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totowlff · 2 years

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chapter two — domination

➝ after a bad race and a confession, it was up to you to turn that little game you and toto played at your favor. it was your turn to dominate.

➝ word count: 8,8k

➝ warnings: smut

➝ author’s note: i had many doubts about following or not with this scenario. however, the idea was too good not to be explored. i hope you like it as much as i do, and i don't like what i write.

Germany, 2019.

This was your first thought when you saw the retro-style numbers painted on the W13's side pods as you walked down the pit lane on the Friday before the Belgian Grand Prix.

It was during the German Grand Prix at the Hockenheimring, three years ago, that Mercedes had done anything during a Grand Prix weekend to commemorate its history. The entire circuit was decorated with plaques celebrating the brand's 125-year history in motorsport, both of its cars had special liveries that were a nod to the first cars that Mercedes ran in motorsport events, and the team wore 1950’s-style clothing as a special team kit.

It was supposed to be a weekend of celebration for the Brackley-based team, but it turned into an absolute disaster. The weather was horrible. First, Lewis Hamilton lost control of the car while following the safety car and crashed into the wall, breaking the front wing. Then, Valtteri Bottas crashed in a similar fashion. The British driver managed to return to the track, even after an almost-unprecedented 50-second pit stop, but the Finnish driver wasn’t so lucky.

The end result of what should have been an amazing weekend for Mercedes only left them with two points, two damaged cars, and a dramatic episode for the the second season of the Netflix docuseries Drive To Survive.

Since then, the team opted not to do things like that anymore. No special liveries, no one-off team kits, nothing like that. The exception was the year 2020, when they dropped their usual silver livery in favor of an all-black one, to support Lewis and the Black Lives Matter movement. Commemorative liveries were a thing of the past.

For Spa, though, it seemed that they had made an exception to celebrate the 55th anniversary of the partnership between Mercedes and AMG. Toto was against the idea, saying that it was bad luck. You could hear his voice in your head when you spotted the Mercedes motorhome in the paddock, with its special display W13, and the Red Pig, which Toto had driven around the circuit two days before.

You wished you could say that he was wrong.

The Belgian Grand Prix at Spa-Francorchamps hadn’t been quite the disaster that the Hockenheimring had been, but it definitely brought back some unpleasant memories for those who had been there. In the first lap, Lewis had a clash with Fernando Alonso, taking him out of the race with a gearbox issue. It was up to George to minimize the losses for Mercedes, and he achieved a fourth-place finish.

But, the damage was done.

Judging by some of the highlights and shots you had seen on the television screens around the paddock, you imagined that Toto would not be in the best of moods for your post-race interview with him.

— Do you think he’ll be difficult to talk to today? — Daniel asked you, as you both walked to the Mercedes motorhome. It was an impressive, imposing facility made of black metal with silver and teal accents. They’d decorated the outside with massive decals of the W13 with the retro-style show livery, and of the Red Pig.

— I hope not — you said, walking up the stairs to the second floor. Other journalists were waiting to chat with the Mercedes team principal, who was currently doing an interview with Ziggo Sport.

In the corner of the room, you spotted Jules, your producer talking to Bradley, the communications director for the team, probably about the race. When Jules noticed your presence, he beckoned you over. You nudged your cameraman and told him that you'd be across the room for a few minutes, and walked over to where they were standing.

— I'm glad you're here, Y/N — Jules said, smiling — I was working out the final details with Bradley for the interview with Toto. We go live in a few minutes.

You looked at the communications director. He looked a little agitated.

— Any forbidden topics today? — you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

— If it were up to him, everything would be forbidden — Bradley muttered, nodding towards Toto. He seemed to be wrapping up his interview with the reporter from Ziggo Sport.

His answer bothered you a bit. The race hadn’t been one of Mercedes’ best all season, of course, but it wasn't the worst, either. The way you saw it, there was still hope for the team to score some victories and secure second place in the Constructors' Championship.

— Is he in a bad mood? — you asked.

Bradley nodded, while Toto gave the Dutch reporter a polite smile before turning and walking slowly over to you. You could tell his entire posture and expression that something was wrong.

— Anybody else? — Toto asked Bradley.

— One live interview for Sky Sports, and then you're clean.

Toto looked at you as you waved the microphone, with its red and blue foam cover, in your hand, a wide smile on your face. However, he didn't smile back.

— Come on, Y/N — the team principal said as he turned his back and headed back to where he was earlier when he was giving his interview with the Dutch reporter.

“There really must be something wrong”, you thought to yourself as you followed him, positioning yourself just in front of the silver Mercedes star that adorned the wall of the motorhome.

You took one of your AirPods out of your pants pocket, putting it in your left ear so it wouldn’t be visible to the camera. You took out your cell phone and took a last look at the questions you’d written down, but looked up when you felt someone tap on your shoulder.

— Not too many questions today, I hope? — Toto asked you, his expression grim. Jules had already given him his microphone. Since the COVID-19 pandemic, each of the subjects you interviewed had their own, instead of just speaking into yours.

— No, not too many. It will be quick. Two, maybe three questions.

— Okay — he said, poking at the blue and red foam — Can you brief me?

— It will be about today, the team’s next steps, chances for victories in upcoming races — you said, tucking your cell phone into your pocket as you heard Natalie Pinkham’s introduction to your live interview through your earphone — Let's get started.

After Jules signaled you were live, you flashed a polite smile and started talking.

— We are here live in the Mercedes motorhome at Spa-Francorchamps to speak with Mercedes team principal Toto Wolff. How are you today, Toto?

You looked at him and saw a completely different man from the one who was beside you a few seconds ago. Toto had a smile on his face, and his posture was relaxed. It was radically different from the rigid, stone-faced Toto that was there a few seconds ago.

— I’m doing well. How are you today, Y/N? — he said.

— I’m fine as well, Toto, thank you. If we can start by talking about this weekend, which was commemorating the 55th anniversary of the partnership between Mercedes and AMG. There seemed to be a few problems on the track, however. Could you talk more about this?

— I don't think we can be satisfied with this weekend. If you see Verstappen, he jumped all over us. We really need to figure out how to improve our car because the difference is just too big. We're giving the drivers a very difficult car to drive and he hasn't had the ideal pace on any lap, so we need to work to get out of that situation.

— What are the team's plans now?

— For the next four days, we're going to be putting our heads down together and focusing our attention on the next race and also the next season — the team principal said — It's important that we keep our feet on the ground, stay focused and not allow ourselves to alternate too much between joy and depression.

— Do you still believe that the team can get a victory this season?

— Of course this weekend was a low point, but in Hungary three weeks ago we were thinking that we would absolutely win a race, so we will never give up — Toto finished with a smile that, on the surface, seemed cheerful and pleasant. You knew there was a lot of pain behind it, though.

— Thank you so much, Toto — you said, looking at the camera again — Thank you Natalie, back to you.

You heard the presenter thank you for your interview. A few seconds later, Daniel signaled that the broadcast was over. You took the earphone out of your ear and put it away, turning to talk to Toto, but you realized that he wasn’t by your side anymore. You looked around the room until you saw the team principal exchanging a few words with Bradley. He gave Bradley a nod and disappeared inside the motorhome, not even looking back at you.

“Something's definitely wrong”, you thought, clenching your jaw a bit.

— Y/N? — Daniel's voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

— Yes, Danny? — you said, looking at your cameraman.

— Shall we pick up our things before heading to the hotel? — he asked, holding the camera in his hand.

— Yeah, let's go — you said, smiling at him.

After letting Jules know that you and Daniel were heading to the media center and getting a thumbs-up in response, you both walked down the motorhome stairs and back into the paddock. It was still intensely busy as the team structures were being dismantled and packed up before being taken by teams to Zandvoort, in the Netherlands.

As you walked alongside your cameraman, who was talking about something relating to a technical problem he had to resolve mid-race, you weren’t really paying attention. Your mind was bubbling with questions, all of them related to Toto’s mood. It was obvious that it had been a bad day for the team, but that was the norm this season, with the temperamental car they’d developed for the season. It had to be something else. Something really important.

— If it hadn't been for Jules, we would have missed the interview with Lewis — Daniel said as you entered the media center in the main paddock building. You said hello to a Brazilian journalist that was seated with her producer and cameraman before you headed into the room reserved for Sky Sports. You just needed to pack up your gear before you could head back over to the hotel.

As you packed up your laptop, notepad, and the raincoat you now brought with you everywhere in your backpack, an idea came to mind.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and opened WhatsApp, tapping on the contact labeled “Toto Wolff”. You thought for a few seconds as you decided what to tell him.

“I’m heading back to the hotel. Dinner later?”.

You read over your message a few times before hitting “send”.

You stared at the screen for a few seconds and saw the two checkmarks next to your message change from gray to blue, meaning that he’d read the message. You waited with bated breath for an answer, but then you saw his status change from “Online” to “Offline”.

“Yeah, there’s definitely something wrong”, you thought.

— All set, Y/N? — Daniel asked from behind you. When you turned around, you noticed that he’d already finished packing all of his equipment and his backpack as well.

— Yeah, let's go — you replied, picking up your backpack and bag.

As you got back to your suite at the Hôtel de la Source, you only got more concerned. You dropped your things onto your neatly made bed and checked your phone again. All that was on the screen was your wallpaper, a photo of your Sky Sports microphone in front of the Mercedes garage, taken in early 2020, on your first day as an on-track reporter. Nothing else. No notification from Toto.

With a frustrated sigh, you decided to call him. You tapped his name on your contact list and put the phone to your ear, feeling slightly on-edge while you listened to it ring. Then, you heard the pre-recorded voice message indicating that your call had gone to his voicemail.

You took your phone off of your ear and looked at the screen, feeling a little uneasy. There were a few things that would prevent him from being able to answer your call.

He could be meeting with executives.

He could be in a late debrief with the engineers and drivers.

He could just be too busy.

But you had a feeling it wasn’t any of those things, and horrible possibilities came to mind, each one more catastrophic than the other. “What if he slipped and hit his head in the bathroom? What if he passed out and can’t call for help? What if he ordered room service and choked on his food?”, you thought, walking into the bathroom of your suite.

— Calm down, Y/N — you muttered to yourself, staring at your own reflection. Taking one last look at your phone, you let out a frustrated sigh, dropping it onto the small white marble countertop.

You've decided to focus on getting undressed and taking a shower to relax. However, the presence of your phone on the bathroom counter nagged at you, and you checked it near-constantly, as if something would have changed in the few seconds it took to close your eyes and stick your head under the spray.

You rinsed off, turned off the tap, and wrapped yourself in a white towel to dry off before picking up your phone again and glaring at it in frustration.

— Nothing — you said, tossing it onto your bed.

You opened your suitcase rather indelicately, taking out a shirt and a pair of jeans. You didn’t think about which clothes in particular you were putting on — your mind was elsewhere right now. As soon as you were dressed, you grabbed your phone again, getting excited when you saw a notification on your lock screen. However, it was just a friend of yours, confirming that she would be in Zandvoort for next weekend’s race.

You repeated the familiar ritual for this afternoon. Contact list. Toto Wolff. Call. Again, you heard the prompt to leave a voicemail. You decided to try one more time — why not?

However, you were surprised when, on the second ring, you heard a series of beeps indicating that the call was rejected from the other end.

You stared at the screen, bewildered, unsure whether or not you should feel relieved that he apparently wasn’t bleeding out from a head injury on the floor of his in-suite shower, or annoyed that he was apparently just refusing to speak to you.

— Fucking hell, Torger — you grumbled, walking to the doorway of your room and shoving on the pair of sneakers you’d been wearing all day, discarded by the room’s door. You took your key card out of the lock and stalked down the hotel’s hallway in the direction of the room where Toto was staying.

Lucky for you, the hotel hallways were empty. Many of the other guests that had come for the race were either already checked out, or were too tired from the weekend to do anything but hole up in their rooms. You found his room number — 146, or 1’46”, as it appeared on the plaque affixed to the door. Since this hotel was near the track, they had the room numbers stylized to look like racing lap times.

You knocked on the white wood of the door — hard — three times, pursing your lips together. Silence. You started to feel a bit stupid — you weren’t even sure if Toto was in his room. You hadn’t seen him leaving the paddock, so he very well could still be at the circuit, talking to engineers, mechanics, Lewis, George… You weren’t sure whether to stay in the doorway much longer, until you heard the latch click and saw the knob turn. You were preparing yourself to tell him off for hanging up on you, but the words got lost on their way to your mouth.

Just from the expression on his face, you could tell that Toto was definitely not well.

— Y/N? — he asked quietly, his eyes scanning the hallway, worried that you might be seen.

— Can I come inside? — you said quietly, your gaze fixed on his face, trying to understand why he looked the way he did.

He opened the door wider, telling you to come in with a small shake of his head. You walked past him without a word, taking hesitant steps down the small hallway into the bedroom. The color scheme and decor of the suite was similar to yours, but his suite had two large windows in the front, offering a spectacular view of Turn 1 of the circuit, also called La Source.

Behind you, Toto closed the door to the suite. Then he walked slowly towards the bed, and let himself sink into a sitting position on the edge of the mattress. He was moving like there was a thousand-pound weight on his shoulders. You noticed he was still wearing his white Mercedes dress shirt and black dress pants, but that he was barefoot. His head sank into his hands, his elbows resting on his thighs. You’d never seen him look so… Defeated.

— Toto — you said softly, hesitantly.

He looked up at you without saying a word.

— What happened? — you asked, gingerly settling next to him on the bed.

— Nothing — the team principal said, his voice barely audible.

— Toto, I could see from just the way you were standing before my interview that there was something wrong with you — you said, bringing one of your hands to his shoulder and softly caressing him — Tell me what’s wrong, please.

— There's nothing wrong, Y/N — he replied, his eyes fixed on the floor.

You took a deep breath. Toto was too proud to admit he had been wrong, especially when it came to something the team was in charge of. However, at that point in the championship, it was futile to think about the possibility of catching up with Red Bull in the constructor’s championship, or imagining that Mercedes could supplant Verstappen’s dominant lead. But there were still things for the team to fight for.

— Look, I know today’s race was bad…

— Awful — he said, interrupting you and looking at you for the first time since you'd come into the room.

— Horrible.

— Terrible.

You chuckled.

— You’re right, Toto. It wasn’t all bad, was it?

The team principal raised an eyebrow.

— What happened on the track was caused by a mistake from Lewis, and he’s already taken responsibility and apologized to everyone. That’s good!

— Good?

— I mean, he could blame Alonso and try to manipulate the narrative in his favor, which would be a bit problematic from a people management angle.

He looked at the floor again, thoughtful.

— Also, the team scored today, and scored well — you slid your hand along his arm, your index finger tracing along one of the veins in his forearm. — And with George's points today, Mercedes is now 41 points from Ferrari. At least the W13 is reliable and actually finishes races, even though it’s slow and temperamental. The Ferraris are fast, but they blow up half of the time…

— I'm tired — Toto said, interrupting you again.

You sighed.

— Look, Toto, I understand that the day has been tiring, terrible, that you just want to lie down and pretend that nothing happened, but the truth is, it happened, and you have to face it — you said, sliding your fingers between his, taking his hand in yours — I know it’s hard to talk about when everything is so recent, but bottling up your feelings isn’t…

— Y/N, I'm just tired — he repeated.

— Yes, I understand, Toto…

— No, you don't understand, Y/N — he rose from where he was sitting beside you, looking down at you.

— Explain it to me, then — you replied, squeezing his hand.

— I'm tired of always having the weight of the world on my back, Y/N. I’m tired of always having to be the hopeful one, the optimistic one, the brave one… The strong one.

You blinked.

— Every time, every race, it doesn't matter if things go right or wrong, I'm the person that everyone looks to talk to. I'm the one who needs to encourage after successes and defend after mistakes. I'm the one who gets the praise and the attacks, I’m the one that has to answer the fucking journalists' questions, no matter how dumb they sound.

It was your turn to look down. “Don't take it personally, Y/N”, you thought to yourself.

— And then, when I get home, I still need to be the strong one. I need to be the father to my children, the son to my mother, the brother to my sister. I need to be strong, unbreakable, and unstoppable. To them. For them. Always. And… I'm tired.

You had no idea what to say. Even though the two of you had been together for a year and had talked for countless hours, it was the first time he had opened up to you like that, in such a raw and vulnerable way.

— Since I was a teenager, I've been piling things on my back, taking them with me. First, it was my mother and Lili. Then it was Stephanie and the kids. Then, my employees and colleagues and all of Mercedes. And now I have you too — he spoke softly, looking at you.

— Toto…

— I want to be the man everyone expects me to be, everyone wants me to be. That my mother wants, that my kids want, that the team wants, that you want. But I'm tired. No, I’m… Exhausted.

You stayed silent as you leaned your head on his shoulder, just letting him talk.

— When Lewis collided with Fernando, I got… Flashbacks to that race in Germany in 2019, and it felt like being punched in the stomach. I don't think I'll ever forget that weekend, as much as I’d like to.

— Because of what happened? — you asked softly.

— Not because of that. That's the first weekend I first felt the weight of my real responsibility, and I didn’t think I could handle it.

— What do you mean? — you whispered.

— We’d been planning all of these things since the beginning of that year, you know, for the anniversary celebration. The special team kit and livery, all of the signs around the circuit, all of that was planned in January, and out of everyone, Niki was the most excited about it.

The mention of Niki Lauda made something tighten in your chest. You knew that the three-time Formula 1 champion had been a key player in turning Mercedes into the motorsport powerhouse that dominated the turbo-hybrid era of Formula 1. But for Toto, Niki Lauda was more than just a coworker. He was a friend.

— After Niki died, I felt like the glow of Formula 1 faded overnight. It just wasn’t fun without him. Everything seemed more boring, more monotonous, more painful. I couldn't go half an hour without wanting to cry, because everything inside the garage reminded me of him. And he wasn’t there anymore.

You squeezed Toto's hand, trying to tell him, without words, that you were there for him. With him. Beside him.

— Everything was going great that weekend, just like we’d planned. We had even agreed to let Netflix join us that weekend and film an episode about us. And then, during the race, everything went to shit. Lewis crashing during the safety car, 50 second pit stop, Valtteri crashing, Lewis coming in ninth. I felt like everything was crumbling down around my head.

— It's normal to have a bad day. It's just part of the game.

— It wasn't like that for me. It went beyond just having one bad day, one bad race. I had to take full responsibility for it. Before, Niki and I shared the responsibility, and then all of it was on me. I was responsible. I was the guy who had to step up and own up to our mistakes. I took on a lot that weekend, Y/N. Enough for a lifetime.

You were silent as you digested his words. You’d never stopped to think about the weight of Toto's responsibilities — not just professional, but personal.

— Always being in control of everything is both empowering and isolating. You feel amazing, powerful, invincible, but you also feel very alone, especially when you don't have someone to share the weight of it with.

Something about what he said started turning some gears in your head.

— Sometimes I wish I wasn't in control all the time, you know? I don’t want to necessarily give it all up, but… A break from it would be nice, even a short one — he muttered, his gaze lost to the floor.

“What if…?”, you thought.

— I can help you — you said, looking at him, your voice thin.

Toto turned his head suddenly, his eyes scanning your expression, trying to understand what you meant.

— Y/N…

You stood up without saying a word, taking off your sneakers and unbuttoning your jeans. You slid your pants down around your legs and kicked them off into a corner of the room. Then, you yanked your shirt over your head, tossing it carelessly in the direction your jeans had landed.

Toto watched you, astounded, his mouth hanging open. His eyes roamed over your body, taking in every detail of you as you undressed. Then, his eyes met yours, and your mouth curled into a mischievous smile.

You moved to stand in front of Toto and placed your hands on his shoulders. It didn’t take long for him to respond. He moved his hands to the base of your spine, letting his fingers wander under the elastic of your panties.

— I can help you, Toto — you repeated, your voice quiet.

— How?

— Let me take control. Just for a little bit. Here.

He blinked, trying to process what you said.

— What?

— I can't take control of your companies, especially not Mercedes. I can’t take control of your relationship with your children or your mother. But I can take control here, in this room, in this bed. I can help you, at least for a little bit, here, and now.

— Y/N — he muttered, as you slid your hands up to his cheeks, cupping them.

— Let me help, honey — you whispered, the last word falling sweetly from your lips. It was the first time you’d called him that, at least that intimately. You liked the way it sounded. It felt right.

Toto continued to stare at you, like he was trying to think about your offer, trying to decide what it meant.

“He needs convincing”, you thought, bringing your face closer to his, brushing your lips lightly against his.

— Please — you purred softly, before capturing his lips in a gentle, slow kiss. It was a tender caress, loaded with the promise of making him feel like he deserved to feel: free, unburdened… Good.

You pulled your face away from his, and let your eyes meet. In his chocolate-colored irises, you saw the moment that the CEO and team principal of the Mercedes-AMG Petronas Formula 1 team relinquished control for the first time, and handed it over to you, and only you.

— What do you want me to do?

You took a step back and smiled at him.

— I want you to get up and take off your clothes.

Toto drew himself up to standing at his full height in front of you, making you lean your head back to meet his eyes. Then, slowly, he brought his hands up to his team shirt, undoing the buttons one by one. He slid it over his shoulders and his muscular, defined torso was revealed. Then, he unfastened his belt and unzipped his dress pants, letting them fall away to reveal his white boxer briefs. He kicked his pants away, letting them land wherever. He reached for his underwear to take those off too, but you stopped him.

— No.

He looked at you, his eyes shining with curiosity.

— Lay down — you commanded, a smile coming to your face.

Toto obeyed you almost immediately, climbing into the king-size bed of his suite. As he settled into the middle of the mattress, you looked at the team principal's discarded pile of clothes as an idea came to mind. You picked up his pants from where they’d landed, removing the belt from the loops and giving it a few cursory tugs.

“Must be Italian”, you thought, approaching the bed, a smug expression on your face. You watched him closely, and he looked surprised. He probably didn’t realize that you had a dominant side, considering that you normally let him do whatever he wanted to you whenever you were together inside other hotel rooms just like this one.

Climbing onto the mattress, you sat down next to him with his belt wrapped around your right hand. You sat back on your heels, thinking about how you could use it. It would be tricky, restraining a man who was over six feet tall and as strong as Toto was. The hotel bed’s headboard was completely solid and offered no usable anchor points you could attach the belt to. You’d have to work with the basics.

— What now? — he whispered. He looked anxious, like he was trying to calculate your next move.

— Put your arms above your head — you ordered, your tone as imperative as you could make it.

Toto obeyed, stretching his arms over his head until they touched the upholstered headboard. You unrolled the belt from your hand and began to bind his wrists together, making sure not to make it so tight as to cut off the circulation in his wrists, and not so loose that he’d be able to wiggle out of the restraints easily. The sight of the black leather against his forearms and wrists made something tingle low in your belly.

You never imagined tying someone up could be so sexy.

Toto's eyes watched you intently, studying your expression as you buckled the belt tightly against his wrists. The only sound inside the room was the combined sounds of your breathing.

— Comfortable?

— Yes — he said, testing his hands against the restraints binding his wrists.

— Good — you smiled, settling back on your heels — Before I start, we need to go over some rules.

Toto blinked.

— First, I'm in charge, and you obey me without question. Second, if you feel uncomfortable or things get to be too much for you, we can stop at any time. Third, you will stay put unless I tell you to move. And fourth, I want you to know that you're safe here. I won't hurt you under any circumstances. My only goal is to make you feel good. Understood?

He nodded his head.

— Words — you said, your voice stern — I want to hear you, Toto.

It was a satisfying reversal of the games he usually played with you. It felt good — no wonder he said it all the time.

