#like I was all casual and used free movements instead of obsessing and IT WORKED

[petrichor-idyllic]

BRO I AM OBSESSED WITH “LET ME MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER” WOULD YOU EVER BE WILLING TO DO A PART TWO WITH STRAIGHT SMUT

Yeah, okay.

I'm doing it.

Finally.

So, this part 2 is by far the most requested piece I've ever gotten and I just keep putting it off because I suck at writing smut.

But I'm gonna do it because it keeps getting hyped up and I need to get this off my back before I do anything else lmao.

LET ME MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER PT. 2

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

PART 1 | PART 2

SUMMARY: Direct continuation from part 1. See above. Fem! Reader x Minho.

WARNINGS: Smut. Minors DNI, 18+ content, sexual intercourse, sexual themes, dumbass virgin activities, unprotected sex but you're on birth control because I said so - I ain't dealing with Glade babies. Pls rubber up tho.

You know, if someone would've told you this morning that you were about to go down on your best friend, you'd probably have punched them.

Yet, somehow, one awkward pathetic joke has led to something the pair of you have been fantasising about since you first became friends.

Minho's fingers massage your scalp as you leave wet kisses down his middrift. He hums in response to every small touch, occasionally pulling harder on your hair. Your hand rests between his underwear and his running pants. You occasionally roll you palm against him, and he's already solid, so it's not like you need to do much.

You're both incredibly inexperienced. As in, you're both massive virgins. But you're already starting to learn things about yourself. Minho's heavy breathing and tense muscles is making your body throb and your head fuzzy.

You've barely done anything and he's already falling apart at your touch. And you love it. You like making him feel good.

Without warning, and wanting to test something, you let your teeth graze the sensitive skin of his abs. His breath hitches and his body jolts, so you suck on the skin instead.

He lets out a gasp, grip tightening on your hair, but not pulling it intentionally. Your mouth makes a popping noise when you pull away. Admiring your work, Minho shifts, looking down at you as he lies on his back.

"Did you just shuckin' mark me?" He mumbles.

"Problem?" You ask, saliva staining your lips.

He simply shakes his head before flopping back down. "No, that's shuckin' hot."

You grin to yourself and repeat the action. Before you know it, Minho's stomach is covered with deep purple marks.

Okay, enough fucking about.

Moving your hand, you hook your fingers under his underwear. "Can I-?"

"Please," he gasps, not even letting you finish your question. He's using his manners more, at least. His fingers loosen from you hair, giving you more movement as your knees hit the floor of his hut.

Neither of you decided to make the smart choice to move from laying sideways on the bed.

You hesitate for a second, collecting yourself before pulling down the garments. His dick springs free and you have a second of pure panic.

Okay, so it's not like you've never seen a penis before. You live with exclusively teenage boys. They run through the Glade naked as a joke, and people steal each other's clothes from the showers all the time.

So, there is occasionally exposed body parts just casually around.

But this is different.

Minho is a decent size, dark hairs littering the area and is already leaking precum.

"Please, stop staring at it," he mumbles, his forearm flops over his eyes, trying to hide his embarrassment. He's normally confident, but this is new territory.

"Sorry, I just don't..." you trail off, not quite sure how to word it.

"You don't have to do anything. We can just call it quits and cuddle in bed or whatever klunk couples do."

You smile. Despite the mildly awkward sexual encounter, Minho referring to you as a couple makes your heart flutter.

"No, I want to," reaching towards him, you run your finger over his tip, watching him squirm immediately. But you seriously don't know what to do. "Can you... show me? Maybe? I don't know what I'm doing."

He pauses. "Yeah," he sounds defeated. "Alright, yeah." You've never seen Minho bashful before, but you could get used to it. He uses his arm to continue to cover his face, but his free hand reaches down. You sit back on your heels as you watch.

His movements are slow, like he's giving you a detailed demonstration. He pumps his hand up and down, rubbing his thumb occasionally over the tip.

Well, this is hot.

After watching him for a while, you gingerly touch his hand, telling him you want to take over. He slowly moves away, his hand lingering around his stomach.

You do what he did, copying the movement and doing exactly how he seemed to like it. Though, this isn't what you originally intended to do.

You adjust yourself, leaning forward and licking the slit of his tip with no warning. Minho's whole body tenses, his hand flying to your hair again.

You do it again, this time taking more of him into your mouth but still maintaining the movement with your tongue. You keep doing this, taking more of him each time. You occasionally break, needing to breathe for a second and using your hand.

"Shuckin'... fuck," he hisses, suddenly bucking his hips and hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. "Shit, sorry."

"It's fine," you pull away, wiping your face with the back of your hand. "Do whatever you like. I'm tryna cheer you up, remember?"

He blinks, sitting up on his arms, staring at you on your knees, drool dribbling down your chin, stray hairs sticking to your forehead.

"Shuck it, get up here."

"Huh?" He leans forward, grabbing your shirt and pulling you towards him as he sits on the edge of the bed. He grabs your jaw with reasonable force, kissing you deeply.

He breaks the kiss. "You're gonna make me finish too quick," he mutters into your lips as your hands rest on his thighs for support - since you're still on the floor between his legs. "It's embarrassing and I haven't even touched you."

"You don't have to-"

"Shut up," he kisses you again, "stand up."

You do as you're told, rising up as he kisses you. Once on your feet, he grabs your shirt, sliding his calloused hands over your skin. You pull at the hem, yanking it over your head and letting it fall to the floor.

Minho's lips fall to your chest, peppering your collarbone with sloppy kisses before giving you the same treatment you gave him. You suck in a deep breath at the stinging, watching Minho pull away and run his finger over the purple, slightly raised chunk of skin.

He hums, almost in approval.

He continues this, switching between delicate affections and staining your skin. His hands come to the sports bra you're wearing, breaking the kiss as he looks up at you. You grab it, pulling it over your head and he just blankly stress at your bare chest.

Becoming insecure, your hands come across your chest.

He grabs your wrists. "You're beautiful, (Y/N) - you don't have to hide from me."

He leans up again, kissing you again as you let your arms fall limp. His hands come to your chest, gently rubbing your nipples with him thumbs. You whimper into his mouth, a noise he already knows is going to be replayed in his head constantly.

He breaks away, one hand coming to the underside of your boob and connecting his lips to it. You gasp, throwing your head back as he gently nips on the sensitive area.

Your breathing becomes heavy, occassional soft noises escaping the back of your throat.

It's all getting a bit too much.

Desperately, you fiddle with your pants, letting them fall to the floor and leaving you in your underwear. His hands come to your thighs as he swaps to your other tit, giving it the same treatment.

Sliding his hand up, he seems more confident than you as he slowly rubs at you through the thin fabric.

Maybe you don't remember it, but Minho definitely remembers your drunken ramble about female anatomy after one of the Gladers said the clit was a myth. Living with these boys is a lot, sometimes.

And he's using that knowledge.

"How's that?" He pulls away, talking into your skin.

You only hum in response, giving a weak nod.

"Need you to use your words; tell me what you like."

"It's good, Minho," you mumble, gasping as the fabric adds more friction to your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"You want more?"

You nod again.

"Words."

"Yes - please, yes."

Slipping his fingers under the material, you can already feel how wet you are. "Shit-"

"Shut up," you say almost immediately, not needing the teasing off of him. You can't help how your body reacts to him.

He chuckles slightly, slowly rubbing circles into your clit. Desperate and needing more, you buck your hips against his hand.

He doesn't even know how to react.

He's dealt with monsters, violence and tragedy - and this is what stops him in his tracks?

Minho moves his hand away, making you groan. But he's simply trying to get easier access as he pulls the remaining cover away, letting them fall around your ankles.

His hand returns to your core, this time with more to work with as he gets a better look at you. Almost hypnotised, he slowly pushes a finger into you, making you gasp before starting to roll your hips again.

He adds another one.

You mewl, the noise unintentionally escaping your throat.

Minho's eyes lock with yours. Lids heavy and pupils wide, his lips are parted slightly. Almost like an animal, you dive forward, desperately kissing him and knocking him back slightly. He pulls his fingers out of you, his hands coming to your waist, guiding you towards him.

You sit on his lap, grinding against him, fingers clawing at his back, gasping into each other.

Your slick coats his dick, both of you caving into ecstasy.

"Wait," he mumbles, "maybe there's a better position than this?"

You blink before chuckling. "Yeah, probably."

You stand up off of him. "Lie down, then. Tryna do a job here." You attempt to joke, but you're basically panting.

He obeys, lying down on the bed - the actual right way this time, and you throw your leg over him.

Returning to the previous action, you continue to grind on him, your lips coming to his neck. You suck and pull at the skin - Minho knows full well he's going to get some interesting questions in the morning. Though, the thought of the other Gladers bog-eyed stares and whispering, maybe even the teasing out of envy, makes him smirk.

He makes no effort to correct you.

After some more grinding, Minho's had dips down between your bodies. Directing his dick, he whispers into your ear.

"You sure about this?"

You move away from his throat, looking at him. "We can stop now, if you want?" You shake your head.

"Words, girl."

"No, I don't want to stop - I want you." You pause, your voice has a slight tremble to it. "Please."

Leaning up, he kisses you, guiding himself and pushing the head against your hole. You gasp, sitting up more and sinking down on him. It stings for a second, but you're so turned on that the pain is immediately overrided.

It still takes you a second to adjust as Minho watches himself disappear into you. Bottoming out, you look him before rolling your hips.

Minho's hands grip your waist, offering you guidance and pulling you down onto him even more.

After a few seconds like this, you cave, leaning forward, using your elbows to hold you up as your arms rest on either side of him. Your tongue dips into his mouth, his quickly brushing against yours. The speed of your movements picks up as you press your forehead against his.

You pant into each others mouths, occasionally sharing messy pecks and kisses. But neither of you can maintain it with the other feelings involved. Every time you roll your hips and he bucks his, you feel so unbelievably full, and the mix of actions is quickly making a knot form in your lower stomach.

You didn't know it was possible to feel like this.

Neither did he, to be fair.

"Shit," you hiss, "I think I'm gonna- fuck!" The feeling of orgasm rips through you, moans escaping your lips.

Which is probably what also pushes Minho over the edge - not that it was hard. The boy has been desperately trying not to jizz his pants since you first suggested a massage. Never mind this.

He whimpers, groans coming from deep in his throat as he dives forward, making an attempt to silence both of you. His hut isn't exactly soundproof, and you're not exactly quiet.

You ride out your highs, hips spasming and grasping at whatever flesh you manage to get your hands on.

Slowly, your movements start to calm, coming to a stop. You break the kiss, both of you struggling to catch your breath.

"Well, shuck," Minho says after a second, making you snort and break into a fit of giggles.

You both laugh for a second before he kisses you again, feeling him soften from inside of you.

You move off of him, lying next to him as he puts his arm under you, letting you snuggle into his chest.

"This better mean you're my shuckin' girlfriend."

You laugh again, shifting to kiss him on the cheek. "Yes, Minho, it means I'm your girlfriend."

And he grins like he's just conquered the world.

"Bro," Ben says the next morning after eyeing the Keeper for at least five minutes whilst they wait for the Doors to open. Him and the other Runners have been exchanging glances at the state of Minho's neck - something he's made no attempt to hide. "The shuck happened to you?"

"What?" Minho raises his eyebrow, probably because he's off in fantasy land thinking about last night, and waking up to you this morning.

"...your neck, dude." He looks at his men, his gaze flickering between them as they all stare at him. No one seems to even notice the Doors opening despite the deafening noise.

Minho simply shrugs. "Got a massage off my girlfriend."

And with that, he runs into the Maze, leaving Ben standing there with his jaw agape.

IT'S DONE.

It's also not proof read and don't expect it to be, I'm never gonna reread this because I hate my own sex scenes.

But IT'S DONE.

FINALLY.

No more smut for a while, I'm going back to fluffy requests for a minute lmao.

Though, I hope you enjoyed :))

#🌿 petri tmr minho #🌿 petri writes tmr #🌿 petri writes #🍃 petri tmr #tmr fanfiction #tmr imagines #tmr minho #minho the maze runner #minho tmr #minho maze runner #minho tmr x reader #the maze runner

[darklovecat]

Todays outfit?

A white wrap top.

I am literally obsessed with this top. It look so feminine and delicate and it flatters my body in all the right ways and in a very tasteful way. I love the way this top wraps around my slim waist, I am a big fan of cute and playful cuts that are not too juvenile and I love wrap tops so this blouse is perfect. You can also style it in a lot of different ways depending on what look you are going for and again I love how versatile it is. I am planning to purchase this product in other colors as well, I'm thinking black and maybe red. It is rather low cut so I obviously need to wear something underneath it and it is see through as well because it's white so that's something to keep in mind.

A grey hijab.

I wear the hijab and since since it is in such close proximity to my face, it is essential that the color I'm wearing looks good on me. However, some colors just don't look good on me, they wash me out and bring out my facial imperfections, but I can easily make those colors work for me by strategically using makeup products and placing colors in certain shades on my face. This is one of my meh colors, this shade of grey does not look THAT bad on me, but it's still not my best color so I make sure that I apply heavy skin makeup to even out my skin tone, blush across my midface and lots of curling and mascara and eyeliner to make my eyes stand out more. I also blur my lip lines and use lip tints and lip gloss on top to make my lips look fresh and full. The end result is I look good with a product color would otherwise look meh on me without any makeup.

A basic navy blue pencil skirt.

I will never shut up about my pencil skirts, they are lovely and they are perfect. The thing is walking in maxi skirt is an art in itself it's really not easy because your movements are restricted and you can't take steps too big, but I have been wearing them for years now so I am used to that. It gets easier when they are high waisted because then your legs will be more free to move. Anyways, pencil skirts are an essential part of my look, I hate looking too casual and I never want to look frumpy or lazy because I visit a lot of different places every day and I have to interact with all sorts of people. I want to make a positive impression and I want to be taken serious so I dress accordingly, I hate looking like a mess. That's why pencil skirts comes in handy, it is next to impossible to look too casual with a navy blue skirt and they are always appropriate. When I buy pencil skirts I make sure that they are very structured and show just a little bit of ankle.

UGG Womens Classic Tall Grey Boots

These are the comfiest (and uggliest) shoes that I own, they are literally the most hideous shoes on earth (after Sketchers. And Crocs) but you just can't deny the fact that they are sooo cozy it's like putting your feet in a blanket, it gives me that cute comfortable feeling that makes me feel safe. They've been through hell and back and they look a hell of a lot more worn out than this but that's what why they're my comfort shoes, I know they do the job and they're ready to go whenever, wherever. One of my favorite things in the world is leaving the dance studio, rushing to the changing room and literally just jumping into these in seconds instead of having to deal with stupid ties or killing my feet. They provide warmth, comfort and love. They also ruin all of my outfits but that's okay.

Love,

Cat.

#hypergamy #hypergamous #hypergamous fashion #high maintenance #darklovecat #darklovecat fashion #ootd #glow up #level up journey #leveling up #level up

[constantbeginner]

Self portrait!

#art #artist #sketch #pencil #drawing #learning to draw #constant beginner #learning #trying #HOLY COW???? #i just sat down and drew this today?? #like I was all casual and used free movements instead of obsessing and IT WORKED??? #seems so backwards #BUT THIS ACTUALLY LOOKS LIKE ME? #how????

[thefanficmonster]

Sweet Tooth

Corpse Husband x Asian Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Tooth-rotting (😉) Fluff, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Corpse isn’t one to have a big preference or craving for sweet, sugary treats. In fact, he’d even go as far as to say he’s not at all a fan of candy. Well, much to his yet to be known delight, his partner Y/N takes that as a personal challenge.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your lovely request! So sorry it’s taken me so long to write and post it but here it finally is and I hope you come across it and read it despite the long time that’s passed. If you do, I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤ 

“Hey guys! Welcome back to my channel!“ Y/N gives the camera a wave and blows it a quick kiss with their lips stretched in a delighted grin. They clap their hands together, turning to look at their guest who’s sitting in a chair on their right, his face covered with a sticker in the final cut of the video that their viewers have the opportunity of watching. “Ok, before we address the elephant in the room, I’m gonna ask the elephant himself not to move his head too much cause this is already gonna take a long time to edit, the last thing I need is to animate that sticker over your face to follow your movement.“

“Got it, babe.“ A deep voice replies obediently, earning an approving hum in response. However, just as Y/N’s about to turn to face the camera again, the mysterious - ok, not THAT mysterious - guest leans down and plants a kiss on their cheek.

“Brat!“ They squeal as they turn to glare at the person with narrowed eyes. He doesn’t appear bothered at all, chuckling as he wraps his arms around them in an attempt to soften them up. Sadly, his tries fall through as they proceed to ignore his affection instead of reciprocating it for the sake of being petty, “Everyone, this is my boyfriend Corpse.“

“Hello, I am hand.“ Corpse says, slowly waving his hand at the camera, “I shall be your entertainment tonight.“

“Oh this is no entertainment, I have a point to prove here.“ Y/N argues, breaking free from his arms before they bend down to pick up one of the two boxes that are resting by their feet. “You see, Corpse and I got in a bit of a scrap last night...“ they trail off, distracted by the contents of the box that’s now resting on their lap.

“I didn’t think me admitting to not liking sweet stuff would provoke such a dramatic reaction from Y/N but here we are.“ He interferes, lifting a finger in the air as though that will help him be heard better or would protect him in case his partner decided to go off at him.

Y/N just ignores his input yet again, continuing to address the camera, aka their audience, “So as you guys may or may not know, my mom’s Korean and my dad’s Japanese. Since they live in their respective countries for work purposes, that means I’m always one phone call - and a little bit of a wait - away from Korean and Japanese snacks at all times. I’m a person who constantly has a snack by their side so you can bet I make that phone call often. However, about a week ago, I made that call specifically for candy, the brands I was obsessed with as a kid. I don’t know what came over me but I think it was my fortuneteller sense kicking in because this mister over here decided to CASUALLY bring up the fact that he doesn’t like candy.” They turn to glare at him before continuing, “Anyways, so luckily, the package arrived only recently so I haven’t had the time to tear open all the candy and eat it all by myself as I was planning to. That being said, today I’ll be in introducing Corpse to the world of Japanese and Korean candy - a tighter circle of it, to be specific: the candy I grew up with.” They finally turn to Corpse again, the look on their face significantly different and a lot more pleasant compared to the one they gave him a bit ago. “So, how are you feeling, babe? Are you excited?”

Although the man’s face is blocked to the viewers, Y/N can still see him and they are pretty damn close to bursting out in a fit of laughter.  “I don’t know how to feel, actually. I know you have peculiar taste so it’s either gonna be a fun experience or I’m gonna very displeased with what you’ll have me try.“

Y/N rolls their eyes, “Trust me, you won’t be.” They put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, only half humoring his nervousness, “You’ll only be trying six on camera, but my parents sent a ton more which you’ll be able to try later, ok? It was really hard for me to pick only six favorites by I don’t need this video crossing the twenty minute mark.”

With a heavy-hearted sigh, Corpse finally brings himself to rip the band-aid off and get this adventure started. “Ok cool, but don’t surprise me with anything, please. Show me what you had in mind to have me try so I can, you know, prepare myself.”

Y/N, who was busy taking out packets of candy just a moment ago suddenly stops in their movements to give him a look of disbelief, “You know none of these are poisonous, right? Like, I’m not trying to kill you or anything. There’s no cyanide, no rat poison...”

His laughter cuts them off, wrapping his arm around them and pulling them closer again, “I’m messing with you, babe. What you got for me?” He says, placing a quick kiss to their temple while sneaking a peek at the packaging of the candies they’re holding right now.

Wiggling a little looser in his grip, they first show him the three items before turning them to the camera, “These are from my mom, she sent them from Korea and they are triggering a massive wave of nostalgia right now, not gonna lie.” They giggle, adjusting the brightness a little so the products can be seen properly, “Ok so first we have the long biscuit sticks that come in many flavors but I asked for my favorite - green tea flavored, that is. Then we have Pumpkin Monaca which are probably one of my most favorite sweet treats of all time. I think you’re gonna really like them. And lastly from Korea we have these butter waffles which I used to eat for breakfast when I was running late for school - which happened often.”

Corpse snorts, “That doesn’t surprise me.”

His remark is overlooked as Y/N continues, now taking out three packets from the other package, “Now we’re moving on to my dad’s box. He didn’t disappoint either: we have soda-flavored jelly beans; Black Thunder chocolate bars which you’re only gonna steal one of because the rest are MINE; and last but definitely not least we have some classic milk candies.” Setting those down as well, they turn to Corpse yet again, this time giving his a mischievous smile that’s promising him trouble, “So, Mr. Corpse Husband, after this introduction, are you prepared to have your entire opinion o sweet food changed? And more importantly, are you prepared to develop an addiction to these treats?”

Corpse nods confidently, “Oh, I’m very prepared, thank you. Let’s just get on with it.”

Needless to say: boy, was he not as prepared as he thought he was.

It goes without saying Y/N proved their point and took the win today.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse  @sunnyrae-cessh  @ladykxxx08  @meowiemari

#corpse husband #corpse fanfiction #corpse fluff #corpse fic #corpse fandom #corpse fanfic #corpse x y/n #corpse x you #corpse x reader #corpse imagine #corpse imagines #corpse husband fanficiton #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fanfic #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband fic #corpse husband fanfiction #corpse husband fluff #corpse husband imagine #corpse simp #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #request #requests open #x reader #reader

[cboy-puppy]

So I got a new toy, essentially it’s a pump specifically for trans mascs to help with bottom dysphoria (let me know if you want a whole post/review, shoot me an anon). I finally got to test it and I’m obsessed.

Anyways I started thinking about all the ways I could play w it so here’s me spilling horny thoughts. I use the terms cunt and dick/cock here.

• having my dick pumped as a puppy; on all fours, collared, muzzled, the works. Maybe I’m on a lead and have to crawl bc puppies don’t walk on two legs. I can feel it pull with every move, naturally my dom/me decides to have me do lots of movement, practicing commands, going on a walk, etc. I’m drooling and whiny from sensitivity by the time we’re done

• after the pump is off I’m somehow even more sensitive, I’m so deep into pup space I’m pawing at my dick just to get off. My dom/me leads me to different objects to grind against, like furniture, toys, shoes, legs, etc and makes me get off that way, desperately grinding and putting on a show

• before I go out, maybe errands or a date, I’m told to pump for a certain amount of time just beforehand. When I do as I’m told and go to get dressed I quickly realize what I’m in for, even the slightest brush against my puffy cock sends shivers up my spine. I get dressed and ready but all I can think about it how fucking good it feels when I do anything. Then I have to act normal when I go out, I’m terrified someone will realize why I’m so fidgety even though there’s no way for them to know. I probably wouldn’t even make it home before I can’t resist running to a bathroom because I can’t handle not cumming for another second

• getting one of the full pumps that covers my entire cunt, after only feeling it on my dick I’m extra sensitive and horny, instead of getting fucked when I beg I’m teased mercilessly until I’m dripping and crying, begging with my best puppy eyes for more, just enough to push me over the edge, I’ll do anything. Maybe they listen, maybe they tie me with my legs spread and use my mouth for their pleasure so I remember who I belong to

• also with the full pump, wearing ropes that accentuate how full and puffy my cunt is. Maybe I’m free use at a party, lead on a leash with my hands behind my back. They grope and play with my holes during casual conversation, commenting on how they might display their pets similarly, laughing at my desperate sounds, etc. My swollen cunt is perfect for cockwarming and I’m used often for the night by all of the guests.

• getting taught how to suck off a trans masc dom after they pumps their cock. Kneeling obediently between their legs while they verbally guide me, gentle or not. Taking cute pictures of my wet face after

• fucking another trans masc pet, sloppy kisses and desperate grinding, doing everything I can to make them feel good. If I pump big enough I’d be able to feel them cum on my cock. By ourselves or with our dom/mes watching us play

• cockwarming in general, either on a dick or a strap, the extra length means I’m constantly brushing against something so I’m trying my best to sit still, without them pulling out they hold down my hips and grind without warning, suddenly I’m seeing stars and cumming uncontrollably

#puppytag #freeusetag🧡 #cnc tw #<- not sure if free use falls under it but I’m tagging just in case #publictag🧡 #exhibitionismtag #objectificationtag #anons/asks expanding on any of these are encouraged #I try to make my tags un searchable but consistent #so add any you don’t want to see to your block list #and let me know if I missed any tags #suranspeaks #IS THERE A GENDER NEUTRAL TERM FOR DOM/ME YET #kinda might be a secret turn on for me ngl

[waitimcomingtoo]

Hello darling! Currently obsessed with your writing! Srsly best seller list is shaking. Could I possibly request a peter Parker x reader where she falls asleep on peter while he’s doing homework at his desk and may walks in and it’s just cute and fluffy? Idk run with it. Thank you for existing!!💕

thank you!!

