#i had a conversation w my mother the other day that sparked this post | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mercy-burning · 3 years

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Your Favorite — Part 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: When Y/N comes home from college for the summer to meet her mom's new boyfriend, she finds herself in a rather tough spot when she can’t stop thinking about him— And it seems he feels the same... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, masturbation (female and male), minor exhibitionism kink, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex, breeding kink (kinda? i think? 😅) Word Count: 7.3k (do you see now why I had to make it a miniseries? alsdjfdk)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

DISCLAIMER: In this story, Spencer is dating Y/N’s mom while also having a sexual relationship with the reader herself. Because of that, there are obvious undertones of cheating, alongside some perv-y tendencies when it comes to a partner’s daughter. That being said, Spencer and Y/N’s relationship is consensual. However— If any of what I just forewarned is something that you think will make you uncomfortable while reading, please do not read! If there are any more disclaimers you think I may have missed, don’t hesitate to tell me! There is another post I made HERE with some disclaimers as well if you want to know more about what this story will entail.

NOTE: This intro is already too long, so I’ll just get this out of the way: you can find visual nsfw inspirations for this story over at @mercy-midnight, I’m working on a playlist for this story on my Spotify @/mercyburning, and I don’t know when part 2 and 3 will be out, but you can assume they’ll be here within the next few weeks.

———

JUNE 5th

I hate my mom's new boyfriend.

For the past three months she'd been telling me about this new guy who's "The One" as if "The One" hasn't been like four other guys in the past two years.

And as much as I'd love for my mom to find someone to spend the rest of her life with, I don't believe she'd ever find Mr. Perfect at this rate. Unless she spent more than a few months with them at a time before dragging me home from college for a weekend to meet them, I really don't see it happening.

It just sucks. Because every time she does this, every time I return home, I see the glimmering hope in her eyes and the diminishing spark in his, and I know. I know it won't last, and her heart will be utterly broken within the span of a few months.

I always thought maybe she just had terrible taste in men.

But this time around, when I begrudgingly walk through the door of my childhood home for the summer and see my mother clinging to a man who returns that glimmer in her eyes, I know she's picked a good one.

And I hate him.

His name is Spencer Reid, and he's a retired FBI agent who teaches full time at local colleges now.

He greets me with a bona fide, radiant smile, unlike all the others before, and it sets my insides on fire. And when we sit down for dinner, he's polite (but not in a fake way,) and he seems genuinely curious about my studies and my personality and my relationship with my mother. And when dinner is finished he offers to clean up while Mom and I settle in the living room.

I see the way he looks at me as I leave, a gentle, closed-mouth smile and eyes that linger a little too long on my exposed legs before averting, a glint of shame pooling within them, and it only spreads that fire in my belly.

Maybe I'd been imagining the whole thing, because deep down I wanted him to look at me the way he had... But it's hard to tell when my brain is mostly setting off sirens, blaring "THIS IS WRONG! THIS IS WRONG!" on a loop with blinding lights.

And they're even louder when my mom wraps her arm around me and lays her head atop mine. "Well, what do you think? He's great, huh?"

She's so lovesick, it hurts. It hurts even worse knowing that all I can think about is his big hands wrapped around my throat while he fucks me into the squeaky twin-sized mattress in my bedroom upstairs.

But I can't tell her that, obviously.

And so I decidedly hate him. And I have no choice but lie to her face, embracing her joy and hoping that I'll be able to survive this summer.

"Yeah, Mom. He's really great."

JUNE 19th

It's been two weeks and I can barely stand to be in the same house anymore.

I try to keep myself busy by going outside, to the beach or for long walks in the park; but it's too hot for my liking, and our town is so small that unless I want to spend my time in the grocery store or one of the three bars on Main Street...

I'm stuck either outside where it's hot and uncomfortable, or in the house where it's also hot and uncomfortable.

We have air conditioning, of course, but that's not the problem.

It's Spencer.

I thought by now my little crush on him would have gone, but the longer he hangs around the house, the stronger my feelings for him grow. They're not romantic—nor do I think they ever could be given the fact that if anything serious really were to ever happen between us, my mom would disown me for the rest of my life and murder Spencer with her bare hands—but that doesn't make it any easier on me.

Every day he just exists, right in front of me with that tug-able mop of hair, those warm honey eyes, and his hands that never stop moving. I swear, it's like every time he breathes, his hands are breathing too, challenging me to try and stop them.

But I refuse to touch him. Because I know the moment I do, all will be lost. I won't be able to control myself anymore. And if I don't drop to my knees and try sucking his dick at the dinner table, I'm sure I'll blurt out how I can't handle it anymore and that I need him, and either way I'd be royally fucked.

Right now he's in the dining room, teaching my mom how to do a disappearing card trick. She thinks it's utterly charming that he can do it at all, but mostly that he's patient and willing enough to teach her. And normally I'd agree, but I can barely look at them without wanting to waltz over, grab his wrist, and suck his fingers into my mouth.

It's truly pathetic.

So I try to focus on the television just a few feet away. It's one of those rare instances where I wish our house was bigger, because while I don't mind having less wall-space between rooms, I do mind not being able to watch TV without the kitchen table in my periphery at a time like this. And I think about going up to my bedroom instead for a moment, but I'd have to go past the kitchen, and I just know Mom is going to ask if I'd want Spencer to teach me his magic trick.

And I most definitely do not want that.

In another life, maybe, where he isn't a hot professor and rather an average-looking dude who's way too into fantasy football... But not in this lifetime.

So there I sit, concentrating so hard on Family Feud that my face hurts.

When I hear a flutter of cards and joyous giggling from the other room, it's more than my face that hurts.

It's also my chest, churning and tensing at the hands of the green devil.

Fuck!

I barely even know this man... I haven't really talked to him because I'm afraid that if I try to hold a conversation I'll snap. He's literally just some hot older guy who's dating my mom, and still, my whole body twists and aches with envy when they do anything together, and it fucking sucks. Not only because of the jealousy, but it's also the fact that my mom deserves to be happy.

This time it's different. This time, she's really found someone who returns her every loving gaze, who makes her laugh, who's kind and genuine and not a total douche. She's happier than I've seen her in years.

And the one time she finally finds "The One", every waking second of my life is spent longing for him fuck me.

But it's only been two weeks.

And it's also been nearly two years since I got laid, so maybe that's just my issue...

I figure it can't hurt, so in a spur of the moment decision, I turn the TV off and sprint towards the stairs, right past Mom and Spencer before they can ask questions.

———

I hardly even register the dimness of the light inside the house by the time I glide up the steps, fumbling with the key and trying to make my entrance as quiet as possible. Though, because I'm so used to the dark by this point, the light—no matter how dim—nearly blinds me. The door shuts louder than I'd have liked, and I cringe inwardly, pausing as if that will keep anyone from seeing or hearing me. Not like it'll matter, considering Mom and Spencer are the only ones that are staying here and they'd also been the only ones aware of my plans for the evening.

Well, somewhat, anyway. I told them an old friend invited me out and I probably wouldn't be home until late.

Regardless, that instinct of trying not to get caught coming in late at night is stronger than common sense. Throw a little cheap beer and some shots into the mix, and it almost feels like I'm a teenager again.

The only thing different now is that I have a pool of some stranger's cum soaking my underwear and a man in front of me who stands like an angel. An exhausted, almost scruffy-looking angel more like, but my point still stands.

"You're up late," Spencer observes. It's a simple enough statement— not really judge-y, but I can tell that regardless of his knowledge of my coming home late, he seems shocked to see me coming through the front door right now.

And it's hard to look away from him. Just like it has been for the past two weeks. Still, I try, just barely avoiding his eyes as I cross my arms and fight the urge to clench my legs together. "I'm a whore. What's your excuse?"

Maybe not the best thing to say. But like I said, common sense? Gone.

"O—oh... Umm..." Spencer stumbles through his words, obviously stunned by my response, and the look in his eyes kind of makes me want to curl up in a ball and die from embarrassment. Still, I stand my ground and wait for him to continue.

He settles on a short, "I can't sleep," and then there's nothing else.

"Ah," I express. One syllable. I don't draw it out, I don't exaggerate it... This is the first real conversation I've had alone with him, and I've made it extremely awkward, so I sigh and take a few steps forward, trying to walk past him. "Okay. Goodnight."

I only make it a few steps before he stops me, his hand reaching out to tap my shoulder. "Wait—"

The touch makes me jump, and he pulls it away immediately as I turn to face him. My heart is racing at the speed of light, my panties are soaked through, and if I'm not careful that whole 'no common sense' thing is going to bite me so hard in the ass I won't have one left.

"Can I talk to you?" His voice is barely audible, and the gentle rasp it has to it seems to make me even more wet.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"Look, I um... Your mom has been totally transparent with me about her relationships, so I know that she's been through a lot of them in a short amount of time... And I know that must be a little difficult for you. Especially now that I'm here... And you've been... distant. And I know that I don't know you that well, so forgive me if I'm assuming anything, but I just want you to know that I don't have any intention of making things difficult for you and your mother."

Too late, pal, I think bitterly, the gentle authority in his tone setting my insides alight. I'm positive that voice could get me to do so many things...

That's the alcohol and sex talking, Y/N, just shake it and move on...

He starts again, but I cut him off with a short wave of my hand. "Look, I... I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I had a really long night, and I'm exhausted. I just wanna shower and go to bed."

I expect more resistance, but Spencer only nods. I still can't bring myself to look him in the eye, though this time I catch his hands clenching at the bottom hem of his shirt. "I understand. Sleep well."

Without another word I turn on my heel and walk a little faster towards the stairs, and I'm about to take my first step when I realize he's followed me. His voice calls out my name softly from a few feet behind, and it stops me in my tracks regardless of my desire to get out of there as fast as I can. And then I turn around and finally look directly at his face.

Big mistake.

His eyes are on my legs again, trailing slowly upwards until he reaches my face. The light over here is dimmer, barely noticeable at all, though I swear I can see red forming on his cheeks.

"I like your dress," he says softly. It's almost meek, like he'd been afraid to say it but took a chance anyway.

It's such a random, small compliment, but with the alcohol and endorphins flowing through my body after the night I'd just had, it nearly makes me quiver.

It also makes me incredibly stupid.

An amused, almost sensual grin forms on my face as I make eye contact with him, and I feel myself throb at the way I can just barely see his throat move. He looks like a deer in headlights, afraid to make one sudden move.

"Turning to flattery to try and win me over, are we?" I say slowly.

I almost think he'll stumble over his words once more, but again he surprises me with a full answer. It's only three words but it's clear, and his voice is deep, and I want to fucking jump his bones right then and there.

"Is it working?"

This has to be the alcohol making me imagine things... I swear I didn't even drink that much tonight, but it has to be an obvious lapse in judgement. The drinking mixed with the sex mixed with the dirty thoughts I've been having about this man lately have to be what's making this feel real. It's all culminating into this one big fantasy (or delusion, more like), and all I need is to shower and sleep it off.

That has to be it.

So because there's no other reasonable explanation that my brain can conjure up, I take a chance and throw Spencer a wink before turning and sprinting up the stairs.

And it's that same seemingly undeniable reasoning for this illusion that doesn't keep my hands from wandering in the shower. Even though those warning sirens in my brain keep blaring, telling me that the common sense is still there for me to utilize, they're drowned out by my thrumming heartbeat and the repetition of Spencer's soothing, authoritative voice, guiding my movements.

Keep rubbing your clit for me, baby... Just like that, nice and slow...

Warm water cascades down the front of my body as I lean back into the wall of the shower, but that's not why I'm so warm. This heat radiates through my insides, spreading like wildfire and bringing out small whimpers and mewls that I know I'll have to contain in fear of waking my mom from her bedroom right next door.

But then the thought of her hearing me next door as I cry out her boyfriend's name only excites me more. I keep it quiet still, but just knowing that someone else is in the house while I'm having these thoughts right now (one of them being the object of said thoughts) is what finally brings me over the edge.

I finish my shower on weak legs, definitely overstimulated now, but also feeling even more tired. I know that the moment I lay down on my bed, I'll be pulled into the sweet, soft surrender of a deep sleep.

Nothing else has ever sounded so pleasant.

———

When I woke up that morning after, I was feeling surprisingly calm. Realistically I knew that my whole 'this has to be an illusion' montage had been less truth and more inebriated babble, and the longer I sat on it the more I thought it'd all turned out for the better.

Turns out, tipsily masturbating in the shower to thoughts of your mom's hot new boyfriend was a surefire way to get it out of your system, right?

Wrong.

It really had been okay at first. I thought about Spencer almost immediately, and yeah, he was still hot as fuck—But there wasn't this overwhelming desire within me to jump his bones when I saw him that morning, his hair messy and his hands clutching a cup of coffee while Mom made breakfast behind him.

But that good feeling I had about all of this? It lasts only about a split second.

Because the moment he looks up and sees me, the mug falls out of his hand and shatters to pieces. His eyes stay glued to me, even as my mother darts over to pick up the pieces of the ceramic that are scattered about the table and the floor. And when she turns back to grab a paper towel, he still stares at me, once again at my legs.

It takes me all of four seconds afterwards to remember that not only did I talk to him briefly last night, but I also flirted with him after he complimented me.

That whole part seemed to have slipped my mind when waking up, and now that his gaze is bringing me back to that moment, that 'this has to be an illusion' montage is starting to become larger than I'd remembered.

It isn't until he finally snaps out of it and starts to help my mom clean up the mess that I snap out of it, too, going back upstairs to clear my head and cool the heat radiating over my skin.

———

There's a knock at my bedroom door about an hour later, and it sounds different than my mom's usually quick two-knock succession. That means it's someone else, and unsurprisingly, my stomach tightens at the thought of seeing him again.

"Yeah?" I call out, turning in my desk chair and meeting Spencer's figure in the doorway. He's changed, a rather nice pair of slacks and a white button-up shirt clinging to his limbs.

"Can I come in?"

"Mhm," I say. I still don't know if I entirely trust myself to say anything more than a few words to him, and as he enters the room and sits on the foot of my bed, I wonder if he can tell.

He tries, really tries, to look me in the eye, but I know that it's hard. I've been in the same spot. And then he takes a deep breath before folding his hands in his lap.

"Y/N, I want to apologize... When we... talked last night... It was kind of weird, and then this morning wasn't really any better..." He can barely get out the words 'talk' and 'last night'... And then he avoids my gaze altogether, staring at the floor and trailing off, trying to put his thoughts together it seems.

And that's when it starts to click into place.

There's one thing that both last night and this morning have in common, and I've noticed it almost every time I've caught him staring at me. At my legs. It's happened almost daily since I've met him. And then, the night I come home clearly having just been fucked, waltzing past him, entertaining his fascination with my legs and then masturbating to thoughts of him in the shower, he finally starts dropping mugs.

He must also really feel something here. Something similar to my own feelings. And really, that should be a red flag, because he's my mom's boyfriend, and it's a goddamned fucking mess...

But fuck, it excites me.

I'm still wearing my pajama shorts, silky and lavender in color, and I use them to my advantage, slowly crossing one leg over the other and just barely gaining Spencer's attention back.

"Yeah, what was that, anyway?" I ask him, amusement dripping off my tongue.

I can tell from his reaction that he wasn't expecting me to ask. A few times he opens his mouth to speak and then closes it , stumbling before panicking. He's been pretty good so far at coming up with answers and explanations, so the fact that this time I finally seemed to have broken him down makes it all the more clear.

He must have heard me in the shower.

Right?

I'm almost completely positive that's what this is about. And there's one way for me to get the confirmation I'm looking for.

"So you heard me, huh?"

I try to keep my voice as plain as I can as not to give away my motives, and with my luck Spencer is so flustered that he probably wouldn't have even noticed it at all. He looks up at me, his eyes desperately trying to find something he can use to make up a lie, but in the end there's no use.

I've caught him. And he knows it.

"Yes," he whispers. He looks exhausted, guilty, and also a little like he wants to cross the barrier and kiss me.

Okay, maybe that part's just in my head. I really can't tell. But I do know that hearing me call his name out in the shower last night is what brought him to this point of severe distress. As much as that excites me, though, it also embarrasses me a little. Maybe if it hadn't happened we could have avoided further destruction.

It must read on my face, because Spencer perks a little. "Oh! Y/N, I'm not... I'm not mad or anything. I really didn't mean to overhear and invade your privacy... Really, I-I'm sorry."

The fact that he's apologizing to me right now, rather than acting all grossed out that I even did it in the first place, tells me he either feels guilty for not being able to help himself from hearing me, or he's just a good guy who loves my mom and doesn't want to ruin it because of a little mishap.

Either way, it's frustrating, because I don't know what to do.

Well, I know what I want to do, but I don't know if I should hint at it.

But then he does something. It's small, and no one would have noticed, but I've been fascinated with his hands since the moment I met him, so my eyes are instantly drawn there.

They're clenched so hard, his knuckles are nearly white.

He's nervous.

To ease his mind a bit, I hold off on poking the bear harder (though it's really tempting to see what will happen if I don't) and nod, trying to make myself look as apologetic and small as possible.

"It's okay... I... I won't make it awkward if you won't?"

His shoulders slump, and his body seems to relax. "Y–yeah. Yeah, deal."

He gets up off the bed and blurts one final apology before heading for the door, but that part of me that wants to poke the bear further makes me stand up and follow him.

"Spencer?" I call out.

He freezes and turns to face me, and I don't think he quite expected me to be as close as I am. I have to tilt my head up to look at him, and the angle gives me an added layer of this innocence I'm trying to achieve.

"I'm sorry, too..."

No the fuck I'm not.

Whether he can sense my lie or not, he doesn't show it. But I think he at least knows that I'm pitching my voice a little higher on purpose, and if that doesn't give it away, the way I'm staring at him sure should.

Still, he only nods and retreats.

All there's left to do is see what happens.

JUNE 25th

For someone who agreed not to make things awkward, Spencer sure can't keep his eyes off of me.

To be fair, I have tried to keep things fairly normal. I only really interacted with him if I had to, I kept my distance, and I saved my skimpier clothing for the strangers I was regularly going out to see almost every weekend.

My lustful feelings for him aren't as strong now that I've been getting some on a semi-regular basis and keeping myself occupied. I've been doing my part.

But I still can't shake him entirely.

Whenever he spends the night (which is surprisingly most nights), the occasional wet dream about him gets me frustrated when I know he's just down the hall and sleeping soundly next to my mom. On those days I try to cut as much interaction with him as I can, though it doesn't keep me from seeing the occasional stare he throws my way.

I wish I could say that I hate it.

But I don't, and it increasingly gets worse. It's only been a week, so there's still time, but honestly, I don't think there's any shaking him.

Today especially is one of those days where it's hard not to give into the incessant need to tease him and coax some stronger reaction out of him.

I talked to Mom earlier this morning about getting some new clothes, and she had this brilliant idea to have Spencer take me. "It would be a good chance for you two to bond a little, don't you think?" she insisted, nudging him in the side and silently pleading with her eyes for him to agree.

I could tell from the look on his face that he really wasn't ready to be alone with me again, but that only excited me.

"Yeah, I think that's a great idea," I piped up, positively beaming.

Mom was so excited for us to 'bond' and also that I was gladly inclined to go through with it that Spencer couldn't have said no to her even if he wanted to.

And I was pretty sure he didn't want to.

Yet here we are, sitting in the car, the air conditioning so strong it's blowing some of my hair into my eyes. I think it had been his way of punishing me for choosing today to wear a short skirt, something I usually refrain from nowadays unless I'm going out, and it makes me smile. I can't help it.

I also can't help the way my fingers play with my skirt, dying to tease him some more. I just want to see, to know for sure that I'm driving him mad.

"No offence, but you seem weird today... Is there something wrong?" I ask him, lifting my skirt just a smidge. The air from the car blows the fabric in waves.

"You're acting this way on purpose."

Well, I hadn't been expecting that answer... All this time he'd hardly been confrontative, and now he's full-on calling me out. It's plain to see that he's finally snapped, and I would have felt sorry about it if I didn't find it extremely sexy.

"What do you mean?"

"Y/N..."

My name on his lips is a warning. He's clearly annoyed, exasperated, and I'm loving every second. "Don't act oblivious. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. I don't want to make you hate me or anything, but you have to know where I'm coming from. I was willing to let the shower thing slide... And you said you were too, for that matter, so I don't know what's changed, but it has to stop now. Understood?"

Oh, all I want is to argue with him. I want to point out that none of this is really my fault because he's the one who hasn't been able to stop staring at me all summer so far. I want to tell him that if he wants this to stop he has to make it stop.

But that isn't going to give me any of the answers I'm looking for or further proof of my theory that he wants me just as badly as I want him. And I am not going to fuck this whole situation up by making a poorly-timed move on him.

I have to know for sure.

So, I fold my hands neatly in my lap, sigh, and look dead ahead. "Right... We said no awkwardness. I'm sorry."

Spencer seems to accept my apology and continues down the road.

When we make it to the mall I think he's calmed down. At least, he seems a little more comfortable around me, and honestly I'm okay with it. As much as his spiel in the car turned me on, it also exhausted me to the point of silence.

Even as we walk around each store in the mall, I just lead and he follows, not saying a word when I pick out a top or a pair of pants or whatever else I need. And when it comes time to pay, he takes the basket from me and pays for it with no question.

Near five bags of clothes later, I figure I could get used to this new dynamic.

But then we pass a lingerie store, and I remember that the main thing I'd needed was new underwear. I start to turn into the store, but stop suddenly, pausing awkwardly and deciding to go straight ahead instead.

"You don't want to go in?" Spencer asks.

I shake my head. "No, it's fine. I can just pick some up later, it's not a big deal."

He sighs then, nodding his head towards the sign. "If you need to go in, you can... I'll just wait out here if you're uncomfortable."

I really want to call him out, ask him if he's the one who should be worried about being uncomfortable. But so far this afternoon has been pretty decent, and I really don't want to make things any weirder than they have to be.

Besides... If my theory is right...

"Sure. Thanks. Uh, how am I gonna pay, though?"

"O—Oh... I'll uh... I'll just watch the counter and come in when you need me."

"Orrrr, you could just give it to me?"

This time I get a laugh out of him. "Not a chance. Go in, I'll wait."

I smile at him and hand him the bags to hold onto while I leave, and it fills me with absolute amusement that he'd just given me one more ounce of proof that I'm right.

He's gonna have to come inside and pay for what I bought. He could have just given me the card, and maybe he truly doesn't trust me with it (which I don't know why he wouldn't honestly), but he chose to come inside all the same.

I browse happily then, going through the displays and picking out things I need, but also things I know Spencer will like.

Specifically, I stumble on a pair of lavender panties, embroidered with flowery trim up top. The pattern from the outside is lace, but there's a thin layer of cotton underneath designed to be more comfortable to wear.

I've noticed that he can never seem to look away when I'm wearing anything, really, but it's more intense when I wear one of two things. Florals, and any type of purple. And these fit both of those bills perfectly.

Now there's just one more bill to take care of.

