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cherrybracelets · 3 years

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I’ll Take You On

bucky barnes x f. reader

18+ / drinking mentions, heavy smut (unprotected s*x, oral s*x (m receiving) )

inspired by: ill take you on by brockhampton

For your whole childhood, as long as you could remember, you wanted to be a veterinarian. You had loved animals, and couldn’t imagine a better way to spend your days than caring for them. But, as you grew up and the harsh realities of adulthood and capitalism dawned upon you, your dream was becoming less likely.

Vet school was way over you and your mom’s budget. It was just the two of you, and she wasn’t exactly bringing in buckets of cash at her teaching job. So, you had to get a bit more realistic.

After graduation college with a business degree, you set forth into the world hoping for a lifetime of amazing opportunities. But, a job didn’t come as easy as you’d hoped, and you were getting desperate. So desperate, in fact, that you called your estranged father begging for a job.

Your father left your mom when you were nine. You didn’t care much, as he wasn’t around a lot anyways. He was some big shot lawyer in Miami, and he was always traveling for work. It was honestly easier on you and your mom once he left. He didn’t make much an effort to connect with you after that, only calling every few months and sending wads of cash on Holidays, hoping to make up for his absence.

So, as you pushed aside your pride to call and ask for his help, it was really the least he could do. And lucky for you, his firm’s office manager had just quit. It didn’t sound like an incredibly difficult job and the pay was beyond what you wanted. Your father was most likely overcompensating with the salary. But he could afford it.

He also promised you a place to live, rent free. He owned multiple properties around the city, most of which he never used. It was kind of the perfect situation. A little suspiciously perfect.

But there were no other options. You needed a job and he desperately needed to feel like he wasn’t the worst father in the world. It was a win-win for both of you.

And obviously, Miami wasn’t the worst place you could be. You didn’t know anyone besides your father, but you didn’t care. The idea of relaxing on a beach alone soothed you way more than a group of screaming drunk girls.

After a week of settling into your apartment and the city, it was finally time to start your new job. You had met up with your father multiple times already, getting prepared for the job and visiting a few of his favorite spots around the city. He was actually really kind, but it was slightly uncomfortable talking to him.

You walked into his office on your first day, shaking in nerves as you prepared to meet your new coworkers. Would they treat you kindly, or did they catch up on the obvious nepotism that was lingering through this entire situation?

But your fears were quickly buried over as his staff welcomed you with open arms, talking highly of you and about how “proud” your father was to have you working here. You rolled your eyes at his obvious attempt to show a warmer side to his staff, but you let it slide. You had a job and place to live because of him, so it was the least you could do.

You spent the morning learning the phone and computer system, battling intrusive questions from everyone in the office and trying to learn how to work the damn coffee machine. But all in all, it wasn’t a bad job.

You never really knew what kind of law your father practiced, and maybe that was something you should’ve asked before, so you were a little less shocked. His clients were mega rich and famous. And your father was just mega rich. It kind of pissed you off, seeing how well he lived and how you and your mom never saw a penny of it. Part of you wanted to scream at him, break all the expensive glasses in his office and storm out. But what was the point? Caring about him was more energy than it was worth.

Your father met with his clients throughout the day, and part of your job was welcoming them to the office, getting them something to drink, and telling your father when they arrive. And today, at 2:12 PM, twelve minutes late for his appointment, he walked in.

“James Barnes. I’m here to see Henry,” he commanded, not bothering to look up from his cell phone and pay you an ounce of attention.

“Of course. Can I get you anything to drink?” You asked kindly, trying to keep your voice from quivering. He stood towering over you, his large frame blocking the light above, casting a shadow over your desk. He was one of the most beautiful and intimidating people you’d ever seen. You felt like you were going to choke if he looked directly at you.

But he didn’t. He walked cooly over to the sofa in the waiting area and sat down, mumbling “Scotch…”.

You stood up and walked away quickly, desperately trying to catch your breath. You slipped quietly into your father's office, smiling as you closed the door behind you.

“James Barnes is here. And he mentioned something about scotch, which I’m not sure if I’m authorized to give…”

Your father chuckled and stood up, walking over to a small bar cart in his office and pouring two drinks.

“Everyone calls him Bucky. He’s a good friend. Come on, i’ll introduce you.”

You followed behind your father in a daze, not ready to face him, not ready for his eyes to meet yours. Your skin felt hot and the room was spinning as your head, his loud voice greeting your father in excitement.

“Bucky! It’s been too long!” Your father yelled, handing him a drink and smiling sheepishly.

“Yeah, I had to be in New York a bit longer than I thought,” he trailed off, taking a sip of his drink. You were hiding behind your father, hoping he would forget about you and you could sneak away without a word. But of course you wouldn’t get away that easily.

“Bucky, I have to introduce you to my daughter. Today is her first day working here! (Y/N), come introduce yourself,” he instructed, turning towards you and ushering you in closer to Bucky.

“(Y/N)...” he whispered, the sound of your name in his mouth making your whole body light up. You had never heard it sound so beautiful before. He reached his hand out towards you, and you grabbed it lightly. His hands were soft and cold, shocking your skin as he touched you. As you shook hands, he leaned towards you, the smell of mint and tobacco pouring from his skin.

“Why don’t we head to your office, Henry,” he frowned, dropping your hand and turning towards your father. You brought your hand back to your side, confused and dizzy as you found your seat.

“Can… can I get you anything, Henry?” You stuttered, realizing awkwardly that this was the first time you’d addressed him, and you didn’t say dad. There was an uncomfortable silence between the two of you, and you cleared your throat awkwardly.

“Sorry, thought that would be more professional. Totally awkward, right?” You laughed, trying to ease the tension. You didn’t think your father would care if you called him Henry, but maybe he wanted you to play into the sweet daughter character at work.

“No, sweetheart, this is actually a private meeting. I don’t want any interruptions, unless someone’s dead. Okay?” He said in a serious tone, pushing aside any awkwardness. He hadn’t said this with any other clients he’s seen today, so it gave you an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach.

You turned towards Bucky, looking for some sign of a joke with him. But his face was carved of stone, his eyes locked on your father as if he expected Henry’s devout secrecy for any conversation they had.

The two walked quietly into his office and shut the door, leaving the image of him to only exist in your mind. You were curious who exactly this beautiful mystery was, so you did what you always did. Googled him.

You searched for a while, under both of the names he went by. But nothing. You couldn’t find him anywhere. Nothing on Facebook, Linkedin was empty, Twitter and Instagram were farfetched. It was like he didn’t exist. You even unblocked your father on facebook to stalk his friends and see if he existed there, but nothing. He was a ghost.

You got frustrated after a while, sitting back angrily in your chair, realizing you had three voicemails. Yikes, you were not very good at this job.

You finished all your work quickly, hoping it would distract you from him.

They spent the next two hours locked away in your fathers office, leaving you to wilt away in boredom. It only took about 30 minutes to catch up on calls and emails, and then all you could do was scroll aimlessly on your phone hoping someone would bother you.

But everyone seemed very quiet here. Beyond the initial excitement of meeting you in the morning, everyone stayed at their desks all day, focused intently on their own work. It was one of the quietest offices you’d ever been in. Maybe they were just trying to show off on your first day, or trying not to bother you… but it was odd.

At 4:15, your father loudly exited his office, Bucky following behind. He was smiling, something you hadn’t seen before. It was almost god-like, his perfect smile, radiating warmth and happiness. You wanted to be close to him again, missing the sweet smell of his lips…

“(Y/N), I have a request…” your father interrupted your daydreaming, making you jump as you stood up to help him.

“What’s up?” You asked casually, refusing to take your eyes off Bucky.

“Bucky and I are grabbing dinner tonight, and we’d love for you to join us,” he said quickly, Bucky finally turning towards you and meeting your glance.

“You… want me to come?” You asked quietly, Bucky still staring at you. He smirked slightly as you spoke, but refused to break your gaze.

“Well, Bucky would really love to get to know my daughter. You know how… proud I am of you. The light of my life!” He said, smiling intensely at you. You finally looked away from Bucky and towards your father as he spoke.

It was disgusting, the way your father was obviously using a fake relationship with you to get in good with his clients and employees. But you would’ve done anything to see Bucky again. So you agreed reluctantly, wondering why a man like Bucky would care about his lawyer's daughter…

“We’re going to a nice place so… dress up,” your father instructed, eyeing your clothes. You had noticed you were the least dressed up at the office.

“Um… I don’t really have a nice dress…” you whispered quietly, wondering how “nice” you needed to dress…

Your father pulled out his wallet, handing you a thick black AmEx card.

“I’ll have my driver take you downtown to some shops. Get whatever you want,” he instructed, pushing the card in your hand.

You didn’t refuse, why would you? Free shopping spree and dinner with some hot mystery man sounded like your perfect day.

You spent the next few hours in and out of shops, spending more money than your father most likely anticipated. But you needed a new wardrobe anyways, most of your old clothes were too warm to wear here.

You picked out a gorgeous light blue silk dress and some strappy white heels to match. You were maybe a little ‘under’ dressed for dinner with your father, but all you could focus on was Bucky. You felt high whenever he crossed your mind, your body unable to focus on anything except the feel of his cool skin touching yours.

By the time you were done shopping, it was almost time to meet them at dinner. The driver promised to bring the rest of your bags home and drop you right off at the restaurant. It was all the way across town, and you’d most likely still be late even if you left now. So you hopped in the car quickly, your new outfit looking perfect.

The drive to the restaurant took just as long as the driver said it would- maybe even longer. You were getting impatient as the time went by, wondering if he was thinking about you the way you were thinking of him.

It was unlikely. You still weren’t sure who exactly he was, but you knew he didn’t spend his time with ordinary girls.

But why did he want you to come to dinner? It was odd of him to take such an interest in you. None of your fathers other clients seemed to look twice in your direction. But then again, Bucky was the only one that required privacy.

As you got lost in your thoughts, your mind tumbling through expectations and excitement, your driver pulled swiftly up to the front entrance of Paterro’s.

Upon walking through the doors, you were taken aback by the overwhelming fanciness of this restaurant. Your father definitely undersold how nice it was. You felt slightly underdressed, but no one seemed to look twice at you. You were used to not turning heads, being able to walk through a crowd without notice.

That changed when you got to your table. Your father wasn’t there, most likely in the bathroom or at the bar. It was just him, looking just as beautiful as you pictured he would.

He wore a navy blue suit that hugged his skin tightly and left very little of his body up for imagination. As you walked towards him, his head lifted from the table and his eyes lingered towards your body. He gave you a soft smile, but he was obviously distracted by how much of you he was seeing.

“Your… Henry ran to grab a few cigars for later…” he mumbled, standing up awkwardly and pulling out a chair for you.

“Thank you…” you whispered, sitting shakily down in the chair as he pushed you in towards the table.

You were in between Bucky and your father’s seat, but much closer to Bucky. Your father came back less than 30 seconds later, which was ideal, since you couldn’t think of a single word to say to Bucky.

Your father greeted you kindly, a wide smile that read as ‘You better be good tonight.’ It clearly wasn’t normal for him to have guests attend his business dinners. He seemed just as put off as you did, but the two of you kept your thoughts to yourselves and made small talk.

“This is one of my favorite restaurants, (Y/N),” your father smiled, handing you a menu to you.

“I’m excited to be here. Thank you for having me,” you responded kindly.

Bucky and your father started talking about business, leaving you to your own thoughts as you scoured the menu. The prices were insane, but obviously you weren’t footing the bill. You had half a mind to order the most expensive thing on the menu, for the hell of it, but you settled on a nice glass of red wine and pasta.

You weren’t included in much of the conversation, wondering why exactly you were invited in the first place. It seemed that the two of them barely even knew you were there. You sipped at your wine angrily, wondering how you could get Bucky’s attention.

It was then when you decided to make one of the riskiest decisions of your entire life. But, high risk, high reward, right?

Bucky cracked a joke with your father, and you laughed loudly and girlishly, forcing him to draw his eyes towards you. You then gently placed your hand on his knee, dragging your fingertips on his thigh lightly as you smiled at him. For a second, you forgot your father was even there, lost in the delight of finally having your hands on Bucky.

But you quickly drew your hand back, afraid of how far you’d go if you didn’t stop. Luckily your father didn’t seem to notice, or care. But Bucky did.

In fact, he was glaring at you. His fists were clenched on the table, his breath shaky and his stared. His face started to relax and he looked away, a slight smirk on his face as he grabbed his drink and gulped it.

“I have to run and make a quick phone call,” Bucky said abruptly, not waiting for a response before leaving the table.

You turned awkwardly to your father, not sure what to say to him at this moment. Thankful for you, he clearly felt the same, and buried himself in his phone. That was the nice thing about your father, he never forced you to talk.

Bucky was back quicker than you’d expected, looking relieved as he sat down.

“Sorry about that,” he smiled, clearing his throat. “Where were we?”

The three of you started chatting again, a feat that only lasted about five minutes, before another interruption. Your father’s phone started ringing loudly, much to your embarrassment.

“One sec,” he whispered, jumping out of his chair and answering in a rush.

Your heart dropped as you realized you were alone with him for the first time. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him after you nearly groped him under the table. You felt a lump in your throat as you stared intently at your fathers empty chair.

“Do you wanna talk about what the hell you’re doing?” Bucky growled at you, making you finally turn your head and face him head on.

“I don’t know what you mean…” you whispered innocently.

“Oh, shut the hell up. I’m not gonna fall for your sweet girl act. Your father might, but I see right through it…” He snickered, taking a large sip from his third drink of the evening.

“I’m sorry if I’ve done something to upset you, James.” You could see him cringe at the sound of that name. You couldn’t help but to get under his skin. Something about him so angry made it hotter.

“Listen, if you wanna fuck me, just say it. I’m not here for all these little games.”

“You truly think every girl in the entire universe wants to have sex with you? Seems like somebody has a little ego problem,” you retorted, rolling your eyes and looking away.

“Oh, baby,” he laughed, touching your cheek lightly with his thumb. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t get under this table and suck my cock if you could?”

The thought of your mouth around him made you quiver, which was very evident to Bucky. He laughed coyly, before tightly gripping your chin. He brushed his thumb lightly over your lips, your body aching at his touch.

He dropped his hand quickly as your father approached the table, looking distraught.

“I’m so sorry guys... My client just called, major emergency. I’m gonna have to run… Bucky, can you make sure (Y/N) get’s home safe? I’m gonna have to take my car…”

Bucky chuckled quietly and nodded at your father, enjoying the obvious win.

“I’ll take good care of her, man.”

Your father thanked Bucky, throwing his credit card to you for dinner and running off in a hurry. You felt sick to your stomach, all the red wine dancing around in your body. You felt Bucky’s hand on your thigh, rubbing circles on your skin.

“You ready to go?” He winked, tilting his head for an answer. You could only nod, unable to think of any words to say.

Bucky tossed three one-hundred dollar bills down on the table, taking them from a large wad of cash hidden in his jacket. You felt dizzy at the sight of all the money, wondering where it could possibly be coming from.

The valet pulled Bucky’s car around, which was obviously something beautiful and fancy and nauseatingly expensive. He opened the passenger door for you, helping you up into the seat. He leaned towards you after you were sitting, pulling your face to his. He kissed you intensely, not giving you a second to think, or breathe. You melted into him, allowing his body to do whatever he wanted.

But he quickly broke away, closing the door and getting in the driver seat. He didn’t speak to you the rest of the ride, just casually glancing in your direction every few minutes. You wondered if you should tell him where you lived, or if he already knew. But you quickly realized you weren’t going home.

You pulled up to a large white house on the beach. The gates opened promptly as you arrived. They closed quickly behind you, making you finally realize the intensity of the situation. You were here now, locked inside, with a complete stranger. A very, very hot stranger.

Bucky opened the door for you, clearly picking up your awe at the size of the house.

“I’m just renting it. I don’t usually stay in one place too long…” he explained, a hint of sadness in his voice.

“What exactly do you do?” You asked, instantly regretting it as you noticed the distaste in his voice.

“You don’t need to know that, yet,” he snapped, emphasizing the word ‘yet’. What the hell did that mean?

He ushered you through the front door, offering you a glass of wine as you entered. You accepted happily, staring at his wide wine collection that was much nicer than the box sitting in your fridge.

You sat down on his couch, sinking into the soft cushions, realizing just then how tipsy you were. As he walked back towards you with your drinks, you felt a wave of excitement and spontaneity wash over you. Fuck wine, man. The worst and horniest decisions you ever made were because of wine.

Bucky set your drinks done and you didn’t waste any time. You jumped up towards him, pushing your lips onto his and dragging your hands down his body. He didn’t fight you, unbuckling his pants quickly. He began kissing your neck, pulling down the straps of your dress. You hadn’t worn a bra, giving his lips easy access to your breasts. He sucked your nipples lightly, grazing his teeth.

You pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a perfectly sculpted body that at this point, you had expected. You brought your hand down to his dick, already hard and poking out through his boxers. You pushed him off of you as you got down to your knees, removing his boxers and taking his length into your mouth.

You flicked your tongue across his tip, making him shake under you. He grabbed the back of your head and pushed himself deeper into you, hitting the back of your throat. He moved in and out of your mouth, his hand holding your hair out of the way.

Finally he pulled out of your mouth, beckoning you to stand up. You did as you were told, getting off your knees and following him to the catch. He sat down and dragged you onto his lap, feeling his cock under you. He kissed you for a while, but you never got bored. You could’ve kissed him forever.

But you felt him twitching beneath you, begging to be inside. You positioned him to your opening and slid down gently, adjusting to his size. He moaned slightly, throwing his head back as he went in.

“Don’t move for a second…” he commanded, sitting up and taking your face. He was inside of you, not moving, just holding you.

“You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen,” he whispered, the scotch spilling from his breath. He didn’t give you time to respond before he grabbed your hips and began to rock you on him.

You let him move you for a few minutes before you started moving yourself. You felt the overwhelming rush of pleasure take over as you got close to cumming, speeding up your motions.

“Shit…” you squealed, riding out your high as he kissed your neck.

“Keep going… I wanna cum inside you…” He whispered into your ear, his lips tickling your jaw.

You kept grinding your hips, moving faster as he got closer. He gripped onto your hips, digging his nails into your skin as you felt him twitch. You felt him fill you up with warmth, claiming you as his in that moment. The ultimate trophy of male dominance.

You felt sick to your stomach after you got off, feeling him drip down your thighs as you rolled to the other side of the couch. The fun of the wine had worn off into an annoying headache, and you were dreadfully thirsty.

For some reason, you wondered if you had dreamed the whole thing, before you looked over and saw a naked Bucky, staring blissfully at you.

“Can I get you anything?” He asked, kindly.

“Water.”

He smiled graciously, standing up and putting his boxers on. He walked down a hallway, presumably to the kitchen, and your fight or flight kicked in. You quickly grabbed your shoes and bag, bolting out the front door, unable to face him.

You were greeted by the fresh air, happy to be back in the realm of normalcy. And then you remembered. The gate.

“Fuck…” you exclaimed, dropping your shoes on the pavement.

“I’ll take you home.” You heard, seeing an uncomfortable Bucky standing in the doorway.

You got back in his car, staying uncomfortably silent as he started the engine and opened the gate.

“Do you regret it?” He asked. His voice snapped through the quiet like a whip. It made you jump.

“No. I don’t.” You answered. It was the truth.

“Good. We’ll talk soon, then.”

He dropped you off without another word, and you realized you never actually gave him your address.

Who the hell was James Barnes?

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #tfatws #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes

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purrincess-chat · 3 years

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Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH29

The plans are in motion! Just a reminder, after I post CH30 next week, I will be taking a break through the month of September to finish up the final edit. I’ll probably be scarce around this blog as well during that time cause I’ve got to work on my BB piece as well, but my queue is loaded through like January of next year, so it’ll be like I’m not even gone.

Previous First Next AO3

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Chapter 29: Take Cover

Marinette and Adrien stared at his phone, jaws hanging agape. The silence stretched on until Chloe sighed, and Marinette blinked out of her trance.

“I’m sorry. We’re going to what now?” she asked.

“Ugh, just get over here.” Chloe hung up.

Marinette and Adrien exchanged bewildered looks, and he shrugged as if to say, ‘I have no idea what just happened either.’ Chloe wasn’t one to keep waiting, so they gathered their things and piled into Adrien’s town car. On the drive over, Adrien laced their fingers together, tracing patterns on the back of Marinette’s palm with his thumb. She smiled up at him, that familiar, fluttery feeling spreading through her chest.

She’d dreamed of being Adrien’s girlfriend since they day they met. To her surprise, she was calmer about the whole situation than she’d expected. She wasn’t planning their wedding or naming their future pets, and she’d only daydreamed about his soft lips twenty times that day. They knew each other better now and had grown more comfortable with one another.

Adrien was a true friend and a stable rock in the middle of a storm, always there for her to fall back on if she needed. If it weren’t for him, she would be drowning in her own anguish. Lila may think she had the upper hand, but Marinette and Adrien were the perfect team. Nothing could stop them when they worked together.

Chloe was staring out at her balcony when they arrived, a pensive frown wrinkling her forehead. She turned to them, pursing her lips to mask her expression as they approached. They eyed each other in tense silence until Marinette spoke up.

“So,” she started, “what?”

Chloe rolled her eyes and rubbed her temple with a sigh.

“Look, don’t go getting any ideas. This isn’t about you; it’s about revenge,” Chloe said. “Lila seems to feel the most threatened by you, so I think it will have more of an impact if your name is associated with all of this charity work, and the only way to make anyone else care enough to report about it is to make you someone worth talking about.”

“What makes you think Lila is threatened by me?” Marinette asked with a disbelieving grunt. “All she ever does is toy with me.”

“And why do you think that is?” Chloe rolled her eyes when Marinette still seemed lost. “When someone like her feels threatened, they lash out and try to bring you down.”

“Is that why you were always so mean to me?” Marinette’s eyes narrowed, a smirk curling on her lips.

“Don’t lump me in with her! I’m mean to people for the sheer entertainment of watching them suffer. Totally different.” Chloe scoffed.

“Okay, so how exactly do you plan on making Marinette famous?” Adrien asked.

“Easily.” Chloe shrugged. “The dumb brat has already started making a name for herself, and more and more important people are starting to notice her talent, if you want to call it that.”

“I will ignore the insult in favor of the compliment.” Marinette crossed her arms over her chest and cocked a hip.

“Look, even my mom has complimented your work, so I think we should—as disgusting as this is—ask my mom to help you launch your fashion career.” Chloe cringed as she said it.

Marinette stared at her for a long moment, and Chloe shifted her weight with a moan.

“Stop looking at me like that!”

“You’re being serious right now?” Marinette asked.

“I know. Even I’m shocked.” Chloe wrinkled her nose.

“You want to help me start my fashion career? Now?”

“It’s the only way to take down that brat for good,” Chloe said, cheeks pink. “After this, I will go back to hating you and thinking you are a talentless nobody.”

“This is uncharacteristically nice of you, Chloe,” Adrien said with a smile. “I’m proud of you.”

“Don’t get any ideas, Dupain-Cheng. I’m not going to be caught dead wearing your trash, but my mom wanted to train you, so I think it’s our best shot.” Chloe shrugged.

“So, what? We’re just going to walk up to your mom and ask her to work with me?” Marinette scoffed as if it were the most absurd thing she’d ever heard. Because it was.

“Pretty much.” Chloe marched past her.

“Wait, we’re going right now?”

“We want to take Lila down this century, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe said pointedly, crossing the hall to her mother’s suite.

“But…wait, Chloe-” Marinette rushed after her as she barged into the room across the hall.

Audrey was in the middle of a hot stone massage, and Marinette curled her shoulders.

“I don’t think we should disturb her-”

“Mommy,” Chloe said, and Audrey gave some groan of acknowledgement. “You remember my dreadful former classmate, the one who designed the feather hat for Adrien?”

“Vaguely,” Audrey said.

“Well, Clara Nightingale walked the red carpet in one of her designs, and I think you should back her brand,” Chloe said.

“I thought you hated this girl-”

“You and me both,” Marinette grumbled.

“-now it sounds like you’re being nice.” Audrey choked on the word.

“There’s a nasty girl at school that I want to get rid of, and I need to make Dupain-Cheng famous to do it.” Chloe explained.

Audrey moaned as the masseuse worked a knot in her shoulders.

“Get me a portfolio by this time next week, then we’ll talk,” she said.

Chloe clapped her hands together. “Thank you, Mommy.”

“Wait, I’m sorry, a week?” Marinette blanched.

“Fashion moves quickly, dear, so if you want to be relevant, you’ll get me your portfolio with a pitch by next week,” Audrey said more sternly.

“She’ll have it ready,” Chloe promised.

Marinette shot her a look. “I’m not so sure she can-”

“Enjoy your massage.” Chloe grabbed Marinette’s arm and dragged her from the room.

“Chloe, I don’t know if I can-”

"Oh, shut it." Chloe clamped her hand in a mouth-shutting motion. "You are annoyingly persistent when you want to be. I've seen you accomplish way more in less time, so don't you even say you can't do it because if anyone has got what it takes, it's you, and if you tell anyone I said that, I will destroy everything you love."

“A week? To come up with an entire line,” Marinette said. “Not to mention it has to impress your mom—the queen of fashion!”

“And?” Chloe shrugged. Did she hear herself? What was so hard to understand about the absurdity of the situation?

“Chloe’s right, Marinette, you can do this,” Adrien took her hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

“But what if I can’t?” Marinette asked. “What if Audrey hates my designs or if I can’t come up with a whole line in time?”

“Then your fashion career is dead, and I’ll just get rid of Lila my way.” Chloe sauntered back to her suite. “Toodles!”

Marinette leaned her face into Adrien’s shoulder with a moan, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly.

“I know this is a lot of pressure, but you are the most amazing girl I know. You’re an incredible designer, and I know you’re going to crush it.” He pressed his forehead to hers, those green eyes shining with a confidence she wished she felt.

She took a deep, centering breath and nodded.

