#i said this before when he did the whole clapping for the queen thing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

avengersassemble-fics · 4 months

Text

Linger

chapter 01 "such a fool for you" masterlist 2.4k words

The grandeur of Lady Danbury's ballroom shimmered with the radiance of candlelight and the elegant attire of London's high society. It was the much-anticipated event that marked the commencement of the social season, something the whole ton looked forward to.

It was where the Queen picked her diamond, where the tone was set for the new season, where ladies vied for the most eligible bachelor’s attention. It was places and events like these where you got glimpses of him.

You were no stranger to the Bridgerton family, you practically grew up side by side with Daphne. She was your dearest friend. But that meant also growing up close to her older brothers, one of which you had pined for for years. Since you came to even know what the word or feeling meant.

Benedict Bridgerton had been the man you dreamt of, longed for. He had an air about him that captivated anyone who paid attention to him. Dark hair, deep eyes, a generous smile, and a soft touch (when he did graze your skin during dances or careful passes). You were a fool for him.

Several summers back, when you were just 15, your parents had made haste for Paris. A true hub of sophistication that matched London, you were able to hone your language skills and etiquette, as well as see some fine art along the way. When you returned just before your debut last season, so you could go through the challenges alongside your friend Daphne as new debutantes.. You noticed a change in Benedict.

He was more watchful, more keen to seek you out, more than willing to have his name on your dance card. He had also made it known when he didn’t particularly like a potential suitor.

Last season, he had all but ran off any gentleman who had wanted to even formulate the idea of courting you. This season? You vowed you wouldn’t let him stand in the way, unless he had some kind of explanation for his behavior.

Tonight, you had sought out Daphne as soon as she arrived, eager for some companionship that did not warrant endless get to know you questions from a gentleman.

“Has your Grace sent you off to fend for yourself this evening?” You asked her from behind, which made Daphne immediately turn on her heel to face you.

“I’m afraid he has,” she played along. “Though with my most trusted friend by my side, I believe, together, we can handle this evening.”

Arm in arm, Daphne and you made your way through the crowded room, towards her family. Always nestled together, deep in their own conversations within one another, it was sometimes like the rest of the ton didn’t matter.

For Benedict, that was true, until he could make out your form coming closer with his sister.. And looking as enchanting as ever.

“Remarkable,” he muttered to his brothers, Anthony and Colin. “Utterly remarkable.”

They followed his gaze over to where you were on the far edge of the group, reacquainting with their mother. Anthony hummed a sort of acknowledgement and Colin rolled his eyes.

“I swear, if I had a shilling for every time you mumbled under your breath for her, I'd be a rich man,” Colin said, earning a glare from Benedict.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he tried to play off. Anthony laughed lightly, clapping his hand down on his younger brother's shoulder.

“Are you just going to run off more possible suitors for her this season?” Anthony asked in a hushed tone. Benedict shook his head.

“I did no such thing,” Benedict protested. It was Colin’s turn to sigh.

“Good God, get a hold of yourself,” Colin said lowly. “You could just tell her your intentions.”

Benedict stewed over his brothers words for the majority of the evening. He weighed the cons, but the pros vastly outnumbered anything that could prevent him from you. But he needed some time to get his head straight, his spirits up, before he approached you before the end of the night.

“Sorry to intrude,” he said as he interrupted whatever conversation you were in with his sister. If Benedict had to watch you dance with another man one more time this evening he might need a lobotomy. “Daphne, may I steal her for a moment?”

“If she wishes to be stolen away,” Daphne said and you nodded your head. Daphne gave an all too knowing smile, not at all oblivious to what was transpiring between her brother and you, before leaving your sides.

“Ben,” you spoke to him quietly, and he immediately felt his skin aflame. “You wish to steal me away?”

“Just for a moment of your time,” he managed to get out. “You have been rather occupied with dances and conversations this evening.”

“Well if one hopes to marry, you must divulge a little,” you replied and your slight smile made his stomach twist. “Though if you wanted my attention earlier, you could’ve stolen me away sooner.”

Benedict smiled, though it teetered on the line of a grin. He was so enamored of your wit, and to be on the receiving end of it, unlike the other men in this room, was dear to him. Was this a flicker of admission on your part?

“Do you wish me to steal you away?” He asked softly. He could see your eyes flicker over his face, trying to read him, read what his intentions were. But you knew.

“If only you knew what all I wished of you,” you admitted, a bit breathless. If anyone was watching or listening, you knew the whispers that would be spoken. How improper it might be, even if you two were beating around the bush.

Before Benedict could respond, you two were interrupted by another gentleman who wanted your attention. Much to his dismay, you returned his attention and even accepted a dance. He had to watch you be whisked away for a dance and Benedict seethed.

Retreating back to his brother's side, Anthony grinned after taking a sip of his brandy. “Go well?”

“Say another word and I may end you,” Benedict grumbled and Anthony laughed.

You did your best to steer clear of the tall and handsome Bridgerton for the remainder of the evening. You were close to accomplishing that when you had slipped away from the prying eyes of the ton and into the night.

The air was warm, slightly cooler than earlier in the day. The moon was hidden behind clouds but it did not hinder its illumination. Lady Danbury’s gardens spanned as far as you could make out as you rested against the railing of the stoop.

You just needed a moment to catch yourself. To try and calm your mind-

“Do you often sneak away from the countless gentlemen vying for your attention?”

So much for slipping away unnoticed, but did it surprise you that Benedict followed?.. partly. You turned to face him as he stepped closer to your side, hands tucked behind him.

Little did you know it was to conceal the tremble in them.

“Only when I need a moment,” you admitted.

Benedict sounded a soft understanding as he came closer. His gaze seemed darker, even without the consideration of the night. He was searching your face for something, though you didn’t know what.

“What did you mean?” He asked softly. “When you said I didn’t know all you wished of me?”

You tensed up slightly, cursing yourself for your brazen but true words earlier in the evening. You could feel your hand tighten against the railings.

“Ben.. maybe this isn’t-“

“Please,” he said, his hands finally becoming visible as he reached out to touch your arm with one, the other on his chest. “Forgive the urgency in my words, for my heart and soul can no longer bear the weight of this unspoken truth. There's an ache within me, a relentless torment, fearing that time may slip through my fingers.. That you may slip through my fingers.”

“I cannot go on not telling you how ingrained you are in my mind. How even the mention of your name by my family makes me weak in the knees, how you have bled into my canvases, into my essence.

“I am tethered to you, my dearest (Y/N). The thought of you accepting a courtship from another man casts a shadow over me I don’t want to see to fruition. Perhaps that is selfish of me.. but if that means having even a chance to have you then I will be selfish.”

You weren’t sure if you had taken a single breath as he spoke, as he laid himself bare to you of his intentions. Everything made more sense now. How Benedict had looked at you for the last year, how he had cut in when men approached, how he practically chased away your potential suitors. If you were a fool for him, he was equally a fool for you.

“What do you ask of me?” you asked, your tone quieter than you intended, but the notions of everything occurring was making your mind and confidence dizzy.

Benedict hesitated, his gaze unwavering but completely captivated by the way your eyes seemed to shine. Was there any way he could be more captivated?

“What do I ask of you?” he echoed, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. “I.. Ask for a chance to court you, to explore the possibility that there is something more between us then familiar friends. I do not wish to rush or pressure you but my feelings for you run deep.”

Benedict sucked in a breath before continuing. “Will you allow me the privilege of courting you?”

You could see the sincerity and pure intention behind his eyes. It was what you had wanted to hear from him since before you debuted last season, something you had only been able to think about in your daydreams. Was he your future?

“Yes,” you breathed and could immediately see the tension he had in his shoulders deflate. “Your honesty is refreshing and.. In fact, it has left me a bit dazed. I believed you to be an artist not also a wordsmith.”

Benedict chuckled, the sound was warm and made you smile along with him. The hand he had on your arm skimmed upwards to cup your cheek. His gaze felt heavy on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

“If you have appreciated my honesty up until this point then maybe I can push my luck further,” he said to you. The playful glint in his eyes shifted to a more mischievous expression. “I must confess, I have been tempted for quite some time to do something I probably shouldn’t.”

His thumb traced over your skin to your lips, gently gliding over your lower lip which fell open slightly to catch a breath.

“I have thought about kissing these lips many times,” Benedict admitted, his voice suddenly sounded low and intimate, and it shook you to your core. “I’ve imagined the taste of sweetness that must linger on them. It’s like the mere thought is an irresistible temptation, and I find myself longing to explore a flavor I don’t even know, yet drives me wild with desire.”

“Do you ever wonder how you must taste to a man who cannot seem to get enough of the mere thought of your lips?” He asked you.

God.. He would be your undoing, any ounce of restraint you had was quickly evaporating. You had yet to respond, but Benedict watched as your cheeks flushed, your chest seemed to rise and fall more prominently.

“You seem to like being praised,” Benedict remarked. He knew what he was doing, you were sure of it. The way his eyes darted over you all but solidified it. “Are words all I needed to get you in my grasp this whole time?”

“You’ve never been this brazen before, Mr. Bridgerton,” you finally managed to get out. The way his thumb hesitated under your lip made you wonder if he liked hearing that, or maybe hearing it from your lips. You hadn’t ever wondered if any man had thought about the taste of your lips like he had shared with you, but now knowing he had thought of it immensely would linger with you for who knows how long.

“Careful,” Benedict warned you. Was it possibly for his tone to shift even lower than it already was? It sounded like it. “I have not given into my desires but that can quickly change.”

“And cause a scandal?” You asked him and all he did was chuckle.

“You know I don’t mind the whispers,” Benedict reminded you. “But.. I promise to preserve your reputation. So long as you don’t call me that again.”

“I believe we may be at an impasse,” you whispered. “Because I quite like calling you that, if it elicits even a similar response you have given me this evening.”

Benedict realized that there was definitely a flourishing connection here, because he knew you would never be so open with him if you hadn’t already had some sort of affection for him. He decided he wouldn’t waste this chance, to have or claim you.

“We should get you back inside,” Benedict said after clearing his throat of nerves. “Before anyone notices we are gone. You, more so than me.”

“You may be right,” you agreed. Benedict reluctantly removed his hand from your chin, and watched as you moved around him back towards the door. You stole a final glance from him before disappearing around the corner to return to the winding down festivities.

Benedict took a moment to collect himself, for this was the change to everything. He knew this would be a tumultuous journey, one he had craved and wanted but never believed would come true. After a few minutes, he took the same path back inside to remeet with his family. He couldn’t wait to return home and tell his brothers he had actually done it - he had asked to court you and you accepted.

You were aflame with a new purpose. Everything was shaping up just as you desired, with the man you had dreamt of for years. You knew that this courtship would prove to bring you both closer and eventually.. You would be wed. You would have him.

…Right?

#benedict bridgerton #Benedict bridgerton x reader #Benedict bridgerton x you #Benedict Bridgerton fic #bridgerton fic

242 notes · View notes

anime-is-godlike · 1 year

Text

Bungo stray dogs x reader

Birth simulator

You went out shopping and saw this in the sale section and for a laugh with your boyfriend got it, you are not pregnant but you remember seeing videos on the internet and wanted to see how long they would last the pain is from 1-10 how will they fair?

Dazai

“Belladonna stop stop!!”

“……..Dazai it’s on a 3”

“It’s does not feel good at all stop this madness”

“You are such a baby I sware to everything”

“Yes but I’m your baby”

“……”

“Wait come back!!!!!!!

I’m short a absolute baby who can’t make it past 4 at best, has way more respect and is ready to go down on his knees to praise you when you have children and will praise you to the end of time about how strong you are

————-

Chuuya

“Chu chu ~ please”

“…….no”

“Oh come on let’s make it a bet if you make it to 10 I’ll buy you wine”

“Deal!”

………….

“STOP STOP STOPPPP!!”

“…..to be honest I thought you’d quit a lot sooner”

“Stop clapping and turn the damn thing offfff!!!”

“But you only made it to 5?”

“Turn . That . Damn . Thing . OFF”

“Okay okay…….drama queen”

“Say what you want but damn you are gonna have it worse”

“????why”

“Because when we have kids you can’t simply turn a machine of…the perfect revenge”

“…….I’m sorry?”

“To late”

All in all have so much more respect for you and woman every where already thought you were queen now knows your kings and don’t worry about the wine you got him a apology bottle

——————-

Atsushi

“Um….okay?” Baby was confused until

“Ahhhhhhh!!!!!ouch stop please my darling stopppp!!” You looked in shock this man made it up to 7

“Wow genuinely wow” was all you said in astonishment

“Please……make it….Stop” he said nearly passing out

“Oh sorry dear”

……….

If you think he worshiped you before prepare for a whole lot of love and affection now he worships you and if you do have children he will treat you like a goddess

—————-

Ranpo

“Honey baby sugarplum” you say in a sweet voice ranpo has his arms crossed with a pout

“Nope na no not gonna do it” you pouted then a sparkle came to your eyes with a idea

“If you do this I’ll get the boss to give you” you lean closer and whisper

“Praise” he looks at you with fully opened eyes

“Well if ya put it that way” he picks you up by your waist and spins you around giggling

………

“Well I gotta admit I thought you’d last a bit longer” ranpo was on the floor passed out at….2 with a pocky stick in his mouth

“Oh well since he’s passed out I’ll just have one” you say just as you where about to grab a pocky from a box he woke up and rose like he was a zombie coming back from the dead

“Sorry darling…but no” he said with opened eyes you slowly retreated your hand

“Sorry” and put both hands up in the air (like you just don’t care…sorry)

“….okay one” you looked at him with shock

All in all not much changed in your relationship but you could tell he did help out a bit more when you got monthly pains he helped you out a bit before this whole ordeal but now he was actually giving you some of his snacks and randomly a surprise pocky he’ll shove into your mouth

——————

Hope y’all like it it’s been sitting in my drafts for a while and finally got the inspiration to finish it don’t worry the next chapter will be twisted wonderland

#bungo stray dogs #atsushi nakajima #x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuuya nakahara #ranpo edogawa #dazai osamu

148 notes · View notes

obsessivelollipoplalala · 8 months

Text

Queen + Adam Lambert in Philadelphia on October 18, 2023

Well, that was one of the best experiences of my life! These are my thoughts (pictures and videos will go in separate posts):

I loved how much the entire thing really was a production. It wasn't simply people standing there and playing/singing songs, you could tell every aspect of the show was well-thought-out with set pieces, costume changes, and basically a light show.

I sat in a section on the side that was pretty close to the stage. When they were performing on the main stage, I was able to see everyone pretty clearly, and Spike turned to us and told us to clap sometimes. When Brian and Adam went down the catwalk, their backs were to us. That meant Brian’s back was to us during LOML, but I got a clear view of the whole arena lit up with everyone’s phones. It was beautiful, and the people around us were commenting on how moving it was, too.

Let’s expand upon that: My sister isn’t even in the fandom, but even she said how beautiful LOML was, and how the whole show feels like an homage to Freddie even during the parts when he’s not explicitly mentioned. She said she had a cheesy moment where she was standing there while Adam sang “Who Wants to Live Forever” (which had beautiful rainbow lights), and she thought of Freddie and said to herself, “This is what it means for someone to live forever.” It really is. You really feel like you’re part of this experience of keeping Queen and Freddie alive, and people are so fucking stupid to accuse Brian and Roger of merely cashing in. Even my sister said they have enough money for 3 lifetimes, and are obviously doing it because they love it. Anyway, LOML was genuinely a moving experience, hearing Brian sing and to look out into a sea of lights, and towards the very end of the show, they played Freddie’s vocal call-and-response with the crowd from Wembley, and I did get emotional seeing how Freddie still had a crowd eating out of the palm of his hand +30 years after his death. It made me really wish he was still here.

Adam: You know, I didn’t dislike Adam before this, but my sister and I agreed that we have a newfound respect for him. He’s an incredible performer. When you actually hear him sing live for 2 hours, you realize what Brian means when he talks about Adam’s voice being a gift and everything. His voice was so strong and clear, not a single sour or weak note. These are notoriously difficult songs to sing, but he really nailed them. Adam is also a really charming, likable performer, too. He has fantastic energy and often comes off as very playful. He was delightfully campy as he applied powder and perfume in “Killer Queen.” You can tell he’s having the time of his life, and he took a moment to talk to the audience and say how lucky he is to be in his 10th year of performing with them. Also, his outfits were amazing. He wore glittery boots that looked 12 feet high lol

Brian and Roger: I always knew they were incredible musicians, but god, actually seeing them perform really drives it home. You do have this moment like, “…Damn, they’re really up there playing all of that.” My eyes kept going back and forth between watching Brian on stage, and watching the quick and intricate movements of his fingers up on the screen.