— Understood — he whispered.

You smiled.

— Good boy — you said.

Toto’s expression changed and he was silent for a few seconds, like he had to process what you’d said to him, like he’d never heard anything like that before. A visible blush came to his cheeks and he averted his gaze from yours, like he was a shy little boy and not a man who had sensuality and power oozing out of his pores.

“It’s amazing what a simple belt can do”, you thought, rising off of your heels and onto your knees.

You straddled yourself over his abdomen, denying him the feeling of having you where he wanted you for now. You looked down at his torso, between your legs, licking your lips before you started your exploration.

— You're very handsome. Did you know that? — you asked, your fingers roaming over smooth skin and firm muscles — You're the most handsome man I've ever seen in my life.

Toto watched you silently, his cheeks still bright red. He didn’t seem like he was capable of speaking, suddenly.

— Sometimes, I think you don't even realize how handsome you are — you said — I remember a video you recorded for the Mercedes YouTube channel once, where you said that you didn’t have any luck with girls at school. My colleagues and I didn’t believe that for a second. Do you know why?

— Why? – Toto whispered.

You leaned over him and brought your lips to his ear.

— Because you're beautiful — you whispered, lifting your face again to look into his brown eyes. His pupils were dilated now — There isn't a woman in this paddock who hasn't wanted to be with you at least once when she saw you walk by.

There was a few seconds of silence before Toto managed to speak.

— Did you want me the first time you saw me? — he asked.

— Yes. I wanted you so badly — you said, brushing your nose against his — Even when I worked in the London newsroom, I imagined what you would be like.

— What I would be like — Toto repeated, seemingly mesmerized by every move you made.

— What it would be like to touch you, to taste you — you whispered, your lips brushing his — And somehow, you’ve managed to surpass all of my fantasies. Being with you is far better than I could have ever imagined. You’re an amazing man.

— Amazing — he stammered.

— Yes. Amazing. Simply… Amazing — you said, before taking his lips in a calm, sensual kiss. Your hands found his wrists and you leaned on them to pitch yourself forward a bit. Your tongue explored his mouth without haste or hurry, enjoying every second of something so simple, yet, so intimate.

You nibbled gently at one of his lips before you moved on from his mouth, letting yours roam over his skin, moving slowly to his strong jawline that always became more set and solid whenever he was concentrating on the telemetry screens at the engineering station. You moved up toward his ear, feeling his pulse quickening under your lips. You followed the prominent vein down as you kissed and licked at the skin of his neck. You savored it — it was one of your favorite parts of him.

— I love your neck — you murmured, grazing his Adam's apple with your teeth.

— My neck? — Toto asked, the vibration in his throat tickling your lips.

— Yes — you replied, continuing your journey down to his collarbones — I love your shoulders too.

— Why?

— Because they're just so big — you nibbled at the skin just above the bone — And I can make such pretty marks on them, at least where your shirt will cover them. Can I?

You had an agreement for you to never leave visible marks in Toto’s skin. So hickeys, especially on the neck, were always out of the question. However, you and Toto had never talked about shoulder hickeys.

Above you, you heard an affirmative murmur.

— Words, honey — you said, lifting your head and looking straight into his eyes — Remember?

— Yes.

Smiling, you put your lips to a spot between his neck and collarbone and kissed the skin before sucking it vigorously, making sure a vibrant red mark appeared that would turn into a bruise later. That way, every time he took off his team shirt and looked at himself in the mirror, he could be reminded that there was a woman who wanted him more than anything.

You soothed the skin with your tongue and repositioned yourself a bit lower, almost directly over the bulge in his underwear. However, it wasn’t so that he’d be able to feel you, but rather, so you’d have access to his chest. Your mouth roamed down toward his sternum, licking, kissing and nibbling the entire way down. You got an idea, then, bringing your lips to one of his nipples and licking the sensitive skin there.

He moaned a little, seeming to take you both by surprise.

You looked up at him, a mischievous smile on your face.

— So, you liked that? — you asked, doing it again before he could answer with words.

Instead, his response was to moan again, which made you laugh.

So far, this was more than just a simple exercise in trying to control a man who was always in control. You were both discovering things about each other, and every new discovery made you like him even more.

You slid down lower and sat on his thighs, sliding your fingers down his abdomen toward the waistband of his boxer briefs. You gently scratched over the skin near the elastic, looking up at his face, looking into his eyes.

— Hard already, honey? — you purred, your finger tracing over the curve of his cock as it strained against the fabric, making him squirm — I haven’t even done anything yet.

— You have — he said, his voice sounding thin.

— And… What have I done? — you asked, your finger tugging at the elastic of his underwear.

Toto didn't answer you. He was breathing heavily, trying to cling to the last remaining shreds of his self-control. Well, that wouldn’t do.

— I asked you a question, Toto — you said, your voice darkening as you wrapped your hand around his cock through the fabric, moving it just enough to work him up a bit more.

You looked at him intently, realizing that he was working hard to not give up the last bit of control he had. It seemed that he definitely needed a bit more convincing. You released his dick and brought your hands around to your back, finding the clasp of your bra and deftly undoing it. You slid the garment down your arms, exposing your breasts to him as you leaned forward, resting your hands on his hip bones.

— Toto, do you remember the first rule?

He nodded, his eyes darting between your chest and your eyes. You raised your eyebrows and that was all it took for him to understand what you wanted.

— Yes — he said.

— And, what was it?

Toto hesitated for a few seconds.

— You're in charge — he whispered. His voice sounded strained.

— And do you know what that means?

— Yes.

— Tell me, then — you commanded.

— That I must obey you.

— Very good. I asked you a question before, and you didn’t answer me. Why?

— I — he stopped mid-sentence, pausing for a few seconds. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. — Was concentrating.

— On what? — you asked, your fingers gripping the waistband of his underwear and yanking them down, revealing his fully erect cock. As you wrapped your hand around the shaft, you heard his breath hitch, keeping his jaw clenched as he struggled to control himself.

This wasn’t working. You needed to assert yourself.

— Darling, this will only work if you cede control to me — you started moving your hand up and down his length, slowly — Entirely.

— I… I… I — Toto stuttered, his eyes rolling back in pleasure at the sensation his hand was giving him.

— Let go. Let me take control — you whispered, before taking your thumb to his slit — I want to take care of you, honey. Let me.

Toto's eyelids fluttered slightly, your eyes locked on his as you brought your tongue to the tip and licked away the drop of precum that had already gathered. As soon as your tongue touched his cock, he let out a loud groan, trying to thrust his hips towards your mouth. It was an impulse, an unconscious reaction, but it made you lift your head for a moment, yanking his underwear down further. Then, without a trace of delicacy or gentleness, you slapped him on the side of his thigh, almost near his butt. The sudden contact made him gasp.

— Did I tell you to move? — you asked, your fingers massaging the spot where your palm had hit the skin.

Toto shook his head.

You slapped him again in the same spot.

— Words.

— No — he replied. It almost sounded like a whine.

— Then… Why did you move? — you asked, taking him in hand again and stroking him vigorously.

It was enough for Toto to throw his head back, the tentative murmurs replaced by loud moans, mixed with words you couldn’t understand but assumed were in German. After a few minutes, you noticed his body tensing and his balls tightening, so you slowed down, a devilish grin coming to your face.

You wanted to push him to the very edge, like he had done to you so many times.

— Y/N — he whimpered, trying to move his hips, seeking more of the friction that your hand had given him. You pressed your thighs against his legs, limiting his movement. You continued to stroke him, but you needed him to know that you were completely dissatisfied with his behavior.

— Do you know what happens to bad boys when they displease me, Toto?

— No — he whined.

— They don't get to come — you said, looking down at him. You saw the expression on his face change to a mixture of realization and agony. It seemed that, in the midst of the haze of his pleasure, he had realized what you were truly capable of.

— I'll behave myself — Toto whined — I promise I'll behave.

You raised your eyebrows. You weren’t convinced.

— And why should I believe you? — you asked him.

He blinked, struggling to process your question with his addled mind.

— Because I want you. I need you. And I'll do anything for you.

You smiled.

— Anything?

— Yes — he replied, nodding his head — Anything.

You let go of his cock and lifted yourself off of him, kneeling on the bed instead. You moved to strip off your panties, sliding them down your legs, leaving you completely naked. You examined the fabric for a second, noticing they were nearly soaked through with how wet you were. You smiled, and an idea came to mind.

”Perfect”, you thought, climbing back on top of Toto and settling yourself on his hips again.

Acutely aware of his eyes on you, you crumpled your panties into a small ball of fabric, making sure to leave the wet part facing out.

— I'm going to suck you off — you said, leaning over his body — But I don't want to hear any sounds, and I want you to stay still. Okay?

— Yes — he replied, his voice strangled with anticipation.

— Now, open your mouth.

He did as he was told and opened his mouth. You stuffed your panties inside, and turned your attention back to his dick. You gave him a few cursory strokes and didn't hesitate to bring your mouth to it, licking it vigorously from base to tip, the salty taste of precum on your tongue.

In response to that, you heard a muffled groan. You looked at his face and noticed that he had his eyes squeezed shut. His hands were still bound together by the belt, but he was gripping the top edge of the mattress, as if he needed to hang on to something to keep himself grounded so he wouldn’t be immediately carried away by the pleasure that your ministrations were bringing him. It was just what you wanted.

— Good boy — you whispered, before putting the entirety of his cock in your mouth, the tip brushing the back of your throat. You breathed through your nose, bobbing your head down the length of it, hollowing out your cheeks. You could feel the muscles in his thighs tense under your fingers. He was clearly expending an enormous effort to not disobey you by moving.

You picked up the pace and continued to suck, spurred on by the occasional moan of pleasure, muffled by your panties. Eventually, you felt his legs start to shake. Once again, he tipped toward his release. “Not yet”, you thought, pulling your mouth off of him.

You rose and repositioned yourself just above his public bone, reaching into his mouth and slowly pulling the now-soaked panties out. You tossed them behind you and they landed on the floor, and took a long look at him. There were tears coming to the corners of his eyes, no doubt from how hard he was trying to obey you.

— You've done very well, obeying my rules — you whispered, bringing your thumb up to the corners of his eyes and wiping the tears away — Now, I will reward you for being such a good boy for me. Tell me what you want from me, and I’ll give it to you, moj wilk.

Toto's eyes widened as the last two words left your mouth. It looked like he didn’t believe what he’d heard. You smiled, satisfied, declaring the bit of research you’d done worth the effort to surprise him like that.

— Tell me what you want, Toto. I'll give you whatever you want.

He was still stunned, unable to form words, his eyes lost on your face. You sought a reaction from him, so you lifted yourself up and repositioned your hips so that you were on top of his cock, sitting on the shaft as it rested against his pubic bone. You were practically dripping wet, so it didn’t take much effort for you to slide your folds with ease along the underside of his length, enjoying the sensation of pleasure coursing through you for the first time that night. You forced yourself to stop, looking Toto directly in the eyes again.

— I'm waiting, honey.

Toto blinked, as if he'd just come out of a trance.

— You — he whispered — I want you.

— But… I’m here. — you replied, grinding against him a little, teasing him — You can’t feel me?

— I want to be inside you, maleńka — Toto said, gritting his teeth — Please, let me be inside you.

“Finally”, you thought to yourself, just smiling at him before lifting your hips and repositioning yourself over his body, your entrance hovering just above his dick.

— Your wish is my command — you whispered, sinking into his cock.

The room filled with the sounds of your mutual pleasure, both of you making breathy moans and sighs. You loved having him inside of you. You loved it every time the two of you had sex — it might have sounded like a cliche, but when he was inside of you, you felt complete, like you were a slotting in the final piece to a puzzle.

You grasped almost blindly for support against his abdomen, as the sensation of your riding him made eyelids flutter with pleasure. You started to move your hips in earnest, moaning loudly every time the tip of his cock brushed against a particular spot inside of you.

— My God, Toto — you said, as you moved up and down, bouncing on his dick — You're so deep…

— Yes — he groaned beneath you, his hips rising to meet your thrusts, trying to help you sink as deep as you possibly could onto him.

You kept moving, speeding toward your release. You changed your movements to something more horizontal, letting your clit slide against Toto’s pubic bone, heightening your pleasure further.

— You're so good, so good for me — you whined, as the knot began to form in your belly, your muscles tensing with the near-imminent ecstasy.

However, while you were still chasing release, after so much merciless teasing and two aborted orgasms, Toto was nearly there. He gasped your name over and over, before his cries became nonsensical moans and he was swept up the wave of his climax. He threw his head back and shouted your name at the top of his lungs as he let go inside of you, his muscles twitching uncontrollably.

— Yes, this, this — you moaned.

The heat of his release gave you extra impetus to seek your own orgasm. You quickened your movements and found the ideal angle to stimulate yourself. It didn’t take much longer before you were screaming his name, pleasure coursing through your body with an intensity you’d never felt before. It was completely overwhelming. Every muscle in your body tightened and seized all at once. It was glorious.

After the sensation had dissipated, you let yourself collapse onto Toto’s chest, your breathing labored, your senses clouded, and your body completely drained from the effort. It was all worth it — after all, your goal was to make Toto feel good, and judging by how blissed-out he looked, you’d succeeded.

You had no idea how much time you stayed there, your head on his chest, moving up and down with his breaths. Once your breathing had returned to normal, you looked up at him, noticing that his hands were still bound by the belt around his wrists.

“He's been trapped too long already”, you thought, pulling yourself off of him. You felt empty as his cock slipped out of you, and the sensation made you press your thighs together and you moved to release him from his restraints.

You opened the buckle and unwrapped the leather from his hands, tossing the belt behind you. You placed gentle kisses on each of his wrists, noticing that his skin was lightly marked where he’d been restrained.

— You were so good to me, honey — you murmured, running your thumb along the lines, trying to soothe them.

Toto pulled his arms away from you and moved to sit up suddenly. He turned to you and brought his hands to your face, pulling you into a deep, tender kiss. After a few seconds, he pulled his lips away from yours and brushed your noses together as he smiled.

— Thank you, moja maleńka — Toto whispered.

You couldn’t help but smile, too, feeling the satisfaction of achieving what you’d set out to do. He pulled you back in for a few more kisses, your bodies becoming tangled up in each other. You brought your hand to his face and softly caressed his cheek with your thumb.

— Do you want to take a shower, baby?

— Yes — he replied, kissing you on the cheek.

You took Toto’s hand and helped him off the bed, leading him into the suite’s bathroom. You turned on the shower and stepped in with him. Steam rose from the hot water, fogging the glass walls of the shower stall and creating a cozy atmosphere. You gently pushed him under the spray of the showerhead, taking a look at the toiletries he had neatly lined up on the small shelf. You picked up the small bottle of shampoo, squeezing a little bit out into your palm. However, you looked back at him, making a realization.

— Did you have to be so tall? — you asked, tilting your head slightly.

— What’s wrong with my height?

— Well — you replied, holding out the dollop of shampoo in your hand looking a little annoyed.

Wrapping his arms around your waist, Toto bowed his head.

— Explain it to me, maleńka — he asked affectionately.

— Well, it's just that, I wanted to be nice and wash your hair, you know, to take care of you. But you’re literally the size of a lamppost and I can’t reach the top of your head. — you said, looking down at the shampoo that was still in the palm of your hand.

Toto chuckled.

— Unfortunately I can't shrink, but we can do this. How about you wash the rest of me, and I’ll do my hair?

You nodded, rinsing the shampoo off of your hand. You picked up the bottle of body wash and poured a little bit into your palm. It had a floral scent. You rubbed it gently over Toto’s body, touching him like he was the most precious thing in the world to you.

"And he is", you smiled, as your hand spread the viscous liquid over his shoulders.

You had no idea how much time you spent inside the bathroom, washing and touching each other. Both of your hands were pruny and wrinkled by the time both of you collapsed in bed next to each other. You stared at the ceiling briefly before turning onto your side. You noticed Toto was looking at you with a smile on his face.

— What's wrong? — you whispered, bringing your face close enough that your nose was touching his.

— I was just thinking about how amazing you are, Y/N.

— Amazing?

— Yes. Amazing.

You hesitated for a few seconds. “Should I ask?”, you thought.

— Did you like what we did?

— You mean, you taking control?

— Yeah — you replied — I tried to be kind, just like you are to me. But… I guess that both of us have rebellious tendencies that require… Drastic measures. Physical measures.

Toto laughed.

— You mean the slapping?

— Yeah. I hope you weren't upset — you said, shyly.

— No, maleńka, quite the opposite — he smiled, wrapping one of his arms around your waist, pulling you closer — I've never felt so good. I’m so happy.

You smiled.

— That was my goal, honey. To make you feel good, like you deserve to feel.

Bringing a hand to your face, he caressed your cheek with his thumb.

— With you around, I'll always feel good, maleńka — Toto whispered, taking your lips in a gentle kiss. He was free for a bit, unburdened by the weight of his worries and obligations.

#toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff smut #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 one shot #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #wlffog #conwlff

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jingerhead · 1 year

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See You Latte and A Hero’s Heart seem like my cup of tea (I say, as if I wouldn’t read anything you wrote) if you’re willing to share their WIPs?

Hi lovely! So sorry it took me a day to get to this, but I'd absolutely love to share! Play the WIP game with me!

See You Latte

It may sound exactly like what it is - a coffee shop au! This is actually one of the very first wips I had for aftg, and when I couldn't make it work the way I wanted it to I decided to temporarily scrap it. But I decided to return to it 'cause everyone needs their own little coffee shop au, right? Here's a little snibbit from it!

~*~

Letting out a sigh of irritation, Andrew’s eyes flicked upwards when the door opened again, nearly choking when he caught sight of who had just entered the small cafe, which was empty other than himself and two soccer moms sitting in the comfy armchairs by the window. The man who just entered was wearing the most horrendous thing he’d ever seen in his life: black sunglasses, gray hat, green sweater at least two sizes too large, white athletic shorts despite the fact there was snow outside and sneakers. He was so appalling to look at Andrew knew he’d ended up staring longer than was appropriate, especially when the man’s eyes caught his own while he waited for his own drink.

Quickly looking away and pretending he hadn’t just seen the fashion disaster of the century enter the quiet coffee shop, Andrew decided it didn’t matter what he was writing so long as he pretended he was busy. He quickly began to type out the worst dialogue he’d ever written in a panic, fingers hitting the keys harder than usual. But even as Andrew kept his eyes glued to his laptop, he couldn’t not notice the man walking towards him, stopping on the other side of the table.

“Hi,” the man greeted.

Andrew glanced up, fingers halting on the keys. He hadn’t looked closely enough to see the guy’s face, but now that he was Andrew found that he couldn’t look away. The man’s blue eyes were chilling in the best way, a crystal ice blue that could’ve pierced through his soul. Auburn curls flared out messily under the hat he wore, and on both his cheeks were noticeable scars. On his left were cuts that had healed almost crudely, and under his right eye the skin was puckered in burn marks. But despite them, the man was beautiful. Infuriatingly beautiful.

It was at about this moment Andrew remembered how gay he really is.

“Can I sit here with you?” the man asked with a smile. “I need to charge my phone.”

Andrew didn’t want a table partner, but he wasn’t feeling inspired at the moment, so if the guy was annoying he could just leave. He ended up nodding and mumbling out a “Yes,” deciding to take a sip of his own drink while the man sat down, plugging in his phone. Andrew tried to go back to his writing, managing to continue his terrible dialogue, sure that he wasn’t going to get anything productive done today. Despite the fact that the redhead wasn’t talking, he was still very distracting while he made no noise or move to start a conversation at all.

Andrew glanced at him once in a while, but the redhead never met his eyes. After a half hour of silence, a bit of inspiration came to him, and he ended up on a roll, typing a bit aggressively. All of a sudden two hours had passed and the redhead left with a small wave. For some reason the place felt emptier.

A Hero's Heart

I am a huge Zelda fan so of course I'm going to write a LOZ au at some point. One of my friends also really pushed this idea at me and I finally caved, deciding to write it. While it's inspired by LOZ and the lore of it, it's actually an original story that just so happens to take place in the LOZ universe? Kind of like what I did for my PJO au.

Basically, this fic is based off of my misunderstanding of the LOZ story when I was like 9. One of my friends attempted to explain it to me but I don't think she knew ANYTHING about LOZ so she just made it up to hold my attention? But anyways, when I was really little I used to think that Link and Zelda were siblings, and that Link was on a mission to save his sister. I decided to take that idea and run with it for this fic, having Andrew as the long-lost twin brother to Prince Aaron that only just discovered his heritage and is now being asked to save Hyrule. He's left without much choice to go on this adventure, meeting Neil along the way. The plot is still a big work in progress, but I'm excited about it, especially with the way I plan to incorporate the LOZ lore. Thanks for asking, lovely!

#jinger answers #jinger's works #aftg #aftg wip #andreil #andreil wip

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paperbaldi · 3 months

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A description of Paper Baldi (note: I’m not good at writing characters so I would recommend not taking this seriously lolz). I did this for funzies

Story…?:

Paper Baldi is a math teacher from a school called “super schoolhouse”. He is a teacher who will always try to find a solution for everything, he thinks everything is possible to resolve, even his questionable math questions. no matter how difficult and crazy the situation is…he would try anything and try a solution!

Although, there’s a little lil problem. his school got corrupted, which he thinks is fine; Paper Baldi thinks he can fix it! but he also got corrupted..and the corruption has spread to the schoolhouse and the whole town and the whole world! People think it's his fault because he’s always creating things and messing around which causes a mess. Paper Baldi is known for that, that’s why parents don’t send their kids to his school because they think the kids would be reckless like Paper Baldi, which, is kind of silly because that's the only school that exists in the world

His reputation is now not very good-looking because of that, they think he did cause the disaster! People won’t believe him anymore, so he thought of an amazing idea, to prove he did not cause the corruption, Paper Baldi said he and the Principal would go to fix the problem and find a solution to it.

He’s thinks that his students and his family would disappear if he doesn't fix this, so both Baldi and the Principal and his students go on adventures to find solutions and save the world. I don’t think the adventures would be weird like the schoolhouse…right?

Description:

Full Name: Super “Paper” Baldi Baldimore

Short name: Paper Baldi

Others names: Mr.Baldimore

Gender/Sex: None

Job: math teacher and a fighter

Physical appearance:

Age: 29 ( always be 29)

Body build: more of an oval?

The shape of the face: egg-shaped

Eye color: despite having black eyes dots; if you look very close to his eyes you would see his bright blue eyes

Skin tone: yellow-ish

Hair color: orange

Hairstyle: bald

Usual fashion of dress: very basic

Personality:

-Good personality traits: creative, courageous, excitability, talkativeness, cheerful, heroic, energetic, adventurous,

-Bad personality traits: self-centered, misguided, irrational, irascible, uncritical, destructive, ridiculous, extreme,

-Mood character is most often:: neutral, with a smiling face. Unusual smiling face

-Sense of humor: Awkward and situational

-Character’s greatest joy in life: the love of his life, Susan :)

-Traits: very confident of his creations and himself in general,

-Skills: he’s very flexible and strong, he can turn into origami, runs fast, has super hearing, has a lot of ideas (even if they are illogical), can make copies of himself,

-Flaws: horrible execution always, if he goes outside without sunscreen or a hat he would turn red, always messed up his creations somehow, he doesn’t think of the consequences, won’t think twice about doing certain actions (either good or bad), awkward conversation, talking a lot,

-Fears: being alone stuck in the game, losing his wife and son and his students,

-Likes: talking…A LOT; especially the things he’s passionate about, spending time with Susan, spending time with his son and his students doing fun activities,

-Dislikes: turning red, being mad, Filename2

-Character’s greatest fear: being alone

Why? He was alone with no one to talk to when he was stuck alone in the schoolhouse for a long time. That’s why he likes to talk too much whenever he meets someone.