A Soft Place to Land

Pairing: Best Friend Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Aunt May finds you and Peter in a compromising position

Masterlist

Requests are CLOSED

“PP.” You cut off your own sentence with a yawn. “Do you have your physics notebook?”

Peter swiveled in his chair and looked at you. You were sprawled out on his bed, lying on your tummy with your laptop in front of you, eyes dropping from exhaustion. Peters own textbooks and papers were strewn across the bed, bordering your body like an outline of chalk. Peter couldn’t help but smile at the sight, knowing his sheets would smell your perfume once you went home.

“I do.” Peter confirmed. “Do you need it?”

“Would you mind if I copied your notes? Mr. Brighton writes too fast and I missed the section on force.” You said slowly, signaling to Peter that you were beyond tired.

“No problem.” Peter smiled kindly and tossed his notebook at you. You failed to catch it and were hit in the face at full speed, letting out a surprised “oof.” Peter winced at his mistake.

“Oops.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You laughed tiredly. “Woke me up a little.” You yawned again, this time turning away and disguising it into your shoulder so Peter wouldn’t see.

“Y/n, you should take a nap.” Peter suggested out of concern for you and your wellbeing, the only thing he was ever really concerned with. “I’ll move my stuff to the desk. You can sleep in my bed.”

Peters choice of words sent him back to another moment in time.

Peter saw you through you window and collapsed onto your fire escape. You were working diligently at your desk, and Peter hated the idea of taking you away from your work, but he needed you. Only you. Too weak to raise his arm, he hit his forehead against your window until it caught your attention.

“PP?” You asked in a hushed voice as you rushed to your window and opened it as quickly as you could. “How did you get up here? Did you climb the fire escape?”

“Not exactly.” Peter said with a pained smile as you helped him inside.

“What does ‘not exactly’ mean?” You asked, sounding like a parent as you sat Peter down on your bed. Peter gingerly sat down, wincing with every movement. He felt your heart rate pick up and he berated himself for worrying you.

“I climbed next to the fire escape.” Peter said sluggishly.

“On the wall?” You laughed, not believing him. You finally noticed how badly he was beaten. In the soft glow of your desk lamp, you could see bruises on Peters knuckles and under his eyes. He was sweaty and dirty, and definitely did not come from decathlon practice like he said he did. “What happened?” You asked calmly.

“I found the guy who killed Uncle Ben.” Peter have you a half hearted smile. It’d been three months since Peters uncle was shot right in front of him. Peter didn’t speak about it. He didn’t mention his name, or what happened. His casual drop of his deceased uncles name made You filly realize the extent of the situation. Peter was hurt, badly, and he had come to you. This wasn’t the time for questions. This was the time to help Peter.

“Okay.” You said calmly, looking into Peters tired eyes and giving him a comforting look. You sat down on the bed and placed a hand in his knee. “You found the guy who killed uncle Ben.” You repeated, so he knew you heard him.

“But he also found me.” Peter mumbled before collapsing forward into your arms. He was in and out of consciousness as you caught him and gently laid him on your bed, resting him against the headboard.

“Stay there.” You commanded, though he physically couldn’t disobey you. He couldn’t move. He let his aching body rest against your soft sheets, knowing they’d smell like his cologne when he went home. Peter opened one eye, the eye that wasn’t swollen shut, and watched you. You were in sleep shorts and an oversized decathlon t-shirt, looking as beautiful as ever. You paced back and forth around, collecting various things to patch Peter up. Your makeup free face was full of concern, which made Peters heart ache. Coincidentally, it was the only part of him not currently aching. He didn’t want you to worry. It wasn’t your responsibility. But he had no where else to go.

“Okay.” You said with medical supplies stacked up to your chin. “This is all I got.”

Peter wanted to tell you that it was more than enough, but he only had the strength for a weak, “Thank you.”

“Shh. Don’t waste your energy.” You hushed up as you propped him up against your headboard again, since he had begun to slouch. He wanted to take some of the work off of you, but could only be moved around like a rag doll. He gave you a grateful smile. In your eyes, it was enough.

“I’m gonna have to…um.” Your eyes darted down to his chest. He was wearing a huge, old fashioned looking brown jacket over some light blue sweat pants and red water shoes. Had he been in better condition, you would’ve questioned his outfit. Peter looked into your eyes and gave you a tired nod. You didn’t recognize the look in his eyes. He looked almost fearful, and a little hesitant. You unbuttoned his large jacket and slid it off his shoulders. You folded it neatly, noticing the initials “BFP” on the tag. So it was Bens, you thought. He was running around the city, in the dead of night, getting beat up in Bens jacket. You gave Peter a sorrowful look before your eyes trailed down to what was under the jacket. He wore a red hoodie with a spider drawn on it in sharpie. The sleeves were cut out and blue sleeves to match his sweatpants were poorly sewn in.

“Y/n-“ Peter croaked.

“I understand.” You cut him off. You looked him in the eyes and gave him a gentle smile. Your eyes told him that you were telling the truth. “You don’t have to explain anything to me until you’re ready. All that matters to me is getting you patched up, okay?”

“Okay.” Peter said weakly, wishing he could say more. He had so much he wanted to tell you. So much.

“I’m gonna have to unzip it now.” You warned him. “Is that okay?”

Peter gave you another nod. Not wanting to make the situation anymore awkward, you quickly unzipped the hoodie and slid it off his shoulders. Peters normally scrawny body was replaced with a six pack of abs. You gulped and felt your face heat up, hoping he couldn’t tell.

He could.

A deep gash, likely from a knife, was in his lower abdomen. He had other miscellaneous cuts and bruises covering his body. He was in bad shape, worse than you thought, but nothing you couldn’t fix. Your eyes slowly trailed up his body and met his eyes. Peter was staring at you, desperate to read your reaction.

“Are you scared?” He whispered. You laughed lightly and shook your head.

“Of you, PP? You wish.” You teased. You dampened a Cotton ball with hydrogen peroxide and gently dabbed it on the gash. It wasn’t deep enough to need stitches, and almost looked like it was healing in its own. You then applied some Neosporin and one by one, adhered a pink Hello Kitty band aid to the cut until it was covered. Peter noticed your choice of band aids and laughed, sending an ache through his chest.

“Cute.” He smiled.

“I couldn’t find the dinosaur ones.” You genuinely apologized, making Peters heart grow fonder for you.

“It’s okay.” Peter said, using all that was left if his strength to brush stray hair away from your face. You looked at him as he did it, and leaned into his hand. Peter smiled, grateful that through it all, he was still PP to you, the dumb nickname you gave him when you were kids when you couldn’t pronounce “Peter.”

“Should I be worried about you?” You whispered, your fingertips brushing his hand before closing you hand around his wrist, keeping his palm on your cheek.

“If I say no, will you be worried anyway?” Peter asked, feeling a little strength return.

“I’ll always worry about you, PP.” You said sincerely.

“I promise, I’ll explain it all one day.” Peter swore. You seemed content with his answer.

“Whenever you’re ready.” You told him as you tilted his chin towards your face. Peter froze, thinking you were going to kiss him. Instead, you pulled out a Cotten swab and gently dabbed it on the cut on Peters lip. A plus side to his powers, hydrogen peroxide didn’t sting anymore. After cleaning the cut, you leaned in to blow on it. Your puckered lips were almost touching Peters. Peter gulped and did his best to keep his pulse from getting to crazy. You then dabbed some Neosporin on his lip and got to work on the rest of his cuts.

Peter fell asleep in the middle of you playing nurse. When he woke up, he was in your biggest shirt, and a loose pair of sweatpants he’d seen your brother wearing before. He was fully under your covers now, and resting comfortably against your pillow. He slowly opened his eyes and saw you sitting at your desk.

“Y/n?” He called out, making you turn around.

“Yes, PP?” You said.

“I’m Spider-Man.” Peter admitted. His mouth moved faster than his brain. He didn’t think it through. He just told you.

“No.” You said sarcastically, and shot him a smile. Peter felt relived at your reaction.

“I feel better now. I can head home.” He groaned, and painfully tried to sit up. You rushed to his side and tried to get him to lie down again.

“You’re not going anywhere.” You laughed at his absurdity. “I texted May from your phone and said you were sleeping at Ned’s.”

“But I’m not.” Peter pointed out.

“I know.” You rolled your eyes. “You’re sleeping here.”

“Y/n, you don’t have to do that. That’s too much to ask.” Peter protested your hospitality.

“You’re not asking. I’m telling you.” You assured Peter. “And of course I do. You’re my best friend. And May can’t see you like this. You’re gonna stay here tonight.” You told him, absentmindedly tucking him in. Peter laughed at you slipping into motherly behavior. “You can sleep in my bed.”

“I can’t.” You said, breaking Peter away from the memory. “I have to finish this essay.”

“What you have to do is get some sleep.” Peter insisted, throwing a paper ball at you when he noticed you beginning to doze off. “How many hours did you get last night?”

“Dunno.” You said sleepily, resting your tired head on your hand. “One-teen.”

“One-teen?” Peter asked in concern.

“Mhm.” You nodded, head drooping further and further down until your arm slipped out from under you and you face planted into your textbook. “Maybe it was twelve-ty.”

“Y/n, you’re making me worried.” Peter chewed his bottom lip.

“The static on the TV makes you worried.” You pointed out.

“Because it makes a scary sound.” Peter defended. “Don’t change the subject. You need to get some sleep.”

“Sleep is for the weak.” You yawned.

“That can’t be true, because you’re the strongest person I know.” Peter quipped.

“Even stronger than that guy you fought who was made of sand?” You asked with hooded eyes.

“Yes, because he was made of sand.” Peter deadpanned.

“Mmm.” You laughed sleepily. “Sand. Yummy.”

“Okay, now I know you’re exhausted if you think sand is yummy.” Peter said, amazed that you were still in denial.

“What did you say, honey?” You murmured.

“No, not honey.” Peter laughed, cheeks hearing up at the accidental pet name. “I said yummy.”

“What’s funny?” You asked, now purposely misunderstanding him.

“Oh my goodness.” Peter laughed again. “Have you slept at all this week?”

“I have no time.” You sighed, eyes reluctantly going back to your essay.

“I can finish this essay for you.” Peter offered.

“I can’t ask you to do that.” You informed him.

“You’re not asking. I’m telling you.” Peter repeated your words from that night, wondering if you recalled that memory too.

“No, PP. You have your own work you need to do.” You insisted.

“My stuff isn’t due until next week.” Peter reminded you. “You always take care of me. Let me take care of you. Just this once.”

You seemed to consider his offer. “I won’t let you do my actual essay, because that’s cheating, but I’ll allow you to help me.”

“Fine by me.” Peter shrugged.

“Okay.” You gave in and went over to where he was sitting at his desk. “Scoot.”

Peter moved over in his swivel chair and let you share the seat with him. You rested your back against the arm rest and laid your legs on top of his before handing him your laptop. “I have my thesis statement and everything else, but I have no idea if it’s even coherent. It feels a little messy.”

“Here’s what I do.” Peter began to explain how he structured his essays. About halfway though his explanation, he felt pressure on his shoulder. You had rested your head there and were listening to him with a content smile.

“Keep going. I’m listening.” You assured him, letting out another yawn after. Peter kept going and soon picked up on your breathing slowing down. You stretched a little, your nose brushing his jawline and ended up even deeper in the crook of his neck. You began to lazily play with the buttons on his button down.

“Alright.” Peter said softly, not trusting his voice to be steady. “Then, I draw back to my thesis and make a connection. It should be a very obvious connection so that the person reading it-“ Peter stopped when he heard the soft whistle of your breath. He carefully adjusted himself and wrapped an arm around you, just so his arm wouldn’t fall asleep, or at least that’s what he told himself. He also didn’t want you to slip and fall off the chair. You ended up snuggling deeper into his side and throwing an arm around his waist. Peter smiled to himself and pulled your laptop in front of him. He revised your work and nodded in approval. You didn’t have much left, just needing proofreading. Peter took his time reading your essay, editing what needed to be fixed and making some corrections. He finished in about half an hour and emailed it to your teacher. He then picked up your planner and looked at what else you needed to get done. In your signature handwriting, was the following:

Write essay Copy(steal) PP’s physics notes Find quote for English project

Peter checked the time, and then your sleeping face. It was 11 now, and your curfew was 12. He could copy his notes into your notebook and find a quote in under an hour. He’d be damned if he couldn’t. And so, Peter took out your black marble notebook with the little Spider-Man stickers and began to copy his notes down. As he worked with his right hand, his left hand rubbed soothing circles onto your back. You let out soft noises in your sleep, that Peter found it hard not to fawn over. He got halfway through copying when he door opened.

“Are you guys-,” May said at full volume until Peter held a finger to his lips. A pretty harsh finger, one might add. May grimaced and nodded. “Are you guys alright? Need anything from me?” She said in a softer tone.

“We’re okay.” Peter whispered back. “I gotta get her home soon.”

“How long has she been out?” May asked.

“About an hour.” Peter replied.

“And how much sleep had she been getting?” May sighed, knowing you and your habits.

“None.” Peter sighed as well. “I don’t want to wake her so I’ll probably swing her back home, if that’s alright.”

“But that means you’ll have to swing back alone.” May reminded him. “I thought you hated swinging that late?”

Peter shrugged. “It’s okay. I’d rather get her home safely. That’s all that matters.”

“You’re a good boyfriend.” May smirked, already anticipated her nephews reaction. “Holding her while she sleeps and helping her with her work.”

“I’m not her boyfriend.” Peter said quickly, and a little too loudly, causing you to stir in your sleep and hug Peter a little tighter. “I’m her best friend, who’s a boy. Not her boyfriend. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?” May squinted her eyes.

“Yes.” Peter stated. “She doesn’t think of me like that.”

“But you think of her like that.” May said, as more of a statement than a question.

“Yes.” Peter nodded, then shut his eyes tightly. “I mean, no. No. She’s my friend.”

“Right. Of course.” May said sweetly. “Girlfriend.” She added under her breath.

“What was that?” Peter snapped.

“Peter, this is nothing to be ashamed of. You’re growing. Your body is flourishing now. It’s okay if your Peter tingle tingles just for her.” May teased.

“Please stop saying “tingle” May.” Peter groaned.

“All I’m saying is, I fell in love with my best friend too once.” May held up her hands in defense.

“Oh yeah?” Peter said sarcastically. “Then what happened?”

“Then I became Mrs. Parker.” May smiled.

Peter fell silent, focusing only on your breathing as he absentmindedly twirled your hair around his finger.

“May?” He said softly.

“Yes, Peter?” May answered.

“What do I do if she doesn’t feel the same?” Peter wondered out loud. It was his biggest fear. Him, finding the courage to tell you how he feels, and you rejecting him. Saying something like “aw, PP, you know I love you but-“ and then some recycled rejection that would utterly devastate Peter as he nodded along with a smile. He couldn’t bear the thought.

“Do you know how she feels?” May asked, knowing a little more than Peter. She had an outsider perspective on your relationship. She saw all the stolen glances and lingering looks that you two didn’t catch.

“Yes.” Peter huffed. May tilted her head to the side.

“Did you ask?” She continued.

“No.” Peter said sheepishly, knowing the point his aunt was trying to make.

“Then you don’t know.” May told him.

“We’ve been best friends for years. She would’ve said something by now if she felt that way about me.” Peter defended.

“Have you said something?” May folded her arms.

“No.” Peter said harshly, before realizing what May was trying to say.

“Then why would you expect her to?” May delivered the final blow. Peter knew he had lost the argument.

“I don’t like it when you get all omnipotent on me.” Peter grumbled. He looked at your sleeping face and sighed. He wanted to tell you. He did. And he wanted more times like this. He’d hold you every night if he could.

“That’s what aunts are for.” May smiled in triumph. Peter was quiet again.

“May?” He said finally.

“Yes, Peter?” She asked, having a feeling where he was going with it.

“I feel that way.” He admitted, without taking his eyes off your notes. “About her.”

“I know you do, Peter.” May nodded in understanding. She could tell her nephew had feelings for you long before he knew it himself.

“What do I do?” Peter asked, looking up sadly at May.

“Talk to her. You’ll know where to go from there.” May advised.

“And if I don’t?” Peter asked.

“She’ll know.” May said with an all knowing smile. She blew Peter a goodnight kiss and shut the door quietly. You stirred at the sound and slowly took your head off Peters shoulder. He went back to his work and pretended he never stopped it as you stretched.

“What time is it, PP?” You asked through a yawn.

“Quarter after 11.” Peter answered you, speaking in a low tone so you didn’t get startled.

“I gotta get home soon.” You sighed and adjusted your position, never taking your legs off his lap. You stretched towards the sky, but wrapped your seams around Peters neck this time when you finished. He felt his ears burn at your half asleep action. You were always clingy when you were tired, and right now, you were exhausted.

“I’ll swing you back.” Peter offered, pretending to be fully invested on your notes and not on the way your breath tickled his neck.

“You don’t have to.” You told him as you rubbed your eyes.

“And let you walk home in the dark all alone? I don’t think so.” Peter sounded almost insulted, but still had his signature playful tone.

You laughed lightly and rested your head back on Peters shoulder. He didn’t complain. He’d been missing the warmth you created.

“May was right.” You said quietly through a sleepy smile. Peter was a good boyfriend, you thought.

“What was that?” Peter asked. He had heard, but didn’t know what you meant.

“Nothing. Just a dream I had.” You shrugged and sighed in his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Oh.” Peter said, not sure what else to say.

“Do you ever have those dreams that make you wake up with crushes on people you didn’t think you’d have a crush on?” You asked him, feeling a little more awake. The nap had helped, though you’d never admit it to Peter.

“Yeah, I do. Is that what you had? Do you have a crush on a boy at school?” Peter asked, jealously seeping into him like water through a crack in a boat.

“Kind of.” You nodded. “I had a dream a boy confessed his feelings for me, but not to me.”

“Oh.” Peter said simply. “How do you feel now?”

“Disappointed.” You laughed sadly.

“You’re disappointed that the boy likes you?” Peter said, barely covering up the sadness in his voice. He knew he was the boy. You must’ve heard the conversation with May in your sleep and thought you dreamed it.

“No.” You shook your head with a sleepy smile. “I’m disappointed that it was only a dream.”

Peter as quiet for awhile, thinking about what May had told him. “Y/n, I have to tell you something.” Peter looked you in your tired eyes. He nervously drummed his fingers on your leg.

“I wasn’t dreaming, PP, was I?” You realized suddenly. You looked to Peter for answers, who had that same look in his eyes as he did that night. Fearful, and a little hesitant.

“I like you, okay?” Peter admitted, knowing he was backed into a corner. “I like you and I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Because I’m supposed to be your best friend. I’m meant to be a soft place for you to land. I’m not supposed to be complicating your life and adding to your stress by developing feelings for you.” Peter said softly.

“This doesn’t complicate my life.” You said pointedly as you put your hands on his cheeks and made him look at you. “This only makes it better.”

“You like me?” Peter asked, wondering now if he was the one dreaming. “You like me, like me?”

“I do.” You smiled, your gaze dropping to his lips quickly before coming back up to meet his eyes. “Are you gonna make my dream come true, PP?”

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona @sunrise-shawn @meghan-8520xx @writing-for-hours-on-end @lavender-writer

#peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #spiderman x reader #spider man: homecoming #peter parker fluff #peter parker #peter parker x best friend!reader #best friend!peter parker x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #endgame rerelease #iron man #eddie brock #spiderman x y/n

[jared-19-cant-reid]

A Study In Behavior: Chapter 1

A Study In Behavior (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 1: Obsession

Rating: G

Word Count: 1.8K

Series Summary: When you signed up for Professor Reid’s class, you were expecting a low effort but interesting class to fill your psychology elective credit. Instead, your fascination with the professor leaves you spending more time than you’d expected in office hours. 

Chapter Summary: A strange dream and an unusual professor make today’s lecture much more interesting than you thought it would be.

Warnings: teacher/student relationship, cursing, mentions of anxiety, suggestive language, implied age gap.

A/N: I’m planning on making this an eventual smut slow burn, since this is one of my favorite tropes and I want to make it a Realistic daydream lmao. This chapter is focused on introducing you to the world, reader, and this version of Spencer. Lots of potential here, I already have a million different ideas of how this should go... as always dms and asks are open!

~

The pattering of rain on the tin roof seemed to crescendo, a million drummers tapping out a perpetual drumroll on steel drums above your head. You’d always complained you couldn’t hear yourself think with all that noise, but you missed it despite yourself when you left Seattle for college. You were pulled away from that brief moment of self awareness by the touch of a cold hand, clutching yours as if you might be snatched away at any moment if the grip were to loosen.

You opened your eyes, finding yourself in a bed you knew all too well. A bed you’d spent too many hours in, slept too many nights in, and yet was not your own. Turning your head to the right, you took in the sight of your sleeping mother, her expression of serenity contradicted by the deep creases in her face, betraying the frown that she wore most of her waking life. Your gaze trailed down to your hand in hers; her knuckles were turning white from her tight grip, but you didn’t feel any pain. 

Laying next to her, you watched her face for what felt like hours as her chest rose and fell in the lazy patterns of slumber, too afraid of waking her with your movement to breathe. She almost looked happy like this. Suddenly, your thoughts were interrupted by a loud beeping sound. You looked around for the offending fire alarm, but as you scanned the ceiling it began to dissolve before your eyes, the grip on your hand loosening until you broke free from the scene fully.

~

You opened your eyes with a start as you sat up quickly, feeling out of place in your own room. You were a painting placed in the wrong section of a museum, an unintentional imposter. Nails digging into your comforter, you tried in vain to slow your shallow breaths as you looked around wildly for something to remind you of where you were, of who you were. 

Your eyes skipped from your stack of  records from your childhood leaning casually against the wall beside the record player on your desk, to the stacks of books watching over you from the top of your bookshelf, unable to fit on the shelves but too close to your heart to part with. Your gaze finally settled on the floor, taking in the mess you’d been meaning to clean up for days now. 

As you returned to your body, you could no longer ignore the blaring of your alarm, groaning as you reached for your phone on the nightstand. A glance at the screen had you shooting out of bed. Shit, I have to be at class in 20 minutes. You got up, muttering to yourself about how 8 A.M. classes should be considered cruel and unusual punishment, and maneuvered around your clothes strewn across the floor. 

As you raced to your closet, your eyes scanned the clothes you owned, speeding through mental images of a million combinations before giving up and reaching for your comfort clothes. You pulled on the green high waisted cargo pants that you’d owned since high school. Nobody to impress in this class anyway, you reasoned, grabbing the fitted white crop top that your friend had embroidered your name on. 

You tore through the apartment in the most violent and rushed performance of a morning routine the world had ever seen, only half trying to keep quiet for the sake of your neighbors. Hair tangled between your fingers and makeup was swiped on haphazardly as you struggled to make yourself presentable, cursing at the time and throwing random belongings in your bag.

Calling out a goodbye to your roommate only to be met with silence, you realized that in your frenzy you had forgotten that no sane college student would willingly be up at this hour. Shaking your head as you rushed out of your building, you mused that you’d just gotten all your stupid mistakes for today over with quite efficiently. 

Three years of mediocre dorm experiences had left you desperate for a change, and luckily your now-roommate Jordan volunteered to split the rent for the 2 bedroom you now called home. You’d both agreed to ignore whatever ghost stories scared off previous residents and earned you a fair price for a decent place close to campus; ghosts would just add a little intrigue to your domestic life, you’d joked. 

Checking the time once more, you cursed under your breath and broke out into a run. God, I should work out more, you thought as your lungs began to burn, I wouldn’t stand a chance in a zombie apocalypse. Racing through campus, you finally reached the doors of the lecture hall that held your class… which had started three minutes prior. You tried to catch your breath before opening the door, cringing as you heard the professor pause mid-lecture. 

You tried not to meet anyone’s gaze as you quickly made your way to a seat. The first one you could find was in the third row-- close enough to the front to make out the facial expressions of your professor, who had continued his train of thought after you entered, choosing to ignore you in favor of finishing his idea. 

As you got settled and tuned into the lecture, you realized the professor was still reviewing the syllabus. Pulling it up on your laptop, you looked at the top to remind yourself of his name: Dr. Spencer Reid. Finally looking up, your mind went blank. Oh. Not only was your professor way younger than you’d expected, he was... well, attractive. Thats’s a reasonable objective assessment, right? You knew he was just as knowledgeable as older professors-- you’d chosen this course for its fantastic reviews from previous students-- but his youth was a welcome change from the dinosaurs you were so used to in the neuroscience department. 

