#the pink is my favorite looks wise and i like that the glow in the dark kinda makes it look like a red lizard | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jades-typurriter · 11 months

Text

Take in the View/Taking the Brunt

Two women—a singer and a celestial being—have a heart-to-heart about the impossible standards they hold themselves to.

The art on this piece was a commission from @dapper-lil-arts ! Please check her out she rocks

Eyes–as blue and as vast as the sky, a pair belonging to Polaris–fell upon the Floatzel. This was one of the Gardevoir’s favorites, one of a handful towards which her attention was drawn more strongly than any of the others on the little blue garden world she watched over. She had much potential; the whole world would one day look to her as, now, only a certain admirer and Polaris herself did. Beautiful and confident, a model of grace… at least, most of the time. As Polaris found her now, it seemed she was having a rough night.

She moved part of herself “above” the Floatzel’s apartment. Or “beside”. Neither word was quite correct, but they were both closer than “inside”, at least for the moment. The singer sat at her dresser, looking into a mirror lined with fairy lights. The effect was not unlike the marquee at the lounge where she worked. A bit of motivation, the anodyne intruder supposed. Dressing for the job she wanted, even if it meant taking work home with her. Who could judge her for taking the stage name as her own? Throwing oneself into her work, especially work she was passionate about, work she believed in, was a way of powering through. The mask gets lighter when it becomes a part of you.

Yet, here she was, letting the mask down. She wiped makeup from her face, streaks of black mascara trailing from her eyes, eyeshadow making way for puffy, red circles. Instead of her usual repertoire of sparkling, slitted dresses, she now wore a faded, frayed pink sweatshirt, big enough for the collar to hang off one shoulder, and a baggy pair of pajama pants. Now seemed like as good a time as any for Polaris to step in.

She floated into the room, seemingly from nothing, as though stepping out from behind a lamppost. The three points of her crest, alight with the warm glow of a star, preceded her. Her folded hands, wrapped in matte gray gloves which obscured that same glow from the skin beneath, rested in front of a bell of layered skirts, which fluttered behind her, leaving a glittering cloud of dust in her wake. She now stood across the room, behind the Floatzel, fully visible in the mirror; even if she didn’t announce herself, it would’ve been rude to not make herself known. The Floatzel, for her part, had snatched up an umbrella that was leaning against her dresser, and whirled around to point it at the intrusion.

“Who are you!?” She shouted.

“Eleanor–”

“And how do you know my NAME!!”

“Well–” Polaris hesitated. “You could say I’m quite the fan of yours.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. A stalker? I haven’t been a performer NEARLY long enough for this, I–” the Floatzel stuttered, “I’m calling the boys from the Lounge.”

“You don’t need Derrick and Rodney,” the Gardevoir intoned calmly. “I promise, I’m not here to hurt you. I haven’t been ‘following’ you in the sense that you’re thinking, either.”

“Then just WHAT is this supposed to BE?”

“Don’t I look familiar to you, Eleanor?”

“You look like a crazy cosplayer, is what you look like. Who are you even supposed to be,” she spat, squinting, “Mother Polaris, or something?”

“The very same,” the Gardevoir replied, nodding, doing her best to appear ancient (true) and wise (debatable). Eleanor narrowed her eyes at her for a long moment, utterly still except for an eventual, perplexed blink.

“You’re kidding.”

“You just saw me step out of thin air, then name-drop the exact friends you were thinking of. I’m made of space dust,” she continued, performing a little curtsy that displaced a nebula’s worth of twinkling material from her skirts, “And I’m here because… well, you know why I’m here. That should be a bit of extra proof for you.”

“Why are you here?” Eleanor grilled her, cocking an eyebrow. The Gardevoir shook her head.

“I try not to put words in people’s mouths. I find that it often makes things worse, or reminds them of different problems from the ones I’ve come to help them with.”

“I’m asking you to guess. Maybe I’ll believe you if you get it right.”

“Well,” she began, bowing her featureless face in an approximation of a sigh, “You seemed like you could use someone to talk to. Have you been doubting yourself recently, dear?”

The note of genuine affection in Polaris’ voice seemed to catch Eleanor off guard. While Eleanor was no stranger to Polaris, the same could not be said for the converse. She hesitated, then glanced at the tissues and make-up pads on her dresser.

“Am I really doing so bad,” she asked weakly, shoulders slumping as she turned back toward the celestial woman, “That I’m being visited by… by, by, guardian figures from literal myths?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” The Gardevoir prompted, hovering by the edge of Eleanor’s bed, gently patting a spot next to her. Another moment’s hesitation–another moment’s disbelief–came and went, and the Floatzel acquiesced, joining her on the bed.

“Well, you’re here already, so you must have some idea of it,” she began. Polaris nodded along, encouraging her. “Sometimes… I don’t see a way forward for myself. I know it doesn’t really make sense, I know that. I’m the headliner at a wonderful little club. My boss–”

“Donna? The Lapras.”

“Y…yes, her,” she continued, still unsettled. “She loves having me there. Thinks I’m talented, thinks I liven up the place. My coworkers are all so supportive, too, I just… I don’t know if I’m waiting for some cliché ‘big break’, or if working my way up from the bottom is just going too slowly for me to feel good about it…”

“But?”

“But…” She sighed. She hadn’t admitted this out loud before, or at least, Polaris hadn’t been paying enough attention to hear it. It was rare, but she did have her lapses. They always seemed to be at the most important moments. “I look at the people who have already made it–”

“Like Carlotta. The Altaria, your mentor.”

“Right.”

“And I know that that Purugly is another person you admire.”

“Mhm.”

“You look at them, and you see what?”

“It’s less something I see in them, and more something I don’t see in myself. They’re so, so talented, and… I know my own abilities. I know I’ve worked hard, I practiced, Carlotta took me under her wing to teach her half of what I know herself, and I’ve got her approval for sure. But their work is so inspiring, so moving, and mine is just… well, I’m only me.”

“And you do not hear the same ring in your work, see the same poise in your movement, as you hear and see in theirs?”

“I suppose I don’t. I don’t really know what the difference is. I just don’t feel like I’m enough.”

“Well, I meant what I said earlier. I’m a big fan of yours.” At this, Eleanor barked out a laugh, rubbing one of her eyes with the ball of her palm.

“Aren’t you known for loving everyone on Earth? Caring for all?” She made a wavy little arcing gesture to poke at the grandiosity of it. “That feels almost like a compliment from my mom!” Polaris giggled in return, politely covering the place her mouth would be with a hand.

“I suppose that’s fair. Would it cheer you up at all if I told you a secret about what people call me nowadays?”

“It couldn’t hurt. Normally the best gossip I get is from Donna.”

“You all haven’t always called me Mother Polaris.”

“No?”

“No! In fact, when I first approached you, before I had even chosen the name Polaris for myself, I declared that you all should call me mom.

“PfffHAH! Just mom?”

“Just mom! I listened in on you all for a little while and decided, ‘oh, that’s what I need to be for them, the poor things!’”

“HAAHAHAHA, wow! Just imagining someone who looks as elegant and awe-inspiring as you, who talks as politely as you, just going ‘I’m your mom now’. HA!”

“Thankfully, I developed a better grasp on the nuances and the connotations eventually. I never did want to give up that sort of maternal position, though.”

“Well, you work it,” Eleanor reassured her, her laughter dying down to a faint grin. “It did make me feel a bit better.” There was a long pause. Eleanor looked down at the floor; Polaris suspected she was working up to discussing another difficult subject. Eventually, she spoke again:

“Would it be okay if I talked about something else? I really do appreciate the visit–you’ve already cheered me up, and just the time you took to come see me–but I guess I don’t feel like I’ve gotten it all off my chest.”

“Say as much as you feel you need to, Eleanor. This is what I’m here for,” she comforted the poor thing, though the true depth of the statement was likely lost on her.

“Alright. Thank you.” She paused, finding the words, then discarding them. “So, since we’re talking about names. Um. I don’t get to talk to deities all that often,” she chuckled, feeling awkward. “Can I ask why you settled on Polaris?”

“Dear, I don’t believe that was what you were so worried about saying.” The Floatzel screwed up her lip, glancing away from the Gardevoir. “How about this: I’ll tell you more about my name if you tell me more about how you’re feeling. Are you comfortable with that?” Eleanor slowly dragged her eyes back to meet Polaris’, and hesitantly nodded, taking a deep breath.

“I don’t know if this is the missing… quality that I was talking about earlier, or if it’s something separate, but it’s also part of what’s been bugging me. I look at Carlotta, and honestly, I even look at Donna, and they’re just, so in-their-own-element, so confident, like, like they never miss a beat. And like I said, Carlotta taught me most of what I know–especially, I guess, faking it until I make it.

“But it’s just so hard to keep up with them. I’m exhausted after performing all night, keeping that calm, collected persona up while I chat up the patrons and ‘relax’ with my friends. They don’t even break a sweat. I’ve seen Donna haul a heckler or a creep up by his shirt collar and throw him out into the street, then go right back to laughing with the regulars like it never happened, and I just don’t get it. Carlotta’s smile never wavers for a moment. Donna can keep an eye on us around the clock. It feels like so much more work when I do it than when they do! It takes everything I have just to be at a point where I feel out of my depth, and I know it only gets deeper the further I want to go. I don’t know if I have it in me.”

Polaris nodded thoughtfully, appraising Eleanor before offering a response. She considered what might help her–her, specifically, with her disposition and her problems–to hear in this moment. She couldn’t solve her problem for her, that much she knew; her position relegated her largely to moral support. Even the most basic of contributions, taking an active role like providing reminders of accountability, even just regular encouragement, often felt like an impossible commitment given how she spread her mental resources. Then, ought she reassure the Floatzel? Suggest how she might solve the problem herself?

She decided that a bit of perspective would serve her best, and Polaris was perhaps the best-equipped to provide a step back.

“Eleanor,” she began, smoothing out her skirts, choosing her words deliberately and with consideration, “You already know that I keep track of… well, most things that go on. Yes?”

Eleanor nodded, scooting further onto her bed, having drawn up her knees to her chest.

“Then you’ll trust my insight into your relations.”

She nodded again.

“You are not the only one who struggles to keep up with the demands of her life. Nor are you the only one who keeps up a façade to put their best foot forward at all times. Carlotta would tell you that ‘that’s showbusiness’, but do not mistake me. Neither she nor I tell you this to dismiss your problems, or suggest that you need only get used to it. Rather, it is to instill in you a mutual understanding with your peers: even those of them who appear to succeed effortlessly toil behind closed doors. They have to practice every bit as much as you. They have to take time to decompress as often as you.”

“Right. They’re there to help me and the other girls who work the place feel safe.”

“I… I struggle to see it, even still. I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize, dear,” Polaris hushed her as she moved closer. “Perhaps this will make it easier. Donna keeps those two Incineroar boys on staff, yes?”

“Of course. And you mentioned that Donna takes such matters into her own hands as well, yes?”

“She does.”

“Do you think that she would bother continuing to pay two employees if she were utterly, totally confident in her ability to keep you safe herself?” A pause, then a defeated sigh through Eleanor’s nose.

“I don’t suppose she would.”

“She would not! Even someone as self-assured, as decidedly capable as Donna knows her limits. But if she were to draw attention to those limits, it might make you and the other girls feel less safe, right?”

“I guess so.”

“They want to seem professional as badly as you do, Eleanor.” She placed a gloved hand on the performer’s shoulder, looking her directly in the eyes. “Your achievements are earned. You are not falling behind. You work harder than most anybody under my watch.”

Eleanor’s eyes fell again, but this time the movement was accompanied by a smile, tinged with relief.

“That… means a lot to hear. Thank you. So much.”

“Of course, dear. Now,” she said, rising to her full floating height, “Is there anything else you wish to talk about? Anything else I can try to help you with?”

“You promised me another story about your name.”

“Ah. That I did.”

“Go ahead! Make yourself comfortable,” Eleanor said, waving to the other half of her bed and to a sofa in the corner of the room. Hardly.

“What was your question again, dear?” The Gardevoir asked, floating away from Eleanor, her skirts rising and then settling as she rested herself in the cushioned chair. “Why I chose my name?”

“Mhm!” She had grabbed a pillow from by the headboard of her bed and was holding it in her lap. She almost seemed like she was sitting at a slumber party, talking about pettier secrets with girlfriends, like who was crushing on who.

“You see…” Yet again, she chose her words carefully. “Motherhood was not the only concept among your cultures that I saw fit to embody. Guidance, constancy, stalwartness… Many cultures rely on the stars for navigation. Their ever-presence, their reliability, makes them indispensable; they serve a necessary function. As for the name Polaris specifically, I found that it was emblematic of these qualities–though I just as well could have found a way to make the Southern Cross my namesake, had I first contacted you below the equator.”

“I see… Names with personal meanings like that are the best ones, in my opinion.”

“I agree. It wouldn’t do for one to live by a name that rang hollow to them. A good name is one that truly represents you, or that you can at least strive to live up to.”

“Do you feel that way about your name?”

“How do you mean?”

“Do you feel like you actively try to live up to it?” So she had caught on. This was why she had tried to depart early, but there was no sense in being rude–or worse, arousing concern–by attempting to worm out of it now. She had had this conversation many times before.

“I do my best,” was Polaris’ outward response.

“And… I’m sorry if this is overstepping, but–”

“No, by all means. You were promised a story, were you not?”

“Are you trying to look professional, too? Maybe, in trying to reassure me, you don’t want to let on that… Well, I don’t want to put words in your mouth.”

“I appreciate that, dear. To answer your question, yes, I was speaking from experience on the subject of façades.”

“I imagine that you’re very busy trying to help everybody on the planet.”

“Yes.”

“And you try to ‘look professional’ for all of them as well, since you find such deep personal meaning in being their rock.”

“Naturally.”

“So have you ever actually… talked to anyone about how stressful it is for you?”

“Of course.”

“Oh.” She seemed taken aback by that answer. “Um.”

“Does that surprise you?”

“I guess I just thought that a goddess would be able to handle it better than a regular girl could? Or that, at least, you could put up with it for longer. I don’t know why I’m surprised that someone who’s been around as long as you have has… had a heart-to-heart with someone before.” She still seemed curious; Polaris could reasonably figure what her remaining unanswered questions were.

“Well, I try not to. For reasons beyond ‘seeming professional’, I mean.” The Floatzel opened her mouth to ask, and Polaris cut her off. “No, I will not give you the details.”

“Why not? It’s only fair that I should offer you help after you’ve cleared my head.”

“Eleanor, do you remember that joke from that old cartoon about whether mailmen deliver their own mail?” She watched her brow furrow in confusion–it was an odd example, she knew, but one that would almost definitely be familiar. After a moment of gear-turning, the Floatzel nodded at her. “There’s a similar saying about therapists: each of them needs a therapist of their own to handle the things they hear about in the course of their work.”

“So why not be each other’s therapists?”

“I’m afraid you don’t understand the things I hear in my work, dear. How can I illustrate this for you…” Polaris brought a hand to her chin and pondered for a moment. These concepts were often difficult for earthly beings to grasp, but she’d had many opportunities to try, and she was reasonably sure she could convey them properly. “Imagine… imagine a mural on the side of the building.”

“Okay.”

“The mural takes up the whole wall of this building.” A nod. “Now imagine that this building is a skyscraper.” Another nod, concern evident on her face. “Imagine that you are big enough that you can take in the mural in its entirety. Then, simultaneously, imagine that you have enough eyes to focus on every inch of that mural at once. Try to appreciate the mural’s every detail, in your mind; not one-by-one, but every detail, with full clarity, all at once. As though there were two sharp spots in the center of your field of vision, but, well, far more than two.”

“I…” The Floatzel shrunk. “Alright. I take your point, I think.”

“What kind of mural might this be, Eleanor? What situations call for a guardian angel to poke her head into your life?”

“Yes. Okay.”

“You can imagine, if the mere concept is this disquieting, why I shy away from confiding fully in any one person.”

“I can.” Once again, Polaris met Eleanor’s eyes. The silence was long. Uncomfortable. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing for you to apologize for, dear. I promised you an answer, and now you have it.”

“No, I mean… I’m sorry that you have to deal with that. Don’t you ever have time to, to rest?”

“Eleanor, I’m with about a dozen people besides you at this very moment.” Another painfully long silence.

“How can you put up with it? I know I push myself for my music, but… that’s something that fulfills me. It’s a calling, I get something out of it.”

“One could say that this is something of a calling for me, as well. Regardless, it is as I said–”

“‘A necessary function`.”

“Indeed.”

Silence.

“Though,” the Gardevoir spoke again, “I suppose that does not answer the question of why I carry on this way.” The Floatzel lifted her chin from her knees and cocked her head at Polaris. “Outwardly, I know, I am quite akin to things you refer to as ‘heavenly bodies’, but I am not actually divine, as many of you assume. As I said, I simply appeared before some of your people; that was shortly after I first made a chance discovery of your world. I did not create you, and while I am not responsible for you…

“Someone of my abilities–my constitution, one who does not tire and sleep the way you earthly beings do, has no need for food or drink… I can. Therefore I should. It is difficult, I suppose, not to feel responsible for you.”

…

“There has to be… has to be something that makes that easier for you, Polaris. Isn’t there anything I can do–anything anyone can do? If you don’t want to… can’t, talk about it, maybe I can do something that isn’t talking.”

This gave Polaris pause; even with the Floatzel’s words ringing in her ears, that fair is fair, and help for help was only reasonable, she… she would have felt deeply that she was imposing by asking for much of anything. Even one of her songs would’ve felt like putting her out of her way, especially since the Gardevoir could listen in on one of her performances on any night she wished. Or. Any night she could spare the attention.

Something that required even less work than that, then. Something the Floatzel could offer that required barely any effort at all. Something Polaris could enjoy merely by being in her presence. She sucked in a deep breath, willing herself not to shudder as she did so.

“Dear. Pardon. Eleanor,” she wrung the words from her throat. “Would you be willing to… simply allow me to hold you? The touch would be… comforting.” She couldn’t meet the Floatzel’s eyes as she spoke, this time. Had her mask been on, Polaris was sure she would’ve had a cute, flirtatious remark about the opportunity to cuddle a goddess instead of just pick her brain, but shake–and mercifully considerate–as she was, she made no such jest.

“Of course. Yes, Polaris, I can.” She placed the pillow aside and patted the bed beside her, opening her arms to the Gardevoir, who drifted to her side like a dry leaf on the wind.

Polaris pulled the Floatzel up halfway onto the mound of her skirts, allowing her to get comfortable. Eleanor, smaller by a head or two, nestled her head against the watcher just beneath her crest, wrapping her arms around her waist. The Gardevoir’s gentle hands rested on her companion’s back, arms draped gingerly over her shoulders.

With her charge no longer looking her in the face, her visage relaxed, and the etchings of exhaustion revealed themselves. Tired circles hung under her eyes like the distortions of gravity around a black hole. If she had a mouth, frown lines would have deepened at its corners. But it was a welcome change. Down came Polaris’ mask, and down were her eyes cast, taking in the sight of the girl who had offered her this act of compassion, this moment of privacy and of connection, both of which the guardian had desperately needed.

Tears welled in her blue eyes, and though she strangled a sob, hoping neither to lose her composure in a way Eleanor could see, nor to disturb her, they began to run down her face. Gleaming, shimmering streaks lined both of her cheeks, now, broad strokes of deep, near-black blues shot through with simmering, rusty red. She hoped Eleanor wouldn’t fall the teardrops falling onto her orange coat, hoped that they wouldn’t stain her dress and leave any evidence of the emotion slipping through the cracks, but ultimately could do nothing to stop it. She couldn’t bring herself to break away from the embrace–its warmth could have filled the whole of her starry domain.

Despite herself, she squeezed the Floatzel ever-so-slightly tighter, and did not let go until she was sound asleep in her lap. Polaris held her for some time even after that, still unwilling to leave this. When she finally collected herself, she disappeared in much the same way as she had arrived, vanishing through a gateway that did not exist, ceasing to intersect with Eleanor’s bedroom. She took great care to set Eleanor down gently as she went, silently thanking her the whole way, and silently vowing to make it to her next show. Even if Eleanor did not know she was there, Polaris would attend. For herself.

#original writing #writeblr #trans author #pokemon #pokemon fanfiction #floatzel #gardevoir #my writing #short story #lapras lounge #indie author

5 notes · View notes

stargazerlillian · 4 years

Text

FOLKS OH MY GOD!!! I think this is the best Song Machine Episode I’ve seen yet!!!💘💘💘💘💘

#Blooming where I'm planted #Seriously I’m not even kidding - sound wise this is literally now my favorite Song Machine along with Aries!💘💘💘💘#This also might quite possibly be one of my all-time favorite Gorillaz songs PERIOD.💘💘💘💘#I mean - you’ve got killer aesthetic visuals - I’m always a sucker for the color pink... and sparkles...✨✨✨#Well-placed and meaningful verses by 6LACK that flow perfectly in time to the music...#2D looking perfectly at peace as he plays piano and sings under the glow of the pink neon lights... classic...💗#Murdoc up to his usual antics in the background... and it turns out it was a LITERAL Pink Phantom he was hunting.😕#Huh. Guess Murdoc decided to become some sort of renegade Ghostbuster or something. IDK.🤷‍♀️#I must admit when he just BURST IN through the door at the end out of nowhere I burst out laughing!!!😆😆😆😆#Murdoc we get it you’re an attention seeker. But I’ll let this act-out slide on account of your amazing cartoony comedic timing!👍#And of course ELTON FRICKING JOHN!!! I mean COME ON - it’s SIR ELTON!!! I don’t really need to explain that element!!!#Just... my God I STILL can’t believe this is a real thing that just happened!!! AHHHH!!!💘💘💘💘💘#Pardon my rambling this episode just made me really excited - I haven’t felt like this in SUCH a long time LOL.😄#Overall this is a retro-inspired masterpiece lovingly combined with modern elements and beautifully crafted visual representation.#In short - this song and its MV are PURE ART.✨💘🎨💘✨#Guess I have something to listen on repeat for at least a hundred times before moving on - that is IF I move on haha!

2 notes · View notes

klainerswiftie22oncer · 2 years

Text

Gleeful Paintbox Project #9: dog days/new tricks

Underrated scenes/performances

A little late and this is maybe gonna be long, but here's my thoughts on why more than a woman is underrated and I love it and it's so good I don't even know where to start (just know I'm praising all couples lol).

First of all, Saturday night gleever is in my comfort episodes, not like story wise but mostly for the music, unlike the new directions, I love disco, and the music is soooo good it makes me forget all the garbage going on in this episode, and that it barely has Klaine on it...

I'm gonna talk outfit wise, dance moves, setting, mood and context, bts, vocals and ugh THE COUPLES (mostly Klaine tho, there's a lot of underrated Klaine moments here).

Gonna talk about Klaine first cause they're my boo's, outfit wise will be covered later with the rest of the couples. I love Kurt leading the dance, I'm guessing cause he's taller, either way it's perfect. I love how Kurt first appears being held by Blaine and as he extends his arm, he vocalizes that (Para-dise) 'diiiiise' and his face singing it, that little head twirl 🥺.

Them just caressing each other's hands reminds me of: 'the touch of a fingertip is as sexy as it gets' 🥺, since I can't describe steps, I'm gonna let the gifs talks, just know every single move they make I worship (like a dog at the shrine of your lies okno).

It's hard to pick a favorite moment from them here but I think I'll choose Kurt spinning Blaine and then lowering him and then PUPPY DOG EYES 🥺🥺🥺 this guy is so in love with his man I think I would diiiie, and when Blaine's down, it's just a millisecond but you can see his hand resting so comfortably in Kurt's shoulder.

Now that I thought I picked a fav moment, this two start to spin and jump around like two pretty ponies 😠, Yeah, I love Kurt jumping, he's just soooo happy, and prob this wasn't in the choreo or who knows, cause no one else did it, but it makes me think it's improvised by Blaine's look, his smile becomes bigger the minute he begins to jump, like he wants to laugh, he just thinks it's so cute, or either way it just could be him happy that he's happy 🥺🥺

BLAINE TOUCHING KURT'S SHOULDER'S AND KURT'S FACE (YOU'RE KILLING ME 😩, slay me, kill me, RIP me, I died dead), let's ignore they're really looking at the camera man when spinning lol, Kurt's just having a blast and Blaine's really feeling the music.

Now vocals, this is just made for Chris's range. I find it funny how in the YouTube comments they said Cory's struggling a little with the song this high, and Chris is just vibing using his regular voice, this man's range, I'm still astoundished.

If really the low voices are Darren and Naya, like the comments said then wow, I think it's him singing the 'my only chance for happiness, and if I loose you now...' Chris is also singing that part but higher so it's kinda like a duet right? Lol.

And ugh the chorus, MORE THAN A WOMAN TO MEEE, Chris's voice is soooo smooth, is the whole reason the song was my most listened, just the whole chorus, imagine him singing this in your ear 😍

Okay outfits, I love the 70's vibes, the colors, not a fan of Kurt's hairstyle in this, a little too s1 for my taste, apart from that they all look great, I love the guys wearing those gold necklace things, Finn and Mike's outfits are pretty similar and they're fine, but Kurt and Blaine steal the show, I love red for Blaine, makes him look more in love.

But the girls are the one who really steal the spotlight... I really can't decide which is my fav dress, Rachel is just glowing, her face looks like it's been glittered or something, purple looks so good on her and the tail, now Brittany's, that double colored dress and her necklace and hair, so pretty. Santana, ugh that light blue dress with ruffles (not really good at describing fashion sorry) I think is my second favorite dress, but I gotta say that my number 1 fav look is Tina's, pink dress, with that shoulder thingy, and in this it's easier to appreciate her hair and it looks like she has highlights so yeah, gorgeous Tina for the win, Santana second close, and Brittany and Rachel's looks are tied for me, they all look great otherwise, this is just my taste if I had to chose lol. Woo, that was just for the outfits, this is gonna be a long one, prob nobody will read lmao.

For the setting, I love the dance floor of course, the lights and obviously the fog, it makes it look more romantic, I'm not great at technical stuff but everything about this gives it such a warm relaxing vibe filled with love.

For the bts, I love how much fun everyone had on this, I love that part where it seems like Darren missed a step and he looks at Chris to see how the step goes, and the best part, filming the spinning around, it's so funny how Cory explains that viewers actually think he's looking at Lea, and it's so awkward for him to look at a camera guy this lovingly, it was really fun, and I think everyone did a great job looking like they're in love.

So context wise, despite not knowing what to do with his life, and the assignment having to be about him and his future, Finn instead turns it into a serenade for Rachel, I don't think he sings to her very often (correct me if I'm wrong), and choosing this song is so lovely (the first lines are a little inappropriate but that's not his fault lol), the rest is just so fitting for them, and I love Finn for having a dream sequence picturing all of his friends dancing around them, I only wish it wasn't a dream, but oh well it's still sweet, Rachel's little look before he starts, she looks a little shy and overwhelmed 🥺.

You can really feel the love, and I think that's just cause it's really Lea and Cory radiating real love. How they don't take their eyes from each other and both have this huge grins on their faces, and when they do have to look away they're still smiling 🥺, and the whole dance, really the whole dance, Finn just won't look anything else but Rachel, in some parts she's just feeling herself, but that's not a bad thing, I think is really sweet how Finn is making her feel pretty and loved and it shows, so he lets her be the center.