Brian was wonderful during LOML, despite his back being to us. His voice was warm, and he told us to sing the song to everyone we’ve lost. “‘39” was fun. I loved his solo section. He was way up on a pedestal with a screen to make it look like he was standing on an asteroid, and bright, colorful planets descended from the ceiling and floated around him as he played a calmer melody. It was so lovely. Again, my sister isn’t in the fandom but after the show, she commented that while Roger doesn’t seem like a bad guy, there’s just something approachable, likable, and nice about how Brian came across on stage :’)

Roger was still great, too. I really don’t know where the fuck he finds the energy to still be that good at the drums in his 70s, and even though I don’t like “I’m in Love With My Car” as a song, it’s still objectively impressive to watch him sing and drum for it at the same time. With him and Brian, I can’t comprehend how they’re still doing this. I feel exhausted just from standing there and watching them lmao, but they’ve still got it in their mid 70s. You can tell this is just what they were born to do, and tbh watching how completely they throw themselves into a performance, and picturing them doing that night after night for several months on end on and off for like 15 years……yeah, I see why they had so many personal issues and their domestic lives fell apart lol. I’m not even trying to be mean, I just think something’s gotta give when you’re doing that kind of work, and that’s not even mentioning any harmful aspect of the rock ‘n’ roll party culture. Anyway, the point is that it’s crazy that they’re still able to do this and give it their all, and I’m so happy I got to see them do their thing.

Finally, Brian came out in a Philadelphia Phillies T-shirt during the encore, and my sister and I screamed lol

10/10. What a night. I think Freddie would be so proud to see his work not only being carried on, but how Brian and Roger (and their team, of course) are still adding things to the production to keep it all fresh and give it their 110%.

#Queen #Queen band #queen + adam lambert #brian may #roger taylor #adam lambert

34 notes · View notes

morganwrites12672 · 2 years

Text

Billy Hargrove x Reader

Billy falls in love with the Hawkins 'keg queen'. He loves her and she loves him, what happens when he finds out her life isn't everything he thought it was.

TW: Self blame, underage drinking, emotional abuse, mentioned abuse, mentions of SH,

He was in love. Billy 'Keg King' Hargrove; was in love. The second he saw her hop off the keg after beating him and stealing his title; he fell so damn hard.

She hopped off the keg, beer running down her chin. She was clapped on the back as the other party goers cheered; incredibly impressed that a girl could take Billy's place.

She wiped the beer off with the sleeve of her black leather jacket. His thoughts were interrupted by assholes.

"How's it feel to get your ass handed to you; by a girl?"

"Going to defend your title ex'keg king'," Billy listens to their taunts as he waves them off. They persist so he agrees to try to defend his title.

After chugging as much beer as possible, he hops off. Looking at the guys they just frown. How was she better?

"Y/N beat you by almost thirty seconds, guess you lost your title to the new keg queen," one of the guys snide as Billy walks off

He finds you with a bottle of Vodka sitting in the garden. He then also notices you light a cigarette. Why would you hop off of the keg just to drink more and get high?

It didn't make sense. That would make one nasty hangover. He frowns as he walks over to you. He was more concerned then he should be for a girl he just met.

"Hello, Hargrove. If you're here to punch me or get revenge, I'll give you a free one. Probably deserve it," she says to him with her back toward him. Why would she assume he wanted to hit her?

"I don't hit women," he replies. He didn't think he could ever. It was wrong.

She is not amused by his reply. She takes a drag of her cig before knocking down a swallows worth of Vodka.

"Why? So, because I'm a girl you're not going to beat the shit out of me?" She scoffs. Billy knows he has fucked up. He thinks he likes this girl.

A lot.

"Look, regardless if gender I wouldn't be beating you up," Billy turns on the charm. She is obviously different then most girls; not going to be impressed by any title or cool car he would have

"Well, I need to go," she quickly says stubbing out her cig and grabbing the neck of the half empty bottle. She stalked off to go find her friends and get their drunk asses home.

Billy watched in wonder as she left. Why was he being turned on by a girl beating him? Taking his title? His dignity? He didn't know; nor did he care as he watched how perfect she looked, dressed to kill.

_ Four Months later_

You enter your house. Back from another date with Billy. He had asked you out within a few weeks of you stealing his title.

He was great. But you were Kate and going to get an earful. You and Billy only went to parties to redeem your title every week. He instsited that you can't just give it up that easy.

He has tried to get your secrets but you said he had to wait for the four months anniversary and then you would reveal your magic trick.

"Where were you?" Your mom's voice is poison laced and clearly very pissed. You let out a nervous gulp.

"I had a date," you inform and straighten your posture. She might just let you go easy. Might.

"So, you what? Go whore your self of for a night? Hmmm," she hisses at you. You hadn't slept with Billy on this date.

"No ma'am , I didn't sleep with anybody," you reply and start to take a step towards your room. Bottom floor, almost hidden next to the staircase.

"Fine. You stupid bitch. Just remember what you do is affecting the whole family. Everytime you go on dates, you give us all a bad reputation," your mother says before scoffing at your appearance and getting the hell out. Off to go vent to one of her snooty friends.

"Failure," she mumbles as she exits. You close your eyes and let out a deep breath. Then another. You open your eyes and count five things you feel. Your jeans were rough. You reach out and glide your fingers over the counter top. It was smooth and cold. your t-shirt was nice and soft. You ran a hand through your hair. It was silky and soft. You grab your keys before tossing them back. Cold and hard.

You hold back the tears. Of course she would say that. It's mostly true. All of those dates before Billy could have ruined your family. You should have been more careful.

Your mom did this far to often. She would be back in a few days. When she got back you would be given hell, but until then you were free.

You grab a bottle of vodka and take a swig. It didn't burn anymore. You started drinking in freshman year. Some girls cut, you just drank. The vodka burned your throat and your mother's words burnt your heart.

You take another gulp of the slightly burning liquid. It just needed a minute to kick in, thank God.

"Lucas?" You heard a younger girls voice ask.

"Sorry, Max. It's just me," you say.

You can hear the disappointment in her voice as she answers,"Billy?" She asks you and you tell her yes.

You hear her step away before pounding foot steps came. It wasn't very late, barely past midnight. You knew he wouldn't be awake. He never was. You were grateful for Max being so helpful in your relationship. She had gotten a phone in her room for her birthday and that was how you had called your lover.

"Baby?" You hear him ask. You can already see the smirk on Max's face from her brother being so vulnerable.

"Can you come over?" You ask. He hears the pain in your voice and mumbles something before saying yes and slamming the phone down.

You sit with your back to the couch, crosslegged as you take another drink. The liquor didn't burn enough. Not even close. Not even close to the burning in your heart..the pain.

You hear a pounding on your door before billy steps in. You hop up from your spot and walk towards him. He knew what was happening. He thought he did; you were being abused.

You are engulfed by his arms as he picks you up and grabs the bottle before going to your room. He knew, or thought he did.

"Where?" He asks as he sets you down the bottle goes on your dresser. You give him a questionable look.

"Where what?"

"I know your mom hits you."

"She doesn't, it's words," your voice is barely a whisper,

You see the sympathy in his eyes as he wraps his arms around you as you cry. Your mom might be back in a few days, but until then. Until then you could enjoy this. The love. Affection.. it's not like you ever got any at home.

You were happy with Billy. And he was happy with you. Even if for a little bit; you could save each other from the abuse if you'd parents.

______________________________________________

Requests are open! Check my pinned post for details!

387 notes · View notes

languajix · 2 months

Text

My original plan for Hold Every Memory was not quite as fluffy; the kids couldn't follow Don into the astral plane, and had to take the whole 'extradimensional uncles their turtle dad talks to in his head' thing on faith.

Here's a scene I'd written and discarded a long time ago which would have been the opening scene to the original story about the kids and their antics, if I'd kept going that route. Note that they call Don 'Tad' here, which is a portmanteau of 'turtle' and 'dad', and Don's been consistently calling them by El/Dee/Lee/Angelo so that's how they think of themselves. Anyways:

A beam of bright light flared to life in the pitch-black room. It wavered for a moment before moving to illuminate a small face from beneath, looking appropriately grotesque cast by such gnarled shadows. "I must tell you the dark secrets I've learned, brothers."

El and Angelo shivered together. Lee, curled up next to them with his head in his palm, looked downright bored.

The flashlight beam turned to illuminate a chart up on the wall. It was covered in arrows and hastily scribbled lists. Dates. Question marks.

"It all began the night of February twenty-second, when dear Ellie woke up from a deep sleep to witness a figure leaning over his bed! Frozen with fear, he could do naught but watch as the figure slipped something from underneath his pillow, returning only a second later to instead deposit something in its place.

"When he woke in the morning, he discovered that his tooth had indeed been exchanged for a quarter, as the legends had foretold. But! When he came into my room that next morning, his story was not one of 'Tinkerbell' or 'Fairy Godmother'. Say it once for the group, Ellie: Who did you see that night?"

The flashlight swung around until it was shoved up under El's chin like a microphone, shining directly into his eyes. El blinked rapidly. "Uh... it was Tad."

"Tad! Scoff! Last I checked, Tad did not have fairy wings. Tad did not fly with fairy dust."

"I could- I could draw him with wings. I could make a Tad-fairy," Angie murmured, drumming his little fingers on El's arm.

"Ellie was convinced that the so-called 'tooth fairy' must take on the form of one's most beloved authority figures, possibly as a way to slip in and out of houses undetected. I, however, was not so convinced! For nearly a year since, I've been observing and recording every instance wherein a beloved children's fantasy figure purportedly arrives in the sewers to give good little turtles 'gifts' or otherwise provide an enriching experience. After collecting the data, I have come to one conclusion:

"There is no 'tooth fairy!'" Everyone gasped, except Lee who sighed and rolled his eyes. "In fact, there is no 'Easter bunny,' no 'Santa Claus,' and no 'Uncles'. All of them are fictitious figures, meant to pacify and misdirect us!"

Dee began pointing around the room at each of his brothers in turn.

"Those skateboards from Santa? Bought by Papa on an excursion he claimed was for 'fur care products'! That paint set from Uncle Mike? Father purchased it on his way to or from his weekly errands on November Sixteenth. The stickers you have on your helmet that came in those easter eggs? Both Father and Papa spent over two hours silently placing plastic eggs around the Lair when they believed us all to be asleep, the night of our big Lou Jitsu marathon extravaganza!

I have collected a list of other figures I highly suspect to be fictional, although confirming it may prove more difficult. The Queen of England, Gritty, and Lady Gaga currently top said list."

Dee flicked the flashlight off and the overhead light back on, casting stars across everyone's vision.

"You may applaud now."

El clapped twice. Angie sniffled, looking like his entire world had just burned down around his ears.

Lee waved a hand. "Good job or whatever. Very smart. Much science."

Dee rolled his eyes, placing the flashlight down on the bed next to him and folding his arms in front of his chest. "You're just salty that I cracked the case."

"Ha! As if. If you had asked me half a year ago, I could have told you all of this stuff, and in like two sentences, too."

"You can't possibly be suggesting that you knew all of this before I did."

"Uh, yeah? I just asked."

Dee stared off into space for a moment. "...you just asked."

"Yep! And Tad was like, 'you're right, but they're a standard part of the American child experience, blah blah blah we were gonna tell you guys when you were all ready...'"

"I can't believe I spent literal days graphing everyone's schedules down to the minute, placing secret cameras, hacking our bank details, building tracking devices-"

El bristled. "What? Dee!"

"...but the Uncles are real. Supposedly." Lee shrugged and looked away.

...

Dee frowned. "Leon, the only person who ever 'sees' them is Father, who claims that they visit inside his head from some other dimension! Occam's razor states that the explanation requiring the fewest assumptions is usually the correct one - wouldn't a simple 'it's all in his imagination' be applicable here?"

"I'm not saying I think they're real. I'm saying that Tad said to me that they're real."

"Tad's not imagining them," El interrupted firmly. "If Tad says they're real, then I believe him."

"Me too!" Angie chimed in.

"But you believe me about the tooth fairy and the easter bunny?"

El patted him on the head. "Yes, Dee. You did a great job! I liked the flashlight."

Dee humphed. "Thank you. I'm glad someone appreciated the artistry involved in presenting research data in an engaging and interactive fashion."

"...but we are gonna have a talk about the trackers. And the hacking."

"I'm sorry, you seem to be cutting out. Please attempt to reconnect this call at another time."

El dumped Angie gently out of his arms and onto the bed so he could give Dee a noogie. He squawked.

#hold every memory au #not really wip weekend but #wip weekend

11 notes · View notes

ghostxraven · 10 months

Note

YOU. FALL OUT BOY SHOW. I NEED DETAILS RN

HI OKAY SO IT WAS INCREDIBLE I CANT BELIEVE I GOT TO SEE SOME OF THE THINGS I SAW TONIGHT.

1. the opening acts were GREAT like i need to listen to Royal and the Serpent and more Bring Me the Horizon the openers were REALLY REALLY GOOD

2. they played DISLOYAL ORDER OF WATER BUFFALOES AND I LITERALLY CLAPPED MY HANDS OVER MY MOUTH. STARTED CRYING. I COULD NOT BELIEVE IT WE DID IT THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO WAS MANIFESTING DISLOYAL ORDER FOR ME ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ (AND!!! AND ATAVAN HALEN. I WON TONIGHT. THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO MANIFESTED THESE FOR ME I LOVE YOUUUUUU)

3. TRAVIE. MCCOY. the medley was BEAUTIFUL and had what a catch and just one yesterday but then PATRICK STARTED PLAYING STEREO HEARTS AND EVERYONE GOT REALLY EXCITED AND CHEERED BUT THEN. TRAVIE CAME OUT ONSTAGE AND DID THE FIRST RAP VERSE OF STEREO HEARTS. WHICH THEN TRANSITIONED INTO CUPID’S CHOKEHOLD!!! AND THE REST OF FOB CAME OUT ON STAGE AND PLAYED ALONG WITH CUPID’S CHOKEHOLD AND I KNOW THIS SOUNDS MADE UP. I KNOW IT LITERALLY SOUNDS LIKE THAT “AND THEN DAN AND PHIL CAME OUT HOLDING THE GAY FLAG” POST BUT IT WAS REAL. I HARDLY BELIEVE IT MYSELF.

*AND THEN HE ANNOUNCED GCH WILL BE RETURNING IN THE FALL.*

and YOU KNOW WHAT. they were PLAYING cupid’s chokehold over the sound system between bring me the horizon’s set and fall out boy coming on and i ACTUALLY THOUGHT TO MYSELF “haha what if this is their way of teasing the fact that travie is going to perform with them tonight” as a JOKE. and then i was RIGHT.

4. patrick made the dog puppet sing along to this ain’t a scene which was CUTE AND FUNNY and pete stuck his head inside the puppet again

5. magic 8 ball was a DOUBLE tonight AGAIN and it was the live debut of i am my own muse and then 27 AGAIN. BRUTAL. when pete said “should we play something really really new that we’ve never played for anyone before?” everyone started screaming

6. THEY PLAYED??? THE FIRST VERSE AND CHORUS OF ENTER SANDMAN BY METALLICA??? INSANE. PETE WAS UP IN THE OWL SETPIECE FOR THAT WHOLE MINI-SONG. IT RULED. I WAS SCREAMING A LOT.

7. SPEAKING OF WHICH. pete did this little “magic trick” where he disappeared behind a curtain he held up on stage and then reappeared at the BACK of the stadium towards the seats where we all were! it was fun and also pretty cool!! he stayed there for a whole song too :)

8. pete had like three wardrobe changes and by that i mean he had 3-4 tops which were a giant snuggie-style oversized hoodie, which he took off at some point to reveal a t-shirt underneath? and then when he was up at the back of the stadium he was in a normal-sized hoodie and THEN at the end of the show he was wearing the iconic mesh-and-roses top. fashionista

9. the PYROTECHNICS. i’ve never been to a show with pyrotechnics but the way they were integrated at this show were SO COOL. FLAME JETS AND FIREWORKS. and of course pete’s flamethrower bass. i yelled a lot during this show and a lot of the yelling was about the flamethrower bass

10. the location was really interesting!! the weather was FANTASTIC and besides that it was a really cool little (“little”) tennis stadium that was in the suburbs of queens NY like LITERALLY tucked in between a bunch of rows of houses :> there were people playing tennis at the tennis club right next door that we could see from our seats! it just REALLY fit the vibe fob seem to have been going for the whole tour + pete talked about how his mom was from queens and his grandmother had graduated from the high school in the neighborhood (forest hills) the stadium was in 🤗 ALSO there was this on one of the pillars which i think illustrates how very fitting to the whole vibe of the album/tour/fall out boy in general the place was:

11. even the parts of the set that were more “standard” like the pink seashell opening the concert and love from the other side and the big classics like sugar we’re going down and thnks fr th mmrs and saturday (SATURDAY. TO END THE SHOW) were just. so incredible. i’ve never been able to see fall out boy live before so it was just such an incredible privilege especially since @movingdayy was so kind as to invite me and erie and gifted me a ticket so that i would be able to see the tour even though i thought all year that i wouldn’t be able to :’) the sets were super incredible and the band interacted with all the setpieces a lot too which made it really unique

12. i handed out a LOT of bracelets and i STILL have a crazy amount. mutuals if you want a fababoi bracelet and are willing to give me your address i will mail you one ❤️

so YEAH that’s my quick overview of the concert it was just insane, incredible, life-changing, etc etc etc etc 🧡 i probably forgot some stuff that i will inevitably kick myself for but those were like. THEE standout moments. i sang along to every song they played and my throat hurts and it’s 2 am and erie and i just swapped drivers for the rest of the way home so i MAY be missing some important things due to being overtired 👍

EDIT: FUCK I CANT BELIEVE I FORGOT. ROB FROM MIDTOWN WAS APPARENTLY IN THE FLOOR SEATS AND PETE SPOTTED HIM WHEN HE WAS COMING BACK TO THE STAGE FROM THE BACK OF THE STADIUM AND WAS TALKING ABOUT HOW HE WISHED ROB COULD COME UP ON STAGE AND THEY COULD PLAY SOME MIDTOWN SONGS. and THEN patrick joked about how he “doesn’t even remember the words to their own songs” (<- paraphrasing) and pete went “not this time…maybe another :)”. jersey shows coming up I Am So Scared

#pi's personal #fall out boy #my show #marz tag 🔮#ty for the interest it was INCREDIBLE i had such an amazing time

20 notes · View notes

karebear4499 · 6 months

Text

You Are My Sunshine Chapter 4

Considering how much partying had taken place the night before, it was no surprise that Branch had slept through the morning song. When he finally dragged himself out of bed, he poured himself a cup of coffee and got dressed as usual, not yet noticing that anything was out of place as he hummed a little tune.

