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queen-of-the-avengers · 5 months

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Captain Marvel: Part Eight

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: canon violence and angst

Author’s Note: For the sake of the rewrite, Howard and Maria Stark dies on December 16, 1997 instead of 1991. Tony is 23 when they die.

You leave her side and find the 'T' section for Tesseract. If they have knowledge about it, what else do they have about it? The box is pretty empty since there isn't a lot of information on it, but you go through it with a fine-tooth comb. The only thing they know is that it's a box with an insane amount of power that can create portals. They got it from Howard Stark after Steve went into the ice. They tried testing it as a weapon, but it had a mind of its own, so Dr. Lawson took over and used it for her light-speed tech.

You're about to put the box back when you notice something at the very bottom. Interdimensional Republic. That's the company Markus owned. There isn't much on the company except that when the Tesseract opened a portal, they saw that name on a huge building before the portal closed. You sigh in relief and put the box back knowing that Markus will never find this place... if he's even out there.

You leave Vers to keep researching while you walk into the hallway to give yourself a breather. You're alone for maybe ten minutes before the sound of shoes clicking on the glossy floor sounds. You look up and see a man in his fifties walking toward you. You make the mistake of looking him in the eyes as he passes by you, and he stops and walks back over to you.

"I recognize you."

"Excuse me?"

"1945. Your face is plastered all over the newspapers from that time, and you even have your own section in the Smithsonian. You fought with Captain America."

"I'm sorry, you must have the wrong person."

"Well, then you won't care if I tell the authorities you're here."

"No!" you say too quickly. "What do you want?"

"I'm here to give you an opportunity. SHIELD is made up of dicks who only care about money and the power they hold. If you want to do something good in this world, join my side." He takes out one of his business cards and hands it to you. "I could use someone like you."

The mysterious man walks off without another word, and you look at the card he gave you. Dr. Hank Pym with Pym Technologies. You're not sure what he's up to, but you already have a big problem on your hands. Still, you put the car in your pocket and head back inside the archive's room.

Vers is over by the phone on the wall with her wrist device attached to the wires like she did when you first landed on Earth.

"Vers, what are you doing?"

"The only way we can know for sure about what happened is to talk to Maria. We need to contact Yon-Rogg. He will know what to do."

"Why? We've already gotten so much progress here ourselves because he's not here to screw it up. Do you see what using your powers can do? He's trying to manipulate you like every other Kree does."

Vers is confused about who to believe and who to trust, but she goes ahead and makes contact with Yon-Rogg despite what you've said.

"I know Lawson was Kree," she says before he has a chance to say anything. "She was here on C-53 and died in a plane crash. Do you know anything about this?"

"I just discovered a mission report sent from C-53. There's only so much I'm cleared to tell you Vers and Y/N, but Lawson was an undercover Kree operative named Mar-Vell. She was working on a unique energy core and experimenting with tech that apparently could help us win the war."

"Does it say anything about me? Or us?" you ask.

"Anything about you two? No, of course not. Why would it?"

"I found evidence that I had a life here," Vers confesses.

"On C-53?" he stutters.

"Mar-Vell is who I see as the Supreme Intelligence. I knew her, and I knew her as Lawson."

"This sounds like Skrull simulation, Vers."

"No, don't try and spin this off as some twisted delusion of your own," you growl.

"I remember I was here!"

"Stop! Remember your training. Know your enemy. It could be you. Do not let your emotions undermine your judgment."

"Go to hell." You hang up the phone. "Do not listen to him, Vers. He's manipulating you!"

"Where's Fury?"

"He's probably lost or captured. Come on."

You two leave the records room and head for the stairs. Just upon reaching the landing, you hear voices coming from above. You pull Vers into you and cover her mouth with your hand to let her know to be quiet.

"Fury's colluding with the target."

"Then why did he call us in?" a man that sounds like Agent Coulson asks.

"All I know is that we take him in too. Dead or alive."

Fury might have called them in, but you can't leave him here to get captured by who he thought was on his team. You wait for the two men to leave before heading back to the archive's room. Inside is Fury and his director fighting each other. You don't think someone's boss will pull a gun on their employee, which can only mean that the director is a Skrull looking for you and Vers. Vers blasts the director away from Fury, and he looks grateful for the save. She blasts the ceiling to use as a quick escape, and this is where you come in. You grab both of them and fly them through the hole Vers made.

"You called them in?" you scold.

"My bad!"

You find the staircase and yank the door open only to see Agent Coulson with a gun pointed at you. Vers' fists glow orange, but you put a hand to her hand to stop her from hurting Phil. Fury and Coulson have a silent conversation with their eyes, and Fury begs him not to give you away.

"Coulson, do you have eyes on them?" an agent says from above.

He takes five seconds to speak.

"They're not down here. Let's try another floor."

You three pass him on your way down to the hangar where all the airplanes are. Vers grabs a long metal pole and shoves it through the handlebars so that if someone were to try to use the door from the other side, it won't open. Once she knows it's safe, she holds her hand out as if she expects something from Fury. When he makes no move to acknowledge her, she hits his arm and holds out her hand again.

"What?"

"Give me your communicator. You obviously can't be trusted with it."

Fury sighs and hands over his pager to her just as agents slam into the locked door next to you.

"Come on!" you urge.

There isn't much to hide behind, but you manage to hide behind some large boxes that are ready to be shipped out. Agents break the door down to get inside the large room, and you weigh your options of escaping this unharmed. Vers spots one of the planes that can be used as a quick escape, and she nudges you and Fury.

With a mutual agreement, you stay hidden as you make your way over to the plane. Vers got behind the wheel, Fury took the passenger seat, and you got in the seat behind Vers. She begins messing with the controls as if she knows what she's doing. If what her memories show is true, then flying something like this is second nature to her.

"Do you know how to fly this thing?" Fury asks.

"Uh... we'll see."

"That is a yes or no question," Fury gasps.

Whatever Vers is doing is right because the engine roars to life and the doors close behind you. She pushes the lever forward which causes the plane to hover in the air.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Fury laughs.

When the agents below hear the plane take off, they start shooting at it aimlessly. It does nothing and allows Vers to fly out of the underground tarmac area, and over the open desert before gaining altitude very quickly. Suddenly, a small meow comes from the back of the plane where a meow shouldn't be. All three of you look back and see Goose pushed against a crate.

"We've got a stowaway," Fury says.

"Hang on, Goose."

Vers straightens the plane, allowing Goose to push off the crate and onto the ground. She happily walks over to Vers and jumps onto her lap, and your girlfriend moves her over to Fury.

"Who's a good kitty huh? Huh, Goose? Yes, that's right. Who's a good kitty, Goose? You're a good kitty," Fury coos.

Vers reaches into her pocket and takes out the photograph she stole of Wendy, Maria, and her in the background, and hands it to Fury.

"Do you see anyone you know? Six years ago, I arrived in Hala, near dead with no memory. I think I'm the pilot that went down with Dr. Lawson, and if not, then the last person to see them both alive is Maria Rambeau."

"How do we get to Louisiana?"

"Due East and hang a right at Memphis," Fury jokes.

"You must have taught Agent Coulson right because I appreciate the way he stuck up for us."

"Yeah, he's the new guy. I guess he doesn't hate me yet."

"Give him time," you joke.

"I guess he had a feeling and went with his gut against orders. It's a really hard thing to do. That's what keeps us human."

"I get in trouble for that. A lot," Vers sighs.

"Yeah by an ignorant asshole who gets off on manipulation," you comment.

"I can see that about you, and even you too, Y/N. Rescuing the guy who sold you out to the Skrulls. I guess that's not standard Kree operating procedure."

"Well, I won't tell your boss if you don't tell mine."

"He won't be hearing about this from me," you smirk.

Vers flies the aircraft all the way to Louisiana where Maria Rambeau is. She is very isolated from most of the population, but it's nice to see such big trees and open fields around her house. Next to her house is a shop used to fix cars, or in her case, planes. When you get a closer look at the shop, you can see a woman tinkering on a two-seater plane. This is Vers' moment since she knew Maria back in the day.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Maria Rambeau."

The woman jumps in surprise and a little girl identical to the older woman jumps out of the plane. She runs over to Vers with an excited look on her face as if she knows who she is.

"Aunty Carol! Mom, it's Aunty Carol. I knew it! Everybody said you were dead but we knew they were lying."

The little girl hugs Vers who is apparently named Carol. Your girlfriend stands awkwardly, unaware of who this child is. Maria walks closer to Vers with an unsure look on her face like she can't believe what she's seeing.

"I'm not really who you think I am," Vers says.

Maria isn't sure if this is her friend or not, but she wants to hear what Vers has to say. Monica, Maria's daughter, and Maria are sitting with you, Vers, and Fury in the living room so you can explain to them what happened after the plane crash. Vers' name isn't even Vers. It's the name that the Kree gave her to help conceal her identity.

Her real name is Carol Danvers.

"That is the craziest shit I've ever heard," Maria chuckles once you're done explaining.

"Green-transforming aliens? There's no such thing," Monica says.

"I'm an alien," you shrug.

"You're absolutely right, young lady. There is no such thing because if there were, we would want to keep that to ourselves," Fury says and looks at you accusingly.

"You want proof?"

Carol gets up and walks over to the tea kettle on the stove in the kitchen. She grabs the sides of the kettle and uses her powers to heat the tea inside. You raise your hand and use your air powers to open the cabinet and float one of the tea cups over to where Carol is. Maria and Monica stand up in fascination and curiosity.

"No way. That is so cool," Monica grins.

"They can do a lot more than just make tea with those hands," Fury scoffs.

"Like what? Show us."

"Maybe later," Carol chuckles.

"I kept all your stuff, I'll go get it," Monica says and rushes out of the room.

"You want to give her a hand with that?" Carol asks Fury who nods.

He leaves the room to give Carol and Maria some time alone together, and you get up to leave when Carol grabs your hand. This is all so new to her, but you're her safety net. She trusts you with her life, so she needs you here in case something goes wrong.

"So, her name is Carol?" you ask Maria.

"Yeah. You don't remember anything?"

"I see flashes of little moments, but I can't tell what's real. If I could just piece together what happened that morning, maybe it'll all make sense."

"You were banging on my door at dawn and woke me up. I didn't think anything of it because that's what you normally did. Back then, we had to get up so early. The Air Force wasn't letting women fly in combat, so testing Lawson's planes was our only shot at doing something that mattered. That morning, you wanted to race to the base but your old Mustang was nothing compared to my Camaro. You cheated and took a shortcut," Maria laughs at the memory.

There are tears in Carol's eyes at the thought of her stolen life, but she doesn't let them fall.

"Since when is a shortcut cheating?"

"Since it violates the predetermined rules of engagement."

"I definitely don't remember those."

"Mmm, of course, you don't." They both laugh like old friends. "When I got to the hanger, Lawson was agitated, because she had lives to save. She was trying to take the Aces up herself, but you said—"

"If there were lives at stake, I would fly the plane," Carol finish for her.

"Yup. Big hero moment. The kind of moment we've both been waiting for. The Doc was always unique. That's why I liked her, but now you're saying she's from another planet."

"I know this must be hard for you," you comment.

"What, this part right here? No. Do you know what's hard? Losing my best friend in a mission so secret they act like it never even happened. Hard is knowing you were out there somewhere, too damn stubborn to die. Now you come up in here after six years with your super-charged fire hands and magical friend, and you expect me to call you... I don't even know what... 'Vers'? Is that really who you are now?"

"I don't know," Carol sighs.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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appreciatingtokrev · 1 year

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(Hideko anon) No worries! Take all the time you need, and whenever you’re ready, I’d love to hear more about your OC!

thank you anon i swear you don’t know how much i love you <333

anon... anon i love you for this ask <33 i am kissing you on the cheek thank you!! thank you so much for asking this!! you’ve enabled my infodump button be prepared putting the stuff under the cut bc uh. i started rambling it’s quite long :'3

oookay first of all, she’s inspired by the hideko in the diary of a boy who will never be missed, a fic on ao3 that hasn’t been updated in months (i think it’s been over a year now?). it’s a fic in which hanma gets to have all of kisaki’s diaries after his death and reads through them. so he also writes about his mother (hideko) sometimes. yep the name is from there too but the author said they don’t mind using it even when i p much directly took it from their fic. wanted to mention that bc said fic is a big part of why my hideko even exists lol

the other big inspo was another fic on ao3 called mourning sickness, an absolute banger piece about baji’s mother trying to cope with the loss of her child. also wanted to mention that because reading that secured my want to actually write about kisaki’s mother and thus essentially made me create hideko

soo okay i took so long answering this that the fic abt her actually is out now help. in case you didn’t see it yet, it’s of loving men and /loving/ men and if you prefer to read on ao3 there’s also a link to that :3

anyways since you asked abt her i might as well talk hideko lore. especially bc the fanfic is kinda crypic-ish and the narrative is non-linear. so. on the 15th of november, 1970 she is born in japan. her parrnts are both fully japanese, and she grows up as an only child. her parents, especially her mother, are quite neglectful because they are both busy with their work. though they are rich and buy her whatever she wants. not that that makes it any better- when she’s ten years old, her mother gets a job offer somewhere in europe, and immediately leaves her family for the job without even thinking about it. hideko hasn’t heard from her ever since. from then on, her father makes efforts to get closer to his daughter, and to spend more time together, though hideko is as emotionally absent as her parents are at this point so while they eventually manage to build a healthy relationship, they aren’t really all that close, and hideko still holds personal grudges against her father’s neglect in her earlier childhood. still, even now she supposes that her teen years were some of the best.

the next big chapter in her life starts when she’s 16 and meets her future husband for the first time. he’s half american half japanese, and he’d just moved to japan with his parents after growing up in america, ending up in the same class as hideko, so school is how they meet. he’s a very sweet guy, and hideko falls in love with him pretty quickly. they happily start dating on the 2nd of july in 1987.

the next turning point of hideko’s life is november 15, 1987—her 17th birthday. she celebrates it all by herself because her father is at work, her boyfriend is ‘visiting his grieving mother who’d just lost her husband’ (she doubts that that’s true. she never actually finds out if it was a lie or not), and all of her (fake) friends make up excuses as to why they can’t celebrate with her. it’s an utterly sad day, and it’s when she starts realising that maybe, none of the people who claim to love her actually do.

her boyfriend proposes to her during the summer in which they’re both 19 (1990), and she says yes. even though she’s noticed that he’s not as sweet and kind as he pretends to be, but rather physically & emotionally abusive, plus neglecting to some extent. but she loves him too much.

they get married on the 2nd of july in 1991, when she’s 20. they move into a big two-story house together, even if she’s alone most of the time because her husband works overseas and thus is away most of the time. she’s actually already pregnant with kisaki tetta at this point, who then is born on january 20, 1992, with both his parents being 21.

nothing really major happens until ten years later. during those years, tetta grows up with his father physically abusing his mother and neglecting both of them, as well as his mother neglecting him, too. hideko tries to show her son that she loves him, but she ultimately fails. tetta still has a relatively decent life apart from that, he always has more than enough money, has good food, and has a big room all to himself. hideko makes sure that he’s okay, they just don’t ever really bond. it’s a kind of similar relationship to the one she had with her father. anyways, after those ten years, hideko is finally sick of her husband’s bullshit and abuse, and she pushes him down the stairs. it’s more an accident than anything else, but he dies because of the impact, and she can’t help but feel glad about it, in a way. tetta is the only other person to ever know that she killed him (although it wasn’t truly her intent, she feels some kind of satisfaction) because she tells everyone that he tripped and fell down all by himself, but tetta saw.

her life continues similarily, they’re still rich, and she still has difficulties bonding with tetta. however, she actually truly tries now. she realises he’s all she has left with her mother gone, her father and husband dead, and no other family members that she knows. tetta doesn’t want to be close to her, though, so she’s mostly just miserable.

her life greatly changes on the 22nd of february 2007, when her son gets hit by a truck and dies. she grieves a lot more for him than her husband, and while his death actually relieves her to some extent (which she feels incredibly guilty about), she’s even worse for quite a bit of time before she manages to start healing. she meets hanma at tetta’s grave sometime after he gets buried, and they sometimes accidentally meet there after that, too. in my ‘canon lore’ that’s everything about them, but i like to headcanon that they actually start meeting up on purpose n kinda become found family? idk

that’s really all the lore there is to her lol but uh. she’s about as tall as 2006 tetta, has long, dark brown hair that she usually keeps in a braid, eyes in the exact same shade as tetta, and moles all over her body, the most prominent one right beside the left corner of her mouth! she eventually cuts her her hair to shoulder length and bleaches the underside of it a few months after tetta’s death

#I HOPE I DID THE MATH RIGHT #i posted this too son again. cries. but at least i could fix it this time #☆—`ask #kisaki hideko #tokrev

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zyjust · 2 years

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Time bandit not on deadliest catch 2018

TIME BANDIT NOT ON DEADLIEST CATCH 2018 TV

This will be my first time missing in action, aside from the closer more than four decades ago! Our engine has blown up, meaning no season for us!!!” The post read, “for the last 38 years, I have always gone to Sea during King Crab Fishing Season. This is according to a status update by veteran fisherman Johnathan Hillstrand, which he posted to his Twitter account on October 13th, 2018. There are several reasons the Time Bandit disappeared for about two years from the show.įor starters, the massive vessel’s unexpected malfunction just before season 14 kicked off. In 2018, one major player was noticeably absent from the popular show-the Time Bandit commercial fishing boat. The reality show is produced for Discovery Channel by Original Productions. The show takes place during the Alaskan king crab and snow crab fishing seasons. The show follows experienced crab fishermen on their boats in the Bering Sea, chasing their biggest catches.