I really don't wanna discuss much how the lyrics fit them, cause it's bittersweet ('and if I loose you now I think I would die, Oh say you'll always be my baby') but let's discuss the sweet lyrics like the chorus, again about Finn's future, he's unsure about everything except for one thing: Rachel, she's more than a woman to him, she's everything and he's trying to be everything for her ('just trynna get a hold on you'). I love the part where he lowers her and when he brings her back up, ugh somebody look at me like that, I can't describe it, it's such a comfy look sorta like: I can't believe you're mine, and I'm yours, he's just admiring her as he slowly brings her back up 🥺. Rachel's little touches on Finn's shoulders 🥺.

We don't hear Finn this high very often, found it very interesting the first time, I read somewhere once they autotuned him a little, I'm not sure tho, however it was, he sounds amazing, makes him sound more beamy. Highlights: that high note in those ah ah ahhhh before the last chorus. And the ooh, ooh, ooh's.

So that's it for Finchel I think, let's move on to Tike.

Tike is underrated by themselves, the show tends to be more Finchel, Klaine and Brittana, so I loved they included them in this. I don't know if Mike or Tina sing backup on this, I couldn't hear it, but I'm not great at that lol.

Tina's dress steals the show everytime she spins, my fav part of them is when Mike spins her very fast and then lowers her (terrible at describing dance moves I know), Mike's moves when spinning, he's really having the time of his life lol. Unfortunately, that's it for them, cause the camera was barely on them 😔.

So Brittana, Brittany's smile when the camera first focuses on her 🥺, that part when Brittany is holding Santana's hips and they're just like moving sideways Idk how to call it lol, that's my fav part of them in the song.

How they hold hands when the first chorus starts 🥺. I've seen some opinions that either Brittany or Heather's not really good at portraying emotion, but in this, really, her eyes make hearts all the time, for me this is the time when she looked at Santana the most lovingly. Someone pointed at YouTube (I didn't noticed it at first but it's cute to share) that when the second chorus starts, everyone is letting go their partner for the step, but Brittany is still holding onto Santana's hips, the YouTube section of this was full of Brittana, and they're right when they pointed out they're really radiating chemistry here, so underrated performance for Brittana fans also. Can't stop staring at Britt's hair 😳😍 srsly omg, so dance and vibe wise Brittany wins here, but let's talk about Naya's vocals omg. That oh uh wow uh 🤯,for being my most listened song on Spotify last year, I'm finding out new things each time, thanks to YouTube again, did anyone else knew Naya is the one singing the lower voice of "you're more than a woman to me" 😳? I was shocked. So if it's Chris and Naya singing those lines together, well that's an interesting mix, I wish they sang together more often (do they have a song together? Remind me please).

Vocals in general, kudos to whoever did those ah ah ah ah's after the choruses. Also kudos to the band, specially the violin's omg.

Despite being the same coreography for everyone, you can really see how each couple makes them their own, like when the one's leading first spins their partner and then lowers them, Kurt does it more slowly than Mike. Don't know if this was a choice or part of the choreo but love how each couple reflects their personality through the dance moves, it still shocks me only two people did every single choreo so thank you Zack and Brooke.

It was fun looking and overanalyzing the other couples, cause I'm usually just staring at Klaine lol, but thanks to this, I found out new things to love about this performance.

I just think this performance as a whole could give world fandom peace, all the couples look happy and lovely, the vibes are so chill and romantic, if we forget for a minute about their mistakes or whatever, either you hate or love some couple, I think this has something for everyone to enjoy, you can't deny they all look very much in love and everyone did an amazing job and this is so underrated, total serotonin boost, I close my case.

I got the gifs from angelhummel so thanks <3

#glee #gleefulpaintbox #underrated scenes/performances #more than a woman #saturday night gleever #glee meta #glee analysis #Klaine #Brittana #Finchel #Tike #paintbox 9: dog days new tricks

64 notes · View notes

saintorchid · 3 years

Text

Stuck on you

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

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Hello! I am back from the dead with a new fic. I kinda went overboard with this ahahahaha. As always this is smut and...

!!!!!!MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!!!! IF YOU DO I WISH BOTH SIDES OF YOUR PILLOW ARE HOT. (I’m serious and you will be blocked).

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

Eat, Sleep, Teach, and Kill was (Y/N) routine each day as a sorcerer. The mind-numbing routine varies each day, giving (Y/N) a little enough reason to stay in the world of Jujutsu Sorcery. (Y/N)’s worries clouded her mind each day. The next curse, future meetings with the staff on campus, the insufferable Gojo Satoru, and the biggest of them all, her students, overall it was exhausting.

In a world so cruel and children so innocent, it broke her heart to see the unavoidable responsibilities placed on her students. “They don’t deserve this; they are just children burden with the problems caused by the elders of the Jujutsu world.” However (Y/N) took that extra step extra mile to provide a better life for the students. Their lives were similar to an hourglass. A single grain of sand represented a day of her students' life. Their days were limited; time is the ultimate enemy for these children. How cruel.

As a teacher, you taught your students about jujutsu sorcery and taught your students how to remain human. Kindness, compassion, patience, and many more emotions, make us human. If you could do anything for these students, teach them that it's okay to be human. They are not dispensable emotionless soldiers used by the elders.

The sun shone through the window of the building you were in, basking you in a warm glow. It was an off day for everyone. The students and staff were free to leave campus to have time for themselves. Looking out the window, you see your students carrying beach towels in their swimwear.

A pink-haired student spots you in the window and calls out your name. “(L/N)-Sensei!!! Would you like to join us for a beach day! It will be fun and relaxing! We're staying at Gojo-Sensei’s villa!” Itadori yelled at the top of his lungs while showing off a bright smile.

You smile back, waving and answering your student's call, “I would love to, Yuji!” The students listened eagerly for your response, hoping you would join them.

“However!” A collectible groan came from the students. You laughed and gave them a bright smile, “I am a teacher, and I still have responsibilities such as grading your exams on the subject of curses we learned last week!” The students now had a pained expression on their faces and now slightly moving faster into the car to avoid the following few words that will come out of your mouth.

“But!” The students now had their heads sticking out of the packed car. “I would love for you guys to bring me back a seashell or some kind of souvenir! If it’s not too much to ask!”

A babble of replies came from the students while the car was slowly moving out of the parking lot, “You got it (L/N)-Sensei!”, “I’ll bring you all the seashells!” and “Bye, Sensei!! Have a nice day!”

You smiled, feeling your heart become full of love and adoration for your students. You would do anything to protect the remaining innocence they had.

You looked at your watch, still seeing that the time was 9:17 am. You still had a few more papers to grade, so you decided to finish grading them in your office and head out for the town to buy some groceries and other personal things.

You head to your office that’s right next to principal Yaga’s office he wasn’t in, so that made you breathe a little easier. You settled on your desk and started to grade your students' exams. Lost in focus, a knock on the door alerted you. You thought it was principal Yaga asking about the last meeting notes; however, you noticed the sight of a tall blonde man with an empty stare. Nanami Kento was your senpai back in your high school days. The man was a realistic person. His harsh truths and criticism never failed to pain you nor your student Yuji. A perspective entirely different from yours; however, despite his straight-to-the-point attitude, he still respected you. And you were enamored by the man who stood in front of you. His words did carry some truth, but that didn’t stop you from engaging in conversation with him and showing him the world through your eyes.

A smooth voice broke your focus from eyeing the man’s toned chest. “Is there something on my shirt?”

You immediately apologize, “Oh no, sorry! Um, anyway, what can I help you with, Nanami-san?” Quickly diverting the conversation back to Nanami. Hoping that he didn’t catch you ogling his chest. He noticed but still took some pride in knowing that you were staring at him. Nanami was quite fond of you. The two of you shared many things, such as your love for castella cakes that were sold at a hole-in-a-wall bakery the two of you once visited together. He appreciated you and the work that you do. Though he doesn’t know why you put so much effort into teaching, he enjoys watching you teach your shared students.

“I had a question about next week's staff meeting, so I came by to ask Principal Yaga about it. Do you know where he is at?” Nanami's voice went through your ear and settled in your lower stomach. You subconsciously squeezed your thighs, hoping that the light blush on your face goes unnoticed by him.

You reply, hoping that he would overlook the faltering in your voice. With all your confidence, you reply, “ I do not know where he is at, but I think that he has a meeting with the higher-ups from Kyoto.”

Nanami ponders on your answer and accepts it. “Ah, I see; well, sorry to bother you, Enjoy your day off (L/N)-san.” Nanami leaves and shuts your office door. Hearing his steps slowly fade into the air, you finally take a deep breath.

You had worries; however, one thing that clouded your mind was Nanami. You enjoyed his presence; actually, you enjoyed everything about him. You have loved him since high school. However, you don’t know his thoughts on love. You and Nanami have shared deep conversations about life but never love. It felt wrong to talk about love since the two of you were sorcerers, and your days are numbered. Still, that didn’t stop you from loving him; you just loved him in silence. You used small actions to your advantage. A cup of black coffee or his favorite sandwich from his favorite bakery, These small actions kept you sane.

You finished up the remaining exams and headed towards the school's parking lot. It was still early, so you decided to start your day. You got into your car and headed towards the shopping center in town.

You first head into a clothing store picking up some cardigans and tights since your last pair ripped while heading to a meeting with the higher-ups. The next store was a beauty shop. You picked up some lotion, face wash, and some perfume since you were running low. After a few more stories, you were about ready to leave, but your eye caught something. A store called “All for You”. It was covered in red lettering neon sign. Intrigued, you walked towards the store, not knowing what it contained.

You entered through the doors, immediately noticing the lingerie on display. You admired a set of purple lingerie, wondering how it would look on your body. The fabric is hugging your curves, your breasts covered by the transparent lace, the garter belt that would caress your thighs. A voice broke your focus; it was an associate heading towards you. “Pretty, isn’t it? We currently have a sale going on in the store its buy one get one 50% off the whole store. If you see something you like, don’t hesitate to ask one of us for help!” Her honey-coated voice filled your ears. You thanked her and began to roam the store. You noticed a few more sets, but they didn’t catch your attention like the purple lingerie set they had displayed at the front. You then landed in the back of the store and immediately froze up.

There were adult toys on shelves, a wide variety of dildos, vibrators, and more toys meant for one's pleasure. You looked at the toys observing their traits “vibrating”, “sucking”, and “thrusting”. You haven’t thought about sex nor masturbation in so long. School and the students always took up your time. It left you frustrated and stressed out. You haven’t masturbated either. Your fingers could only do so much but still left you unsatisfied and horny. Another associate came up to you.

“Hi Ma’am see anything you like?” The associate asked.

The thought of having an orgasm clouded your mind. You hadn’t had one in so long. The pebble of your nipples hitting the cold air, your puffy clit desperate for attention, your whole body was shaking due to the oncoming orgasm.

You shook out of your daze and answered the associate. You were about to spill your orgasmless life onto this associate, hoping that they would help you in some way and not be uncomfortable.

“Um, well, I don’t know where to start, but I am a teacher, and it's been challenging to have some time for myself, especially pleasure-wise. Is there anything you would recommend?” You mentally prepared yourself for the associate response.

The associate smiled and proceeded to show you an array of toys hoping that one of them would bring you the pleasure you needed.

You looked through the array of toys until the associate showed you “the best for last”.

It was a black vibrating egg. Its design was sleek and had seven different modes.

“This is one of my personal favorites. The more you squeeze, the more intense it gets. It has me orgasming under five minutes.”

You looked at the toy and decided fuck it, why not. You told the associate that you would take it.

She smiled and asked if you would like to buy the purple lingerie set since it was a buy one get one fifty percent off deal.

Without hesitation, you said yes.

You left the store with a new lingerie set and wireless vibrator. Maybe today was the day you can combat the stress plaguing you since you enter the jujutsu world.

You now walked to your car happily with today's purchases.

The campus was empty due to everyone leaving. The peace that covered the campus like a morning dew was relaxing. Days like this were rare, so you always took a second before heading towards your room to breathe in the fresh air.

You entered your now-empty apartment. You decided to do some chores and put away the things you bought. You decided to relax and catch up on some reading. However, there was a black bag on the kitchen table that teased you. You chose to keep on reading, but the words seemed to crash into each other like waves on a stormy day. Thirty minutes had passed, and you couldn’t take it anymore. You placed your bookmark on the page you couldn’t finish. Now with the black bag in hand, you walked into your bedroom wishing for something, but you didn’t know what you desired. You just hope whatever it was, worked.

You took out the items and laid them on your bed. You admired the lace on the lingerie set you bought. The removal of your clothes was of the utmost importance. A pile of work clothes piled around you. You turn around to face the mirror that also acted as your closet door. You take a look at your body. You never thought you were beautiful, just normal. Stretch marks kissed along your thighs, scars from fighting against curses made their home on your skin, and the curves and rolls that appeared were normal. You appreciated your body for keeping you alive.

Little by little, you placed the lingerie set. The bra covered your breasts and pert nipples, the panties hugged your hips, the long knee socks with frills made your legs even more delicious, and the garter belt with heart hoops added to your confidence. You posed in your mirror, enjoying the confidence the set gave you.

A box was open, and its contents covered your bed. You sat down, observing the toy in hand. It was slim and sleek. You read the instructions getting the general gist of it. It was rechargeable which was excellent. You heard stories from your female colleagues saying that they are immediately turn off when their battery-powered vibe dies on them while they are on the precipice of an orgasm. Thankful that this vibrator had a rechargeable battery.

The purple panties were now covered by a wet patch that has been slowly growing. Turning on the vibrator on the lowest setting, you teased yourself. The vibrations kissed your nipples and lit up your body in the smallest of touches. The vibrator moves across your body, sending your clit signals that it needed to be touched, to be teased, to bring you a well-deserved orgasm. The black vibrator in hand teased your covered pussy closer to the place that desperately needs to be touched. You moved it up and down your panties which were now soaking. You placed various pressure along your clothed pussy but never touching your clit. Your hips subconsciously bucked into your vibrator. Your other hand was fondling your breasts and teasing your nipples. A soft moan escaped your lips.

You were soaking. You cursed yourself for not putting a towel down, but you didn’t care. Your body felt like it was on fire.

Your hole was clenching around nothing. It was painful. You weren’t a virgin; you had someone nightstands to help relieve your stress from your early days as a teacher. Some of them managed to bring you into an orgasm, but it was futile. A connection is what you wanted, not meaningless sex. Then you thought about the blonde sorcerer that came into your office earlier.

Nanami was a handsome man with a body big enough to cage you in. Hands bigger than yours. His expensive cologne is filling up all your senses. You wanted him. Thinking about his hands slowly thrusting in and out of you, stretching you out to prepare you for his pre-cum covered cock. Drool slowly escaped your mouth. Moans and whimpers were becoming more frequent.

You placed the sleek vibrator inside your needy pussy while moving your panties to the side. Your pussy clenched on it eagerly, and the vibrations became even more potent. You tried to hold onto the self-control you had left. You decided that it was too much and wanted to take it out, but you realized it was stuck. Now panicking, you tried to reach inside, but your insides were covered in your juices. You couldn't take it out now in the process of thinking of resolutions; your doorbell went off. You froze. You were a horny mess; who could it be at this hour, you said to yourself.

You grabbed your robe, covering your tantalizing body. A strained “Coming!” came out of your mouth. The vibrations were getting more robust, and you quickly decided to deal with the person at your door and resolve your problem by yourself.

Opening the door and seeing a 6-foot tall blonde sorcerer was now your second most significant problem.

“Sorry for coming so late. I came to return your bread…basket.” Nanami’s voice was now filled with worry seeing your flushed face.

He pulls you in closer with a firm grip. Your body is now indulging in his presence. “Are you okay?” He then proceeds to place his strong, callused hands on your face and forehead.

His hands-on you caused your pussy to clench, which the vibrator go to the following setting a more robust setting. A moan escapes your mouth.

The moan reaches Nanami's ears lighting his body up. Nanami looks at you with shock. Having no sanity left, you needed help, and you decided to ask Nanami to take out the toy that has been terrorizing your pussy.

Still in his grip, you looked at the blond who held you reasonably close. His scent reaching your nose was making this even more dangerous for you.

With a strained voice, words came out, “Nanami, please, I need your help, and I feel comfortable asking you for h-“

Your body betrayed you focused on reaching pleasure. With hurried words, you continue. Nanami's concern for you was even greater. You decided to get straight to the point for your own sake. “Nanami, please help me. I have a…”

You mumble into his toned chest.

His face reaches face level with you. A heavy blush covered your face. “What was that? I can’t hear you (L/N)-san.” A small smile tugged his lips, but it went unnoticed by you. The man in your apartment was making you go crazy with each passing minute.

With the left overconfidence, you plead to Nanami to help you.

“Nanami, please help me. I have a vibrator stuck inside me, and I can’t get it out, please. My body feels like it's on fire.” Nanami looked at you and realized the severity of the situation.

Nanami hasn't been in this situation before but seeing your trembling body in his arms; there is always a first for everything.

With no questions asked, Nanami picked you up while you directed him towards the bedroom. Carrying you, he saw the left overpacking of the vibrator, making a mental note of it. He carefully laid you on the bed.

“Nanami nggghhh, please.” Your body is now squirming on the bed, and the robe you had on was slowly coming undone.

Small flashes of your skin appeared in Nanami’s eyes. The bulge in his pants was becoming more prominent. Everything was too overwhelming. Your heart couldn’t take it anymore; the love you had for Nanami Kento was about to be spilled on his hands. Nanami reached to undo the robe that contained paradise but stopped.

“(Y/N) I am asking you for your permission before we continue? Do I have it?”

The respectful man was going to be the death of you. With all the strength you had left, you got up and immediately began to switch positions. Nanami followed your lead. He was now leaning against your bed frame while your legs wrapped around his waist.

Now trying to scrape the confidence you had left, you looked at Nanami, whose tips of his ears were now bright red.

“Nghhhhhh Nanami, you have my consent.”

Nanami reached for the robe once again, undid the loose knot, and internally groaned. He knew you were beautiful. Gojo would show him the women he had from one-night stands. They were beautiful women, but Nanami’s definition of beautiful was different. You are the definition of beautiful. He loves your kind personality and how you find a reason to live no matter how small it is. The set hugged you beautifully, and Nanami began his ministrations.

He pulled you closer, kissing your jawline to your neck. Inhaling your scent was like an aphrodisiac. His cock felt your wet, soaking pussy. He began to touch your nipples through the lace admiring the craftsmanship. You slowly started to hump him hoping for some kind of release.

He felt the pressure on his cock, which almost made him come. He immediately grabbed your waist, stopping you from attempting another thrust.

The look in his eyes made you squeal. His low baritone voice came out of his mouth. “If you keep doing that, I don’t think I could control myself.”

“Then lose it.”

Nanami’s hand ripped your panties off your body, freeing his piece of paradise. You felt the ripping of your panties, but you didn’t care. His callused hands teased your clit, and you let out a whimper. Your voice was addicting, and Nanami wanted to hear more. You were plenty wet, more than ready to take in Nanami. His cock was slowly becoming painful, but he proceeded to tease your hole. He inserted one finger and immediately feeling your pussy clench around it. The vibrator now moved into another level of intensity. You immediately arched your back, giving Nanami a view of your breasts that were now freed from your bra. Moans were now spilling from your mouth.

Nanami brought your body closer to suck on your breasts. Everything was becoming too much for you. You felt his groans while sucking your breasts. Nanami then entered a second finger. He felt the toy vibrator that has been plaguing you. He needed to take it out; why was he doing all of this extra stuff. You felt ethereal in his hands. Your moans fueled his ego and caused him to have a hard-on. You worked too much, and Nanami knew he shouldn’t be the one talking, but you deserve it. You deserve everything.

Nanami’s hands were now doing a curling motion in your pussy, hitting your g-spot every time. You told Nanami that it was becoming too much. He just went faster. Your legs began to shake, feeling your lower stomach catching on fire.

All of a sudden, the vibrator was now out of your soaked pussy. The building of a powerful orgasm now began to dissipate. You whimpered at the loss of Nanami’s fingers that were stretching your pussy deliciously.

You closed your eyes to catch a breath before assessing your next move. While you were doing that, Nanami reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. He grabbed the condom that Gojo placed as a prank; however, this one time, he was grateful for his senpai. He took out the condom with one hand while his other hand was still keeping you steady. He throws his wallet on the nightstand with a condom in hand and bright red ears.

You thought about your loss of your orgasm, and you were so close, so close to reaching cloud nine. Nanami broke the silence but for a good reason.

“(Y/N)”

Your eyes immediately open; that was the second time that Nanami had said your name.

Nanami gulped. He was staring at your body. Your bra was still on you, but your breasts were free from the constraints. Your garter belt and thigh-high socks were still on by some sort of miracle. But your panties were gone giving Nanami his private view of your dripping pussy.

You began to cover yourself, but Nanami interrupted you. You slowly put your hands to the side of your body. Nanami was someone who made you feel safe and protected. You trusted him, and He trusted you. You weren’t going to betray that.

Nanami thought about the words that he would say to you, but his eyes were slowly taking your body in. He spoke, trying to ignore your body, but he would never call it a distraction. You were a ray of light that kissed his face in the morning.

“(Y/N), I know you asked me to take out your ‘problem’.”

He used ‘problem’ because he didn’t want to scare you away or embarrass you even further. You look at him with such soft eyes, his heartbeat against his chest. This unknown feeling began to creep on him. He has (Y/N), a beautiful woman, and his heart was going crazy on top of him. He continued talking.

“However, I have a solution that would leave us both satisfied.”

He then shows you the condom that was in his hand. You looked down to see his cock begging to be freed. He then asked you for your consent, and as soon he finished the last syllable, you said yes, yes, yes, as a prayer for only him to hear.

Nanami slowly pulls his pants stained with your juices down, which allowed his cock to be somewhat free, his boxers still covered it. He was about to reach for the band of his boxers but felt a hand slowly grasp his cock through the fabric. His breath got heavy. You slowly palmed his covered cock noticing the wet patch of pre-cum. You looked up for permission, and he nodded. You grabbed the band of his boxers and pulled them down. His cock sprung up, hitting his chest. Pre-cum was slowly going down his veiny cock. You began to wrap your hand around it, maintaining a steady rhythm and applying different pressures. Nanami hadn’t had sex in so long, but it never felt like this. This was different. He unknowingly thrust his hips upwards fucking himself in your hand. You then brought your other hand to play with his balls slowly. He was breathing heavily. The grunts and moans that slipped out of his mouth only fueled your passion for finishing Nanami off. Nanami realized the dynamic he was in and immediately told you to stop. He saw the pained expression on your face and began to explain himself.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but it’s all about you tonight; you can do it next time.”

The thought of next time made you giddy. You said okay with a smile. You were driving Nanami crazy he doesn't know how long he will last, but he’s savoring every moment with you. Nanami proceeds to lay you down. Your body was a blank canvas ready to be coated. He looks into your eyes then your lips. You slowly brought your lips closer to his lips, slowly exchanging breaths. Nanami kissed you. It started slow but slowly becoming intense. Your tongue began to lick Nanami’s lips; Nanami noticed this and opened his mouth, letting you explore before he took over. His tongue was meshing with yours. You moan into the kiss, hoping it won’t end, but this was just a tiny part of the night that the two of you were going to share.

You pull away, noticing the string of saliva that connected your lips. Nanami looks at your glossy swollen lips. Imagining how they would look around his cock. How would you take it? Would you kiss it first? Give it small licks? Thoughts of you were slowly filling his mind, you, you.

He was shaken out of his daze due to you kissing his neck. He pulled back and told you to lay down once again. He then left a trail of kisses from your forehead to the tip of your nose to your swollen lips. Kisses were littering you, and it just felt so right. He noticed that your bra was still on. He sucked and licked your nipple until it became hard. You brought your chest towards him, enjoying the feeling of his warm mouth sucking your nipple and teasing it with his tongue. While Nanami lifted your back off the bed, he used his free hand to unhook your bra. The bra all of a sudden became loose on your body. Nanami gave you a look, and you immediately tossed your bra to the other side of the room.

He continued kissing and sucking your breasts. They were made for his hands and his only. Nanami was biting harshly on the skin of your breasts. He was leaving love bites, and they looked good on you.

“Nanami, please, I want you, please fill me up; I-I need you.”

“Not yet, my darling. I still have some things up my sleeve.”

He moved down towards your body, bringing his face next to your aching pussy. He began to kiss your clit before eating you like it was his last meal on earth.

“Nanami, N-Nanami, oh god yes right there”

Nanami was enjoying your praise. Then not one but two fingers immediately entered you. You were feeling the stretch and the movement of Nanami’s fingers once again hitting your g-spot. It was all becoming too overwhelming. The fire in your lower stomach began spreading, and it was getting bigger.

“Nanami, I’m so close, please.”

Nanami saw the desperation on your face. He took pity on you.

“Before I continue, you need to do something for me.”

You, of course, said yes to anything that Nanami wanted.

“I want you to call me Kento.”

Baffled by his request, you all of a sudden got flustered.

Nanami was now waiting for you to say his name while teasing the insides of your thighs.

You whispered his name for you and God to hear it.

“What? I couldn't hear you, come on, sweetheart, I know you can do it.”

“Kento”

“Yes, (Y/N)?”

“Kento”

You were saying his name like it was a spell, and it worked.

Nanami lowered his head next to your ear, “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Nanami lowered his dress pants and boxers even further. He grabbed the condom and ripped it open. You saw him placed the condom on his cock. He was a good 7.5 inches, but what worried you was his girth. His cock was pretty; it had a pink tip and some very prominent veins.

“Are you ready?” Nanami chuckled in amusement, seeing you stare at his cock.

“Yes, Please be gentle with me.”

Nanami smiled and said, of course. Always such a gentleman.

He then lined himself up to your hole, which has been clenching for who knows how long.

Nanami got the first inch in, feeling you immediately clench around. “God,” He thought to himself, “She’s so fucking tight.”

“Sweetie, you gotta relax. Can you do that for me?”

You nod due to you slowly reducing into a babbling mess. You did your best to relax. However, you couldn't focus on anything, only his fat cock stretching you out.

He was finally in, and it felt like fucking heaven.

“I'm gonna start moving, sweetheart’ You think you can handle me?”

Your response was quick, Yes, Kento, anything for you. I’m yours.”

He smiled. His face was covered in a layer of sheen sweat, and his mouth and throat still had remnants of your juices from eating you out.

He began moving slowly, feeling all of you around him. Each of his thrusts was met with a mixture of each other moans.

His pace is now a little faster, rougher. Your hands were squeezing the blankets beneath you. Feeling your tight pussy clench around him almost made him come. He decided it was time for both of your to reach enlightenment.

His hand reaches for your puffy clit, which immediately made you scream.

“OH GOD, Kento, please, I’m so close it hurts.”

The orgasm that was slowly building up felt different; this one felt stronger.

“I’m close, sweetheart; you can come whenever you want; I’ll be there right behind you.” Nanami Kento, the love of your life, was helping you reach an orgasm. It felt like a dream, but it wasn’t. He is abusing your needy pussy, trying to get you closer to an orgasm, and it was working. Your body was on fire. The knot in your lower stomach was about to burst. You couldn't take it any longer. Nanami now was stroking your clit with a little bit more speed and pressure.

“Kento, fuck I-I’m coming.”

Nanami felt an even tighter squeeze and fucked you through your orgasm. Nanami is stroking your clit to the point it was coming almost unbearable.