-Biggest regret: bringing the students especially his son into the adventure and letting them fight

-Minor regret: angry talking with his students

-Biggest accomplishment: Be the best teacher

-Minor accomplishment: Have friends

Habits:

-When he goes outside for a walk alone he likes to go to the lake and stare at the water, sometimes even touching the water. also hearing the sounds of the water. it’s like…reflecting on himself.

-Whenever he feels frustrated about something and he’s alone he sits somewhere and plunks the petals of a flower he stole (maybe eat some of them); if he has a sunflower he would eat seeds and then spit them out.

Other informations:

-He carries a journal whenever he goes if he doesn’t have someone to talk to, if he likes a place he visited he would describe it in the journal and maybe draw a doodle of a certain place he’s in. He also writes the things he has done in the day in the journal; even if it’s not important or exciting.

-Whenever he goes, if he finds objects that likes he would put them in his “adventure collection”. He likes to collect things, he even has a room for that.

-The most important person that he considered important is Susan, he would prefer to be stuck with her than exist stuck alone.

-Even if the hole on his body has cured overtime he likes the feeling of wearing clothes, also he feels weird if he walks around without his clothes, is like something is missing.

-He doesn’t have lips :( he just has a floating mouth. So if you kiss him you just. Basically kissing an egg?

#paper baldi #probably needs some fixing but meh #also they’re basically homeless lol. they have like big school bus so that they can live there will they find a solution to fix the-#schoolhouse.

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natedogx15 · 11 months

Text

Miraculous Descendent Chapter 36: Fashion Disaster

Previous Chapter

Fashionista is becoming annoyed with how long her entourage is taking to climb the building to chase after Cat Noir. Even with their enhanced strength, they couldn't climb fast enough to go after him.

"Enough. Go out the front door and chase after him already!" Fashionista shouts at them.

The five drones quickly follow her orders. They run down the stairs or jump off the second floor and run toward the school gates. As Fashionista watches them leave, she scoffs in annoyance and looks towards the classrooms with a smirk.

"I'm clearly going to need more help. Time for a recruitment drive." Fashionista says as she casually walks towards the door of one of the classrooms.

However, as she reaches the door, she suddenly hears Cat Noir's voice behind her.

"Not so fast, Fashionista!" Cat Noir shouts behind her.

Fashionista rolls her eyes and turns around in annoyance. However, her words die from surprise before they can come out. The reason for her shock was the new costume that Cat Noir had on despite only being gone for a little over a minute.

Cat Noir's new costume looked similar to his old one, with a black body suit and matching gloves and boots. However, he also had lime green slash marks on his lower left leg and right shoulder. His formerly tight collar has now been replaced with a popped-out one with lime green inside. His belt tail also has lime green highlights around the ends of it, and two bells on the area wrapped around his waist. His boots also have silver toes now.

"You do realize that this only helps my case when I insulted how ineffective you make your stealth aspect, right? At least you have a somewhat original design now, though." Fashionista begrudgingly says that last part as she analyzes Cat Noir's new look.

However, Hawkmoth is looking at this new costume in horror, knowing all too well what it indicates.

"No," Hawkmoth mutters in terror before quickly creating a link between him and Fashionista.

"Fashionista, you must attack him with caution now. His new costume indicates he's unlocked a new power within his Miraculous. He's far more dangerous now than he was before!" Hawkmoth shouts into the fashion-themed Akuma's head.

"Ow, can you not shout directly in my head? I can hear you just fine without you screaming into it." Fashionista tells him in annoyance as she winches from the volume of his voice within her head.

"Then hurry up and take care of him before Ladybug shows up. He's not someone to ignore anymore if he has a second power." Hawkmoth tells her.

Fashionista doesn't say anything and quickly refocuses on her original goal before Cat Noir's appearance. If Hawkmoth is panicking this much because of his new look, it's best if she gets some reinforcements. However, when she tries to open the door, Cat Noir quickly extends his baton and causes it to slam into her hand.

"Ow. How dare you! Do you know who I am?" Fashionista shouts at Cat Noir in anger as she rubs the back of her hand to try and soothe the pain.

"A sore loser?" Cat Noir asks her with a cheeky smile.

That makes Fashionista see red, and she immediately throws her hat at Cat Noir while also shooting fabric from her gloves to try and capture him.

"Bad idea saying that." Cat Noir immediately panics when he sees the attacks coming and immediately springs into action.

"H-hey, can't we talk about this?" Cat Noir asks her as Fashionista's hat chases after him and fires fabric to try and wrap him up again while Fashionista tries to hit him with the string that shoots from her gloves.

"No! I am sick of hearing your voice! Actually, I'm sick of you in general for rescuing Cheng-Dupain!" Fashionista yells at Cat Noir as she continues her attack.

"When you get to know me, you'll know I'm not such a bad guy. I'm just the guy trying to do the right thing." Cat Noir tells her before slamming into a locker to open it and using the door to block the hat's attempt to trap him.

The locker blocks the strings, and Cat Noir takes advantage of the hat flying towards him to close the door and trap it inside, keeping his back against the locker to help keep it inside. At the same time, the entourage is returning to help the Fashionista.

"Stay away from her!" They shout as they charge toward Cat Noir, again running up the stairs or climbing stuff to get to the second floor.

"Oh, come on." Cat Noir complains as he sees the five coming after him.

Luckily for him, the five are on one side of him and not coming at him from both sides. He realizes this and decides to take the opportunity to test out his new power. Once all of the entourage get on the second floor and charge toward him, he slams his hand into the lockers between him and them and shouts.

"Black Hole!"

Hearing that name, Fashionista has a terrified expression.

"YOU HAVE A BLACK HOLE NOW!!!" She shouts in alarm before quickly retracting her hands and holding onto something in preparation for a large force to pull her towards Cat Noir's new power.

As she does this, a literal black hole appears on the lockers and starts to try and pull people in. It manages to capture the entourage members. However, it doesn't seem to do any actual harm to them. It traps half of their bodies within the trap and does not let them escape, no matter how hard they try to pull themselves out. The force behind Black Hole's pull also doesn't seem as strong as Fashionista was expecting, as Fashionista finds herself okay from where she is across the courtyard.

When Fashionista realizes this, she lets go of the pillar with an embarrassed and angry blush as she glares daggers at Cat Noir.

"You, you, you, you mangy flee bag! How many times are you going to make fun of me!" Fashionista shouts at him as she prepares to fire her strings at Cat Noir while he's keeping her hat at bay inside the locker.

Unfortunately for her, her attempt is stopped by a stream of fire intercepting the strings from above. Fashionista and Cat Noir look up to see Ladybug in Sunny Seams glaring down at the Fashionista.

"You're not going to collar my cat," Ladybug tells Fashionista before looking towards Cat Noir apologetically.

"Sorry, I was so late. I couldn't find a good place to transform without risking getting spotted." She apologizes to her partner, who gives her a carefree and slightly relieved smile.

"No problem. I'm just glad you're here. So, do you like my new power?" Cat Noir asks her.

Ladybug looks towards the trapped and struggling entourage before nodding toward her partner. Though, she looks slightly worried.

"Yeah, but are they going to be okay?" She asks him.

Cat Noir rapidly nods his head to signal yes.

"Oh, yeah. The power should only keep them trapped inside. They shouldn't get hurt while inside." He quickly placates her worries.

Ladybug looks relieved when he says that and smiles at him.

"That's good." She tells him.

"I know, it's so nice to have a second non-lethal ability. Now I don't have to worry about hurting someone or my timer." Cat Noir happily grins at her before their attention focuses back on the one who caused all this trouble.

Fashionista gets nervous when she sees her entourage trapped while the heroes stare down at her. She's uncertain about what to do to win this. Hawkmoth isn't helping much, either. However, the stubborn part of her refuses to give up, and she glares at them defiantly. Finally, Ladybug tells her in a calm and pleading voice.

"Please end this yourself, Chloe. Don't make us have to hurt you." Ladybug pleads to Fashionista, trying to get through to the person behind the magic.

Fashionista looks into Ladybug's pleading eyes and sighs.

"Fine, just give me my hat so I can destroy it," Fashionista tells her while motioning towards Cat Noir, specifically, the banging locker behind him.

Ladybug looks towards Cat Noir, who gives her an uncertain look before slowly sliding to the side of the locker. When he does, Fashionista gains a vicious smirk and fires strings at Ladybug that wraps around her ankle and slams her into the ground. At the same time, her hat flies out of the locker and soars toward Ladybug before firing its cloth to entrap her body.

"Hahaha, I can't believe you fell for that. Too bad you didn't know you would have won if you had destroyed my hat." Fashionista laughs as her hat lands on her head, and she charges toward Ladybug, preparing to rip the earrings off of her.

Unfortunately for Fashionista, Ladybug came prepared beforehand with her Sunny Seams suit. The fabric trapping her is quickly burned away, and Fashionista is sent staggering backward from the force Ladybug's burning wings produce. Ladybug flies into the air and glares down at Fashionista for her trick. Cat Noir quickly jumps to the courtyard and joins her, glaring at the villain who had almost managed to steal his partner's Miraculous.

Fashionista gets nervous under their glares and realizes she lost her one chance to pull off a win by failing to complete her ambush on Ladybug. However, the Akuma isn't willing to give up yet and tries to make a run for it towards one of the classrooms.

"Oh no, you don't!" Ladybug yells at her as she pulls out her yo-yo and throws it at Fashionista.

The yo-yo wraps around Fashionista, trapping her arms, and she finds herself pulled back and into the air by Ladybug. Cat Noir quickly follows up by jumping toward her hat to grab her hat and tearing it in half.

"No!" Fashionista shouts as he does so.

The corrupted butterfly flies out of the pieces, and Fashionista finds herself face-planting into the ground as Ladybug releases her to capture the butterfly.

"Miraculous Ladybug!" Ladybug shouts as she uses her power to repair any damage done by Fashionista, freeing the entourage from her control and letting them out of the Black Hole.

The now de-transformed Chloe looks at the ground in disappointment, sadness, anger, and other emotions as she tries to come to terms with today's events. Ladybug walks past her, picks up her hat, and brings it to her.

"I believe this is yours," Ladybug tells her as she holds the hat out to Chloe.

Chloe accepts the hat and stares at it with the same emotions she felt while staring at the ground, only intensified. Not knowing how to react to the symbol of her failure today, Chloe throws it to the side and starts to sob.

"It's not fair. I was the one who needed this the most. So why did that rich brat win with a design that probably wasn't even hers, to begin with?" Chloe questions herself more than anyone as she finally weeps.

Miss Bustier, who had come out after she saw the ladybugs enter the classroom, witnesses Chloe's wails and immediately bolts down the stairs to console the crying girl.

"I'll take it from here, Ladybug. She's one of my students, after all." Miss Bustier tells Ladybug before leading Chloe toward the nurse's office.

Ladybug and Cat Noir watch her go in uncertainty, but before they can do anything, students begin to swarm them, with Alya leading the charge.

"Ladybug, Alya Cèsaire, you saved me from Hawkmoth after he turned me into Lady Wifi. I was hoping you'd be willing to answer a couple of questions for my newspaper club and blog. Do you think you'd be able to do that?" Alya begs the heroes with an excited look.

She's not the only one begging. Various other students are asking for autographs, being picked up and flown around the school, phone numbers, etc. This is the first time this has happened while both of them are still around since, most of the time, at least one has to leave because of their timer. Nervously looking at the other as they're overwhelmed, the two make a silent agreement and quickly use their respective ability or weapon to escape the now disappointed mob.

The two stop on a roof a couple of blocks away from the school and take their time to catch their breath.

"I'm never going to get used to that. It feels weird to have people running up to me in crowds asking for an autograph or a picture. It makes me feel like a famous celebrity." Cat Noir tells his partner.

"Yeah, I don't think I'll ever get used to that aspect either," Ladybug says before looking her partner up and down, finally getting a good look at his costume.

"I like the updates to your costume. They look nice." Ladybug compliments him.

"Thanks, I like the new look too. And it came with an awesome new power. So, we don't have to worry about my timer as much anymore." Cat Noir excitedly tells her.

"That's good. I need to go before anyone gets worried about why I'm missing. We'll have to talk about it more later." Ladybug tells him as she prepares to fly off.

"Yeah, same place as usual?" Cat Noir asks.

Ladybug doesn't say anything. She gives him a smile and nods.

In his lair, Hawkmoth throws his cane at the stained glass window angrily, not even bothering to look at the image of Fashionista that appears inside the glass bulb of it with another blip of light.

"Nooroo, dark wings fall." Hawkmoth orders as his transformation disperses, and Nooroo appears with crossed arms.

"I warned you, Gabriel. Now Father's wielder has gotten stronger. This is going to make your goal far more difficult than before." Nooroo tells him, causing Gabriel to grit his teeth in anger.

However, Gabriel seems to calm himself and doesn't snap at Nooroo.

"This is an annoying development. However, this isn't something that will completely shatter my ability to defeat them. Fashionista was an overall weak Champion. I can take my time studying Cat Noir's new ability and make sure I know how to counter it. I still have the upper hand due to them not knowing anything about me. All I have to do is continue for the long term, and either I find a powerful Champion, they slip up, or both. This may have slowed my victory down, but it hasn't completely shut the possibility out. For now, this should have accomplished one of my goals by showing Adrien how dangerous it is to be outside with Hawkmoth terrorizing the city. He should be willing to return to homeschooling now." Gabriel smiles as he thinks about that last part.

"Are you sure about that?" Nooroo asks Gabriel curiously.

"Of course. Adrien's school has been attacked several times, and even during his time out on that stupid made-up holiday, he was attacked. By now, he and Nathalie should recognize that I was right in keeping him in the house. Especially now of all times." Gabriel confidently tells his Kwami.

"You and Emilie always were paranoid about his safety." Nooroo sighs in displeasure.

"Our past should not have to put Adrien at risk. And I will continue to make sure of it for both Emilie and Adrien's sakes." Gabriel tells Nooroo before heading upstairs.

As Nooroo watches him go, he can't help but let out a sad sigh.

"Oh, how our time together has broken you two. You must realize that children are like caterpillars. You are the cocoons that help them grow, but they'll eventually hatch from that cocoon and leave it behind. No matter how hard you try, you won't be able to protect them forever, and they'll eventually find a way to stand on their own two feet." Nooroo says to himself as he gives Gabriel a look of pity before going to the fruit bowl set in the lair to grab something to eat.

Next Chapter

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous descendent #adrien agreste #sabrina raincomprix #nooroo #marinette dupain cheng #alix kubdel #original male character #nino lahiffe #chloe bourgeois

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drjohndisco · 1 year

Text

Stuck in my Head

Pairing: n/a

Warnings: n/a

Word Count: 589 words

Summary: Yarrow gets back to the hotel, and Cordelia helps with their wings.

[A/N] This is part two to "Getting Wings".

The door to the hotel opened and Cordelia and Fred walked in, holding full bags. Clearly their shopping trip had been successful.

‘Angel? Gunn? Lorne?’ Cordelia called out, pausing as the bright colours of Yarrow’s wings caught her eye. ‘Yarrow? Is that you?’

‘Yeah, it is.’ Yarrow replied. They were seated on the couch, wings draped over their body and hands clasped together in their lap. ‘Now, could you please get me a blanket?’ Yarrow asked.

‘So, how did this happen?’ Cordelia asks, leaning against her bed with her arms crossed as she inspected Yarrow’s wings. Fred had left to go and get changed elsewhere -- although not before remarking how pretty she thought Yarrow’s wings were. Cordelia, however, is now dressed in a low-cut black dress. Yarrow was seated on the bed, wearing only the dress pants that went with their suit (blanket still wrapped tightly around their chest.)

‘A fairy.’ Yarrow groaned. ‘It’s a problem. I can’t seem to get rid of them, or know when they’re going to call on me again.’

‘I see. Do you have any idea how you're going to get dressed for tonight?’

Yarrow only shook their head in response. Cordelia sighed.

‘Can you at least summon me a pair of scissors? Get this fashion disaster done with, or are you against that? I know you don’t own a lot of clothes.’

‘Uh, I guess? It’s my suit from Sunnydale, so I don’t particularly care either way.’

So, Cordelia held out her hand mirror and Yarrow reached into it - taking the scissors from where Cordelia had last had them. Cordelia then took the scissors from Yarrow’s hands and began to cut holes into the suit.

Then, after Cordelia was done, Yarrow shrugged the shirt and suit jacket on (with only a little bit of difficulty) and pulled their legs up to their chest. Their wings then flopped back onto the bed, shaking.

‘It still doesn’t feel right.’ Yarrow whispered sadly.

‘What? After what I just did?’

‘No, I meant the wings. Not the clothes, the clothes are fine. I thank you for that, I’m just not sure I can go now…it doesn’t fit. I don’t want him, uh, I don’t want the others to see me like this.’

‘Him? Yarrow, who are we talking about here?’ Cordelia questioned.

‘I don’t have to answer that!’ Yarrow replied, taking a pillow and hitting Cordelia with it. ‘The point is, I need time to reconstruct myself. So you should give my tickets to Lorne. Besides, he’d have more fun than I would….’ Yarrow then pulled the crumpled ticket from their pocket, giving it to Cordelia. ‘Here.’ Cordelia took the ticket.

‘I’m not letting that go, by the way. I will find out what you meant.’

‘I know you will. I went to school with you, remember?’

‘Yeah, and we’ve both come a long way since then.’ Cordelia said. She then smiled, before standing up off the bed, heading to the doorway.

‘Wait! Cordy?’ Yarrow called out.

‘Yeah?’ Cordelia asked, turning around to face them again.

‘Could you hug me before you go?’

Cordelia nodded, and waited at the door for Yarrow. Yarrow got up from the bed, with their wings dragging on the floor, and walked towards Cordelia. Cordelia then hugged Yarrow. The hug didn’t last very long, but when Yarrow let go they found that they felt better.

‘You’re going to be fine without us?’ Cordelia said, once Yarrow had let go.

‘Yeah, I think I will be.’

Tags: @lemirerun @me-myself-and-my-fos @hyperionshipping

#[p] queen bitch (affectionate)#my writing*#self ship

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z-iridest · 2 years

Text

My Hero Academia- I Am Phoenix:

Chapter 6- USJ Incident Part One:

Once the bus came to a stop, we got off, Iida kicking it into high gear to direct the rest of us off the bus in an orderly fashion. Once directed to, I stood and walked toward the front, but as I was walking down the bus steps, a certain lighting haired blond ran into me, making me topple over. I braced for the impact onto the concrete, but it never came. When I looked up, I saw that Kirishima had turned around and caught me. "You good?" He asked. I nodded as he helped me upright.

"Thanks." I told him, rubbing the back of my neck sheepishly. Kirishima grinned back before telling Kaminari to be more careful, the blond apologizing. Once everyone was unloaded and off the bus, we all looked up to see a familiar looking hero....

"Hello, everyone! I've been waiting for you!" The sight of the Rescue Hero Thirteen caused everyone to gasp in excitement. Thirteen's costume consisted of a white space suit design using what appears to be a puffy jacket instead of an actual suit, a black helmet with white eyes, and a pair of yellow boots.

"It's the Space Hero, Thirteen. The chivalrous pro who's rescued a ton of people from disasters across the world!" Midoriya spoke up, the excitement and attempt not to fanboy apparent in his voice.

"Whoo hoo! Thirteen is my favorite hero!" Ururaka exclaimed in excitement as Midoriya had his hands over his mouth to keep from fanboying more than he already had.

"I can't wait to show you what's inside!" Thirteen gestured with a hand towards the doors.

"This is gonna be awesome!" Everyone chorused at the same time. The excitement only got more apparent once everyone stepped inside.

"Holy crap, it looks like some kind of an amusement park!" Kaminari exclaimed.

"A shipwreck, a landslide, a fire, a windstorm, etc... I created this training facility to prepare you to deal with different types of disasters. I call it... The Unforseen Simulation Joint, but you can call it USJ!" Thirteen told them. Everyone deadpanned.

Just like Universal Studios Japan... I thought. Aizawa looked around.

"Hey, shouldn't All Might be here already? Let me guess... He booked an interview instead?" He asked. Good question, where is Dad? I thought.

"Actually, it's something else..." Thirteen replied before stepping closer to Aizawa and saying something I could barely hear, but I caught Thirteen holding up the number 3. Dad went over his time limit again...

"That man is the height of irresponsibility..." Aizawa trailed off before turning to the class. "Clock's ticking, let's get started."

"Excellent! Before we begin, let me just say one thing... Well, maybe two things... Possibly three... Four... Five..." Everyone deadpanned again before yelling a:

"We get it!" That caused Thirteen to continue.

"Listen carefully... I'm sure you're aware that I have a powerful quirk. It's called Black Hole. I can use it to suck up anything and turn it into dust." Thirteen began. Ururaka nodded enthusiastically while Midoriya spoke up.

"Yeah, you've used Black Hole to save people from all kinds of disasters before, haven't you?" He asked. Fanboy...

"That's true... But my quirk could also very easily be used to kill." Thirteen replied, causing Ururaka to stop nodding with a shocked look on her face, the others having the same look.

"Right, because Black Hole can turn anything into dust, that includes people." I put in.

"Right you are, Yagi." Thirteen confirmed before continuing. "Some of you also have powers that can be dangerous... In our superhuman society, all quirks are certified and strenuously regulated so we often overlook how unsafe it can actually be. Please, don't forget that if you loose focus or make the wrong move, your powers can be deadly, even if you're trying to do something virtuous like rescuing someone. Thanks to Aizawa's fitness tests, you have a solid idea of your quirk's potential, and because of All Might's combat training, you likely experienced how dangerous your powers can be when used against other people. Carry those lessons into this class. Today, you're going to learn how to use your quirks to save people's lives. You won't be using your powers to attack enemies or each other, only to help... After all, that's what being a hero is all about: Ensuring the safety of others." Thirteen gave a bow. "That's all I have to say. Thank you so much for listening." Everyone cheered.

"Right, now that that's over...." Aizawa pointed toward the training grounds, but before anything else could be said, the lights shorted out, catching everyone's attention before the waterfall in the central plaza sputtered.

"What the hell?" I wondered aloud before my breath caught in my throat. Some kind of portal was opening up from in front of the fountain. My eyes widened when a figure appeared next to the portal, his body whipping the same color as the portal beside him. Aizawa turned in time to see a pale hand emerging from the portal before a head of light blue hair with a grey hand over it came into view. Aizawa turned back to the class, his voice stern.

"Stay together and don't move." He warned. He got into a fighting stance. "Thirteen, protect the students." Kirishima turned his glance from the teachers to something across the facility from him.

"Whoa, what is that thing?" Kirishima asked, turning Midoriya and Uraraka's attention to what he was looking at. The portal had spread wide enough to be a wall now, and I watched with goosebumps as a young man emerged followed by an army of quirk users. The "leader", if you could even call him that, had hands all over his body, messy gray-blue hair, and I could have sworn I saw red eyes gazing out among us students from behind the hand that was on his face. He didn't look older than 20, but he was definitely nowhere near younger than us. "Wait, has the training started already? I thought we were rescuing people..." Just as Midoriya started to step forward, Aizawa's voice rang out.

"Stay back!" He barked in warning, causing Midoriya to look over at our teacher just as Aizawa put his signature goggles on his face, obviously prepared for a fight. "This is real... Those are villains." Real villains? Here? But, why?