As you studied him, you only became more sure in your original assessment; he was tall, with tousled brunet hair and a face that was… well, unfair. You weren’t surprised to catch a few other girls unabashedly staring at him, clearly drooling over the man as he spoke animatedly about his favorite parts of the course. 

You shook yourself-- this man was your professor. You shouldn’t think about how attractive he is, it’s unprofessional. You also shouldn’t look at his hands the way you are right now, following them as he gestured along with his words you still weren’t paying attention to. You definitely shouldn’t think about what those hands could do. 

Oh my god, snap out of it, you reprimanded yourself, you can’t afford to spend the semester fantasizing about your professor, focus on the class! You finally tuned in to the lecture, catching the end of what sounded like a tangent about the difference between triggers and stressors. For the rest of the class, you listened intently, drawn in by Professor Reid’s clear excitement about the topic. 

Your efforts to ignore your professor’s appearance were somewhat successful, but as you listened to him speak passionately about the value of profiling as a tool for certain types of criminal investigations, you knew you were done for. His excitement about sharing his knowledge left you fighting back a smile, watching intently as he gestured wildly. You’d always liked listening to fellow nerds, eagerly basking in the pure delight beaming from their faces as they ranted about their subject of interest.

You sighed internally, preparing yourself for a semester of unreasonable dedication to this class, which was meant to be your chill psych elective to leave you more time to spend in the lab. It’s not like this topic wasn’t interesting to you, it was just that you weren’t expecting to be obsessed with it-- or more accurately, the man teaching it.

Before you knew it, the class was over. Professor Reid told everyone to finish the assigned reading by next class in preparation for a discussion, dismissing the class and walking over to his desk. You gathered up your belongings and the remnants of your dignity before slowly making your way to the exit, lost in thought about the overlap between your field and his. 

Your feet changed course before you could stop to think about what you were doing. When you tuned back in, you were horrified to find that you were walking towards Professor Reid. Right when you were about to turn around and try to escape without further embarrassment, you were stopped by his curious but friendly gaze. Ignoring your inner voice’s screams of horror, you composed yourself and made your way over to his desk. 

He spoke before you could, greeting you with a small smile and a polite “how can I help you?”

“Hi! Um, I just wanted to come apologize for being late today. I promise, it’s really unlike me, and I just don’t want you to think that I don’t care about your class or anything, because it seems really cool so far and I’m so interested in seeing how this could apply to my research and I was only really late because of this dream I had-”

You stopped before going into detail, saving yourself from your nervous rambling, and he spoke your name hesitantly. Your confusion must have been apparent on your face, because he looked at your chest, clearly having made the connection from the word embroidered on it. The devil on your shoulder whispered that his eyes had lingered there longer than they needed to, but you dismissed that thought quickly. 

“There’s no need to apologize, as long as you don’t make a habit of it we should be fine,” he reassured you, “and judging from how well you paid attention today, I have no doubt you’ll more than make up for it next class in the discussion.”

You bit back a smile at his praise, shocked he’d noticed you at all. You thanked your lucky stars he’d interpreted your staring as interest in the class, rather than the glaring sign of attraction that it would easily be identified as in any other setting. You quickly nodded, thanking him for his understanding and promising it wouldn’t happen again before exchanging goodbyes as you turned and walked out of the room. 

Bursting out of the lecture hall, you finally filled your lungs with air fully, trying to regain some sense of control over your feelings. As you walked to the library to study, your mind wandered back to Professor Reid. It’s not like he’d ever feel the same way, what’s the harm in a little daydreaming? You decided you could live with a harmless crush. Keeps things interesting, you thought. Stepping into your castle of books, you pushed the events of the morning to the back of your mind, but one thought lingered: This is going to be one hell of a semester.

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds

[ironstarker]

understudy

notes: as a milestone for reaching 500 followers, i felt compelled to write this. this is a mixture of starker and spiderio, but the emphasis is on starker. i’d like to do a part two someday, because i have an idea of where i’d like to see this go, but i say that about a lot of things. also i won’t lie, this was partially inspired by taylor swift’s new song exile. bon iver gets me every time. this is a long one (5k! whoot!) so i put it under a read more. enjoy!

warning(s): alcoholism (heavily implied)

AO3 Link ______________________________________________________________

With every passing moment, it became harder for Tony to look away from Peter. He was standing a few paces away, one arm snug around the waist of a researcher Tony knew (after extensive digging with FRIDAY) to be one Quentin Beck. The guy was upstanding, one of the best in his field, and Tony supposed that it was natural for Peter to gravitate towards him. The kid loved brilliant minds, and how could Tony blame him? It was the reason they’d gotten together in the first place. Peter insisted that he’d fallen in love with Tony’s brain before his money, but the older man was willing to bet the combination of his brain and his mouth were what had driven Peter away.

That was how it went for Tony, without fail.

There was a woman at his own hip, a champagne flute in her hand. She was trying to hold his attention. Tony was surprised that she hadn’t given up yet (he was up to four already tonight, each who had tried and failed and decided he wasn’t worth the effort when there were other men just as pretty as him, and maybe not as rich but rich enough to be worth it) but he felt it coming soon. The curve of her smile had turned into a gentle frown, and he saw movement from the corner of her eye as she continued looking over her shoulder to see what captured his attention. She would know. They all knew the story of Tony Stark and Peter Parker, courtesy of the tabloids and TMZ.

He wasn’t sure who had recorded their fight, but he’d gotten his settlement for it already. That didn’t mean it would scrape the damn thing off the surface of the internet, though. It was there, to live in permanence forever, the moment that Tony mouthed off at Peter in the middle of Marea and left him (and Tony’s favorite tiramisu) seated alone to handle the check. It could’ve been worse. Honestly, Tony had a mean streak in him, and Peter was lucky to have gotten out before the older man really humiliated him.

The kid was lucky to be free of him.

But Tony wanted him back.

He hated it, standing there trying to pretend like he didn’t see the boy enjoying his evening with Quentin. According to FRIDAY, their relationship had started shortly after the video had been released. Tony was willing to bet Quentin had swooped in like some overgrown vulture, intent on snatching Peter up before someone else had the chance to. They met because Tony had reassigned Peter from the project they’d been working on together and he’d put him on Quentin’s instead. It was a move meant to get Peter away from him, and it had worked. Much, much too well it had worked. FRIDAY let him watch the footage of Peter introducing himself to Quentin. It was innocent, at first. Tony watched each day of footage, and soon enough morning waves turned into morning coffees courtesy of the younger man, and then late nights where their fingers would brush and Peter’s cheeks would turn red.

Tony recognized all of the signs, because each and every one of them were things the kid used to do with him. Peter used to bring him coffee every morning, and the older man would give him a grateful (if not tired) smile. The late nights in the lab? Tony had thought that was their thing. At least fooling around on top of his desk remained sacred. Peter wasn’t fooling around with Quentin on Stark Industries property, probably because he didn’t trust Tony not to invade his privacy (smart move) and fire Quentin as a result. He’d never fire Peter. Tony had promised the kid that, even as he’d tried apologizing while Peter packed away his things into a box and saw himself out of the penthouse.

He wanted to be bitter towards Peter for moving on so quickly. How had he already found a replacement? But how could Tony blame him? His name was splashed across every tabloid and had been for months since they’d broken up. Every one night stand that he left charity galas and nightclubs with headlined the front page of celebrity news gossip, and Tony hadn’t done a thing to rein it (or himself) in.

But Peter looked like he was doing fine. Maybe the tabloid gossip didn’t even bother him.

“ — night, Tony,” the woman in front of him said, and he blinked, coming back to earth with enough time to register her walking away from him, hips swaying.

On any other night, Tony was good at playing bachelor. He turned on the charm for anyone and everyone, men and women alike. Tonight, with Peter in attendance? He was hopeless. Tony was beginning to think that he shouldn’t have allowed the kid to come, but HR and their anti-discrimination bullshit would’ve had something to say about that.

So, instead of continuing his staring, he turned on his heel and went to get himself a drink. It was easier to handle these things when he was drunk out of his mind, and Tony was hoping it would help him forget the kid laughing because of whatever dumb joke Quentin had whispered into his ear.

Across the room, Peter’s eyes flickered in Tony’s direction. The billionaire’s presence filled up every space that he went, and tonight Peter felt his ego transcended the entire ballroom. They were at Carnegie Hall for Stark Industries’ annual Christmas party, and everyone wanted a piece of Tony. Peter couldn’t blame them. He looked exceptional tonight, dapper in a freshly pressed suit and a bowtie that had to be new. Peter had never seen him wear it before, and he’d taken an extensive tour of Tony’s closet. He tried not to look for the other man too much tonight, but sometimes his eyes would stray and he wasn’t able to help himself.

At least Quentin hadn’t noticed.

Peter’s brow knitted as he watched Tony direct himself towards the bar. That was when Peter stopped watching. He didn’t like seeing Tony drink. Peter was confident that whatever had happened at Marea happened because Tony had had a few too many glasses of scotch at work and then proceeded to drink throughout the first half of their dinner together. It was when the boy had tried to casually suggest that he stop that the other man had exploded.

And now, that part of their history together would be immortalized, never to be forgotten.

It wasn’t a part that Peter was proud of. The public hadn’t seen the rest of their moments together in private, and while Peter was thankful for it, that night painted a bad look on Tony. Pepper had told him the next morning that share prices for Stark Industries had dipped three points after that video had been released, and she was losing her mind doing damage control. Peter had promised to stay away from Tony. So far, he had done an excellent job of it. But forgetting Tony Stark? It was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, even with Quentin by his side.

Quentin was a wonderful man. A little overbearing at times, sort of quirky in the way that all researchers were. He was obsessed with his work, but that suited Peter fine. It gave them easy subjects to talk about, and Peter had found that he was a sucker for intelligence. When Quentin had asked him out to dinner after a long, successful day in the lab? How could Peter have said no?

And now the man’s fingers were digging into his side, not enough to hurt or anything, but a warm reminder that he was there. It was that sense of belonging Peter thought he had craved, but even now his eyes strayed to Tony. The other man had raised his hand to flag the bartender. Peter saw a flash of green from where Tony had probably pulled out a hundred dollar bill to tip him. The older man didn’t carry change, because he only ever withdrew money for events like these, Peter knew. He bit his lip as he watched, but then a gentle squeeze on his hip made him look up into the face of the man smiling down at him.

“Do you want something from the bar?”

Quentin was asking him that because he had to have seen the way Peter was watching Tony. In his panic, Peter was quick to nod. “I’ll — I saw a woman with some blue frozen thing that looked good,” Peter explained, and he tried not to cringe at how obvious it sounded.

But Quentin looked placated, if not a little comforted by his words, and Peter almost let out a sigh of relief. “One blue frozen thing, coming right up,” Quentin said. He grinned, leaning in. Peter raised on the tips of his toes so the taller man could plant a kiss on his cheek, and he watched Quentin walk away. Tony was still standing at the bar, leaning against it looking carefree. A woman had sidled up to him again. Peter looked away, searching the crowd to find faces that he recognized. He didn’t want to watch Tony charming another person to warm his bed at night.

At the bar, Tony was drumming his fingers against the counter, watching the bartender pour him a scotch (“Generous on the ice, generous on the pour,” Tony had said), all the while fighting the urge to turn around. He had hopes that the booze would help him forget all about Peter. His head was filled with Peter, stuffed like a ball of cotton or a turkey on Thanksgiving. The bartender set his drink down in front of him and Tony raised it in a mock gesture of cheers. The man had already turned to another customer, so Tony sighed into his glass before taking a swig.

There was another woman by his side, closer than was natural. “What’re you drinking tonight, Tony?” she asked, and he appraised her, taking his time to answer. This one was a blonde, her hair framing her face in long waves, her makeup a little too flashy for his tastes. After all the time he’d spent with Peter, his tendencies had swayed more toward natural of late. It was why he enjoyed morning sex so much. Most of these women would wash up before a second go, or if they didn’t, half their faces wound up smeared in his pillows. The men were even better.

“Scotch on the rocks.” She made a face, and out of habit he grinned. “Not a fan? What’re you pining for, sweetheart?” He went to raise his hand to get the bartender’s attention, but she stayed his wrist. Her fingers dug into his skin, and he found himself wishing he was left handed so his watch might’ve absorbed some of the bite of her manicure. “You.”

God, the level of effort it took for him not to roll his eyes was astounding. He tried to smile at her, but Tony knew that it looked like a grimace. She was staring at him with bedroom eyes, ready to pounce. Her fingers kept him from using his scotch as a distraction, which was the entire point. “You and everyone else in the room,” he said, and he gave a haughty bark of laughter that he knew she wouldn’t like.

Not to his surprise, in her shock, her fingers went slack on his wrist. She gaped at him, and Tony arched a brow and gave her a cool look as he raised his tumbler of scotch and sipped it. “Guess TMZ had a point,” she said, all spark gone from her face.

She looked at him, disgusted, turning her back to leave him to his thoughts. Maybe she thought he’d be ashamed of himself. Tony wasn’t. He watched her go, a sense of relief settling inside his stomach. Tony turned his body back towards the bar. He took another sip from his scotch, debating whether or not to down the contents, when a familiar voice spoke up next to him,

“ — said it was some kind of frozen blue drink?”

Tony turned his head and stared at Quentin Beck. It was comical, the way the man looked at him like he’d grown a second head. Tony chanced a look over his shoulder, but without Quentin’s height to pinpoint, he couldn’t make out where Peter was in the crowd. “Oh, Tony,” Quentin said, and the older man’s eyes were directed towards Quentin. “You know, I’ve been meaning to speak to you about additional funding for the project. Peter’s drawn up schematics that allow for additional detail with the augmented reality program I’m — you know, Binary Au — ”

“BARF, right,” Tony said, and he found a pathetic satisfaction in the way Quentin’s brow knitted and he frowned. “What about the funding?”

Quentin hesitated, looking as though he was having an internal debate about whether or not to correct Tony’s acronym, but he continued, “Well, uh, as I was saying, Peter found a way to get microscopic levels of accuracy within the program. I’m talking perfect skin texture, details like fingerprints and even something as small as a hangnail — but it’s going to be expensive.”

“Expensive,” Tony repeated, “and experimental?”

It shouldn’t have made Tony so gleeful, the apprehension on Quentin’s face. “…Somewhat. There’s no guarantees that it isn’t dependent on what the person can imagine. Someone like myself, or — or you, or even Peter, we know what the program can do, so that would come naturally. But for people with standard levels of cognition and intelligence, it might not matter.”

Tony liked to think that he was a practical man. He wouldn’t go around sabotaging groundbreaking work because of a failed relationship. Did he want to? Of course he did. He wanted to deny Quentin’s budget request, tell him to table it and save it for the Board to hear about, but he was the CEO. So Tony shrugged. “File a formal request. Give it to Pepper, I’ll sign it. I like what you and Pete are doing.”

Quentin gave him a strange look. Tony was quick to brush it off by sipping his scotch. Thankfully, the bartender made his own appearance, setting down a tall, frozen glass of something that was electric blue and didn’t look the slightest bit alcoholic. Quentin’s eyebrows rose as he looked at it. It even had a tiny umbrella speared through a cherry floating at the top of it.

“You always struck me as a wine drinker, Beck,” Tony said.

“It’s for Peter,” he said.

“Peter doesn’t drink.”

It was automatic, Tony’s response. His mouth decided to do that thing where it ran without consulting first with his brain. He saw Quentin’s expression shift, his fingers stilling against the sides of the glass from where he’d meant to grab it. Tony should’ve let him go. He shouldn’t have said anything. But it was true. Peter didn’t drink. He’d never seen the kid so much as sip alcohol in all the months they were together. The one time Peter had offered him a taste of his scotch, the poor kid had gone green around the gills and gagged, for fuck’s sake. He hated it.

“You don’t know Peter as well as you think you do.” Quentin was smiling at him, but there was something vicious about it, like he hadn’t just asked Tony for a budgetary increase on his project. Tony raised his chin a fraction, straightening himself up to his full height so he wasn’t eye level with Quentin’s collarbone, at least. The other man was still taller than him, and Tony found that he was peeved by it.

“Maybe it's the other way around,” Tony suggested.

Quentin’s eyebrow rose, but Tony didn’t miss the way his expression darkened. There was something there, he had always suspected it. The researcher put on this nice, quirky little act, but Tony had a feeling he was as feral as a hyena. Always loitering around bigger, better people, waiting to fend off their scraps.

“I think Peter already settled that for himself,” Quentin said, and he picked up the drink and spared Tony a cool glance. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Stark. My date is waiting for his drink.”

“Pretty rude for you to have kept him waiting so you could grovel at my feet about a little extra budget,” Tony snarked.

All Beck had to do, in Tony’s humble opinion, was turn and walk away. He could be the bigger man. That was fine. Tony didn’t want to be the bigger man. There was a gleam in his eyes that spoke of how he wanted to take the role of vindictive bastard tonight.

Beck didn’t turn around. He didn’t walk away. Instead, he said, “I’m the rude one, Mr. Stark? You’re the one who stood by and broke the kid’s heart. He loved you, you know. I don’t get why. What’s there to want from a drunk two bottles away from an early grave? But you know what? Don’t worry. I’ll be there to pick up the pieces.”

Tony’s lips twisted into the beginnings of a snarl, his hand finding Quentin’s tie before the other had time to react. The drink in Quentin’s hand sloshed over the side, splashing across their shoes and staining the other man’s sleeves.

“What are you doing?”

Peter’s voice cut through the red haze he saw. Quentin’s expression had morphed from brimming rage to relief. “Pete! There you are. I don’t know what came over Tony, he’s — ”

“Tony, let him go,” Peter demanded, one of his hands on Tony’s wrists, trying to relax the ironclad grip he had on the other man.

Maybe it was because Tony was already looking to pick a fight. Maybe it was because the sight of Peter trying to dab at his date’s stained arm filled him with a possessive rage, or because he hated how Peter was apologizing to Quentin on his behalf like he had to. Whatever the reason, the next thing Tony knew was the crack of bone against his knuckles as Quentin’s face wound up a punching bag for his fist. The other man staggered back, groaning, bringing a hand up to his bleeding nose.

“Tony!”

It wasn’t Peter who had called his name, but rather Pepper. She was marching up to them even as Peter was fussing over Quentin’s face. Quentin was trying to brush it off, but as Pepper weaved through the thick throng of people in the room, Tony took that as his opportunity to exit the stage.

He fled, like he always did, ignoring the way Pepper shouted after him and the hurt look on Peter’s face that would come to haunt him the rest of the night.

Tony spent his evening locked up in his penthouse. FRIDAY was under strict orders to deny entry to anyone else, so he sat in his darkened living room, hunched forward on his couch. There was a half-drunk bottle of scotch sitting on the coffee table, and a tumbler that was ready to be refilled. He groaned, rubbing at his eyes. Tony had since removed his suit jacket, his bowtie left draped across his shoulders and his shirt unbuttoned. He drank into the early hours of the morning and then passed out on the couch, his polished shoes still on his feet.

“Boss? You’ve got a visitor.”

Tony groaned, turning his head into the couch to hide the light from the risen sun. “Where are my blackout curtains, FRIDAY?” he asked, his voice muffled by the couch cushion.

There was a beat of silence, but then he heard a soft whirring and the room was bathed in darkness. Tony risked it, cracking open an eye and lifting this head off the couch. The room was almost completely dark.

“What’s this about a visitor?” Tony prompted, his voice gruff, his eyes lingering on the empty bottle of scotch. Jesus, had he drunk it all? “No visitors allowed. We’re under strict lockdown,” he said, and Tony got to his feet, his bowtie slipping off and onto the floor. Tony left it there in favor of picking up his bottle of scotch and his tumbler, carrying them both into the kitchen. His head was pounding, and he needed some fucking Advil.

“It’s Peter, boss. He says it’s important. He used your code to override my protocols.”

Tony grunted, depositing the empty glass into his sink and leaving the empty bottle on the marbled countertops. He’d have to get those access codes changed. “How forward of him,” Tony muttered, more to himself than to FRIDAY, and he moved to rummage through his cabinets, hunting the Advil that would ease the pounding in his brain.

No sooner than he’d popped three of the pills into his mouth and tossed them back with a sip of water than FRIDAY announced Peter’s arrival to the penthouse. Tony sighed, lingering near the sink, and then he walked away from his kitchen and made his way to the foyer.

When the elevator opened, revealing Peter, Tony’s heart began thrumming in his chest. He’d always had heart problems, courtesy of a shitty ticker that was hereditary on his father’s side, but he knew this wasn’t a result of that. This was a direct response to Peter, who looked red-eyed and sad. Tony knew he shouldn’t be thinking it, but he hoped that meant things with Quentin were over. Peter had made his choice.

Instead, the kid shrugged a backpack off his shoulder as he stepped out of the elevator and into the foyer. He was biting his lip, his eyes darting around like he was once again familiarizing himself with a space he had once filled. If he thought anything of the fact that Tony was wearing the same clothes that he had the night before, he didn’t bring it up. Peter opened the backpack, and Tony blinked as he pulled out an AC/DC shirt, worn and ragged, that Tony recognized as his own.

“I found this in my bottom drawer while I was doing laundry last week,” Peter explained, and he clutched the shirt like he never wanted to let it go. Tony didn’t say a word. “At first I — I wanted to keep it.”

“You should,” Tony blurted, and he again cursed his mouth.

Peter smiled in a sad way and shook his head, running his fingers over the faded lettering. “I can’t. It’s yours, and I can’t look at it without thinking about…about us.” Peter raised his head and looked at Tony, tears in his eyes. “It’s not fair to Quentin.”

Tony’s heart sank. “To Quentin?”

There was an uncomfortable beat of silence between them. Peter’s eyes were anxious as they settled on Tony. He waited, like he was expecting the older man to say something else. When Tony didn’t, Peter held the shirt out in offering. Tony looked at it, but he didn’t take it.

In the back of his mind, something whispered to him that he didn’t like being handed things.

Another part of him protested, it’s Peter.

“I don’t want it,” Tony said, and shrugged. “Keep it. Throw it away. Toss it outside, for all I care. If I missed it I would’ve given you a call.”

Peter’s shoulders slumped, and Tony felt his heart seizing. He wanted to take it back, to apologize. “If that’s how you feel,” Peter said, and sounded resigned as he took the shirt and started zipping up his backpack. Tony noticed the kid didn’t put the shirt inside. “I also came here to…to talk,” Peter hedged, dragging the backpack up his shoulder so it was slung there, dangling from one strap. “About what happened at the Christmas party.”

“What happened? Something happened?”

Trying to make light of it wasn’t working, though. Peter’s frown deepened. “Can you just — for once in your life, Tony, can you be serious? This is serious! You’re acting like a — like a teenager. You got into a fight with my boyfriend in front of everyone we work with and now we’re headlining the front pages again. I was just putting everything else behind me and now I have to worry about this, too?”

“It’s tabloid gossip, Pete. It’ll die down as soon as everyone has something better to talk about. Word on the street is Jennifer Aniston was seen leaving Brad Pitt’s bachelor pad two nights ago, think about the buzz when that leaks.”

Peter didn’t look mollified. “I don’t want to be tabloid gossip, Tony! I don’t want to be TMZ’s hot topic for the day. It undermines everything I’m doing. All anybody sees now when I walk into a room is Tony Stark’s leftovers, and that sucks.”

This time, it was Tony’s turn to look affronted. He tried to ignore the bitter pang that he felt in his heart. “You’re not my leftovers,” he whispered.

“Right,” Peter scoffed, “tell that to Perez Hilton.” There was another moment of uncomfortable silence. “Tony, I can’t do this. I can’t keep doing this. It’s ruining every aspect of my life.”

The kid’s voice sounded thick with tears, and Tony couldn’t do anything other than lower his eyes. He looked down at the shirt clutched in Peter’s grasp. “You came all this way to bring that back?” he asked, and the abrupt change in subject must have startled Peter, because he raised his head and stared at the older man like he’d grown a second head. “Here. Give it to me.” Tony snatched the fabric from Peter’s grasp, tucking it beneath his arm.

“That isn’t…that’s not all I wanted,” Peter admitted, after a heavy moment of fidgeting that made Tony want to grab the kid’s hands to make him stop picking at his own nail beds. He hated when the kid did that. Peter took a deep breath, almost like he was steeling himself. “I wanted to tell you I’m resigning.”

Tony blinked, feeling like the earth was tilting on its axis but he wasn’t moving with it. “Resigning?” He sounded like a parrot.