You tried to speak up, but your body betrayed you. You squirted on him, even soaking him further in your juices. Nanami saw you squirt and thrust even harder. Your pussy had a vice grip on him. Not even a second later, he moved in you as hard as he could and came. He collapsed on top of you. His cum was still leaking into the condom. He had been pent up for quite a while now.

The two of you felt like you were in heaven. Still connected, Nanami faced you, giving you a soft stare. You look back at him, trying to find the words to say, but Nanami spoke first.

“I don’t know what it is about you, but you managed to make a home in my heart. Every day, even if I see you for just a split second, I’m happy. My heart beats faster every time I think about you. Your endless devotion and love for teaching and your students amazes me. What am I feeling? Can I ask you that (Y/N)? What is this feeling that has been plaguing me since our high school days?”

His response was so innocent, and your heart nearly exploded with all kinds of positive emotions.

“Kento, That’s love. It's what keeps us humans sane. Love comes in all kinds of forms; it's versatile. I have endless devotion and love for my students because they are just children who haven’t experienced what it's like to be a normal child. I want to protect the remaining innocence they have. It’s okay to have emotions, especially one like love, Kento.”

He looked into your eyes then to your lips. He kissed you with such fever, and you happily reciprocated.

“Then will you stay with me despite our days being numbered due to our professions,” Nanami said those words with such honesty it just made you fall in love with him even harder.

“I’ll stay with you, even if our days are numbered. Let’s enjoy what we have left together.”

“I like the sound of that.”

You replied, “Me too.”

#Nanami x Reader #kento nanami x you #nanami smut #kento nanami #nanami kento #jjk x reader #jjk nanami #jjk fic #jjk smut #please let me know your thoughts!#about this fic #I wanna get better at writing :)

107 notes · View notes

thecousinsdangereux · 3 years

Text

the land of race car ya yas

A short little ficlet for @corvophobia who has drawn a bunch of art for the bees racer au of my dreams. This is ALL based on her drawings, so make sure you check out her stuff. Happy birthday, Amber! You are one of my two favorite British children. <3

(Please note that I know nothing about street racing. I've only watched the Fast and the Furious movies. Forgive me....)

“How’d you do that?”

Blake’s used to the question or some version of it, and maybe that’s why she takes in the words before she notices the tone, imagines a scowl (a lowered brow, hands curled into fists, the flash of teeth as the scowl turns into a snarl) with the same instinct that has her shoulders tensing. It’s only mid-turn that she realizes the question is laced with wonder rather than anger, but even this awareness doesn’t prepare her for the sight that meets her. It’s a woman, her smile wide and unrestrained by pesky things like self-consciousness or insecurity, and her eyes are nearly glowing in the low light, purple and bright and full of open admiration. Her black leather jacket, classic in cut, has the sleeves rolled up mid-forearm, revealing a prosthetic of black and yellow, and her grey jeans are tight, showing off a body that Blake has to work to avoid following the curves of. Her hair is long, blonde, curling around her shoulders and down her back, artful in its disorder, down to the single, stubborn cowlick at the top of her head.

In short, she’s beautiful, and Blake stares for longer than she should, feeling heat in her veins.

“Do what?”

She manages a response, but it’s absent minded. She’s just noticed the light dusting of pink on the woman’s cheeks, coloring the spaces in between her freckles, and it has her re-evaluating, pulling her thoughts to the effort she’s put into her own outfit that evening: a cropped and sleeveless hoodie with blocked colors of white and purple, tight leather shorts, and clunky boots that hit just under the knee. Blake looks good and this woman knows it, which makes them even on this particular front, and that's a settling sort of feeling.

“Win,” the woman says simply, her smile growing. “And don’t just say NOS.”

“NOS,” Blake drawls, just because she can, and she’s rewarded by the woman’s laugh, rewarded even more when she steps closer.

“No, but what’s your delivery method? Direct port, obviously, but you had to have used a custom kit, right? I’ve been telling you, Yang, I need to recalibrate yours. Can I look at your car? Would you mind if I just took a tiny peak just to see what you’ve done with your injection site? We really need to upgrade, Yang. A nozzle with less back pressure will give you a better squeeze. I’ve been telling you!”

She hadn’t noticed the other woman, but blinks at her now, a red blur waving her arms about, hoping from one foot to the other, firing out words faster than Blake — an aficionado of all things fast — can keep up with. The woman (Yang?) seems to find the act familiar and reacts with affection tinged with a false exasperation (put upon for Blake’s benefit or maybe as a means of gentle chiding), sighing and placing a hand on the smaller girl’s shoulder.

“And I’ve been telling you, you can’t just ask people to look at their shit!” She turns to Blake now, and this time her eye roll is definitely for Blake. “Sorry about that, I swear we’re not trying to steal any of your trade secrets. Ruby just… really likes cars.”

“It’s so pretty too,” Ruby coos, batting away Yang’s hand and taking a step towards the vehicle Blake had used to push past Yang at the last moment, a fact neither of these women seem to hold against her. “The purple stripes. But I bet the engine is prettier.”

It’s unprecedented, really. Blake’s been on the scene for a while — longer than she would admit to anyone here — first as a tagalong and now as a driver, but she’s never had an encounter quite like this. The unexpectedness of it all has her feeling off-balance, has her reacting without any of her customary cool anger as Ruby stares at her hood (as though if she focuses hard enough, she’ll be able to see through the metal to the parts underneath). Maybe that’s why Blake responds in a way that’s decidedly unwise, without any further thought at all.

“You can take a look. I don’t mind.”

“Really?” Ruby squeals, but doesn’t wait for Blake to confirm, darting around her and flipping open the hood in the span of three seconds.

“Really?” Yang asks, and the word sounds wildly different coming from her, sliding out from behind her crooked lips like thanks or maybe a challenge (or maybe both). “Not worried about my mechanic figuring you out before the next race?”

Blake should be, of course. But.

“Can’t say I am.”

“Maybe not the smartest move.” Yang crosses her arms; the chrome of her right glints under one of the flickering street lights. For the first time, she looks away from Blake’s gaze, eyes darting over to check on Ruby (who’s leaning so far into the front of Blake’s car that her feet nearly lift off the ground) and then to another group of drivers, a good distance behind them, but clearly watching in curiosity. It’s never wise to gather after a race, but everyone always does when it goes well, and for the first time, Blake’s glad for it. “She’s pretty vicious about giving me an edge. I wish I could say it was familial loyalty, but really, she just wants to make the fastest car in the city.” Yang pauses, tilting her head in thought. “Or country. Or world. Not sure when she’ll be satisfied, to be honest.”

“Sisters?” Blake asks. She can’t really see the resemblance, but then again, she hasn’t spent as much time looking at the younger of the pair, even though she should probably be less focused on the elder (the one not pouring over her engine. Sun and Ilia were going to kill her).

“Yeah.” Yang probably doesn’t realize how much her smile grows in the confirmation, saturated with pride and love. “Scary brilliant too. Give her five minutes with a car and she’ll take it apart, put it back together, and it’ll run better than it ever has. But all that means she always thinks it’s the car that puts a driver ahead.”

Blake arches a brow. “And you think she’s… wrong?”

“Well, yeah.” Yang’s closer than Blake remembers her being, maybe because her legs are long, her strides somehow longer, and it only takes a step before she’s close enough for Blake to feel the heat radiating off her body. “I know it’s only the driver that puts a driver ahead. That’s why I’m here talking to you instead of looking at your car.” Her lips twitch and she amends her statement quickly. “Part of the reason, at least.”

The other part of her reasoning is made pretty obvious when Yang’s eyes trace up Blake’s form once more. It should probably bother Blake, but it doesn’t, maybe because she’s done the same to Yang during this conversation (more than once). Still, there are things better avoided, and Blake knows this better than anyone. She does her best to get back on track.

“It wasn’t me,” she says (almost blurts), and then feels her neck warm when Yang looks at her quizzically. “Before, you asked how I won. But it wasn’t me, not really. You could have had it if you hadn’t fired your nitrous early. You were impatient.”

It’s too blunt, Blake knows this as soon as the words leave her lips. She’s backtracked too much, retreated into aloofness as she was wont to do, but Yang only laughs, and the sound cracks through Blake’s go-to defense, a corner of her lips curling before she can stop it.

“You’re right. I used to be way worse, back when I started out, but I’m a lot better now. Usually.”

“So what happened today?” It’s the question Yang wants her to ask, of this Blake is sure, but it hardly feels like a chore.

“Ah, bad luck, I guess. I took one look at the driver next to me and all that impatience came rushing back. All I wanted to do was finish the race and meet her properly.” She winks. Combined with the cheesy line, it shouldn’t work as well as it does (but it does). “I’m Yang.”

“Blake.”

They don’t shake hands, and Blake’s glad for it. There’s something buzzing between them, a tingling sensation at the tips of her fingers, the build up right before a lightning strike, and Blake’s not entirely sure what the contact — however brief and friendly — might do to her.

“Next time, maybe I’ll be a little more prepared.” Yang’s eyes roam across her face, settling once more on gold. “But probably not.”

“Immersion therapy,” Blake quips. “Give it time.”

Yang whistles sharply, and it takes Blake a moment to realize that she’s called her sister back over. (Blake had forgotten about her entirely, though the grease on her hands and face leads her to believe that Ruby had done a thorough dive under her hood, the sort Blake ought to be worried about.)

“Time is exactly what I plan on giving it. A lot of time, if you’ll let me.” Yang nudges her sister back in the direction they’d come from. Ruby waves, offers a wide grin of thanks, but Blake’s stuck on purple.

“Well. Let’s see how you do in the next race,” she murmurs.

“Looking forward to it.”

And Blake, who started racing to get away, who started racing to run, who started racing so she never had to stay in one place for long, finds that she is too.

—

“What the hell is your problem?”

Blake’s used to this question too, or some form of it, and this time, the tone is exactly what she expects. The small, white-haired woman in a vest and tie, however, is not.

“Listen, I’m sorry I hurt your boyfriend’s feelings by being a better driver than him, but you’re only embarrassing yourself now.” Blake takes another look at the woman’s attire; her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows and — despite the country club hairstyle and the heels — the hint of a tattoo on her pale skin, just under the fabric makes up Blake’s mind for her. “Or… Girlfriend?”

“Not quite,” says a familiar voice.

Today, Yang has decided to show off her abs (and she most certainly does have abs) with a cropped jacket of black and gold checks, and Blake can’t quite bring herself to look beyond that for too long, though she catches the black driving gloves, the oversized and gold sunglasses, the oversized cargo pants. In the seconds it takes for Blake to wind her brain back up, Yang grins, cocksure, and continues.

“Though you were right about the gay thing. I mean, look at her.”

“Look at you,” the other woman sniffs, actually physically turning up her nose. “Could you be any gayer?”

“Yeah, I could be wearing a vest and tie,” Yang fires back, but it’s clear the banter is familiar, it’s obvious these two know each other well enough for their back and forth to not contain any real barbs.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Blake drawls, before she’s able to stop herself, and Yang turns back to her with an arched brow. “Good to see you again, Yang.”

“Oh, is it? Could have fooled me!” The other woman’s ire has been refocused, and it’s seemingly stronger than before, the pitch of her words higher, more dire. “Given you nearly killed her just now.”

“Weiss,” Yang sighs, but Blake winces, feeling the sting of the words despite Yang’s quick glance of reassurance sent her way.

“I didn’t realize you’d pull off when I drifted. I thought you’d… lean in.”

It’s not an excuse. They’d been neck and neck towards the end of the race (again), and when she’d nudged the side of Yang’s car — far gentler than she would against anyone else — she’d assumed the woman would give as good as she got, like most every other racer she’d gone against. But Yang hadn’t taken any chances, and it’d cost her the race.

“We don’t do that here,” the woman — Weiss — says, lips pursed to the point of contortion, but Yang only laughs.

“We do that here all the time. I did way worse to Mercury last week.”

“Yes, but Mercury is a creep.” Weiss pauses, considering. “We only do that to creeps here.”

Blake’s hands lift, a show of peace. “Hey, no one handed me the Beacon Street Racing Etiquette Guide when I joined up the other week. Maybe you could loan me your copy.”

This doesn’t exactly smooth things over with the woman, especially not when Yang snickers, but Weiss can clearly see the writing on the wall, and tosses her hair over her shoulder with a huff.

“Whatever. I’m telling Ruby about this,” she warns Yang (or maybe Blake, or maybe both of them), before stalking away, her last words called over her shoulder. “She’s not going to be happy.”

There’s no concern on Yang’s face as she watches her go, if anything she looks amused. “Sorry about that. She’s… protective.”

“I can see that. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve been friends with someone for a while.” It’s a guess (and a probe), but Yang doesn’t correct any of her phrasing, so it must be close enough to the truth.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean protective of me.” Yang’s grin shows a flash of white teeth. “Weiss bet on me tonight. You lost her money. And that’s the real sin.”

Blake’s surprised at how easily her laugh comes (more surprised how easily the fondness slips through the cracks in her chest). “Oh, I see. So I can kick your ass up and down the streets as long as I convince her to bet on me in the future? Good to know.”

“I’m not sure that’s the message I want you to be taking from this,” Yang drawls, but still smiles, flicking her glasses up to her forehead. “Besides, like she said, Ruby’s the one to look out for. She seemed all sweet and innocent yesterday, but gods help the person she turns her disapproving stare on. I’ve seen people break into tears on the spot.”

From what Blake had seen yesterday, Ruby isn’t the sort that loses her chipper bounce very easily, so despite Yang’s teasing tone, she files the information away as useful. If she were being a little more self-searching, she might question the action, given her tendency to not stick around in any one place for long. (Surely Beacon isn’t any different. Surely she couldn’t know now if it were.)

“Lucky she missed the race today, then.” Her lips curve, a sharp corner that would require a drift. “What, she couldn’t bear to see you lose again?”

“Oh, ha ha. No, she had class. And she knows there’s no skipping for racing; that’s the only hard and fast rule for our household.” It’s not what she expects, the straight answer backed with genuinity, but it strikes Blake as endearing, somehow, especially when Yang continues. “I started racing here so we could pay for those classes, so I think it’s only fair.”

“That’s — ” Kind. Authentic. Surprising. Blake’s not sure which word to use so she disgards them all. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type who was racing for the money. Not that… there’s anything wrong with that. Especially in your case.”

Yang laughs. “Hey, don’t mistake me. I started racing here for the money, but it’s not why I race in general.”

“So why do you?” Blake asks, even though she suspects she knows the answer. (It’s not wise to take your eyes off the road, but she’s done it in both of her races with Yang, eyes darting to the side to find the woman speeding alongside her: eyes wild, grin wide, the fervor of the moment all over her face. There’s freedom there, more than there is anywhere else, and Blake thinks she sees that in Yang as much as she does in herself.)

“Same as you, I think,” Yang murmurs, closer now, sliding in when Blake’s distracted once again.

“I’m not sure you know me well enough to say that.”

A bluff, of course, but it gets the intended result.

“Not yet.” From this close, Yang looks taller, and Blake has to tilt her chin to look into her eyes. “But I’m still looking to fix that.”

Blake wets her lips. It’s too much, and she’s not sure she can tack on ‘too soon’ to quantify the thought, make it less tame. If she had to guess, Yang will always be too much, like sunlight after coming out of a room. Blake’s not sure she’ll ever adjust to the rays, or if she wants to.

“Let’s see how you do in the next race,” she says again, and Yang laughs again, totally unabashed.

“Okay, I’m sensing a trend here. What, you’re not going to let me take you out unless I win a race again you?”

“If I say ‘yes’, what are you going to do?”

It’s not cockiness that overtakes Yang’s face then, not exactly. It’s confidence or want or determination or maybe just the flush that comes from the thrill of a challenge. Blake’s setting herself up for something here, she knows, failure or disappointment or something like it, but right then, she doesn’t care. There’s a freedom in this sort of race too, and that she’s come to love.

“Oh, that’s easy, Blake.” Yang leans in a little more, and Blake knows it’s audible, the way her breath is cut short. “I’m going to win.”

#bumbleby #writing #rwby #bees racer au #for #corvophobia #<33333 #just a little something for a birthday treat

216 notes · View notes

lizzy-williams · 3 years

Text

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐭

🐺Warnings: Alpha/Omega dynamic, SMUTTTT, neediness, language, mature themes, dubcon?

🐺Masterlist

🐺Summary: Every Omega knows that going into heat is rough, especially when unclaimed. All eyes are on you. So when it hits you in the middle of a coffee shop with your friends, a particular alpha is very willing to help.

🐺Theme (All I Need by Radiohead)

🐺A/N: Lol we gonna get dirtttyyyy. By the way, you’re small in his, like body proportion wise, like 5′4 small so there’s that. I know people want the ‘independent strong hardheaded alpha female’, but in this one ur compliant, sorry if ya don’t like it. There will most likely be a part 2 :)

“Y’know, I dunno how you drink that stuff,” Anna-Lynn said from across the table, making [ y / n ] roll her eyes and look up.

“You’re just jealous cause your tastebuds are weak,” she retorted, taking a teasingly long sip of her dark black coffee.

It was nice having a day out like this. Especially when everyone seemed so busy with preparing for the spookiest holiday of the year. Paper bats and small pumpkins littered the store-fronts of London, the summer weather fading with the light chilly breezes autumn seemingly brought.

The calm warm light streamed through the window of the coffee shop the three young women were in, the dusk just hitting them. The tree leaves complimented the light as it covered the area in a soft blanket of pink and orange hues.

“So, um,” [ y / n ]’s other friend, Elizabeth, began to speak, clearing her throat and shooting a daring look at Anna-Lynn, “Have you thought about Ethan at all?”

Ah, yes, Ethan. He was Elizabeth’s younger cousin, just then turning 19, a simple beta with no claimed mate.

[ y / n ] shook her head, and to this, the two girls let out a defeated huff, “You need to chose someone,” Anna-Lynn’s voice was clipped as she huffed, but it had a hint of concern. Worry even.

And of course there was a stipulation to one of [ y / n ]’s favorite seasons. Because for her kind, not only was it autumn, but it was also mating season. A dangerous time for any omega unclaimed. If you were unclaimed when the time came around, you were easy pray, and other alphas and betas could smell you much much easier.

You would become a target. Even more so if you were in heat.

“I’m not worried about it.” [ y / n ] sighed, nonchalantly, taking a large gulp of her drink before setting it back down. But deep down she truly was.

“We just don’t want you to become like one of those other omegas... you know, getting claimed by someone on the street during their heat... someone they don’t love at all and being forced to have pups, it’s just barbaric.” Elizabeth glanced down at her dwindling hands.

“I understand that. But I’ve had no issues with this before. I’ll just... lock myself up in my room with a vibrator and some porn. That’s worked before,”

“Bullshit, you were a grump for like a month because you had built up aggression. Ethan’s a good guy. You should really consider it.”

Yes, Ethan was nice. But when it came to [ y / n ]... she just felt as if they weren’t meant for each other. And there was no way that she would consider having pups with him and-

Speak of the mother fucking devil-

It was as if she was hit with a million bricks at once, her body becoming hot, a powerful wave of uncomfortable warmth crashing through her body like a tidal wave, her mouth clamping shut tightly. Her breath hitched, her thighs tightening around nothing, her legs shaking as she felt herself feel as if she were going to throw up. The moisture between her thighs was uncomfortable as she felt her panties stick to her mound.

How could she be so careless? Now she was in heat in public and she knew that nearby alphas and betas had already caught onto the scent, most likely heading their way. She knew it was roughly the time she would go into heat. And it was hell on earth right now, knowing that now that the sun was just now taking it’s last breaths over the tall buildings, the night heightening her kind’s senses acutely.

Her friends caught on almost immediately, knowing the mannerisms of the heavy breathing and the quivering lips. Her eyes were wide as she bit down on her bottom lip harshly, trying her best to keep her whimpers and whines in the back of her throat.

Thoughts raced through the young woman’s mind. Thoughts of her being taken in the most delicious ways possible by any man that just so happened to look her way. And her friends could tell that there were already at least a few alphas coming in hot, the sudden howling through the now darkened air making the 2 other girls’ senses hyperactive.

What was ironic was that there was a conversation going on between two baristas behind the counter, “The dogs are at it again, they’ve been a lot noisier than usual.”

“We need to get her home, right now.” Anna-Lynn commanded, Elizabeth giving a chaste nod before flipping through her phone as a poor, squirming, [ y / n ] sat right across from them, panting in her intense discomfort.

She shut her eyes tightly, desperately trying to ignore the ache in her core. She wanted, no, needed to be filled up. To be claimed. But the thoughts only drove her down deeper, desperation seemingly seeping out of every pore.

As soon as she was called an Uber, it was an agonizing amount of time before it finally came to a stop, the driver flashing concerned looks at the poor squirming girl in her back seat. Throughout the whole ride, it took everything for [ y / n ] not to touch herself, and all she could do was shift her thighs together, and thankfully, (soon enough), the car came to a stop.

[ y / n ] let out a strangled ‘thank you’ to the driver before getting out, and after the woman drove off, she found herself stumbling into an alleyway. Her whole body was on fire and she needed release, any release.

Her back violently hit the brick wall of a darkened alleyway, her loud and labored breaths echoing through the seemingly empty face. She needed tension. At least a little bit.

As if her legs weren’t her own, [ y / n ] spread her legs only a small amount, just enough to slip her hand under her pants and softly drifting her fingertips over her clothed clit.

A smooth and controlled rubs soon turned into harsh and fast circles, her needful thoughts forcing her mind to tune out the howling that was getting closer and closer to her. It wasn’t until a low and terrifying growl resonated through the hollow space, making her stop in her tracks, yanking her hand out of its position, doing her best to stand up and steady herself.

But it was far too late, because by the time she finally started bolting towards the opening in the cold alleyway, her body was caught and thrown against the frigid brick, a pitiful yelp leaving her lips, unleashed tears forming in her eyes.

“You smell fucking delicious,” a dark voice spoke, no doubt an alpha, and [ y / n ] wouldn’t dare look up and meet his eyes.

“P-Please, I c-can’t-”

[ y / n ] didn’t even know why she was saying please, for there were so many reasons she could be saying it.

Please don’t.

Please help the pain.

Please touch me.

Please don’t touch me.

Please.

But the young woman’s thoughts were cut short by a violent tug to her hair, forcing her gaze on the person in from of her. He had bright red hair, freckles apparent, even in the dull light of the closed off space. He wore a jet black hoodie, and that was all that [ y / n ] bothered to take in.

“You’re a pretty one...” his words rattled through her mind, muffled by the sharp ringing in her heat from the sudden contact to the wall only moments earlier, “Glad I claimed you before anyone else could,” he paused to chuckle to himself, “Would hate to touch damaged goods.”

[ y / n ] whimpered and almost recoiled away, but she knew better. This alpha seemed ill-tempered, and she didn’t want to find out what would happen if she dared to disobey.

He gave a rough tug to her hair, standing her up, and immediately started to kiss her neck in hopes of warming her up a little bit more, not that she needed it, but nonetheless, his lips continued their assault on the young woman’s neck, whimpers and whines escaping her lips.

“Just one little thing, pretty girl, you’re unclaimed, I can smell it on you.” he spoke before leaving a long, sinful lick up her throat, “I’m going to bite this pretty little neck and make sure that nobody else is going to touch what’s mine.”

The girl’s body shivered violently. He was talking about a claim mark. If that happened, she could never escape him, it was a tracking device. Where ever she decided to go, he would know exactly where she was.

“Please, don’t, I-”

But a violent growl made her blood run cold and her words pause half-way up her throat. But it wasn’t from her captor. His head was already snapped towards the source of the sound, which was at the opening of the alleyway, the minimal light caused by the streetlight exposing a clothed figure with its hands in its pockets. They weren’t tall but they weren’t short, but their stature was confident.

Great. Another alpha.

“Drop her.” the voice spoke, straight to the point and commanding.

“Fuck off, she’s mine, I got to her first.” the ginger male snapped, his eyes now a vibrant scorching gold, shining in the darkness.

“Drop the fucking girl or I’ll rip you’re fucking head off.” this time it was a vicious growl, strong and unwavering that sent goosebumps down [ y / n ]’s spine.

“That a challenge, pint-size?” the ginger taunted, referring to the other alpha who only stood at a good 5′8, while he stood at a large 6′1, slamming the girl onto the ground making her yelp out in pain.

Finally, the young alpha stepped into some form of light, making his face visible, and the ginger’s expression of defense faded into a face of fear and regret, the eyes that once glowed yellow dying down to it’s original color.

“T-Tom, Jesus, man, excuse me, I didn’t-”

The alpha, apparently named Tom, harshly grabbed the ginger’s shirt, pulling him in and looking up at him with deadly eyes, “Leave.”

And just like that, he was gone, and hopefully never going to be seen again.

Tom’s expression turned soft when he saw the poor writhing omega in a mound on the hard concrete of the ground, small whimpers of discomfort making his chest clench.

“You live here?” he questioned, motioning to the building she was now leaned against.

All she could to was let out a whine of confirmation, nodding her head slowly as she clamped her thighs together as tightly as possible.

“Come on then, can’t have you out in the open, there’s already talk, let’s get you inside,” he said, kindness and understanding in his tone, holding out a hand to [ y / n ], who in turn took it almost immediately.

It took her a second to walk, her knees weak, not to mention it was hard not to notice Tom’s muscles, and his face. God, he was truly attractive.

She let her mind wonder as they began to walk, his arm firmly around her waist, trying to keep her steady. She wondered what it would look like when he came, filling her up to the brim, making her full, a thin blanket of sweat covering his body, his eyes glowing, hungry, and she let out a whimper at it.

“You’re staring.” Tom smirked as they stepped into the elevator of the complex.

“S-Sorry,” she muttered, trying to shake the embarrassingly dirty thoughts from her mind as she continued to try and focus on just getting to her apartment.

The sooner she got there, the sooner she had her vibrator, the sooner she had release. She was convinced, at least, that that would solve her problems, at least temporarily.

She led him to her apartment, still holding onto him for dear life as her core throbbed with need and want. When the door unlocked with a small click, she turned the doorknob, almost collapsing through the doorway.

“Do you need any help?”

This could have meant many things. But of course, [ y / n ] was oblivious in her response.

“N-No, I think I can manage to put myself to bed.”

Tom gave a small chuckle as he sat her down on the couch, sitting next to her as she slouched back, “No, I mean I can help with your problem... that is, if you want me to,”

[ y / n ]’s mind was clouded in a haze of neediness, so with no hesitation, she whimpered a small yes, before immediately unbuttoning her jeans and slipping them down a little bit to eagerly.

She knew this was happening to quick, almost irrationally quick, but the need in her pounding cunt was much more important to her at the moment than her petty morals and reason.

“Are you sure?” he looked at her with sincerity, watching as she shifted out of her pants and took his hand, placing it on her covered mound.

“Please, just touch me, Tom,”

Hearing his name on her lips was almost enough to make him lose his control and say ‘fuck it’, but he figured that if her were to do this, he might as well try to do this right.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, darling,” he muttered, easily finding her sensitive bud, even through the material of her panties.

She let out a soft and breathy moan, taking her hand of his own and moving it to his bicep, squeezing, as if it were anchoring her down to Earth, because she had never been touched like this, especially by someone else.

As if Tom had read her mind, he looked up at her, drinking in her reactions before speaking, “Are you a virgin?”

She nodded her head, his pace never faltering.

