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scoopsgf · 5 years ago

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can i get a good night’s sleep? can i PLEASE get a good night’s sleep?!

or: five times peter parker doesn’t sleep + the one time he does

my contribution to the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange! this is for @snarky-drabbles - I hope you enjoy it!

The first time is actually just the first in a while. Peter’s had problems sleeping ever since he was a little kid; it was just one issue of many that stacked up on top of each other, resulting in his personal belief that he must be the most difficult kid to look after on the planet.

Asthma meant hundreds of dollars spent on inhalers, covering what their shitty insurance didn’t. His poor eyesight was the same story and the bullies that used to break his glasses had never helped. But it wasn’t just physical crap, of course: he’s had anxiety for as long as he can remember.

There are cute side-effects like panic attacks and nausea, not to mention the constant sense of impending doom he’s been nursing since… well, birth, probably. When he was younger he’d worry about whether or not the taxi driver had enough gas in his car to get them where they needed to go, or maybe Ben would get shot at work (ironically enough, he’d never worried that Ben would get shot off-duty, and there is a teeny superstitious sliver of him that believes maybe if he had considered the possibility it never would have happened, like some kind of a reverse jinx or something).

One of the other cute things that comes along with it is insomnia.

So here he is, pacing in his kitchen at three in the morning because May isn’t home yet.

Her shift ended at two. She’s usually back within a half hour considering the hospital isn’t far, hence his agitation.

He’s tried calling and texting to no avail, and he keeps telling himself that everything is fine, that she probably just got held up; meanwhile his subconscious provides a great slideshow of mental images that speak to the opposite—her getting kidnapped because somehow someone links her to Spider-Man, her getting hit with a car, mugged, shot, slipping on black ice—and that’s actually not far-fetched considering it’s January, there’s a lot of it, and so he pulls out his phone and types, You didn’t slip on black ice and die did you? to May.

No little dots appear to signify that she’s typing. The message doesn’t even change from ‘delivered’ to ‘read’.

She has her read receipts on. She’s promised him. There’s no reason she’d change that, right? But maybe she accidentally switched them off when she was scrolling through her settings.

He calls her.

“Hi, this is May Parker, I’m unavailable at the moment but if you leave me a message I’ll get back to you as soon as—”

Peter hangs up with a dissatisfied grunt.

It’s only then that he realises, to his great dismay, that he’s paced all the way onto the ceiling.

In his shock he loses concentration and falls. “Ow, fuck.” He pulls his aching knee to his chest. It’ll no doubt be bruised soon. “God has forsaken me.”

He picks up his now cracked phone and texts Ned:

I just fell off the ceiling at 3 AM in the morning

Don’t ask me what I was doing on it

Every bone in my body is broken :(

No reply comes which is pretty typical; Ned probably passed out in front of his PC like, hours ago. Peter can picture it: the light of his computer screen casting a blue glow over everything in the room, his head probably tucked into his arms to muffle his snores (and there’s also probably a bowl of stale popcorn spilled across his floor at this point), his creepy mother lurking in the doorway—or worse, trying to find out how to snoop through his laptop while he’s out of it.

Peter could totally go swing down there and help the guy out. It would be something to do anyway.

But no. The door is too far. His suit… too much work. It’s definitely better to just stay here curled up under the table like a little turtle.

But wait—a blanket.

Is it worth the effort? Probably. Peter scans his immediate surroundings and, oh boy, Lady Fate is actually on his side tonight because there’s a gigantic purple fluffy one hanging off the couch and it only takes a little bit of physical exertion to yank it down and wrap it around his body.

He burrows deeper into it and scrolls through Instagram. MJ posted a picture of a banana today. Literally like, just a banana. No caption, no explanation on her story, nothing.

Peter double taps it and comments: i hope u asked before u took his jacket

No like. No reply. That makes sense. It is three in the fucking morning, after all.

No. Three thirty. It’s been an hour and a half.

What had May said once? That it was okay to call someone if she was two hours late?

Peter tries texting and calling one more time and then just sits there, staring at his home screen and watching the minutes pass. At exactly four AM after much deliberation and stomach churning, he calls someone else.

Three rings later: “I’m in Vienna right now so this better be good.”

Peter feels even more nauseous than before. “Oh,” he says. “I guess—never mind, then. Sorry.”

“Wait, wait, that was just for show and I’m greatly intrigued as to why you’re calling me so… early? Late? Anyway I’m out of the conference room now so lay it on me.”

Against his will, Peter’s lip quirks up. “Um, it’s kind of stupid—”

“Nothing is ever stupid,” Tony says. “Especially when it’s coming from the brain of a kid with an intelligence quotient of 260.”

He feels his cheeks heat up and then it all just comes tumbling out, “It’s really late and May was supposed to be off at two and home by two-thirty, but she’s not and I don’t know what to do. I tried calling and texting but she’s not replying and I know that I’m probably just building it up in my head but I can’t help freaking out because like, what if she got stabbed or slipped on black ice or—”

“Hey Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“Breathe.”

Tony’s voice has softened immeasurably. Something uncoils in Peter’s stomach. He flops onto his side and closes his eyes. “I’m breathing.”

“That’s good, kiddo. Now just hang on a sec, I’m gonna call the hospital.”

“What? Why?”

“Well she works there, right?”

“...Yeah.”

“And you haven’t tried calling them yet, correct?”

“...Correct.”

“Ergo,” Tony says.

“But I—”

“Yeah?”

Peter bites his lip and then he just blurts it: “I don’t want you to hang up.”

He feels like such a child but the thought of losing connection with Tony is literally making his heart palpitate and his palms sweat. He needs someone. He needs an adult.

“Well lucky for us both I have two phones.”

Peter cracks an eye. “You what?”

