum for me, babygirl.”

Her body convulsed again as her orgasm washed over her, leading him into his. He pulled out just in time and his warm seed covered her round ass cheeks.

She pushed her legs back and laid flat on her stomach before breaking out into a fit of giggles. He soon joined her and the two of them revelled in their afterglow giddiness.

“Let me get you a towel, where do you keep them?”

“Hallway closet,” she said dreamily.

He found the linens and grabbed a washcloth before lumbering back into the room, dick swinging and ready for more.

“Ready for round 2?” he shouted as he ran warm water on the rag and made his way back into the room. He wiped her down as she scoffed.

“You’re gonna have to let me recuperate a little, that was...intense.”

His brows furrowed.

“Intense, as in…?”

“In a good way! Intense as in I’ve never had sex feel like that before. I��ve never cried from it feeling so good.”

“I’m glad I could do that for you,” he smirked, the cocky side of him satisfied in knowing he was the best she’s had.

“I bet,” she chuckled, head still laying on her arms.

“I tell you what, how about we watch Friday and you get me high?”

“Honestly, that’s one of the sexiest things you’ve said all night.”

They laughed as he helped Monae up off the bed. He leaned in to kiss her lightly and she pulled him in for more.

“I thought you were too tired for round 2,” he said against her lips between kisses.

“I am.”

“Then stop kissing me like that,” he chuckled as he placed a soft kiss in the crook of her neck.

“Fine,” she said with an eyeroll and he slapped her on the ass. “Ow!”

“Watch the attitude,” he warned.

She felt a chill go down her spine at the deepening of his voice, but she felt the need to listen to what he had to say.

“Yes sir.”

“Mmm, I like that,” he bit his lips and kissed her one more time before tearing himself away from her to keep himself from getting all worked up again. His dick was still hard and he didn’t want to make it worse. He grabbed his underwear and slid it back on while Monae wrapped herself in her short satin robe and walked in front of him on the way to the living room, ass bouncing and thick thighs peeking out underneath. He sent a quick prayer up to Hanuman for self-control.

“First, we should order food because I don’t know about you, but I just worked up an appetite and I already know I’ll have the munchies after we smoke this.” She pulled a pre-rolled joint and a lighter from the hand-carved wooden box on her coffee table.

“What do you have a taste for?”

Her eyes traveled down his body to his half hard dick and her pussy jumped at the thought of slobbering all up and down his shaft, “Don’t ask me that right now.”

“You are making this very difficult, I hope you know that.”

“Payback’s a bitch,” she shrugged. “How about cauliflower hot wings and vegan nachos?”

“Perfect.”

They made their way to the couch and sat down while Monae ordered the food from a local shop. “Damn, they don’t do delivery. Next idea?”

“It’s right by my building, how about I run home and grab some comfortable clothes just in case I end up staying the night? I can pick it up on the way back,” M’Baku offered.

“You know you’re staying the night,” Monae said matter of factly, making her favorite gap-toothed smile appear across his face.

“Oh I know,” he winked and stood up to go put his clothes on.

-------

When M’Baku returned she had their plates and napkins all set up, and the movie was pulled up on pause, ready to go. For some reason she had placed huge glasses of water on the table as well.

“Ok, so here’s the plan: we’re gonna smoke a little of this joint, then watch the movie, then start smoking the rest halfway through. Cool?”

“Cool, where do you want the food?”

She gestured to the cleared off coffee table and they settled into the couch. Monae lit the joint and took a hit, showing him how it’s done. She took another before passing it to him.

M’Baku put it to his lips and inhaled, prompting his lungs to spasm and throw him into a coughing fit.

“And that’s what the water is for,” she handed his glass to him and he took a few sips.

“That was very unpleasant,” the chief complained as he continued to cough lightly.

“Because you’re not used to it yet. It gets easier to control your lungs, but even I still cough sometimes.”

“So how long have you been smoking?” M’Baku asked, his eyes reddening as he passed the joint back to her.

“I started pretty late, junior year of college. I don’t like feeling out of control of my own body, so I was scared to try it.” she took a hit and blew the smoke out her nose. “Eventually I made some friends who smoked and I got a few contact highs hanging with them, so I figured I might as well try the real thing and voila, now I’m a smoker. All the propaganda really worked on me.”

“Yes, I have read about that. It is one of many things that confuses me about this country,” he said, taking the joint back and trying a second time. This time went smoother, but he still coughed a little.

“There you go, getting better already. How do you feel?”

He looked at her with low bloodshot eyes and she fought to contain a smile, losing terribly.

“What is it?”

“You look high as shit!” She busted out laughing and he followed suit, both laughing until tears fell down their faces. When they calmed down Monae took a couple more hits off the still-burning joint and passed it back to M’Baku.

“Ok, last one then we start the movie.”

He took one last hit and sat back into the couch, leaning into the corner with his plate of “wings”. Monae pressed play and grabbed some nachos and a couple wings of her own before getting comfortable right next to him.

She turned to him and recited the opening monologue with a smile on her face, “I know you don’t smoke weed. I know this, but I’m gonna get you high today,” she pointed at M’Baku, “ ‘Cause it’s Friday, you ain't got no job, and you ain’t got shit to do.” He snickered as she delivered her performance.

Throughout the movie, M’Baku’s roaring laughter shook the small apartment and for a while there she was seriously concerned about her neighbors filing a complaint.

Around the time that Craig finally got high, she lit the joint and they went back to smoking. After they finished it, M’Baku was floating on cloud nine for the rest of the movie.

When Deebo got knocked the fuck out, Monae looked over at M’Baku’s grey sweatpants and saw the bulge of his dick. She licked her lips, wondering what it tasted like and by the time the credits rolled she was already on her knees pulling his dick from his pants.

“You sure about this, babygirl? You don’t have to,” he slurred.

“I know,” she said as she stuck out her tongue, swiping it along the underside of his dick.”But I want to.” She planted open mouth kisses up and down his shaft and he moaned at the feeling of her lips and tongue on him. She spit on his dick and used it to lubricate his shaft, twisting her hands up and down like a pepper grinder. She pulled back his foreskin and let her spit drip onto the tip of his dick, then stuck her tongue out to twirl around his meaty head. His toes curled as she just sucked on the tip, making it nice and sloppy for him before pushing it deeper into her mouth. Her tongue worked the underside of his shaft as his toes dug into the rug.

His hand made its way to the back of her head and he rolled his hips forward, letting out a deep moan. She increased her suction and the pitch of his moans increased right along with her. She pushed him deeper and let him slide down her throat, closing around it and sucking his dick like her life depended on it. She wasn’t able to take down the whole thing, but she used her hands and a copious amount of spit to handle the rest.

“Hanuman, that feels good,” he groaned out, his head rolling back on the couch. “Mmm Monae, just like that.”

She pulled off of him with a pop and stared into his eyes, “You like the way I suck your dick, baby?” She held eye contact as she took him back in her mouth as deep as she could take him.

“Mmmhm,” he moaned out enthusiastically, unable to form words while her mouth traveled up and down his thick shaft. He clenched and unclenched his fists and his breaths grew ragged. “I-I’m going to cum.”

Monae already knew, she could feel the vein under his dick going crazy. As soon as he finished his declaration, he erupted down her throat and she continued sucking until he gave her every last drop. He had to beg her to stop and she giggled at knowing that she had power over him, too.

The rest of the night was spent talking and giggling at nonsense, with some serious conversation sprinkled throughout. At one point the inevitable conversation about their future was brought up as they laid cuddled up in her bed. They both thought it would be better to rip off the bandaid and talk about it sooner rather than later.

“I know we have an expiration date, but I try not to think about it,” she whispered while tracing her fingers around his broad chest.

“I think about it more than I care to admit.”

“Really?”

“Mhm, the other night I couldn’t sleep so I laid in bed thinking of ways to make it work for us… Would you ever consider moving?”

“To Wakanda? That’s a lot to ask at the beginning of a relationship, M’Baku.”

“I know, but I’d regret it if I never asked,” he kissed her crown and pulled her in closer to him. They sat in silence for a while, both already thinking of their unavoidable goodbye. M’Baku sighed, “I was not planning on falling in love while I was here. I wanted to remain unattached, but you came running in and ruined my plans.”

Monae laughed and he smiled down at her.

“Well then, you’re welcome for running into you that day. Your plans were probably boring anyway.”

“You have certainly made my time here more colorful,” he looked at her maroon colored fade, changing the subject to something lighter. “What color is next?”

“I might just go platinum blonde. I’m actually seeing Keke, the girl that does my hair, next Saturday, so we’ll see if I change my mind by then.”

“Whatever color you get will look beautiful on you.”

“”Thank you, sugardaddy,” she kissed his cheek and he looked down at her in confusion.

“Sugardaddy?”

“Yeah its a term for a guy who buys you nice things and takes care of you. Sometimes they want something in return for the sugar, but some of them just love spending money. You seem like that type.”

“I just enjoy seeing a smile on your face, what type of sugardaddy is that?” he leaned in for a kiss and she obliged.

“That’s the best type, daddy,” she giggled out as he started to tickle her sides.

“Say that again.”

“Ok, ok, stop.” she tried to catch her breath from laughing so hard. “I said ‘that's the best type, daddy’.”

“Mm, now say that last part by itself.”

A smile crept up Monae’s face as she gave him what he wanted. She looked him dead in the eye and put on her sexiest voice.

“Daddy.”

“Mmm.”

“You like when I call you daddy?” She climbed on top of him and pulled his dick out from his sweatpants for the second time that night before carefully sliding down onto him. She stared into his eyes as she took every inch inside her.

“Mmm, yes. Ride me, babygirl.” he slapped both her asscheeks and she let out a scream of pleasure and pain.

“You like how I bounce on it, daddy?” She repeatedly dropped her ass onto his lap and brought it back up again, and he was mesmerized by the way her breasts jiggled in his face. He was able to latch onto one of her nipples and tease her pierced bud as she switched up her rhythm to move her hips back and forth. She held his head to her chest as he ravaged her nipples and she moaned loudly as his dick massaged every spot inside her she could find. Her hips cycloned round and round, making his dick stir her insides like a pot of macaroni.

“Mmmmhmm,” he could barely speak with the way she was putting it on him. Never in his life had he had someone ride him and take him completely in, but Monae fit like a glove.Her hips rose and fell and he could feel her orgasm approaching. Just as it did, she reached down and choked him, eyes rolling back as she released all over him. When she choked him his body reacted involuntarily and he released inside of her. She kept riding as he filled her up and she leaned back to watch his dick throb as it pumped his seed into her.

“Fuck that feels good,” she whispered.

“You like when I fill your pussy up?”

She bit her lip and grinded her clit into him, wanting more, ”Yesss.”

Monae rode him for a few more rounds before she collapsed on the bed, a mixture of their cum spilling from her pussy. He wiped her up with a warm rag again and decided to run a bath for her aching body. He didn’t see her standing in the doorway to the bathroom as she watched him pour in the bath salts and test the temperature of the water. She loved how rough he could be, but it’s the sweet things like this that really made her melt. When he turned around and they locked eyes she blushed as though she had just been caught.

“I hope this helps,” he smirked, “You’re going to be sore tomorrow.”

“I’m already sore now. I don’t want to even think about tomorrow.”

He chuckled and held out his hand to her. She took it and he helped her into the warm water before washing her body with her loofa. She enjoyed his pampering and when she got out he wrapped her in the fluffiest towel he could find before carrying her back to the bed and lotioning her body.

“How do you feel?”

“Relaxed,” she responded, barely awake. He chuckled and kissed her forehead, tucking her in before she drifted off to sleep to dream of her Jabari chief.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem , @theblulife, @devnicolee

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fic #m'baku #black!oc #m’baku’s love #m’baku x oc #monae #jada kingdom

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 3 years

Note

"should i ask for song requests?" MA'AM- anyways Show Me Love by Mali Hood with Cal pls

LMAO, look, it’s just a thought. Also I love Mali, but Robin S’s version--a BOP. So I’m going to base it off that version.

It’s long, whoops.

CW: Mentions of gaining weight. So if you’re sensitive, feel free to skip this!

___________

It wasn’t in Calum’s plan to be out this late. He had planned to finish up the first season of Unsolved Mysteries on Netflix. He had planned to order himself a pizza, extra large so that he could have a few slices for lunch tomorrow too and possibly a White Claw, or two, or more. Who knows? He surely wasn’t going to count those calories.

However, when Calum and Ashton found themselves deep into the evening running over lyrics along with some other friends and somebody mentioning hitting up a bar nearby to get some food, Calum figured he could tag along. He’d avoid drinking until he got home but greasy bar food could be an easy substitute for pizza.

It’s as Calum dips the end of fries into the ranch given on the side a tap sounds of the speakers, cutting through the music that’s been playing in the background. “Hope everyone’s doing great tonight,” a voice states.

Calum looks over his shoulder to see a man up on a stage. “Karaoke’s opening up in fifteen minutes. Find me at the bar to sign up or feel free just to jump in.”

“Oh, we gotta stay for this,” Ashton laughs. The rest of the group readily agrees and Calum shrugs, polishing off the last half the fries before going in for another bite of his sandwich.

It’s not until the music cuts out again that Calum realizes the fifteen minutes as flown by. The first two people are a little wobbly, and giggling into the mic as they sing their choice in song. One goes for Journey which gets most of the room to sing along too. It hits a lull after about the fourth person. The DJ calls for people who didn’t sign up to just jump in.

There’s a thick silence and across the room, Calum catches a shriek. “We have one!”

He turns to the shrill and sees a pocket of girls at a booth. Three of them are tugging at a fourth that remains seated, shaking her head. However, her unwillingness is no match to her friends and they end up dragging her to the stage. Calum watches as she speaks for a moment to the DJ.

Her friends cheer front and center. Their claps somehow echo throughout the entire building. Under the light, Calum can see more of her features, high cheekbones, brown skin dazzling and peaking out from the fishnets covering her long legs. She chuckles nervously into the mic just as the music cuts in. The low sound, the husky voice makes Calum gasps.

He hadn’t seen her ages since they ended their fling. And she looked different--her cheeks were fuller. The weight gain made her look healthier than ever. She looked fucking good in the green plaid mini shirt and white high neck sleeves top. Her thighs shake just a little as she taps the beat out with her heel and soon, she belts out the opening note to Show Me Love vocalizing before the lyrics are pushed out from her chest.

What hadn’t changed as how at ease she seemed to be on the stage. Though she always protested it. The second someone put a mic in her hand and a spotlight on her, she turned into a whole new person. “I really need a lover, a lover that wants to be there,” she belts out and smiles before stepping down the stairs.

Through the crowd, she dances, singing along to the electronic beat holding steady. “You got to show me love,” her voice dips to match the note change and she points out to someone in the crowd, singing to them for a moment before twirling her way down the room. The crowd eats up, cheering along as she sings and taking moments to dance along with her.

“Words are so easy to say a lie, you got to show me love. I’m tired of getting caught up in the one night affairs,” she sings and gaze lands on Calum. Her eyes go wide. They hadn’t really run in the same circles for a while after Calum ended things.

And admittedly, he ended them for legitimate reasons. She was leaving for school abroad and said they could try to just be friends. But that wasn’t something he was looking for and rather than string her along knowing he’d ultimately be breaking her heart, he was honest. And she understood that. She thanked him for it.