“I’ve been waiting- ugnh - for the right person... I trust you,” she managed to get out between moans.

“You barely know me,”

“But I want to. There’s - ah, fuck - something about you. I l-like you,” she admitted, the filter between her mouth and her brain nonexistent as she felt nothing but pleasure and a release from the uncomfortable pressure she was feeling only moments before.

“Fuck,” to Tom, it was nice to hear that somebody needed him, trusted him, especially with something like this, so sacred and meaningful. She was giving him the gift that could only be given once, and he was happy to receive.

After a few moments of him rubbing her in all the right ways, he hesitantly pulled his hand away from her, hating the noise of protest that she released.

“Come on, princess, let’s take this to you're bedroom, yeah?”

[ y / n ] was compliant to his suggestion, standing up best she could without Tom’s help, but soon leaning on him as she directed him to her bedroom door.

The door was busted open, and she was thrown onto the bed, and as soon as she hit the mattress, she stripped off everything else, leaving her completely nude, and her actions inspired Tom to do the same.

He quickly got on top of her, grinding the length of his cock against her soaking wet folds, making him growl.

“Fuck, darling, I’m not even inside you yet and you feel heavenly-” he hissed, the little omega nodding in response.

“Alpha, please, I need you inside me, I want you to fill me,” she desperately pleaded.

Tom let out a feral snarl at the use of the word ‘alpha’, surprised it had so much of an effect on him being used like this. It was so fucking hot. She had him wrapped so tightly around her pinky and didn’t even know it.

“Anything for you, darling,” he muttered, lining himself up and ever so slowly easing himself inside his new mate, a pained whimper escaping her, his cock seemingly splitting her in half.

Tom finally remembered that she was a virgin. And that made him even harder inside her. He waited for him, for her mate, while he was out fucking every omega that crossed him. But with her, she wasn’t just an omega. And he wanted to prove it to her.

He took his time, almost cockwarming, staying still inside of her as her body naturally adjusted to his size, feeling so close to each other, it was enough for the two of them to almost fall in love right then and there. Tom finally took in how perfect she was to him. Someone he knew he wanted to keep around in the long run. Someone he knew he wanted to protect, even when she didn’t need protection.

[ y / n ] scratched up his back, signaling that she was ready, and confident that he could move with little to no discomfort from her.

The alpha started to move his hips, her tight cunt making his eyes roll back in his skull as he dropped his head into the crook of her neck, leaving soft and reassuring kisses to her neck as she made the most delectable noises, making him addicted, almost like his own brand of opioid.

“So fucking tight, princess, you feel like fucking paradise,” he praised as he drank up the omega’s reactions as she experienced her first time with him.

She’s like this for me and only me.

Her face was scrunched adorably in pleasure, her eyes shut tight as she felt the moment, his skin under her finger tips, the burning that was set in her core easing as she finally had pleasurable relief. Like getting a refreshing drink on a particularly hot day.

Tom couldn’t help himself, and as if his body wasn’t his own, primal instinct took over as he began to make his strides harder and quicker, making the most pathetically cute noises release from her mouth.

“You like that, darling?” he panted licking and sucking her neck, making one of her tiny hands weaving itself though his chestnut curls, “Why did I bother asking, of course you do. You love it when your alpha fucks you.”

All she could do was nod her head as she felt a coil inside her tighten. Tom felt his cock inflate as he continued to drive into her, pounding her into the mattress as he growled praises into her neck, her moans and whimpers never stopping.

Soon the praise turned into a single word, falling out of his mouth like a prayer, even though what they were doing was the farthest thing from holy.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

The omega could take it anymore, whimpering out, “P-Please, I... want you to b-bite me. Please, I need you to claim me,” she begged, which made his assault on her cunt falter slightly, slowing down to a calm and intimate pace.

He knew what that meant. When an alpha bites an omega, she’s claimed. It means that nobody can touch her. Almost like an unbroken bond between two of their kind, and it meant a lot.

And though they had just met only a half an hour prior, he knew that she was special, and he knew that this was who he was meant to be with, and his heart swelled at the thought of getting to know her inside and out. A true connection.

“You want me to claim you, huh?” he paused his movements, [ y / n ] nodding frantically, wanting more than anything, “I’m not going to go easy on you. I want you to feel nothing but you inside me while I claim you, nothing but rapture as I claim you as mine.”

[ y / n ] nodded once again, to while Tom protested, “Words, darling,”

“Yes, alpha, I understand, I- OH FUCK-,” she yelled out. And she thought he was going hard before, but that was nothing compared to the pleasure she was now presented with, his cock properly railing into her as he left a long and sinful lick up her neck before taking a bite, his eyes glowing a bright fluorescent gold as she let out one of the most pornographic moans she had ever heard.

The copper taste in his mouth tasted like candy, and home, the sweet substance covering his lips as he finally pulled back, knowing that she was close.

And close she was. She was so close to release she could almost taste it, and god did it taste good. Without warning, the coil inside her snapped, making her vision cloud, her thoughts unable to collect themselves as her vision clouded, and she swore she blacked out for a second.

She was so overcome with pleasure, she didn’t notice that he had cum himself, the sensation of him pulling out and his cum spill out of her enough to get her riled up enough. But if what just happened didn’t vanquish the heat she was experiencing before, God only knew what would.

Tom stepped back, taking in the sight of his new mate, completely fucked out and covered with marks, his cum dripping out of her like a faucet. He wished for this image to be branded into his mind so he could see it every time he closed his eyes.

“Absolutely stunning.” he praised, his hands now running up and down her thighs.

[ y / n ] was finally Tom’s, inside and out, and Tom couldn’t be more proud.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, love, yeah?”

The morning was soft and filled with nothing but admiration to each other, the two staying in bed most of the morning until they finally went to the omega’s kitchen to make breakfast/lunch.

[ y / n ] was cooking the bacon and eggs when she suddenly felt arms wrap around her from behind, a chin resting on her shoulder.

“How’re you holding up?” he questioned, and it make [ y / n ] blush at how considerate she was about her state, his fingertips dragging lightly over the violent-looking bite mark on her neck.

“I’m absolutely perfect,” she smiled, “Feels nice to belong to someone.”

“You know what? I was thinking the exact same thing.”

And for once, the two of them were truly excited for the future.

#werewolf au #alpha #omega #alpha!tom #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #marvel x reader

729 notes · View notes

justanotherpersonsuniverse · 3 years

Text

Demon Alya: Ladybug learns the truth

“Hold on a minute,” said Alya as she scrutinized the billiard-ball sized object on the bed in front of her. It glowed with several different shades of purple that swirled around each other just slightly faster than was comfortable to look at. “This is a very difficult case.”

Sitting next to her on the bed, Juleka stifled a giggle. “What’s your prognosis, Dr. Alya? Am I going to make it?”

Alya grinned at that. “Your soul looks mostly fine,” she said. Her tail flicked in pleasure; Alya liked it when her ‘cult’ — or, as she had learned to think of them, her friends — were doing well, and Juleka was one of the closest friends she had. Alya’s wings fluttered a little too, creating a slight breeze which blew a few strands of hair into Juleka’s face. Juleka blew them back with a mock-grimace while Alya chuckled and then continued. “No blemishes or spots that I can see. Just a little agitation. And as for what might cause that…” An idea came to her. “Are you planning on asking Rose out later?”

Juleka blushed, her skin reddening to the point where it almost matched Alya’s devilishly-red hue, and the colors in Juleka’s soul began swirling even faster. “Maybe,” she admitted. “I’ve been, um, trying to build up the courage for a week or so, but it’s hard.” Her hair drooped over her face, and this time she didn’t try to push it back. “She’s so amazing,” Juleka went on. “And I’m—“

“Also amazing,” Alya cut in. “And I’m not just saying that because you’re the best high priestess ever. I know that Rose likes girls who are kind, compassionate, wise, and have a strong moral code—and you’re four for four. Forget that prohibition against angels dating humans; if you ask her out, I’m certain she’ll say yes.”

Juleka smiled a little, but she said, “Everything you say makes sense, but I just have trouble making myself believe it. It’s hard to feel it, you know?”

“Yeah,” said Alya, thinking about one of her other friends. She’d been hanging out at Marinette’s house a couple hours ago, listening to the girl excitedly detail the pastries she was going to make for a charity bake sale, and she’d found herself wondering once again if she could risk revealing her true identity. It would be so easy to let her demonic veil fall and show Marinette her true form, and surely Marinette was kind enough and non-judgmental enough that she’d be able to see past the horns, wings, flickering tail…

But if she wasn’t, if Marinette panicked at learning that Alya was a literal demon from Hell, then the friendship would be over. And Alya couldn’t risk that. Even if Marinette didn’t do anything else (like call Ladybug to banish Alya back to Hell for the next few eons), Alya would be devastated to go through her time on Earth without being able to call on her best friend. And so Alya had once again decided the risk wasn’t worth it, no matter how much she yearned to be able to tell Marinette about her true self.

But even if she couldn’t solve her own problem, she was sure she could help her High Priestess. “Let me try,” said Alya as she cupped Juleka’s soul in her hands. “I think I can calm your soul enough that you can at least ask Rose without panicking halfway through.”

“Thanks,” said Juleka with gratitude in her voice. Alya could tell that she’d been worried about losing her nerve at the worst moment.

Alya focused on Juleka’s soul, reaching out with her demonic senses until she could feel Juleka’s love-fueled agitation. Then she began to exert her will on it. “Yield to me,” she chanted in quiet Latin. “You who have entrusted me with your soul, yield and let me calm you…”

After a few minutes, the colors in Juleka’s soul slowed down a little, and Juleka took a breath. “I feel better,” she said as a smile crept across her face. “Seriously. Thanks.”

“No problem,” said Alya as she continued to focus on Juleka’s soul to make sure no traces of agitation could remain and screw things up for her later.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Juleka said. “You told me that demons usually use their soul-influencing powers to torment the people whose souls they take, as part of their torture. You know, like making them fanatically loyal and ready to sacrifice everything else for their demon, or driving them into fits of rage, or things like that. But you use your powers to make me and the other people in your cult feel better and be more functional. Do you have different powers than other demons? Could other demons act like you if they wanted?”

“They could; my powers aren’t unique to me,” said Alya as she inspected Juleka’s soul again and noted that it was now in perfect order. “After all, any of the things I’ve done for you guys could be used to hurt someone. Take right now: I just calmed you down, and that’s good, but another demon could calm the soul of a soldier to mellow him out so much he couldn’t be roused to defend his position, resulting in the bad guys overrunning it. Or look at yesterday. Aurore was still feeling a grudge against Mireille for beating her to get that TV job, and she asked me to help her get over it so she didn’t get angry whenever Mireille was on TV. I was able to use my influence over her to make her more forgiving and remove that blemish in her soul, and everything was fine. But another demon could do the same thing on a judge so that judge decided to ‘forgive’ criminals and release them, even knowing they were going to commit more crimes.”

Juleka inclined her head. “I see. But I guess most demons stick to the more obvious types of harmful influence? Making people angry, or greedy, or things like that?”

“Yeah,” said Alya. “The seven deadlies are classics for a reason. They usually work for tempting and damning people, and they don’t require a lot of knowledge—make a human really angry and he’ll usually commit a sin. So they’re useful for demons who aren’t interested in humans, the ones who just want to bag their quota of souls and go back to Hell.” She grimaced. “But those demons are idiots. And the idea of squishing all humans down to being a bunch of angry, greedy jerks is just… it’s ridiculous.” She shook her head. “I mean, I was taught otherwise and I even believed that at first when I showed up here, but that crumbled as soon as I met actual people.”

“Specifically, Marinette,” Juleka noted.

Alya blushed a little, but said, “Not just her. So many of the humans I’ve met are amazing, and I’d rather help you be the best humans you can be than turn you all into a bunch of psycho cultists. Yes, there’s humans who are already awful, and I’ve got no problem yanking their souls and doing all the traditional devil stuff to them. You guys heard what I did to that exorcist who tried to banish me, I’m sure. But corrupting someone like you, or Mylene, or Alix… taking away what makes you girls unique so you can become yet another generically-terrible person… that would just be wrong, no matter what my bosses say.” She paused. “If you girls are in my cult, if I’ve got your souls, I want to use that to help you. Not torment you.”

“Well, you’re a pretty amazing demon yourself,” Juleka said. “And we appreciate that.”

Alya beamed at that. “I do try,” she said in a faux-haughty voice. “And as long as my high priestess continues to supply me with regular deliveries of Dupain-Cheng pastries and anime to watch, I’m sure I shall continue.”

Juleka laughed, then stilled herself while Alya picked up her soul and gently pressed it against her chest. After a moment the soul slid in through Juleka’s shirt and body, and Juleka gasped slightly at the now-recognizable (but, somehow, never totally familiar) feeling of suddenly being more ‘herself.’ Once her soul was back inside her, she let out a happy breath and said, “I really do feel calmer now. Thank you so much, Alya. I think I can ask Rose out without panicking.”

“Well, if you need any help, you know who to call.” Alya hopped off the bed and stretched, her wings flaring out and her tail flicking backwards to poke Juleka’s nose. Juleka giggled and playfully flicked at it, and it recoiled for a moment only to dart in and begin tickling her under her chin. Juleka quickly dissolved into helpless laughter.

Alya glanced back and smirked for a moment before laughing herself, and it took a moment before either of the two girls could stop. Then Juleka managed to get up, a silly grin still on her face. “I’ll look over the souls,” she said as she motioned to the large shelf where Alya kept the now-considerable number of souls from her ‘cult.’ “See if anyone has any new blemishes or spots.”

“Just don’t mix them up,” Alya said. “I remember the last time my little sisters got in here and put them all out of order, and then when Mylene needed her soul back for the day so she could go to church, she accidentally got Chloe’s soul and spent the whole service calling the priest ‘ridiculous’ because he kept asking for donations to buy fancy artwork for the church but wouldn’t commit to using any of the funds for actual charitable causes.”

“I won’t,” said Juleka. She went over to the shelf and began looking at the souls. First was Chloe’s, which was yellow and orange and vaguely spiky (though the spikes were gradually shrinking as Alya and the others worked to bring the prickly girl out of her shell). Then came Alix’s, which was pink and almost vibrating with energy, to the point where it actually bounced if dropped or tossed against a wall. (Alya knew this because Alix had idly tried to dribble her soul one day, and it had bounced around the room until it bonked Alya in the head, at which point Alya had instituted a no-dribbling-souls policy). Next was Nino’s, a gentle blue ball in a comfy little doll bed and had tiny headphones playing Nino’s favorite music. And so on, down the line.

While Juleka looked over the souls, Alya gathered up a few dishes and went to put them in the kitchen. Technically, it was the job of her cult to do any chores that she needed done — and it was Juleka’s job to manage the cult and make sure that happened — but Alya didn’t feel comfortable making them do that. Besides, Marlena would get mad, and—demon powers or not—Alya knew better than to disobey her.

Alya entered the kitchen as she idly whistled a tune she’d heard on the radio. Her little sisters were over at Nino’s house, which meant that there should have been nobody in the house who didn’t know that she was a demon, which meant she didn’t need to bother with her veil. As such, she was in her full demonic appearance, with red skin, horns, wings, cloven feet, and a flickering tail as she rinsed off the dishes.

And then, when she turned around, she saw Ladybug staring at her.

For a few moments Alya didn’t believe it. Then her mind almost crashed as she realized what was going on — that one of the superheroes, someone who wielded the power of the kwami and was more than capable of banishing her to Hell for half an eternity, knew her true nature — and scrambled to find a way out of it. But none came to mind. Ladybug was staring at her, Alya Cesaire, in her demonic form.

A half dozen potential options for escape flitted through Alya’s mind, but none survived a second of scrutiny. Ladybug was fast, strong, fiendishly clever, and she could summon magic objects which always somehow managed to be whatever she needed to catch her quarry. Then Alya thought if there were any possible ways to fight Ladybug and win — if she could throw Hellfire, or Whisper distractions, or draw on her cult — only to dismiss those ideas too. This was Ladybug. She couldn’t win a fight against her. And besides, even if she somehow did, that would leave Paris defenseless against Hawkmoth. It would leave her cult—her friends—without protection from that lunatic.

And so Alya didn’t run or fight. She just lowered her head and whispered, “Please don’t banish me…”

“I wasn’t going to banish you,” said Ladybug.

Alya blinked. “You weren’t?”

Ladybug shook her head. “If I was, I wouldn’t have waited for you to notice me,” she pointed out. “I’d have zapped you from a neighboring rooftop.” A slight smile appeared on her face. “You’ve fought alongside me for how long, Alya, and you think I’d give someone a free shot?”

Despite everything, Alya couldn’t help giggling. “No, you don’t usually subscribe to the ‘that akuma needs to have a fair chance of killing me or else it’s not honorable’ school of thought. You’re more about wanting to win.”

“Damn right,” said Ladybug, which made Alya smile a little more. Ladybug returned a smile of her own, though it quickly faded. “So no, I’m not here to banish you. But I do want to talk to you. I need to know what you’re doing in Paris. And if you’ve…” She took a breath. “If you’ve done anything that, as a hero, I would need to correct.”

Alya nodded, but then something occurred to her. “You don’t seem surprised that I’m, uh, who I am,” she said. “How long have you known?”

“About two weeks,” Ladybug said. “Do you remember how Mayor Bourgeois signed that law to bulldoze that forest preserve and put up a shopping mall?”

“Yeah,” Alya said.

“I knew that a local girl named Mylene cared a lot about saving the park, and I was worried that she might get akumatized once Bourgeois crushed her hopes,” said Ladybug. “I went to her and found her just in time to see one of Hawkmoth’s butterflies touch that pin in her hair. Before she actually got akumatized, though, I could see her trying to fight it off. And I could… sense, I guess… something helping her. Something was trying to keep her calm and urge her to fight off Hawkmoth’s promises.

“Whatever was helping her, it was able to keep her from giving in for long enough that I was able to get to her, smash the pin, and purify the akuma.” Ladybug shrugged. “She thanked me and said she felt better, but I could tell she was still a little tense, and that whatever was helping her was still influencing her. So I tried to follow that magic, and it led me to your apartment, where I looked in through the window to see… well, to see you, looking like that, holding a lilttle rainbow-colored ball and chanting something at it.”

Alya frowned as she thought back. “Wait a minute,” she said after a moment. “Two weeks ago, right? I remember. I was home when I saw her soul begin flashing red and vibrating, like something was attacking it. So I tried to calm it down.” Then, despite everything, a tiny smile spread across her face. “You’re saying I stopped her from being akumatized?” she said. “I didn’t even realize that was happening, but… I’m glad I was able to help.”

Ladybug nodded. “You did. But Alya, I need to know why. I talked to my kwami afterwards and she said this isn’t normal for demons; they don’t usually stop destruction in the human world unless there’s some ulterior motive. But you did stop her. So: why?”

Alya hesitated. “I mean, Mylene’s one of mine, you know? She’s in my cult and she’s my friend. I have to look out for her. I don’t usually like messing with my cult’s souls without their permission, but if one of them’s about to self-destruct, I can’t just sit back and let that happen.”

“Why not?” pressed Ladybug. “Isn’t that why demons come to Earth? To lead humans astray, get them to sin, and ultimately take their souls to Hell?”

Alya’s mouth opened but no sound came out.

“Alya,” Ladybug repeated. “This is important. If there’s some weird demonic plot going on, then as the protector of Paris, I need to be aware of it so I can derail it.”

“I know, but… I don’t want you to think less of me,” said Alya softly. “You’re an amazing hero and a good friend.”

Ladybug smiled a little at that, then went to Alya’s side. “I don’t want to think less of you either,” she said. “And I promise you, whatever I think, it’s not going to be influenced by your species. So just be honest with me, Alya. Tell me everything.”

Alya paused, again torn. But she finally said, “Okay. I will.”

The two girls sat at the kitchen table and then Alya said, “When I first came to Earth, it was exactly like you said. My job was to collect souls and that’s all I cared about. I figured I’d just find people, tempt them, grab their souls, and move on. That’s what most demons do.”

“So what changed?” Ladybug asked.

Alya blushed a little. “You might think this is stupid, but I met someone. This girl in my class. Her name’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Ladybug froze, though Alya didn’t understand why. She was pretty sure Ladybug knew Marinette; after all, Marinette had used the Mouse Miraculous once, which presumably meant Ladybug had given it to her. Then Ladybug shook her head. “What about Marinette?” she asked.

“She was so kind to me,” Alya said. “I was new to the human world, I didn’t have any friends or connections, but as soon as I got to school—that was my cover, I was a local student—she befriended me and helped me fit in. And… look, I know humans are nice to each other a lot, but in Hell, that never happens. Everyone’s always out for themselves. The only reason someone down there would help me is so I would owe them a debt or a favor. But Marinette was just so compassionate, so kind, and she genuinely didn’t care about being paid back.” Alya smiled a little dreamily. “She was amazing. And she made me want to… to be different.”

“Different how?” Ladybug asked, still seeming slightly stunned.

Alya shrugged. “She’s the kind of person who can… inspire people to live up to her example, I guess. At least, she inspired me that way. I loved her kindness, the way she so obviously cared for me and for others without worrying about herself, and I found that I wanted to be like that too. I wanted to keep feeling the way I felt when Marinette was kind to me, or when I was kind to her. And also, the idea of doing the standard demon thing, of using twisted magic to warp some innocent person into committing a heinous sin so I could seize their soul… it didn’t feel right anymore. It felt awful. Cruel. I couldn’t bear to be like that, not after having experienced real human kindness.”

“So m—Marinette’s kindness helped convince a demon to stop tempting people?” Ladybug asked.

“Yeah,” said Alya with a little chuckle. “Seriously, if you haven’t met her, you should. I think you two would be amazing friends.” Then Alya paused. “But, um, it wasn’t just Marinette. I don’t want to sound like a stalker or something. I made other human friends too and they also helped me be better.”

Ladybug seemed to shake herself, as if breaking out of a stupor. “So you don’t take souls for your bosses?” she asked.

“I do,” Alya admitted. “But only people who have already committed serious sins. Criminals and the like, especially the ones the police haven’t caught yet. I get their souls so I can fulfill my quota and stay up here on Earth, and I don’t mess with them too much. Mostly I just influence them so they won’t work with Hawkmoth by making them too despondent to respond to his summons, or too paranoid to trust his promises, or other things like that.”

Ladybug blinked. “Wait, that’s you?” she asked. “So that’s why Hawkmoth never worked with felons and why he’s just picking random people who happen to get mad one day! I would have figured they’d be the most likely to join him! That makes a lot more sense than my prior theory.”

“What was your prior theory?” Alya asked.

“That Hawkmoth is an idiot,” Ladybug said.

Alya couldn’t help giggling at that. “Well, he did summon Mr. Pigeon dozens of times, so that wasn’t a bad theory,” she joked. “The man is not as smart as he thinks.”

“Nope,” Ladybug agreed. “Seriously, I mean, the guy has total control over the powers he gives people, and yet half of them are useless. What was Reflektra even supposed to do? Make us look ridiculous while we kicked his butt? How does that help him?”

Both girls laughed before Ladybug brought the conversation back around. “If you’re really just targeting people who have already committed serious crimes—and making sure they don’t commit more—then that’s one thing,” she said. “But I do know you’re collecting the souls of others as well, like Mylene. Why is that?”

“To make sure other demons don’t get them,” Alya said. “I’m not the only one here. And I can’t tell you who the other demons are—literally, I’m under a demonic geas that will set me on fire if I say their names to someone who doesn't already know them—but I can tell you they’re a lot worse than me. The other demons have no problem at all with warping innocent people into Hellbound monsters. But if I get the souls of my friends first, the other demons can’t lay their claws on them.”

“Hmm.” Ladybug gave Alya a long look. “I imagine you had to trick these friends into losing their souls at first.”

“Yes,” Alya admitted. “Some made deals—Mylene wanted me to resurrect her pet ferret, for instance--but others, like Alix, lost bets or fell into a minor temptation I set up. I didn’t love doing that, but if I hadn’t, they’d be in the clutches of a far worse demon.” She shuddered at the thought of what Lila would have done.

“Now that they know the truth,” Ladybug went on, “If these friends wanted their souls back so they could leave your cult, would you let them?”

Alya hesitated. “It hasn’t come up,” she admitted. “They aren’t hurt by losing their souls, except that they can’t go into churches or do a couple other ‘holy’ things. And I don’t use my power over their souls to make them worse. I try to help them when they ask for help, instead.”

“Even so,” Ladybug went on. “If Mylene went to you tomorrow and said she wants out, what would you do?”

Alya was tempted to just lie and say that of course she’d return Mylene’s soul, but she had a feeling Ladybug would be able to sense that. So instead she tried to give the question as much thought as she could to come up with her honest response. “I’d be worried about her, and I’d try to convince her otherwise,” she said. “But if Mylene was adamant, I’d give her soul back. Some demons treat their cults like slaves or prisoners, but I can’t do that.”

“Because Marinette would disapprove?” Ladybug asked.

“Not just that,” Alya said. “Maybe for the first few days after I met her, but I’ve moved past that. My ‘cult’ are my friends and I wouldn’t keep them against their will.” She let out a breath. “But again, it hasn’t come up. Honestly, I think they like knowing that if something goes really wrong and they become upset or angry, there’s someone looking out for them who can calm or polish their souls. Especially Chloe. Her mother is… not great, and Chloe has panic attacks when she’s around. She was really happy when I said I could monitor her soul and try to soothe it when her mother came to visit.”

Ladybug carefully considered that. “You wouldn’t mind if I didn’t just take your word for it, right?” she asked.

“I can give you a list of the people in the cult,” Alya said. “You can ask them for yourself. Plus my high priestess Juleka; I don’t keep her soul on my shelf, since she’s got both warlock and paladin powers to defend it with—long story—but she'd be happy to talk to you about what I'm like.”

“Thanks,” Ladybug said.

The two were silent for a moment, and then Alya asked, “So… what now?”

“Well, now I need to talk to your cultists,” Ladybug said. “But assuming they verify what you said… I don’t see anything here that I’d need to banish you for. As far as I can tell, you really are trying to be a good a friend, and you’re doing a good job of it too. As long as you don’t take any innocent souls, and you don’t do anything abusive to your friends in your 'cult,' I don’t need to get involved.”

Alya felt a wave of relief rush through her. “Thank the Devil,” she breathed. “I’m glad.”

Ladybug smiled. “Out of curiosity, is being banished that bad?” she asked. “My kwami said it’s not permanent and you could come back once the spell wore off.”

“That could take centuries,” Alya said. “All the humans I knew would be dead by then. I couldn’t bear to lose them, especially Marinette.”

“Maybe you could see her after she dies,” Ladybug noted. “Her soul has to go somewhere, right?”

“It won’t go to where I’m from,” said Alya at once. “Seriously, I peaked at her soul once when I was sleeping over at her house and…” She smiled wistfully. “It was so incredibly pure… the purest I’d seen. No, she’s Heaven-bound for sure, and I won’t be able to see her once she dies because I’m not allowed up there. So I just… I want to make as much of my time on Earth with her, and all my other friends, as I can.”

Once again, Ladybug didn’t seem to know how to respond for some reason. Alya, though, thought of something else she really needed to say. “Speaking of Marinette,” she said. “I… look, I loved having the chance to help you fight Hawkmoth as Rena Rouge. I’d give anything to be able to do that again. But if you can’t trust me because of… of this…” She gestured at her horns and tail. “If you need a replacement, I’d suggest you look at her. The girl’s heart is so pure I can’t imagine Hawkmoth ever corrupting her, and not only is she strong, but she’s incredibly clever. Trust me, she’d be a great hero.”