“I’m Tony Stark, don’t question it. Hang on, let me just—hello, hi, um, I need this room. No, it can’t wait. Yes the whole room. Yes locked. I don’t know, five minutes? Ten? An hour? No, I’m not joking. Thank you. Thanks. Yeah. Okay. Bye now.” Something slams shut—the door to the office Tony just stole, probably. “Okay, just a sec, I have the number for the reception desk she works at in my phone.”

Peter, for some reason, feels immeasurably comforted by that. He sits in silence gnawing on his lip while Tony has a somewhat muffled conversation he can’t hear the other side of. Then, “You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Okay, well, they said she’s covering for someone and can’t get to the phone because a baby had to have emergency surgery so she’s literally in the OR as we speak. Pretty badass and not bad as far as excuses go. Now that you know she’s fine and not dead by ice, how about you get some shut-eye, okay kid?”

Peter swallows. “Yeah. Okay. Thank you, Tony.”

“No Mr. Stark this time, huh?”

“It’s too late for formalities.”

“I see,” Tony replies. “Sleep, okay?”

“Okay.”

The line goes dead. Peter, slightly relieved but not fully consoled, rolls over to face the door. He doesn’t sleep at all that night and is still there when May comes home at six in the morning with bagels and apologies.

—

The anniversary of Ben’s death is always super weird.

This time it takes him a few minutes to remember what day it is: he’s in the middle of brushing his teeth and then it hits him like a train: oh, it’s been three years.

Then comes May. She usually tries to cook something for breakfast but like always it burns. He leaves the bathroom to the sound of the smoke alarm and fans a cookie sheet at the screeching little device while she swears up and down in Italian.

“It’s okay, May, really—”

“No, it’s not!” She snaps, tossing a batch of blackened cinnamon rolls into the trash. “I just want this day to be easy for you!”

Peter goes over to her and, after kicking the oven door shut with his foot, pulls her into his arms. May starts to cry even though she tries not to; sniffles turn into barely stifled sobs. He knows that it’s harder for her than it is for him. Ben was her husband and they’d been married for thirteen years when he died. Sometimes he still catches her looking to see if he’s laughing too when they watch TV, only to find an empty recliner.

“It’s okay for it to be a bad day,” he whispers. “You know that, right? I mean, I love you to pieces, May, but I don’t wanna see you bending over backwards for me.”

“But that’s my job, doofus.”

Peter pulls back. He’s an inch taller than her now. “No it’s not. We take care of each other, okay?”

Then comes school. Ned usually hovers nervously like an agitated gnat, too afraid to say anything, not sure if he should act normal or be sad in solidarity, which means it’s kind of Peter’s job to set the tone. As he’s putting his combination in for his locker he asks, “So did you beat that level of Obra Dinn last night?”

Ned, shoulders slumping with relief, starts to ramble on about how hard it was to do and how it took him like, thirty whole tries.

They go to class. Peter zones out. He doesn’t bother making more web fluid or ditching and he gets so inside his own head that Coach Wilson compliments him again during gym class. Peter deliberately slows down after that, even if it’s kind of irritating; being physically active actually helps work off his anger.

Because that’s what he is more than anything else: angry. At the mugger, yeah, but at himself more than anything else. It was his fault that they were out that night, anyway. It’s a wonder that May doesn’t hate his fucking guts.

When school is up Peter comes home to an empty house. He thinks about going on patrol but doesn’t really feel up to it, and then he feels bad for not wanting to do it because like, what if someone is dying?

So he puts on the suit and swings from rooftop to rooftop, but there’s no action today. Peter eventually settles on a fire escape with a burrito. A stray cat hops up after a while and, despite his matted fur and crazy eyes, Peter decides he has a kind of quiet dignity about him and names him Charles.

“Do you like beef?” He asks, holding some out for Charles to sniff. The cat yowls and, without any warning other than that, nearly chomps Peter’s fingers off to get the meat.

“Ow, jeez!” Peter shakes his wrist. “I was literally giving it to you for free, but go off I guess.”

Charles blinks his big brown marble eyes and then literally jumps off the fucking ledge. Peter leans over and watches him scamper across the street, somehow not getting hit by any traffic. Sometimes he thinks his spidey sense is more like feline sense in that way: he could probably manage the same thing with his eyes closed.

After a while the sun sets and all of the streetlights turn on. Peter does another patrol around the immediate vicinity but again, nothing. He stays out anyway though because he’d rather do his Chemistry homework behind a dumpster than sit alone in the apartment with nothing but the quiet for company. At least out and about there are sewer rats and mangy dogs and shady characters who actually just turn out to be skateboarders.

Peter is almost done with his assignment when the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He looks up and finds Iron Man himself coming in for a landing. The suit drops with a barely audible clunk; it’s Mark 54, the sleekest and most lightweight model yet.

“Oh thank God,” says Tony’s voice, “you’re not dead.”

Peter frowns even though Tony can’t see it. “No,” he agrees slowly. “Why would I be dead? What are you doing here?”

“Well, your aunt called me in a panic at around four when she got home and you weren’t there, and then I checked the scanners and saw that you’d been here, completely stationary, for like five whole hours—needless to say I had a little bit of a heart attack and here I am, relieved and also mildly infuriated. Care to explain, young padawan?”

Peter opens his mouth to speak. Closes it. Opens it again and, “It’s four AM?”

“Four fifteen,” Tony corrects.

“I didn’t even—I didn’t know! Shit, May’s totally gonna kill me, I might as well be dead—”

“Woah woah woah,” the faceplate lifts, “calm down, okay? No one is mad. Just, uh, concerned, I promise.”

Peter is still frantically packing up his school supplies and not really listening. He only stops when Tony gently touches him by lightly gripping his elbow. “Kid?”

Peter stares down at the older man’s hand. Behind the mask his eyes start to burn. “Ben died.”

“Pardon?”

“Ben died,” he repeats louder. “In this alley. Two years ago.”

All at once Tony’s face falls. He moves to sit by Peter on the grimy floor of the alley while the suit hovers nearby, a hollow shell, just the way Peter feels now.