TIME BANDIT NOT ON DEADLIEST CATCH 2018 TV

It’s sad that F/V Time Bandit and its crew won’t be around anymore.A reality TV show on the Discovery channel, The Deadliest Catch has been airing on television since April 2005. Others are the Colburns in the Wizard, Sean Dwyer, Steve Davidson and Wild Bill on Breanna A, Southern Wind, and Summer Bay respectively. Together, the extended family took up the conquest of fishing for King Crabs in the Bering Sea among other cast members like the Hansens aboard the Northwestern. His two sons, Axel and Phillip also joined them as part of the deckhand. Let’s not forget their younger brother, Neal Hillstrand who took up the job as the boat’s mechanic. Since it’s a family-run business, he interchanged roles with his younger brother Andy during the Opilio Crab season. He was born on August 5th, 1955 as the second born in a family of seven. Jonathan Hillstrand manned the boat from season 2 to 13 when he retired. The only severe case we had was its engine blow out back in 2018 through a Tweet Jonathan sent. The vessel had been running smoothly as operated by its engineer, Justin Tennison, up until his death on February 22nd, 2011. It’s Diesel Engine runs on a max fuel capacity of 20K enough for your sailing needs. It measures 113 feet with a steel hull and is capable of holding more than 175,000 pounds of crab or fish. The Time Bandit boat and all its magnificence came afloat in 1991 through its builders, Gidding Boat Works. Though irrelevant at the time, the sense behind it just started taking up form. The settlement documents revealed that the deal involved splitting of ownership of their assets including $10,000 off the sale of the boat. For all the doubting Thomases out there, we have an actual reason to back up the deal.īack in October 2018 the boat’s part owner, Neal filed for a divorce from his estranged wife, Sugayle Marie Hillstrand. Nonetheless, the Dock Street Brokers will be handling the negotiations of the vessel’s sale. Why so many 8’s you ask? Well, the Hillstrand Brothers are superstitious enough to believe eight as their lucky number. What Happened to Time Bandit in 2019?Īccording to reports from TMZ, the brother’s listed up the F/V Time Bandit for $2,888,888. That said, you may want to say your goodbyes in advance like Jonathan Hillstrand, and his merry band of brothers did. However, things are looking pretty dim for the vessel and its crew who look like they are about to sail onto troubled waters according to reports flooding our newsroom. Like fish attracted to the bait, fans of Discovery Channel’s Deadliest Catch got reeled into the possibility of the return of The Time Bandit alongside its Captain and crew (Hillstrand Brothers) in the new season.

#Time bandit not on deadliest catch 2018

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holden-caulfield · 3 years

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Hatred, you thought.

↪︎ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

SUMMARY: enemies that get trapped in the same room and have no choice but to work together to get out, inevitably leading the two of them to realize their true feelings for each other to lovers.

WARNINGS: is it angsty? i don't think so, fluffy ending tho

WORD COUNT: 1991

A/N: i'm not really sure what this is, but i used my prompt and this came out... i don't think i ever mention draco but i wrote this with him in mind. also, i don't think they are in school, it's an au of some sort and it's very messy :) it will make sense as you read it tho!!

No way out. An empty room. Just you and him.

Oh, how ironic Fate could be, how insensitive, cruel and ironic.

No way out.

You were stuck, how it happened was still a mystery to you. Such a fool for having let yourself be trapped in there.

An empty room.

No windows, just a door, which was now sealed. The only source of lightning was enough to illuminate both of your faces, his features so sharp in the pale light emanated from the dangling lamp above you.

Just you and him.

It could have been anyone, but it had to be him, of course. He wasn't any happier than you, he despised you just as much as you did, if not more.

But there you were, alone together. Words weren't needed because facial expressions were enough to convey each other's feelings: scowls perfectly disclosed any emotion that passed through your minds. Aversion, loathing, abhorrence, hate.

Such a strong word, you never thought you'd have used it to describe someone, but he was worthy of the title. You hated him, so deeply, so violently, so passionately.

He was much more generous with the use of the word, he hated pretty much everyone who didn't agree with him. But with you. Oh, with you it was different. He made sure you knew he actually hated you. It was not playful banter, it was not temporary animosity. It was pure, unfathomable hatred.

Then why did you find yourself there with him? Fate, once more, came into play.

It has such a weird way of playing, Fate. It can conjoin long lost lovers just as easily as it can unite sworn enemies who would happily have nothing to do with each other. And it takes great pleasure in doing the latter; you couldn't help but imagine the Moirai laughing, deriding you as they spun the inexorable thread that was your own Fate. Insensitive and cruel they were as they got their merciless job done.

"What now?" he asked, but he already knew the answer. He didn't want to admit it, admit he needed your help; neither did you.

But the only alternative was waiting, waiting for the inevitable destiny that would have hit you if you hadn't got out of the room. However, that meant more time to share with him, and neither of you was hoping on it.

"We find a way out, isn't it obvious?" you couldn't refrain the sarcasm dripping from your tone. The even deeper scowl decorating his face was worth it.

"How?" it took a lot out of him to stop himself from snapping at you as he analyzed the only object in the chamber, the door.

"Aren't you the one always preaching about his above-average intellect? Put it to good use, then." you knew snarky remarks wouldn't have helped you to find a way out, but they did help improve your mood, even if only in the slightest.

"No lock. No handle. No hinges. What is your great intellect suggesting?" he threw away that last ounce of restraint he had in him and decided to play your game. A challenge, to entertain you while you endured his vile presence.

"Push it. Break it down."

"Ladies first." you took a running start and collided with the door. It didn't budge.

You tried again, this time he joined you. It didn't budge. Useless attempts.

"Great idea." you could feel the smirk in his voice but you didn't give him the satisfaction and stared at the still-closed door instead.

No way out. An empty room. Just you and him.

When suddenly an illumination: while scrutinizing the room, you looked up and, narrowing your eyes, you noticed a square-shaped line, so thin you couldn't have seen it if you hadn't been so focused.

"Give me a hand, quick!" you let of all the hostilities as an opportunity arose and grasped his shoulder, forcing him to look towards the area your finger pointed to.

He joined his hands and helped you reach what you hoped was a trap door.

"God, i thought you were lighter..."

"And i thought you were stronger but look at us." you stretched your arms to reach it but it was still too high up, "Higher!"

"I can't extend myself, you know?" he said, quite irritated.

"Oh woah, something you can't do? Bewildering..." arms still outstretched, you lifted yourself on your toes. A mistake.

You lost balance and could already taste the blood in your mouth from the inevitable contact with the floor, but it never happened.

Because he caught you. You were shocked and from the look in his eyes, he was too.

"Try not to do other stupid things because i won't be there to catch you again." you quickly lifted yourself from his hold and immediately started to study another way to reach the trap door, your only hope, but in your mind thoughts about what had just happened still roamed freely.

There was no explanation other than the fact that he could not work with an injured person; if you had hurt yourself, you would have been weaker and therefore unable to help him get out. Yes, that was the reason.

"Give me a lift again."

"You can't reach it-"

"Give me a lift. Again." your tone was sterner and he complied, but not before scoffing and rolling his eyes.

You climbed on his hands once more, but it was still too high. You lifted your foot tentatively and placed it on his shoulder.

"Woah, are you trying to kill me up there?!"

You didn't answer, instead using the new added height to reach the ledge. You pushed it open and climbed up, successfully exiting the room you had called prison just moments ago.

"Always."

He smirked disapprovingly, a smile that didn't reach his eyes, and signaled for you to help him out now, so you moved to find something, anything to help him.

It was dark, the only light brightening the new corridor that had just appeared was faint and came from the far end of it.

You crossed the entire hallway, looking for a rope or a box strong enough to support your nemesis when it dawned on you: your nemesis. Why were you even helping him? Sure he had helped you, but that was before you were free.

You had now a choice, he didn't have any. If he did, he wouldn't have been so magnanimous. He surely wouldn't.

You kept on going towards the light, strengthening with every step you took when a rope appeared in your way.

The choice was now concrete. You could help him. Or you couldn't.

"Y/l/n! Found anything?" what to do now? He wouldn't have helped you.

"Took you long enough, huh?"

"I was trying to find something, you ungrateful twat." you sneered as you threw him the rope. He grasped it and began climbing, but you had still time. Time to let the thread go and leave him there. Time to save yourself.

But you didn't, an actual reason still missing in your mind. Too much compassion, too much pity, you thought. But you weren't convinced, you couldn't lie to yourself, there was something else.

He climbed all the way up, you offered your hand to finally hoist him on the ledge. He considered it, he refused it.

"We're not friends, y/l/n."

"Believe me, i know. I was just trying to make sure i hadn't to get you up here all over again. I thought you were lighter, you know?" he glowered at you, but it was not the same as before, as always.

One way out. Just you and him.

You treaded that same corridor you had crossed seconds ago, besides him this time. It was narrow and your bodies tried so hard not to touch but it was close to impossible. Shoulders collided, legs bumped, hands grazed. But eyes refused to meet; hatred, you repeated to yourself.

The light seemed to never arrive even as you quickened your step. You were running, striving to reach that light that you so desperately clang to. But then a sudden stop.

The hand that was once ruthlessly brushing against yours, grasped you. It was rushed, it was vital, it was puzzling. But it held you close to him.

He was your enemy, you needed to distance yourself, but you couldn't find the strength in you to do so. Hatred, you repeated in your head and you pushed him away.

"Watch your step." he said, pointing to a hole in the floor, a square one. You were running in circle.

You felt stupid, to think he had forgotten your rivalry so easily, to think things had changed between you.

"Thanks." it came out of your mouth without thinking. Good manners are hard to forget, you reckoned.

A pause.

"You're welcome." could a situation of forced proximity really change the feelings between two people?

Incredibly thin is the line between love and hate.

You didn't love him. You didn't hate him either. Things were evolving, you didn't know whether it was good or bad, but they were.

"We have to find another way." you thought aloud. He agreed with a simple nod, no remarks. The awkward exchange must have had an effect on him just as much as it did on you, or so you thought.

His eyes were lighter than you had ever seen them, his face seemed tense, but it was not a grimace; that was new. He looked quite entrancing when he wasn't too busy glowering at you, his features looked endearing as they attentively surveyed the area.

Sense of guilt took over because you knew you shouldn't have been thinking about such things, but had he always been so tall and captivating? Had you never noticed that sparkle in his eyes that caused the image of crystals glinting in the sun to appear in your mind? Was he thinking the same?

Undecipherable; intriguing. You wanted to know more, was it possible? You pondered no further and returned your gaze to the corridor, unwillingly.

It was his turn to watch you now because when you turned again you caught him staring.

"What are you looking at?" you couldn't help the defensive tone with which you uttered the sentence, but it didn't bother him.

"You saved me. Why?" he was genuine, he was sincere and this had you even more confused than you already were.

"You did too, it's nothing but a temporary truce."

"Is it?" he whispered without missing a beat and suddenly the walls weren't narrow anymore, no, they were far too wide, he was far too distant. As if reading your mind, he took a step closer.

"Of course it is." were you that sure?

"Are you sure?"

"Of course i am."

"But why did you save me?" what game was he playing? Your mind was not able to form any coherent thought as the man in front of you kept on making questions to which you didn't know the answer. You didn't want to admit the answer.

"It's just a truce, we hate each other-"

"Do we?" his questions were quick, it was much simpler making them than answering them.

"Do we?" you repeated.

"You could have left me there..."

"Do we?" you insisted.

"You didn't have to do that, you could have-"

"Do we hate each other?" you were impatient to hear him say it.

He remained silent but his eyes were speaking, only his mouth didn't allow them.

"Do we hate each other or-"

He cut you off, that same mouth that had suddenly become dumb reached yours. Hatred, you repeated in your head.

You kissed him too, logic leaving your mind, hands entangling in his hair, bodies flush against each other.

Love, you admitted.

Maybe Fate wasn't as cruel as you thought.

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#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #fanfiction #harry potter #fanfic #draco lucius malfoy #draco x reader #draco imagine #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy fluff

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lumiereswig · 3 years

Note

sorry if this is a bother but if you're still writing fics, could i please get uhhh fic with the 1991 characters but everyone's personalities are the stark opposite of their canon selves?

lmaoooo

so beast is this soft-spoken dude who looks less like a wildebeast and more like a sandhill crane, with soft gills sprouting from his neck and beautiful grasshopper antennae instead of horns. he is cursed NOT for being an insufferable little bitch but for instead being so OVERWHELMINGLY nice to the enchantress that, after offering her his home-made peanut butter casserole for the 17th time, she decides nobody could ever love this sad-sack kindly wimp until he grows a spine, and curses him to learn to be loved in his new weird, soft, slightly floppy form.

(the enchantress’s personality in this is less providence-sent moralizer of justice and more chaos-drenched humbug with a gift for thinking up the exact wrong way of teaching any lesson.)

belle, meanwhile, is busy going on a fuckin rager because in this timeline she’s impatient, impetuous, extroverted, and going fuckin insane in this bewilderingly boring little town. oh yeah, she’s still intelligent, but this belle flies off the fucking handle if she has to deal with these dick-brained villagers one more time, GOD the way they’re so pompous and cosmopolitan, ughhh if she hears the baker quote ‘hamilton’ in that pseudo-smart way he’s so fuckin fond of she’s going to take a flame-thrower to everyone and everything in this town

oh yeah. in this version she’s not much of a reader. what she IS fond of is pyrotechnics and anything that explodes

maurice is a v boring accountant who sticks to the straight and narrow and is thus VERY alarmed when on his way to his annual Accountants Of Extreme Boringness conference he ends up in an enchanted castle. he is further alarmed when he is immediately snogged by an impetuous, flirtatious, devil-may-care son of a bitch baroque clock

the clock is pulled off him by an uptight, nerves-wrecked candle who looks like he’s melted at least four inches just trying to keep up with his clock husband. the thing about clocks, he anxiously explains, is they’re sort of ticking time bombs when it comes to pulling off shenanigans

‘don’t have a meltdown,’ scolds the clock, and promptly leads the candle in a high-stakes round of erotic tango

maurice passes out immediately and no one can blame him.

belle, having busied herself all morning seeing if she can blow up the backyard fence more effectively with nitroglycerin or dynamite, notices her father has gone AWOL and hasn’t yet brought back the one thing she always asks for when he goes on trips, i.e., high-octane gunpowder. she high-hoes off on her horse, and ends up at the castle, where she kicks down the door and is alarmed to see her father being served jellied crumpets by some kind of long-necked heron wearing a cravat.

the beast is QUITE willing they should all leave immediately but only if he can give them a pan of scotcharoos before they go, and can he get them anything nice to wear, it’s kinda cold out there are they sure they’re gonna make it? after the 50th offer of being allowed to spend the night belle is like. FINE. FINE. FINE I’LL FUCKING STAY, YOU FUCKING GENEROUS PILLOCK. CAN MY FATHER GO HOME AT LEAST

uh sure ok! says the beast. he’s just excited that belle might want to do a 500-piece jigsaw puzzle with him and maybe they can make popcorn

belle is quickly introduced to the whole staff, which includes a crotchety bottle of Scotch whisky named Mrs Potts, her shy shot-glass son, a quiet bookworm closet, and a hatstand that will not shut up. she tries to meet the clock and candle but the clock is very invested in broadway-style show numbers and performs an entire song with a kickline backup of tapdancing pocket watches

lumiere frantically insists to belle that she must forgive this ridiculous intrusion, the english are just like that, you know. he loses his train of thought when a pretty young feather duster comes into the room and doesn’t say another word for the rest of the night

belle and beast spend their days with belle constantly trying to leave and the beast managing to get her to stay just by being so blindly, consistently kind with her. belle finds that ....she kinda likes it. it’s nice to have someone to feel at home with. one time she really does try to leave and gets as far as the woods, but then the beast follows her and passes out when he sees a particularly frightening tree. she finds herself loving his S O F T N E S S

i should probably write gaston into this but frankly i can’t be bothered. somethin bad happens (the villagers storm the castle because they think a performance of ‘hamilton’ is happening there?), belle accidentally blows the entire thing up, the beast thinks that’s frankly the coolest shit he’s ever seen, and belle happily marries her weird crane-man and fuck the curse, the enchantress has forgotten all about it and nobody really minds it anyway. it’s kinda cool being a candelabra, right? especially when that rococo clock keeps slipping you kisses behind the ballroom curtains

#lol a disaster fic #CRACK #CRACK FIC #jfc writing this was....a RIDE a TRIP a VOYAGE TO A NEW WORLD #happy friday here's the dumbest fic i could possibly write #batb fanfic #asks #beauty and the beast #batb 1991 #i almost wrote plumette in but i stopped myself in time #91 is HARD. i prefer the trash characters of 17 because who cares if i fuck them up? thye were fucked up to start with!!#i cant do worse than bill condon and that's always deeply comforting

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i-ate-the-whole-entire-pie · 3 years

Text

Call Me Mother, Chapter One

I languidly drained the last breath from my cigarette, the drag filling my lungs. My garter straps hung down lazily, tickling my thighs, as they awaited their purpose. Music thumped rapidly, and whoops of delight resounded through the hall. The dressing room door swung open; a small, but curvaceous woman behind it.