Passing by Sunshine’s room, he was a bit surprised to see her still buried underneath her blankets. He figured, like Poppy, she would’ve woken up the minute the sun came out. “Sunshine,” he called, clapping his hands together, “Come on, up and at ‘em! Poppy’s probably waiting for us!”

Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t get a response out of her. He knew that, like him, she was likely still tired from the party last night, but he felt that they had both slept in long enough.

When he attempted to wake her by flicking her bedside lamp on and off, it suddenly occurred to him that the blanket should have been rising and falling with her breaths.

“Is she alright,” he thought, worried. “Sunny,” he exclaimed, throwing the blanket off to find the form underneath was a small pile of pillows. A piece of paper fluttered to the floor, Branch’s heart threatening to explode out of his chest as he picked it up and read it.

“Dear Branch,

By the time you read this, I will be gone. If my family isn’t going to come and find me, then it looks like I’m going to have to come to them. Don’t worry about me; I’m bringing everything I’ll need to make it on my own. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I love you. Tell Poppy I love her too.

Goodbye,

Sunshine”

“No, please no,” Branch said as he stared at the letter, blinking back tears in the hopes that soon he would wake up from this nightmare he had to be having. He refused to believe that Sunshine would do something like this. She wouldn’t have made such an irrational decision, would she?

Unfortunately for him, the truth was right there in black and white in front of him. She had really left.

In a panic, he quickly shoved the letter into his vest and sprinted towards the elevator. He had to find Poppy.

They had to find Sunshine.

…

The birthday cake was still standing in the middle of the meadow. Despite it being pecked at and feasted on by several woodland creatures overnight, as well as having whole slices missing from the party, it still looked virtually untouched. Poppy and the Snack Pack were standing around the base of the cake, offering some to anyone who passed by and helping themselves to what they could handle.

“Yeah, maybe I did go a little overboard with the cake,” Poppy said sheepishly.

“You’re telling me,” Smidge retorted, wiping frosting out of her hair. “At this rate, she’ll be twelve by the time it’s all gone.” Mr. Dinkles popped his head out of the side of the cake and “mewed” in agreement.

Cooper was situated at the very top and eating his way down each layer. “I told you we should’ve gone with the cupcake tower,” he said, belching.

Poppy was about to scold him for taking such big bites—even though she was really desperate to get the cake down to a manageable size--when she heard her name frantically being called. She turned to see Branch running towards her, a panicked expression on his face.

“Oh, good morning Branch,” she said, momentarily oblivious to her boyfriend’s distress. “Hope you slept well. You haven’t had breakfast yet, have you? You want some cake?” Without waiting for a response, she thrusted a piece of cake in his face as she begged, “Please, for the love of hair, have some cake!”

Branch shoved the cake away in frustration. “We have more important things to worry about than cake, Poppy,” he shouted. He pulled out Sunshine’s letter and handed it to the troll queen.

Poppy’s eyes scanned over the letter as she muttered the words written on it to herself, gasping and placing a hand over her mouth once she realized what it meant. The others around her were watching with concern and asking what was wrong, but she paid them no mind. She couldn’t—no, she refused to—believe it. This had to have been some kind of prank. But this was definitely Sunshine’s handwriting, and she would never do anything to worry her or Branch as a joke.

“Sunshine ran away?”

Branch nodded, the terror now evident on his face. The Snack Pack gasped in disbelief. “I-I thought we’d had a good talk last night,” Branch said, pacing back and forth, “I thought everything was fine. We need to find her, Poppy. She’s way too young to be out on her own.”

Poppy nodded in agreement, pulling a megaphone out of her hair and announcing Sunshine’s absence to every troll within earshot. She assured them all that a village-wide search party was unnecessary; her and Branch would set out to find her on their own.

After going back to their respective homes and gathering all that they would need for their journey, Poppy and Branch prepared to set off in the balloon. “If anyone has any issues while we’re gone, King Peppy can help you,” she added. Her father smiled with approval as he bid them farewell. “Good luck, Poppy,” he said, “Sunny’s counting on you two.”

Once the balloon had disappeared from view, Tiny Diamond leapt onto his father’s back, pulling on two strands of his hair like a jockey trying to take control of his horse.

“Ow, Tiny!” Guy yelped, “believe it or not, you’re getting way too big for that!”

Tiny ignored his protests, instead trying to direct him forward. “C’mon, Dad,” he shouted with determination, “I wanna try to find Sunny too!”

“Poppy said she and Branch could handle this themselves.”

“Please, Dad,” Tiny begged, leaning down to face him, “Sunny’s my best friend.”

Even from his inverted perspective, Guy Diamond couldn’t deny his son’s puppy-dog eyes were convincing. “Well,” he sighed, “I suppose an extra pair of trolls wouldn’t hurt.”

“How about two pairs?”

The glitter trolls turned to see Satin and Chenille had been the ones to speak up. “We’ll come with you,” Chenille said, looks of determination on hers and her sister’s faces.

“Or three?”

Smidge and Biggie came to join the group. “We know Poppy would appreciate our help,” Biggie said, Mr. Dinkles mewing in response.

Smiling at the grown-ups, Tiny placed a hand on top of his father’s. “We ready for this?”

Everyone joined in on the handshake and shouted in unison, “For Sunshine!”

#dreamworks trolls #fanfiction #broppy kid #kinda #This was super rushed #feedback appreciated

9 notes · View notes

gwenllian-in-the-abbey · 8 months

Note

If it’s not too much of a spoiler could you do 18. Share the scene you just wrote, written from another character’s POV.?

This is such a good one! Here is a scene (or more like the background to the scene that follows it) from Our Fathers Clad in Red, Chapter 3 (@aifsaath and I are working on the update currently!), written from the point of view of Marston Waters. I had so much fun writing this! Ser Marston Waters is one my favorite side characters in this fic.

The king had tasked Marston with finding a dress for the Lady Baela, so that she might look presentable when she appeared in front of the small council. In truth, when Aegon had named him to the Kingsguard, he'd imagined much nobler quests than scouring the Red Keep for cast-off gowns, but as the least experienced member of King Aegon's guard, or perhaps due to his roots on Driftmark and Dragonstone, Ser Marston seemed to have been assigned the task of minding the the king's captives. Ser Gyles had clapped him on the back and said that it meant he'd earned the king's trust, no small feat considering the king's trust was a tightly guarded thing. But Marston was a Spicetown bastard by birth, and he'd barely been named to the Kingsguard when the war broke out and he was sent to accompany his king into hiding. He hardly knew where in the whole of the Red Keep he might go to find ladies' dresses. His only recourse had been to ask one of the few ladies remaining to the dowager queen. The king's mother was herself too fearsome for Waters to approach, but Lady Elinor, one of the younger of Queen Alicent's retinue, had taken him nervously to a room with discarded furnishings and portraits, including one rather scandalous painting of the king before the war. "Over here," she'd said, pointing to where several trunks and chests had been stacked. "There are some old gowns in the red chest. I'd lend her one of my own, of course, but I saw the Lady Baela when she was brought in from Dragonstone and mine would never fit." That was true enough. Lady Baela wasn't tall, but Lady Elinor was shorter still, and round besides. "Thank you for your help, my lady," Marson said, giving her what he hoped was a courtly bow. He'd tried to find one that was simple enough, without any sigils or embroidery which might identify its former owner, but which was also small enough to fit Lady Baela. She was a slip of a thing, slender but strong, built much like her late grandmother Princess Rhaenys had been, Seven Bless her soul. Many of the gowns in the trunk were made for fuller figured women, perhaps a woman large with child. The thought made heat rise to Marston's cheeks. He quickly shoved the roomier gowns aside. He pulled out a plain dove grey winter gown in soft, fine wool, nothing like the scratchy dresses his sisters used to complain about wearing when the weather turned cool. He held it up for Lady Elinor's approval. She chewed her lip as if she looked like she might say something, but then shook her head. "I suppose it will have to do," she said. "If you were asked to find leftover gowns, well there are only the two of them who won't need them anymore, and at least the length on this is about right. Unless you'd like to ask Her Grace." Marston wasn't quite sure what Lady Elinor meant, but he very much did not wish to ask Her Grace. The king's mother was forever glaring at him as if his own pale hair were a personal affront. "I think this will do," he decided. "In fact it's perfect." And with that he bundled the gown under his arm and set out to fetch the Lady Baela.

#writing asks #our fathers clad in red #baela targaryen #marston waters #aegon ii targaryen

8 notes · View notes

diana-bookfairchild · 1 year

Text

Title: those who have never sought it Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Pairings: None. Warnings: Canon level violence. Trauma. Flashbacks of a sort Prompt: @badthingshappenbingo - Killing in Self-Defense @whumpcember - The End is Nigh and Desperation

Peter had just—

He’d killed. He’d activated the Instant Kill Mode.

He remembered asking Mr. Stark exactly what that setting was supposed to do. He’d been going through Karen’s coding in the lab, adding what Ned and he’d figured out for a sort of explosive GPS. They’d thought it might help with the Queens Arsonist.

Mr. Stark had looked solemn. He’d put away the fabricator to come talk to him. “Kid,” he’d said. “I dragged you to Germany. It was wrong of me, incredibly so, but I did. That was … the big leagues. Your groundwork is important, but things like that – they could get you killed.”

Peter had swallowed. He was hardly unaware of mortality. If burying empty coffins for his parents at age six hadn’t driven that lesson in, holding Ben as he bled out on the asphalt certainly had.

But Mr. Stark’s heavy tone spoke to horrors even beyond those. It reminded Peter of trying to figure out a way to dig a bullet out of himself one of his first weeks Spider-Manning, of being helpless as the Vulture’s claws choked the breath out of him and his vision blurred, of the sad, grave look on May’s face when she lost someone from FEAST or at the hospital, of the dark circles under Ned’s eyes after Peter woke up post two days in a medically induced coma, of inhaling dirt and sobbing desperately as he tried to hold up the collapsed warehouse.

Mr. Stark had clapped a hand on his shoulder tightly. “Instant Kill’s a last resort. It’s ridiculously dangerous, and Karen’s programmed to reflect that. But I’d rather you have that if there’s even the slightest chance it might help you someday.”

And now it was.

And Peter loathed it.

He didn’t want to kill.

It wasn’t that Peter didn’t respect people who he knew had killed. He knew Mr. Stark had killed many terrorists and aliens and blah blah blah. He was an Avenger, and that wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. He knew Miss Potts had killed Obadiah Stane and The Mandarin. Daredevil didn’t pull his punches with his villains. Deadpool was a straight up mercenary.

But the whole concept behind Spider-Man was that he showed mercy. He’d sworn before Uncle Ben’s grave that he would never walk past a tragedy he could prevent again.

And killing was always a tragedy. What right did Peter, seventeen-year-old high schooler, have to be judge, jury and executioner? The Vulture was a villain, but he was also Liz’s dad. How many others were like that?

Yet Peter stood now, with the world’s most powerful collection of rocks in his hand, swinging desperately and leaving dead bodies in his wake.

They were aliens, but they were sentient beings. Peter’s animal rights sensibilities brain screamed every time he punched one and one of his pincers killed them.

It’s self-defense, he told himself firmly. I have to do it. Just incapacitating them isn’t enough – they’ll just get back up. I don’t know how quick or well aliens get rejuvenated.

And now that he’d killed once – several times, in fact – he knew the option of killing would never leave his brain. Every time this happened, he would hesitate lesser and lesser to kill.

And the line between hero and villain – especially vigilante and villain, according to certain police officers and newspapers – was very thin.

Overwhelmed by his thoughts and the unending stream of hostiles trying to take the gauntlet, he cried out for help. He had about two seconds to fanboy over Captain America being able to wield Mjolnir and having a nickname for him before chaos reigned once more.

Miss Potts saved his life, and a very nice woman on a Pegasus. Peter rolled over, gasping for breath, trying to hide himself from the enemies who wanted the gauntlet.

This is going to end soon, he told himself. From his perspective, he’d fought at Titan with Mr. Stark and Dr. Strange and the Guardians of the Galaxy just to end up on Earth continuing the fight.

Dr. Strange had said it’d been five years, but that hadn’t really processed until he saw the older, more ragged version of Mr. Stark staring at him like he was a miracle, cradling his face like he was something precious, holding him like he would never let go, showing emotion in a way he would’ve never allowed himself to just a day – five years ago.

It had to end soon.

Dr. Strange had said that there was only once chance out of 14000605 that they won. This had to be it.

Right?

Anxiety roped through his chest, making it hard to breathe. The stones glinted in the dull lighting and off the blood and dirt. Pretty, he thought absently.

The blue one was obviously the Tesseract – the Space Stone, Dr. Strange had called it. Anybody who had the internet would know that one, after the Battle of New York.

The sandy one – the Mind Stone - he was used to seeing on Vision’s face. He wondered how Thanos had gotten it in the end. It hadn’t been in the Gauntlet on Titan.

The orange one sent chills down his body. He hadn’t known what it was prior to being turned into dust, but he certainly did now. He didn’t know how the others had felt it, but he’d felt his body disintegrating, the Soul Stone pulling him into its void.

The screams around him were intense. As discomposed as he was right now, he could hear everything. Mr. Stark’s repulsors – or were they Miss Potts’ or Colonel Rhodes’ or Princess Shuri’s? The whoosh at Ant-Man expanding or shrinking in size. The whirring in the spaceship above them. The flapping of the Pegasus’ wings. Parts of the Compound still collapsing. Someone asking for the Gauntlet.

Peter gave a strangled laugh. This was what was being fought over. The glove in his hand was one of the most - if not the most powerful - weapons in the universe.

Absurdly, he was reminded of playing Passing-the-Parcel in Abe Brown’s birthday party in third grade. He’d prayed not to get out. He supposed the stakes were just a tad higher in this game.

He heard repulsors whir again, and felt his stomach tighten. What would Miss Potts do if Mr Stark died? What would T’Challa do if Shuri died? What would Mr Stark do if Miss Potts or Colonel Rhodes died?

What would he do if Mr Stark died?

This was going to end soon. It had to.

But how was it going to end? What would happen?

What if Thanos showed up right now and snatched the gauntlet from him? What if the Squidward-lookalike turned up again?

The spaceship above them clanked and tumbled. He heard guns and satellites being loaded in there. What were they aiming at? Was he going to be blown up into the bits of dust and dirt he liked to imagine Ben was still watching him from?

He could know, he realized suddenly. He had a foolproof way right in his hands.

He remembered the way Dr. Strange spasmed while invoking the Time Stone, how he’d looked at Mr Stark and said solemnly that it was the only way before dying. He remembered learning about paradoxes and how knowing the future can sometimes be worse than not. He remembered the gauntlet coming into his hands on Titan, victory slipping through his fingers like fine sand. He remembered begging Mr Stark to save him as he fell apart.

He looked back at the Stones. They glowed tantalizingly.

There was a plan, he thought. Something about a van and a time machine. How could he know better than so many experienced heroes?

But then. He remembered reading about Sokovia. He remembered kneeling in front of Ben as he gasped his dying breaths. He remembered sobbing with desperation and cleaning dirt encrusted blood off his arms later.

He remembered the choked cry the first alien he had killed had let out right before they stopped breathing.

Never again.

He dug out the green glowing Time Stone from the gauntlet, thankful for his super strength, and on an afterthought took the red and purple ones too.

He wanted to change reality, after all. And that would take a lot of power.