It was harder than he thought it would be--watching her leave. He wanted to text her, reach out and see how things were going, if she had settled in nicely. And the urges lasted longer than Calum had never admitted to anyone, but they did eventually dissipate; it took him unfollowing her social media.

And come to think of it, he still noticed when she liked something of his--as few and far between as his postings were and he wasn’t even that active on his private account but whenever he was, she always wound up liking it. Every notification made his heart flutter just a little.

She moves on, still not missing a beat to the song, though she does brush a hand over Calum’s shoulder as she passes, sending a wink his way before she carries herself to the bar. Her heeled boots wind up clicking up and down the length of the bar counter. She dances with a few more people, women and men, smiling as she twirls about.

Returning back to the stage, the last note falling off from the speaker, she thanks the crowd and DJ and quickly steps back down the steps. The crowd gives her a standing ovation and she waves before returning back to her booth. Calum’s thankful he’s on the end and excuses himself for a second. No one seems bothered by his exit--Ashton’s the only one that could possibly recognize her and it’s not shock he doesn’t.

Calum walks over to the table and even though she’s smushed into the corner, on the side of the group, he knows he can’t leave this bar tonight with talking to her. He smiles as he approaches the table. “Evening, ladies.” Everyone is at lost for words but at least smile and nod at his approach. “I-I just wanted to say that that was a great performance. You’re extremely talented.”

“Thanks,” she returns, leaning out. “Would you believe it if I said I don’t do that sort of thing often.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he laughs softy. He goes to ask her to talk, or if she needs a refill but the air’s tense, a little awkward. “But honestly, you were amazing.” He nods again at her and throws up a quick wave before continuing on like he’s headed to the bathrooms. That is not how he wanted that to go. But how does he act like the last they haven’t lost contact for nearly four years. Calum splashes some water onto his face, staring up into the mirror.

She remembered him, clearly. Maybe it was that defense mechanism, the part of him that was trying to tell him that it was too much time passed. She possibly had moved on from all of that. Yeah, she probably had moved on, Calum thinks to himself. If she had, there would be no use in trying to make a move, he’d get rejected anyway.

He grabs some paper towel and dries his face and hands before pushing open the door to the bathroom. He doesn’t get more than a four steps from the door before a voice calls out his name, “Calum. Hey, wait.” A hand grabs to his elbow.

He spins to find her, smiling a bit lopsided and lips still glossy as they always were all those years ago, with also a bit of a darker lip liner around the edges. “Sorry,” she rushes out, dropping her hand from his elbow. “I just-I just wanted to say thanks. For the compliment. And, uh, if you weren’t busy, if you wanted to catch up sometime. Over a drink, coffee, lunch, whatever.”

“I would love that,” he exhales in a rush.

“Cool. Here’s my number--I had to change it become of my ex, but that’s not what I want to focus on.” She hands out a napkin with numbers scribbled onto it. “Just text me and we can arrange a date and time.”

Calum takes it with a nod, reaching for his phone from inside his pants pocket. “I’ll text you so you have my number too.” He taps her number in before typing a quick message and pressing send.

“To be honest, I didn’t think you’d recognize me or like want to talk or anything.”

“What-what do you mean by that?”

“I mean, there might just be a pound or two more on me than the last time you saw me. And when I left, we kind of just ended things and I-I don’t know. We hadn’t spoken in a while. I just moved back into town about six months ago. Seeing you just made me feel like I did when I was 19.”

Calum can’t lie and say he never suspected that she had feelings for him. At that time, he wasn’t looking for anything. “Well, first, you still look fucking gorgeous so I wouldn’t worry at all about that. Things are different now. I’m looking for different things now.” She nods, casting a look to the floor. “It’s like the song said,” Calum continues, “I’m tired of giving my love and getting no where.”

“You probably think I’m crazy or something, all these years. But there’s always been something about you, Calum. Something I couldn’t shake.”

“Nah, it can’t be me. Do you know how many times when you first left I almost messaged you? And I know I kinda put a cork in things then. But if you think there’s something about me, allow me to introduce you to yourself.”

She laughs, playfully slapping at his bicep. “Oh god. Quit while you’re behind.”

Calum laughs in return, watching the way she shakes her head. “What are you doing tomorrow, around 1?”

“Um, nothing. Tomorrow’s my day off. Why?”

“Let’s get lunch. Anywhere you want to go.”

“There’s a new sushi place. Just up the block from here.” She rattles off the name and Calum nods. He went there last week to try it out. “There if you’re okay with it?”

“More than okay,” Calum agrees. “But uh, I don’t want to take you away from your friends too long. So I’ll see you there tomorrow, at 1.”

“Okay, yeah, yeah. Tomorrow at one.” She steps into him, almost as she’s going to bypass him but stops just before doing so fully. Her hand comes up to his cheek and she presses a kiss before finally stepping away. Calum exhales, lungs nearly collapsing in his chest. He forgot that about her--how she was open and actionable, always willing to make the first step even if blew up in her face.

He watches her, finally composed enough to turn around as she slips back into the booth with her friends. He hears her laughter above the sounds of Led Zeppelin, another person singing for the crowd.

#calum hood #calum hood blurb #calum hood imaigne #calum hood fluff #calum hood angst #calum hood x oc #calum hood 5sos #calum 5sos #5sos #5 seconds of summer #calum hood fanfic #5sos imagine #5sos blurb #h writes

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dontasktheradiodemon · 3 years

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Star of the Cabaret

Alastor a.k.a. Leal a.a.k.a. Astre @usedhearts invites Alastor a.k.a. Astor to see him at a cabaret show. Astor doesn't know when he arrives that it's going to be Leal in disguise. It's a pleasant surprise.

Naturally the best way to react to this is to run to Leal's dressing room, carrying a bouquet, hollering about how madly in love he is with this singer. For the lulz.

(They stubbornly refuse to think or talk about any of the tense topics they’ve been discussing lately.)

Leal

🩸 Tonight. The Cabaret. Ten PM, on the dot. Ask for Madame.

Astor

🎶 I'll be there.

Leal

🩸 See you then. :)

Astor

Really? See him then? And here he'd thought his alternate wouldn't be available to meet him at the start of the show? Maybe his alternate was joining him later.

Either way, he was there at ten on the dot, asking for Madame at the door. Leal hadn't told Astor he needed to be subtle, so he'd come as himself. If the other guests ran, well, that would be on Leal for not not explaining, wouldn't it.

Leal

Contrary to most of Hell, when Astor stepped into Madame's Cabaret, he was greet not with screams, but with _smiles._ Albeit, they were still nervous smiles, but smiles all the same! The hostess didn't run either, but a bitch still powerwalked to get Madame.

The giant woman sauntered through to the entrance, positively beaming, though there was a hint of confusion in her eyes.

"Alastor? I thought--" She paused, taking a second glance. "Oh! Pardon me, you're not the local, are you? Forgive me, shouldn't assume like that! Welcome, welcome, come on in. I'm guessin' that my good friend invited you to use his booth, yeah, shug?"

Astor

Oh, what was he walking into? He didn't like that confused look; it gave him the uncomfortable feeling that he was walking into a trap. What did Madame know that he didn't?

All the same, he beamed widely. "He certainly did! I've been meaning see your place since New Year's, anyway—and he recommended I see tonight's show in particular. So, why not!" He wasn't planning to sleep tonight anyway, and a show would be a fine distraction.

Leal

Madame chuckled and nodded. "I'm sure he did, he knows the talent well-- he made sure you came on the night one of our headliners goes on! She's a peach, voice like an angel, I'm sure you'll be impressed."

She winked at him and turned to guide him into the Cabaret proper. The time between shows was a loud one, people talking amongst themselves. The house was packed, every seat filled-- save for the large lounge seat clearly meant for Madame herself, and a booth directly to said seat's left. That booth was mostly boxed off from the rest of the audience, but gave a very, very good view of the stage-- someone who sat there would have the best view of everything.

"Here ya are, darlin'. I'll send a girl 'round to getcha order, if'n ya want a drink or some food. We got fresh seafood, all Nawlins fair you could think of-- Al helped with some of the recipes, tastin' and makin' sure they got the right flair, I'm sure it'd be up ya alley."

Astor

"That's what he said! Something about magic tricks, too? I'm eager to see anyone who comes so highly recommended."

Of course, a private booth that would save most of the audience from having to look at the Radio Demon. As he took his seat, he let out a low whistle at the promise of fresh seafood. "I *must* find out who your supplier is."

Leal

"Oh, that, well--" She leaned down, covering the side of her mouth with her hand to whisper. "It's the same supplier that our local Al got. He hooked me up."

Madame winked again. "Now, I'll just be in the seat right here should ya need me for anythin'. The act'll be on in abouuuut--" She pulled a pocket watch from her favorite pocket-- her tits-- and popped it open to look. "Fifteen minutes!"

Madame retreated to her seat, and sure enough, a moment later a waitress approached with a menu. Either she was comfortable with Leal already, or she was an incredible actress, because she seemed completely unafraid!

Astor

"*Ah.* So it's a new menu, I take it." A gracious nod. "I'll let you know if I need anything at all!"

It was a nice change of pace to have the employees *not* run from him in terror. He only glanced at the menu before ordering, "A soda and bitters, and... whatever you recommend for dinner, darling." No doubt this place already knew Leal's tastes, and Leal's tastes were close enough to Astor's.

Leal

The waitress took down the order and the menu before leaving-- and it only took her a few minutes to return, with his drink and a plate of crab eitouffee. She set them before him and left again.

It was right around that time that the lights dimmed and the crowd hushed. The show was about to begin.

A soft light shone down from above, illuminating a lone figure, sitting on a swing high in the air. A woman with long legs clad in fishnets dressed in a tight corset bejeweled with diamonds, swung gently. Her long red hair caught the light as the swing lowered.

"_The French are glad to die for love_," She began. "_They delight in fighting duels._"

The silence between her words was palpable, the entire audience transfixed. The air sparkled with what seemed, at first glance, to be glittery confetti-- but it must've been magic, as the confetti never reached the ground.

"_I prefer a man who leaves, and gives expensive...._"

The audience caught on the trailing sentence as she leaned back sticking out a leg and her gloved arm and whispered the last word.

"_Jewels._"

The swing began to spin, and the band picked up as the number truly began, to cheers from the crowd.

Astor

Astor ate quickly, wanting to get a bit of food in him before he had to stop to pay attention to the show—and a good thing he did, since it started so soon.

He recognized it from the first line—"Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend," a cabaret staple. Although with flashier special effects than in *Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.* Leal hadn't been kidding about her magic—Astor could choose to see through the confetti, like choosing to seeing through a reflection on a window by focusing on the background beyond it, but only because he himself had so much experience with magic. It was the sort of illusion he'd be able to pull off himself easily, if he wanted. Surely Leal could too; Astor wondered if his alternate had helped this performer with any of her tricks, maybe that was why he was so keen on promoting her performances...

Oh, hello. Astor squinted. It took until the performer lowered most of the way before he noticed it, but he could see through the surface of *her,* too. She herself was in a magical disguise. Who was really under there—

—*Ha!*

Leal

The swing swung out over the crowd again, and Leal-- or rather, Astre as she was called in this guise- fluidly dismounted onto the stage when it swung back. Voice ringing out, she sauntered across it, eyes locking onto the booth-- and Astor sitting in it. Good, he was here.

For a split second, the glamour dropped-- and Leal winked at his double-- before it was back up, the performance continuing without pause. Astre shimmied and danced and sang, and the crowd ate it up. No touching though-- unlike the number in Moulin Rouge her ensemble was stolen from. Astre stayed on the stage the whole time.

She planted her feet and stretched out her arms as she belted the last note, the crowd erupting in applause and wolf whistles. Flowers were heaped upon the stage, and Astre snatched a bouquet out of the air, holding it to her chest. She waved and retreated backstage.

And a note appeared on Astor's table, a card folded in half to stand with a lipstick kiss on the outside. Inside, Astor would recognize Leal's chicken scratch saying to meet him backstage-- He'd know the dressing room just by looks.

Astor

Astor's grin was widening even before the glamour dropped—oh, he's got you figured out—and he winked back as Leal passed. No *wonder* Leal hadn't been able to meet Astor at the table.

When the number was over, he applauded until his alternate was off the stage, and then devoured the rest of his étouffée as fast as possible. He wanted to catch his alternate backstage while he was still in costume—ah, and there was his invitation, perfect.

He magically collected a full bouquet worthy of flowers off the stage as he swept out of his seat and headed backstage.

Now, he could have quietly and discreetly gone to his alternate.

That was not what he decided to do.

"*Where* is that WONDERFUL singer?!" Everybody backstage would be able to hear him. Everyone. "That *absolutely* INCOMPARABLE star, the BEAUTY who has STOLEN this HELPLESS BEAST'S heart—!" He's hamming it up for all he's worth. Somewhere along the line he summoned up a teddy bear and a heart-shaped box to go with his bouquet.

Leal

Oh, and heard he was-- other performers stuck their heads out and then quickly back in upon seeing the Radio Demon espousing love of all things. Leal heard him too, his smile widening as he stood, cracking open the door of his dressing room.

"Oh, is it me you're talking about?" He cooed, his current voice matching the one he'd sung with. "Why, you certainly know how to flatter a lady."

He opened the door wider, making sure his glamour was still on, to let Astor in. "Come along now, this lady would like a little privacy~"

Astor

"Oh, there you are!" He shuffled around his many gifts so he could lay a hand on his chest as he leaned against the wall, feigning weak knees. "Apple of my eye, songbird of my heart! I would have given you a standing ovation, but had I stood I would have swooned—!"

Okay, he wasn't going to be able to keep this up without laughing, better get behind closed doors. "You *honor* me by accepting my company." He took Leal's hand, kissed it gallantly, and swept into the room.

Leal

It's a good thing he did, because Leal had been about ready to shut the door in his face. Once it was shut, the glamour dropped to show-- that surprisingly, pretty much only his face and skin tone were the things he changed. The rest seemed to be just...flash and a corset.

And a wig, which he removed, his ears popping up from where they'd laid flat. He stuck it on a wighead and smirked.

"So, what did you think of the show?" He asked, taking a seat to start removing his make up.

Astor

"Oh, quite impressive, indeed!" He offered the bouquet. And the teddy bear. And the heart-shaped box. The box has charcuterie rolled into rose shapes in each little wrapper that would usually hold a chocolate. "Fine work with the magical effects. Flashy without being gaudy."

Leal

Leal took each gift and set them on his vanity, opening the box to take one of the charcuterie roses and eat it.

"Thank you, thank you. You understand now why I was being so cagey about joining you, right?" He chuckled. "I had to keep up the suspense! The drama! I had to have my big reveal!"

Astor

"You could have said you were helping out backstage, at least! I was beginning to think you just didn't want to see me!" He said this in an exaggeratedly woe-is-me tone that suggested he had, in fact, not been thinking this at all—but to be fair, what he *had* been thinking wasn't much more optimistic.

"Well, that's certainly one way to get on the stage without everyone running in terror!"

Leal

Oh, that was a thought, wasn't it? "I suppose I could have! That didn't cross my mind, I think I was too caught up in the euphoria of a good surprise!" He chuckled.