"The only real heroes I see are Thirteen and Eraserhead." The Warp Gate guy observed, looking over the students before his eyes landed right on me. "Perplexing... The schedule we retrieved from U.A. said All Might should be here as well...." Eraserhead stepped up.

"So, you scumbags used the press as a cover and sneaked onto campus." Eraserhead spoke up as the villains beside the main two men stepped toward us.

"Where is he? I went through the trouble of bringing so many friends who are eager to meet him. They want All Might, the great Symbol of Peace... I can't believe he's not here." He held out his arms, careful not to touch his comrade. So, I was right... It was a Quirk that destroyed the gates... His Quirk. I thought. "Maybe if I kill a few kids, he'll come out to play." He threatened. The action caused Aizawa's hair and scarf to float upward, a sign that his quirk had been activated.

"What? Real villains? No way, how could so many villains get into a U.A. facility this secure?" Kirishima spoke up.

"Yeah, Thirteen." Yayorozu stepped to be beside Iida and getting the pro hero's attention. "Why aren't the alarms going off?"

"Good question... I'm not sure." Thirteen's answer didn't exactly put anyone at ease.

"Is the entire campus under attack or is this their only target?" Todoroki asked. "Either way, if the alarm sensors aren't being triggered, then one of these villains must have a quirk that's masking their prescence here. They carefully chose this facility as an entry point at a time when a class was being taught... They're fools for trespassing here, but they've thought this out. Whatever their plan, they must have a concrete objective in mind... But, what is it?" He asked.

"Thirteen, get them out of here, and alert the main campus. Actually... If they've got the ability to block our sensors...."

"One of them has a signal jamming quirk." I voiced my thoughts, interrupting our teacher. I felt all eyes on me as I looked at Aizawa. "It's the only logical reason I can think of that they could've gotten in without the sensors being triggered... But, that also means they're blocking at least the main means of communication so we can't call for backup. It's more than possible that the villain responsible for that is an electric type like Kaminari."

"Kaminari, try using your quirk to contact the school." Aizawa ordered Kaminari, who immediately complied with a,

"Yes, sir."

"What're you gonna do?" Midoriya asked. "You can't fight them on your own, there's too many of them. Even if you can nullify their quirks, your fighting style's not suited for this. Your power does best in stealth and one on one fights. It's not gonna help with a group..." Aizawa looked at Midoriya, which instantly made the boy shut up and his gaze turning to his feet.

"You can't be a pro if you only have one trick." Aizawa told him, making the boy's head snap up from looking at the ground. Aizawa then turned to Thirteen. "I'll leave it to you, Thirteen." He spoke. With a nod from Thirteen, Aizawa jumped into the fight, beginning to effortlessly take down the villains coming at him. Damn, I need combat training from him... I caught sight of the leader scratching at his neck with two fingers and his thumb as he watched. I realized he needed all five of his fingers to touch something in order to decay it. He looked... Annoyed.

"Whoa, he's holding them off... I guess I shouldn't have underestimated him." Midoriya said as he watched the fight from next to me.

"This is no time to be analyzing, we have to go!" Iida snapped us out of our trance, running to catch up to the others. Just as we did, the Warp Gate villain appeared in front of them, Thirteen making everyone stop.

"There is no escape for you." He snarled. "It's a pleasure to meet you... We are the League of Villains. I know it's impolite, but we decided to invite ourselves into this haven of justice to say hello. And besides, isn't this a fitting place for All Might, the Symbol of Peace, to take his last breath?" He asked. I growled, glaring at the villain in front of me. I could feel my hair burning up, but I didn't care. These idiots were threatening my Dad.... It didn't look like the villain noticed how pissed I was, though, because he continued talking. "I believe he was subscene..." He sighed, his wisping arms seeming to raise. "Well, in the end, I suppose it doesn't matter... I still have a roll to play..." Before Thirteen could do anything, a battle cry left Kirishima as he, Bakugo and I all charged him. I know what you're thinking: You're better than that, don't you usually think things through? Shut it, we had a plan, you're just gonna find out later!

"What the hell makes you think we'll let you kill All Might?!" I snarled as we attacked, Bakugo's explosion causing smoke to go everywhere.

"Did you think we were just gonna stand around and let you tear this place to shreds?" Kirishima asked as he, Bakugo and I stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the class. But....

"You live up to your school's reputation." The villain's voice sounded as the smoke cleared, revealing that our attack had merely shown some kind of neck armor, not hurting the villain in the least. "But you should be more careful, children... Otherwise, someone might get hurt."

"You three," Thirteen's voice sounded from behind us, causing us to turn around to see one of the fingers of her suit was open and pointed at the villain. "Get out of the way right now!" She warned.

"I'll scatter you across this facility, to meet my comrades... and your death!" The villain launched an attack as he spoke, and out of habit, I crossed my arms in front of me, getting pushed back from the force of the attack. I grit my teeth, struggling to stay upright.

"Crap! What is this?!" I could barely hear Kirishima over the wind that was blowing through. As far as I could tell, the attack had surrounded their classmates... We were in trouble... Serious trouble... I felt my feet leave the ground as the sight before me changed to the fire training grounds, and I was falling fast. I let my wings out, hovering for a second in the air before landing on my feet instead of flat on my face. I looked around. The Fire Zone, obviously, had fires everywhere, and it hit me. For all the trouble they went through to know when Dad would be teaching a class, the villains didn't know our weaknesses or strengths.... If they did, they sure as hell wouldn't have sent me here... That was when I noticed the group of thugs beginning to surround me.

"Trust me, guys, you do not want to do this." I told them, feinting fear.

"Nah, girlie, you just don't want us to." One of them cackled. I smirked, making him stop and enjoying the fact that the thugs surrounding me now looked like they were gonna piss themselves.

"Fine, have it your way, but remember..." I activated my Quirk, my wings spreading as I held out a hand. As the fire from the buildings around us gathered into the armor of flames I normally wore in combat, I finished my sentence: "You wanna play with fire? You're gonna get burned." The thugs charged at me all at once. I rolled my eyes, using my wings to fly up and avoid all the attacks at once and watch from the air as they smacked against each other like a bunch of idiots. Most of them went down, but not all of them. I landed and started fighting, tucking my wings into my back again as I used some of the fire around my hands to make fanblades. I sidestepped an attack thrown at me, which not only hit the guy who had snuck up behind me, but allowed me to grab his arm and body slam him into the ground the way Midoriya did to Bakugo in the combat training. I kept fighting, guarding and even dodging when needed while using my flames to add some literal heat to my attacks. By the time the smell of burning flesh entered my nose, all the thugs I'd encountered were out for the count. My heart was pounding against my chest, pumping adrenaline into my veins. I had to see if anyone else was in the fire zone with me and try to find my other classmates. Bakugo, Kirishima and I were reckless rushing in to fight like that...

"YAGI!" A voice I knew all too well screeched, breaking my thoughts. Without looking, I blasted fire behind me, dissolving a shadow. My palm hurt like hell now, but I didn't care.

"Shinohara." I acknowledged my ex bully's presence, but as I looked around, I only saw more of the shadow clones she used to beat me up with. Normally, light of any kind would be horrible for her, but with my body already to beginning to overheat from the last fight and no fires for me to call on other than the ones I could create, I knew I was at a disadvantage, even if it was a slight one. By the looks of things, Shinohara was hiding in the shadows, away from my line of vision. See, her shadows disappear if she gets hurt, so in all reality, her hiding like that was smart... I'd give her that much, at least...

Her shadows charged at me and I stood at the ready, creating fanblades again, but this time from my own flames. As you, the reader, already know, the more I use my own flames, the more my body burns. Shinohara, unfortunately, already knew that too.... "You really think you can beat me in the state you're in? Face it! You're pathetic, Yagi! You're nothing compared to me!" Her voice echoed around me, making it difficult to place where exactly she was.

"I'm the one who got into UA, not you." I pointed out, building up the heat in my body to release it in a huge blast, knocking down a good chunk of the shadows at once. Through the blast, I was able to see Shinohara moving to a different location before the lighting died down and she created more shadows. "You're also the one hiding from me instead of fighting me yourself, just like always, so who's really pathetic here?" I heard a scream of anger. That did it... I saw her eyes glow red as the shadows she just summoned went back to her. What I wasn't expecting was for her to turn herself into a huge shadow monster... When the hell could she do that?

"I'LL PUMMEL YOU UNTIL YOU BEG FOR DEATH!" She shrieked at me, charging. This was her plan... She knew I wouldn't be able to handle another blast of flames like I did earlier, so she was attacking me directly... I conjured another flame and was about to start fighting Shinohara when the monster suddenly disappeared, leaving my old bully knocked out on the ground. What the hell just happened? I didn't have time to register the moment, though, because my knees suddenly gave out on me. I was able to feel the adrenaline flush out of my system as pain rushed in. My entire body was burning...

"Yagi!" I heard the voice of one of my classmates before I saw him. I felt his touch before it left my skin as quickly as it came. "Damn, Yagi, you're burning up, are you okay?" I looked up to see Ojiro frowning worriedly at me. I flashed him a small grin, nodding.

"I'm okay, just need to cool down for a bit... Should be back to normal in a minute." I told him. I felt a rush of cold come over me and looked at my sleeves. Wait, did the Support Company put in coolants or something? I hadn't felt anything that felt like they'd added that feature while I was putting on the costume, but the cooling effect I was feeling now proved otherwise. "Anyways, how'd you find me?"

"That burst of light earlier." Ojiro told me. "I figured that meant you were in trouble and needed a hand."

"Do you know if anyone else ended up here with us?"

"If they did, I haven't seen them." It fell quiet for a minute before Ojiro spoke again. "I kind of find it weird..."

"What'd you mean?"

"Just, the Warp Villain sent you here, but you can manipulate flames, right?" I nodded.

"That's just one part of my Quirk, but yeah."

"If they were smart, they would've sent you to a Blizzard section or something."

"I have a possible answer for why they sent me here, actually." Since my body had cooled off, I stood up. "For all the trouble they went through trying to find out when and where All Might would teach the next class, it doesn't look like they looked into our Quirks and any possible weaknesses we had at all. You're right about one thing though, a Blizzard Zone would have been ideal for my weakness because my Quirk is literally anything a Phoenix can do.. One: birds don't do good in cold and two: colder weather makes it harder for me to produce any flames. I'm worried about the rest of our classmates, though. They've all still got to be in the Facility, I don't think that Warp Gate villain would have been stupid enough to put them somewhere where it'd be easier to find help."

"True... Why not go ahead and try to catch up with everyone else while I look to see if any of our other classmates ended up here with us?" Ojiro asked.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" I asked. He nodded, flashing me a smile.

"I'll be fine, besides, those wings'll allow you to be faster than me and my tail. Just be careful, all right?" I let my wings out again, smiling.

"You too. I'll see you back at the entrance." I promised before taking off. I made it to the central plaza without incident, but as I touched down, I caught sight of the fight taking place. I hid, tucking my wings back into place as I landed. The crowd of villains had been cut down to only two villains remaining, which Aizwa easily took out. My brow furrowed a bit when I realized Aizawa was growing tired from the fighting. Aizawa's eyes flickered to the leader charging for him. "First, it was 23 seconds..."

"Final boss." I heard Aizawa murmur as he threw his scarf, which was easily caught by the leader as the two charged toward one another.

"Then, it was 24 seconds... Then 20, then 17..." Aizawa grabbed part of his scarf and elbowed the leader in the gut. I nearly breathed in relief but stopped short when I saw Aizawa's other elbow in the leader's hand just as Aizawa's hair dropped. Oh no... "It was hard to see when you were jumping around, but I found your tell... It's your hair." My eyes widened. He figured it out... "When it drops, it means you've stopped using your quirk." Much to my horror, Aizawa's elbow began to deteriorate, Aizawa grunting in pain. "You're having to blink more often. Don't push yourself too hard now," the voice of the leader was taunting. "You might just fall apart... Wouldn't that be a shame?" Just when it was looking bad, Aizawa's hair flew upward once more and he punched the leader with his good arm, starting another fight. Aizawa continued fighting as more goons took him on and he was able to fight them before he was surrounded. "That annoying quirk of yours isn't suited for drawn out fights against big groups, is it? Don't you think you're a little out of your element here, Eraserhead? You're much better at working stealthily. You're known for surprise attacks, not fighting head to head. But, despite knowing that, you didn't hesitate to jump into the middle of this fight... To put your students at ease." Aizawa dodged attacks left and right, though I knew Aizawa was growing more and more tired. "Hey, look at you, you're still standing. You really are so cool... Oh, by the way, hero..." Aizawa turned around to see a monstrous behemoth of a villain behind him, one that screamed not normal in the least to me. "I am not the final boss." With those words, the creature struck a blow to Aizawa that sent his goggles and some blood everywhere before beginning to bash Aizawa down. A strangled cry of horror left my mouth before I could stop it. I froze when I saw the leader's eyes turn to me, but I watched as he merely turned back to my teacher as he was being pummeled into the ground. When it finally stopped, Aizawa lay there, unmoving and facedown. "What do you think of him, Eraserhead?" The leader taunted. "He's the bioengineered anti symbol of peace... But you can call him Nomu." The Nomu roared in response, sending a chill through me...

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That has to be how they're planning on killing Dad...

Taglist: @euphorical-angel

#mha #cannon x oc #hinotori yagi #dadmight #i am phoenix

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nielsbrabants · 5 months

Text

Leaving Taul Paul

Prologue

So I’m sitting in this plane, crying a little, looking at the industrial airport site through the small window – it’s getting dark now – waiting for takeoff, leaving America.

Some hours later. The plane hangs in the sky. It’s pitch black outside, my window still uncovered, because I love the view, even though there’s nothing to see. It reminds me of the fact that I’m literally flying above the ocean, hundreds of miles above it, at a speed I can barely imagine. I’m writing this. I promised Paul I would do so. I also just want to, want to maintain the memories. Mom is sitting next to me, watching this bad Disney-bullshit film playing on the way too small screen that’s hanging in the aisle. I’m drinking Budweiser (last one?) and enjoying the turbulence. A couple of days ago, probably the evening in the park, Paul and I were talking about aircraft turbulence, he said he loved it, I agreed. We said it’s a shame so many people dislike it. I remember him saying ‘it’s the best part of it all.’

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

We’re leaving for New York. We being me and mom. I couldn’t sleep last night. I stayed up for a long time, drinking tea and eating cookies with my Chilean friend Pablo and a friend of his. I get up at five, after having slept maybe an hour, and start getting ready for the cab.

Our cab driver is this amazing guy, friendly and funny, very social but in a cool way, we talk about the refugee crisis. Normally I can’t stand cab drivers, but this one is just great, and before dropping us of, he asks to take a selfie with us. At the airport I run into this model guy, C, who lives in New York. I only know him vaguely, and he tells us he’s traveling to Istanbul, but he is very sweet and takes the time to write down all of his favorite New York spots.

First a two hour flight to Madrid, then eight long hours to New York, crappy airline. No food on the plane to Madrid, some annoying girls sitting next to us. When we almost arrive in Madrid they start screaming enthusiastically, about how they’re seeing the desert. No vegetarian food on the plane to New York, so I am starving quite seriously. I don’t sleep during the flight, I’m a bad sleeper and I need a bed, mom sleeps a good while. I just watch the second Avengers film.

In New York we take a cab to the Airbnb, the driver charging us over a hundred dollars over budget, we’re both too tired to comment on this, end up in a fight with the driver anyway. Pizza in Union City, the Latin neighborhood where we’re staying. Meeting our hosts, the sweetest couple, T and N, he’s a painter, she just hangs around. We have two separate bedrooms with two double beds, which is good, comfortable. Shared kitchen (small but cozy, with this big mirror and a lot of light wood) and bathroom. No idea how everything exactly works with the time zone system, but it’s almost midnight here in the USA, which means it’s Wednesday morning Belgian time, and we’ve had a very, very long day. I lay down and Tinder a little, so many guys, I want to meet people while here, and fall asleep exhausted.

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

I don’t do all too much today, still kinda dazed from the flight. In the morning I take a walk to the nearest supermarket, to get us some breakfast and to explore the neighborhood. The supermarket is a total disaster, with no whole foods, no normal bread or cheese, everything flavored. Mom and I socialize with the hosts, unpack. In the evening we go to this Mexican restaurant T advised us. They have this amazing view over the water and the New York skyline, very good guacamole. I can’t order a margarita, so I get kind of scared it won’t be possible for me to go to bars or clubs, to try the typical American beers, things like that, which would be very disappointing.

I chat with this guy on Tinder who looks like a modern Kurt Cobain and seems cool and intelligent. He directs fashion films and then says he’s the creative director of iD-magazine, which impresses me a little. Too bad he’s a Londoner and already at the airport, heading back to Europe. He seems like a nice guy, we agree to meet in Paris someday. (Even though I have no fucking idea where I’d get the money to make this quick weekendtrip to Paris, just to have coffee with this cool guy.) I’m getting quite a list of Tinder-matches by now.

Thursday, September 3, 2015

In Union City I finally go get two phones, accompanied by T. We have to wait for forever in the store, and it’s kinda late, somewhere around seven p.m., but T is telling me this whole story about him taking ayahuasca in the Peruvian jungle a couple of months ago, and it’s fascinating to listen to.

Back at the apartment I answer this guy on Tinder who seems cool, a DJ. We don’t really talk that much but he seems easygoing and chill, and I really just want to meet him, he’s not being complicated or whiny or anything, just like ‘let’s meet and cuddle’ and I like people with an attitude like that. Some problems with getting texts through, his phone dies and I don’t have WhatsApp. When we finally get in touch properly it’s almost midnight. He asks me if I want to come to this hotel, The Standard, where he’s in a club, and we agree to meet in the lobby, at one a.m. It’s midnight, Thursday ends, and I go out.

Friday, September 4, 2015

So there I am, a Belgian kid in this huge city, no idea where I’m going, to meet some guy I don’t know at all, on my second day in the States. Given the circumstances, you probably get me when I say I am a little nervous. When I get out of the subway station I have no idea where I am, so I ask this really friendly woman how I should walk. Her hair is dyed orange and she’s walking her dog. She gives me very clear instructions and accompanies me for a couple of blocks. She asks me why I’m going to The Standard, so I say I’m meeting this guy. She asks if it’s a friend and I have to admit it’s a Tinder date, I don’t really know the guy at all. She tells me I should always use condoms, thinks, and then says I should always make sure they’re wearing a condom. I’m a little insulted she assumes I’m a bottom, but then I also just am, and I can’t really blame her for guessing correctly. So I assure her I’m always safe, tell her I’m the friend who’s always handing out condoms.

We split our paths and I enter this hip, kinda posh neighborhood, a lot of nightlife, clubs with lines of dressed-up New Yorkers waiting outside, trying to get in. I finally get to the hotel, which is an impressive and very modern, tall building. Walk around, find the lobby, go inside and sit down in this leather chair, all very design and trendy. I’m the only one in the lobby, next to the guy behind the desk, who’s ignoring me, which I don’t mind. From where I sit there’s a perfect view into this lounge bar, dimly lit in purple, a DJ is playing really bad house music. I send Paul a text, saying I’m there. It’s almost exactly one o’clock. No answer. I feel tense. A feeling I normally don’t have this badly on dates, but it’s probably contextual here. Scanning everybody who comes down the stairs or enters through the glass doors. After fifteen minutes, and being asked what exactly I’m doing in the lobby by a staff member, I send Paul another text, stating that I’m gonna wait another fifteen minutes before leaving. No answer.

I feel sad and alone, and underdressed in my loose tank top and skinny jeans, imagine leaving in another fifteen minutes and going home, thirty minutes on the subway and then a bus. I feel so uncomfortable in the lobby, so I leave and continue my waiting outside. Leaning against The Standard hotel, a couple of meters next to the entrance of the club, Le Bain. A whole line of all dressed-up kids waiting to get in, me just waiting for this guy to exit. It’s twenty past one. I seriously consider leaving, notice these two older drunks sitting in a car, watching everyone who’s passing by. This drunk girl starts a fight with the bouncer of Le Bain, she just keeps screaming that he’s a fucking fat-ass bouncer guy, which is more a fact than an insult. She leaves. The two older guys are still there.

I get this text and feel so incredibly relieved. Paul is sorry, he was DJing, he’ll be out in a couple of minutes. We text some more while he’s still inside, doing whatever, joking about me being an undercover cop trying to get into the club via him. He finally arrives, hugs me as a greet. The first things I notice are that he is a really tall guy (like really really tall) and that he’s dressed very cool, this funky streetwear kinda vibe. His face is not a classical pretty face, it’s kinda robust, he strikes me as very attractive. He takes me inside, says something about his office, takes me into the hotel lobby restroom, locks the door. I have no idea what the fuck is going on, he shows me this ID of some guy named Jeffrey, tells me I have to study it to get into the club. I memorize the guy’s name and date of birth, we walk to the club, Paul knows the bouncer so we just walk passed the line, the guy barely looks at my ID. We take the elevator upstairs and then some stairs. While walking through the hallway, with the black and red graffiti walls, I keep thinking about how this reminds me of the “Bitch I’m Madonna” music video. Later I find out these are actually the staircases the video was filmed on.

Then we’re there, rooftop bar with an amazing view, 360 degrees New York skyline, I’m speechless. We sit down in the lounge chairs, drink beer, discuss movies and music, drink more beer, I meet his friends, talk about The Cramps and what’s our favorite vampire movies and then more personal things, his job, fashion, kind of everything. His friends leave, we go to this other part of the club inside, with leather chairs and a pool. The music is bad, we talk about Courtney Love and what she culturally represents, his body language is open and he turns me on, we get a little physical but it’s all very innocent. He has this relaxed and positive vibe. I can’t remember if we started kissing in the club or later at his place, I guess in the club. This random guy strips to his boxer and gets into the pool to impress the girl he’s with, then it’s four a.m. and the party ends, which is weird to me. In Belgium most parties last till at least six or seven a.m., sometimes till noon.

We take a subway – it’s so damn hot in the underground station – and a cab to his place in New Jersey, without really discussing where we’re going or that I’m sleeping with him, no need to state the obvious. We go to his bedroom, which is filled with shoes and piles of vintage. Lay down on his bed, he starts up his Playstation. I ask if he’s a gamer, he says he is, he’s really into Madden. Usually I can’t stand gamers, but with him I like it, it adds this boyish dimension to his personality. But he’s not planning to game, he just puts on Netflix. Wants to show me this trashy reality show about hiphop-wives or something like that he’s really into. We watch the first minutes of the show then start having sex kinda right away. The sex is amazing and afterwards we watch this other reality show which is so over the top it’s constantly making me laugh.

Paul wants to take me for brunch, since it’s afternoon and we’re both starving. He says first he needs to style me, because I need to look like a Jersey boy. I’m into this plan, but I tell him that since I’m half his size, he’s never gonna find something that fits me. Much to my surprise the guy comes up with this really cool, dressed down outfit that fits me perfectly, with washed jeans-shorts and a yellow Timberland-t-shirt. It looks very street and hetero and goes really well with my worn-out white Nikes and white Nike socks. Little busses to New Jersey. Shabby neighborhoods. Paul who tells me I should hide under a car if a shootout would occur. He tells me a lot about the economical situation in Jersey. Very cool brunch spot, called the Warehouse. Great minimal design, the best coffee I’ve ever had, cheddar-tomato sandwich and a croissant. Paul pays, very much to my discomfort. He puts me on a bus back to Union City, I don’t think he kissed me goodbye that day. On my way back I count the streets crossing New York avenue.

Best day ever?

It’s not that late when I’m back at the Airbnb, around three p.m. I find mom in the kitchen with T and N. N comes laying on the bed with me. It’s cozy in a funny, off-the-record way. I tell everyone enthusiastically about my night.