He wasn’t sure how to use the stones. Dr. Strange was the time keeper and Thanos had just waved his hand around to use them.

He felt the sheer power, the radiation eating away at his body and spirit. His Spider-sense rang like a bell.

Thoughts, memories, emotions swirled around him in a vortex.

I am never walking past another tragedy I can prevent.

I don’t want to ever kill again.

—And another Parker grave added to the set —

May. Ned. Mr Stark. MJ. They have to be okay.

—And Ben was dying again, his blood spilling over his hands and their clothes and the dirt —

What is going to happen?

—And May was saying “It’s just me and you” —

How do we win?

—And Ned and he were high-fiving as they opened their acceptance letters to Midtown —

W H A T D O I H A V E T O D O

— And Mr Stark was scolding him for being reckless while patching him up as he tried to convince him that building a lightsaber would be a great idea —

H O W D O I M A K E S U R E

—And Ned was screaming in excitement as he swung from the building and saved someone else from the fire —

I N E E D T O K N O W

—And he was brushing the spider off after the sudden sting, impatient and wanting to re-join the tour group—

D O I N E E D T O C H A N G E A N Y T H I N G

—And he’d just accidentally broken down a door and was staring at it in bewilderment—

G O O O D M U S T P R E V A I L

—And MJ was smirking at him right after driving Flash away and tossing him a drawing of him ‘in crisis’—

A H A P P Y E N D I N G?

He blinked his eyes open.

His eyelids felt unusually heavy.

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” A voice mused, and suddenly Peter knew who he was and what he was doing there.

“Son of Mary and Richard,” Another voice joined.

“Beloved of Maybelle and Benjamin and Anthony and Edward and Michelle and Morgan,” A third added.

“We hear your request,” All three chorused.

Peter stumbled to his feet, wrung out. He wasn’t sure where the hell he was. He wasn’t sure of anything – least of all how he felt after that rollercoaster of memories and sensations.

“So, you’re going to grant it--?” He asked awkwardly.

The view shook like it was an optical illusion. The part that didn’t was the cemetery – where his parents and Ben were laid to rest. One moment the three were humanoid figures. The next they were large rocks. They glowed the colour of the Infinty Stones.

Peter couldn’t feel his body or his Spidey Sense, but he could somehow tell the one which was speaking was faintly amused. “Why wouldn’t we?”

“It’s opposing the previous thing you did,” he pointed out. “Or – well, I don’t know if it counts because you’re from the past—”

“We are infinity, child,” one said indifferently. “What would that matter?”

“We merely perform the functions for which we were created,” the third said. “Which includes following the orders of the worthy. The Timekeeper – Stephen Strange – proved himself by showing perseverance, accepting the death of his mentor, and mastering the Mystic Arts. Thanos did by being powerful, determined and a leader enough to collect all of us despite the sacrifices and struggles he had to go through. Anthony Stark would have proven himself by being willing to give up everything, through his sheer will and love.”

Mr Stark would have what--?

“What would the nature of the command do to us?” The first one said idly, still sounding amused. “Whatever happens, whatever goes on in the universes – Time, Space, Mind, Power, Soul and Reality remain constant.”

“Though not so much in this case,” The third continued, “You do wish to mold reality, child?”

Peter felt his ghosts pressing into him. It was his mom and dad, teaching him to become who he was, Uncle Ben who handed over the most important lesson of his life, Aunt May who endured and loved, Ned who was steadfast, Mr Stark who understood and equipped. “Whatever it takes.”

They considered him. “So young,” they hissed as one. “To be carrying the burdens of so many.”

And then suddenly Peter wasn’t in that limbo – he was Carol Danvers who felt a smug sense of satisfaction at blowing up the ship and empathy for teenage superhero Peter Parker; he was Steve Rogers who became worthy of Mjolnir and fought to the bitter end and his happy ending; he was Tony Stark who looked over the compound and thought of his family and decided it was worth it; he was May Parker looming helplessly over her nephew as he grieved at the funeral of someone else he loved; he was Morgan Stark as she stared at the stars and grew up; he was Sam Wilson being handed a legacy; he was T’Challa learning to rule a kingdom he’d been absent from five years; he was Yelena Belova and screaming and raging at the unfairness of the world; he was America Chavez traversing one universe after another in search of something she couldn’t name; he was Ned Leeds discovering magic; he was May Parker reinforcing her husband’s lesson; he was Michelle Jones watching helplessly as the boy she loved disappeared from the world and her mind; he was Peter Parker deciding not to involve the people he loved in his mess; he was Johnny Storm agreeing lazily to a trip in space; he was Queen Shuri screaming her grief into the world and meeting T’Challa the second; he was Jane Foster hoping for a cancer treatment; he was Thor looking for life’s meaning again; he was Shang-Chi being sent on the mission that would change life forever; he was Captain Monica Rambeau getting sucked into the Scarlet Witch’s world; he was Jennifer Walters getting powers; he was Wanda Maximoff destroying Mount Wundagore – he was so many and no one at all at once.

He was Peter Parker crouched in the ditch in the battlefield in the Battle of Earth, Peter Parker at Tony Stark’s funeral, Peter Parker stumbling over his words to confess his feelings to MJ before she pointed out the drone, Peter Parker holding his aunt’s body begging her to wake up, Peter Parker meeting his dimensional counterparts and thinking family, Peter Parker at the Statue of Liberty, Peter Parker kissing Johnny Storm as the world ended, Peter Parker going out in a burst of explosions and glory against Kang. He was all of them and yet someone new.

Peter blinked. His eyelids were surprisingly heavy. His brain tried to reorganize itself from the scrambled mess it had become, hurriedly trying to incorporate the injected memories.

He’d asked what would happen.

He supposed he’d gotten his answer.

“I think you broke the boy,” The perpetually amused one said interestedly.

“I’m fine,” Peter said. He thought his throat would be dry if he could actually feel it. “I. . .”

In the end, it wasn’t all bad. Thanos would die. Kingpin would be defeated as the Vulture was. The Incursion would be prevented. Beyonder, Titania and the others of the alliance would fall. Kang’s reign would be ended. Humanity would push on as it always did, cockroaches in the fabric of reality.

But in the meantime. . . So much suffering. So much pain. So much tragedy that could be prevented.

But what could he do? He was just one person. Sure, he’d been and would be important in fights and confrontations that changed the world, but he couldn’t singlehandedly overturn every single disaster, much less ones of as epic proportions as Thanos and the Alliance and Infinity Ultron and Kang.

“A happy ending,” The apathetic one mulled over the words. “That was your wish. How would you propose that happen?”

“I guess I’ll go back and try to prevent some of the worse things from happening. . .?” Peter volunteered, entirely unenthused about the prospect. How was he supposed to stop Mr Stark from snapping? Or Wanda from going crazy with grief? Or Wilson Fisk from running the mafia?

What even qualified as bad things? Johnny getting his powers had been traumatic, but he’d later helped save the world multiple times and – Peter would’ve blushed if he could’ve. He thought the Human Torch had been happy by the end.

Peter suddenly felt sick and wished fervently he hadn’t done this. He had no idea what to do or how to resolve any of the numerous moral quandaries he needed to in order to progress. He'd killed. He'd taken life. Surely that should have gotten rid of some of his ethics?

“Would that give you your happy ending?” The third – the humane - one inquired. “Everyone you care for alive? The world saved?”

Peter was motionless and he felt his Spidey Sense give a long warble before curling down to settle.

If you expect disappointment, then you can never really get disappointed.

Everyone wants a happy ending, right?

Everything Spider-Man touches comes to ruin.

Okay, so let ‘em do their thing. You can go work on a fallback plan.

Strong enough to have it all, too weak to take it.

If you’re nothing without the suit, you shouldn’t have it.

You have a gift. You have power. And with great power, there must also come great responsibility.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked, resigned.

“’Want me to do’,” The amused one said, savouring each word. “Nothing, boy. But it was your wish to have your happy ending.”

“And that isn’t possible in this timeline,” the humane one continued.

Peter had to agree. He hated it, but he agreed. Even if he snapped right now instead of Mr Stark, EDITH existed and Quentin Beck would want it, the Multiverse would still break but instead of him some poor sorcerer apprentice would be caught up in it, without him around Fisk would be a lot more open with his general shadiness, Shuri would still lose everything, MJ and Ned would still get caught up in some nonsense because they were people with large hearts and a deep intelligence and he wouldn’t be there to save them, and without his sacrifice Kang might be able to get the edge on them.

Peter was one insignificant soul – but in the grand scale of things he did matter.

“So what do I do?”

“You picked up Time, Power and me,” The indifferent one – Reality, apparently – said. “What was your intention there?”

“Um,” Peter said dumbly. “Dr. Strange used the – Time to see the future, which is what I wanted to do. And I wanted to change it if I needed to so Reality – you.”

“And you thought I would be necessary to do that,” The amused one, Power, said.

“Which is fair enough,” Time, the humane one, said. “Since that is what allows us to do this.”

“Do what?” Peter asked, alarm stirring. His Sense gave a light buzz but didn’t tingle, which probably meant this wasn’t going to harm him.

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” Power thundered.

“Bearer of the gauntlet,” Time said.

“Holder of Infinity,” Reality announced.

“You will be sent back to your body on the date of May 23rd 2016,” Time glowed oddly at the words.

Peter was still stuck on the point. “Wait – time travel? Like Back to the Future? Or Peggy Sue got married?”

“You did agree that The Battle of the Earth is a point of no return for your happy ending,” Reality pointed out boredly. “The only logical conclusion is to therefore send you to sometime where you can work towards it.”

“Foster better relationships with the other Avengers and diplomacy with alien planets,” Power said, like he – she – they – it? Was ticking items off a list. “Take down Kingpin and Vulture sooner. Stabilize the multiverse.”

“You say that like it’s simple,” Peter said vaguely – but his mind was whirring.

There were so many things he could do better. So much he could make easier for Ned and Mr Stark and Dr. Strange and the Avengers.

The chance to have a do-over was something people would give anything for. Excitement and panic began to build up. Something occurred to him. “Why May 2016? Why – why not before?”

Ben, he thought longingly. Ben had died in January. He could go back. He could - he could save him, apologize to him, see him again—

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Time said gently. “The day you met Anthony Stark is the day you were set on this path. Your being bitten by the spider and Benjamin Parker’s death are universal constants. Them being changed would be too much too quick.”

Peter swallowed his bitterness and the stinging in his eyes. He supposed his parents’ and Ben’s survival would be too much to ask.

The world is unfair, he thought, remembering MJ telling him she loved him on Liberty Island, the blood and dirt and the light fading from the eyes of Ben and Mr Stark and May, Ned’s desolate eyes when he’d learned his dad’s fate, the way Shuri screamed when her mother died, Johnny’s final supernova, dying in pain and alone without knowing Kang had been defeated, but it’s ours. I have power. Power to change everything, to give us a happier ending. The end is close, but so is a new beginning. I have a responsibility to everyone who doesn’t have that power.

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath and steeling himself. “I’m doing this.”

“Excellent,” Reality said briskly. “Now—”

“You must choose your companions,” Power said, voice light. “Whom will you choose?”

“W-What do you mean?” Peter asked, thrown off.

“You may choose five companions,” Reality said.

“One for each of us,” Power said.

“I can choose?” he asked, bewildered.

“Your happy ending,” Reality reminded him brightly. “Your choice.”

His happy ending. That had been his final, most fervent wish when handling the Stones. No wonder they were harping on that so much.

Peter wished he could feel his corporeal body, because he really wanted to pinch himself. Aliens, space, Infinity Stones. . . It was hard to believe only a day ago to him he’d been on a field trip to MoMA listening to Flash moan about the horrid bus conditions.

But how the hell could he choose?

He needed people whom he trusted, but who would also be ready to give everything up to save the world.

Peter wasn’t unaware of what he was doing. He may be dazed, but he was a smart kid, as Mr Stark often told him. He was giving up his May, his Ned, his MJ, his Johnny, his Shuri, his Matt, his Wade, the life that would have been his – tragic, sure, but also filled with love and laughter and heroism.

He needed to find people who would have been worse off if this timeline continued.

One choice was instant. He ticked all the boxes, and he was one of the people Peter loved and trusted most in the world. “Mr Stark.”

The Stones gave no sign as to what their opinion of his choice was.

Mr Stark covered the Avengers, and earthly heroes. If he needed to build bridges with aliens and maintain the multiverse, he needed people experienced in that – “Dr. Strange.” He remembered the future he saw for Dr. Strange. He liked America Chavez, from what he’d seen of her, and hoped the doctor would be able to find her sooner.

Two safe ones. Now to shake the boat a bit.

Aliens were harder. He supposed one of the Guardians of the Galaxy would do, but he couldn’t think of how they might have any power over the entirety of space. He considered Thor – Thor, the strongest, the god of thunder, Peter’s bi reveal – but what he needed was someone subtler. Someone sneakier. Someone who practiced magic.

Controversial, but he’d died. Peter thought he could cut him some slack. “Loki.”

Avengers. Aliens. Multiverse. For the street level, though. . . . He needed someone with power on the business side of things. Someone who was strong, who had managed Stark Industries and its trade and resources with other planets and countries for years after becoming a widow. Someone without whom Morgan – Morgan, his beloved little sister – couldn’t exist. “Mrs. Potts.”

Peter suddenly realized he’d already filled four spots. He only had one left. He longed to say May or Ned. May and Ned, who had been there with him since his parents had died nearly a decade ago. May and Ned, the two people whom he loved most in the world. May and Ned, who were invaluable to him, but held no significant power when it came to changing the world.

Peter closed his eyes to prevent the rush of tears. It seemed his physicality could change when he felt devastation. With these words, he was losing his emotional support as he knew them. May would go back to being the fun aunt who had no idea he was Spider-Man. Ned would be the happy-go-lucky best friend, not the traumatized sorcerer and programmer who’d grown with him and faced multiversal dangers.

This is my power. This is my responsibility. The Green Goblin was wrong. I am Spider-Man.

“Shuri.” Shuri, his friend, who had lost everything the way Peter had. She deserved a chance for a do-over too. And she could help advance technology to the level it was in space, and help T’Challa and Mr Stark and Mrs Potts influence the UN and the wider world.

“Wise choices,” Reality said, for once sounding solemn.

“And you did not choose selfishly,” Power observed. “Very well, Peter Parker. The best of luck on your mission. We have fulfilled your desire to the best of our abilities.”

“Your happy ending, your future is now up to you,” Reality said, once more sounding entertained.

“Selflessness must be rewarded.” Time said. “And so as a final gift: knowledge of the Time Variance Authority. And Edward Leeds.”

Peter’s blood rushed through his head as more knowledge filled it, and simultaneously joy and relief sprung through him. Ned.

The world filled with the colours of infinity.

It looked like the Soul Stone’s realm.

The six people he’d chosen stood in front of him.

“Pete?” Mr Stark asked, sounding confused. “What’s going on?”

Peter straightened with glorious purpose.

My power. My responsibility.

My happy ending.

“We have a mission,” he began.

#bad things happen bingo #whumpcember #mcu peter parker #mcu fandom #peter parker #fanfiction #ao3 fic #canon divergent au #avengers endgame #irondad #infinity stones #time travel

14 notes · View notes

uzumaki-rebellion · 2 years

Text

“Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 4, Chapter 44″

Need to catch up with this long ass epic? Masterlist HERE.

youtube

"Philosophy is a walk on the slippery rocks Religion is a light in the fog I'm not aware of too many things I know what I know, if you know what I mean

Choke me in the shallow water Before I get too deep Choke me in the shallow water Before I get too deep"

Sy Smith – "What I Am"

Erik woke up in a cool bed and a low ringing in his ears that he couldn't locate the sound for. It went away as quickly as it came, and he lugged his tired, heavy body off the mattress and rubbed his naked chest with a crick in his wrist from sleeping on it wrong. He popped the joint and stretched his legs before shuffling into the outer main room, where his eyes caught sight of Disa on the balcony with the sun barely rising in the east. She covered her hair with a loose indigo wrap and she genuflected with both knees onto a makeshift prayer rug made of a thin yellow blanket.

There was plenty of room for him to join her, and he positioned himself by her side. She raised her head up and he immediately transitioned into the natural rhythm of Fajr, the first morning prayer, without skipping a beat. Midway through, as he turned his head to the right at the same time she did, he found Joba and Riki standing next to him in their pajamas, watching the adults with avid interest. Sydette walked up behind them yawning and rubbing her eyes. Erik tapped the blanket that had just enough coverage for the children and they knelt beside him in a row with Sweet Pea to his immediate right, followed by Joba and Riki.

"For now, you can all place your hands palms up," Disa whispered to them.

He thought the children would grow bored and move away once the novelty of it wore off, but Joba knew all the movements and her siblings followed along without saying the words. Disa stood up and held her hands behind her ears. Taking a deep breath, she sang out the adhan and her sultry, crystal-clear contralto voice echoed across the palace grounds, then soared out toward the destruction of the Hall of Panthers. After the first long note, a soft honey voice flew next to it, and the sound brought chills to Erik's arms.