"Oh yes, I started doing it oh....fifty years ago? Madame's the only one here that knows." He pointed at the door. "That stays locked at all times _and_ magically warded, and I leave through portals once I'm done. It's all very hush hush. I've put a shade glamoured to look like me in my booth a number of times to make sure people don't think it suspicious that I'm never here to see one of the top billed stars."

He turned from the mirror to grin at Astor. "So you're just helping my cover, honestly."

Astor

"I was *wondering* how you handled never attending your own shows! Here I'd imagined you were going to pretend to have a feud with yourself."

Leal

"Ha! That _was_ an option I considered! But I figured, easier to put a shade there and have it watch while I performed." A shrug.

"I do all kinds of things, too. Song and dance, yes, but I mix it up. Our era, modern stuff, Broadway. I picked that number tonight just for you, you know! Had to pull out one of my best for myself!"

Astor

"I'm touched! And quite well done with it!"

Might as well get comfortable. He stole a chair. "My goodness, if you're one of the star acts—you're more or less a regular employee, aren't you? How much time *do* you spend here?"

Leal

"A fair amount-- less now than in the past, which is why it took so long for me to be able to put on a performance you could see." He took a breath and kicked up his legs-- still clad in fishnets and heels still on.

"I don't perform often, _that's_ one of the main draws of my acts. I'm aloof, a rare occurrance. It makes it all the bigger spectacle when I _do_ show up. Madame and I have a Deal: I get to perform whenever my little heart desires, and I get her things with my connections upstairs. Like fresh seafood."

Astor

"Oh, a Deal! So she'd fire you if only she could, but she can't lose the only shrimp dealer in Pentagram City, is that what you're saying?" He laughed. "I received quite the treat, then!"

Leal

"The Deal was really to get my hoof in the door, once I showed I could bring in the money, Madame was more than happy to let me do whatever I wanted." He snorted.

"But yes, I _am_ the only shrimp dealer." Leal winked.

Astor

"That's one way to get past the dreaded first interview, isn't it! And here I've been wearing disguises to rehearsals!" He laughed.

Leal

"It sure is! An exchange of favors can work wonders." Leal chuckled.

"Now that you know though, it goes without saying to keep it under your hat." He winked as he put a finger over his smiling lips.

Astor

He summoned up a shadow hat and plopped it on his head, where it promptly disappeared again. "Am I *really* the only person you've told besides Madame?"

Leal

"Valera knows." He shrugged as if that would be obvious. "I told her a bit ago and then she came to watch the other day, while I was doing other numbers to warm up for the big ones-- for you and Alexa. Yours was Sparkling Diamonds. Alexa's is going to be Applause."

His smile widened. "So, after that, it's just going to be the three of you, plus Madame. I'm going to surprise Alexa like I did you."

Astor

"I won't say a word," he vowed. "Not that it's likely to come up, but."

Leal

"Exactly! That's the beauty of it, though-- no one expects the Radio Demon to be crossdressing at a cabaret!" He cackled.

"It would never even cross anyone's minds! Which makes it the perfect avenue for performing!"

Astor

"You know, when I do drag, most of the time I don't disguise myself—I don't even wear a wig! And do you know what the most common comment I get is?" He winked. "'Has anyone ever told you you look a little like the Radio Demon?'"

Leal

"It's amazing, isn't it? How changing just a few things about us makes everyone suddenly seem to forget what we look like!" He flattened his ears again, taking the wig and putting it back on. He adjusted it and the picked up a pair of large sunglasses from the table, sliding them on.

"I go out like this and people don't even think it's me. They think I'm Astre! Of course, I _have_ spent a lot of time making sure that's what they think-- but the point still stands! I don't even have to use the glamour other than to just--" A ripple and his skin color changed-- back to something that looked more like his tone when he was alive.

"Just for consistency's sake."

Astor

"Can't have the big stage star looking half dead, after all." He huffed. "I met someone who thought I could do a spectacular impression of the Radio Demon in drag, can you imagine? Sometimes I'm half tempted to try it out, just to see how many people still can't imagine the actual Radio Demon would openly crossdress.

Leal

"They seem to think we live and die in pants." He snorted, letting the glamour drop, and taking the wig and glasses off. "This isn't even a skirt! It just shows more leg than pants does!"

He gestured to himself, still in the stage outfit. "And yet they don't understand who they're oogling!" Leal couldn't help but laugh again.

Astor

"I don't know what *you* were doing on Christmas Eve, but *I* died in pants!" He laughed. "That's the benefit of our usual look, isn't it? It's all a blur of red. Nobody looks at anything but the smile. Simple wear a different color and suddenly you're unrecognizable."

Leal

"Honestly, I've been on stage in our brand of red before and still! Not a soul thought a thing of it! And that was in my early days, too!" He laughed and shook his head.

"It's like if it's anything but a red suit specifically, people don't even see us. I swear, I could go out in a carbon copy of our suit, but in say, green, and people wouldn't recognize me!" He paused. "Okay, maybe they would, but the point stands!"

Astor

"Well, *now* I want to experiment! Throw some gold in there and you've got a Mardi Gras look! See how much we can push the envelope before someone works it out."

Leal

"Now, that WOULD be interesting wouldn't it?" He stroked his chin. "What if we changed our hair to go along with it? Just matched the color? That'd be funny and also might help."

Astor

"Fine, but I'm calling dibs on gold! You can go with green or purple." He patted his waves daintily. "What do you think, would I look nice as a blond?"

Leal

"I think Mimzy would try to kill you for stealing her look!" He laughed. "Alright I'll go with purple-- I like that better than green."

Astor

"She can dye her hair red for the day, it's only fair. Red hair's always hot. And it's not like I'm using it!"

Leal

"It certainly is!" Leal gestured to his wig, now back on its wighead. "I'm sure it'll only take a few minutes to whip up a colorswap glamour, wouldn't you say?"

Astor

"At the most! The longest part would be picking the exact shade!"

Leal

"Oh yes, absolutely, there are so many! How to choose..." He tapped his chin in thought.

Astor

"Any time I change something's color, I always have to slap it on first and then adjust it by eye. Unless I'm matching a photo." A wry smirk. "A while ago Angel sent me a picture of one of his blonde wigs to copy, but the photo must have been taken in cool lighting, because it looked like a sort of lavender gray—so that's what I walked around in all day. I didn't even realize I hadn't really matched it until he pointed it out."

Leal

"Oh, the one you wore for the audition! I remember, I did like the way it looked." He moved in front of his full length mirror-- and in a blink was in his normal clothes. And with default Alastor hair-- that was part of the glamour.

"I think I'll try it your way, let's start with primary solid purple." Annnd there he was, but now purple.

Astor

"Try making a few strands lighter and darker. That always helps save me from looking like I escaped from a poorly colorized picture show." Leal probably already knew to do that, but was that going to stop Astor from shouting out his hard-learned tips and tricks? No, it was not.

Leal

"Hm, good idea!" He started to card his fingers through his hair, strands changing at random. Then he swapped the normally black parts at the base of his ears and the end of his hair to a dark purple instead. His other colors shifted, too, some becoming lighter or darker, until it was a more natural look.

"How's this?"

Astor

"Quite convincing! Why, if I didn't know better, I'd think you're a natural violet!"

Leal

Leal chuckled, moving to sit back in his chair.

"Alright, hot shot, your turn then! Show me those metallics!"

Astor

"Let's see here! What about..." He flicks his finger against his hair. *Ting.* It instantly looks and shines like it's been sculpted out of solid gold. "What do you think, is it going to convince anyone?"

Leal

"Think maybe that sheen is a bit too on the nose! Tone it down a tad." He hummed, static filling the air briefly as he did.

"I just realized, you're probably going to look like one of those living statue fellows! Or some Las Vegas performer!"

Astor

Alastor laughed. "What, like this?" He snapped his fingers and now all of him looked like he was solid gold.

A laugh, and he snapped his fingers again and was back to normal. This time his hair actually looked like hair. Unusually shiny hair, but still hair. He examined himself in the mirror. "Well, it needs work, but we're in the ballpark.

Leal

Leal snorted into a laugh, nodding his head. "Yes, just like that!"

He considered Astor, tilting his head. "The blond is harder to work with because if it doesn't look natural, it just looks overly processed or completely fake. Whereas my purple seems fine with less because purple is inherently an unnatural color."

Astor

"But if it looks natural, then it doesn't look like gold." He tried to shift it more toward what he thought a "normal" blond looked like—and it just looked kind of bad and yellow. He tutted. "I might have to browse a wig shop for examples, this is going to be a difficult color."

Leal

"Oh no need for a shop, come over here." Leal stood moving to a door that was very much not the one that lead back out to the hall. He opened it and snapped, the light turning on.

"I don't just wear red wigs, darling." He smirked.

The room was almost as big as the dressing room itself, filled with all manner of costumes and wigs and accessories.

"Have a look, blondes are over there." He gestured to a bunch of blonde wigs on heads.

Astor

"Does Madame really let you take up this much space, or is this *your* property?" He tried to feel as he stepped through the for for any shift in the atmosphere that would indicate he was magically moving to a different place.

"This is quite a collection!" He started going through the blonde wigs for any that could be properly called gold-colored. "I've always done my hair with a liberal application of pomade and shapeshifting. What got you into wigs?"

Leal

"The dressing room is mine, but any extra space is just a little spacial distortion, nothing fancy." He shrugged, like it was a normal thing. But to his alt, it probably was.

"Doing my performances actually. I started out using my real hair, but it ended up not being practical when I wanted certain dos and it was just too short. So I started collecting. I've got a wide variety now, one for every occasion in an engenue's life." He laughed.

Astor

Seemed normal enough to him!

"What young lady's wardrobe is complete without a variety of hats!" He picked up one head to squint closer at the color. "I rarely venture outside the flapper bob. When I do, I usually just magic that up too—but I suppose you don't want to risk something distracting you and breaking the illusion mid-show, do you!"

Leal

"Exactly! The less things left up to my concentration the better!" He laughed.

"Any striking you so far?"

Astor

"What do you think, does this look gold to you? Properly Mardi Gras gold-gold?" He held it out.

Leal

Leal inspected the wig, light shifting to be a more neutral white instead of the yellow of most of the usual bulbs. His head tilted, eyes narrowed.

"I think if you take that and the up the saturation a tick or two, you'd have it."

Astor

He silently mouthed the words *up the saturation...* After a moment of thought, he ran his claw tips through the wig and made the yellow a little more vivid. "Like so?"

Leal

Oh, had that been confusing for his alt? Hm, he'd note that. "Yes, just like that!"

Astor

He wasn't exactly a visual artist. "Hm." A squint, did that look gold? He didn't exactly have a gold brick here to compare it with, did he? "Let's try it out!" Back into the main dressing room, so he could hold up the wig to act as comparison in the mirror while he adjusted his own hair color.

"There! I wouldn't call it *my* color, but I'm sure I'd be wearing a mask with it anyway, wouldn't I? Of course, by next February, I'll have to do this all over again." A wave, and both the wig and his hair returned to their usual colors. "Did I ever ask you how your Mardi Gras went? I don't know if I did. It's such a busy season, and then right after that rehearsals started."

Leal

"I don't recall if you did or not either! It was a fine time, I collected a lot of beads on my antlers." He chuckled, the purple fading from his clothes and self-- and then a blink and they swapped back to the outfit he'd been wearing, his costume from the show. Sometimes, one just wanted to be covered in diamonds, it seemed.

"I got absolutely sloshed, three sheets to the wind and then some! It was a good time-- I don't remember half the night!"

Astor

"Oh yes, I remember seeing you say that! You'd mentioned the beads." He returned the wig where it belonged. "I suppose you don't do the courir? You've never mentioned any Cajun family."

Leal

"Oh no, no Cajun. Always liked seeing them running around though." He chuckled.

"No, my father's side was more..." He sneered briefly. "They were Northerners. Carpet-baggers. Did I tell you that before?"

Astor

Oh, so he'd seen the courir! Astor's eyes brightened a bit. Outside of Louisiana—and sometimes even inside, depending on who you were talking to—nobody had ever so much as heard of the courir. The fact that Leal at least knew what it looked like was something.

"No, I don't think so. From the way you talked about them, I figured they were some old plantation family."

Leal

"Oh, no, I think I would've died sooner if that had been the case." He seemed much more serious about that comment than the phrasing would imply.

"No, my Father came down from up north, New York, wife already in tow. Wanted to make a fortune down south and did so." His smile turned sadistic. "His wife _loathed_ it, the heat and humidity, the bugs, the bayous, everything. The little time I spent with that woman there wasn't a moment of it she didn't complain. And that was after nearly thirty years of living there!"

Astor

Astor certainly didn't take it as a joke. "Mm, fair. I'd prefer the carpetbagger to the plantation owner myself."

He laughed dryly. "Doesn't she sound like a peach. Just think! You very nearly could have had *her* for a mother!"

Leal

Leal shuddered. "I'm certainly glad I didn't! Not with how her own children acted-- only my youngest half-sister was tolerable, and even then, I hardly would say I _liked_ her! Could you IMAGINE if I'd had grown up with the New York Carpet-bagging Catholics?"

He shuddered again and laughed. "Then _I'd_ be the white alternate!"

Astor

"I still don't know how that happens," he muttered. The multiverse was always baffling but sometimes it found particularly uncomfortable ways to be so. "You know, I'm sure I knew at least a few Catholics whose families moved from New York after the war—in fact probably more than I think, I just don't know it—and they seemed... well, less insufferable than *your* people. So, decent enough. But I wonder if I ever crossed paths with yours."

Leal

"It's possible! If you ever came across a carpet-bagger with an insufferable wife, a douchebag of a son, and two daughters, only one of which was tolerable, then maybe!" He snorted.

"I _do_ wonder if you killed my cousin like I did, though."

Astor

A sigh. "Unfortunately for this little thought exercise, whenever I come across people as insufferable as you make them sound, I try not to stick around long enough to find out details like how many children they have, much less which state they lived in a few decades earlier." Unless they were the fun kind of insufferable, but from Leal's testimony they didn't sound that way.

"That depends! Did he like deer hunting?"

Leal

"Don't know! Never had so much as a conversation with him before I killed him. He tasted alright, though." A shrug.

Astor

"That's no help, I don't know how any of my victims tasted. Well! If he didn't, I didn't; and if he did, I might have. I had a very narrow niche of targets."

Leal

"I suppose we'll never know!" Cue an melodramatic sigh and pose.

Astor

"Well, if you ever run into him, tie him up and call me over and I'll let you know if he looks familiar." His grin stretched wider.

Leal

"I'll be sure to!" His own matched his alternate's.

Astor

He cocked his head, listening for sound outside the dressing room. "Say, aren't there usually more acts on after yours? I was told they go into the wee hours." He tilted his head toward the door. "Do you usually have plans after your performance? Or would you like to stir up a little controversy by having the star performer spend the evening in the Radio Demon's private booth?"

Leal

His grin turned devious. "Oh, I'd _love_ to. The tabloids are going to go _wild._ Give me two shakes to get into something more appropriate-- and I do have another performance later, but it's the last show of the night, so no worries there."

Astor

With mock surprise, "Why, my dear other! I was told that's when they put the raunchiest acts! What sort of a performance am I in for?"