Ladybug’s cheeks colored slightly. “Thank—I mean, I’m sure she’d thank you if she’d heard that,” she said. “But like I said, unless I learn that something you told me wasn’t true, I don’t see any reason to take your powers away from you. I’m happy to have your help in the battle against Hawkmoth. In more ways than one, apparently.” She smiled. “In fact, once you give me the list of the people whose souls you have, if I learn that one of them is getting upset or is likely to get mad about something, I hope it’s okay if I text you and ask you to check on their souls.”

“Of course,” said Alya at once. “Anytime you need.”

Ladybug nodded. “You’re a good friend, Alya,” she said. Then she turned on her heel before pausing. “Ah, one more question. You said you took your friend’s souls to protect them. Why not Marinette’s? You don’t have her soul, right?”

“No, I don’t,” said Alya. “I thought about it, because I know there’s other demons who would love nothing more than to corrupt someone as pure as her. But I…” She hesitated. “If I took her soul, she’d know what I really am. And I can’t bear the thought of her rejecting my friendship over that. She’s… she means a lot to me.”

“I see,” said Ladybug. “Well, I won’t spill your secret, but I’d encourage you to tell her. I know her pretty well, and trust me: she might surprise you.”

Alya smiled, though inwardly she wasn’t sure if even Marinette could be that tolerant. Still, though, Ladybug’s word had a lot of weight. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said at last. “And I’ll also keep a close eye on Marinette. I might not have her soul, but if I see demons moving to attack her I’ll do everything I can to hold them off. And I’ve got my paladin/warlock high priestess to help, plus this angel I know. We should be able to keep her safe.”

“An angel?” Ladybug repeated.

Alya grinned. “Yeah. I know demons and angels aren’t supposed to get along, but this one’s cool.”

“I don’t suppose Marinette influenced her too?” Ladybug said in a teasing voice.

“Marinette seems to influence everyone for the better,” Alya said. “Marinette will never know it, but yes, I think the angel is happy to know her too.”

“Why won’t Marinette know it?” Ladybug asked. “Are angels not allowed to reveal themselves?”

“It’s more that they only do so if they’re smiting an evildoer, or if they need to save a human from temptation,” Alya said. But Marinette’s so pure that she’s not really in any danger of that, so I don’t think she’ll be getting any angelic intervention unless she spontaneously gets tempted to rob a bank or something.” She giggled. “Which really isn’t like her.”

Ladybug laughed too, though she seemed slightly disappointed for some reason. “I need to get going,” she said. “I’ll see you later, Alya. Thanks again for all that you do.”

Alya waved as Ladybug launched herself back out the window. Then, feeling a bit overwhelmed, she went back to her room to tell Juleka everything.

——

The next day, Alya found herself invited to the Dupain-Cheng bakery. “Hey, girl!” said Alya as she walked inside. “What’s up?”

“Alya!” Marinette said. She ran over and exchanged hugs with her best friend. “I just came up with some new pastries and I wanted you to be the first to try them!”

“Anytime!” said Alya. “What’cha got?”

Marinette took a few pastries off the shelf. “This one here is a Mexican chocolate cake,” she said. “I remember you saying you liked the spicier pastries, so I made it with a little cayenne pepper. Please, try it!”

Alya bit into the cake and grinned as the fiery sweet flavor danced over her tongue. “This is really good,” she said. “Seriously. And—“

“Oh, there’s also this other one,” said Marinette suddenly. She took down a donut. “I wanted to get back to my roots a little,” she said. “But I also wanted to make something you’d like. So this is a cinnamon donut with green and red chilis, the sort you find in Hunan cuisine.” She handed it over. “What do you think?”

Alya tried the donut and gasped, because it was possibly the best thing she’d ever tasted. The sweetness matched the peppers perfectly. “This is amazing,” she said. “Damn, girl, you know how to bake. Although, I thought you said you guys weren’t working too hard on developing spicy pastries because your parents didn’t think they’d sell well?”

“I’m going to prove Maman wrong about that,” said Marinette firmly. “Because people who enjoy spicier deserts should be able to get treats they love, just like anyone else. I’ll make spicy treats that are so good they sell just as well as everything else we’ve got.”

Alya blushed. Marinette really was one of the kindest people around, she thought.

“Besides,” Marinette went on, “even if these didn’t sell, it’d still be worth making some for you. After all, you’re my best friend.” She moved closer to Alya. “You’re an amazing person and a wonderful friend,” she went on. “I don’t think anything could drive us apart.” She gave Alya a quick hug. “Maybe I don’t tell you that enough, but it’s true.”

“Um.” Alya wondered if Ladybug had maybe hinted to Marinette about some of the conversation they had. “Right back at’cha,” she said. “I think you’re a great friend too.”

Marinette smiled.

Alya hesitated, on the verge of asking Marinette to go somewhere private so she could remove her demon veil… but she still didn’t feel quite confident enough. Someday, she thought. But not just then. “If I”m so great,” she said, “maybe you could let me have a few more of these?”

“Have the whole tray!” Marinette chirped. “But one thing in response: the concentration of chilis is slightly different in each one, so I need you to rank them. That way I know which one is the best one!”

“You’ve got it!” Alya grinned and reached for another donut. She was truly blessed, she thought, to have a friend like Marinette.

——

Later that evening, Marinette was in her room with Tikki, trying to relax after a long day of helping her parents in the bakery.

“I’m just saying, Tikki,” Marinette said quietly, though her voice was light and she was clearly joking. Well, mostly joking. “It would just be one bank. I might get to see an angel, and then I could give the money right back!!”

“No, Marinette,” said Tikki in a stern voice.

“It could be a bank owned by bad people!” Marinette went on. “It—“

“No, Marinette,” Tikki repeated.

Marinette smiled softly. “I guess you’re right. But I hope I get to meet that angel anyways.” She blushed. “I can’t believe that I convinced a demon to be good.”

“You’re a very special person, Marinette,” said Tikki.

Marinette grinned before settling back on her bed. The idea of having helped to make Alya the amazing, compassionate warrior for good that she was… well, it was stunning. It made her feel really good.

Of course, as Alya had explained, there might be such a thing as being too good. “What if it wasn’t a bank, but it was just some jerk like XY?” Marinette asked.

“Marinette!” Tikki complained before tossing a pillow at her. “No sinning just to meet an angel!”

Marinette giggled. “I know,” she said. “Still, it’s fun to dream.”

Across the neighborhood, Alya was also dreaming. “Someday,” she promised herself as she thought of telling Marinette the truth. “I promise.”

“Hey, Alya,” called Juleka from across the room. “We’re about to start the show. You want in?”

“Sure!” Alya said. She scurried to the couch and slid down between Juleka and Mylene. And then she settled back to watch the show with some of her best friends in the world.

-------

AW THAT WAS WONDERFUL

I loved that thank you!

Just imagining this is how the akuma charms are made, via Alya being a smart cookie and smart soul user. That was just so delightful

#submission #demon alya au

34 notes · View notes

thebountyfucker · 3 years

Text

In Control

Cad Bane X F!Reader - NSFW, 18+ ONLY Tags: Domination, cock warming, public sex, spanking, PiV sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, Cad Bane's ridiculous accent

(I'm bad at titles leave me alone lol.)

“I don’ like dat one.”

You lowered the dress in your arms with a small frown, before looking it over. You liked this dress quite a bit - the cut flattered you, hugging your curves in all the right ways. The color made you glow, according to your friend. But as you met Cad’s gaze, you realized he wasn’t bluffing. He chewed on his toothpick with a small frown.

“Why not?”

“I just don’ like it.” He kicked his boots up on the foot rest, and gestured toward your closet noncommittally. “Try again.”

You shook your head and hung the dress back up in the closet, before pawing through the other dresses. Cad watched, his head cocked, trying to catch glimpses of the dresses as you pushed them aside. Your hand touched one, and he grunted.

“Dat one.”

You pulled it out from the sea of dresses, and looked it over. Calling it a dress was… generous. Rather, it was a collection of straps that -though it looked fantastic on you- hardly covered the more private parts of your body. You had only worn it once in public and that was a mistake. You looked at the ‘dress’ and then at Cad.

“Are you sure?”

“Are ya questionin’ me?” He cocked a browridge, plucking the toothpick from between his lips. You thought for a moment, wondering if it was wise to defy him, before shaking your head. You had to pick your battles, and this was not one of them.

“No.”

“No…?”

“Sir.” You answered him, and he chuckled.

“Dat’s what I thought.” He leaned back in the chair and waved to you again. “Go ahead. Get dressed.”

You did as he said, slowly shucking off your shirt, aiming to give him a show. You knew that he enjoyed your form, and hoped that the teasing would get him going. You tossed your shirt aside, before pulling down your pants; his blood-red gaze swept downward, following the curves of your body.

“And de panties too.”

“I can’t advise that.” You replied, and he stiffened a bit. “What I mean is… I need panties with the dress or it shows… more than probably appropriate.”

“I said, no panties.” He drawled, gesturing with his toothpick. “It’s in yer best interest t' listen.”

“Of course.” You pulled your panties off, unceremoniously dropping them to the ground. Cad uncrossed his legs and smirked.

“Dere we go. Look at dat pretty cunt.”

You blushed at this and gathered the dress up in your hands. You slowly worked it on, adjusting the straps so they covered as much as they possibly could. You ran your hands along the fabric, almost shyly.

“Dat one looks good.” Cad complimented. “Don’t it?”

“I guess…” You looked at yourself in the mirror, watching the dress ripple and move. “I thought the point was to not have your rivals staring.”

“I don’ mind dem watchin’... I just don’ want yer eyes strayin’. Ya know who you belong to.” He finally stood, sauntering toward you, a devilish grin on his face. He wrapped a hand around your throat, putting no pressure behind his hold. You watched through the mirror as he leaned in and nipped at your ear. “‘Sides, I want dem t' wish dey were me.”

Cad Bane strutting around like a Pantoran peacock was nothing new; he thought rather highly of himself and his abilities, and would take any chance to show off. Having you as a partner only boosted his image, and he was not opposed to using you in this scheme of his. It’s not as though you minded. You rather enjoyed being his trophy, and you didn’t mind the wayward gazes at all.

“Perfect.” He praised as his grip on your neck tightened - it was just hard enough to make your head spin without causing any bruising. You moaned softly and leaned toward him. “Filthy lil whore… ya look good wit’ my hand ‘round yer neck.”

“Your filthy whore.” You whispered, and he chuckled.

“Mine.” He released his grasp on your neck and instead rested a hand on your hip. “Don’tcha forget it.”

He squeezed your soft flesh, before moving away to paw through your jewelry box. You sat at your desk and started styling your hair.

“Are you dressing up?”

“T’ go t' de Silver Serpent? Ain’t no use in doin’ dat.” He muttered as he pulled out a thick leather collar from your jewelry box and looked it over. He approached, and slipped the collar around your neck; he clasped it in place, before running his hands through your hair. “You’ll be a good girl fer me, right?”

“Of course.” You nodded, though that depended on how he treated you in the bar. You were his submissive, sure, but you wouldn’t take shit you didn’t deserve.

“Good.”

You liked the Silver Serpent* - it was always full of interesting people with interesting lives. Sometimes, you came without Cad just to make acquaintances. The drinks were decent, and Sal** always had a story if business was slow. But Cad changed the entire atmosphere of your visit; this wasn’t a bad thing, necessarily, but he demanded much of your attention which left little time to socialize with anyone else. That, and he was the jealous type. He wasn’t about to let you pay attention to someone other than him.

He pushed open the door and gestured for you to enter. You slipped by him, and he grabbed your ass as you went. You rolled your eyes and chuckled, and together you made your way to the bar. Patrons turned their heads as you walked past, mouths agape and eyes wide. Cad made sure to wrap an arm around your waist, telling those who stared that you were his, and his alone.

He led you to the bar and slid up onto the stool - the bar was busy tonight, with most of the booths and bar stools occupied. Cad was sandwiched between a large Trandoshan and a scrawny human man; you stood beside him awkwardly until he patted his lap. You climbed up onto his lap, nestling down against his scrawny thighs. He flagged down Sal, and bought himself a fine, amber whiskey and you, your favorite drink. Sal nodded in understanding, before glancing down at the outfit you were wearing.

“What the hell?” They blinked, before their gaze met Cad’s. They shook their head and went about their business. Cad’s hands went to your waist, digging his knobby fingers into your soft flesh.

“My cock could use some warmin’.” He drawled huskily, and you blushed at the prospect.

“Here?” You glanced around. It was busy enough and loud enough that the people around you might not notice, but you were also sitting shoulder to shoulder with other patrons. One of his hands slid down your hip and slipped up under your dress; you whimpered as his fingers brushed against your pussy.

“Don’ see why not.” His finger probed at your entrance and you whined into your hand.

“Alright.” You nodded, shifting your hips up enough for him to extract his half-hard cock from his pants; he lined the head of his cock up with your pussy, and you sunk down on him, taking him to the hilt. You moaned softly, your cheeks tinged with a soft pink glow, as you fought against rocking your hips and driving his length further into you. No, that was not the objective of this.

He sat there casually, receiving his drink with a nod; Sal slid your drink to you, eyeing you suspiciously, but they didn’t say a word.

Cad slowly hardened in you, stretching your cunt as he did. You bit your lip, trying to contain the moan that threatened to escape. You wriggled against him, reveling in the tiny movements of his cock against your walls. He swallowed his liquor as if he felt nothing - but you knew he could feel it. The heat which radiated from his chest said as much.

Your nipples pebbled against the thin straps containing them, and you were sure you emitted some sort of pheromones because the Trandoshan turned to look at you. He looked you up and down, his long tongue flicking out to wet his maw. Your pussy tightened against Cad’s cock, and you could feel your wetness leaking out around him. Cad’s cock expanded a bit, and he gripped your hips possessively.

“How much for an hour?” The Trandoshan hissed, his gaze trailing down to your pussy. Cad growled in response, and a hand moved to the blaster at his side.

“Ya better watch yer mouth.”

“Easy, easy. Wouldn’t want to cause a scene.” The Trandoshan raised his hands in defeat. Cad’s hand returned to your hip, which he stroked softly with his thumbs.

“Good.” Cad finished his drink and set it aside. You took a shaky sip, trying to hide the fact that you were taking his cock around all these people. Cad leaned down, his hot breath tickling your cheek.

“Yer cunt takes my cock so perfectly.” He whispered, drawing a whine from your lips. Your pussy quivered around him, wanting so desperately for him to start moving. However, you knew that if he did start moving, it would be over for you. You’d cum in front of everyone. “So wet. So wet and tight. Ya wanna cum, don’tcha? You wanna cum, doll?”

You nodded frantically, and he tsked.

“No self-control. Yer a cock-whipped lil' slut, hm? Half de bar can smell yer arousal, doll. Dey know it’s you.” He whispered, and you leaned back against him, whimpering. Your pussy twinged, and he chuckled. “You think dat’s hot, don’tcha? You like makin’ everyone’s cock hard. Filthy lil’ whore.”

Your pussy drooled at this, and you melted back against him. A heat was building in your stomach, and every inch of you was sensitive.

“Cad, please…”

“What was dat, doll? I couldn’t quite hear ya over de music.” He teased, nipping at your ear.

“Cad, please… I need…” You whimpered, trying to avoid the licentious gaze of the Trandoshan beside you. His nostrils flared as he took in your scent. “I need your cock.”

“Ya have it.” He drawled, and you turned to look at him. He was smirking, that smug bastard. How he was able to be in such a teasing mood, you weren’t sure. All you knew was that he was an asshole, and you needed more of him.

“I need you to fuck me!” You whined, a little louder than you wanted to. Cad’s grip on your hips was bruising at this point, and this only added to your arousal.

“So eager.” He hummed as he lifted your hips, and pulled his cock out. Your pussy clenched, painfully empty and dripping wet. Cad eased you off of him, and gestured for you to move out of the way. “Go to de showers. I’ll be right dere.”

You padded through the crowded bar toward a hallway off to the right. A series of bunk rooms and communal showers lined this long hallway, and judging by the number of closed doors, this area of the Silver Serpent was busy too. You slipped into one of the communal shower rooms, noting the roaring of water. You wouldn’t be alone...

You pulled off the strappy dress and gathered it up in your arms. You silently padded toward a private shower stall, slowing down as you passed the public showers. You tried not to stare at the other hunters showering, but their physiques were hard to ignore. That was one of the things you appreciated about bounty hunters - they were fit as hell. And could likely break you over your knee. Gods, your pussy was drooling again…

“What de hell are ya lookin’ at?” Cad growled in your ear, and you jumped, not expecting him to be so near already. You turned, noting that he, too, was naked. More importantly, you noticed the dangerous look in his blood red eyes, and your heart skipped a beat. You struggled to find your tongue. “Dat’s what I thought. Come.”

He led you to a shower cubicle and shoved you inside. You tossed your dress aside, and watched as he dropped his own clothes as well. He approached, his fangs bared.

“Turn 'round.” He commanded, and you faltered.

“W-why?”

“Just do it.” You didn’t, grinning cheekily as he approached you; you gasped as he grabbed your hips and forced you to turn around. He gave you little time to process what was happening before bringing his bony hand down on your ass with enough force to make it sting. You lurched forward, a half-yelp, half-moan escaping your lips. He smacked his hand down on your other asscheek, and you found yourself leaning toward him rather than away. He huffed, and spanked you twice more.

“Ya don’ go lookin’ at others, got it?” He told you through gritted teeth. “Who do ya belong t’?”

“Me.” You answered, pressing your ass toward him. He growled and swatted at your ass again.

“Who?” He asked, gripping your ass cheeks tightly in his hands. “Get it right dis time.”

“You.”

“Good girl.” He purred as he whipped you around so he could look you in the eyes. “Do ya want my cock again?”

“Yes!” You whined and he turned on the shower; the warm water cascaded down your forms as you lifted your leg and wrapped it around his hip. Cad drew his cock up and down, between the sloppy lips of your pussy. You moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. “Please, Cad… please!”

He slipped the head of his cock inside and plunged his entire length deep within, until he bottomed out. The air fled your lungs, and you were left leaning against the wall with your eyes wide and your mouth agape. Your eyes slowly fluttered shut.

“Is dat what you want, doll? Is dat it?” He hissed, grinding his hips against yours. Your head lolled back and you arched toward him, succinctly answering his question. He eased out, and then back in, his pointed head and ridged length massaging your sensitive walls. Each drag of his cock in and out of you drew pants from you, and that warmth sparked deep in the well of your belly again. “Fuck, doll…”

“Does my pussy feel good?” You asked, breath hitching as he picked up his pace, slamming his cock into you deep and rough. You felt your orgasm brimming, but you held back. Not yet. He had just started fucking you!

“Yeah, doll, real good.” He admitted as he leaned down to drag his long tongue against your pebbled nipple. You were both soaked to the bone, but Cad didn’t seem to mind. “Yer my perfect cock sheath.”

“Cad, I’m close.” You admitted and he glanced up, his blood red eyes meeting yours. “Can I cum?”

“Not yet.” He drawled. “You know de rules.”

You whined as he drove up into you, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. You traced down his scarred chest, trying to distract yourself from the molten warmth in your belly. It was damn near unbearable but you’d hold on for him. As if trying to tease you, he reached down, pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit; despite trying to stop it, you came undone.

You cried out in pleasure, clamping down around his cock; your legs shook and threatened to give out from beneath you as the molten warmth flowed through your body. Your head was in a different galaxy as you rode the waves of your orgasm.

“I told ya not yet! What are ya, deaf?” He growled as he pulled out and whipped you around; he bent you over, and plunged back into you. “Whaddya have t’ say fer yerself?”

“Sorry, sir.” You whispered, and he brought down his hand on your already sore bottom. You let out a pitiful yelp.

“Fer what?” He asked, spanking your other asscheek.

“For cumming without permission.”

“Louder!”

“I’m sorry, sir!” You cried out. “For cumming without permission!”

“Good girl.” He cooed as he pounded into you, his hands alternating between grabbing your hips and smacking your ass. You grabbed your breasts, desperate to hold onto something; you drew your thumbs over your nipples, whimpering as it sent pleasurable shocks down to your throbbing cunt.

He growled, muttering something likely quite profane in Durese; he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you up flush against him. He drew his fangs along your shoulder, and you squirmed in response. It wouldn’t be much longer before he bit down, his fangs piercing your skin, as he came. You bore many scars from the times he bit you… but you loved it. You loved how he claimed you with every fuck. You were his, and you didn’t want it any other way.

His pace grew erratic and sloppy, and you helped out by rocking your hips; his hand shot down to rub circles along your clit, hoping to hasten your second orgasm. His fangs dragged harder across your shoulder, and then, he bit down, cumming deep inside you. You cried out, orgasming alongside him, your pussy milking his cock for all it was worth. Euphoria coursed through you as he lapped up the blood trickling from his new mark.

“There… there we are.” Cad drawled, pulling out of you and handing you the soap. “Clean up. I got somethin’ t’ attend to.”

“What?” You asked as you watched him mop off with a towel.

“It’s just business, doll. Nothin’ important.” He slowly dressed, casting glances over to you as you cleaned up the cum dripping from your sensitive cunt. “I’ll be back fer ya.”

He ducked out of the shower stall without another word. You shook your head with a small smile. Only he would be so intent to attend to business after fucking.

*The Silver Serpent: A bar and bunkhouse owned by the Bounty Hunter's Guild. Bounty hunters are allowed to stay there free while on jobs/between jobs. (I don't know if Cad's a part of the Guild. I don't care. He can use it either way lol)

** Sal is the nonbinary Togrutan bartender who sort of runs the place.

Both Sal and The Silver Serpent were introduced here

#cad bane #star wars smut #smut #star wars fanfic #iri writes #my fanfiction

89 notes · View notes

waveypedia · 3 years

Text

got fears but i face them

Lena and Webby finally reconcile.

Ao3

Webby and Lena don’t talk until three full days after the FOWL raid.

Oh, they talk, all right. Dewey never misses an opportunity to drag the kids together and gush about the adventure. While they had floated and filtered throughout the family on the long ride home, the ten kids had made an unspoken home base in the bottom corner of the plane, near the emergency hatch that Launchpad had accidentally opened. They chatted brightly, sharing jokes and trading jabs, high on the adrenaline of a long day and a treacherous fight won. But Webby and Lena never interacted directly in their conversations beyond pleasantries.

They didn’t talk in the way that mattered.

After the comfortingly familiar sight of Duckburg had crested over the horizon and the plane had landed, Webby and Lena left each other without so much as a goodbye. Ty and Indy were hovering impatiently at the Sunchaser’s doors, flooding inside as soon as they possibly could and scooping Violet and Lena in their arms. Webby stood off to the side, her grandmother’s steady hands on her shoulders. She watches two doting fathers hold their daughters close and thinks about family. She thinks about her Granny, and Huey, Dewey, and Louie, and Uncle Scrooge-Dad, and Uncle Donald and Aunt Della. She thinks about May and June, safe and happy with Uncle Donald and Aunt Daisy.

She thinks about June in her room and a flippantly cut string and Lena’s wrath. June watches Lena too, with Aunt Daisy’s hand on her head, and guilt flashes in her naive eyes.

It’s almost the push she needs. Energy floods Webby’s tired body, and she tenses to surge forward and crash at Lena’s feet, blubbering with apologies and tears.

Granny’s hand tightens on her shoulder, a silent warning.

Webby glances up. Granny’s eyes meet hers, as wise and clever as ever. She shakes her head, a tiny signal. As always, Granny can read Webby perfectly. Webby may not be able to read Granny so accurately, but this time the message is clear. Now is not the time.

Webby understands. With her family’s help, she’s getting better at social cues. This is the Sabrewing family’s moment, not hers.

Webby looks away.

Webby looks away, and promises to claim her moment soon.

After that, the next few days are both a flurry of activity and uncharacteristically empty for an adventuring family such as the McDucks. As per usual after an adventure, they trudge into the mansion, adrenaline sludging off in droves, and crash in bed for the next twelve hours. Webby wakes to the smell of blueberry pancakes, her favorite in childhood, and stumbles downstairs to where Granny is occupying the empty kitchen, a small, knowing smile on her face. She eats, watches the unfortunately missed Ottoman Empire series finale with her brothers (“I can’t believe we missed the series finale!” “We had to go rescue Webby and Huey, Louie.” “Yeah, but it’s the series finale! Now the show is over and there’ll be no more Ottoman Empire, ever!” “Eh, I’m sure they’ll reboot it in another thirty years.” “Yeah, but I’ll be old by then!”), eats less-than-healthy food that the adults let slide, and sleeps again.

On the second day, Webby and her brothers set up a room for May and June at the mansion while Aunt Della, Uncle Donald, and Aunt Daisy make last-minute arrangements to bring two extra kids on their vacation. May and June apologize, awkwardly and haltingly, at every possible occasion, and it’s all Webby and her brothers can do to lessen their guilt. But there’s one apology that sticks with Webby more than the rest.

June pulls her aside late into the afternoon, while Huey is teaching May the Junior Woodchuck certified method for hanging up curtains.

“I’m sorry for cutting your string,” June says, nervously playing with her pigtails. “I know it’s really important to you.”

“It’s fine!” Webby’s voice is much brighter than she feels. The memory leaves an acidic sensation in her stomach and a bad taste in her mouth. Tears prick at her eyes at the secondhand sensation of Lena’s destructive fury and June’s panicked cries. But most of all, the helplessness and unsureness Webby felt in the moment. She had to watch her best friend tear into her adopted sister without a second thought, and part of it was justified but not all, and she didn’t know what to do. Her undying loyalty was shot in the face of uncertainty of who to pledge it to.

June frowns at her. She may be a FOWL clone, a test tube baby, barely a few months old, but she’s sharper than she looks. Louie’s lessons must be paying off. “It- it doesn’t have to be. I know I messed up. I messed up a lot.”

“You didn’t know what you were doing,” Webby says. The lie is heavy on her tongue, even if she means well.

June can’t meet her gaze. “Please, Apri- Webby.” Her sister’s head snaps up, her gaze shining and uncharacteristically serious. “Don’t make allowances. I want to earn your forgiveness.”

Webby blinks, stunned speechless, for a few moments. When she finds her voice, she clears her throat hesitantly. “Thanks. I… I appreciate that.”

June licks her lips nervously and nods her head, slow and careful. “Thank you for listening to me. It’s… new to me.”

Webby smiles awkwardly. “Of course, sis.”

As she had intended, June’s eyes light up at the term, and her vivacious smile is back in full smile. She squeals and squeezes Webby in a quick hug before returning to Dewey and Louie, the former who is trying to get the latter to do his laundry. Webby smiles fondly.

Webby knows most siblings don’t really call each other “bro” and “sis”. It’s a fixture of the media. Dewey explained it to her a week after Huey, Dewey, and Louie sat her down and told her in no uncertain terms they wanted her to be their sister. (She cried.) But with May and June, it feels right. They may not be normal siblings by both the media’s and society’s standards, but they’re sisters all the same.

The smile slips off Webby’s face as her thoughts spiral. June was right. The string issue is still bothering her, and she needs to address it.

Lena and Violet haven’t stopped by the mansion since the original failed FOWL raid. It’s not unusual for them to stop by later after an adventure, but usually they stay for the night after the trip.