“Okay.” She pressed her lips into a firm line. “Let’s do it.”

♪♫♪ Misery Business ♪♫♪

Lila glared down at her phone screen, her laptop playing Clara’s acceptance speech in the background which only made her blood boil hotter. As if that stupid bakery brat needed more attention. Marinette pulled a couple fast ones on her, but Lila always got the last laugh. She stared down at Adrien’s Instagram post again with a scowl.

“So proud of @marinette-dc! I’m so lucky to have such an amazing girlfriend like you.”

Most of their classmates had already liked it, but it didn’t matter. Lila would figure out a way to spin this back on Marinette. The cracks were already forming in her little good girl reputation. Lila just needed to apply pressure, then everything would come crumbling down.

♪♫♪ Look What You Made Me Do ♪♫♪

The next day at school, Marinette was quite the hot topic after her big debut. Everyone was buzzing about Clara’s dress, and she received compliments left and right, though she found it hard to enjoy her moment with Audrey’s deadline looming over her.

She’d spent all night brainstorming ideas, but so far she had nothing. Nada. Zilch. No ideas. No inspiration. Nothing, and she was a sweaty ball of nerves. Numerous times she’d tried to give herself pep talks. She saved the city on a daily basis, fought ten-ton monsters and tricky magicians. How hard could it be to design a few dresses and coats?

Infinitely hard, as it turned out. In fact, part of her wished it was as easy as fighting an akuma. That there was some clever shortcut to her end goal, but there were no such things in this case. Just her own imagination and the wall between it and her sketchpad.

“Why so glum?” Macy asked as Marinette shoved books into her locker. “Shouldn’t you be excited about your dress? Everyone loves it. Things didn’t go bad with Adrien after we left, did they?” She cupped her cheeks in horror.

“No.” Marinette assured her with a laugh. “Everything is fine, but I just… Another amazing opportunity has fallen in my lap, and I don’t think I can do it, and I’m stressing out over it.”

“Yeah, you are breaking out a little.” Lisette pointed out, and Marinette covered her chin with a groan.

“You’re amazing, Marinette, and you always find a solution,” Macy said, but when Marinette seemed less than convinced, she pursed her lips. “Tell you what, Lisette can help you cover your zit, and we’ll help you get your mojo back, okay?”

“Okay,” Marinette said, allowing Macy to tug her to the bathroom where Lisette managed to completely erase any signs of her stress. Honestly, she was a wizard with a tube of concealer.

“There they are with the lady of the hour,” Eliott said when they met up for lunch. “How did your alone time go with a certain model last night?”

“He gave me this necklace.” She pulled it from under her collar with a soft smile.

“How romantic!” Lisette said.

“How sparkly.” Macy added with a longing look until Eliott nudged her with his elbow.

“We should double date this weekend. The weather is going to be nice, so we could go golfing.” Eliott suggested, and Macy shot up.

“Oh! Can I come? My parents are part-owners at one of the courses so my dad can play whenever he wants.” She bounced excitedly.

“Fine, but you have to bring a date,” Eliott said.

“I’ll just bring Martin again.” Macy shrugged.

“That’s cheating.”

“How? You said to bring a date, so I’ll bring a date.”

“You didn’t even ask him!”

“Fine! Martin, will you be my date?” Macy turned to him with pleading eyes, and his cheeks flushed.

“Uh, sure,” he said.

“Ha!” Macy stuck her tongue out at Eliott.

“That’s all fun and everything, but I’ve never played golf,” Marinette said. “Besides, I have a lot to do.”

“Oh, come on, Marinette. We can teach you,” Macy said. “Please?”

“I-” Marinette hesitated when they all gave her pleading looks. “We’ll see.”

“What’s so urgent that you can’t come out, Marinette?” Eliott asked as they took their seats.

“Does it have to do with that girl?” Martin lowered his voice.

“Kind of…” Marinette took a deep breath before explaining the entire situation—the plan, her deadline, all of it.

“Whoa, you’re really gonna pitch to Audrey Bourgeois?” Lisette whispered, eyes wide.

“I’m gonna try,” Marinette pushed her peas around with a spoon. “I’m kinda running on empty right now.”

“If you need any help let us know, okay?” Macy reached out to place a hand over hers.

“Yeah, we know tons about fashion and starting charities, not to mention handling drama queens.” Eliott echoed. “We’ve got your back.”

Marinette smiled, though the sentiment didn’t reach her eyes. It wasn’t their fault that Marinette was never going to make it in the world of fashion. When she inevitably failed, Adrien would probably dump her, Lila would take over the world, and she’d be left selling stupid little trinkets off of a cart to tourists. Why did she let Chloe talk her into this?

♪♫♪ Yeah Right ♪♫♪

“Good morning, Lila! I have your geometry homework!” Sabrina greeted on the front staircase the next morning.

Lila feigned a smile. Sabrina was annoying, but she did all of Lila’s homework, so she usually didn’t complain. After that brat Marinette scored a point against her last night with the award’s show, Lila wasn’t in the mood to deal with clingy girls with dependency issues.

“Thank you so much, Sabrina. You’re such a sweetheart,” Lila said.

“How is your ankle feeling? Do you need anything? Aspirin? A hot compress? Foot massage?” Sabrina offered.

“Well, it feels much better than it did a week ago, but if I walk around a lot, it gets a little sore. Would you mind taking my bag to my locker for me?” Lila slipped her bag off her shoulder and held it out.

“Of course! You rest that ankle,” Sabrina said without hesitation.

Lila smirked as she trotted off to the locker room. At least Sabrina was easy to get rid of. Some of her other idiots would have insisted on walking her to class—a commitment Lila didn’t have time for today. She needed to figure out her next move against Marinette. Everyone was still conflicted over the stairs incident from the Louvre. That stupid goody-goody built up a reputation over the years that wasn’t so easily collapsible. Even still, every shred of doubt Lila could cast would pile up in the end.

“I see you’re still walking around like you own the place.”

Lila stopped a few steps into the school, jaw clenching. Adrien was leaning against the wall just inside the door, and he pushed away when she narrowed her eyes, taking slow, deliberate steps toward her.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I do own the place,” she said. “Or I will soon enough.”

“I’ve warned you before, Lila, but you didn’t listen. What you did to Marinette was not okay,” he said darkly, green eyes narrowed into slits.

“Oh? And what are you going to do about it? Call another one of your celebrity buddies to call me a liar? Go ahead, it’ll help me win these losers over even faster.” Lila crossed her arms over her chest and cocked a hip. “You can’t beat me, Adrien. You’re too nice to get your hands dirty.”

“If you do anything else to Marinette, you’re going to learn how nice I am.” He glowered down at her, sending a shiver down Lila’s spine. “You hurt someone I love, so enjoy your reign while it lasts. Pretty soon everyone is going to see you for who you really are, and I won’t feel sorry for you.”

He brushed past her, and Lila rolled her eyes. He was bluffing, and even if he wasn’t, Lila could handle anything he threw at her. Whatever they were plotting, Lila wasn’t going down without a fight.

#mdcspr #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist remix #my writing

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boxofbadaddiction · 4 years

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A Reason to Smile

Fred Weasley x Reader

This Story is inspired from a request of my Movie Lines Prompt List.

Prompts: 4, 10 & 16

"Let's put a smile on that face."/"Go ahead, make my day."/"Yippee ki yay, Motherfucker."

Warnings: Swearing. Umbridge.

Y/n woke up in a foul mood. With less than 3 hours sleep after having spent the whole night in detention with Umbridge and just can't seem to find a reason to smile. Even the thought of spending the day with her best friends, Fred and George, fills her with somewhat dread.

She doesn't want to see anyone. Do anything. Or go anywhere. Which is totally unideal for a Saturday. If things were to go her way she'd just roll over and stay in bed.

But she's starving so there's just no avoiding the inevitable.

Begrudgingly she pulls herself from her bedsheets and readies for breakfast.

As she arrives in the Great Hall she keeps her eyes trained to the floor, bee-lining for a place far enough away from the other students in her House to simply eat in peace before disappearing back to her dorm for the day.

But of course, with Fred and George as your best friends, how could she have possibly expected that to go to plan?

"Hey, y/n/n!" One of the Twins shout as they made their way over to her House table for breakfast. Their typical peppy demeanour mocked her, as it seemed impossible to draw herself from her current bad mood. Unable to even muster a fake, courteous smile for the sake of conversation.

"What happened to you last night?" spoke George as they sat either side of their dishevelled appearing friend. "Popped out to hand in some homework and we never saw you again. What'd you get lost?" He teased, nudging her shoulder in the process while his brother chuckled at the remark.

"I'm sorry I disappeared but please guys not today. I'm not in the mood."

"Woah, what's with the tone, love? And not in the mood? Please! You're always in the mood for us" Fred goaded pulling y/n into his side by her waist. A guesture which would usually have her leaning into his touch but not today.

She shook herself from his hold with a huff, leaning onto the table she propped her head up by the palm of her hand.

Neither Twin knew how to react, she'd never been so put off by them before. "Y/n...are you okay?" Fred asked sincerely. Both boys were eyeing her concernedly.

Y/n avoided eye contact, staring fixedly at her, now cold, bowl of porridge as she stabbed at it with her spoon. That's when Fred noticed it. The pink discolouration on the back of her hand. His heart dropped at the sight. She'd obviously been with Umbridge last night.

"Y/n-" his voice was firm as he spoke, drawing her and Georges attention immediately, his eyes flicked briefly to hers before focusing solely on the forming scar. "Your hand."

"It's nothing." Y/n straightened herself tucking her hand into her lap with a slight wince as the fabric of her clothes caught the still tender surface of her wound. Her other hand came to grip at its forearm to distract herself from the dull throbbing pain which now coursed through her hand.

"It's not nothing!" Fred snapped harshly, but as a whisper so not to draw too much unwanted attention.

George delicately reached across her lap lifting her injured hand into the light, his own eyes near shaking as they searched desperately between hers and his brothers expressions before inspecting the words she'd been forced to carve into her own flesh all night.

"I will obey the rules" he read the words aloud, the very phrase causing a sick bile to rise in each boys throat.

"I was busted on my way back. She told me I need to 'be more aware of the company I keep' less something like this happen again" y/n mumbled with distaste, her eyes locked determinedly onto the tables edge.

There was a moments silence between the three, all seemingly afraid to speak, before George stood abruptly, storming from the hall. An action which caused y/n to close her eyes tightly, drawing a sharp breath in, attempting to distract from the tightness that'd formed in her chest in knowing the effect her words had on the pair.

She never intended on telling them about the detention. They'd surely blame themselves for her being out past curfew as it was their idea to meet up in the first place. But it's not like she didn't understand the risk of what she was doing when she did it.

They knew those few words all too well. Umbridge had spoken them to her before, countless times by this point.

The first time, the Twins had been pestering y/n in the courtyard when she approached. They were lounged about one of the concrete benches under the courtyards largest tree. Freds head was in Y/ns lap, as she read, poking her cheek in an attempt to gain her full attention whilst George sat on her otherside, all his weight pressing against her as he sighed boredly.

Umbridge had deemed their behaviour 'not school appropriate' and 'not in compliance' with Educational Decree Number 31; as Boys and Girls are not permitted to be within 8 inches of each other.

The Brothers had laughed at her, a poorly timed 'you're kidding' thrown her way as Fred swung his legs off the bench now sitting upright. A few more cheekily placed comments landed the pair in detention for the night.

She highly disapproved of y/ns relationship with the Twins and had no issue voicing the fact and so before parting she'd issued that very same warning to y/n, stating matter-of-factly; "You should be more cautious of the company which you keep. Such a promising young witch, it'd be a shame to see your talents go to waste or future be tarnished for that matter by the carelessness of others whom are less gifted." She'd uttered the words with sharp glares thrown down her nose to the two Weasleys.

From that moment it'd become somewhat of a catch phrase for her everytime the threesome caught her attention.

Y/ns head dropped, mumbling a soft "I'm sorry, Fred."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, love." He rubbed small comforting circles on the lower of her back before pulling her waist as he had done so earlier. Inching closer so their legs were pushed flush together as he rest his chin atop her shoulder nestling into her neck. A touch which, this time, she did not shy away from - rather craning her head back to rest against his.

"I just don't think I'm someone you'll want to be around today." She admitted sadly, "I can't bring myself to enjoy anything."

"Well that just won't do" Fred pulled his head back to look into her eyes with a cheeky knowing expression. But even that wasn't enough to bring a rise to her saddened features. "Come on," he nudged her shoulder, "let's put a smile on that face." He spoke with a smirk.

"Reckon you can?"

"Of course!" Fred nodded with a tone of absolutely certainty.

"Well go ahead, make my day." Y/n challenged, which brought an excited smile to Freds face. He jumped from his place at the table holding an expectant hand out for her to take which she accepted a little hesitantly.

"Should we go find George? See if he's okay?"

"Nah, he'll be fine. Besides, this way I get you all to myself." Fred squeezed her hand a little tighter as he all but dragged his friend from the Hall.

A few hours had past and Fred were still relentlessly determined to make today one of the best days possible for y/n. Surprisingly he'd started off small with a just few well timed jokes and casual strolls around the Castle simply trying to keep her occupied on anything other than those toxic thoughts that kept her from enjoying the day.

As lunch approached he'd upped his game. Grabbing a few snacks from the kitchens and taking her down to her favourite place by the Lake where they spent the time talking together; sharing various stories while Fred told countless jokes to make her laugh and spoke of their newest inventions for the joke shop.

Y/n was sure she hadn't stopped smiling since the moment they'd left the Hall. Fred just had that effect on her but with every small guesture and tender smile thrown her way there was just no stopping the butterflies that erupt in her chest or the warmth that spread to her cheeks from his flirty comments and kind words.

By this point she'd nearly forgotten the whole reason he were so determined to make today so memorable.

But Georges absence and the light stinging in her hand was a nagging little reminder at the back of her mind which stopped her from falling wholly into the moment.

"Alright, Miss." Fred shot up from his place on the grass, dusting his hands on his jeans as he did so. "Onto grander things!" He held his hands out for her to take, pulling her giggling figure from the ground. "What could you possibly have planned now?" "Oh just a little mischief." He grinned as his tongue grazed his bottom lip before threading itself between his teeth, eyeing her closely. Y/ns eyes narrowed at his words untrusting of whatever plan his brain had suddenly cooked up. There were no time to question however as she were promptly being pulled to the Castle as the Sun fell below the horizon.

"You dragged me back to the Castle like a man possessed for dinner!?" Y/n questioned as they entered the Great Hall alongside countless of the other Hogwarts residents.

"Well yes and no. Yes; because you need to have a proper meal today aside from a couple sad mouthfuls of porridge and a dozen sweets. No; because for my next trick we will in fact be needing our beloved Georgie." "Do you think he's okay?" "One way to find out isn't there? OI! George!" Fred pushed through the dawdling individuals in the aisles between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, pulling y/n along behind him to where his Twin were currently seated for dinner.

"Hey Georgie" y/n began in a sad tone as she sat beside him. "Are you okay?" She stroked his arm reassuringly as she spoke. "Yeah I'm fine. Sorry I took off this morning I-" "ah-ah!" Fred piped from her otherside, "no morning talk. Look you're ruining all my good work!" He commented pointing to the concerned frown which were now upon y/ns features. "What?" "Dear Freddie here has been spending the day trying to get my mind off things." "Right right...Ginny mentioned something about Fred dragging you around the school all day." "Yes, and until now it'd been working so just...perk up. Which shouldn't be hard once I tell you my plan" Fred rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

"Plan?" "Know that thing we've been dying to try but haven't had the occasion?" he stated vaguely which had concern growing in the pit of y/ns stomach. Concern which only worsened as she watched how Georges features shifted swiftly from one of slight disinterest to immediate excitement. "Really? You wanna do that tonight?" His smile was wicked and a little frightening in y/ns opinion as he questioned his brother who merely hummed in response. "Reckon I can name a few select members of a certain 'club' who would make excellent guinea pigs." Continued George in a whisper over top of y/n "You've read my mind." Fred took a sip from a drink y/n had just poured, for herself mind you.

Y/ns focus was shifting worriedly between the two brothers who sat on her either side sharing an unspoken understanding.

"Stop doing that you're freaking me out!" She snapped which caused the boys to laugh, George mumbling a simple "You're in for a treat" as he turned his attention back to his dinner with a sly grin.

Y/n looked back to Fred hoping for some kind of hint or reassurance but he just smiled, wrapping his arm round her waist and pulling her into his side as he began to eat.

"You really think you're going to get away with this?" Y/ns voice rang throughout the empty corridor. "Only one way to find out" Fred wiggled his eyebrows at her.

The pair were currently hiding around the corner of the 7th floor main corridor. It were past curfew as the Twins plan fell into play.

"Explain to me again what exactly these things are?" Y/n asked as she fiddled with a small cylindrical canister. "Paint bombs." Fred answered excitedly. "Similar to Dungbombs just-" "with paint?" "Pretty much, yeah. You pull this little tab, then you have about 7 seconds before it goes off. This one in particular is my favourite so far." "And whys that?" "You'll see" Fred smiled brightly down at her before the sound of approaching footsteps put an end to their conversation.

George barrelled down the hallway, throwing himself into the pair very much out of breath but with a smile as wide as Fred's had been moments ago.

"All set?" "Yeah. They should be coming through any minute now." The three craned their necks around the walls edge, waiting for their unsuspecting victims. It didnt take long before the sound of several pairs of agitated feet came stomping through the corridor.

Filch followed by a handful of the Inquisitorial Squad were huddled together in shared annoyance by the antics of George which were leading them directly into their trap. Various curses and angry grumbles could only faintly be heard over the distance between them.

"Right" Fred whispered as the three ducked back behind the wall, he gave George and y/n a quick nod before tearing the small tab from it's place. "Yippe Ki Yay, Motherfucker." He spoke dramatically as he stepped out, throwing the Paint Bomb like a grenade towards the befuddled group of Slytherins and accompanying Caretaker.

Quickly shooting himself back behind the wall where all three waited with baited breaths and backs pressed flush to the cold stone wall.

"Not a day goes by that I don't regret showing you Die Hard." Y/n mumbled, a comment which brought a wide smile to Freds face as he looked down to her. A few more seconds past before a loud crack and angry shouts echoed through the Castle.

Y/n looked in amazement to see the Hall covered in multicoloured, sparkling, paint as well as orange and gold confetti. There was something beautiful about it she thought. All the vibrant pinks, blues and purples caught the eye like a giant canvas painting. Aside from the ugly squabbling creature, that had once been the Inquisitorial Squad, at the pieces centre of course.

She was in tears from laughing at the sight when Fred leant down to speak in her ear "whataya think?" "I think it's brilliant!" She smiled up at him, "that's the messiest one we've got." He nodded in the direction of the chaos currently unfolding before them.

The group were slipping over themselves and wiping hands down their faces in disgust over the thick liquid which coated them all, as well as the ceiling and walls.

"It was also the only one." George scowled though clearly very amused. "Worth it though wouldn't you say?" "Absolutely."

Freds eyes turned back to y/n, admiring her laughing figure beside him.

"We'll count that one a success heya, Freddie?" George nudged but his brothers trance was not so easily broken. "Definitely" he smiled not turning away from her.

"Shit!" Y/n exclaimed suddenly. "Yeah, I'd say it's time to go." George stated as he watched the very colourful and very angry group now charging after them.

George took off in a sprint but it weren't till y/n began running, taking a hold of Freds hand as she did so that he fully registered what was going on and started to run too.

Fred and Y/n had ended up in her common room after losing George. Luckily it were late enough that not many people were still hanging about so the two pretty much had the place to themselves. Spending a few more moments just being together and reliving the day by the fire, it weren't till the clock struck 12am that Fred admit he should be getting back to his dormitory. Not that he wanted to but y/n needed to sleep after her restless night prior, he hadn't meant to keep her up this late to begin with.

Pulling her from the couch he walked her to the bottom of her dorm rooms staircase where she stood a couple stairs from the bottom to match his height.

It'd slipped the pairs notice that they were still holding one anothers hand until their joined laughter faltered and the warmth in their palms caused realisation to strike. Fred dropped the hold clearing his throat as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Thank you for today, Freddie." Y/n smiled warmly. "Pretty memorable, aye? Told you I'd get you smiling." He rocked confidently on the balls of his feet. Y/n shook her head slightly as she absent-mindedly stroked his arm. "Don't know what I'd do without you." "Probably nag George" he joked.

"As much as I love Georgie, it wouldn't be the same" Freds eyes studied her face the whole time she spoke. He could feel his heart begin to race inside his chest. If only she knew how much he wished he could hear her say she loved him.

"Goodnight, Freddie" y/n placed a light kiss to his cheek, grip tightening ever-so-slightly on his bicep before turning slowly to leave.

His heart was thundering now. Breaths rapid as his body urges him to speak. To tell her everything.

How he's in love with her and he's sure she feels the same way.

How she's the first thing on his mind of a morning and the last thing at night. How his whole family has been pushing him to just pluck up the courage and ask her out already. How nothing makes him happier than seeing her smile. How he never wanted to go to the Ball as 'just friends'. How he smells her perfume in Amortentia. That the sight of her at breakfast this morning, so down and distraught, broke his heart. How for the last few hours it's taken near all his strength to stop himself kissing her with as much love and passion as he can to show her how much she means to him.

But how do you convey all that to someone who has been your best friend for the past 5 years? No clue. But he has to try and he knows he'll never get this kind of opportunity again.

"Y/n, wait-" he grabs her arm, taking a step towards her he pulls her into his chest. Before he can process it his hand is cupping her cheek and he's kissing her with such intensity y/n can feel the air leave her lungs as she melts into him. Her arms snaking over his body. A hand running itself along his shoulder, fingers entangling themselves in the locks of hair at the base of his neck, whilst the other wraps tightly around his torso.

When they finally break apart Fred's on cloud nine. Nothing had ever felt so good or so right. But at the same time, he's panicking. God, he hopes she truly does feel the same way and he didn't just completely misread everything about their relationship. Their foreheads are pressed together as y/ns lips form a wide smile.

"If you wanted to give me a reason to smile today...you could have just started with that."

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #hp #hp imagine #harry potter fanfiction

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septembercfawkes · 4 years

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Dos and Don'ts for Writing Your Viewpoint Character's Voice

Recently I had to introduce a new viewpoint character into one of my WIPs, and it was tricky. In the process, I was reminded of a few things that do work well, and that don't work well.

But first, let's review what character voice actually is, because for a lot of us, it feels elusive and magical--like something that just "happens" (sorta like how people view theme). Here is my voice equation:

What the character thinks about + How he or she says it = Voice

I already did an article breaking this down here, that you can read if you want to know more about this. And it should be said that one of the key components to crafting a voice, is working from the inside, out. You need to really know your character, first. You need to know his or her wants, contradictions, flaws, motives, fears--all that jazz.

But today, I want to talk about actually putting that voice onto the page. Because sometimes, even when you know the equation and character, it can still feel elusive when you go to actually write. In part, in reality, this is because--like everything in writing--we are trying to take a notion, an aesthetic, or a feeling that is somewhat abstract, and make it concrete with actual words.

And when you are doing this with a brand new character, it's hard not to fall back on other voices you've already used. Or already heard.

I have no problem if you want to grab inspiration from other characters, but since this character is a different person, he or she needs to sound like a different person.

So let's assume you already know the character rather well.

From that point, I've found there are a few things that are usually best avoided when working with a viewpoint character's voice, and things that are usually good ideas to implement when working with one.

Avoid

"Always" Sentence Structures (ex., always talks in long sentences or short sentences)

- When looking at developing voice, it might seem like a good idea to play with sentence structure--heck, it is a good idea, to an extent. But if you are too rigid with it, there are problems. The most obvious is that trying to read a story where every sentence is about the same length is a terrible experience for the reader. But it's more than that. Sentence structure is also used to control pacing, tone, and emotional experience. If you get too locked into a specific type of sentence structure, you doom other parts of your story. Also, most people don't adhere to a specific structure, constantly, in real life either.

Dominating Emotions that Undercut the Story

- If you are writing in a voice where the viewpoint character almost always sounds calm or relaxed--guess what? Chances are it's going to minimize the tension you have in your story. Because if they are calm, the reader is calm. If they aren't worried, the reader isn't worried. The only way you can get away with this consistently, is if you are writing a story with extremely high stakes at every turn, so that the calmness is a counterpoint that adds humor or irony. Likewise, a character who is consistently sad about whatever, might start to sound melodramatic--and when you get to the really sad part later in the story, it won't be as powerful, because we've already spent so much time feeling sad. In short, frankly, some dominating emotions work better as a viewpoint character's voice than others. (And every character should have their own dominating emotions.) Avoid dominating emotions that are going to undercut the power of your story.

Relying too Heavily on Accents

- There was a time where people did not really know what a particular accent sounded like, so it was helpful to actually write how that accent sounded in the text. Today's audience is different. Most of us have heard all kinds of accents. And if we don't know one, we can look it up online. Today, it's better to sprinkle in a few regional phrases here and there to remind us of the character's accent and background, rather than write the whole thing that way. (Not to mention, that makes it more difficult to read).

Stock Voices

- Once in a while you run into a character voice that sounds like a hundred other character voices of that genre. For example, YA is known for protagonists having a snarky voice. That's not a bad thing necessarily, but if you do have a viewpoint character whose voice sounds similar to many others, find a way to individualize it. Lots of people are snarky. But they are snarky in their own ways. How is your character snarky?

Pretty Much "Always" Anything

- One of the problems I sometimes run into is when the text is trying so hard to be voicey, that it's annoying. Like almost anything in writing, if you go too extreme, for too long, the reader can't wait to close the book. The same thing can happen with voice. We sometimes hear people say things like this about books: "Every viewpoint character sounded totally different and unique!" In reality, while someone may have felt that way, I'm willing to bet there wasn't that much "total" about it. Like accents, usually the most successful voices today aren't "always" anything, but instead regularly something specific--a dash of snark here and a dash of slang there.