The plan of the evening is to go to this underground Bushwick show of a band my friend A back in Belgium is into. The band, Cigarettes After Sex, has a gentle sound which I’m not really into, but it still sounds like a fun plan, and it’s not like they are big enough to tour and come to Belgium anytime soon anyway. We’re meeting this girl I know vaguely from Belgium. She’s in New York to do runways for fashion week, which is starting in a couple of days. It’s weird how L and me, both underage, can get into the place and drink without problems. Probably because she’s a model, that stuff helps. When I order my second or third Pabst Blue Ribbon the bartender asks me if I’m 21. I say of course I am. He tells me he can see we’re just visiting the USA, so he doesn’t really care. He’s cool. Cigarettes After Sex sounds good live, but it’s still kinda boring. The next band is better, this really heavy grungy punk. The white basement isn’t all too crowded. We, the three Belgians, are the only ones dancing. I’d feel weird not dancing to music like that in a scene like this, being a little tipsy and all. After the show I convince L to go ask some model boy – Jackson? – his phone number. They agree to meet up sometime during fashion week, I don’t know how that went, haven’t heard from L since. Tired, train back home.

Saturday, September 5, 2015

Wake up around two in the afternoon, which means I’ve slept for over twelve hours. Probably needed that after my night with Paul, when I barely slept at all.

I have a lot of really hot matches on Tinder, they all seem interesting and cool. A bunch are asking me to meet up, which is tempting, but I don’t really feel like dating and meeting new people. Paul was so great and I just want to get to know him. Later he texts me, asking me if I don’t want to come to this club where he’s DJing. But I’m already in bed, tired, and I’m writing a long mail to this guy who’s travelling through Europe, so I tell him I can’t. We’re meeting tomorrow anyhow.

Sunday, September 6, 2015

Today the plan is to spend an afternoon in Williamsburg. Everyone’s saying you should go there on Sundays, that it’s a must do. It’s three in the afternoon when we leave the apartment. Two trains, forty-five minutes later, we’re finally at the station. The neighborhood looks boring and empty, so we walk up north. We walk for over an hour. Finally some really sweet guy who’s walking his mini dog tells us we’re in Crown Heights and not in Williamsburg. He checks our subway on his phone and tells us it’s another forty-five minutes. The afternoon drags on, we only arrive in Williamsburg after six. In a vintage store I find this crazy pair of pumps I make mom buy, they’re impossible to walk on. I buy a fluorescent Puma sweater. Williamsburg is dead by now.

Mom changes shoes before we enter the oyster place, where Paul is already having wine with his girlfriend, ‘the Bonnie to his Clyde.’ They both immediately notice the shoes. After I say I made mom buy them, they have to compliment my styling qualities. We have this big plate of oysters and a bottle of white wine. Afterwards Paul takes us to this Southern home cooking place, we haven’t really eaten anything since breakfast. The sweet potatoes are amazing, everything actually tastes amazing. Paul has to DJ in this bar called Beverlys, so we all take a cab. At first, in the bar, the mood is awkward. Mom and I both just standing there, nobody dancing, Paul is playing such amazing music. All my favorite tracks by The Smiths, The Cure, Iggy Pop, The Cramps, this Siouxie song he plays. After a while mom and I are dancing, the only ones once again. Then she gets tired and we get her an Uber.

While standing outside with her, waiting for the car, I get a text from Paul saying my momma is ‘so so so cool.’ I go back in the club and dance some more, Paul tells me I can pick a song and I go for Radar Love by Golden Earring. Nobody here knows it’s from the Netherlands. I’m with Paul and these two girls, and I talk a little with this older guy. He’s wearing black nail polish, and he tells me he is Morissey’s tour photographer, shows me a whole bunch of pictures he has taken of Morissey, and tells me the guy doesn’t have cancer at all.

We (Paul, the two girls and me) take an Uber to another club. Paul sits up front and plays music via Spotify. I sit in the back with the girls and we have this conversation about why we like Michelle Obama. The one girl reminds me of Lorde a lot. The club we go to is called Sway. A big place with Turkish interior design. I drink beer and a gin-tonic Paul gets me. I notice the scent of marihuana, and Paul tells me he’s going to try and fix a something for later on. A while later he shows me the joint he got us. The DJ plays all these Smiths songs. When I ask Paul, he tells me it’s a Smiths party, which makes sense. We dance on the way too crowded dancefloor, Paul is kissing and touching me roughly, he’s more drunk than I am, I don’t mind at all. When the party is over we take the train home. Me leaning against the wall in the subway station, he starts kissing me, touching me underneath my t-shirt, we continue this in the train. His hand is on my crotch, unaware of our surroundings.

Monday, September 7, 2015

At Paul’s place we have sex and bingewatch the American version of The Office. It makes me laugh. We decide, of all the characters, Pam is the one who resembles me the most. I don’t think we sleep much and later we smoke the joint in bed. I feel it but it doesn’t hit me too hard. Paul takes pictures of me smoking, all naked on the bed. Somewhere in the afternoon we get up and take the train to New York, where Paul takes me to this very hip little brunch spot, with the light wooden furniture and lots of plants. We both have an iced coffee, which isn’t as good as the amazing one they serve in the Warehouse. Paul has an apple and a bite of my goat cheese spinach sandwich. I pay for everything, trying to compensate for him buying all the drinks last night. He drops me off at the train station.

Tuesday, September 8, 2015

I promised Paul to come with him to this weekly gay party he DJ’s at, the fashion week edition. In the bus with mom, on our way home from downtown, he texts me, asking me if I can make it by nine thirty, the bouncer guy will arrive at ten, he thinks it might be hard to get me in after that. I hurry myself home, showering and assembling an outfit. Skinny black jeans and silk COS blouse. Bus, subway to the club. The party is in the basement of this fancy restaurant. The guy by the stairs asks me if I’m with someone. I tell him I’m with Paul, the DJ. I can go in. Long hallway, dimly lit bar. Paul and his friend standing by the DJ-booth. I stand next to them, drinking beers and making myself an Instagram on my new phone. More beer, more people. Drag queen who looks like a fun girl starts flirting with me. I’m not attracted to her. She asks me who I’m with and I point to Paul. She leaves a couple of minutes later. More beer, better music, Paul and his friend making me happy with their set. ABBA, some good rap, some good eighties, Feeling Myself, Nelly Furtado, I think Paul is playing some songs because he knows I’m into them. I dance and talk with this tall, blond, kinda good looking, tanned boy, a photographer. He��s cute but no my type and even if he was, I’m here with Paul. He’s getting a little too flirty so I start ignoring him. He has this weird fat friend who doesn’t really talk at all. The only thing he says to me is ‘you’re cute.’ They leave without saying goodbye. The blond kid likes my picture on Instagram later, so I don’t believe he was too disappointed.

Suddenly it’s past three and there’s nobody in the club anymore except me and Paul, who’s still DJing, and these two guys who are both flirting with me, but are kinda okay. Paul plays Crazy On You, which is one of my favorite songs at the moment. There is no way he could’ve known that. We go crazy on the dancefloor. The bar is closed and then we have to leave the club. The four of us go searching for some other place, end up in this weird, almost empty bar. The smallest of the two guys doesn’t stop raging about politics, saying Obama is a dictator and democracy an illusion and stuff like this. I try explaining why I still prefer Obama over a Trump-like figure but he’s really in his own zone about this. He also has some kind of governmental job, but is very secretive about the entire matter. We start joking about him being a spy and having a license to kill and things like that, but he is not amused by this and gets very serious all of the sudden. Paul gets me a gin tonic. We both still think the guy is a spy. ABBA starts playing so Paul and I start dancing in the middle of the empty bar. Then it’s four o’clock and the bar closes down and we go home, leaving the Australian journalist and the little spy.

Note: When somebody comes to you and says, ‘you know, I think you are a really cute and nice guy, but I’m not a spy, and I really don’t kill people for a living, so will you just please stop making jokes about that? It hurts me when you say that,’ you get really convinced they’re a spy.

Wednesday, September 9, 2015

I don’t really remember if we had morning sex, think we did. The mornings/days we spent in bed all kinda blur into each other in my memory. If I think about it this was probably the day we had a lot of sex in the morning. For hours he just kept fucking me, and the longer he did so, the better it got. Netflix must’ve been on but I don’t really remember what show. Then he took a whole series of pictures of me laying naked in the bed with his iPhone. He sent me these later, all really small and placed next to each other, like this film sequence in frames. We’re both really hungry but we don’t want to get out of the bed. Paul suggests we shower together. I’m the one standing under the water, he kinda just sometimes lays his head on my shoulder in order to also catch a little bit. He showers with his sandals on, which is probably one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen. After this he assembles himself an outfit (forest-print white jeans, blue Nike t-shirt and leather jacket without sleeves, it’s weird and cool and fashionable at the same time), I just wear my COS shirt and black jeans from last night. All of the sudden it starts raining really hard outside, which makes me very happy.

‘This is my first rain in New York!’ Paul isn’t that into it tho.

We take the subway to New York, it’s only drizzling a little now. We go back to the neighborhood of last night’s party. Paul takes me to this spot where we have an iced coffee. It tastes great, but still not as amazing as the one we had in the Warehouse. I have a sandwich with tempura green tomato and blue cheese-mayonnaise. It turns out to be one of the best things I’ve ever eaten. Paul is being really social and chatty with the waitress, in that enthusiastic spontaneous manner of his. Calling her momma and asking her what’s her favorite menu item. Afterwards we go check out this really expensive clothing shop where I fall in love with a pair of futuristic sunglasses I don’t buy. Then a vintage store where Paul buys these cheap sunglasses and talks to the owner, in the same way as to the girl earlier. I love people who go around behaving like this, just social and good-spirited. I buy a pair of crazy Doctor Martins with metal detailing, figuring fifty bucks isn’t all that much for a pair of crazy vintage Docs. Paul also finds this Nike t-shirt that matches his outfit perfectly, so he changes into that. By then mom is texting me that she’s hungry, so I tell Paul I’ll be heading back.

Back home we go for some Turkish food and then buy this huge bucket of mint flavored chocolate chip iced cream, and more condoms for me, in the mall. I also buy three packages of Old Spice deodorant, the same as Paul wears, the one that smells so amazing, to use in Belgium.

Thursday, September 10, 2015

Culture with mother: the Frick is nearby the subway and we find it easily. The building is pretty and historical and the collection impresses me. I’ve never seen a real Turner before so I’m breath taken for a moment. Afterwards we go for coffee in this cute small French café nearby, where I have a scone. We hang around in a Shakespeare Bookstore, and buy some sushi we finish back home.

Back home mom and I spend a long time talking with T. He rolls a joint and we both take some drags. It hits me really hard, something I usually never have with weed, most of the time I barely feel the effect. I just lean back in bed and watch the two of them talk. Just smiling or laughing out loud at some thought I’m having. After half an hour I get the munchies fucking next level, probably because I haven’t really been eating much for days. First I finish the Turkish from last night, then have a whole bunch of sandwiches with cheese and hummus, a bowl of the ice cream, and some more sandwiches. My high fades out and I go to bed.

Friday, September 11, 2015

Wake up at home around eleven p.m. My alarm is set at twelve. It’s almost one when I get up, shower, outfit (my new shirt, same I wore yesterday, and the new shoes I bought with Paul), say hi and bye to mom, train to Williamsburg. A derailed train makes that I have to transfer twice and it takes almost two hours before I arrive. It’s not that easy to find out where the cool neighborhoods are exactly, so I just stroll around for some time. Buy an iced coffee, find out where I have to go, finally arrive. I buy the Ballad of Sexually Dependency for twenty dollars and a pair of cheap sunglasses, since I’ve forgotten mine. I wander around for some longer and sit down in this little park at the most west of Williamsburg, by the Hudson. View on Manhattan and the Brooklyn Bridge. I take a picture for on my Instagram, text with Paul, who hasn’t departed yet, look in my new photobook, go searching for the coffee shop I’m meeting Paul at. There I order an iced tea and some granola yoghurt. (My eating pattern is all fucked up, I’m constantly hungry but just can’t eat for some reason.) I go sit in the garden, reading Nan Goldin’s preface, waiting for Paul.

Paul’s here, more Williamsburg. One of my new shoes dies right there on my foot, the sole starts coming loose. We buy duct tape to fix it. Vintage store he knows, we find nothing, another one I discovered earlier. We buy a lot. I go for this Alexander Wang for h&m sweater, a pair of limited edition Adidas sneakers, an elegant black see-through t-shirt and a sweatpants with denim print. Paul buys the same sweatpants, larger size, and a black Calvin Klein weekend bag. It’s dark outside when we leave the store. He takes me to this exotic themed restaurant, floor all covered in sand, palm trees, the whole picture. We sit outside and both order this gigantic, expensive iced cocktail. His tastes way better, mine is too sweet. I can’t eat my pasta, which tastes very good, and take it with me when we leave. Subway to the West Village. We both buy a cup of tea and go sit in this little park. It’s mostly occupied by punks, junks, and beggars. A lot of conversation between the two of us, about religion and monogamy and music. We agree I should write this very tragic novel about us, and about the constant awareness of my approaching departure. He says it should be titled “Leaving Taul Paul”.

Intense kissing, but the park is bathing in this orange light, so we can’t really go any further. We don’t want to get stabbed or anything. Paul asks me if I want to join him to this party, but I tell him I already have plans with mom the next day, so I really need to get some sleep. He’s not pushy or anything. He has to start DJing at the pop-party at nine thirty but it’s past eleven when he drops me off at the subway. He’s the only DJ booked. He kisses me goodbye intensely, the two of us standing on a street corner, in the middle of a busy night on this broad Manhattan street. It’s all very movie-like, as in some black and white Hollywood picture made in the thirties.

In the apartment mom and I sit in the kitchen with T, she goes to bed. N arrives, bringing a girl named Alex with her. They’re both drunk. She has a new job, they bought two cheap fans. I notice Alex’ fan matches her outfit perfectly, she is very happy I see this, tells me that’s why she bought it. I get offered some coke, politely decline this. Then I think about my friend A sending messages from Belgium, about how today he tried his first coke, and realize God must be sending me signals. So I snort a line anyway, stating I’ll really only do one line. This ends up being three or five lines. T shows me this great photography book about poverty in the Southern states in the seventies. Around three thirty I’ve had it with the company and go to bed.

Saturday, September 12, 2015

Spent the day in Union City with mom. I shower and change into the outfit I bought yesterday. Blue sweatpants with jeans print, fluorescent green Puma sweater, new Adidas sneakers, very satisfied with how I look.

Subway to Beverlys. Waiting for Paul outside to get passed the bouncer. He has to talk to the bouncer for what seems like forever and for a moment I’m scared I’m not going to get in. I get in. Awful beer, I switch to High Life. Paul is also wearing his sweatpants, we’re a pretty cute pair, matching. He lets me choose the songs he plays. We take turns picking songs, he’s mixing them. Dancing in the DJ-booth together. I choose ABBA (Gimme Gimme Gimme), A$AP Rocky (Fashion Killa), Sonic Youth (Kool Thing) and others, fucking up his set quite badly. Another DJ takes over from Paul. Paul hands me a slice of pizza, we dance for a while.

After this we go to another club, this place where he’s a resident, Bedlam. The club is hosting some pop party, but the DJ isn’t that good. I almost get kidnapped by three random strangers who steal my drink. I drink a lot of beer and a shot of tequila Paul gives me. We’re both kinda drunk, sex in the bathroom. I meet friends of him. We’re sitting and talking when Beyoncé’s Crazy In Love starts playing. I enthusiastically get up and drag Paul to the dancefloor. Dancing wildly with each other to Queen B and singing (or shouting) along. Somewhere around three thirty the party is no fun anymore and we decide to go home. Paul and I want to have sex.

Kissing intensely on the subway in New Jersey, all the ghetto kids giving us angry looks, the atmosphere is getting kinda awkward and even aggressive. I lay my head down in Paul’s lap and close my eyes in order to ignore this. We both wake up at the final stop of the train, way too far. Train in opposite direction. He goes to 7 Eleven. I buy a bagel in Deli Fresh, eat half of it, there in the depressing store, while he finishes his little cup of fruit.

Sunday, September 13, 2015

In bed together. After the missed train and the Deli Fresh I think it must be six in the morning or something when we’re home. I ask him to game, somehow I think it’s hot to just watch him playing this soccer game and showing off his skills proudly, but he really is too drunk to be any good. We have sex twice and I don’t believe we sleep, or maybe a little. The sex is different and I’m scared the new aspect is going away and it’s becoming a routine. Then it turns out to be very good after all, intense in a more minimal way, and we finish together while The Cure’s The Forest is playing. Joy Division and OMD’s Electricity are also in my DJ’s playlist. I leave him gaming in bed and take an Uber home. The Uberdriver is a former manager who wants to be a Broadway actress and has two jobs. She tells me I’m very cute and my outfit is great, and gives me her card. She’s kinda cool, a Brooklyn girl who isn’t a big fan of men in general. While claiming to be a lesbian she tells me about her romance with a Belgian man in Madrid.

In the apartment I give mom the half American-cheese bagel I didn’t finish yesterday. We wake up T, at three thirty the three of us take his car and drive to New York, to this artist talk. We arrive too late. N joins us. Mom can’t walk on her new secondhand Calvin Klein pumps. N brings Alex. We all go to this famous restaurant next to the Chelsea Hotel. My pasta tastes really bad. I’m very moody and quiet the entire time. It’s the combination of not getting enough sleep and realizing this night is gonna be the last one I’m having with Paul. Imagine the disillusion if he wouldn’t text me back.

Everyone wants to go to this bar called KGB or something like that. I don’t want to join them, I want to go back to the apartment and gather the clothes Paul gave me on our first date, have a shave, because Paul likes it when my face is all smooth, and have a perfect night with him. Kinda just like last night but then while realizing this will be the last one in at least a very long time, enjoying every single minute of it. I hope I won’t get into the bar but of course I do. The promised one drink become three. Mom and T order another whisky, the last one once again. I take a cab to the subway station with Alex and N. N is the one who makes this happen, I feel like she really sees how badly I just want to be with Paul tonight, understands me. Leave mom and T behind. On the bus I talk a lot with a slightly drunk N. She is a really cool girl actually, and I feel this is the first time we have a conversation that goes deep and personal, I really like her after this.

We get off the bus, she goes straight home, I’m really hungry so I go to the Dunkins across the street. Get a “flatbread” with some weird potatoes. The chocolate donut N wanted is given to me for free by the friendly woman who takes my order. N is in the apartment with some really cool guy who seems a little gangster to me. He’s sleeping on the floor in T’s storage room, he’s a filmmaker. I do two lines of coke and smoke a little from this joint N hands me. Shower. Shaving yourself on coke is an interesting thing to do. Since the drug makes me very impatient at things like this I’m kinda surprised I don’t cut myself. Paul texts me the address of the club. I write down the subway instructions very vaguely, I’m really starting to know the New York subway system well. On the bus and subway the coke hits me hard. So glad I have my iPod with me, a new fucking amazing song every thirty seconds, way too loud.

When I arrive the drugs have almost worn off entirely. I wait for Paul in this little park nearby, it’s a little cold. He gets me in the club without any trouble, knows all the bouncers. Beer, really good music. At one moment they play Silent Shout from The Knife. Paul tells me he loves Fever Ray. I tell him about the one party in my hometown when she was DJing and I was dancing so close to her. They also play a lot of The Smiths (it’s the weekly Smiths party again), I Wanna Be Your Dog, Human Fly, The Cure, The Stone Roses, Depeche Mode, et cetera. Paul and I dance, holding each other and kissing. He’s very cool to dance with. He buys me all these kinds of beer I don’t like because American beer is just always gross, we end up drinking High Life. He buys me new beers at such a fast pace I can barely keep up. All of the sudden it’s four a.m. and we have to go home.

Kissing on the subway but it’s not too explicit, more modest than we normally are. I buy a burrito in 7 Eleven and have two bites of it. Too disgusting, kinda uneatable. Walking home we bump into our cat and her kitten again. Lucy, we see her almost every morning after partying. I tell Paul to take good care of her in my absence. Home, around five or six in the morning, he puts on Breaking Bad on Netflix and we have sex which is incredible. He takes some pictures of me covered in our cum and we fall asleep.

Monday, September 14, 2015

Don’t sleep too much. Waking up somewhere between nine and twelve a.m. Laying in bed. I remark that we always finish the sex during the best part of something good, the best Cure song, the best Breaking Bad episode. He has to laugh. Netflix: this badly produced show about food with this fat American guy (named 3X V or something like that). Amazing sex, I don’t cum, he does. Takes photos of me covered in his cum. Still in bed, same show. More sex, no fucking now, we both cum, knowing that this might be the last sex we ever have. So intense. He takes pictures of me covered in our cum, last time probably. It’s three thirty, he’s going to miss this fashion show he would attend at four. When we get up I remark that the outfit which I chose yesterday was really horrible. He admits he’s not too into it either and we agree it’s probably the coke which made me pick it. He says he’s just not a fan of the whole red and black thing. I say I hope I’ll never run into his roommate, and Paul says ‘hi, I’m the guy who can’t be quiet.’

We take the bus to Jersey City. Breakfast in The Warehouse, just like the morning after our first date. I pay for the breakfast this time. It consists of muesli and a cinnamon cake, the only things they still have at this time of the day. And iced coffee of course, the amazing one. He tells me about what occupied him when he was a small boy, about him being a kinda dark kid and not having too many friends, about his irrational fear of growing old and dying when he was a ten-year-old. I order an Uber on his iPhone. Short goodbye, telling each other we will be meeting again real soon, short kiss and a hug. I tell him to ‘have a great fall.’

The Uberdriver talks about weed and his Spanish roots, he wants to go to Spain in April. I play Balthazar in the car. At the apartment I sit on the porch with mom, who’s having a cigarette. Sunset in Union City. Order sushi. Text with Paul, he asks if mom and I want to go for a quick coffee tomorrow before catching our flight. I tell him no because our day will be hectic enough already. Yes I want to see Paul tomorrow, of course I want to, but for me these two weeks together are a closed chapter, I don’t want to reopen it right now. I call the Uberdriver who wants to become a Broadway-actress. She’s very enthusiastic but can’t take us to the airport tomorrow. Paul texts me he wanted to give me a longer kiss but hates goodbyes. I make a night walk on my own, saying goodbye to Union City, I want the address of the neighborhood thrift shop to text to Paul. I feel very empty and sad. Hope I can sleep.

The next morning N prepares this amazing breakfast and even gets us cupcakes. The four of us eat together. In the cab to the airport this crazy car crash happens right in front of us and we almost drive straight into it. I text with Paul till the plane is really taking off and I have to switch my phone off. I start crying, seeing New York become smaller and almost feeling the distance grow.

Epilogue

I’m re-reading, editing and finishing this today, October the fifteenth. I’m back in Belgium, spending my time hanging with friends, making new friendships and enjoying the arts college I’ve just started studying at. The cold temperatures and pouring rain make the contrast between my life here, and my time in New York – where the sun was always shining – even bigger. So what has been the significance of these events described above? Did they even have any meaning at all? It’s funny for me to reflect on those two weeks because they have a very dreamlike character, almost as if they were this mini-novel I lived.

I mean, everything was so real and so vivid, and I lived every single moment of it. But now I’m just back home and I’m in the same old routine and whatever happened, whatever I felt didn’t change anything. The only things I have to keep alive the memories, are this t-shirt I don’t want to wash and some pictures that leave me with this melancholic feeling, as if I’ve left something behind that is very dear to me.