I stride over to the counter and turn around, finding that Spencer's caught my eye immediately. Either he truly had been paying attention to the counter the whole time, or he'd been watching through the glass, following me with his gaze to the best of his abilities. Either way, he blinks a few times and looks like he's gathering the courage to go in before actually taking any steps.

I laugh to myself, eager to gauge his reaction to this next step.

Surprisingly, he holds up well. The air between me, him, and the cashier is obviously awkward, but he doesn't say anything and barely looks at what she rings up. (I say barely because he tries extremely hard not to look at the purple pair I picked out, inadvertently adding another checkmark to my list of proof.) She tells him the total, he hands her the card, and within a minute, everything is in our possession and we're leaving the mall entirely.

I don't think there are any more steps to my plan today once we get in the car and I tell him thank you. (To which he responds a short and simple, Sure thing, and turns the radio on.)

But then there's a note taped to the front door, and it instantly gives me another one.

My Sweethearts,

I got called in on a work emergency and won't be back until 7. I would have called but I figured you were having a nice time and didn't want to interrupt! I'll bring home dinner, and then maybe you can tell me about how your day went. Can't wait to hear it!

XOXO,

Eve/Mom

I check my phone, seeing that it's almost 3.

Perfect.

But I don't want to give myself away too quickly, so I thank Spencer again for taking me out and tell him that I'm going upstairs to make sure everything fits right. He nods and lets me go, though not without lingering eyes. I can feel it.

The smile never leaves my face as I try all my clothes on. Once each article has been fitted, I throw it in a laundry basket and move to the next, until I get to the last piece.

The lavender panties.

As expected, they fit perfectly, and as I look at myself in the mirror I picture what Spencer would look like when he sees me wearing them.

That's right. When.

I throw back on my earlier outfit and grab the basket, acting as bored and normal as possible to find him sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book.

"Hey," I greet him, setting the basket in front of me once I reach the bottom of the stairs. "Everything fits good, I just need them washed now. Could you run these down to the laundry room for me? I think I'm gonna make something to snack on before Mom brings dinner."

It doesn't surprise me to see him look at my legs before my face, even if it is brief. I want to smile, but I hold back, watching him nod with a tight smile of his own.

"Sure."

He disappears and then I wait.

One...

Two...

Three.

I sneak as quietly as I can to the laundry room once I hear the washer door open. I hadn't specifically asked him to put them in the washer for me on purpose, and it looks like now he's doing exactly what I thought he might.

My head peeks around the corner, barely in his range of sight as I watch him empty the basket. He takes one item of clothing at a time and throws it in the washer, and halfway through the basket he stops, just to place a pair of my new underwear on the dryer beside him.

My heart races faster the more I wait for him to get to the end of the basket. Once he does, he pauses again, and I think I know exactly what he's looking for.

Still, he sets the basket aside and picks up the stray pair of underwear, a simple black cotton pair that I'd been getting for years, and drapes it over his hands. My thighs instantly clench, and I try so hard to remain where I am so I can see where he takes this.

He takes it straight to hell, apparently, tentatively pulling his dick out of his pants and gripping it firmly. I can barely see since his back is partially turned, but I see enough, and god he's so fucking pretty. My underwear dangle from his left hand while the other works slowly over his erection, a soft sigh falling from his lips.

I fight to let one of my own slip as my hand sinks down the front of my body, past the lavender cotton and lace that I know he just wishes he had right now.

And then, a few seconds later he's already coming, using my brand new underwear to catch each rope of it, and the sight nearly has me on my knees.

And because I want to catch him in the act, I quickly draw my hand away from myself and step into the room, barely giving him time to recover.

"You come fast."

Spencer looks utterly devastated when he turns to see me standing in the entryway to the laundry room, arms crossed and an amused smirk adorning my face.

"Y/N... I—I... I'm so sorry, I didn't... I..."

"Don't worry about it," I say, taking a step towards him and shrugging. "You heard me, and now I heard you... We're even. Besides, I... figured you might be looking for these."

He's still stunned, but he looks down all the same, watching my hands slip under my skirt and glide the lavender panties down my legs. I step out of them and hold the garment up on one finger, a soft smile still on my face.

"I picked 'em out just for you, you know," I tell him, tossing them past his face and into the washer. "I've noticed that you like purple."

This time he's quick to respond. "Y/N, we... We can't... This isn't right."

"Says the man holding my underwear soaked in his cum..."

He looks panicked again, extremely guilty, but if this isn't going to end in a total disaster, then I have to reassure him that I'm okay.

"Spencer, I'm not mad..." I take another step forward, and it feels much like trying to approach a wounded animal. I can see in his eyes and in his posture that this conflict is killing him, so I decide to show some rapport. "And I know... I know this is messy... I love my mom... And I'm sure you care about her a lot... But are we really going to ignore this? We tried that, remember? And now look where we are."

"I..." He swallows, shaking his head and trying to avoid my eyes. "I can't stop thinking about you... I can't..."

My hand finds his arm, and the light touch has him sighing out, an incredulous, breathy laugh escaping him. "Y/N, please... Don't."

"Don't what?" I ask softly, praying he won't turn me away. If he does, we're just back to square one, only the square is jagged, sharper than ever before, and in serious danger of injuring someone.

When he meets my eyes, I see nothing but a desire for something he knows he can't have. "Don't want me."

Now it's my turn to laugh. My knees start to wobble as I go down, keeping my eyes locked onto his, and I swear I see them dilate fully. I scoot in closer, sliding my hand up his leg and finding the words in my heart to finally say out loud.

"It's too late for that..."

My face moves closer, and the hand of his that doesn't currently hold my underwear flies down to gently tug at my hair, keeping me in place.

"If you do this... God, Y/N, I won't be able to stop myself..."

A smirk dances over my lips as I lean in, breath fanning gently over his exposed skin. "Don't."

He swallows. "Don't what?"

"Don't stop yourself."

I barely get the words out before his hand is completely pulling me towards him, and the second my lips press against the silky skin of his hard cock, he loses it completely.

His fingers thread through my hair as I kiss and lick my way softly up to the tip. Once I'm there, I swirl my tongue out and taste the small beads of cum that had remained after he came, a low, satiated hum radiating through my body and making him shiver under my touch.

And then I wrap my lips fully around the head of his dick, and there's no stopping the most beautiful sound I've ever heard come out of his mouth. It's a broken, desperate whisper of my name. The crack in his voice when he says it spurs me forward, and I take him deeper into my mouth until he hits the back of my throat.

That's when he tosses my underwear in the washer and uses both of his hands to grab my head, roughly guiding me along his cock and fully taking control of my actions.

The fire in my belly doesn't ease up, not even once he's decided that he can't take it anymore and pulls me off of him harshly.

And that's only because now he's fully turned over, finally given into these desires that have been plaguing him presumably from the moment we met.

"I want you stripped and in your bed, on your hands and knees within the next five minutes."

I get up off the floor and walk up to him until our bodies are flush, my arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

"What are you gonna do to me, Spencer?"

He searches my eyes, and his own grow dark with the purest form of sin I'd ever seen. And when his hands come up over the back of my legs, and under my skirt to grab my ass and pull me even closer to him, I can't help the little mewl that slips past my lips.

He smiles, and if it hadn't been for the grip he held on me, I would have fallen to my knees. "Little girl, when I'm through with you, you'll have to come up with some excuse to your mom about why you can't walk straight... Is that what you want?"

The mention of my mom should send me running in the opposite direction, but his threat only prolongs that fire in my veins and makes me want him even more.

I tilt my head up and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Do your worst..."

———

Turns out he was very true to his word.

Sitting at the kitchen table is somewhat of a relief, but I try not to walk around as much when Mom gets home. She'd asked me almost immediately if I was okay, and I told her I was just hungry and needed to eat something.

She seemed to have bought it, rushing to the kitchen to unpack the fast food she'd ordered for us. Over her shoulder, Spencer gave me a sly smile, and it took everything I had within myself not to crumble.

Through bites of food, I only half-listen to Mom telling us about the stuff she had to do at work because most of the words I'm hearing are in my head— A loop of endless dirty talk that plants deep into the soil of my stomach and spreads out through my whole body. It infects me, like the most beautiful poison, and I never want it to stop.

"Tell me, sweetheart, you ever let a man come inside you before?"

His weight on top of me coupled together with the heft of his voice has me whining out in pleasure, each snap forward of his hips over my ass as he pounds into me from behind the most delectable burn I've ever felt.

"Uh huh," I answer happily, twisting my head to feel his cheek against my own. "That night you heard me in the shower... I walked through the door with a stranger's cum soaking my panties... And you know what?"

He grumbles, his hips hitting into me harder as he waits for me to continue.

"I wished it was yours..."

My legs clench together under the table and I take a large gulp of water.

I feel something graze over my bare shin, and I already know it's Spencer's foot, a silent reassurance of his presence and that no matter what, he'll always be here.

"Here's what's going to happen..."

He has me on my back now, my legs hoisted over his shoulders and bent back so I'm nearly folded in half. His hips are flush against mine and I can feel his cock throbbing as he comes into the condom.

"You're gonna make an appointment to make sure you're clean... You're gonna make sure you're on good birth control... And then the next time I fuck this pretty little pussy, you're gonna really know what it feels like to have a man come inside you."

Right... Like I really need a reminder of his presence.

I can practically feel it still inside me, taking up every inch of space my body could provide. And no matter how long I go without seeing him, I have no doubt that it'll always remain.

"But that's enough about me, I'm sorry." Mom's voice shifts and breaks me out of my fantasy. "So, how did your day of bonding go? You have fun?"

Spencer and I share a look, a smile spreading over his lips that makes me smile in turn.

"Yeah, Mom," I say. "It was great."

He nods in kind. "Yeah... We'll definitely have to do it again."

His foot grazing over my leg under the table cements the unwavering smile on my face, as does the way my whole body burns at the memory of him fucking me upstairs only hours before.

I don't even flinch or get sick to my stomach when Mom reaches over and gives Spencer a kiss.

———

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hootysblog · 3 years

Text

Hoot hoot everyone! First off, sorry for not posting in a couple weeks. I got a new job and I forgot to post. I don't know if I'll post here every week or every other week, but I promise it'll get posted.

So, next story was written before "Knock knock knocking on Hooty's Door." Enjoy!

Luz's Deepest Wish

The Owl House crew have been busy the past few days, from Luz and Hunter's team up, the revolution invitation from Raine, to King still trying to find something out about his dad. Now, Hooty's in the mix.

Surprisingly, he's really good at listening to others people's issues and offering solutions. He was able to give Eda and King great advice about their problems. Hooty is up for a challenge, helping Luz with her problem.

Luz has been focusing on the echo mouse almost all day. He has revealed some things about Philip and the portal, but not the key component that Luz is missing.

"C'mon little guy," begged Luz, "can you play one more entry?" The mouse was sleeping and couldn't be bothered. Luz, in frustration, laid down on her sleeping bag.

"Why is this so hard?" Luz thought. "Am I doing something wrong? What if I never get back home? I'll have to stay on the Boiling Isles, which isn't bad. I'll have Eda, Willow, Gus, Amity...." Luz blushed at that thought.

She hasn't seen Amity since that fateful night at Blight Manor. Her thoughts roamed back to Amity and her newly cut and dyed lavender hair, which Luz loved. Of course, she thought of the kiss. The feather light kiss Amity had left on her check. If her brain was working at that moment, she would've kissed her back, but Amity sped off into the Manor, leaving Luz awestruck.

Lost in thought, she didn't hear Hooty pop his head through the window. "HOOT HOOT LUZ! YOU'RE BUDDY IS HERE TO HELP YOU!"

"AHHHH!"Luz screamed while throwing a pillow at him. "Sorry Hooty. You scared me."

"It's okay Luz. I didn't mean to scare you. I thought I could help you with your problems!"

"My problems?"

"Yeah! I've been so good with Eda and King that I wanted to help my Luz out!"

"Please don't call me my Luz ever again. It's creepy" Luz told him.

"But Amity can call you that right?" He smiled, getting a little closer to Luz.

Luz, blushing like mad, choked out "H,h,how did you know that?!"

"I heard you mumbling it up here after the fight, hoot!" he said.

"Please tell me you don't listen to my conversations all the time?"

"I try not to, but sometimes they're interesting!!"

Luz pinches the bridge of her nose. "Okay, you're here to help with my problem?"

"Yes!"

"Do you even know my problem Hooty?"

"Well I know you have problems," he replied smiley, but Luz didn't find that amusing and gave him a death glare. "But I think your problems stem from one problem in general."

"I'm not following."

"Well, take your palisman for example." Luz remembers that day, and she didn't like it, even though she was able to save the palismans and Eda and King were able to steal palistrum wood so she could create her own, when she was ready to. "You said your wish was to be a witch right?"

Luz nodded. "And then you wanted to go back home to your mother, stay in the Boiling Isles, or wait to reveal your wish until you saw your mother hoot hoot?"

"I know what happened that day Hooty, just get to the point," Luz annoyingly said. "Why did I agree to this?" Luz thought.

"Maybe, your wish is to be liked for who you are. I think you came here for a reason. You found a second family that loves you for you and a certain someone who really loves you and your personality." Luz blushed and turned away from Hooty, going that he didn't notice.

"So you're saying, that my wish is that I want someone who loves me for me and doesn't find me weird?" Luz turned to look at Hooty. "And that if I tell this person that I like them that most of my problems will be easier to solve?"

Hooty nods. "And I think you know who that witch is, hoot hoot."

Luz was lost in thought for a few seconds. Suddenly, it hit her. Hooty was right. It all makes sense. "HOOTY, YOU'RE A GENIUS!" Luz exclaimed.

*Gasp* "I've never been called that before!!!" Hooty said, crying tears of joy.

Luz gets up and hugs Hooty. "You're right Hooty. You really did help."

"No problem Luz. Now, are you going to tell her how you feel?"

Luz, feeling confident now, replied yes, sprinted downstairs and bolted out the door. She ran right past her mentor, who didn't even have the time to ask where she was going.

Eda, stunned by Luz's sudden departure, yelled to Hooty "What did you tell her?"

"I was able to help her with her problem!" Hooty exclaimed.

"Which one, the portal or the Blight one?"

"The Blight one, hoot hoot!"

"Huh, never thought I would say this, but," Eda swallowed, "Good job Hooty."

Hooty goes and wraps Eda in one of his signature hugs, which she secretly enjoys.

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

Luz reaches Blight Manor and knocks on the door, anxiously waiting for the door to open.

"Luz, I haven't seen you all week," Edric said while opening the door.

"Where's Amity?!? I need to talk to her!" Luz loudly said, gasping for air.

"Calm down Luz. She's not here", he explained. Luz felt defeated. "But.." Luz perked up when Ed started talking again, "She's at the library if you need to see her."

"Thanks Ed!" Luz ran away while waving good bye.

Minutes later, she arrives at the library.

"Malphas, have you seen Amity?" Luz asked the head librarian.

"Yeah. She's in, like, her study room" he replied with a smile. Luz thanked him and made her way to Amity's secret room.

Amity, doing research on the human realm, Thank Titan for my own room. I would never hear the end of it from Ed and Em, she thought and heard her secret room starting to open.

Scrambling to hide the book, she was about to go off on the twins. "Can you two please stop bargaining in here?!? It's called a secret room for a..." Amity stopped mid-sentence after she saw Luz standing there.

Luz, closing the room, made her way over to Amity. Amity, starting to blush, was about to say something, but Luz was able to talk first.

"You missed palisman day."

"I know, I wasn't happy about it, but I couldn't go," Amity said, trying to avoid eye contact with Luz.

"I know why you didn't go."

Amity looked at Luz with confusion. Luz continued speaking.

"It's because you were avoiding me. I've done what you did back at home," she nervously admitted.

"Luz...." Amity tried to say.

"No Amity. I need to say this and I think you should know what happened that day. I didn't get a palisman."

Amity was surprised. Surely, Luz, who is the most emotional person she's ever met, would've matched up with a palisman. "Why?"

"I said I wanted to become a witch, then stay here on the Isles, but also go home to see my Mami. Then, later that night, I said that I had to see my Mami before I could decide my future, but Hooty made me realizes something." Amity was in shock. That bird tube was smart?!? "He made me realize that I needed to tell my crush that I like them, and now I'm ready to do that."

Amity, still processing what Luz had said, "I'm sorry you didn't get a palisman, but why do you think telling your crush you like them will help you?"

"Because then my future could be a little bit clearer," Luz said while moving closer to Amity.

"Luz, what are you doing?" Amity said, while backing away from Luz.

"Sneaking into your heart, like I always do", Luz said confidently while grabbing Amity hands.

Amity, turning into a blushing disaster (that Luz loves), tries to talk to Luz, but Luz's lips are on hers and she melts into the kiss.

The kiss, which only last a few seconds, was magical and better than they both could've imagined.

Luz, on cloud nine, pulls her lips away from Amity and looks into Amity's golden eyes and smiled.

Amity was left speechless. She saw Luz, with her goofy smile and her brown eyes sparking in the dim light of her study room. Amity gathered up her courage to speak. "Luz, you shouldn't have done that."

Luz's expression changed. She frowned and felt her heart drop, stammers out "Oh no! What did I do? What did I do? I just ruined our friendship with that kiss! I thought you liked me because you kissed me at your house! Oh no oh no oh no!" Luz falls to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. Amity was heartbroken.

"Luz, calm down. Luz... Luz... Luz, look at me," Amity rushed over and comforts Luz. Luz looks up at Amity. "How can she be so beautiful after crying?" Amity thought.

"I do like you, like really like you," Amity smiled.

"Then why didn't you want me to kiss you if you say you like me? And why didn't you come to palisman day?" Luz sniffled out.

Amity started laughing, "I didn't mean to avoid you Luz. I'll admit, I was scared to see you at school after what I did, but you are not the reason why I didn't go to school. And I did want to kiss you, but now we're going to have a problem on our hands."

"Why?"

"I was just getting over the Common Mold." Luz looked confused. "It's a sickness we witches get. We sneeze, get a fever, chills...."

"LIKE A COLD!" Luz finally caught on. "Sorry, we call that the common cold in the human realm."

"Oh, well, um, I'm still recovering from it, but I felt okay to come to my study room, but we just kissed so...." Amity looked over at Luz, with an apologetic look on her face.

"Great, now I'm going to get sick with a Boiling Isles disease.....Awesome!" Luz practically screamed.

"Only you would be excited to get a disease from here," Amity said with sarcasm.

"Well, when I get sick...."

"You mean if you get sick?" Amity cuts her off.

"No, when I get sick. I always get sick during cold season at home; I can have my girlfriend take care of me," Luz beamed at Amity. "If that's okay with you?"

Amity, grabbing Luz's hand, replied "Yep. I'll take care of you."

Luz, slightly upset that Amity didn't hear her "girlfriend" comment, didn't notice that Amity was leaning in and kissing her again. Pulling away, Luz had a puzzled look on her face.

"What?" Amity smiled, "I can't get my girlfriend even more sick."

Luz, realizing how happy both her and Amity were, snuggled closer to Amity.

Both finally got their wish, and they can't wait to see how their wishes plays out.

#lumity #the owl house

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gayenerd · 3 years

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I just realized I didn’t post that 2007 Rolling Stone article I posted about here.

Billie Joe Armstrong

The Green Day leader talks Bush, Britney and being a middle-aged punk for our 40th anniversary.

DAVID FRICKE

Posted Nov 01, 2007 8:19 AM

You have two young sons. What kind of America will they inherit?

This war has to finish before something new blossoms. There's no draft — that's why none of the kids give a shit. They'd rather watch videos on YouTube. It's hard to tell what's next — there is so much information out there with no power to it. Everything is in transition, including our government. Next year, it's someone else in the White House. There's no way to define anything. It's Generation Zero. But you gotta start at zero to get to something.

Is there anyone now running for president who gives you hope for the future?

Barack Obama, but it's a bit early to tell if this is the guy I like. I get sick of the religious-figure thing. People don't question their rulers, these political figures, just as they don't question their ministers and priests. They're not going to question George Bush, especially if he goes around talking about God — "I'm going to let God decide this for me. He's going to give me the answer." The fear of God keeps people silent.

When did you first vote in a presidential election?

In 1992. I was twenty. I voted for Clinton.

Did you feel like you made a difference?

Yeah. The Eighties sucked. There was so much bullshit that went along with that decade. I felt like Clinton was a fresh face with fresh ideas. There were times when he was dropping bombs, and I'm thinking, "What the fuck are you doing?" But he became a target. We have this puritanical vision of what a leader is supposed to be, and that's what makes us the biggest hypocrites in the world. We got so inside this guy's sexual habits. Now we have a president going around, killing in the name of what? In the name of nothing.

What did you accomplish with your 2004 anti-Bush album, "American Idiot"? He was re-elected anyway, and the war in Iraq is still going on.

I found a voice. There may have been people disenfranchised by it. People have a hard time with that kind of writing: "Why are you preaching to me?" It does sound preachy, a bit. I'm a musician, and I want to say positive things. If it's about self-indulgent depression or overthrowing the government, it's gotta come from my heart. And when you say "Fuck George W. Bush" in a packed arena in Texas, that's an accomplishment, because you're saying it to the unconverted.

Do you think selling nearly 6 million copies of that album might have an effect on the 2008 election? A kid who bought it at fifteen will be voting age next year.

I hope so. I made it to give people a reason to think for themselves. It was supposed to be a catalyst. Maybe that's one reason why it's difficult for me to write about politics now. A lot of things on that record are still relevant. It's like we have this monarchy in politics — the passing of the baton between the Clintons and the Bushes. That's frightening. What needs to happen is a complete change, a person coming from the outside with a new perspective on all the fucked-up problems we have.

How would you describe the state of pop culture?

People want blood. They want to see other people thrown to the lions. Do audiences want rock stars? I can't tell. You have information coming at you from so many areas — YouTube, the Internet, tabloids. Watching Britney Spears the other night [on the MTV Video Music Awards] was like watching a public execution. How could the people at MTV, the people around her, not know this girl was fucked up? People came in expecting a train wreck, and they got more than they bargained for.

She was a willing conspirator. She didn't say no.

She is a manufactured child. She has come up through this Disney perspective, thinking that all life is about is to be the most ridiculous star you could be. But it's also about what we look at as entertainment — watching somebody go through that.

How do you decide what your children can see on TV or the Internet? As a dad, even a punk-rock dad, that can make you conservative in your choices.

I want to protect them from garbage. It's not necessarily the sex and drugs. It's bad drugs and bad sex, the violence you see on television and in the news. I want to protect them from being desensitized. I want them to realize this is real life, not a video game.

The main thing I want them to have is a good education, because that's something I never had. Get smart. Educate yourself as much as you can, and get as much out of it, even if the teacher is an asshole.

Do you regret dropping out of high school?

Life in high school sucks. I bucked the system. I also got lucky. My wife has a degree in sociology, and there are conversations she has — I don't have a fucking clue what they're talking about. College — I could have learned from that.