Yani ambled over to Disa wearing a long satin robe with her head carefully covered by a fancy wave cap. The power of their combined tones seemed to raise the morning light, and their children clapped their hands when they finished. Bright sunshine after a night of rain blessed all of their various shades of melanin with warm rays.

"Where did you learn how to sing the adhan?" Disa asked with wonder in her eyes.

"A man named Tahir," Yani said.

"Tahir?"

Disa glanced at Erik.

"He came to St. Thomas," Erik said.

"The man in Egypt?" Disa asked.

"Yeah," Erik said.

She looked at Yani.

"You did it beautifully. Like you've done it all your life," Disa said.

"It is calming… soothing. Like I'm actually talking to God."

"Alhamdulillah," Disa uttered with admiration.

She held out her left hand to Yani.

"Would you be willing to sing it again from the beginning?" Disa asked.

Yani hesitated for a moment before she placed her palm on top of Disa's. Erik held his hands up in supplication and concentrated his focus on the sun. Ilanga. He remembered how his Baba taught him about the celestial bodies in the sky when he was little. Disa and Yani sang the adhan once more, blending their voices to honor the new day that God granted them all. He closed his eyes.

"God, help me. Guide me. Ogum, stand with me. Bast, hear these prayers, and please heal me. Make me whole. Make me a better man. I have failed these women with my selfishness, and you have given me a second chance at a new life… help me love them without hurting them again," he uttered underneath the singing.

The women finished and Erik rose to his feet on stronger legs. His children did the same.

"That was so lovely," Ramonda said behind them.

The Queen Mother stood with Shuri as they regarded the family standing together. Disa glanced at Erik; her expression still had etched worry lines on her forehead. She ushered the children toward the dining area where the kitchen staff had already sent up an early morning meal. Shuri and Ramonda followed them. No one bothered to get dressed in morning garments, as was the custom. The mood stayed somber and reflective. There were no comments about Necropolis City as they ate together. Breakfast was a simple hot porridge with sliced fruit and sweet breads.

Disa took the children to get dressed so they could leave for her suite to start their weekend together, giving Yani an extra day to relax alone.

Erik went to his safe room and showered, changing into clean lounge pants and tying back his locs that were growing past his ears. He said goodbye to the children and Disa. When Shuri and Ramonda finally left, he girded his loins and went to Yani's room.

He wanted to help T'Challa. Protecting his family with his own actions would keep him from becoming agitated by sitting around waiting for something to be done by others. Erik was truly a man of action. Knocking on Yani's door, he braced himself for a tongue lashing in rapid-fire patois.

"Come in," she said.

Yani wrapped herself in a soft blanket, looking like a plump burrito. Erik sat on the edge of her bed near her side.

"I want to work with T'Challa as a War Dog. He needs me to go into Niganda and search for the ringleader of the Phuri."

Big kitten eyes stared up at him, and she twisted her lips into a scowl.

"I won't be fighting or anything, just intelligence gathering—"

"Are you stupid?" she spat.

"Yani, I need to do something—"

"Your idea of doing something cost me three years! Cost your son three years! Sweet Pea struggled after you left us!"

"I know, but—"

"You know nothing! I had to put a toddler into therapy! I carried a baby in mi belly with a bullet wound in my head behind your foolishness trying to be a big man. I had to raise up Dumplin and protect him from ridicule cause him bad man faddah knocked up his Mama and left the island. You got what yuh wanted Killmonger! Wakanda was yours and then you were practically killed. They need to protect you this time like they never did before!"

Erik lowered his gaze to the bedcovers and took in the pain of her words. She might as well have taken a pot of scalding water and threw it on him from her tone. The need to control the outcome of the investigation burned in him.

"Don't do this to us again, please."

"I won't get hurt," he said.

Those big doe eyes narrowed.

"You owe me," she hissed. "You owe me so much."

She leaned back inside the blanket roll and closed her eyes. He waited for her to blast into him again, but she pulled open the blanket instead, revealing her body. She was topless, and her lower half was encased in sheer pink panties. Yani wiggled past him and moved off of the bed, padding toward a vanity mirror. She broke open a pack of perfumed, refreshing skin wipes and ran a couple across her face and along her collarbone. Picking at her eyelash, she leaned forward to inspect her face and her ass cheeks parted and the thong panties sat along the division in her folds, showing him the juicy plumpness of her vulva. Any amount of movement could make her ass jiggle, and he fought an external groan, staring at how decadent her pussy looked. The plump outer lips split down the middle looked like a perfect puff pastry for his mouth. The stirring in his loins became evident when his dick swelled up, tenting his pants. She knew what she was doing to him on purpose. Fighting fire with a bigger fire.

"Gwine now. Do what you want," she said, flicking a hand toward the bedroom door.

Yani stared at her reflection and turned her face side to side to admire herself. She sauntered back to the bed with her titties bouncing and crawled on top of it. Lying on her back, she stared up at the high ceiling, crestfallen, and ignored him.

"No point in begging. It never worked before. You won't listen and yuh don't care," she said softly.

Yani glanced down at his crotch and saw his dick protruding. Pre-cum stained a circle around the tip that strained for release. She sighed and turned her head to face the wall. Her thighs spread open to get more comfortable on the bed, and her vulva hypnotized him underneath the sheer panties. The root of his shaft throbbed. Yani wasn't playing fair.

"You get killed this time, I'll find someone else to be a father for our children."

"What?"

"T'Challa can be the unvikeli again—"

He gripped her chin and turned her face toward him.

"You getting ahead of yourself talking shit like that, Yani."

She slapped his hand away.

"You are your own man. I have to plan for a future because I can't rely on you anymore," she said.

"That's not true."

Erik's defensive nature fell away, and he studied Yani's face. She meant what she said. He didn't want her to believe that he would drop the ball on her again. She would make good on her threat if he cloaked himself to go into Niganda. Imagining his Sweet Pea and Dumplin suffering because of his fuck ups smoldered in his chest.

"Go care about yourself and pretend you're doing it for us," she whispered, tugging on the top of her panties, making the material stretch up so that it rubbed against her clit.

She kept herself clean-shaven below and the soft brown coloring made the pink of her opening vivid. He ran his right hand across her vulva and she released her hold on the panties. The sheerness made her mound delectable to look at, and he fingered her clit. Her moist lips parted and the pink of her tongue teased him as she watched his face. She would kill him with those big, seductive eyes. Her pants from his slow circling around the hardened clit made his dick jump. She reached out and caressed the bulbous head, and played with the slick pre-cum that threaded across her fingers.

"Would you rather be out there, or playing with my pussy?" she asked.

He moaned out loud and his dick jumped in her hand. She gripped the head tight and stroked him just under the thick ridge. He whined in his throat. Her wetness made her panties sticky and the glossy wetness soaked through. He ran his fingers up and down her folds, patted her vulva, and pinched her clit right through the fabric. The light pink of the cotton became dark pink gushy wetness. Erik fingered Yani lovingly as she drew him into her aura. She was so warm and wet between the legs.

"You like that?" she asked in a coy voice.

She knew he was breaking down, his rational mind fighting the impulses of his arousal. Manipulating him the way he had always done his women… through sexuality.

"Ooh, Yani," he groaned.

Gritting his teeth, he tried to keep his desire under control and pulled his hand back from her body. He lifted from the bed to get away from her touch.

"Where yuh try tuh go? Huh?" she said, tugging on his dick.

Her grip on him halted his getaway progress, and he succumbed to her controlling charms. She widened her legs and those fleshy folds became outlined in the panties.

"You stay in Wakanda," she commanded. "Find another way to help T'Challa without going to Niganda."

She lifted her chin.

"Kiss me," she said.

Pressing his lips against her ripe mouth, he explored that interior with his tongue. Yani nipped at his lower lip and he pushed his index finger into her panties, allowing the fingertip to dip into her opening. She squirmed, and he hovered over her and traced his finger back up to her clit, pinching it again, then rolling two fingers around it once more. She weakened at the sensation and a whiny mewling sound escaped her partially open lips. Erik kissed her while he fingered her sopping panties. He thought he had her then, and believed he could truly flip the script on her and plead his case for protecting all of them with his skills in the field. But she lifted her goddamned legs up and planted her feet deep into the blanket. Her folds spread wider and the memories of being balls deep in his island woman strangled him. He gasped inside her mouth and wrenched his lips away from hers to gaze at her fat pussy.

"Killmonger… Daddy… you make me feel so good. Don't leave this pussy alone…"

Yani's breathy voice curled his toes and her strokes on the upper part of his heavy dick had him groaning gibberish under his breath.

"I won't leave," he blurted.

"Promise?"

Those goddamn eyes slew him. With a swift hand, she unleashed his dick and the heat from it should've scorched her fingers. She worked the head until it was frothy with his natural lubricant, fingered his entire spongy tip, and then his deep slit before sticking her fingers in her mouth to lick his pre-cum up like a sugary glaze. His unattended dick bobbed against his muscular thigh while she sucked on her fingers like she was tasting the best sauce in her life.

"I promise," he said, "Daddy ain't goin' nowhere!"

"Killmonger… my pussy…"

His lips twisted up in agony at the sound of her honey voice and he watched her opening spasm as she squirted through her panties.

"Look at my pussy," she begged.

"I'm watching it baby… fuck… I'm staying. Daddy's right here… keep squirting for Daddy… just like that… oh fuck… your pussy Yani… baby… oh shit…"

"Look what you made my pussy do!" she cried out with tortured passion.

She squeezed her eyes tight, and her pussy throbbed in his hand and squirted warm stickiness again. He pressed into her clit, stimulating the nerves along the outer parts and she yelped, slamming her thighs around his arm as she trembled all over with another intense orgasm. Yani rode his hand and his dick spurted, coating his stomach and part of his thigh with hot white streaks of cum. Erik jumped to his knees and pried her thick thighs open. He slid her panties to the side and smashed his face between her legs. He licked and sucked all of her juices and kissed her folds with reverence. His face became soaked with her wetness and she squirmed on the bed, running her fingers through his locs. He hummed her name over and over as she accepted the fullness of his mouth catering to her pleasure, forcing another orgasm out of her. Soon, he fisted his dick, pressing the wide fat head against her pussy lips. He ejaculated again and the hot nut drenched her folds as he hollered her name.

"I ain't going nowhere, Yani! Yani… fuck I wanna stretch out your pussy baby!"

His dick stayed rock hard as he shook off his pants and lowered his face down to suck on her breasts. She caressed the back of his neck and he gifted her with the taste of her pussy on his tongue when he kissed her with lust in his mouth. His heart thumped so hard in his chest. He licked and kissed his way to her breasts.

"I won't go," he said, between sucking and licking her nipples.

She caressed the nape of his neck with her fingernails, shooting tendrils of erotic sparks down his back before she placed her hands on his cheeks and lifted his head.

"You be good and give me what I want. Then maybe I'll let you take care of this pussy like you used to," she said.

Her eyes were glossy, and she swiped her warm tongue across his wanton lips. She pulled him down so that he rested on top of her, allowing him to soak up her body heat and feel her womanly softness against his hard exterior. His sighs at being embraced by her like that again staggered him.

"Remember how my pussy felt squeezing your dick?" she whispered in his ear.

"Yes," he said in a breathy, rushed voice.

She licked the shell of his ear and pressed her mouth close so he could hear every silky word spoken.

"You used to love fucking me in my ass too," she teased.

"Ah fuck, Yani!"

"Mi used tuh suck your dick so good, Daddy. Remember?"

"Yeah!"

"This good pussy was all yours… you gave me all that big dick. Filled me up with so much cum. When I was a bad gyal, you would spank me. You even came into a club to punish my pussy in front of everyone when I let some other man feel mi up. You wet up mi panties, and I had to go home to you…"

Erik squeezed his eyes shut. Holy Bast, he used to pound the fuck out of his Lil Mama.

Yani placed perfect little kisses around his lips.

"Yuh used to snap your fingers and I would come running to give you all the pum pum you needed. All day… every day."

"Baby…"

She kissed him, and their tongues swirled in her wet mouth out of control. His physical senses couldn't keep up with the emotional ones flooding his impulses. Yani short-circuited his ability to function properly and played him to her advantage.

"Don't risk someone else getting all of this," she sighed in his ear.

Yani pushed him back from her gently. He gripped his rigid meat. She turned around and got on her knees and looked back at him, bouncing her ass cheeks for him in slow syncopated twitches. He got on his knees and rested his dick against her backside, stroking it as he watched that ass twerk for him. Erik palmed those big round globes as best he could and shook them. Yani wanted him to explore every inch of her, to understand what he was willing to risk losing.

"I took care of you, didn't I?" she said.

She sat up and raised her arms high above her head and circled them around his neck, pushing her back into his midsection. He snaked his left hand around her chest to grab hold of a breast. Erik jerked off against her big ass and Yani held him close so he wouldn't lose the connection of their shared body heat.

"Fuck yeah, you took care of Daddy!"

He lost all decorum and couldn't stop himself from fondling and enjoying her body. Smacking his dick all over her ass, he let Yani feel all the weight she hadn't had for years.

"You want to make a mess in this pussy again?" she asked in a coquettish tone.

He whimpered, and she giggled, completely aware that she had reduced him to mush. She dropped forward and jutted her ass up high, jiggling the cheeks all over for him.

"Oh, you fucking with me now girl… you know a nigga can't handle looking at all that ass doing that!"

"You miss this big ass?"

She twisted her neck to look back at him as she worked that heavy rump.

"It's even bigger… just like them titties," he groaned.

Sweat dripped down onto his eyes, making him blink rapidly. He pulled her cheeks apart and slid his dick between them and rutted like he was fucking her. Erik was so desperate. He wanted to stretch every hole in her body.

"Want to fuck me in the ass?"

"Oh, fuck yeah!"

"Fast or slow?"

"Hard!" he shouted, spanking her cheeks so he could hear the solid sound of flesh on flesh making music to his ears.

He gripped his dick, tracing his fingers along the veins standing up and the throbbing heat pulsing for relief, and jerked off. His huge sack slapped against her skin and he palmed one of her ass cheeks in a death grip. Yani reached back and pulled her ass cheeks apart, giving him viewing access to her swollen pussy lips. Erik almost started crying when her opening began contracting, winking open and closing just for him.

"Fuck, I'm cummin. Nuttin all over this big ass, girl."

Potent spurts shot his hot semen across her back before he directed the rest of his release onto her ass. It dripped all down her crack and soaked the blanket. Yani turned over and held her legs open. She pulled open her folds and let him see her glistening pink all swollen and ready.

"Give me what I want and this is all yours again. Alla dis sweetness," she purred.

She played with the juices and cum dripping on her pussy and his sack rippled with movement, quite capable of pushing more cum through his dick.

"Lemme get a taste of fucking your face, baby," he begged.

Her vixen eyes darted away, and his kimoyo lit up.

T'Challa.

"Dammit," he said.

Yani moved away from him and pulled the covers on the bed around her body.

"Go tell him," she urged.

Erik leaned over and kissed her. Yani sucked on his tongue, simulating fellatio, and he hummed in her mouth.

"Still like being that nasty little slut for me," he said.

"Hmmm," she moaned and rested into her feminine wiles.

He could barely pull his eyes away from her. Yani gazed at his virile nakedness with famished greediness. It was a look she used to give him when she was hurting for his dick. He fucking missed those lazy days of hide-and-go-fuck with her.

She gestured for him to leave again. He lifted his pants from the floor and left her lush body and beauty on the bed. Walking away from her, he admired how she played him. Gave him a taste of his own medicine to stop him from going to Niganda.

The shit worked.

After he dressed in royal robes from his own suite, Erik headed to T'Challa's office in the West Palace. As the effects of Yani's touch faded, he understood what the actual assignment was. It was a vicious move on her side of the chessboard. A queen move. Yani was obvious by using her devastating body to remind him of what she ultimately wanted.

Leave Disa alone. Choose her.

Or risk losing Yani to someone else.

Chapter 45 HERE.