What feels weird to me is this otherworldly character our two weeks together have, in my perception. Paul was just visited by this boy. And I hope to him the memory of this will bring up the same nostalgic experience one has when silently reflecting on the faded thought of a warm, soft, summer day, a long time ago. But for me it just feels as if I’ve had these two weeks that aren’t related to the rest of my life in any way. Two weeks that take place in a totally different context, with different people and at different locations. And the center of these two weeks, the core around which everything revolved, was Paul. That’s a weird and unique feeling, and it’s great to think back at this, as if this was a movie or something.

And reflecting about this makes me very happy because it was so great, and very sad because I’ll maybe never enter that reality again, and never be that person - that version of myself - again. The great paradox of this, the epic irony of the situation, is that it could only be so strong and fun and limitless, that Paul and I could be very open and unrestricted, and have this romance without reflecting about how it affected us and what exactly our relationship was, because we knew it would fade, there couldn’t be any consequences, I would leave anyhow. The constant threat of my leaving, and the inevitability of this departure, forcing us to live in the moment and enjoy each other as much and as strongly as possible, is what defines as well the beauty as the tragedy of the entire situation in perfect clarity.

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tuhbanbuv · 1 year

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ok so I have this idea that I’ve probably ranted about before that Gerald probably fucked up Maria’s DNA by like, transfusing her with Shadow’s blood so his Black Arms DNA is diluted enough to probably not kill her but cure her NIDS, but as a consequence she becomes like half Black Arms as a result???

And 50 years or so later Towers discovers that oh yeah the organization he’s been working for a majority of his life has kept his essentially surrogate sister frozen in a tube somewhere because when they went back to clean up the ARK after their 103,503th PR disaster they didn’t know what else to do because the teen girl they shot down seventeen times is just walking again.

And she’s just?? Stuck in the past?? She still talks in 1950s lingo and her fashion sense is like stuck there, she thinks that it’s maybe just been a week since she got frozen because she’s sadly probably being used to being put in medically induced comas or being out for days because of her previous illness that has now been replaced with crocodile-like skin, yellow eyes, spikes/horns and whatever else kinda Black Arms traits have taken over.

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mister-e-filman · 2 years

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Miraculous: The Rise of Ladybug and Cat Noir

Chapter 4

Marinette walked out through the entrance to the bakery which featured white walls with white rectangles slightly outset from the walls, outlined in gold. The windows were tinted dark black with capital letters in gold. Six of the windows which appeared in pairs had a golden design, each depicting a peel, grains of wheat, and a croissant as the logo, the logo that she herself had designed when she was four, her first ever design, before that fateful day. In the center of two of these pairs was an arch window, outlined in white. Above each arch was a small rectangular clear window. The door was styled similarly to the outside walls, with the same black window, gold lettering which Marinette noticed that the "a's" in "Dupain" had been peeled away again thus it now read "Dupin," and white outline. Above the windows and door was a white overlap with ridges, gold lettering, and a black background.

She still couldn't believe her ideas as a child, such as dreaming of tailoring a hat for the Eiffel Tower to protect it from snow. And from then on, all she wanted to do was be a fashion designer! She could then hear her twin's muffled singing of Lou Jean's "If I Believed In Me" Marinette decided to quietly sing along. Might as well complete something musical since she couldn't play her recorder to save her life.

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Since her home was located on 12 Rue Gotlib in the 21st arrondissement of Paris, she could just walk to school instead of taking the bus. Out on the street. Marinette came to a pedestrian crosswalk and tried to cross the street, but a car stopped her which made her let out an "Uff..." as well as made her wait for the light to change.

Marinette was just hoping that Chloé wouldn't be in her class this year, when she saw an old man crossing the street as a bus was coming. He was about to be run over!

She let out an "Uuuhhaawh?" as she lunged forward without thinking and grabbed him by his hand and dragged him onto the other side of the street, while dropping the box of macaroons onto the sidewalk in the process.

"Thank you, miss. Oh dear, what a disaster!" the man exclaimed, as the macaroons got trampled on by pedestrians without noticing.

"Don't worry, it's alright sir, I'm no stranger to disasters! Besides, there are still a few left over," Marinette said, then handed him a macaroon.

He grabbed and ate it, and said "Mmmh. Delicious!"

"What's your name?" she asked him.

"You can call me Mr. Chan." the old man said.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Marinette," Marinette said, and smiled. "Tell me, do you believe in magic?" "I-I guess?" Suddenly the school bell rang, "Fuck! I gotta go, or I'm gonna be late! Ah, bye, have a nice day, sir!" Marinette said, and ran towards the school.

She would make a good ladybug, but then again, her luck matches that of the black cats! That Alya girl would probably be a better choice putting aside the fact that she received various Chinese treatments from me. However, there IS something about that Marinette girl that I have not seen in a VERY long time! Master Fu thought to himself as he looked at the two mini boxes containing the two Miraculi, deciding which one to give her, he then smiled as he then picked up his cane and strolled past the bakery to his next location: Françoise Dupont.

He then said softly, "Thank you very much, young lady."

As Marinette hurried to school, a huge crowd coming from the nearby subway blocked her path, causing her to land on her rear in front of civilians, embarrassing herself in front of them. She got up on her feet quickly and ran away, continuing her way to school, just missing a car arriving in front of a building. Nathalie walked toward the car to assist Gabriel as he stepped out of the car. The crowd that had previously blocked Marinette's path before suddenly started swarming the car to get a better look at Gabriel.

"Mr. Agreste!" a crowd member shouted.

"This had better be a good reason for you to drag me away from my home, Nathalie!" Gabriel growled.

"Um, well, the teams are ready for you in the showroom," Nathalie told him.

"They had better be promising, Ms. Sancoeur," Grabriel sternly told his assistant as both he and Nathalie entered the showroom. Camera shutters were heard everywhere as models posed in front of the cameras, modeling Gabriel's designs, all while Dead or Alive's "You Spin Me Round (Like a Record) played in the background through speakers.

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Gabriel could hear his son's Italian photographer being his usual eccentric self "To die for! Bravo! Yes! Ahh!"

Inside the showroom were more fashion designers who were in their busy schedules organizing the photoshoots. The elevator opened as Gabriel and Nathalie stepped out.

"In other news, the show was a success in every way," Nathalie explained to Gabriel, who was only half-listening.

"I want copies of every review as soon as they come in," he told her.

"Yes, sir," she said.

"Take three centimeters off the right. Lower the hem. And get rid of that sash," Gabriel sneered at a designer.

Vincent then looked at Gabriel's critiqued dress and exclaimed, "Oh! To die for!"

Gabriel suddenly grabbed Vincent by his collar and proceeded to say in a threatening tone, "Where is my son, Vincent?" Vincent gulped before replying nervously with, "He told me that I should be here helping while he was at school, Sir."

Gabriel released Vincent and then turned to Nathalie to tell her, "Go. Find him and bring him home. I'll finish up here before walking home, understand?" Nathalie nodded.

Meanwhile, when Marinette arrived in front of the exterior of her school, Collège Françoise Dupont, she felt nervous standing before it.

What would this first day have in store for her? Was she going to make friends? She dreamt of a friend who would accept her for who she was… Before entering, she looked at the other students, her eyes shifted from side to side looking at every student around her, some of which she knew, and she had one desire: to get out! Hang in there, Marinette! she thought to herself. She then took a deep breath before heading for the entrance while still feeling anxious as she held on her backpack strap more tightly. It was then that a boy on a skateboard passed by her. It was Nino Lahiffe! Nino arrived at school with his skateboard and high-fived with Alix Kubdel who Marinette tried hiding her face from. Nino spotted Nathanaël Kurtzberg and greeted him as well, "'Sup, dude?" Nathanaël looked up from his sketchbook to wave to him, then went back to drawing while walking alongside Ivan.

Marinette could hear her previous crush Lê Chiến Kim Ature Nguyễn trying to one-up Ivan. "Working out?" Kim asked. Ivan nodded before showing his own muscle and answering with "I'm getting swole!"

Marinette, while keeping her head down so that neither Chloé, Sabrina, nor Alix wouldn't spot her, saw Max getting chased after by Alix while Marinette bumped onto a student. Then Marinette heard HER, the half American and half French girl that she had saved a full decade ago, Chloé who was wearing painfully obvious golden oversized Chloe sunglasses, Fitting for her oversized ego! Marinette thought to herself.

Chloé was over by the school's main entrance, she was performing a quick run through of her checklist with her "best friend" Sabrina Raincomprix who Marinette thought had been better off with that Cléo girl a few years back.

"Outfit?"

"Perfect."

"Books?"

"Check. Adrien?"

"I promised to show him around when he gets here. If all goes well according to plan, he'll escort me to the ball come December. Everything must go according to plan, okay, Sabrina?"

"Plan? Check."

Marinette took a deep breath and began her way toward the school, long before Nino bumped into her... all the while shouting to her, "Watch out!"

Nice timing on that warning Nino! Marinette thought to herself.

... and Marinette bumped into... Chloé Bourgeois! Oh no! A small drop of the Kopi Luwak coffee drink she was holding flew straight to her sweater. This stain put her into a black fury. - "You. Trashed. My. Agreste sweater!" Marinette no longer knew where to put herself. "I… I'm so, so…" she mumbled in a panicked tone. When Chloé grabbed her by the collar, she told her, "Marinette Dupain-Cheng! Say, why don't I walk you home? You deserve to be there rather here since you're such a disgrace to this school! You... are so— " Chloé was obviously being very clearly sarcastic, then an unknown girl, no doubt a new girl, cleared her throat brandished her phone to show that she was already recording the whole thing between them. "Oh, don't stop on my account. I'm just a fly on the wall," the new girl who was a Martiniquan Creole-French girl, told them.

That seemed to convince Chloé to leave Marinette alone for now since she then said, "....so gonna be my new best friend!" Chloé let go of Marinette and dusted off her jacket before continuing with "It's just a priceless cashmere sweater." Marinette then told Chloé, "You know Chloé, I just remembered that we gotta run!" Marinette almost tripped on the steps as she hurried into the school with Chloé calling after her, "Friends don't run from friends who HATE THEM! I just wanna have a nice screaming exchange, like two civilized teenagers!" Her savior was accompanying her inside, trying to keep up with Marinette. They ran through the central portion of the school which was an open-air courtyard where both Marinette and her savior ran past first Rose Lavillant walking with her girlfriend Jeleka Couffaine who was getting told a plan to get through the new school year by her twin brother Luka since due to a series of unfortunate events, both she and her brother got held back a year. Marinette and the new girl also ran past Mylène's father, Fred Haprèle.

Marinette could hear Chloé and Sabrina talking after both she and her savior were as far away as possible, "Come on, Sabrina," Chloé told Sabrina after she snapped her fingers while no doubt smiling forcefully. "Let's get to class. We have much to study," Marinette heard her say, no doubt trying to appease any school staff near her, and seeing as how Mr. Haprèle worked as a janitor there and could easily tell the school staff the truth that Chloé NEVER studied instead just leaving that all up to Sabrina. "I am so angry right now! I could eat… a piece of bread with butter!"

"But that's carbs and fat. You could break out!" Sabrina told her meekly.

"I know!" Chloé said exasperated which was the last thing Marinette heard her say before getting out of hearing range.

Both Marinette and the new girl ran into Missus Caline Bustier's classroom which was silent due to nobody being there yet. She walked down the aisle of desks until she came across her usual spot, then with the new girl just across from her, she sat down just as the rest of her classmates filed in taking their usual spots, especially both Chloé and Sabrina. Just when it looked like Chloé was going to bully her some more, the classroom's teacher Mrs. Bustier walked in, forcing her and Sabrina to take their usual spots, making Marinette silently breathe a sigh of relief.

"You didn't have to do that," Marinette told the new girl. "Oh, sorry!" she replied. "Should I take a ticket to queue among friends who wanna help you?" Friends ? What friends? Marinette thought to herself. She must've been frowning, because the new girl hastened to add: "I'm joking!" "Thanks, I…" “You have quite a reputation around here: a magnet for catastrophe. You don't disappoint. You have lived up to my expectations. Some people have to try to fail that hard," she explained to Marinette. Oh I see. She heard about my legendary clumsiness. Rumors spread awfully fast in school! Marinette thought to herself.

"Yeah, I try… not to. You'll probably want to stay away from me, then," Marinette told the new girl. "No way!" she replied. "Are you kidding? I live for the action shots! So I'm gonna stick to you like superglue," the new girl chuckled just as the school bell rang. "You and I are made for each other," she continued. Marinette was left speechless. She knew that she was a living disaster and yet she still wanted to befriend her? Whatever the reason, Marinette was so glad to not be alone!

"Nino, why don't you have a seat in the front row this year?" Mrs. Bustier told him. "Oh, I completely forgot to bring something, I'll be right back class, and please behave yourselves!" she said to her class as she stepped out of the classroom.

Nino got up as Marinette groaned from exhaustion.

"Marinette!" Chloé said, and slapped her hand on the desk.

"Ugh. Here we go again. What do you want Chloé?" Marinette murmured tiredly, not wanting to put up with her today.

"That's MY seat, come on, move!" Chloé fumed, expecting her to give it up, as per usual.

"But Chloé, this has always been my seat for years, I personally don't see why I have to give it up now," Marinette retorted.

"Not anymore! New school, new year, new seats!" Sabrina told her.

"Hello to you too, Sabrina. So, where’s Alix?" Marinette said dryly.

"Dropped out. Couldn’t stand their attitudes anymore," Alix explained, she was a French-Arabic teenage girl.

"Hey, Alix! Your chemical formula that turned my naturally chestnut brown hair red, has now earned me the nickname of 'Tomato-head,' thank you SO much!" Nathanaël added angrily.

Both Chloé and Sabrina's laughed before turning their attention back to Alix, "Whatever Alix. You just couldn’t stand being near someone as godlike as Chloé," Sabrina retorted which made Marinette snicker silently.

“'Godlike?' Oh, please! She’s the furthest thing from being a goddess, besides, I see that you’re still her personal slave," Alix mocked.

"So, Nathanaël, how was your Bar Mitzvah?" Marinette asked hoping to stop Chloé from answering.

"Meh," he shrugged. And then, clearly annoyed at Marinette for changing the subject, Chloé tried to explain her point by saying, "My daddy is the mayor just in case you didn’t know, so, I might as well be goddesslike."

"It’s actually godlike, but hey, I’m all down for a woman of power, baby," Kim flirted. He was a tall and muscular Vietnamese-French boy.

"I’m charmed Kim, but I’m in the middle of something right now, however, I’ll get back to you, okay?" Chloé subtly flirted back.

"Okay, you got it babe!" Kim said with a smile.

"So anyways, Marinette just go and sit over beside that new girl over there!" Chloé pointed at the new girl.

"Listen to me carefully! Adrien's arriving today, and since that's going to be his seat, I want to be near him, so this is going to be my seat. GOT IT?!" she finished as she was pointing at the seat next to Nino.

Marinette just blinked in confusion before asking, "Who's Adrien?"

It was Chloé's turn to blink, but this time in bewilderment before saying, "Am I dreaming?!" Both she and Sabrina then laughed. "Can you believe she doesn't know who Adrien is? What rock have you been living under?"

Sabrina followed suit, "Yeah, get out of your cave, Marinette! He's only a famous model."

"And I am his best friend. He adores me. So, you move… go on, move!" Chloé finished.

Well, it's not like the teachers are going to do anything about it anyways, they just would punish me because Chloé keeps on telling them threats that are empty all because the mayor can't close or cut off funding of the school but the school staff always fall for them, Marinette thought to herself.

"Hey you! Who elected you the Queen of Seats?" the new girl spoke up.

"Ooh! Look Sabrina! The new girl is trying to stand up to us, the little do-gooder! What are you gonna do, super newbie? Shoot lasers at me with your glasses?" Chloé sassed. The new girl rolled her eyes, "Wouldn't you like to know," she growled, then walked away and grabbed Marinette by the arm, dragging her away. "Come on," the new girl muttered.

"Wait, I…" Marinette tried to say but tripped and fell, spilling all but one macaroon from the box. "Sorry, sorry, sorry..." Marinette apologized.

Chloé laughed as Mrs. Bustier walked back into the classroom, her notes in hand.

"Is everybody here? Has everyone found a seat? Good, we’ll be able to start," she announced.

"It’s good, relax, girl. It’s no big deal," the new girl assured.

"Ah, I suck, I sure wish I can handle Chloé the way you do," Marinette said.

"You mean the way Majestia does it!" the new girl said as she showed her a picture of the American superhero on her phone. "She says the only thing that allows the forces of evil to triumph is the inaction of good people. Well that girl over there," she pointed at Chloé, "is evil, and we are the good people. So, we can't let her get away with it, because we don’t have the right to let it go!"

"Well, that's easier said than done, plus, she’s not evil, she’s just... complicated is all. She likes to make my life a living hell," Marinette explained, knowing full well why Chloé hated her guts because she hated being in Marinette's debt all because she saved her life all those years ago, Chloé said that Marinette was considered third-class garbage, even though they both lived in Paris, the richest part of France.

"That's because you let her, girl! You just need more confidence!" the new girl told her. Marinette then gave her a genuine smile, something she hadn't done in years, and grabbed the last macaroon from the box, broke it in half, and gave one half to the new girl who smiled back while being introduced, "I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

"My name's Alya Bella Césaire. And don’t mind the glasses, I couldn’t find my contacts today. Probably got stolen by either one of my little sisters Ella and Etta, or hell, maybe they BOTH took them," Alya said as both she and Marinette shook hands.

They ate their halves and the bell rings, signaling the start of the school day.

"It’s okay, I think they look great on you, Alya," Marinette told her.

"Thanks, Marinette," Alya beemed.

"Hey Chloé, I think 'queen' suits you just fine," Kim whispered.

"Why thank you, Kim. You know, you could be my 'king' if you want," Chloé flirted.

"More than happy to," Kim said happily.

Both Alya and Marinette rolled their eyes just as Mrs. Bustier tried to get her class’s attention.

Mrs. Bustier clapped her hands to get her students' attention then said, "Now, for those of you who don't yet know me, I'm Mrs. Bustier. I'll be your teacher this year."

The day wasn't going too badly, mainly thanks to Alya. When Marinette played her flute in music class, she only produced cacophony with it and broke the ears of all of her comrades with one of them saying; "Is that a dog whistle?" and even though Alya ALSO covered her ears along with the rest, she still encouraged Marinette. Later in the gym, when Marinette tried out gymnastics, observed by both Mrs. Bustier and the Principal, Mr. Denis Damocles, only to fail as well, she tumbled down from the balance beam and hitting the ground head first and wallowed like a pancake. Luckily Alya was there too. And during chemistry class Marinette hesitantly poured a chemical from a test tube into another flask, causing an explosion that created a cloud of smoke inside the classroom. The students outside the classroom get shocked as well. Ms. Olga Mendeleiev opened the classroom's door everyone inside came flooding out.

"That is super cool!" Alya excitedly said to Marinette.

At the end of the afternoon, she hugged her. “Come on, keep your head up, Marinette!" she encouraged her. "Alright, I have to go. You call me, okay?" Alya made a telephone gesture just before she left, Marinette frowned yet again. But Alya rushed to her and gave her a tight embrace. As soon as she left, Marinette suddenly felt very alone. The other students looked at her quizzically and began gossiping about her.

"I wish I could make an explosion like that," Juleka said in her usual monotone voice. Though in spite of that, it did sound like she genuinely enjoyed what had happened which did cheer Marinette up ever so slightly. The other students however, were not as genuis.

"You're too much, Marinette!" a female student told her.

"It's like she does it on purpose!" a male student "whispered."

"She's crazy clumsy!" another female student said.

"Whatever she does, better stay away!" a third female student told a fourth female student who then asked Marinette, "Were you born clumsy?"

Marinette's infamous reputation… she hurried to get her things in her locker. Arriving at her locker, Marinette took a deep breath and opened her locker door, only to be greeted by Chloé as soon as she opened it. when Chloé appeared. "Hey, Marinella!" Chloé said as she closed Marinette's locker. "Why don't we braid each other's hair after school? Then, I can strangle you with it! How does that sound? Mmm... what do you say?" I think she really hates me! Marinette thought to herself. Quick, a diversion! She looked over her shoulder. "Wait, is that another girl wearing an Agreste sweater?" Chloé gasped. "Who dares?!" she fumed. Marinette took advantage of the fact that her back is turned to take refuge in the first room she came across. Running off, Marinette bumped into a few students, including Rose, to who she quickly said to her, "Excuse me! Sorry."

Chloé then noticed that Marinette had run off, so she taunted Marinette by saying, "Hmph, you won't escape me, Marinella!"

Marinette then pushed open the door to the library, which was almost deserted at that time of day. She ran inside to hide behind the shelves. Before the door closed, Marinette took a peek at Chloé who was already by the library door. Luckily for her, Chloé didn't see her that easily as she hid quickly. She took a quick peek again before walking out.

"There must be an exit. An emergency exit," Marinette whispered as she leaned on a shelf and softly groaned. "My life is over. I'll have to leave Paris, change my name, dye my hair, probably blue!" she quietly groaned while continuing to lean on the shelf. A little luck here, please. Marinette thought to herself.

Author's note: Bustier (boost-ee-ay), Alya (All-yuh), Césaire (Seh-zer), Mendeleiev (Men-deh-lay-ehv)

<-previous next->

#miraculous fandom #reboot #Youtube

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fisherlarson8 · 2 years

Text

Fashion Tips For Anyone Who Wants To Dress Better

Unfortunately, it seems that the world is becoming more and more superficial. Having poor fashion sense and looking like a disaster can have a negative impact on your life. The good news is that improving your fashion style is not difficult at all. The hot fashion tips packed into this article will help you look fantastic. It has become fashionable for men to wear clothes that are very baggy, but this should be avoided. This makes you look sloppy and can make you look larger than you really are. While you do not have to wear anything that is too restricted, one size larger than your actual size should be the limit. Always remember to bring the shoes you plan on wearing to a special event along when you shop for the perfect dress. This allows you to see how the shoes look with the dresses you are considering. It will also give you an idea of any alterations that may need to be made. For men with thinning hair, a small amount of hair mousse can be incredibly helpful. Apply it to the hair from the roots out on wet or dry hair. The mousse will add some volume, without weighing down your hair. It will also simplify styling your hair, and help train it. If cult of individuality jeans nz want to remain in style this season, try pairing black and white together. These simple colors are back with a vengeance. The fashion runway is packed with black and white outfits. It's so simple to create black and white combinations using just a shirt and pants or a dress. When it comes to these shades, you'll never go wrong. Use your accessories to add color to your outfit. This is a great tip if you happen to have a large stock of earth tones or blacks and whites. Get a bright-colored tie, purse, or shoes depending on who you are and what fits you. It is a great way to stand out without having to be very brave. If you are overweight, never wear clothes that have a horizontal stripe pattern. Because the eye only follows the direction of the stripes, even skinnier people are going to look a lot wider with this pattern. So, just imagine how large you'll look wearing it. The correct choice is a vertical stripe or pattern, which elongates the body, thus diminishing width. Mousse is a great tool for making thin hair look full, but you should never overdo it. A lot of people are starting to revert to the 80s with their hair, but the fact of the matter is that hair back then wasn't that fashionable really. Invest in the basics. Every wardrobe should have a few key pieces. The little black dress is a classic for good reason. A well-fitted white blouse is versatile and flattering. A tailored suit is perfect for serious business. These items are ones you shouldn't be afraid to spend a little extra on, as they are timeless classics that last beyond the changing fashion trends. If you are in your 40's or older, know that you can still fashionable for your age. This does not mean that you should dress the way you did when you are 20, but you can make wise fashion choices. For middle-aged women, V-neck tops with cardigans or blazers with a pair of dress pants is a nice look. If you want to look better in any combination of your wardrobe, exercise often. A physique that stands tall with confidence makes any outfit look better. You do not have to have chiseled abs. Even a regular walking regimen of light intervals can make your spine stand up enough to make a difference. You might want to hire someone who is a fashion expert to go shopping with you. She can teach you about current fashion trends. An expert voice can be a big help. Just take them with you when you shop and listen to their advice. They can help you refine your look. As was stated earlier, people can be very superficial and, as a result, having a poor sense of fashion can negatively impact your life. By studying the fashion tips you've learned about in the previous paragraphs, you can improve your life and look fantastic. There is no reason to not look your best.