“I was offered a position at Oscorp. They’re — it’s a really good opportunity, and…and I need to distance myself from whatever this is.”

“Distance? Pete, give me a break. We’ve been distant. This is the closest we’ve been in months.” How desperate did it sound, him cracking a joke to make Peter stay?

“You know what I mean, Tony.” Peter was mumbling his words. Tony wanted to yell at him, to tell him that he knew he was mumbling because he didn’t want to have this conversation. Why were they having it? “So — so here’s my badge,” Peter added, unfastening it from his backpack. He offered it to Tony. “I know I should probably be doing this through, like, Pepper or someone, but I didn’t want you to hear it from someone else.”

Tony found himself thinking that was nice of Peter. Decent. But Peter was a decent kid, so it wasn’t anything less than what he expected. “Hold on a hot second. Let me get this straight. You’re turning down what’s all but a guaranteed corner office as the head of R&D for a shot at Oscorp? Kid, you and I both know you can do better.”

Peter’s expression flickered from shocked to hurt, and the hand holding his security badge dropped to his side. “You know, after months I thought maybe you’d get the balls to apologize. To — to call me, or to text me. Something. Anything. But you didn’t. So yeah, I moved on.” Tony watched him frown, staring down at his scuffed Converse. “You were the one who left me there, in that restaurant. It wasn’t the other way around, Tony. So yeah, I want it over. I want to be rid of you. Can you blame me?” Peter peeked up at him.

Tony stared at the kid, his resolve crumbling. Everything Peter said was true. He was the one who had walked out. He was the one who had forced Peter to put a two hundred dollar dinner on his credit card, and then had the audacity to wire him money without so much as a “sorry” for it later. Maybe the least he could do this time was something to make leaving him easier for Peter. So Tony shrugged his shoulders. “What do you want me to do? Get on my knees and beg? I’m looking out for your future, Pete. One of us has to.”

Peter’s shoulders slumped and he hunched forward. “Okay. If that’s how you feel. Great. Then I am thinking of my future, Tony. And I can’t wait for it to be far away from you.” He dropped the badge at the older man’s feet, his hands holding the strap of his backpack in a white-knuckled grip. “Bye, Tony,” he muttered, and the elevator doors opened for him, as though FRIDAY had been listening all along. She probably was.

Tony stood there, impassive, as Peter got into the elevator. He didn’t move from the spot where he stood. Hell, he barely breathed. It was only once the doors shut and a ding announced Peter’s descent back to the main floor of the building that he looked down at his feet. He crouched, swiping up Peter’s badge. Tony stared at the boy’s grinning face, his cheeks rosy, eyes sparking with excitement from his first day at Stark Industries. Hours later, he’d run smack into Tony in the middle of the hall, spilling coffee all over the both of them. A trip to the bathroom later, and he was walking out flushed red for a different reason.

A sigh.

Tony got to his feet, carrying the badge and the shirt into his kitchen. He tossed them both on the center island, abandoning them there to be dealt with later (and preferably by Pepper, who would come by once she realized he hadn’t shown up Monday morning) so he could make his way instead to his liquor cabinet. Tony opened it, eyeing the various bottles. “Hello, dear,” he said, selecting a vintage that he thought he’d been saving for a special occasion.

It was as good an excuse as any.

#starker #starker fic #tony stark x peter parker #ironspider #tony x peter #spiderio #at least kind of but that's not the end goal of the ship even though it kinda is the end of the fic #this is just another reason for me to eventually add a chapter #tony stark #peter parker #quentin beck #pepper potts #tw:alcoholism #my fic

[lihikainanea]

Hey, what would you say about them exploring something like tantra.. With a very slow pace and loads of eye contact.. But it turns out fun and surprising... Do you think it's out oulf character?

THIS IS NOT AT ALL OUT OF CHARACTER.

Okay but wait, hang on a second. I just want to tell you this, because I think this is a really vital skill. Our soul is in our eyes. I don’t give a shit how good of a liar you are, you are not that good. And it’s scientific fact that prolonged periods of eye contact make us very uncomfortable. You know how awkward a silence is? How it just hangs there, making you fidget, making you itch, making your heart rate increase just a tad? Prolonged eye contact does that, but multiplied by a million. And a few years ago, we had to do this sort of…de-conditioning exercise. And matched at random, we had to stare into a person’s eyes for 5 whole minutes. Doesn’t sound traumatic, right?

Try it.

Of the 30 or so people in the room, I think only about 2 were able to complete the test successfully. The others broke down in tears, called mercy, gave up. We had to stand there and stare–completely unmoving, stoic, without fidgeting and without looking away once–into a person’s eyes, and barely any of us passed the test.

So if you can master that, friends–if you can maintain eye contact in a stoic manner–believe me, you will win lots of battles.

But now to this beautiful ask.

Guh. And you know it’s funny, because my version of Bill is this really calm dude, really balanced for the most part, just to counteract tiger’s neuroses. And it’s perhaps selfish of me, because I actually don’t particularly think Bill is a calm dude at all. I think he has a very loud mind.

But I love the idea of him as the steadfast one, the balance, the one reminding her to take a deep breath, not walk so quickly, to live in the present instead of always thinking about the future and fretting over it. And maybe Bill is kind of into those things anyway–breath exercises, some Buddhist thinkings, being self-aware in all things. And maybe he brings it up as something he would like to try–because he really would like to try it, and he think it’s something tiger could benefit from as well.

Now, if we’re talking tantric sex? It takes…practice. A lot of practice. Like cockwarming did, for them. And I suppose this is not unlike cockwarming, actually, because for it to last as long as it should, there can’t be a whole lot of…aggressive movement. And I’ll bet Bill brings it up one time, just an open conversation real casual, about how it’s something he would like to try. And tiger doesn’t bristle–she teases him for a lot of stuff but never ever about something he has the courage to ask for or express interest in trying–but she also doesn’t say much. Kind of just shrugs, and goes back to her book,

But a few days later he grabs her laptop for something, and when he opens it up there’s like 5 tabs all about tantric sex, what it is, basic concepts, and how to build it up. He smiles–she’s been thinking about it. That’s as much of a yes as he needs. And I’ll bet too, he doesn’t give her anymore advanced notice of when he wants to try it–because in true typical tiger fashion, tiger would just fret and obsess over it, obsess during it, and that’s kind of the exact opposite of the point.

So maybe they boink that night, and he can tell she’s waiting for him to ask for it again–and he doesn’t. He knows her too well. The same thing happens a few nights later. And it’s only when she’s kind of forgotten about it, that he goes for it. When she climbs into bed with him he’ll sit up, rest his back against the headboard, and pull her into his lap straddling him.

“Take a few deep breaths with me,” he’ll murmur against her lips. She quirks a brow but he just reaches up, coaxes it back down gently with his finger, and gives her a small smile.

“Just breaths, kid. Deep from your gut. Let’s do 3,” he says. And he takes her hand, puts it over his heart, and he does the same with his own hand on her chest. Bowing his head slightly, he rests the top of his forehead on hers and inhales deeply. He waits–and she does the same.

And after 3 deep breaths, he leans forward and kisses her–but it’s so slow, so deep, and if she starts to be a bit too rushed about it–he’ll just reach up and cup her face, setting the pace he wants. When he pulls away he keeps his nose touching hers.

“Again,” she murmurs softly, puts her hand back on his heart, “But can we have…music? Just low? This is really intense.”

“We can stop,” he offers immediately, but she shakes her head.

“No, I want to try it again. It’s just too….quiet,” she mumbles. He pecks her lips briefly, reaching for his phone and finding a rainfall soundtrack. He looks to her for approval and she nods, He rests his forehead on hers again, puts his hand over her heart.

“Let’s try for 5 this time, nice and slow,” he says, “Just focus on my heartbeat.” And he’s going to ask one more thing from her, but he’s not going to ask it now because the only thing that will happen is tiger will spend 4 breaths worrying about it. And that’s not the point.

He breathes with her, and she matches his tempo.

“Eyes on me for this last one, tiger,” he says softly, “If you can.”

She tilts her head up a tad. Eye contact is hard for her in these moments–she doesn’t much like it, but it’s a vulnerability issue. There’s a lot she could get out of it, if she let herself. Her eyes flit briefly for a few seconds, but he waits until they settle on his. Then keeping her gaze, he takes a deep breath in, holds it for a few seconds, and still keeping her gaze–he exhales slowly.

He loses her a few beats into the last exhale, but that’s okay. He expected it. And when the last breath of air leaves her lungs she closes her eyes, goes to push away from him but he keeps her hand pressed to his chest.

“Stay with me kid,” he says softly, “It’s okay.”

He knows it’s a lot for her, and he’s already a little impressed that she was able to hold his gaze under those circumstances at all.

“That was really…intense,” she sniffles. He ducks to catch her gaze, his eyes soft and a lopsided smile on his face. He presses his lips to hers gently.

“I know, but you did so well tiger,” he praises, “That’s not an easy thing to do.”

He pulls her closer to him, tucks his face into her neck, because distance would be a bad thing for her to gain right now. She’s too vulnerable and too oversensitive about her vulnerability, so he needs to keep her close–and reward her. And boy is she rewarded that night.

And maybe the next time, when he pulls her into his lap, she goes willingly but when she puts her hand on his chest she looks up at him pleadingly.

“No eye stuff,” she says. He nods.

“Okay, no eye stuff.”

But he’s a little surprised when, a few breaths in he opens his eyes to watch her face (because she doesn’t want to look into his eyes, but he’s damn free to gaze at her)–and her eyes are watching him. And she keeps them open.

I think maybe once they work up to like, 10 breaths is when he’ll actually build up to sex (god, we oughta talk about tantric massage but this is already long enough and that is a WHOLE OTHER THING where Good Dude touchy Bill gets so much out of running his hands slowly over tiger’s body for hours). And it’ll be in that same position, chest to chest, sitting up in bed. And he’ll just ease into her so slowly, and he’ll barely move. He’ll breathe with her, and god he swears he can feel and hear everything–her heartbeat, the blood pumping through her veins, her small muscle contractions, everything.

Delicious, nani.

#also can we talk about tantric sex god Gustaf #our lord and saviour #AMEN #BFF!Bill #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drabble

[twiceblackvelvet]

Can I request a ceo playgirl Tzuyu x fem reader ? Where reader makes tzuyu believe in love? Thank you in advance and love your writing so much!

A/N; thank you so much. i have seen requests like this before where the writer places the character insert as an employee of the ceo character but i decided to try something a little bit different. also, i’ve got to be honest, i struggled to picture Tzuyu as a playgirl so this may not be too good but i hope you enjoy🖤

For the last two years, you’ve been single. Whilst you’d love to say it’s been a peaceful time-period for you, the two girls currently sitting in front of you have made it nigh on impossible. Nayeon and Sana have been your best friends since you were children but their unhealthy obsession with your dating life is beginning to become unbearable.

Sitting down to lunch, the conversation between the three of you quickly landed on the topic of what they consider your lonely, boring life. They’re animatedly discussing a brand new dating app that some wannabe hipster rich boy has created.

“So basically, you set up a profile and decide whether you wish to be the finder or the seeker. The finder is anyone looking to earn extra money by accompanying the seeker to events, parties, galas and all those other fancy things that rich people attend. They pay you for your service as their fake date and you can decide if you wish to stick with them or move onto the next millionaire. You both rate each other based on how compatible you felt the date went, it’s all very professional.” 

Nayeon’s explanation of the application deserves to be placed into an advert, she’s seemingly looked into it very thoroughly before presenting the idea of you signing up. 

The idea of dating some pretentious, stuck up person with too much wealth for their own good does not sound appealing whatsoever, and yet as you think about your dead-end job and various bills that are quickly mounting into an enormous chunk of your bank account being whisked away from you at the end of the month, you can’t help but give it a second thought.

“We both have profiles, there’s no shame in it. You don’t have to sleep with them or anything, well... unless you want to. You’re basically just arm candy for them to show off to all of their friends that they aren’t losers who isolate themselves to their offices to flirt with numbers and stocks. Trust me, it’s sad for them not you.” Sana adds.

“Fine, but if I end up with some weirdo who tries to get a little handsy, I’ll hunt you both down.”

A high-pitched squeal is all Nayeon and Sana gives you in response as they get to work in setting up a profile for you. Surely nothing will go wrong, right?

It’s been three days since the app has been taking up space on your phone. No messages. No notifications. Nothing. It’s not like you’re mindlessly checking it every couple of hours to check that your friends didn’t include something embarrassing that has been turning every potential seeker away from you, but it is starting to play on your self-conscious every now and then. Even more so when Nayeon reveals she has been on four dates since your lunch meeting.

Just as you’re about to switch off for the night and get some well-needed shut-eye, a small vibration emanates from your bedside dresser where your phone is placed.

[YOU HAVE ONE NEW MESSSAGE]

The bold lettering alongside the app’s logo lights up your bedroom. Truthfully speaking, your curiosity is in fact piqued for a split second until you realize it’s almost 3 AM and anyone using a dating app at this hour can’t be a good sign. You decide to still check who has sent you a message but only so you can tell them to get better nighttime hobbies.

However, what greets you when the app loads the singular message is tame compared to the despicable things you expected to see. 

Hello. My name is Chou Tzuyu, I am the CEO of Chou Technology. You’ll have to forgive my being blunt but I am a bit of a newbie to this here app. If you are free tomorrow, I’d like to meet with you to discuss potentially accompanying me to a business event that I am attending the following night.  If this is something you are interested in I will schedule a time-slot and give you instructions on what to wear and where we will be meeting. I know this is all very last minute but please let me know as soon as possible. Thank you.

God, just reading the message has given you a slight headache. This girl couldn’t be any more business before pleasure if she tried. You decide to click onto her profile picture to get a better sense of who she is to help you decide whether to agree to meet her or delete the message. 

Flawless golden skin, wide cat-like brown eyes, plump red lips formed into a small smile and hazelnut brown hair accentuate all of the features perfectly. You definitely did not expect the person behind such a straight-forward and bland message to be quite as beautiful as the girl you’re currently looking at through your screen. Upon scrolling through the images, you can see her alongside a small Maltese dog, posing with several other women who you assume are her friends, in a business suit outside of her company building which reveals that she’s fairly tall and her figure is to die for. All in all, you’re sold that either this woman is a catfish with impeccable Photoshop skills or there really is a goddess-like beauty using this shady app when she could probably bag anyone possible.

Hi Tzuyu. Yes, I’d love to meet with you tomorrow, anytime is fine for me just let me know.

You hesitate for several minutes debating on whether or not to add an emoji to make things a bit more casual between the two of you. You eventually decide against it and hit send. The follow-up reply comes a lot quicker than you expected.

Great. 1 PM @ Jungsik.

A quick search reveals that Jungsik is a restaurant not far from your apartment, however, the reviews and images show that it’s rather expensive and definitely way out of your very small budget. 

Would it be possible for us to meet elsewhere? It isn’t exactly in my price-range nor will I have anything remotely fancy enough to wear to a place like that.

Three small bubbles appear and disappear several times with Tzuyu’s face beside them. You begin to worry that she’s going to cancel and realize that someone like you probably isn’t a good fit for attending the event alongside her.

Send me your address. My driver will pick you up with an outfit for you to change into and dinner will be on me.

You must be dreaming. There’s no way any of this can be real. You read the words several times to try and kickstart your brain into processing them properly and despite believing they’d disappear or change into another message, it remains the same. You consider pinching yourself to double-check but decide against it. Your fingers disobey your thoughts about it being a bad idea to give Tzuyu your address as they lightly tap on the screen to tell her where you live. 

You wait for a response but it never comes. You can see that Tzuyu has read the message though and decide to finally get some rest.

Sure enough, at 12:30 PM. the buzzer to your apartment goes off and a gentleman speaks through the intercom summoning you on behalf of one Miss Chou. Entering the sleek looking car with blacked-out windows, you quickly realize that this Tzuyu woman is from an entirely different world to the one you are used to. A white box is resting beside you and the driver instructs you to put it on. 

You open up the box and pull out a black satin mini dress. The texture of the item alone calls you broke but you also notice that whoever purchased the item forgot to remove the price tag. Your jaw almost hits the floor upon seeing that it’s worth more than three times your monthly salary. Again, you’re left to question whether any of this can possibly be real until the car suddenly comes to a stop. 

“I’ll step out now to let you change but please be quick. Miss Chou does not like to wait.” The driver says as he exits the vehicle.

You change into the dress as fast as humanly possible and exit also. You follow him through a set of doors into the stylish restaurant. This is no doubt be the cleanliest place you’ve ever eaten and worlds apart from the diner you’d regularly visit on your work breaks. Oh, how the other side lives you think.

“The table at the back, blue jacket. Enjoy.” The driver directs you towards a woman with her back facing you and hurriedly leaves. 

Your steps towards the table are hesitant and you can’t help but smooth out the new dress several times in fear you aren’t wearing it correctly or rather doing such a fancy item of clothing justice. When you finally reach the table where Tzuyu is seated you decide upon clearing your throat to gain her attention instead of sitting straight down. She stands to face you and her eyes scan over your entire body on the way up.

Even in high-heels, Tzuyu is still somehow towering above you both in height and demeanor. She’s elegant and graceful in her movements and you instantly feel self-conscious under her intense gaze. The pictures of her showed you that she is beautiful and yet here before you, they do not fully do her justice as she’s that and more. 

“Please, sit.” She motions you towards the chair opposite her own and waits for you to be seated until she herself does the same. “Thank you for joining me. I hope the dress is adequate enough, I had to guess your size based on your pictures. I wasn’t sure if it was something you’d like but it felt like a safe guess.”

“It’s beautiful, thank you.” She nods at your graciousness and moves to pick up one of the menus, when you go to do the same she grasps your hand and prevents you from doing so. 

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to order for both of us.” You drop your hand back to beside your lap and allow her to inform the waiter she’d like you to have her usual whilst she goes for filet mignon. “It’s by far the best dish, you won’t be disappointed.” 

However, when a lobster dish is presented before you, you can’t help but feel out of place. Tzuyu is quick to notice your confusion and fears she has in fact let you down before she’s even been able to present her plan for you to join her next week to you. 

“Is everything okay? Do you have an allergy? Is it not cooked to your standard?”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just, well… I’ve never eaten lobster before. I’m unsure of where to start.” A laugh lodges itself in Tzuyu’s throat with your words. “I’m glad you find my lack of fine-dining experience funny.” You roll your eyes annoyed at her clear arrogance. 

“I promise you, I am not laughing at you. I was once the same, I had no idea about any of this kind of stuff for a long time.” She offers you a genuine smile as she stands to move beside your seat to show you how to properly remove the flesh and what not to eat. “There you go, this stuff here is fine but this is the shell. Unless you wish to choke, stay clear of it.” 

Before you can truly think about it, words just begin flying out of your mouth after seeing such a kind action from by far the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever laid eyes upon.

“I have to ask, how come you’re using that app? If you don’t mind me saying, you’re a beautiful and charming woman. I don’t understand how you’re possibly single.” 

A more genuine and louder laugh exits Tzuyu’s mouth this time and for the first time, you can see that this is the real her and not the person she must try hard to present.

“Well, for a lot of years I struggled to see the appeal of commitment. I had plenty of companions to fill my spare time, however, none of them were ever the right for me. The position I’m hoping you will fill is somewhat different. As far as the women I have previously engaged with, I’d rather not show up to something like this with someone I have had casual sex with on my arm.”

Your face must be in a stunned state as Tzuyu continues to chuckle looking deeply into your eyes. Her honesty is weirdly refreshing and unsettling at the same time.

“I apologize if my bluntness surprises you, I just figure it’s best if we are both honest with each other here. In fact, that leads me to my next question,” She lightly brushes her mouth with a napkin before continuing. “Are you currently dating or meeting with anyone else from the application?”

Not willing to ruin the flow of honesty between the two of you, you tell Tzuyu that she is the first to reach out to you and that you wouldn’t be using the app if you were dating. She seems surprisingly happy with your answer though you’re unsure why. 

“That’s… good. I’d like it very much if you would keep it that way until I am sure that I no longer need your services. I don’t believe you will run in the same circles as those attending the event but I have to be sure.” You nod along not wishing to interrupt her thoughts. “Don’t worry, the event may be formal but I promise you the people attending will all be far too busy discussing themselves to bother you much. If you feel uncomfortable, simply tell me you need some fresh air and I will make sure to get you out of there.”

So far, Tzuyu is too good to be true. You will have to thank Nayeon and Sana for convincing you to sign-up for this app. 

“I will have another dress delivered to you in the morning with suitable shoes and accessories. Do you have a-” Tzuyu physically stops herself from finishing her question and curses to herself. “I will also send a stylist to take care of your hair, make-up and anything else you’re worried about.” 

“Are you sure all of this is necessary? I’m no one special Miss Chou.” The use of her family name stirs up a dark expression as Tzuyu’s eyes appear to be mentally undressing you. She shakes herself out of it before you can take notice of it. 

“Yes, you are. It may have been on short notice when I contacted you but quite frankly, you are a naturally beautiful person. I have seen plenty of attractive people within my life but none more so than you. Why do you think I have gone to all of this trouble thus far? I don’t just do this kind of thing for anyone. The majority of my relationships are a one-time thing that are not given the chance to progress further.” 

Once again, Chou Tzuyu has managed to confuse you. Your eyebrows have never felt so scrunched together quite as tightly as they are now. 

“What exactly are you saying?” is all you can whisper out in response.

“I’m saying that I’d like for you to attend this event with me. But, more importantly, I’d quite like it if you’d agree to do something like this with me more often. I will gladly pay you for your services tomorrow night in making me look good in front of a bunch of boring, old businessmen. Afterward, I’d like for you to allow me to date you. I can’t say that it will be an easy thing for either of us as I still very much so fear commitment, but I am hoping to learn, for you.” 

This time, you do pinch yourself to make sure everything you’re hearing is real and the stinging in your arm confirms you’re not currently dreaming. Your brain is running at a thousand miles-per-hour and struggling to formulate clear thoughts. 

“You do not need to answer now, attend the event with me. We can get to know each other whilst everyone else inflates their own ego. Then, we can see where things lead us. How does that sound?”

Truthfully, it sounds like a whirlwind, and yet you can’t help but agree.

“It sounds lovely.”

#twice #twice scenarios #twice reactions #girl group scenarios #kpop scenarios #chou tzuyu #tzuyu #twice tzuyu #fluff #kpop

[ofhoneyblood]

BRYCE ATLAS WINSLOW

pronouns: HE , HIM , HIS

age: THIRTY - EIGHT

species: HUMAN

nationality: IRISH , ITALIAN , AMERICAN

sexuality: PANSEXUAL / DEMIROMANTIC

sign: AQUARIUS SUN , LIBRA MOON , VIRGO RISING

occupation: OWNER & BOUNCER @ RED HOT PUSSY LIQUORS

+ traits: INVITING. FAIR. FUNNY. OPEN-MINDED. TOLERANT.

-- traits: GUARDED. DETACHED. DESPERATE. SELF-DESTRUCTIVE. 

faceclaim: MILO VENTIMIGLIA

soundscapes: HERE

aesthetic: HERE

yo yo you yo , it’s lydia ( yes , that’s my real name ) here with my noble beast bryce winslow ! i have had bryce as a muse longer than any other and it’s been literal years since i’ve written him so i’m extremely excited. this is the first time he will be milo though and i’m super hype to get things going ! i have headcanon after headcanon for him , so hit me up if you want to do something bc i am ready to do some shit !! again , i’m lydia ( or nary , nettle , snottie , etc. ) and i love a good name change , twenty five years old , pansexual demigirl ( she / her & / or they / them ) residing in the central timezone.

this is THIRTY-EIGHT year old BRYCE WINSLOW , the OWNER OF & BOUNCER AT RED HOT PUSSY LIQUORS BURLESQUE AND BOOZE who uses HE / HIM pronouns. he grew up in DUBLIN , IRELAND but came to pleasance in JULY 2006 ON HAPPENSTANCE AND TO RUN AWAY FROM HIS PAST and now enjoys spending his time at FOR KEEPS AND RED HOT PUSSY LIQUORS. BRYCE is written by LYDIA.