In this sense, it's okay to have a character who regularly talks in a particular sentence structure, has a regular line of a particular emotion, or who regularly uses regional phrases. But if you have a reoccurring viewpoint character who has a voice that is always _______--chances are it's going to get annoying and be very difficult to sustain over a whole book.

Not even viewpoints like say Lemony Snicket--whose main appeal is his character voice--is constantly going to be quirky for every sentence.

This is not to say you can't do this with minor characters--characters who aren't viewpoint characters, or characters who are viewpoint characters only very briefly, like in a teaser. But if this is a viewpoint character that needs to sustain a big part of the story, avoid "always" extremes.

Not only do they get annoying, but again, can sort of "handicap" most stories, by limiting tone, tension, and emotion.

Sure, all rules can be broken, but these are good guidelines for almost all stories.

Now that we got that all out of the way, let's talk about some tips about what to do when actually writing your viewpoint character's voice.

Regularly Use Point 4 POV Penetration

- Point of view is more than picking first, second, or third person. It's also about how deep the prose gets into that character's mind and experience. This is called point of view penetration. Years ago, I talked about this and outlined the different points on the POV penetration spectrum. For simplicity, here is that again:

Here are the four different points on the spectrum, from the most distant to the closest:

(Point 1) Out of breath, Todd wiped the sweat off his face and fanned himself. He got a glass of cold water.

(Point 2) Todd was thinking about how hot it was outside as he got a glass of cold water.

(Point 3) It's freaking hot outside, Todd thought, like the devil's oven. He got a glass of cold water, even though it wouldn't do anything to fight the heat. Better than nothing, Todd thought.

(Point 4) It was freaking hot outside. Like the devil's oven. A glass of cold water wouldn't do squat, but it was better than nothing.

Notice the first example shows that Todd thinks it's hot from the outside. In the last example, the prose takes on his thoughts and attitude and we know he thinks it's hot from the inside. Point 4 is the most effective place to be to get character voice on the page.

Note that the last example, Point 4, is "showing" and "telling" simultaneously. The writer is "showing" us the thought process in the character's head, but humans (usually) think in "telling" sentences. Don't shy away from deep penetration because you have been told it's "telling" and that "telling" is bad. This kind of "telling" is actually "showing," and if used correctly, can render emotion more raw and more powerful than just regular "showing."

* FYI, the points of the spectrum are my own labeling/making. They are real, but I'm just letting you know that since I'm the one who labeled them, if you use this terminology elsewhere, people probably won't know what you are talking about.

When switching to a new viewpoint character, it's usually best to get to Point 4 quickly. This is where the strongest voices reside.

Utilize Comparisons (Similes and Metaphors)

- What your viewpoint character chooses to compare something to will tell us a lot. If he compares the color of the sky to the white static on the television, we know he spends more time around or thinking about t.v. than he does nature. In contrast, someone who spends a lot of time in nature, might would compare the static of the t.v. to storm clouds. Consider what matters to your character and what he or she spends her time doing and thinking, and try mining that for an apt comparison. If you are introducing a new viewpoint, this is a great way to start building a sense of his or her voice.

It also works well to convey his or her mood for the scene. If she uses a comparison that is positive, we will probably assume she is in a positive mood. If he uses a comparison that is negative, we will probably assume he is in a negative mood. So also consider your character's emotions when picking comparisons. This will in turn give us a sense of his or her attitudes.

Slightly Deviate the Inner World from the Outer World

- We all think and experience things that we don't share. In fact, some of what we think and experience is in direct contrast to what we show the world. There should probably be at least a slight deviation with your viewpoint character too. And if this happens at POV Point 4, even better (usually). What the character thinks about and experiences privately and how it is rendered in the text, will tell us a lot about the person. When it is at odds with what he or she presents to the world, we want to know why, which gives you another opportunity to further define your character's viewpoint.

Add Lines that Speak to Worldview

- In a story, it can be easy to just get focused on what is happening--I mean, obviously. But watch for opportunities to slide in a worldview your character has about something that comes up. Maybe someone your viewpoint character is listening to references the police. Assuming it suits the passage, go ahead and slide in a brief line that clues us into what that character thinks about the police. Are they "pigs"? Or are they protectors? Are they crooked? Or are they unappreciated? People to avoid? Or someone your viewpoint character dreams of being? This will help bring in their perspective.

Sprinkle in Unique, Surface Specifics

- You can actually get away with not doing this and still have a successful character voice and story. But if you want the voice to feel more defined, it can be useful to sprinkle in one or two or three surface quirks. Just remember that anything taken to an extreme can become annoying. So the keyword here is "sprinkle." In some scenes, you may sprinkle more generously than others, depending on the needs and tone of the scene. But you won't be dumping the sprinkles on in every paragraph through the whole book.

The quirk might be favorite words (Jack Sparrow says "savvy" and Smeagol says "precious") or regional phrases (in Utah, we are known for having a lot of strange "swears," such as "Oh my heck!", "flip", and "Son of a biscuit!"). It can also be something related to the prose. Brandon Sanderson has a viewpoint character who is terrible at writing similes and metaphors. Another character may be prone to using sentence fragments. Or maybe another is a bit more generous with the dashes. Or maybe one occasionally gets distracted.

Just make sure what you pick makes sense for your character.

Now, as one of my followers mentioned to me several weeks ago, often what sounds like a great voice, breaks writing rules. When working on surface specifics, what writing rules are broken, can help contribute to how the voice sounds.

Viewpoint Voice at Work

Next, I would like to show how you can take a passage that seems to have very little voice, and utilize these approaches to give it a stronger sense of one.

Impatient, Jason tapped the steering wheel, thinking about how this drive always seemed to take longer than it actually was. He had another fever. Others would have found it annoying, but he thought the irony was funny.

These days he regularly felt sweaty, and he hadn't had time to do his laundry yet.

He considered how the feverish episodes were become fewer and further in between and wondered if that was a bad thing.

Jason had a belief that everyone had a secret worth knowing.

He was keeping several right now, and one was that the only other person he knew with this illness had recently died.

Finally, he arrived, parking alongside the forest, a decent distance from the A-frame cabin--in his friend's car.

He'd stolen it temporarily, but he would return it before she needed to go anywhere.

Now compare it to this:

Jason tapped the steering wheel incessantly. Ugh, this drive always took a century. Because it was boring. His body felt like firecrackers had bred with the flu--he was sure he could melt a dreamsicle in a single lick. It was kinda hilarious.

Because whatever he attempted, he ended up sweaty.

And he hadn’t touched his laundry in forty years.

The feverish episodes were becoming fewer and further in between though. He wondered if that was a bad thing.

Everyone had a secret.

And one of Jason’s, was that Peni Anderson was already dead.

Finally, Jason parked alongside the forest, a decent distance from the A-frame cabin--in Heather’s car.

She had work off today, so it’s not like she needed it.

I admit that a little bit of the context is missing in the second version, but I would plan to add it earlier in the story or soon after. But let's break down the difference.

Jason doesn't see himself as impatient, so I cut that. When life is boring to him, everything seems to take longer, so he exaggerates the time--it's one of his quirks. He loves pranks, bangs, and excitement, so using "firecrackers" fits with that. Maybe not perfectly, but enough to illustrate the point for now. "He was sure he could melt a dreamsicle in a single lick"--okay, so maybe he's a bit imaginative and likes sweets. "It was kinda hilarious"--well, that's not how most people would respond, so why is he? It seems he's one of those people who finds irony in his own bad circumstances funny.

Notice that much of the text has gone deeper, to Point 4. But not all of it. That's okay. Remember, we just need to sprinkle in enough. Notice too that this version uses more implication. Deep POV does that. We see he's hiding something about this illness from others. "Everyone had a secret" seems to touch on his worldview. Maybe not a perfectly comprehensive example, but it definitely has more voice than the first.

Now go write that viewpoint voice!

#writing tips #writing tips and tricks #writing help #writeblr #fanfiction #voice #character voice #author #editor

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richincolor · 3 years

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New Releases for the Week of May 3, 2021

It's great to see so many new books hitting the shelves this week. I know I've been waiting for several of these and am happy to be able to finally read them.

The Ones We’re Meant to Find by Joan He Roaring Brook

Cee has been trapped on an abandoned island for three years without any recollection of how she arrived, or memories from her life prior. All she knows is that somewhere out there, beyond the horizon, she has a sister named Kay. Determined to find her, Cee devotes her days to building a boat from junk parts scavenged inland, doing everything in her power to survive until the day she gets off the island and reunites with her sister.

In a world apart, 16-year-old STEM prodigy Kasey Mizuhara is also living a life of isolation. The eco-city she calls home is one of eight levitating around the world, built for people who protected the planet―and now need protecting from it. With natural disasters on the rise due to climate change, eco-cities provide clean air, water, and shelter. Their residents, in exchange, must spend at least a third of their time in stasis pods, conducting business virtually whenever possible to reduce their environmental footprint. While Kasey, an introvert and loner, doesn’t mind the lifestyle, her sister Celia hated it. Popular and lovable, Celia much preferred the outside world. But no one could have predicted that Celia would take a boat out to sea, never to return.

Now it’s been three months since Celia’s disappearance, and Kasey has given up hope. Logic says that her sister must be dead. But as the public decries her stance, she starts to second guess herself and decides to retrace Celia’s last steps. Where they’ll lead her, she does not know. Her sister was full of secrets. But Kasey has a secret of her own. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Meet Cute Diary by Emery Lee Quill Tree Books

Noah Ramirez thinks he’s an expert on romance. He has to be for his popular blog, the Meet Cute Diary, a collection of trans happily ever afters. There’s just one problem—all the stories are fake. What started as the fantasies of a trans boy afraid to step out of the closet has grown into a beacon of hope for trans readers across the globe.

When a troll exposes the blog as fiction, Noah’s world unravels. The only way to save the Diary is to convince everyone that the stories are true, but he doesn’t have any proof. Then Drew walks into Noah’s life, and the pieces fall into place: Drew is willing to fake-date Noah to save the Diary. But when Noah’s feelings grow beyond their staged romance, he realizes that dating in real life isn’t quite the same as finding love on the page.

In this charming novel by Emery Lee, Noah will have to choose between following his own rules for love or discovering that the most romantic endings are the ones that go off script. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

They Better Call Me Sugar: My Journey from the Hood to the Hardwood by Sugar Rodgers Black Sheep

Growing up in dire poverty in Suffolk, Virginia, Sugar (born Ta’Shauna) Rodgers never imagined that she would become an all-star player in the WNBA (Women’s National Basketball Association). Both of her siblings were in and out of prison throughout much of her childhood and shootings in her neighborhood were commonplace. For Sugar this was just a fact of life.

While academics wasn’t a high priority for Sugar and many of her friends, athletics always played a prominent role. She mastered her three-point shot on a net her brother put up just outside their home, eventually becoming so good that she could hustle local drug dealers out of money in one-on-one contests.

With the love and support of her family and friends, Sugar’s performance on her high school basketball team led to her recruitment by the Georgetown Hoyas, and her eventual draft into the WNBA in 2013 by the Minnesota Lynx (who won the WNBA Finals in Sugar’s first year). The first of her family to attend college, Sugar speaks of her struggles both academically and as an athlete with raw honesty.

Sugar’s road to a successful career as a professional basketball player is fraught with sadness and death–including her mother’s death when she’s fourteen, which leaves Sugar essentially homeless. Throughout it all, Sugar clings to basketball as a way to keep herself focused and sane.

And now Sugar shares her story as a message of hope and inspiration for young girls and boys everywhere, but especially those growing up in economically challenging conditions. Never sugarcoating her life experiences, she delivers a powerful message of discipline, perseverance, and always believing in oneself. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Excuse Me While I Ugly Cry by Joya Goffney HarperTeen

Quinn keeps lists of everything—from the days she’s ugly cried, to “Things That I Would Never Admit Out Loud,” to all the boys she’d like to kiss. Her lists keep her sane. By writing her fears on paper, she never has to face them in real life. That is, until her journal goes missing…

An anonymous account posts one of her lists on Instagram for the whole school to see and blackmails her into facing seven of her greatest fears, or else her entire journal will go public. Quinn doesn’t know who to trust. Desperate, she teams up with Carter Bennett—the last known person to have her journal—in a race against time to track down the blackmailer.

Together, they journey through everything Quinn’s been too afraid to face, and along the way, Quinn finds the courage to be honest, to live in the moment, and to fall in love. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Hurricane Summer by Asha Bromfield Wednesday Books

Tilla has spent her entire life trying to make her father love her. But every six months, he leaves their family and returns to his true home: the island of Jamaica.

When Tilla’s mother tells her she’ll be spending the summer on the island, Tilla dreads the idea of seeing him again, but longs to discover what life in Jamaica has always held for him.

In an unexpected turn of events, Tilla is forced to face the storm that unravels in her own life as she learns about the dark secrets that lie beyond the veil of paradise—all in the midst of an impending hurricane.

Hurricane Summer is a powerful coming of age story that deals with colorism, classism, young love, the father-daughter dynamic—and what it means to discover your own voice in the center of complete destruction. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Indivisible by Daniel Aleman Little, Brown Books for Young Readers

There is a word Mateo Garcia and his younger sister Sophie have been taught to fear for as long as they can remember: deportation. Over the past few years, however, the fear that their undocumented immigrant parents could be sent back to Mexico has started to fade to the back of their minds. And why wouldn’t it, when their Ma and Pa have been in the United States for so long, they have American-born children, and they’re hard workers and good neighbors?

When two ICE agents come asking for Pa, the Garcia family realizes that the lives they’ve built are about to come crumbling down. And when Mateo returns from school one day to find that his parents have been taken, he’ll have to come to terms with the fact that his family’s worst nightmare has become a reality.

With his Ma and Pa being held in separate detention centers, Mateo must learn how to look after his sister and himself. The choices Mateo makes, and the people he turns to for help, might reunite his family… or tear them apart for good. With his parents’ fate and his own future hanging in the balance, Mateo must figure out who he is and what he is capable of, even as he’s forced to question what it means to be an American teenager in a country that rejects his own mom and dad. — Cover art and summary via Goodreads

Counting Down with You by Tashie Bhuiyan Inkyard Press

Karina Ahmed has a plan. Keep her head down, get through high school without a fuss, and follow her parents’ rules—even if it means sacrificing her dreams. When her parents go abroad to Bangladesh for four weeks, Karina expects some peace and quiet. Instead, one simple lie unravels everything.

Karina is my girlfriend.

Tutoring the school’s resident bad boy was already crossing a line. Pretending to date him? Out of the question. But Ace Clyde does everything right—he brings her coffee in the mornings, impresses her friends without trying, and even promises to buy her a dozen books (a week) if she goes along with his fake-dating facade. Though Karina agrees, she can’t help but start counting down the days until her parents come back.

T-minus twenty-eight days until everything returns to normal—but what if Karina no longer wants it to? — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

All Kinds of Other by James Sie Quill Tree Books

In this tender, nuanced coming-of-age love story, two boys—one who is cis and one who is trans—have been guarding their hearts to protect themselves, until their feelings for each other give them a reason to stand up to their fears.

Two boys are starting at a new school.

Jules is just figuring out what it means to be gay and hasn’t totally decided whether he wants to be out at his new school. His parents and friends have all kinds of opinions, but for his part, Jules just wants to make the basketball team and keep his head down.

Jack is trying to start over after a best friend break-up. He followed his actor father clear across the country to LA, but he’s also totally ready to leave his past behind. Maybe this new school where no one knows him is exactly what he needs.

When the two boys meet, the sparks are undeniable. But then a video surfaces linking Jack to a pair of popular transgender vloggers, and the revelations about Jack’s past thrust both Jack and Jules into the spotlight they’ve been trying to avoid. Suddenly both boys have a choice to make—between lying low where it’s easier or following their hearts. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Luck of the Titanic by Stacey Lee G.P. Putnam's Sons Books for Young Readers

Southampton, 1912: Seventeen-year-old British-Chinese Valora Luck has quit her job and smuggled herself aboard the Titanic with two goals in mind: to reunite with her twin brother Jamie--her only family now that both their parents are dead--and to convince a part-owner of the Ringling Brothers Circus to take the twins on as acrobats. Quick-thinking Val talks her way into opulent firstclass accommodations and finds Jamie with a group of fellow Chinese laborers in third class. But in the rigidly stratified world of the luxury liner, Val's ruse can only last so long, and after two long years apart, it's unclear if Jamie even wants the life Val proposes. Then, one moonless night in the North Atlantic, the unthinkable happens--the supposedly unsinkable ship is dealt a fatal blow--and Val and her companions suddenly find themselves in a race to survive.

Stacey Lee, master of historical fiction, brings a fresh perspective to an infamous tragedy, loosely inspired by the recently uncovered account of six Titanic survivors of Chinese descent.

#new releases #YALit

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fangirlovestuff · 4 years

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Table For Two - Natasha Romanoff x avenger!reader

a/n- hey lovely people!! this is a part two for A Thin Line, inspired by a lovely comment from @captain-josslett (yes, i didn’t forget!). thank you so much for all the love on a thin line!! (very rushed proofreading on this one, sorry for any mistakes!) italics are for thoughts and bold is for text messeges, divider is by @firefly-graphics. Enjoy!!<3

Summary: You and Natasha now have a week off. Here are three dates you go on to make the best of that time:)

Word count: ~3,100

Warnings: Slight sexual themes, maybe some curse words?? i don’t remember lol

It’s been 24 hours since you got back from your mission with Nat, and you spent the absolute most of them sleeping.

When you first got back you were rushed straight to the infirmary, but after a quick check it turned out Natasha handled your wound quite well, and you were able to get back to your room. You barely managed to keep your eyes open long enough to slip on your pajamas before you fell into a deep sleep. Which you desperately needed.

When you woke up it was noon the next day, and you woke up feeling disoriented, until you remembered the events of the previous day, the cause of your exhaustion; the lunatics who cut your arm, disarming the missiles, kissing Natasha. A smile involuntarily rose on your face at that last one.

You stretched your limbs a little, grimacing at the pain shooting down your arm. Having still not showered since yesterday, you were just about ready to jump in the shower before you realized you hadn't asked if you could take off the bandage today so you could shower. Stifling a groan, you put on some comfy clothes and headed down to the infirmary, to hopefully take your bandage off.

Walking down the corridors of the compound, you didn't really want to see anyone right now. Having not showered the night before, you imagined you looked, and probably smelled like shit.

And just in that state is how you encountered Natasha, who was looking as stunning as usual, walking towards you from the opposite direction, holding a bandage in her hand.

"Hey," you smiled, unsure of how much contact the redhead wanted with you right now, you awkwardly put your hand forward.

Thankfully, Natasha took that as an invitation for a hug, and embraced you tightly against her. You wrapped your hands around her in reflex. God, she also smells good. That's so unfair.

"How are you feeling?" she smiled a small smile, retracting her hands and crossing them on her chest for a moment before uncrossing them letting them fall to her sides.

"Better," you smiled back at her. "I was just about to go to the infirmary to ask them if I could take this thing off," you raised your bandaged arm, "so I could finally have that shower," you chuckled.

"Actually, I- uh, I was just there," Natasha said, "I thought that's what you're gonna want when you woke up so I went ahead and asked them, and they said you could take it off and then put this," she raised up the bandage she was holding, "back on it."

"Oh," you grinned, "thanks." You took the bandage from her hand, your fingers brushing against her hand briefly. In a silent understanding, you both started heading back in the direction of your room, side by side. Once you got to your door, you spoke up.

"What were you going to do if I wasn't awake yet?" you asked, amused.

"I guess I was just going to leave the bandage outside of your door and text you," she shrugged with a smile.

"Well, thanks again," you smiled back at her.

"You're welcome. You were amazing yesterday," she said, not looking directly at you.

"So were you! I mean, bursting in and shooting the bad guys away like you did is super badass," you bumped her shoulder in hers, smiling.

At that she did look at you, a soft smile sneaking onto her lips. "Well, if you think so, would you mind going to dinner with me? Tonight maybe?"

"I’d love that," you smiled and squeezed her arm. "I'll see you tonight. But can you choose the restaurant? I don’t have the brainpower to do it myself right now," you giggled and she nodded. "Great! Just text me when to be ready. For now, I'm gonna finally hit that shower," you chuckled and went inside your room, closing the door behind you.

Natasha licked her lips behind the closed door. One part of her wanted to tell you to stop talking about yourself in the shower so much. The other one wanted to join you. She shook her head to get rid of the thoughts. At least get her a dinner first, she chastised and walked away. She still needed to figure out where to take you.

When it was finally time you took one last look in the mirror, checking your reflection and smoothing over the fabric of your outfit one last time before opening the door and heading downstairs to meet Natasha in the garage. Your bandage wasn't even itching as much as the previous one, which was a definite plus. Her text said to dress fancy, but comfortable enough to ride her motorcycle, so you did just that.

She met you by the elevators, "Hey," she greeted. She was dressed in stockings and a short dress, looking even more gorgeous than usual, if that was possible. Taking your hand in hers, she led you towards her spot and stopped in front of a large red bike.

"So," you chuckled nervously, "are you sure this thing is like… safe?" you frowned.

"When I'm driving it, it's as safe as any car," she smirked and mounted it, making her dress ride up the littlest bit. "C'mon," she patted the rest on the seat behind her. Hesitantly, you lifted your leg over the seat and sat on behind her. She extended a helmet to you, which you put on gratefully.

"Ready?" she asked, giving you a smirk over her shoulder.

"Yeah," you chuckled nervously.

She started to press on the gas, and before she even got out of the parking spot your hands flew to wrap tightly around her torso, your chest pressing against her back.

Natasha looked back to see you, eyes closed, clinging onto her. You opened one eye and found her looking at you with a soft smile playing on her lips. "Why'd we stop?" you asked, puzzled.

"Are you okay?" she asked gently.

"Okay, so I might be a teensy bit nervous about the whole motorcycle thing…" you scrunched up your nose in a playful grimace. "What? It has no walls!" you said defensively.

"Do you trust me?" Natasha asked, still smiling.

"Yes. Wait, is this the part where we go on a magic carpet ride?" you grinned. At her puzzled expression, you let out a shocked gasp. "I can't believe you haven’t seen Aladdin. We'll have to fix that sometime," you smiled. "But to answer your question, yes," you took a deep breath, "I do trust you. Let's go," you nodded and secured your arms around her.

She shook her head at your antics, but she made sure she wasn't making the turns too sharp when you left the compound. Slowly but surely, you opened your eyes, the wind of the open road soaring on your face. You sat a little straighter, releasing your death grip on Natasha's waist slightly. In front of you, you heard her take a deep breath. "Sorry!" you called out to her over the wind.

"It's fine!" she called back and chuckled.

Before long, you got into town and were parking in front of the restaurant she picked out. Hopping off quickly, Natasha offered her hand out to you, which you gratefully accepted before getting off the bike, slightly less graceful than her.

You took in your surroundings. It was a fancy place, no doubt, but it wasn't one of these so-fancy-nothing-there-is-actually-good places, as far as you could tell at least.

The hostess ushered you in, leading you to a secluded table in a quiet corner of the room. You and Natasha took your seats in front of each other, looking at the menus. Her foot accidentally kicked your leg under the table when she crossed her leg on top of the other. You smiled at her, eyes peaking from above the menu, and she returned an apologetic smile.

You sat in companionable silence until your waitress came by to take your order.

"What would you like?" she asked with a bright smile.

Upon finding out you both wanted the same dish, you laughed a little and ended up agreeing to share it, the sight of the packed plates being brought to other tables making you realize these are dishes that were meant for more than one person to share.

"How did you find this place?" you asked Nat once the waitress left.

"I looked up places you might like, but they all seemed too… fancy," Nat scrunched up her nose, meaning it as an insult. "Like, these places that are so fancy they serve tiny, not actually tasty dishes?" she continued, echoing your earlier thoughts. "And then I remembered walking by this place once, and that it seemed, you know, actually nice, and according to the internet it really is."

"Well, I also think it is 'actually nice'. I'm glad you found it," you smiled. For a second, a silence washed over you both. It wasn't exactly hostile or tense, but for a first date you could argue any kind of silence is mostly undesirable.

"So," you said, unable to think of anything else, "when we met, you didn't actually hate me? Just to get the facts straight," you scratched your arm a little, conscientious of your actions.

"No," she laughed, "I actually really liked you. But, it was like… you're a bit of a ray of sunshine, do you know that?" you smiled, ducking your head, but still waiting for her to continue. "And most people would argue that's good. I do too. But when you wrap yourself under a shield of a gloomy approach like I did…"

"It could scare away the storm," you finished. "I get it," you smiled, reaching to squeeze her hand from across the table.

"Okay, my turn now – what did you think of me when we first met?" she smirked a little.

"I thought you were totally badass," you giggled, "and I still do. I mean, when we first met I saw you totally kicking Steve's ass in the training room," your eyes twinkled in humor at the memory of the lithe spy knocking down the broad-shouldered soldier.

"Oh yeah, I remember that day. You did a way better job than Tony at containing your laughter," she smiled.

At the end of the night, when you rode back on her bike, your posture was already much more relaxed. When you arrived back at the parking lot, you attempted to get off the bike yourself. Fortunately, Natasha was faster than you and managed to catch you in her arms when you stumbled in your descent off, her arms clutching your waist to stabilize you.

"You okay?" she asked, smiling.

"I'm great," you beamed at her. You both stood there for a moment, eyes locked together, frozen in each other's arms, before you stood up straight, detaching your arms from her. Later, you reflected on that being a very poor decision.

"Thank you, for everything," you smiled gently.

"You're very welcome," she smiled, licking her lips before you both went into the elevator, and you went to each her own, greeting each other a quite goodnight

Natasha and you were texting back and forth during the last day. Each needing to attend to paperwork from the mission and the one that piled up during it, you didn't really see each other the day after your date. Today, you sent her a good morning text. You spent what was probably an unreasonable amount of time deciding whether to send a heart, which one and how many, but you ended up settling for a simple red heart.