They didn’t this time. Ty and Indy swept them away.

In bed, on the night of the second day, Webby lies awake long after lights-out. She stares at the ceiling, at the glow-in-the-dark stars she and Lena stuck up there two years ago, back when Lena was stuck as Magica’s lackey. The fear in her gut curdles into steady determination, and Webby Vanderquack makes a decision.

She picks up her phone, charging next to her, and texts Violet. Can I come over tomorrow?

Despite the late hour, Violet replies immediately. That would be agreeable.

No text bubble pops up to indicate Violet wants to say more, so Webby likes her message and sets her phone on the nightstand next to her. She lies her hands crossed on her belly and breathes deeply, wide awake. But a few minutes later, her phone buzzes again.

Is this purely a social call, or do you wish to speak to Lena?

Webby stares at the screen for a couple minutes, biting her lip. She knows Violet’s seen her read receipt, and usually that would spur Webby into action, but she can’t spew nonsensical responses right now.

Finally, she settles on a simple Yes.

Violet’s reply is swift. Good.

This time, her typing bubble pops up almost immediately. Lena has been much more reticent since we departed Alexandria. My research has shown me that communication is the most effective path to healthy relationships.

Webby’s beak quirks up in a small, fond smile. Yeah. Me too.

I do not doubt that the pair of you will heal each other. Violet responds. Good night, Webbigail.

Gnight, Vi.

At precisely one-thirteen PM on the third day, Webby stands on the doorstep of the Sabrewing household, clutching a small purse and a bag of candy.

She rings the doorbell, and Ty greets her at the door. His face splits into a warm, fond smile at the sight of her, and it warms Webby’s heart. Ty and Indy are by no means the adults she’s closest to in her family, but from the moment Webby met them, they’ve never failed to make her feel welcome and safe and loved.

“Come in, come in!” Ty gushes, guiding her into their familiar foyer, where Violet is peacefully reading a book. “Lena’s upstairs.”

“I’ll show her, father. Thank you.” Violet rises from her armchair, placing a bookmark in her book and carefully setting it down on the coffee table. She gracefully crosses the room and latches onto Webby’s arm.

“Okay. Have fun, you guys! I’ll make some snacks.” Ty gives Webby a quick hug and kisses Violet on the head, and then waves them away. Violet tugs Webby up the stairs and up to Lena and Violet’s shared room.

They pause outside the shut door. One of the Featherweights’ old albums floats through the walls.

“This is where I leave you,” Violet intones. “Call me when you are finished.”

Webby smiles. “Thanks, Vi.”

Violet starts to step away, but pauses. “Webbigail?”

“Yes?”

Violet turns to fully face Webby, her expression deathly serious. “You are my best friend. But if you ever hurt Lena, I will hurt you. Tread carefully.”

Webby grins. “Thanks, Vi. Don’t worry.”

Violet sniffs, offended at the mere accusation. “I will not.”

She leaves, and Webby turns to face the door. She spends a moment visually exploring every nook and cranny of the soft oak, and then takes a deep breath and knocks.

Lena opens the door, hair disheveled. “Dad, I don’t want chocola- Oh. Pink.”

Webby rocks nervously back and forth on her feet. “Hey, Lena.”

Lena blinks at her, her expression unreadable, before stepping aside and gesturing to the inside of the room. “Well, I guess you’d better come in.”

Webby smiles nervously and steps inside.

Lena and Violet’s room is messy and cluttered in a way nothing in the mansion is, because for all the Duck family’s characteristic untidiness, the mansion is simply too big and Granny is too competent of a housekeeper to let any clutter stay. Like Uncle Donald’s houseboat, Lena and Violet’s room, and the entire Sabrewing house, is cluttered because it’s lived in. It feels homey. It feels like family.

The room is filled to the brim with Violet’s various books - both hobbyist and scholarly, and Lena’s hair dye and vinyl albums. In the corner, Lena’s pet raven watches Webby carefully from its cage. They’re all in agreement that he’s not a normal raven, but his latent abnormalcy has yet to show itself.

“So.” Lena crosses the room to stand by her bed and her raven’s cage, shoving her hands deep in her pockets and rocking back on her heels. She won’t meet Webby’s eyes. “What’s up?”

Webby fidgets with the friendship bracelet on her wrist. The strings are frayed and soft from three years of constant wear and similar stimming. “I… I came to apologize.”

Lena’s hand strays to her bracelet as well. “Me too, Pink.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you for blowing up at June,” Webby says. “You told me not to forget you and, in your perspective, I basically did.”

“No, it’s my fault,” Lena sighs. “I let my temper get the better of me. I knew June was basically a little kid, and I still blew up at her. It was because of me that she got the opportunity to run off and steal the Sword of Swanstantine.”

Lena tugs at the hem of her sweater, scowling darkly. “I guess I just almost killed my family. Again. It’s fine; I’m used to it.”

The words are barely out of her mouth before Webby launches herself at Lena, barely able to contain herself. She wraps her arms around Lena and buries her head in the soft, worn cloth of Lena’s sweater. “You shouldn’t be! It wasn’t your fault before and it’s even less of your fault now. You’re part of this family.”

Lena’s arms rest lightly around Webby’s shoulders, and her chin touches the top of Webby’s head. “Yeah, I know that by now, Pink. I’ve come a long way, huh? But that doesn’t erase the fact that I messed up.”

“Well, so did I.” Webby replies stubbornly.

Abruptly, Lena pulls apart, her hands set steadily on Webby’s shoulders. She stares straight into Webby’s eyes. “Webby, I know the boys are your brothers, but for the first time in your life, you had a link to your biological family,” Lena states. “I don’t blame you for defending them, and you shouldn’t either!” For the first time, Lena drops her gaze, her beak curling in frustration. “I overreacted. Plain and simple.”

“But it came from a place of love,” Webby insists, her lower beak wobbling. “I- It means so much to me that our relationship means so much to you that June cutting our string set you off like that! Really!”

Lena smirks. “That’s sweet, Pink. It’s true. But I still shouldn’t have used my magic.”

“Maybe it was a little much,” Webby finally admits. Lena scoffs at that, but otherwise stays quiet. “But please don’t blame yourself. Bradford and Black Heron set May and June up to steal me and the Missing Mysteries. They would’ve found a way to cause an issue with or without you.”

Lena squeezes her shoulder. “There, you see? It’s Bradford and Black Heron’s fault, not yours.”

“But they were after me,” Webby insists. “And- and maybe if I’d been a little more forceful with Granny, maybe she would’ve told me about my real heritage.”

Lena snorts. “Please, Pink, Tea Time wasn’t the best spy in the biz for nothing. She didn’t spill her secrets until all other hope was lost and her literal worst nightmare had come true before her eyes.” Webby flinches at that, and Lena’s tone and grip softens. “Point being, it’s not your fault.”

“Well, it’s not yours either,” Webby insists.

“Maybe not,” Lena admits at last. “But I’m still going to apologize to June. Maybe I didn’t cause the Annual Duck-McDuck Family Crisis, but I still hurt June. That wasn’t okay.”

Webby smiles. “Thanks, Lena. I’m so happy you guys are trying to get along.”

Lena grins back. “Eh, we’ve got a lot in common. I’ll bring her and May over to my weekly ‘So your childhood guardian was a villain who used you to try and kill your new family’ hangouts I have with Boyd and they’ll be sold. Hopefully.”

The mental image of Lena, Boyd, May, and June hanging out at one of Lena’s favorite dives and discussing the perils of their childhoods over greasy burgers brings a smile to Webby’s face. “I’m sure they’ll love that. Eventually.”

“They’ll come around,” Lena says, but she doesn’t sound entirely sure.

“They will,” Webby affirms. “They’re… it’s not easy to adjust. Their entire lives were upended. But they’re trying.”

Lena smiles. “That’s all I ask for,” she says simply. “As long as I can help.”

“You will,” Webby promises. “Now, do you agree that you weren’t responsible for the incident?”

“Yeah,” Lena smiles wryly. “But neither were you.”

Webby clutches her elbow. “I still messed up, though. I could’ve handled it better. And I still hurt you.”

Now it’s Lena’s turn to rush forward and squeeze her in a hug. “Well, I guess we both did,” she murmurs, a little too flippantly. “Good thing we both came to apologize, yeah?”

“Mhm.” Webby nods into Lena’s chest. She’s so soft and warm and stable. “So, are we good?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Lena replies. “I need to apologize to June.”

They sit on Lena’s bed, and Webby leans into Lena’s side, toying with her friendship. “I missed you,” she murmurs, avoiding Lena’s eyes.

Lena chuckles, and while it’s in good faith, there’s not much amusement behind it. She ruffles Webby’s hair lightly. “I was only gone for a couple days, Pink.”

“Three,” Webby corrects absentmindedly. “This is the third day.”

Lena grins. “So you kept count, eh?”

“Of course,” Webby responds matter-of-factly. “It was all I could think about.” She readjusts herself so she’s leaning against Lena more, and tilts her head back to see Lena’s face.

Lena is blinking, baffled, before her beak curves into a small, fond smile. “Huh. Me too.”

Webby’s smile grows and grows. Lena’s come a long, long way since Webby followed that fateful message in a bottle. She’s been much more comfortable with open affection for a long time now, but it still makes Webby’s heart sing.

“We should do something,” Lena hums. “Hang out, with no adventure or magical villain threatening our lives. We haven’t done that in a while.”

Webby laughs softly. “Yeah, it has been a while, hasn’t it? But you should know by now. There are no normal hangouts in this family.”

Lena chuckles, soft and fond. “Yeah, well. I’ll take whatever I can get as long as I can hang out with you.” She wraps her arm tighter around Webby, and snuggles closer. “I know what I signed up for when I joined this family.”

They sit together on Lena’s bed, facing away from each other, in the comfortable silence.

“You know,” Webby breaks it after a few minutes. Her nervous fidgeting has returned. “You know, sometimes I wish it didn’t happen like this.”

Lena blinks. “Hm?”

“I-” Webby gestures animatedly, frustrated, days and months and years of pent-up emotion spilling out all at once. “I wish I didn’t have to find out about my family this way. I wish Granny could’ve just told me, without the FOWL capture and fights to the death and kidnapping all of our friends. I’m okay now, but… but it was really scary,” she finishes in a small voice, burying her head in her hands. “I didn’t know what was going to happen. I didn’t know if my family would be okay.”

“Oh, Pink.” Lena gathers Webby into her arms and pulls her onto her lap. “I know how you feel. It must’ve been really scary.”

“It was,” Webby murmurs. “It really was. But I love adventuring, and I already know what would happen if we stopped - heck, Uncle Donald already made that wish! And it didn’t turn out well! I shouldn’t feel this way, and I hate it.”

“You know, those two feelings aren’t mutually exclusive,” Lena says, raising her eyebrows.

Webby twists in her embrace to meet her gaze. “Huh?”

Lena shrugs. “There isn’t much to it, honestly. Your daily, run-of-the-mill adventures aren’t the same as this scheme Bradford’s been cookin’ up for decades. They don’t usually involve life-changing revelations.”

“Yeah, but…” Webby sags in her embrace. “It’s still an adventure.”

“Honestly, it’s not healthy for you guys to keep having all your major events in life-or-death situations,” Lena snorts wryly. “But I guess that’s our family for you. Doesn’t mean it should stay that way, though.”

“Sometimes it’s out of our control,” Webby murmurs, a half-hearted protest for a battle she already knows she’s lost and didn’t even want to win in the first place. “Like when Lunaris chased Aunt Della down to Earth. She thought he was a friend. Or… or when Magica attacked us.”

“Yeah,” Lena mutters. “But your grandma still shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“She said she won’t anymore,” Webby says.

“And that’s great.” Lena squeezes her tighter. “That means it probably won’t happen again. The past is in the past, Pink. You can’t change it. Trust me, I’ve had my fair share of troubles with that fact.”

“You can’t control what other people do,” Lena continues. “Like with Lunaris and… and Magica. All you can control is yourself.”

“I’ll do my best to spill all my secrets before one of Dad’s mortal enemies has to threaten my life for it,” Webby snorts, half-sardonic and half-lighthearted.

Lena punches her gently. “I don’t think you’ll ever have a problem with that, Pink. You’re a pretty open book.”

Webby bites her lip. “That’s not a bad thing, is it? Bradford and my sisters were able to manipulate me pretty easily.”

Lena scoffs. “Yeah, and it ended so well for Bradford, didn’t it?” Webby keeps her gaze away from Lena’s face, and instead watches Lena’s hands clench and unclench into fists.

Lena sighs, taking a deep breath to reorient herself. “What I mean, Pink, is that it’s not a bad thing. Honestly, it’s one of your best qualities. I know I wouldn’t be here today if you weren’t so trusting and earnest.”

Webby smiles, but it’s forced. Evidently, she hasn’t picked up enough of Louie’s tricks yet, because Lena’s unwavering, deepening frown tells Webby she can see right through her.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t train,” Lena offers. “I don’t think you should become more distrusting and cynical, but maybe you can work to recognize when others are trying to manipulate you.”

Lena glances down at her hands, spinning a stray pencil (where did she get that?) around her fingers. “I could help you, if you’d like.”

Webby grins up at her, teary and emotional. “I’d like that.”

Lena drops the pencil and wraps her arms around Webby again. For the millionth time that day, Webby buries her head in the comforting familiarity of Lena’s soft sweater.

“I missed you,” Lena murmurs.

“Me too,” Webby replies. “So much.”

“So very much,” Lena echoes, and tugs Webby closer.

For the first time in three days, the tension dragging Webby down loosens, and she is free. She is home.

i started writing this either the day of or the day after the finale, left it alone for two weeks, and wrote the second half today during a writing sprint (shoutout to silv’s server!). funny how these things work.

i have a lot of feelings on the finale, both good and bad, but i’m always going to be sad that lena and webby’s direct interaction in the entire series was a fight. they didn’t deserve that.

i love dropping in little headcanons and doing little worldbuilding with places like lena and violet’s room. it sounds like a cozy place. there’s literally no way to prove this unless frank returns from his hiatus and answers an ask ig but if poe isn’t still out there and doesn’t end up drawn to lena i’ll eat my hat. let him be her weird familiar/uncle!! cmon disney!!

title is from i’ll show you by k/da! i originally used a different lyric (”heart full of fire”) as a placeholder and now i want to use it in something else because it’s so pretty haha

i love webby and lena. while i was writing this i was thinking about how in some of the recent amphibia episodes, one of the characters was hurt by another’s good intentions and wants to forgive them, but needs time. i thought about going that route but honestly? i think they just need to talk this one out. neither of them were really mad. the moment just caught up to them. they’re so close and in tune with each other.

reblogs > likes!

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #dt17 #webby vanderquack #lena sabrewing #june duck #ducktales june #ducktales fanfiction #the last adventure #wavey writes

65 notes · View notes

knuffled · 3 years

Text

Just Practice - Chapter 14

here’s the latest chapter! hope you all enjoy it! if you could leave a comment, it would mean the world to me! not that many people commented last chapter sadly.

ao3 link for people on mobile

Out of all of Annabeth’s friends, Piper undoubtedly had the largest house. It was a beautiful three story house with a modern minimalist aesthetic, but it somehow also managed to retain a homely atmosphere. As an aspiring architect, Annabeth thought that it was a feast for the eyes, but Piper had never liked it, mainly because her father was hardly ever home. That was ideal for someone like Annabeth, but Piper was a huge extrovert so she found it unbearable having such a huge house to herself. Piper did her best to circumvent that by having friends over whenever possible, a role that usually fell on Jason’s shoulders, but Annabeth had dropped by after school instead to work on a partner project that they had been assigned for their history class.

Piper greeted her at the front door, practically half-asleep. She was wearing pajamas that had smiling cartoon cupcakes printed on them, her choppy hair was thoroughly disheveled, and her eyes were dazed and unfocused. Annabeth was particularly amused by the impression left on her face from sleeping with her cheek pressed against the seams of two sofa cushions.

“You look positively glamorous, darling.”

Piper half-heartedly rolled her eyes and led her to the living room. “Shut up, I was doing hot girl shit.”

“I didn’t know napping qualified as ‘hot girl shit’,” Annabeth said, making air quotes.

“There’s a reason they call it beauty sleep, babe,” Piper said.

They stopped at the living room, and the sight there only made Annabeth’s smirk widen. It was a complete mess, strewn about with empty bags of cheetos, bottles of kombucha, and half-empty oreo trays. Annabeth crossed her arms over her chest and gave Piper a significant look, wondering what sort of excuse she would come up with, but Piper just flipped her off and dove belly first onto the sofa.

“Before you ask, I was too busy to clean,” Piper said, voice muffled by a sofa cushion.

“Busy doing hot girl shit?” Annabeth prompted innocently.

Piper turned her head to glower at her. “You’re such a bitch sometimes.”

Annabeth bit back a smile and lifted a half-empty bottle of kombucha from the coffee table. She gave it a ginger sniff and gagged at the fermented smell.

“I don’t know how you can drink this stuff.”

“It’s good for your digestive system,” Piper said, sighing.

“I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think it’ll be enough to offset the fact that your diet consists solely of flaming hot cheetos and oreos.”

“I’m seriously like ten seconds away from kicking you out of my house,” Piper warned.

Annabeth laughed and said, “Alright, alright, I assume that means you’re ready to start working on the project then?”

Piper groaned into the sofa and forced herself to sit upright. “You’re an absolute menace.”

Annabeth rummaged through her backpack for her laptop and the project rubric instead of looking at her. “I love you, too.”

Piper sighed melodramatically and cleared the coffee table of its aforementioned debris so that they had a place to work. They spent nearly two hours researching content for their project, and Annabeth was happy with the amount of work they were able to get done. For all their bickering, she and Piper had always made an excellent team, and this project was no exception. That being said, by the end of the two hour mark, Piper was beginning to burn on fumes.

“God, why on fucking earth did I ever think taking AP Euro my senior year was a good idea,” Piper groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Spring break can’t come soon enough.”

“It’s still over a month away,” Annabeth laughed. “We could take a break if you’d like.”

Piper looked up at her abruptly with wide eyes. “Who are you and what have you done with Annabeth?”

Annabeth rolled her eyes and said, “We got a lot of work done, so it’s fine if we chill a bit.”

Piper pressed a kiss to Annabeth’s cheek before she could react and beamed at her. “Want something to eat? I’m getting hungry.”

Annabeth scowled and rubbed her cheek. “Uh, do you still have Oreos?”

“Of course, I do,” Piper grinned. “I’m not a heathen.”

“Milk?”

Piper pretended to wipe a tear from her eye. “Oh, Annabeth, I am so proud of you.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Annabeth laughed, shoving her.

Piper danced to the kitchen and came back a short while later with a fresh box of oreos and two glasses of milk. Annabeth’s step-mother was a health nut, so they never had junk food at home. She also had to adhere to a strict-ish diet because she was an athlete, so this was the first time in literal years that Annabeth had had the chance to eat an oreo.

“These are a lot better than I remember,” Annabeth said.

“You’re goddamn right. Oreos are gods gift to humanity,” Piper said.

Annabeth smiled. “Now, I wouldn’t go that far.”

“So ungrateful,” Piper sniffed. “You can get sent to hell for that sort of thing you know?”

“For not being obsessed with oreos?” Annabeth laughed.

“For having bad taste,” Piper said, giving her a significant look.

“Guilty as charged,” Annabeth sighed. “I mean, I’m friends with you after all.”

Piper groaned and shoved her. “Bitch.”

“You started it,” Annabeth laughed. “I was just enjoying my oreos in peace.”

“I have been nothing but a gracious host, and yet you come into my house and insult me and my all time favorite snack for good measure,” Piper said, shaking her head. “This is why whites don’t deserve rights.”

Annabeth raised her glass of milk. “I’ll drink to that.”

“Sometimes, I honestly wonder how Percy puts up with you.”

“Easy, he’s a lot nicer than you, so I don’t feel the need to sass him,” Annabeth said, shrugging.

“Sounds fake, but okay.”

“You’re just in denial,” Annabeth teased.

Piper rolled her eyes and said, “How is he doing by the way? I haven’t talked to him lately, but I know State is around the corner.”

“He’s doing okay, I think,” Annabeth said. “I haven’t really asked him about it.”

“No Valentine’s Day plans, I’m assuming?” Piper asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Nah, I don’t want to break his concentration,” Annabeth said, shaking her head. “How about you and Jason? Got a hot date lined up or something?”

“We were just thinking of getting dinner some place nice,” Piper said, shrugging.

“So that means Taco Bell is a no, then?” Annabeth asked, grinning.

“Very funny,” Piper said, narrowing her eyes. “I think we’re going to some Japanese place downtown or something.”

“Hmm, sushi sounds nice.”

Piper shook her head and said, “It’s honestly impressive how you somehow always forget that I’m vegetarian, even after all these years.”

Annabeth’s face turned pink. “Oh, right, sorry.”

Piper knocked elbows with her instead of saying anything and reached for another cookie. Annabeth watched her dunk the cookie in her glass of milk a little too vigorously, causing some of it to spill onto her pajama bottoms, and couldn’t help imagining how Jason would have chided her for it if he had been here. It was still endlessly bemusing to her how two people so diametrically unlike one another had so much romantic chemistry together.

“You ever think about how wild it is that you and Jason have been together for four years now?” Annabeth asked.

Piper laughed and said, “Definitely have a lot more since graduation is coming up soon. It’s pretty insane to me too.”

“What’s your secret, oh wise one,” Annabeth asked teasingly.

Piper rolled her eyes and said, “We just communicate really well, ever since day one. Neither of us hide anything from each other. If we are bothered by something, we talk about it. Sometimes that means we get into fights, but it’s still better than bottling everything up.”

Annabeth’s heart squeezed a little in her chest. In contrast, she and Percy hardly ever spoke openly anymore. The weight of all the things they had both left unsaid had snowballed and taken on a line of its own. She didn’t think it had brewed into bitterness, but it felt like ice on the surface of a pond. Shallow and liable to break at any moment.

“We also just genuinely like each other too,” Piper said. “There’s no way we would have lasted if we hated each other’s guts or got bored of each other. Kind of the opposite honestly. The more I got to know him, the harder I fell for him.”

“How could you tell?” Annabeth asked. “Was there a specific moment you realized or something?”

Piper hummed under her breath and stared up at the ceiling. “Hard to say. It wasn’t anything big or dramatic, just little things piling on top of each other, until one day, I just knew. Kind of like getting taller or falling asleep. You don’t notice it when it happens only when you look back.”

When Annabeth was silent, Piper continued and said, “I will say that the first time I can remember consciously thinking it was after a meet sophomore year. Don’t remember how it went, but I can still picture how he looked after the race. He was all gross and sweaty and caked with mud, but his cheeks were pink from all the running and it just made him glow. And at that moment, I just remember thinking ‘Wow, I’m actually in love with this guy.’”

There was something about the way Piper spoke that even Annabeth could hear how much she loved him just by her tone, that it made a lump form in Annabeth’s throat.

“I’m so happy for you two,” Annabeth said softly. “You are both two of the most amazing people I have ever met, so I’m glad you are together.”

Piper laughed and said, “It’s weird to hear you pay me a compliment, but thanks.”

“After that shameless display of ungratefulness, I would suggest you don’t get used to it,” Annabeth said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Piper rolled her eyes and sank back into the sofa. “Is there something going on with you?”

Annabeth furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

“You tend to ask lots of questions when you’re upset about something,” Piper said, shrugging.

Annabeth blinked. She had no idea that she did that.

“Nothing in particular,” Annabeth said carefully. “Just wanted to hear from someone that’s been in a relationship for four years. I’m still new to it, and I don’t want to fuck everything up.”

“Learn anything useful then?” Piper asked, raising an eyebrow.

Annabeth was quiet for a while and tried to choose her words carefully. “The part about communicating was helpful.”

Piper gave her a knowing smile. “Really? Well, I’m glad to hear that.”

“I feel like it was easier when we were only friends,” Annabeth said.

“Hmm, Percy was just doing a lot of work behind the scenes for you to make you feel that way. Now that you’re in a relationship, it’s harder for him to do that, so it’s only exposing issues that were already there,” Piper said.

Annabeth frowned. “What do you mean?”

Piper shrugged and said, “Well, part of it is that Percy is stupidly empathetic, so he would anticipate your emotional needs and provide for them with you having to do much. The bigger problem is that you don’t really understand the way he thinks, so you are incapable of doing the same for him.”

A spark of anger lit in Annabeth’s chest. “Well, why don’t you spell it out for me since I’m apparently so ignorant?”

“Annabeth, chill. I’m not saying you’re a bad friend or that I know more about him than you do,” Piper said, holding her hands up in surrender.

“Then what are you saying?” Annabeth hissed.

Piper sighed again and said, “Look, I love you and everything, but you don’t fully understand that other people don’t think or see the world in the same way you do. I’ll give you an example. What do you usually do when you’re really upset about something?”

After a moment, Annabeth said, “I give myself some space until I am ready to talk about it.”

“Exactly,” Piper said, nodding. “Percy is not like that. When he’s upset, he wants someone to press him about it, like really press him. There are a lot of reasons for it, but one huge reason is that he doesn’t feel like his problems are worth anyone else’s attention, so you have to convince him otherwise.”

Annabeth was stunned. That had legitimately never occurred to her. She had always assumed that Percy would come to her if he needed to because that’s what she did whenever she was upset. She whenever she had given him space in the past, thinking it would help, it had looked like callous silence to him instead, a sign that she didn’t care enough to hear what was going on.

Her mind raced. How many times in the past had she fucked up monumentally because this had never occurred to her?

“Do you get what I mean now?” Piper prompted.

Annabeth nodded slowly and said, “I- I had no idea. I just sort of assumed he was like me.”

“That’s a perfectly normal thing to do,” Piper said. “Like I said earlier, I’m not telling you this because I think you’re a shitty human being or whatever. I’m telling you because the way that you and Percy communicate has some really deep, fundamental issues, and that it has been that way for years now.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Annabeth asked, trying not to let anger creep in her voice. “I could have done so much more to avoid hurting him.”

“Because you wouldn’t have listened to me,” Piper said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Your relationship with Percy is something sacred to you. You take pride in being close to him and knowing him really well. If I had said something contrary to that, you would have gone ballistic. You getting mad earlier was more than enough proof of that. I can only tell you now because you’re finally starting to notice issues for yourself.”

Annabeth grit her teeth and stared down at her lap. Piper was right. She was right, but it was so crippling to hear that Annabeth had been such a god-awful friend. Annabeth did take great pride in how well she thought she knew Percy, but ever since they had started fake-dating, she had started realizing she had deluded herself the entire time. It was incredibly jarring for her to realize that her vision of him compared to reality was so off, especially when she prided herself in the keenness of her judgment and intellect.

Piper squeezed her shoulder and said, “Look, I know this must have been a lot for you to hear, but you’re not alone. Almost everyone has trouble seeing people distinctly, as they are. People like Percy who do it naturally are the rare ones.”

“Then what should I do?” Annabeth asked tersely. “I feel so stuck.”

“Don’t assume so much. If you’re upset, tell him. If you want him to open up, ask him to. The only way to know what’s on his mind is to ask him. You don’t have to try so hard to read his mind for him,” Piper explained.

Annabeth nodded curtly and said, “I’m just so mad at myself.”