But I was the last of six kids. At that point, my mother was fifty-eight, and she threw up her hands — "I'm through with this parenting thing." Also, I could not handle authority figures. But I wouldn't say I'm an authority figure for my kids. I provide guidelines, not rules.

What is it like being a middle-aged punk? Isn't that a contradiction in terms?

It's about the energy you bring with you, the pulse inside your head. I want to get older. I don't want to be twenty-one again. Screw that. My twenties were a difficult time — where my band was at, getting married, having a child. I remember walking out of a gig in Chicago, past these screaming kids. There were these punks, real ones, sitting outside our tour bus. One girl had a forty-ouncer, and she goes, "Billie Joe, come drink with us." I said, "I can't, I've got my family on the bus." She goes, "Well, fuck you then." I get on the bus, and my wife says, "Did that bitch just tell you to fuck off? I'm gonna kick her ass right now." I'm holding her back, while my child is naked, jumping on the couch: "Hi, Daddy!" That was my whole life right there — screaming kids, punks telling me to fuck off, my wife getting pissed, my naked son waiting to get into his pajamas.

There's nothing wrong with being twenty-one. It's the lessons you learn. At thirty, you think, "Why did I worry so much about this shit?" When I hit forty, I'll say the same thing: "Why did I worry about this shit in my thirties?"

What have you learned about yourself?

There is more to life than trying to find your way through self-destruction or throwing yourself into the fire all the time. Nihilism in punk rock can be a cliché. I need to give myself more room to breathe, to allow my thoughts to catch up with the rest of me.

Before Dookie, I wasn't married and I didn't have kids. I had a guitar, a bag of clothes and a four-track recorder. There are ways you don't want to change. You don't want to lose your spark. But I need silence more than I did before. I need to get away from the static and noise, whereas before, I thrived on it.

Are you ready for the end of the music business? The technology and its effect on sales have changed dramatically since Green Days' debut EP — on vinyl — in 1989.

Technology now and the way people put out records — everything comes at you so fast, you don't know what you're investigating. You can't identify with it — at least I can't. With American Idiot, we made a conscious effort to give people an experience they could remember for the rest of their lives. It wasn't just the content. It was the artwork, the three acts — the way you could read it all like someone's story.

Is music simply not important to young people now the way it was to you as a kid?

People get addicted to garbage they don't need. At shows, they gotta talk on their phones to their friend who's in the next aisle. I was watching this documentary on Jeff Tweedy of Wilco [Sunken Treasure]. He was playing acoustic, and he ends up screaming at the audience: "Your fucking conversation can wait. I'm up here singing a song — get involved." He wasn't being an asshole. He was like, "Leave your bullshit behind. Let's celebrate what's happening now."

We need music, and we need it good. I took it very seriously. There's a side of me where music will always send chills up my spine, make me cry, make me want to get up and do Pete Townshend windmills. In a lot of ways, I was in a minority when I was young. There are people who go, "Oh, that's a snappy tune." I listen to it and go, "That's the greatest fucking song ever. That is the song I want played at my funeral."

Now that you've brought it up, what song do you want played at your funeral?

It keeps changing. "Life on Mars?" by David Bowie. "In My Life," by the Beatles. "Love," by John Lennon.

Those are all reflective ballads, not punk.

I disagree. They are all honest in their reflection. The punk bands I liked were the ones who didn't fall into clichés — the Clash, the Ramones. The Ramones wrote beautiful love songs. They also invented punk rock. I'd have to add "Blitzkrieg Bop" to the list.

What is the future of punk rock? Will it still be a voice of rebellion in twenty years?

It's categorized in so many different ways. You've got the MySpace punks. But there is always the subculture of it — the rats in the walls, pounding the pavement and booking their own live shows. It comes down to the people who are willing to do something different from everybody else.

You are in a different, platinum-album world now. What makes you so sure that spirit survives?

I'm going on faith — because I was there. Gilman Street [the Berkeley, California, club where Green Day played early shows] is still around. And that's a hard task, because there is no bar — it's a nonprofit cooperative. It's like a commune — this feeling of bucking the system together, surviving and thriving on art. Punk, as an underground, pushes for the generation gap. As soon as you're twenty-five years old, there's a group of sixteen-year-olds coming to kick your ass. And you have to pass the torch on. It's a trip to have seen it happen so many times. It gives me goose bumps — punk is something that survives on its own.

#article #interview #articles #billie joe armstrong

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sabraeal · 4 years

Text

Happiness Is Just Around the Corner

The Wide Florida Bay | Previous

Written for @bubblesthemonsterartist for her birthday! This was...not the fic I thought I’d be writing, but this is where this subplot needed to start >:3c

There is an improbable amount of fireworks on the lawn.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure none of it’s legal,” Kiki assures him, taking a long drag of her Sam’s Summer. “Shiira took his ducklings up to New Hampshire yesterday, and they came back with two coolers worth of...something.”

Zen coughs on the dregs of his Magic Hat. “What? Should we even--?”

Kiki’s flat stare is more effective than a hand over his mouth. “You really think we’ll get in trouble.”

His gut instinct is yes, because there’s not a day in his life where his brother hasn’t caught him with his pants down just to prove a point. It would be just like him to send a cruiser around so that he could experience the heart-stopping terror of being on the other side of a two-way mirror. Sure, Haruka would be down at the station before he could even ask for a phone call, and all of this would slide off his permanent record like water off a duck’s back, but still-- trouble.

But he doesn’t say that. He takes a deep breath, thinks. It’s quiet here on campus. They’re rowdy, sure, but it’s just the frat there, not some rager with Omega Delta Nu. The campus cops are probably bored out of their skulls, but they’re not going to nail the honor’s frat for a light show.

“No,” he admits, begrudgingly. “Not unless they light something on fire.”

Her mouth twitches, following the spark in her eyes. “Well, there’s a non-zero chance of that.”

Ugh, of course Kiki would be excited by the prospect. “Well, as long as we don’t get--” Obi crosses the lawn, aviators looming over a wide smile, and hovers just at Shiira’s shoulder, perusing the goods. “UH.”

“Fuck.” Kiki hops off the porch, straight down into the landscaping. “I’ll handle this.”

Zen settles back against the porch swing and sighs, taking another swig of Magic Hat. “Yeah, please do.”

Kiki’s already halfway across the lawn by the time he’s finished talking, so quick that when Obi picks up a particularly patriotic package of pyrotechnics, she’s there to snatch it out of his hands. Even from here, Zen can see the jut of his pout, hear the faint whine of Ms Kiki on the air.

Mitsuhide’s lighting up the grill, surrounded by a crowd convinced cooking works by consensus. He takes a handkerchief out of his back pocket-- stars and stripes, stuffed there early this morning as Obi solemnly announced, you are America’s hat today, big guy-- and wipes the sweat beading on his forehead. Zen can’t tell whether it’s from the heat or from the effort needed to withstand six guys offering advice on proper grilling technique.

A cool breeze tumbles through the porch, carrying the muted voices of a dozen conversations. Zen closes his eyes, letting the smell of smoke and the heat of the day wash over him, the swing rocking gently on its chains.

It’s nice, having all this. People he can anticipate. People he can depend on. Friends. The real kind, not just kids whose parents went to the same prep school as his.

This isn’t where he’s supposed to be.

A year ago that would have sent him scrambling-- last minute tickets and crumpled up itineraries paired with the crushing guilt of never being enough. But now--

Now he knows this is where he wants to be. And there’s only one person to thank for that.

“Hey.” His eyes slit open, and there she is, brilliant smile and bright hair, peeping around the post. “Enjoying yourself?”

Zen drops his legs from the rail to make room. “I am now.”

Shirayuki’s mouth slants, playfully wry, and his heart strains against his sternum like a dog testing its leash. “It looked like you were before too.”

“Well, sure.” He wishes he had Obi’s obnoxious aviators right now, if only so she couldn’t see the eager way he watches her as she comes up, tucking herself neatly onto the opposite end of the swing. “But even more now that you’re around.”

Freckles disappear behind a bloom of pink, settling in on either cheek. “Ah, w-well,” she stammers, staring at her bare toes. “It’s good to know you don’t regret staying here.”

“Instead of being with my family?” He laughs, incredulous, draping his arm over the back of the swing. His fingers just barely brush the freckles on her shoulder. “More like I’m thankful for the excuse.”

Her smile dims. “Oh, um, right. You and Izana...”

She hesitates. There’s a wealth of ways she could end that thought, but instead she says, “It must be nice. I mean, the place your family has, not...”

The fraught relationship you have with your brother. She doesn’t have to say it for him to know exactly what she means.

“It’s all right, I guess,” he allows, wishing she’d sit closer, that she’d give him a good reason to put his arm around her for real, and not just let him awkwardly hang here. “I mean, it’s just a house. The beach is nice though. Private, of course.”

That doesn’t stop his mother from inviting the paparazzi if she thinks it will make a good photo op. Last year he’d made the cover of the Inquirer, face scrunched and unattractive as Izana has splashed sea water in his face, with the words Final Frolic for World’s Most Eligible Bachelor? There had been a two-page spread inside, dedicated entirely to the relationship rumors Izana had accrued since Valentine’s Day.

Well, he didn’t have to worry about that this year. No paparazzo was going to stake out a college frat to take pictures of an illegal fireworks show. Now Haki could deal with having her picture slapped across the tabloids because mother thought candid shots made for better family photos.

“Ah, right...” Her laugh stutters out, awkward and endearing. “That sounds...good?”

Shirayuki’s still next to him, the heat from her skin humid against his fingertips, but she’s never felt so far. He grunts, frustrated, shifting closer.

“There’s an old carousel on the island too,” he offers, haltingly. He’s not sure why the impulse takes him to tell her; why he thinks she, specifically, might like it, save that when he looks at her it’s the same as when he saw those hand-carved horses the first time, well-loved and shining beneath antique lights.

“Oh!” She blinks. “My grandparents took me to one of those, once! Back when we visited...”

Her mouth works silently for a moment before pulling tight, the bittersweet twist making her smile more grimace than grin.

“Well, you’d love this one,” he assures her, sweat pricking at his palms. “It’s the oldest in the US. But it’s still really nice! I’ll take you next--”

His words slam to a stop, running headlong into the barrier of his teeth. She’s staring at him now, eyes wide and mouth parted, and-- and what can he say? I’ll take you next year, when my brother suddenly approves of you.

Yeah, he knows better than to hold his breath for that.

“I’m glad, anyway.” She folds her legs up on the swing, one arm hooked around her knees, and tilts her head back. “It’s nice for all of us to be here, together.”

Her eyes are closed, face serene in the evening light, like she could just sit here forever, breathing into the twilight. His heart flutters just looking at her, at the way she relaxes next to him, content with the slow rock he eases them into. No one can just be the way Shirayuki can.

“It is,” he agrees softly, because anything but a whisper might break this moment, might let the rest of the world in. “It’s going to be weird when you...”

He tries to stop himself, but her eyes fly open before he can. Of course, the one moment he’s gotten her to himself, and he’s gone and ruined it by bringing that up.

“I just mean...” He laughs, tipping his head back on scroll of wood behind his head. “It’s going to be strange when you and Obi are gone next year.”

A month from now, really. It looms over him, a ticking clock that chimes every evening, telling him he’s wasted another day if it wasn’t with her.

“Oh!” Her head snaps upright, cheeks flushed. “I-- I guess. I didn’t really think...” She bites her lip; he wants to kiss it. “Mitsuhide won’t be here either!”

He blinks. It’s true, but he’s never actually thought about that. Mitsuhide has always been in the house, it seems, never the president but a calming influence just to the side of him, and now--

Well, it’ll just be him and Kiki next year. And the rest of the frat, of course, plus all the new pledges.

Still, the future is distinctly more lonely than he’d like.

“He’ll be close, though,” he says, if only to hear the words out loud. “Harvard is a bit of a drive from here, but now that him and Kiki are, you know...”

Banging. That’s what he means to say at least, what he would say if he didn’t, last minute, remember who he was talking to. The last thing he needs is to get a scolding about taking feelings seriously and supporting their friends. Especially when he’d rather be talking about another relationship entirely.

“...Together,” he settles on, and she hums, approving.

“I’m glad that happened.” She rests her chin on her knees, surveying the lawn. Kiki’s abandoned the fireworks committee, instead shooing away the flock of fraters that have congregated around the grill. “They’re good for each other.”

“Made for each other,” he agrees, tickling her shoulder with his thumb. She squirms, a giggle bubbling out from her lips. “Just like...”

Us. He wants to say it, so bad it’s almost an ache, but-- it’s not fair. Not when they’re not really anything, when they can’t be anything, because--

I don’t know if being with me like…like that will be…good for you. I don’t think either of us are ready for that sort of…of attention.

-- Because everything about his life makes things complicated.

“I’m...happy for them,” he says, because he is, because there’s no two people in the world who deserve every bit of goodness they can wring from life more than they do. Even if that leaves him on the outside, again.

“Me too.” Shirayuki smiles, soft and fond, and it’s impossible to believe it’s barely been ten months since he met her, that she isn’t someone he’s known his whole life, not when she just slips seamlessly into every part.

Her hand reaches out, taking his, cool in the evening breeze. “I’ll miss you too.”

His breath catches in his chest, painful. Maybe she feels so familiar because he’s been waiting for her his whole life, too.

“I-I mean, all of you, of course,” she stammers, pink flooding her cheeks, and oh, he wishes he could just lean over now and kiss her, like he was some normal boy with a normal crush and normal expectations of privacy. “I’m excited to go, but...it won’t be the same without everyone.”

Good. He smothers a grin. This whole trip is a great opportunity for her, he knows that-- how could he not, when Izana keeps reminding him about the connections she’ll make-- but--

Two years seems excessive. After a year, she’ll realize that too. And then she can come back for senior year, live in the frat, graduate, spend the summer with him in the Vineyard, and--

“We should do something together,” she says, fingers knotted around his, shoulders rounded shyly.

“Yes!” he blurts out, squeezing way too hard. “Definitely”

“All of us!”

“Ah...” That wasn’t what he thought she was going for. “I mean...”

“One last big adventure.” Her lips spread giddily. “Just the five of us. For now, of course,” she adds, “we’ll be coming back.”

“Oh, ah...” He blinks, staring down at where her hands are tangled with his. She has little over a month left here, and what he really wants is to be doing this, this whole...being together thing, but--

But it’s not like this is going anywhere either. Two years is a long time, but they’ll be sitting here just like this when she gets back. Well-- with more kissing, he hopes.

He can wait. He’s not the only one who will miss her. “Yeah, that sounds...nice.”

His eyes flick up, catching her just as she sinks teeth into the soft pillow of her lip, leaving a dent that begs to be soothed. Zen swallows, hard.

Well, a friendly getaway will have its opportunities for some, ah, private time too. He just has to create them.

“I was thinking,” he starts, lifting a hand to ruffle his hair, trying to be, you know, casual. “What if we--?”

“Hey.” Kiki perches herself across from them with a deftness that says she’s been hanging out with Obi too much. “Burgers are off the grill.”

“Great,” Zen grits out with a glare. “We’ll be down in a minute.”

Kiki hums, brow raising dubiously. “What are you two up to out here?”

“Nothing.” He glowers at her, wishing she would just take a hint. “Just talking.”

“Ah.” Her mouth twitches. “I see.”

“We were just talking about taking a trip!” Shirayuki blurts out excitedly, red-faced and glowing. “All of us! One last adventure before me and Obi go to Lyrias.”

Kiki blinks at that, cocking her head. “What were you thinking?”

“Oh, um, I don’t know.” A giggle burst nervously from her as she smooths the hem of her shorts over her thighs. “We hadn’t really gotten that far.”

All right, it’s time to drag this conversation back on track. Zen clears his throat. “Kiki, doesn’t your dad have that house in the Berkshires? We could go for a weekend, maybe take in the--”

“Why? We’re already in western Mass. What will a forty minute drive get us?” She wrinkles her nose. “It isn’t even peak foliage season.”

Privacy, he wants to say, but he knows how poorly that idea would fly with her. For someone who always seems to find time to be alone with her boytoy, Kiki’s awfully invested in seeing that he never has any with his girl...thing.

“Hm, I wasn’t really think a trip-trip either,” Shirayuki admits, crushing his dreams of a nice afternoon alone in a hammock, just the two of them and their bathing suits. “But something like an, ah...activity. Like an amusement park.” She perks. “Do you have something like that out here?”

“Six Flags!” he blurts out before he can even consider what he’s saying. “It’s only a half hour away, and the coasters are supposed to be some of the best. I mean, if you, ah, like that sort of thing.”

Which he doesn’t, but there’s really no need to mention that. Not when she lights up like she does, hands clapping together over her heart.

“That sounds perfect! I’ve never been to one of those.” She leans in, conspiratorial. “Opa always got vertigo on the Turkish Twist.”

He may not know what that thing is, but it sounds gut-wrenching enough to keep in head in the trash for a good ten minutes. Zen plasters a smile on his face, steadfastly ignoring the arch look Kiki gives him-- god, that’s the last thing he needs, Kiki deciding it would be funny to tell the story of when they rode the Tower of Terror in middle school-- and says, “I’ll go on any ride you want.”

Kiki makes an unearthly noise, somewhere between a cough and a choke, and he braces for it, for the you know, Zen can tell you the location of every trashcan in Hollywood Studios--

“When were you thinking?” she says instead, mouth just barely twitching at the corner. “It’s going to be busy this weekend.”

“Oh!” Shirayuki’s eyes round, matching the curve of her mouth. “I didn’t think of that. It doesn’t have to be right now. Maybe in another...week? Or so?”

Kiki whips out her phone, flicking through with one finger. “How about...the seventeenth?”

“Ah...” Shirayuki squints, eyes rolling upward like her brain is an open book she can skim for answers. “Y-yes. I think that’s all right.”

Zen stares. “Did you just...pick a random date?”

“No.” Kiki clicks her screen off, slipping it back into her pocket. “This weekend will still have traffic from the fourth. Next week we’re supposed to submit our paperwork to the student affairs office for this semester, and I know you haven’t started. I don’t want to go during a weekend rush, and Thursday is far into the week where if we have any last second problems with student affairs, we won’t have to reschedule.” She holds out a hand, ta-da. “The seventeenth.”

It’s not fair how she can just...do all that. “W-well, all right. But we still have to make sure that Obi and Mitsuhide--”

“Hey, Obi,” Kiki calls out, catching his attention as he cuts across the lawn toward them. “What are you doing on July seventeenth?”

In full sunlight, in the view of every member of the frat, Obi stumbles over absolutely nothing. “W-what?”

“July seventeenth.” she repeats archly as he slinks up beside her, arms resting on the rail. “Are you doing anything.”

When he thinks of Obi at rest, he thinks of languid limbs, of a frustratingly canted smile and glittering eyes, but--

He’s not any of that now. His troublesome mouth lays in a tense line, the corners of his eyes creased and wary. “Why?”

“We want to go somewhere, all five of us,” Shirayuki informs him giddily, mouth stretching from ear to hear. “And Zen suggested Six Flags--”

“Oh no.” He holds up his hands, shaking his head. “No way. Hard pass. I don’t do amusement parks.”

Kiki arches a brow, unimpressed. “Is that so.”

“Yeah.” He tosses his head, mouth straining towards casual derision and falling short. “Not my scene.”

“Oh really.” The mild look Kiki levels at him had leveled lesser men, but Obi only flinches. “Too cool for them, huh?”

His shoulders twitch. “Sure, we’ll go with that.”

“Ohh,” Zen grins, enjoying the way Obi squirms like a cat with his head caught in a fence. “So you mean that’s not really the reason? You have some other secret, terrible Bugs Bunny trauma in your past, maybe?”

“Well, I have to tell you,” Obi says loftily, “I’ve never really cared for Yosemite Sam.”

Shirayuki frowns. “We really don’t have to--”

“I think we all know this is just to obscure your Lola Bunny fetish,” Kiki deadpans.

“Excuse me?” Obi presses a hand to his chest, aghast. “Space Jam is a formative experience. To say any of us don’t owe Lola Bunny--”

“Hey.” Mitsuhide hops up the steps, wiping the sweat pouring down his neck. Zen valiantly doesn’t notice how Kiki stares. “The burgers have been done for a bit. What’s keeping all of you?”

“Obi is allergic to fun,” Kiki informs him, earning a shocked gasp from Obi.

“That’s not it!” he protests. “You just want to go to Six Flags--”

“Oh, Six Flags!” Mitsuhide’s mouth break into a guileless grin. “I love amusement parks.”

Obi stares, jaw slack. “Big Guy, don’t do this to me...”

Zen grins. “I dunno, Obi. Looks like you’re outvoted.”

Shirayuki shifts beside him, wringing her hands. “Oh no, I don’t think-- if Obi doesn’t want to go, we can just pick--”

“Nah.” Obi waves her off, one hand clasping at his shoulder. “You guys can do what you want. I’ll just sit this one out.”

“Obi--”

“I better check in on Shiira,” he says, stilted. “Don’t want them blowing up the front forty by accident.”

Shirayuki half stands, but it’s too late, he’s already sauntering away, laughing at he calls out to the brothers on the lawn.

“Don’t worry, Shirayuki.” Mitsuhide assures her with a clap on her shoulder. “He’ll come around.”

“I...” Zen watches the way her mouth sets, too knowing, a grim white line cutting through the flush of her face. “I don’t know about that.”

#akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #slightly obiyuki #slightly zenyuki #The Wide Florida Bay #my fic #modern au #college au #this was honestly supposed to cover both convincing obi #and their trip to the amusement part #but that was a little too ambitious #especially right after bingo #so instead here is the set up #for a minor subplot to come

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miracul0us-multishipper · 4 years

Text

Felix Idea

Continuation of this

“-and anyway, I told Marinette pink is just her color, but I’m sure you would have swooned if you’d seen her in that blue dress she made. Like, not even you, Sunshine would have been able to get out a word in the presence of that angel! A revelation in pastel hues, lemme tell you!”

“Alya,” Felix managed to interrupt her when she had to take a breath. Finding the Ladyblogger had been easy, but getting her to shut up for long enough to speak? Not so much. “Marinette” - or Marian, or whatever her name had been - “looks great! I believed you the first fifteen minutes you told me about it, and I still do now.”

“Oh, but you can’t believe it until you have seen her!”, Alyas blonde friend - Rose? - emphasized as her goth girlfriend nodded along. “We should go visit her right away or you’ll miss the opportunity to witness true lov- beauty!”

God, how did his cousin survive these girls. Felix had only been in their presence for minutes and he already felt the urge to stick his head in the Seine, just to drown out their voices in his ringing ears!

“Later.” he promised, “But I came here to ask you something, and it’s really important.”

Alya had the self control to keep her mouth shut and nod. Finally.

“A few months ago, you posted that interview with Ladybug on your blog, remember?”

Alya nodded again, enthusiasm sparking in her eyes. Before Felix could stop her, she was talking again.