Her eyebrows were tweezed to perfection, eyes deeply shadowed, eyelashes false and curled into large feathery swoops; her mouth was like a plump strawberry. I’d always harbored a mild curiosity about how it tasted.

“Mary, you’re up in 10 minutes. I want you at the curtain in five," Cristella said, her hispanic accent thick.

“Is that a new corset?” I asked. Cristella turned me around, and yanked the laces of my corset together. Thank god I haven’t needed to breathe for the last 150 years, I thought. I floated a small influence her way. Gentler, please. She complied, unwittingly. They always do.

I don’t normally use my influence on people I like, but I’m far too hungry to risk her pinching me with this corset. I couldn’t forgive myself if I lost control. She was far too kind to die a death that violent.

“It is. This papí chulo I’ve been seeing said he wanted me to wear it for him. Maybe he’ll tip better," she said, carefully pulling the slack out of the lower half of my corset. I placed my hands over my belly, holding everything in place.

“What’s the crowd looking like?” I tucked the ties away. She jutted a hip out, and began counting off on her impeccably manicured fingers.

“The usual crowd. Old Man Carraway, that one divorcee who drinks like a fish. College kids. Oh, there’s also these dudes in silver masks. Low-key kind of demonic. And some weird guy in like, face paint? He’s painted up like a calavera. I figured they came from that concert that was in town. You know, the one that church was protesting? Say they like worship Satan or something?”

“Sounds about right." I bent down to attach my straps to the garters of my stockings.

“They’re probably here for a private room, so I figured I’d put you on now. You’re good at handling the weirdos." Cristella giggled, watching me struggle to get the backs of my stockings attached. She and I broke into fits of giggles, as she chased me in circles, trying to help me attach my stockings.

“Let me get that. Hurry up and get on stage!” she said, giving me a playful smack on the ass. I pranced out of the room, trying to avoid her grasping mitts.

“Hey! No bruising the merchandise!” I giggled, linking arms with her as we strutted backstage, perfectly in step with one another. She grabbed the microphone from Mike the Mic Guy, gave me a wink, and stepped through the curtain.

“Aaaaand we’re back! Now, this next lady I’ve got lined up for you is quite a treat. She’s as pale as cream, thicker than a bowl of oatmeal, and will definitely step on you. Well, she might if you tip well. For legal reasons, we can’t call her “Elvira,” so I guess we’ll settle for… MOTHER! MARY!” That was my cue. I sauntered through the curtain, my hips moving like a figure eight. I moved across the stage, “Lullaby” by the Cure playing. I always chose various genres of rock for my acts. Not that I have anything against the other girls’ music choices… but there’s only so much female rap you can play in one night. As I began to dance, I noticed the group that Cristella had mentioned earlier. They were sitting front and center, near the edge of the stage.

Seven of the masked figures sat around the Painted Man, as I had labeled him. Two of the masked figures seemed effeminate, and the other five seemed more masculine. They all ranged in different shapes and sizes. Maybe the masks are a fetish thing? Cristella did say that they came from a concert… Something about them seemed off. I did a swing around the pole, dropping into a fireman, trying to catch a scent. It was a whirlwind of scents, none of them too out of the ordinary. Except the beefy one. He smelled like midnight. I don’t know how to explain it. What really caught my interest though was the Painted Man. Specifically, his eyes. One of them was grey, the iris almost black. The other eye had a pale, white iris. It suited him, and it was beautiful, in an eerie way. Those eyes looked at me, as I danced around the stage, and they knew me. If I had a working heart still, it would be racing.

As Robert Smith crooned, I descended the stairs of the stage as sensually as one could in Pleaser heels, making my way to the Painted Man. If I wanted to know what these people were, I’d have to get a closer look. The Painted Man patted one of his legs with a gloved hand, and cocked his head to the side. I took the invitation, but not before I teased him. I crouched between his legs, running my hands up his thighs. As I rose, I walked my hands up his thighs, bringing my face closer to his. His breath graced my skin, smelling faintly of licorice. As he leaned in, for what I could only assume was a kiss, I rose again, strutting over to one of the masked beings. It was the smaller of the male ones. I sat in his lap, letting him run his hands over me as I began to grind on his lap. His growing erection told me I was going to have a busy night.

“Your boss is a little too eager," I whispered, getting a good whiff of him. He smelled faintly of smoke. I put my hands on his chest, trying to keep my balance. No heartbeat.

“What makes you think he’s my boss?” The being asked petulantly. He grabbed onto my waist, as he began to grind with me. I moved his hand to the small of my back, and leaned back in a dip. The being ran his other hand over my belly, in between my breasts, and up to my throat, bringing me back up to his masked face.

“You’re the one wearing a uniform." I darted my tongue out to lick my lips. What is he? My mind raced as I tried to run through every supernatural creature I’d ever known. But then I heard it. I barely even understood it. All I picked up was price and one night. It was Ghoulish. The taller female ghoul was asking about what I can only assume was my hourly rate. Most strip clubs in this part of Vegas were just fronts for brothels. However, it’s hard to sell the idea of prostitution to Mid-Western vanilla tourists. So most of my income was made from stripping. I usually had one or two clients I went to bed with a night. It wasn’t very stable, but then again, I had less expenses than the average stripper, considering my “condition."

“Tell your friend my basic hourly rate is $500. My Ghoulish isn’t any good." I stood up, and made my way to the female ghoul’s lap.

“How do you know Ghoulish?” she asked, a bit of surprise in her tone. I bent over in front of her, shaking my ass for her. She put a couple of bills in the waistband of my panties, punching my previous ghoul in the arm. He forked over some cash as well.

“I’m not human. I’ll leave it at that," I said, stuffing the cash into the top of my corset. Dear lord… All hundreds… The female ghoul rubbed my thighs, turning me back around slowly, so as to admire my ass.

“Could we get a room after your number? I think a private dance is in order," she said, in broken Ghoulish. I nodded, and as if on cue, the lights and music began to fade out. As I began to walk back up the stairs to the stage past the Painted Man, his hand darted forward to smack my ass. God, it really is not the night for this shit. My more animalistic nature took over, and before I could stop it, a hiss left my lips. As if of their own accord, my fangs sprung painfully through my gums. I heard a snap, and looked over to see the largest ghoul stand up. He shook his head. Thank god the lights were low. Embarrassed, I covered my mouth, and made my way across the stage.

“What the fuck was that all about?” Mike the Mic Guy asked, handing a mic to Cristella. I still had my hand over my mouth. Cristella looked worried.

“Are you okay Mary? I can get you some tea if you’re keyed up." I shook my head.

“Please get a room ready. The Freak Parade wants a private dance," I said as I walked away, silently cursing myself. Once back in the dressing room, I threw open the mini-fridge I normally kept padlocked. I looked to the last bottle I had left in my stash. Hopefully it hasn’t clotted, I thought, throwing the bottle back. This wouldn’t end my thirst, but it would certainly quell the burning in my throat. You nearly lost it. You need to bag one of these stupid fucks tonight, or else. I hadn’t had a bad case of blood lust in decades, but the combination of winter holidays, my strict schedule, and FOSTA-SESTA had really cut off my food supply.

The door opened, and Cristella came in with a cup of tea. She looked at the flask in her hand and cocked a brow.

“And you didn’t offer to share. What is that? Cuervo? Henny?” she said, reaching for the flask. I shook my head, and put it back in the fridge, closing the padlock.

“It’s cough syrup. I keep it under lock and key because of that bitch Ronnie. She’s not fooling anybody. You ever see how much her hands shake? Too much caffeine? Yeah, right. We all know what the DTs look like." I began changing into a burgundy velvet bra and panty set, pairing it with some burgundy gloves and stockings. Finally, I found a pair of sparkly Loboutins Lydia had left me. My mind rolled back through the streets of Paris to 1991, when Louboutin opened its first salon. Lydia smiled, as I kissed her shin, helping her into the heel. She looked down at me, her eyes full of love, and the corner of her mouth hiding a kiss just for me.

“Yeah, she is pretty suspish. What happened with those weirdos out there?” Cristella interrupted my memory. I shook my head. Are you just imagining your heartache?

“Oh the big guy was just mad because I didn’t get around to him. That’s why I wanted you to get the room. Plus, I might be able to secure a nice check from these guys. They all seemed absolutely randy," I said. Cristella shook her head, giggling. The gloss in my hand made a popping noise, as I pulled the wand from the bottle. It was my favorite flavor, watermelon.

“I can ask one of the boys to sit in, to keep them from getting too handsy," Cristella said. I shook my head. It would only keep me from getting too handsy, I thought to myself. Bless her heart. I could never make a kill here. I loved the crew here far too much. Plus, I didn’t have a coven. No one to protect me when I fucked up. They kicked me out long ago. It’s the main reason I ended up in Vegas, avoiding the sun when I could, doing my best to keep a legal and convenient profession. Where else could get a job with only night shifts, and a never-ending supply of useless assholes no one cared about?

“I’ll be okay Crissy. Even if they do try something, we have a panic button in there. Don’t worry." I gave her a slimy, glossy kiss on the cheek, earning a shriek from her strawberry mouth. She batted at me, narrowly missing me as I bounded out of the room.

As I approached the bigger of our three private rooms, I noticed two of the larger male ghouls standing outside the door. All of the ghouls dressed similarly, including the female ghouls. But I now noticed the alchemical symbols dangling from their belt chains. The shorter one had a quintessence symbol, the other larger one, an earth symbol. The earth one opened the door, and the quintessence one escorted me in.

“Thank you, Aether. Back to the door with you. Come, have a seat. Dewdrop says there is more to you than meets the eye. Let me pour you a glass of wine, cara," a thick, Italian accent beckoned to me. I walked to the ottoman in the middle of the room, where I usually found myself during private dances.

“I don’t drink during work hours, love. Now, what should I call you?” I looked into the mismatched eyes of the Painted Man.

“You can call me Papa. I’m Papa Emeritus, the fourth. My close friends call me Copia, but I suppose we are not quite there yet, sí?” he said, leaning forward to take my chin in his hand. I nodded.

“While I would love to marvel at your undoubtedly exquisite body, There is some business we should take care of first, piccolina. Do you like Type O Negative?” Cue the record scratching. The dreamy look I normally adopt when with my clients evaporated.

“Excuse me?” I whispered. Papa laughed.

“The band, cara. I was going to have you dance for me later. However, you must have a preference."

“I really don’t understand what you mean," I whispered. Papa laughed again, a big booming laugh.

“I know your secret cara. The ghouls told me. One of my predecessors, Papa Nihil, told me if I were to ever come across your kind, I should try to win your allegiance. Your kind have interesting abilities, specifically the power of influence." Of course that’s what he’s after.

“I don’t do that," I said, looking down to avoid his gaze. Papa tsked.

“I think you will. The ghouls say you smell lonely. Where is your famiglia?” He asked. I shook my head. Lydia’s pained screams echoed in my ears, our last moment together wrenching my heart out of my chest decades later.

“We split because of artistic differences," I said softly. Dewdrop and his companions giggled behind me.

“Forcing people to allow you to exsanguinate them for sport is not ‘artistic differences,’” Dewdrop hissed. The other ghouls laughed. Papa shook his head, and raised a hand to silence them.

“Now now, Dewdrop. It is hard to control one’s basic nature. Sí, tesoro? Tell me, how long has it been since your last drink?” He looked at me with concern. I couldn’t meet his eyes. I knew what he saw. Weak, pathetic, useless… The words were like a disgusting mantra, swirling through my mind, angry and acidic.

“Weeks… It’s been weeks," I whispered. He tsked again. I heard the ghouls chatter amongst themselves. Their pity made me feel disgusting, like a child with sweaty, clammy hands, and odorous armpits.

“What if I told you I could offer you a job and a home? A home where you wouldn’t have to hide your nature. A home where you’d never go hungry again?” I looked up at him.

“What kind of job?” I asked. The ghouls laughed again. Papa shot them a glare.

“I would make use of your gifts occasionally. Nobody would get hurt. You would warm my bed whenever I asked. Maybe pick up a trade or two once back with the Clergy. And in turn, you would get protection, and all the blood you could ever need," he said. I finally mustered the courage to look him in the eyes. What do you have to lose? Besides, you’ve done infinitely worse things.

“You swear on your life, nobody will get hurt? Not a single person?” I asked. Papa nodded.

“I’ll do it. I’ll also require a salary as well," I said, extending my hand. Papa nodded, taking my hand in both of his.

“Anything you need, cara. But first, I think you need a drink. And then we will get the night I paid for," he said. He waved his hand towards the door, which the shorter female ghoul scurried to open. I noticed she sported a pocket chain with an air symbol.

“Bring in one of the more rosy siblings, Cumulus. I suspect our new friend will need the sustenance before we get too far into our plans for the night," Cumulus nodded, and shut the door behind her. Papa stood up, and began removing his suit jacket and gloves; rolling up his sleeves. I could see his blue veins pulsating, causing me to become aroused in a way I cannot quite explain. Involuntarily, my pussy throbbed, and my mouth watered.

“Now now, little one. Be patient. Your drink will be here soon enough. But for now, you will seal our little deal with a kiss, so to speak. On your knees," Papa ordered, gesturing to the floor. I slipped from the ottoman to the floor, crawling on all fours to him. His breath hitched as I slid my hands up his thighs. I didn’t break eye contact as I unbuckled his trousers, nor when I reached into his pants to pull out his sizeable cock.

The door opened, and I heard mumbles, as well as a struggle, and a thud. Of course, both my hands and mouth were preoccupied. I watched Papa intently as I sucked him off. His eyes were rolled back, his mouth slack, and his hands threaded into his hair, as he let out an ungodly moan. I kitten licked his frenulum, stroking his shaft, earning another moan. He bucked his hips into my throat. Sit still, I whispered in the back of my mind. Papa grabbed my hair, and pulled me off his cock.

“Never again, my little bat. Continue," he said, grabbing either side of my face as he began to fuck my throat rigourously. Someone behind me cleared their throat. I wasn’t able to look up, due to my current predicament.

“Can’t you see I’m busy, Cirrus? What is it?” Papa let out a grunt, as his cock twitched in my mouth. I began to fellate him with my hands, wrenching more breathy sighs and groans from him. Within seconds, his warm seed was flooding my throat. I heard Dewdrop cheer, and then a slap, which I assumed was a high five. Papa rolled his eyes and smiled, as I dabbed away the bit of cum that had spilled over my bottom lip.

“Just in time. I needed something to wash down all that salt," I stood, and walked over to the person Cumulus and Cirrus stood in front of. It looked like a plumper woman. She was wearing what looked like a nun’s habit, her red ringlets spilling out from under her wimple.

“All for you cara. Come find me when you have finished your meal," Papa walked out, which left me with the ghouls and my prey. Dewdrop, and the other male ghoul, who sported a water symbol, helped the little nun onto the couch.

“You’re going to let me fuck that tight ass later, right? Nearly busted watching you and Copia earlier," Dewdrop said to me, softly enough for just me to hear. I giggled and nodded, batting him away after he began nibbling on my neck. He patted my ass, and began to pull the wimple from the nun’s head.

“I’ve got this. Why don’t you and the rest of the ghouls get started? I’ll be done pretty quickly." Dewdrop nodded.

“C’mon, Rainy. Come play with my cock, while we watch Mary drink," The water ghoul nodded, grabbing Dewdrop’s hand. I turned my attention back to the nun. She began to stir. I pushed back her hair.

“This is going to hurt a little bit. But I will make this quick and painless. You deserve an easy death." The nun, barely awake, nodded, and turned her head. I cradled her head, and brought her throat to my mouth. With a final kiss to her soft, peachy flesh, I sank my teeth into her throat, not letting a single drop of her blood go to waste.

It felt like drinking water after being stuck in a desert for a week. Her blood was sweet, clean, and thick, and it quenched my thirst quickly. Her body began to go limp in my arms, and her skin turned cold. It’s still not enough. I had to force myself to stop. Never drink the last drop. It might just be the last thing you do, my old mentor’s voice reminded me. I let the little nun drop back to the couch, and turned to face the ghouls. Cirrus sat with Cumulus, each with a hand in the other’s pants. Rain was bobbing his head up and down slowly, as Dewdrop played with his hair. Dewdrop looked up at me.

“Hot," he said. Cirrus nodded, and refocused her attention on Cumulus. Rain moaned, causing Dewdrop to hiss. I looked at them all, lust clouding my gaze.

“Make room. It’s my turn," I said. Dewdrop pulled my mouth to his, not fazed one bit by the blood coating my lips. Cirrus began to explore the space between my thighs with her long, gorgeous fingers. Rain held my hair, kissing and nipping at my neck. A girl really could get used to this...

Hours later, after all of the ghouls had had their turn, even the two from the door, I was back in the dressing room. I opened the envelope the earth ghoul, Mountain, had handed me on the way out. My eyes grew like saucers as I counted the money inside. I had only expected eight grand; two hours, eight clients, multiplied by $500. But as I counted, I realized I had 15 grand in my hands. The door opened, breaking my wealth-induced trance. It was Papa.