Leal

"Oh don't look at me like that, I don't go nude! Just some more....scandalous dance moves." He chuckled.

"I do this every time I perform, because if there's another showing of Astre at the end of the night, more people stay through the rest-- which means more money for Madame with all the drinks and food they have to order to stay put." He winked as he headed to his closet. A minute inside and he reappeared, this time in a sparkling red evening gown. He got his wig and put it back on, letting the glamour drop in place on his face.

"I figured I'd wear your color, darling," He cooed in Astre's voice.

Astor

"Why, my darling, you look simply *ravishing* in red!" He offered an elbow and a wink. "In fact, you look *just* as good in red as I do."

Leal

Astre laughed, taking his arm with a curled, clawed hand. "I think so too." She winked back. "Shall we?"

Astor

"Let's!" He opened the door with a gesture, and out they go. "I recommend the étouffée tonight, my sweet. It's simply divine!"

Leal

"I'll have to give it a try!" And with that, they exited back out into Madame's, alighting rumors everywhere.

#((due to random luck one Alastor's nickname is Astor and the other Alastor's drag name is Astre))#(('the Alastors take on nicknames to make them easier to tell apart—' so much for THAT))#usedhearts #chat log

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wanderbard · 4 years

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How do you cheer up a sick bard?

Kiwi had written a letter stating they would be visiting the following week. Well, the week came and passed and there was no sign of them. Miriam gave it another day before deciding they better go check on the bard. She worried too much about them, which she would never admit to Kiwi in person. They were probably fine anyway. Atleast, that was what she kept telling herself as she flew on her broom to Langtree.

Soon enough she was at their door. At first, Miriam was just going to storm in. Give them a piece of her mind for making her wait a whole week! There was nothing more annoying than someone making plans and then flaking.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Miriam knocked on the door.

A few seconds passed. Noises from behind the door could be here. A bang of something hitting the floor, and then hurried footsteps before the door was opened, and there in the flesh was a disheveled Kiwi. Hair sticking up, and only wearing a shirt and pants.

“Miriam!” Kiwi greeted, but it came out a harsh whisper that made them cough.

“That doesn’t sound good.” Miriam spoke as she raised a hand to feel Kiwi’s forehead. “And you’re warm. No wonder you didn’t visit.” It was amazing that Kiwi’s face could express ‘!?’.

“I forgot-” Another harsh rasp from Kiwi.

“Stop trying to talk. You’ll never get better that way.” Miriam ordered, which caused Kiwi to frown.

Talking and singing were two of Kiwi’s most favorite things. Without them they didn’t feel whole.

“Have you seen Clyde?” Miriam asked as she let herself in and started to search Kiwi’s cupboards, which left the Bard confused, but they weren’t going to ask what they were doing.

Once Miriam looked back again, Kiwi gave them a nod and a thumbs up. Then gestured to their night stand where a bottle of medicine sat.

“Good.” Miriam gave up searching the cupboards. “You need to stock up better! You always try to help everyone, but you can’t even keep the necessities in your house!” Miriam scolded. “I’m going to the store.”

Kiwi grabbed a hold of the back of Miriam’s shirt so the witch had to look at them. Kiwi tilted their head and looked confused.

“Don’t give me that face!” Miriam said. “I’m just going to buy things you need. Some tea and stuff to make soup.” Miriam then turned her head away. “You need to let people help you sometimes. It’s what friends do for each other. I know you’d do the same for me.”

Kiwi beamed and let go of her shirt.

“Now get in bed! Don’t move until I get back!” Miriam demanded and didn’t leave until she saw the bard climb into the bed. “And no singing!” She walked out the door and shut it behind her.

-----

An hour and a half passed before Miriam let herself back into the house. Everything was quiet inside. Kiwi was asleep and softly snoring, but every sound they made while asleep was nothing more than a whisper. Miriam felt bad for the other. They had been through so much, and here they were done in by a cold.

As quietly as she could, Miriam started to make the soup. It was one of grandma Saphy’s recipes, and was filled with enough healing herbs that Kiwi should be better in no time! Unluckily, Miriam dropped a spoon on the floor. Then, rustling could be heard from the bed.

“Miri-” Kiwi tried, but only started to cough.

“What did I say about talking?” Miriam picked the spoon up and set it in the sink. “Don’t you have paper or something you could write on?”

Kiwi’s mouth formed an O as this thought didn’t even cross their mind. Scrambling, they got together some paper and crayons. They sat on the bed and started to scribble something. Once done, they turned the paper towards Miriam. It read “Thank you! You’re the best!” in handwriting that was far from perfect.

“I’m just doing the bare minimum.” Miriam spoke as she stirred the pot of soup. “I need you better. It’s too quiet without your singing.”

Again, Kiwi was scribbling on another paper. They turned it around. “I miss singing.” It read. Miriam looked up to Kiwi’s face and it pulled at her heartstrings. The bard’s smile was gone and replaced by the saddest frown. Their true emotions raw and unhidden.

Miriam turned back around and stirred the soup again. Okay, she needed Kiwi smiling again. What could she do? She ‘hmmm’ed to herself. Then an idea. It was crazy. Something way out of her comfort zone, but she needed to do something!

Miriam started to hum. The humming got louder as she started to gather her nerves. She opened her mouth and started to sing. Slowly, she got louder and louder. Soon the small home was filled with her voice. The song was one Kiwi would often sing, so she easily remembered the words. The melody is light and fun. Something to pick up the mood, or at least she hoped it would.

Miriam finished the song, but didn’t have the nerve to face Kiwi. Then, a soft clapping could be heard. Miriam turned around to a smiling bard giving her a standing ovation.

Miriam blushed. “It wasn’t that great.”

Kiwi picked up their paper and a crayon. “It WAS great, Miriam!”

They grabbed up another piece of paper and wrote on it. “I feel better already!”

---

So I don’t ramble on, I’m finishing it right there haha.

#wandersong

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lolli4587 · 4 years

Photo

Hey everyone!! Man, when was the last time I wrote a review. I hope everyone is doing okay and staying “socially distant.” We can combat this together!! So in this difficult time, I was so glad this episode happened, it got me so hyped up and made me forget the grim reality. So let's dive in!!

So about this episode, Ash wants to enter into the World’s Championship Tournament. He wants to compete so he can have his chance to battle with Leon, the current world champion. There are over 10,000 participants, and Ash needs to battle trainers with a high ranking in order to move up. With this in mind, he finds someone in the area with a high ranking, Visquez. She is currently the Vermillion gym leader and subbing for Surge while he is away.

Ash and Gou go to the Vermillion gym. On their way, Gou encounters a Spearow and wants to catch it. He and Raboot runs offscreen. Meanwhile at the Vermillion gym, we get our first look of Visquez and her Raichu against a trainer with a Hypno. She makes quick work of this trainer and notes he lacks “spirit.” She had Raichu to finish with Volt Tackle and easily won the battle. She was hoping to have a challenger that was participating in the World Tourney. Within seconds she got her wish and heard Ash and Pikachu outside!

Ash comes, introduces himself to her and wants to battle! She and the lackeys are taken back when they hear his name. This gets everyone excited. Visquez tells Ash that he is well known. She explains Lt. Surge had told them about their spectacular battle. She says she wanted to meet him and Pikachu. She was very honored to be his first opponent. Gou came back on time and was able to catch the Spearow!

The first battle takes place, Pikachu vs Raichu (classic). They both ordered a thunderbolt which was even. Visquez orders Raichu for Volt Tackle which then Ash orders Pikachu to counter it with Iron Tail and use it as a grounder. Visquez and her Raichu proved to be more formidable opponent then Ash realized and was able to overcome easily. Raichu was able to use his tail to stop Pikachu in its tracks. Ash tried several techniques to land a hit on Raichu, but couldn’t come up on top. He notices Pikachu is getting tired, and calls him back (smart).

Next Ash switches for Gengar. Ash starts off Gengar with Night Shade and Visquez has Raichu use thunderbolt. Gengar proves to be faster and easily overtakes Raichu. Visquez has her Raichu uses its tail to grip Gengar, but Gengar can easily make itself disappear. Ash has Gengar use Psychic and was able to finish Raichu off! 1 down, 1 to go.

Visquez sends her ace Pokemon, Electrode. She and Electrode had their own tricks up in their sleeve. Electrode uses Magnet Rise and uses the field to resist the ground. With the debris of the battlefield, bounces off and picks up speed. This combo overtakes Gengar and finishes off with discharge. Now Ash is down to Pikachu.

The final battle takes place on the ground and Visquez orders Electrode to use Rollout. At first Pikachu had trouble keeping up with Electrode, but Ash was able to regain control. Pikachu slowed and stopped Electrode by using Iron Tail. Pikachu got in several hits before Electrode reached it’s limit and activated its ability Aftermath. Ash orders Pikachu to use Electroweb as a shield and wins the battle.

Visquez smiles at Ash with defeat and promises to contact Lt. Surge about their battle. She thinks he would love a rematch against Ash one day. Ash gets his new rank of 3763 from 10,000, ending this episode.

Thoughts

Omg, where can I start?! This episode delivered a lot more than I ever anticipated. I went into the episode with very low expectations because I was bummed that Lt. Surge wasn’t making an appearance originally. The summary preview didn’t explain a whole lot. But I am glad I was wrong and it delivered beautifully. So let's talk about the humans first!!

Visquez

So when I heard about her, I have to admit, I was expecting to be a guy. When I first saw the preview, I was like okay, I am getting more so guy vibes. It wasn’t until I saw Rohanite twitter’s post, I read she was a woman. This was where I started to re-evaluate her. I noticed she has a plug as her hairstyle. After watching the episode, I ended up loving her. For one, she does have a killer design. I want to say her design was definitely inspired from Lt. Surge OG anime design. And she has a killer body, I can’t recall if other women in the Pokemon anime with muscles have appeared before, so huge props to Pokemon. I think the reason I love her look, she gave me instagram vibes. There are women I follow on Instagram who have beautiful athletic bodies and I wouldn’t be surprised if inspiration was taken from there.

Her personality was very likeable. She has a very tough exterior. She is very serious and aggressive when in battle, but passionate for spirit. This was pointed out when she was first introduced. Her personality slightly mimics from Lt. Surge, except she commends her opponents for their hard work. She loves to workout with her Pokemon and train with them. Both her Pokemon, Raichu and Electrode share the same vibes as her which I will mention more in detail. She does have a soft side and cares about her Pokemon a lot.

One thing I did not expect to hear from her was wanting to meet Ash in person. Lt. Surge told her about his battle with Ash. I really loved this callback and was my favorite moment in the episode. Ash was considered an inspiration to Surge, and everyone in the gym. They started to train harder and it shows through Visquez. The tactics Ash used originally against Surge did not work with her Raichu. She had some great counters and brought out unique strategies from her Pokemon. She proved to be a very formidable opponent.

Ash

Ash surprised me in the episode. For one, he remembered Lt. Surge, so continuity!!! And he actually made a huge impact on Lt. Surge that he was a mini celebrity to Visquez and her lackeys. When I was younger, I used to write fanfiction. One of my fanfics, I did have Lt. Surge as a support character while Ash was abroad in America! I would picture Surge admiring Ash out of box battling style. Ash’s influence would push Surge to be a better trainer. Never in a million years this would happen in the actual anime which gave me goosebumps. From the original episode Electric Shock Showdown, this was a beginning of Ash getting more confidence in battling and a milestone for winning his first legit badge. Surge did give Ash a standing ovation.

Anyways back to the episode, it made me smile how confident Ash was going into this battle. He seems so confident in his abilities, and he still has these creative strategies to take control of the battle. He is able to quickly analyze the current situation and think quickly on his feet. I was glad Ash battled smart in this episode. All honestly, if he didn’t switch Pikachu with Gengar, he would have lost the battle. Gengar vs Raichu was my favorite battle in the episode, and will get to the Pokemon soon.

Plus, Ash’s smile is so contagious. I just love the energy he brought into the battle.

Gou and Raboot

Gou did take a backseat in this episode. He was super adorable cheering for Ash in battle. I wouldn’t be surprised if he took pics of Ash -shot-. I loved Gou’s reactions throughout the episode. He did say at one point, “That’s insane Satoshi” with the ehhhe.. look. One thing I did notice was that Raboot stuck around with Gou. In the last episode, Gou completely ignored Scorbunny when it was learning his fire move, which made Scobunny upset. Both Gou and Raboot have different ideals and goals. After Raboot evolved, it ignored Gou. This carried over to the following episode. Raboot acts like a moody teenager, and it acts like it doesn’t care.

But during the battle, Raboot couldn’t resist, especially if it involved with Pikachu. Raboot cares so much about Pikachu and shows its support. Raboot is very interested in battling more vs Gou who at the moment not sure if he wants to stab at it. We will see in the future.

Pokemon

Raichu

Visquez’s Raichu is super adorable. I literally died how he got to shine in this episode. I loved how it had this admiration to train and battle hard. I found it super cute when it was training it’s tail with the dumbbells (my favorite part). This Raichu is no slouch either. Visquez revealed that it was trained under Surge. Apparently he did not make the same mistake with Visquez’s Raichu as he did with his own Raichu, and this showed in battle. This Raichu was able to counter Ash’s past strategies with so much ease. It did throw in some callbacks. One was utilizing it’s tail which was a callback from Pika and Goliath. The breaking of the glass when using Volt Tackle, throwback to ESS. It was nice this Raichu had the upper hand for once and it was a major threat!

Electrode

This Pokemon over here, the anime made it look cute and threatening. This was the first time I have seen Electrode to be an actual threat. With that said, it broke out of the typical mold it was stuck for 20 years. Throughout the episode, they hinted quite literally the dents on the walls. This was all due to her Electrode. I really loved the Magnet Rise and how it uses that to it’s advantage. When using magnet rise, debris was lifted as well. It used the debris as pillars and gave Gengar such a hard time. At the same time, utilizing the speed Electrode has, it was super difficult to slow it down. Electrode vs Gengar was my 2nd favorite battle for that reason.

Pikachu

Pikachu had some great moments in this episode. For once, Pikachu didn’t have the rivalry with Raichu. He was level headed in this battle, and I was happy he was able to switch off. There were many callbacks. Ash has Pikachu use Iron Tail to ground himself just like ESS. The spinning Iron Tail was from Pika and Goliath. During the Electrode battle, Pikachu went on top of Electrode and used his iron tail to stop Electrode which was very clever, and then run in reverse like a hamster. This was a throwback from Pokemon snap where Pikachu was on top of Electrode. There was a callback how Pikachu used ElectroWeb as a shield from Sun and Moon.

Gengar

Wow, Gengar was able to shine. I didn’t think I would love Gengar in this episode. It was able to shine, highlighting all it’s strengths against Raichu, and he looked like he was having so much fun. Ash was able to use Gengar intangibility to overwhelm Raichu and it’s tail. Psychic to finish it off to show such display of raw power! Kinda bummed it lost over Electrode, but I can’t wait for more battles for Gengar in the future.

Battles

Wow, the battles did not disappoint at all. I was pretty much hooked on every battle. If I had to rank, my favorite out of the bunch was Gengar vs Raichu, and the least would be Electrode vs Pikachu. Pikachu vs Raichu and Electrode vs Gengar were in the middle for me. The reason I loved Gengar vs Raichu, it was so much fun to watch, the BGM was killer, and it ended on a hilarious display of Raichu getting smushed in midair and then getting smashed into the wall.