PERSONALITY

element: air ruling planet: uranus — planet of originality body part: ankles good day: communicative , original , open-minded , fair , logical , inviting , tolerant , funny bad day: guarded , detached , self-destructive , out-of-touch , irrational , desperate , lonely favorite things: dancing , teaching , team sports , anything with a cause or mission , independent films , working out , baths , animals , preserving plant life / flowers , reading least favorite things: injustice , drama queens , feeling isolated , owing money or favors , having to choose just one thing , personal questions , gossip , cigarette smoke secret wish: to experience total freedom how to spot him: a cute smile lighting up a tired face , quirky movements , tired eyes , long legs , big hands , flannel , old beat up truck where you’ll find him: backpacking or hiking , protesting , coaching a team , revolutionizing the industry he works in , the gym , red hot pussy liquors , alone at home , working on a project , taking a walk by northwood lake keywords: friendliness , eccentricity , teamwork , humanitarianism , technology , groups , avant-garde

first thing to know about bryce winslow is that he’s a free-spirit that prizes individuality and plays well on a team. he has been known to do things his own way , moving on a path different from everyone else’s. some call him eccentric , others appreciate his cutting-edge originality and authentic style.

one of the many ways that the irishman is a paradox ? he’s highly individualistic , but also an amazing team player. he might look like the fresh-faced guy next door on the outside , but inside he marches to his own beat. naturally popular , as he’s vibrantly social and loves to be among people , telling jokes and introducing thought-provoking conversation topics.

people truly do make his world go round , and he can become friends with the most random strangers. can be a bit of an alien — a little “ out there ” in his approach to different things. not that he cares about offending anyone ! loves a good casual connection , bryce can disengage as quickly as he connects. in fact , platonic pals sometimes get better treatment than romantic partners. 

while he can be a bit unsentimental on a one-on-one level , he can be moved to tears by the plight of animals , the environment or other social justice issues. yes , this big irishman is a bohemian at heart in some ways , but he also gets the job done. as a tenacious aquarius , he can be quite hardworking when he devotes himself to a goal. 

a competitive ( and lesser-known ) type a streak can emerge when he really wants something. nothing turns him on like progress , especially in the name of his grander ideals ! playing hard to get REALLY works on him lol

philanthropic and objective , bryce is in a lot of ways innovative and avant-garde. from experimental electronic music to community-oriented living , there’s nothing that this man hasn’t or won’t explore. as someone who loves being a part of a good group or team , bringing people together is also one of his specialties. 

intense bryce energy is cutting-edge , “ out there ” and even a little strange at times. a total nerd for all things futuristic , science fiction and wacky inventions. no topic is too cutting-edge with this irishman: extraterrestrials , stem cells , cloning , robots taking over the earth…yup , bryce will go there. 

while he likes to influence rebellion and detaching from reality ( c’mon bryce , back to earth ! ) , he likes to help others see possibilities they wouldn’t otherwise. the essence of his true energy is: community-oriented , original , open-minded , fair , logical , humanitarian , connecting , and inviting. 

the negative expression of bryce’s energy can be: guarded , detached , destructive , out-of-touch , irrational , and desperate.  reluctant to express emotions — the irishman prefers rational reasoning and cool-headed logic to the messy tapestry of the human feelings. 

one of his favorite authors is ayn rand , founder of the objectivist movement , and that’s pretty much all you need to know. objectivism has been a major influence on the libertarian movement , which has a real bryce flavor. it’s an organized system that also preserves individual freedom and limits government intervention. it’s very “ fringe ” and mainstream all at once , a fascinating paradox and something that really intrigues him.

playful gusts and a social butterfly whirlwind combines into a gale force of humanitarianism for all. bryce is a visionary , dreaming up quirky utopias and alternative realities that can shake up the status quo.  emotional detachment , unpredictable energy and rebellion are major factors in the irishman’s personality. not going to lie , he can be “ type a “ and totally quirky all at the same time ??

a stabilizer — the one who sets up a solid goal or foundation then starts building. bryce can take the enthusiastic idea that someone else sparks and craft it into something real. he picks up the ball when another passes it , running the distance to the goal. 

the trustworthy type who likes “ to-do ” lists and fancy titles. if a friend says , “ let’s go on vacation ! ” he’s already calling the travel agency , booking the tickets and hotel , and sending everyone a list of what to pack.

true believer in friendship and teamwork , so bryce tends to be more focused on a group than an individual. freedom is important to him , which is why he likes to keep things light on an interpersonal level. that way , he won’t feel bad about running off to the opposite corner of the world at a moment’s notice. 

at times , this nomadic strategy backfires , leaving him lonely and disconnected. in truth , the irishman is uncomfortable with too much intimacy. this free spirit belongs to the world and feels off-balance giving his considerable energy to just one person. 

while bryce’s friends get first-class treatment , family and lovers see a different side of him: moody , brooding , anxious and neurotic. he may pick one ( and only one ) person to open up to , getting attached to the point of obsession. 

learning to accept and express his emotions would help him avoid the massive freak outs and anger flashes that come from pretending everything’s cool when it isn’t. bryce appreciates a quirky or eccentric twist , enjoying colorful characters and people with counter cultural personalities.

BIOGRAPHY

bryce atlas winslow was born into a very straight lace , play by the rules , catholic family.  his father , matteo winslow , was an italian military man and his mother , deirdre winslow , was a cold irish homemaker. matteo was every bit the ‘ man of the family ’  and bryce grew up only answering to his father. deirdre would only every answer a question with ‘ ask yer da ’ or  ‘ dija’ ask yer da ? ’

she was a mostly spineless , god fearing woman that was afraid of her own shadow and that’s what made her such a good puppet for matteo. bryce’s father was a stern , angry man that only grew angrier when drunk , no one dared put even a single toe out of line with him around. 

( TW: implied child abuse ) with bryce being the first born and only son he was expected to be perfect , from a very young age he felt the pressures of that. it was like walking on eggshells , always afraid of making a mistake or displeasing his father. he did not have the fun , happy-go-lucky innocence a child should expect of their early years ; instead for bryce winslow there was not much more than discipline , hard work , and punishment.

for the most part , bryce succeeded at being the perfect son his father expected him to be — a robot more than an actual living boy. nothing more than a machine , a machine being bred for war. 

it wasn’t until the beginning of his secondary school , when puberty and hormones began blossoming , that things became precarious. voice cracks , uneven patches of hair…. oh , and a sudden sexual desire for the same sex. 

( TW: suicide ment. ) now , the winslows were catholic - extremely devout catholics - and bryce grew very self-loathing and afraid in this confusing time. he contemplated suicide , all because ‘ homosexuality was wrong ‘ and ‘ you go straight to hell ‘ if you engage in anything associated with it. it didn’t matter how good of a son you were , because ‘ man shall not lie with man. ‘  he kept it hidden for years , he also managed not to act on it until well into the last year of secondary school. 

despite bryce’s fears and shame , when he was sixteen he fell in love for the first time. first loves can be explosive , dangerous even and this one was nothing short of just that. the boy kept his forbidden love a secret from everyone , his family and father above all others.

all good things must come to an end though or so they say , for the boys it came far sooner than later. matteo , bryce’s father , happened upon a note from the boy bryce was seeing , cian , and in said note was all sorts of information including a meeting spot. as you can imagine , matteo flew from the house in a drunken rage in search of his “ sinner “ of a son only to catch him red-handed. 

( TW: assault , child abuse ) bryce managed to save cian from his father’s wrath , taking the brunt of the attack. cian watched as bryce was beaten , begging and screaming for the man to stop , that he was killing him. the drunken bigot was turning on the younger boy when bryce told him to leave and never come back , so that is what he did. 

( TW: implied abuse ) to this day , he has never laid eyes on his young lover and that was probably for the best. after his father had tired himself out and satisfied his rage , he left his son there in the dirt and the beaten boy didn’t bother moving. 

( TW: suicidal thoughts , conversion therapy ment. ) will to live depleted , too tired to go on , pain too much to endure — he just slept there until the next morning. he was awoken with a kick of dirt in the face , his father telling him that he was being sent to a ‘’ special ’’ facility where they would get rid of his ‘’ ailment. ’’ 

( TW: conversion therapy / facility ) time melded in the facility , but he estimated nearly a year of his life was wasted away in there. resistant and defiant for most of his time there , it wasn’t until his father visited him , the one and only time . that things changed. 

( TW: suicide ment. , homophobia ) his father brought news that his mother had killed herself but this was a vicious lie , a last ditch effort to get bryce to change his ways and boy , did it work ! hardly a month later , the young man was discharged from the facility only to find his mother was indeed very much alive.

matteo up and moved his entire family to england after bryce got out of the facility. his father gave him nonsense about wanting to get away from the bad memories , starting over new , and ‘ lead not into temptation ‘ by sending him back to school with ‘ sinners ’ and ‘ sodomites. ‘ 

so , bryce finished out the remainder of his schooling in england and went straight into the forces as per his father’s wishes. sadly for him , he would never become what he so longed to be. he had just finished boot camp and life had just started to seem somewhat normal - if you can call anything the winslow’s had normal - when he lost it all.

( TW: eye injury ) the young man was honorably discharged after an accident that left him legally blind in one eye , when he returned home after his short stent in the defense forces there was no longer a place in the family for him. his father quite literally disowned him all for something he had no control over , a mere accident , but there was nothing more disappointing to matteo than a son that was ‘ kicked out ‘ of the forces.

( TW: gang ment. , human trafficking ) fast forward a year , bryce had found himself in a gang. this part of his background is the most unresolved seeing as it’s not part of his original backstory. long story short , he was involved with the gang until he was twenty three but it all became too much for him after his boss tried to involve him in human trafficking. 

( TW: gang ment. , suicide , death ) when you join a gang you don’t usually do it thinking someday you might one day retire or quit said gang , but then as you get older you realize you’re not as tough as you thought. bryce was twenty-three when his mother finally really did ‘ commit suicide ‘ , the first time his father spoke to him since he returned home from the forces was only to blame him for her death. 

( TW: death ment. , implied murder ) honestly , it was just the straw that broke the camels back. bryce wasn’t allowed at the funeral or anywhere near it , he’s almost certain his mother’s death wasn’t by her own hand or an accident but he’ll never truly know. after he was certain she was in the ground , bryce fled to america in the hopes of outrunning the gang and getting lost in the melting pot. 

once in the land of opportunity , he got his hands on the cheapest ride he could find first and just started driving. it was well after his twenty-fourth birthday , right smack in the middle of a hot ass summer in ‘06 ,  that he found himself in pleasance of all places. he never had any intention at all to grow roots there , it simply happened.  

other than that , the man busies himself with drying and preserving flowers , taking baths , working out , and playing with his dog.  he parades around like this big , tough hard ass when in reality he’s quite the domestic goofball type.

ETC.

has a dog ,  it’s a beagle named shiloh literally 

a big hobby of his is preserving flowers in his spare time , he keeps a small book of pressed flowers and plant life on him a lot of the time in the chance he comes across something he wants to preserve

can play guitar and doesn’t have a bad singing voice either

legally blind in one eye , but doesn’t wear his glasses often

has a younger sister that he does keep in contact with , but not very well ( WC ? )

a guilty pleasure of his is taking baths ; he enjoys adding bath salts , flowers , and other so-called ‘ feminine ‘ products like bath bombs , etc. to them and honestly takes one nearly every day

he was born and raised mostly in dublin , ireland and has a thick accent that only gets thicker when intoxicated or angry. he does use a lot of uncommon terminology to american’s ( yes , i own the feckin’ book of everything irish. . . it’s that serious ) but i’ll lyk in the tags what it means unless i forget

@phqextras​

#DOSSIER. #phqintro #phqextras #am i doing this right ? #idk

[puddygeeks]

Wᴇ Cᴏᴍᴇ Rᴜɴɴɪɴɢ - Tʜᴇ 100 Bᴇʟʟᴀᴍʏ x OC - Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 20: Cʜᴀᴏs Iɴ Cᴀᴍᴘ

Masterlist

Episode: Day Trip

Rating: Mature

Summary: During her time in the Skybox, Indigo formed a precious friendship with fellow outcast Octavia Blake, the girl under the floor. At first they thought their departure from the oppression of the Ark was a blessing, but quickly came to rely on Indigo's keen survival instincts. The 100 struggle to meet the challenges of Earth whilst Bellamy strives to lead the wavering teenagers and his irresponsible attitude fuels constant conflict with Indigo. Their only shared interest is in protecting Octavia and Indigo beings to suspect that there is a deeper cause to Bellamy's seemingly irrational choices. As the consequences of his actions mount up around him, he finally begins to confide in her and she discovers more than she ever bargained for. 

Fandom: CW’s The 100

Pairing: OC x Bellamy Blake

LONG TERM ONGOING PROJECT :)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Mature content. Non-consent, language, sex, self harm, suicide, anxiety, helplessness, torture, captivity/confinement, alcohol/drug use.

Chapter Twenty

Although it was crowded and the atmosphere was still tense from the storm, I was pleased to return to a solid structure for the night. Octavia and I bundled up some supplies in a corner and after some persuasion, she agreed to stop obsessively guarding the grounder and to actually try to get some sleep. It was hard for either of us to relax, especially when I saw Bellamy head up the ladder for his turn watching our prisoner as Octavia dozed on my shoulder. I was starting to feel the strain of worrying about the Blake siblings; any time I was busy with one of them I could almost guarantee that the other was getting into trouble. I barely managed a few brief cat naps throughout the night despite my exhaustion. Instead, I was one of the first up and about in camp working on repairs in the morning. 

In my time here I’d already become quite efficient at sewing and so I was quickly assigned to repairing the damaged tents. I had a brief cheeky visit from Jasper and Monty on their way back from their successful foraging adventure to offer me some nuts that they’d found. I declined the food, feeling too stressed to eat and I promised to join them for a proper meal later on. I settled into a quiet corner near the edge of camp to work and enjoyed the peace of the alone time. After spending time on the Ark living isolated in a cell, I realised that it was a challenge for me to adjust to the constant presence of so many people. I keep my mind from wandering over what trouble Bellamy and Octavia could have gotten into by now and instead reassured myself that both of them tend to make a big enough scene for me to notice. I spent a couple of relaxing hours sewing and watching the bustling activity of the camp as people woke and were assigned to various tasks. We’d managed to assemble a food line with people organising portions into neatly packed rations so that we could keep track of our supply levels.

I noticed several people heading over to the area where we’d been keeping prisoners and I watched their activity with interest. I assessed that they carried enough supplies to indicate that repairs needed to be done to the makeshift cells we’d created and I wondered where they would put the two attackers whilst they rebuilt. I continued sewing as I waited anxiously for someone to escort the two men past, but no such movement happened. After a while, more assistants arrived with shovels and two large sheets filled with a human shape were carried past me to the gate. I overheard the people who hauled them out discussing how glad they were that the storm had only killed the rapists of camp and I was relieved to hear that no one else had been hurt. I was conflicted on whether it was appropriate to feel no sadness at the death of two members of our camp, as I knew in my gut that I would have argued against killing them for their crimes. I decided to allow myself to feel relieved that the decision on what to do with them had been taken out of our hands and I tried not to feel guilty about it. Once I’d accumulated a pile of repairs, I made my way back into the fray and took them to add to the pile of fixed items that were waiting to be set back up in camp. As I organised the pile, Clarke approached me with a nervous manner and I struggled not to roll my eyes. 

“Hey Indigo, I couldn’t find you earlier. I don’t know if anyone’s told you yet but we’ve got video contact up and running with the Ark. They’re sending all the families in for a chat so if you’ve got anyone to contact-”

“Nope, my only family is down here.” I cut her off abruptly, not wanting to engage in personal conversation. I was honestly still frustrated with her for getting swept up in the torture last night, but I was too exhausted to confront her for her part in it right now. “Anyway, I’ll go back to the orphan corner. The Ark’s quite good at creating us, I’m sure it’ll be crowded in no time.” I spat coldly as I stormed away from her.

I returned to my sewing and tried not to be bitter as I watched people being called to the tent one by one for time with their families. I struggled not to picture my mother and when I failed, I imagined what she would look like now. My mind filled with images of her, the warm tone of her short auburn hair, her fair skin always a fawn white coated in hundreds of tiny amber freckles. It was one of the most beautiful, fascinating things about her to me, the little sporadic pattern on her skin that sadly never passed to me. I remembered the blue lagoon of her eyes, glistening with a multitude of hypnotising shades and if you paid enough attention, a miniscule ring of hazel right around the pupil. I saw them every time I looked in the mirror and it was still haunting for me even years later. It was only worsened by the fact that my eyes never sparkled like hers had in her happier years, in the memories of her that I cherished most desperately. Instead, mine were dulled and depthless, the same way hers looked after years of pain and suffering endured at the hands of the guard who destroyed both of our lives. The eyes that I inherited from my mother were a constant reminder of the state that she had been in the last time I ever saw her and I suspected it was a large cause of the self loathing I felt whenever I dared to look into a mirror. I was relieved to be pulled from my thoughts by the sound of footsteps nearby and I glanced up to see Clarke and Bellamy making their way out of camp. I casually approached them, trying not to show my concern and Bellamy seemed relieved as he saw me. 

“Hey, you heading out?” I asked with an interested look as I noticed the supplies they both carried.

“Yeah, the Ark mentioned some supplies nearby so we’re going to scout it out.” Clarke replied, whilst Bellamy watched me with a tense air about him that seemed to come from nowhere.

“Oh, well that’s promising. You sure you’re okay with just the two of you? I can back you up if needed?” I offered earnestly, but as Clarke opened her mouth to answer Bellamy abruptly cut her off.

“No I need you here.” He spoke firmly and I stared at him in confusion. He glanced over to Clarke reluctantly, then took my arm and walked me slightly further from her, lowering his voice. “Look, I appreciate you coming after me last night and I’ve been thinking about what you said. I will try to trust Octavia more, you have my word on that. But for now, I trust you. Can you keep an eye on her for me?” His expression was deeply serious, more so than the situation warranted and I felt like there was something more to his request that he wasn’t sharing with me.

“Of course I can.” I answered, considering him suspiciously. “Is there something else going on Bellamy?” I asked in a vain attempt to encourage him to be honest with me.

“No, I just…” He trailed off unconvincingly and I raised a brow at him. “I’m on edge with that grounder in camp. I’m trying to trust her not to do anything stupid, but if I’m honest, I’m expecting it. Just...tell me that you’ll keep her safe for me?” His eyes were strangely intense and he still gripped me tightly as he spoke.

“You know that I will.” I breathed with a confused tone, feeling nerves settling in my stomach as I assessed him. “So you just make sure that you come back safe, deal?” I replied, compelled to reassure myself that he would be coming back as I embraced the feeling that something was wrong. He didn’t answer me, turning to walk away without even a nod of acknowledgement. I grabbed his arm firmly to stop him from leaving. “Bellamy, I mean it. Be careful out there, please?” I added, my words quickly fading from assertive to pleading. He nodded reluctantly but it did nothing to relieve my fear. I watched him and Clarke make their way out of camp with a knot in my stomach and I had to force myself to return to the dropship instead of staying there to wait for their return.

As I entered the ship and searched around for Octavia, I wasn’t at all surprised to find her anxiously waiting on the second floor, under the hatch where the grounder was being held. I was walking toward her when Connor pushed past to bang on the hatch and yell up. 

“Hey Miller, Roma’s parents are waiting for you on the radio.” He called before turning on his heel to walk straight out without waiting to see if he had been heard.

My stomach lurched at the mention of her name but I tried to concentrate on the task at hand. From Connor’s words, it sounded like they were about to leave the grounder unguarded and I could already feel Octavia desperately staring at me. I diverted my path to avoid looking suspicious and fiddled with some supplies in an attempt to look busy. Fortunately Octavia understood my strange move and she quickly did the same on the other side of the space as we tried to look casual whilst Miller made his way down the ladder and stomped outside. Octavia immediately dashed to the ladder and I ran over to meet her. 

“Hey, Bellamy’s out of camp so I’ll try to keep the goons out of your hair. I’ll give you as long as I can but please don’t do anything reckless. I know you trust him and I’m on your side that this whole thing is wrong but you still need to be careful. Don’t let your guard down. Now go.” I rambled in a hurry, before practically pushing her up the ladder to speed her up. I knew in my gut that Bellamy would be furious with me if he knew what I’d just done, but our methods of protecting Octavia were different and I found that allowing her to make her own decisions and mistakes was working well for me so far. She was growing, which she needed to do in an environment like this and I maintained her trust. In my mind, it was most important that she always continued to trust me with her problems so that I could help when she got herself into trouble, instead of sneaking around behind my back like she did with Bellamy. I waited nervously on the spot whilst Octavia was upstairs and I expected to run into trouble at any moment. It wasn’t long at all until it came. Miller approached the ladder with a furious expression and I steeled myself for a conflict. 

“Miller, how were Roma’s parents? I can’t imagine that as an easy conversation to have. If it helps I can speak to them? I was with her when…” I trailed off, unsure of what else to say. I wasn’t even sure if what I’d offered would be of any help at all, and felt guilty for even trying to use it as a distraction.

“No Indigo, that wouldn’t help at all. Now get out of my way, I need to get back to guarding the piece of shit whose friends are killing us.” He spat, pushing past me. I jumped back in front of him to try to block him and he looked up at the hatch in frustration. “Oh goddammit, Octavia is up there again isn’t she? Will you two ever give it a fucking rest with getting in the way?” He growled and I shifted awkwardly. I was disappointed that I hadn’t been able to think of a better distraction and instead had to resort to reasoning with him.

“Come on Miller, she’s not doing any harm and Bellamy isn’t even here. She’s just treating him like a human being.” I answered in an attempt to diffuse the situation and I already felt in my gut that I was wasting my time as he viewed me with disgust.

“What about our people, the ones they killed? You think they treated them like fucking human beings?” He spat as he continued to try to get to the ladder, but I remained in front of him to block it.

“We don’t even know if he had anything to do with that. We don’t know anything about Earth, we didn’t even expect there to be people here! We can’t hold one man responsible.” I argued, trying to reason with him despite his growing anger. I couldn’t tell which of us would lose our temper first as he looked down on me and I felt my stomach turning in frustration.

“Get out of my fucking way Sloan! Bellamy isn’t here to shield you today, don’t fucking test me!” He growled, attempting to pull me out from the ladder but instead I instinctively pushed him away from me and held my ground.

In an explosion of anger he swung at me; his fist collided with my jaw and caused me to stumble back. True to my assurance to Bellamy that I could protect myself, I rammed into Miller, tackling him at his waist and splayed him out on the floor. I pulled my arm back to punch him but before I could complete the movement I was interrupted by frantic yelling as Jasper stumbled into the space. 

“Octavia! Indigo! Octavia!” His tone of blind panic caused me to let go of Miller and instead of continuing my assault, I jumped to my feet. As I did this, the hatch opened and Octavia frantically started climbing down.

“Jasper, what’s wrong?” I asked worriedly and as his gaze fell on me, he rushed over to my side. I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see that Miller was back on his feet and that he was in the process of reaching up to violently pull Octavia from the ladder. I felt my temper combust inside my chest and I turned on my heel, throwing all of my weight behind the punch that met his face like a bulldozer. Miller collapsed onto the ground unconscious and I shook my hand with a grimace.

“Fuck, Indigo, that was extreme!” Octavia breathed as she viewed me with a hint of amusement and I shrugged back. “Jasper, are you alright?” She asked as she gently placed a comforting hand on him in concern.

“I...I think I’m going crazy.” He spat as he reached out with a desperate grip on her shoulders. “Or the grounders are here, or I’m going crazy!” His voice was frantic and terrified and I raised my brows in surprise. Octavia gently released herself from his grip and she began to lead him to the entrance to the dropship. 

“Okay, just slow down.” She breathed, encouraging him to match her relaxed pace. “Just tell me what you saw.” As they reached the entrance and gained a view of the camp, Jasper seemed to hyperfixate on one point with wide, horrified eyes. I approached them, standing at his other side from Octavia and I watched him closely. 

“Him!” He whispered, his voice trembling as he pointed to an empty spot. Although it was obvious to us that he was pointing at nothing, the conviction in which he stared out and pointed insistently caused me to become concerned.

“Jasper, there’s no one there.” Octavia replied firmly as she tried to take control of the situation. 

“He’s right there!” Jasper yelled wildly back, finally losing control of his panic and I jumped at the sudden change in his demeanor. “We have to run, we have to run, why isn’t anyone doing anything-” He grabbed Octavia and tried to pull her but she dug her heels into the ground in resistance. I grabbed his arm to keep him with us and he stared at me in shock.

“Jasper! Are you on something?” Octavia asked and was unable to keep the annoyance from her tone any longer.

“Stay calm with him Tavi. He might be having a trauma flashback.” I spoke softly and slowly, as Jasper watched me with an expression that showed that he wasn’t really seeing me. He turned back to face Octavia with a slightly calmer manner, but instead I could sense a hint of slurring in his words.