“Kid,” Tony says, “take off the mask.”

“What? No, I’m in public—”

“No one’s around,” Tony says. “Just take it off, okay?”

Peter does, reluctantly peeling it back to reveal his tear-stained cheeks. Tony stares for a second and then, almost hesitantly, he wraps his arms around Peter. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I—” he chokes. “I’m just so tired. I’m tired of having to watch May be strong for me when I can’t be strong back, and I’m tired of Ben not being around. I miss him and it—it’s not fair.”

“Of course it’s not. It’s never fair. That’s why it hurts, kiddo. You’ve got all this love and no place to put it.”

Peter bites his lip to stop it from quivering and looks away, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I just feel pathetic.”

“Don’t,” Tony says firmly. “I felt the same way after my mom died and it… In some ways I don’t think the feeling ever actually went away, but uh, take it from someone who’s had a lot more time to process: no one is expecting anything from you, okay? And I can guarantee there’s not a single human that thinks two years is long enough to be perfectly fine again. You’re allowed to still be upset about this.”

And Peter is. He’s really, really fucking upset about it and so tired of holding it in. Tony pulls him against his chest when Peter starts to cry and it sort of seems like he’ll never be able to stop. There’s just so much, so much guilt and pain and all kinds of other bullshit that he refuses to lay on May.

So he lays it on Tony. And it’s surprisingly not horrible or awkward or even the end of the world.

“You good?” the older man asks, when Peter finally sobers up enough to wipe his cheeks dry and take a few steadying breaths.

“Yeah,” he says, voice ragged and awful-sounding. “Um, sorry. For freaking you and May out and ruining your shirt, I mean.”

“You know there’s this really snazzy invention called a washing machine—”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

Tony laughs and it makes Peter laugh too, and the tension between them just sort of dissipates. “Speaking of clothes,” Tony claps his hands together, “you got any to wear in that backpack?”

“Uh, jeans and a hoodie?”

“Fantastic, incredible. Throw them on, I’m taking you out for breakfast.”

“But what if someone sees?!”

“Let ’em. I’ll have Pep release a statement claiming you as my personal assistant or head intern or something.”

“That’s totally unrealistic.”

“Do I care? No. Just—okay? Up and at ’em, make haste, come on. What do you feel like, pancakes or waffles?”

They bicker about which is better the entire way to the little diner Tony choses, and Peter comes home full an hour later. May is fast asleep at the kitchen table. He kisses her forehead and starts on breakfast for her.

—

He’s thirty minutes into helping MJ study for her AP French test when she finally gets a question wrong. “‘Il n'est pas clair que’?” Peter queries, holding up the flash card.

“‘It’s not certain that’?”

He makes a pitying noise. “Close. ‘It’s not clear that’.”

“What’s not clear, exactly? That if I see one more word in French I’m gonna blow my brains out?”

Peter snorts. “No, actually it says more clarification is required on how much you like your boyfriend. Suggestions to improve that include: a hug, a kiss, both—”

“Neither?”

He pouts. “Mean.”

MJ rolls her eyes, but she kisses him first. She tastes like the Twizzlers they’ve been eating and her hands are in his hair and she laughs when he presses his lips to her cheeks and nose and forehead.

They somehow end up in an incredibly compromising position. “You know,” MJ muses, “I don’t think I’ve been studying the right kind of French.”

Peter, hovering over her (oops), nods in agreement. “This kind is definitely way better.”

She wraps her arms around his neck and he’s so consumed with this: her and him and the smell of her jasmine shampoo—that he almost doesn’t hear it.

Almost.

Peter rips away abruptly. “What was that?”

She groans. “God, you’re such a dog sometimes.”

He ignores her, sitting alert with his eyes narrowed at the window and, sure enough, there it is again: a faint, blood-curdling scream. “Someone’s being attacked or something. Maybe four blocks away tops.”

MJ squints. “Don’t tell me you can echolocate.”

“I—” Peter’s mouth snaps shut and then opens again. “I actually don’t know. Anyway, I gotta go.”

He presses a quick kiss to her cheek, throws on his jacket, and quickly ducks out her fire escape (which happens to be the same way that he came in). He slips the mask on and tosses his hood up; it’s raining in heavy, icy sheets and Peter is drenched within seconds of swinging. He remembers the first time he’d gone out during a storm; the webbing he’d made hadn’t held up because the chemical formula hadn’t accounted for the massive amounts of water-based reaction, so the biocables had evaporated as they left his shooters. Thankfully he hadn’t jumped first that day, otherwise he would be a Peter Pancake.

Another scream sounds. Peter follows it and winds up latched onto the side of a two-story brick building. There’s an incredibly dark alley below, but a quick flash of lightning tells him everything he needs to know: one man is trying to wrestle a woman down, while another is rifling through her purse. He’s also holding a gun.

“Oh, cute,” he mutters sarcastically.

Peter tries to time it right: he takes aim and shoots a web right at the weapon with the next bout of lightning, but to his immense misfortune, the armed mugger had already seen him and was aiming right back. The bullet hits Peter in the side.

“Ow,” he says, “that was uncalled for.”

He drops. His side is throbbing and hot but he ignores it in favour of disarming the guy who shot him. It’s a brief struggle but Peter ends up whacking the gun out of his hand and webbing it to the wall opposite. Then he knocks the guy out with a solid upper cross to the temple.

Peter rounds. The assailant has already fled, leaving the woman shivering but relatively unharmed.

“You okay, ma’am?” he asks.

“Me? That guy shot you!”

Peter looks down at his side which is now stained with blood. “Oh, yeah.”

He’d actually forgotten for half a second. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, he’s starting to really feel it: a burning sensation in his abdomen, an aching that pulses from his stomach to his chest. Ah. Wonderful.

A little dazed, he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me. Super healing. Are you good? You need me to call you a cab?”

“What? No, um—the police station is like, down the block, I can go get them.”