Once she texted you back, indicating she was awake, you texted her – It's my turn to pick the venue today. Dress to kill;)

After a short contemplation you realized that was too unclear, and texted again – I meant like, comfortable enough to fight in. But obviously not fight gear:)

You smiled at the text she sent back. Sounds wonderfully ominous. See you x

You couldn't help but grin like a fool at the little kiss at the end. Excited, you went to pick an outfit for yourself.

It was afternoon when you met Natasha down at the garage, this time taking your car since you were driving. "Oh, vehicles with doors, I missed you," you exclaimed wistfully upon entering the driver's seat, making Natasha chuckle.

"So, where are we going? Natasha asked, a curious look on her face.

"You'll see," you smirked, "but I'm pretty sure you're gonna like this."

When you finally pulled up to the building, Natasha read the sign on top of the door.

"Laser Tag?" she asked you, her brow raised and a smile ghosting on her lips.

"Have you played before?" you asked, opening the door for her to enter before you.

"No, but I'm gonna kick your ass," she smirked.

You got grouped up with some other people and you got strapped into your game vests.

Once you went into the dark room, you departed from Natasha and went to find a good hiding place. It was an individual game, meaning you each had to shoot everyone else as much as you could to get points and win.

"Three… two… one…" the mechanic voice boomed through the speakers, "Go!"

Almost immediately, the voices of several shots were heard. You stayed where you are, listening for any footsteps. You saw a light from a vest a few meters from you and shot, seeing that you hit your opponent.

As the game went on, you noticed it seemed you and Natasha were in the lead, unsurprising since you were both trained agents. You haven't seen much of her, and so far, you didn’t shoot each other, considering that this was a date.

You sneaked into a corner of the room, leaning against the wall. You probably shouldn't be taking the game this seriously, but that's like half the fun. You saw someone approach, someone who was taking the game as seriously as you were – Natasha.

She raised her hands when she saw you, getting closer and closer with a smile on her face. "It's just me," she whispered.

"Are you having fun?" you grinned at her, her features hard to see in the darkness enveloping you.

"Yeah," she said as she got closer and closer yet, until she was standing right in front of you, close enough so you could feel her breath.

"But it's not much of a challenge," she whispered, smirking down at you.

"Is it?" you whispered back, tilting your head, biting your lips.

Natasha smiled before diving in quickly, capturing your lips with hers. Your tongues explored, battling for dominance. If a few moments ago you were complaining about the darkness, these are the fireworks that light it up.

You came away for air, looking at her through your lashes. Before you could say anything else, she quickly raised her gun and shot at you from point blank, making your mouth open in shock.

"Not much of a challenge," Natasha smirked and left hurriedly, before you could recover. You shook your head and chuckled. That's one way to do it.

The day after that you met Nat at the common kitchen in the morning. She was munching on some toast and you made yourself something to drink.

"So, I've been thinking," you started, "we should probably work on that thing we talked about."

"What thing?" she asked, brows furrowed.

"How you…" you trailed off. Looking around as if to make sure no one heard what embarrassing thing you were going to see next, "haven't watched Aladdin," you whispered.

She burst into laugher and you soon followed, your heart filling with pride at the sound.

So, that evening, you had a movie night. Pretty standard stuff – some popcorn, warm blankets, Disney movies.

Sitting down on the huge couch, Natasha extended her arms towards you and you immediately accepted the invitation and cuddled into her arms.

"Ugh, why would he go in there?" Natasha asked and you laughed.

"For storyline purposes," you answered honestly and made her laugh in return.

You both munched down on the popcorn, with you occasionally moving to the songs, exchanging quick remarks about the movie.

Once it was over, you were both a little drowsy, but definitely not tired yet. You put on another drama movie, whatever was on the TV at that point. But you quickly got bored with it, opting to stare at Nat instead. The feeling of her chest gently rise and fall beside you was calming, made you feel at peace. It was ironic, feeling so safe and secure in the arms of a super-mega-assassin, but she had that effect on you. Her blue eyes were focused on the TV, lashes blinking once every few moments, her tongue darting out to unknowingly wet her lips.

"Stop staring," she smirked and turned her gaze to you, clearly feeling your eyes on her.

"I don't want to," you challenged with a smile.

She bent and planted a kiss on your lips, one that started out as sweet and gentle, but once you straddled her hips became more heated and urgent. Your hands tangled in her hair, hers grabbing onto your hips and your tongues danced together, drawing the sweetest noises of pleasure from her throat. Your lips made their way to her neck, nipping and sucking gently on her soft skin until-

"Oh my god!" you heard a voice coming from the doorway and immediately turned your head, "I definitely didn't need to see that!" claimed a blushing Steve. Standing beside him was Tony, with his usual poise. "Don't stop on our account," he smirked, "We're just here to grab some files I left here but by all means, we can stay for the show."

"I'm gonna strangle you in your sleep," you deadpanned, as Nat lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around her torso.

"And then I'll kick you where it hurts, for good measure," she added, carrying you out of the room.

"We're very happy for you!" Tony called out after you, and you gave him the finger.

"Could you believe that, Rogers, and in the middle of the living room, no less," Tony chuckled and turned to look at the still flustered man.

"Lay off of it, Tony," Steve smacked his shoulder friendly, but with enough force to remind him who's the super soldier between the two.

"Jeez, alright. But they are cute," he smiled, watching you disappear from sight down the long corridor.

hope y’all liked this! did i write the most of it while I Kissed A Girl was playing on loop? I guess you’ll never know😌

Taglist: @horny-nd-bored @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds @wintersoldierslut @iceebabies @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree @kaitcordx25 @bequeening @steve-barry-damon-logan @itscrazycherryblossomcollection @hollandxmarvel @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal @harrystylesholland @jazbot2000

if you wanna join / be removed from this taglist, comment/message me! much love <3

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female!reader #natasha romanoff x avenger!reader #natasha romanoff fluff

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boringlibrarianthoughts · 3 years

Text

Destiel and the X-Files

Ok. So. We all know that obviously Supernatural has taken inspiration from the X Files. Many, many shows have. It’s one of the classics of modern television.

*long read*

In case you don’t know (somehow), it’s a sci-fi mystery horror show following two FBI agents, Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, who come from different points of view and eventually become one of the great TV “ships.” The simmering, will-they-or-won’t-they tension between the two leads burned television screens for years. Years. It was always a question in viewers’ minds: will Mulder and Scully be in a relationship? Will they finally break through that tension and smooch? What would it look like when they finally get together?? OMG!

And... nothing really happened for many seasons - until an episode in season 7 entitled “all things.”

Now, it was... not what viewers were expecting. For those of you who don’t know, the episode immediately starts off with Scully getting dressed after spending the night with Mulder. No fanfare. No big love declaration. It just is. In fact, the episode in its entirety does something of a retcon: it suggests (quite heavily) that the two characters had actually been in a relationship for some time - just off screen. This was not the beginning of their relationship. Going back and watching previous seasons was different because now you knew Mulder and Scully were already together - you just didn’t see it. A later episode then suggests the two first started hooking up back in (I believe, it’s been a while) season 4. Holy heck. One of the biggest, most popular TV romances... and you don’t even see how it begins.

Now what does this have to do with Dean and Castiel’s relationship in Supernatural? A lot. Not necessarily on purpose on behalf of the writers, but parallels are definitely there.

Think about this: would it honestly be surprising if at some point you were told Dean and Cas were “involved” in some way in seasons 12, 13, 14, or 15? - And it just wasn’t shown on screen? I wouldn’t be at all. The implication is there - just as it was for Mulder and Scully. And that relationship proves you don’t have to see things with your own eyes in order for it to be true. The suggestion had been there for years with Mulder and Scully. I would actually argue the romantic tension vibes are stronger in Deancas than they ever were for Mulder/Scully (and I LOVE Mulder and Scully, don’t get me wrong).

I’m saying that it is definitely possible and logical to assume that Dean and Castiel may have “done something physically together” in seasons 12 or 13. I’m more iffy on seasons 14 and 15 because Cas then had the deal with The Empty hanging over him. And in season 15, the tension between the two was through the roof, so I doubt anything happened there.

Think about the infamous episode 12x19. That one has it all. Cas has been gone for a little while and returns to the Bunker only to have Dean be very upset-but-mostly-worried and it comes out as anger. Sam has previously acknowledged Cas as family and doesn’t respond as Dean does. Dean’s response is not a familial response. It just isn’t. Even Sam seems weirded out/concerned over how Dean responds to Cas’ return. Cas is hurt but mostly upset that he hurt Dean. Dean storms off to his room: a common romantic trope during a couple’s argument - you run off because you want your bf to follow you. When Cas knocks on his door, Dean already knows it’s him. He knows perfectly well it’s not Sam checking up on him. He went to his room specifically to make Cas chase after him, alone. This is where we get the revelation of the mixtape (this has been done to death, but remember, Led Zeppelin is the band Dean’s parents fell in love to). Dean chose this band purposefully and made the mixtape specifically for Cas.

What prompted the mixtape?

I believe Dean “took a leap” and gave it to Cas either after the whole deal with Cas killing Billie in 12x09 to save the Winchesters (Dean), or after 12x12 where Cas is dying and tells everyone “I love you (to Dean). I love all of you (to everyone else).”

Dean gave Cas the mixtape. And it’s definitely very possibly likely that this produced... more physical touching than is normal between two dudes who are just buddies. Cas then heads out on his own (a major fault of his) to figure out the problem with the pregnant Kelly. Dean is upset that Cas up and leaves and doesn’t communicate while he’s gone. Dean acts out and is hurt because he opened himself up and was vulnerable.

His response when Cas comes back to the bunker is a result of this. Again, his relationship with Cas is of a totally different nature than Sam’s relationship with Cas. It’s not just degrees of brotherly closeness - it’s literally a different kind of relationship altogether.

Then we get the whole scene with Cas trying to return the mixtape, etc. Dean and Sam are later talking about a potential plan, and Dean excitedly runs off to tell Cas about it (notice Sam’s face in that scene - what does he know about Dean and Cas? lol). The last time we saw Dean and Castiel interacting before this scene, Dean was acting like he’s still pissed. Then he’s running off like a puppy to go tell Cas about their plan? Cas, of course, isn’t there. And that’s where Dean gets upset again and complains to Sam: “He came into my room and played me.”

Hmm. What? Did something else happen between these two scenes? Is Dean just so soft for Cas he forgive him and moved on that quickly?

Could this be referring to the mixtape interaction? I guess so... but there’s nothing really “playing” about it. In fact, Cas was going to leave before Dean called him back - that’s not really a good plan for stealing the Colt: to talk to Dean and then leave the room.

Furthermore, how did Cas know where the Colt was? This whole scene is weird. Sam thought the Colt was in the safe, but Dean tells him he keeps it under his pillow, which surprises Sam.

We don’t see what happened after the mixtape scene. But we don’t need to. There’s enough suggestion to make some educated guesses. Personally? I wouldn’t be surprised at all if in this season, they either started a semi-consistent physical relationship or had a one-off that they never addressed again. If this happened, it would’ve also not included any love declarations of any kind; more just a desperate, physical need for each other. For so. many. reasons. these two dummies (affectionate) could not either figure out how they felt for each other or they weren’t able to express it.

As an aside, I think Cas wasn’t able to figure out what exactly the feelings were that he had for Dean. And Dean wasn’t able to express what he felt for Cas, but he knew how he felt.

The tension in the Dean/Cas relationship is toned down significantly in the later seasons. Why? Simply, the “thing” between them was settled in a way that was satisfactory to them both - at the time. They settled into what looks like easy domesticity: Dean didn’t have hookups season 13-15, and it’s clear he and Cas spend the majority of their time together in the bunker. Cas knows things about Dean that Sam doesn’t even know.

However, feelings have a way of rearing their ugly head, and this is the cause for the return of the tension at the end of season 14. Dean is upset, sure, but the way he lashes out at Cas (who really isn’t at fault and Dean knows it) is because Dean is once more frustrated by their relationship. He has feelings for his friend, and he doesn’t think his friend can even possibly return those feelings because his friend is not human.

All that is to say: you don’t need to be shown something on screen to know it happened. Implications and suggestions in the text are purposefully placed for you to fill in the blanks. This is a way for you to know more about the character without screen time being spent on it.

I will likely write more on this as this piece is getting a little out of hand - sorry, I meant to stick to the parallels in this one episode! And I keep getting distracted by Dean and Cas being so dumb for each other and it drives me crazy.

#spn #supernatural #spn meta #deancas #destiel #dean and cas loved each other #and they were too dumb *afffectionate*#to figure it out #ugh #mulder and scully are the best omg

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askcharaandfriends · 4 years

Note

I'm kind of curious about Napstablook: a big part of his character (I think) is the fact he doesn't wish to have a body. So how do that work?

Hapsta is less self focused. Instead of going off and doing his own thing(without blooky) He listened to blooky's concerns and dreams. He decided it was his duty as a cousin to transform the shy Napstablook into a DJ the whole underground, no, the whole world would love! Napsta was kinda swept up in their cousin's storm of grand ideas, but in a good way. They weren't so lonely. They were in it together for the music!

Well, if Napsta was going to be a dj the whole world would love, they would need a body that would appeal to humans and monsters alike! So Hapsta and Napsta joined Undyne's human appreciation club to learn what humans liked. She enthusiastically showed them all the cool people from her mangas! Napsta actually felt quite inspired! They drew an OC, based on what they thought might be cool.

"Im... not great at drawing and this is my first OC.... but um...they're sort of a cool transforming robot dj?? what do you think ?"

(Actually, it was pretty great for a first OC)

The drawing received ample praise from Hapsta and Undyne.

Blook was all like O///O "you really think they're cool...?!"

Undyne was like >:D " Yeah! Is this what you would look like if you had a body? Cuz that would be totally sweet!! I could probably whip somthin like that up if you want?!"

"Um... I..."

"omg say yes say yes say yes!"

"Heh... ok... it could be fun..."

***

Something like that. But it really was their own choice. If they didn't like the body, they couldn't have bonded to it.

In conclusion, Napsta decided to get a body due to certain nudges they did not receive in the other universe. Hapsta in contrast, spent his time and energy on Napsta's career and didn't worry about himself as much. Eventually decided he didn't need a body to be super cool and fabulous.

#hapstablook #Napstaton #undyne #fun little interaction #how the swap works #about the characters #canon #writing #ooc asks

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gautier-desroches · 4 years

Text

▪︎ Gautier Desroches ▪︎

Bio down below ! 🔻🔻🔻

◦ ғᴜʟʟ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ◦

Gautier Desroches

◦ ʜɪᴘᴘʏ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ◦

Aurahaze

◦ ᴀɢᴇ ◦

◦ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴏғ ʙɪʀᴛʜ ◦

October 22

◦ ᴢᴏᴅɪᴀᴄ sʏᴍʙᴏʟ ◦

Libra

◦ ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ◦

Male

◦ ᴘʀᴇғᴇʀʀᴇᴅ ᴘʀᴏɴᴏᴜɴs ◦

He/Him

◦ sᴇxᴜᴀʟɪᴛʏ ◦

Gay

◦ ᴇᴛʜɴɪᴄɪᴛʏ ◦

French

◦ ʜᴇɪɢʜᴛ ◦

6’1” (185 cm)

◦ ᴡᴇɪɢʜᴛ ◦

135 Ibs

◦ ᴛᴀᴛᴛᴏᴏs/sᴄᴀʀs/ᴘɪᴇʀᴄɪɴɢs ◦

Nipple piercings. Usually wears long chain jewelry there. Also has a tattoo of a cat on his shoulder.

◦ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ

Gautier is the definition of a sweetheart. He’s constantly making sure the people around him feel comfortable and loved, and always offering emotional advice and moral support. Literally the first thing he asks someone when he first meets them is their preferred pronouns and any triggers they have.

Defense: “But the officers called me Mr. at the crime scene? I thought you knew that?”

Gautier: -comforting smile as he puts a hand on their shoulder- “Just ‘cause someone calls you something doesn’t mean it’s accurate. Also I use ‘dude’ and ‘man’ as a gender neutral term, but if that ever bothers you I can adjust immediately”

This kindness also seems to shine in court, as he even provides support for the defense when they’re feeling down.

Defense: -is super stressed out because they’ve gone on a wild theory and doesn’t know what evidence to present-

Gautier: “Hey man…just take a breath. Clear your mind, and the answer will come to you. I believe in you dude, you can do this”

Even his objections don’t hold much bite, as he usually points out the flaw in the defense’s claim gently instead of mockingly.

“Not to throw off your vibes, dude…I’m totally digging where you’re going with your theory but like…that kind of contradicts this evidence, right?”

This aspect of himself, while in his tender nature, is also due to the fact that he cares more about the truth than winning.

Gautier is a fun mix of your stereotypical teenage skater boy and hippy. The first because of his tendency to use words such as “Dude, bruh, killer, radical, etc” and the second because he’s very in tune with emotions and nature. He’s also a little stupid when it comes to stuff people usually know? A bit of a ditz, if you will.

Someone: “Are you the breadwinner of the household?”

Gautier: “Duuuude….I won bread? That’s like…so killer man. I hope it’s whole wheat…”

However, don’t underestimate him. Gautier is quite intelligent when it comes to tougher topics, like law, emotions, science, and other schooly subjects. It often throws people for a loop when he corrects them about certain facts in a long tangent.

Gautier, other than law, also loves music. It’s his side career. But while he knows how to play guitar and piano he isn’t trying to make a career out of them. He’s actually trying to become a famous kazoo player.

“The kazoo just brings so much happiness and laughter to people, man…it really speaks to me”

Gautier, surprisingly, tends to put off more people than he should. Mostly his coworkers. People see the way he acts so carefree and unprofessional and look down on him. Some also aren’t fond of his empathetic side, as Gautier is more sensitive than most. He is sometimes known to go in “Moods”, where he’s down about something he’s learned. These can range from actual dark topics, to the death of a bug on his way to work. As you may realize, this can be tough to deal with when you’re trying to get something done and he’s busy sulking.

All in all though, Gautier is a genuinely good dude, and more cooperative with the defense than he probably should be.

◦ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴛʀᴀɪᴛs ◦

◦ Empathetic

◦ Honest

◦ Passionate

◦ Intelligent

◦ ʙᴀᴅ ᴛʀᴀɪᴛs ◦

◦ Not common sense smart

◦ Gullible

◦ Sensitive

◦ Physically touchy

◦ sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜs ◦

◦ Catching on to the little things in a case

◦ Noticing his witnesses emotions

◦ Making a witness that’s about to breakdown feel better

◦ Doesn’t lie, so never caught in any. Also has very lax body language, so hard to detect his nervous ticks unless he’s in a mood.

◦ ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇssᴇs ◦

◦ Animals (Allergic)

◦ Easy for Athena to detect his emotions since he’s very open with them.

◦ Because he never lies, if he’s forced to he’s super bad at it.

◦ When in a mood, he’s a flurry of ticks. He gets a twitchy pouting lip, he rubs the back of his neck, he hides in his hair more, etc. When not in a mood, his nervous ticks are well hidden because they’re mistaken for carefree confidence. Ex, widened smiles, hands in pockets, blowing hair out of face. Of course, these are easier to see for the trained eye.

◦ ғᴇᴀʀs/ᴘʜᴏʙɪᴀs ◦

◦ Lighting & Thunder

◦ Darkness

◦ Background ◦

Gautier was raised in Seattle for his childhood days. His life was relatively normal, learning both of his mother’s behaviors and teachings as he grew. He was a very bright child, quick to learn and quick to make friends because of his carefree nature. As he grew though, children who were once fascinated by his connection with earth and its inhabitants started to find him strange. That only got worse when his family moved to France for his high school years.

Gautier stuck out like a sore thumb, not suited socially to the expensive school his parents signed him up for. They had wanted him to have wonderful opportunities, especially since his mom needed the family to move for work reasons. But that only backfired as he became a target of bullying. It didn’t help that the teachers saw him as a problem child as, despite his good grades, he had a tendency for violating uniform guidelines, had a ‘marijuana user’ way of speaking (not the nicest thing to overhear a teaching saying), etc.

The bullying took its worst turn on the night of the overnight musicthon. An event where musicians of the school would write a song overnight, and the best song would win tuition money for college. That night there was a dreadful storm, and his bullies had locked him outside on one of the school’s upper floor verandas, trapping him in the downpour. It only got worse when the storm left the school in a blackout. Now left in scary darkness, Gautier was panicked. He curled up on the floor, hoping to avoid the edge so he wouldn’t fall off.

That was when it struck.

A shot of lighting, just outside of the veranda.

The crack of light and overwhelming roar of thunder left Gautier in shambles. It’s strike resulted in a broken telephone wire, the edge slicing his shoulder and leaving a nasty scar. Despite the injury, Gautier was too scared to move. Even after the storm was over, Gautier didn’t move from his spot, hands covering his ears and eyes shut with fear. He was found by a teacher hours later, and quickly taken to the hospital.

His mother, Séraphine Desroches, came to the school the next day. Her son wasn’t telling her who did it, so she would find out herself. Being a prosecutor for years, it didn’t take her long to piece together what happened. She waited until her son was better to take action, demanding an audience with the principal, bullies, their parents, the teachers that were on watch that night, etc. Then she got to work, accusing the boys responsible with elegance, intimidation and hard evidence. Needless to say the boys were expelled once their actions were brought to light.

That incident stuck with Gautier in more ways than one. It left him with an extreme fear of lighting, thunder, and darkness. And it made him want to pursue being a prosecutor. The way his mom had pieced together her argument and gotten justice for him was inspiring, and an insane relief. He wanted to give that feeling to every person that had been wronged. So, after his last two years of high school spent in a less snooty school, he took up law in college (as well as therapy) and the rest is history.

◦ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ ᴏᴄᴄᴜᴘᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ◦

Prosecutor and musician.

◦ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛs ◦

Mom: Tilda Desroches (Auramother Soulquest) - 50 years old. Pet Groomer.

Mom: Séraphine Desroches - 53 years old. Prosecutor.

◦ sɪʙʟɪɴɢs ◦

None

◦ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛ ◦

None

° VOICE HEADCANON °

Matthew Gallenstein

Ex. Finn from Life is Strange 2

#{ dude that's me! : muse art }#ace attorney #ace attorney oc #aa oc #ace attorney ocs #art #illustration #design #artists on tumblr #digital art #anime #manga #oc #original character

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unikornu · 4 years

Note

For Lucy: 3, 6, 11, 15, 21, 27? Harrison: 8, 14, 18, 30?

Thank you :* and sorry for it taking a lil longer but i had to stay extra hours today.

Lucy:

3. What does your oc’s voice sound like? (Or, if you have one, what’s their voiceclaim?) Can they sing, whistle, or roll their rs? Do they have any speech impediments or notable dialects/accents?

I actually recorded a short sample, been trying to dig her some actual audio --> Feit voice claim , it’s Elif voice from Masquarede Bloodlines but i would throw a very soft pinch of russian like accent there mostly because of keep on overhearing Rosey talking it in club over and over when they were just two in a room. By her looks its probably expected she would have a sweeter girly tone of voice but nope. Its calm and more bored like sounding, lot of sighs in between and pretty balanced. Its weird to hear her raising the voice or screaming. Also i must admit with over 500 hours of gameplay its so hard to like try to hear the oc in other voice than usual game one with changed frequency.

She probably can sing some slow tones but she chooses not to. Aside from dancing, the singing is one of things that would feel a bit embarrassing to do in public or being caught so she would fall to whistling rather than singing and her best teacher and teasing inspiration is Harrison with his bird like whistling and other interesting sounds. Roll her r’s eh....watch her finding out about it and getting annoyed late night at Fizztop trying to do that :))

6. What kind of clothes is your oc least comfortable wearing?

Any type of bulky like jackets and pants that keep making noises when you move. She walks like a penguin in them and cannot properly sneak, neither run. The gift suit from Mags is like already at the middle of her comfort but because its cut is perfect she likes it and wind is no longer beating under her ass :)) If she is forced to wear some more clothes she prefers to keep at least the leg part fairly light. In terms of shoes she prefer the higher ones that keep you protected from getting wet when stepping into the puddle. Also she hates hats.

11. Does your oc have any interests/hobbies that they hide from everyone? Why do they hide these interests?

I don’t think any of her hobbies needs to be hidden as she simply doesn’t give a damn what Gage or other’s would think about. Maybe a small pile of these very old romantic black-white movies/magazines where women are falling in men arms and go all “oh ah....i missed you so much Jack” going all soapy and soft. She would like put a hat on mannequin and try to recreate some dialogues when alone at Fizztop. Like...she is bitch but she can be fairly soft when alone and some deep feelings hit her.

15. What’s your oc’s morning routine like?

If Gage didn’t get kicked out or tired of being glued to he will be the one waking her up, if not she will eventually roll and hit the floor. First she always brushes her hair and washes the face to apply fresh layer of black powder, she ain’t comfortable without it even around Gage. Also washes the hands and apply thick layer of some herbal-ish cream like mix since she always keeps them under gloves whole day, skin might get nasty after a while if not taken care of.. Then by the time she gets to kitchen Harrison is already waiting with razorgrain coffee for everyone and breakfast since he is always up (tryin to make up for being a tough bastard) and makes her braids when she is catching up with the plan of the day. She will still sit in her underwear/pyjamas and fluffy flip flops with just thrown blanket around her shoulders. Dressing up is always the last thing on the list as she always makes sure to not stain the suit with egg splash or coffee. Blood ain’t any easier to wash but...habits and like decency to at least leave clean and fresh. Last checkup on sharpness of her knives and stock of calmex in case of mental emergency - Gage and Harrison take care of firearms maintenance and repairs (i can imagine them loudly debating and yelling at each other how to best handle it)

21. What’s a fact you haven’t shared about this oc?

She’s infertile. That’s how she finally convinces Father she isn’t his mother as the recordings of her shooting Harrison and running with baby towards vault weren’t convincing enough for him.