Pikachu vs Raichu battle is always a joy to watch. I already highlighted them, but I enjoyed seeing for once Raichu giving Pikachu a hard time.

Electrode vs Gengar was such a joy to watch as well. I really loved the Magnet Rise strategy that Visquez and her Electrode displayed. She was able to utilize all of Electrode’s strengths and I thought it was pretty genius and was able to overwhelm Gengar. I wished she did the same with Pikachu

Electrode vs Pikachu would be my least favorite, but I did enjoy the battle, it was smart for Pikachu to slow down Electrode which was a feat itself. I didn’t think rolling Electrode in a different direction would mess its vibe up, but who knew. I love when Electrode tried to use it’s ability Aftermath, it tried to take Pikachu down with it. This was quickly countered with Electroweb thanks to Ash’s quick thinking.

References

There were many ref and callbacks in this episode, I mentioned a couple in the Pokemon themselves so I won’t highlight here. So here are some major ones.

Lt. Surge

I had very little expectations he was going to be mentioned or even make a cameo, thank you episode for proving me wrong. He was one my favorite gym leaders growing up and he was one the reasons why I got into Pokemon thanks to Electric Shock Showdown. Also his cute Raichu. I always believed Surge was one the reasons that he shaped Ash into who he is today. Ash and Pikachu had to dive in deeper to draw out Pikachu’s strengths, and of course help from Brock. (Plus Ash more likely wouldn't be able get a pity badge from him if he tried. So he made Ash work for it). So I was so happy he was referenced and made the highlight for me. He wasn’t in the episode but he was referenced several times. The first time referenced was from Ash, and then when Gou asked Ash if he got the thunderbadge from him. Later Visquez retells the story of Surge and their fantastic battle.

One thing for sure, his design has changed. Lt. Surge definitely is not the 8 ft, tan, and super ripped compared to his update. In a way, I wasn’t surprised that they decided to go more with his game design. He is more white and normal sized in the games. My only complaint, I wished he had a bit more subtle skin color, like he could be a similar color as Ash or a happy medium, but ehh you can’t have it all. But his redesign isn’t too bad. Pokemon has been shying away the real world references, so it was inevitable that Surge would be getting a design change. He is no longer the Lightning American, he is now referred to as Lightning Lieutenant. And his most recent appearances, he has been shown in his game design more often..

I loved that Ash was able to influence Lt. Surge. Who would've thought that Ash was able to do that at someone. He was mentioned training to master the electric type more and trained Visquez’s Raichu. It was hinted that he might come back in the near future since Visquez was going to let Surge know about the battle. **Please, please, please, make this happen** One my dreams battle literally is a rematch in this current artstyle.

The other gym leaders were all shown in silhouettes.

The badges

The breaking of the glass. Both Raichu and Electrode did this.

Also towards the end, when Electrode destroys all the windows and smoke. Pikachu protects itself from huge attack. Callback to ESS when Raichu destroys the gym and Pikachu blocks the attack.

Final thoughts

This episode has given me a lot of hope of possibly bringing back old characters from the past. I love the World Tournament that regardless of class, everyone starts in the bottom. It’s still early into the series, but if they could bring back Surge for a cameo, I would love to see the other gym leaders from other regions, and some past rivals, such as Gary or Paul. I am not going to hold my breath of pokeani keeping this promise. The subtle callbacks were so great to see. Ash and Pikachu were mini celebrities in Surge’s gym, it was almost a perfect episode for me which is rare. I didn’t think I would enjoy it so much especially the corona crisis going on that kept my mind off of it. If I would rate this episode, I would give a solid 9.75 out of 10 and my favorite of this PM series. Maybe top 5 all time favorite episodes… (wait what!!)

#pm2019 #anipoke #pokeani #raichu #pikachu #Lt. Surge #Ash Ketchum #gou

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parkerparts · 4 years

Text

i’d like to be my old self again (but i’m still trying to find it)

5 Times Peter Parker Dances for Someone Else + 1 Time He Dances for Himself (AO3 here)

O N E

They tell him dancing is in his blood. They say it in high-pitched voices with a smile and a pat on the back, like they can give him talent and technique by patting it into his body and pushing him into a studio with a dozen girls and three other boys who already know that plie means “bent.” The next day at school, Peter trips and falls, skinning his knee. The teacher and his classmates crowd around him, asking if he’s okay, but he’s too busy examining the red liquid gushing out of the scrapes to answer.

“What do you mean when you say ‘dancing is in my blood?’” Peter asks May and Ben on the way home from school. “I thought it would look like pink and glitter, but my blood’s just red. I checked.”

Through the rearview mirror, Peter watches his aunt and uncle smile. “Not literally,” Ben tells him, turning around to pat his knee. “Your mom was a dancer. She was an amazing dancer, Peter. Your mom was planning on enrolling you in classes when you reached this age, and we thought you might want to try it. Who knows? Maybe you’ll become a star like your mom one day. You might be even better.”

“What if I’m not good at dancing at all?” Peter asks, looking up into Ben’s eyes with more fear and insecurity than a child his age should be able to feel. “What if I’m not like my mom?”

“You’re only six. You’ll get there.” Ben smiles at him, full of warmth and hope, and for a moment, Peter lets himself believe that he can dance, that one day he’ll be a star. One day, he promises himself, he’ll make his mom proud.

At class later that day, his hope crumbles into pieces like sand from the playground that’s just not wet enough to be molded into something useful, something beautiful. He can’t make his legs do that move, can’t move his head and his arms in a circle at the same time, can’t keep his back straight at all. He’s so close to quitting, to going home and telling May and Ben, “I don’t think I want to do it anymore,” but they pick him up after class, and while May orders dinner, Ben shows him a video of his mom dancing the final pas de deux from Manon.

She’s beautiful.

Week after week, Peter goes back to class, and he tries to make his body move like the dancers in the video, like his mom, who used to dance with an otherworldly grace. Peter’s still not sure he has an ounce of that grace in his blood, despite the constant assurances that he’ll get there one day, but he tries anyway. He points his feet and holds his head up high. He smiles as he dances until the teacher begins to compliment him for his stage presence as well as his technique.

Peter is six years old when he performs onstage for the first time. The music ends, and the crowd politely claps, and somewhere out there, May and Ben are sitting, probably wiping away each other’s tears. Peter takes his classmates’ hands as they bow, and as they come up, Peter squints at the bright spotlight. If he stares long enough, he can pretend it’s his mom, watching him dance.

This is for you, he thinks. I can’t dance, but I’ll dance for you.

T W O

The day after Ben’s funeral is sunny, like the world is healing and mocking Peter for his inability to stop hurting.

There’s a knock on Peter’s door, and he hastily shoves the scissors scraps of fabric in his closet as he goes to open it. May, her red-rimmed eyes magnified by her glasses, stares at Peter’s face like all she wants to do is hold him close. It’s suffocating. It’s comforting. It’s painful. It’s sad. “Are you going back to dance today?”

Peter shrugs. He hasn’t gone to the studio since Ben died, but it’s been a little over a week, and people are going to expect him back, especially with their performance a month away. “I don’t know.”

“You should,” May says with a strained smile. “He’d want you to.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Peter whispers, voice hoarse from unforgotten tears. “Not without him.”

It’s true. Peter doesn’t know how he’s supposed to continue dancing without Ben, who helped Peter sew all of his costumes, who drove Peter to the studio every day, who volunteered to help tech all of the shows, who took countless photos and videos from backstage, who cried every time he saw his nephew perform, who believed in Peter, even - or especially - when Peter didn’t believe in himself.

May breathes in, sharp and full of pain, and she reaches out, folds Peter into her arms and whispers in his ear, “You can. You have to.”

As it turns out, Peter can’t. He walks into the studio and sets his bag down, only to realize that he left his ballet shoes at home, so he walks right out and blinks back tears at the thought that Ben would have come running after him with his shoes in hand seconds after he left the house.

May is waiting when he gets home, curled up on the sofa in Ben’s favorite blanket. She takes one look at his face, wind-bitten and scrunched up from his efforts not to cry, and she calls in sick to work and makes him macaroni from a box.

“Do you think he’d be disappointed in me?” Peter asks, mouth full of macaroni.

May clicks her tongue, softly chiding. “I think he’d be proud of you. I think you’ll make him proud.”

“He always believed in me. I can’t even believe in myself, but he always did.”

“I believe in you.” Peter looks up from his empty bowl and catches May wiping away her tears, the heartbreak on her face so raw, so overwhelming that he forgets how to breathe for a moment. “You just keep dancing, baby. I’ll believe in you enough for the three of us.”

Peter goes to dance the next day, and his muscles, reborn with spider DNA, still remember how to dance, even if his foggy, grief-stricken brain cannot. For the first time, Peter lets himself coast through class on autopilot, lets his body take over while his brain crumbles, and somehow, by the end of class, he’s built his brain back up again.

His soul was still shattered, shards of it scattered to the winds like ashes from an overturned urn, but that was a problem for another day.

By the time the show rolls around, Peter has collected nearly all the pieces of his soul. Some of him is lost forever, left behind in a time before the spider bite, the time before Ben’s death, but he’s somewhat whole again, whole enough to dance off autopilot, to dance with a semblance of emotion and depth. His body processes the emotions that his brain can’t.

The last piece in the show - a contemporary showcase of student-choreographed pieces - is one that Peter worked on himself, along with the senior boy who taught him how to do a la seconde turns. The dance ends with Peter falling off stage as the lights turn black. The music builds, and dancers leap across the stage in time to the flickering lights, and Peter runs, sprints to the edge of the stage, holds out his arms, and when the music suddenly fades, he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and falls backwards.

A strong pair of arms catches him before he hits the ground. The audience is still and silent, and the theater is dark, and in the few seconds after the dance ends when the world comes to a stop, Peter thinks Ben is back, here to catch him as he always promised he would.

Then the audience begins clapping, a standing ovation that ripples through the crowd, and Peter has to open his eyes and thank the tech guy who caught him, the guy that would have been Ben if Ben had still been alive. Peter boosts himself back onstage to bow, and as he turns to face the audience, he catches sight of May in the second row, clapping furiously with tears streaming down her face.

He would be so proud of you, she mouths, half-whispering the words, and Peter’s super-hearing picks up the sound.

I know, he mouths back, not caring if the director will call him unprofessional. I know he would.

He’s doing it for Ben, after all. He’s dancing for Ben and for May, for believing in him and challenging him to never stop dancing, even when the memories and legacies in it are too much to bear.

T H R E E

Peter should have known better to try to hide something from Tony Stark. If the man had been able to find out he was Spider-Man, his best kept secret of all time, then of course he’d find out about Peter’s senior recital.

“I should have known you’re a dancer,” Tony told him, draping an arm around his shoulders as they walked. “I thought those flips and that agility came from the spider DNA, but I guess you’ve got your own DNA to account for that. Mary Parker is your mother, am I correct?”

“Principal dancer of New York City Ballet at only twenty-one years old,” Peter said with a smile. Since first hearing of his mother’s career as a dancer, he’s done his research, and he’s proud of being part of her legacy. “Did you know her?”

“Not personally, but I’ve seen her perform as Titania in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I was drunk at the time, probably, or maybe high on something, but I remember parts of it vividly. She was a beautiful dancer, your mother. I think watching her when I was in my early thirties was part of the reason why I love ballets and dance now. It just manifested itself twenty years later.”

Peter wants to ask more about his mom, wants to listen to Tony talk about her forever, but the man ushers him through a door, and he’s inside a glittering studio with barres lining the walls and mirrors stretching from the floor to the ceiling. Skylights bathe the room in bright morning light, shining on a sleek sound system that Peter instantly recognizes as Stark tech.

“What’s this?” Peter asks, stepping out of his shoes to reverently slide across the marley panels in his socks. “Is this for me?”

“Technically it’s Natasha’s. I had it built for her when we built the Compound. Barnes uses it too sometimes, which shouldn’t have surprised me as much as it did the first time FRIDAY told me he was here. But yes, it’s for you too.”

“Why?” Peter turns to face Tony with a wide-eyed stare.

Behind his tinted glasses, Tony blinks slowly, fishing for words in a way that makes Peter nervous with anticipation. “I want you to feel included here. I know you don’t live here, but this is your space too, regardless of whether or not you choose to use it. Your studio is fiercely competitive, and when I last spoke with the director, private studio time was fully booked. This is yours to use if you want to practice a little extra or if you just want a space to dance in. I was also thinking you could talk to Natasha or Barnes if you really want to. They’d probably be interested in teaching you a few things about dance, both in the studio and out fighting on the streets.”

Peter’s overwhelmed by the thought Tony put into this, even though the man plays it off with an air of nonchalance. However, the subtle undertone of heavy expectations weighs him down, and he does his best not to panic in front of his mentor. “Thank you, Mr. Stark, but you really didn’t have to.”

“I know. I don’t do things because I have to. I do them because I want to,” Tony says, the corner of his mouth curled up in an affectionate smirk.

“Thanks,” Peter whispers again, feeling small and scared and stressed for no reason at all. He’s never been very good at receiving gifts, never been very good at receiving expectations. “Thank you so much.”

Tony just hums and flashes him a smile. “You’re welcome, kid. You want to stay here for a little bit? If not, I can have Happy drive you back and you can catch your afternoon rehearsals.”

“I think I’ll stay here, if that’s okay with you?”

“Sure thing. Team dinner is at five. Don’t be late.” Tony closed the door behind him as he left, and in the grandeur of a studio, his very own studio for the rest of the day, for as long as he wanted, Peter lets out a slow, shaky breath.

An hour later, after changing into tights and his warm-ups and doing a quick barre, he’s working on choreographing his senior solo. Something Old and Something New, he calls it, writing out counts in quick strokes as he marks his thoughts on the floor with his feet. There’s a video of his mother in NYCB’s studio, working on a piece set to the same music Peter chose, a piece she never got to debut because she fell in love and got married and had a child, and by the time she was able to return to dancing, she had already forgotten about the piece.

Peter, however, picks up where she left off. He’s adapted the pointe work and made it more contemporary, filled in the gaps of choreo the video doesn’t show, and now he has this piece that’s mostly his, but there’s something about it that’s also not his own, a part of his dancing that never really belonged to him anyway.

Every other weekend, Peter begins spending nights at the Compound, having Happy drive him straight over Saturday after rehearsal ends and driving back late Sunday morning to get to the city in time for Sunday afternoon rehearsals. Even though he’s exhausted, he works hard on these weekends, training and choreographing and working on his technique late at night and early in the morning. He takes up Tony’s offer and asks Natasha for help, who ropes Bucky into the deal, despite Peter being too scared to ask. Some days, they’ll help him refine his art, give corrections on his classical technique, and offer opinions about his choreography. Other days, they’ll train him, teach him to use his body and his art as a weapon.

As a result of spending more time at the Compound, Peter meets the rest of the team and gets to know them. Among the new faces is a boy Peter’s age named Harley Keener, who dropped out of high school when they wouldn’t let him graduate early and drove up to New York, calling in a favor with Tony Stark. He’s a genius, Peter discovers, but not in the naturally gifted way that he seems at first. He works hard, harder than anyone Peter had ever met before, and he loves what he does. He lets Peter talk about anything, about the latest high school gossip, about chemistry and thermodynamics, about dance. Anytime Peter is at the Compound and he’s not in the studio, he’s with Harley, either hanging out or working in the labs.