“Are you sure? Because I can totally do that—”

“I can handle myself,” she says sharply, bending down to pick up her purse and the discarded items within. “It’s just… there were two of them and there was a gun and—”

“I get it,” Peter says, his hand pressing harder into his side as the world grows blurrier around the edges. “You really don’t want me to at least walk you down?”

“I’ll take a taxi,” she says. “You just, um, get yourself fixed up, okay? And thanks.”

“Yeah, sure, anytime! But, y’know, preferably never again,” Peter says, and proceeds to swing away.

—

Tony doesn’t expect to get woken up at two AM after only just falling asleep five minutes before, but such is life; FRIDAY’s voice bleeds through the speakers above to inform him that Spider-Man is currently rifling through the Med-Bay and bleeding from a wound on his side.

Pepper looks at him. “You heard that too, right? That was real?”

“It was real.”

They both scramble out of bed. Tony takes the lead, throwing on his jacket as he runs toward the elevator. It’s times like these when every second stretches out into an eternity; it takes maybe five of them to get from their floor to the Med-Bay, but it feels like forever.

The doors open and there’s Peter, perched on a gurney with his shirt gone and a whole lot of blood staining his side. He’s bent awkwardly, clearly trying to feel his way around whatever wound he’s got.

“Um,” Tony says, approaching, “What.”

Peter looks up and—yeah, he’s lost a lot more blood than Tony had originally thought. His face is fucking drained. “Hey,” he says, offering a jaunty wave before returning his attention to his side. “I got shot.”

“Oh!” Tony nods. “Oh, okay. What the fuck, kiddo?”

“I know, right?” Peter glances up. “Hey, Pepper.”

“Peter,” she returns. “Do you mind if I wash my hands and take a look at that?”

“If you want. It’s kinda gross, though.”

“Believe me, I’ve seen worse.”

Through this exchange Tony was already washing up, and now he dons a pair of gloves and sits on the rolling stool. “Looks like it’s through and through,” he tells Pep over his shoulder. “Could you grab a couple suture kits and, uh, the stuff?”

Pepper makes a face. “The stuff?”

“You know,” Tony says, “The Good Stuff.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, that stuff.”

Tony feels around the area. “Do you know what kind of gun was used?”

“Looked like your standard nine mil,” Peter replies. His voice is growing a little slurred.

That’s good though, about the gun. Means there’s probably not any bullet fragments to worry about. Tony grabs a load of gauze and presses it against the wound. He checks Peter’s pulse while he’s at it and finds that it’s slowed considerably. “We’re gonna have to get you some blood, too. A neg, right?”

“Yuppers.”

Tony excuses that because after all, the kid is bleeding out on a table. Said kid actually starts to swing his legs back and forth and, yeah, that’s not gonna fly. “Do me a favour and lay back? I’m gonna put this towel right under you for now.”

Peter doesn’t have any arguments, or if he does, he doesn’t vocalise them. Pepper comes back in with the kits and drugs and, because she’s just smarter than him like that, bags of blood.

Tony grabs the vials first and loads up a syringe. Peter is pretty numb to all of it until the needle goes in. Then he frowns. “Why are you injecting me with alien blood?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “It’s not alien blood, it’s a pain killer. A serious one at that, so you’re probably gonna feel a little out of it for a while, okay?”

Peter frowns. “Is it for Steve?”

Tony tenses, but it’s only for a second. “Yes,” he says, somewhat tightly.

“Ugh. What a turd, Mr. Stark. You’re giving me turd vitamins!” Tony scoffs while Pepper laughs. Peter notices. “See? She thinks I’m funny.”

“You’re not helping me here,” Tony says to her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Here, have some thread.”

Tony sighs. “Just stay still for me, okay?”

Peter does. Pepper passes him various supplies and they work together to sew up both ends of the gunshot wound. By the time they’re done, Peter hasn’t moved once, but his eyes are open and he’s frowning.

“How do you feel?”

“Wired,” he says.

“Seriously? Bruce never said anything about the side-effects, but I figured they’d be like normal pain-killers; make you drowsy and all that.”

“No,” Peter sits up quickly and doesn’t even flinch. “I feel like I just got steroids or something. Are you—are you actually telling me that Captain America’s drugs are infused with a stimulant? What, so he can keep fighting even when he’s in the middle of dying?”

Tony blinks. “Well that was smart of dear Banner.”

“Yeah, or insane.” Peter flexes his hands. “I feel like I need to go for a run, or like, break something.”

“Let’s avoid that,” Tony says, pushing him back down. “You need to heal, not mess yourself up even more, understood?”

Peter stares. “Is it normal to see sounds?”

Pepper bursts out laughing again. “I’m sorry,” she says when Tony glares. “Really, I am, I promise. Peter, honey, how about we get you to a bedroom where you can rest up? We’ll call your aunt and explain everything.”

—

Everything is going fine until May asks, “How did you get to the Tower so quick, then?”

Peter blinks. “Hmm? Pardon?”

“If you were at Ned’s,” May says, “how’d you manage to swing all the way across town?”

Peter opens his mouth and closes it. “I, uh… well, funny story, um… I wasn’t actually at Ned’s?”

There’s a pause over the phone. Pepper, who’s holding it, raises an eyebrow. May says: “You told me you were going to Ned’s, Peter.”

His face feels hot. He hopes it isn’t red. Both Pepper and Tony—from the doorway with his hands stuffed in his sweatpant pockets—are staring. It’s almost as bad as if May were really here.

“Well I was going to Ned’s, but then I changed my mind and went somewhere else and oh—look at the time! I think we’re going through a tunnel—”

“Don’t even try to pull that crap! That’s it, I’m coming over there—”

“May,” Peter says, serious now, “you’re in the middle of a shift, there’s people dying. Just—I’m perfectly fine, I took my Captain America drugs and everything is gonna be okay.”

“But you lied to me.”

“No, I changed my mind.”