27. How does your oc handle fear?

First though is always run - find cover and gather yourself but that’s coward-ish and she would not do that with company around. If she is forced to stay or forces herself and is lacking some calmex to shove in, she will start loudly talk to herself like “oh...wait, shit, what i cannot handle it,,oh no no of course i can, just watch me, ha ha that’s not bad as it looks *maniacal talk and laugh. Usually this might scare the other side if she deals with a human but its just to cover the fear with other thoughts and impulses.

Pop Harrison time:

8. What’s it like inside your oc’s mind? (Literally, or metaphorically.)

If calm and meditating its like that zen garden with very slow flowing streams of grassy fountains and just him levitating in the air, like clear mind, no thoughts, no questions, just pure existence (maybe holding Gage by a throat meanwhile....some small sins can slip in) but then comes a moment when from behind the garden comes a radiation tsunami of green goo along with rad storm of lightings and flashes, ruining and splashing all over it and he knows its time for some action. Hearing inside his mind would be also like two modes, zen deep thoughts of progressing the incoming and past actions of the day but also dog like simple desires when in combat just...”kill kill....wait..not that one, right, kill kill kill, done, now i want sweet roll”. He is either balanced as fuck or a total chaos - nothing going in between.

14. If your oc spent one day free from any consequences or recognition for their actions, how would they act?

If he could just act like a normal person first he would totally take off that heavy coat and hat. It’s not that he doesn’t like it or find it impractical but its the hiding part. Fresh drink, just in shirt, letting the sun just hit and warm his face, not being bothered that someone will point a finger at him, noticing anything weird. Stepping in a bar like anyone else, not trying to act like a badass dangerous type going straight for a dark corner, talking with folks, catching up on gossips, hitting on bartender woman. Being a bit more nonchalant and relaxed.

18. How does your oc see themself? How does this compare to the way other ocs see them?

Smart, organized badass who is worth listening to, even his dark jokes, he also still considers himself quite handsome despite the age. The gang doesn’t deny him being badass, neither smart but he might overdo it with the long explanations and stories over a simple question or just attacking with sudden wave of advices that are not always that necessary. Like...telling you to not look into your pistol’s barrel when checking what’s wrong with it...like really? You don’t say... Strangers can’t say much about him as he doesn’t put himself much out there for chit chats, only short exchange of necessary information.

30. Tell a random fact about this oc!

He stands over deeply asleep people and stares at them.

#fallout #rockshortage #ask meme #thank you yayyy #lucy feit #harrison #i dunno if the link with voice sample open but i couldnt find any other way to put it in post as just audio #also random fact is like...hard #like i have a file with some straight infos and then like...smth random hmmmmmmmmmmm #also i remember sending you ask but i dunno if it actually arrived >.<

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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years

Text

Title: Rumor Has It {5}**

Chris Evans x Famous Reader Uriah “Riah” Tyler

Warning: MODERATE SMUTTY SMUT SMUT, Partially NSFW Cursing

Word Count: 4.9K

Summary: You and Chris have been married for four years after a whirlwind romance. You are both happy and trying to navigate marriage in the public eye while balancing your successful careers. In the entertainment industry, not everything is as it seems, the flash of a camera lens impairs vision. As scandal and flashing lights put a strain on your once fairytale marriage is it possible your Hollywood marriage can stand the test of the rumor mill?

**Inspired by a video seen of Chris and his co-star Ana De Armas on their press tour for Knives Out at TIFF where she kept touching his chest and face standing about five inches apart.

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊 ❤️ ❤️

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“Are you scared to go inside?”

Scott’s voice shook you out of your haze. “Huh?”

“Are you scared to go inside? You’ve been sitting here for a good ten minutes now.”

He was right. It was almost one in the morning, and you were still sitting in Scott’s car in front of Chris’ house. Scott offered to drive you back when Chris made it clear he intended to stay at his mom’s house a little longer to catch up with everyone. You didn’t object. You knew he wasn’t in there, but still, your heart was pounding.

“I’m not scared.” Scott nodded and looked out the window and to the three-floor townhouse and allowed the silence in the car to stretch.

“Wanna talk about it?” Taking yet another deep breath, you dropped your head back against the headrest and closed your eyes.

“No thanks, Scott. Thank you for driving me.” You gathered your things and opened the door when Scott’s voice stopped you.

“Every marriage has it’s hiccups Riah. The important thing is to not give up on your marriage. When you do that, the little stuff become mountains and mountains divide, remember that.”

You looked back to him and knew he and Chris had talked, he was close to all his siblings, but Scott was another man. You knew they talked about a lot. You leaned in the car and kissed Scott’s cheek; he was a sweetheart. “Thank you, Scott.” You scurried up the steps into the townhouse and looked around the foyer. All was quiet and dark. After flipping on the light, you walked around each of the rooms on the first floor assessing each of them like you’d never seen them before.

When you’d first been here, it was so very masculine and obvious there hadn’t been a woman in the space in a long, long time--if ever. He'd told you he'd never brought anyone there before that he’d never felt like any of his relationships were headed here, until you. That was three weeks before your wedding, well your American wedding. You and Chris had eloped and gotten married in the French countryside after four months of knowing each other.

You smiled to yourself touching the frame of a picture of the two of you covered in paint and kissing. It was from your joint bachelor and bachelorette party when the two of you made body art. You looked up to a replica of the painted canvas you’d made that night. You’d had a lot of good times and even better times. There really weren’t that many bad times. This was probably your worst argument. You walked into the kitchen and decided to push your worries to the side for now and get your hands dirty. Whenever you were stressed you baked, so that is what you did. You took out pots, pans, utensils and a slew of ingredients and got to work.

You probably looked like a madwoman, it was probably almost two in the morning, and you were listening to classical music and baking up a storm. After you’d finished an apple pie, one of Chris’ favorites you’d moved on to muffins, then a pineapple cake and ended on coconut sugar cookies. By the time you’d finished the entire island was filled with your treats, and you had no idea what you’d do with all of it. You glanced at the clock and saw it was close to four in the morning and still Chris was MIA. Sighing, you went upstairs for a shower.

Once the hot water hit your body, you felt all your stress melt. Your shoulders instantly lowered from their upright position, your lower back relaxed, and you felt like you could take your first deep breath. After twenty minutes, you were once again your relaxed self or a semblance of her. You found yourself getting lost in the delectable scents of your body wash and the essential oil diffuser. You didn’t know how much time had passed with you enjoying the steady hot stream of water on your skin and the classical music playing throughout the bathroom. When you opened your eyes there he was all six feet of fine white chocolate. Just like that, your heart raced, and your mouth went dry. Still he elicited this reaction from you, even through your anger and hurt.

He didn’t speak all he did was watch you and sip from his beer bottle. You wondered how many he’d had tonight and hoped he hadn’t driven himself home. You nearly scoffed at your worry for his wellbeing. The brown peacoat like jacket was gone, as was the tan sweater. He only wore his undershirt and it showed just how good a shape he was in. Thank you, Marvel, you thought to yourself. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, and just like that, you wanted him. Deciding to test his level of anger you slowly turned around allowing the water to act as a sheer seductive curtain for your body.

With your back turned to him you rolled your neck around and angled it to the side while you massaged it. When you turned around, he was still there; he rose his eyes from your ass up to your breasts. You lowered the hand fastened to your neck slowly trailing to your breast, but before it got there you saw him shake his head, then roll his eyes before he walked out the bathroom. You stood there shocked he’d just shot you down and seen right through your little ploy. “Fuck,” you mumbled.

When you walked into the master bedroom, you expected to see him, but it was empty. You were beginning to get pissed because you knew he was fucking with you. He knew you hated one thing and it was limbo and false ideals of happiness or anything fake. He was purposely forcing this limbo with him under the same roof and giving off the ideal like everything was cool when you knew it was far from cool. You took your time with your after shower face and body routine, then put on your robe and decided to just get the looming fight over with.

As you walked through your home trying to gauge where he would be, you tried to reign in your anger and come up with a way to start things calmly and rationally. You were a bit of a hothead and knew it; you really wanted to come to some resolution, one that didn’t mean the end of your marriage or some crap for shit compromise of you having to grin and bear it. If that were the case you would set this whole place on fire.

When you stepped into the kitchen there he was sitting at the island eating the apple pie you’d made. So he wasn’t angry enough to not eat anything you made, that was good news you thought. You walked around to the fridge and took out the milk and poured yourself a glass. Nothing went better with pineapple cake then milk.

“So is this stress baking or worried baking?” You didn’t know if it pissed you off more that he knew you that well he could deduce it or that he knew you that well and still managed to fuck up by not using his fucking brain. Rolling your eyes, you ignored him and took a slice of the cake.

“How was Miami? Had a good time?” After a bite of cake, you glared at him. “How was Toronto? Had a good time?” The two of you faced off, neither of you backing down or looking away. He was just as stubborn and hot-headed as you. Sometimes you didn’t know how you’d lasted this long. Maybe it was the fact that for the last four years thanks to your busy careers you’d probably spent twelve months total actually together.

“I don’t do passive-aggressive Chris. The floor is yours.” He took a deep breath and another bite of the pie, but he didn’t speak. You saw the vein at the side of his temple poking out and knew he was furious. That vein only popped out when he was seriously about to go off. You braced yourself for the venom that was about to pour from his mouth.

“I have spent three days trying to figure out what to say to you. The first day was more how was I going to apologize for my actions, the second was how do I talk to you about your disappearing acts, and then yesterday was more on how do I even talk to you period.” Chris raked his fingers through his hair then brought them down over his eyes. When he dropped his hands, his eyes were red. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days.

“So you don’t get what you want, and you disappear and go to him?”

There it was you thought. You’d wondered what he was going to come at you with first and more than half of you felt it was going to be that. He not only sounded angry, in total disbelief but also hurt. You knew it would hurt him. He knew your history with Christiano, and he knew before you’d met him that day in Paris you’d been with him two nights prior in Spain. You closed your eyes and sighed out.

“You make a huge fucking deal over a conversation I had, and you go off the first chance you get to him and let him put his hands on you!”

“Bullshit! One, it was not just a conversation Christopher. It was more than that. You stood there and allowed her to he-he-ha-ha all in your face and touch your body. You didn’t step back; you didn’t put her in her place, you smiled and allowed it. Shit, why were you so fucking close in the first place? Two, he didn’t have his hands on me like that. It was a dance, I put him in his place, and it was done. Why do you always downplay the shit you do and try to exaggerate with me?”

“A dance? Uriah, it’s not okay for a friend to talk to me and casually touch me, but it’s okay for your ex who you know is still in love with you to touch you and put you in a car the next morning? How?!”

You stood there silent. He was right with that one. None of it was okay. “Then you get caught not wearing your wedding ring. Was that to get at me like being with him was? Was this whole Miami trip just a huge fuck you to your husband?!” He was fuming now; his voice was booming off the walls.

“Oh, why would I have to say a huge fuck you to my husband? Oh, wait, maybe my husband deserved it. If he were acting like he was a married man instead of some thirty-something-year-old bachelor going through a midlife crisis maybe I wouldn’t have to scream fuck you!” Your screams were equally loud. You both stood there panting from the adrenaline pumping through your veins. You were so hot.

“What the fuck do you want from me, Uriah? I have given you everything you’ve ever wanted. Luxury cars, a nice house, vacations to exotic places, I’ve been nothing but good to you I don’t disrespect you, I don’t call you out your name, I am there for you when you need me, I support your dreams and goals better than anyone ever has, I love you with every fiber of my entire being. What the fuck more do you want?” His words stung. It was like he’d been keeping tally of your relationship and for the first time, you felt like this marriage was a transaction rather than a heartfelt decision.

“I never asked you for luxury cars, or nice houses or exotic vacations, I can get all of that shit myself, and I have. I don’t need you throwing your money at me Chris, I never have. You met me on of the hottest in the game, and that has not changed, I am still hot. I was hot before you. I don’t need you spending on me. What I need is my husband who says he loves me with every fiber of his being using his brain in his head and not the one in his pants. If it’s not okay for me to be around my ex like we’re friends then it’s not okay for you to disrespect me and our marriage in the same way.”

“She’s not my ex Uriah. I haven’t fucked her!”

“Are you sure? Cause TMZ seems to think your interactions scream you’d fucked and are still fucking!” Saying that out loud brought the tears to your eyes, tears you’d been fighting since you saw him in the bathroom. Chris’ expression softened, and he closed his eyes. You both took the time to gather your thoughts, so the next words weren’t angry ones.

“Is that what you think? You think I’m having an affair?” There it was, the deep down ugly fear that was fueling all of your actions. You hadn’t admitted it to Zo or Kizzy yet, and you sure as hell hadn’t admitted it to yourself. As much as you knew you were that bitch and a sure as hell boss and he would never find another to leave you for, you also knew men left class and went for trash all the time, and it didn’t matter if you thought you had it going on. Kizzy always said point out a fine ass woman, and somewhere there is a man tired of her shit. What if Chris was tired of you? Your emotions betrayed you, and the tears streamed down your face.

“Fuck!” You turned your back and wiped your eyes, but no matter how you wiped the tears kept coming. You hated crying.

“Uriah,” Chris began with gentleness in his voice, he sounded as if he were closer, but you didn’t dare look to find out.

“Don’t you dare say it.” Still, he spoke. “I would never do that to you. Ever. There is no desire in my body to hurt you like that—ever!”

“So, it’s not because you’re not attracted to her?” Chris sighed out, but he didn’t answer right away. The knot in your belly tightened, and you thought you were going to be sick.

“Can you look at me, please.” His words weren’t laced with anything but sadness. You turned around and saw he stood a few feet away. You dried the remainder of the tears from your cheeks and leaned against the custom fridge. “I didn’t know this is where all of this was coming from. I didn’t think this was where it was coming from. I thought we were good; I thought you knew where you stood with me, where we stood. I didn’t--.” Chris walked from you across the room with his hands dug into his hair.

The silence in the room stretched for long minutes. It seemed neither of you knew what to say, or maybe you knew what to say and didn’t know how to say it. You could tell he was still angry, but you could also tell he felt like an ass. You could have just come out and told him your fears and eliminated this whole song and dance, but marital communication was not your strong suit.

“I’m sorry.” The words were unexpected and said so softly that you almost missed them, but the sixth sense in you that picked up the words “sorry” caught it. Your head snapped to him. He sat on the long counter on the right side of the kitchen, the one that you remembered you’d had sex on the last time you were in Boston together. Shaking your head, you tried to focus on what he’d said instead of the memory. Chris’ eyes met yours, and he shook his head. “I’m sorry Riah. I didn’t listen to you; I didn’t hear you, I didn’t see you. I promised I’d always see you and I didn’t.” The tears welled again, and you looked away hoping to keep them in—fail.

“I do respect you, and I respect our marriage, and I see how it looked otherwise. You were right, and I’m sorry for being a dick.” You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t expect an apology, you wanted one but didn’t expect him to cave and give in. You walked to him and stopped a few feet before him. You felt vulnerable, and all you wanted was his arms wrapped around you. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have taken off my rings, and I shouldn’t have been with him.” Chris clenched his jaw, and you saw his nose flare before he dipped his head down. You knew being around Christiano hurt him bad especially after their altercation those years ago. Stepping closer to him you decided to offer an olive branch. Your hand touched just above his knee, but you left it there. “I’m sorry,” you whispered again.

Chris’ eyes bored into yours, and you felt horrible for resorting to this. “You fight dirty Uriah.” It was true and had always been true. “I don’t want to want to fight.” You meant it; you missed him. You were probably more in love with your husband than any of the other entertainment industry wives, most of them looked like they’d gotten married for reasons other than being head over heels, crazily, stupidly, passionately in love. You moved your hand to rest on his, he looked at your hands and then back to you.

“It’ll never happen again.” You searched his eyes, hoping he was sincere and really meant it. As you did you couldn’t find any hint of a lie. You took a deep breath and slowly let it out. The tightness in your chest and belly loosened and your heart slowed. Lacing your fingers with his you closed the space between your bodies and hugged him. Chris audibly sighed as if this one piece of intimacy was what he’d been starved of. For you, you knew every time you touched it gave you a sense of peace, and harmony like everything in the world may be falling apart, but everything in your world was right as rain. His touch always worked miracles.

With your fingers dug into his hair and holding him close enough that your heartbeat synced you felt the love between you as evident as the moon shining in through the window behind him. Chris’ hands that were wrapped around your waist slowly moved lower to your backside. You sighed again. It had been almost a month since you’d felt his hands on you like this, all because of your careers. Chris forcefully squeezed your flesh forcing a low moan from your lips. You pulled his head back so he looked at you. Using the moment to reconnect with him nonverbally, you tried to send him the vibes of your love for him.

You slowly kissed him once, then twice and a third time then looked at him again. It was then Chris took control and kissed you more forcefully and passionately. His tongue delved into your mouth and danced with yours in a heated song of urgency and desire. He pulled you closer to him as he expertly kissed you, reminding you why no other man in the world could come close to him. Your heart sang and your belly heated with the pent-up desires you’d been holding at bay for weeks.

Quickly you peeled his shirt off him and dug your nails into his back trailing a path down to his waist. Chris hissed, tearing his lips from yours only to bury his mouth onto your neck and at the exact spot he knew you loved. Another moan echoed in the kitchen and the urgency you felt increased exponentially. Chris quickly undid the knot of your kimono robe and pushed the silken material from your body. His eyes raked across your figure before meeting your eyes again. What you saw there lit you on fire.

You crashed your lips to his and took charge of the kiss adding nibbles and flicks of your tongue. You knew how weak it made him. The response to your teasing was a guttural groan from him. Chris stood from the counter, and your hands dropped to his waist where his hands were already busy undoing his belt. Moving your mouth from his you kissed down to his jaw and trailed to his ear where you slowly licked the shell and bit the lobe. “Fuck!” Smiling, you knew he was holding on by a thread. You moved to his chest and kissed both defined pectoral muscle and slinked your tongue around his taunt nipple. “Jesus Christ, kitten.” You smiled, you’d missed the nickname, and it sounded far better than in your dreams.

As your mouth went across each of his ab muscles, he watched every move you made, there was a slight clench in his jaw, and for a moment you wondered if he were still angry with you. When you felt the nudge of his hardened length against your chin the thought dashed from your mind. You pulled down his pants, and his thickness flopped out and bobbed before you. The protruding veins that decorated it told you how much he truly desired. “Don’t just look at it, say hello properly.” You smiled before you placed a chaste kiss at the tip. Chris sucked in a breath and held it as he waited for your next move. You kissed all along his length down to the patch of neatly groomed hair where you kissed his pelvis. “Always a tease.”

You trailed your tongue from base to top before you swirled around his swollen tip and placed it into your mouth for a moment then pulled back. Chris groaned and sighed, but when you took your mouth away he groaned. “What else am I supposed to be? You love when I tease.” The look in his eyes said to keep the teasing to a minimum, and you were inclined to listen. Slowly you sank your mouth onto his need stretching your lips to accommodate his impressive girth. All those years ago when you’d first seen him in all his glory your jaw hit the floor. You hadn’t expected him to be blessed. When God was blessing little boys with dicks Chris must have snuck in the line three times because lord have mercy.

Chris’ hands connected at the back of your head and directed you. He eased your head all the way to his base, and you opened your throat, giving him the extra inch or two then swallowed to tighten your throat around him. He grunted and gripped your hair tightly. It didn’t hurt; it was just enough motivation to remind him just who you were and why none of these other women could ever come close. You bobbed on his length each time slinking him deep into your throat before you pulled your lips to his tip to suck. After a minute or two your spit was dripping from your chin, and you used it as lubrication to massage the most sensitive part of him. Once your hands connected with the two things that made up his manhood he threw his head back and grunted loudly. “Fuck, kitten!”

Before you could drop your head back down, Chris was pulling you up to him. You quickly wiped your mouth knowing he was going to kiss you. As he did he began to stand to turn you. You pushed him back to sitting and clumsily began to climb on top of him. Sensing your intention, Chris lifted you the rest of the way, so you straddled him. Slowly you sheathed him in the depths of your heat. Both of you threw your head back, Chris groaned loudly while you released a breathy gasp. He held you still once he was nestled deep. His eyes met yours, and there was need for words. You rocked back and forth first slowly then more forcefully until you added little swivels of your hips. Every time you changed direction and pace Chris squeezed the flesh at your hip and directed you just how he needed. The veins in his neck told you everything you needed to know. He was close.

Without warning, Chris scooted off the countertop and stood holding you securely in place as he plowed into your needy canal. Every snap of his hips to connect your wanton bodies made you screech out and cling to him. The waves of pleasure that rippled through you peppered goosebumps across your skin and made your need for him reach unseen levels. “Yes, baby.” You clenched around him, and his grunt was so loud it echoed off the walls. He lowered you and pushed you forward over the countertop, so you were peering out the window up to the beautiful iridescent full moon. In the same breath he was slamming into your core again pulling your head back. Chris didn’t go slow, and you were fine with it, you needed as much as he did. You felt his large hand come down on your backside sending pain tendrils across your ass, he did it two more times and slammed into you. “Mmm, you’re so wet, kitten, so damn wet.”

You grabbed onto the edges of the counter and began pushing back onto him. As you did Chris stopped moving and allowed you to do your thing. Every time you moved your back in a wave he groaned, and soon you were rhythmically grinding on him until he grabbed your hips and continued his welcomed assault on your body. Every move he made stroked the fire in you until it was a blazing inferno that began to consume you letting you know your orgasm was quickly approaching. Chris’s strokes became sloppy as they staggered along. Without warning the warmth burst through you at such a rapid pace that it stole your breath and all strength you possessed. You felt as if you’d run a marathon in the span of ten minutes. Your grip on the countertop slipped, but Chris was right there to hold you steady as he snapped his hips forward once, twice and a third time before he emptied his seed deep within you.

The two of you remained connected riding the wave of your shared release, a release both of you needed. A release that stole your breath. The feel of him still buried inside you made you want more, and by the feel of his still hard member appendage, you knew he wanted more too. Slowly you regained strength in your legs, and you were able to hold your own weight again. Chris pulled from you with a hiss and a groan and then his body was gone. You felt something was wrong. Standing you steadied yourself and leaned against the counter. Chris had managed to pull his pants and underwear up, but you could see he was still hard. Before you could speak he beat you to it.

“I have a question.” Fanning yourself you walked to the fridge to take out a beer. As you took a few gulps you motioned for him to go ahead. “I’m so glad I decided to hold off on kids. What does that mean?” You paused your drinking and gulped down the mouthful you had. Oh shit, you thought. You knew he would bring this up, but you thought you’d escaped it—or you hoped. Dread filled you, and you knew this could very well be the end of your marriage.

“I’m waiting Uriah.”

You finished the beer and put the empty bottle on the island, then took a deep breath. “It’s nothing, forget it.” You heard the click of Chris’ tongue. You’d learned over the years that was an angry tick he had that always came out. It was now your indicator as to how mad you’d made him and when you’d made him mad.

“Funny, because when you spat those words at me a few days ago, you said them with conviction as if you meant it with everything in you.” He walked close to the island and took a seat looking at you. His eyes stayed on your face, but you saw the slight way they danced as he tried to not look over your naked body. Somehow you knew you weren’t getting out of this. You walked back over to your robe and put it on all the while remaining quiet.

“Does it have something to do with me finding these in your bag?” You looked to him and saw that he was holding up a packet that looked very familiar to you. Your heart began to beat erratically, and you literally had a vision of him putting divorce papers in front of you. Shit, you thought again.

“Silence, interesting the times you choose to be quiet.” His voice was again venomous and filled with sarcasm. “Why do you have one finished and another half-used pack of birth control Uriah, especially since we’ve been trying for a baby?

Boom, there it was. You could hear the actual sound of your marriage imploding.

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purrincess-chat · 5 years

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Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Original CH16

It’s here early!! A couple things: I asked a while ago rabbit or dog, and most of you voted rabbit, so this is the chapter where you reap what you have sewn. I will say, however, that I changed the rabbit quite a bit because I wasn’t a big fan of what canon did, and this fic is explicitly about giving canon the finger, so it’s only fitting. Anyway, hope you all enjoy!

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Chapter 16

Marinette and Adrien stared at his phone, jaws hanging agape as silence stretched on until Chloe sighed, and Marinette blinked out of her trance.

“I’m sorry. We’re going to what now?” She said, cocking her head to the side.

“Ugh, just get over here,” Chloe groaned before hanging up.

Marinette and Adrien exchanged bewildered looks, and at her cocked brow, he shrugged as if to say, ‘I have no idea what just happened either.’ Marinette nodded before they gathered their things and piled back into Adrien’s town car to head to the hotel. On the drive over, Adrien laced his fingers through hers once more, and she smiled up at him as this thumb traced the back of her palm, a fluttery feeling spreading through her chest.

She’d waited for this moment for so long, and now they were finally together. Adrien had fallen in love with her after all, and to her surprise, she was relatively calm about it. She wasn’t planning their wedding or naming their future pets, but she felt an overwhelming warmth in her chest that spread to her cheeks. Perhaps it was because she and Adrien knew each other better now, and she’d grown to be more comfortable around him. He was a true friend, and someone she could lean on through all of this mess, a stable rock in the middle of a storm, providing her with support whenever she needed it, and that was worth the world to her.

When they arrived at the hotel, Adrien, sensing her nerves, never let go the whole way up to Chloe’s suite. Chloe was staring out at her balcony when they arrived, a pensive frown wrinkling her forehead, and she turned to them, pursing her lips to mask her expression as they approached. They eyed each other in tense silence until Marinette spoke up.

“So,” she started, cocking a brow, “what?”

Chloe rolled her eyes and rubbed her temple with a sigh.

“Look, don’t go getting any ideas that I’m doing this for you. This isn’t about you; it’s about revenge,” Chloe said awkwardly. “Lila seems to feel the most threatened by you, so I think it will have more of an impact if your name is associated with all of this charity work you want to do, and the only way to make anyone else care enough to report about it is to make you someone worth talking about.”