Tag List:

@readingaddict1290

@issimplyaamazinggg

@eyeknowmywrites

@kitesatforestp

@fd-writes

@soufcakmistress

@cherrystainedlipsbaby

@tclaybon

@thadelightfulone

@allhailqueennel

@bartierbakarimobisson

@cpwtwot

@shookmcgookqueen

@yoyolovesbucky

@raysunshine78

@the-illlestt

@terrablaze514

@l-auteuse

@amirra88

@jimizwidow

@janelledarling

@chaneajoyyy

@sweetestdream92

@purple-apricots

@blackpinup22

@hennessystevens-udaku

@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade

@bugngiz

@stariamrry

@honeytoffee

@meilintheempressofdreams

@tyees

@eye-raq

@writerbee-ffs

@chocolatedream30

@childishgambinaa

@mygirlrenee

@thewaysheis—awkward

@tchallasbabymama

@lahuttor

@goodieyaya

@post-woke

@soufcakmistress

@yomiloo

@goddessofthundathighs

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@retroxvailles

@cydneyrenee4

@nizzle-mo

@cecereads209

@childishgambinaax

@gopaperless

@bombshellbre95

@tchallasbabymama

@musicisme333

@sister-winter73

@nccu-rnc

@sj206260358

@blmcd57110

@griot-of-wakanda

@musicisme333

#Black Boys Bloom Thorns First Volume 4 #Wet Sugar 2 #Killmonger Fanfiction #Erik Killmonger #Erik Stevens #Black Panther Fanfiction #Marvel Fanfiction #T'Challa #Shuri #Ramonda #Pantherverse #Uzumaki Rebellion #Uzumaki Rebellion Writes

28 notes · View notes

thelonelybrilliance · 2 years

Note

HIII 2. midnights has changed who I have absolutely loved it 11/10 3. the whole album is soo stancy coded 3. but the song Question..? really stuck out to me. I think it would be like a conversation he has in his head with nance, yk So here are some lyrics I thought connected. And he's like hurt and sad but also spirals into self-loathing!

basically The Whole beginning part

good girl sad boy, big city wrong choices

we had one thing goin on I swear it was something

causet I don't remember who I was before you panted all my nights

a color ive searched for since.

then we get into the juicy part

but one thing after another fuckin situations

circumstances miscommunication

and I have to say, by the way I just may like some explanation.

then we get to like some details

this part reminds me of the parties and like the locker kiss scene and Tommy H and Carol and Barb too

did you ever have someone kiss you in a crowded room

and everyone of your friends was making fun of you

but 15 seconds later they were clapping too

then there's this part which is a pretty obvious parallel

did you leave her house in the middle of the night

THEN THERES THIS PART OF COMPLETE ANGST AND SELF LOATHING I JUST LOVE

did you wish you'd put up MORE OF A FIGHT

OH WHEN SHE SAID IT WAS TOO MUCH?

DO YOU WISH YOU COULD STILL TOUCH HER?

and then I imagine him like whispering this part if it were a conversation

its just a question

then there's like another deeper detail about there dynamic

she was on your mind with some dickhead guy

that you say that night

AND THEN QUEEN TAYLOR HIT THE NAIL ON THE HEAD

it was ONE DRINK AFTER ANOTHER

FUCKIN POLITICS AND GENDER ROLES

AND YOU'RE NOT SURE AND I. DONT. KNOW

then the chorus repeats

but then towards the end in the second bridge just breaks my heart like its so raw and SOO Steve Harrington

Does it feel like everything's just like second BEST AFTER THAT METEOR STRIKE??

and what's that that I heard?

that you're still with her? (*him)

That's NICE, IM SURE THATS WHAT SUITABLE AND RIGHT, BUT TONIGHT

so yeah that was pretty long but its been driving me crazy so I felt like I must share <3 happy streaming

OMG I HAD THE SAME THOUGHT TODAY ABOUT QUESTION...? SKDHGSKJHGKJSHG WOW THE TASTE!!!!

#stancy #midnights #taylor swift #question...?

9 notes · View notes

zipzin · 9 days

Text

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Legends of Tomorrow, Arrow (TV 2012) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Sara Lance/Ava Sharpe, Laurel Lance & Sara Lance, Quentin Lance & Sara Lance, Dinah Lance (Arrow) & Sara Lance Characters: Sara Lance, Ava Sharpe, Laurel Lance, Quentin Lance, Dinah Lance (Arrow), Oliver Queen Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, they meet when they’re 11, they are super competitive, will sorta follow canon, Slow Burn, excessive soccer playing Summary: Act Two: Fall 2017, Part III

“There you are!”

“Here I am?” Sara walked into the apartment to see her dad getting up from the couch. He embraced her, almost lifting her up from the ground.

“Wow, Dad! I’m alright,” She laughed and toed off her shoes, “What’s up?”

“What’s up?! You’ve been gone for a whole day!” She felt like a teenager again. “No calls! No texts! I even asked Oliver!”

“Hey, Dad, I’m fine,” Sara said. She gestured down at herself, “No bruises or anything.”

He rubbed his own chest and Sara’s hands went up, and dropped as his own did. They both lowered their gazes.

“I try not to worry, Sara,” He said, “I know you can take care of yourself, but you’ll always be my little girl and when I didn’t hear anything.”

“I know,” Sara said, “I should have messaged. Rory found an anachronism and we all got a bit ahead of ourselves.”

“An anachronism?”

“Something displaced from time. He ran into Julius Caesar in Aruba,” She grinned.

“Oh.” His brow furrowed as he took her in, and Sara felt a little bit like she was being inspected for a first date that she never went on. She stared back, trying not to beam, but it was a losing battle, and he sighed.

“So,” He clapped her shoulder, “You’re back to time traveling.”

“Yeah,” Sara nodded and stared at him, the tension still in his shoulders, the furrow on his brow, and hugged him again. He gripped her back, hands digging into her shoulders like this might be the last time.

“You’ll stay for dinner?” He asked hopefully.

“Of course.”

“Good,” He broke away and retreated to the kitchen.

“Dad.”

“Go pack,” He waved her away, digging through the refrigerator.

She paused for a moment, watching as he busied himself around the kitchen, before turning to the room that had been hers for the last six months. It was messy, looking more like a teenager’s than she was strictly comfortable with. Her clothes were strewn across the floor and bed where she’d left them after getting ready for work, the first aid kit opened and half disassembled on the nightstand, and she was suddenly aware of the grubbiness of the floor underneath her bare feet.

She’d hardly bothered to clean it the past months, the shifts at Sink, Shower, and Stuff draining every semblance of life from her, and the patrols with Ollie taking any energy she had left. She winced when she realized that, while she’d clean up her clutter, she’d be leaving most of the mess for her father. Maybe she could manage a quick vacuum before she left.

She dug through her half empty closet until she found the duffel that had carried her things from the Waverider and didn’t bother to fold as she stuffed her clothes back in.

It didn’t take long until the room was relatively bare, the sheets stripped, and piled with towels in a corner. She carefully placed the photos her dad had littered through the room on the top of her half empty duffel. Her hands shook as she came to one of her and Ava, roughly fourteen, grinning in their soccer uniforms.

She almost left it, but shoved it under the rest and carried her duffel out to her dad’s entryway, now filled with the sounds of oil sizzling and the smell of onion and garlic.

“Is pasta okay?”

“That sounds great.” Sara grinned and leaned against one of the countertops. “Can I help?”

“No,” He smiled, “But I’d love to spend the time together.”

“Of course Dad.”

“You’re going back,” Her mom’s voice crackled through her phone.

“Yeah,” Sara answered, pacing through the armory of the Waverider. They hadn’t left yet, were still waiting for Nate and Ray to finish packing things up, Stein to say goodbye to his family, and Jax was making different repairs throughout the ship. Though she wasn’t sure how necessary those were.

“I’m happy for you,” Her mom said and Sara almost started in surprise.

“You are?”

“Yes Sara,” Her mom chuckled, “I love you and I know time traveling is what you love, as crazy as it sounds. Believe me, I didn’t imagine you working in customer service at 29, and I could tell you hated it.”

“It wasn’t so bad!”

“Sara.”

“Fine,” Sara huffed, “It was the worst job imaginable.”

Her mom laughed, “You know next time-”

“There’s not going to be a next time.”

“I can probably find you a job at the University.”

“Yeah, yeah, if I’m ever barred from time traveling again, I’ll think about it.” Sara said, “But we aren’t going to have the ship taken from us.” She crossed her fingers.

“I hope not and you better not get stranded in the past again.”

“Mom! That wasn’t my fault.”

“I know, I know,” Her mom chuckled.

“I don’t know when I’m going to see you again,” Sara continued, “But don’t worry, Gideon will take care of us.”

“Of course Captain, and Mrs. Lance.” Gideon answered and Sara rolled her eyes at the ceiling.

Her mom chuckled, “Sara, you know it’s impossible for me not to worry. You’re my daughter. But I’ll try not to, too much.”

“Yeah,” Sara said as Nate and Ray nodded at her with a pile of boxes and bags. She picked at one of her fingernails. “Of all the times for you to be in Coast City.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Her mom winced, “I wish I could at least give you a hug.”

“It wasn’t like you could have known that we’d suddenly be back in business again.” Sara laughed, but it died quickly. She could take the Time Courier, but she was hesitant to use it for something so frivolous. Rip was probably tracking those things and she’d rather have it when they really needed to get out of dodge.

“Was there something else?” Her mom asked.

Sara let out a huff. Yes, there was Ava Sharpe, appearing in her life as quickly as she disappeared, acting like, well, Sara wasn’t even sure. She’d given zero indication that she remembered anything about Sara, or that they could talk about the fact, that hello, they were both time traveling! How insane was that!

Instead she’d just sniped and insulted like they didn’t have years of history and thought that Sara and the other Legends were just incompetent. She hadn’t even given an indication that they should talk, even to just vaguely clear the air or at least acknowledge that this was fucking weird!

“No,” Sara breathed out.

“If you’re sure,” Her mom said doubtfully.

Stein smiled at Sara as he boarded the ship, “Look Mom, we’re going to head off soon, so I’ll have to let you go.”

“Okay, honey, I love you. And have one of your geniuses make something so we can talk through time.”

“Okay, I’ll pitch it,” Sara laughed. “Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

There was no point in telling them, getting Nate's hopes (or fears?) up because Amaya could be busy. Or in the middle of a battle. Should she have told someone in case she’s suddenly in the middle of some war? No, Gideon would take care of it, right?

“Gideon?” Sara asked to space.

“Yes, Captain?”

“If something happens you can alert the ship, right?”

“Of course, Captain.”

Okay, so yeah, she was going to be fine. And the boys could probably figure out where she was going, they needed someone who had experience with animals. They needed someone who could track animals, because the only way Gideon was going to help them was if someone died. Or was maimed. And there was only one person who could get dinosaurs to calm down. So who else could Sara be going to see?

Though, Sara knew, that was asking for a lot. They were probably in the hold playing with Ray’s shrink ray some more. As long as they fixed it, Sara didn’t care what they did. Besides breaking the ship, but she figured Jax was smart enough to fix anything major before she got back.

And she missed Amaya, a lot. Especially after being stuck in the ship with the boys for just a day. Someone, well, she wouldn’t call Amaya normal, sane? Rational?

Ray and Nate were the definition of book smart and not street smart, and Jax was too willing to see what would happen instead of reeling them in. Mick, was, well Mick, and while she loved Stein, he was lost in his own world even more than normal.

She could trust Amaya to run the ship in her absence, to spar with her, and to not totally lose her mind during a mission. And how interesting could Zambesi be compared to time travel?

The jumpship came to a rest on the ground and Sara let out a breath when she saw Amaya already standing there.

“Hey girl, good to see you.” Sara climbed out, “How about one final mission for old time’s sake?”

“Sara,” Amaya said in greeting, resignation battling with excitement across her face, “It is good to see you.”

“I can tell there’s a but in there.”

“This is my home, I’m its protector and I can’t leave.”

Sara looked around at the field they were standing in and made a show of nodding. Amaya’s jaw was clenched in determined precision and her eyes were practically begging her to leave.

“I won’t pressure you,” Sara said, “But, I am gonna explain the mission to you.”

Amaya chuckled, “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“But first,” Sara stepped forward and hugged her, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, all of you.” Sara bit her tongue. “It’s boring here compared to taking down the Legion,” Sara stuck her tongue out at the name. She still couldn’t believe that it stuck. “But the boring’s nice.” Amaya finished.

“It can’t be that boring,” Sara said, “You’re still Vixen after all.”

Amaya’s smile looked brittle, “Yes. I’m still defending my village.”

Sara nodded, “So, how about a tour?”

Amaya’s eyes lit up, “Yes, I dreamed of showing,” she paused, “you the village.”

Sara kept her mouth firmly clamped shut.

Amaya led her out of the dusty field and into the village and began to point out different buildings and people. The people smiled at Amaya and stared at Sara, and Sara was pretty sure that if she’d had to find Amaya herself it would have been in chains. Did they know about the JSA? Time travel? Anything about Amaya’s absence, or did Amaya just say somethings were classified and everyone left it at that?

It was quaint. There were just over a hundred structures and Sara guessed most of them were homes. There didn’t seem to be any military or guards, which, well, she guessed she was walking alongside it. Amaya smiled and greeted everyone by name, the people staring at Sara with suspicion, but no one said anything.

Mount Kilimanjaro dominated the sky, and Sara found her eye drawn to it again and again. Zambesi was beautiful in a way Sara had only begun to appreciate during her time in Nanda Parbat, though this wasn’t in the middle of a desert. More a mix of savannah and scrubland. The air was fresh and Sara could only guess at how many stars you could see when night fell.

Amaya’s shoulders held none of the tension they had during their hunt for the Legion, she somehow stood taller, and had a gracious smile that was never forced through every interruption.

She showed her the fields, where they kept goats that Amaya greeted by name and were remarkably nice. She showed her the mill, the well, and the granary.

“I’m not the leader,” Amaya said, “Most of the logistics I have nothing to do with, but I’m respected for my position and charged with its protection.”

“You really don’t have any help?” Sara asked.

“I don’t need it,” Amaya smirked and Sara laughed.

“Now, come, here’s my home.”

“It’s nice,” Sara said, as they settled down on some pillows and blankets.

Amaya laughed, “I know it’s not exactly a timeship from the future, but it’s home.”

“Hey!” Sara said, “I was an assassin trained to want nothing, this is luxury compared to the League.”

Amaya just shot her an unimpressed look.

“Of course, there’s a lot of things I’d miss.”

“Tell me about it,” Amaya sighed and when Sara opened her mouth she put a hand up, “That wasn’t an invitation.”

Sara laughed, “Your room on the Waverider is still open.”

“Sara.”

“I’m just saying, if you wanted, there’s the modern comforts of cell phones and the internet, a food fabricator.”

Amaya shook her head, “I thought you weren’t going to pressure me.”

“I’m not!” Sara laughed, “Just reminding you how nice sports bras are. Look,” Sara said, “Let me at least explain what’s going on.” At Amaya’s nod, she continued, “So apparently, Rip went back five years and recreated the Time Masters?”

“The Time Masters?” Amaya said.

“Oh, right,” Sara chuckled, “Forgot you weren’t there. They were this kinda evil organization, I mean, actually evil, who manipulated time for their own purposes, and let this guy Vandal Savage conquer the world and kill a bunch of people, but were the ones who commissioned Rip to time travel to begin with. They were why we were protecting the timeline, we blew them up to stop them and well, time pirates still existed, obviously.”

“Oh,” Amaya squinted, “I remember Ray telling Nathaniel about it.”

There was a heavy pause.

“Anyway,” Sara said, “Rip hated them, but he recreated them anyway. So, after Mick ran into Julius Caesar, we um, might have stolen the Waverider back and gotten him ourselves.”

Amaya bit her lip, “I’m sure it was that simple.”

Sara chuckled as she detailed the entire mission and just laughed as Amaya rolled her eyes.

“So,” Amaya said, “It seems like it’s more or less business as usual.”

Sara snorted.

“Why do you need my help?”

“We need help wrangling a sabertooth tiger.” Sara said and almost laughed at the spark in Amaya’s eyes. “It landed in 18-something Wisconsin and a circus picked it up. Ray made a shrink ray, but somehow made it larger and it escaped into the woods.”

Amaya bit her lip to keep from laughing and Sara sighed. “Please, none of us know how to track animals, and even if we did, we can’t commune with it or anything, and it will definitely try to eat us.”

“I’d love to help,” Amaya said, “But I can’t leave here.”

“Not even for a night?” Sara asked. “Just to get the tiger into containment? Hey, we could travel back right to when you left.”

“Is it ever that simple?” Amaya sighed, “I can’t go with you Sara.”

“Look, I’m not asking you to join back up. Just one easy mission,” Sara leaned forward.

“Trapping a giant saber-toothed tiger is easy?” Amaya lifted her eyebrows.

“For you. Your powers are the quickest way to handle this.” She’d talked to dinosaurs, what was one little cat? “Look, Amaya, I can’t give the Time Bureau an excuse to take the Waverider again.”

“I want to help you, but my life’s a little complicated right now,” Amaya insisted.

“Amaya, Amaya!” A girl ran in with a helmet clutched in her hands, three long scratch marks on the side.

“Foyinsola, this is Sara.” Amaya grinned, at both of them and Sara smiled back.

“Hey, what you got there?” She was pretty sure it was German? Belgian? She should have paid more attention to Nate’s history lectures about this time period.

“I found it in an acacia tree.” Foyinsola said and Amaya quickly grabbed it. Sara was a bit impressed, Amaya must have been going easy on her fighting when she was with them. Sara blinked as Amaya placed it to the side, looking shaken.

“You should be asleep little one. Now run along to bed, before I have to summon the ashe of a cobra to scare you!”