“If you would really like the job, come to this address in two weeks. Bring only what you must. Put everything else in storage," he said, handing me a card. I was confused.

“Why two weeks?” I asked. Papa smiled.

“Because it’s polite, cara. Don’t forget your letter of resignation."

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

This is the first thing I've wrote in years! I hope you all enjoy it! A special thanks to @gasolineghuleh for all of their help!

#the band ghost #popia #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #mountain ghoul #aether ghoul #cumulus ghoullete #cirrus ghoulette #duckydaydreams

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dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram · 4 years

Note

I’d love to hear your thoughts on Louis’ class position if you want to elaborate.

What a great question anon - of course I would love to!

Louis was born in Doncaster in 1991. That sentance is a weighty starting point to a discussion about class. Eight years earlier, Doncaster had been the centre of militancy when Miners were striking to protect the possibility of decent work for working-class people. They had lost - and the price was losing was the devastation of work and the economy in the area.

I’ve always wondered if Len was a miner. The fact that he was working as a driver, makes it more likely - it’s a really common occupation among people who worked as miners. But whether or not that story of destruction and devastation is Louis’ family story, it’s still the story he grew up steeped in.

Jay was a working-class single mother at 19 (I think we know enough about her family to be reasonably sure at that). She would have studied throughout Louis’ childhood, and became a midwife in 2002 (although she had to put it on pause while the big twins were little, she must have gone back to it reasonably soon, because she was a senior midwife by the time she had the little twins). Jay and Louis’ economic position got more secure as time went on, not least because she got married, but both Jay and Louis have talked a lot about money being tight at various points. Once Jay was able to work as a midwife again after the twins were born - their family would definitely be in a better position than a lot of families in Doncaster. Both midwifery and selling cars to businesses (which is what Mark did) are borderline jobs when it comes to class. Although importantly at this point in Doncaster - they weren’t constantly being restructured (we don’t know much about Mark’s work history before he got hte job he had when Louis went on X-factor).

But (and I think this is really important) - Jay and Mark had very little that they could pass on to their kids - and expectations and experiences of working-class people in Doncaster weren’t getting any better.

So what does that look like from pre-fame Louis’ point of view? He’s growing up in a place where the ruins of class conflict lost still dominate both the emotional and actual landscape. At some point, they’re in a position of relative economic security - and there are definitely a lot of people around who want that more. His Mum is working very hard for this little bit of security, and encourages him to join in the project of becoming middle class,. But that’s far from the only influence in his life - everything that he’s done since made it clear that he paid attention to the working-class older men in his family and wider circle. And he’s definitely not seen as a middle-class kid to the people around him. Authority figures feel free to say: ‘you are going to have a miserable shit life and that’s what people like you deserve’.

Then at 18, everything changes. Suddenly he’s a popstar. He has more money and opportunities than ever seemed like it would be possible. But he’s still carrying his experiences of class over the last eighteen years. I think it’s clear that not every door felt open - that there were lots of ways he would continue to feel like a kid from Donny - and therefore aspects of London that felt closed to him (this is based both on the way he’s described his own experiences).

I think that early 1D was also pretty heavily media trained to be non-threatening. The London riots happened, just before they were launched. And the discourse of ‘chavs’ was very much at its peak. I think it would have been very important to their success that 1D came across as compliant, safe working-class lads. And I think Louis and Zayn would have been the members who were seen at most at risk of suggesting otherwise. I think Louis probably understood (he was used to the sort of requests that were being made) - and was reasonably happy complying. But I think it’s really important not to treat early 1D as their unfiltered selves - the class messages they sent to the audience were central to their success. (I always wonder about Louis saying Manchster United as his football team, rather than Donny Rovers, in the Chris Moyles interview in this context, but obviously that could also be about his boyfriend).

And (this is even more speculative) I think there may have been more going on than that. It’s very noticeable that until mid 2012 - Louis isn’t being styled in a way that might make him come across as more straight. I don’t think that can be an accident - I think Caroline knew what she was doing. I’ve always wondered if that was about class - that the most important thing for Louis’ presentation in that first little bit, was making sure that he didn’t come across as a dangerous and unruly working class lad - and if that meant he came across as more gay - well that wasn’t that big a worry. I wonder what that was like for Louis, to experience how others viewed his class-background and his sexuality as incompatible.

As time went on that obviously changed - Louis’ embraced working-class Yorkshire signifiers much more, in speech, life and styling over the latter years of 1D. Again there’s a lot going on and it’s hard to tell what’s causing what. I think it’s clear that football was really useful to him as a way of making sense of the world (I’m thinking of him linking to Joey Barton’s Oxford Union address).

As all this is happening, things are only getting worse in Doncaster, for the kids he went to school with. After the 2008 crash, and the austerity that followed, South Yorkshire’s economy contracted more than Greece’s. He’s aware of this, although he only mentions it obliquely - by talking of liking a Russell Brand video where he talked about the same thing.

In 2017, Louis launches his solo career and he explicit discusses class for the first time. He describes himself as a ‘chav’. Now most of my response to this has been pure rage at the class hatred that circulates in fandom. But in terms of understanding Louis, there’s much more to say. The first is that it is a selective presentation of himself. When Louis talks to a radio host who grew up on a council estate, it’s clear that he didn’t.

But also class discourse has moved on by this point - post referendum the working-class isn’t being presented as unruly young white kids who want things they shouldn’t, but angry older white men who don’t like what’s been taken away from him. I’m really interested in this choice, because I think people involved must have known about this change. I think sexuality probably again played a role - now being seen as an unruly working-class young person was less risky and being seen as gay was much more risky. But also how much of this was about Louis’ understanding of class and his life being stuck when he became famous? Quite a lot has happened since 2010.

But on top of that - I think it’s really clear throughout his solo career how much his class background and experiences means to him. We particularly see it in the music videos. The decision to do the Two of Us video is one thing, but the way Louis connected with Richard is so much more. ‘Chav’ Louis may not be the whole truth - but it’s obviously pretty key to who he is.

So to sum up, I think Louis grew up surrounded by quite explicit class understandings, both of loss and resistance. He’s made it clear that older men’s experiences was quite important to him (and in the 1990s in Doncaster that’s quite a specific set of experiences). He wasn’t ever quite able to be the person who would fulfil his mother’s class ambitions through education, but obviously fulfilled them in another way. That required him to manage and present his class position for an audience to be consumed - and made the relationship between class and sexuality not just a private set of questions, but something that his whole team would have a say in. As an adult, he has reclaimed and rejoiced in his class culture and background. This is sometimes very processed and presented as part of his branding, but it also seems to reflect how he interacts with the world.

#This is more about how I think he engages with and understands class #than his class position per se #the question of class and celebrities #particularly in Britain is another one #Anonymous

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corvus--rex · 3 years

Text

Another one that's been put down for a nap. I actually have the four planned chapters outlined, it just takes a particular head space to write. It's a 90's au, which means that there is period-typical homophobia involved. Our boys are musicians still in the town they grew up in. Note: they both smoke (I'm sorry), and there's a brief mention of underage sex (both are high school seniors).

@jilli-bean, this is more of the au my paragraph came from. I remembered you asked if I would tag you when I wrote more of it. Here it is so far!

~*~*~*~

~~*~~ present day – June, 1997 ~~*~~

“So, like, I guess he’s gay or whatever. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that, it’s just, like, y’know?”

The voice belonged to a girl in a sundress talking to her two friends while walking by. Keith stayed where he was leaning against the side of the building and flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke in a sigh. Saying “there’s nothing wrong with that” was just the same as saying “no offense” and then being offensive. He’d lost patience for that phrase a long time ago. But even as done with it as he was, it was still better than getting kicked out of his last foster home three weeks before his eighteenth birthday after being outed by the family’s biological son.

The boys were the same age, and Keith’s foster brother Wyatt was upset at the time for Keith having better grades and, more importantly, attracting the attention of the girl Wyatt had a crush on. The ensuing fight over the girl led to Keith confessing his sexuality, and petty jealousy led to Wyatt telling his parents. His social worker was a godsend, and after a conversation with his best friend’s parents, Keith found himself moving in with them that night. The guest room became his permanently after that. He’d moved out into his own apartment with his best friend Lance McClain-Sandoval when he started college, but the McClain-Sandovals were one of the closest things to a real family he’d ever known. That first night felt like coming home for a second time, and the midnight conversation they had while lying on Lance’s bedroom floor would be forever burned into memory.

~~*~~ October, 1991 ~~*~~

They were supposed to be in bed already. The next day was a school day and both boys knew that Mariana would have their asses if she knew they were still up, but they didn’t care. Lance knew how bad Keith’s foster family was and had nearly crushed his mother in a hug when she got off the phone with Keith’s social worker. He had been the one to pick Keith up from his social worker’s office. And he’d been the one to drive to the Jacksons’ house with him to retrieve everything Keith had left behind. They found it all boxed up on the front step with a note reminding him that they just couldn’t have “someone like him” in their home and around their children. Keith, and Lance, took great pleasure in watching that note go up in flames in the fire pit in Lance’s backyard.

Keith had been fostered in the same large town of Arus for the last three years, and he and Lance had been friends since the first day Keith transferred to Arus High School only two months after the beginning of their freshman year. They had come out to each other in the summer after sophomore year, both relieved that they wouldn’t lose their best friend. They were even more relieved when Lance’s parents Mariana and Diego told the boys that they would love them both no matter what, and that it was no one’s business who they loved. Now it was only one month into their senior year and life was changing again.

“Tomorrow’s gonna suck,” Keith sighed.

“Yeah, it probably will. Wyatt’s an asshole and he’ll tell everyone. Probably starting with what’s-her-tits and blowing any chance he has with her,” Lance agreed.

Keith couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. “Michelle? Yeah, little fucker never had a chance with her to begin with. She’s been banging Chris Proctor all summer. Won’t shut the fuck up about it, even when she’s hitting on me.”

That made Lance roll to face his best friend. “Wait, seriously? I thought she hated him. Something about basketball players not being as good as football players.”

Keith rolled onto his side. “Yeah, that’s what I’d heard, but I guess she doesn’t hate his dick.”

Lance snorted, but when he saw how the strings of fairy lights lit Keith’s face and the sparkle of laughter in his deep violet eyes, his breath caught. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it was a bad idea. It had been only hours since Keith was kicked out of the Jackson house, and this wasn’t some summer sleepover spent fantasizing about the future. The crush he’d been nursing for his best friend burst into full bloom, and he couldn’t stop himself.

Noticing the change, Keith’s brows furrowed. “Lance? What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head, “You’re beautiful, y’know that? I’ve been wanting to tell you that for so long.”

Keith’s expression softened. Lance confessing to feeling something more than just being best friends made a warmth settle into his bones. He’d thought his own crush would go unrequited forever and had begun to adjust into the idea that they would remain best friends and nothing more. Lance had just given him hope, and he wasn’t going to let the moment pass.

“Yeah? So are you. I thought I wouldn’t ever get to say it. But if we’re confessing…”

Impulse overrode higher thought, and Lance found himself inches away Keith’s face before he realized what happened. “Can I?” he asked in a soft whisper.

“Whenever you want,” Keith answered just as quietly.

Their first kiss was soft, gentle. It carried the relief of finally knowing how the other felt, and the promise of exploring those feelings. It was hesitant, nervous. It felt as though they were both worried that it was nothing more than a dream and that they’d wake up sore from falling asleep on Lance’s bedroom floor. But the very physical sensation of touch – Lance’s fingers threaded through soft black hair, the light touch of his thumb across high cheekbones, Keith’s hand sliding up soft t-shirt fabric, gripping the lean, compact muscle – it reminded them that they were very much awake, and that their kiss was very much real. When they separated, Lance pulled them back down, Keith nuzzling into his neck.

“I never thought kissing my best friend was something I’d ever do,” Lance said, basking in the afterglow of their kiss and the feeling of Keith in his arms.

“Mm, maybe not, but what about a boyfriend?” Keith asked, delicate fingertips tracing patterns into the t-shirt he had been holding so desperately only moments before.

“Yeah, I could get used to that.”

~~*~~ present day – June, 1997 ~~*~~

Keith was so lost in the memory of his first kiss with Lance he didn’t notice he was no longer alone until there was an arm on his shoulder and the cigarette was gone from his hand. He startled, then realized it was Lance. Keith was well aware how much Lance loved his leather jacket rocker look. It went well with the core of his music taste – a little punk, a little grunge, a splash of metal, a healthy dose of rock. He didn’t look it, but Lance’s tastes ran pretty much the same; it was one of the things they became friends over. But as much as Lance loved Keith’s daily wardrobe, Keith loved Lance’s more casual outfits, almost always topped off with the denim jacket whose back panel he had painted with a dragon and phoenix before gifting it to his boyfriend for his 18th birthday.

“Fucking hell, don’t do that!” he hissed. “Also, excuse you, that was mine.”

Lance just laughed through the smoke. “What, you worried about germs? We do a lot more than just swap spit, babe.”

Keith heaved a sigh, shaking his head at his boyfriend. “Yeah. I know that, and you know that, but I don’t think all of Arus needs to know that.”

“I’m pretty sure they’ve figured it out by now. I’m not exactly subtle, and almost the whole town knows about you after senior year of high school.”

“Fuck I still hate that asswipe. Ok, I’m done talking about him. You, me, Mario Kart, and the six-pack in the fridge.”

Lance crushed the cigarette butt under his sneaker. “Ooh, Mario Kart and pizza night. I still need to beat your ass at Rainbow Road.”

“Not gonna happen,” Keith threw over his shoulder as he walked away. He took off running when Lance gave chase, barely beating him to the truck.

As much as Keith’s true passions lay in art and music, he was also a skilled mechanic thanks to his foster father Carlos. He’d been with the Villalobos family for two years before a family emergency meant that they had to leave California for their parents’ native Mexico. If there was any other family that had felt like home, it was theirs. Carlos and Pilar treated him like one of their own children, and Keith got along with Daniela and Alejandro (Alex to his friends) like real siblings. They were back in California now, and he’d been able to reconnect with them and fill them in on what had happened with the Jacksons and how it had ended well despite them. After hearing about what had happened after they left, Carlos and Pilar had immediately called Lance’s parents, and now the two couples were good friends, the Villalobos slipping seamlessly back into Keith's life.

Keith had worked his way through college, and kept him working currently, thanks to the skills Carlos taught him. It was also those skills that got him his second most prized possession, the first being his his guitars. Keith had been working when the truck’s first and only owner brought it in on the back of a tow truck. He had bought it new, but the transmission on the ’94 Toyota Pickup blew out, and it wasn’t worth fixing. Keith said that it was a total waste of an otherwise solid pickup, and the owner told him that he could keep it if he promised to fully repair it. Six months of working on it in his spare time, and Keith had a rebuilt transmission and a fully working Garnet Red Pearl, extended cab Toyota Pickup.

~*~*~*~

Links to the rest of the series:

1 | 2 | 3* | 4 | 5* | 6* | 7 | 8 | 9* | 10 | 11 | 12* | 13 | 14 | 15* | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19*

#my writing #abandoned wips #klance #keith x lance #keith kogane #lance mcclain #vld #voltron #voltron legendary defender

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george-fabian-weasley · 4 years

Text

Four Musketeers pt. 1; One Day

—The One who Never Notices—

Summary: The One who Never Notices. Your first love. Your first pain. Fred Weasley.

Words: 4,405 words

Warnings ⚠ : Just pure, raw angst, heartbreak, one sided relationship (sort of), 3 years of insufferable crush

Disclaimer: It's hard to capture 3 years worth of feelings in words. And I was surprised at it being only 4K, I could've sworn it felt like 7K or something. This is my story, based on my real life pathetic almost-love story, so please enjoy crying :) Listen to One Day too while reading, it's the best song I could find that really described my feelings towards the guy 2 years ago.

TAGLIST FOR FOUR MUSKETEERS: HERE

enjoy!

Loud giggles erupted from upstairs, you softly smiled at the sound of your daughter. Her boyfriend had come over to hang out, and she was smiling the whole day. You then heard the sound of feet stepping down the stairs, peeking your head through the kitchen to see the boy who managed to capture her heart leaving.

"Goodbye!" You bid, the young man turned and smiled politely to you; bidding goodbye as well, and left.

A while later, your teenage daughter, Dian came down; kissing your cheek as she passed you by and went to the fridge.

"That's early of him," You chirped, yet your eyes were still on the halfway sweater you're knitting at your lap. Dian smiled, "Yeah, he had some errands to do. When is Dad coming home again?"

You paused the knitting, looking at your 16-year-old child, "Around Tuesday, I think. Why? You want to sleepover at his house?"

Dian made a disgusted face and laughed, "No, I'm just asking. It's been quite a while since we've had dinner with Dad."

You nodded in understanding, your husband has been busy lately, always Apparating here and there for his job.

"Say, mum," Dian suddenly said. You hummed, the knitting continued. Although you have magic, sometimes you want to do it with your own hands, the calming after effect is just surreal.

"Can you tell me one more time about the Four Musketeers?"

She was now sitting down on one of the stools of the kitchen counter, her palms became the resting place for her chin as her elbows plopped to the surface of the counter. You chuckled in disbelief, "Darling dear, you've heard the story a thousand times now haven't you?"