“And went where?”

“Irrelevant.”

“Peter.”

“May.”

She groans from the other end of the line and demands to speak to Pepper one on one. Tony’s fiancé grins and switches off speaker, before slipping out with a bright laugh to finish off the conversation. Tony stares expectantly. “So where were you?”

“Oh my god, not you too. You know, on second thought, I actually am completely exhausted and—”

“Uh, nope,” Tony flops down onto the bed. “Fess up.”

Peter sighs. He squirms down and covers his pillow with a head. “No.”

Tony joins him under it. “Tell me.”

Peter scowls. He rolls onto his side so they’re facing one another. “I was with my girlfriend.”

“Oooo—”

“Shush! It’s… it’s really not a big deal and I haven’t told May yet because MJ and I haven’t even really talked about it and it all happened super fast and—” he remembers to breathe, “I just… I always tell May everything, you know? But I kind of just felt like… this was something I had to figure out first on my own. Maybe it’s stupid, but I know she’s gonna be super hurt when she finds out it’s been a month and I haven’t said anything—”

“Kid,” Tony cuts in. “Calm down.”

“I’m calm,” Peter promises, because he is. He’s also just incredibly hyper and stressed.

“It’s a normal instinct to want to figure things out and define them before you start announcing them to the world. I get that. But you’re still a kid, Pete, and even if you don’t want people prying into your love life, we still need to know where you are in case something goes wrong.”

Peter harrumphs as he turns away. “There’s a tracker on my phone and my suit. It would be easier to find me than anything else.”

Tony clicks his tongue. “You got a point there.”

“I just wanted time.”

“I know.”

“But I really like her, okay? Like she’s so smart and she’s got this really dark sense of humour and she’s actually kind of terrifying sometimes—”

“Oh, the scary ones are always fun.”

They stay up talking through the night and, when the sun comes up, Pepper joins them with a tray of freshly made blueberry waffles. May arrives around the same time and, looking too tired to be mad, simply drops onto the bed with them and steals what’s left of his food.

—

Peter is on patrol when he hears it:

a soft, quiet yelping coming from somewhere down below the rooftop he’s perched on.

At first he figures he’s imagining things, but then his ears perk again. He leans over the building’s edge to find the source of the noise.

In the dark it’s hard to make anything out, so he climbs slowly down the side of the wall, squinting. There’s another yelp and a low whine, almost pained. Peter zeroes in on the sound and creeps toward a set of dumpsters; they’re so full of trash they’re overflowing, and it’s underneath a broken down cardboard box that he finds it...

A puppy.

Now, Peter is no liar. He’s wanted a dog since he was like, a fetus. The words ‘A dog’ have been on every birthday and Christmas list for as long as he can remember. It’s only recently, in the years since Ben’s death, that he’s pretty much given up—after all, May is so overworked and they can barely afford to feed themselves. How could they afford a pet?

But also…

This is the cutest dog he’s ever seen.

It’s tiny and fluffy and brown and has the biggest, saddest eyes he’s ever seen.

Peter kind of just stands there staring like an idiot for a good few seconds and then slowly kneels down. “Um, hi,” he says, in the gentlest voice he can manage. The puppy, who can’t be older than a few weeks and looks completely starved and exhausted, whines in response.

Peter holds out his hand for the dog to sniff. It lifts its head lazily and leans forward, nose twitching and dry. “You need water, huh? Come on, I know a place.”

—

“Shelob,” Tony greets without looking up from whatever project he’s working on. “What can I do for you at… one in the fucking morning?”

“I need your help with something, but you have to promise you won’t get mad or make me get rid of him—”

“Oh, for God’s sake, what have you done now?”

“He was just so helpless and cold and small and…” Peter swallows and reveals the puppy, presently wrapped up in his hoodie. “Meet Nugget.”

Tony’s face is the epitome of Disappointed Dad. He stares, open-mouthed, and after a second his shoulders fall. “Well, fuck.”

Peter snuggles Nugget against his chest and steps closer, but then Tony holds up a hand to stop him. “Nah-ah! Not until that thing gets a flea bath!”

Hope sparks in Peter’s chest. “You mean we can keep him?”

“I mean there’s no way I’m getting near him until I know I won’t break out in hives.”

“That’s not how fleas work.”

“Do I care? No. Come on, let’s go to the bathroom.”

—

“Why do you have flea shampoo?”

Peter’s inquiry is made tentatively. They both have their hands in the sud-filled sink as they systematically wash Nugget’s fur.

“There was… an incident a while ago. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Peter stares. Blinks. “Okay. Well, I think he’s clean.”

Nugget barks as if in agreement, and so Peter and Tony lift him out of the basin and set him on a pile of no doubt expensive, fluffy white towels. Tony takes the lead after that. He’s surprisingly gentle and patient with the yapping, impatient puppy—even when Nugget tries to claw at him and shake himself dry, Tony never loses his cool.

A few minutes later they’re sitting on their stomachs watching Nugget stomp around on a blanket. There’s water in a bowl for him at one corner and a plate of chopped up chicken at another.

“I can’t take him home,” Peter says morosely after a few minutes. “May won’t let me keep him.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Where does she even think you are right now?”

“...In my bed.”

“Wow,” Tony says, deadpan. “Okay, well, I most certainly can’t keep him either.”

“What?! Why not?!”

Tony sighs. “I’m Iron Man, if you hadn’t noticed, kiddo—”

“Oh, what, so you’re too tough to look after him?”

“No, I’m too busy. I spend like, twenty-three out of twenty-four hours in a day in my shop and the rest of the time I’m on my knees apologising to Pepper and begging for forgiveness. There’s no time in-between to feed the pup, walk the pup—”

“I could come by,” Peter blurts. “Like, once a day, and I could make sure he’s eaten and play with him and stuff. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger—”

“Except to press ‘purchase’ on my shopping cart full of dog food—”

“Tony,” Peter cuts in, pleading, “please? I can’t just drop him off at some kennel so they can—” he covers the dog’s ears, “so they can euthanize him in a week when no one buys him. He deserves so much better, you know?”