“Pff, if I remember? Boy, that was like, the kickstart of my journalistic career! If our little networking Queen hadn’t managed to convince LB-“

“Alya!”, he interrupted again, his mind racing to keep up with her. Networking Queen? “I need you to listen. You’re my friend, right? Friends listen.”

Immediately, she let herself fall back next to him.

“Right! Sorry! Gettin’ a little carried away here.”

“No problem!”, Felix pressed out with the friendliest, most Adrien-like smile he could muster up. Even if he was at the brink of loosing his mind.

“Anyway. Our ‘Networking Queen’... I need you to get me a meeting with her. Today.”

Alyas eyes began to sparkle in a way that made Felix wonder of this had been a mistake.

“Oooooh, I get it.”, she all but cooed. “You want some alone time with your ‘just a friend’?”

“A date between model and fashionista?”, Rose chirped up, that same expression in her eyes.

“Chat Noir’s voice talking to our Everyday Ladybug?”, Juleka followed suit, red eyes eerily unblinking.

They could’ve texted him in ancient hieroglyphs and he would’ve understood more than the nonsense that had just left their mouths.

He was about to give up - fuck it, he’d just create an Akuma and wait for Ladybug to show up - when a shrill voice caught his attention.

“Did I just hear ‘Ladybug’?”, snickered a blonde girl walking out of a nearby boutique. “Because if you want to talk heroes, Adrie-chérie, you’ll want to talk to me!”

“Chloé”, Alya growled, but Felix wasn’t listening anymore.

Everything clicked into place.

Networking Queen? Chloé knew lots of famous people by living in an exclusive hotel.

Adrien’s ‘just a friend’? Who else could it be than his oldest companion, who was also too much of a headache to ever be considered more than a friend?

Fashionista? Well... personally, Felix would have preferred to go blind this very instant before having to look at that garish yellow jacket again, but Chloé’s mother still was the Style Queen.

And an Everyday Ladybug? He might not know how, but Chloé did have a miraculous at some point, making her a lower-tier, more ordinary hero. An everyday Ladybug, if you wanted to flatter her and insult the goddess that was Ladybug.

In other words: The contact that would get him Ladybugs attention? It was Chloé Bourgeois! Everything made sense now.

“Well, that’s my cue.”, Felix told the three furies next to him and got up. Chloé looked surprised when he actually walked over to her, but the girls? They looked flabbergasted.

“W-Wait a sec! Didn’t you want to go to Marinette’s with us?��, Rose pouted, tears forming in her ridiculously oversized eyes.

“Yeah!”, Alya complained. “Since when would you rather hang out with Chloé than grab some pastries and compliment Mari?!”

That’s it. Felix had had it with their pushy, unhelpful and downright obsessive interest in his view on some amateur-designers dress of the day! Jesus Christ, did Paris do this to people or were they just born with an endless reservoir of mindless chatter?!

“For the record,” Felix’ friendly facade began to crack as his smile turned malicious, “I do not want to visit Marinette. In fact, I do not care about this Marinette at all! And I don’t care about you, your infuriating riddles and your absolute gibberish either!”

Chloe next to him spit out the smoothie she’d been slurping and stared at him in disbelief, but he wasn’t done yet. Now that their faces varied from shock to anger to hurt, he had an idea for a back-up plan. Prime Akuma-material was prime Meeting-Ladybug material, after all.

“It has been almost half an hour until something even vaguely useful left your mouth!”, Felix happily continued his rant. “Up to then, the only thing you did was bore me to death with your tabloid of a blog, some band I now wish I’d never heard of, and the oh-so glorious color choice of a dress that isn’t even finished yet! I mean, I don’t know about you, but I have a very important and busy life! So, if you’ll excuse me?”

He straightened his jacket and turned towards Chloé’s limousine.

“I have interesting people to spend my day with.”

All four watched him get into the car, mouths agape, before a sharp “Chloé!” Let the blonde remember she was supposed to follow him.

“Uh, Yeah!”, she stammered towards the other three. “So long, you... uh... uninteresting people!”

“Are you alright?”, Chloé asked him for the third time since they had arrived at her room. “I mean, not to say I don’t approve of you realizing how stupid they are, but that was kind of... sudden.”

“I told you, Chloé.”, he faked patience. “I just want to spend some time with you! My best and oldest friend!”

“Oh”, she perked up. “Well, then! We didn’t hang out in ages, Adrikins!”

She threw herself into a red-cushioned armchair, sighing.

“It’s been so long, I don’t even remember what we used to do all the time.”

A shrill, uncomfortable laugh escaped her, slowly dying down when she realized he wasn’t laughing along.

“So... uh, what do you want to do? We could play Ladybug and Chat Noir! I have these wicked expensive cosplays in my closet you have to see, maybe I’ll let you borrow the Chat Noir one! Sabrina usually plays him, but she’s got a cold and I definitely won’t let her contaminate it with some sort of poor people disease! So-“

“Why don’t we talk a little, for now?”, he cut her off, inspecting the numerous wardrobes in the room. Any sign that Ladybug frequented this place would be enough to raise his mood.

“About you being Queen Bee, for example! You and Ladybug must be... close.”

He turned around to her and she laughed.

“Close? We are BFFs! I mean, sure, she hasn’t given me a Miraculous in a while, but she still adores me. Everybody does, right?”

She laughed again.

“Right?”

Not bothering to answer, he rolled his eyes.

“Surely you must have a way to contact her.”, he hinted at his end goal of this conversation. “As close as you are, you must be talking all the time.”

“W-well...”, Chloé started, something unreadable in her expression, before she shook her head. “Of course! The bee signal, it’s on my balcony.”

She led him outside, proudly turning on what looked like a giant spotlight with bee motive.

“Cool, huh?”

Felix’ carefully cheerful face crumbled. This... was it? His chance at meeting Ladybug was nothing more than a glorified pocket torch on some rich girls‘ roof?!

“Cool?”, he laughed in disbelief. “Tell me, Chloé... has she ever actually answered your signal?”

The girl faltered.

“What?”

“Did Ladybug”, he hissed, anger pooling in his chest, “ever react to this thing?”

“I mean...”, she shrugged, “One or two times, I guess? But you can’t measure our friendship in how often she visited me, right? I mean, you didn’t visit a lot either!”

She laughed, but it sounded insecure now.

“Wow, that came of accusing! You know I adore you though, right, Adrikins?”

Sighing she leaned on the balcony railing.

“I bet you missed hanging out with me! It’s just that so much is changing for you right now, adjusting to school life and all, and you’re so crowded by these losers all the time. Sometimes I think you forget that we’re friends entirely, ha ha! That is, until I... until people are upset with me for some stupid reason.”

She talked on and on and on. Why was everybody talking so much today? Why did no one see how important this day was? How long he had pined for this moment to arrive, only to have it kept just out of reach.

“Hey, do you think you have time on Friday?”, Chloé finally ended her monologue. “Daddy is officially opening up our new spa area, and we’ve deserved a little break! Being popular is so exhausting.”

Felix let out a dry, bitter laugh and finally turned to his cousin’s childhood friend.

“Popular?”, he wanted to snarl, but it came out tired. “You’re not popular, Chloé. Get real.”

“Um, excuse-“

“No. I have had a thoroughly disappointing day, and I can’t stand to see more uselessness today.”

He sighed, ignoring how Chloé was backing away from him.

“Nobody likes you.”, he said matter-of-fact. “Who are you kidding? Ladybug won’t show up, and neither will anyone else. Any day. And I guess you should come to accept that, because the longer you entertain yourself with your little illusion, the more it will hurt when you realize you are hopeless.”

“Adrien, what’s gotten into you?”, she shook her head, trembling hands balled to fists. “You can’t speak to me like that!”

“Yeah?”, he mocked her, desperate to let off some steam. “Why not? Is your Daddy going to throw money at me? Is your Mommy going to call me by the wrong name and pretend to fire me? Or is it just you she does that with?”

Now she actually flinched, eyes as wide as dinner plates. He can only muster up a halfhearted chuckle.

“Do me a favor, Chloé, now that you couldn’t even get Ladybug here. Go away. You bore me so, so much.”

He expected a fight - hoped for one, actually. So when she retreated, carefully, before turning and running away, he was almost disappointed. Because now he was alone on the roof, with no Akuma in sight, and the glorious Ladybug spending her day somewhere else entirely. Or maybe she was with Adrien. Maybe she had arrived the minute he had left, because that was just how lucky he was.

He sank to his knees, exhaustion pulling him down.

It had always been like this. Adrien was the lucky one, and he was just his little cousin.

Adrien, the prodigy son. The heir to a fashion empire, with parents who actually cared about where he was. The junior fencing champion, and multilingual genius, and the flawless face that was plastered all over Paris. Everybody loved Adrien, that was just how it was.

Even... Even Ladybug. For some reason his birdbrained, pampered cousin had the attention of the one person Felix wanted for himself.

No matter how unlikely, or unlogical, or unfair it was: Adrien always won, without even trying.

Meanwhile Felix schemed and planned and worked, but it never amounted to anything. Even though he was so much smarter. Even though he looked almost the same as his cousin. Even though he deserved it! God, with his luck, Adrien probably had a Miraculous too and spend all his freetime wooing Ladybug!

While he was stuck here, with children unworthy of his time, wasting his precious day in Paris.

He should have just-

“Chloé?”, a voice interrupted his laments. He looked up. That voice...

“Chloé!”, she repeated, landing skillfully next to the pool. “Are you alright? You turned on the signal, is there an Ak... A-Adrien?!”

Felix rose to his feet, staring at the apparition before him with awe. Black hair, tied into playful pigtails on the back, framed a face that “beautiful” didn’t even begin to describe. Clear blue eyes looked at him from underneath her red mask, the look in them so open and happy he felt his heart swell.

“Ladybug”, he whispered.

For once in his life, he was lucky.

- - -

Our spoiled brat is throwing a pity party, but now we‘re getting to the fun part!

#miramu writes #miraculous ladybug #mlb #ml felix #chloe bourgeois #alya cesaire #rose lavillant #juleka couffaine #felix agreste #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng

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karasgay · 3 years

Text

im just posting my fic under the cut because the link to ao3 post looks v ugly to me w the big header so ignore this

the incorrigible study of strawberries on a summer’s afternoon

for lena, summers bring exhausting fêtes, sun induced headaches, and trips down to the lake. why anyone would prefer such a glaring season, lena could not understand. the only saving grace comes in the form of a small red fruit held in the palm of one kara danvers.

Lena has always held a strong distaste for summer: the dry air, the lack of rain, her mother’s elaborate brunches. The most detested feature, though, is the sun. Lena thought it had no business shining down so harshly, burning her delicate skin and blinding her all afternoon. For all the pain it casts, Lena must thank the weather for the harvest of her favourite fruit. The abrasive sun is less of a distraction today while she sits on Kara’s worn jacket in the grass underneath her parasol with a healthy punnet of strawberries between them. Today, the sun permits Lena to concentrate on her favourite part of summer. With suspenders hanging down her hips and white shirt reflecting the sun, despite its wrinkles, Kara’s fingers play with the stem of an egregiously plump strawberry. Perfect teeth piercing the crown; its juices dripping down a strong chin quickly wiped away by a firm arm, slightly staining the tan skin. Lena could go on and on about strawberries, truth be told.

Despite her attention better devoted elsewhere, her eyes trace the solid lines and soft skin away from the previous subject of study to the full basket below. Small and large strawberries, sweetly red with no hint of white or green skin; anything less than perfect would not be tolerated in such a situation. How Lena could get lost in her appreciation- how perfectly they balance exhilarating flavors: sour to spark swift blood flow and sweet to soothe the mouth, to liberate the tongue, to elicit a smile. Lena knows the consumption alone conjures the addicting emotions and rapid beatings in her chest. And if Lena were to divert her attention farther south, she would notice the matching hand to the one that so carelessly played with the beloved strawberry stem, she would notice the long fingers and spread palm, most of all she would notice the disturbing lack of distance she would need to cross to intertwine said fingers with her own. But Lena was nothing if not attentive in her observations. If she completely missed Kara’s conversation, she would have no one to blame but the strawberries.

“- get me wrong, Lena, you know I love seeing you in your nice dresses with your hair done up, and all the wonderful food”, Kara leans further onto her hand, her other twiddling the stem between her fingers, “I just don’t know how everyone would take my being there.” She squints against the gleam of the lake, leaving only half her face, stuck between a grimace and a wry grin, for Lena to observe.

“You’re being silly, Kara, no-one will bat an eye over a server girl’s face they saw three parties ago."

(how anyone could forget Kara’s pronounced cheekbones, the slope of her nose, the golden hair, the not-so elegant crease between eyebrows when she spilled tea on Morgan Edge, Lena could never understand. especially Kara's eyes, the piercing blue that Lena’s almost certain has the power to unearth every secret she holds dear. their pale color is a direct contrast to the deep red strawberries, a direct accomplice to the heat they kindle in Lena’s chest. unlike the strawberries, Lena finds she cannot linger on them for long.)

“No-one will care as long as you look the part,” she continues.

Kara hums, eyes shifting across the lake.

Lena’s not sure why Kara’s so enamored with the, frankly unimpressive, basin of water when there were more captivating subjects to study. (she does not feel entitled to such judgement while she compares the shade of blue to Kara’s eyes as the minutes tick by.) She might imagine the freezing lake could provide some relief to the sweltering weather, but it would ultimately disturb her concentration on her favourite summertime activity. So enamored with the concerns of muddy lake temperatures, Lena nearly fails to refrain from a jolt when she notices Kara gazing at her over her shoulder. She knows the dangerous game those eyes faithfully tempt her with, Lena swallows against the tartness in her mouth and reaches into the basket for a strawberry.

Kara seems oblivious to her rising distress, “Why’s it so important that I attend?” She ducks her head chasing Lena’s eye, “Why can’t we just take a trip to the lake again, or to the orchard? Maybe some apples have ripened already.”

Lena wrinkles her nose, never a fan of such crispy fruit like apples. She sinks into the delicate strawberry, “And what, let you spoil yourself on sweets?”

Kara clutches the strawberry stem over her heart wincing in faux pain, “Never knew you held the power to revoke such a pleasure.”

Lena rolls her eyes, still steadily avoiding Kara’s, “Or maybe because you have always wanted to attend as a guest? And because you know how awfully boring my mother’s company is.”

Kara turns her body to fully face Lena, the sun catching on her blonde hair, “And you’re sure your mother won’t recognize me?”

“And if she does,” Lena raises an eyebrow. “You're no longer a servant”, she nods at Kara’s pencil and notepad laying on her thigh.

There is something conflicting in Kara’s eyes, somewhere so deep that it questions Lena’s sound hypothesis. She blinks it away before Lena can examine its meaning.

“I just think it’ll be awkward. That’s all.”

Maybe it is the summer heat, or the rich fruit, or simply the topic of the upcoming brunch, but Lena cannot muster the willpower to prod. Like with most of her decisions when near Kara, she falls back on what she is comfortable with.

“It will be if you come dressed like that. You might want to look nice.”

After a beat Kara follows her lead, winking, “You know I always look handsome.”

Lena cannot help the disappointment that dampens the thump in her chest.

“Not with strawberry juices covering your wrinkled shirt, darling,” She does not need to look at Kara to know she was peering down, dripping more juice onto the affronted shirt. Kara freezes and bends her head to lick at the trail running down her arm. A dart of pink from the swipe of her tongue reminds Lena of what started all this in the first place.

The forsaken heat flares again and Lena flits her eyes down at the offending strawberries, “Just promise not to be a slob for once.”

(sometimes she wishes Kara really were a slob, it would be the perfect reason to excuse her misplaced fascination. what else could educe such horrible feelings inside her? lena has never been around someone with so little manners, such carelessness in the face of etiquette and tradition; let alone a woman suspiciously similar to herself, but she buries that damning observation deeper than any other.)

The strawberries reflect the sun’s rays directly into her eyes taunting her, daring her to act or to shrink into herself.

(she almost swears she feels Kara’s eyes on her, the way they study her guarded eyes and the blush on her face. lena knows better, though. lena is nothing if not thorough in her research, a distasteful summer’s day will not deter her from gathering further data.)

Lena succumbs to her curiosity and lays her eyes on the most confusing woman she has ever met. The sun shining a halo onto her perfect head, the depths of blue eyes complementing the lake and the clear sky, the stained red lips from the goddamned strawberries. Kara, for her part, cannot help the way nature works in her favour. Lena knows when she meets those eyes she is cursed for the rest of her days, those deep blue eyes gazing at her with an emotion Lena dreads to see mirrored in her own.

“As long as you promise to help sully me after.”

God, Lena really hates summer.

#my fic

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bangtanfancamp · 4 years

Text

✨This or That!✨

Hello loves, I was tagged literal ages ago by @curly-bangtan (who is such a sweet human btw! Thank you for the tag :’) it’s impossibly sweet of you) and am in the backseat while road trippin so I’ve finally got some free time to fill this out! I’m so excited !! I love these things !so without further ado🙃 Lessss gooooo

• slow burn or love at first sight

I guess to clarify, I love an instant spark of attraction and a long treacherous road to resolution- while also being painfully obvious that there is attraction and also while being overtly flirty but no one has the emotional motor skills to just be upfront about it already

•fake dating or secret dating

Oh, 1,000,000% fake dating. It is one of the single greatest regrets of my life that no one has ever asked me to be their fake date or gf. Because I would have been F A N T A S T I C at it. But I guess I’ll never get to live out that pretend to real slowburn in real life after all.... also, secret dating can feel really sucky and isolating so I don’t recommend.

•enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers

Oh god, must I really pick between my children? My whole life it was best friends to lovers. Now that I am currently dating the guy who was my best friend, I really melt over the fiery tension of enemies to lovers ... GOD! it’s so satisfying!!! But I think best friends to lovers still has to squeak by just by an ounce. (I’m a softy at heart, what can I say?)

•oh no! There’s only one bed or long distance with correspondence

Oh far and away, the one bed trope! No contest. I also deeply regret that I haven’t figured out how to make myself attractive enough for someone to try to pull this one over on me. *sigh* well, what can you do? .... also, did a long distance relationship for...6.5 years? And yeah, if you’re a romantic like me- it is dreadfully unfulfilling, let me tell you.

•Hurt/comfort or Amnesia

Mother freaking amnesia A L W A Y S !!! Heck yes! Are there amnesia fics??? 🤭I’ve never found one! But I absolutely love this trope in stories and movies. One of my all time favorites- which AGAIN- has not had the decency to actually come to fulfillment in my real life: Like why has park Jimin never showed up spontaneously at one of my doctors appointments trying to convince me that we’ve been best friends who were secretly in love with other since we were 14 and we finally just got engaged or married a month ago and his life is incomplete without me but he’ll patiently wait for me to love him in return again in my own time but in the meantime, he’ll love me in any and every little way he can until I fall for him again? Huh? Where is it! .... was that too specific😅?

•Fantasy au or modern au

no contest. Give me medieval maidens and dragons any day. I live in modern day. Lemme tell you- she ain’t that special.

•mutual pining or domestic bliss

cue Schmidt from new girl-“I can do this AWL day, son- AWLLL DAY!!” Yessssss!!! Mutual pining is my crack! Give it to me! Always! Gimme it! (Why can’t I have the things that I want!) okay this is just a Schmidt quote/rant post now. ..... I really want to love domestic bliss. And some of the writers who are excellent at it absolutely take my breath away at how beautifully they romanticize the every day. But outside of their writing, I have no scope of how to conjure that wonder up on my own. It is a skill I deeply lack. In real life, I just wind up feeling like the bliss is boring- gimme some pining! Some angst! Some tension!!! Even if I do love me some fluff. Someone once I told me that I was in love with the idea of someone being in love with me. Gotta say, he’s not wrong.

•canon compliant or fix it fic

Honestly, I can’t say I’ve read very many of either. But I do like to see how people flex their creativity.

•alternate universe or future fic

My favorite tv show of all time is Fringe (god bless you, JJ Abrams). Your girl LOVES alternate timelines, multiple universes, flashpoint, paradox, butterfly/ripple effect- all of it!! Dear god, yes! Give it to me! (Also, every time I have a crush or dream that doesn’t work out, I comfort myself with the thought that somewhere out there, there’s an alternate timeline version of me that is happily existing with said boy or flourishing in said dream endeavor. It’s a tremendous source of comfort).

Although, I must say, in the comic realm, alternate universes can sometimes frustrate me- like genuinely, could we not just make the alpha timeline the most incredible one? Instead of the best relationships and plot threads never being actual canon?! Can we get it together??? Or are alternate timelines just the comic industry’s way of writing their own fix it fics, generations after the original protagonist has been painted into a corner. Also, how hard must that be? To write endlessly for the same character for 60+ years? We write one fic or a couple books for the same character... could you IMAGINE having to supply 60 years worth of consistent weekly or monthly context!!! Wild

•one shot or multi chapter

I prefer multi chapter because I prefer getting engrossed in an entire work/world. Usually I am left wanting with a well written one shot, because they’ve made it so real that I can’t stand not having more- so my greedy butt loves the feast of multi chapter so I can have as many delicious moments and details with these characters as possible.

I do however deeply admire the skill and brevity it takes to made a succinct one shot. @underthejoon and @kpopfanfictrash are both brilliant as heck at that. And it is admirable as all get out.

•kid fic or road trip fic

honestly, considering how much I swoon over men who are good with children in real life, and how much I look forward to being both pregnant and a mom one day, I really never get into kid or pregnancy fics. I just don’t? Don’t know why. But a road trip!???? Oh heck yes!!! 👏🏽Where 👏🏽do 👏🏽I 👏🏽sign 👏🏽up!!???👏🏽

•reincarnation or character death

Oh absolutely reincarnation. I love that. I blame sailor moon for that.....But also, I think it’s just very in line with my love of alternate universes and timelines. I love how everything is connected/weaves together and feels predestined in the best way. I’m a complete sucker for it

•arranged marriage or accidental marriage

Like @curly-bangtan I legit had no clue accidental marriage was a thing? Unless you count being drunk at Vegas and waking up with a ring or we’re on some Jacob and Leah/Rachel level ish (which is really and truly the WILDEST™️ story ever ya’ll) ..... but I love a good arranged marriage scenario. The tension/push pull and inevitable relenting is so fun. But will say though, why the heck do women always fight it? Like there’s literally a whole Kim taehyung or Kim Namjoon offering to voluntarily love you and you wanna whine about it???!?! How dare you

•high school romance or Middle Aged romance

This, again, one is a pretty firm, resolute one for me. I’ll take high school. I’ve always felt a little oddly uncomfortable with more mature™️ romance stories? Not sure why. But I think the really beautiful ones always hark back to the beauty of their feelings being refreshing like the innocence of their first love. I know I personally can over glorify youth, but I love coming of age romance (high school, college, twenties) and no one can stop me!!!! I will say though, I have a secret soft spot for the niche of story where people have loved the same person since they were young and the timing just never works out but they finally find each other when they’re older. (One day is like that, and film or movie, it will absolutely rip your heart out-my god, it’s beautiful)

•Time travel or isolated together

These are both freaking AMAZING! But if anything has been established in this post, I think it’s my deep love of alternate timeline/reincarnation/time travel stories. I think they’re all from the same cloth. I adore them (I just haven’t written one because I’m not sure I could do the subtlety of it any justice.) maybe one day. My favorite writers are rumored to have the same Myers’s Briggs type as me so maybe I too could someday have a fraction of their world building skill.