She whined, "But every time you tell it, there's something new! Oh, come on mum, please!"

You scoffed in disbelief, "And what's with the 'Four Musketeers' name? As far as I remember, those boys are not musketeers." You chuckled.

Dian gave you a toothy grin, "A little nickname won't hurt. They were your high school sweethearts after all."

"Ah, Ah," You wagged a finger before her, "They were not my sweethearts, you know that. They were just... my almost love stories."

Dian rolled her eyes playfully, "Same difference, mum! Come on, tell the story please!"

You sighed, stopping the knit. With a quiet whish of your wand, the knitting equipment cleaned themselves up to the upper cabinet. With another flick of your wand, two cups of tea appeared in front of you, Dian quickly grabbed hers.

"Well, which one do you want to hear first?" You said, lazily smiling at your beautiful daughter. Dian smiled in victory, and quickly said, "From the beginning to the end, please."

You rolled your eyes playfully, a soft smile on your lips, "Oh, alright."

"The One who Never Notices it is."

— Hogwarts, 1991

You were fourteen, he was fifteen.

And at fifteen, Fred Weasley was already famous for being a cheeky prankster along with his twin brother, George. Somehow before that, you've never heard of his name before.

Being so young and naive, his wild personality had attracted your attention. It all started during the joint Potions class between the Fourth Years and the Fifth Years, due to some reasons Professor Snape made that you had no recall of.

You were assigned a temporary seat next to him on the first day of the class, to see the compatibility of the two years together. You were shy and naive, and he was cheeky and friendly.

"Hey, how are you doing? The name's Weasley, Fred Weasley." He said cheerfully with a large smile, his short red hair was heavily distracting, yet you managed to introduce yourself politely; the fear of sitting next to a senior was... big.

That was all you had as a conversation, as Snape rearranged the class back, one side was the Fourth Years, and the Fifth Years at the other.

It was the first time a senior had been so friendly to you. Especially a well-known one.

You find yourself being attracted to him, despite the lack of conversation you had. You barely knew Fred, you didn't know anything about him. But you were head over heels for the boy.

It was Christmas when you found the courage to ask him something. You were nervous the whole day long, jittery of your newfound feelings for the boy.

Fred Weasley was... in your eyes, perfect.

You found him in the Great Hall playing with his brother George, smiling widely. The smile caused a leap in your heart, and you find your hands getting sweaty.

He noticed you, and his wide smile reduced to a smaller one, "Hello there,"

You shyly smiled and cleared your throat, "Hello Fred," His grin became toothy as he heard you roll out his name, "What do you need?"

You looked down, nervous.

"Um, my mum sent me a muggle camera here as a birthday gift. So I was wondering if we could... Um..." You trailed off, the redness of your face was terribly evident.

"Oh, you want to take a picture with me?"

You looked up to him; he was a tad taller than you, and gave him a hopeful look, "If that's completely fine with you, of course."

He nodded almost instantly, his wide smile back on his lips, "Wicked! I've always wanted to see how muggle cameras work!"

You took the camera leash that was hanging around your neck and giddily explained to George what to do.

"Quite offended you didn't want to take a picture with me, eh?" George teased you, and you blushed, "You can join, of course! Really, I don't mind."

"Wicked." Was all George said before calling out his older brother, Percy Weasley; the Gryffindor prefect and briefly explained what to do.

You were placed between Fred and George, Fred at your right, and George at your left. Other students were glancing at you weirdly, unaccustomed to the camera culture.

Flashes came and you smiled, wanting to look pretty so that you can see them back home later. When Percy lowered down the camera to look at the results, you turned to the twins, "Thank you."

They smiled, "Not a problem. Say, why do you want a picture with us?"

"Um... It's for... My scrapbook! It's a journal about my school years, and knowing you two as the pranksters of Hogwarts, I need to at least have evidence I knew you two."

There was no scrapbook; although a good idea when you thought back about it.

"Brilliant! Do you mind if we have some for ourselves? Dad will be so excited to see us using muggle cameras." George said, his eyes twinkling in excitement.

You nodded profusely, wanting to please the twins to get on their good side, and possibly... get noticed by Fred. "Absolutely, go ahead. I'll owl you the prints later."

Christmas holidays went by fast, and it's school time again. You've kept your promise, and sent the prints to the Weasley house with your owl. You printed extra copies of them, blushing profusely at you and Fred, completely ignoring poor George at your other side.

Innocent love, it was.

Throughout your fifth year, whenever you bumped into Fred, you shyly waved at him, or smiled in his direction. He would surely do the same, but then that was it. You weren't sure what you were to him, are you friends? Acquaintances?

Even so, your feelings for him were strong.

The way you blush whenever you think of him, the way all of your friends knew of your big crush on him, the way whenever he walks by, you gave him your prettiest smile.

The way you were helplessly in love with a boy you barely knew. So you did something, something that you had never thought you would do.

You were fifteen, he was sixteen, when you confessed.

That day changed your life. You couldn't really say what it was that day, but it was absolutely dreadful. You couldn't even remember that day that your young heart was broken so early.

All you remember was, his face forming a frown, him taking a few steps back, him avoiding your eyes, him saying with a cold voice, "I'm not ready for a relationship."

"I'm sorry."

And him treating you differently from then on.

"I'm fine, guys, really!" You said to your friends with a wide smile when you got back to your dorm that night, but when they saw through you, your lips began to quiver and the bridge of tears began cascading down your cheeks.

From then on, you began to avoid him. Whenever you saw Fred, you would turn the other way or just pass by him like he was another student walking around the hallway.

But you knew he's not.

During the sixth month of your fifth year, you heard it. The word from student to student. The word that broke you so deeply.

"Fred Weasley and Angelina are dating!"

"I'm not ready for a relationship." His words echoed through your mind. It echoed in your mind the whole day long, you couldn't focus on the classes that day, zoning out every now and then.

You excused yourself from Professor Flitwick's class to go to the bathroom, suddenly the air in there felt stuffy and you couldn't breathe. Walking to the nearest bathroom, you kept your head down low. A headache was coming at you, looks like even your brain is tired of the echoing words of Fred Weasley.

And then you looked up. And there they are, in shining glory.

He was looking at her in pure adoration, the same look he gave you in your dreams only. A soft blush rested on his cheeks, his lips were constantly a soft smile. She was leaning against the wall, and he was in front of her. She was smiling, he was grinning.

He looked so... happy. So different from the frown on his face and the cold voice he gave you a few months ago.

So. So different.

He's not unready for a relationship, he's just not ready for a relationship with you.

Your heart plummeted to the ground, suddenly the stuffy air from Flitwick's classroom attacked you in the middle of the hallway. You bit your tongue hard, not wanting to show them your vulnerable side, if they noticed you anyway.

Your feet that were glued onto the ground just a few seconds ago moved backwards. Similar to when Fred walked a few steps back that day.

You couldn't cry, you couldn't find the strength to do so.

It hurt.

It hurt but you couldn't cry.

You... You felt numb.

Leaving the hallway behind, you began walking. And walking. The pain in your heart turned into anger. Slowly, shifting the sadness in your heart into pure anger towards the tall ginger.

'He hurt me. He lied to me. He played me.'

The pace of your walk quickened. You were walking, then jogging, then in full speed running across the hallway. You didn't care where your legs took you, you just ran.

You ran, and ran, and ran until your legs gave out. An abandoned classroom right in front of you. You entered without a second wasted, quickly casting on a silencing charm to make the room soundproof.

And you scream.

You screamed and screamed and screamed until your throat hurt. You kicked every single abandoned desk there was, throwing your anger and stress towards the static objects.

And when your throat croaked in pain, that's when the urge to cry resurfaced.

At fifteen, you cried for a boy who you barely knew, but you dearly loved.

You didn't realize you've spent a few hours there, so when you got out of the classroom, it was already dark. So you walked back to your common room with aching legs, bloated eyes, and a heavy, but lighter than before heart.

Took you a few weeks, really, to get used to seeing Fred and Angelina everywhere attached by the hip to each other. Whenever they're around, your friends would shoot you a glance, making sure you're okay. You would usually glance at the couple, shrugged, and continued laughing with your friends.

It still hurt, you're just better at hiding it.

Halloween came along and Hogwarts did a Halloween party where everyone dressed up as something. You were the photographer of the night, bringing the muggle camera.

That same camera from Christmas.

You shrugged off the thought and began your work. Quite a lot of people actually threw their best efforts into their outfits. Oliver Wood dressed as a zombie Quidditch player, his makeup was done quite nicely.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione dressed as the Three Musketeers with their cute fake swords and fake mustaches. You took plenty of pictures of them fooling around, it was fun on your part as well.

While taking pictures of Neville being a scarecrow, someone called you through the loud music. You looked around and saw George waving at you.

You walked to him, smiling at his Frankenstein's monster outfit, "Do you want me to take a picture of you?" You offered, and he nodded before he furrowed his eyebrows at you, "Oh hey, you're the one from Christmas last year!"

You smiled, although a bit bitterly this time, "Yes, that's me."

"Dad was fascinated by the pictures, by the way, thanks a lot!" George said, smiling the whole time. Your smile became more genuine and shook your head, "It's nothing, really. Do you want me to take pictures of you, Mr. Frankenstein?" You chuckled at your little joke and he laughed a bit as well.

"Absolutely, let me call Fred for a bit. He's dressing as Dr. Frankenstein!" He said excitedly and turned around, your smile drained so fast. You quickly put on your Grim Reaper mask to hide your face.

There is no bloody way you're going to let him see you.

Wait.

Why are you hiding?

You blinked. You've done nothing wrong to him, it's just a confession and he rejected you, so what? Everyone gets rejected once in a while, it's nothing to be ashamed of. It's not like you'll be tossed to Azkaban if you show yourself.

'Huh, make sense.' You thought as you pulled back the mask to the top of your head. You're right, you've done nothing wrong. It's not like you'll fall for him again once you saw his face-

Oh Bloody Merlin.

Fred Weasley came into your vision, smiling widely to his brother. He was dressed up as Dr. Frankenstein, with his hair dyed black and spiked and he had goggles on the top of his head, wearing the white scientist suit with black rubber gloves and boots.

Your breath stopped. It's been a while since you've properly seen him, courtesy to avoiding to look at him ever since the incident.

You snapped away your thoughts fast, putting on your professional stance as the school's photographer.

"Here he is!" George said and smiled at you, frowning slightly at the sight of you looking a little pale. Fred trailed his eyes to you, the smile on his lips drained as well. Yet he quickly put on a small smile, "Hello,"

You looked at Fred in confusion, did he just say hello to you? Whatever, let's get this over with. "Alright, strike a pose, you two."

Several pictures were taken of them being completely silly and you laughed at their demeanor. "Oh, wait! Angelina!" George said loudly, and your laughter paused rather quickly.

Angelina came in the shot and similar to her name, she was dressed as a beautiful angel, with a bowstring at her back, so you assumed she's dressing up as Cupid.

Suddenly, you were self-conscious of your Grim Reaper outfit. In all honesty, it was just a long black robe that trails to the ground a few inches with a large hood. Your fake synth was right beside you, holding it still under your armpit.

"Come take a picture with us!" George said, and Fred somehow noticed you were becoming uncomfortable, "Maybe not now-"

You shook your head, snapping away from the self-consciousness, "It's alright, the more the merrier." Fred watched you silently and nodded, his lips quickly painting a soft smile as Angelina kissed him on the cheek.

This is what you hate about Fred. He's too kind, sometimes way too kind until you misinterpret what he does to you. Like just now, who the fuck does that to the person they know liked them?

They posed a few times, most of the time, it's just George third-wheeling Fred and Angelina, making you feel quite sorry for the boy. Hell, you felt like you were fourth-wheeling and hurting at the same time.

After the flashes ended, Angelina spoke, "Do you wanna have a picture with these boys? I can take it for you."

You were about to politely decline when suddenly George said, "What a brilliant idea! It'll be just like Christmas last year!"

Well.

So there you were, at the center of the picture again, between the twins again. You hesitantly looked up to Fred, and he looked down at you with a small smile.

Sigh, always too nice.

You looked away and smiled for the camera. George was having his fun time posing while you and Fred were awkward the whole time. After it ended, you thanked Angelina and walked away when suddenly a voice called for your name.

It was him.

You turned around, and he was quite far from you, like a meter or two when he said, "I'll see you around, yeah?"

You shrugged and gave him a small smile, "Maybe."

At fifteen, you had mixed feelings towards Fred.

It's an on-and-off relationship really, but on your side only. There would be a period of time where you absolutely despised him, talking shit about him to your friends at every chance you get. You would convince yourself you were over him so many times.

And then there would be times where you were helplessly in love with him, even when you're well aware of his strong relationship with Angelina. You were genuinely believing that what you felt was love.

It was bloody confusing.

And how it went on until your sixth year, was beyond you.

By the time you reached sixteen, you had understood the circumstances of your feelings. You didn't care if he didn't notice you, as long as he's happy, you're happy for him. The aching in your heart had become so frequent, that you had become numb to it . At this point, you were just hoping for some other boy to come and swoop you up, saving you from this one-sided relationship with Fred Weasley.

3 years, wasted on a boy who barely knows you. At this point, your friends were tired of you and him. They would just nod and say the same thing, "Like someone else, and he'll be gone."

And so you tried. But Bloody Fred Weasley made it hard for anyone else to top him. Every Time you saw another suitable boy, all they reminded you of was Fred.

How his freckles decorated his face like countless numbers of stars to the sky, how his eyelashes were obnoxiously beautiful and long for a male, how his confidence on his long hair made you wonder of many things, how his lips etch the wide smile whenever he did pranks or laugh with his friends.

Whenever his brown eyes sometimes resembled a pool of warm honey when glazed with the sunshine rays.

Fred Weasley was excruciatingly a pain in the ass. And he doesn't even know it.

You were sixteen, he was seventeen, when he left.

You heard news of Fred and George quitting school suddenly, something about the desire of opening their own joke shop. You had mixed feelings of course, you didn't want him to go, yet at the same time, you do.

Maybe with him gone, you would get over him easier. 3 years being stuck on feelings for a guy who rejected you two years ago wasn’t the best feeling.

You quietly looked away when you saw Fred passionately kissing Angelina goodbye from afar. The poor girl had tears in her eyes, yet she was smiling to support him. He hopped on the broom, lingered on the air for a bit to stare at Angelina for a while, before leaving Hogwarts forever.

He's gone. And you weren't sure what to feel about it. The sting inside your chest wasn't helping either.

"Fred." You called out his name, the way it rolled out your tongue so easily familiarly tingles your heart. The tall ginger turned around and smiled, "Hello there."

"I need to tell you something," You said, you weren't nervous at all. You were confident, the main goal was just to let out everything, so you can be free out of his grasp.

He had you around his finger, and he barely noticed it.

"Well, let it out then," He said, smiling down at you. "You remember two years ago? Where I confessed and you rejected me?" You began. He nodded, the smile was still intact on his lips as if you're asking about the bloody weather. "Yeah?"

"I'm still not over you. I'm in love with you, Fred Weasley. I am so, deeply, and helplessly in love with you." You smiled as you breathed out the words. The cage you had contained on your chest for years was finally open, and you felt all the old butterflies flying free out of you.

Fred pursed his lips, his eyebrows furrowing, "... You know I love Angelina." He said quietly, seemingly not wanting to hurt your feelings any further. You find your eyes watering, yet you felt no remorse or pain. Were those happy tears? You don't know, but you don't mind it.

"I know. And you two are perfect for each other. I've already accepted that you'll never love me the way I love you, Freddie. I accept that you'll never see me as beautiful as the way I see you. I accept that you'll never describe me in such poetic words the way I describe you. I accept that you'll never smile whenever I was mentioned in the conversation the way I smile when you're in the talk," You paused to wipe your tears off your cheeks, Fred just watching you letting it all out on him, watching as your shoulders got lighter, and your smile got wider.

"And I accept that I'm not your first love as you are mine."

Fred quietly watched you, his soft smile gave a pleasant feeling to you. He slowly reached out to you, wrapping his arms around you.

You waste no time to hug him back, how for so many years you yearned what it would feel like to have his arms around your waist, or his hand on the back of your head, or his chin on your shoulder.

"Thank you," Was all he whispered in your ear, as he let you go, yet his hands still on your arms, "I suppose this would be the time I let you go now?"

You chuckled, wiping your tears off, "Please do, I can't keep loving you, Fred. It bloody hurts." You teasingly said, with a tinge of truth. He chuckled along.

Slowly, Fred reached out his hand, and with a soft voice and doe eyes, he spoke for the last time, "The name's Weasley. Fred Weasley."

You smiled, and shook his hand, "Pleasure."

You woke up. And then tears came along. And the sobs.

You were shaking, crying so hard your roommates woke up in a groggy state. When they found you crying, they hugged you so tight, feeling helpless on how to help you.

You were crying, but the wide smile on your lips was evident.

You were sixteen, he was seventeen, when you said goodbye.

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

"Wow," Was all Dian could say. She had heard this story so many times before, but it took her breath every time.

"Why didn't you stop loving him, mum? He hurt you so much before he left. " She asked.

You shrugged and sighed, "I was sixteen, Dian. And he was my first love. It's the first time I had ever felt heavily for a boy like that."

Dian sighed, "You can't say it's first love when he doesn't love you back, mum. Blimey, he doesn't even know you."