Foyinsola giggled as she ran out of the tent. Amaya looked so at ease with her, a gentleness with children that Sara had never felt in her life and for a moment, she just felt a stab of longing. “Normal life. It suits you. You seem at peace here.” Sara stood. She could recognize a losing battle when she saw one. Ray just better make sure the shrink ray actually worked this time and maybe Stein could adjust sensors to look for prehistoric cats. “Good-bye, Amaya. It was good to see you.”

“Wait.”

Sara turned back, her heart thudding with hope.

“Does Nathaniel know that I’d be returning?”

“Yeah,” Sara lied, “He’s thrilled.”

What was a little lie between friends? And Nate would be totally normal about it. Hopefully. Probably not at all considering he had been ready to kill Rip a day ago. But, Amaya would be on the ship, helping them with the tiger, and it wasn’t like Sara was asking them to work together, so was it really going to matter much?

Hopefully not.

Sara wasn’t going to admit to anyone that she was grateful that Amaya was carrying the sabertooth tiger. It might be tiny, but it still had fangs. And claws. And she was being completely normal, not like Amaya who was cooing over it like it was some neighbor’s housecat.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Amaya said when the tiger began to purr.

“For you,” Sara scoffed. “We never would have tracked it or,” she waved at Amaya’s arms. “Thanks.”

“You should have told Nathaniel.” Amaya said in lieu of responding.

Sara sighed and pinched her nose, “He’s an adult, he can get over it.”

“I-” Amaya paused, stuttering a step over a tree root, “I didn’t leave things great.”

“No kidding,” Sara muttered under her breath.

“I might have left on his birthday.”

“Amaya!” Sara did her best to keep her laugh in, but it trickled out and if looks could kill Sara would be in the ground. “That’s cold.”

“I, I saw Mari on the news.” Amaya said.

“You couldn’t wait? Like ten hours?”

“I knew that if I saw him again to tell him I’d lose my nerve. And I had to see her, and if I wanted the timeline to stay on track,” she trailed off.

“You had to return,” Sara finished for her. She looked over at Amaya, who was staring at the tiger in her hands like it held the answers. “Did you at least leave a note?”

“No.”

Sara couldn’t help it and burst into laughter.

“Sara!”

“I’m sorry Amaya, that’s, it’s just,” Sara got herself under control, “That’s like something Ollie would do when he was in max douchebag phase. I didn’t think you had it in you. Hell, no wonder Nate’s so mad.”

“As he should be.” Amaya said firmly, “It meant that door was closed. I could live in 1942 and not be thinking of what could have been.”

Sara didn’t have anything to say about that. “Right.”

At least Nate’s behavior made sense. She’d thought that they’d had some sort of tearful goodbye as they talked about the timeline before Amaya’d left. And then he spent the rest of the weeks staring longingly at their old pictures. So she couldn’t blame him, it’s not like she handled her own breakups great, leaving Nyssa had been as much about leaving the league as it was Nyssa, even if poisoning herself the first time had definitely been the nuclear option. And Ava and her weren’t anything like Nate and Amaya, even if Ava had ghosted her. Ava had turned into a bitch, which apparently Sara had been preventing all this time.

“Well,” Sara said, as the ship came into view, “The mission’s done.”

“Yeah.”

Sara put a hand on Amaya’s shoulder. “You can stay if you want.”

“I can’t.”

“Okay, but it’s always an option, in case you change your mind for whatever reason. Even if it’s just for a week or something. I’m the captain and I can deal with an annoyed crewmate, okay?”

Amaya gave her a tremulous smile, “Thanks Sara.”

“And it would be nice to have at least one person who isn’t going to guarantee every mission ends in an almost disaster.”

Amaya forced a laugh, “The answer’s still no.”

“Fair.” Sara muttered as they walked onto the ship.

#avalance #legends of tomorrow #my writing: avalance #my writing: lot #my writing #mine #boomerang au #haha only took... a year????#trying to post new chapters every month #but that's the only frequency i'll admit to atm

0 notes

jk-keno · 5 months

Text

(Tushar Singh 23SJCCC071)

Once upon a time in the middle of winter, when the flakes of snow were falling like feathers from the clouds, a Queen sat at her palace window, which had an ebony black frame, stitching her husband’s shirts. While she was thus engaged and looking out at the snow she pricked her finger, and three drops of blood fell upon the snow. Now the red looked so well upon the white that she thought to herself, “Oh, that I had a child as white as this snow, as red as this blood, and as black as the wood of this frame!” Soon afterwards a little daughter came to her, who was as white as snow, and with cheeks as red as blood, and with hair as black as ebony, and from this she was named “Snow-White.” And at the same time her mother died.

About a year afterwards the King married another wife, who was very beautiful, but so proud and haughty that she could not bear anyone to be better-looking than herself. She owned a wonderful mirror, and when she stepped before it and said:

“Mirror, mirror on the wall,

Who is the fairest of us all?”

it replied:

“The Queen is the fairest of the day.”

Then she was pleased, for she knew that the mirror spoke truly.

Little Snow-White, however, grew up, and became prettier and prettier, and when she was seven years old she was as fair as the noonday, and more beautiful than the Queen herself. When the Queen now asked her mirror:

“Mirror, mirror on the wall,

Who is the fairest of us all?”

it replied:

“The Queen was fairest yesterday;

Snow-White is the fairest, now, they say.”

This answer so angered the Queen that she became quite yellow with envy. From that hour, whenever she saw Snow-White, her heart was hardened against her, and she hated the little girl. Her envy and jealousy increased so that she had no rest day or night and she said to a Huntsman, “Take the child away into the forest. I will never look upon her again. You must kill her, and bring me her heart and tongue for a token.”

The Huntsman listened and took the maiden away, but when he drew out his knife to kill her, she began to cry, saying, “Ah, dear Huntsman, give me my life! I will run into the wild forest, and never come home again.”

This speech softened the Hunter’s heart, and her beauty so touched him that he had pity on her and said, “Well, run away then, poor child.” But he thought to himself, “The wild beasts will soon devour you.” Still he felt as if a stone had been lifted from his heart, because her death was not by his hand. Just at that moment a young boar came roaring along to the spot, and as soon as he clapped eyes upon it the Huntsman caught it, and, killing it, took its tongue and heart and carried them to the Queen, for a token of his deed.

But now poor little Snow-White was left motherless and alone, and overcome with grief, she was bewildered at the sight of so many trees, and knew not which way to turn. She ran till her feet refused to go farther, and as it was getting dark, and she saw a little house near, she entered in to rest. In this cottage everything was very small, but very neat and elegant. In the middle stood a little table with a white cloth over it, and seven little plates upon it, each plate having a spoon and a knife and a fork, and there were also seven little mugs. Against the wall were seven little beds arranged in a row, each covered with snow-white sheets

Little Snow-White, being both hungry and thirsty, ate a little morsel of porridge out of each plate, and drank a drop or two of wine out of each mug, for she did not wish to take away the whole share of anyone. After that, because she was so tired, she laid herself down on one bed, but it did not suit; she tried another, but that was too long; a fourth was too short, a fifth too hard. But the seventh was just the thing; and tucking herself up in it, she went to sleep, first saying her prayers as usual.

When it became quite dark the owners of the cottage came home, seven Dwarfs, who dug for gold and silver in the mountains. They first lighted seven little lamps, and saw at once—for they lit up the whole room—that somebody had been in, for everything was not in the order in which they had left it.

The first asked, “Who has been sitting on my chair?” The second, “Who has been eating off my plate?” The third said, “Who has been nibbling at my bread?” The fourth, “Who has been at my porridge?” The fifth, “Who has been meddling with my fork?” The sixth grumbled out, “Who has been cutting with my knife?” The seventh said, “Who has been drinking out of my mug?”

Then the first, looking round, began again, “Who has been lying on my bed?” he asked, for he saw that the sheets were tumbled. At these words the others came, and looking at their beds cried out too, “Some one has been lying in our beds!” But the seventh little man, running up to his, saw Snow-White sleeping in it.

Meanwhile the king and his soldier were searching for Snow white. The 7 Dwarfs decided to take care of Snow white as 5 years passed the king finally found snow white . Snow white was taken back to castle where she belonged and the 7 Dwarfs were also taken. When the queen saw snow white she got very angry and called the huntsman to kill her. One of the Dwarfs were listening to the queen immediately informed Snow white and other dwarfs.

Snow-white tried to escape the room but she was locked by queen so that she couldn’t escape. The 7 Dwarfs tried to open the door but they failed. The huntsman were about to reach anytime now. The 4 dwarfs decided to go back to forest and search for angels and other 3 dwarfs went to search for the king. Dwarfs were successful to find both of them in time.

The king immediately sent his soldiers to lock queen in jail and to stop the huntsman. The queen was able to escape from soldier and managed to reach Snow white’s room.

Queen had a knife to kill snow white by herself that’s where the angel helped Snow-white and queen was turned into a frog . The End

The reason why I made changes is that the king involvement in the story was hardly seen so after changes I can see that the king role was played well and made it more logical because who wouldn’t search for a kid if it goes missing. Secondly the ending wasn’t found to be very much interesting so after changes the 7 dwarfs played good role helping a lost kid and never left her side even when the huntsman and queen was targeting her. The 7 dwarfs well coordinated and planned to save her from queen.

Name: Tushar Singh

Roll no: 23SJCCC071

0 notes

pilothusband · 3 years

Text

All Hail The King

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Warnings: Alcohol, oral sex, p in v sex, praise kink. I’m a horny bitch, okay? This is purely indulgent.

Word count: 5k

Author’s note: Special thanks to @wyn-dixie for reading this over before I posted it and for enabling this filth. ❤️ This idea entered my brain randomly and I had to write it out. Please let me know what you think! I want your feedback. If I had Photoshop I would have made an edit of Frankie with a crown for this but I don’t have it so here’s this gif instead.

The bar is humming with activity, but the table you’re nestled at in the back provides enough shelter to allow you all to converse without having to yell at each other.

You’ve been nursing a glass of water for a while now, since you’re the designated driver this week. It doesn’t bother you, though— you’re just happy to be out with your friends.

Every once in a while you steal a glance over at Frankie, who’s sitting diagonally across the table, next to Santiago who is directly across from you. Benny is to your left, his large body crowding you into the wall, and his brother Will is at the head of the table.

“Hey Fish,” Benny claps a hand on his shoulder. The force of his hand jostles Frankie’s solid body backwards a little, but to his credit he doesn’t flinch. “How are things with that girl you were seeing? Jennessa? Jennifer?”

You take a sip of your water and look down at the table to mask your interest at the sudden change in conversation.

“Jessica,” Frankie clears his throat. “They aren’t. We didn’t have much in common so she broke it off after a few dates.”

Queue the internal cheering. Jessica was a bit of a wet mop, to be honest. She never had anything to say when Frankie brought her around and she would scoff at everything that was slightly unsavory in her eyes. Deep down, you had to come to terms with the jealous twinge you felt in your gut every time she would squeeze Frankie’s shoulder affectionately, her immaculately manicured nails pressed harshly into his jacket.

“I’m sorry, Fish,” Benny said, slinging his arm around the man, the clumsy movement knocking his hat slightly askew. “Her loss, brother.”

“Here here,” Santi agrees, raising his bottle in the air. “To the king!”

Benny cheers clinks his bottle against Santiago’s echoing his sentiment. Will huffs out a laugh and Frankie groans, hiding his face in his hands.

You gape at the two men in question, but they just giggle like a couple of school girls.

“I didn’t realize I was in the presence of royalty,” you say, trying to figure out what they’re talking about. You look over at Frankie as he takes an impatient sip from his drink.

Benny just about spits out a mouthful of beer onto the table.

“Shut the fuck up, guys.” Frankie warns his friends. “Seriously.” Santi and Benny give him an innocent look. Will focuses his gaze on the bottle he’s holding, picking at the paper label, damp and curling at the edges from condensation .

Santiago leans towards you, his breath hot in your ear.

“We call him the pussy eating king.”

You thank the powers above you weren’t mid-sip, because the choked sound that emits from your throat was both involuntary and sudden. Heat blossoms in your stomach and your thighs clench together as you make eye contact with Frankie. He looks away nervously, embarrassed even.

“So was this a self coronation or..” You trail off, grinning at the flush on Frankie’s cheeks.

“It was that really talkative chick he was seeing for a while,” Benny says, turning to you. “Brianna?”

“Brenda,” Frankie sighs.

“So Brenda crowned you the pussy eating king?” You ask Frankie, who still refuses to meet your eyes.

He grumbles in response, waving off the subject.

“Yeah, she went on about it in detail for the whole night one time. I think you were away for a work trip or something” Santiago is absolutely smirking, loving the way Frankie is physically shrinking under the group’s attention. “Come on Fish, don’t be so modest. You’re a beast in the sack, it’s a good thing!”

You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You remember why you weren’t there. It was because you couldn’t stand seeing Frankie so happy with another woman, so you feigned sick.

“Well, I can see why things with Brenda didn’t last,” you respond, knowing Frankie was kind of a private guy. “But hey, at least she can tell all her friends she got the royal treatment while it lasted.”

Benny, Santiago and even Will all roar with laughter, fists banging raucously on the table. Frankie huffs out an embarrassed laugh, despite himself.

“Yeah, yeah,” he takes a swig of his beer, emptying it. “I need another drink.”

“Hey Ben, what time is your fight next week again?” Will calls over to his brother. You’re grateful for the change of subject. Frankie’s had enough torture for one night and you aren’t sure how many more details about Frankie’s sexual prowess your nether regions can take.

Benny turns towards Will to talk about his upcoming match and you take a sip from your glass to try to hide how flustered you’re feeling. Did this bar get hot all of a sudden?

The glass lands back down with a dull thump and you look up to find Santiago studying you, his eyebrow raised.

“What?” You don’t mean to sound aggressive, but his gaze is unnerving, as if he’s trying to suss out something you’re hiding.

“Nothing, nothing at all.” He smirks and tips up his beer, taking a long gulp. You roll your eyes at him and look down to pick at your nails.

A few moments later, Frankie returns with a fresh beer and you can feel Santiago turning his face in your direction again to read your body language. You school your reaction, fingers digging painfully into your pint glass. Sometimes Pope is too fucking nosy for his own good.

He must lose interest after a moment though, because he turns his attention back to Benny, who’s still talking about his upcoming fight.

The topic doesn’t come up again, thankfully, and you’ve dropped all the boys off at their separate destinations, save for Frankie, who lives the closest to you.

The car ride alone with him isn’t as tense as you were expecting, since his tongue has been loosened with the fair amount of alcohol he’s had tonight. You both chat easily about the upcoming week and how much you’re dreading going back to work on Monday.

You can’t resist one smart remark though, as you pull up to Frankie’s house.

“Your castle awaits, my liege,” you quip, trying and failing to hide your amused smile as you look over at him.

Frankie throws his head back and laughs freely, opening the car door with a wink.

“Goodnight, my queen,” he bows exaggeratedly before shutting the car door.

The butterflies don’t tamp down until you’re securely inside your own apartment, locking the door behind you.

That night was a month ago, which means it’s been a whole fucking month since your brain flew the coop. Every time Frankie does just about anything with his mouth, everything else around you ceases to exist.

Take last Thursday, for example. Frankie dropped by after work to help you change your porch light, since the fixture is too heavy and the light is too high up to easily reach.

He steps up the ladder with ease, unscrewing the fixture and holding it with his left hand. He puts the screwdriver in his mouth so he can hold onto the ladder as he gingerly hands you the fixture. You grab onto it and hand him the replacement bulb so he can swap them out.

He gets the lightbulb in and gestures towards you to hand the fixture back, which he screws back in before stepping down.

“Blegh,” he wipes his mouth on his sleeve, an action that has your last two brain cells screeching to a halt. “Screwdrivers taste awful.”

His statement is cute, self-deprecating, and you try to respond appropriately but all you can do is gape at him like a fish out of water.

‘Get your shit together, he’s wiping off the taste of rust, not your pussy,’ you try to mentally shake yourself out of your stupor, but it does no good.

He turns back towards his toolbox to drop the screwdriver in and close the lid.

“All set,” he says, dusting off his jeans. He sounds a little uneasy, probably because you’re acting like a complete weirdo.

“Thank you so much, Frankie. I really appreciate it.” You find your manners and pull him in for a hug, secretly reveling in how good he smells.

“Any time,” he tells you as he wraps his arms around you and squeezes softly.

Before he pulls away you make a spur of the moment decision, and reach up to give him a small kiss on the cheek. He’s so impossibly warm and so inviting, you can feel your heart flutter in your chest. The sparse hairs on his face tickle your chin.

Frankie clears his throat and ducks his head down, mumbling a hurried goodbye before he heads back to his truck, toolbox in hand. You don’t miss the way his lips are turned up and the crows feet make an appearance in the corner of his eyes, nor do you miss the brilliant flush that spreads over his face and down his neck.