#cult of individuality jeans nz

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walterschristie07 · 2 years

Text

Fashion Tips For Anyone Who Wants To Dress Better

Unfortunately, it seems that the world is becoming more and more superficial. Having poor fashion sense and looking like a disaster can have a negative impact on your life. The good news is that improving your fashion style is not difficult at all. The hot fashion tips packed into this article will help you look fantastic. It has become fashionable for men to wear clothes that are very baggy, but this should be avoided. This makes you look sloppy and can make you look larger than you really are. While you do not have to wear anything that is too restricted, one size larger than your actual size should be the limit. Always remember to bring the shoes you plan on wearing to a special event along when you shop for the perfect dress. This allows you to see how the shoes look with the dresses you are considering. It will also give you an idea of any alterations that may need to be made. For men with thinning hair, a small amount of hair mousse can be incredibly helpful. Apply it to the hair from the roots out on wet or dry hair. The mousse will add some volume, without weighing down your hair. It will also simplify styling your hair, and help train it. If you want to remain in style this season, try pairing black and white together. These simple colors are back with a vengeance. The fashion runway is packed with black and white outfits. It's so simple to create black and white combinations using just a shirt and pants or a dress. When it comes to these shades, you'll never go wrong. Use your accessories to add color to your outfit. This is a great tip if you happen to have a large stock of earth tones or blacks and whites. Get a bright-colored tie, purse, or shoes depending on who you are and what fits you. It is a great way to stand out without having to be very brave. If you are overweight, never wear clothes that have a horizontal stripe pattern. Because the eye only follows the direction of the stripes, even skinnier people are going to look a lot wider with this pattern. So, just imagine how large you'll look wearing it. The correct choice is a vertical stripe or pattern, which elongates the body, thus diminishing width. Mousse is a great tool for making thin hair look full, but you should never overdo it. A lot of people are starting to revert to the 80s with their hair, but the fact of the matter is that hair back then wasn't that fashionable really. Invest in the basics. Every wardrobe should have a few key pieces. The little black dress is a classic for good reason. A well-fitted white blouse is versatile and flattering. A tailored suit is perfect for serious business. These items are ones you shouldn't be afraid to spend a little extra on, as they are timeless classics that last beyond the changing fashion trends. If you are in your 40's or older, know that you can still fashionable for your age. This does not mean that you should dress the way you did when you are 20, but you can make wise fashion choices. For middle-aged women, V-neck tops with cardigans or blazers with a pair of dress pants is a nice look. If drama the label want to look better in any combination of your wardrobe, exercise often. A physique that stands tall with confidence makes any outfit look better. You do not have to have chiseled abs. Even a regular walking regimen of light intervals can make your spine stand up enough to make a difference. You might want to hire someone who is a fashion expert to go shopping with you. She can teach you about current fashion trends. An expert voice can be a big help. Just take them with you when you shop and listen to their advice. They can help you refine your look. As was stated earlier, people can be very superficial and, as a result, having a poor sense of fashion can negatively impact your life. By studying the fashion tips you've learned about in the previous paragraphs, you can improve your life and look fantastic. There is no reason to not look your best.

#ull #drama the label

0 notes

duskamethyst · 3 years

Text

mistakes.

a/n: totally for self indulgence... don’t know how is this gonna do though since i’m not sure if a lot of people has caught up with the manga but i’m pretty sure the fandom has seen him at least once and instantly thirst for him. so, idk what colour his eyes are (i can see blue but fanwiki says green so i stuck with that and in between). this comes with a package of me pointing out how big and buff he is and idc if you’ll get annoyed over it.

word count: 6.1k

genre: AU, nsfw, smut, angst if you squint

warnings: DARK – NONCON, coercion, corruption kink, daddy kink, size kink, choking, mind break, breeding, face fucking, slight dacryphilia, spitting, age gap, degradation, virgin reader, dilf toji manhandling reader

pairing: toji x f!reader

languages available: vietnamese.

summary: you want to surprise your bestie, megumi upon his arrival home from college but things take a terrible turn.

one.

heavy rain starts pouring as soon as you’ve reached the front doorstep of the fushiguro’s household. it was a dumb idea to not bring an umbrella with you despite the sky already starting to get dark when you left home earlier, but you were willing to push your luck and started sprinting once you felt prickles of droplets landing on your skin. with a stroke of luck, you managed to escape the heavy downpour from soaking your clothes.

drawing a deep and relieved sigh, you take a moment to regain control over your breathing before knocking the big front door. aware of the aftermath of the run, you fix your hair with your hands as you wait for megumi to come and greet you.

college made you and the male to part ways until phones were the only thing that kept you both up to date with each other’s lives. ironically enough, that’s the thing you forgot to bring when you left home in a rush and excitement to surprise your dear friend since he’s coming home today. you can vividly remember the last text you read; he was at the train station and you had to estimate the time of his arrival and the time he would be at home instead of asking him.

however, you’re caught slightly off guard when a different man opens the door for you instead. nonetheless, your lips curl to a sweet smile and there’s a brief of awkward silence before he speaks. you know him, but he doesn’t seem to remember you at all.

“you’re..?” with a tilt of his head, he looks down at you with a curious brow.

“it’s me, mr. fushiguro!” you offer your name, scrutinizing the expression on his face as his forehead crinkles while he jogs through his memories. then he glances at you and away in thought and back at you again with wide eyes when he finally recalls.

“oh, it’s you!” he ruffles your hair, a bit too enthusiastic in spite of his usual character that you were always familiar with. “i haven’t seen you in a while.”

you let out a little laugh, “yeah. i think i was fourteen the last time i saw you, mr. fushiguro. but it’s nice to see you again.”

“ah, yes. i had to go out of town and overseas for business a lot.” toji explains, rubbing the back of his neck, slightly bashful that he didn’t recognize the girl– no, woman before him even when you both have met plenty of times back when you often came to play with his son since you both were still little.

but can anyone blame him? time works wonders and now the little girl he used to know has grown to be much more mature and gorgeous and so... demure.

“yeah, megumi told me. speaking of him, is he home?” you finally inquire, bringing up the reason why you’re here in the first place.

two.

“why don’t you come in first? it’s cold outside.” he says before immediately turning around without answering your question. you close the door behind you and follow him closely, also somewhat intimidated when you realize how tall and huge he is– the tight fitting shirt stretches over his wide back and accentuating his physique even more. his arms are toned and popping with veins, not the way you used to remember at least, but you’ve never cared to notice. you’re not certain of his age either, but you’re pretty sure you’d be surprised if you find out.

“do you want coffee or tea?” toji suddenly breaks the silence as you nervously stand in the middle of the room to take a glimpse around the kitchen like it’s your first time being there, completely heedless over his gaze lingering up and down your curves, observing the figure of a girl who just freshly went through her womanhood and your lascivious beauty before he quickly turns around to grab two mugs from the cabinet.

“anything is fine.” you politely reply, fear of sounding somewhat demanding if you choose your preference despite being offered with choices.

“come on, you’re giving a man a hard time.” he jokes. “and sit down.”

he’s trying to extend his invitation though intentionally sounding assertive, but when he sees that you are quick to comply and scramble to your seat, he finds it to be... stimulating. at least he knows that you’re docile and he wonders if he could put it to the test. well, doesn’t matter. he will.

“coffee is good.” you smile, interrupting his train of thoughts and he pours the coffee from the pot before walking over to hand you your mug.

“unfortunately,” he sits down on the chair next to you. “megumi isn’t home right now.” toji puts his lips between the warm mug and softly blows before sipping his coffee. “he wanted to take a short trip to the store but i think he’s going to be stuck there for a while.” he looks out the window to only see pitch black staring back at him along with roaring thunder from the skies.

“oh.” you mutter, taking a careful sip of the hot brew. a little disappointed that you couldn’t see megumi yet, but his dad is right– it’s nearly a disaster outside but you find no point hanging around any longer either.

“is it too bitter? you don’t like it?” his voice laces with concern when he notices your face involuntarily scrunches up at the bitter taste.

you quickly shake your head, “no, no. it’s fine!” you reassure, afraid that he’ll take offense from the coffee he personally made. “besides, if megumi isn’t here, i–”

three.

“oh, it’s fine if you wait here for him.” he cuts you off. “unfortunately, we don’t have an extra umbrella.” the corners of his lips tug into a comforting smile and you are quick to relax into it.

you’ve always found toji to be quite frightening when you were young. he seemed like someone who never smiled, always had a sombre and intense vibe to him that no child would be too fond of. there was no exchange of words between you two, except for your constant brief hello and a smile that you did out of courtesy whenever you bump into him inside his house, even though he never replied anything back. not even a crack on the lips to return the smile.

but today is different. probably because he finds it easier for him to talk to an adult than a child and you’re relieved that you’re able to humor him in some way.

“so, are you and megumi a thing?” he abruptly asks and glances at you as he sips his coffee.

“no, we’re not!” you titter, waving a hand in dismissal as you bring up the mug to hide your face from embarrassment.

“oh?” a glint of amusement and surprise shines in his green eyes. “are you sure?”

you blink at the question as heat warms your cheeks from the thought of dating your best friend. “yes, megumi and i are just friends. really.”

“why? because you have a boyfriend?” toji pries, uncaring if he sounds intrusive to you and you only assume that he’s trying to strike up a conversation in some old fashioned way.

you just shake your head and laugh, “it’s not that, either.”

“hmm,” he props his elbow on the table leisurely, head resting on his fist as he looks at you intently, as if in search of something. “you’re pretty hard to figure out.”

“what do you mean? i don’t think so.” you smile, bringing up the mug to cover your face again so you can shy away from his intense gaze yet he thinks that it’s endearing and he finds himself grinning unwillingly.

toji notices how you always try to look away when you get so shy over some simple questions. you’re just oozing with purity and innocence of a maiden and something dark and twisted inside him is craving to violate every part of it.

“for a start, i can’t figure out why you don’t have one.” he says, tapping his fingertips on the table as his mind is running with sinful thoughts.

“hmm, maybe because i haven’t found anyone interesting yet.” you finally lock your eyes with his as you answer, not wanting to come off as rude if you keep on talking without looking directly at the man.

“isn’t my son good for you?” he couldn’t care less to be honest; he only plans to test the waters and is even more aroused to learn that you’ve never been touched by a man before and he feels like a wolf that’s just ready to pounce on a lost, little lamb.

“oh, no, no!” why do you have to get so bashful? he’ll fuck you on this table if you don’t stop. “we just don’t see each other that way.”

he’s so lost in his thoughts and carnal desires that whatever you’re babbling seems to go in one ear and out the other.

“then, what do you think of me?” he asks nonchalantly with a smirk plastered across his face.

you blink at him once, twice. “uhh, what?” is he suddenly getting self-conscious?

“you heard me. what do you think of me?” yet he doesn’t seem like it either.

“umm,” you ponder for a moment as you think of every adjective you can find in your head that wouldn’t come out offensive if you’re going to be honest with him. why would he even ask you such a thing anyways? and why would it matter to him? there’s nothing nice about him that you could exactly pinpoint from the past except for ‘scary’, ‘serious’ and some other things revolving around those.

“i thought that you were kinda... scary?” you blurt unsurely, mentally slapping yourself for even daring to say such a thing to him. unless it’s a vibe that he was going for, then you’d be relieved.

it isn’t exactly what toji wants to hear but he laughs heartily, “really?” a shiver runs down your spine when he looks at you again, his eyes glimmering with daunt. “but are you still scared of me?”

“uh, no.” you laugh. “you’re actually really nice, mr. fushiguro.”

“oh, that makes me feel better.” another grin etches on his scarred lips as he draws his gaze to your hands that are tensing and fiddling with your sleeves and your leg is bouncing; a perfect depiction of a trembling lamb cornered in his den– and he’s fucking starving.

has he got you on edge? are you nervous? good. “but i think you should.”

a lump catches in your throat and your heart drops, “i- what?”

the chair emits a screeching sound and it stumbles backwards as toji abruptly stands up from his seat. sheer panic causes you to rise on your feet too, and your eyes dart to the chair, and the male, back and forth as your mind tries to get a grasp on the situation.

“mr. fushiguro..?” you whisper meekly, taking a step away and around the table as you notice him taking a careful yet threatening inch closer.

“no, no. i’m not gonna hurt you.” toji (barely) reassures you as he continues creeping on his feet. but the sinister smile on his lips takes out every last bit of faith you had in him and the loud voice in your head keeps telling you to run for the door and never look back– fuck the rain.

as if he can read through your thoughts, he warns. “but i will, if you run.”

the smile on toji’s face turns smug when he sees you freeze in place upon his threat. being trapped under the unpleasant situation triggers your fight or flight responses and rapid heartbeat drums in your ears as you stand in trance and trepidation.

“that’s a good girl.” he coos, taking another step forward before you decide to throw a mug at him and dash towards the door as fast as you can. you assume that toji has pushed the table to the floor when you hear a loud thud, followed by his hasty footsteps as he catches up quickly behind you.

the door that is finally within arm’s reach suddenly changes into a mirage when a strong pair of arms grabs you by the waist and your body floats as it lifts onto his shoulder. the huge contrast between the size of your body and his should let you know; no matter how much you try to resist, he will never budge. yet, your arms and legs still flail around in an attempt to punch and kick him and you’re screaming for him to let you down and just hope that anyone is able to hear your cries in spite of the thunderstorm.

well, so much for luck.

“ah, ah. you don’t wanna do that.” there’s a mocking and amusing tone in his voice as he advises you. “you should save that energy later. juuust in a bit.”

“mr. fushiguro– stop–!” you sob, watching your only escape slowly disappears out of sight when he turns to a corner and into a dark room. your body bounces onto a mattress before toji’s huge, ripped figure swiftly looms above yours and ties your hands together with a belt and onto the headboard. at this point, the illuminating lights through the windows are the only thing that aids your vision and you have to rely more on your senses.

“shh,” he shushes you with a finger against your trembling lips. “the neighbors will hear. and if they do, i want it to be because you’re getting fucked so good. so be a good little girl for daddy, okay?”

regardless of being terrified, you find yourself cringing over the nickname he refers to himself. hopefully, he won’t ask you to call him that either. “mr. fushiguro– i– please don’t do this. i- i won’t tell anyone.”

toji tsks, taking his sweet time to admire your smaller body underneath his– the exposed, soft skin on your neck waiting to be bruised, chest heaving as your breath comes deep and short, and legs pressing together to secure your modesty; though will prove to be futile later.

“i know you won’t.” his thumb grazes against your lips, mesmerized by its plushness as he imagines it wrapped prettily around his throbbing cock. “are you a virgin?”

you only nod your head, eyes wavering as you look at his darker ones before catching it shine with interest.

“never had anything inside here?” he asks again, pressing your cunt against the fabric of your pants with his fingers. the dark room makes it hard to see, but your cheeks are turning red from humiliation and you look away before shaking your head no.

“are you sure?” toji’s thumb presses down on your clit and causes your body to shudder apprehensively.

“o-only my finger.” you audibly whisper through the white noise outside.

oh, how exhilarating. guess the innocent looking ones can be lewd too. don’t you know that a cock would make you feel better? a big cock like his is definitely what you need. just a finger wouldn’t be enough to satisfy you! poor little thing.

“then i got to teach you a few things, right? it’ll come handy later. boys love girls with experiences.” he promptly strips you off from your pants before carelessly throws it to the ground and kneels between your legs to keep you wide and open for him.

“you like to be touched here?” his finger reaches down to ghost over your clothed clit, observing you with lust filled eyes while you turn away from his gaze and remain unresponsive. “daddy is a very impatient person so i suggest you answer me.”

toji pinches your clit, and your body squirms with an elicited yelp. you can only guess (and hope) that he wasn’t referring to him touching you there but you answer anyway, “y-yes.”

he hums in satisfaction, moving down until his head stops between your thighs and in front of your sex. toji grabs your thigh and spreads them apart before flattening his warm tongue against your clothed bud, causing a shiver to run down your spine and it quickly draws your attention to him.

your face heats up in embarrassment when you see toji’s head dipped in front of your pussy, but he’s only calm and teasing as his jade eyes stare up to lock with yours to look for a reaction.

“you’ve never felt a tongue over here either, hm?” he sneers, rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb and you mentally curse yourself for feeling slightly aroused over his ministrations.

“just let me go, please.” you try to close your legs, but to no avail when his rough hands push them away.

“you know, if you keep asking for ridiculous things,” toji tuts and grasps your supple thighs hard, nails digging painfully on your skin. “i might have to get rough on you. but you’re a smart girl and you wouldn’t like that, right?”

“n-no.” you choke and fidget.

“good. because i only want you to feel good.” he offers a gentle smile and kisses the dented mark on your thigh. “so, let’s start over. you haven’t answered me.”

you nibble your lip hesitantly and look anywhere but him, “no.”

“see? all the more reason for me to show you what you’ve been missing out.” he chuckles, tugging your underwear to the side impatiently.

“fuck. such a pretty pussy.” he growls at the sight of your bare cunt. there isn’t a lot of slick yet, but it’s fine, he’ll make you get there. that’s the point of this whole ordeal, right?

your body quivers naturally once you feel the foreign sensation; wet, warm muscle prodding your puffy folds up to your clit and circling on it with the tip of his tongue teasingly as he observes you from below.

your eyes are screwed shut and your lips are caught between your teeth as you try to restrict your whines from the undeniable pleasure rushing in your veins and he doesn’t stop– your pathetic attempt to deny him and your sentiments only drives him to push you over the edge even more.

with a harsh suck on your clit, he manages to get you to squeal and you can feel him smirking underneath you. toji flattens his tongue and laps off your juices again before he takes you by surprise when he suddenly slides a finger inside your tight, wet cunt.

“shh. it’ll feel good, baby girl.” he comforts when he hears you whimper at the pain inflicted and true enough, it soon begins to feel good. you’ve fingered yourself plenty of times before, but it feels different when he does it for you– his finger is thick and long that it reaches deeper than you’ve ever been able to.

toji notices you start to become quiet so he slides in another digit, eliciting yet another sob from you. the warm and moist cunny makes his cock twitch and he finds himself getting eager. your back arches from the bed when toji curls his fingers to stroke the bumpy tissues of your g-spot with every drag.

“feels good, yeah?” he grins arrogantly as your legs tremble under his hold. your breathing has turned erratic and your toes are curling as your mouth gapes in pitiful, broken cries that are just music to his ears.

“answer me, sweetheart.” he presses down a thumb on your neglected clit, reminding you that he is not keen on being ignored and disputed.

“y-yes.” you finally choke through pants and shame. though the answer comes out in hesitance, your body is more honest– pussy sopping and eliciting obscene squelches and it’s enough to satisfy him for now.

your head thrashes side to side as you feel yourself about to tip over but you still refuse to beg toji for a release.

“hah– fuck!” you whimper loudly when toji oh-so-generously sucks your clit again, fingers pumping faster inside your cunt, making your body feel even more tense with overbearing stimulation before finally pushing you over the edge and you break into a silent scream.

toji laps off your slick before he pulls out his finger into his mouth and licks them clean.

“that’s a good girl. why don’t you taste yourself?” he climbs on top of you while you gasp for air from the intense orgasm and he easily pulls you into a fervour, sloppy kiss. you can feel the wet slick on his chin and you can taste yourself at the same time as he intertwines his tongue with yours.

four.

out of spite and vexation, you found courage to bite his tongue hard and toji instantly pushes himself from you, his dark eyes express astonishment and agitation.

“fucking bitch.” he curses as his eyes narrow at you displeasingly before he takes off his pants and briefs to release his cock from its confinements. his cock is throbbing and thick, and you can almost see a trickle of precum on its head. you crumple at the sight as regret and anxiety washes over you.

“don’t worry, it’ll fit.” he says cockily upon the worrisome look on your face. “but since you like it rough, i’m sure you want to choke on it first.”

“no– i’m sorry!” you shake your head but toji only lets out a scornful laugh as he disregards your pleas and props himself on the knees and over your neck.

toji slaps the tip of his cock on your lips, gesturing you to open your mouth but you purse them into a flat, thin line and refuse to obey.

“open up. it’s a part of your lesson after all.” he snaps before squeezing your cheeks together. “it’ll get worse if you don’t listen to me.”

“d-don’t wa-ant to– flea-shh.” you whimper and toji emits a long, deep sigh as he releases his grip.

“i don’t like repeating myself.” his voice is laced with malice and chills crawls up your spine as his eyes look down at you demeaningly before you slowly open your mouth trepidatiously and wait for his next order.

“no teeth. i think you’d know that much.” he patronizes before sliding his cock inside your mouth and he hisses as the warmth engulfs his throbbing cock. “that’s it. now, suck.”

and you have no choice but to obey submissively. you slightly lift your head and struggle to take his length as much as you can before running your tongue around to feel each prominent vein.

“i said suck, whore.” he commands through gritted teeth. you hollow your cheeks, compressing his fat cock tight between them as you bop your head up and down.

“fuuuck, just like that.” toji groans as his hand reaches the top of your head and caresses you softly. you start to pick up the pace, slobbering his dick with so much saliva that it begins to seep from the corners of your mouth and it’s so wet and obscene– just the way he likes it.

“it almost makes me think that this isn’t your first time.” his head falls back and hips begin to jerk until the tip hits the back of your throat, forcing you to take more than you could. you choke as tears start to well up in your eyes and the bedhead shakes when you try to tug your wrists.

“what’s wrong? can’t take my fat cock?” he scoffs arrogantly. “you gotta work on your gag reflex, sweetheart.”

the muffles from your throat vibrate against his dick and toji groans in pleasure that he subconsciously rocks his hips, slapping your chin with his balls. your vision has become blurry and breathing becomes harder as you let him abuse your throat and your jaws ache before he abruptly pulls out and you can finally gasp for precious air.

“look at you,” his cock twitches with excitement when he sees the tears rolling down your cheeks from your doe eyes and he wipes them away with his thumb, making you flinch slightly, “are you sorry for making daddy mad?”

toji always tries to articulate each word with appease. it’s never soothing per se when you can sense the threat entwining in his voice and it’s fucking you psychologically.

and it deems to be successful when you’re already trembling in fear underneath him.

you’re uncertain whether he prefers you to speak or not, but your throat is sore so you meekly nod your head in response. it’s better than nothing, to be honest.

“good. open your mouth.”

your mouth is already parted for air but you assume that he wants to put his cock in again. submissively, yet dreadfully, you open your mouth wider and await for him to shove his cock back in but you’re surprised when toji spits in your mouth instead.

it’s warm and disgusting; you’re just left gaping and repelled, and you want to spit it out but toji squeezes your cheeks together.

“swallow.” he orders. you quickly brace yourself and close your eyes before cringing as you gulp down the mix of saliva in your mouth and toji releases his grip once he’s certain that you’ve ingested.