I 100% love both of these so neither is a loser. But give me isolated together AND one bed in the same fic???? Speakers blown

•neighbors or roommates

I have never had the pleasure of having an attractive neighbor, though I often pined for it. (I have a bomb idea for a neighbor Hobi fic though) I did have a cute neighborhood boy who occasionally cut the grass for us in high school. But that doesn’t really count.... anyway! I LOVE the idea of being roommates with an attractive boy!!! Like holy guac, can I please????? Cocktailing this trope makes me swoon harder than none other- best friends to lovers + roommates? Yes. Enemies to lovers + roommates? Holy heck. Soulmate au + roomates???? Hold my sweet tea. MUTUAL PINING AND ROOMATES!!!! Pregnant. Fantasy/magic au+ mutual pining + best friends to lovers + soulmate au + reincarnation + roommate au!?!?!?!! frickin dead in the streets, homie.

I cannot say enough how much I enjoy roomate au. In a serious conversation, I once legitimately told my current boyfriend that the idea of marriage freaks me out- but the idea of being best friend roomates with sexual tension sounds like a dream come true. God help me.

•sci fi or magic au

I love sci fi. Deeply. But I will never love logic more than magic. Ever. (All my infp’s! come join me in the comments. 🙈)

•body swap or gender bend

Body swap has always deeply intrigued me. Especially in film. But I’ve never seen it in a fic. I’ve always wanted somebody to be able to switch into my body to feel physically, mentally and emotionally like i do. The deepest level of empathy & jean grey telepathy if you ask me, even if the trope is generally used for comedy. But the idea of switching into a dudes body and having to deal with their anatomy low key freaks me the eff out. If I got stuck in jungkooks body, I don’t think I’d pee or shower for a week 🙈 sorry everybody. I was really sheltered ok? Please don’t come for me. Lol...... also, have never seen a gender bend fic. Not sure how that would work. Not my favorite idea.

•angst or crack

Angst is my crack.

Honestly though, if it’s well written, it doesn’t feel ‘angsty’- cuz that means whiny or clunky to me. Well written ‘angst’ just feels emotionally compelling, I think. My writing weirdly leans toward what I hope is real angst (I e solid, genuine conflict and not petulance), but when I seek out a read, I look for crack honestly.

• apocalyptic or mundane

I offer you one better- a love story of the beauty of the mundane amidst the apocalyptic.

*mic drop*

Seriously though, the setting provides enough tension usually. Especially if it’s zombie apocalyptic. Just let jungkook’s fingers delicately trace my palm and smile, sweet and lopsided at me in the candle light, while we hide away in our little bomb shelter that I’ve turned into a jungle garden to bring life into this wasteland a la secret life of arrietty. sigh. Maybe I need to write this....

My gosh!!! We made it to the end! That was so much fun! Thank you for tagging me, sweetness!💕✨ 🙂

I’ll add a tag list shortly- @laurelevermore @lamourche @bts-fantasy @urlocalkpoptrash @thedreaming-poet @kimcheeeeeeeeee @hayjeon @outrotearot7 @lorengarcia-yut @bts-luvvv @chicpalestinian @flyingchixenwing @glodenclosetau @space-mermaid-in-love @thiccasswonhoruinedmylife @minminslittlemonster

Copy and paste if you can. Or if you’re dealing with a piece of technological antiquity like me and it won’t let you, then screen record/screenshot it and pop back and forth between the tabs 😅(also Thanks for dealing with the completely unnecessary treatise I added beneath every bullet point. It was just so much for fun to explain WHY I chose each one than to just say yes/no. I’ve said it before, written brevity is just not my strong suit.)

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jojomugi · 5 years

Note

Hello, again! This is the same anon who said thanks (I’m a little embarrassed to ask for something similar but, I really did love the last scenario). May I please have a scenario with SDC Dio nsfw/sfw w/ the same fem s/o who absolutely adores Halloween? Thank you so much! I truly appreciate it ❤️

Awh yes! I love Halloween themes! 🎃👻

Hope you didn’t mind but I decided to change it up a bit and make it a bit...AU-y(?) lol. I’ll describe it at the bottom :). I apologize for the wait and how short is it compared to the last one. Hopefully it was worth it and I hope you enjoy this piece because I certainly enjoyed writing this!

[Request:Open]

✨AU: Basically everything is the same except Dio is less focused on ruining the Joestars and more focused on his future plans (and Halloween)

✨Word Count: 1779

✨SFW?: Yes

SDC Dio x Reader (Halloween theme)

“Only 30 more days!” You proclaimed to yourself as you wrote in a little journal upon your bed. The gel tipped pen with the elegant white feather glided across the pages as you began making a list of what to do for your favorite holiday, Halloween. Of course, you had not yet had the chance to discuss your ideas and plans with your head of the household, DIO, so you had not yet gotten executive approval from your dearest. However, you kept your fingers crossed that you would be able to possibly sway him into allowing you to at least decorate.

Though you have called this place home as Lord DIO has done nothing but provided for you here, in all honesty, the majority of the work was already done for you. The mansion itself already had a decrypted aura surrounding it. It was dank, dark, and was littered with cobwebs of many varieties. Though Lord Dio had never struck you as the type of man to be invested in holidays, you hoped he would not mind a few pumpkins and spooky ghost decorations scattered about. Actually, you couldn’t help but dorkishly grin at the ideas you had come up with to decorate the halls and rooms of the manor.

They frilly feather twirled between your fingertips as you continued to ponder and daydream on what else you’d do for Halloween if given the opportunity to celebrate. Though this was suddenly interrupted by a small yet strong gust of wind had blown through your window. A silhouette of a majestic falcon framed your windowsill, and it was none other than your favorite bird, Pet Shop. It sat there for a moment, before quickly darting to the floor to devour the rat that had gone unnoticed in the far corner of your bedroom. You jumped back at first, after all, he was a very fierce creature, however, you finally loosened up when he flew back over to your windowsill and perched himself proudly.

You shut the journal and got up from where you had resided, and made your way over to him. With a smile, you approached the falcon and gave him a single stroke on the head. “Thank you Pet Shop, you’re such a marvelous creature!” You softly praised.

Though you were not his master, the bird spread his wings and let out a sound that you could only assume was a ‘thank you’. A soft giggle escaped your lips, as you were completely tickled over how smart he was to actually understand you. “Perhaps for Halloween Lord Dio can let you be...A headless horseman! If they make dog and cat costumes, surely they make them for birds too.” You proposed. The bird merely lifted its head away from you and shut his striking eyes. You frowned a bit at his response, but let out a small smile quickly. “Or maybe instead of being a guard-bird you can look like a pharaoh bird?”

Pet shop turned his head back to you with an approving gaze, however, just as quickly as he came to visit you, he quickly flew off to return to his guard-bird duties when the creek of a door filled the room. Your h/l hair flipped as you turned, knowing already who your next visitor was, none other than DIO. Your e/c eyes lit up with excitement, not only did you enjoy each other’s company, you also could sense he was in a good mood, possibly a good enough mood to even inquire about your idea of the upcoming spooky holiday that was approaching.

“Good evening y/n. Say, who were you talking to?” His words were a harmony in your ears, even in the way he teasingly asked you about your conversation with your animal visitor.

“Lord Dio! Welcome! I just got done with a visit from Pet Shop, he disposed of a rat in the room.” You smiled warmly, placing your hands together in front of your chest. “How has your evening been?”

DIO’s lips had turned up into a very calm smile as he approached you. “Oh? Yes, Pet Shop is a fine bird isn’t he?” DIO nodded before continuing. “So far it has been excellent, I thought that I would share it with only my most favorite human.” He explained as he finally made his way to you. He extended a hand and tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. His honey-like eyes that had been fixated on you caught a glimpse of the bright full moon that was framed by your window. “Oh? And it's a full moon? How romantic. Just another thing for us to share tonight.” The large blonde had noted as he took his place beside where you stood. Now, both of you were admiring the view of Cairo and the bold night from your window.

“I know right, tonight is just wonderful isn’t it?” You nodded, leaning against the windowsill. A strong sculpted yet protective arm wrapped itself around your waist and pulled you close to his body. He obviously couldn’t allow his sweet angel of a pet plummet on accident, even though you were quite confident you wouldn’t as you had done this many times before. You turned up to his with a smile. “Oh, Lord Dio! Did you know on the 31st, there will also be a full moon.” You quickly spilled the piece of trivia.

Dio rose a boldly arched brown at the oddly specific information you gave him, however, he took it merely as a sign of your intellect and patted your head in response. “Well, that's very fascinating my little y/n. Is there anything else I should know?”

Your face quickly went red from embarrassment. You had wanted to bring up wanting to celebrate Halloween in a different more casual way, but instead, sabotaged what you had mentally planned. However, lying to DIO was never an option for you, you’d never want to break his trust in you and your loyalty for someone you lovingly adored.

“Well, y/n?” He tilted his head slightly, patiently waiting for you to continue upon his request.

“Well...the 31st is also the night of Halloween.” A gulp slid down your throat before you had finally decided to expand onto your information. “Lord Dio, you uh, don’t have to answer if you d-don’t want to, But...do you...do you celebrate any holidays?” You stammered your question, and lightly shook your head at how embarrassingly nervous you got over a simple inquiry. What a silly thing to get all riled up over.

However, for the other party, this was a deep question for him. DIO went silent for a moment as he thought about the last time he had even celebrated a holiday. Suddenly a wave of blurred memories resurrected; The last holiday he spent was New Years with George and Jonathan Joestar. Sure, he was slightly invested in them once upon a time ago when he was still a human, but that was a century ago, and he was a significantly different person in those days. He shut his eyes and thought hard about the answer. “I suppose so. Though last time I had ever recognized a holiday was a century ago. These days I just do not have the time to manage, invest, and dedicate my important time to just another day on the calendar.”

“Oh.”

Suddenly you felt your heart sink in discouragement over this development. He had a point, you couldn’t help but agree that his time was valuable, his points were unarguable. You let out a small frown and shifted your eyes back towards the streets, letting your disappointment out towards the world instead of letting him see. However, the silent sadness you felt was interrupted alas by his voice.

“Why are you, curious darling?”

You blinked, and slowly glanced back up at him. You felt no need to change what was undeniable, you had assured yourself that he would not be up for Halloween. No more need for beating around the bush, you just bluntly spoke. “Well, I was going to ask if you’d allow me to decorate the home for Halloween.” You sighed admittingly, while limply hanging your arm off of the windowsill. You couldn’t help but give him a smile, even if it was a sad one. “I really wanted to make everyone costumes, bake those cute little ghosts and pumpkin cookies, hand out candy to all your servants, of course, only the ones you say are worthy, and watch scary movies.” You could go on and on about all your favorite Halloween traditions, however, you felt for sure that he probably didn’t care to hear more.

DIO went back to silence, and so did you. You both just quietly looked up into the entrancing moon. Though the celebration of Halloween was much different from his era compared to how it is recognized in the 20th century, another distant memory resurfaced, and a fond one at that. A time when his mother was still alive and he was a young boy, and how they’d huddle close together next to the fire she’d share spooky stories with him before Dario would drunkenly return home for the night. When he thought about it, DIO was actually somewhat touched over how desperately you wanted to share your traditions with him.

With a short “hm.”, an unconscious smile formed from his lips.

“Well...I suppose if you do all of the preparation, it would not hurt to celebrate it if it's only for one night.”

Those were words you hadn’t expected to hear. Your eyes lit up like a spark in the night. “R-Really?” You gasped and before Dio would even be able to confirm, you already leaped into him for an embrace. You were over the moon. “Oh! Lord Dio! Thank you! Thank you so much! You’re honestly too good to me!” You squealed out of sheer happiness.

DIO held onto your waist and gently put you down on your feet with a slight smirk. “Y/n, if you make this Halloween successful, perhaps you can not only be my pet but my holiday planner as well.” He stated while softly patting your head.

“Oh, I surely won’t let you down, Lord Dio!” She chirped with a bright smile.

“Well then, my dearest y/n, I will be holding you to it.” He leaned in and left a kiss on your forehead.

You shut your eyes when he leaned in to plant his loving mark on you and in turn, your cheeks flushed pink. You were going to make his Halloween memorable for sure!

#Dio Brando #dio x reader #jjba x reader #jjba #jojo no kimyō na bōken #jojo’s bizarre adventure #//⋆asking m ⋆//

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nostallgias · 4 years

Text

☆ . * ( kristine froseth, cis female, she / her ) hey, look !! indigo ‘indie’ dahl aka @nostalgias is online and ready to write another anonymous post on the broken hearts club. rumor has it they’re here because she ran away from her hometown to escape her family and ex lover. out in the real world she is a musician / bartender. the 22 year old is known for being flighty & impetuous but make up for it by being vivacious & determined. if they were to describe themselves they’d say they’re chipped nail polish, lipstick stains on cigarettes, driving with the window down and their favorite song is gold dust woman by fleetwood mac.

hello everyone, i’m so happy 2 b in this rp !!! my name is diana, i’m twenty yrs old, a libra, and reside in the est timezone. some quick facts abt me ... i am a girl group stan and lana del rey enthusiast. i also luv cats. anyway, enough abt me, u can learn abt my muse indigo under the cut !!! my discord is missing blackpink hours#5522 so pls hit me up there or in the im’s for plots !! i cannot wait to get started <3 tw: briefly mentions alcoholism & drugs

☆ . * 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔 !

full name : indigo dahl

nickname(s) : indie

zodiac : sagittarius sun, gemini moon ( click )

sexuality : bisexual

alignment : chaotic good

pinterest : click

☆ . * 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 !

indie grew up in a small town where everyone knows everyone. she was restless and curious, but there wasn’t much to do in a town that small

her parents were really big on music, so there was always something playing in the household. it’s safe to say music took over her life. she started to learn guitar, then later bass

but sadly her dad left them when she was still young. she wanted him to take her with him, so she could finally get out of that stupid town, but he left her with her mother and never looked back :/

indie and her mom didn’t get along too well. she basically planned indie’s entire life out, down to who she should marry. after her father left them, her mom wasn’t rly able to cope with it too well and she kinda turned to drinking, and the music that was always playing stopped :(

indie spent her middle and high school years taking care of her mom, who was too drunk to function at all times. she couldn’t keep a job, which, was fine at first because indie’s grandparents ( her mother’s parents ) were fairly well off, and they could live off of them

that was until her grandparent’s cut them off after finally noticing their daughter was an alcoholic. so, they were pretty much left with no source of income

indie started working as soon as she was old enough. she worked two jobs in high school, which didn’t leave her much time to focus on school. she never cared for school anyway, her focus was always music, but she didn’t even have much time for that anymore

her mother seemed to have a new boyfriend every week, men who always acted like they were here to say. all of them tried to control indie, but she resented every single one of them. she could see through the lies

she spent most of her time away from home, she didn’t even like sleeping there. it didn’t feel like home anymore, and it hadn’t for a long time

one day, one of her mother’s boyfriends actually stuck around. indie just kept waiting and waiting for the day he’d leave, but he never did. her mother remarried

after remarrying, her mother kinda got her life back on track again. she immediately went back to trying to control indie again. indie absolutely hated it, but she was happy to see her mother in a good place again, so she tried to fit the mold

indie barely graduated high school and never went to college. she continued working for the next few years, saving up money and working on music

she started dating the guy her mother chose for her. it was okay at first, but the spark was always missing. the longer she was with him though, she began to realize that he wanted to stay in that stupid little town forever, and the idea of spending the rest of her life there terrified her so much she decided to runaway

so, she packed all her things and ran away in the middle of the night. she drove through the night to find her father, but when she found him, she learned he had remarried and started a new family

deep down, she always knew he didn’t want her, otherwise he would’ve made an effort over the years. but she really had to see it to believe it

and that’s how she found her way to chicago. she never told her mother where she went, but she knew she was looking for her and so was her ex

her grandparent’s send her money every once in a while, and although they aren’t close, they understand why she ran away and want her to have the chance to start fresh

she stumbled across the forum one day and decided to join it, because she was starting to feel a little lost and it has helped her a lot

☆ . * 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚 !

indie is extremely extroverted. she is a social butterfly and will befriend literally anyone. the tricky part is getting close to her, though. she tends to keep her emotions to herself. she presents a version of herself to the world, one who is always happy and alive because she thinks that’s the only version of her that people will like

she has such a curious soul !! all she wants to do is explore and experience new things, so she’s always down for an adventure. she loves a good party because she loves to be around people. she’s a social drinker and drug user ( except for weed, which she smokes a lot )

indie doesn’t have any idea about what love is, but she knows she wants it. she wants a great, interesting, devoted love, but is having trouble finding it. so she tends to have a lot of lovers, but they mostly end up being casual. she gets bored easily, so if it isn’t exciting at all times, she kinda dips akjsdhsdjhk it’s her fear of abandonment

she is obsessed with the 70′s, from the music to the aesthetics. stevie nicks is her inspiration. she loves music of all eras, though. she loves thrifting, and her style is heavily influenced by 70′s fashion

she can be pretty spontaneous, but also reckless. she wants everything in life to be an adventure, so it has gotten her into trouble in the past

hates authority figures, literally she has so much trouble with respecting authority now because she feels like she wasted her entire life doing that for people who didn’t respect her

has a hard time taking things seriously, except for music because that is her entire life

☆ . * 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 !

party buddies - they always go to parties together. maybe they don’t see each other outside of parties, maybe they met at a party and became close friends afterwards

drinking / smoking buddies - someone she can drink or smoke with. maybe they have a more casual friendship, but anytime they hang out, they share some interesting conversations

confidant - someone who confides in her or someone she confides in, or they confide in each other. they don’t necessarily have to be the closest friends ever, but they get along, trust each other, and maybe they talk more in private

frenemies - they’re friends, but maybe they’re always trying to one up each other. they might gossip behind each other’s backs. sometimes they get along perfectly well, but maybe sometimes they get into stupid fights

protective friends - friends who feel extremely protective over one another. indie will literally fight anyone who hurts them

sibling-like friendship - indie is an only child, so i would love for her to have someone she sees like a sibling. they’re there for each other, look out for one another and always have each other’s backs

dynamic duo / best friend - ride or dies. platonic soulmates !! this person is probably the closest friend she has and actually knows her well ! a power duo

partner in crime - someone who always goes along with her antics. someone who she bounces off of and they do dumb / fun shit together !!! her adventure buddy

online friends - her favorite person on the forum. she is always interacting with them and is literally always the first to comment on their posts or something. maybe they confide in each other

bandmates - if your muse sings, plays guitar, bass, drums or keyboard, they can be in a band !!! indie plays guitar, bass, and also sings so she can do whichever of these is needed !! she also likes to compose music, but with bandmates they will collaborate and make stuff together of course

groupie love - i didn’t know what to call this plot so pls ignore the name, i went for a lana del rey song title aksdhsdjkh but basically maybe ur muse was there at one of the little gigs she played and they became acquainted after that !!! this can be romantic or platonic, we can plot it however. but maybe they keep going to her shows and she’s always happy to see them

flirtationship - they flirt constantly, but nothing serious has come out of their flirting. maybe they have good chemistry, but haven’t really tried to explore it further

ex-fling - maybe they ended things more recently, or maybe they ended things a few months or a year ago. they could have ended on good or bad terms. maybe someone or both of them still have feelings, or maybe they’re just friends or don’t talk now

current fling / friends w benefits - someone she is currently seeing. could be no strings attached, or there could b some feelings there. maybe they don’t want to make it anything serious, or maybe they’re ready to take it to the next level. maybe one person is ready to go further, and the other isn’t

requited / unrequited crush - maybe she has a crush on ur muse, whether it’s a deep crush or a more surface level crush. OR ur muse could have a crush on her and maybe she’s oblivious to it !!! maybe our muses have crushes on each other !!! maybe it isn’t super serious, or maybe it is

will they, won’t they - there’s feelings between them, but they haven’t made the plunge to pursue whatever they have. longing, yearning, lingering glances

take care - someone who looks after her when she parties a little too hard !!! someone she trusts who keeps her out of trouble when she’s under the influence and feeling too reckless for her own good

enemies w/ benefits - there was always underlying tension between them, even though they couldn’t really stand each other. maybe they hooked up at a party and now, despite their personal feelings towards each other, they still continue to hook up

cyber sex - once again, i didnt kno what to title this so i went for a doja cat song AJKSDSJKH but basically someone on the forum she has a crush on. i think it’s funny because she has noooo idea who they are irl but maybe they connect super well online

ex-friends - someone she used to consider a best / close friend, but they had a falling out for whatever reason n maybe they strongly dislike each other now. maybe they want to re-kindle their friendship but don’t know how

dealer - someone she buys drugs from, they could be friends or it’s strictly business

bad influence - someone indie is a bad influence on. she maybe influences them to party, drink or do drugs, or do stupid reckless things with her

good influence - someone that is a good influence on her and gets her to keep her act together. she has trouble caring about anything that isn’t music related, so this person can keep her on track

roommates - one to two people that she lives with !!! they can get along, or maybe they don’t�� vibe super well. but if they do get along they can do cute stuff like bake and watch movies together

coworkers - indie is a bartender, so she can work at the bar or restaurant that your muse works at

meet me at the bar - someone who frequents her job a lot. maybe they’re her favorite customer and she loves whenever they come. we can plot this out however !!!

congratulations !!! you have finally reached the end of my unnecessarily long intro aksdjhsdjhk i would like to thank u for reading and apologize for all the rambling i did <3 anyway i would luv to plot, so i’ll send message u asap if u like this post !!! we can definitely plot over im’s, but i am partial to discord if u wanna add me there: missing blackpink hours#5522

#hearts:intro #☆ . * 𝒈𝒐 𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 ╱ ooc.#this kinda got long.....i'm so sorry i rly do not deserve rights #pls plot with me anyway <3

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bave-de-crapaud · 5 years

Text

Siriusly: An Ode to Fan Fic Writers

A/N: Eeep! here ‘tis - with this Sirius Black one-shot, I would like to pay particular mention to @siriusblackfoot who this fic was written for.

Her stories are incredible and in fact, her ‘Love You Sober’ series was one of the first Sirius fics I read and fell in love with.

Thank you so much girl for gracing us with your wonderful stories, you an inspiration! - this one is for you xxx

Sirius x reader

Word count: 3500+ Disclaimer: all characters are assumed 18+, NSFW, 18+ SMUT!

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

“What is that thing?” Ron leaned across the table at Grimmauld Place, narrowly missing catching tomato sauce on his sleeve to flick the lid of your laptop.