“I love you.” He stated, causing us both to raise our brows in surprise. “And I just want you to know that we’re all gonna die soon, okay? I love you.” He rushed his words but also tried to cram food into his mouth at the same time. Octavia grabbed his hand midway to his mouth and revealed the nuts that he and Monty had offered me earlier. 

“Is this all you’ve eaten today?” She questioned, fixing him with a serious expression as I watched with a feeling of dread as I recognised them.

“It is but who the hell cares now?” He breathed, waving his arms around in a dramatic fashion and I had to stifle a snigger at his out of character behaviour.

“You’re totally bombed.” She sighed, glancing over at me for assistance and I looked back at her with concern as I shook off my amusement.

“Him and Monty offered those to me this morning when they found them.” I clarified as I met her eyes and she looked back at me with relief. “How many other people in camp did they give them to?” I asked, glancing around with a knot in my gut and her eyes widened as she realised the implications.

“I don’t know but we need to find out, fast. For now we need to deal with him before he causes a panic.” Octavia whispered, indicating to Jasper who was now hyperventilating and causing quite a scene. She stepped outside by just a few steps and I had to grip his arm to keep him from following her. She picked up a fallen branch and returned just inside the ship to hand it to him purposefully. “Here buddy, take this.” She breathed and I sensed a hint of sarcasm in her voice despite her best efforts to conceal it.

“It’s a stick?” He questioned as he took it and stared at her in bewilderment.

“No, this is an anti grounder stick.” She argued in a forced tone and I struggled not to snort at her prosperous plan. “So as long as you hold this and you sit right here, grounders won't be able to see you. See?” She spoke softly and encouraged him to take a seat inside the dropship.

“Yeah, that makes sense. I’ll just stay right here.” Jasper nodded, settling into his seat and accepting her lie far easier than I’d anticipated. Octavia looked at me and rolled her eyes, and I had to stifle a giggle. I was sympathetic for Jasper; he’d been through so much since we got here that I thought he was doing incredibly well to still even be functioning.

“I’m gonna do the rounds of camp and just check no one else is freaking out.” I stated as I glanced out at the seemingly calm space anxiously and Octavia nodded in agreement.

“Good idea. You take one side, I’ll take the other and we’ll meet back here.” She answered and I smiled at her responsibility.

I stuck my head into multiple tents and everyone on my side seemed to still be their normal selves. From what I could tell, people were still efficiently working on their duties. After checking most of my side, I decided to find Monty and I hoped that he’d be in a better state than Jasper had gotten himself into. When I entered their tent, I found Monty laid flat out in a pile of sleeping bags and staring up at the ceiling of the tent with a fascinated expression. 

“Hey Monty, are you good in here?” I asked gently as I stepped properly into the space and surveyed him. He turned to face me with a dosy smile and widely dilated eyes. 

“Hey, it’s the pretty girl!” He answered cheerfully and I chuckled under my breath at his strange demeanour.

“So, I’ve just been chatting with Jasper and he was telling me about the nuts you found in the forest this morning.” I approached slowly and sat beside him. I was careful not to startle him after Jasper’s earlier panicky behaviour and worried that I could inadvertently spiral him into a similar state.

“Oh the nuts! Yeah, they’re super good, they’re so tasty, I think they might be the best thing I’ve eaten since I got here.” He raved, smiling widely at me. “You should make sure you get some.” He added and I knew that baiting him would be easier than I had anticipated.

“You know, I really want to try them, they sound amazing. But everyone liked them so much that no one will share with me.” I said coyly, and his face fell into a profoundly sad expression as he considered my words. I struggled not to snigger at his dramatic reactions.

“What?! That’s so greedy! I’ll share with you pretty girl.” He smiled, pulling a small supply of the nuts from his pocket and handing them to me without any resistance. “It’s not much, but those are all I have left.” He admitted and I was warmed by his kindness.

“Thanks Monty, you’re the best.” I replied, forcing a wide smile back at him in an attempt to not be suspicious. The effects of the nuts seemed to be different on Monty, maybe because he hadn’t endured quite as much trauma as Jasper, or maybe he was usually a chilled, happy drunk. I reflected on what he’d been arrested for, and decided I wouldn’t be surprised if the latter was the case. 

“Oh you’re welcome Indie! I’ll always share with you. You’re nice, and cool, and pretty. So pretty. Did you know that? Bellamy doesn’t deserve you.” He rambled quickly in a slurred fashion.I struggled not to laugh now, wrinkling up my nose as I smiled at him. 

“Well it’s a good thing that Bellamy doesn’t have me then, isn’t it.” I replied earnestly as I appreciated his kind words, even if they were caused by blatant intoxication. “You know what Monty, you’ve done so well today gathering these delicious treats that I think you’ve earned a break. Why don’t you take a nap?” I suggested encouragingly as I got to my feet.

“Yeah, a nap sounds great. I love naps.” He smiled as he shuffled himself into a comfortable position and quickly dozed off. I smiled at his peaceful form resting in a self hugging pose before I crept out of the tent. I made my way back to the dropship and found Octavia waiting for me. 

“Hey, just so you know Miller’s back up and being a dick as usual.” She groaned in annoyance and I rolled my eyes. “He went straight back up there to guard Lincoln-I mean the grounder.” She added before dropping her gaze to her feet.

“Please tell me you haven’t named him? He’s not a puppy and no you can’t keep him.” I stated firmly, with only a small hint of playfulness. I hoped for a laugh but instead she stared back at me in an awkward manner.

“No, that’s his name. He told me.” She lowered her voice to a whisper to divulge this information and I froze to the spot in shock. 

“You said he didn’t speak English?” I asked in a hiss as I felt unnerved by this revelation.

“I didn’t think he could, but turns out he can.” She replied casually and I got the impression that she didn’t understand the gravity of this discovery. I stared back at her in horror, as I remembered how much of the conversation between Bellamy and I had been in front of the prisoner. I desperately struggled to think whether I had said anything that could endanger Bellamy if it were to get out and felt my heart hammering as I considered it. 

“Jesus, Octavia, did you tell him anything?” I grilled her with more aggression than intended and she seemed to be confused as she stared back at me.

“No, of course not, he didn’t want to know anything. I just told him I was sorry about what happened.” She explained and I could tell that she was insulted in the way that she spoke. “How was your side of camp anyway? Any more freak outs?” She asked in a crude attempt at changing the topic. I sighed but allowed her to guide me, as the nuts situation was a more pressing issue.

“No, everyone’s pretty normal, except for Monty who’s totally baked. But I took what he has left so at least he’ll start coming down.” I answered in a matter of fact manner. “Your side?” I questioned nervously.

“No weirdness at all, maybe Jasper and Monty just ate too many?” She thought aloud and I shrugged back at her. I was hopeful that she was right, as I couldn’t imagine the chaos we’d be met with if these had made their way around camp.  “Raven and Finn haven’t come out of their little love den so they should be fine.” She added with a hint of bitterness and I fixed her with a scrutinising look. 

“Did you check them?” I asked, eying her suspiciously. She avoided my gaze, shifting awkwardly and I sighed deeply in disappointment. I understood why she didn’t want to be around Raven, but I trusted her to be more mature considering the circumstances. “Fine, I’ll deal with Raven. Don’t do anything whilst I’m gone.” I added as I stepped away from her. She cleared her throat and I paused to turn to face her again. “Unless...you already did something?” I asked hesitantly. She looked incredibly guilty now and was barely even facing my direction any longer. “Octavia, what did you do?” I hissed in annoyance. I knew her too well for her act to fool me and I could tell from her face that there was something she was trying to hide.

“Nothing!” She exclaimed defensively. I raised a brow at her and she quickly crumbled. “Nothing undeserved.” She added with a coy smile and I felt my stomach lurch at her wording. “I may have had a part in ensuring that Miller got his rations.” She smiled and I groaned loudly as I understood that she had drugged him with the nuts. “Look, I’m just saying, if the guards were too high to keep an eye on him then it would be easy for him to just accidentally escape.” She explained her logic and I stared at her in disbelief. 

“I just...what?” I stuttered weakly as I processed her words. “I know I agreed with you that he should never have been brought here, or tortured, and I have absolutely no intention of allowing anyone to execute him, but we can’t seriously be talking about letting him go?! That’s a huge risk Octavia, you don’t know him, what are you going to do if he comes back with an army?” I ranted as I felt the nerves brewing in my stomach. As I was in the middle of glaring at her, I realised that she was looking over my shoulder and I turned to see a commotion growing in the camp. It seemed that the effect of the nuts had simply taken a while to kick in as people were now starting to behave strangely all over the camp. “Shit, we’ve got bigger problems right now, I can’t talk to you about this just yet. I know you have drama with Raven and I get it, but Finn is injured and still very early in his recovery, so I need to make sure he’s not high as a kite and busting open his stitches because you dumped your responsibilities over a grudge. Stay here, and don’t do anything reckless whilst I deal with this, and we’ll talk about it when I get back.” I spoke quickly, allowing my tone to convey my stress before I rushed to Raven and Finn’s tent.

It was a struggle to even make it through the chaos of the camp. I was stopped several times by random people in varying states of confusion and panic. I struggled to part from each of them as I worried over reaching the person who I felt was most vulnerable. When the tent finally came into view, I could hear raised voices from inside. I quickened my pace to deal with the conflict and saw Monty stumbling out of the residence.

“Monty, what are you doing? I thought you were having a nap?” I asked frustratedly as I caught sight of him. I couldn’t believe that the one person I thought I’d dealt with was already back out and causing trouble. He turned to face me with an overly cheesy smile and I scrutinised him with an unimpressed manner. 

“Oh hey Indie! Well I was trying to have a nap but the tides kept interrupting me so I need to find the moon so that I can change the tide.” He explained in a manner that was so articulate that it was almost believable. I stifled a laugh as I assessed that even whilst drunk Monty was trying to solve problems and studying things in his scientific mind. I smiled at him fondly as I formed a plan to get him out of the way without having to scold him. 

“Oh, the moon?” I replied in a fascinated tone. “You know I just saw it heading into your tent, but if you go in there you’ll have to close your eyes so you don’t get blinded by it. So maybe lie down with your eyes closed whilst you talk to it.” I made up whatever I could think of on the spot and waited anxiously to see if Monty believed me. Although he was intoxicated, I doubted that he had become any less intelligent and I worried that he would see through me.

“You’re a genius!” He smiled eagerly and I let out a breath that I didn’t even realise I was holding. He gave me an exaggerated high five before running excitedly in the direction of his tent. Raven stepped out of her tent, pulling on her jacket and looked around. 

“What the hell is going on?” She asked as she surveyed the chaos that surrounded us with confusion.

“Monty and Jasper found some nuts earlier that seem to be hallucinogens. Everyone's losing their shit.” I explained, watching closely for any strange behaviour from her. “Did either of you eat any?” I asked to confirm that she wasn’t going to fool me as the rest of camp had.

“No, thank god.” She breathed, widening her eyes as someone ran past bare chested and waving their shirt in the air like a flag. “I was with Finn so didn’t collect any rations.” She replied, rubbing her head in a stressed manner. “Does the pressure ever stop here?” She groaned as she met my eyes with an exhausted face. I was surprised to find that her tone was the same as it had been before she brutally tortured the grounder and then tried to fight me.

“No, welcome to Earth, the bullshit is constant.” I spoke coldly, no longer able to bond with her as I had over Finn’s unconscious state. I couldn’t pretend that last night hadn’t happened and I didn’t have the time to deal with the aftermath just yet. “Now, we’ve got around 90 dellusional teenagers to keep alive, so we’re gonna need every set of hands we can get.” I requested and Raven sighed deeply, sticking her head back into the tent.

 “Scratch that, get out here.” She spoke into the tent before straightening back up. 

“Thank you. If you could start gathering any stragglers at the edge of the camp and bring them back in that would be great. Octavia and I will gather the ones near the dropship.” I instructed and Raven immediately nodded in agreement.

As I approached the dropship I witnessed Octavia creeping back in with supplies bundled in her arms. I broke into a jog to catch her up and I could tell that she hadn’t spotted me nearing her. I cleared my throat just before I fell into step beside her and she jumped in response.

“What are you doing?” I spoke firmly and she turned to face me like a deer caught in headlights. I studied the items that she was carrying and easily identified some clothes and rations. I surveyed her with a mixture of disappointment and disbelief. I’d barely been gone for ten minutes and I couldn’t believe that she’d made such a dramatic decision in that time. “I said we’d talk about this. Are you really sneaking around to do this behind my back?” I asked with a hurt tone as I met her eyes. For a moment, she looked genuinely remorseful, but she quickly flipped to defensive behaviour. 

“Oh right, of course.” She breathed, squinting at me with annoyance. “You say we’ll talk about it and you expect me to just sit and wait whilst our best chance of getting him out of here is passing us by?! We’re not going to have a better opportunity than this, ever!” She spat and I was surprised to find her pressuring me at such an impossible time.

“Yes, it’s our best chance to free him, but how do we know that freeing him is the right thing?” I asked and she rolled her eyes. I dropped to a scolding tone to try encourage her to realise the seriousness of the conversation and I felt more like I was parenting a bratty child than discussing something with my best friend. “It’s a risk Octavia, what will we do if he comes back with an army of grounders? Will you still feel so justified in your decision when they are killing us in front of you?” I pressed back, in an effort to make her understand the gravity of the decision we needed to make.

“That’s not going to happen! He saved my life!” She argued and I half expected her to stomp her feet as she spoke in an indignant tone.

“Don’t be fucking naive! You don’t know him!” I yelled back as I lost my temper with her ridiculous behaviour. “He may have saved you, but then he chained you to a wall like a fucking pet.” I jabbed and I saw the flicker of offence crossing her face.

“If I’m wrong and he has an army of grounders, they are going to come looking for him! If we let him go, maybe he’ll show us mercy in return.” She suggested and I scoffed at her. “You need to ask yourself this: when Bellamy comes back and we have to make a decision about what to do, how are you going to feel watching him get executed, knowing that you could have saved his life?” She reasoned and I paced around in an attempt to manage the stress that she was piling on me. I knew that we had little time to make a decision one way or another, but I couldn’t judge which option was the most sensible. After all of my time preaching about survival skills and being tactical, I didn't know the answer. “Indigo, sometimes you have to take a chance and have faith in people. I have faith in Lincoln, I can feel in my gut that this is the right thing to do. Now I’m just asking you to trust me.” I stared at her in uncertainty, and my recent words to Bellamy repeated in my mind, much to my frustration. If there was one thing I never wanted to be, it was a hypocrite.

“Fine, fine!” I spat as I snapped under the stress. “But this is on you, this is your choice. Don’t make me regret this!” I added as I jabbed a finger at her and she nodded back thankfully. “You get him out, I’ll keep the few sober people distracted.” I instructed as I tried to form a plan within the limited time constraints. “Come and find me when he’s gone.” I sighed, furious at her for putting me in this position. 

#the100 #cw #oc #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #indigo #originalcharacter #bellamy blake #bellamy x reader #bellamy x oc #bellamy x you #bellamy blake fanfiction #bellamy blake the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #bellamy blake series #the 100 insert #the 100 rewrite #clarke griffin #octavia blake #raven reyes #finn collins #jasper jordan #monty green #lincoln #john murphy #wecomerunning

[milknette]

day 29 - band

i know that we belong, you are the music in me.

tumblr month: @auyeahaugust

links: ao3 | ff.net

ADRIEN gets an apartment in a strangely-named building called  Liberty .

It's not his first choice, of course; though his current life choices lead him to no other option.

Well, that's not quite fair: Chloé offers to let him stay at Le Grande Paris— "for free," she explains, "I'll just have to tell daddy he can't rent the penthouse anymore."

But the last thing he wants is to depend on someone else after finally getting his freedom, so all Adrien says is "thank you", and declines.

Marinette's kind enough to help him go apartment-hunting, but her quirky and all-around strange (but endearing!) personality leads her to recommend Adrien the strangest buildings and landlords in town.

Anarka Couffaine, the landlady of Liberty, is no exception.

(The opposite, if anything else.)

She's a huge personality for a woman her age— something that visibly throws him off-balance. Adrien's become all but too used to stiff and strict adults, monitoring his every word and movement to assure that he's at his perfect behavior at all times.

A woman who he can only really describe as loud: from the volume of her voice to her unique sense of clothing and visible love for (over)-accessorizing is not at all something he's used to.

"Welcome to Liberty!" She tells him, bursting with life and energy. "You must be Marinette's friend, then?"

He winces, then smiles awkwardly. "Yeah, it's Adrien Agreste…"

"Agreste!" She says in surprise, eyes widening almost cartoonishly. "You're that young model everyone's obsessed with nowadays, aren't you? I'm not sure why I didn't recognize your face earlier— one of my kids is absolutely head over heels for you."

He laughs, though it's more politeness than anything else. "I'm flattered," he starts, before shaking his head. "And I don't believe I'm as big of a deal as you said I was, but I did work as a model, way back when."

She raises an eyebrow. "Did?"

"It's just… it wasn't my true calling," he fumbles for the right words to say, unsure of how to word it properly (especially to someone he's only just met). "I wanted the freedom to choose my own path, so I left. Which is kind-of why I'm here, I guess…"

Anarka's smile turns kind, and she pats him comfortingly on the shoulder.

"A search for freedom, then," she repeats, before grinning brightly. "You've definitely come to the right place! Here in Liberty, our crew is filled with all kinds of individuals trying to find themselves; without the rules or strictness to keep anyone down. To be true to yourself, without any limitations! That's what I want this building to be; a home for those creative souls to fulfill their deepestdesires and potentials."

She continues on for a good minute in a lengthy speech about freedom and discovery, and Adrien's surprised to find himself listening with rapt attention.

Freedom to find himself?

That's exactly what he needs.

When she finishes her long spiel, Anarka is greeted with a genuine smile and a hand offered for her to take.

"I'd love to live here, if you'd have me."

She doesn't even hesitate, joyfully taking his arm and giving it a firm shake.

"Nice to have you on-board with us!"

.

.

Adrien doesn't have a lot of things to move in.

And there isn't that much space for things, in the first place.

The apartment is modest, with general provisions for all his basic necessities… and not much else. If he had to compare things to his old room, the apartment was only the tiniest bit larger than his personal basketball court— almost nothing compared to the entire third floor he owned back at home.

Yet, even with the small amount of physical space, Adrien has honestly never felt so free.

He settles down on the bed, then shuts his eyes.

It's been a tiring day, after all, and all he wants to do is rest.

So, he tries.

Until the unmistakable sound of a guitar twang echoes through the room.

Adrien gets up with a start, only belatedly realizing that the sound isn't coming from his own apartment.

It's coming from the apartment next door.

He tries to ignore it, placing the pillow around his ears to cover the noise.

But the notes keep on coming.

Twang. Twang. Twaaaaaaang.

Then a few chord progressions, a thoughtful pause, then twang again.

If Adrien cared to listen, he'd realize that the tune isn't all that bad.

But no, he's sleep-deprived and cranky and about ready to fight someone if he doesn't get his eight hours of beauty rest.

(He may not be a model anymore, but he still takes care of his skin and body religiously.)

The sounds suddenly stop, and Adrien heaves a relieved sigh.

Finally!

Then, the sound of someone plugging something in. A bump, static, then the unmistakable sound coming from an electric guitar.

Please, no.

The mysterious neighbor starts playing various notes and melodies, as Adrien helplessly tries to ignore it.

Needless to say, he doesn't get any sleep that night.

.

.

He tries to get in contact with Anarka the next day, but she tells him that she's not around.

Instead, she gets him into contact with his son.

"He usually takes care of business in Liberty while I'm not around," she explains through call. "He's pretty responsible, if I do say so myself. A good kid. So I'll give you his number and— Jagged, don't you dare— I'm sorry, I need to go, but I'll see you around, yeah? Luka's in my office, just knock on the door and he'll let you in— ohmygod are you SERIOUS— I have to go now, bye!"

Luka Couffaine, then?

He makes a note to remember it.

.

.

Adrien knocks on the door carefully, and after hearing a muffled, "come in", goes inside.

Only to be greeted by the most handsome man he's ever met.

(Which is saying a lot, because Adrien regularly used to work with models, but he— he is on his own league entirely.)

Casually leaning upon the desk, Luka is definitely the textbook definition of what would one find if they were to search for attractive male on the dictionary. He gives off a completely confident and mature atmosphere, which clashes with Adrien's own more childish and (to some extent) immature vibes. The landlady's son smiles at him, and Adrien can almost feel his cheeks threaten to burst from the sudden heat.

Is it hot in here, or is it just him?

Me.

The  weather .

He's spiraling.

"You must be Adrien Agreste, then?" He asks, voice smooth and husky and everything good all at the same time. "Our new tenant."

"Yeah."

Yeah. How intricate of you, Adrien.

Luka's smile grows wider. "So, adjusting to life here at Liberty okay? It can be hard for newbies the first few weeks," he pauses, then takes a moment to observe the overly-prim-and-proper posture of his conversational partner. "Some, more so than others."

He wants to protest, but can't quite get the words out.

Instead, he gives up.

"I— I have a concern."

"Hmm? What is it?"

"It's about my neighbor."

Luka pauses at the revelation, then smiles at him. "Ah, the one who lives in Room 202."

"Yes!" Adrien responds, almost a little too loudly. "Have you had problems with them before?"

He shrugs offhandedly, the smile still on his face. "He's caused his fair share of issues. What'd he do to you?"

He.

So, the musical maniac was a male.

"He won't stop playing! The whole night it was just twang twang twang, and I could barely even get any rest! You know, sleep is important; it ensures the body is prepared for the day and not to mention does absolute wonders for your skin—"

"So he ruined your beauty sleep?"

The younger boy huffs indignantly. "He ruined my regular sleep. I wouldn't mind him practicing in the morning or afternoon, but can he stop playing at night? It's two in the morning and I can still hear that damned melody in my head, like it's not even that good—"

"You don't think it's any good?"

Adrien's visibly thrown off by the sudden interruption. "I'm sorry?"

Luka repeats himself. "The melody? It wasn't good?"

"I, uh, I guess it was okay?" He corrects, unsure. "Speaking from a music theory perspective, the chord progressions blend together well, but it could be improved on…"

"What do you suggest?"

He's surprised to hear the seriousness in Luka's tone. "Uhm… maybe instead of hmmmhmmmhm, he could do hmmhmmhmhmmm?" Adrien pauses. "If that makes sense. But that's not my concern, my concern is—"

Luka repeats the tone to himself, then hums thoughtfully. "It does sound better."

"Yeah, but—"

"I need to go," the older boy suddenly says, getting up.

"Wait, but I still have an issue, so if you could…?!"

"Sorry," Luka smiles, turning back from the doorframe. "I'll be sure to relay your issue. But this is important, okay? I'll see you around!"

He almost runs out of the office, leaving Adrien to himself.

Like mother like son, then?

.

.

As Adrien readies to go back to sleep, he's ecstatic to find that there's no sound coming from the other apartment.

Thank you, Luka Couffaine.

He climbs to bed, shuts his eyes, then…

Knock.

Damn it.

Grumbling to himself, Adrien walks toward the door, then almost doubles over as he sees who's at the interest.

"Luka, what are you— I, is there any issue I can help you with?"

(Landlord, who?)

He laughs, then nods toward his apartment.

"Can I come in?"

"Uhm, I… why?"

(Rude, rude, why is he being so rude?)

Luka doesn't seem bothered.

Instead, he moves his arm to reveal something Adrien hadn't noticed at the start:

A blue-and-white electric guitar.

Oh, so he's a guitarist.

That's pretty attractive.

…

Wait.

"You're resident 202?!"

Luka nods, a hint of a smile still on his face.

"Yup. And I need your help."

"With what?"

"That melody," he starts casually. "You made it so much better. Want to hear?"

No, he does not want to hear. He wants the annoying guitar boy to leave his apartment and let him to go to sleep and—

Oh.

That actually sounds pretty good.

Luka hums along to the guitar, and Adrien pauses.

He's… not that bad.

Noticing his almost-smitten expression, Luka smiles. "Want to help me out with the rest of the song?"

The words escape Adrien's mouth before he even realizes it.

"Yes."

Huh.

"Wait… but on one condition."

Luka's eyes are almost smiling with him.

"Name it."

"No practicing in the evening."

"If you practice with me in the afternoon, then sure."

"… fine."

"Great!"

.

.

Working with Luka isn't easy. He's easily-distracted, gets lost in the music, and has a tendency to rely more on his feelings and instincts than objective fact and musical theory.

But his expressions come to life when he plays, and it's almost mesmerizing.

Adrien belatedly realizes that peace and quiet may be a little too boring, in the first place.