“What makes you think Lila is threatened by me?” Marinette said, rubbing her arm. “All she ever does is toy with me.”

“And why do you think that is?” Chloe rolled her eyes when Marinette still seemed lost. “When someone like her feels threatened, they lash out and try to bring you down.”

“Is that why you were always so mean to me?” Marinette’s eyes narrowed, a smirk curling on her lips, and Chloe scoffed.

“Don’t lump me in with her! I’m mean to people for the sheer entertainment of watching them suffer. Totally different,” Chloe waved it away.

“Okay, so how exactly do you plan on making Marinette famous?” Adrien asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“Easily,” Chloe said with a shrug. “The dumb brat has already started making a name for herself, and more and more important people are starting to notice her talent, if you want to call it that.”

“I will ignore the insult in favor of the compliment,” Marinette crossed her arms over her chest and cocked a hip.

“Look, even my mom has complimented your work, so I think we should – as disgusting as this is – ask my mom to help you launch your fashion career.” Chloe cringed as she said it.

Marinette stared at her for a long moment before shifting her weight.

“You’re being serious right now?” Marinette’s eyebrows raised.

“I know. Even I’m shocked.” Chloe wrinkled her nose.

“You want to help me start my fashion career? Now?”

“It’s the only way to take down that brat for good,” Chloe said, placing her hands on her hips.

“This is uncharacteristically nice of you, Chloe,” Adrien said with a smile that brought a flush to her cheeks. “I’m proud of you.”

“I still hate you, and don’t ever expect me to be caught dead wearing your trash, but my mom wanted to train you, so I think it’s our best shot.” Chloe turned away stubbornly.

“So, what? We’re just going to walk up to your mom and ask her to work with me?” Marinette scoffed.

“Pretty much,” Chloe said, marching past her.

“Wait, we’re going right now?” Marinette flinched, turning over her shoulder.

“We want to take her down this century, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe said pointedly, crossing the hall to her mother’s suite.

“But…wait, Chloe-” she rushed after her as she barged into the room across the hall.

Audrey was in the midst of a hot stone massage, and Marinette curled her shoulders.

“Should we disturb her-”

“Mommy,” Chloe said, and Audrey gave some groan of acknowledgement. “You remember my dreadful former classmate, the one who designed the feather hat for Adrien?”

“Vaguely,” Audrey said.

“Well, Clara Nightingale walked the red carpet in one of her designs, and I think you should back her brand,” Chloe suggested.

“I thought you hated this girl-”

“You and me both,” Marinette grumbled.

“-now it sounds like you’re being nice,” Audrey choked on the word.

“There’s a nasty girl at school that I want to get rid of, and I need to make Dupain-Cheng famous to do it,” Chloe explained, and Audrey moaned as the masseuse worked a knot in her shoulders.

“Get me a portfolio by the end of the month, then we’ll talk,” she said, and Chloe clapped her hands together.

“Thank you, Mommy,” she cooed.

“Wait, I’m sorry, by the end of the month?” Marinette tilted her head to the side.

“Fashion moves quickly, dear, so if you want to be relevant, you’ll get me your portfolio with a pitch before the end of the month,” Audrey said more sternly, and Marinette blanched.

“She’ll have it ready,” Adrien promised, and Marinette shot him a look.

“I’m not so sure she can-”

“Enjoy your massage,” Chloe grabbed Marinette’s arm and dragged her from the room.

“Chloe, I don’t know if I can-”

"Oh, shut it," Chloe clamped her hand in a mouth-shutting motion. "You are annoyingly persistent when you want to be. I've seen you accomplish way more in less time, so don't you even say you can't do it because if anyone has got what it takes, it's you, and if you tell anyone I said that, I will destroy everything you love."

“The end of the month? That only gives me a week to come up with an entire line,” Marinette said pointedly. “Not to mention it has to impress your mom – the queen of fashion!”

“And?” Chloe quirked a brow, and Marinette gave her a bewildered look.

“Chloe’s right, Marinette, you can do this,” Adrien took her hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

“But what if I can’t?” Marinette lowered her gaze.

“Then your fashion career is dead, and I’ll just get rid of Lila my way,” Chloe shrugged before sauntering back into her suite. “Toodles!”

Marinette leaned her face into Adrien’s shoulder with a moan, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly.

“I know this is a lot of pressure, but you are the most amazing girl I know. You’re an incredible designer, and I know you’re going to knock it out,” he said, pulling back to press his forehead to hers, those green eyes baring into hers with a confidence she wished she felt. She took a deep, centering breath and nodded.

“Okay,” she said, pressing her lips into a firm line. “Let’s do it.”

***

Lila glared down at her phone screen, her laptop playing Clara’s acceptance speech in the background which only made her blood boil hotter. Marinette pulled a couple fast ones on her, but it was the last time she’d get the best of her. She stared down at Adrien’s post again with a scowl.

“So proud of @marinette-dc! I’m so lucky to have fallen for someone as amazing as you.”

Adrien would regret crossing her like this. They both would.

***

“Why so glum?” Macy asked as Marinette shoved books into her locker. “Shouldn’t you be excited about your dress? Everyone loves it.”

“I am, but I just…Another amazing opportunity has fallen in my lap, and I don’t think I can do it, and I’m stressing out over it,” she explained with a sigh.

“Yeah, you are breaking out a little,” Lisette pointed out, and Marinette covered her chin with a groan.

“Okay,” Marinette said as Macy took her hand and led her to the bathroom where Lisette somehow managed to completely erase any signs of her stress. Honestly, she was a wizard with a tube of concealer.

“There they are with the lady of the hour,” Eliott said when they met up for lunch.

Macy linked her arm through Martin’s and planted a kiss on his cheek. When Marinette eyed them, Martin’s cheeks flushed, and Macy perked up.

“Oh yeah, we never got a chance to tell you with everything that happened yesterday,” she gasped. “After the akuma, we were all looking for you, and Martin and I bumped into each other.”

- - -

“Macy!” Martin’s eyebrows raised before a flush came over his cheeks. “Are you okay? The akuma didn’t hurt you, did it?”

Macy eyed him for a long moment before grabbing his collar and yanking him down to meet her lips.

- - -

“And now we’re together,” Macy said with a cheery grin.

“Aww, good for you two,” Marinette giggled, and Eliott shot her a knowing smirk.

“I seem to recall another telling post about you and a certain model.” He waggled his eyebrows, and Marinette bit her lip.

“He gave me this necklace.” She pulled it from under her collar with a soft smile.

“How romantic!” Lisette said.

“How sparkly,” Macy added with a longing look until Eliott nudged her with his elbow.

“We should all double date this weekend,” Eliott suggested, and Macy shot up.

“We can go golfing! My parents are part-owners at one of the courses so that my dad can play whenever he wants,” she said, bouncing excitedly.

“I’ve never played golf.” Marinette curled her shoulders. “Besides, I have a lot to do.”

“Oh, come on, Marinette. We can teach you,” Martin said, and they all gave her pleading looks.

“I-” Marinette hesitated. “We’ll see.”

“What’s so urgent that you can’t come out, Marinette?” Lisette asked as they took their seats.

“Does it have to do with that girl?” Eliott lowered his voice.

“Kind of…” Marinette took a deep breath before explaining the entire situation – the plan, her deadline, all of it.

“Whoa, you’re really gonna pitch to Audrey Bourgeois?” Macy whispered, eyes wide.

“I’m gonna try,” Marinette pushed her peas around with a spoon. “I’m kinda running on empty right now.”

“If you need any help let us know, okay?” Macy reached out to place a hand over hers.

“Yeah, we know tons about fashion and starting charities,” Eliott echoed. “We’ve got your back.”

“Thanks, guys.”

***

“How could he do this to me!” Lila sobbed loudly in the locker room. “I thought we were going to be together then he left me for her!”

Several of the girls surrounded her, offering tissues and patting her sympathetically. It was almost too easy to get them all eating out of the palm of her hand. She’d like to see Adrien squirm his way out of this one.

“It’s really unlike Adrien to do something like this,” Rose said, pursing her lips.

“Yeah, there must be some explanation,” Mylene echoed.

“It’s not his fault,” Lila sniffled. “Marinette has never liked me. She even had her friends make up all those stories to make me look bad, and now she’s stolen Adrien right out from under me! I just don’t understand what I did to make her hate me.”

“Well, she was always kinda possessive of Adrien,” Alix said, rubbing the back of her neck as the locker room doors opened.

“Well, well, well, the two-timer himself. What do you have to say for yourself?” Alya folded her arms over her chest, and the girls rallied around Lila who shot Adrien a devious smirk.

“It’s fine, girls,” she said with a whimper. “I just don’t understand, Adrien. Yesterday we kissed at the museum, and then you said online that you’re with Marinette…I just want the truth.”

“You want the truth?” Adrien cocked a brow. “Fine. We didn’t kiss at the museum - you latched onto me without my permission. I never told you that I liked you, in fact, we barely ever see each other. I don’t know what you thought we were, but I’m in love with Marinette, not you. Sorry.”

Lila’s face hardened, but Adrien held her gaze steady.

“Was that enough truth for you?” He asked as the bell rang, and the girls all glanced at Lila.

“Well, I certainly hope you two are happy,” she said, but Adrien wasn’t fazed.

“We are. Thank you. I hope one day you find happiness too. Real happiness.”

At that they all dispersed, and Adrien held Lila’s glare as everyone made their way out the door. She stopped beside him, turning to whisper in his ear.

“You’ve just made a big mistake,” she murmured.

“No.” Adrien shook his head. “You did when you chose to lie to everyone, and I’m not sorry for what you’ve got coming.”

Lila grunted before stalking off to class, and Adrien let out a breath. His heart was pounding, but he felt exhilarated. Was this what it felt like to stand his ground? It was terrifying, yet immensely satisfying, and he knew now that their plan would work. Lila’s glory days were numbered, and they were going to set everyone free.

Most of their other classmates were supportive and even congratulated him, although Alya refused to look at him, and he was actually on top of his game for the next several days. Even Kagami couldn’t keep up during fencing, and part of him wondered why he hadn’t done this ages ago.

“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Dupain-Cheng,” he greeted that Saturday when he finally convinced Nathalie to clear his schedule so he could help Marinette with her designs. “How is Marinette?”

“She hasn’t come out of her room all day,” Sabine winced, and Adrien sighed.

“I’ll go up and see her,” he offered.

“Here, she hasn’t had breakfast,” Tom said, tossing some croissants onto a plate.

“Thanks, Mr. Dupain,” Adrien nodded, accepting the plate and pacing out the back door and up the stairs.

When he made it to Marinette’s room, he found her face down in her sketchbook with a defeated slump to her shoulders. Crumpled paper littered the desk and floor, several patterns and magazines covering nearly every surface, though he did take pride in seeing the photo of the two of them as her desktop background.

“How goes designing?” He dared to ask, and she slowly turned her head, revealing puffy, blood-shot eyes and mascara-streaked cheeks.

“Great, except I have no talent and my life is over,” she said before burying her face again.

Adrien let out a breathy laugh, setting the plate and cup of coffee he’d picked up from the café next door amidst the mess and taking a seat beside her.

“C’mon, you and I both know that’s not true,” he said, rubbing her back. “You’re just in a rut right now, but you’ll get out of it.”

Marinette sat up with a sniffle and wiped at her cheek, noticing the things he’d brought up.

“Is that coffee?” She quirked a brow, reaching for it and immediately taking a sip with a satisfied moan.

“Of course because I’m the best boyfriend in the world,” he beamed, and a small smile broke over her lips. “Sorry I couldn’t visit sooner.”

“It’s okay. I know you’re busy. Besides, I’ve been so focused on designing the past few days I don’t think I would have had the brain capacity to do anything else,” she said, taking a croissant as Adrien nudged them toward her. “I feel like such a failure.”

“Your deadline is still a few days away. Don’t give up yet,” Adrien encouraged.

“It’s three days away, and I have nothing,” she leaned against her fist with a moan. “This is my big chance, and I’m gonna blow it!”

Adrien pursed his lips in contemplation before standing up and patting her shoulder.

“I think what you need is a little fresh air, so let’s go out for a while. Everyone is going to play golf, so maybe some exercise will get some blood pumping to your head,” he said, taking her hands and pulling her to her feet. “Get cleaned up.”

“Adrien, I dunno-”

“No excuses, come on.” He gave her a look, and when she threw her head back in exasperation, he switched gears. “You and I haven’t been out on a date yet because of everything, and I really want to spend time with you. Please?”

Marinette held his pleading gaze for a moment before letting out a relenting sigh, and a grin stretched across Adrien’s lips.

“You’re going to get me into all kinds of trouble with that face of yours,” she teased as he pulled her in.

“After golf we’ll go to your secret garden, just you and me and see if we can’t find you a muse,” he said softly, touching his nose to hers. “But you’ve been at this for days. You need a break.”

“I guess,” she mumbled, and Adrien pinched her side teasingly before leaning in closer.

Her eyelids hooded as he tilted his head, lips brushing tauntingly just before the door slammed downstairs, and Macy’s voice called out. Adrien sighed, holding her face in his hands longingly before planting a soft kiss on her nose and pulling away as footsteps pounded up the stairs.

“Marinette- oh!” Macy surveyed her disheveled appearance with a wince. “It’s worse than I thought, but have no fear. We’ve come to help.”

Lisette poked her head through the door before climbing up with a big makeup bag as Macy shooed Adrien out of the room.

“You can wait down in the living room with the other boyfriends while we work,” she said, sweetly, and Adrien shot Marinette a longing look before disappearing down the stairs.

Macy and Lisette cleaned her up in no time, and she started to feel a little better now that her hair was brushed. Lisette covered her dark circles and blemishes, and Macy presented her with a custom golf outfit. After everything she’d been through lately, it was nice to have friends looking out for her.

“As your best friends, we order you to take a break from designing and come have fun with us,” Macy declared, and Marinette shot a glance at her pile of ideas. “They’ll be there when you get back.”

“Okay,” Marinette caved, and Macy clapped excitedly.

The boys were playing Ultimate Mecha Strike when they came down, and Adrien locked eyes with Marinette instantly, a smile curling on his lips. Marinette felt her cheeks warm, and she averted her gaze as they stood up to join them.

“She lives,” Eliott remarked with a teasing grin, holding out his arms, and Marinette bit back a smirk.

“If by lives you mean she’s riddled with anxiety then yes,” she said, and Eliott ruffled her hair, though Macy quickly slapped his hand away, scolding him for ruining her work.

“You look cute in that outfit,” Adrien complimented as they headed downstairs, and Marinette tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear with a giggle.

“Would you kids like some treats for the road?” Tom offered a box of macarons with a grin, and Eliott and Martin perked up.

“No thank you. I’m on a diet,” Macy declined when they were passed to her. “Are we ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Eliott said, eyeing her as Lisette picked two more cookies from the box before they crowded outside to the limo.

“Have fun!” Sabine called.

Marinette winced a little against the sunlight, having been cooped up in her room since she got home from school yesterday, and she was soon directed into the back of a silver limo. Adrien sat beside her, slipping his fingers into hers the moment they settled and lifting her hand to kiss the back of her palm. Biting back a smile, she leaned her head against his shoulder as he trailed his thumb over her knuckles, lost in her own bliss for the duration of the ride.

Although her mind occasionally wandered back to her deadline, she forced herself to take deep breaths when her nerves crept back in, and each time she squeezed Adrien’s hand a little tighter, he pressed gentle kisses to her hair, her temple, her hand, always patient, always supportive. Part of her still couldn’t believe they were together, and her heart skipped each time she imagined what it would be like to finally kiss him for real. She supposed she’d know soon enough.

The golf course was huge, and all of the staff knew Macy by name when they pulled up. Marinette felt a little awkward as they offered her water and fruit left and right as they headed up the sidewalk to the waiting golf carts, but her friends barely seemed to bat an eye, including Adrien who graciously accepted a bottle of water.

She tried to comfort herself a little seeing as if Chloe’s plan worked, this would likely be her life soon enough, but part of her felt really bad for the people following after socialites with dark umbrellas to shield them from the sun. In a way, it felt like she was on a different planet.

“How many holes would you like today, mademoiselle?” A man in a suit coat asked as several other men loaded club bags onto their carts.

“We’ve got a greenie with us today,” she said, casting Marinette a smile. “So let’s make it a half-course day.”

“Very well.” He nodded. “Best of luck.”

“Thank you, Javier,” Macy giggled, skipping over to her cart.

Marinette glanced around in awe much to Adrien's amusement. He chuckled as her head whipped around on the ride to the first hole, taking in all of the workers diligently tending to the lawn.

"Don't laugh," she scolded, which only made him laugh harder. "Hey! I'm not used to being waited on hand and foot. This is all new to me."

"I'm not making fun of you. It's really cute watching you. Sometimes I get overwhelmed by it all too, so I know what you're feeling," he said. "I'm not anyone special, and I hate taking advantage of others, but this is their job."

"I guess," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I'm just used to doing everything myself."

"It's overwhelming at times especially when they do things like tie your shoes or open your drink," he admitted with a wince, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's okay to tell them no if you want, but sometimes I find doing that makes me feel worse, so I've learned to accept it."

"It's hard to believe people live like this," she remarked, eyeing a group of well-dressed players as they drove passed.

"It's different when it's all you've ever known," Adrien said, lowering his gaze to his lap before smiling back up at her. "Your humility is cute which is why I know you're going to change the world when our plan succeeds."

"You mean if our plan succeeds," she corrected, but he gave her a look as they reached the first course.

"Marinette, you go last so you can watch all of us. We'll teach you everything you need to know," Macy said with a cheery grin, and Marinette listened intently to all of their advice, though when it was her turn, she still had no idea what she was doing.

She stared at the ball as Macy and Eliott called out pointers, but it felt like they were speaking another language. Gentle arms wrapped around her waist, and she felt another body pressing into her.

"I'll help you," Adrien said in her ear, placing his hands over hers. "Spread your feet apart and make sure the club head is straight, like this."

He turned the club slightly and adjusted her hands, being far more intimate than necessary, not that she was complaining. They were on a date after all, albeit a group one.

"Now, lean forward so your arms hang down and center your weight," he ran a hand up her back and gently pushed her forward. "To set up your back swing, be sure to rotate your shoulders and hips and follow through with the club then shift your weight slightly to the left and swing along the same curve."

Adrien placed his hands on her hips and shoulders, guiding her through the motion before moving around to the front, trailing his finger purposefully along her jaw with a smirk. Taking a few steps back, he motioned to the ball, and Marinette blinked a few times to clear the haze. She swallowed hard, her back and sides still tingling from his touch and followed his advice. She startled a little at the sound of soft claps over her shoulder as she watched the ball soar across the green.

"Very nice advice, Adrien," Macy complimented, "but get a room next time, you two."

Adrien and Marinette's cheeks flushed as they turned back to the carts to move to their balls. He extended a hand to her with a smile which she took as they followed behind.

As it turned out, she was pretty lousy at golf, but she didn’t care. They talked and laughed, poking fun at each other and enjoying the day. It was time spent with people she cared about and who in return cared about her, and just for a little while, she let go of her stress, her anxiety, her fear. These were her real friends, and she knew that even if she missed her deadline, they’d always have her back.

“Well, Marinette, I think you can rule out professional golfing as a career option,” Eliott said with a laugh, turning the score card around. “You never scored lower than a double bogey.”

“That’s bad, right?” She tilted her head to the side.

“It’s horrible,” Adrien affirmed, pinching her sides. “You looked so cute though.”

“Looks like we’ll just have to come play more often to catch you up,” Macy said with a smirk. “Now come on. They’re setting up a picnic over at the pavilion for us.”

“Great, I’m starving,” Lisette moaned, and Marinette noticed Eliott eyeing Macy with a frown.

When they made it to the pavilion, Macy broke away from Martin’s arm and gestured to the clubhouse.

“I’m gonna go run and see my dad really quick. The grass on hole 5 is looking a little high, so I’m going to tell him to have the lawn crew take care of it,” she said, taking a few steps back. “Don’t wait for me. Dig in!”

Eliott watched her go with a sigh as they all settled in at the table.

“What’s wrong?” Marinette asked, and he flicked his gaze to her, pursing his lips.

“She’s doing it again.” Eliott shook his head.

“Doing what again?” Adrien’s eyebrows furrowed, and Lisette winced.

“Dieting,” she said, holding up air quotes.

“Macy has always struggled with her appearance,” Eliott started, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She gets an idea in her head that something about her is unattractive, so she tries to fix it. In the past it’s been her hair or her teeth or her complexion, but ever since a guy she liked rejected her for being ‘too fat’ last year she’s become obsessed with her weight.”

“That’s awful!” Marinette said, cupping a hand over her mouth.

“She goes on these ‘diets’ every few months, but in reality she’s just skipping meals,” Eliott continued. “She hides at mealtime or spends most of it talking so you don’t notice how little she’s eating.”

“She just pushed her food around when she had dinner with me this week,” Martin confirmed. “I thought she just didn’t like it, but she just insisted she wasn’t that hungry.”

“I’ve tried to talk to her about it, but she insists she’s fine and that her chef blends shakes for her every morning with all of her necessary vitamins and minerals, but that’s not the point,” Eliott sighed. “I want to help her learn to love herself the way she is.”

“I’m gonna go find her,” Marinette said, standing up.

“Try the bathroom,” Eliott suggested as Marinette rushed off, and Adrien watched her go with a longing smile.

“Looks like both of our dates have run off,” he remarked to Martin.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to throw a wrench in your date,” Eliott said, rubbing the back of his head.

“It’s okay.” Adrien shrugged. “She’ll always jump at the opportunity to help. It’s why I love her so much.”

“Macy?” Marinette called, peeking her head into the bathroom and spotting her friend sitting in the chair across the room. She sniffled and rubbed at her eye as Marinette entered, throwing on a smile.

“Oh, Marinette, I was just-”

“Eliott told us.” Her face fell at that, and she shifted her gaze to her lap.

“I’m just trying to lose 2 kilos,” she insisted, and Marinette sat beside her.

“Macy, you don’t need to lose weight,” she said, placing a hand on Macy’s shoulder, but Macy rolled her eyes.

“Easy for you to say. You’re so small and cute,” she grunted.

“And you’re tall and curvy and beautiful and in really good shape,” Marinette shot back, and Macy pursed her lips.

“I do a lot of cardio.” She shrugged, biting her lip. “I just wish I looked like you. Boys like small and cute.”

“Depends on the boy,” Marinette said, nudging her. “Martin really likes you the way you are.”

“I know, but…”

“But what?”

“I’m afraid that he’s going to find someone thinner and prettier and forget all about me,” she said, covering her face. “Boys don’t like fat girls.”

“That’s not true,” Marinette prompted, but Macy averted her gaze. “Macy-”

A loud boom shook the building, and the girls clung to each other with shrieks. The lights flicked above their head, and Marinette’s jaw clenched.

“That wasn’t a normal blast,” she said. “Someone must have been akumatized.”

“Oh, I should go find Martin,” Macy gasped, jumping up.

“You go on ahead; I’ll go make sure everyone gets to safety,” Marinette said, gesturing in the opposite direction, though as soon as Macy rounded the corner, she stepped back into the bathroom to transform.

Chat Noir was already on the scene when she arrived, and this akuma was a doozy. Apparently, Macy’s father had gotten upset with his opponent for cheating during their game, and now sought revenge with his golf ball grenades.

“Someone has quite the explosive temper,” Chat said as they dodged back.

“We’re gonna need a little luck to beat this one. Lucky Charm!” She eyed the folding fan in her hands contemplatively. “A little luck and an ally. I’ve gotta go to Master Fu!”

“Make it quick or cat sashimi is gonna show up on the next menu.” Her partner cupped his hand to his throat and stuck out his tongue as she shot off.

“Master Fu, I need a Miraculous!” Marinette burst through the door to his apartment.

“Do you have someone in mind?” Master Fu smiled, retrieving the box from the phonograph.

“Um,” she hummed, pursing her lips and surveying her options.

She could pick Martin or Eliott again, but she wasn’t sure she needed the turtle or the fox. There was Chloe, but she was too far away, and her power needed to get close which wasn’t an option. She needed something with range…

“Can I use this one?” She lifted the rabbit’s crescent shaped pin from its compartment.

“If it is the one you need,” he said with a nod.

“Thank you, Master. I’ll bring it back!” She dropped it into her purse and darted off.

When Ladybug made it back, she swung in just in time to catch her kitty as he was launched into the air. He shot her a grateful look as they landed then glanced around.

“Weren’t you supposed to bring back help?” He cocked a brow, and she held out the hair pin with a wince.

“I have a Miraculous now I just need to find a user,” she explained, and Chat brandished his staff.

“You work on that. I’ll deal with him,” he said, spinning his staff to deflect another ball.

“Daddy!”

Ladybug and Chat Noir paused as Macy climbed atop a picnic table and placed her hands on her hips. Martin and Eliott looked on from the entrance to the clubhouse worriedly.

“That’s enough! This is insane,” she called, and her father glanced her way with a scowl.

“No one cheats on my course! This doesn’t concern you, now go inside before you get hurt,” Golfer ordered, but Macy stood her ground.

Chat tackled Golfer while he was distracted, sending several balls flying, and Macy watched as one bounced off a chair, ricocheting toward her. She closed her eyes, but strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her off just in time. When she opened them again, she saw the ground flying past her and glanced up to see Ladybug’s dark hair.

“That was very brave of you, but also incredibly reckless,” Ladybug chided gently when they landed on the roof.

“That’s my dad,” Macy said with pleading eyes. “Please help him.”

Ladybug eyed her for a long moment before a smile curled on her lips. If there was any way to boost Macy’s confidence…

“Tell you what, why don’t you help for real?” She said, retrieving the box and holding it out to her. “Macy Chanteur, this is the Miraculous of the rabbit which grants the power of teleportation. You will use it for the greater good and return it to me at the end of the mission.”

“Wait, is this for real?” Macy gasped, cupping her cheeks. “You want to make me a hero?”