It’s Saturday now and your torment knows no end. You decide you’re too tired to go out and opt to invite the guys over for a movie night, to which they all agree.

You decide you’ll just have to look away every time Frankie takes a sip of a drink, or eats a handful of popcorn. Or God forbid, if he licks his lips.

The group chat has been a nightmare, with everyone trying to come up with a movie to watch. Benny wants to watch The Expendables, Will mentioned something about wanting to see Dunkirk for ages now and Santi is playing devil’s advocate, disagreeing with all of their choices but not coming up with one of his own.

Frankie has been quiet in the chat, besides initially agreeing to come over initially.

It’s 9:00 PM, you have a 30 rack of beers in the fridge and some popcorn set out for everyone. All you have to do now is wait for the guys to arrive. Your phone chimes with a notification from Benny.

Benny and the Jets 🥊: Sorry lady, I got called in for a last minute practice. Raincheck?

Ironhead 🦸🏼: I gotta duck out too. The lady wants to have a date night. Sorry!

You type out a reply to them, a little disappointed but bidding them a good night all the same.

A knock sounds on the door and you rush over to answer it. The door swings open to reveal Frankie, wearing the softest looking navy blue hoodie you’ve ever seen, along with his Standard Oil cap. He looks as unsure as ever, holding a bottle of red wine.

You chirp an over-enthusiastic greeting, internally cringe at it, and step aside to welcome him in.

“I know you like red wine, so I got some for you on the way here. I hope it’s the kind you like.”

You accept the wine and look at the label. It’s a California Zinfandel. You can’t believe he remembered your favorite wine.

“I love it, thank you so much.” You pull him into a hug, nuzzling into the soft material of his sweatshirt. He returns the hug just as enthusiastically, pulling away to kiss your forehead.

“Is Santiago on his way?” You ask, padding into the kitchen to grab a glass from your cabinet. “Do you want a glass? Or I have some beer if you’d prefer.”

“Beer is perfect, thanks,” he says a little breathily as he looks over at you. “Santiago said something came up and that he’s sorry.”

Something feels a little fishy with the three of them ducking out all at the same time, but you don’t mention it as you hand him a beer and search through your drawer for a bottle opener. A few minutes later, you’re both set up on the couch and are scrolling through Netflix for a movie.

“I have no idea what to watch. Do you?”

“Want to watch Civil War? I know the guys will bitch we’re continuing the rewatch without them but they can deal.”

You tip your head back and laugh, navigating over to your Disney+ app.

Frankie takes off his hat and sets it aside while you spread a blanket over your laps, braving a chance to scoot closer to him. He takes the hint and wraps his arm behind your shoulders, nestling you closer to his chest. You settle in and try to pay attention to the movie, despite the wild fluttering that is taking place in your stomach.

Frankie shifts uncomfortably and winces a little. You can tell he’s trying to hide it, but little does he know you’ve been watching every single movement he makes like a hawk. Or a nervous lap dog.

“Does your back hurt? I can move,” you start to get up but Frankie grabs onto your wrist and pulls you back in.

“No, stay. I just need to find a comfortable position.”

You make a soft noise of surprise when he lifts you up and pulls you towards him, settling back so he’s spread out on the couch. You’re settled on top of him, your legs stretched out over his with your back to the cushion, half draped over his torso.

This position has your heart thumping hard in your chest. His face was just a few inches from yours. All he’d have to do is tilt his face towards yours, and you’d be practically kissing.

Focusing on the movie is harder than ever. Your left hand rests on Frankie’s chest and your right is near his head. Without even thinking, you reach out and start stroking your fingers through his soft curls. He hums contentedly, the pleasant sound rumbling through his chest.

A hand makes its way up your arm leaving goosebumps in its wake, landing on your shoulder.

You brave a glance at Frankie and feel your heart stutter in your chest when you realize he’s been looking at you. His eyes are as dark as ever, twinkling against the flicker of your TV.

He closes the gap and captures your lips in a tender kiss. His lips are warm and soft, melding to yours perfectly. The brush of your mouths together is intoxicating. Your tongue darts out to lick at him and he complies, letting out a guttural moan at the sensation as your tongues meet languidly.

You shift your leg so it slots between his and both of your hands find his shoulders and squeeze them, eliciting a soft mewl from Frankie’s mouth. His hands are hot on your back and he slides one down to your ass, kneading the soft flesh over your leggings.

Your hips press into his, rutting into him, soft pants falling from your mouth– mingling with his. You need to be closer, closer, closer. He tightens his grip on your ass in response and rolls his hips so you can feel how hard he is against your belly.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, breaking the kiss, words tumbling out between his ragged breaths.

You can feel yourself throbbing for him, wetness rushing to your core as his hushed baritone makes your head spin with need. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re convinced this is a dream. That there’s no way you’re dry humping the man of your dreams on your couch right now.

You duck down to hide your expression, not wanting to ruin the moment with your anxiety and doubt. You’ll take whatever this man gives you, even if it’s just this moment.

You busy yourself by peppering small kisses on his neck, trailing them up to his jaw.

“Hey,” he slows your movements and holds your chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up gently up to look at him.

“I want you. I want this. Do you?”

You feel the urge to look away, his gaze is intense and laser-focused on you. Eye contact has never been your strong suit, so this was a lot for you to handle. But you fight the urge to flinch and stare back, searching to see if there was anything that will give away any trepidations. His expression remains hard set, serious but not unkind. It’s just like Frankie to have eyes as clear as day, giving away all of his secrets. They’re just like him— strong, unrelenting in their hardness and softness.

“Yes,” you reply. Your voice cracks a little, thick with emotion. “I’ve wanted this, wanted you, for so long.”

You feel embarrassment wash over you with the admission, but Frankie doesn’t let it last long before you crushes his lips to yours in a searing kiss. He breaks it off after a moment, lips swollen and pink.

“Baby, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

He strokes a hand down your jaw, his thumb caressing your skin as a goofy smile blooms over your face.

“I want to make you feel good, baby,” he whispers, his thumb catching on the swell of your bottom lip. “Will you let me make you feel good?”

You blink and swallow heavily, a fresh wave of arousal flooding to your center as the deep rasp of his voice utters those words, smooth as caramel– dousing over you like kerosene on a fire.

You nod, not trusting your voice at this very moment.

“I need you to say it out loud, honey,” he says, his lips brushing against yours ever so lightly.

“Yes, Francisco,” you breathe out. “Make me feel good.”

He bites your bottom lip and tugs, then growls playfully before he grabs your shoulders and flips you over. You let out a delighted shriek, giggling as he lifts up the hem of your shirt and kisses every inch of skin that’s revealed.

“Wait,” you call out. He stops his movements immediately. “You first.”

Frankie grins. You want to press your fingers into the dimple that appears and feel the scratch of his beard under your nails. He leans back and lifts his sweatshirt over his head, the grey t-shirt he’s wearing sticks to the inside of it and he rolls both garments down his arms.

His chest is bare to you now, smooth except for a smattering of hairs in the middle of his chest, and a patch leading down into his jeans. You want to reach out and run your hands down the planes of his torso and follow the path of hair, but your arms aren’t long enough to reach.

You remove your shirt, leaving you in your leggings and bra. It’s a soft lace number, a delicate pink with no underwire. You watch as his hungry gaze roams over your chest. To your surprise, he doesn’t motion for you to take it off. Instead, he leans over you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

He moves downwards, tongue darting out to taste the salt of your neck. He continues his path and mouths between your breasts, one of his hands reaches out to squeeze the plump flesh in his large hand. You nipple instantly pebbles under his ministrations and he pulls the fabric aside to tease it with the pad of his finger. You moan softly at the sensation and yelp in surprise when he sucks it into his mouth and bites it, soothing the sharp sting with a flick of his tongue.

“Mmm, love how responsive you are already,” he hums, moving down. Your back arches as his mouth makes a hot trail down the rest of your torso. You look down and notice he’s left wet patches where his mouth has been, coating you in saliva and leaving goosebumps in his wake.

He reaches the waistband of your leggings and pushes them down, letting out a strangled groan when he gets an eyeful of your panties, the same shade of pink that matches the bra you’re wearing.

“So fucking sexy,” he breathes.

He peels your panties down your legs and pulls them off along with your leggings, leaving you completely bare from the bottom down. You start to cross your legs to hide yourself, feeling self-conscious at how exposed you are, but Frankie grabs your thigh to halt the movement.

“You better not hide this pretty pussy from me,” he says, licking his lips.

You half expect him to dive in, but he takes a moment to look at you. He’s resting a hand on your hip. His pointer finger makes a path down, tracing an invisible line up and down your slit. You hiss at the ghost of his touch and thrust your hips towards his hand, seeking out more friction.

Frankie lets out an amused chuckle at your reaction and leans forward to plant a wet kiss to your inner thigh. You let out a shaky breath in anticipation– your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest. He kisses up your thigh until he reaches the apex between your legs, then licks a stripe through your folds with the flat of his tongue, pulling a surprised gasp from your parted lips.

He sucks your clit into his mouth and you can’t help it– you buck up into his mouth and grab onto his hair and tug at the strands. He grabs onto the flesh of your hip and whimpers into your pussy. Despite being almost dizzy with need, you feel a rush of power knowing you have this effect on him.

“You taste so fucking good. So wet for me,” he punctuates his words with bold licks up and down. “Never want to stop.”

He changes patterns, making tight circles on your clit with his tongue. The sudden switch has you mewling and your legs clamp around his head involuntarily. Frankie grabs your thighs and wrenches them apart, hooking them over his shoulders as he latches onto your pussy. His hands are on your ass, holding you up as your back arches off the couch.

All you can do is scramble at the cushions below you for purchase as Frankie buries his face into your cunt, lapping at you with abandon. His tongue licks into you with an intensity you’ve never experienced before; it has you seeing stars.

You have no idea how he knows exactly how to manipulate your body to pull the pleasure from you so naturally. Every lick feels like it’s searching for treasure, every suck hits somewhere deep inside, reverberating through the muscles of your thighs and up in your abdomen.

He gently places you back down to the cushions and rubs at your entrance with his pointer finger, looking up at you for permission.

“Yes, please–“ you whimper brokenly. He complies immediately and plunges it into you, following with a second finger, and curls them up. His pace is slow at first and he flicks his tongue out to play with your clit at the same time. He’s soon spurred on by your moans and sets a brutal pace. You once again feel the urge to clamp around him to increase the pressure, but Frankie uses his broad shoulders to hold your thighs apart.

Seeing his shoulders, bare and perspiring from his intensive movements, so wide and flushed, coupled with the furrow of his brow, his eyes pinched closed, makes something primal within you awaken. You barely have time to feel your orgasm coming before it’s hitting you– thighs shaking, back arching, hands in his hair. You don’t even realize it, but you;’re shrieking his name, chanting it like a prayer. He’s groaning in reply, milking you through it with his fingers and tongue, lapping up your release, syrupy sweet and indulgent.

He doesn’t stop until you’re flinching from overstimulation. He kisses up your body lazily, taking his time before capturing your lips. You kiss him back, licking into his mouth and tasting yourself on his tongue. He grinds into you, his jean-clad erection rubs against your aching cunt and rekindles the fire, molten heat shooting through your entire body.

“Wanna fuck you so bad, baby,” he says, panting the words into your mouth.

You moan and break the kiss.

“Want to take this to my room?”

He doesn’t reply, but instead swings his body off the couch and picks you up bridal-style. He stumbles a little with the first steps and you both laugh, kissing each other with each step he takes towards your bedroom.

He tosses you onto the bed softly and you let loose another delighted giggle when Frankie flops over you dramatically, caging you in his arms. Your tongues tangle together in an impossibly sensual kiss. He’s momentarily distracted, caught up in the feel of your body underneath his with the soft touches of your tongue, and you take the opportunity to roll him over and straddle his hips.

Frankie is looking up at you as if he’s in awe, like he can’t believe you’re here right now, naked from the waist down and grinding down on his hard cock, tenting his jeans.

You move down his body and zip his fly down, pushing down the denim along with his boxer briefs. His cock springs free, hard and hot and leaking at the tip. You can’t help but lick the bead of precum, and a broken whine rips from Frankie’s throat. His hands are clenched into the sheets, knuckles white with how hard he’s gripping the mattress beneath him.

You’re bobbing your mouth up and down his length, tongue licking around his shaft and cheeks hollowing out. His moans are loud, constant. He’s babbling praise, telling you how fucking amazing your mouth feels, how badly he wants to fuck you. It’s a heady feeling, bringing a strong and quiet man to his knees like this. You love that he’s letting you know how much he’s breaking for you.

Your tongue finds its way down to his balls and you suck them into your mouth, moaning at the musky taste. His moans are high pitched now and his hand is squeezing your shoulder.

“Baby, you gotta stop,” he grabs onto your hair to pause your movements. “I need to feel you.”

You give him one last broad lick up his shaft and shift back up, and look down at Frankie to catalogue the number you’ve done on him. He’s absolutely wrecked– brown eyes blown wide, chest rising and falling rapidly with his uneven breaths.

You remove your bra, stretching it over your head and throwing it to the side. Frankie follows the movement and lets out a needy, staccato moan at the sight of you, completely bare before him.

You reach down and kiss him soundly on the mouth, lining his cock up with your entrance.

“I’ve got you, baby boy,” you coo, sinking down on his length.

“Fuck,” he grits out between his teeth.

You give yourself a moment to get used to his size and rock into him. His hands fly up to your chest, squeezing lightly and rolling your nipples in between his fingers.

“So fucking big,” you pant out. “So good for me.”

It seems Frankie loves praise as much as you do, evidenced by the twitch of his cock inside you.

Your pace is agonizingly slow. You’re trying to tease out the moment, stretch it out so it lasts forever. It doesn’t last long– you can’t stand it anymore. You bounce up and down on him, snapping your hips when they meet his.

“So fucking perfect,” he pants out. “Wanna fuck you from behind.”

You breathe out a moan and stop your movements. Frankie mistakes your pause for hesitation and reaches up to brush the hair out of your face.

“We don’t have to,” he says, voice gentle, brow furrowed in concern.

“No, fuck. No, Frankie. I want to.”

You gingerly get up and whimper at the loss when he’s no longer inside you. Frankie sits up, shoulders rocking forward and cock bobbing with his movement as he settles onto his knees. You watch him and bite your lip, getting on all fours and lifting your ass up in the air to present yourself to him.

Frankie can’t help the groan that falls from his lips and sinks forward to lay an open-mouthed kiss on your pussy from behind before he lines himself up. He enters you without hesitation, hips slapping against your ass rhythmically, setting a decisively fast pace.

All you can hear is the filthy sounds of your wet pussy as he pounds into you, along with your strangled moans, and his heavy breathing, laced with whispers of praise you can’t discern. The waves of pleasure are too much, too strong. You can feel the familiar build up of an orgasm. Your head is in the clouds as it climbs and climbs– then crashes.

His fingers on your clit is what does you in. Your whole body shakes and all you can do is whimper and moan around his cock while he fucks into you. The strong, practiced rock of his hips become sloppy as he chases his release, muttering words of adoration into the air as he pulls out and cums, spilling onto your back. He pulls every last drop out of his cock before collapsing over you, forehead resting on your spine as he catches his breath.

“Fuck, baby,” he says, once he’s caught his breath. “Should have done this ages ago.”

You both laugh and Frankie gets up to grab a wet face towel from the bathroom

A little while later, you’re both in bed, blissed out and wrapped up around each other. The movie, drinks and snacks are all forgotten. All that matters is here and now– your breaths mingling together as you kiss each other lazily, tongues probing slowly.

In the other room, both of your phones ping on the coffee table with unheard notifications.

The first text is from Santiago.The other boys follow suit, not a minute apart.

Pope 🤦🏻‍♂️: 👑

Benny and the Jets 🥊: 👑

Ironhead 🦸🏼: 👑

Neither of you see the texts until the next morning.

The following weekend, it’s Santiago’s turn to be the designated driver. He’s parked outside of Frankie’s house, waiting to pick both of your asses up. He starts to tap his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel after the first 15 minutes.

“What the fuck are they doing in there?” He asks Will and Benny. They all know the answer, but don’t say anything.

Meanwhile, Frankie has you crowded against the front door, your sundress is hiked up and his face is buried in your pussy. Neither of you can hear the sound of Santi’s impatient honking over your moans.

And if you end up going to the bar sans panties because you can’t find them before Santiago is pounding his fist on the door, well that’s just a secret you and Frankie will have to keep.

Taglist: @tenderclio @softdin @darnitdraco @freeshavocadoooo @recklessworry @wyn-dixie @manalg14 @codenamewife @comphersjost @princessxkenobi @manalg14 @comphersjost @a-skov @sheresh0y @greeneyedblondie44 @blackmarketmummy @brandyllyn @gracie7209 @bootyliciousbilbo @dobbyjen

#frankie morales #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #francisco morales pilot of my heart #all hail francisco morales pussy eating king

1K notes · View notes