“I get it, but it’s not all on you. Percy also shoulders some responsibility, but it’s hard to blame him. Lord knows how much he has done for us,” Piper mused. “Besides, he has his own issues that he needs to deal with.”

“I-I’ll do what I can,” Annabeth said.

“If it’s you, I think you can do it,” Piper said, smiling softly.

As nice as it was to hear that, Annabeth had no self-confidence in her ability to be a good friend, not anymore. Still, Piper was right. Percy had done so much for her. If this could help him somehow, then she was determined to do her best.

After a few more minutes of silence, Piper said, “We should probably get back to the project.”

Annabeth smiled despite herself and feigned wiping a tear from her eye. “I never thought I’d live to hear the day you’d say that.”

:::

In keeping with tradition, Annabeth still somehow managed to find a way to be late to the State Swimming Championship. It was held at a neighboring high school not far from Westwood, but she had stayed up all night the day before painting a sign for Percy, which led to her sleeping through her alarm. She had brushed her teeth and taken as quick a shower as she possibly could before dashing out of her house, sign tucked beneath her arm.

By the time she made it inside, the first heat was already over. Annabeth scanned the bleachers and found all her friends sitting next to Sally. She took the steps three at a time and took a moment to catch her breath before she took a seat between Sally and Piper.

“Where’s Estelle?” Annabeth asked.

“Paul took her to go back some snacks at the concession stand. How have you been, dear?” Sally asked.

“I’m good. School is getting busy, but I’m getting by,” Annabeth said. “How’s Percy doing?”

“He seemed ready. Cautious, but focused,” Sally said.

“That’s good to hear,” Annabeth said.

Estelle and Paul returned with bags of snacks for everyone. They passed them around to all of Percy’s friends and squeezed past to sit next to Sally. Estelle was thrilled to see Annabeth and threw her arms around her neck.

“Annabeth!” Estelle squealed.

Annabeth laughed and hugged her back. “How have you been, Stella?”

“Good! I just lost a tooth last night. See?” Estelle said, giving Annabeth a toothy smile.

“Wow, did you get a visit from the tooth fairy?” Annabeth asked.

Estelle nodded vigorously. “I got five whole dollars!”

“What are you going to spend it on?”

“She used her money to buy snacks for everyone,” Paul interjected.

“Daddy!” Estelle huffed.

Paul held his palms up in surrender. “Oh, sorry, she told me not to tell anyone about that.”

“Thanks, Stella!” Annabeth said, smiling. “She’s a good kid.”

“She is,” Paul said proudly. “It’s the Jackson genes, I’m telling you.”

“Oh, hush,” Sally said, though she looked pleased anyways.

Paul grinned at her and turned to Annabeth. “It’s been a while since we have had time to catch up, Annabeth. I heard you got into Berkeley! That’s amazing!”

“Yeah, thank you,” Annabeth said, hiding a smile.

“It’s a wonderful school. I’m sure you’ll love it,” Paul said.

Annabeth was about to thank him, but they were interrupted by an announcement that the next heat was to begin for men’s free style. The State tournament was different compared to other tournaments held during the regular season. There would be a preliminary round of ten heats of six swimmers each, and then the top six swimmers would be selected based off their times to participate in a final round. The winner of the final would win the entire competition. It was therefore possible to have the best time in the prelims and still lose if someone placed higher than you in the last round. Annabeth had never been a fan of the way the tournament was run, but there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Percy was going to be in the penultimate heat, so there was still time before he participated. In fact, he wasn’t even out of the locker room yet. Annabeth knew that he was staying inside to maintain his focus until the start of his heat. She recognized one of his teammates that was in the next heat, so she paid attention to him even though it was hard to feel interested.

After the heat began, Annabeth was once again reminded of how much fiercer the competition was at State compared to the other meets. Percy hadn’t competed against many of the swimmers here because they lived on the other side of the state. It might have been a function of the fact that it was her first time seeing some of them, but the competition looked stronger this year than it had in previous ones. They were so skilled that Annabeth wasn’t sure Percy was a shoe-in for first like she had initially thought.

There was one swimmer in particular from the sixth heat, Castellan, that was particularly scary. The effortless, graceful way he swam reminded her a lot of Percy’s form, and he managed to win his heat by a wide margin. She had never seen him before in any of the other meets or from previous years either. He must have moved to the State sometime this season. Nevertheless, it sowed a seed of worry in her mind that continued to take deeper root even after his heat ended.

Eventually, Percy finally made his way out when his heat was announced. Annabeth was relieved to see the familiar cold intensity on his face that she was accustomed to. After the last meet, she had been afraid that his focus would still be shaky when State finally rolled around, but instead Percy looked more focussed now than she had ever seen him before. Everything about him gave off the impression that he was going to win.

When his heat finally began, Percy dove into the water clinically and quickly pulled ahead of the competition. Annabeth and the rest of their friends cheered loudly for him as he touched off the other side of the pool, almost a full body’s length ahead of the person in second. The rest of the race only solidified Percy’s lead as he pulled further and further ahead.

Once he touched the opposite wall, Percy burst out of the water and took a moment to catch his breath, but then he looked over to the opposite end of the pool and pressed his lips in a thin line. Annabeth was confused at first because his time was fantastic, and he had done so well in his heat, but then she realized his time had been slower than that swimmer from the sixth heat. Although it wasn’t an indication of how the finals would go, it was still damaging to realize that someone had done better than you in the prelims.

Annabeth worried her lip and turned to Piper when she felt her hand on her shoulder. “Why does he look so annoyed?” Piper whispered.

“That guy from the sixth heat, Castellan, had a better time than he did,” Annabeth muttered.

Piper blinked and looked back down at Percy. “Wait, really?”

Annabeth nodded. “Yeah. It’s not the end of the world or anything, but it’s gonna pile some extra pressure onto his shoulders.”

“He’ll be fine,” Jason ventured, from beside Piper. “If he keeps his cool, he can put up a good fight. Besides, I don’t think their times were off by a lot.”

“True,” Annabeth agreed. “It would have been a lot worse if it was a blowout.”

“There’s a break before the finals start right?” Hazel asked, speaking across from Jason.

Piper looked at the meet schedule and nodded. “Yeah, there’s a half hour to give the competitors from the later heats time to rest before the finals.”

“Should we go see him or something?” Hazel asked.

Jason shook his head and said, “No, there’s a chance that we just make him lose focus. Besides, there nothing we can really say to help him.”

“Well, that fucking sucks,” Rachel huffed.

Hazel nudged Rachel with her elbow and whispered, “Don’t swear! Estelle is here.”

Rachel winced and said to Sally, “Sorry, Mrs. Jackson.”

Sally gave her a mischievous smile and said, “You should be, dear.”

That got a laugh out of all of them, much to Estelle’s confusion. They talked amongst themselves during the break before Annabeth realized she needed to run to the bathroom. Annabeth wasn’t gone long, but on her way back, she ran into someone walking the other way.

“Ouch.”

Annabeth stumbled back and rubbed her shoulder. “Sorry, are you okay?”

“Oh, hey, look who it is,” Percy said, smiling down at her.

“Oh, hey,” Annabeth said, blinking. “I was just coming back from the bathroom.”

Percy laughed and said, “Yeah, I kind of figured.”

There was an awkward pause where Annabeth debated if she should continue talking to him or if that would break his focus. His body language was relaxed, but Annabeth could tell that there was some tension in his shoulders. The way he lingered there gave her the impression that he wanted to talk to her, so she figured it was alright to say something.

“How are you doing?”

Percy coughed and looked away surreptitiously. “Fine.”

Annabeth crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t look fine to me.”

Percy blinked like he was surprised she had called him out. In the past, Annabeth would have ignored the signs under the assumption that he didn’t want to talk about it, but after her conversation with Piper, she didn’t want to keep making those mistakes anymore.

Eventually, Percy sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Did you get a chance to see that Castellan guy from the sixth heat?”

Annabeth nodded and said, “Yeah, he seemed pretty good.”

“His time was pretty insane,” Percy said slowly. “Better than my PR.”

“It wasn’t that far off though,” Annabeth said, leaning against the wall.

Percy rubbed his chin. “That’s true.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you don’t think you can beat him,” Annabeth said softly.

Percy looked up at her abruptly with wide eyes. “Uh...”

“Guilty as charged, huh?”

There was a pause before Percy laughed humorlessly and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. Usually, I never think about that sort of thing at meets. I’m only focused on doing my best. But now, I can’t help wondering if my best would even be enough.”

“I wish I could be super peppy and say that it definitely is, but I’ve had those thoughts too many times to say that to you. It would feel fake and you’d know it,” Annabeth started.

“That’s not exactly making me feel better,” Percy joked half-heartedly.

“Shut up, I was getting to it,” Annabeth said, knocking elbows with him.

Percy made a show of rubbing his elbows, which made her roll her eyes before she continued.

“Remember how you told me after the invitational that I had to believe that I hadn’t hit my limit yet, that I could still do better? I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, and I’m realizing that you were right. I’m killing any chance of improving if I believe it can’t be done. At the end of the day, I still want to keep competing, so I might as well believe in myself and keep trying.”

Percy was silent at this, so Annabeth continued. “My point is, you’ve gotta have faith in yourself. If that guy is better than you, make him prove it. Don’t do that work for him. You’re an insanely good swimmer. I know you can beat him. That’s not me saying that as a friend, but as another athlete. I know you have what it takes. Only question is: do you?”

“It’s not that I don’t think I’m good,” Percy said. “If it was just me, I wouldn’t be so worried, but so many people have put so much effort and faith in me that I can’t let them down. Like, I’ve always disappointed people, all my life, and there’s a voice in my head that tells me this time won’t be any different.”

“Fuck everyone else,” Annabeth said vehemently. “The people that care about you just want you to try your best.”

When Percy remained silent, Annabeth framed his face with her hands and forced him to meet her eyes. “Listen to me: all you have to do is go out there and swim. Nothing else matters. Okay?”

Percy was quiet for a while before he nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“You got this,” Annabeth said, squeezing his shoulders. “Give ‘em hell, Perce.”

“I will. Thanks, Annabeth,” Percy said, smiling. “I’ll see you after the finals are over?”

“I thought that went without saying,” Annabeth grinned. “There’s a chocolate milkshake from Martha’s with your name on it, after all.”

“Finally, something worth fighting for,” Percy sighed melodramatically.

Annabeth laughed and pushed him towards the locker room. “Alright, get going, champ. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Percy took a deep breath to steel himself and gave her one final nod before he made for the locker rooms. Annabeth waited for him to leave before she headed back to the bleachers. Piper gave her a questioning look as she sat down, as if to ask what took her so long, but Annabeth shrugged and remained silent.

The participants of the final heat left the locker room shortly after and stood in front of the pool. Percy’s lane was in the middle, right next to Castellan, from the sixth heat, but he looked composed and concentrated.

The swimmers stepped onto the diving boards and took their starting positions, bodies taut with anticipation. At the official’s whistle, they all dove into the water in unison. Percy and the other boy both quickly pulled ahead of the other four swimmers, but Percy lagged behind him ever so slightly. Annabeth leaned forward, forgetting to cheer, and worried her lower lip. She could tell Percy was trying to surge ahead of Castellan, but no matter what he did, the distance continued to remain unclosed for the first hundred meters.

Before they both touched off the wall for the final fifty meters, Percy seemed to lag further behind than he had all race. Annabeth’s heart sank, but somehow Percy surged forward on the last twenty meters and managed to pull alongside Castellan. At the end of the race, it was too close to tell who had won because they both appeared to finish at the same time.

Annabeth whipped towards the board on the far end of the pool and waited for the times to show, heart thundering in her chest. The subsequent seconds stretched like an eternity, but then numbers suddenly flickered on the board. It took Annabeth a second to process the results, but once she did, her heart soared in her chest.

Percy had won, but it had been unbelievably close.

Immediately, she looked back down for Percy and noticed the incredulous look on his face. It took his teammates tackling him for him to realize that he had won, a dumbfounded smile blossoming across his face. Annabeth clasped her hands in front of her mouth and tried to ignore the way her face hurt from smiling so hard. She could hear Piper and the rest of her friends going crazy beside her, but the noise felt distant like sound traveling through water.

They all made their way down to him, and Estelle and Paul were the first to speak to him before Sally pulled him into a fierce hug with misty eyes. After that, Piper jumped on his back and cheered while Jason congratulated him. Rachel and Hazel went next, followed by Frank and Leo, and through it all, Annabeth watched off to the side and tried not to tear up.

She felt so incredibly proud of him. All those years of grueling practice, nights spent staying late to get in extra laps at the pool, managing the pressure of his captaincy - all of it had paid off in the end, and she was so happy it had. He deserved all of it.

Finally, Percy locked eyes with her and slipped out of the arms of their other friends and wordlessly opened his arms. Annabeth didn’t even realize she was moving until she tackled him in a hug. He was still sopping wet from the race, so her shirt got wet but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Annabeth buried her face in the crook of his neck and squeezed Percy as tightly as she could.

It was hard to say how long they stayed like that, but eventually, she pulled away from his arms and looked up at him with a stupid grin on her face. “You did it! I’m so happy for you!”

Percy offered her an incredulous smile. “Somehow.”

“Shut up, you deserved to win. One hundred percent,” Annabeth said, poking his chest.

Percy’s ears turned red, and he tried to look away from her. “It was all thanks to a certain someone’s pep talk.”

“You’re giving me too much credit,” Annabeth said, but her heart felt ten times larger in her chest anyways.

“Seriously, I was really freaking out,” Percy said earnestly. “So thank you. Seriously.”

Annabeth bit back a smile. “You’re welcome. Seriously.”

“You never make things easy for me, do you,” Percy said, sighing melodramatically.

“Of course not,” Annabeth said. “I thought you would have figured that out after all these years.”

Percy shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a slow learner.”

“At least you’re not a slow swimmer,” Annabeth teased.

Percy rolled his eyes and said, “So what next? Martha’s?”

“You sure you want to celebrate with me and not your family?” Annabeth asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh don’t worry about that,” Percy laughed. “I know they’ll monopolize me later today. But first, I want that chocolate milkshake you promised me.”

Annabeth bit the inside of her cheek and tried not to get carried away by what he was saying. Still, she couldn’t help the feeling of exhilaration washing over her.

“Alright, Martha’s it is,” Annabeth said. “Go finish your shower and get dressed. I’ll be waiting for you.”

Percy nodded and left to tell his family their plans and to say goodbye to the rest of their friends, who were getting ready to leave. Piper gave her a knowing look on her way out, but Annabeth made a show of pointedly ignoring her.

A short while later, Percy met her at the entrance to the parking lot, his hair still wet from the shower. They drove to Martha’s in silence, only accompanied by the feeble radio in her dad’s car. The sun was just beginning to set, diffusing pink and blue across the spread of the horizon. At that proximity, Percy smelled distractingly of body wash, making Annabeth’s face prickle.

“I meant what I said earlier, you know?” Percy said, breaking the silence.

Annabeth glanced at him. “Hmm?”

“What you told me really helped,” Percy said.

“You’re being too nice,” Annabeth said.

“No, seriously, I was pretty sure I was gonna lose. Like on the last hundred meters, I kept thinking that it was only natural that I would let everyone down again, but then I heard your voice in my head, saying ‘All you have to do is go out there and swim’. I don’t know how or why, but that got me out of my own head and helped me win,” Percy explained.

Annabeth’s throat was dry. “I’m, uh, glad it helped.”

She caught his soft smile in the mirror. “Yeah, me too.”

“It’ll be your turn in April,” he said. “You’ll win State too, and then I’ll have to be the one buying milkshakes next time around.”

“Damn straight,” Annabeth said. “I can’t rest until I kick Reyna’s ass.”

“I can’t tell if you hate her or adore her,” Percy said, smirking.

“A little of both,” Annabeth admitted. “People that have never lost once in their lives piss me off, but Reyna’s a good person and fun to be around.”

“I did beat her at the batting cages,” Percy pointed out.

“Doesn’t count unless I’m the one doing it,” Annabeth said, shaking her head.

Percy’s grin grew wider before he turned away from her, making Annabeth scowl. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, I just thought that was a very ‘Annabeth’ thing to say,” Percy said, shrugging.

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“Hmm, I wonder,” Percy said, still grinning.

“Asshole,” Annabeth huffed.

There was a lull in the conversation while Annabeth began to turn something over in her mind. At first, it had seemed like a stupid idea, but the more that she thought about it, the more she wanted to go for it.

“H-Hey, I know you said you’d get me a milkshake if I won and all, but is it cool if I ask for something else instead?” Annabeth asked, fingers curling tighter around the steering wheel.

“Your wish is my command, your majesty.”

“Shut up, I’m being serious,” Annabeth laughed.

“Sure, I don’t see why not,” Percy said, shrugging. “What did you want instead?”

Annabeth swallowed and said, “I’ll let it be a surprise for now. Just promise not to chicken out when the time comes.”

“You’re not gonna ask me to like run around school naked or something right?” Percy asked, raising an eyebrow.

Annabeth barked a laugh. “Tempting, but no.”

Percy hummed to himself for a while before he sighed and said, “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to trust you not to make me do something embarrassing.”

“Don’t worry so much. I promise it’s not that bad. Just wanted to ask you something. Besides, there’s no guarantee that I’ll even win, after all,” Annabeth said.

Percy yawned and curled up in his seat and closed his eyes. “I don’t know, I’m pretty certain you’ll win.”

Annabeth glanced at him. “Yeah? What makes you say that?”

“Dunno, I just believe in you,” Percy said simply.

Annabeth bit the inside of her cheek and resisted the urge to tell him that he was making a mistake. Honestly, she didn’t think she had a snowball’s chance in hell of beating Reyna at State, but she would still try her best to repay Percy’s faith in her. As a fellow athlete, he wouldn’t say something like that just to be nice. If he thought she had a shot, then maybe he was seeing something in her that she couldn’t.

The sky continued to darken, and Annabeth found herself thinking that even if she couldn’t believe in herself, maybe she could believe in how much Percy believed in her instead.

#just practice #percabeth fake dating au #percabeth #percabeth fic #percy jackson #annabeth chase #i'm really happy with this chapter #hopefully people think the character work is as nuanced as it feels to me #i will give u my first born if you comment and reblog

73 notes · View notes

flourchildwrites · 3 years

Text

“I want all my alchemists, current and former, to lay low for the time being while we reassess the State Alchemy program. I am here to ask what you want in return for your service and your discretion.”

Behind the reflective surface of his horn-rimmed glasses, Grumman’s eyes shift to the foot of Alphonse’s bed where Izumi’s cookbook sits open. “Your just deserts, as it were,” he adds with a smirk.

Alphonse doesn’t have to ponder what their plans are.

“All we want is to go home, sir, to Resembool,” Alphonse answers. He smiles to lighten the mood; loose skin pulls around the corners of his grin. “And I’d also like to see a few friends. Maybe try some of the foods from my list before we leave Central."

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga

Relationships & Characters: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric, Izumi Curtis/Sig Curtis, Gracia Hughes, Elicia Hughes, Grumman, Winry Rockbell, Pinako Rockbell

Genre: Character Study, Post-Promised Day, Recovery, Just Deserts

Trigger Warnings: Underweight Character

Rating: G

Word Count: 2,967 words (Complete)

A/N: I'm incredibly excited to share the fic I wrote for @fmacookbookzine, Tastes of Amestris! Most of the desserts mentioned in the story have recipes in the cookbook. I owe a special thanks to the zine moderator as well as my betas, Tas and @vino-and-doggos. I appreciate kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions, comments, likes, and reblogs if you feel so inclined.

Kintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. The repair becomes part of the object’s history and enhances its beauty.

...

There is a plate in the china cabinet of Pinako’s kitchen that Alphonse likes best. It looks the same as the others with pale pink vines looping along the fluted rim. Yet, this particular piece is set apart from the rest. Once cracked in half, Alphonse’s favorite plate has a vein of gold that binds the fractured parts together.

He was there when it happened on Winry’s sixth birthday. Ms. Sarah assembled an unorthodox birthday dessert in honor of the occasion, an elegant presentation of fresh berries, whipped cream, and puffs of baked meringue. The final touch was a pinch of mint, and once combined, Winry gazed excitedly at her mother’s handiwork stacked atop the fine china. In her wonder, the child’s footing faltered.

All told, it was an everyday accident that had Pinako tutting softly under her breath as she picked up the pieces; however, precious little went to waste in the Rockbell household—a place where broken things (and sometimes people) came to be restored. With the conscience of a healer and the precision of a surgeon, Granny carefully glued the jagged edges together with golden lacquer. Raised lines stuck out along the break and dried, leaving the piece even more beautiful for the story it had to tell.

When Alphonse looks in the mirror now, his face also tells a story. Though, he thinks that it is not a tale the hospital staff wants to hear. They are thankful for the large red letters that read ‘CONFIDENTIAL’ stamped across his medical chart. They look away from the sunken eyes and gaunt cheeks that stare back at Alphonse from the mirror Sig is holding for him. Each time Alphonse sees himself, he half expects to confront a gunmetal helmet with half-moon holes glowing red and horizontal vents instead of gutting cheekbones. The reality is disorienting but not unwelcome.

Like the metallic bond holding together his favorite plate, Alphonse likes the way his golden eyes gleam with the satisfaction of seeing his and Edward’s bodies restored. All except for his brother’s leg, and perhaps Edward does not regret that loss. It was a price paid-in-full for the people the Elric brothers helped and the lesson they learned, albeit the hard way.

Alphonse’s fingers tremble as he grasps the razor. He glances up from the mirror to the burly bear of a man holding it. “Press the razor to your face and gently pull upward,” Sig kindly instructs. “Let it do the work for you.”

The young man nods and does as instructed, ready to savor the task of shaving for the first time with the most patient person as his teacher. Alphonse takes his first pull of the razor, and it glides across his upper lip with little resistance until, at the very end, his hand trembles again.

He feels a sharp sensation, and while examining his visage in the mirror, Alphonse notices a red mark above the corner of his mouth mingled with traces of shaving cream. Sig holds out a handkerchief.

“You should have seen my first attempt. You did well,” Sig says with a pleasant grin.

A warmth fills Alphonse’s hospital room, crammed with four people who function as a family, just as they did back in Dublith. Edward reclines on the bed next to his brother with his arms stretched lazily behind his trademark braid. Izumi watches the exchange between her husband and Alphonse with a small smile, barely keeping up the pretense of reading her recipe book. She keeps her vigil at Alphonse and Ed’s bedside despite her injuries.

There’s a staccato series of knocks on the door. Between the abrupt sound and the sudden appearance of an officer drenched in Amestrian blue, the spell of domesticity is broken. It is replaced by a colder reality: Ed and Alphonse Elric are being kept by the military. They remain unsure who is being protected from whom and to what end.

Their guard straightens up. A sheen of sweat collects on his brows and the collar of his woolen uniform. His voice is strained as he pulls up into a rigid salute to address Ed. The Fullmetal Alchemist cocks his brow incredulously at the formal display.

“Sorry to intrude, Major Elric,” the officer finally announces, “Mr. Alphonse Elric. You have a visitor.”

“A visitor?” Ed parrots; a sharp remark is already on the tip of his pitchy tongue. “If it’s that Colonel Bastard, again, you can tell him-”

“It’s not Colonel Mustang,” the officer interrupts. “It’s Genera- I mean Führer Grumman.”

The collective attention of the room turns as a shorter, older man emerges from behind the guard. He moves slowly and smiles through his thick, white mustache. The deep blue of his immaculate uniform contrasts the faded fabric of the lower-ranking officer ahead of him. Service ribbons in every color weigh down the left side of the gentleman’s long jacket.

“Acting Führer,” he corrects with adroit, disarming syntax. “But then, we’re all friends here. Who cares about a little thing like formalities?”

...

Alphonse scratches at his freshly shaven upper lip as the usual introductions are observed. It seems that Ed will be doing the talking, and with that in mind, Alphonse expects a brief visit. Nevertheless, Grumman paves the way for pleasantries as well as business. Not five minutes into the discussion, Alphonse realizes that the new acting Führer speaks with authority.

It would be wise, Alphonse decides, to listen carefully.

When Führer Grumman asks Izumi and Sig to step out for an afternoon cup of tea, the request is not a suggestion. The strong-willed teacher rises with the help of her husband, and the couple leaves begrudgingly. Alphonse grins sympathetically at them as they exit. It bolsters his confidence when Izumi returns his smile with an assertive nod.

Grumman does not hesitate to fill the seat their teacher vacated. Gravity bears down on Alphonse’s frail shoulders, but he sits as tall as he can.

“The way I hear it, you boys saved the day,” the Führer proclaims, flashing a set of pearly whites. “I’d say my government owes you both a debt of gratitude.”

With all the rough-edged diplomacy he can muster, Ed responds. “Yeah, well, we didn’t do it for the government, old man. And I’m done being a dog of the military. Whatever plans you’ve got in mind, count us out.”

The Führer’s reaction is nearly nonexistent. Instead, he leans against the hardback of the chair and immediately winces.

“Dreadfully uncomfortable,” he announces, shifting forward. Grumman waves a hand to draw the guard in closer. “Be a helpful lad. See that Mrs. Curtis is given more comfortable seating.”

The young officer scurries off, closing the door behind him, and the older gentleman turns his attention toward Alphonse.

“Oh, I understand perfectly. The military will ask nothing further of you if that’s what you want,” he replies. “But the situation we find ourselves in is unusual—a conspiracy in the upper echelons of the government, a nation-wide episode of unconsciousness, the condition of Alphonse’s body, and the inexplicable connection it all has to alchemy. These are the sort of concerns that fuel the rumor mill.”

The older gentleman pauses, idly twisting the ends of his mustache between his fingers as he divulges the political landscape of Amestris.

Behind the reflective surface of his horn-rimmed glasses, Grumman’s eyes shift to the foot of Alphonse’s bed where Izumi’s cookbook sits open.

“Your just deserts, as it were,” he adds with a smirk.

Alphonse doesn’t have to ponder what their plans are.

“Your list?” the Führer asks.

“It was in a book he used to keep,” Ed explains. His tone softens, as it always does when he speaks of his brother. “It listed foods he wanted to try when he was inside... Anyway, I think we lost it.”

“I see.”

Grumman’s response is curt. With a final flourish, the old man straightens his cap and rises from the chair. It seems that he’s heard all he needs to hear.

“I’m going to keep an eye on you boys,” he concludes. “Just the one, mind you, for whatever that’s worth. It’s a fine idea for you both to return to Resembool. Recuperate and rest, and when you figure out what you’d like to do with your time, give me a call.”

The old man produces an ivory card from the pocket of his uniform; a phone number is scribbled on the front. The card itself is an innocuous thing, but the peace offering reeks of political maneuvering. Ed frowns as Führer Grumman places the card on the small table between the brothers’ beds. Alphonse is torn, equal parts intrigued and wary of the strings attached to this phone number.

“The good people here tell me that Alphonse will be ready to travel in four months,” Grumman continues. “In the meantime, I’ll see that you are allowed visitors and suitable food that Alphonse would like to become reacquainted with.”

Alphonse focuses on the task at hand. He thinks of the timeline and of the way Edward approached his recovery from the automail installation. A determined glint ignites in his golden eyes, almost glossy with the lacquer of conviction. Alphonse is weak, but his spirit remains tireless.

“I’ll do it in two,” he says.

Edward, only too happy to put the politics of Central City behind them, nods in agreement.

...