“Do you like him?” Tony asks one day as Peter warms up in the studio. Sometimes Tony asks to sit with his work in the studio while Peter dances, and sometimes Peter lets him.

“I don’t know,” Peter says in between sautes. “If I think about it too much, I get anxious, so I just stopped thinking about it at all. With him, I don’t have to think anyway. I just get to be, you know? It’s sort of like dancing. I just get to be and do what feels right.”

Tony hums knowingly, and Peter fights the urge to blush. He’s pretty sure he fails by the way Tony looks at him over the edge of his glasses. “That’s how Pepper makes me feel,” he says, and he leaves it at that, the seeds of implications left hanging unsaid in the air.

Peter swats at them as he presses play, and by the time the song ends, the seeds have mostly dispersed, but some of them have taken root in his heart, and Peter has no choice but to let them grow.

All of Peter’s extra training at the Compound has made him an excellent dancer. He’s no match for the natural talent at the studio, but his hard work has paid off, and he’s rising in the ranks, slowly but surely.

It’s also made him a better fighter out on the streets, just as Tony had said. He could dance circles around Big Man and his men, and he had defeated Kingpin single-handedly with tricks he learned from Natasha and Bucky.

One night, about a month before his senior recital, a month before he graduates high school, Peter goes out on patrol in the precious two hours between school and dance. He’s exhausted, burned-out, and he’s close to calling it quits after thirty minutes, but when Karen alerts him of Kraven the Hunter’s presence in Central Park, Flushing Meadows, Peter swings his ass there with little more than a sigh.

“Spider-Man,” the villain greets, but Peter’s not there to banter with his words. Instead, he banters with his body, dancing past charges and blows and landing a few of his own. He falters once when Kraven pulls out a blowgun, and it’s his own demise because seconds later, he feels the poisonous dart find a home in his thigh.

But Peter’s used to fighting through pain, through injuries. He once sprained his ankle during an adagio and had to dance through his subsequent variation on the ankle. It was relatively healed by the end of the coda, but he knows the feeling of pain, knows how to fight through it and do what needs to be done, knows how to do it with art.

He wishes he could say defeating Kraven was as easy as plie, but it’s more like petite allegro, seemingly quick and seemingly easy but surprisingly hard and requiring more energy and control than any sane person should have at that point in a class. It hardly matters. The fight lasts no more than half an hour, by which time Kraven is webbed up in a Queens Zoo enclosure and Peter is at last felled by the poison in his blood.

Tony finally arrives, flying in with an urgency that makes Peter laugh because it’s a little too late, but he’s grateful for the help that Karen apparently called because his vision is going fuzzy.

“You did good, kid,” Tony says, and the way it makes Peter go warm feels like an antidote in its own right.

“Did it for you,” he mumbles into Tony’s shoulder. “I danced it for you.”

Peter awakes hours later to the sound of a door opening. Tony and May walk in as he slowly becomes more aware of his surroundings. He’s in a hospital bed in the medical ward of the Compound, and there’s a warm pressure on his hand.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” Harley says, squeezing his hand lightly. “Guess you don’t need a true love’s kiss to wake you up after all.”

“It wouldn’t go amiss,” Peter snarks back, and even though it doesn’t actually earn him a kiss from the other boy, he gets a laugh, so he calls it a win in his book.

F O U R

“The whole point of college is to try new things,” Ned tells Peter, dragging him through the door of whoever’s house the party of the night is being held. The two of them are in their freshman year together at NYU, inseparable to the very end. Besides, with Peter’s whole Spider-Man thing, Ned was the logical choice for a roommate. “Yeah, we’re not really party people, but we could be, right?”

“I don’t know, Ned. I’ve got, you know, spidery things to do tonight, and I have a super important lab write-up due Monday,” Peter replies, but the point is probably moot because he’s already dressed up and there, so he might as well stay. Ned must realize that too because he grins at Peter and hands him a beer.

“Even superheroes need a break. Come on, Peter. Live a little, okay? Partying is self-care.” The notion is so ridiculous it makes even Ned laugh, but as always, Peter’s best friend is able to lift his spirits and make him feel more comfortable in a situation that’s anything but comfortable.

By the time Peter has had his seventh beer, his spider metabolism finally gives in, and he feels drunk enough not to care. Ned ditched him for a group of kids in his computer science class, and they’re doing shots by the bar. Peter’s dancing with a few girls from his composition class, cheering with them when the music changes to a remix of a song they improvved to last week.

“You can really dance,” someone tells him, voice low and far too close to his ear. Peter whips around, ready to tell some creep to back off, but he’s blown away by windswept, blond curls and a glimmering smile.

His eyes are the wrong color, he thinks, and he immediately hates himself for the thought. Harley is probably batting his deep green eyes at his latest hook-up, whose name is Eugene, and Peter shudders at the thought that it might be Eugene Thompson.

“Thanks,” Peter says, staring into steel grey eyes instead. “I’m a dance major, so it’s kind of my thing.”

The not-Harley stranger laughs, and he smiles at Peter in a way that makes him feel appreciated in a way he hasn’t felt in months, maybe years. “So will you dance for me?”

“Only if you dance with me too.” Not-Harley lets Peter drape his arms around his neck as they swayed to the music, some early 2000’s pop song with dirty lyrics and a dirtier beat.

Not-Harley dances even dirtier, and after one song, Peter is more than uncomfortable and ready to deck the guy and leave, but then he offers Peter a drink, and it’s strong and smells good, so Peter drinks it and lets the guy lead him out to the dance floor again. It takes two more drinks for Peter to start dancing back, to lose himself in the rhythm and the feel of human contact, no matter how dubious it may be.

Then the guy kisses Peter, slams his mouth against his in a sloppy move that makes Peter moan anyway because he’s riled up on touch and taste and alcohol. “Harley,” he murmurs into the kiss, barely registering the guy pull away. “Harley, please.”

“I’m not Harley,” the guy says, and Peter’s eyes snap open, the world rushing back to him in overwhelming waves. “My name is Hayes.”

“I’m so sorry,” Peter mumbles, and although his voice is soft, he feels like screaming.

The guy, Hayes, just smiles at him with a look disguised as kindness as he says, “It’s okay. If you dance like that, I’ll let you call me any name you want in bed.”

In an instant, Peter feels shame and guilt crawl over his skin like bacteria, like parasites come to leech away all the good things in him, if there’s anything left. “I should go.”

“I don’t think you should,” Hayes says, tightening his grip on Peter’s waist, and in a flash of panic, Peter rips himself away with a bit of his super strength, tipping Hayes to the floor.

“Sorry,” he says half-heartedly. It’s all he can manage before the urge to sprint out of the party overtakes him, and it’s only when he’s in the cool night hair that he breathes, a deep shuddering exhale that leaves him feeling empty.

Is this what dance is for? he asks, looking up to the sky and spinning in slow circles. He knows it’s not. He knows dance is an art form, not some party trick to get into people’s pants, but Hayes’ cologne lingers on his skin, whispering that he’s nothing more than an object programmed for people’s pleasure.

Will you dance for me? say the demons in his head. Is dance really as sacred as you think, or will you dance for anyone who asks?

Not just anyone, he tells himself. Just my parents and my aunt and uncle and family of superheroes I’ve somehow found. Just for my classmates and my teachers and boys in clubs who look like Harley Keener and smile at me like I mean something to them.

F I V E

A scream rips unbidden from Peter’s throat as he hits the ground. They always say that beauty is pain, but he’s feeling decidedly unpretty as he cradles his sprained ankle, weak from years of never letting it heal properly, ever since that first pas de deux. Admittedly, it doesn’t hurt that bad. His body is already working on stitching itself back together again, but it feels good to scream, so he does it again, letting it taper off into a dry sob. The tears he needs to cry never come, and he wonders if he’s broken or just accustomed to this feeling.

The door to the studio in the Compound slams open, and in runs a sleep-rumpled Harley Keener, wide-eyed in confusion of the sight of Peter on the ground. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Peter grits out, sitting up. “Just panicked when I fell, that’s all. Did I wake you up? Did I wake anyone else up?”

“Just me, I think,” Harley says softly, slipping on the marley in his woolen socks to fall gracefully to the floor beside Peter. “And I was already awake.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispers.

Harley’s gaze turns sharp. “For what? Falling?”

Yes, Peter thinks, fighting a sarcastic grin. Sorry for falling in love with you. “No. Yes? Sort of. I’m feeling kind of like a failure tonight. And every night, really, but that’s trauma we don’t have time to unpack right now.”

“It’s only one a.m.,” Harley says. “We have all the time in the world, if you want it.”

Peter, who knows how short life truly is, wants to take Harley’s offer, to cherish his promise of more time, of all the time in the world, but he’s tired and in pain, and he can hardly form coherent thoughts, let alone words. “Another day,” he says. “When it’s actually daytime, not some stupid hour of the night.”

Harley laughs, soft and sweet and reverberating around the room. Peter melts at the sound. He wants to dance to it, almost gets up and does. “What were you working on anyway? It’s winter break.”

“The latest piece for my composition class. It’s due when right after break because we have a showcase coming up.”

“Send me the dates. I love watching you dance,” Harley says, and the words make Peter sad rather than happy, and he doesn’t know why.

“I don’t know why you do. I mean, I don’t even like watching myself dance.”

Harley’s quiet for a moment, and Peter wishes he could take the words back. “I wish I could show you what you look like. You’re normally a swan, or some old cliche of grace, but when you dance? You turn into an angel. It’s breathtaking.”

Peter’s breath hitches, feels the warm glow of praise flow through his veins and lighten his heart. “Oh, Harley,” he says, and all the words he wishes he could say hang in the air. He’s never been very good at saying what he really means with words, fickle and fleeting. Dance, on the other hand, is emotional and eternal, and it’s his way of saying without speaking, of conveying the emotions that linger in his heart.

Harley cups his face in his hands, frozen fingertips leaving burning trails of warmth in their path as they trace along his lips. “Try again,” Harley asks, though it feels more like a command. “For me?”

Peter has never been able to deny Harley. With surprisingly stable legs, despite a swollen ankle, he stands, limps to the center of the room, and breathes.

That’s all dancing is, after all. It’s easier than breathing, yet the hardest thing he has ever done.

Harley starts the music, and all Peter has to do is breathe. He’s lifting up and sinking down and running and twirling around, and a minute into the piece, he’s forgotten about the pain in his ankle, about the misery that weighs him down. He almost forgets about Harley, but it’s hard to ignore his gaze, burning bright trails against Peter’s skin.

Peter faces the mirror in a lull in the music, stares wild-eyed at his own reflection, battered, bruised, broken, and beautiful. Harley said that when he dances he turns into an angel, and Peter sees it now, the otherworldly glow that dancing gives him.

Then the music pushes on, pressing him forward and he falls on his knees, the counts of floorwork giving him an opportunity to center himself again before he stands, preps, and turns, spiralling his leg up in the air and down again.

He’s about to fouette into the second set of pirouettes, but on the plie, he catches Harley’s gaze, burning brighter than Peter has ever seen it before. He stumbles, his weak ankle gives out, something cracks, and he falls again to the floor, staring up at the ceiling, defeated.

“Do you still think I dance like an angel?” he asks, feeling Harley kneel next to him.

“The most beautiful angel of them all.” Harley places tender hands on his leg, carefully probing and watching Peter’s reactions. “I think your ankles broken.”

“You’re probably right.” For some reason, he begins crying, quiet sobs of vulnerability, which hurts more than the physical pain. “Do you mind leaving me alone?”

Harley falters. “You need help.”

“FRIDAY will call someone, but I need a moment alone. Please?” Peter looks up at Harley, reaches out a trembling hand to caress the other boy’s face.

At Peter’s touch, Harley concedes. “Okay,” he murmurs, getting to his feet. “I mean it, you know. Every word I said.”

“I know,” Peter replies, and he does. Some people are hard to read, but Harley’s truth is written all over his face. “Maybe one day I’ll believe it.”

“One day,” Harley echoes. “I’ll see you around, Peter.”

Peter says nothing, merely giving the boy a weak smile. Harley flashes one back before finally leaving, letting the door hiss shut behind him.

Alone in the studio, Peter breathes easier, but at the same time feels the oppressive weight of some grief settle on his shoulders. Remorse, regret, guilt, goodbyes: they all pile on him, pinning him under their burden.

Farewell. It feels like a farewell.

+ O N E

In many ways, it was a farewell. It’s been a year since the incident in the Compound’s studio when Peter broke his ankle. It’s been a year since Peter has talked to Harley any more than bland small talk at team dinners and the one time they ran into each other in the hallways of one of Tony’s charity galas. Peter doesn’t remember much about it, couldn’t say what they talked about, but he remembers the heartbreak that flashed across Harley’s face when he first laid eyes on him.

It’s been a year since Peter last danced.

At first, he took time off to heal, partly because a broken ankle healing in less than a week would look extremely suspicious, but also partly because he did need to heal, emotionally as well as physically. A two-month-long break turned into a six-month-long break, and when Peter returned to NYU for his sophomore year, he changed his major.

There’s more to his year-long sabbatical from dance than an injury. There’s a history of doubt, of self-loathing, of feeling like dance was simultaneously what he was meant to do and what he wasn’t born to do. There’s a history of dancing for other people instead of dancing for himself, and the moment he decided to do something for himself, he stopped dancing. For Peter, having danced nearly his entire life, not dancing feels like he’s missing a piece of himself, a piece of himself he’s been trying to grow back with limited success.

He wonders if he’ll ever be able to dance again. He doesn’t even know if he wants to dance again.

It’s winter in New York City. It’s cold and windy and snowing and cruel, but Peter finds himself walking through Times Square because he’s tired and numb and thinks that maybe if he stands in the brutally cold air in the middle of a crowd, he might feel a little less alone, a little less dead, might feel a little something at all.

Something at all comes in the form of a piano and a voice and hazy memories of a childhood spent dancing in his bedroom with the CD player on full volume. Peter walks through the crowds until he finds the source, a girl his age playing a keyboard and singing gently into a microphone as people passing by drop spare change in the cup on top of the keyboard. As people jostle him in their haste to keep up with the pace of the world turning, closes his eyes, Peter stands still, closes his eyes, and listens.

And then he begins to dance.

In his jeans and boots and knitted beanie, jacket and scarf discarded on the dirty city street, he dances. His body remembers what his mind wants to forget, so he lets himself move to sweet, sad chords and the voice of a girl who smiles at him once in between the chorus and the second verse. She knows what it feels like to fall out of love, out of love with yourself. She hopes he will fall back in love.

When the song ends, the small crowd that formed around them claps. The singer stands and takes Peter’s hand, her cold hand frigid enough to be felt through Peter’s glove. He squeezes it tightly as they bow, laughing and breathless, and Peter’s trying not to cry because the tears will freeze to his face.

The crowd disperses when they straighten up and the girl goes back to her piano with one last smile at Peter. One person remains, the bundle of Peter’s discarded clothing tucked under his arm as he claps a few more times. Peter watches him as lifetimes of repressed memories and emotions flood him, and when Harley catches his eye and smiles, that same smile Peter fell in love with in every lifetime before and will continue to love in every lifetime after, it’s impossible not to cry.