Tony frowns, considering it, and Peter waits with his breath caught in his throat until, “God, fine.”

“Yes!”

“But! But! A pet is a serious responsibility, okay? You might as well be adopting a child—”

“What would you know about raising kids?” Peter asks, only jokingly, but Tony just stares and then, for some reason, smiles.

“You have to make sure he’s happy,” Tony says. “You have to be there for him in whatever way he needs, alright? I’ll set up a pen in the penthouse and you can make sure he works off his energy there, and if I have time I’ll even take you both to the park. And if he ever happens to pee on my carpet, I’m counting on you to clean it up.”

“Don’t you have, like, housekeepers for that sort of thing?”

“Yeah, but this is character building stuff.”

“Ugh, fine, I’ll clean up the pee.”

They continue to iron out the details for a while and bicker over whether Nugget’s last name should be Parker or Stark, and it’s only when Pepper walks in—still in her pajamas, bleary eyed and complaining that they woke her up—that they both decide it should be ‘Potts’.

—

5. (+1)

It starts with a headache.

He’s bent over his desk studying for a Calc test when the throbbing begins. It’s not so bad at first, but after a half hour or so his vision is swimming and he keeps having to take breaks to massage his temples and close his eyes. The equations are all blending together and he can’t think straight anymore.

Peter decides to give up right around then. After all, if he’s not gonna retain any of the information, why bother?

May pokes and prods through dinner. Peter tries to fool her by acting like everything is normal and okay and even manages to make her laugh once or twice.

Inside, dread is coiling through his stomach like an irritated snake. He knows what’s coming next; after all, he doesn’t really get sick anymore, so what else could it be?

Peter tries to sleep but ends up tossing and turning for most of the night. He falls into some kind of half-conscious daze at around four in the morning and rouses about twenty minutes later, soaked with sweat and aching everywhere.

Feeling like he’s gonna vomit, Peter kicks off his blankets and strips the sheets off his bed. He takes his shirt off because the fabric is too abrasive against his skin and it’s like he can feel every fibre tickling against it, grating and chafing. He curls up into a tight ball and covers his ears with his hands to block out the now amplified sounds of the city: car alarms, dogs barking, music playing.

Normally Peter loves the way New York is never silent. Now, he just wishes everyone would shut the fuck up for once.

When he stumbles out of his room a little while later, May is already gone. She’d told him the night before that she had an early shift and for once he’s actually grateful. Haltingly, Peter gets ready for school. He’s already skipped three days this month and if he misses this Calc quiz he’s gonna fucking bomb the class.

May would kill him.

It’s better to suffer a little than die.

Brushing his teeth makes his head spin and the minute he wriggles into his clothes he feels like a caged animal about to claw his skin off. Everything takes so much longer than normal. He doesn’t eat because the mere thought of food makes the back of his throat sting with bile.

On the train, he closes his eyes and rests his head against the cool glass of the window, trying to tune out the constant screeching of the rails. One day, on God, he will make it a personal project to oil every fucking line in the subway.

At his fifth stop, an old lady boards and all the seats are taken.

Peter swallows thickly and stands. Black spots dance in his vision and he grabs onto the overhead bar—something he hasn’t actually needed to use since he was a little kid—and tries not to pass out.

He almost misses the stop to get to school, but slips out at the last second, millimetres away from getting his backpack caught in the doors. Peter is hot all over and lightheaded as he makes his way out of the station. It’s even hotter up above, what with summer coming now and all.

Peter is late and he doesn’t need his watch to tell; Flash’s car is already parked out front instead of zooming through the drop off to run him over (which, hey, silver lining), and the majority of the student body is already inside.

Peter has to stop multiple times on his way to Spanish just to breathe. By the time he gets there he’s at least ten minutes late for roll call.

“Mr. Parker,” his teacher greets, unimpressed. “So glad you could join us.”

Peter makes a noise and takes the proffered quiz. He wonders absently why some people choose to teach. What is it, like, some kind of power trip for them?

He has five minutes to finish the quiz but doesn’t make it past the first question. Ned volunteers to collect them and stops at Peter’s desk while Professor Scott outlines today’s lesson plan.

“Dude,” he whisper-hisses, “you look like complete shit. What on Earth are you doing here right now?”

“Test,” Peter mutters dully, resting his cheek on his hand and closing his eyes. “Here you go. Didn’t finish it.”

Ned takes it carefully, holding it with two fingers like it’s covered in disease. “Do you want me to get the nurse or something?”

Peter hums. “No. Just… headache.”

Slowly Ned backs away. “Um—”

“Mr. Leeds!” Professor Scott says, loudly. Ned jumps. “Is there a problem back there?”

Yes, Peter thinks. You’re the human version of nails on a fucking chalk board. Please, for the love of all that is holy, just start on the vocab.

Only he accidentally says all of that out loud.

The whole class is staring. Flash is slack-jawed. Betty Brant’s eyes are the size of small moons.

“Parker,” Scott grits out—and Peter has denominated him to just Scott now out of reciprocation and spite; “You just earned yourself a shiny new detention. I’d like you to take this slip to the principal’s office. Please.”

Oh, thank God. At least it’ll be quiet there.

Peter stands and brushes past Ned and it literally feels like flames of hell are licking against his skin. He almost vomits. This is decidedly not good.

He takes the paper. “Gladly, good sir.”

When he’s gone, there’s an outburst of muttering that his enhancements let him hear. It only makes the overload worse. Peter covers his ears with his hands again and, overcome with a sudden wave of vertigo, ducks into the bathroom.

He barely makes it to the toilet before emptying his stomach of last night’s food.

Peter sags against the wall, panting. He keeps his eyes closed and waits for the world to stop spinning. About ten minutes later, the smell of jasmine shampoo—normally welcome—causes him to lean over and retch again.