You snorted, "It doesn't have to be reciprocal for first love to happen, darling. You just... Know it's first love. No matter how much you mean to the other person."

Dian tched, pouring down another cup of warm tea, "It's still not fair on your side. 3 years aren't a short time. And the fact that he didn't even notice!" Dian rolled her eyes in frustration, feeling sorry for you.

"No, I think he noticed. Like you said, 3 years are not a short time." You smile gently, looking down to your empty cup. The residue tea leaves in the cup reminded you of Trelawney's class many years ago.

Dian widened her eyes, "So he knew this whole time? That you were in love with him? And he never said a thing?!"

You chuckled, "What was he supposed to say, sweetheart? He's already in love with someone else, you know that."

Dian was growing angry at the man, "That's the point, mum! He knew what it's like to be in love, so he knew how you felt and he never came forward to say anything!" Her voice was becoming louder than before, the urge to protect her mother was stronger than ever.

You laughed at her anger, in your eyes she looked adorable, "Calm down, Dian. We were teenagers. We can't possibly think of everything, we were still growing. I don't blame him for anything, he taught me so many things and he didn't even know he was doing it."

Dian groaned, "Mum, you need to stop looking at everything in a bright direction."

You chuckled, having no response to that. Pouring yourself another cup of tea, you said with a soft voice, "I guess you could say The One who Never Noticed is wrong." Dian raised an eyebrow, "How so?"

You sighed in content at the warm liquid entering your system, and you smiled at your daughter, "He should be The One who Never Cared."

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

Four Musketeers pt. 2; Heather : COMING SOON!

TAGLIST:

@truly-insatiable @sophiecalifragilistics @weasleysangel @sarcasticallywitty15 @off-brand-overhaul @hunnybunimdun @slytherinbth

#fred gideon weasley #harry potter #weasley twins #fred and george #fred weasley x reader #fredweasley #fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley angst #angst #harry potter imagines #harry potter angst #four musketeers #george-fabian-weasley

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confusednarcissistwrites · 4 years

Note

okok hi so basically I’ve been working on this lil blurb but idk I think maybe you might be much much better than me for it , ur writing slapssss, but basically it’s a Daniel Middleton piece based off the song Lost by frank ocean where the reader is part of their dealing ring and is in love w danny and gets too wrapped up in the business but danny is too busy with his crush on mckayla to notice ? Idk I know it’s super specific but just a thought I had

OKAY SO

I took a LOT of liberties with this request, but I did it for a reason. PLEASE WRITE THIS FIC. I guarantee that no one else could write it better than you, okay? Also, I’m SO sorry this took me ages to finish and apologies to all my other requests as well. I’m really going to try and get more work out to you guys in the next few weeks.

Alright, without further ado, I hope you enjoy this raunchy ass fic lmao

Third Wheel (D.M.)

(smut, angst, blood, violence, cheating, cursing)

The Bonnie and Clyde of Cape Cod.

You and Hunter Strawberry had been together for as long as anyone could remember. Even in elementary school, you two had reigned over your peers with an iron fist; no one fucked with either of you in fear of pissing off the other. As you both got older, your relationship progressed from a platonic partnership to a romantic one. This often entailed hot and heavy sightings at the drive-in, and mangled noses on faces of guys who decided to look at you just a little bit too long.

You had been happy. He was your constant. You both had an undying loyalty to each other as business partners and lovers.

But then came Danny Middleton.

Danny was a scrawny boy from nowhere who didn’t belong anywhere. Perhaps it was fate that he would meet Hunter that hideously hot day in 1991 in that little convenience store. People didn’t notice Danny until he started running around with Hunter.

You were hesitant, bitter even that Hunter let someone else on the team without talking to you first. You were more of a distributor than a seller, but you had thought you were more involved than to be excluded. The more you heard about Danny, the less Hunter asked you to make drop-offs. You felt you were getting wedged out.

The first time you met Danny was a whirlwind. He’d claimed a cousin of his had a hookup across town, but the rendezvous went south quickly. You vividly remember stepping in between the two, your fist meeting the side of the guy’s jaw with a sickening crack. He didn’t do much to fight back as he was pretty doped up, but you weren’t about to take any risks when he pulled a gun from his belt. Danny sat cornered and slack-jawed as he watched you wail on the man he’d been threatened by just moments before. Once you got him onto the ground, you knocked the pistol from his hand and straddled his middle, slamming the butt across his face. Adrenaline blurred your vision as blood splattered, your relentless attack not stopping until he quit moving. You lifted yourself up, meeting Danny’s terrified gaze for a brief moment before walking out of the house, him tailing behind you.

Hunter was furious when you both got back into the car. “What the fuck happened?” You were both visibly bloodied.

“I took care of it. Let’s go,” you replied calmly, handing him the piece. Hunter looked up at you and then at Danny in the back seat, handing him the gun wordlessly before speeding back to the garage.

When you got back, you sat up on the counter, your head back against the cupboards. Hunter dabbed at your swollen knuckles with a soapy cloth. “You okay, doll?” he asked quietly, looking up at you through his blonde lashes.

“Mhm,” you nodded, watching as he bandaged you up. He pressed a kiss to your cheek before helping you down and walking with you to the seating area where Danny was sat, his head in his hands still lost in thought. Hunter sat down on the sofa and you laid down with your head in his lap.

“You will never pull anything like that again. You hear me?” Hunter’s voice was calm and chilling. “Do you understand me?”

Danny nodded, standing up. “We’ll find another way.”

“Are you even fucking listening to me? I just said no-“

“No, look, you’re upset, I get it. But we’ll find a way to work this out if you just let me-“

“Drop it, Middleton. Go home.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, willing the pounding in your skull to ease. You listen as Danny walked out of the shop, the bell chiming above the door as he left.

“He’s reckless,” you mumbled, opening your eyes to look up at Hunter.

He just nodded, his fingers brushing over your collarbone as he stared into space in thought.

You didn’t like it. Nothing would change your mind. The business was for you and Hunter, and that was it. Danny was only trouble. And Hunter probably would have agreed with you if the next few days had played out differently.

••••••

In the course of a week, the group was making quadruple what you were before. Contacts were made, deliveries were driven, and money was counted in a circle every night, going three ways. It was the kind of summer we watched in movies, and now you were living the dream. The three of you spent evenings together getting high surrounded by cash; it was unreal. You all grew quite close through inebriated conversations about life and the world. You felt you could rely on either of them for anything you needed at any time.

It was because of this you didn’t speak up despite your growing insecurity in this situation. You’d felt Hunter rarely had time for you anymore, as though you were becoming a third wheel to him and Danny despite your relationship. But who were you to allow your insecurities to get in the way of the biggest break he’d had in his life? So you stayed quiet. Perhaps that was why the resentment building in you grew so poisonous.

You and Danny often jabbed at each other, usually scuffling over little bullshit that didn’t really matter. Hunter acted as a mediator when things got too heated, much to your irritation. He rarely defended you, sometimes even siding with Danny when he was feeling ballsy. You could feel the problems piling up. The rift between you and your boyfriend growing wider, and you couldn’t help but to notice that everything had been fine between you until little Middleton had shown up.

••••••

It was an especially hot August day when everything went to shit. It seemed everyone in town was a bit more irritable when the sun was beating down incessantly, an unbeatable oppressor. You could feel sweat against the small of your back, even as the wind whipped through your hair as Hunter drove across town with the top down. Danny was sprawled out in the backseat, his feet hanging over the rear passenger door. It irritated you to see him take up so much space like he owned the place. Granted, pretty much everything he did irritated you.

You arrived back at the shop, this week’s product in hand. You placed the duffle down on the coffee table, Hunter unzipping it and reaching in to retrieve an order he had to run. “I’ll be back in an hour. Try not to kill each other,” he called, hiding the weed in his bag and heading back out to the car. This wasn’t unusual, but Danny usually left right away, either running his own deliveries or just getting away from you. But today he lingered.

“Y/N, can I talk to you about something?” He sat on the arm of the couch while you fixed a pot of coffee, your back to him.

“Uh, sure?” you replied, not turning to face him. Despite knowing practically everything about each other, he rarely made conversation with you.

Danny looked down at his hands, fumbling with his fingers for a beat before speaking. “Well, you see, I just- I have this thing for this girl. And- well, not just any girl. She’s kinda just-“

“Spit it out, Middleton,” you sang, quickly losing patience with his childish ramblings. Was he seriously coming to you for girl advice of all things?

“Fuck,” he sighed frustratedly. “It McKayla. I’ve been.. talking to her, more or less, for awhile now and-“

He’s interrupted by your laugher. You finally turned around, hands behind you against the counter as you shook your head at him. “McKayla? As in McKayla Strawberry? Are you kidding?”

He gives you a look of offense, his brow drawing together. “Yes, that McKayla. Why else would I be talking to YOU about this?”

You shook your head, pinching your brow. “You’ve done a lot of stupid shit, but this really takes the cake.”

“Listen, I just-“

“After all Hunter has done for you? You’re really going to throw that all away for some girl?”

“She’s not ‘some girl,’ okay? I really like her!” Danny insisted, standing up off of the couch defensively.

“You’re right; she’s your so-called best friend’s sister! I know for a fact he’s told you to stay away from her. But you can’t keep in your pants can you?” You were angry. After all the time you’d spent being loyal to Hunter, he was ignoring you for this kid who wouldn’t even respect him enough to stay away from his little sister.

“This isn’t even about McKayla is it?” Danny jabbed, stepping closer as he threw his hands up. “You’re just jealous I’m into someone and not following you around like a puppy like everyone else, huh? Is that why you’re so shitty to me all the time? Are you into me?”

You snapped, your white-hot temper taking control. Without hesitation, you stepped up into his face, your hands clenched right at your sides. His eyes widened, reflexively stepping back, but you follow. “Shut the fuck up. You have no idea what you’re doing,” you growled, poking him in the chest.

“Just admit you want my attention, Y/N.”

The resonance of your hand colliding with his cheek travelled through the room before you even could think. His back was against the wall, his eyes round, jaw hanging slack, and his hand on his cheek. You both stood and stared at each other for a moment, the sound of the slap still resonating in your ears along with your pumping blood as you waited for him to move. He knew this and unabashedly glanced down at your lips.

You reached out, wrapping your fingers around his throat. You’re not sure why you do it, but you were unable to resist; you needed to put Danny Middleton back in his place. What you didn’t expect was the full-fledge moan that left his parted lips. It startled you for a moment before going right to your head, power-lust settling into your veins as thick as syrup. You smirked, pressing a bit harder to watch the way the scrawny boy’s eyes fluttered and his jaw clenched. He opened his mouth to speak, but you weren’t having any of it.

You crashed your lips into his. Despite knowing there was no turning back from this, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. ‘Take that, Strawberry.’ Danny’s hands flew up to grip your hips, your kiss all tongue and teeth. It was ravenous, angry, and made you ache between your legs in a way Hunter never had, in a way that came from you knowing you were in control.

“Y/N.. what about.. Hunter?” Danny managed between kisses. He was sweating bullets, but the tent in his jeans told you he had no intention of making you stop.

You pull back half an inch, your grip returning around his throat. “I don’t want to hear anything out of that fucking mouth other than ‘yes’ and ‘no’, am I understood.

He listened to you with doe eyes, pupils blown out. “Yes, Miss.”

You smirked, leaning in and catching his bottom lip between your teeth and gave it a tug. “Good boy,” you praised.

He practically went limp at your words, another whimper escaping him. You both moved in a blur back to the couch, stripping clothes off with each stumbling step. You felt drunk without a drop of liquor in your system. Tomorrow would bring hell, and you knew it, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was then and there and making a statement.

You fell heavily into his lap, both of you clad in just your undergarments. Danny’s length prodded insistently at your thigh, and you remember recognizing that he was a lot bigger than you had anticipated. His hands gripped your waist while you ground your hips against his, kissing him ferociously. You listen intently as soft moans are pulled from his throat.

“What is it, Danny Boy? Never touched a girl before?” Your words were snide, full of contempt despite the ache that was building in you for more. His eyes fluttered, rolling back into his head in response.

You just smirked, shifting down to yank his boxers down. “Well, well, well. Looks like this is where you get all your nerve, huh?” His erection stood rigid and leaking against his navel, visibly aching to be touched. Danny bit down on his tongue, his hands tugging at his hair as he fought to keep quiet. It was bad. It was so so bad, but he knew there was no stopping you; not that he had the willpower to make you stop anyway.

“I asked you a question.”

“Y-Yes, Miss.”

You made quick work of your bra and panties, feeling his eyes on you the whole time. When you finally looked back, you were greeted by this desperate, open-mouthed, horny expression taking over his face. Feeling a surge of power run through you, you placed yourself in his lap. Danny let out a soft cry and his hands flew to your hips as you rocked your hips, sliding his length between your slick folds. It was then you came back to yourself, realizing what exactly you were about to do. It took weeks for you to realize it, but you knew your life had slipped out of your hands. Never again.

Raising your hips, you slid him inside of you. You cursed softly as the very welcome stretch made you see stars. “Fuck, good boy,” you praised.

Danny was a fucking wreck. He was gasping for air, hands gripping your hips in fear of moving anywhere else, but needing to touch you. Your praises turned him on in a way he didn’t know about before. He was reduced to a trembling mess, and you loved every second of it. If someone had held a gun to his head asked him about Hunter right then, he wouldn’t have even recognized his name.

You closed your eyes and began to rock your body, focusing on the feeling of him inside of you. He was forbidden fruit: a new sensation you’d thought you’d never experience. Little did you know how much was out there for you outside of Hunter. Your palms laid splayed out against his chest as you found your rhythm, both of you cursing like sailors.

Eventually, Danny built the courage to shift his hips, beginning to meet your thrusts with his own. You cried out, feeling him brush against your most sensitive places. “Danny, fuck, that feels so good,” you whined, hair falling around your face and swaying in time with your shared movements.

“Y/N..” Danny groaned, an edge of warning to his voice. His hands now roamed over your middle, thumbs brushing against the undersides of your breasts.

“Are you gonna cum? You gonna cum in your partner’s girl?” you taunted him cruelly.

Danny gasped, letting out a higher moan. “F-fuck, yes. I’m gonna cum,” he warned.

You reached between your bodies, rubbing quick circles against your clit. Whimpers of your own increased, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the small room.

That was when Hunter walked back through the door.

#timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet smut #timothée chalamet request #timothée chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet smut #timothée chalamet blurb #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée chamalet #danny middleton x reader #danny middleton imagine #danny middleton smut #hot summer nights imagine #hot summer nights #confusednarcissistwrites

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imaginesforjohnnydepp · 4 years

Text

Power Couple (Johnny Depp x reader)

The Beginning: 1991

wc: 1,282

@takemepedropascal

You couldn’t believe that your boyfriend didn’t show up after he promised you that he would, but “something came up at work”, he told you over the phone. It was always something. While you understood that Nick was juggling college, work, and wanted your relationship to be kept private, he always made excuses as to why he didn’t want to go to any parties or events in your world of the entertainment industry. You were a rising star in the industry, first starting out in French movies and television before heading to American and landing a lead role on a television show and appearing on magazine covers, but lately you noticed that while Nick didn’t want to be around your friends, he always expected you to be in attendance to his frat parties and staying the night at the frat house but he never wanted to go to your apartment. Lately, you started to realize that your relationship was always on his terms and you were beginning to be sick and tired of it.

You stood at the payphone outside of the venue where he was supposed to meet you in a Herve Leger dress that hugged your body just right, your makeup was perfect and your hair was in a fancy updo; you were way too pretty to be treated this way. You’d let it slide… again because arguing with him was like arguing with a brick wall. “Okay, I’ll just see you later then.” You only rolled your eyes as you hung up the phone, not bothering to wait for a reply. You threw away the tissues used to hold the phone and headed into the party where people were already drunk as you made a beeline for the bar and plopped yourself down on a barstool.

“Mai Tai please, non alcoholic, extra cherries,” you told the bartender. You were absolutely fuming at Nick; everytime he does this, every single time. You’ve argued about it, you’ve yelled about it, he threw things about it and then started crying and pin everything on you as if it was your fault that you wanted to show your boyfriend off to your friends when all you’ve done was be a supportive girlfriend. “Your Mai Tai ma’am.” The bartender slid your drink over to you and you just sipped on it as you watched people drunkenly dance to a Madonna song.

In fact, you were so preoccupied by the drunk dancing people that you didn’t even notice the guy sliding onto the stool on your left, so it was a real shock when you turned back around after the song ended. You had to admit that he was very easy on the eyes, and all you could do was stare at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. You looked upset and I just wanted to see if you were okay.” Say something, Y/N, anything. “I’m Johnny, by the way.”

You shook his hand as the part of your brain that controlled speech started to work again. “That’s very nice of you. I’m Y/N.” It was quiet for a while as you finished your drink. “Did you come here alone?” he asked you. “I was supposed to come here with my boyfriend but like always he ditched at the last minute. He never wants to go to any of these things with me, but I’m supposed to go to all of his parties,” you huffed out. Why are you telling him, a total stranger, your relationship history?