You jumped slightly as you had been sitting frozen, eyes locked on-screen, fork hovering mid-air reading perhaps the steamiest Sirius Black fanfiction you have ever seen:

Author: @siriusblackfoot Titled: ‘Love You Sober’

“God, yes, right there, fuck,” you gasped, clutching at the sheets. Sirius was kneeling behind you, fucking you from behind at a quick, rough pace…he slapped your ass and leaned over you.  “Say my name,” Sirius groaned, biting the skin of your shoulder.

Oooo mama! You didn’t mean to read this now, especially at the breakfast table, however, you had emailed yourself a link yesterday to check out and in your tired post-night shift haze, you had done one last sweep of your messages over breakfast, clicking on this link jogging your memory as to what it was. Seated next to you and rolling her eyes, Hermione answered for you: “It’s called a laptop, Ron. We’ve been over this! It's sort of a portable computer muggles use to work on.”

Ron looked at her completely non-plussed while Sirius and Harry merely grinned across the table waiting for the apparent usual ‘Ron-you-are-an-idiot' breakfast conversation.

---

Normally you would be left to your own devices after work, but as soon as Sirius found out you couldn’t sleep during the day due to the noise outside your current flat, he insisted you take a spare room at his after you worked a night shift and needed to rest. Since Sirius lived in North-East London, the closest house to the Ministry, it was a normal occurrence to find friends, family, and old Order members passing through for meals, a quick chat, or drinks. Grimmauld Place had become a sort of a halfway house for everyone after the war and Sirius encouraged regular company.

Perhaps the next question you should have asked yourself was why were you reading erotic paragraphs when the protagonist is sitting opposite you, mere metres away from words that are causing a dull pleasant throb in your nether regions and heat to flare up your neck. The answer: once you opened the page and realised what it was, you meant to close the tab but the writing, and the delicious descriptions of Sirius and what he could do enthralled you. It was a moment where you could not look away, you were truly in a trance.

---

“We are trialing them at the Ministry remember?” Hermione was determined to school Ron. “It gives Unspeakables like Y/N, a chance to complete their work offsite but link it back to their office with no magical interception.”

She searched his face for some kind of recognition. Ron merely blinked at her.

“Honestly! Do you even listen at meetings? You’ve only been working at the Ministry 18 months you can’t be tuning out already?!”

Half listening to Ron’s reply you caught the words “busy,” “auror training,” and “more important,” as you turned back to your screen...

‘He had one hand on your left hip, the other wrapped loosely around your neck as he kept thrusting up into you.’ - @siriusblackfoot

Wholey Mother of Merlin! This was the sauciest Sirius fiction you had come across. Being muggle-born like Hermione, you had a greater grasp on technology than pure-blood wizards like Ron.

Coupled with a fascination for writing and stories it was only a matter of time before you found the world of fanfiction. What you didn’t expect to find were fics and scenarios written about people you knew! On second thoughts, it shouldn’t be that surprising. Hermione, Harry, and Ron were famous and anyone stepping into their orbit immediately got thrown into the spotlight and it seemed the fandom world had lots to say about Sirius.

He was older than you but that did nothing other than to turn you towards him more. He oozed experience and from the titillating rumours his past loves divulged, it sounded as though the fic writers were correct: he was an incredible lover. Talk about him making you come until you forgot your name, fill your ears frequently, and on more than one occasion you heard he forgave his own pleasure for his partner. Apparently, he had indescribable stamina and not everyone could last or keep up with him.

Seeing Sirius in action was quite something. The words ‘passionate’, ‘confident’, and ‘a little dangerous’ were ideal to describe him in most aspects of his life. It certainly seemed that he threw himself into fighting for what’s right forgoing his own safety for others. His work ethic and dogmatic tendency to never give up were your favourite things about him, followed closely -very closely- by his passion for friends, life, and love. One could assume his stint in Azkaban contributed to him treating each moment like it was his last but Remus told you he had always been like that. You think you loved him a little after learning this information.

No matter how much you read on or heard about him though, nothing could quite nail the feeling of being in his presence.

The sheer sexual magnetism he exuded was enough to make even the strongest person weak and gasping for him. You watched him whenever this happened – he knew what was going on, he could tell when a woman or man was into him – a spark in his eyes, the slight twitch in the corners of his mouth. He never pushed or lead the person on and you think it was the fact that he held back and let the tension build that could have him never without a bed partner.

However, he was gentlemanly with his conquests, never kissing nor telling, and being absolutely clear that whatever they did was a one-time thing. You guessed the man just didn’t want a relationship.

Regardless of Sirius’ preference for no strings attached, it didn’t stop you imagining or reading scenarios where he did more than one night stands.

You shook your head at your thoughts. It was hard enough to sit across from him and not blatantly stare at his hands, the way they elegantly curled around his coffee cup or when he was relaxed, ankle over one knee tempting, no daring you to look between his legs. Or the way he stood; open chest, maintaining eye contact as you spoke to him – which was not often as he intimidated you too much – you avoided close encounters with Sirius as much as one who worked, played, and ran in the same circles, could.

Sirius was and will always be a panty-dropping enigma to you. You had a very fulfilling life and were content to admire him from afar but you would be more than happy to spend one night alone with him. If only you could work up the nerve.

---

“Isn’t that right, Y/N?” Hermione spoke to you.

Pretending you had been listening all along, you simply answered: “Yes.”

It was easier to agree with Hermione and considering the long night just passed, you hadn’t the energy to debate her. Actually, you were just waiting for the whole lot of them to finish up and head to work so you could crash in one of the spare rooms.

Maintaining conversation at the breakfast table was merely a courtesy you felt the need to fulfill as a guest. Stifling a yawn, you leaned back in your chair and rubbed your eyes.

“See Ron” Hermione continued, reaching towards your laptop, unnoticed by you.

“Y/N writes up her reports here and sends it...” but she had broken off halfway through her sentence.

“Mhmm” you replied dropping your head back and stretching some more.

“You send it...” Hermione had gone bright red at the exact time you realised what was happening.

Shit!

She had seen the fic just as you had scrolled to a particularly juicy bit involving “…your back pressed against Sirius’ sweaty chest.”

Not thinking you snapped your head up, quickly dropping your arms to lean forward and slam the laptop shut.

This was a stupid move, as the three men, who had only shown mild interest before, now were straight-backed and staring from you to Hermione with eager looks of anticipation.

You tied to desperately to think of a convincing lie while Sirius, Ron, and Harry all cried: “What did you see?!” Barely containing the excitement in their voices.

“NOTHING!” You and Hermione yelled at once.

Which again, was a terrible move, perhaps the worst thing you could have said to one of the most troublesome, mischief-makers Hogwarts ever saw, the nosiest bloke in London, and Harry – not one to ever give up lightly.

Swatting Ron’s hand away from reaching for the laptop, you stuttered, “It’s something from my department...top secret. Unspeakable stuff..” Hermione glared at you mouthing I’m in your department too!

Double shit!

“Hermione is an unspeakable too, Y/N.” Said Sirius, grinning widely, knowing you were caught. “Come on, tell us and we promise we won’t look.” Ron tried his best to give an innocent shrug.

Knowing that you weren’t going to get out of this and were also too tired to figure out a better story you sighed and said, “I was reading fanfiction."

All three looked perplexed. “Well that’s not interesting, why did Hermione blush?”

You frantically looked at Hermione for help, “um...it was...it was about...” “Harry and Ginny!” Hermione exclaimed.

This was genius – there is no way Ron would want to read about his sister, Harry would be too embarrassed to look and Sirius, well Sirius wouldn’t be interested.

Smiling triumphantly at you, Hermione then looked around the table to see Ron wrinkling his nose, Harry turning red and Sirius – eyes twinkling sipping his coffee. Somehow you weren’t sure if she had convinced him.

“Why would anyone want to write about Harry and Ginny? No offense, mate.” Said Ron, utterly lost at the prospect.

“Well you may have failed to notice it, but you are all quite famous!” you said chuckling at Ron's bewildered expression

“Still...don’t wanna read about...baby sister...” he muffled jamming bacon in his mouth.

“Why, ah why were you reading about me and *gulp* Ginny at the breakfast table?” Harry asked tentatively.

Good point. You smiled at him, rehearsing a line you used when caught previously reading dubious material. “Relax mate, someone sent me the link online, I usually check out stories about you three in case anyone accidentally divulges information the Ministry might deem as ‘sensitive.’ nothing to worry about.” Harry visibly relaxed.

Pleased with yourself, you placed both hands on the table and stood up. “Ok I’m going to sleep, it’s been fun guys and have a great day at work. Sirius, thank you for the hospitality, will the door lock automatically when I leave?”

No need, Y/N I’ll be here, have the day off.” he replied picking up his and your breakfast plates.

You gave him a smile of thanks and dragged yourself upstairs to bed while Hermione hustled Ron and Harry out the door to work.

Unbuttoning your shirt and flinging your shoes off you sat on the old bed groaning at the thought of what could have happened if they really found out what you were reading. That was a bloody close one. No more fanfics at the table…whatever the thrill…well, no fanfics in the presence of the protagonist at least. Lying back, not bothering to take your pants off you laughed quietly to yourself at Hermione’s reaction when you slammed the laptop shut. The laptop. The laptop which was still on the kitchen table…

Sirius set the breakfast dishes to wash then returned to his seat to finish his coffee and the paper. However something caught his eye and he lowered The Daily Prophet to see your laptop still sitting on the table, gleaming at him…

He shook his head and resumed reading the paper only to lower it and look at the laptop again.

It was ten minutes after that when you sat bolt upright in bed, remembering you left the computer downstairs with no password set up and no screen time out scheduled. Fuuuuuuuuck!

No! No, he wouldn’t?

Of course he bloody would! He’s Sirius – they basically coined the word ‘curiosity’ for him.

Standing up, not remembering you were still in just your trousers and bra you searched your brain for the best course of action. You could just go down there and pick it up. But what if he was reading it?

Where were Fred and George’s extendable ears when you need them? You quickly asked yourself before realising they wouldn’t help unless Sirius was reading it out loud to himself. Unlikely.

Ok. Okay! Just suck it up, hurry down there and grab it.

Straightening your shoulders you headed to the door but as you placed your hand on the doorknob you heard someone pacing in front of the doorway.

———

Sirius was well...shocked and surprised and very turned on.

Y/N! Sweet Y/N who never sought him out, is the epitome of cool, calm, and collected in front of him was reading…well fuck! What was that? He liked what he saw, he more than liked it, it mirrored perfectly how he felt about you, you were friends but he wanted more. Sirius found himself always seeking you out, wanting to be near you or talk to you whenever you would standstill. You moved a lot, only whenever he was around but he didn’t know that.

Sirius had stopped his pacing to run a hand through his hair…only just realising he had made his way to the hall in front of Y/N’s room. Looking at the door, daring him to enter, thoughts that had flooded through his brain stopped to form one coherent sentence; could she possibly feel the same way about you?

Before today Sirius would have answered: no, she doesn’t. You were Y/N, the same woman who never flirted back, said nothing when he went home with other witches after he tried and failed to spend time with you, and acted nothing more than a distant friend.

He never thought he had a chance – he was good at knowing when someone was attracted to him but Y/N, she wasn’t was she?

Sirius walked towards the door. Godric he hoped you felt like him. He had subtly tried to figure you out over the last two years of knowing you, never quite seeing the adoration or lust in your eyes. You hid it very well.

Defeated, or so he thought, Sirius had begun to try and turn his mind to other women, not that he still didn’t think of you. Often.

Just as he was talking himself out of entering the bedroom – you were asleep after all he reasoned and he couldn’t go creeping around peoples’ rooms even if they technically were in his house – you opened the door in only trousers and a bra.

You looked at Sirius, he was breathing quickly and seemed dazed. He rested his arms on the top of the door frame and leaned closer to you.

“You read the thing.” You announced bluntly.

“I read the thing.” He answered quickly back.

There was a moment as you stared into each other’s eyes, feeling naked and vulnerable, both trying to find what you had been looking for and then, at the same time you grabbed each other.

He, one hand on your head, the other on your waist, kissed you forcefully, walking you backwards into the room and closing the door with his foot. You tugged at his hair, weaving your fingers through it as you returned his kisses desperately, grabbing at every bit of him you could.

“Y/N!” Sirius panted in between kisses. “Y/N, I had no idea!” He was kicking off his shoes and removing his shirt as you sat back down on the bed and pulled him with you.

“If you wanted me, all you had to do was ask and I’m yours.” He smiled running his hands along your sides as he kissed your neck.

“I could have said the same to you.” He looked at you incredulously as you spoke. “I had no idea either, Sirius.”

You locked eyes again. A hard stare holding both disbelief and awe that you found yourselves together before launching at each other again; hungry, fevered kisses, devouring the taste and touch of one another.

Sirius was frantic in his movements – not at all like the slow, sensuous, teasing lover stories you had heard. He gripped you and rolled you onto him at the same time he waved his right hand in a complicated figure of 8 motion, causing his trousers and yours to disappear.

“Hey! I liked those!” You argued.

“Mmmphff, I’ll get you some new ones.” He muffled into your mouth.

“Bold of you to assume you are allowed in my pants.”

“Oh Y/N! I’m sorry, you’re right, I assumed..” he looked up at you embarrassed but broke off when he saw your devious grin.

“You assumed correctly, Sirius. May I?” You indicated to his underwear.

He merely groaned and kissed you heatedly.

His erection in your hand was thick, hard, and felt like velvet. As you stroked him it throbbed matching his heaving chest.

He swiftly rolled onto you once more gazing at you and silently asking permission to remove your underwear too. Your bra somehow in the heated moments was long gone.

“Go ahead.” You smirked at him and he slipped his fingers under the lace and expertly slid them off.

Moaning with eyelids fluttering shut as he touched you, he muttered: “Oh Merlin you are so wet, Y/N!”

He was swirling his thumb around your clit, stroking you up and down your folds. It was exquisite.

He dipped his head down and started to lick lines from the bottom of your folds to the top. The flick of his tongue on your clit was shocking you, jump-starting you at every touch. He moved to continuously flick your swelling clit with his tongue, vibrations of his groans whipping through your core to your toes. He didn’t stop there, two fingers inside you, curling against the ridges of your walls, the other hand drawing teasing circles on your foot made you feel like you were made of wires, all alight and zapping at the same time.

He owned you. And you were seeing stars. It was too much. Frantically grabbing his shoulders you couldn’t take it any longer. You wanted, no needed him inside you.

He looked surprised as you tugged at his arms, urging him upwards.

“Y/N, is everything alright? Do you want me to stop?”

Heaving breaths, you managed to breathe out, “so good….about to come…need you inside!”

He took one look at your desperate face and reached down to where your hand was wrapping itself around his cock helping to guide him in.

Sliding into you, as your walls were pulsing and you were coming around him was one of the most unbelievable feelings Sirius had ever experienced. He forgot to breathe.

You had enchanted him, completely consumed him, making his toes curl as sensational sparks were running up and down his body.

“Oh Sirius, FUCK!” Watching you come apart and cry out his name, seeing you writhe in ecstasy beneath him as he thrust his hips, sheathing himself in you completely was the catalyst for his release. Feeling the build and knowing he was on the brink, Sirius tried to hold himself back. He tried everything to force his orgasm to wait. He thought of James trying to and failing spectacularly at wooing Lily, he thought of Dumbledore in swimming trunks, he even let his mind skim over his mother’s face but no images were sticking and nothing was working.

Your soft skin, your scent, the way you moved beneath him bringing him into your ecstasy, sharing your orgasm with him while encouraging him to find his pleasure was the most erotic and intimate moment Sirius had had in a long long time. He was going to lose it very soon.

“Y/N? Y/N!” He panted. “I’m not going to….Oh, Merlin” he groaned and closed his eyes as you sucked his earlobe rolling your hips up to him.

“…Y/N, I’m not going to last…you feel so good…I promise to make love to you properly next time!”

“Oh, there is going to be a next time?” You smiled back secretly high-fiving the air at the news Sirius was potentially breaking his one-time-only rule.

“Oh…fuck…YES!” He came, flooding into you.

He gripped your hair and kissed you roughly. You responded instantly, wrapping your legs around him and he continued to roll his hips back and forth, slowing down and regaining his breath.

“Oh fuck yes, Y/N! I hope there will be many next times. Perhaps after dinner tonight?”

You smiled slyly biting your lip as you encouraged Sirius to fall down on you and relax.

Stroking his back, as he made no effort to remove himself from on top or inside you, you sent a silent prayer to the fandom gods and to @siriusblackfoot in particular, for sharing the best story you had read in a long time…

----

Tag List: @belladonnarey @sirius-lysad @riddikuluslypotter @virgilwrites @emmamass24 @evyiione @mylovelykelsifer @sly-vixen-up2nogood @ashkuuuu

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flightsrsk · 4 years

Text

hello hello all !!! my name is riley and this is my actual trash son maverick, aka the flight risk !!! i am so so hyped to get the ball rollin on this, so check out info on my kid under ze cut !!

warning: this got rlly mcfreaking long and i am so sorry fjdklsjs i am incapable of writing a short intro post

unfortunately i will not be able to be around for the official opening bc i’m on vacation w my fam and godparents, but i will try and intermittently read intros and chat to you guys about plots !!!! PLS feel free to bombard me through IMs or through discord if any plot sparks ur interest or u think mav could fit well in one of ur plots!!! :’)

THE BASICS

Name: Maverick Hobbes Braxton

Age: Twenty-one

Gender: Cismale

Pronouns: He/Him

Major & year: Philosophy, Third year

Faceclaim: Alex Fitzalan

Occupation: N/A

THE FLIGHT RISK

Maverick Braxton, as you might see, is an enigma—or rather, has evolved into one, slowly: a transformation that begun with his first breath. In his early years, the stage had been set for him, line by line. Act One: attend prep schools, excel in classes. Act Two: attend Covington, take center stage—you know, all of the things his older brother, Richard had accomplished with ease, just one year prior to all of his expectations. It was simple, really: a blueprint laid out ahead of him, with little to nothing in his way.

The only problem was that Maverick didn’t exactly see the point in choosing that path, that stage, that story. To him, it wasn’t challenging.

That, and the fact that the life laid out in front of him offered him absolutely nothing.

A series of banal expectations, unfair comparisons, and heartbreaking betrayals, and the traditional life of the Braxton child was thrown out the window—at least, in his brain, it was. See, Maverick Braxton, while independent, coy, and arrogant, isn’t stupid. He knows if he pleases his parents just enough, they’ll still distribute his trust fund and still bail him out of legal trouble when he inevitably tiptoes too far down the delicate line between ambition and rebellion. Perhaps it’s a bit selfish, but what does he owe to a family who paid him no attention, who never asked of his well-being, his own ambitions, his personal dreams?

He’s the kind of person to drive down the highway, windows rolled all the way down, cigarette lit—not because he necessarily likes the taste of nicotine, but because he likes the way the smoke creates clouds that obscure reality. He’ll surprise you in class when he interjects with a sarcastic but surprisingly salient point before throwing up his hood and retreating to the back corner for the rest of class. He’s the kind of person to start reading a book, flipping incessantly through the pages, both impatient by the pace of the plot, yet put it down before he reaches the final pages because he doesn’t want to be disappointed by the ending. He’s the kind of artist who rarely finishes a sketch, the writer who is never satisfied by a poem—for fear, of course, by deep-rooted insecurities that nothing that he will ever do will be enough.

A once-broken heart had taken time to mend, even though it seems ice-cold and whole from the outside. It’s why he has commitment issues: he doesn’t want to be burned again. He plays off his flirtatious bit as a personality trait, someone who is bored by the prospect of being tied down—and yet those who share his bed might consider him Covington’s most surprisingly deep pillow-talker.

An enigma, you see—one who doesn’t stick around long enough for anyone to truly understand, truly a Flight Risk.

BIOGRAPHY:

( You can read his full biography here! Still in the process of editing it a bit, but below are some important bullet points! )

Maverick was born the second of three children to the Braxton family—and as per usual with the Braxton children, he was born into a life filled to the absolute brim of expectation.

His father, a playwright, his mother, an actress. His brother, a theatre prodigy—what part did that leave him to play? The assumed expectations were to follow in his mother and brothers’ footsteps and take center stage; he excelled, for a while, but Maverick always felt lost.

Neighbors and family friends would always ask if he had measured up, in each and every shape and form: it was like the entire universe had a scoreboard with their names titling each section, and Maverick was always playing catch-up, never knowing where the finish line was.

For a while, he stuck to the script that was given to him: study, succeed, repeat. He tried to understand the ins and outs of his father’s work, of masterful acting techniques, trying to make a large enough splash to where his family would even notice the work he put into his life. Surprise: it didn’t.

It took him seventeen years to truly understand that his role in life was not exactly the story his parents had laid out for him, but rather, his sibling, instead.

Downcast emotions transformed quickly into cynicism. What used to make him feel sad now fueled a blue fire within Maverick’s chest, one that felt wronged by the system he was placed in: a complete first-world problem, but it was then and there when he decided to take advantage of his situation, given that he had spent his entire life dedicated to a part he wouldn’t play.

Hypocritical as he was, he still enjoyed the fruits of his parents’ work, cashing the unlimited checks with his name on them, as if it was some sort of sick version of love.

One piece of recognition that Maverick finally earned was an acceptance to Covington—and even that couldn’t be tainted by his brother’s success or his legacy status.

At Covington, Maverick has both lost and found his footing, multiple times. He’s quit acting, quit studying theater, in favor of a topic that stimulates his brain more than reading lines and

PERSONALITY:

Maverick Braxton is certainly a paradox. He’s charismatic, funny, and has a witty sense of humor –– and is generally appreciated by his peers because he’s able to move conversation and discussion without making topics seem dry.

Despite his apparent inferiority to his sibling, the Braxton family still breeds the cream of the crop. He’s certainly a bit arrogant sometimes, given that he’s intelligent, innovative, and clever, and wants to be recognized for it –– however, even if he might not show it on the outside, he appreciates a good challenger. He thinks it keeps his wit sharp, and of course, his ego would never show it, but he does appreciate learning from people. After all, his passion in philosophy, his current area of study, makes him certainly interested in how the world works.

Those who happen to get to know Maverick outside of the surface-level stuff, outside the initial cockiness and flirtatious front he puts on will know that he’s actually quite thoughtful. His lonely childhood has made him extremely loyal to those who have shown him similar trust and friendship –– he would never turn his back on them.

He asks probing questions, is a good listener –– perhaps because he’s interested in human decision making, but is also because he doesn’t quite know what it’s like to be loved unconditionally –– though he wants to.

Deep down, what almost no one knows is that he’s really quite soft. He passes his curiosity off as wanting to understand people, when really it’s a mechanism for hoping someone asks him questions in return, to give him the time of day he wished his parents ( and the rest of the goddamned universe ) had given him.

Despite his theatre prowess, he isn’t actually a particularly good liar. Those who spend enough time around him can hear his tone of voice incline slightly and see him scratch his brow.