MJ pokes her head inside the unlocked stall. “Jesus,” she whispers. The second her hands touch his body he flinches and she immediately retracts them. “Fuck, sorry. Ned said you wigged out in Spanish. I looked for you in the Principal's office but you weren’t there and... What’s—what’s wrong? I thought you couldn’t even get sick.”

“Bad headache,” he mutters, spitting into the toilet. It’s easier than explaining about his freakish mutations and how they sometimes go completely haywire, leaving him on edge and nauseous and irritable.

MJ grabs him some toilet paper to wipe his mouth with. “Did you take anything?”

“Pain meds don’t work on me.”

“Does May know? You should have called in.”

“Couldn’t. Can’t miss my test.”

She sighs. “Your final is like fifty percent of your grade and you could pass it with your eyes closed. You can miss your test, you’re just afraid of getting anything lower than an A.”

Peter is silent. “You got me there.”

MJ’s hand twitches like she wants to touch him but knows she can’t. “You need to go home. Lie down, get some rest.”

“May is working,” Peter says, “and if I have to take the subway again right now I’ll die. I really will. It’s so—the smell and the noise and I can’t sit down and—”

“Give me your phone.”

“What?”

“Just give it.”

She’s holding her hand out for it and giving him a no-nonsense expression that kind of reminds Peter of Pepper Potts on a rampage. He’s seen what happens to Tony when he crosses her, so he fishes his phone out of his pocket and hands it over.

“Hold on.”

She stands and leaves. Peter closes his eyes again. He tunes out her conversation because if he doesn’t, he’s absolutely gonna vomit again and nobody wants that.

MJ slips back inside the stall. “Okay, solved. Do you still feel like you’re gonna vomit?”

Peter thinks about it. “No.”

“Good. We’re gonna go to the nurse, okay?”

“Oh boy.”

—

Tony Stark walks into Peter’s school and finds the hallways empty. The classroom doors are shut and the muted sounds of teachers lecturing are the only signs that anyone is here at all.

He finds Peter in the infirmary, sitting on the examination table with the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes.

He’s at his side in an instant. “Kid?”

It’s surprise that gets Peter’s eyes open, but the little spider baby immediately regrets it. He flinches and sucks in a sharp breath. “Tony,” he whispers, like the name is all he can manage and the questions will have to wait for later.

Tony looks him over. There are no obvious injuries. The girl on the phone had said it was just a headache, but Tony is way more experienced with Peter’s brand of bullshit and knows there’s usually something else going on beneath the surface.

“I’m gonna go talk to the nurse and then get you out of here, okay?”

A nod.

It’s always a bad thing when he doesn’t argue. Peter Parker would start a fight about what kind of pizza to order, even if you suggest the kind he really wants, just to be a stubborn little shit about things.

Tony slips out of the exam room. The nurse looks up when he enters her office. “Oh my—Mr. Stark?!”

“Yes, hello,” Tony takes a cautious step forward as she stands. He doesn’t bother to sit. “I’m here to pick up the little gremlin in there.”

Her face flushes. “I didn’t know you’d been called, I—I figured I would just let him wait it out, you know? He didn’t want to be touched, so it was hard to figure out what was up and—so it’s real? About the internship?”

“Of course. Why would he lie?”

She opens her mouth. Closes it. “Well… you know how kids can be.”

“Do I?”

She doesn’t seem to know what to say to that.

Tony sighs. “Look, Nurse—uh, Timms—Nurse Timms, can I please just sign the kid out and take him home? He’s clearly in pain here.”

She starts rifling through her desk for a form. “I mean, I can admit you to take him home, but I really suggest you talk with the principal first—Peter was given a detention before he was brought to my ward, see, and I was—” she shakes her head. “I thought he might be faking.”

Tony stares without blinking for a whole five seconds and then, “Detention? For what?”

“I heard he bad-mouthed a teacher or something. But to be fair, Professor Scott isn’t exactly what I’d call patient.”

“Well, be that as it may,” Tony takes the form she hands him to sign, “my kid doesn’t fake. He has a condition, see. Gets uh… overloaded. Sounds, smells, it can be too much for him. Probably why he snapped.”

“That… that makes sense.”

“Yes,” he says succinctly, and hands the paper back. “You’d know that if you bothered to ask. Anyway, I’ll be going. Thanks for the help, Nurse Times.”

“Uh, it’s—it’s Timms—”

The door shuts behind him.

—

MJ was forced to go back to class. She’d argued and protested but Nurse Timms was insistent. So, MJ had relented. She’d pressed the lightest of kisses on his forehead and it surprisingly hadn’t felt that bad, and then she’d gone.

Tony Stark had shown up about twenty minutes later and it’s just when Peter’s starting to think it was all just a vivid hallucination that the smell of coffee and motor oil fills his senses again. It’s overwhelming but not debilitating.

“Kiddo,” Tony whispers, “is it okay to touch you?”

Peter cracks an eye. Everything is bright but Tony’s suit is mercifully black, so he focuses on that. “I don’t know. I don’t wanna move.”

“Well I gotta get you outta here somehow.”

“But my detention—”

“I already got you out of it,” Tony says breezily. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Tony,” Peter says, cheeks flushing. “You can’t just bribe my principal into—”

“I didn’t bribe anyone. I just explained the situation and besides, Morita’s an old friend.”

Peter closes his eyes again as he frowns. “You’re friends with my principal?”

“I’m a benefactor for your school, too,” Tony says. “But don’t tell anyone, it’s a secret.”

Something shifts in the air. Tony is sitting now. “Happy’s waiting outside,” he says, “but whenever you’re ready.”

Peter thinks about it for a few seconds and decides it’s gonna have to happen at some point, anyway. Might as well rip the band-aid off now. Slowly he takes a deep breath and manages to sit up with Tony’s help. The older man tries to avoid touching him as much as possible, but surprisingly enough the weight of his hand against Peter’s spine isn’t crushing or aggravating. It doesn’t hurt.