A month’s time sees Alphonse with his hair clipped short; his once sunken cheeks have regained some fullness. Edward, Sig, and Izumi have long since been discharged, but they take turns keeping Alphonse company from the spare couch of his hospital room. Just like Führer Grumman promised, it’s more comfortable than the standard chairs, but that doesn’t mean Alphonse is content to linger.

Now more than ever, he’s determined to go home, walking unassisted down Resembool’s roads. However, for the moment, it’s all Alphonse can do to steady his awkward gait by digging his toes into mats and bracing his arms against the parallel bars. He thinks something as simple as walking should come easily; his legs have other ideas. Another fall brings his physical therapy to an end for the day, and Alphonse returns to his hospital room.

He takes the bumps and bruises in stride. He makes it a point to smile at the staff even when their treatments bring him pain alongside progress. From the confines of a wheelchair, Alphonse greets his guard—a man called Doug who likes comic books and whistles to fill the silence. Doug never pries and is quick to look the other way when Ed overstays his official welcome.

“Ready for more visitors?” Doug asks.

Alphonse’s face lights up with anticipation, and he cranes his neck to peer around the doorframe. Tawny brown hair and emerald eyes fill his field of vision as the small body of a precocious child lunges toward him. She nearly jumps into his lap before her mother pulls her back while balancing a covered plate with one arm.

“Elicia! Ms. Gracia!” Alphonse greets. Recognition washes over both visitors' faces at the sound of Alphonse’s voice.

“So that’s what you look like,” Elicia observes. She giggles madly, rocking back and forth from heel to toe.

Alphonse is quick to change the subject; he also refuses to think about the way Elicia’s gregarious nature reminds him of a certain someone.

The visit is pleasant and predictable. Gracia frets about his weight and serves him a double portion of adorable pudding domes that mother and daughter whipped up for the visit. The vanilla concoctions are cleverly molded into cat-shaped faces, painted with slanting eyes and curving mouths. Soft and creamy with a hint of coffee, they are as sweet as Elicia.

Between the confection and the company, Alphone passes an hour or more catching up on life and letting the child bounce between the walls of his hospital room. When mother and daughter depart (with promises to return with quiche), the silence feels harder to swallow. Alphonse cannot help but think of Winry and Pinako, of apple pie and strong coffee mixed with the smell of automail oil.

He wants, more than anything, to go home.

...

The doctors are surprised when Alphonse meets his deadline; Ed, ever faithful, is not. Alphonse leaves Central City General with his head held high and only stops to rest when the hospital is out of sight. His senses are overwhelmed by the feeling of a starched collar against the back of his neck, the pull of a new vest across his chest, and the weight of Grumman’s card in his pocket.

Alphonse follows Ed’s lead through neat cobblestone roads that feel familiar and yet entirely different, steeped in a tactile reality that he can touch, feel, and taste. Thick exhaust from passing cars sticks to the back of his throat on their way to the train station. Yet, the stench is suddenly replaced by delicious aromas wafting from a nearby café.

His rumbling stomach is drawn to a wide store window where rounds of raspberry mousse cake sit proudly on display. Chilled pink and green tinted layers sit beneath a tempting red glaze that appears sticky, smooth, and oh-so delectable. Alphonse imagines that the confection tastes tart and tangy with notes of brandy and pistachios. He wants to charge into the cafe and order every morsel that’s for sale, but his brother has other ideas.

“Better get going,” Ed says, throwing an arm around Alphonse’s shoulders to steer him away from temptation. “We’ve got a train to catch. You’ve been waiting a long time for what Winry’s whipping up.”

Reluctantly, Alphonse tears himself away from the sight but not before committing the name of the confection and the café to memory. He leaves Central swearing that, when the time is right, he’ll be back.

...

Their return isn’t quite as Alphonse imagined. There’s no hero’s welcome; only a few nods of recognition are offered as they make their way down Resembool’s country roads. But as soon as Alphonse sees the Rockbell residence, a place that marks their journey’s end, accolades don’t matter.

Edward offers to carry him, and Alphonse refuses, bracing himself against his walking stick instead. With gratitude, he thinks of the people that have propelled the brothers along their quest—especially the travelers from Xing. He hopes that they, too, made it home.

And in the blink of an eye, their dream is realized. Den pounces upon Alphonse, recognizing him despite the amount of time that has passed. Winry isn’t far behind. She tackles the brothers to the ground and wraps her arms around them. The trio is a mess of blonde hair and tears of joy.

“Dummies, welcome home!” she exclaims, and for now, Alphonse is inclined to believe this is where he belongs. In this home and amongst these people, he intends to reconcile the pieces of himself while his appetite for the sweet things in life returns.

Winry serves him her famed apple pie on the pink porcelain plate, its halves still bound together by golden lacquer. It’s wonderful and not just because of the flaky crust that crumbles under his fork or the cinnamon sweetness of the soft apples. It’s wonderful because, for the first time in a long time, Alphonse is precisely where he wants to be.

...

Many apple pies are shared around Pinako’s dinner table. There are also birthday cakes for Alphonse (two to be exact) and pans of bread pudding served with blueberries and vanilla sauce. He eats and laughs and grows stronger by the day.

When Alphonse looks in the mirror now, he still likes what he sees, and the girls in town tend to agree. His favorite white-collar shirts hint at the toned torso hiding beneath, and his square jaw exudes newfound confidence. Yet, his ambition to make their world a better place remains the same—too loud for a quiet country backdrop.

Alphonse realizes that the path he is meant to walk extends much farther. His studies, inspired by the prospect of adventure and letters from a feisty alkahestress, resonate with the Dragon’s Pulse. Finally, Alphonse is compelled to dial the number scribbled on the back of the old ivory card and is delighted when he’s connected to the nation’s most powerful man straightaway.

“Had your fill of Resembool yet, son?” Führer Grumman asks. “Are you ready to add to that list of yours?”

“Funny you should bring up my list,” Alphonse retorts, more than willing to play Grumman’s game of allusion. “There’s this Xingese dessert that Princess Mei Chang goes on about in her letters, a red bean soup. It would be a shame if I never tried it, don’t you think?”

Grumman chuckles. “Suppose you could use some diplomatic credentials for the trip. Try not to cause an international incident until Mustang takes over.”

The golden glint in Alphonse’s eyes makes no guarantees. His well-mannered innocence is tempered by past mistakes and fused with a gunmetal resolve.

“I can’t make any promises,” he replies.

#fma #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #alphonse elric #edward elric #grumman #character study #post-promised day #just deserts #kintsugi #flourchildwrites #and uses Oxford commas

29 notes · View notes

quickspinner · 3 years

Text

Month of Miracles - The Longest Night

Find the prompt list here!

Luka played assistant while Marinette got the kids all garbed in their costumes, making little final adjustments and snipping hanging threads and acting for all the world as if this was just as serious as any fashion show she’d ever worked, instead of the dress rehearsal for a small town library Christmas pageant. He followed her around, holding things, handing her what she needed, and trying not to get caught mooning over her like the lovesick sap he was. The kids already had plenty of ammo to use against him, so he tried to keep a professional demeanor—but that really probably only made them snicker harder.

Mostly, though, they were too excited about their outfits to care. Marinette had found a way to interpret the costumes that felt true to who these kids were, and that was probably rarer than it should be.

The angels in particular were a masterpiece, especially given how little white there was in his rock star wardrobe. They glittered and shimmered with all of the hardware and rhinestones, and their wings were dangerous-looking concoctions made of wire and trailing fabric and dangling crystals and beads. They looked like the kinds of beings who would have to announce their presence with “Fear not!” and it was awesome.

The angels weren’t actually his favorite part, though. Marinette had gotten quickly flustered in the face of Rose’s eager excitement, and started making excuses to leave. She’d snatched his notebook out of his pocket, pulled the pen out of the coil and scribbled her phone number on the back, babbling only semi-coherently as she did so. Then she’d snatched up the lighted jacket, kissed him quickly, and fled. Luka had been too busy fending off Rose’s interrogation to even think to question why she had taken the jacket, until she brought out the costumes for Mary and Joseph. The holy family were now softly illuminated with cleverly concealed fiber optic lights in their hoods. Somehow Marinette had managed to turn off the flashing and camouflage the lights enough to give the children a soft glow, like a renaissance painting come to life (if renaissance madonnas had punk haircuts).

That wasn’t really why he liked it, though. Marinette had removed the lights so carefully, and repaired the jacket so cleverly, that it was now as good as new, if a bit smaller than it had been, and she had taken to wearing it all the time. Catching a glimpse of his jacket under her big pink puffy winter coat made him grin like a fool every time.

She was wearing it even now, and he felt his grin turn dopey and soft again as he watched Marinette get down on the floor without a second thought to fix a hem that had come loose. She was so amazing, and the last few days had been wonderful, whether they were just driving aimlessly around town and chatting while they admired the lights, or lost in tender looks and touches, or just sharing space while they worked on their own projects. Luka knew without doubt that he was utterly in love with her. It might shatter him when she left, but they had four precious days left and Luka planned to make the most of them. Besides, who knew what could happen? It was the modern age, and long distance relationships were a thing, and surely there was something they could work out—

Luka quashed those thoughts as quickly as he could. It wasn’t a good idea to be thinking that way, and he didn’t even know if Marinette would welcome anything of the kind from him. Better to stay in the moment. Something would work out; if she felt anything close to what he felt for her, she couldn’t leave him totally behind...and if she didn’t, then it was just as well for things to end now. He’d get over it. Somehow.

In the meantime, he’d enjoy every conversation, every soft look, every touch and kiss and sigh of his name from her lips.

Yep, he was absolutely basking in the knowledge of how completely hopeless he was.

Marinette stood up and backed away, looking at her handiwork with satisfaction as Rose began rounding up the kids to start the actual rehearsal. Luka sidled casually to Marinette’s side, letting his hand brush against hers. She wiggled her fingers in between his absently, and Luka grinned that stupid grin again, aiming it at the floor.

Teenage giggling suggested that he wasn’t at all successful in hiding it. He rolled his eyes, but the grin remained. Beat it , he mouthed at the kid who was snickering, raising his eyebrows threateningly, but instead the kid burst into outright laughter and a chorus of juvenile “ooooohs,” suddenly filled the air. Confused, they followed the pointing fingers and looked up to find one of the youngsters sitting on the bookshelf behind them, holding a piece of mistletoe out over their heads.

Luka rolled his eyes. “Oh, very funny, Rowan,” he scoffed, but then he turned and caught Marinette’s face in his hands and kissed her. Without lifting his lips from hers, he hooked one arm around her neck and the other around her waist and bent her backwards. The liplock itself wasn’t anything special—he wasn’t about to ravish her in front of a bunch of schoolkids, particularly since he knew all of their parents personally and did not need the earful they would give him—but it didn’t matter; the utterly cliche dip was as gross to them as a real kiss would have been.

“EW!” screamed the younger children, while the older ones either whooped or groaned, and Luka sent them a wicked grin as he set Marinette back up on her feet.

“Never bluff a Couffaine,” he told them, reaching out to ruffle Rowan’s multicolored head as he dropped down frm the bookshelf. Rose gave him a smug look as she came to retrieve the delinquents, and Luka couldn’t even make himself glare at her.

Marinette smacked his chest and he just winked at her, catching her hand and holding it to his heart. He got a little charge from the way her stern face twitched and then melted into a smile almost as silly as his own. He bent down as if drawn by a magnet and their lips met for a softer, more genuine kiss, and then she shoved his face away and turned back to watch the wise men start their parade to Bethlehem from the back of the library.

Luka looped his arms around Marinette’s waist and shook his head slightly as he watched the shepherds, decked in shredded leather and ripped denim and artistically mussed as though they really had been lounging around a field, cower before the rhinestone-studded angel glittering brilliantly in the light of the old spot Rose had bullied or begged from somewhere. “You’re a genius,” he murmured in her ear.

She tensed a little, but snuggled back in his arms. Luka sighed softly and nuzzled her temple, wishing he could help her, but whatever she was going through in her creative life, she was going to have to figure out for herself. He found her hand with his again and laced her slender, hard-working fingers through his own.

They both jumped when the library doors flew open with a bang. Everyone jumped or stiffened, and a room full of wide eyes turned to look at the tall, blond woman wearing an absurdly large hat and a fur stole stomp into the library like it was a fashion runway.

Luka felt Marinette gasp, and tightened his hold on her.

The woman looked around, and demanded in a voice that echoed off the walls. “Well, where is she? Marinette Dupain-Cheng, get out here this instant or you’re fired .”

Marinette pushed him away, and walked toward the tall woman, who spun on her heels to face her. “A-Audrey,” Marinette stammered. “What are you doing here?”

“My dear, the question is, what are you doing here?” Audrey replied with a sniff, looking around the little library. “No wonder you haven’t been able to get any work done in this dismal place.”

“Audrey, I’m on leave,” Marinette began, and Audrey flapped a hand dismissively.

“Leave, schmeave. We have deadlines , Marinette. Deadlines you are appallingly behind on.”

“B-behind?” Marinette stuttered, looking taken aback. “We were on schedule! I left very specific instructions!” Luka came up behind her and put a hand on her back in silent support.

“Those instructions were ridiculous ,” Audrey sneered. “The products were completely unacceptable. And since you didn’t deign to answer my calls, I came to fetch you myself. If you weren’t so talented I would have just fired you on the spot for abandoning things in such a state.”

He felt Marinette tense under his hand, and her fists clenched. “Unacceptable—Audrey, you approved those designs! If the production team—”

“ You are the designer,” Audrey accused, pointing an immaculately manicured finger in Marinette’s face. She flinched, and Luka had to fight every instinct in his body to keep still. “This is your failure. Now come along. You have a lot to make up for. Get in the car, we’ll stop and pick up your things on the way.” She turned and stalked to the door, clearly expecting Marinette to follow.

Marinette stared after her with her mouth open. Then she closed it, swallowed, and straightened her shoulders—and moved to follow Audrey.

Luka caught her hand without meaning to. “Marinette,” he said, and she turned her face to look up at him. For a moment they just stared at each other, and cold dread coiled in the pit of Luka’s stomach.

“I guess this is it,” she said softly. “I’m sorry, Luka. Goodbye.”

Luka stared at her as her hand slipped out of his. She picked up her pink coat as she passed the chair where he had placed it earlier. She dug in the pocket a moment, and took out a box, putting it on the table. She took one look back at him, and then followed Audrey out, catching the door so that it closed with a quiet click instead of a slam.

“Luka,” Rose whispered at his side, and he barely even felt her touch on his arm. He watched through the windows of the library door as Marinette, head down, shoulders bowed, got into Audrey’s limo.

Only when the car pulled away down the street could he move. He closed his mouth, and swallowed. Then he went quietly to his own coat, and put it on slowly, aware of the eyes on him the entire time.

He emerged into the sun and cold, fresh air, and looked around. The street was as it always was this time of year, with families and couples and individuals meandering through. Tinsel decorations sparkled on the streetlights, and the storefronts all had fake snow frosting the corners of their windows.

Luka blinked against the glare, so bright it brought tears to his eyes, put his hands in his pockets, and turned for home.

***

Marinette didn’t even hear most of Audrey’s chatter on the ride back to the city. She couldn’t stop thinking about that look on Luka’s face.

I should never have kissed him , she thought, staring out of the window. I knew better, and I let him make me believe .

She sighed—silently, so as not to draw Audrey’s notice. She wasn’t being fair. Of course it was a shock, what happened. Neither of them had been expecting it. There had been no bittersweet farewell, no moment of closure. No last kiss goodbye, no one last diamond moment to hold on to as the sands began to flow again.

He would get over it, once the shock passed, she thought mournfully, running an absent finger over the leather wrap on the door handle. He’d send her a text later, she was sure, something sweet and thoughtful, to let her know he was alright and that he was sorry things happened the way they had, but good luck and have a good life and oh, thanks for the present, that was really sweet.

And then he’d go back to his cozy life and forget her like he intended to all along.

She was so stupid , letting him talk her into living that little fantasy for even a day, let alone—

She shook her head slightly. This was better. It only would have been worse if she’d stayed longer.

...at least she had the memories to hold in her heart, though. He’d been right about that. She could remember what it was like to feel like he loved her, his affection and pride and unwavering support, his warm, sweet kisses, and the way that he looked at her…the way everyone giggled at them in the cafe. The quiet, private times when she’d curled in the hollow of his body as he held his guitar around her and played just for her, and she hadn’t had to do anything or be anything. The time he’d taken her up on the hill and they’d stood amongst the young trees, cuddled close against the chill as they looked up at the stars and for once she felt like the universe was big enough to let her breathe...

She fingered the lapel of his jacket beneath her own. Okay, maybe he’d been right too. Maybe the memories were worth having.

If only she could have stayed.

She gave another small shake of her head, blinking back tears, keeping her face averted from Audrey slightly.

“And the colors were atrocious —”

“I told you the color scheme was wrong,” Marinette said before she could think the better of it.

“It’s your job to make it work,” Audrey snapped. “ You sourced those fabrics.”

“According to your specifications,” Marinette shot back, her tone even but unyielding. “If you want to overrule me, that’s your prerogative, but don’t blame me for the outcome.”

Audrey pulled off her ever-present sunglasses and looked at Marinette with narrowed eyes. “If you don’t want this opportunity,” she said coldly, “then say so and stop wasting my time.”

Marinette shrank slightly. “Of course I do,” she sighed miserably, looking back out of the window. “It’s the opportunity of a lifetime.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Audrey sneered, sliding her sunglasses back on. “Or I’ll find someone else to clean up your mess.”

Marinette gritted her teeth and clenched her fists in her lap, willing herself to stay silent.

Speaking up wouldn’t do any good anyway.

***

He was still sitting at the kitchen table, staring blankly into space, when Rose got home. Luka didn’t even hear the door open, but he did hear Rose’s footsteps approaching over the wood floor.

“Luka,” Rose said softly, but he didn’t look at her. She set a small box on the table in front of him. “I’m pretty sure this was meant for you.” When he didn’t move, she slid it over until it touched his fingers. “You should open it.”

She waited a moment longer, and when he didn’t move, she sighed. “I’m sorry, Luka.” He listened to her retreat, leaving him alone again.

Sometime later he felt fingers slide through his hair, and the familiar song of his mother’s jangling jewelry was quickly followed by her scent surrounding him as she bent and pressed her lips to his forehead. “I’m proud of ye, son,” she told him. “Take as long as ye need.”

He sat there until it was dark outside, without really thinking about anything in particular. He just felt...numb.

Finally he looked at the box Rose had left him. He contemplated it for a moment, and then drew himself up with a sigh, and picked up the box. It was a nice box, lined in silver ribbon. Trust Marinette to pay attention to every detail. He fumbled it a little before he managed to slide the top off.

There was a pair of black leather gloves inside. Luka frowned slightly, picking them up. The leather was buttery soft, like it was already broken in, and...he slid one on his hand and flexed his fingers.

It fit perfectly, with none of the tightness or resistance that had always bothered him in the past. “You little sneak,” he murmured, tears stinging his eyes even as he smiled. “How’d you pull this off, hmm?”

Luka remembered suddenly how they’d been talking at Sally’s, and she had walked her little fingers over each finger of his hand, like it was something completely idle. He’d thought it was cute at the time. He’d thought she was just teasing him, since she pulled her hand away every time he tried to take it, but…

He’d be willing to put money on it that she had used some of the leather from his wardrobe to make these, and she’d chosen something he’d worn enough to take the stiffness out of the leather. And the accents around the cuffs and along the darts at the back of the hands...those were from the jacket she’d kept. The one she’d had to cut down when she took the lights out.The one she’d still been wearing, when she walked out today.

Luka swallowed a lump in his throat. All that work that she’d done, on the children’s costumes, and she’d found time to do this for him as well. Because she cared about him, and she loved his music, and she wanted him to take care of his hands.

“Marinette,” he sighed, letting his head fall on the table. “You’re killing me here.”

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there after that before Juleka’s hand rested lightly on his back. She didn’t say anything, just stayed there, and after a minute, he lifted his head and leaned it back on her. She stroked his hair just like his mother had.

“You need a ride to the bus station in the morning?” Juleka asked.

Luka closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

Fiction Master Post | Month of Miracles

#quickspins #monthofmiracles2020 #hallmark au #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug

60 notes · View notes

elsewhereuniversity · 4 years

Text

Mellow was reading a murder mystery when the knights crashed through the door to her tower. She closed the book and listened to the voices on the stairwell, smiling when she heard the tone: giddy, drunk on relief, the kind of dazed wonder that only comes after the adrenaline stops. She recognized one- Magpie, if she wasn’t mistaken.

Her suspicion was confirmed when the pair stumbled through her door, soaked to the skin, dripping what she sincerely hoped was water onto the floor. Magpie was all in plate armor, except her torso was bare, which seemed to defeat the purpose somewhat. The other girl, unfamiliar, was dressed in what appeared to be a bathrobe, and was looking around with undisguised suspicion. Mellow smiled, did her level best to appear nonthreatening.

“Magpie, you’re back,” she said lightly. “I’d say it’s good to see you again, but if you’ve found me, that only means one thing.”

Magpie’s smile turned crooked, a familiar mixture of bashfulness and pride on her face (like a hundred other knights before).

Mellow didn’t entirely understand how it worked. She wasn’t sure if it was a curse or a gift. She didn’t even really remember what she was before she became… well, whatever it was that she was now. She distantly remembered climbing the tower stairs, but even that was foggy, and before that… well, just fog, and the distant sound of the Unsea.

Mellow didn’t try to remember things very often.

But, for better or for worse, people found their way to her tower. Not just people- knights, those recently returned from their quests. And never whole ones. If she was lucky, she got people like Magpie, who would bear scars with pride. If she was unlucky, she’d be sitting with someone with less fingers than expected, or short an eye. The kinds of wounds that even she couldn’t fix, just take the pain away.

The worst ones were the silent ones, or the crying ones. The ones that told her through words or otherwise that dear ones hadn’t made it back, or that they were not as they were.

“How did we get here?” asked the newcomer, jolting Mellow back to the present. Her suspicion was fading into curiosity as she looked around, peering out the window. “I swear, I’ve gone past here a hundred times, and this wasn’t here.”

“Beats me, love,” Mellow said, smiling wryly. “From what I understand, it won’t be here unless you’re, ah…"

"Oh.” The girl looked out the window to the swirling fog, then asked, “Are you a ghost?”

“Lark!” Magpie looked mortified. Mellow just laughed.

“Not on my good days.” She looked at her hand in spite of herself, a little self conscious. She shouldn’t have worried- you could barely see the floor through it.

“And on bad days?” Lark asked with genuine interest. Magpie looked about to die of embarrassment.

“On bad days, you could read a book through me,” Mellow admitted cheerfully. “But enough about me. What happened?”

The two women shared a look, and having met hundreds of knights over the years, Mellow could read the where to begin without trying.

“Let me put it this way,” she said, pulling two chairs to the floor and gesturing for them to sit. “Where are you hurt?”

Magpie immediately held out her right arm, and Mellow winced. There were a couple of shallow gashes along her arm. Something twinkled in the longest one- glass, she realized.

“What did you do, punch a window?” she asked sardonically.

“Something like that,” Lark said, and held up her left arm. It was similarly injured- actually. Looking between the two of them, the cuts were exactly the same size, same length- just mirrored. Mellow raised her eyebrows.

“All right,” she said, “I’ll admit I haven’t seen that very often.”

It was only the work of several minutes to retrieve the shards from the girls’ arms. The unsettling thing was that when the matching shards were closer together, they vibrated and then snapped together into one. Mellow did her level best not to think too hard about it, particularly after hearing the story- something about a trap, a thrilling duel between Magpie and some-random-fae-or-another, and a particularly belligerent library book with the solution to escaping. After hearing about the tome’s quest, Mellow supposed she couldn’t blame them for trying a more, uh, direct way out.

“But,” Lark said brightly, “I did find Escher.”

“What?” Mellow asked, confused.

“Escher. He’s been gone for like, two years now. Turns out there was some to-do about his comp sci project, and one thing led to another, so he got thrown in there same as me.” Lark held up her other arm, where the wrist was surrounded by a ring of bruises. “After I was taken prisoner by the frogs, we managed to set the place on fire and escape. He’s fine.”

“The- I’m sorry, where do frogs come in here?” Mellow pulled a bottle from the top shelf, squinted at it, added a few drops to the bowl of water she was carrying, and brought it over to Lark’s chair.

“It’s kind of a complicated story,” Lark admitted.

“I’ll say,” Magpie said, glaring at Lark. “You didn’t tell me about any frogs.”

“It’s been a weird couple of days,” Lark said defensively. Mellow grinned, wetting a clean cloth and gently dabbing the liquid on the worst scratch, her hands as gentle as she could make them. Despite that, Lark winced.

“I’d say so,” Mellow said, talking to distract, moving onto the second one. “There are frogs in a mirror?”

“I mean, not really the mirror,” Lark said, watching with interest as the first cut slowly healed, leaving a pink line of new scar. “The mirror was the portal, not literally where I was. Admittedly, I was put in a gladiator’s arena to fight my own reflection to the death, but I think that’s just a coincidence. Also, to be clear they weren’t really frogs, they were… frog-like.”

She didn’t elaborate, and after seeing the shadow cross her face Mellow was wise enough not to ask her to. The relief was clearly wearing off, and Lark looked like she wanted nothing more than to dry off and go to bed. She moved on to Magpie, doing her best to make small talk, smiling, keeping her hands gentle. This is what she was good at.

As the last cut sealed shut, and Mellow tipped the faintly-pink water down the drain, Lark sighed and got to her feet. Mellow couldn’t help but notice she had no reflection in the mirror.

“Well, I’d love to stay and chat, but unfortunately I’ve missed half my midterms and I need to make them up tomorrow, so I really need to sleep.”

“Skip physics,” Magpie said, but she was yawning as well.

“Out,” Mellow said, handing each of them a small bag. “Freely given,” she clarified. “Just like my aid.”

Lark visibly relaxed, and Mellow kicked herself for not setting her at ease earlier. “What is it?”

“Tea,” Mellow said. “Don’t waste it. It’s my favorite.”

“Are you sure you don’t want it?” Lark asked. Mellow did her best to keep her smile light.

“Don’t drink much tea these days,” she said, and out of habit looked down at her hands. She could distinctly see the floorboards now through them. She closed them into fists, tucked them behind her back- don’t scare her, don’t unnerve her. This is a safe place, healing and kind words and careful hands.

“We should go,” Magpie said into the awkward pause. “Come on, Lark.”

They were at the door to the room when Lark turned around, narrowing her eyes in that quizzical way that Mellow had learned meant she was about to ask a question that Magpie would cringe at.

“I have one more question,” she said. “The stairs, they end here.”

“Yes,” Mellow agreed.

“But if this is the highest room,” Lark said, cocking her head to the side, “Who keeps the light lit?”

The sharpest ones generally did ask. Mellow thought maybe she had asked someone once, the day she had entered the lighthouse, beckoned by the steady glow of the beacon at the top. She didn’t remember who, or where they had gone.

“I couldn’t say for sure,” she began. She paused, looking at the two knights who she sincerely hoped she would never see again (for the right reasons, of course.), at her careful, gentle, see-through hands.

“But do you know? I think it’s me.”

-Bean

#stories #bean #long post #oh i LOVE this #the lighthouse #the unsea #lark #magpie #mellow #everything about this is great #the non sequitors about their quest #are fantastic #submission

194 notes · View notes