He probably doesn’t care. “If it makes you feel any better, it’s his loss. I couldn’t imagine not wanting my beautiful girlfriend to show me off to her friends.” You could feel your face heat up at the compliment; you couldn’t remember the last time Nick didn’t give you a genuine compliment that made you feel good. You ordered another non alcoholic Mai Tai and you were surprised when Johnny picked up the tab. “You don’t drink alcohol?” he asked, like it was the most unbelievable thing in the world.

“I can’t, I’ll break out in hives, so I have to avoid it. I carry an EpiPen just in case because you can never be too careful.” You pulled your EpiPen from your purse and held it up to him. “See?” People never believed you when you told them that you were alcohol intolerant, and made fun of you whenever you ordered non alcoholic drinks or ate foods that were cooked with it because it’s L.A. and everyone drinks. “Oh, wow, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I just never met anyone who was allergic to alcohol.”

“You’re fine. You’re the first person to not force me to drink.” And it’s true; he wasn’t buying you tequila shots and egging you on, and you liked that; not even Nick bought that you didn’t touch alcohol since you’re a model and actress and everyone knows models are known alcoholics. “Well, I’ve never seen you drink or use that EpiPen,” he told you once as you sat on his bed after a frat party. You had a nice time talking to Johnny, and you could listen to his voice all night, which is exactly what you did. The two of you grew tired of the party and he asked if you wanted to get something to eat, and you said yes.

You guys ended up at a McDonald’s drive thru and ate and talked. Talked about anything and everything, and you felt a spark. You laughed more in an hour with Johnny than almost three years with Nick, and it really put things into perspective for you; you and Johnny really formed a bond over your experiences in the industry, and he understood where you were coming from, never once dismissing the experiences you didn’t have in common, and he was a gentleman, walking you to your door. Nick just watched and then sped off when you made it up the steps. “I had a really great time with you tonight Johnny,” you said, your cheeks hurting from smiling too hard, not that you minded.

You had your heels in your hand, your key in your hand ready to unlock your door, when Johnny grabbed your hand. “Wait, Y/N. I was wondering…. if you’re not busy tomorrow… if you would like to grab lunch?” You really didn’t want your time with him to end, but you had a boyfriend… a boyfriend who treated you like crap and never wanted to go out with you in the city. “Yes. Yes, I’d like that a lot.” Johnny had a cute smile.

“Great! I’ll pick you up at twelve? We can go to The Ivy.” The Ivy was one of L.A.’s most famous restaurants, and it was one of your favorites; you always take your friend Vanessa there whenever she visits. “Sounds perfect. I’ll see you then.” You watched through your peephole as he drove away and immediately called up Nick; you didn’t want to do this over the phone but you also didn’t want to see him in person either. Never in your life were you grateful that it was his answering machine that picked up and not him, and you kept it short and to the point.

“Hey Nick, it’s me Y/N. I’m calling to let you know that we’re through. Have a nice life.” As you washed your face and got ready for bed, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. You knew that you deserved better when it came to your romantic relationships, but little did you that Johnny would be way more than “better”.

#johnny depp imagines #johnny depp imagine #johnny depp x reader

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maddie-grove · 3 years

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The Top Twenty Books I Read in 2020

My main takeaways:

I’m glad that I set certain reading goals this year (i.e., reading an even mix of different genres and writing about each book I read on this tumblr). I feel like it really expanded my horizons.

There are a lot of proper names on my Top 20 list this year, which possibly means something about identity? That, or I just tried to read more Victorian novels.

Be horny, and be kind.

Now...

20. The White Mountains by John Christopher (1967)

In a world ruled by unseen creatures who roam the countryside in tall metal tripods, all humans are “capped” (surgically fitted with metal plates on their heads) at age fourteen. Thirteen-year-old Will Parker looks forward to becoming a man, but a conversation with a mysterious visitor to his village raises a few doubts. This early YA dystopia has gorgeous world-building (notably a trip to the ruins of Paris) and expert pacing. The choices Will has to make are also more surprising and complicated than I ever anticipated.

19. What Happened at Midnight by Courtney Milan (2013)

John Mason wants revenge on his fiancée Mary after she skips town following her father’s death...apparently with the funds that her father, John’s business partner, embezzled from their company. When he tracks her down, though, she’s working as a lady’s companion to the wife of a controlling gentleman who refuses to pay her wages, and John’s fury turns to sympathy and curiosity. This is a smart, well-plotted Victorian-set novella about a couple who builds a better relationship after a rocky start.

18. Johnny Tremain by Esther Forbes (1943)

It’s 1773, and fourteen-year-old Bostonian Johnny Tremain has it all: a promising apprenticeship to a silversmith, the run of his arguably senile master’s household, and...unresolved grief over his widowed mother’s death? When a workplace “accident” ruins his hand and career, though, he must “forge” a new identity. Despite its jingoism and surfeit of historical exposition, I fell in love with this weird early YA novel. It’s a fascinating, heartbreaking portrayal of disability and ableism, and, to be fair, Forbes was just jazzed about fighting the Nazis.

17. Something Happened to Ali Greenleaf by Hayley Krischer (2020)

After universally beloved jock Sean Nessel rapes starry-eyed junior Ali Greenleaf at a party, his queen-bee friend Blythe Jensen agrees to smooth things over by befriending his victim. Ali knows Blythe’s motives are weird and sketchy, but being friends with a popular, exciting girl is preferable to dealing with the fallout of the rape. This YA novel is a complex, astute exploration of trauma and moral responsibility.

16. The Color of Law by Richard Rothstein (2017)

Rothstein details how the federal U.S. government allowed, encouraged, and sometimes even forcibly brought about segregation of black and white Americans during the early and mid-twentieth century, with no regard for the unconstitutionality of its actions. He brings home the staggering harm to black Americans who were kept from living in decent housing, shut out of home ownership for generations, and denied the opportunity to accumulate wealth for generations. It’s an impactful read, and I was honestly shocked to learn Rothstein isn’t a lawyer, because the whole thing reads like an expansion of an excellent closing statement.

15. My Friend Dahmer by Derf Backderf (2012)

In this graphic memoir, Backderf looks back on his casual, fleeting friendship with future serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer, a high school classmate who amused Backderf and his geeky friends with bizarre, chaotic antics. Backderf brings their huge, impersonal high school to life, illustrating how the callousness and cruelty of such an environment allowed an isolated, troubled teen to morph into something much more disturbing without anyone really noticing. It’s a work of baffled, tentative empathy and regret that stayed with me long after I finished it.

14. Daniel Deronda by George Eliot (1876)

Gwendolyn Harleth, beautiful and ambitious but with no real outlet, finds herself compelled to marry a heartless gentleman with a shady past. Daniel Deronda, adopted son of her husband’s uncle, finds himself drawn into her orbit due to his helpful nature, but he’s also dealing with a lot of other stuff, like helping a Jewish opera singer and figuring out his parentage. I love George Eliot and, although this bifurcated novel isn’t her most accessible work, it’s highly rewarding. The psychological twists and turns of Gwendolyn’s story are a wonder to experience, and Daniel’s discovery of his past and a new community is moving.

13. The Plot Against America by Philip Roth (2004)

The Roths, an ordinary working-class Jewish family in 1940 Newark, find their quiet lives descending into fear, uncertainty, and strife after Charles Lindbergh, celebrity pilot and Nazi sympathizer, becomes president of the United States. This alternate history/faux-memoir perfectly captures the slow creep of fascism and the high-handed cruelty of state-sanctioned discrimination, as well as the weirdness of living a semi-normal life while all of that is going on. Also: fuck Herman and Alvin for messing up Bess’s coffee table! She is a queen, and she deserves to read Pearl S. Buck in a pleasant setting!

12. David Copperfield by Charles Dickens (1850)

Young David Copperfield has an idyllic life with his sweet widowed mom and devoted nursemaid Peggotty, until his cruel stepfather ruins everything. David eventually manages to find safe harbor with his eccentric aunt, but his troubles have only begun. Although the quality of the novel falls off a little once David becomes an adult, I don’t even care; the first half is one of the most beautiful, funny, brilliantly observed portrayals of the joys and sorrows of childhood that I’ve ever read.

11. The Rise and Fall of Adam and Eve by Stephen Greenblatt (2017)

Greenblatt examines the evolution and cultural significance of the story of Adam and Eve from the Bible to the modern day (but mostly it’s about Milton). I can’t speak to the scholarship of this book--I’m not an expert on the Bible or Milton or bonobos--but I do know that it’s a gorgeously written meditation on love, mortality, and free will. Greenblatt brought me a lot of joy as an unhappy teenager, and he came through for me again during the summer of 2020.

10. The Music of What Happens by Bill Konigsberg (2019)

Self-conscious seventeen-year-old Jordan is mortified when his widowed mother hires Max, an outgoing jock from his school, to help out with their struggling food truck. As they get to know each other, though, they realize that they have more in common than they thought, and they end up helping each other through a particularly challenging summer. This is an endearing, exceedingly well-balanced YA romance that tackles serious issues with a light touch and a naturalness that’s rare in the genre.

9. Red as Blood by Tanith Lee (1983)

In nine wonderfully lurid stories, Tanith Lee retells fairy tales with a dark, historically grounded, and lady-centered twist. Highlights include a medieval vampiric Snow White, a vengeful early modern Venetian Cinderella, and a Scandinavian werewolf Little Red Riding Hood. Fairy tale retellings are right up my alley, and Lee’s collection is impressively varied and creative.

8. A Room with a View by E.M. Forster (1908)

Unnerved by an impulsive make-out session with egalitarian George Emerson on a trip to Florence, young Edwardian woman Lucy Honeychurch goes way too far the other way and gets engaged to snobbish Cecil Vyse. How can she get out of this emotional and social pickle? This is an absolutely delightful romance that gave a timeless template for romantic comedies and dramas for 100-plus years.

7. My Ántonia by Willa Cather (1918)

Jim Burden, a New York City lawyer, tells the story of his friendship with slightly older Bohemian immigrant girl Ántonia when they were kids together on the late-nineteenth-century Nebraska prairie. It was a pretty pleasant time, give or take a few murders, suicides, and attempted rapes. This is one of the sweetest stories about unrequited love I’ve ever read, and it has some really enjoyable queer subtext.

6. Mister Death’s Blue-Eyed Girls by Mary Downing Hahn (2012)

In 1956 Maryland, gawky teen Nora’s peaceful existence is shattered by the unsolved murder of her friends Cheryl and Bobbi Jo right before summer vacation. Essentially left to deal with her trauma alone, she begins to question everything, from her faith in God to the killer’s real identity. Hahn delivers a beautiful coming-of-age story along with a thoughtful portrait of how a small community responds to tragedy.

5. The Lais of Marie de France by Marie de France, with translation and introduction/notes by Robert Herring and Joan Ferrante (original late 12th century, edition 1995)

In twelve narrative poems, anonymous French-English noblewoman Marie de France spins fantastically weird tales of love, lust, and treachery. Highlights include self-driving ships, gay (?) werewolves, and more plot-significant birds than you can shake a stick at. Marie de France brings so much tenderness, delicacy, and startling humor to her stories, offering a wonderful window to the distant past.

4. Maus by Art Spiegelman (1980-1991)

In this hugely influential graphic novel/memoir, Art Spiegelman tells the story of how his Polish Jewish parents survived the Holocaust. He portrays all the characters as anthropomorphic animals; notably, the Jewish characters are mice and the Nazi Germans are cats. I read the first volume of Maus back in 2014 and, while I appreciated and enjoyed it, I didn’t get the full impact until I read both volumes together early in 2020. Spiegelman takes an intensely personal approach to his staggering subject matter, telling the story through the lens of his fraught relationship with his charismatic and affectionate, yet truly difficult father.

3. At the Dark End of the Street by Danielle L. McGuire (2010)

McGuire looks at a seldom-explored aspect of racism in the Jim Crow South (the widespread rape and sexual harassment of black women by white men) and the essential role of anti-rape activism led by black women during the Civil Rights movement. This is a harrowing yet tastefully executed history, and it’s also a truly inspirational story of collective activism.

2. In for a Penny by Rose Lerner (2010)

Callow Lord Nevinstoke has to mature fast when his father dies, leaving him an estate hampered by debts and extremely legitimate grievances from angry tenant farmers. To obtain the necessary funds, he marries (usually!) sensible brewing heiress Penelope Brown, but they face problems that not even a sizable cash infusion can fix. This is a refreshingly political romance with a deliciously tense atmosphere and fascinating themes, as well as an almost painfully engaging central relationship.

1. Mansfield Park by Jane Austen (1814)

Fanny Price, the shy and sickly poor relation of the wealthy Bertram family, is subtly mistreated by most of her insecure and/or self-absorbed relatives, with the exception of her kind cousin Edmund. When the scandalous Crawford siblings visit the neighborhood, though, it shakes up her life for good and ill. I put off reading Mansfield Park for years--it’s practically the last bit of Austen writing that I consumed, including most of her juvenilia--and yet I think it’s my favorite. Fanny is an eminently lovable and interesting heroine, self-doubting and flawed yet possessed of a strong moral core, and the rest of the characters are equally realistic and compelling. Austen really made me think about the point of being a good person, both on a personal and a global scale.

#books #reading #rape #racism #genocide #murder #(it was a more cheerful reading year than these tags indicate)#(or was it? i don't know)

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leavetwn · 3 years

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* KAYLEE BRYANT, CISWOMAN + SHE/HER | you know SUZIE TANAKA, right? they’re TWENTY-ONE, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, EIGHTEEN YEARS? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to VALENTINE BY HOPE TALA like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole ROLLERSKATES SCUFFED FROM YEARS OF USE, STARTING A JOURNAL ENTRY TWO YEARS SINCE THE LAST ONE, A SIGH OF RELIEF ONCE YOU'RE FINALLY ALONE thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is NOVEMBER 28TH, so they’re a SAGGITARIUS, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( claire, 22, est, she/her )

it’s me again ! bringing a character who i’ve played for a while now, just switched up & such for every rp, and now , i’m bringin her here. :^) i hope you enjoy her as much as i do! tw: mentions of mental illness (anxiety)

𝐈. ━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 .

full name: suzie tanaka. nickname(s): su, anything your muse wants to call her tbh. age: twenty-one. date of birth: november 28th. zodiac sign: saggitarius. gender/pronouns: ciswoman, she/her. sexual orientation: bisexual. romantic orientation: biromantic. hometown: san francisco, californio. current residence: irving, north carolina. occupation: part time waitress at cutie pie’s thanks to her skills on skates. full time student at the local college in her junior year as a creative writing major. she minors in film pro eye color: brown. hair color/style: dark brown, upper-mid back length & she usually just wears it in a simple ponytail. it’s more manageable when she’s out. however, when she’s at home, she’ll leave it down. height : 5′3″. clothing style: you can’t really put suzie’s style into one category. it’s inspired by several different eras & many times she pieces it together. some might call it a bit tacky at times, but she thinks it looks cute. to her, that’s all that matters. tattoos: none. probably could never attempt to get one cause she’s seriously afraid of needles lol. piercings: her ears and that’s when she was fairly young. reference the tattoos portion for reasoning.

𝐈. ━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 .

when you were around six years old , you first realized that you were lonely. it wasn’t like you weren’t around other people. it was just that those people were mostly your mom and dad. occasionally your cousins would come over sometimes, but they were all older than you by at least four years. your parents were kind of eccentric, and for that, they experienced how harsh other kids could be very early on. they decided they didn’t want you to experience the same things, so since both were felt they were prepared enough to do so, they homeschooled you to keep you sheltered from those types of things.

you’re sure they had good intentions. that’s not something you questioned, but you wished they’d at least find another kid you could be friends with or have another kid. you found yourself bored by yourself, so you immersed yourself in things like books or whatever movies they had around the house. this is where your love of fairytales began, and you’d fantasize about living in one while you read or watched the stories unfold.

you lived in your head, and you still pretty much do. you’re an idealist, even though you haven’t seen much of the world. perhaps it’s the fact that you haven’t ventured very far from your home that makes you so, and while life could still be boring, you always had another book or movie to keep you company. you grew content being on your own, and the more that you were, the more you began to enjoy your own company.

that didn’t change the fact that you longed for friends. in all the stories you read or watched, the protagonist had one other person along with them for much of their journey. sure, you had people that you were friendly with, but it was never to the extent that you wanted. it was never a best friend or a close group — just someone you saw on few occasions. it also didn’t help how you felt when you were around others. the way you monitored every step you took, the way you crossed your legs, or going over the way you would speak to someone in your head over and over. you figured for the longest time it was because you were shy, but a diagnosis of anxiety gave you a lot more clarity and almost a sense of relief. those things started to make more sense.

being alone helped a lot when it came to academics. you spent a lot of your time studying or looking up random ass facts on the internet, and because of this, you’d call yourself fairly smart. you know your shit. it also helped a lot when getting into colleges. you didn’t aim too high though, not yet comfortable being all the way on your own. so, you chose the nearby university to attend.

you move out. you’re excited, and your parents are nervous but prepared. they’re not oblivious to the fact that this day would come. you’re ready to go out and face the world, but most of all, you’re ready to make friends. you’re ready to go out and experience the world, every small step at a time. you’re convinced at college you’ll become a brand new person, find yourself, and make plenty of friends.

it doesn’t go like that at first. of course it doesn’t. it’s a new environment, and it takes getting used to. but soon, people loosen up and warm up to you. you’re quick to make a couple of friends. it isn’t at all like the stories you’d read or watched when you were younger. it is happy and fun and joyous, but you realize that friendships take work. it’s a bit exhausting, as someone who had become such an introvert, but you manage and form close bonds.

as of now, you are working on your degree and managing life one step at a time. you’re doing pretty well, and things are looking up. you keep your head in the clouds still to this day, imagining what the future will be like. you’re still idealistic and optimistic, not that that’s a bad thing.