“Why not? You’ve shown that you’re brave,” Ladybug said.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’m good enough,” Macy lowered her gaze, and Ladybug placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Let me tell you a secret. Anyone can be a hero by choosing to stand up for what’s right, and you’ve done just that,” Ladybug said, placing the box in her hands. “I’m not making you a hero. You already are one. I’m just giving you superpowers.”

Macy turned the box over in her hands before pressing her lips together with a nod. Lifting the lid, she winced against the light, eyebrows raising as her kwami materialized.

“Hello there, new friend,” Fluff giggled, floating around her.

“Whoa, does every Miraculous come with a cute pet?” Macy poked at her giddily.

“I’m not a pet; I’m a kwami. I grant you magical powers. All you have to do is say ‘Fluff, transform me!’”

“Okay. Fluff, transform me!”

Macy glanced down at her costume with wide eyes, a smile stretching across her lips, and Ladybug took her wrist.

“Come on. Let’s go save your dad.”

Chat Noir flew through the air after a blast from a golf ball, landing at their feet as they touched down again. He blinked up at them with a groan.

“Hey, you found someone. Great,” he coughed as Ladybug offered him a hand.

“Ladybug!” Martin and Eliott called.

“It’s not safe here. You two need to leave,” she ordered.

“Not without Macy,” Martin said, and Bunny smiled.

“Macy is safe and sound, and more than anything she wants you two safe as well, kay?” She blew them a kiss before following Chat and Ladybug into the action.

Bunny swung her mallet just in time to deflect a golf bomb before it exploded, and Golfer’s eyes narrowed.

“A bit lowbrow fighting a golfer with croquet, Ladybug. Can’t you afford more than a cheap knock-off sport?” He grunted, and Bunny cocked a hip.

“If I’m more skilled than you are with a mallet then what does that say about your golf game?” She quirked a brow, and Golfer let out a growl before hurdling several more balls in their direction.

“We can’t get close to him,” Chat said as they dodged, and Ladybug pursed her lips.

Landing on a table, she summoned her Lucky Charm, eyebrows furrowing as a tennis racket landed in her hands. She turned it over as Golfer’s mocking laughter echoed across the field.

“You really should learn your sports, Ladybug,” he chortled as she glanced around, singling in on his golf balls, Bunny, Chat Noir, and the racket.

“Maybe it’s you who needs to get a little more creative,” she shot back. “Bunny, Chat Noir, follow my lead!”

Ladybug charged forward again, her partners following suit, and Golfer rolled his eyes before swinging another hoard of balls. Chat and Bunny deflected several, and Ladybug lobbed one back at Golfer with her racket. He watched it bounce toward him with wide eyes before it detonated, sending him flying. Ladybug eyed his club as it twirled into the air.

“You’re up, Bunny!”

“Burrow!” Bunny called, spinning her mallet, and a blue portal opened beneath the club as it fell, transporting it into Chat Noir’s waiting Cataclysm.

“No!” Golfer shouted as it dissolved into dust, revealing a small black butterfly.

“No more evildoing for you, little akuma.”

Bunny paced over to help her father up as he blinked in confusion.

“What happened?” He groaned, rubbing his head.

“You were akumatized because your opponent cheated to win,” she explained. “If you ask me, I would just ban him from the course since you’re a part-owner.”

“That is true,” he said, cupping his chin. “I shouldn’t have gotten so work up when I decide who golfs here.”

“It happens to the best of us,” Ladybug assured him as she and Chat approached.

“Thank you, Ladybug, Chat Noir, and Bunny,” he said before Eliott and Martin ran up with his wife.

“Mr. Chanteur!”

“Eliott! Where is Macy?”

Bunny and Ladybug exchanged grins before the trio bumped fists.

“Pound it!”

***

“Macy!” Eliott and Martin raced up to her as she exited the clubhouse, Lisette, Marinette, and Adrien in tow.

“Are you alright?” Eliott asked.

“Yeah, Ladybug helped me get to safety,” she said, waving it away.

“I’m glad.” Martin pulled her in for a long hug, and she leaned her head against his with a smile.

“Well, the staff is setting up our lunch again,” Eliott said, gesturing over his shoulder.

“Good because I’m really about to starve now,” Lisette moaned, but Macy took a step back.

“I’m gonna go check on my dad. I’ll meet up with you guys,” she said before quickly pacing off, and Eliott sighed.

“She’ll get there,” Lisette said, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him back, though he cast a frown over his shoulder in the direction Macy went.

Eliott wasn’t the only one bothered by Macy’s mealtime avoidance, and several hours later, Marinette sat on the steps of the Trocadero, eyes trained ahead as she picked at the corner of her sketchbook. Even after becoming a hero, Macy still lacked confidence in herself, and Marinette’s mind churned with worry.

Adrien noticed her frown as she approached with ice cream and sat beside her.

“Still blocked?” He asked, offering her a spoonful, and she accepted it with a sigh, flicking her gaze to the pile of crumbled sheets beside her.

“I’m just not getting anything,” she said, leaning against her fist. “I can’t stop thinking about Macy.”

“Did you talk to her?” Adrien asked, popping a small spoon into his mouth.

“Yeah, but it didn’t help,” she sighed, glancing down at her blank page.

Adrien eyed her as she stuffed ice cream into her mouth with a defeated pout before wrapping an arm around her.

“You’ll think of something. I promise,” he said softly, and she took a deep breath before picking up her pencil again.

“I want to design something for Macy. Even if I don’t make the deadline, I could still give it to her as a gift,” she said, tilting her head in thought.

“I think she’d like that, and who knows, maybe it will get your creative juices flowing,” Adrien urged, and she pursed her lips, pencil hovering over the page briefly before she set to work.

Adrien watched as she scribbled away, finishing off the ice cream and watching people pass. After a while, Marinette held up her sketchbook with a smile, and Adrien leaned over to rest his chin on her shoulder.

“That looks great,” he complimented. “Macy will love it.”

Marinette lowered the book to her lap contently, glancing up at the woman walking past with her dog and feeling her heart jolt. In an instant, she pictured a flowing gown to accentuate her hips, and a colorful suit for the man carrying a bag of bread. The world around her blossomed, every shadow, every person, every print, every color filled her mind with ideas.

Up until now, she hadn’t known what she wanted her brand to represent. She had no direction, no inspiration, but in one moment, she realized that she didn’t want her designs to be worn by models but by ordinary people like Macy. Everyone deserved to feel beautiful, and maybe then people would learn to love themselves.

“Marinette?” She blinked, turning to Adrien who cocked a brow.

“I have to go home,” she said, closing her sketchbook and stuffing it into her bag.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and leaning to kiss his cheek. “I have a lot of designs to make.”

“You find your muse?” He asked as she stood up.

“I found my muse!” She called over her shoulder as she trotted down the stairs. “See you later! Oh, and thanks for the ice cream!”

Adrien watched her go, leaning back on his hands with a smile. So much for their date, but he had faith that she would come up with something amazing. If he believed in anyone, he believed in her.

***

“Ugh, let me tell you about the horrible shoes my masseuse was wearing the other day. I could barely relax staring down at them,” Audrey rambled at dinner two nights later.

Adrien tuned her out, skewering a piece of broccoli with his fork as she prattled on. Chloe seemed distracted beside him as well, not engrossed in her mother’s tale like she normally would which surprised him. His father had even joined them, so Chloe’s lack of showboating was odd.

“I’m curious to know, Audrey, what were your impressions of the awards show,” Gabriel asked, and Audrey lowered her wine glass with a groan.

“Dreadful! Utterly dreadful. Those designers should be ashamed of themselves,” she said. “Although, that funny little girl who won your contest made a piece for Miss Nightingale that was promising.”

“Yes, I took notice of it too,” Gabriel nodded. “Her style is very unique, but I felt it fit Clara’s personality nicely.”

“I can’t believe you’re letting her date your son,” Audrey said, flicking her gaze over to Adrien who straightened a little. “She’s a bit, how shall we say, financially challenged.”

“She surrounds herself with notable company, and talent like hers won’t stay underground for long. Clara’s gown is proof of that,” Gabriel replied simply, and Audrey pursed her lips.

“Speaking of, she owes me a portfolio,” Audrey tapped her chin. “I do not like to be kept waiting.”

Chloe and Adrien’s shoulders curled, and they exchanged nervous glances.

Jean approached the table, clasping his hands behind his back, and Audrey cocked an impatient brow.

“It would appear that Mme. Bourgeois has a visitor,” he reported, and Audrey’s eyes narrowed.

“Who dares interrupt my dinner?” She scoffed, setting her glass down a little too forcefully.

“A Mlle. Dupain-Cheng.” Adrien and Chloe perked up.

“Ugh, it’s about time. Send her in,” Audrey gave a permitting wave, and Jean retreated to fetch her.

“Is now a bad time?” Marinette winced as she approached.

“Time is money, darling, and you are wasting mine,” Audrey said. “Hurry up.”

“Right.” Marinette set down her easel and fumbled with her sketchpad, prompting an eyeroll from Audrey. “Um, so I’ve been thinking a lot about the message I want to send with my brand, and I’ve decided that I don’t want to be another designer pushing one standard of beauty.”

Audrey yawned, and Marinette shot Adrien a panicked look. He nodded her on, and she took a deep breath.

“I want to redefine what it means to be beautiful to include more types of people. I believe that everyone deserves to feel beautiful no matter what they look like,” she said, and Audrey blinked in boredom. “I want to design things that everyone can wear. Things that will make everyone feel beautiful so they don’t have to try to fit into a single mold.”

“A body-positive line?” Audrey quirked a brow.

“Yes.” Marinette nodded with a gulp.

“Too risky.” Audrey waved it away, picking up her glass. “The industry will eat you alive.”

“It is rather bold,” Gabriel agreed, rubbing his chin, and Marinette’s shoulders stiffened.

“This industry is about taking risks and being bold,” she said, flipping the cover of her sketchbook. “I know that it’s asking a lot, but this is the statement I want to make.”

Audrey glanced out of the corner of her eye before turning to face her, removing her sunglasses slowly. She and Gabriel stood up in unison, moving around the table to get a better look. Beside them, Marinette clasped her hands together tightly, heart beating a thousand times a minute.

Adrien placed a reassuring hand on her back, and Chloe quirked a brow on her other side as Audrey turned the page with a gasp.

“Ohh,” she cooed, examining each design. “Magnificent. Utterly magnificent!”

“Oh, that’s creative,” Gabriel remarked about the next one, and Audrey flicked her gaze back up to Marinette.

“Okay,” she sighed. “Normally, I’d turn down a concept like this, but with designs like these, I can see this going somewhere, so…I will back you.”

“Thank you, Mme. Bourgeois! Thank you! Thank you!” Marinette bowed as Audrey flipped another page.

“What is this black smudge?” She asked, and Marinette curled her shoulders.

“Mascara. It was a rough week,” she explained sheepishly.

“Ah, the creative process.” Gabriel nodded in understanding as Audrey took pictures of each page.

“Jean, send these to our tailors,” Audrey demanded, passing him her phone, “and pick up some water-proof mascara for Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

“Yes, madame,” he said with a bow, and Audrey hugged the sketchpad to her chest.

“I could look at these all night,” she sighed. “I think I’d like to have dessert on the terrace. Sinclair!”

“I look forward to seeing your first line, Marinette,” Gabriel said, casting her a smirk. “Excellent work.”

Marinette’s cheeks flushed as everyone followed after Audrey, but Adrien remained by her side.

“I’m going to walk Marinette out, father,” he said, and Gabriel gave a permissive nod.

As they entered the elevator, Marinette breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing her shoulders, and Adrien hit the button for the lobby. A smile broke over her lips as the doors closed, but before she could open her mouth to speak, Adrien grabbed onto her waist and pulled her lips to his.

His other hand cupped her jaw, lips parting into hers as he pulled her in closer. She wrapped her arms around his neck, stretching on her tip toes as he kissed her dizzy, and when they pulled away, their ragged breaths burned hot on each other’s lips.

“I knew you could do it,” he said breathlessly, a wide smile stretching up to his eyes. “You’re amazing.”

He touched his lips to hers again, holding her tight, and she melted into his embrace with a moan, resting her head on his shoulder when he pulled away.

“I did it,” she said, blinking in disbelief. “I actually did it.”

“With a day to spare no less,” Adrien chuckled. “You really are incredible, Marinette.”

“You were the one who never gave up on me,” she said, biting her lip, and Adrien pressed his forehead to hers.

“You ready to stop Lila?” He asked, and Marinette smirked.

“I’m ready to change the world.”

#miraculous ladybug #mdcsp original #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #adrinette #mdcsp #my writing

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my-arlington-academia · 5 years

Text

A little fanfiction for Axel's birthday! (Yes I'm always late to everything 😔)

After I missed his birthday, for some reason inspiration hit me and I wrote this to apologize to myself for forgetting. I decided to make Scholar a boy in this one since I feel like there's not enough male Scholar content! (This is also the very first fanfic I have ever shared with other people so don't be surprised if some parts are really clumsy. Beware of possible typos and grammatical errors...) Enjoy!

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

The day was slowly drawing nearer.

Scholar was checking out multiple social networking sites and Axel's Wikimedia page for a few hours now. The fangirls and fanboys were excited all over the Internet as if it was their own birthday. Comments such as "Axel and I share the same birthday!!" And "I've been following you since the very beginning, HAPPY BIRTHDAY Axel 💖 you really helped me when I was going through tough times." Or "HAPPY B-DAY AXEL❤❤ I LOVE YOU BBY"

Made Scholar wonder how it must feel like to receive happy birthday messages from millions of strangers. Well, he was guessing that it must be really pleasant: why wouldn't it be? Even if Axel doesn't know them it doesn't change the good intentions they have. Anyway! This wasn't the point of Scholar's "research."

He was browsing through a bajillion of interviews, fanblogs and comments to find what Axel liked. Which was, he thought to himself, maybe a little dumb. They may have known eachother only for about 3 months but at least he knew Axel on a personal level, not through a screen. Hell, when they met Scholar had no idea of who that handsome rocker boy was supposed to be. And now here he was trying to find an answer to something he should probably know the answer to better than Axel's fans. Not to throw shade at them or anything.

"Aaaaaghhhh!!" Subconsciously, Scholar let out a loud whine not realizing that his voice was louder than he intended it to be. "Shut up!! We can hear you from here!" It was Karolina in the room nextdoor. "I'm sorry!! ...ugh." Thankfully she didn't hear the "ugh" part not that it would change her opinion about him.

Scholar was just so lost: "what the hell can I gift to a rich handsome talented guy and not look like an idiot?!" Is what was going through his mind the whole day and it was already 11pm. Tomorrow was Axel's birthday and he still didn't find shit. He had never been good at finding gifts, the only person he gave them to was his dad and then again, it was only sometimes. The both of them weren't the type of people to worry about formalities such as Christmas or birthday presents. And when it came to "friends" it was about the same story.

Scholar put the phone down. It was stupid to worry over something like that. Being surrounded with rich, talented and sometimes famous people all day long Scholar swore to himself one thing. Don't be fake. Be sincere with those people. To be treated like anyone else is what they deserve.

And so Scholar searched for a gift idea again, but this time in his mind. He searched for an answer in his memories, through the small amount of time they had spent together. What does Axel like? It's not that hard. He already knew.

Scholar's mind was set: music, dogs and piercings. A hobby, an animal and accessories. Simple, but let's just go from the basics. "It's not like I can buy something expensive anyway..." His muttering was blocked out by his pillow, no matter what he would find, Scholar was just hoping that it would at least make Axel genuinely happy. Even just a little.

The next day went as expected: everyone was wishing Axel a happy birthday. He was getting occasional gifts from people he was close with and from people with whom he had never even talked to, or at least Scholar was pretty sure that he didn't. Even Tadashi went a bit soft on Axel.

"Not giving me detention for my late arrival today, Mister Student Body President?" Axel was over 15 minutes late which meant that he was deserving of a detention slip by usual à la Tadashi rules. "Go away before I change my mind you ugly ear-pierced clown." Axel was nodding and smirking all knowingly. "Uh-huh. Of course Sir, could I consider this lack of strictness towards me as my birthday present?"

Tadashi reached out for the detention form inside of his bag and took a pen in his hand ready to write Axel's name down and the reason why he got a detention slip. Axel backed away immediately. "Alright, alright! I'm sorry! Geez. Could you at least not threaten me with this shit on my birthday??" Tadashi put the pen back into his pencil case and smiled. "There you go. I knew you had some self-awareness behind your 3 kilograms of makeup and your millions of engagement rings you wear."

Axel frowned like a child. "I don't wear *that* many rings! Also, my makeup is super light!"

The rest of the day went on pretty smoothly, though Axel was probably wondering why Scholar didn't wish him a happy birthday. Whenever other people approached him to do so Axel would always peek at Scholar from the corner of his eye, as if to say: "See?! It's my birthday today..."

Scholar felt secretly super giddy because of that. Axel was totally waiting for it. After the last school hour of the day he even came towards Scholar ""to say hi."" "Hey, Scholar!" "Hey there."

Silence.

"Um. So. Don't you have anything to tell me?" "Nu-huh." "You sure?" "Yup." Silence again. Axel looked down in such an adorable manner that Scholar felt almost like he was murdering a puppy. "Hm. Okay... See you tomorrow?" Scholar smiled as sweetly as he could to hint to the fact that they would see eachother again today. "Of course. Bye!"

After trying to sound as chill as he could, Scholar hurried himself into town. Blindly looking for a gift might be a bad idea but it's often this way that we find the best ones. Scholar was relying on his luck and intuition, he was storming through every single shop until he came accross something a bit silly that could do the job. It was in a small shop named "lying tiger" with a lot of useless gadgets. It was simple, cheap and adorable. Hopefully Scholar's intuition was right.

Upon seeing the gates of the school getting closer and closer as he was walking towards it, he decided to pull off the fastest sprint of his life. If Murdoc had seen him he'd be impressed.

After a couple of minutes Scholar was standing in front of Axel's room. "Okay.... No wait."

It was 7pm and the sun was already gone from a long time ago since it *is* November. Scholar was sweating as if he just ran a marathon, which... He kinda did. He muttered again. "Ugh. Good job, Scholar. Why did you have the bright idea to make yourself smell like a horse before-"

Voices from the hallway were heard, a couple of girls coming his way. Damn it. Alright. Scholar decided to at least make himself look good before coming back, he changed his clothes into something more casual but also charming. A bit of deodorant here and there, some perfume and done!

This time around he was ready, if it wasn't for his stress kicking in that is. He suddenly didn't feel as confident in his gift as a couple of minutes ago. Well, it was too late to change it anyway. Scholar took a deep breath and knocked. He waited there without moving nor breathing. As if until Axel would get out of his room, time had stopped.

Suddenly, the door flew open. The moment their eyes met Axel mockingly smiled. "Oh? You finally decided to come and wish me a happy birthday? Haha." Scholar had kept his hands behind his back but when Axel said that, he instinctively moved them to his front, revealing the package he was holding. Axel stopped smiling and his eyes widened in surprise. "Oh." Scholar was already happy with that reaction alone, even if he was unsure on whether or not Axel would like the gift. For a second, this felt like it was enough. "Yeah. I couldn't wish you a happy birthday without giving you a present, could I? Happy birthday, birthday boy!"

Axel carefully took the box into his hands, really gently, as if he could break it just by pressing his palms on it. "Thank you! But geez, you didn't have to. I was worried the whole day, you know? I thought that maybe you were mad at me for something."

He said that while pouting, it was so cute and worth the trouble. Scholar didn't regret his sprint and the whole day lost searching for the gift. "Haha! Of course not. Oh but don't shake the box, you might kill it. Also hurry up and open it, the lil guy needs light." Axel blinked a few times before following Scholar's advice, he tried to open the package as quickly as possible without damaging the wrapping. Needless to say that he wasn't being really successful.

"What do you mean?! Don't tell me it's a hamster or something! You know that we can't keep pets in the dorms, right? Tadashi is *so* gonna kill me if-" It wasn't an animal. Not a real one at least. "A... A toy?" It was a little puppy playing an electric guitar.

"Yup. It has buttons on his back, when you push them the doggo plays sick riffs for you. It has also light effects on the guitar." Axel looked at the toy with admiration. As if that dog made of plastic was a real puppy.

"Oh. My god. A puppy. Playing the guitar for me?!? This is the cutest and most precious gift I have gotten today!" "You like it?" "Are you kidding?! I love it! I'm gonna practice the guitar with him from now on! He's gonna be my little guitar buddy!"

Scholar felt so proud. So damn proud. It was a good call. It made him think about the fact that children often receive useful gifts from the adults rather than fun ones. There was always a craving for a new toy in a kid's heart rather than the need to get a new backpack or clothes. Scholar believed that every teenager in the world still had a child inside of them who would always secretly pass in front of a toy store while ogling at it but being too embarrassed to enter and take a look.

"I'm glad, to be honest I was a bit worried about it. I mean, you probably received a lot of pricey and more useful things today." By the time Scholar had said that, Axel already took the plastic puppy out of the box. "Excuse me? You think that there is something greater in the world than a doggo playing a guitar? Pathetic. And like I told you I'm gonna practice with this guy!"

"Uh. Don't you practice in the auditorium? What will you do when other people will see you hanging out with a toy?" Axel let out the loudest gasp of his life. "How *dare* you call my friend a toy?? Have you even heard him play?"

Axel pushed the button and some light effects emerged from the toy along with a guitar riff, so skillfully played that he felt almost ashamed when comparing himself to the dog. "Holy shit. This dog is better at playing the guitar than me..." Scholar laughed cheerfully, his laugh was followed by Axel's adorable giggle. "Well, I'm happy you like it. This way whenever you play the guitar, hopefully you'll think about me for a bit."

Axel tried to pull off the most flirty expression he could, the kind of stare that couldn't be mistaken for anything else. "Bold of you to assume that I don't think about you everyday, sweetheart." He would've been so persuasive... if it wasn't for the doggo made of plastic he was holding. Scholar couldn't keep it in any longer and laughed again. Needless to say that he was surprised when he noticed that Axel looked a bit hurt. "... Axel?" "That's so mean. I'm really trying so hard but it never gets through to you, you know?" Scholar's heart dropped into his stomach. "What?"

He heard that right, didn't he? What Axel said just now. As for Axel, in a matter of milliseconds he was already back to his usual smiling self, regretting what he had said. "Oh, haha! Whoops, that came out really wrong. Don't worry, I'm not upset for real. Um..." The hallway went silent and Scholar was really anxious. He felt as if he effed up big time. He was about to apologize and get it out in the open. The fact that he was actually really mortified at the thought of Axel disliking the gift. The fact that he had a crush on him for a little while now. The fact that he was a dumbass when it came to taking hints because he thought that Axel was like this with everyone. But before he could, Axel spoke again. "Don't make that face, you didn't do anything wrong. Look, let's hang out together soon. Just the two of us. Deal?"

Scholar wasn't so sure about the "you didn't do anything wrong" part, since he just noticed that Axel was in fact trying to flirt with him for a while now and he was constantly brushing it off while thinking that it was just his imagination wanting his feelings to be reciprocated. Scholar gulped, unable to say anything else other than: "Of course! Whenever you want, I'll be there."

Axel slowly closed the door... and immediately felt like the hugest moron of human history.

Because he knew. He knew that Scholar would never play dumb with something like that, he just genuinely did not think that he, Axel, could ever like him in that way. But now he knew. Axel just spelled it out for him loud and clear. Next time they see eachother there won't be any doubts in the way. Axel fondly looked at the puppy in his hands. "If only your previous owner knew how to take hints... Well, there's no going back now."

Axel pushed the button again and listened to the puppy's incredible guitar riffs for a while. Even hours and hours later, before falling asleep, he still couldn't get the image of Scholar's astonished face out of his mind when he finally realized what Axel felt towards him. Axel grinned. This kind of expression had no subtlety to it at all. Axel swore to himself.

The next time they see eachother he'll tell him clearly what he thinks, no hints, no silly pick-up lines. And then they'll kiss for sure.

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

Here it is! Sorry, the last part was so cheesy 😂. I apologize 🙏🙏 Most of this was written at 3am when I couldn't sleep, because obviously everybody knows that the best moment to write something is when you're supposed to be asleep /s

This has so many plot holes, like for example how is it possible that Karolina didn't beat Scholar's ass the next day for yelling in the middle of the night?? Or how come Tadashi was nice towards Axel for once? That's so OOC, absolutely impossible.

Anyway, Wikimedia is obviously Wikipedia and the "lying tiger" shop is actually "flying tiger" (Not sure if this shop exists in the US.)

Well, thank you for reading!

#sweet elite #se #axel #fanfiction #please don't be cringy #in a few weeks I'll regret posting this #watch me delete it like YOINK

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adoringsteverogers · 5 years

Text

Treat Her Better

Pairing: steve rogers x fem!reader (angst)

Word Count: 1.6K

Warning: toxic relationship, the total destruction of Steve’s character, cheating, my awful writing

Request: hii sweetie!!! this is pretty angsty but can i request an imagine/blurb/one-shot with steve x fem!reader where steve cheats on the reader?? based on it ain’t me or send my love? thx 💋 (loosely based on send my love by Adele)

A/N: heyy! so i finally got around to answer your requests and i really hope it didn’t become too awful, cringy and just all-over-the-place. i tried my absolute best but i basically just got inspired and wrote what came to my mind. i have to get it clear that i’m not praising toxic relationships and adultery, and i also know that Steve would never do such thing. enjoy reading!

If you have an opinion to share, please stop by my inbox on your way out here and leave their some feedback! Thank you!

He was late. Again. It was the fourth or fifth one in a row and you were actually getting suspicious and you were the one feeling guilty. A part of you still wanted to believe that Steve wasn’t just like the ones from before, that he would never break your heart like that. But at the same time, things weren’t really going smoothly between the two of you lately.