“i could’ve made you swallow my cum but i’d feel bad,” he chuckles sardonically. “what do you have to say?”

“t-thank you.” you whisper vaguely and he accustoms his face to a simper.

“good girl.” toji smashes his lips onto yours, yet his eyes are locked with yours ominously for a brief second– a telltale that he expects you not to pull up another stunt before they close as he deepens the kiss.

obviously, nothing would benefit you whether you comply or defy, not until you’ve catered for his insatiable lechery. but you’ve learned your lesson and although you’re compelled, you finally relent as every ounce of resistance begins to drift from you.

toji breaks the kiss and shifts lower, peppering greedy kisses on your neck before he catches the soft, chaste skin between his teeth to suck and form purplish bruising marks. he lifts up your shirt over your head and hastily unclasps your bra, causing you to shudder once the cold air hits your exposed breasts.

large, calloused hands press your mounds before his mouth latches on one perky tit, while the other is tweaked with his fingers. experienced tongue draws circles and sucks punishingly, alternating with the other nipple. the headboard rattles as you keen over the stimulation and your eyes open in dismay when you feel something hard prodding your clit.

he moves lower and spits on your cunt before propping on his knees to take off his tight shirt– through subdued glow, you can make out the outline of his toned abs and broad chest as his large build towers menacingly in front of you; even when he’s not standing on his feet.

“listen. daddy is going to release the binds, but do you promise to be good?” he asks, smearing the saliva with his cockhead and against your slit.

“yes. i- i promise.” you murmur appallingly; as if you have a choice in the matter.

toji leans over to unrestrain you then he observes you, expecting you to put up a fight but instead, you just remain still underneath him.

he grins in satisfaction, getting off to the fact that you’ve fallen into submission before he shifts back into his prior position and bends your knees up to line his cock with your hole. a feeling of triumph stirs inside him when he’s reminded that he’s the ‘chosen’ one to defile your innocence.

“stop! it hurts–!” you wail and your hands clench the sheets when you feel toji’s thick cock stretching your virgin cunt slowly, but he ignores you, groaning at the warmth that engulfs him and the tight walls that clenches him as he selfishly pushes through.

it burns. so bad. your chest heaves rapidly and you screw your eyes shut as your face twists to express pain and uncomfort. “please, please–! i can’t–”

“yes, you can.” his tone is indifferent as he holds you down since your body keeps on wincing until he finally fills you to the brim and he can see a bulge poking on your tummy.

“fuck. haven’t been inside a virgin cunt for a while.” he mutters under his breath. “now, i know it hurts but i promise you’ll enjoy it. it’s just too bad that you get to have a big cock as your first.” he snickers nonchalantly and leans down closer to your face, making you jolt when you feel it inching deeper.

“if it makes you feel better– you’re fucking tight. just the way daddy likes it.” toji whispers in your ear but you can only freeze in fear and agony.

toji hovers above you, his hands firmly grip the headboard in front of him and he begins to move his hips; thrusting in and out of your pussy.

your fists clench the sheets harder as a loud cry rips from your throat, “no! it hurts! please!”

but toji doesn’t seem to mind, his cyan orbs stare down at you coldly yet in focus as he relishes over the plush walls clamping down on his cock.

“stop! stop– i- i don’t want–!” you continuously wail as you writhe in anguish before he suddenly stops pounding and he wraps his hand around your neck instead, instantly drawing your attention to him as he applies pressure in his hold.

“if you don’t stop whining like a bitch in heat, i will fucking breed you like one.” he warns through gritted teeth, clearly agitated over your act of defiance.

“you want this. you’re going to love this.” his words are sick endeavours to coerce you into another round of complete submission.

but what else can you do? toji’s hand is so large that his middle finger and thumb almost reach each other as it clasps around your frail neck and you know he can easily crush your windpipes if he wants to.

“say it. you. want. this.” he seethes.

“i. want. this.” you barely croak each word and they’re slowly influencing your cloudy mind. as soon as he releases you, you soothe the pain around your throat with your hand as you gasp for air.

“fuck. don’t think i didn’t feel you clenching around my cock just now.” he sneers and situates himself again before ruthlessly and steadily continuing where he left off.

you only close your eyes and bite your lips hard to stop whimpering as you mentally comfort yourself and dissolve every inch of your sanity; i’m going to enjoy it, it’s going to feel good soon, i want this, i want this.

soon enough, toji notices that your muscles have relaxed– suggesting that you’ve finally caved in as pleasure overtakes you so he fucks you deeper and faster before he falls on his elbows and you can feel his bangs tickling your face.

“that’s it, baby. you make daddy feel so fucking good.” he praises between grunts. you can feel the veins on his cock dragging against your walls and he’s right, it feels so good and your lips open in breathless pants.

you find your arms to loosely wrap around his neck and your legs around his waist as if clinging onto him for dear life as toji ruts into your cunny like a feral beast.

“you like it, yeah? this is what you want, isn’t it?”

through hazy mind, you can only manage to whimper an audible ‘yes’ as you feel an odd, yet almost familiar knot twisting in your lower stomach begging to snap and your nails dig into the skin of his broad back upon the intense sensation shooting through your body.

a low, deep guttural sound leaves his throat when he feels your nails sinking and scratching his back– it prompts him to quicken his pace and you can feel the tip of his cock kissing your cervix over and over, causing your back to arch simultaneously.

“i’m– i’m gonna–!” you keen as your body trembles in anticipation and your sopping cunt is clenching on his throbbing cock like a vice.

“fuck yeah. cum on daddy’s cock.” toji urges and nips on the sensitive skin of your neck to tip you over the edge and your pupils blow wide as you break into a scream. despite being your second orgasm for the night, an overwhelming euphoria washes over you for the first time of your life; is this what it feels like? you don’t know, you’ve never had one (at least not from a cock) and your pussy is just fluttering, pulsing and creaming around his cock.

“hah– fuck. good girl.”

toji remains to snap his hips, fucking you through your high as you’re left in daze from your orgasm. toji can feel his balls tensing and his thrusts are turning sporadic as he inches closer to his climax. your whines and nonsense babbles are drowned by the feeling of pleasure that’s enveloping him and he doesn’t even have the resolution to listen to you gibbering when your cunny is just milking him, sucking him in like it doesn’t want to let go and he just wants to give what your greedy pussy asks for; to fill it up with his thick load until it’s full and leaking out of you.

and daddy knows best, after all.

“shit– i won’t be able to hold it any longer. say you want daddy’s cum.” he grunts.

you’ve partly snapped out of your daze when you hear his voice again, and though you can’t see his face that’s already buried next to your head, you’re petrified and it’s making you feel dizzy and suffocated.

“i– n-no. please not–” you sob through your raw throat.

but toji doesn’t listen and you don’t know if you’re relieved or not because if he does, you know that it’ll tick him off and it’s going to do you more harm than good– but you’re scared and it hurts, that you unwillingly start to snivel again.

“shut up. you’re gonna take it like a good cumslut.” he shoves two long fingers in your mouth, causing you to choke on them.

“daddy’s gonna cum in this pretty pussy and you’re gonna fucking take it.”

toji’s grunts ring in your ears and you’re able to feel his cock twitching inside you before he finally releases hot ropes of cum– filling up and defiling your womb.

“y-you came inside..” you mumble once he takes out his fingers as you’re left entirely devastated and stupefied.

“fucking did.” he pants, lifting his body up from you and pulls out his cock to shove back the dribbling cum that’s leaking from your abused cunny with his finger. you would wince but your mind is already numb and your body is sore that you can do nothing but burn holes through the ceiling above.

“don’t look so sad.” the room resonates with his chuckles and he gets off the bed to put back on his pants. toji walks over to the nightstand where a pack of cigarettes await him and he puts one between his lips and you can hear the flicking sounds of a lighter as he tries to burn the tip.

“i can promise you that other guys wouldn’t be rough as me but one thing’s for sure,” he inhales the tobacco and exhales in a gratifying manner, “that will stay as the best fuck of your life.”

fat tears stream down your cheeks and you curl on your side, protecting your now-ruined-body as you quietly sob and your mind takes you back from how the ordeal even started and causes you to end up where you are right now– and it only makes you cry harder.

toji only lets out an exasperated sigh. he grabs his shirt from the floor and throws it on his shoulder before reaching the door.

“megumi won’t be coming home ‘til tomorrow. he said something about the train and the weather, so you can leave when you’re done. you know your way out.”

you hear the door close shut behind him and you’re left in the dark with nothing but the smell of his tobacco and the sounds of the drizzling rain accompanying you as you drown in your thoughts and griefs.

how many mistakes have you made today? four? five? or more?

you’ve lost count and you question yourself over again until you’re no longer able to care.

what’s done is done.

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buckybarnesdiaries · 3 years

Text

white wolf: “the story of a first date”

first part — second part — third part — fourth part (soon)

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Sam helps Bucky to ask you out for a date and it's a disaster, but he gets it.

word count: 3.147 words. (not sorry, it worth it, i promise!!!)

warnings/tags: none. bucky being the cutest gentleman in the whole wide world, and sam keeping an eye on him.

author notes: as it happened with the first part, i'm not really happy with the result but i had so much fun writing it and i think that that made this writing perfect, so i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed it. none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

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The car stopped because of a red light, a moment where Sam took the advantage to turn at his copilot, glancing at Bucky from top to bottom in complete silence. Analyzing him. The soldier tilted his head raising an eyebrow, showing his curiosity about what the hell he was doing.

“What are you gonna wear, uh?” Sam asked then, maintaining a serious gesture on his face.

“Clothes”. Unworriedly, he put back his eyes to the front window.

“You probably look good naked, but that’s not what I’m talking ‘bout”.

“Just… some jeans, a shirt, and a jacket”.

“And shoes, I guess”.

Bucky turned on his seat towards his friend, squinting confused for the interrogatory. “Who cares?”

“About the shoe—”

“About the clothes”.

“Man, it’s a date! Do you wan’her to remember this night as the night Bucky Barnes shown up as a Russian bum?”

“I’m from Brookl—”.

“Yeah, but you look like mother Russia just spat you to the world”.

Sam rolled his eyes as a sigh escaped his mouth. Shaking his head, he took the next corner to the fifth avenue changing the planes they had in mind. A good outfit meant a good date. A good date meant happy soldier. Happy soldier meant no trouble. See the point? So the Falcon would take care of the Winter Soldier today. If only Steve could see them. He’d feel proud, that was for sure. They visited a couple of shops, finally letting Sam take control over the situation and pick the clothes he would wear for you. He had good taste, everybody knew that, and Bucky couldn’t complain about his choices.

Even less when the distinctive black suit dressed his anatomy to perfection. Spinning around in front of the mirror, he felt different. He looked different. He looked good, but not as he’d like. Holding the bucket of flowers once he was ready, Bucky left his apartment straight to the garage under the building. He was nervous, he couldn’t lie. But he had that sensation inside him that made him believe everything would be okay for the first time since he woke up.

The road didn’t take him more than ten minutes, not really worried about the time given that he had planned to arrive a little sooner than accorded. Life seemed like it was smiling at him, finding a parking lot in the same entrance. Landing his blue eyes on the rearview mirror, Bucky took a last view at his reflection, brushing back his hair as he used to do in the forties. He grabbed then the flowers he bought for you and stepped out of the car, trying to remember the advice Sam gave him. Resting his back against the copilot's door, he waited impatiently for you.

“Hey, you”.

His heart stopped for a second, raising his orbs to the man coming closer. Before he could react, the man in question tucked a hand beneath Bucky's jacket. Patting him down.

“What the hell are you doing, Sam?” He questioned irritatedly, slapping his hands and causing him to laugh.

“Just checking you didn't bring the notecards again”.

“Yeah, very funny…”

“Man, look at you! Should be illegal to look this good, uh?” Sam helped him to put on the jacket again, receiving another slap from his friend.

“Don't touch me”. Scowling, he fixed the flowers in his left hand, wanting them to be perfect. “Anyway, what are you doing here?”

“Watch you till (Y/N) comes. Lemme take a picture, I feel like a proud father on his son's prom day”.

“You're not m— Get the hell outta here, Sam”.

“Fighting again, kids? Should I call your mama?”

As Bucky heard you scoff, his soul abandoned. His pupils dilated. His legs trembled. And he could swear that everything disappeared around him when he watched you going downstairs, swinging your hips unconsciously sensual, with a black dress fitting you like a glove. If this morning Bucky wanted to marry you, now he wanted to spend the rest of his life by your side. Your makeup was on point, just like your hair, not being too formal but enough to run him out of words.

“Steve is off-duty, so, what 'you gonna do, soldier?” Sam mocked, an instant before noticing how pale Bucky was. He couldn't help but slap the back of his neck to bring him back to reality.

“I, uh… flowers… I bought you…”

“You're not Yoda”. Sam whispered as the other offered you the present.

“C'mon, stop messing with him”. You clicked your tongue, right before you drew an adorable smile on your lips, leaning to kiss Bucky's cheek. “Thank you”.

“You're welcome”. He just answered, responding to your same gesture while opening the door for you.

“Such a gentleman…” His playful murmur made Bucky frown and nudge him, trying to stop him from saying anything else and ruin the occasion.

“I'll bring him back at ten”. You joked palming his chest.

“The point is to not bring him back to me”. Sam cackled, shaking his head and taking a step back.

Once in the car turning on the engine, James joined the road after checking you were good. Never in his life he had driven with so much care as if he was carrying a bomb by his side. He set on the radio, not really knowing how to start a conversation, watching you through the corners of his eyes caressing the flowers over your lap. No one had bought you them before, thinking it was a thing that only happened in movies. But then, you met Bucky. An old-fashioned man, making yourself wonder how he was the same the news used to say he was a cold-blood assassin.

“What have you thought?”

“Uh?”

“About the date”.

“Sam told me about a rest—”.

“Okay, okay, Bucky. Pull over”. You couldn't help but burst into laughter, as his face was pale again thinking you were about to step out and end the date.

“Sorry, did I…?”

You swiveled at him on your seat, kissing your teeth and squinting inevitably. Studying his face you knew how afraid he was, and it was the most adorable reaction ever. You could have kissed at that precise instant, but it'd have been a little awkward.

“Where do you wanna go?”

The question didn't take him by surprise, actually. He was still getting used to doing the things he desired and not what other people asked him to do. The restaurant was a fancy place with a distinguished menu according to what his friend explained to him, but it wasn't the kind of site that he'd normally go, or that represented him.

“When I, uh… came back, I discovered that my favorite burger joint in Brooklyn was still standing”. Bucky told you, facing you after finishing the sentence. “They prepare the best burgers of the whole New York and you can decide what ingredients add, and the bread, and the kind of meat. And it still having the original decoration”.

You reclined on your seat, just staring at him talking with that kind of burning passion about something he loved. Puckering your lips, you nodded your chin. The fact that not only he wanted to take you to a different place, but a place that he used to go to when he was young made butterflies flutter within your belly. Bucky wanted to make you part of his future, but also his past. That made the difference.

“Sounds good to me”.

“Really?” He inquired funnily confused, wrinkling his nose and forehead.

“Really”.

The shine that appeared within his eyes made you place a hand on his cheek to urge him to turn his head and drive again. An innocent gesture that provoked him a lively giggle. If that man knew all the things he caused you, he'd have taken the step months ago.

As the night went on and Bucky was losing his shyness, he talked to you about the good old times. Before HYDRA, before the winter, before the war. When he was a kid with no worries more than keeping Steven safe from the bullies. It was nice to disconnect from the present, from the gazes around the two of you, from the back talks, only enjoying your dinner and your conversation. You talked to Bucky about how was to be raised on a farm, surrounded by open fields and animals, to join the army years later. Without going into details that could make him remember the old bad times, you told him about what you used to do, your missions, and how you were wounded in combat after being shot and fell from a helicopter.

Bucky felt confident enough to compare it with how everything started. Falling from a wagon to the snow. But as soon as his voice became lower, you couldn't help but hold his gloved left hand and intertwine your fingers with his. And you could swear you felt him shaking for a brief moment because of your touch.

“So, what, uh? It was a forties trend to jump into the void?” You tried to joke, wanting to feel relaxed.

“Yeah, seems like”. He mumbled curling up his lips. “Listen… I really want to… open up, and I know it’s easier with you because… y’know, you work doing this”.

“Hold on, Bucky”. You laughed waving your free hand, shaking your chin as you closed your eyes for a second. “That has sounded really bad”.

“Wait, wh— Oh, shit, no, no, no”.

For the first time since you walked into the small restaurant, his laughter was lively, unworriedly, honest.

“Take it easy, just kidding”. You grinned, nailing your elbow on the table to rest your cheek on your palm. “But… this isn’t work. We’re not doing therapy, we’re… knowing each other. And I don’t want to pressure you to talk about something you don’t feel prepared to, okay?”

“I know”.

Bucky couldn’t believe how much you seemed to empathize with him, not judging his acts nor his past, not deciding that the date wasn't a good idea nor running away. He couldn’t believe the less importance you were giving to his arm made of vibranium; usually, people used to freak out, to feel frightened somehow about the things it could do. But you were there, fingers playing with the others as if it was the most common and natural act in the world. And, for you, it was. That was you in all your best. Considerate, smart, patient, lovingly. The rainbow after a stormy life. Everything that Bucky needed in his life to start from scratch and be his better version. A shoulder to lean on and a reason to come back home.

“Was afraid of asking you out”. He confessed after some seconds admiring each other. Any person closer would say you had been dating for a long, long time by the way you had to keep silent and not feel uncomfortable.

“Why?”

“You came from war and made your world a place to live. I’m still stuck there”.

“I have my own red flags”. Clicking your tongue, you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, really? Please, surprise me”. Bucky teased you sitting up on his chair, not loosening the gentle grip around your left hand.

“I put the milk before cereals”.

“Oh… Oh, God”. He let out, pretending to be horrified and running a hand on his face. “Goddammit… you’re a monster, ma’am. I don’ think this is going to work”.

“Excuse me?” You chuckled, parting your lips in a breath while leaning over the table to palm his right shoulder. “It wasn’t me who added lettuce to the burger”.

“What? What’s the matter with that, uh?”

“Lettuce kills the savor!”

“Y’know what kills the savor? Ketchup. Today, people use ketchup literally with everything… And that’s disgusting”.

“Okay! Next time, no lettuce, and… no ketchup”.

“That’s a big challenge”. Bucky scoffed tenderly squeezing your hand between his cold fingers.

“I’ll live, Sergeant Barnes”. You narrowed your eyes and crinkled your nose at the same time.

“I was talking about a second date, not about your issue with ketchup”.

“So was I”.

A goofy smirk appeared on Bucky’s face, biting his inner cheek as he assented with his head. Seeing you again, knowing that you wanted it —that you wanted him—, made him trust Dr. Raynor’s words. He was having a second chance to do the right thing. To live and to be.

You wanted to add something else when the clock in his wrist started to beep. Curious, you raised an eyebrow. “We have to leave”.

“Why?”

“Sam told me you work tomorrow at eight, which means you’ll get up at six and a half… maybe seven. While I pay, take you home, all that stuff… I don’ want you to be tired in the morning”.

Bucky would never stop to amaze you, looking up to him in silence to contemplate how he called the bartender and beckoned his free hand to ask for the bill.

“What…? What are you doing?” He chuckled embarrassed, taking his beer to sip.

You cleared your throat when you realized how stupid you should look right now, shaking your head as you freed his cold hand from yours to find unlock your phone as soon as the guy brought the dataphone.

“Hey, no, no. I asked you out, I pay”. Bucky began to fight with you, provoking some laughs on the table as you tried to put your screen above the tpv.

“Well, welcome to the twenty-first century”. You hummed as the operation was confirmed.

“I’ll pay next time”. He declared licking his incisors, prior to his lips.

You wished the ride back home to last forever, not wanting to end the date. But the car reached your neighborhood in a blink of eyes. You couldn't help but sigh barely appreciably for your companion, gazing through the window until double parking in front of your apartment. You turned towards him, hearing the engine shut off. Bucky seemed disappointed like you, not being able to remember when was the last time he had a break, he had fun. The date was nicer than he expected but the idea of not knowing exactly when he was going to see you again was killing him from the inside.

“I'll accompany you”. He declared undoing his seat belt as you did to step out.

You reacted with a delicate smile, holding the bucket of flowers against your abdomen while walking to the front door of the building. That moment was a little uncomfortable, not being sure about how to say goodbye, just looking like two teens in love.

“Thank you for tonight, Bucky”. You uttered without thinking about it. “It's been the best night I've ever had”.

“Next will be better, I promise”.

“That's a big challenge”. You chuckled repeating his words a while ago in the restaurant.

“I'll live”. He nodded convinced, glancing at you bowing down your interest to the red roses between your hands.

How could you tell him that you were dying to be together again? That you wouldn't mind waking up sooner and having breakfast? You bit your inner upper lip, trying to find the correct words to say, without sounding like you were feeling something else to a physical attraction. Bucky was hot as hell, that wasn't up to debate, but he was the kindest and charmingest man you had known. He was sensible and strong at the same time. You both complemented the other like the pieces of a puzzle and you never thought something like that could happen to you. To find your other half and having it so clear you didn't want anyone else.

“I am, uh… free tomorrow”.

His words pushed you out of your thoughts, putting up your attention to a Bucky almost flushing, stroking the back of his head, and having the impression that he could scare you.

“Got a break for lunch, if you want”. You proposed without hesitation.

His eyes sparkled with happiness, holding your left hand with his to bring it to his mouth, placing a fond kiss on the back. Such a gentleman, like Sam said, inducing your cheeks to burn. And then, you saw him doubting about taking another step. You wanted it too to happen, tho, leaning forward to press your lips together. Your eyes snapped closed at that precise instant, not having any rush, tasting each other's and shortening the distance between both of you by his free arm getting wrapped around your waist. The kiss was innocent but passionate. It was warm, intimate, trying to transmit all the chemistry you woke up within the other with only one look, with only one smile. Breaking it —much to your regret— when you needed air to breathe. And even so, Bucky rested his forehead against yours freeing your hand to place it on the right side of his neck.

Neither of the two of you opened your eyes, extending the moment as much as you could. You felt he craved to spend the night with you, and you desired it too, but you also felt that he needed some time to get used to this new world he was living in. It wasn't easy. You thought back to the months after the war, the recovery, the loneliness you forced yourself to be in. You were in Afghanistan for three months. He had been fighting since nineteen forty. And he didn't want to ruin what you were building together.

“I should leave”. Bucky murmured against his wishes.

“See you tomorrow”.

At the moment you opened your eyes to meet the pale blue ones, your whole body felt weak. You saw the brightness in them after letting him know that the second date was going to happen and that it wasn't just a formality before disappearing, wiping out any minimal doubt by kissing him again. The last kiss. A good night, I'll dream with you kiss.

“I'm gonna play this on your wedding day, definitely”.

You screamed because of the unexpected metallic voice coming closer, clinging to Bucky's neck as his heart raced too. Redwing was suspended in the air some steps away from you, being controlled by Sam. Who else is not him, uh?

“I'm starting to think you have separation anxiety”. The soldier growled trying to hit the flying device with his flesh hand, hearing you laughing against his chest.

“Good night, kids”. You chuckled separating from Bucky.

“No kiss for me, soldier?”

“I'm not gonna kiss that thing, Samuel”.

“What about a howl, White wolf? Would be very appro—”.

“White wo—”.

“Please, don't. Don't ask”. Bucky begged you, licking his bottom lip while rubbing the back of his head, clearly ashamed.

“Hope you show me one day what it means…”

“Oh, he will… Just wait till the full moon”.

“Sam!” Bucky and you yelled in unison, you playfully, he annoyed.

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