#auyeah2020 #mlauyeahaugust2020 #auyeahaugust #auyeah august #lukadrien #luka couffaine #adrien agreste #me NOT writing love square ??? #dang who are u #miraculous ladybug #milk writes #ml fic #ml fanfic #its not that great but o well TWO MORE PROMPTS PLS !!!!!!11!!1!!

[d3-iseefire]

Princess of Shadow Chapter 4

Bilba stood on the balcony of her grandfather's office and stared down over the plain separating Erebor and Dale. The armies surrounding the mountain had pulled back, allowing her to see the ground for the first time in what felt like ages. It should have filled her with a sense of hope, but all she felt was trepidation.

Her eyes went to the small pavilion that had been set up between Erebor's front gates and the invaders. From where she stood all she could make out was the faint shadowy movement of distant figures.

"I thought they'd be closer," she said, crossing her arms nervously. "Can the archers reach them from here?"

The words sounded so odd as she said them. It wasn't that she wanted anyone to be struck by an arrow, barbarian invaders or not. She just...wanted them to go away. Ingram said the archers were only there for effect, though, to make sure the armies stayed back while the hostages were brought inside.  

It would be fine, she told herself sternly. It'd work

Somehow.

Ingram stepped up behind her. “Are you ready, Princess?”

“No.” She suppressed a shiver. She’d stopped by her rooms to have Josie redo her hair and add her tiara and then touch up her makeup. She needed to appear her best if she was going to hope for any respect from whatever Durin had been sent to negotiate.

Her stomach churned, and she let out a slow breath. She hadn’t told Josie about what she was planning to do. She knew the other girl wouldn’t approve, and she was already anxious enough without having to listen to a list of how everything could go wrong.

She knew things could go wrong, but what other choice did they have? At least Ingram had a plan that didn’t involve simply giving up. She couldn’t stomach the thought of surrender. Not just because of the question of what would happen to her, but what would happen to everyone in the mountain? She doubted the Durin heirs would allow the hobbits to continue living in Erebor. Would he kill them, or simply throw them out as winter approached?

Ingram put his hands on her shoulders, and she flinched in surprise. He squeezed and then began to massage the bare skin. Bilba knew he was trying to help her relax, but it made her even more tense. Her grandfather had driven home, repeatedly, the rule that no one was allowed to touch her in any way without his express permission.

Said permission was usually reserved for his allies or, more recently, Lord Grima. Their wandering hands and leering grins always made her skin crawl, and what Ingram was doing was far too similar. She had the horrifying thought that, at any moment, her grandfather would appear to scream at her for her wantonness. She didn’t actually know what the word meant, but her grandfather always made it sound very bad indeed.

She took a step, enough to pull free from him, and turned to face him. She grabbed the ring resting against her collarbone and held it tightly between her fingers. Her grandfather had believed in her, she told herself firmly. Or at least he’d believed her capable of holding off the invaders long enough for him to get away. If she succeeded at driving them away entirely and saved the mountain in the process…

She wouldn’t be the useless granddaughter anymore, her only use in her looks or ability to be used as a bargaining chip.

He might even be proud of her.

“You’ll do great, Princess,” Ingram said with a cheerful smile. “Don’t worry. Just do exactly as I said, and everything will work out.” He held his hand out. “Shall we?”

She gave him a tight smile and then obediently held out her hand to allow him to escort her. As they crossed the floor her eyes drifted over her grandfather’s desk and she frowned. She’d stood before it often enough to know her grandfather was almost obsessively neat, every paper and pen perfectly straight and squared off. Now the surface was a mess, papers strewn about, several pens on the floor and even a few drawers pulled out. “I’m surprised he left it like that.”

“He was in a hurry,” Ingram said with a shrug. “He was more concerned with his own safety than in leaving things neat for the usurper.”

That made sense, Bilba thought. They reached the door and Ingram pulled it open. Outside four hobbits in guard uniforms waited to escort her. Bilba didn’t recognize them, but most of the palace guard had already been killed on the battlefield or left with her grandfather and his council. She was mildly surprised at how young and fit they all were as she’d thought everyone of fighting age had long since been sent out but, perhaps, they were simply older than they looked, or even younger, which was a distressing thought.

Ingram led her out and the four closed around her to escort her to the front gates. She received more than one confused look as she passed by lesser members of the nobility, and even a few higher ranked ones her grandfather hadn’t seen fit to take along. With each one she stood straighter and walked with a surer step.  

She’d managed to make the guards listen to her, and Ingram respected her. Once she’d managed to successfully help take one of the Durin’s hostage it would show all of them. Her grandfather, her people and the nobility, Sigrid and Bard and everyone who’d turned on her without so much as a backwards glance.

She’d be a hero. Her grandfather would be able to come back and he’d be so impressed that he’d call off the engagement to Lord Grima and perhaps let her marry Lord Berold instead…

Her face flushed and she lowered her eyes to her feet as if her thoughts could be read on her face. Ingram hadn’t made any promises, she reminded herself firmly. He’d implied, but that could have just been him being kind. There were so many young women who fancied him, most if not all prettier and smarter than she was. She’d count herself lucky indeed if he chose her.

They arrived at the ground floor and she was struck at how eerily silent it all was. Usually, there was a bustling market down there, filled with vendors from both Erebor and Dale. Now, it was empty, darkened booths appearing as little more than abandoned husks, filled with the debris and litter of past splendor.

Near the gates, which had barely been opened wide enough to allow a single person to pass through, she spotted a small group of ponies waiting for them.

Five to be exact.

“Is that all?” she asked in disbelief. They were going to be fairly far from the mountain, and literally in the camp of the enemy, and all that was before they took a hostage. How in the world did Ingram expect four guards to handle all that?

“There is no one else to be spared,” Ingram explained, the slightest hint of censure in his voice. He nodded toward the top of the gates and Bilba saw a few archers lounging against the battlements. “Our real force will be in them. They’ll keep you safe, Your Highness, and protect your retreat.”

“Of course,” Bilba said quietly. Mahal, but she was dense sometimes. Of course she couldn’t expect an entire entourage to escort her. Hadn’t she just been thinking how strange it was for her four guards to be young?

“No one looks to a princess for her brains,” her grandfather’s voice lectured. “Best to keep your mouth shut, and let your looks speak for you.”

Ingram spun her to face him suddenly and she gasped in surprise. He put his hands on her waist and she barely had the change to place her hands on his shoulders before he was lifting her up to sit sidesaddle on one of the ponies.

It wasn’t her pony, Bilba noted immediately, a slow, lazy creature whose chief goal in life was to sleep. This pony was young and eager, moving about and tossing its head the second she was seated. Bilba tensed, but one of the other guards grabbed the reins before she could reach for them and roughly dragged the pony’s head around. “I’ll handle it.”

Bilba nodded shakily. “Thank you.”

Ingram grabbed the pony’s bridle. “You’ll do fine, Your Highness. I have faith in you.”

Bilba forced a small, but genuine smile. She looked toward the slit in the gate and spotted the distant image of the pavilion waiting for her. She let out a slow breath to try and, unsuccessfully, calm her nerves. She was a princess, she reminded herself firmly. She’d been trained her entire life to be in the public eye.

She nodded at the guard holding her pony’s reins and, as a group, they moved out.

She could do this.

***

“I can’t decide if they’re deliberately trying to be insulting,” Frerin said casually, “or if they’re just that stupid.”

Beside him, Bard frowned. “It’s possible they don’t have enough people left to muster a proper guard.”

“If that’s true,” Frerin said, crossing his arms, “it still falls into the later category. Only an idiot would tip his hand this badly.”

Bard didn’t answer. The two of them were standing a few feet in front of the pavilion that had been thrown together. It consisted of little more than a table, a few chairs and the tent around it. That had been put in place so Frerin only had to watch his back from one direction. Dwalin and Vili stood at either side and more guards were ranged past them and behind the pavilion.

All of it completely unnecessary apparently, given the ridiculously small group coming toward them.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Bard said suddenly under his breath.

Frerin frowned. “What?”

Bard nodded toward the approaching group. “That’s the princess.”

“The princess?” Frerin had forgotten about her. He was aware there was a princess but knew next to nothing about her. Everything Nori had provided painted the portrait of a vapid young woman obsessed with fashion, wealth and her own status. He’d heard nothing of her personality, assuming she even had one, or her character.

As the group neared, he straightened, wanting to get a better look at this princess. She rode in the center of the four guards, all young men who appeared to have been chosen more for their looks than strength or ability.

The princess herself looked…well, ridiculous if he were being honest. She wore a massive gown that nearly enveloped the pony she rode, so saturated with gems and other fripperies it was a wonder she or the creature could stand under the weight. Her hair was done in an elaborate style that must have taken an obscene amount of time to create and was also liberally covered with jewels. The tiara she wore could probably be used as a weapon if she focused the sun off it correctly, and her face had a level of makeup on it that he felt anyone would find overdone.

She was older, probably the same age as Dis or Jayde if not beyond them. Unlike most of the rest of the hobbits, who’d appeared increasingly thin as the weeks went by, she appeared to still be in the prime of health. Her expression was flat, and she looked past them all as if they weren’t even there.

The ponies drew to a halt and she sat tall in her saddle, head up so she could look down her nose at them. He saw her eyes light on Bard, Thranduil and Gandalf, before settling on him. Her brows furrowed fractionally, and then it was back to the blankness again.

Gandalf stepped forward. “Your Highness. It’s a pleasure to meet you again, my dear.”

“I wish I could say the same,” she replied, her voice quiet. “It would seem you’ve returned a traitor to Erebor, along with those we once thought our allies.” Her eyes shifted for a moment to Bard and Thranduil and then away again.

One of her guards dismounted and went to help her down, an act that proved challenging with her dress draped the way it was. She slid off but her gown hooked over the back of the excitable animal, causing what, in any other circumstance, would have been quite the amusing struggle to free it while maintaining some semblance of dignity.

Scratch that, Frerin decided, it was amusing regardless.

The move was completed finally, and the princess stepped forward. She stopped in front of Frerin, the tip of her head barely reaching the bottom of his chin. He knew that hobbits were generally smaller than dwarves, but she took it to an extreme.

“Your Highness,” he said, a deliberate mocking tone in his voice.

She flushed, or at least he thought she did under the layers of makeup. “I assume you’re the one they’ve sent to negotiate?”

Frerin sketched an overly dramatic bow before settling on what he knew was an outright smirk. “Frerin, son of Thrain, son of Thror at your service, Your Highness. Might I ask why your grandfather hasn’t seen fit to come?”

A flicker of sunlight off her collarbone drew his eye and he frowned at the sight of a ring she wore on a chain. He’d never seen it before but had heard it described often enough to recognize it.

The Durin family ring. Stolen from the hand of the rightful king of Erebor after he was betrayed and murdered by the treacherous hobbits. The ring was a family heirloom, and she was wearing it like some sort of trinket.

It was a very good thing, Frerin decided, that Thorin hadn’t come. He was angry at the sight. His brother would have been far less forgiving.

“My grandfather has better things to do with his time,” the princess said imperiously, hands clutched in front of her. She seemed to be trying to ignore all of them simultaneously, which would make negotiating rather hard he thought. “He sent me to negotiate in his place.”

“That doesn’t seem like him,” Bard said from where he stood a few feet away. “Though, to be honest, the idea of negotiating at all doesn’t seem like him.”

The princess turned her head away, behaving as if the other man weren’t even there. Frerin made a mental note to convince Thorin that Kili needed negotiating experience. Let him put up with petulant princesses the next time around. He nodded toward the table and chairs. “After you.”

She nodded and then swept past him toward the chairs, giving him her back and leaving her guards rushing to catch up.

Frerin caught Dwalin’s eye and saw the other dwarf raise an eyebrow in question. Frerin shook his head in response. The woman had practically handed herself over to them but taking her into custody would do no good with her grandfather still in the mountain.

“This is ridiculous,” Bard murmured from next to him. “She’s the last one he would send for serious negotiations. They have no intention of surrendering.”

Frerin watched as the princess stopped next to her chair, clearly waiting for one of them to pull it out for her. “Which begs the question,” he said, keeping his own voice low, “of just what the Thain is up to.”

Bard started to speak, only to cut off as the distant sound of a commotion came from the front lines located behind the pavilion.

Before Ferin had a chance to process, two other things took his attention. One was the slightest widening of the princess’s eyes as her gaze lingered on something just over his shoulder.

The second was the barest movement of air across the back of his neck.

He had his sword half drawn and was already turning when a soft thwip and a burst of wind raced past his ear. The thunk of an arrow hitting home, followed by the thud of a falling body came next. Frerin completed his turn, sword in hand, to see one of the princess’s guards lying dead on the ground. There was an arrow protruding from his chest, and a dagger lying next to his hand.

A few feet away, Dwalin had the second guard on his knees, sword at his throat. Vili had already nocked a fresh arrow and was pointing it at the ground, the mere presence of it enough to cow the third guard while another of the soldiers had taken control of the fourth.

That left the princess. She was standing completely still, eyes now very wide, and mouth slightly agape. Her eyes flicked toward his and then away, toward the mountain in the distance.

“Don’t bother,” Frerin warned. “You won’t make it, especially not in that dress.”

She chewed on her lower lip, considered and then, in one move gathered as much of her skirts as she could in both hands and bolted toward the mountain.

“Seriously?” Frerin muttered. Her skirts hampered her movements so badly he considered simply walking after her. A shout from Vili, however, had him lunging forward to grab her arm and wrench her back under the pavilion, just as an arrow slammed into the dirt mere inches from her feet.

She screamed in surprise and froze again, which gave Frerin just the time he needed to pull her hands behind her back and hold them. Dawlin approached with remnant of the rope he’d used to secure the other guards and Frerin quickly secured it around her wrists.

The action seemed to snap her out of her stupor, and she jerked, struggling to get away. “Unhand me, you beast!”

Frerin pulled her around to face him and held her by her upper arms. “Beast?” he asked mildly. “I’d have expected you to think kindlier of the person who just saved your life.”

She rolled her eyes. “That arrow wasn’t meant to hurt me. It was to protect me while I escaped!”

“Was it now?” Frerin asked. “Someone has poor aim then. It would have gone right through your chest had I not grabbed you.”

The princess scoffed but the barest hint of uncertainty flickered in her eyes.

Vili approached. “There’s no way they sent that all the way from the gates. Where did it come from?” As he spoke, he kept his eyes trained on the plain between them and Erebor, watching for any further attacks.

“A very good question?” Frerin mused. He raised an eyebrow at woman in his grasp. “Care to elaborate, Princess?”

She jerked her head away from him and strained to pull free of his grasp. Frerin tightened his grip and pulled her away, toward the back of the tent and the small flap that would allow them to exit and return to the front lines.

“You better let me go,” the princess demanded ago. “We’ve taken one of your relatives hostage, I think, and if you don’t let me go you’ll regret it.”

Frerin fought the urge to laugh. “You think? I think I’d disown any of my relatives foolish enough to let themselves be taken hostage by your forces.” He pushed open the flap and made a show of looking out toward the open land between them and the front lines of soldiers. From where he stood, he could see a commotion had died down already. “And, pray tell, princess, how exactly would your people have gotten a hostage from there back to the mountain without anyone seeing?”

She shrugged. “I couldn’t say,” she said, mockingly, “how do think they got from the mountain to the front lines to begin with?”

Frerin paused. From a few feet away he heard Bard swear under his breath. Gandalf shifted and appeared to speak but stopped when Frerin held up a hand.

“That,” he said quietly, “is an excellent question, Your Highness. One I’m sure we’ll be discussing in great detail.”

He hesitated and then grabbed the ring lying against her collarbone and yanked, easily snapping the chain it sat on. She gasped in surprise and gave him a dark look but didn’t comment as he shoved the ring into his pocket. His brother was bound to be angry enough without seeing her wearing a royal heirloom like a pretty bauble.

As he steered her out of the pavilion, Bard stepped up on her other side and gave him a pointed look before taking her other arm. Vili arrived on his other side and frowned.

“Do you suppose they’re lovers?” he asked in Khuzdul, nodding toward Bard and the princess.

“I hope not,” Frerin answered. That sort of complication was the last thing they needed.

“The wizard doesn’t seem happy either,” Vili added, but Frerin simply shook his head.

“One thing at a time.” He tightened his grip on the princess’s arm as she tried, yet again, to pull away, and firmly steered her toward the front lines.

Time for the usurper’s granddaughter to meet the rightful king of the dwarves.

Follow on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20593031/chapters/48890984

#My Writing #Writing #Fanfic #fanfiction #AU #Hobbit #Tolkien #Frerin #Romance #angst #Arranged Marriage #Enemies to Lovers #happy ending

[valkerymillenia]

Umbrella Academy

season 2, episode 7

More thoughts and live blogged reactions.

1982. I'm assuming Five used a briefcase... But in s1 we saw that the briefcase travels are tracked (Hazel and Cha-Cha got reprimanded for Klaus's Vietnam trip) so I'm not sure how the board doesn't know someone is coming... I might be overthinking.

Five being creepy.

Is that a Fudge Nutter like Handler mentioned in season 1? Oh, it is.

Jesus, Five! Anger management for you, old man.

AAHH! THEY LET FIVE SAY FUCK! Fucking finally! 🤣

How did nobody notice that destruction? 😆

Oh, the axe! Is Five going to go all American psycho? Because I'd love to see that.

HOLY SHIT!

That smile!

HOLY SHIT!!!!!!

Is he using tiny time travel bursts like Reggie said? Or a briefcase? Or is he just that fast?

AJ hiding under the table 😆

Pausing to drink water and grin, what a psycho, I love him.

He's definitely using time jumps but they are so controlled that I'm guessing briefcase or Handler little time stopping trick. I'm so proud of my mass murder baby.

... Vending machine? Lady, you have interesting priorities.

CRICKET BAT!

Wait! AJ's human body feels pain? How?

Please make Five swallow the fish like in the comics! Please, please, please, please.

The dancers are just like

I LOVE FIVE! The lengths this little killer will go for his family are unbelievable, nobody should ever doubt his love and devotion for them ever again.

This whole murder scene was incredible and Five's obvious glee made it even better. FEAR HIM!

Jesus, Klaus is so afraid of being possessed that he's afraid to sleep and Ben just mocks him? 😘💋 I get that this is supposed to be a funny 'brothers messing with each other' kind of thing but Klaus feels so unsafe that it makes me uncomfortable. What happened to you, Ben, when did you become so dark? You were the nice one!

Ben just getting closer and closer every time Klaus closes his eyes just gave me Doctor Who flashbacks.

"I hate your face" "I hate all of you" - Don't say that boys! You know you love each other.

Ok, Ben has a point. I'm actually liking this conversation. And I'm liking that Klaus is starting to understand his brother.

Ok, this is such a brother conversation. And Klaus constantly pretending not to know who Jill is 😆

Ground rules... Well, at least it's consensual now. That's something. See? Communication works.

Damn, the tension at the lunch table cut be cut with a knife. I'm scared what Carl is going to do.

Ray and Allison have a lovely relationship but I finally identified the problem, the tension I was feeling between since them a few eps back. It's not about Allison's secrets at all, is about Ray being so obsessed with his crusade that he completely overlooks Allison's feelings, he only pays attention to her when they are on the page about the mission. He sees her powers and his first thought is 'we could use this for the cause', Allison is clearly distressed and sad and even says she doesn't feel well and all he can think about is the damn JFK meeting. He's not a bad person and he's not doing it on purpose but he has a workaholic one-track mind that could easy turn into neglect for Allison. He clearly loves her and I'm rooting for them so much but I know that if asked to choose between Allison and his cause, he'll pick his cause.

So Five is done with the killing. I figured this might weigh on his conscience, it's one thing to kill for a greater good or survival, coldly and detached, it's another thing to slaughter for selfish reasons (even if his selfish reasons are a greater good).

Handler going all mom on him and wiping his face. 😆

"What I did today, I did for my family" -we know, baby, and they better respect you for it. You love then so much.

90 minutes??? Wtf, I knew Handler would try to screw Five over but that's just cruel, she's forcing him to uproot the family without even giving them time to say goodbye and that's even IF he can get to all of them on time.

It's not a name, you idiots. Also, that's Olga, not öga.

Don't harass the poor woman... Oh God, you guys are such morons... Diego, you dramatic little bitch...

"Wrong number. Have a lovely day" 🤣🤣🤣

I love the new dumbass buddy cop dynamic between Diego and Luther. This is the sort of positive brotherly dynamic they always should have had instead of being pitted against each other all their lives.

"you have some blood on you" "a lot of blood, actually. Five, what did you do?" -the casual, mildly annoyed way they ask is hilarious, if they knew what he did they'd be horrified (and possibly impressed).

Handler's militaristic chic dress is fabulous. I personally don't like it very much (or the message it sends) but it's haute couture and incredibly designed. Also, the bleached hair is back!

"any questions?" And then she leaves without listening. Power move 😏

Luther trying to comfort Diego like the dork he is. 🤣

Really though, I feel bad for Diego, and Five is under so much pressure that I don't blame him for snapping.

"I'm shy" -are you, Klaus? Are you really? You keep walking around in underwear in front of dozens of people, you're not shy.

So is Klaus lactose intolerant?

Ok, so far the possession thing is not as bad as some people were claiming. So far.

"stay focused" *giggle* -oh Ben, you dork 😆

Ahah, Ben enjoying all the different sensory stimuli. Adorable. He's just so happy, poor boy.

Dirt angels. SO CUTE ❤️

I know this all supposed to be cute and all but it would also be a perfect moment for Ben for experience Klaus's powers (the constant hauntings) as well as his addiction and the claustrophobic expectations of the cult. It would be an excellent chance to make Ben understand why Klaus is the way he is, seeing as Klaus is making a huge effort (and sacrifice) to do the same for Ben. Unfortunately, I don't see that happening because I think they want to keep this part about Ben.

By end of season 1 Klaus cried that people still didn't take him seriously, his compassion despite all his suffering made him likeable and deep, but this season he's back to being the family joke, I don't like that there's no resolution to that. But let's see where this goes, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Oh God, Carl's talk is freaking me out.

"who I am is not a disease" -very powerful LGBT+ statement considering it's the 60s!!!!

Oh, the blackmail...

Everybody keeps expecting Vanya to explode every time she gets emotional but this scene proves how much control she truly has. Respect!

Oh, finally Claire is mentioned! I've been rather upset that Allison hasn't mentioned her daughter even once this season (does Ray even know he has a stepdaughter?) seeing as most of her arc in season 1 revolved around her love and guilt over Claire.

Luther is right when he says they don't get live formal lives because they are special but Allison is even more right when she says that's not fair. This is why this family needs to stick together and love each other, they are the only ones that can really understand each other's struggles.

"hope" -Luther, you really are such a sweet summer child.

OH! I CAN FINALLY SEE ALLISON'S SCAR! The lighting in this scene makes it really obvious. Finally.

Ben and the strawberry. 🤣

"you're different today. You're dorkier" ah! First time anyone called Ben 'Sassy' Hargreeves dorky.

Oh Ben, you're adorable... Wait, "smell your hair"? What the fuck, Ben? You weirdo.

Holy crap! Jill is really forward, isn't she? Hippies, man.

Ben stuttering! 😆🤣 He died a virgin, didn't he?

It's funny but please tell me he isn't actually considering that in his brother's body...

Wait, did Klaus slap him because he doesn't want to have sex or because he's trying to stop Ben from ruining his own chance by saying too much?

Actually, I'm almost sure it's the second one, Klaus is playing wingman on his own body!

WHAT????

Ok so Ben IS a virgin but "you, me and Keechie"? What the fuck, Klaus? You slept with the fanatical crybaby and your brother's crush????

"Klaus, you're so filthy!" "Yes, you are, daddy." -Ben, this girl is not right for you. Run, boy!

AHAHAHAH ASDFGDDGGHSGSGASFHDBKDIS 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 DIEGO CALLING HIM DADDY!

Wait, AJ can speak without the body/suit/whatever?

Handler is going a little bit fascist dictator, isn't she?

Gotta admit, Handler really is such a mom in her own twisted way.

Ben giggling when he talks to Diego. Cute.

"Luther sniffs Dad's underwear" 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

AWWWWWWWW, BEN AND DIEGO! THE CHILDHOOD HIJINKS! THE HUG!

GOD, THE HUG! ❤️

I need all the siblings hugging Ben now!

"you stay in this body, we need someone responsible behind the wheel" -Diego, I understand what you mean given the situation, but you playing obvious favorites between your brothers when free will and body autonomy are on the line is a little creepy.

"no one is insignificant" -that line is so loaded when used on Vanya.