𝐈. ━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 .

i was being exaggerative with the ‘being at home’ stuff rip. i mean, she did spend a lot of time at home, but she wasn’t always there. her dad would take her out to rockin’ and rollin’, and i mean, she fuckin rocks when it comes to skating. it was kind of freeing to her as a child. she def got a pair of rollerblades as a christmas present, and she probably was the kid skating down her neighborhood road and shit from sunrise until her mom told her to take her ass inside.

maybe seems like she’s ditzy and she’s probably somewhat naive, but she’s definitely not stupid. she’s also a fast learner. she is, however, too nice for her own good. she’ll learn eventually, but she’s hopeful and an optimist at heart 💔

loves her dad but tells her mom everything. she doesn’t recognize it, but her mom was probably her first best friend lmaoo. they have a really good relationship. she has a good relationship with her dad too. he’s a bit more closed off than her mom, and she recognizes that but understands.

has an irrational fear that everyone’s like,,, staring at her & thinking she’s weird. really wants everyone to like her but she’s not sure how to make that happen (news flash, it won’t)

her fam is actually from san francisco but when she was 3, her dad got a better offer in irving so that’s how they ended up here. she knows this & she wonders what life woulda been like if she stayed back in san fran. probably wouldn’t have changed but she literally lives in her head and imagines shit like that’s her job at this point so yehhh

dreams of being a screenwriter and maybe even a director one day. she saw how film and books influenced her life as a kid & she wants to have the same impact, yk? v cute to me i love that. maybe she’ll write a book one day too who knows

i’m feelin like she has a ton of online friends cause she was seeking connection /w people so it makes sense. shout out to all her online pals who kept her sane & shit, but it wasn’t enough for her cause she really wanted those kinds of things irl.

is a hopeless romantic rip to her. just wants someone to sweep her up off her feet and give her butterflies but this aint no damn fairytale so let’s make it chaotic

character parallels: lily (dash & lily, 2020) , amélie poulain (amélie, 2001) , belle in some ways lmao (beauty and the beast, 1991) more to be added.

𝐈. ━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 .

* friends, best friends, etc. — literally any friends at all. this is the connection she craves the most tbh. platonic over romantic periodt ! she just wants people to braid her hair and have deep, personal convos with about literally anything while legally blonde is on the television.

* a bad influence — i mean, she stayed inside mostly & is kind of an introvert. didn’t have tons of friends either, so she didn’t really have time to go to parties, etc. BE A BAD INFLUENCE SHE NEEDS TO LET LOOSE LMAOO. it’ll prolly take a lot to get her out but hey

* good influence — someone she’s a good influence on & who she helps in some way. i could see it happenin’. if you see it happening, i mean... hmu you know where i am mwah 💖

* crush — someone she’s head over heels with. i mean, it probably wouldn’t take a lot. in my head she be catching feelings way too fast. it’s just a thing, but yeah, it could go either way. maybe your character is into her too or she’ll end up getting her heart broken which is lmao bound to happen one day. could also be someone who’s crushing on her but she’s way to busy focusing all her romantic attention on someone else to notice? idk i’m just here for all the plots.

* annoyance — someone who finds her ass annoying/does not like her. she wants everyone to like her so it would be so confusing and upsetting and she would be like wtf did i do but i want it cause i love angst. sorry to all my muses out there luv yall but i’m just bein real

* again, anything at all — if you have an idea that you love, pls don’t hesitate to hmu and lemme know. i promise i will 99.9% of the time be down. the same goes for any wanted connection doodads that i reblog like if u see it and ur like omg i luv that... PLEASE hmu i luv u all already & just wanna have plots and write with you srsly

#irvingintro #well there u have it my last one done i am so THANKFUL AND HAPPY #takes a bow #the way it's almost 4 am see i did not lie i am up forever

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hetacon · 4 years

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For Humanity’s Sake

Word Count: 2,668

Pairings: Platonic Moxiety, Background platonic LAMP, Background Romantic Logicality, Background Romantic Prinxiety

Warning: Swearing, physical fighting (really light, it’s one punch), bullying, crying, so so much Patton angst but I swear Virgil makes him happy

______________________________

Summary: Patton has a hard time making friends.

______________________________

By no means was Virgil seen as a kind person to all of his high school. While he was definitely the lone wolf type, he got more involved in getting into others’ business than he should have.

He got into fights basically.

He picked unnecessary fights, got into plenty of trouble, and was in detention fairly often. His parents didn’t seem to care if their son was a delinquent because outside of school, he was no more harmful than your average person.

The difference came with Patton. Patton Hart, Virgil’s best and, frankly, only friend. Well, now, he’d had some others before getting involved with Patton.

Patton Hart was definitely not the most normal of people, not that it was in any way a bad thing. He was cheerful, loved to laugh and talk for hours, sang to himself as he did chores, doodled all over his notes, made silly jokes, anything he darn well felt like doing. He had anxiety that could very well near rival Virgil’s own and that was damn impressive in and of itself. Despite this, he wasn’t very well liked.

See, even with how kind and sociable Patton tended to be, many people found him rather off putting. For one reason or another, if there was a word that people would use to describe Patton, it was this: annoying.

And if that didn’t make Virgil’s blood boil.

Since early childhood, Patton had always been sweet and talkative, going on for hours about his interests, talking about anything and everything he wanted to with a happy demeanor about him. Even then, he didn’t have friends. His mother would tell him that she always saw him as the type to get along with everyone and that everyone liked but Virgil knew Patton saw himself as pretty obnoxious. The other kids only played with him because they were in the same class as him. He was with the same 20 or so kids for 7 years, kindergarten to 6th, and not a single one of them really enjoyed him being there. It was only a nicety if anything.

Patton managed to make some friends in junior high due to common interests but this turned out more than disastrous than Patton would’ve dared to imagine. By high school, he started to realize just how little people actually wanted to talk to him so he started to keep his mouth shut whenever possible.

Virgil Knight completely destroyed that behavior as Patton instantly clicked in a way neither had ever experienced.

For one thing, Virgil actually listened to Patton as he went on long and exhaustingly winding stories, talking up a storm something fierce that Virgil wondered how Patton had ever managed to stay quiet about all of the thoughts running through his head.

Another thing was that they shared a few common interests, the first of which had brought them together being a really obscure movie from 1991. Patton was really into discussing the character growth, psychoanalysis of the characters, the time period and history, and everything in between of their common interests and while it was a bit harder for Virgil to express it to that extent, he listened to what Patton rambled about with no complaint.

One of Patton’s favorites though was that Virgil actually took the time and effort to encourage Patton to talk about the things he wanted to talk about and do the things he wanted to do. It was something special for them both.

Virgil loved Patton with every inch of his heart and he didn’t hesitate for a single second to remind people of that.

Clearly that was going to happen right now, Virgil thought to himself as one of his friends started to ask a question.

“Hey, dude, why do you even hang out with Patton? He’s not really your...” his friend hesitated, sucking in a breath. “I dunno, your style I guess.”

Virgil looked up from his lunch, mid-bite as he held his sandwich in his hands. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he asked a bit cooly, his language not really showing much animosity to it. But oh boy, if things were going where he thought they were-

“Virge, you’re like, his only friend, doesn’t that say something to you? How do you know he isn’t a shitty person or has serious issues or something? I wouldn’t trust him,” another person from the table spoke up.

“You don’t have to trust him or like him, you can’t please everyone. I do though, all that matters to me really. Patton’s not your friend? Chill, means I have no competition for the best friend title,” Virgil hummed out lowly, taking another bite of his sandwich.

A silence fell over the table before finally, someone seemed to say what everyone else was thinking. “Virgil, you know everyone finds him kind of obnoxious right? I mean, he’s always so loud, he clings to you like a lost puppy, and he literally doesn’t know when to shut up. He’s frankly kinda weak, who even needs to be that emotional, dude? Patton’s honestly psycho.”

Virgil’s fist slammed into his face and he was on the table, leaning over to tower over the person in front of him. His hand gripped at his friend’s shirt tightly, watching with a snarl as his friend shrank back a bit, eyes wide and clearly shocked.

“You’re going to shut the fuck up about Patton. He doesn’t have friends because shitheads like you guys can’t understand why someone would love life so much. He is not annoying, he is not weak, and he is not fucking psycho. He enjoys things, he wants to express his emotions rather than cower behind an act like an actual wimp, and he’s my best friend,” Virgil growled out. He snapped his head up to see everyone in the cafeteria looking at his table and he shoved his friend back roughly, standing on the table as he started to yell. “Patton Hart is the best person I could ever ask to be friends for and if you have a problem with business that isn’t yours to talk about, you take it up with me! You got a problem with him? You’re dealing with me before anything else and I will not stop for a single second! Fuck all of you!!”

With that, he clamored off the table, grabbing his food and backpack before storming out, catching Patton’s wrist as his friend was about to enter the cafeteria door he came out of.

“Woah Virgil, slow down!” Patton laughed, running to Virgil’s side, moving Virgil’s hand to hold his. “What’s going on?”

“People suck,” Virgil scowled before his expression softened. “How was tutoring?” he asked gently, kissing Patton’s temple. He smiled to himself in satisfaction as Patton practically lit up.

“Good, just needed a little refresher before tomorrow’s test is all,” Patton told him.

“You meet up with that guy in your class you like?” he asked, smiling a bit as Patton leaned his head on Virgil’s shoulder.

Patton turned a little pink and nodded. “Yeah, he was super sweet about it even if it was a silly reason to get tutoring.”

“My best friend is silly,” Virgil hummed. “But that’s just how I like him~”

_____

Things didn’t get better for Patton as Virgil saw. Not that he exactly expected things to magically get better, for people to understand Patton overnight, and for Patton to have as many friends as humanly possible. But this was ridiculous, truly.

People started to stare at both of them, especially Patton. People wouldn’t even talk to Patton during his classes, at least the ones that knew what was going on. It didn’t seem to affect Patton too much but there were definitely moments, as was happening tonight.

Virgil had invited Patton over for a sleepover weeks ago and was getting everything ready when he heard a knock on the door, hurrying to get it.

Patton was a mess. He didn’t have his glasses for one thing, his clothes were rumpled and messy, and most noticeably was his hair, tangled and tousled unrelentingly, a wad of gum stuck in it. Patton looked close to tears and Virgil just hugged him tightly before ushering him in.

The first part of their evening was spent with Patton laying his head in Virgil’s lap as they watched The Rescuers, Virgil’s hand working through Patton’s hair with a trusty handful of peanut butter. By the end of the movie, the gum was out, Patton had calmed down a little, and Virgil sent him off to take a shower.

Patton came back from the shower a bit later, already in his pjs as Virgil set up for another movie. The night mostly went alright and Virgil was just getting to sleep at 2 in the morning when he heard Patton get you and shuffle over to his bed.

It was silent, Patton didn’t say anything and was turning back when Virgil spoke up.

“Pat?” Virgil whispered softly, grabbing his friend’s wrist.

Patton sniffled. “Yeah?”

“C’mere, you’re sleeping with me tonight.”

There was no hesitation for Patton and within seconds, he was shaking and sobbing into Virgil’s shirt. Virgil could do nothing but rub his back and let him cry. That seemed to be enough for Patton.

_____

“Hey Virgil, have you thought about joining GSA by any chance..?” Patton asked one day at lunch, taking a bite of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Virgil looked over to him before thinking, throwing his legs over Patton’s lap.

“Nah.”

“How come?”

“Just haven’t, you goof,” Virgil said, his eyebrow raised. “If you want an answer why I wouldn’t, it’s overrated if I’m not with you and I know you’re not planning on it.”

“But what if I did?”

“Do you?”

“... No.”

Virgil snorted and leaned over to kiss Patton’s forehead. “I have made the executive decision that this school’s gonna have a super exclusive GSA club, headed by the wonderful and responsible club president Patton Hart.”

“And who are the members of this club, Virge?” Patton asked, moving to snuggle into Virgil’s side.

“You and me, that’s all we need. Two gay as shit disasters, no one else matters in my opinion,” Virgil told him, resting his head against Patton’s while silence settled over them for a bit.

“What do we do at club meetings?”

“Talk about gay shit.”

“Does Logan count?”

“You bet your pining ass that Mandel counts.”

“Then Roman does too!”

“We’re gossiping basically then.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what’s happening.”

“Eh, fair enough.”

_____

Patton was currently playing video games with Virgil and as he fell off Rainbow Road, sighed.

“What’s up?” Virgil asked, still focused on the game.

“What do you mean?” Patton asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That was your pensive sigh, not your Virgil-is-kicking-my-ass-in-Mario-Kart sigh. So what’s up?” Virgil chuckled.

“You ever just... Realize that people suck?”

“They really do, screw ‘em if they can’t take a joke, am I right?” Virgil joked, finishing off the race.

“We should watch Mamma Mia, I hope you know what you’ve done,” Patton smiled, finishing the course too. “You’re even worse than Roman with the musical references sometimes!”

“You take that back!” Virgil exclaimed, tackling Patton to the couch, smacking him with a pillow.

Patton laughed loudly and pulled Virgil down on top of him, snuggling into his best friend.

Virgil’s heart melted and he hugged on to Patton tightly. “Dear god, you’re too cute for your own good, c’mere you cuddlebug,” he muttered, happy to feel Patton relax in his hold.

_____

“Soooooo lemme get this straight, Patton-“

“Good luck with that!” Patton giggled, causing Virgil to lightly push him with a snort.

“Shut up,” he said with no malice, kissing his friend’s hair. “You asked him to go over a bit of the math work you guys got assigned and he without prompt just asked you if you wanted to meet up for coffee to do so?”

“Yeeeeep!”

“Shut up you beautiful embodiment of sunshine and rainbows, you got a study date with Logan!!” Virgil shouted, shaking a very giggly Patton.

“It’s not much but it’s spending time with him, yeah? He’s still talking to me, even if it’s about school a lot of the time.. He could..” Patton paused, smiling to himself. “He could maybe be my friend, right? Do you think he would?”

“He’s not a complete blockhead like every single dumbass in this school, he’s gonna like you,” Virgil said with a smile, hugging Patton tighter in his lap.

“Well, as the Patton and Virgil GSA meeting demands, we must now hear from our resident emo about his blockhead!” Patton teased, kissing Virgil’s cheek.

Virgil laughed and hummed. “Good grief, who made you in charge?”

“You!”

“Oh that’s right, my mistake!” Virgil joked, receiving a punch to the arm. “Roman’s been doing a good job, had his whole script memorized today when most everyone else only had half. I just worked on the sets while they were rehearsing but he came over to talk with me when he didn’t have any more scenes. Still as stupid as I like ‘im though!”

“We clearly like two men at the opposite ends of the spectrum, huh?” Patton asked.

“Yep, absolutely. A total nerd and a moron. Strange combo. Think they’d get along?”

“Only one way to find out!” Patton hummed in a sing-song tone, offering half of his pasta to Virgil.

_____

Virgil glanced over to the front door of Logan’s house as Patton was revealed on the other side. Logan was quick to give Patton a kiss and greeted him.

“Wow, your house is really nice, Loggie!” Patton said, looking around.

“Patton!!!” a loud voice squealed from behind Virgil, Roman barreling towards Patton and Logan. He practically tackled Patton to the ground and Patton laughed loudly and fully. “I missed you so so so much! Never leave me alone for a single minute ever again!” Virgil’s boyfriend whined, hugging Patton tighter.

“Roman!” Patton laughed out, hugging back tighter. “I’m never going anywhere! You can’t make me leave, you’re stuck with me!”

“Mmm, perfect!” Roman exclaimed, picking Patton up to twirl him around.

As their antics continued, both of them talking excitedly about Patton’s job at the animal rescue center and Roman’s next show, Logan sat next to Virgil. Virgil watched his best friend and boyfriend talk excitedly for a bit, resting his head on Logan’s shoulder.

“You make him this happy you know,” Logan said quietly, wrapping his arm around Virgil’s shoulder.

“Dude, you’re his boyfriend,” Virgil retorted with a raised eyebrow.

Logan chuckled. “That I am. But you were his first and only friend for a long time. You’ve made him feel like he can take on the world just by being himself. It makes me very proud of the both of you.”

“I just treated him like a human being, you know?”

“Well, when you’ve been treated alien your whole life, it can make a world of difference for someone to see your humanity,” Logan explained, smiling a bit as Patton and Roman dragged Patton’s stuff in from his car.

Virgil smiled too as soon as Patton came back inside, still beaming with the force of a supernova. “He deserves every bit of humanity.”

Patton wasn’t treated well up until he was out of high school but looking at him now, Virgil knew all the fighting and arguments were worth it. Patton truly deserved everything the three of his friends could give him.

______________________________

Taglist: @virgils-paranoia, @marshmallow-the-panda, @anotheregofanficblog

#sanders sides #platonic moxiety #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #background platonic lamp #background logicality #background prinxiety #stan writing

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