AESTHETICS:

coffee-stained mugs, walking with headphones in but nothing playing, untied shoelaces, black hoodies, a cheeky smirk, small books in his back pocket, writing in the margins, unfinished poems, quoting old authors on a daily basis, incessant eye-rolling, pen ink stains, an unmade bed, mismatched socks, floral ties, empty bottles of liquor, rose thorn pricks, old worn poetry books, polished dress shoes, calloused fingers, unlit cigarettes between teeth.

HEADCANONS:

Funnily enough, Maverick’s name means ‘independent, a noncomformist’, which is exactly the path that he has taken to stray away from his family’s expectations.

He does have one strong connection to his family, though: his grandmother, on his father’s side. She understands the pressure he undergoes, who saw the pressure Maverick’s father endured to obtain the success he has. She is one of the only reasons that Maverick has not just jetted off to take on his own adventure. He loves her dearly, and wishes that her empathy and wisdom would rub off on the rest of his family.

Maverick has some form of synesthesia, which allows him to remember a lot more than the average person. He associates colors, smells, sounds, to words –– and allows him to efficiently study any subjects he doesn’t have immediate passion for.

In the privacy of his own bedroom, he sometimes writes poetry and sketches his thoughts and muses –– when he knows he’s in complete privacy. Faces and features that appear in his sketchbooks are often those he’s thinking of often, those who intrigue him. He’s actually quite good a sketching, maybe not quite as good at writing poetry.

His room is spotless –– evidence that he is a bit of a control freak sometimes. It shows that during his adolescence, he reveled in the parts of his life that he could control and perfect.

tw drugs. He more than dabbles in drug use, smoking marijuana maybe every other day, while partaking in harder drugs like cocaine and adderall and others probably once a week. He feels like he’s in control of his use, but it may start to get the best of him. end tw.

Maverick is left-handed. He hates that he gets pen ink stains when he draws, writes poetry, takes notes. His left palm is probably perennially covered with ink.

Though he’s often wearing headphones ( airpods, of course, the nerve of this rich kid ), half the time, nothing’s playing. Sometimes he forgets to press play on his phone, sometimes he purposely likes listening to decision-making and conversations of strangers. it lets him think about the nature of mankind.

Maverick’s favorite philosopher is Albert Camus, known for his work that heavily developed the idea of absurdism ( much to do with the meaning of life, and human inability to discern an answer ).

Maverick’s preferred method of transportation is his skateboard. he loved it first because his parents hated it: pushing himself around on a board like that would get him injured—besides, why not just take the car to school, the driver had been paid for anyway? It was his first taste of rebellion. Now at Covington, where skateboarding is far more efficient than walking across campus, it comes in handy when he sees someone he’d rather not stop and chat to.

Maverick could die with a poetry book nestled on his chest—it’s the one thing he got out of the impressive book collection his family owned. There was something daunting and beautiful about the way poems would transform metaphors into something fantastical, like the emotions were clearly there, but the words were skirting the issue. Kind of like how his parents would never really tell him they loved him.

Maverick often has headphones in when he walks to class. not particularly because he’s actually listening to music or a podcast, but rather because he’d just … rather not be bothered to stop and talk to people.

Maverick loves to draw. He’s mostly self-taught, with a bit of mentorship from his high school art teacher. Evidenced by the rest of his fleeting personality, he rarely finishes a sketch or painting. He claims he never has time to finish them, but the number of crumbled-up, half-finished sketches in his trash bin might say otherwise.

PLOTS

** see my wanted plots tag here too! // and my plots page here !!

* FIRST LOVE / OPEN.

It wouldn’t be easy to make Maverick feel like even more of a disappointment than he already had with his parents, his family—but your muse proved this feeling wrong. He loved them, more than he’d ever loved anything before. In the midst of confusion about where he belonged, he felt safe with your muse; he’d do anything for them. Things ended, he felt betrayed ( though the break-up could have easily been due to a fault of his ), and the split made him the one who now struggles fully with commitment. He doesn’t want to have his heart broken again. See: this entire pinterest board.

but also if u give me this ……………… i’ll name my firstborn after u

* BEST FRIEND / OPEN.

Those who go through similar childhood traumas are often able to understand each other –– that was how it worked with Maverick and your muse, at least. They’re thick as thieves — and have likely seen the ups and downs of Maverick’s life in real time.

* CHILDHOOD FRIENDS / OPEN.

Self explanatory—and also probably knows about the pressures the Braxton family imposes on their children.

* EX-FRIENDS / OPEN.

Friends who were close, close no longer. Maverick’s a real piece of work, and an asshole, too—there are myriad possibilities for why Maverick could have pushed them away. He wouldn’t openly admit that he misses being around your muse, but he certainly would feel a bit of guilt given that they’re no longer the closest of friends.

* MOMENT OF WEAKNESS / OPEN.

Your muse, in whatever unfortunate setting, saw a glimpse of Maverick’s soft side that hardly ever makes an appearance. He’s not going to let them tell the world about his vulnerabilities, though. Not a chance.

* DISLIKED / OPEN.

Maverick is sarcastic, cold, and sometimes emotionless. It’s not surprising that not everyone gets along with the middle Braxton. The possibilities are endless—throw in some sexual tension and I’d actually fall at ur feet.

* PREVIOUS ROOMMATES / OPEN.

Your muse, at one point, probably knew Maverick better than everyone else at Covington. They overheard some of his phone calls with his parents, saw his notes for how he was to achieve his life goals, heard him crying in the middle of the night when he thought your muse was asleep. They could be extremely close now, as in one of the few people Maverick opens up to, or could be distant friends who know about one anothers’ struggles. The possibilities are endless, tbh.

+ ANYTHING LEGITIMATELY ……… IF U THINK THERE’S POSSIBILITY FOR SOMETHING COOL W MAV AND UR MUSE. SIGN ME THE F UP. THANKS.

#tw:drugs #tw:smoking #tw:flashing lights #covintro #// PLS HMU WITH PLOTS OK FDJKLSJSD I HATE I AM MISSING OPENING BUT I WANT ALL THE PLOTS

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 4 years

Text

The Nuptial Necessity - Chapter 8

A 12xRose Human AU

Despite an unglamorous job description, Rose loves the work she does with The Thistle Foundation, a charity founded by her best friend’s great-uncle. It doesn’t hurt that her boss, her friend’s father, is easy on the eyes. With a great job, wonderful friends and a loving family, life couldn’t be better – except for having someone to share it with.

All of that is threatened, though, when the great-uncle dies – and sets a strange condition for his nephew to inherit, jeopardizing the Foundation and Rose’s future, sparking a chain of events that might just get her everything she dreamed of and more.

Chapters will be posted on Saturdays and Tuesdays. Many thanks to my beta, @stupidsatsuma

Rated: Explicit, for eventual smut

@doctorroseprompts

AO3 | Masterlist

—

Sunday (cont’d)

Rose’s nails dug into her palms so hard it hurt, as she tried desperately to focus on the pain rather than the stream of words coming from her mother’s lips. Doesn’t she get it? she raged, glaring across the table. Why can’t she just leave me the fuck alone?

Malcolm’s warm palm on her knee was all that was keeping her from lunging across the table, the intimate touch setting her on fire, or at least the bits of her mind that weren’t tied up in rage. He’d never touched her there before, and the slow drag of his thumb against the sensitive skin on the side of her knee made her want him to move his hand upwards and inward.

The fantasy played out for just a moment until the words nice widower punctured her daze and she tuned back in.

Are you fucking kidding me? This is bullshit.

She didn’t plan it. She hadn’t made up her mind.

She just wanted her mother to stop. talking.

“Malcolm and I are getting married.”

The words slipped out effortlessly, and she didn’t know what she was saying until they were out there like Pandora’s Box, unrecoverable.

Malcolm’s hand squeezed her knee tightly for just a moment before relaxing, and as much as she wanted to check his expression she couldn’t tear her eyes away from her mother’s stunned face, mouth opening and closing silently like a goldfish, looking for all the world like she’d walked into a wall.

“You… what?” Jackie asked faintly, her voice sounding loud and out of focus to Rose’s ear.

“We… we’re getting married. Two weekends from now. By a judge.” Despite the oddness of the words it felt right, natural, and by the way Malcolm wasn’t having a nervous breakdown, he at least somewhat agreed.

“You’re getting married?” her mum whispered, and she nodded, catching the movement of Malcolm’s head as he mimicked her.

“Are you pregnant?” her father asked neutrally, and Rose startled, having almost forgotten he was there, anyone was there, with as intent as she’d been on Jackie.

Before she could answer, though, Malcolm spoke up, voice unusually rough. “Of course not.” They stared off for a beat, before Pete sighed and nodded. For the first time since she’d heard about the will Rose remembered one glaring fact – that Malcolm and her father had been friends and quasi-business partners for almost twice as long as Rose had worked for him, had known each other long before Rose and Clara met at uni.

Oops. That could be awkward.

Her father turned his eyes on her, and not even his unusually serious expression was enough to distract her from the sudden heat of Malcolm’s hand taking her palm, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently, a warmth in her chest at his quiet show of support. “Is this what you want?”

It was, desperately, though not how. Among many other things, she’d imagined that, were something to ever happen with Malcolm, he would be as irrevocably in love with her as she was with him. Be careful what you wish for, she thought sardonically. Unable to open her mouth, afraid if any words came out they’d be accompanied by tears, or worse her real feelings, she just nodded, gripping Malcolm’s hand tightly.

After several moments that felt like lifetimes, her father gave a sharp nod.

And then burst into a great big grin.

“That’s wonderful!” he crowed, pushing back from the table and coming around to kiss Rose’s cheek before shaking Malcolm’s hand. “Welcome to the family, son,” he joked, clasping Malcolm’s shoulder. “I’ll get the champagne.”

“I-”

He was back in a flash with an ice-cold bottle, and she wondered dimly why they’d had one chilled, watching with a strange sense of detachment as Pete opened the bottle, sending the cork flying. The pop seemed to startle everyone else back to life, as Clara began to squeal from her place on Rose’s left, throwing her arms around her and hugging her tightly.

Rose slowly turned her head to face Malcolm to find him already watching her with an impossibly soft and tender expression, one that was almost enough to move her to tears with the gentle awe radiating from him.

Really? he mouthed, arching an eyebrow, and she studied his face, committing this moment to memory.

Then, slowly, with a shy smile, warmth in her cheeks, she nodded.

Their afternoon cookout quickly devolved into an impromptu engagement party, though Malcolm didn’t miss Rose’s careful machinations to keep them from being split up.

Given it was her family he was content to let her do most of the storytelling, not wanting to contradict whatever she did- or more specifically didn’t- want them to know. Instead he watched her, using the cover of ‘adoring fiancé’ to study her, allowing his eyes feast to upon her as his heart ached to do.

“So, why now?” Pete asked, only able to get a word in edgewise after more than an hour. “Why the rush?”

Rose shrugged, leaning closer to Malcolm and peering up at him. “Well…”

Guessing she wanted him to jump in, he said, “Wallace’s death put some things into perspective, I think, about what really matters in life. I’d say that’s a large part of it.” He had to elbow Rose when she snorted at the bit he left unsaid. “It just… seems right, is all.”

“And when did you know?” Jackie asked, hauling Tony up onto her lap and cuddling him. “That something was there.”

Malcolm tensed, unsure of what to do. “Me?”

Half a dozen expectant faces stared at him, and he sighed. “Right- well…” When Rose didn’t jump in to save him he realized he was going to answer the question; but how? If he lied, they would likely see through it, but if he told the truth… he was worried it might be too convincing, and tip his hand. Fuck. “It was gradual,” he said, honestly enough, “but… I don’t know. One day I looked at her and saw something I hadn’t before.” His impromptu audience didn’t look satisfied, so he shrugged. “To be perfectly honest, I think we were arguing over pizza toppings.”

Rose stiffened beside him, a peculiar expression on her face; almost as if she knew the evening he was talking about. “The night before the Charitable Earth Gala,” she murmured, proving that she did.

He had no idea what to do with that.

“Yes,” he said softly, before clearing his throat and turning back to their observers. “Anyway, that was… when I started seeing her a new light.”

Jackie nodded, mouth pursed, before turning back to her daughter. “So, have you gone looking at dresses yet?”

Eventually her mum had to put Tony down for a nap, allowing Rose to escape to the library for some much-needed silence and alone time.

She had only just flopped down onto the couch when the door creaked open, and she tensed; if she stayed still and quiet and the person didn’t actually enter the room she wouldn’t be seen, and she prayed they would move on.

“Rose?”

I suppose he gets a pass. “Yeah?” She struggled upright as he entered the room, carefully shutting the door behind him before taking the seat next to her. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He sighed, stretching his feet out on the coffee table and leaning back. “And to think Clara spent the entire ride over to pick up Danny lecturing me about causing trouble.” He rolled his head to the side to face her, grinning. “Kid’s never gotten so lucky in his life.”

Rose considered the lingerie she’d helped Clara buy for Danny’s birthday the month before, and smirked. “Not sure that’s true.”

It was adorable, watching his expression cycle through the various emotions of confusion as they graduated to understanding and then horror. “I didn’t need to know that,” he said in disgust, making her giggle.

“You said it.”

He nudged her with his elbow, and she shifted on the cushions to avoid it, turning her body more towards his.

“So…”

“So,” she mimicked, pulling her legs up under her. “I guess it’s official.”

Malcolm nodded, expression turning serious. “Listen, I understand why you said it- believe me, I do- but… is that what you really want? I hate to think of you putting your life on hold for this, no matter how good a cause.”

Rose shrugged one shoulder, toying with the corner of the afghan spread along the back of the couch. “Oh, come on,” she said quietly, “we both know it was always going to go this way, don’t pretend. And it’s not like I’ve got a serious boyfriend whose life will be affected by this. I want to do this, I do. What we have- I can’t lose it. Professionally,” she added in a hurry, realizing how close it came to a confession. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” he repeated, his tone a bit too flat. “Are you-”

“Yes.” She couldn’t help but smirk. “Just think how badly this will piss off Missy.”

That got her a laugh. “She’ll be furious,” he said fondly, “which for me is reason enough. Now, when do you want to discuss this in detail?”

“Tomorrow?” Pulling her mobile out of her back pocket, she opened the calendar. “We’re both free at eleven- want to talk then?”

Malcolm nodded. “Let’s order takeaway and talk over lunch- I’d take you somewhere nice, but it’s not exactly a conversation we want overheard.”

“Chips?”

“Anything you want,” he laughed, before briefly touching her knee. “Really- anything. For… all of this. Name your price.”

Rose tilted her head, propping it up with an elbow on the back of the couch. “Hmmm… well, you mentioned there would be actual duties and work and stuff with this, right?”

He nodded.

“Then a raise- not an extravagant one but something reasonable- would be fitting.” She bit her lip, wondering if she should bring up her idea.

“What is it?”

“Clara said she and Danny are talking about getting a flat,” she said slowly, “something bigger and more centrally located than they have now. You mentioned spare rooms… it would certainly be convincing if we were living under the same roof, which would leave my flat empty- which happens to meet all of their needs.”

Malcolm grimaced at that. “Your logic is sound,” he allowed, “but I’m not sure how I feel about facilitating my daughter living with her boyfriend- even indirectly.”

“Probably about the same as she does about this.”

“Fair point.” He reluctantly grinned. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you’re not asking for much, though you certainly could.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “I don’t need your money,” she reminded him, “and I’m getting plenty of benefits- a title, a raise, to live in a nice Townhouse, not losing my job…” not losing you, she let go unsaid, but she wondered if he could hear it in her tone anyway. “Point is, you don’t need to bribe me, or feel guilty. It could all be a lot worse.”

“It could.” He grinned. “I don’t know if you know but Jo was training a temp for about a week before you started. Nice bloke, smart enough, but I don’t think anyone would buy that.”

She had to laugh, trying to picture that. “I met him on my first day,” she snorted. “Didn’t really seem your type, to be honest.”

“He just didn’t have the legs.”

“Oh, you’re a legs man!” Rose crowed, whacking his chest. “I should’ve known.” She thought she’d caught him staring a few times, and resolved to never wear trousers to work again unless absolutely necessary.

“What can I say, it works for me,” he protested, lips curling up. “Can’t be explained.”

Lifting up slightly she uncurled her legs in favor of draping them over his lap. “Mhmm, well, if you promise not to get too pervy, you can give me a foot massage,” she said innocently, wriggling her toes. “These dogs are barking.”

“You’re barking.” He laid a palm over the tops of her feet, and she enjoyed the innate warmth as much as the spark of their skin meeting. “But I suppose I’m stuck with you now.”

“I suppose you are.”

And they shared bright smiles.

#bbatcfic #ficandchips #Doctor Who #doctorroseprompts #Human!12xRose #Human!Twelfth Doctor #Rose Tyler #Human AU #AU #The Nuptial Necessity

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starchained-blog · 5 years

Text

whats up my dudes !!! i am bee, i’m 19 & i never fuckin learned how to stop using this exact vine reference in all my intro posts !! i will be playing my Babe andromeda black. but first a lil bit about me b4 i start 2 ramble about andromeda: i’m always a slut for the Aesthetic, i’m a math Nerd aaaand im probably ?? way too in love w fitzwilliam darcy. also i will Always want to plot so if u do too please hmu !! nyways u can find out more abt my daughter andromeda under the cut !!

- ̗̀✰ • 【 XU JIAQI, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER 】 ❝ did you see ANDROMEDA BLACK on the train back to hogwarts ? they’re a PUREBLOOD in their THIRD year as a TWENTY-year-old SLYTHERIN. apparently they’re the RECUSANT around the grounds; most likely because they give off an aura of rain on dark windows, the heavy sweetness of red wine, ink-stained fingers, a tempest barely contained within a girl. of all the social media platforms, they’re definitely most obsessed with their INSTAGRAM; probably because they’re SELF-RELIANT, but also INTROSPECTIVE. however, on the new manifest app in mr. carlos’ english class, they’ve already managed to anonymously steal the username: NIMUE. ❞ ┊ 「 bee, 19, est, she/her. 」

PINTEREST !!

rec·u·sant ( noun. ) a person who refuses to submit to an authority or to comply with a regulation.

aka just a fancy way of saying rebel !

( rain on dark windowpanes, the heavy sweetness of red wine, ink-stained fingers, greyish purple of dawn, cold bones, fastening the clasp of a silver necklace. dark curls escaping from pins, starched white shirts under wool coats, cold coffee dregs and burnt out matches from a guilty cigarette. fog over the scottish moor, the soft tick of a grandfather clock, stars peeking through an overcast sky, the stark echo of a single violin. the pages of a book turning in a library past midnight. holy places long since abandoned, the simmering wildness of a bird caged, and the ancient ache for freedom. a tempest barely contained within a girl. )

PRE-HOGWARTS !!

andromeda & her mother have what u can call a strained relationship. from her moment of birth, druella saw everything andromeda did as an act of rebellion, whether it was a childish question asked in the wrong place at the wrong time, or getting so absorbed in a book she forgot to come down for dinner, or a bit of accidental wandless magic born out of a moment of frustration. every day was a trial against andromeda, with her parents acting as the judge, jury and executioner, & over and over again she was found GUILTY.

andromeda never meant to defy her mother, at first, but no matter how hard she tried to please druella, nothing she ever did was quite good enough. there was always some fault, whether it was a lock of hair tumbling free from its pin, a corset come unlaced, posture ruined from hunching over a book. her wrists were too bony, her lips were too thin, her skin too easily flushed.

[ TW ABUSE ] it didn’t escape andromeda’s notice that every flaw her mother criticized was one druella shared as well, and when she grew older she realized her mother’s dissatisfaction with andromeda was merely a product of her own dissatisfaction with herself. but that didn’t feed her the nights she was denied dinner for her ‘ misbehaviour ’. it didn’t take back the days andromeda went unable to speak thanks to a punitive silencio, and it didn’t grant andromeda’s wish to have a real mother who loved her. [ END TW ]

did druella love her children ? who knows. maybe she did, in her own twisted way. but druella was first and foremost a business woman, and her main trade was her daughters. andromeda grew up listening to endless warnings that her mother would “ never be able to find andromeda a husband if … ” and then came whichever grievance she’d chosen to focus on that day.

it cannot come as a surprise that andromeda learned to live in the shadows, away from her mother’s disapproving glare; that she learned to rely on herself and herself only, that she learned to watch & observe & test the waters, to think before acting. ( of course, druella did not approve of this either, and informed andromeda that no man would want a girl who was so serious all the time. )

her parents often dragged her and her sisters to various pureblood functions, where andromeda stood off to the side in uncomfortably starched dresses, disappearing like smoke any time someone looked like they were heading over to strike up conversation. she would explore the pureblood manors, all silent footsteps & watchful eyes, making observations on how the wizarding world’s elite lived their lives, noting separate beds in the master bedrooms & half-empty whiskey bottles in the washrooms. it seemed like everyone was only looking out for themselves in this world, trying to further their own social status and wealth.

at home, she would escape to the roof with a book, whether it was a history of warlocks or the kind of torrid romance novel druella pretended she didn’t read, dark eyes hardly looking up as the sun sank lower in the sky, fingers blackened with ink by the time she closed her book and descended into the house to face her mother’s wrath that she missed her piano lessons.

is it strange that such a cynical girl could have such a yearning for beautiful things ? or would that merely be a side effect of cynicism, to long for something to thaw a hardened heart ? andromeda loved beautiful things, perhaps a bit too much, but she did not trust them. nothing beautiful was made to last, and if it was, it wasn’t truly beautiful. sunsets faded to darkness, books ended, lovers grew apart. the inherent transience of beauty made andromeda crave it all the more.