A familiar warmth envelopes Peter, as he sobs, and dimly he registers Harley’s own tears falling into his hair. “Harley,” he says. “Harley, it’s you.”

“It’s me.” Harley pulls back and cups Peter’s wind-bitten face in his warm, gloved hands. “And Peter, it’s you.”

There’s a story behind those words. It’s a story of a boy who loved to dance, who danced for others because it filled the holes in their hearts but ripped his own heart to shreds. It’s the story of a boy who, on a windy winter day danced in the middle of Times Square, who stitched together the remaining pieces of his heart with the chords of a forgotten song, who spun silk patches to fill in the gaps with the language of a forgotten art.

It’s a story that doesn’t end with a happy ending but a hopeful one because there, that day, with the wind and Harley’s arms encircling him, that boy was reborn.

#harley keener #peter parker #spider-man #parkner #harleypeter #dancer peter parker #may parker #ben parker #tony stark #ned leeds #ballet #angst #hurt/comfort #5+1 #5+1 fic #bella writes

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ladyanaconda · 4 years

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Irken of the Opera

After those doodles I made, i couldn’t help myself. I HAD to make this!

Just so you know, though, this won’t be like my other fics following a linear plot. I’ll just be posting one-shots without any particular as they come without chronological order.

Enjoy!

-IZ-

Tenn poured her heart into her voice as she sang. Her song’s melodic tones echoed throughout the auditorium, captivating her audience. The glitter and satins in her dress’s lavender fabric almost seemed to glow under the white spotlight. Her hands delicately moved along with her singing in perfect synchrony, conveying more emotion into her performance.

As the music reached an inevitable crescendo, Tenn knew the cue that the performance was near the end and followed it with her voice until it culminated with a powerful note.

Tenn returned to the real world just in time to see her public clap their hands loudly and get to their feet in a standing ovation, all of them cheering as roses and exotic flowers landed at her feet. Tenn delicately lifted the gown of her dress and curtsied in gratitude before she elegantly made her way backstage, still hearing the echoes of her adoring public.

It didn't end there, though. All around her, the dancers, chorus girls and workers clapped their hands. Tenn strode through the corridor and towards her dressing room, proudly glancing at her carved name in the door before stepping inside and closing it behind her.

Tenn’s dressing room was spacious and fancy, and as always, it was filled to the brin with flower bouquets, chocolates and many other lavish gifts from secret admirers. While Tenn accepted the gifts out of courtesy, she refused any advances anyone made.

She had no time for silly romance, not now when her career is at its peak.

With a relieved huff, Tenn quickly removed the layers of makeup and changed into a more simple dress to relax. She loves to sing, but finds all the costume wearing and dressing up far too stressful. Letting herself fall into the couch, Tenn closed her eyes for a few moments to clear her head.

Bravo! You did spectacularly, my dear Tenn!

Tenn didn’t open her eyes. She merely smiled a bit as her unseen, maybe imaginary mentor praised her, just like after every performance. While she remembered her father’s tales of the Angel of Music quite fondly, she was far too old to believe in fairy tales.

”Miss Sakhak?” Tenn raised her lekku. That voice wasn't an hallucination.

”Come in.” Tenn said, not moving from her spot even after the door opened and a tall Irken with crimson eyes stepped inside.

”Exhausted?” he asked.

”What makes you think that? The fact that I am trying to nap?”

”No offense, but you are quite predictable.”

”What do you want, Red?” Tenn asked impatiently.

”I wanted to congratulate you on tonight’s performance. You blew them all away, as always!” Red said, smiling a bit. ”I don't know who your tutor is, but he certainly did a good job!”

Tenn sighed. She wasn't sure of who had provided her with singing lessons; all she remembered was an Irken dressed in a black cape in her dreams, but a figment of her imagination doesn’t exactly count.

“Whoever he is, he is a great teacher.” she said simply. Red gave her an odd look, but said nothing on the matter.

“Anyhow, if you need a break, Spork is willing to give you a free night tomorrow. Tak could perform the lead in Mausk.”

“She’s back? Last time I heard, she threw another fit and left after a sandbag fell on top of her head.”

Red shrugged. “You know Tak, she hates when the spotlight is on top of anyone that isn’t her.”

Tenn chuckled. Tak is perhaps the only person she considered a worthy rival, but all her talent is wasted in her self-serving attitude and smeetish tantrums when things didn’t go her way. But in a way, Tenn was grateful; if it weren’t for her fits, she wouldn’t have had the lead in tonight’s performance.

“Okay, then. I could use the free time for myself.” Red nodded.

“Very well, then. I shall inform Spork in a while. Meanwhile, you’re free to go home for the day. You deserve it.”

Thanking Red again as he left her dressing room, Tenn shifted on her couch. She’d go home, alright, but first she’d take a small nap. She wouldn't like to fall asleep on the wheel. Better late than never, after all. Besides, it’s not like there was anybody waiting for her back home, anyway.

-IZ-

Once he delivered instructions and sent most of the dancers and workers home for the day, Red went to his usual spot in the rafters and lit up a small cigarette. It’s supposed to be forbidden, but everyone’s gone home, so it’s not like he’s bothering anyone right now.

Besides, it’s not like Spork was roaming around like security; he’d rather lock himself inside his office and not come out.

His lekku twitched when the metal planks behind him creaked. “You’re losing your edge, Pur.”

The shadow behind him chuckled.

“Ah, Red. You heard me because I wanted you to. Otherwise I’d already be next to you before you even blinked.”

Red looked back at his companion. A tall Irken of his stature clad in a black vest and cloak; one might think he was his twin, except his eyes were a shade of purple instead of bright crimson. The defining feature, however, was the white half-mask his companion wore at all times, concealing the right side of his face from view.

He’s got many names: The Phantom, Opera Ghost, murderer, Angel of Music, but Red knew his real name.

Purple.

“How’s Miyuki?”

“She’s coming back to work next week.” Red smiled a bit. “We had a little girl. Her name is Ilk.”

“One of these days, you should bring her. I’d like to meet her.”

“I will if you can spend the whole week without throwing the chandelier on top of the audience.”

“Hey, you should thank me for that! Thanks to that incident, Spork gave you your job back!” Purple countered. “Besides, the only person who got hurt was the guy who was supposed to replace you.”

Red sighed. He kind of felt bad for that poor fella; it wasn’t his fault. Spork had gone against Purple’s will and fired Red, and Purple retaliated by frightening his replacement in an exaggerated manner. The guy didn’t die, but he quit as soon as he could speak again.

Red didn’t hate Spork perse, but he’s been coveting his manager status for a good while now. Spork wasn’t fit for the job: he merely shouted orders without fully understanding them, all he cared about is to fill in his pockets. All the workers and performers feared him, but didn’t truly respect him.

Red’s the one that takes charge and makes sure everything runs smoothly for each performance. He’s the one everybody looks up to for guidance when there’s a crisis or a clash between stars.

“Miss Sakhak did a spectacular job tonight, didn’t she?” Purple said, tenderly caressing the petals of a blue rose. “She sings like a chorus of songuans from the Imperial Palace.”

“Indeed. Not even Tak can hold a candle to her.”

“That’s because I’m a great teacher!” Purple chimed. Red frowned.

“I thought we had talked about spying on people.”

“Come on, nobody knows about that. Besides, you know there’s only one person I’m interested in.” Purple looked down at the rose.

“Indeed. Anyhow, do you have any notes this time?”

Purple looked inside his pocket and took out a black envelope, which he placed in Red’s open hand. “Make sure that he reads it tonight.”

“Don’t worry, he’s learned to take any notes from you seriously.”

“Is Miss Sakhak in her dressing room?”

Red turned to his companion. “...What are you going to do?”

Purple sighed and ran his hand over his head. “I think it’s time I actually introduce myself, Red. I’m taking her down to my lair.”

“Pur, are you sure you don’t want to just ask her out like normal people do? I mean, I’m not sure she’ll take it kindly that you just whisk her off underground and hold her there against her will.”

“It’ll only be for a few days until she gets to know me better.”

“She can do that on an actual date.”

Purple tensed up, averting his gaze. “Right, and where do you suggest I take her? I mean, it’s not like I know my way around the city, and besides people would stare at my face…”

“Pur, I still believe you’re being a bit too drastic. How do you think she’s going to react if you take her underground against her will?”

“I got it covered.” Purple said.

Red had the feeling that he was lying, but shrugged it off.

“Just a favor. At the very least make it look like she left home, otherwise Spork is going to have my head.”

Purple tipped his hat and disappeared into the shadows, his long cape flowing behind him.

Red sighed. Why do I have the feeling I’m going to regret this?

-IZ-

Tenn wasn’t sure of how much time she slept. When she woke up again, there was a long silence outside. Everyone must have gone home, even Red. Tenn looked up at her electric clock, which marked 01:19. Yup, it was very late. She better go home.

As she grabbed her coat and headed for the door, she heard something.

Tenn….

The irkenette looked around. Who said that? She warily reached out for the knob, but found her door locked.

“What in Irk?” Tenn battled with the door's handle, trying to force it open.

Don’t be frightened, my angel. I won’t hurt you. Come to me…

At some point, Tenn lost motion of her surroundings. The voice’s mysterious charm was captivating and familiar, calling her towards the mirror like a siren song she couldn’t resist, as hard as she tried.

I am your angel of music. Come to me, angel of music.

The lights in her dressing room suddenly became dimmer and the atmosphere turned colner. Tenn shivered at the sudden drop in temperature and rubbed her forearms.

She soon found the reason why: she wasn’t in her dressing room, but she wasn’t in the corridor either. Instead, Tenn found herself in a dark, dimly illuminated corridor. Tenn sneezed at the strong smell of musk and humidity.

And in front of her was a tall Irken clad in a black cape. She couldn’t see him clearly, except for the violet eyes glowing in the darkness

“Who are you?” She asked warily.

“As you can see, I’m no ghost or spirit.” the Irken said in a gentle voice, taking a step closer. “I am-”

“Stay away!” Tenn yelled, stepping back.

“Hey, calm down, I’m just-”

Ignoring him, Tenn tried to go back the way she came, but the secret door had closed shut. She pounded on the door with all the strength she could muster. “Somebody!”

“Tenn-!”

“HELP! REDDOK, TAK, ANYONE!”

Tenn panicked when she felt the stranger place a piece of cloth over her mouth. Desperate, she nailed at his arm, but soon her strength faded away as she saw black holes in her vision.

The last thing she saw before slipping into unconsciousness was a white mask and those violet eyes looking down at her.

#invader zim #invader zim fanfiction #almighty tallest #almighty tallest red #almighty tallest purple #invader tenn #iz tenn #The Phantom of the Opera #phantom purple #phantom of the opera crossover #PurpleAndInvaderTennRomance #PurplexTenn #romance #humor #one-shot #iz au #invader zim au

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illfoandillfie · 5 years

Text

Hangover Cure

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Fem!Reader

Summery: Ben is hungover from a night out with the boys and can’t fully remember what happened, luckily you’ve got some evidence.

Warnings: Smut, mentions of drinking, f receiving oral, squirting, face sitting,

Words: 4233

A/N: Small disclaimer: I don’t drink, I have never been drunk, all my knowledge of being drunk and hangovers and stuff comes from watching TV/movies (and maybe a little bit of googling). Anyway, that hangover photo Ben posted on insta destroyed me and I had to write something inspired by it! Ben gives off a vibe like he would fucking love going down on his girl, so have like 3k words of pussy worship ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

tagslist: @idontbelievethiss

When you woke up you were still pressed close to Ben, his bare leg flung over yours, almost nose to nose. You lay there for a while, blinking the sleep from your eyes, listening to his deep breaths, before the need to pee made you untangle yourself and leave the bed. Your mobile phone caught your eye as you got up, the screen lit up with a staggering number of voicemail messages. Ben had been out last night, catching up with the rest of ‘the band’ and, apparently, he had a problem with drinking and dialling. You’d already listened to a few of them before you fell asleep but he’d clearly continued phoning well into the early hours of the morning. The last was from a little after three o’clock which, by your estimation, wasn’t long before he’d arrived home. Clearly the boys had had a fun night, starting with dinner at around 6.30 PM and ending, for Ben at least, with waking you as he stumbled into your room and noisily removed his jeans and shoes, in that order. You’d turned on your lamp to see what was going on and his face broke into a grin when he saw you. “Y/N! What’re you doing here?” his speech was slurred and much too loud. “I live here Ben,” you said, sleepily rubbing your face, “with you.” You could almost see the gears in his head turning as he stared at you like he was trying to solve a riddle. “Just come to bed,” you yawned, tapping his side of the bed. He nodded and crawled under the blankets as you turned the lamp back off. His hands automatically reached for you, pulling you close as you lay back down and shut your eyes.

Ben slept in past midday. You checked on him a couple of times, but he remained fast asleep and snoring. It wasn’t until you were walking past your room in the afternoon that you heard him groan. You stood in the doorway for a moment, watching as Ben threw an arm over his eyes, face scrunched up against the light coming in through the window. “I take it you had a good night then,” You said as you padded across the room, pausing next to Ben and running your fingers through his messy hair. Ben let his arm fall back to his side and squinted up at you, “Maybe a little too good.” He groaned again, rubbing his temple. “Yeah, you smell like an ashtray that’s been washed out in whisky.” “I don’t even remember drinking whisky,” he groaned. “Stay here, I’ll be back with a hangover cure,” you chuckled, dropping a kiss to his forehead before you left. In the kitchen, you pulled out a tray and loaded it up with a glass of water, a couple of painkillers, two coffees and a stack of buttered toast. Entering your room, you found Ben sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. “You okay, honey?” you asked as you placed the tray on the nearest nightstand. “Thought I was gonna throw up. False alarm.” “Take these,” you handed him the water and painkillers. “Thanks babe,” He mumbled before swallowing the pills. “D’you want a coffee?” “Please,” he said switching the glass for his mug, “I hope Joe’s head hurts twice as much as mine.” “What’d Joe do?” You grabbed your own mug and the plate of toast, carefully settling yourself cross-legged facing Ben, “Eat.” Ben obediently took the top piece of toast, pulling his legs up onto the bed and leaning against the footboard, “He was the one that suggested shots. I think.” Ben chewed his toast slowly. “Did I wake you when I got home?” “You don’t remember?” “Sort of. I remember tripping over something outside. And I think I remember talking to you.” “Yes,” you laughed, “You woke me. You seemed confused about why I was here, happy to see me though. How much do you remember from last night?” “I remember having dinner and I remember heading to the pub after. Things start to get a bit hazy after a few rounds though. Why? What’d I do?” “Nothing bad, honey. I’ll tell you about it when you’re feeling better.” He nodded, “Think I’ll go have a shower.”