It had all started a few months before, after years into your relationship. In the beginning, everything was going so well, it felt like heaven to be with Steve and you felt like the luckiest girl in the whole galaxy. No day could pass by without Steve buying you flowers or showering you with compliments before going to battle and cuddling you up and holding you still in his muscly arms until you both fell asleep. You knew it was something else than the ones from before; it was certain, something you could always hold onto during your darkest times, something that made you feel loved and safe. Made you feel like you were worth something. You knew that Steve would always keep an eye on you, that he would never let anything bad ever happen to you. And you did the same. Always patching him up after rough battles when you would just stare into each others eyes and you would tell him you didn’t like seeing him this way. Steve would just kiss you and place his forehead against yours, making a promise about not getting too hurt because he doesn’t want her best girl to be in pain because of him.

And regardless of all those promises, he did cause you pain. Several little, invisible wounds on your back which you had been oblivious to until now. You just didn’t want to admit to yourself that your dream about living your whole life with Steve had been just crushed to million little pieces.

The first drop of tear rolled down your cheek and hit the untouched food on your plate. You planned everything out. You wanted it to be perfect. And he promised he would be there and spend the night with you. Only you. And now it was past 10 pm, Steve nowhere to be found, his phone probably on silent or just ignoring your calls and cold food on the table. You looked down on your simple red dress which was his favourite. At least that was what he had always told you. That he loved seeing you in that dress.

You started crying unstoppably as you remembered the time when you went to that old vintage bar and spent the whole night dancing and laughing. You didn’t even care about the staring eyes and the fact that you had nothing to do with dancing; you just let Steve lead you to the rythm of the music and make you laugh out loud every five minutes which turned your face as red as your dress. When the night ended and you danced your feet off, he took you home and tucked you into bed before lying down next to you and as you looked at each other you couldn’t help but laugh. Both your laughters reflected how exhausted but fully in love you were and as this memory creeped its way into your mind, you realised how long you hadn’t felt the same about Steve’s laughs. You barely even heard him laugh in the last few months. He has never been the type to wear his heart on his sleeves; he just kept bottling up his feelings and only let them show every now and then. But to you, he had always been an open book. You felt like Steve knew he could trust you and share all his feelings and thoughts with you. And that was one of the best gifts you’d ever been given. But lately, he had been closing up, starting rebuilding that thick wall he built around his heart without letting you in. There were only two places behind that wall: one for Steve and another for someone he truly trusted. And it wasn’t you anymore.

Steve started acting weird a few months before but you didn’t want to think anything into it, so you just let it go. You believed it was because of the missions and the Avengers, that was why he was irritable and quick to snap at you.

One of these occasions stayed and will probably stay in your memory forever. You were already home, doing some paperwork you had brought home when Steve entered the door and threw his bag on the floor while kicking his shoes off. You smiled at him and said hello, ready to get up from your seat and get your usual kiss but he didn’t even care to say hello back properly before marching into the bathroom, already stepping into the shower. After you didn’t hear the sound of flowing water filling your small appartement anymore, you decided to follow him and knocked gently on the door, asking him if everything was okay. He basically ripped the door open and looked down at you, all irritated before his reply.

“For heaven’s sake, Y/N, do I live with a puppy or an actual human being? Would you stop following me around?”, he asked with raised eyebrows and you couldn’t do anything but nod your head, gulping. You couldn’t believe this was your Steve and you couldn’t even reply to him. He stormed off to your bedroom, leaving you alone with your tears, standing by the open door of the bathroom, thinking about when your relationship had become so bad. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t remember a time.

You looked at the clock again. Almost 11 pm. You were done. You quickly wiped your tears away, not caring about your make-up anymore. You stood up and kicked your high heels to the corner before you started cleaning up the table. You packed the dinner and decided to give it to the kind homeless man near your appartement. It wasn’t worth throwing away if you could give it to someone else, not even if you were as angry and sad as at that moment. You blew one of the candles, the one on your side of the table and then you poured all the red wine in the sink. Maybe you’ll regret it later, but who cares anymore, right? You didn’t realise the angry tears leaving your eyes and flowing down your cheeks until you heard the front door opening and closing and saw blurry Steve approaching you. He was all smily until he took in everything he could see in the room. He looked at his watch and shut his eyes close while murmuring a short ‘fuck’ under his nose.

“Yeah, that’s right, Steve Rogers. Fuck. Fuck it all. After all, it only took me three hours to get ready for the date and I wasted another three waiting for you. I don’t even want to know where and with who you were but please, tell me one thing. Why?”

Your eyes were filled with angry and devastated tears, your lips were shaking and you could swear you could’ve choked him right at that moment. He knew how much you trusted and relied on him and he didn’t even give a single fuck about it.

Steve took a step closer to you, showing you his puppy dog eyes because he knew it was your weakness. But not anymore. They could never work on you anymore.

“Love, please...”, he started but you cut him off by raising your voice at him.

“Don’t you dare call me ‘love’ ever again. I’m done with you, Steve. Just answer my question and I’m gonna pack my stuff.”

And this one sentence made him realise how big of a mistake he had done by cheating on you with someone who could never reach your level. He needed to cope with all the stress inside and he thought it would be the easiest way to do it. He was dumb. So, so dumb. He threw away a perfect relationship for someone whom he didn’t even feel love for and he had never realised what a dumb choice that was. He didn’t care about you or anything else after he met that girl. Just because she helped him getting all the stress out.

And now you were standing there in front of him in your kitchen, telling him you’d leave him and he only now realised how much you had meant to him all along.

“I... I don’t know. I just felt... stressed and confused and I need someone... something to cope with it. So I could get it all out and feel better.”

You couldn’t believe your ears.

“And what about me, Steve? I was here all along and you had always known that! Why couldn’t you just tell me?”

You were shaking now and Steve instantly reached out for you to get you seated but you tossed his hands away. You couldn’t let him touch you ever again.

When he didn’t say anything but stared at his shoes and rubbed his face sighing, you straightened your back, wiped your tears away and said:

“You know what? It doesn’t even matter. I’m just going to pack my stuff and leave. Hope you two will be happy together.”

You headed towards your bedroom so you could start the moving out process but before you did that, you turned back once again.

“Also, send my love to her.”

#request #anon #marvel imagine #marvel one-shot #mcu imagine #mcu one-shot #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one-shot #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #captain america one-shot #steve rogers x fem!reader #captain america x fem!reader #adoringsteverogers

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greenninjagal-blog · 5 years

Text

Waterspout

(whoops a spiderverse au)

Summary: Virgil finds himself stuck on the side of a building with an impending storm overhead and he’s helped by an annoying--admittedly attractive--guy.

Totally inspired by @sugarglider9603 ‘s Spiderverse Universe though I took a different spin with it.

Ship: Prinxiety

Warnings: mild language because Virgil.

Words: 4075

Virgil doesn’t even notice the breeze had picked up until he’s suddenly yanked in the wrong direction as useless as a puppet on a string. He has a total of one second to think the usual “Oh shi--” before his body slams into the sleek surface of an office building some twenty-thirty-forty stories into the air. The air in his chest splutters out, and his shoulder does this weird pop-pop thing that he’s sure its not supposed to do. His hands open on reflex and his web escapes his fingers in his panic-- a panic that nearly swallows him whole because he knew how high he was, and it had taken weeks to get the dropping of his stomach every time he left the solid ground. He scratches at the glass of the window before he manages to get his fingers to stick and stay stuck along with his left knee and his right foot.

Then when he can, he worries about inhaling. Then he worries about everything else.

Like the fact that he was a dizzying height in the air, which by the way, was tormented by a series of unexpected cold fronts. He doesn’t remember the forecast saying anything about rain, but the clouds are gathering and the thunder isn’t that much farther behind. The chill of the atmosphere crawls into Virgil’s suit, along with the flecks of teeny tiny suggestions of rain.

He lets out a curse (on the wind, on the height, on himself).

Okay, let’s start from the beginning: Virgil was an artistic introverted emo. A year ago he was bitten by a radioactive spider-- because honestly that’s just his luck-- and received epic superpowers that he really, really didn’t ask for. Since then, he’s been the one and only Recluse: a spider themed superhero/vigilante who does his best to save the normal people from the baddier people.

The rain starts several seconds later because the universe also hates him. The rain starts, and Virgil guesses he has about five minutes before the window he’s clinging to-- his only available perch-- becomes a slip-n-slide to his death.

For someone who has a spider sense that tells him when giant rocks, knives, or bullets are coming for him, Virgil feels like he was truly blindsided. By something as finicky as the freaking weather.

He hisses in pain as he tries to move his arm, the arm that had caught his entire body when he splattered on the window like some cartoon. Oh yeah, it hurt a lot, enough that his entire breath has to hiss out between his teeth and his bottom lip, and he’s pretty sure it shouldn’t be making that Pop-pop-popping sound when he tries to roll it. Spikes of pain shoot straight from his limb to the back of his eyes.

The rain picks up slowly: fatter, heavier drops, colder chills, sharper winds that slice around his body trying its best to unstick him from his purchase.

The truth of the situation hits him seconds later: there’s exactly no way he’s going to be able to swing out of here, not with his shoulder crying uncle at the thought of moving and the wind cutting the air in odd unpredictable sections. He’d have better luck trying to plaster his entire body against this window or another of the others and hope the water doesn’t wash him away.

(because until the popular nursery rhyme, Virgil was pretty sure if he got washed away Officer Dee would be finding his broken body on the roof of some poor saps car. There would be no sitting up from that, much less climbing back up here.)

Suddenly Virgil’s mask feels too tight, his limbs not strong enough, and his heart is beating far too fast. He knew becoming a superhero was a bad idea. Why did he do this? Dee had spent so long telling him all about how Recluse was “just a kid” who was “going to get himself killed one day”. It figured that he would be right about that--this. Virgil is going to get himself killed and he can’t even remember the last thing he said to Dee (though it was probably something along the lines of “I promise I’m not going to go graffiti the old subway station alleys again.”).

He’s so caught up in what he might have, or might not have said, and what his last words were going to be it takes him a moment to realize there’s another noise striking his senses. Really was this spidersense useful for anything--

The window next to him suddenly flicks open, despite the rain that was definitely pouring in. Virgil isn’t sure what to do when a head bravely sticks out into the open air.

“Hail!” The boy says all smug smiles that Virgil immediately loves hates. “You’re Recluse aren’t you?”

As if there was some other spider themed weirdo who clung to buildings in their free time.

“No,” Virgil says, because he can. What, the citizens of this town have had a year to know him, and they all knew his dislike of social interaction. (They did not know it was because his anxiety flared up, reminding him of how obvious it was that Virgil was Recluse already.)

The boy laughed. He folded his arms on the window sill, completely oblivious to the pouring rain that was matting his brown hair to his face and the spouts that were sure to be getting into his office. “Alright, alright. I guess I deserved that one. Can I ask a question?”

“You just did.”

The boy’s eyes narrow, his lips pursed together in a way that’s more comical than anything else. If Virgil had to venture a guess, he’d assume that this guy is his age, which does little to explain why he’s some forty floors up on a building Virgil is pretty sure is owned by the government.

“Wow the news was right about you being a smartass.” The boy says, “I was just wondering why you wear a sweatshirt over your suit. It really can’t be practical, and it looks terrible.”

Virgil takes back anything nice he’s thought about this guy. “Excuse me?”

“What?” He responds as if he can’t believe Virgil would be annoyed at him, “You have a whole edgy look about it! A hero can’t be edgy!”

“Yes they can!”

“Name one!”

“Batman!”

“Name two!”

Virgil shakes his head, rolling his eyes though the other can’t see at all. Flicks of water splatter off him, for all the good it does. He can feel his hands starting to tire from holding him up, and the water is slipping between his foot and the glass.

“Why do you care what I wear?” He snaps, “Shouldn’t you be asking why I’m just hanging out up here?”

The boy raises his eye brows as if the idea never occurred to him. He glances back in the office and then back out, with a mischievous smile “I don’t see an issue with you out here. I mean I got a great view through the window over. Anyone ever tell you, you’ve got great calves?”

Virgil unsticks his foot to kick at him. It’s a mistake, and he knows it the second he does it (which is the only reason why this asshole doesn’t taste the rubber of Virgil’s sole). Water runs over the slick surface of the window, thunder booms, and Virgil curses as knee looses its hold and he drops--fuck--until his fingers are the only thing holding him with overextended elbows and a shoulder screaming bloody murder.

“Oh fuck--” the boy half yells, and jumps back inside. Virgil clings to the idle hope that he’s running to get help. He’s disappointed when the window where he had been dangling flicks open and its only the boy there. He reaches out and catches Virgil’s wrists tightly, cementing them. The window howls. Somewhere not too far off lightning shoots between the clouds, and the resulting thunder shakes the building.

Or maybe that’s Virgil’s body threatening to give up on him. It would be really easy just to free fall to his death at this point. Far easier than trying to fight the agony in his shoulder.

“Hey!” The boy yells, “Hey, come on! I can’t pull you up by myself!”

“Then don’t,” Virgil forces between his gritted teeth. The boy doesn’t hear, and Virgil isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or bad thing. He kicks against the window pushing the balls of his feet into the glass and scraping upwards in a pseudo bunny hop.

The boy yanks his wrists at the same time, perfectly planned and yet not at all.

Virgil juts through the window, colliding face-to- chin with the boy. His rib cage scraps the window sill, and they fall to the floor in a weighty piles of limbs and soaked clothes.

Virgil curses again, rolling off the boy, and grabbing his shoulder with a twisted expression, “shit.” Because it was definitely going to need to be looked at by a professional, and Virgil hated lying. There wasn’t a good way to explain how he fucked up his shoulder, especially when the truth would get him grounded for life (probably literally).

It takes him another moment to recognize that the boy is laughing. At him.

“What?” Virgil snaps.

“I just saved Recluse,” He says as if that was some kind of accomplishment. “That makes me a hero!”

“It really doesn’t,” he responds just to make that stupid smug smile go away. He wishes the adrenaline would fade already because he can’t think when his heart is beating this fast.

“I’m Roman,” He says offering a hand, “I figured you should know, since were fellow heroes.”

“Saving me does not make you a hero.”

“Of course it does,” Roman says disregarding his sour tone with a flick of his hand. “You save people, I saved you, therefore I saved all those people too.”

“That’s not--” Virgil sucks in a breath and counted to ten like his old guidance counselor had told him to do. He punched evil guys in the face all the time, and yet this Roman character managed to get under his skin more than anyone else. He glances around at the office they’re in-- a cubical that looked pretty standard of some pencil pusher. It reminded him of Logan’s dorm room: all neat and orderly and so, so boring.

Minus the puddle that Virgil and Roman were creating in the center of the room. The rain pattered on the windowsill soaking some wastebasket and dripping onto the floor.

“Oh shit,” Virgil said, because he really didn’t need another reason for someone to hate him.

Roman looked down and then shrugged off the water. “whoops!” He grinned, getting up and closing the window. “Good thing this isn’t my place.”

“You’re place?” Virgil repeated. Water dribbles down his mask, distorting his view of Roman for a second.

Roman waves him off, “I’m here often enough that they gave me my own cubical, you know next door.” He smirks, “Still has a great view.”

Virgil fights his blush and fails, but it’s okay because Roman can’t see him anyway. He slowly pushes himself up to his knees and then manages to get himself standing without aggravating his shoulder anymore. If he’s lucky Patton will be asleep by the time Virgil climbs into the room again and he’ll have until tomorrow morning to figure out how to explain it to his best friend and roommate. (Because Virgil knew that both Logan and Patton would be against him doing anything superhero-ish so they had not been informed of where Virgil went on his daily trips out of the school.)

((Actually now that he thought about it, there was literally no one in his life that would approve of what he was doing. They would all tell him to stop before he got himself actually killed.))

“You work here?” Virgil asks.

“hm? Oh nah!” Roman laughs, “No way. This place would kill me.” He motions around the room to prove his point “So dreadfully boring. I was born for the stage!” He poses in what Virgil supposes is a dramatic pose.

He doesn’t say that Roman definitely looks like he was born for the stage. Because Virgil definitely doesn’t notice that his eyes are a fiery brown made so with a passion, that there are slight crinkles around his eyes from lots of laughter, that his laugh itself is loud and booming and Virgil feels his heart do a stutter at the sound of something so freaking perfect. He doesn’t look like a Prince swooping out of no where to save the day. He doesn’t.

“Whatever you say Princey.” Virgil tells him, and then panics because what the fuck Virgil.

“Princey?” Roman repeats with smug smirk, “Are you my damsel in distress then Recluse? I wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course you wouldn’t mind,” Virgil rolls his eyes so hard his head tilts enough for Roman to know what he was doing. “You don’t have a brain to mind with.”

Roman gasps offended. Virgil cheers himself on.

“How could you say something so mean to the person who just saved your life?”

“How could I not?” Virgil huffs, “You just pulled me into this building. Isn’t this owned by the Government? Don’t you need a clearance level to get in here?”

“Rules are meant to be broken!” Roman cries dramatically, then he shivers, visibly.

It’s then that Virgil realizes that they are both soaked to the core, standing in the middle of an air conditioned cubical. His own freaky spider healing ability was probably keeping him from totally freezing, but Roman was not as lucky.

“Oh man,” Virgil says lamely, “Do you have something dry to change into?”

Roman scoffs a laugh that’s nothing if not awkward. “What? Eager to see me undress, Recluse?”

Virgil is doing the blushy blotch thing that he hates he does when he’s flustered, but he’s pretty sure Roman’s ears are turning dark red so at least he’s not alone. Virgil splutters some series consonants and vowels that’s not actually English but close enough.

“Look, just--” Virgil grunts, turning away from him because he can’t speak when he’s looking at the wannabe actor. “I’m not going to be responsible for you getting a cold because of me!”

Roman shivers again, a thing that makes his entire frame jerk, and his shovels his hands under his arm pits and retains a copy of his smile. “Aw you care.”

“Shut up,” Virgil says without the heat he meant it to.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“I’m part spider.”

“I’m part Italian.”

“What?”

They both stare at each other, and Virgil shakes his head when Roman ducks his. Their laughs mix somewhere in the middle. When Virgil looks back at him Roman is staring at him with some sort of unreadable expression on his face. His cheeks were definitely dusted pink now.

“What?” Virgil asks again.

“I was--you--uh--” Roman’s mouth opens and closes twice before he seems to find the words he’s looking for, “do you have a phone?”

Virgil isn’t sure what he was expecting. He’s also unsure why he isn’t running far, far away by now. He chalks it up to the exhaustion from the near death experience. “Why?”

“I, uh, think you’re a--uh-- rather dashing sort of fellow,” Roman says, “I was--hoping-- I could, presumably, uh, obtain your number.”

“Is this a joke?”

Roman stiffens with panicked look on his face, “No! NO! I would never! I mean it when I say I think you’re amazing, even if no one else thinks so! The way you save people all day and never ask for anything in return-- and even if you’re hard to approach and you make me doubt everything I say-- I still think you’re really cool. I’d like to be your friend.”

There are a million reasons for Virgil to say no. Most of them involve a certain amount of “it’s not safe” and “what if anyone ever found out”.

“I won’t tell if you don’t!” Roman says and Virgil has a hard time not believing him. He looks earnest, trustworthy. Virgil wonders if he hit his head when he slammed into the window or if he’s actually getting sick.

“I’m not telling you my real name.” Virgil warns him.

Roman has the decency to look embarrassed, “I didn’t expect you, too! It wouldn’t matter anyway.” He mutters the last part under his breath.

Virgil is about to ask what that means when there’s a resounding ding of elevator doors somewhere not far away. Roman’s eyes grow wide and his hisses a noise from his teeth.

“Hide!”

“What?” Virgil says.

“Roman?” Another voice makes the hair on the back of Virgil’s neck rise. He has just enough time to panic--he’s really good at panicking-- before the telltale click of heel on the tile floor catches up with them and a woman glances into their cubical. Her eyes fall on Roman, and then search the rest of the cubical, looking straight at Virgil and moving on.

“Roman,” She says, “What are you doing in here--and why are you all wet?”

Roman glances between Virgil and her for a second before his posture closes and he rubs the back of his neck with mock sheepishment. “The window was open, auntie. I came in here to close it and it was harder than I thought it would be.”

She doesn’t look convinced. “It was...open?” She glanced around the room again, “No came in right? You haven’t seen anyone?”

Roman laughs, and Virgil’s impressed by his acting ability, “Of course not. We’re on the forty third floor. Who would be climbing in this building this high?”

That seems to calm her down. “Sorry, its just that the technology we’re working on is highly classified. I just clocked out for the day, so we can go now.”

“Really?” Roman says.

“What’s wrong? Every other day you’re begging me to leave! Plus we need to get you in dry clothes and rested up for the big day tomorrow!”

Roman gives another look towards Virgil-- well through Virgil, because he can’t see something that’s invisible. It had been a private joke that Virgil had kept to himself: that he an introverted artist with anxiety was barely noticed in a crowd as it was and now he could literally turn invisible when he panicked.

“Yeah,” Roman says. He turns away and he exits the cubical. Virgil stays still long after his chattering has faded and he’s left he building. He wonders if he’s ever going to see him again. For a superhero was a secret identity and an introvert with anxiety, the answer is surprisingly disappointing.

“Seriously Virge!” Patton whines, “Skateboarding in the abandoned subway rails?” He looks at the dislocated shoulder that Virgil just had set by the school nurse. “Kiddo, you’re going to be the death of me!”

“Sorry Pat,” Virgil tells his roommate.

Patton sighs and tussles Virgil’s hair because that was the type of person Patton was. “I’m sorry too kiddo. I’m not mad, I just worry. A lot.”

Virgil knows this, because he had been Patton’s roommate since he had come to the Sanders Academy for the Gifted (which was funny because Virgil got in for his art and now he really is gifted-- with superpowers). Patton had luckily been asleep when Virgil had made it back into the room, long after the storm had cleared by doing a strange super dangerous swing with one arm and his webshooter.

“Oh shoot!” Patton exclaims looking at his watch, “We’re late!”

“Late?”

Patton blinks, “Logan’s new dorm-mate is moving in today! I promised we’d be there to help them get settled in!”

Virgil tugs the zipper of his jacket--which was still a little damp, but he was ignoring it. It wasn’t like anyone was going to recognize it. “Both of us?” He says quietly, which he knows sounds like a plea, and it is: a plea to Patton to let him skip out on meeting new people for the day.

Recluse could, because Recluse could just snarl at the people he didn’t like and swing away. Virgil could not.

Patton takes his hand off the zipper and links their fingers in a way that is brazenly lovingly-- because Pat had a lot of love to give to everyone. “I’ll be right here the entire time, I promise. We can just go say hi, and then we can go hang out in our room until class starts.”

Virgil is not a people person. But Patton is giving him the puppy dog eyes that haunts Virgil’s dreams. He hates denying Patton anything he wants. When he agrees the smile that lights up Patton’s face is almost enough to drown out the cannon ball sized dread in his stomach.

Logan’s room is right across from theirs anyway. It is a simple thing to duck out of anything that happens and both Patton and Logan are kind enough that they can explain Virgil’s in depth issues with--

The door to Logan’s room is open, but Patton knocks and enters anyway. Virgil stops short because there is no way that this is happening.

Logan is OCD, even if he denies it. His room is neat and orderly and perfect. Everything has its place and he starts to lose it when things aren’t where they belong. Virgil tries to avoid going in his room if he can help it, because he’s terrified of messing something up.

His new roommate appears to be the opposite, if just from the stacks of haphazardly placed boxes in the room. Its too much stuff, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Logan does and he looks absolutely terrible: as if he’s about to short circuit at any second. Virgil can relate.

Because standing in the middle of Logan’s room is Roman. Roman. The same Roman who had saved Virgil’s life yesterday night. The same Roman who had sat there and talked to him while they were soaked. The same Roman who had asked for his number.

Roman looks up from whatever he’s saying at Patton’s entrance with that smug smile that makes Virgil’s heart jump and this time he can’t blame it on the adrenaline.

“Hi!” Patton says.

“Greetings!” Roman booms, “I’m Roman, Actor!” He gives a bow to Patton that makes him giggle-- but he freezes when he sees Virgil standing there behind the glowing Patton.

“Roman?” Logan asks, worried despite his internally barely hidden frustration. He makes a motion like he’s about to unpack on of the boxes and just barely stops himself.

Roman doesn’t respond. Instead that stupid smile widens just a bit as he nods to Virgil, which makes no sense because he doesn’t know Virgil is Recluse, “That’s a terrible jacket. Completely impractical.”

Virgil can’t make a noise-- he really can’t. Because Roman shouldn’t be here, much less recognize him from this jacket of all things. And Roman does recognize him, because there’s a playful twinkle in his eyes and Virgil couldn’t get their conversation out of his head if he tried.

He doesn’t dare try.

“Excuse you!” Patton exclaims, “How dare you insult my--”

He trails off at the sound of laughter. Virgil is as surprised as he is to find its his own.

“Shut up, Princey.” Virgil manages, goes for intimidating but he knows he failed, “No one asked you.”

“This won’t do!” Roman says, “I’m going to have to save your fashion sense as well as your life!”

“Pardon,” Logan cuts in, fixing his glasses, “You two have met? Roman has saved your life Virgil?”

“Yes, just last night--”

“Skateboarding!” Virgil cuts in, a bit too loud, a bit too quickly, “I was skateboarding! In the subway alleys!”

Roman laughs slightly. Virgil is worried for just a second that he isn’t going to go with it, but its misplaced worry. “Right, Skateboarding. I happened to be walking along there as well. We talked for a bit. I don’t think I quite caught your number. Mind if we rectify that?”

Patton seems to burst with happiness. “Kiddo! You didn’t tell me you made a friend!” He wraps Virgil in a hug.

Logan looks less convinced.

Roman looks perfect.

Virgil realizes at this point Roman is a waterspout, and Virgil was completely unprepared for it. But Virgil thinks he doesn’t mind being washed away.

#spiderverse #spiderverse au #sanders sides virgil #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #deciet sanders #superhero

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