Oh no, Vanya and Five playing the blame game is so bad... They used to be so close... They are both under so much pressure, this won't end well.

Oh boy, Five looks like he's on the verge of crying and Vanya sees that! I bet that's why she backed down. 😲😢

The Lila and Diego conversation is heartbreaking without even trying...

Is that Elliot? Is Diego burying Elliot because nobody else will? Diego really does have a heart of gold.

Don't drinkit! I'm pretty sure Lila is drugging you.

Yup, there it is.

What is she planning?

Once again, it's all about the movement with Ray.

"I would take my one year with you over a lifetime with anybody else." 😭 Oh Ray ❤️

But I get the feeling this won't end so easily.

There it is, the Swedes just arrived. And the smart assholes went right for Allison's throat.

You don't need the coffee can, Sissy. The Hargreeves are loaded.

Sissy, hurry up.

BEN, YOU ARE SUCH A 90s KID!!! So the Backstreet Boys are Ben's fault, God, I love this dork 🤣

Come on, Allison, you can fight better than this!

Good girl!

Klaus and Ben running and fighting each other at the same time 😆

Holy shit, that is some Exorcist level vomiting!

Poor Klaus, I totally get Ben's side in this (pretty sure he was trying to save Klaus by getting him to Five ASAP) but this whole thing made me mildly uncomfortable. Klaus just keeps sacrificing for everyone and nobody respects his boundaries.

Holy shit, Allison! That is so cruel! I like it though, so ruthless and vicious. 😈

Problem- Allison can't just leave Ray with a white corpse in the house. Especially not in Texas, death penalty and all.

Oh Sissy, you dumbass. You're a sweetheart but also a dumbass.

Ok, Lila is pretty insane. That's for sure.

Five:

"I don't want to hurt you" - well, Vanya warned them.

My baby is getting really good with her powers.

I hope that hit to the head doesn't give Vanya her memory back, that's so cliché and convenient, or would be really bad writing.

SHIT IS HITTING THE FAN. I'm dying to see more!!!!!!

#tua #tua s2 #tua s2 spoilers

[blitz-and-hearth]

This au snowballed out of hand and I ended up writing a whole short fic. 

read on AO3 here or just click the read more 

Blitzen had always loved things made by humans. Humans themselves he could take or leave, just something annoying who sometimes got too close and became a meal. But the stuff they made? He was obsessed with their crafts. Especially the strange ways they draped fabric over their bodies. The other sirens didn't get it, they thought he was crazy, made fun of him to his face. Sirens weren't very nice creatures, this was well known. He'd be lying if he said it didn't get under his skin just a bit though. But for the most part, he ignored them. Blitzen didn't listen to their chattering, focusing on hoarding human clothing instead. 

they weren't hard to get his hands on, sunken ships were plentiful around his home, and when he was really desperate for new clothes scavenging the remains of another siren's meal worked too. He just enjoyed how pretty they were, the different colors, the different textures. Blitz could spend hours just admiring his collection. More recently, he decided to try learning how to make his own, so he too could wear something pretty. A few overly stained and/or tattered shirts were sacrificed, carefully taken apart so he could figure out how they were put together. Once he was confident he knew what he was doing the young merman started looking for materials. That had been his downfall. He never should have gone near the old fishing net. The older sirens had known better and stayed away, but not Blitzen. He'd been blinded by the thought of what he could do with it, how it would look tied around his waist like the skirts female humans wore. Stupid of him, foolish. Blitz had been busy trying to work the net free from the rocks it was tangled on, he hadn't been paying attention. It was something all mothers warned their pups, a basic lesson. Whenever you're close to shore, whenever you weave through narrow gaps in rocks, never turn your back on the waves. The sea could turn in an instant, that was its nature, and Blitzen knew that. But he'd still not paid attention, and now he was paying for it.

He'd just gotten the net untangled, holding it up triumphantly, when a sudden large wave swept through, catching him up and slamming him into the rocks he'd just freed the net from. It stunned him and that allowed the waves to toss him around for a bit more before he could recover. Would have only been a bit embarrassing but nothing else, if he hadn't still been holding the net. Thanks to that act of stupidity, he'd really gone and truely fucked himself. The old net tangled around his body as he was knocked around by the tides, pinning his arms to his sides and wrapping around his tail. If that wasn't bad enough he was washed ashore, the net hooking on the rocks of the beach, literally hanging him out to dry. Blitzen had struggled, he'd thrashed, he'd twisted to try and bite through it with his fangs, but couldn't reach. Now he lay prone and exhausted, panting from all his struggling, feeling the sting of sand in his gills and the rough ropes cutting into his skin. The sun was beating down, drying out his scales. Fuck, he was going to die here, baked alive on the shore. He keened weakly, letting out a distress song, desperate for help. He could see the other sirens, his supposed pod mates, continuing on with their business, ignoring his cry. A few would pause and look over, giving sympathetic glances but none even attempting to help him. They'd all apparently decided he wasn't worth the risk or effort. Sirens weren't very nice creatures, this was well known. But still, this seemed unreasonably cruel to do, especially to one of their own. He halfheartedly started to struggle again, clawing at the sand but made no progress at all. Blitz whimpered, tears gathering in his eyes at the hopelessness of his situation. After about an hour or so of being trapped, there was suddenly movement on the rocks surrounding the island. Blitzen looked up, completely worn out and feeling like giving up, but suddenly hopeful again. Maybe the other sirens changed their minds and were going to try to help him after all. But no, it was just a human ship getting a bit close to their island. The others were only moving around because they were excited for mealtime. Blitz dropped his head back down onto the sand with a sigh, thinking about how empty his own stomach was, wishing to be back with his pod even though clearly none of them cared about him. Anywhere would be better than hopeless trapped here right now...

Meanwhile, on the ship circling the siren island, someone else was feeling hopeless and trapped too, in a different way. Hearthstone clutched the railing of his father's ship, feeling sick to his stomach as the rest of the crew rushed around. He'd been told why they were there, what his purpose in this plan was. His father had finally found a use for him, and Hearth didn't like what it was one bit. But he couldn't deny it wasn't ingenious. Sirens could bring in a ton of money, for just a single scale you'd be able to buy a large house in the nicest part of England. And if you somehow managed to get one alive, why you'd be set for many lifetimes over. Not just the price people would pay to see one up close without the risk of dying, but it was well known that their tears would become diamonds. All of this was great, but it was impossible to catch even a dead one, wasn't it...? Their songs would bring men and women to their knees before they even got close. Unless of course, you couldn't hear at all. What was a sirens powerful music to a deaf man? Nothing, absolutely no effect. And that was Alderman's grand plan.

"It'll be easy"

He'd said

"You'll finally do something to justify the space you take up, you should be more excited"

He'd insisted. Hearthstone had tired to be, tired to be hopeful about maybe for once getting his father's approval. But he couldn't. Not when he'd been told what exactly he was expected to do. Alderman wanted him to go, by himself, of course, catch a mer, and cut out its tongue so it could no longer sing. Easy, sooo easy. Just catch a man-eating monster on his own, yeah, simple. And then put his hands in its mouth filled with fangs to cut off its tongue. Surely the siren would just open its mouth and let him, not fight or try to bite off his fingers at all. He needed those, sure everyone did, but him especially. How else would he communicate without fingers? And that wasn't even getting into the psychological struggle. Even from here, far away out of hearing distance from their singing, the sirens looked so.... Human. Hearthstone wasn't sure if he could do it. It seemed so cruel. But it didn't really matter, did it? Because he either would do it or his father would beat him to death. A lose-lose either way. There was no escaping, he was trapped. A familiar firm hand clamping onto Hearthstone's shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts, dragging him away from the railings.

"Come on, time to go"

Alderman said as he pushed his son towards the dingy they'd gotten ready for him. Had everything he'd need, weapons, daggers and a sword, even a pistol, as well as ropes and nets. He shoved Hearth hard towards it, making the boy stumble, clutching onto the side of the small dingy to stay on his feet.

"Make it quick and don't waste any time. If you take too long we'll leave, amusing you dead. Go on, we don't have all day"

The sea captain ordered sharply, caring not for his own son's life. Either he'd do as he'd told or Alderman would have a good excuse to get rid of him. And Hearthstone was perfectly aware that was how he thought. He'd didn't try to reason with his father, just quickly scrambled into the boat, which the rest of the crew was already lowering to the water and he had to jump. Hearth gave one last glance up at his father and the rest of the crew before grabbing the oars and starting to row towards the island of sirens.

As Hearthstone got closer he got a better look at the sirens. There were so many of them, lounging casually on the rocks surrounding the small island, and every single one was beautiful. They came in all different skin tones and colors, he even saw a few he was pretty sure were male, which he didn't know was a thing, but no matter what size or shape they were all enchantingly gorgeous. Still, despite their pretty faces and flowing hair and sparkling scales, Hearth was also close enough to see their needle-sharp fangs, slitted animalistic eyes, and the bones of sailors that decorated the rocks they rested on. He shivered fearfully, tightening his grip on the oars as he wondered if the seductive monsters would swarm his little boat like piranhas now he was so close. But no, once the mers realized their hypnotizing songs weren't working on him they were pretty quick to flee, slipping off their rocks to vanish among the waves. Seems they were actually pretty cautious creatures and none were willing to try their luck against prey that might fight back. Hearthstone relaxed for a moment with a sigh of relief, before he remembered why he was out there in the first place. Oh, right he had to catch one them. dubiously he looked down into the murky water where they'd escaped to. No way in hell would he be getting into the sea with them, way too easy for one to drown him. And there was the same level of human intelligence in their eyes, so he didn't think he'd have any luck attempting to fish for one.

Well now what the hell was he supposed to do? Clearly, neither he nor his father had really thought this out. Hearthstone scanned his surroundings, struggling to come up with something. He could see the sirens in the distance, watching him, perched on rocks or peeking out from the waves. He'd put money on them fleeing the second he tried getting closer. Come on Hearth, think of something! He kept looking around, eyes eventually landing on the small island. He wasn't sure what he was hoping to see, but he definitely hadn't expected what he did see. There was a limp form laying on the sand, tangled up in a broken net. It was hard to make out details from here, but the siren was dark-skinned with green and purple scales and looked pretty dead. What luck! Hearthstone felt bad for the creature, seemed a bad way to die, but at least now he wouldn't have to try and take a living one. His father probably wouldn't be as happy but it would be way better then if he came back empty-handed. Feeling relieved he grabbed the oars again and eagerly rowed to shore.

Blitzen had been in a bit of a haze. The sun got to be too much making him feel dizzy and it was very hard to keep track of time now. He'd never been thirsty before, what a horrible feeling. The fact he didn't bolt upright at the sound of crunching sand proved how out of it he was. It was only when a shadow fell over him that Blitz realized something else was there on the beach with him. His eyes snapped open and quickly started to struggle against the net again, first thought of an animal. He didn't want to die of sunstroke but wanted even less to be eaten. But wait... That's not possible, the biggest living things on this little island were crabs, definitely not big enough to cast that kind of shadow over him. Blitzen squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head before opening them again, forcing himself to focus, looking up to see what had approached his prone form. There was a... A human? A young man, probably no older than himself, with pale hair and haunted eyes who looked just as shocked as Blitz felt. What was a living human doing here? How did he get past the others in one piece? Had he just completely lost his mind from dehydration and was now hallucinating?

Hearthstone didn't know what to do now. He'd really thought the siren was dead, but clearly, that was not the case. The poor thing seemed dazed, and it was a poor thing, even with those sharp teeth. He couldn't help but feel for him, so clearly suffering and in pain. And well Hearth would be lying if said the mer wasn't pretty, just like all the others. Strong jawline with a surprisingly clean-shaven beard, long black hair done up in dreads, yellow-hazel eyes that seemed to shift like the tides, and all those pretty purple and green scales. Even with how disoriented and sick the siren looked he was still beautiful. But that was beside the point, what was Hearthstone supposed to do now? He supposed this counted as catching one, but that meant he had to... He wasn't sure he could, especially with how helpless the siren looked. And wasn't their singing the most thing to a siren? Or at least Hearth assumed so. Cutting out the mer's tongue would psychically be easy with how dazed it was, but mentally..... He shook his head. He had to! Otherwise, his father would.... He tried to remind himself this was no man, this was a man-eating creature! Hearth bet he wouldn't show mercy if it was him helpless before the siren. He kept telling himself that as he drew his knife. The second the siren spotted the blade he seemed to come around a bit, starting to struggle harder.

Blitzen still couldn't tell if this was real or just his mind playing tricks in death throes, but he wasn't about to just lay there when he saw the human pull out a knife. His first instinct was to sing, a high pitched panicked melody, a song that was supposed to make the human stop. But it didn't. The boy didn't even falter, just taking a step forward and kneeling down, holding his knife at the ready. When he realized, for some strange reason, siren song wouldn't work on him he changed tactics. With a last desperate burst of strength, he thrashed as he tried to hit him with his tail, baring his fangs in a snarl

"Back off! I can still bite!!!"

Blitz growled, praying he'd be able to just scare him off. He really doubted he'd be able to kill the human before they could kill him.

Hearthstone faltered. Oh good, now the siren was talking to him.... He... He didn't know they could do that. It made sense, but he hadn't put two and two together on that one. It was a little hard to read his lips with all those fangs but doable. Hearth's shoulders slumped. Oh, fate really had no mercy for him. He couldn't do it. Maneater or not, this was a person, with thoughts and feelings. He couldn't just hurt someone who was helpless like this.... And he couldn't leave him to die either. Hearthstone stabbed the knife into the sand to free up his hands before signing

"Be still, I'm not going to hurt you"

He tired, hoping the mer would understand.

Blitzen stopped struggling but still eyed him with distrust, and a bit of surprise. Sirens had natural magic to understand any language, made it easier to lure people if you sang words they understood. He supposed it makes sense for that to work with whatever this handwaving language was too.

"You can't own me either, I'd rather die than be your meal ticket"

He snapped, still very defensive.

Hearthstone shook his head

"I don't want that either, just hold still so I can cut you free"

He explained before picking up the knife again Blitzen did not believe that even a little, but he couldn't see what game the human was playing. He was already helpless there was no reason for tricks. He didn't understand or trust him but... He wanted freedom. He'd die here otherwise. So he kept his eyes locked on the blade, very much not happy with it being so close to his skin, but held still. Once he was free he'd stand a fighting chance if the human tired anything. Still, he couldn't help but whimper as he felt the cold blade against his skin, shivering in fear. Thankfully the knife didn't bite into his skin, the human keeping his word and started to saw at the net instead. It took forever, but eventually, he cut through it and Blitzen's arms were free. He gasped with relief and then hissed as pins and needles ran up his sore arms, flexing and stretching his webbed fingers before rubbing the rope burns.

Hearthstone moved onto the siren's tail now his arms were freed but kept nervously glancing over his shoulder at him as he worked. He was wondering if he should have done the tail first. Now the mer's arms were free he could easily attack him while his back was turned. But thankfully he seemed more focused on getting feeling back in his arms and Hearth was able to cut his tail free without incident. He quickly moved back and sheathed his knife, giving the male siren space so he didn't get nervous

Blitzen pulled himself back too, curling his tail up around himself, carefully looking it over. He'd lost some scales and there were spots rubbed bloody from all his struggling but not badly hurt. Once he was satisfied his tail was alright he looked up at the human, eyeing him curiously, who was eyeing him right back. This was... Odd. He'd never been this close to a living human before. And everything he'd ever been told about them was they were greedy, only wanted sirens for their beauty or wealth they could bring. But this one just... Let him go. It didn't fit into that narrative at all.

"... Why'd you cut me free? What do you want?"

Blitzen demanded to know after a few minutes of just staring at each other.

"I don't want anything"

Hearthstone replied, glum and resigned. He was a dead man walking now, his father would kill him when he came back empty-handed, might as well answer honestly

"My father sent me to catch a siren since I can't hear your songs, but I can't. I can't hurt someone like he wanted me to. Didn't seem fair anyway, he just wants one for money when we already have more than enough"

He signed with some irritation

"And you were hurting. I didn't want to leave you to die"

He added with a bit more sadness, dropping his hands in his lap.

Blitzen raised his eyebrows, having not expected an answer like that.

"Isn't your dad not gonna be happy if you come back without one of us though?"

He asked

Hearthstone bit his lip and nodded slowly

"This was my last chance. I don't have any more use in his eyes, he'll throw me overboard"

"Oh"

Blitzen blinked. Now that sounded like the humans he'd been told tales of. So unfair and cruel. An act of kindness, and frankly bravery since he hadn't been bluffing about biting, being punishable by death. That wasn't fair at all. This human had just saved his life, he wanted to return the favor.... And maybe he could.

"Don't you want to run away? I could help you escape. I do owe you after all"

He suggested

Hearthstone eyed the mer warily. This had to be a trick, but... If it was it barely mattered. Either he'd get eaten or he'd have to return for his father to decide how he'd die. Hesitantly he nodded

"I do want to get away but I can't.... How can you help?"

Hearth asked

Instead of answering Blitzen held out a hand in greeting

"First of all, I'm Blitzen, what should I call you?"

Hearthstone looked at his webbed fingers and sharp little claws with fascination before remembering to shake it, not wanting to be rude. He found the siren Blitzen's hands were surprisingly soft....

"I'm H-E-A-R-T-H-S-T-O-N-E. But-"

"Hearthstone? That's a pretty name. Can you help me back to the ocean? I'll be able to pay you back once I'm in the water"

Blitzen cut him off and Hearthstone raised an eyebrow

"You don't have to trick me, I'd have helped you back to the water anyways"

He replied before moving closer to pick him up

"It's not a trick, promise. You'll see"

Blitzen said as he allowed Hearthstone to pick him. He wrapped his arms around the human's neck as he stood with him in his arms, a little startled by just how high off the ground this was. But despite being built like a twig Hearth was surprisingly strong and didn't seem like he was going to drop him. Blitz was also pretty surprised how good he smelled too, unable to resist nuzzling his neck a bit. As a creature of the sea, he didn't have words to describe it, but it was the scent of pine and fresh wildflowers. Hearthstone flushed red a bit at that, a little nervous about those fangs near his neck but more flustered then anything. He tried not to focus on that too much as he waded into the water until the waves were at his hips. Before he could put Blitzen down in the water he felt the siren touch his face and looked down at him. He had a big smile on his face. Should have been scary with all those teeth, but Hearth was just entranced. Before he knew what was happening Blitz had slid a hand into his hair and pulled him down, lips meeting in a kiss. Hearth's mind completely whited out, not able to think of anything else but the siren's lips on his own. He tasted salty like the sea but also sweet like nectar. Downright addicting. He wondered if this is how it felt when people heard their songs. If so he could hardly blame them for eagerly jumping overboard to their deaths. Hearth hadn't even realized Blitzen was pulling him down until he hit the water. He struggled a bit at first, air bubbles escaping from his mouth as he was dragged deeper. But Blitz wasn't letting go of him, and he didn't stop kissing him either.

Ah well, he thought as he stopped fighting and went limp. He supposed if he was going to die this was actually a pretty good way to go, being kissed by beautiful merman as he drowned. Except he wasn't drowning. When Hearthstone finally had to gasp for air, he didn't get the choking sting of salt water, but the relief of fresh air. Or at least that's the best way he could describe it. It was hard to put into the words what it felt like, but he was breathing underwater. Hearth pulled back, blinking his eyes open. And he could see perfectly clearly, no stinging nor blurriness at all. Blitzen was still grinning at him as light flittered across his face. But he barely got a moment to take that in before he started to feel strange, making him double over with a gasp. It didn't hurt, but it didn't feel pleasant either, just.... strange. Blitz rubbed his shoulder comfortingly and Hearth was quick to cling to him, burying his face in his shoulder. He wasn't sure how long it lasted, one of those things that's very had to keep track of time during. His hips and legs ached, the sides of his neck burned, and his teeth hurt. But eventually, with the rip of fabric and the loss of some very nice pants, it was over.

Hearthstone went limp in Blitzen's arms, panting, feeling exhausted. He still wasn't really sure what happened at first, but clearly, Blitz hadn't actually been trying to drown him. Hearth took things in one thing at a time. First, he was breathing underwater, an odd fluttering feeling on the sides of his throat. When he brushed his hand against his neck he confirmed what he thought. Somehow, he'd acquired gills. Second, his teeth were long and sharp now. Running his tongue over them he nearly cut his tongue on the razor edges. And lastly his legs. Or rather, that he no longer had any. His legs had been replaced by a long silvery fishtail, the fins like silk flowing in the water, scales glittering in the light. Needless to say, he was amazed, staring down at his new tail, twisting to look at it from different angels and flicking it back and forth to be sure he wasn't just imaging things. When he looked back up at Blitzen he didn't even know what to say.

Blitz was a bit nervous. He'd thought this was the right thing to do, now Hearthstone could escape his father easily, but he seemed so shocked now he was worried Hearth wasn't happy bout it.

"Um... Do.. Do you like it?"

Hearth stared at him for another beat. Did he like it? Did he like it?? He couldn't even put into words how exciting this was. He raised his hands to sign but couldn't find the right ones. Forget words, he grabbed Blitzen and pulled him into another kiss as he wrapped his arms around him tightly, trying to show how grateful he was through action instead.

Blitzen let out a startled squeak but quickly recovered, kissing Hearthstone back as he smiled against his lips, their tails brushing together. Yes, this had defiantly been the right thing to do.

Alderman growled with annoyance. This was taking forever, where the hell was his useless space waster of a son? It should have been an easy job, in and out, and then he'd have his very own silent siren. But no, hours had gone by with no sign of Hearthstone. How annoying he must have died. Ah well, no major loss, he couldn't find another deaf and dumb fool to get him a siren. The captain had just been pulling away from the railing to call for his crew to start getting ready to head out when he heard it. A haunting melody echoing across the water up to the ship, forcing Alderman to freeze. Oh... Oh lord no, what was one doing so far from their island? This wasn't possible sirens never wandered. This had to be his stupid son's fault.

And that was the last coherent thought Alderman had before the song truly took hold. His eyes glazed over as he turned on his heels, walking to the railing and looking down at the ocean, at the single siren who's song was prompting him to jump in. Yellow-hazel eyes full of anger met his. And then Alderman stepped off the edge, falling down into the sea and the waiting fangs below. Shortly after the song was replaced with Alderman's screams, given no mercy or a swift death, the water turning red with blood as the sun sank below the waves...

Blitzen was very pleased with himself as he swam back home, picking bits of meat and bone marrow from his teeth. He'd never taken so much enjoyment in a meal before. Normally he just found them messy unpleasant means to an end. But after Hearthstone and he had gotten talking and he'd explained more of how his father had treated him... Well, Blitzen couldn't just let the man get off scoot free for that. Hearth probably didn't need to know about all the gruesome details though. No need for him to be told about the look on his father's face when Blitzen had ripped his heart out of his chest, honestly a little surprised he actually had one. No, he'd tell Hearthstone about it later, he'd been through enough for today. Blitzen paused to double-check he had no blood on him before swimming into the sheltered cave. Hearth was curled up on his bed of seaweed and fabric, sound asleep. He was pretty exhausted after changing from human to mermaid after all. Blitz smiled to himself. He was so pretty... He hoped he'd stay, just for a little bit. Moving across his cave, he tucked the freshly cleaned skull among his collection of other nicknacks, before returning to Hearthstone's side, snuggling up to him as he had been when he'd drifted off to sleep.

Hearth stirred and rolled over, nuzzling into the warm body. He let out a satisfied sigh and smiled in a half-awake state. How one's life could change in such a short amount of time. This morning he'd been miserable and alone, trapped by his father. Now he was completely free! With a very pretty merman who seemed very interested in him. He hoped he'd be allowed to stay, even for a bit. Blitzen seemed happy to let him. They'd made out for a good while before he brought Hearth to his home and invented him to stay. Hearthstone had nowhere he'd rather be. As long as Blitzen was willing to have him, he'd stay.

Blitzen purred deep in his chest, pressing a kiss to Hearth's forehead. He liked the newly made merman, quite a bit. Handsome and kind and funny too... He was eager to get to know him better, if he stayed, which he seemed very happy to do. The siren sighed with satisfaction as he closed his eyes, feeling very happy with all the stupid choices he'd made that lead to him laying here, snuggling with Hearthstone for the night.

#this was fun and very self indulgent #magnus chase and the gods of asgard #mcga hearthstone #mcga blitzen #blitzstone #blitzen x hearthstone #blitzen/hearthstone #blitzen son of freya #siren au #mermaid au #mcga alderman #fanfiction #minor character death #Alderman gets what he deserves #fast burn #myfanfics #myart