You finished your coffee while scrolling on your phone, the shower audible in the otherwise quiet room, and then carried everything back to the kitchen. You were just setting the dishwasher to run when Ben came up behind you, throwing his arms around your stomach and leaning his chin on your shoulder. “Better?” “More or less. Brushed my teeth about twelve times which helped.” You turned around to face him, “well you certainly don’t smell like a bar anymore. Any word on how the others are faring?” “Everyone’s alive though pretty rough. I don’t know what we drank, but it was a mistake.” “I might have the answer,” “What d’you mean?” “So, while you were out, I got a number of very interesting phone calls.” Ben gave you a confused look. “You drunk dialled me a few times. Seventeen times if we’re being accurate.” “Oh my god.” His hand flew up to his head, the heel of his palm rubbing his eye, “What did I say? No, actually I don’t wanna know. Okay, tell me.” You leaned up to peck his lips before grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the kitchen and over to the couch where you’d left your phone. “I haven’t listened to them all, just the first few.” He sat down, watching warily as you clicked through to your voicemail. “So the first call you made, I picked up.” You said as you settled into your seat, throwing your legs over Ben’s lap. “What time was that?” “Round ten-ish. I think you were in a pub. Wherever you were was loud cause I couldn’t hear you properly. But basically you called so everyone could yell hello to me. I told you all to have a good night and got a chorus on unintelligible screams back and then you hung up.” “Thats not too bad. Kinda cute if you think about it,” He pinched your shin playfully. “You called again about five minutes later but I let it go to voicemail.” “Oh boy.” “You’re a sloppy drunk Benjamin.”

You held the phone up between you and hit play on the first message. Ben’s voice sounded echoey as he slurred slightly into the phone which made you think he was calling from the bathroom. “Voicemail? Babe listen, I didn’t mean to hang up without saying I love you. Thats why ‘m calling. Felt bad. I don’t want you to think I don’t love you cos of course I love you. God I love you so much. Shit, I gotta go, Joe’s saying something about shots.” The message ended. “Okay you have to agree that was cute,” Ben said next to you. “The drunk idiot is very cute.” You conceded. “Hey, he may be a drunk idiot, but he’s a truthful drunk idiot.” Ben tapped the end of your nose making you giggle. “Well, the drunk idiot isn’t done yet.” You started the second message. “Fuck it’s cold.” You heard a deep inhale and then a breath out, the sound of Ben smoking, “I need whisky.” The call ended and both of you laughed. “Well okay, guess maybe I did drink whisky after all.” The third message was loud again. The Ben sitting next to you cringed as the opening notes of a song kicked in and his own voice yelled through the phone, “This one’s for you Y/N!” followed by the sound of him drunkenly singing My Heart Will Go On. “Oh god,” He dropped his head into his hands, “how long does the message go for?” “Four minutes and forty-five seconds. The whole song.” “Let's skip this one,” “Okay, but only because I’ve already listened to it.” “You listened to me butcher the entire song?” “It was dedicated to me, how could I not?” you laughed, “Also, it’s my new ringtone.” “Curse that movie.” Ben groaned as he let his head drop onto the back of the couch, “You catch the end of it on TV one time and then the song’s stuck in your head for a week.” “If it's any consolation, it sounded like you got a standing ovation at the end.”

The next couple of messages were from the same karaoke bar. You could barely hear Ben over the horrendous singing in the background of the first one, but he seemed to be talking to someone about the saké they were drinking. You wondered if it hadn’t been a pocket dial because of how quiet his voice was. Ben looked at you shaking his head, “No wonder we all feel like rubbish today. How did we all make it home in one piece?” “Lord knows. Divine intervention?” You laughed, “This next one is the last one I heard before I went to sleep.” “Good or bad?” “I liked it.” The message started with the sound of Ben stumbling out a door, muffling the noise of the bar. “Can’t stop thinking bout your pretty pussy.” You looked over to Ben, grinning at his slightly pink cheeks. He looked like he was about to say something but you quickly placed a finger over your lips, signalling him to keep quiet. “Wanna lick it right now. Could go for hours, sucking and licking and kissing. Fuck I love your pussy. Taste so fucking good. Wanna make you cum on my tongue. And then on my fingers so you can suck 'em clean and see how good you taste. Go so slow yo-” “Ben!” someone yelled from behind him somewhere, “C’mon we’re gonna go get kebabs!” The message ended. You’d known what was coming and you’d still found yourself clenching your thighs, something that hadn’t gone unnoticed by Ben. His hand was on your knee, rubbing his thumb in circles absentmindedly. “That...wasn’t what I was expecting,” he said slowly, “bit different to all the others,” “Wasn’t what I was expecting the first time I heard it either. Don’t think anyone’s ever expected to hear a monologue about eating pussy though. They just catch you by surprise.” “How many times did you listen to it?” “Ummm, a few,” “So until you got off?” “You know me too well,” you laughed, “kinda wish you hadn't been interrupted. Would have liked to hear what else you were thinking.” “You would, would you?” His grip on your knee got tighter, “Think I’ve got the gist of it.” You squealed as he suddenly rolled out from under your legs and pushed them open.

“Thought you had a hangover,” “It’s not so bad now, modern medicine truly is a miracle. Besides, this may be a hereto unknown cure.” His speech was punctuated with kisses to your ankle. “Are you saying my pussy is like the fountain of youth but for fixing hangovers?” “Maybe. I don’t know. Now please stop talking, I need to concentrate.” He travelled higher, fingers tracing softly wherever his lips weren’t. He continued his path up your leg gradually, dragging his lips along your skin. Whenever he reached a particularly ticklish or sensitive spot he’d linger, holding your leg tight so you couldn’t squirm away. When he eventually reached your knee, he moved to your other ankle and started again. You whined, leaning your head back against the arm of the couch, which made him chuckle, sending a shiver through you. “Patience, babe.” He bit down unexpectedly, making you jump, “Told you I was gonna go slow.” Slow was an understatement. A snail would have crawled up your leg faster than Ben was going, though you had to admit it probably wouldn’t have put you in quite the same state. The longer Ben took the more desperate you were but nothing you did could persuade him to skip ahead. You tried whining and groaning, hoping the noise would encourage him to finally remove your pants, but all it did was make him smirk, his breath ghosting over the spot his lips had just detached from. “Keep making those sounds. Love when you’re all desperate and needy.” You couldn’t stop the whine that rose into the air, his words hitting your right between the legs.

You also tried tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging the way you knew he liked but, though it did make him pause, it also made him more determined to make you wait. At one point you even tried to slip your hand into your pants to relieve some of the pressure. You didn’t get very far before Ben had a hold of your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm before he sucked your fingers into his mouth. He let your fingers slip free, turning his attention back to your shin, but kept a strong grasp on your hand to stop you from trying anything else. “You jerk,” you tried to twist your hand free but he kept a firm hold, “didn’t think you’d mean this slow.” He laughed, sitting up slightly as he finally reached your other knee, “What a shame my drunken ode to your cunt was cut off before I could really go into detail.” “Ben, you’re killing me, please just speed it up.” “Sorry babe, not gonna happen. “ He continued his lazy path over your knee and up your thigh until he reached the leg of your shorts, teasing you with feather light touches just under the hem. Then he switched back to the leg he’d started on and repeated his efforts. By the time he was kneeling between your legs, working your pants over your hips and pulling them off, you were on the verge of begging. You lifted your hips to help him remove your underwear but he ignored you. Instead you felt a breath on the inside of your thigh before his mouth was on you again. He resumed his slow pace, pausing every so often to suck a hickey onto your skin, before he switched to the other leg again. By the time he was done your thighs were covered in bruises and bite marks, and there was a very noticeable wet spot on the front of your undies.

Ben leaned into you, his mouth centimetres from where you desperately needed him. You could feel bursts of his warm breath wash over you, only serving to heighten your need and the anticipation for what he had planned. “So very wet already. Wonder who could possibly have cause that?” You could only whimper as he stuck his tongue out and licked a single long stroke along your clothed pussy, your hips bucking at first contact. “Love how eager you are, but you gotta keep still,” he said as he wrapped his arms round your thighs to hold them in place. He refocused on kissing you through your underwear, working his way up slowly, squeezing your labia between his lips. Your breathing got heavier the closer he got to your clit, soft ‘oh’s dripping from your tongue. He was unphased by your obvious urgent need, working to cover every inch of you with his lips and teeth and tongue, leaving you panting for more as he carefully avoided your clit. When he gently sucked at the apex of your thigh you cried out in desperation. Ben hummed against you and settled back into his leisurely pace, never reaching your clit. “Ben, for the love of god, stop teasing,” Ben laughed as he raised himself to his knees and hooked his fingers into the top of your underpants, pausing to drop a kiss to your lips. He peeled your underwear down your legs, dropping them to the floor, and swiped a finger along your folds, collecting your wetness. He held his finger up and you watched as your juices slowly started to drip from it in a single long strand. “That voicemail,” Ben started, pausing to lick up the drip from his finger, “was cut off too soon. Didn’t even get to talk about how fucking wet you are for me. Though I think I can make you wetter.” He settled himself back down, laying his tongue flat against you and licking another long line all the way up your slit. You moaned as his tongue flicked over your clit but seconds later, he’d moved away again, letting a string of saliva drip slowly onto you before he began working his mouth softly over your pussy once more.

You could feel your orgasm approaching as Ben buried his face between your legs, and you tangled your fingers in his hair again. You whined his name repeatedly, getting higher in pitch as he neared your clit. Finally he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking it into his mouth and you let out a pornographic moan as you came undone. He swirled his tongue around your clit until the sensitivity became too much and you pushed him away. “Good girl,” He said softly, leaving kisses over your thighs as he waited for your breathing to even out again, “So pretty when you cum for me.” He began licking and sucking at your folds again, noisily cleaning up the evidence of your orgasm, “And drunk me was right, you taste fucking incredible.” He worked his tongue slowly into you, making you shudder as you felt another orgasm building already. He pulled out, licking all the way up to your clit before once again pushing his tongue into you, deeper than before. You lost the ability to form coherent thoughts as he fucked you with his tongue, bringing his thumb up to rub your clit slowly. Your knees snapped shut the minute he stopped holding them down, trapping him in position, though he didn’t seem to notice, just kept his steady pace, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. A moan built in your throat and you couldn’t help pushing on the back of his head, trying to keep him as close to your core as possible. You pulled on his hair making him moan against you and the vibrations triggered your release which he lapped up like a man dying of thirst. Your legs trembled as you lowered them back to the bed, not helped by Ben moving to blow a stream of cold air over your sensitive clit.

You tried to sit up but Ben placed a hand over your stomach to keep you in place. “I’m not done yet, enjoying this too much to be done so soon.” He flicked your clit with his tongue and you whimpered. “Too sensitive?” “Yeah,” You breathed out, raising you head to watch him. “That’s alright,” he kissed your clit once, making your hips jerk, “said I wanted you to cum on my fingers anyway.” Without any more warning he pushed two fingers into you making you moan, “That’s right babe, wanna hear you nice and loud,” he added a third finger, and began pumping them in and out teasingly slow, “Know you love having my fingers in your cunt. Can feel how tight your clenching them. ‘m gonna watch you cum hard and then I’m gonna go back to worshipping your cunt properly.” He adjusted the angle of his fingers slightly, and you felt the pit in your stomach tighten. “Think I can make you squirt like this, want me to try?” “Please, yes, ‘m so clos-s-se,” you were interrupted as he once again lowered his mouth to your cunt, his fingers steadily stroking the same spot over and over, making your see spots. “C’mon babe,” he mumbled against you, “wanna see you make a fucking mess.” Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers became more forceful and you gripped the edge of the couch so hard your knuckles turned white as you came again. “Good girl, that was exactly what I wanted to see,” He said, sitting up on his knees, rubbing your thigh with the hand that hadn’t just been pulled from you. “I did it?” you panted, finally relaxing your hand, letting it dangle over the edge of the couch. “mmhmm, gonna have to get some stain remover onto this couch later.” You raised your head and sure enough you could see the dark patch you’d made. You couldn’t help but laugh, giddy from the pleasure. Ben wiped his mouth on his sleeve before he leaned forward to kiss you softly. “I love you so much,” “Love you too Ben. Maybe more now that I know you can make me do that.” He kissed you again and then resettled between your thighs. “Thought you said something about letting me taste?” “Later,” he grunted before he focused all his attention on dragging his tongue through your slick folds again.

“You’re dripping,” Ben admired, taking another swipe along your cunt, “So fucking wet.” Not that you needed him to tell you that. You could feel your wetness running down towards your arse, see it shining on Ben’s mouth and chin every time he looked up at you. Aside from Ben’s running commentary the only sounds in the room came from him burying himself in your pussy. The wet noises of his spit meeting your juices as he licked and sucked at you, and the whines and whimpers and moans he drew from you with every flick of his tongue. You were so wet his tongue just glided over you, hitting your still sensitive clit on every pass. It felt so good, but also wasn’t enough to push you to another orgasm. You tried to shift your hips against his mouth as his movements became less controlled. He devoured you, trying to reach every inch of your cunt, not caring about keeping a steady pace or tempo. You swore as his nose bumped your clit again, followed a moment later by his tongue flicking over it once, twice, three times. “Ben, I can’t do it again.” you whined, fighting back the urge to cry, “I wanna cum but I can’t.” Ben just hummed against you, ignoring your pleas as he continued his frenzied movements. You could feel tears of desperation stinging your eyes. You were so close, just not getting the right sort of friction to push you over the edge. You tried to wiggle your hips but Ben wrapped his arms round your thighs again, holding you in place as he closed his eyes, and delved deeper. You could have sworn you were going to cum as Ben explored every inch of your pussy, but you were left unsatisfied again, letting out another frustrated whine. Ben resurfaced, shaking his head from side to side as he trailed his tongue over you. “Don’t worry, babe, got an idea.” He pulled back and moved to grab your waist, using his grip to flip you over suddenly. He wiggled between your open legs and grabbed your thighs again. You leaned against the arm of the chair, resting on your knees as Ben pulled you down onto his lips, picking up where he’d left off. You clawed at the couch as he held you tightly, anchoring you to his mouth. The new position allowed you to arch your back and rock your hips more freely and you shifted around a little trying to find the right spot. You cried out as his tongue met you just the way you’d needed it, and began to grind down onto him chasing your release. “God Ben, so so close,” you gasped out. Ben’s reply was nothing more than a muffled hum directly into your core that had you slumping over the arm of the chair as you shook above him, crying out his name. He continued to lick along your slit, stretching the orgasm out as long as he could. When you couldn’t take it anymore you raised your hips, his hands loosening their grip as you rolled off of him into the corner of the couch. Once Ben had sat up, you gingerly stretched out a leg.

“So how was that?” Ben asked as he shuffled round to face you. All you could do was nod as you released a shaky breath. Ben scooted towards you and leaned his forehead against yours, “I take it that means it was good?” “Yeah,” you breathed out softly, “really good. I’ll tell you just how good when I can think clearly again.” Ben laughed and dropped a kiss to the tip of your nose before pulling back, “take all the time you need. There is just one more thing though,” You gasped as he gently dragged a single finger through your folds, collecting as much of your wetness as he could. “Said I was gonna make you taste yourself.” Without thinking you grabbed his wrist and slowly sucked his finger into your mouth. You kept your eyes locked on his, watching as they grew wide at your bold action. “See how fucking delicious you are?” You hummed around his finger, running your tongue along its length. When you felt you’d sufficiently cleaned his digit you pulled it from your lips with a small pop. “Think I could get used to receiving drunk messages from you if this is how you make up for it,” “Think I wanna know what the rest of those messages say.”

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