HOGWARTS !!

hogwarts was a breath of fresh air for andromeda, the chance to experience life outside her parents’ regime. to her inquisitive, probing nature, an ancient, magical castle full of history & secrets was paradise, let alone all the classes it housed. and the people — andromeda had never seen so many people in her lifetime. hundreds & hundreds of students filled the castle, all with their own thoughts and lives and desires. an introvert by nature, she didn’t interact, merely observed. she made best friends with the library & the constellations, sneaking out of the dorm to sit with her legs dangling over the fifty-foot drop of the astronomy tower, eyes finding her constellation, andromeda, and wondering if her fate was written in the stars too; drunk on the beauty of an untamed scottish night.

the unidentifiable yearning she’d always kept tucked inside a corner of her heart ballooned until she could hardly stand it. it was a yearning to be something more than the perfect pureblood wife her mother was trying to groom her to be, a thirst to prove herself in some way she didn’t even understand yet, and it was this ambition & drive that got her sorted into slytherin.

if druella & cygnus had thought andromeda was unmanageable before hogwarts , when she wasn’t even trying to be, she was downright wild when she returned for winter break in first year. now that she knew life could be better than what she was currently living at home, she buzzed with a restless energy that alarmed her parents. andromeda may have been troublesome before, but this was bordering on dangerous. druella made the decision that andromeda would not be returning to hogwarts. [ ABUSE TW ] this sparked one of the worst fights they’d ever had, and culminated in a rare but unforgiving physical beating. [ END TW ]

eventually druella conceded, and andromeda was allowed to return, but she was much more cautious now. she only made friends who her parents would approve of, she kept her nose clean, and at home, she played the part of the dutiful daughter. there were still small rebellions, though — long curls cut short with a silver flash of the kitchen scissors; a nicked pack of her father’s cigarettes smoked cross-legged on the roof, coughing into her fist so nobody would hear. as she got older, she paired the cigarettes & book with red wine , the finest she dared steal without risk of being caught. this was her escape, her small patch of beauty in an ugly world.

andromeda keeps to herself at hogwarts as much as she can. the only people she spent time with were those her parents approved of, and she didn’t like most of them. she threw herself into her schoolwork instead, easily landing herself a spot among the top students.

but she loves hogwarts, loves it with all her heart, as so many abused children do – it’s a safe haven, a place where she can at least pretend she’s free. she loves learning everything that she can ( in fact, she was very nearly sorted into ravenclaw ). her favourite place to be is the astronomy tower, and she still escapes there whenever she’s feeling a bit too claustrophobic.

she was chosen to be a slytherin prefect for her year and although she thought she wouldn’t like it, she’s grown to enjoy the position. not for the power it gives her over her fellow students, but for the escape it brings. she can associate with people she would normally never talk to, and roam the castle freely past curfew. and andromeda isn’t a naturally nurturing person, but she’s found that she enjoys talking to and helping the younger years. she sees their wonder at hogwarts in their eyes, the same wonder that she felt, and has grown quite protective over quite a few of them.

she’s technically in slug club, due to her prowess in potions and her illustrious family name, although she hardly ever goes – she does not like slughorn at all, nor most of the people he’s selected to be in his little club. other than that, however, andromeda doesn’t make a habit of joining clubs or teams or anything that would involve her being forced to interact with people.

PERSONALITY !!

those who don’t know andromeda might say she’s aloof, proud, detached, all flint eyes & sharp edges. and they wouldn’t be wrong. andromeda’s habit of keeping to the shadows has carried on into her hogwarts years, and as an introvert, her solitary nature can sometimes come off as downright anti-social. she’s naturally pensive, and her pensive face just so happens to look pissed off.

she finds it hard to trust people. she’s so used to a world shaped by selfishness that she rarely meets someone she doesn’t suspect of having ulterior motives. after all , beautiful people, like beautiful things, are temporary. everyone turns ugly sooner or later; everyone’s claws are eventually revealed.

andromeda carries an unmistakable air of wealth that, although entirely unintentional, can rub people the wrong way. she has a taste for the finer things in life — an aged wine, a silken scarf — and sees no reason why she shouldn’t enjoy them. she’s well read & well bred, and has a vocabulary and accent that can seem pretentious to some.

but those who do know andromeda, those precious, precious few, know of her vivacity, her independent streak, her love of learning, her dry humour, the dimples that appear with every mischievous smile. they know the fire she’s kept hidden in her heart for so long, and the proud, apathetic mask she slips on so easily whenever she’s hurting.

MODERNISMS !!

listen as much as i love the idea of andromeda in a modern age, it’s mostly just bc of the wealth of information that’s available to her ? like staying up ages watching random ass videos & falling into a black hole of wikipedia articles & having 12 languages on duolingo and a streak on khan academy. fuckn nerd ass

but social media ? not for this bitch !! i really have Tried to get her to use social media so i can do fun sc threads & such but she wont listen to me smh. u know when u meet someone cute & you’re trying to stalk them online but they either dont have any social media or it’s just like an empty acct with no posts ? shes that bitch. she’ll text people but she hates the like …. publicity of social media. doesnt trust fb at all ( and she shouldnt !! zuck shes onto u ) and probably has a snapchat someone made her get but she consistently replies like 3 days late, breaks streaks, has a snapscore of like 304. what a mess. shes a grandma. understands & enjoys memes but never uses them or references them. if andromeda black references a meme around u then u know she trusts u implicitly

she’s wary but intrigued by this new english class. she dreads to think of the reaction it’s getting from pureblood families like hers, but she recognizes this for what it is: an escape. an opportunity.

she chose her username nimue after the famed lady of the lake from the stories of king arthur and the round table. she’d loved those stories as a child, and was especially drawn to the mysterious witch, half-good and half-bad, who trapped the kingdom’s most powerful wizard inside a tree to gain her independence, who gifted the king with his famed sword, who was there when the great golden age of the kingdom rose and who was there when it fell.

OTHER !!

gender / sexuality: cis female / bisexual

birthday / zodiac: jan 11 / capricorn

mbti: intj

moral alignment: chaotic neutral

temperament: melancholic

patronus: raven

amortentia: dried ink, pine, petrichor, dark chocolate

that was ??? ridic long so bless u if you read all of that mess. im Too Lazy to list wanted connections rn, maybe i’ll do that later who knows. but anyways pls plot w me & let me love u down

#mhq:intros #( *｡✧ 𝑎 𝑤𝑖𝑠𝑝 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑘 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑤𝑜𝑜𝑙 ┇ OOC . )

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nikky-the-writer · 6 years

Text

The game

Part 1, Part 2

Bucky x Reader

A/N: This is posted from the Queue!! The rest will be posted after September

Summary: AU

Tony took Reader as his own after her father who was Tony’s best friend died. Tony Stark, is a criminal, while Bucky is a detective who is trying to destroy the Tony’s organization.

Warnings: cursing, blood, fighting….

Masterlist

It was the eighth time in past three months that you found yourself in the small room with a two-sided mirror. You knew the drill and you were too tired of it. They treated you like a criminal, but you never did anything wrong that they could use against you, but Tony has. He was let say it a businessman.

The man with blue eyes whom you knew like the back of your hand walked inside whit another man which you recognized.

˝Detective Rogers, always nice to see you.˝ Your hands were handcuffed behind you.

˝Miss (Y/L/N), do you know why you are here?˝ He asked you.

˝Well, you brought me here, so do tell.˝ You leaned back in your chair tugging at your restrains.

˝We want to offer you a deal.˝ He was ready to continue when he heard the metal hitting the ground. You put your free hands on the table staring at both of them.

˝A deal.. Betray Tony Stark and you can walk? But do you know what's funny about it?˝

They looked at each other and then back at you. ˝I can walk away right now and nobody can touch me.˝

˝You are under arrest, so you can't.˝

˝Really Bucky?˝

˝It's detective Barnes.˝ He said and you smiled.

˝Detective Barnes....I like that one much better than the other...˝ You leaned closer on the table towards him. ˝But wait a second, I already knew that, just as I know everything about you. Let's see, James Buchanan Barnes, the rising star that had a major fall out, when his cover was blown. I remember that day. It was really heartbreaking to hear what happened to you. Rhodes was devastated.˝ You said not breaking the eye contact.

˝What do you even know? You are just a girl who got caught in between two sides.˝ Barnes said moving uncomfortably in his seat.

˝Again, Y/N, we could've been done with this a few years ago. I know that you want to get out, you don't belong among them. They are thieves and murderers. ˝ Detective Rogers was saying, but you still kept your eyes at Barnes.

˝And what am I?˝ You finally turned your head to the side too look at the blond man.

˝A casualty.˝

˝A victim?˝ You asked tilting your head.

˝Yes. Do you really want to go to the prison? You could be put away for the rest of your life.˝ Barnes said and you got up from your chair. Both of them stood up standing at the same place.

˝I'm really disappointed in you both. I've been here a lot of times and by now I don't need a lawyer when I talk to you 'cause I know how this functions. I'm not stupid, you are desperate, you have no evidence so you are trying to break me. I'll help you with something. Nobody in my family is going to break. You know that Barnes you've been a part of it for a while. Nobody betrays the Stark family. Just as you wouldn't betray your mom, would you Steve?˝ With a smile you walked towards the door, Barnes tried to stop you but Rogers stopped him.

˝What are you doing Steve?˝ Bucky was angry, he still cared about you and he wanted you away from Stark.

˝Didn't you hear what she said, Buck?˝ Steve asked sating down.

˝That wasn't a treat.˝ Bucky said staring at Steve.

˝It was and believe me what they say that they do.˝ Bucky sat down next to his friend.

˝What are you talking about?˝

˝Just think Bucky, go back to the day when everything when to the hell.˝ Steve lowered his head staring at the ground.

˝What are you talking about? They couldn't have done that. They were away and they didn't even know who I was until everything happened.˝

˝But were they all away? And can you really be sure that they didn't know?˝ Steve finally looked his friend in the eyes.

˝You can't be serious about that!˝ Bucky suddenly stood up turning his back to Steve.

˝Just think about it.˝ Steve placed his hand on Bucky's shoulder before heading out.

Bucky couldn't believe what Steve suggested him. He knew that you didn't have anything with his accident, but he couldn't put that in the report or to tell his best friend because he would lose his job.

˝So...tell me why did you come here?˝ You asked placing a cup of coffee in front of him on the table. You sat on the small bench next to the window facing him.

˝Here?˝

˝New York.˝ You smiled softly waiting for his answer.

˝I needed a change, you know I just...˝

˝Yeah I get it. Sometimes is important to change your horizon. Staring at the same tree every day is dull and stupid, but sometimes that’s the only place where we feel safe.˝

˝That's why you are here?˝ He said placing the cup down. His blue eyes were intensely staring at you, which would make somebody uncomfortable, but not you. You were sitting relaxed with a cup of tea in your hands and smile on your face. You were always good at pretending and having an innocent look always brought you everything you needed.

˝I love being here. It's like I'm living in a bubble. Everything is peaceful and quiet. I've seen a lot of places around the world, but this place, this house. It's better when you know that your family is just a step away from you.˝ You were talking with such a enthusiasm and spark in your eyes that you could've fooled anyone.

˝And Tony, he raised you, right?˝ He asked carefully, trying not to step over the line.

˝Yeah, he is my dad, he is the best. It was hard to grow up without a mother or my real father, but he made it easy for me. I remember one day when I was ten I was really upset 'cause all of my friends had a mother, so my dad decided to do with me everything that a mother would do with her daughter. We were talking going shopping even playing with dolls.˝ Your smile never fading although you were lying, but not completely because the best lies are those similar to the truth just with a few changes nothing much. You did talk that day with Tony, but not about boys or things like that, but about his business. You didn't go shopping, he brought you to the closing of his new deal and you weren't playing with dolls you were shooting with guns.

˝That's really sweet.˝

˝My dad is a good man, but sometimes he can be strong headed even with me.˝ Your smile disappeared for a second, long enough for him to notice. He quickly stood up walking to you.

˝Did he hurt you?˝ He was worried. He's been there for a week and this was your first normal conversation, but he couldn't stop his eyes from lingering too long whenever he saw you.

˝Don't....just don't.˝

He reached for you placing his finger under your chin to look him in the eyes. ˝Did he hurt you?˝ He asked again.

˝Leave it alone, nothing good happens to those who snoop around.˝ You quickly got up rushing away from the kitchen.

˝Y/N!˝ You heard him yell and the only thing you could do while walking away is to smile to yourself

Bucky was genuinely worried about you. He felt something towards you although he wasn't allowed and seeing you hurt it made him angry. He was more determined to see Starks fall and to get you out of that family, he was oblivious to the truth. Tony never hurt you. Sure, social services would definitely take you away from him if they knew about your training when you were a child, but that only the family knew. And nobody from the family ever speaks to the cops; that is why your father will make an example of his newest member.

A/N: Thank you for reading!! 😊

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#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky x you #marvel fic #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel fanfiction #MARVEL FANDOM

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ishipbullshitso · 6 years

Text

So, beginning off, I have another tumblr account, but I use that for more private reasons (it also hoards another ship of mine), so I am using this one to post my crap. With all of that said and done, enjoy.

The King watched with amused eyes as his cousin sparred. It had been a year and a half since he reclaimed his throne in the final battle. It had been a year since T’Challa trusted N’Jakada-Erik-to roam Wakanda without burning everything to the ground. And lastly, it had been a week since T’Challa realized, with the horrific truth spoken by his sister, that he was undeniably in love with the man.

Erik looked up briefly at him, and T’Challa coughed and looked away. He was not supposed to be watching his cousin in this fashion, eyes clinging to the flex of his muscles or the perspiration of his back. T’Challa glanced over to see Erik’s famous smirk sent in his direction. T’Challa messed with his beads until something that looked important pulled up and he directed his focus to that instead of the man who is making his mind go blank.

Bast help him-that the person that he has fallen in love with has to be Erik Stevens,

“Sup, Cuz?” N’Jadaka called from the door. He doesn’t ask to come in or if he is doing anything important before plopping down on the couch of the room. T’Challa looks up from the book he is reading and sighs.

“Hello, N’Jadaka,” and he gets an eye roll.

“Y’know, I would kill anyone else who calls me that.” And T’Challa knows that he is kidding, but cannot help the way that his body tenses up at the image of the man killing...again. There is more than enough proof that his cousin is perfectly able to take someone out without much effort. T’Challa still has the scars to prove it, as well.

“Then why am I an exception?”

“Dunno, must like you or something,” and that horrid warmth in the pit of his stomach reveals itself. How can something so simple and probably not true make him feel such a way? Before he can answer, Erik is changing the subject, removing himself from the couch and towards the bed where T’Challa lays.

“Sooo I heard Nakia is back from her mission. Aren’t you gonna go see her and freeze? Something around the sorts.” And T’Challa snorts behind his book, still pretending to read.

“Nakia and I are not together. We have not been for a long time. And I never freeze.” The lie comes easy on his tongue, but his throat closes up with the way Erik gives him an unsurprised face with a raise of his eyebrows.

“Sure, T,” the King winces at the shortening of his name, “Y’all may not be together, but you still have feelings for-”

“Do not shorten my name like that. I have no felt anything in that sense for her in a long time, for your information.” Erik raises his hands defensively and scoots closer to see what he is reading. Their arms touch and T’Challa feels like he is on fire, but takes no initiative to move.

“Have you felt anything in that sense recently, my King?” The title is in perfect mother language and his mind goes blank immediately. Yes, it’s you, almost falls from his lips, but instead he is staring at his cousin with an expression he wishes he could wipe off.

“You lied, T’Challa, you said you never freeze.” N’Jadaka smiles, full and pretty. The gold of his teeth reflects the sunlight in the room and his mouth goes dry. He takes two more seconds to compose yourself before answering.

“I do not freeze.” His cousin laughs, full and hearty. Heart flutters get repressed as he rolls his eyes.

“You’re funny. But imma be real with you for a second. We all know I am good at taking what I want,” and yes, the images cross his mind. N’Jadaka in the yellow and black suit, nearly killing his sister, and the words of “I want the throne.” They all return. “But you are not. You’ve had everything given to you with little to no effort.” His cousin gets off of the couch-T’Challa craves for that heat again- and stalks towards the door. Erik opens it and gives one more look to him.

“Maybe it’s time that you take what you want for once.” And he is gone. T’Challa places the book gently on the nightstand and groans loudly.

“Brother, you are an idiot.” Shuri rolls her eyes in the lab, working on yet another upgrade.

“How so? He is his own man and I am not making that sort of decision for him.” Shuri mentioned just kissing Erik, just to see how he would react. He is obviously against such idea.

“I’ve known you to freeze, but I’ve never known you to be so blind.”

“What in Bast name does that mean?”Shuri shrugged her shoulders, but he knew she was lying.

“Have you thought of returning the gold suit to N’Jadaka?”

“He would kill you if he overheard you saying his real name and why would I do that?” Shuri wraps the necklace around his neck again, telling him to turn it back on again. He complies and the suit wraps his body smoothly.

“Say his name,” is all Shuri says.

“What?”

“Just say it!” T’Challa rolls his eyes but says N’Jadaka nonetheless. Almost instantly, the gold necklace on the other side of the room transforms around the mannequin into the gold suit.

“I figured that perhaps you would want him on your missions. It’s a work in progress, but if you two become synced via suits then the coherence between you two will ensure the safety of you both.” T’Challa never thought about bringing Erik with him, but now he can see it. He can imagine Erik cracking a joke in the middle of it and T’Challa begging him to stay focused while they both handle their groups of people. He can see Erik wearing that necklace with so much pride.

“I may have to change the activation word, though. It appears you may be saying it a lot more soon and I would prefer if I didn’t see the gold suit every day or so.” T’Challa nods wordlessly and repeats the word again, deactivating the other suit before deactivating his.

“Thank you,” he says instead because everything else fails him. Shuri winks at him, patting his back and pushing him out of the lab to fix the kinks.

“Go talk to him about it. Do more than that if you ever get any balls!”

T’Challa walks to the one place he knows his cousin would be. He hears the slice of the air and the grunt of one man. The spear spins through Erik’s fingers was a ferocity and he, undoubtedly, has been practicing since his previous loss to Okoye. Erik notices his presence as soon as he entered the room and he smiles wickedly. He pauses to grab another spear and throws it in T’Challa’s directions. The King catches it with ease, removing his royal robes in the process. N’Jadaka moves into an offensive position and T’Challa spins the spear fluidly then snaps it downward, using two fingers to beckon the first attack. Predictably, Erik moves first, aiming for his side, which is countered easily.

“Talk to Shuri recently?” T’Challa asks mid-counter, breathless from the action. His cousin rolls away from the attack easily. He raises his eyebrows in surprise for the spark of conversation.

“No, should I?” Erik attacks again, aiming for the sweep of his legs. He jumps out of the way, but gets hit in the side because he knew that Erik expected the dodge. The hit makes him moves a few paces away, but he shakes his head in an answer.

“No. We have been discussing what to do with the gold necklace. You’re going to receive it back on some conditions.” Erik’s face lights up in interest.

“Like what? I don’t use it to take over the world again?” T’Challa furrows his eyebrows in the seriousness of the question. He knows his cousin would not do that again.

“I guess, but moreof that you use it for conventional reasons, such as accompanying me on missions.”

“You’re going to take me with you on your missions? As what, your second in command?” The hopeful look on his face made him smile and the spar was forgotten.

“If you want it, of course. You would not be my second in command, no one could replace Okoye’s position. You would be more of,” T’Challa pauses, “my equal.”

Instead of responding verbally, N’Jadaka smiles wider and positions himself again to attack. He blows a kiss to him and T’Challa almost gets pierced, thrown off guard.

“This is horrible, “ N’Jadaka complains as he looks on the holographic projection. The two had been working for hours on simulations on how the two are going to work together in a fight situation. “But there is worse,”

Both of them are sore beyond belief, but does not pause the simulation as more enemies approach them. Erik takes out the person to the right of T’Challa and he returns the favor by killing the man behind Erik that Erik almost failed to notice. They both know that Shuri is tracking their movements and their coherence as a team.

It doesn’t go over the King’s head as to how well they truly work together. The first time was sloppy with frustrated cries and a definite overkill. Now they move almost like they’ve remembered each other’s exact moves.

“Behind you,” Erik comments conversationally, flipping the man and punching him one good time, knocking him out. T’Challa huffs and turns around in time to catch the knife going towards his abdomen, throwing the man to another one approaching Erik. The two guys fall and Erik looks briefly at him in a silent thanks.

They finish off the final 50 and the hologram immediately shuts off to send the information to Shuri in the lab. Their pants fill the room now and Erik is the first to deactivate the suit.

“Damn,” Erik says as he chugs a whole bottle in one go. T’Challa tries not to watch. They do not talk for a few minutes, undecided on what to say.

“So how has your new thing been going?”

“What?” Erik shrugs, moving to grab another bottle from the almost endless supply.

“Shuri accidentally blurted out that you was in love and that you’re an idiot, “ T’Challa pauses, fear arising in his veins, “sucks that you wouldn’t tell me. I’m hurt, cuz.”

“W-no, no, no. I am not-”

“Bullshit, T.” A fire burns in the middle of T’Challa’s chest.

“I told you not to shorten my name like that.” He hopes it comes off as a warning, but it doesn’t seem to affect his cousin, who shrugs.

“Black Panther who acts like a kitten, oh the irony.” Then he has Erik against the wall, breathing heavily as he stares into his eyes. Erik looks defiant and it screws with him more.

“Do not make mockery of my name or my title, N’Jadaka.” His cousin struggles a bit, the strength of the Black Panther running through his veins and his emotions flared.

“Then stop being such a bitc-” T’Challa brings his head forward in a bruising kiss, and it was nothing like he first imagined it (perhaps it was better than the whole “I think I am in love with you” conversation). Nevertheless, the deed is done and his cousin is kissing him back with as much ferocity, hands gripping the back of his neck in a way that’ll definitely leave bruises. T’Challa doesn’t care at the moment, nibbling at N’Jadaka’s bottom lip, receiving a moan in response.

The temperature rose ten degrees as T’Challa pushed himself all of the way against his lover, hands roaming to the back of Erik’s thighs. As if he knew what he wanted, Erik hoisted himself up, wrapping his legs around T’Challa’s waist, never breaking away from the kiss.

He never wants this to stop, but he pulls away with one final kiss, but doesn’t let N’Jadaka down. Instead he places his forehead against his love’s, catching his breath.

“It was always you.” In his head, he had a whole speech about his eyes and what he does to his head and how he doesn’t freeze, but Erik makes him completely crystallized, but that seems like enough from the way N’Jadaka chuckles from under him.

“God, you are an idiot.” T’Challa begins to pull away but hands are right there, pulling him back for another kiss. “I’ve been waiting for you to do something for months. I wasn’t going to do anything, you might throw me back in a cell.”

“Never,” T’Challa replies with finality, but smiles because he truly is an idiot. The share a laugh briefly before a call comes on his beads. He places Erik down and accepts the call.

“HELLO! I think you two forgot your necklaces can track your heart rates and other stuff. I would prefer it if you don’t have sex in the training room please!” T’Challa chokes on words, his face flushing in embarrassment. Beside of him, N’Jadaka laughs loudly, reverberating around the room.

“My King, it is almost time for you to drop,” Okoye says from the pilot’s seat. He stands immediately and the side doors open in preparation. He peers at the ground below him. He feels arms wrap around him and a kiss to his cheek. A smile naturally reaches his features as he turns around to N’Jadaka.

“Are you ready?” But T’Challa knows the two have done this a numerous amount of times. All his lover does is wink. Their suits are activated, with exception of their helmet-which it will activate when they so choose to. The signal to jump is given and T’Challa turns back to the outside of the plane. T’Challa holds his hand out for his best friend to take, but instead he is tackled out of the plane.

“Really, Erik, this is serious!” But all he gets back is a laugh. The King smiles nonetheless and finds his lover midair and kisses him. Erik kisses back for about two seconds, then breaks it.

“Ndiyakuthanda,” and Erik disappears in the midnight sky to cover his flank. T’Challa stops thinking for a solid five seconds, still freefalling. He smiles wide and beyond happy, already excited to see his lover again.

“Bast, help me,” he says as he reaches the ground.

#t'cherik

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