“Baby steps,” Tony says softly. “We’ll take you out the side door, okay?”

Even getting to the door is slow going but Tony doesn’t seem to mind. Right before they open it, Tony stops and pulls his sunglasses off. “Here, try these.”

Peter puts them on. He feels ridiculous because like, they work on Tony who was literally born in the seventies, but Peter really doesn’t dig the groovy shades. Regardless they’re better than nothing and even help a little.

The halls are empty again. Most of the students will be in the gym right about now, or the cafeteria for lunch. They don’t run into anybody on the way out and as soon as they’re in the back of the car, Peter sags against Tony’s side. He feels like he’s just run ten miles.

“Drive, Hogan,” Tony says, and then the partition glides up.

For a few seconds it’s almost completely quiet. Noise suppression tech, Peter realises, and he feels like he could cry from relief. For the first time in hours there’s just… nothing. No traffic, no dozens of students talking at once. The air conditioning unit is filtered, so he’s not being attacked with the smell of body odour and clashing perfume scents and Axe cologne. There’s just Tony and beautiful, amazing, showstopping silence.

Tony shifts a little. “Better?”

Peter nods, figuring it’s still probably not safe to speak.

“We’ll be there soon,” Tony says softly.

—

Peter doesn’t remember much after the car ride. He can vaguely recall protesting getting out of the Audi, and he remembers Tony assuring him that everything would be okay, and the next thing he knows he’s lying on his back in an utterly dark bedroom. The walls are insulated just like the car had been, so there’s just no sound, and the bed sheets probably have the highest thread count of all time.

Something shifts beside Peter and he realises Tony is there, feeling his forehead.

“What—?”

“Oh, hey,” Tony greets. “I think you might’ve blacked out there. All the noise hit you at once when we got out of the car and you just…”

“I fainted?”

Tony snorts softly. “Relax. It happens to the best of us. How do you feel, Webster?”

Peter hums. “Bad.”

“Let’s try a scale of one to ten.”

“Okay,” Peter says. “Ten.” Tony lets out a little grunt at that and so Peter elaborates, “It was at like, a twenty this morning, so.”

“Ah, I see.” Tony’s grip shifts to Peter’s wrist to measure his pulse. “This okay?”

“It’s fine.”

And it really is. He doesn’t feel like burning his skin off or anything. Tony’s hands are just warm.

“Any idea what brought this on?”

Peter shifts a little. “I uh… haven’t been sleeping a lot lately.” He swallows. “Like, at all.”

“And how long’s that been going on for?”

“I don’t know. On and off for a few weeks, I guess.”

“Jesus,” Tony sighs and pulls his hand away. He rakes it through his hair. “Kiddo, what have we said about communication? Does May know?”

“....No?”

There’s a long pause where Tony just kind of sits there thinking, like he wants to say whatever comes next carefully. He massages his temples and then: “Alright, scooch over.”

“What?”

“Make room for me.”

Peter blinks and then, tentatively, scoots over a little to allow Tony room to lie down. The older man does, arching his back a little and grunting in pain because he’s like, ancient. They’re not touching, but very slowly Peter starts inching closer again. Eventually he works up the courage to try resting his head on Tony’s chest, which is terrifying not only because it’s Tony Stark, but also because he’d rather not have his brain implode.

Nothing happens. “Your fabric softener must be like, super expensive,” he whispers, because this is actually better than the sheets.

Tony snorts. “I’ll ask Pep about it.”

Peter makes a noncommittal noise and before he knows it, his eyes are closing. For once they actually feel heavy, and the steady rhythm of Tony’s heart beat is soothing, dependable.

Tony’s hands brush lightly over Peter’s hair and then thread through it. “Too much?”

“No,” Peter promises. “Good.”

And so Tony’s fingers run through his curls over and over, gently, lightly. His thumb sweeps over Peter’s cheek once, too, and then he starts muttering in Italian.

Peter cracks an eye. “Are you telling me your grocery shopping list?”

Tony laughs a little. “My mom used to do it for me,” he says. “Something about just hearing her speak the language made me feel… relaxed, I guess. Didn’t matter what she was saying.”

Peter smiles and wraps an arm around Tony’s torso. “Tell me something else.”

“You wanna hear about the time I almost blew up a Chem lab?”

“Uh, duh.”

So Tony launches into it, speaking in a low voice and absently twisting one of Peter’s curls around his finger. It feels nice and the headache is fading fast.

Peter sleeps.

#marvel #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #my writing #friendly neighborhood fic exchange #may parker #pepper potts #michelle jones #spideychelle #pepperony #nugget the dog #insomnia

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infinitelytheheartexpands · 4 years ago

Text

Responses from the Opera Screencaps Captioning Quiz

Hello, everyone, and thank you for taking my quiz! I had SO MUCH fun reading your captions-- there were several times I literally started crying from laughing so hard at the amazingness of your work! With that in mind, the captions (which I will continue to add onto as more people take it):

(also, thank you to @dichterfuerstin for translating the German captions I got)

originally taken from: the Wiener Staatsoper’s 2020 production of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Die Entführung aus dem Serail, featuring Regula Mühlemann (center) as Blonde, Michael Laurenz (right) as Pedrillo, and an unnamed extra (left) as the Grim Reaper

Responses:

(Backstage warm-up) “ok so someone dropped the pulse”

me and my friends watching the fire burn after doing arson

Introducing the polycule to the parents

*boom* ... did...you guys hear that too?

Ma Signor !

Knight in whinging armour gone wrong, look at how he holds the egg. Polyamory with weird knight and death.

the father, son and the holy ghost are very gay

the gays meeting for brunch, 2021, colorized

chicken lady forces death and a very flamboyantly homosexual anthropomorphized pink bird to be parents of her egg (they dont want to be)

That’s just me and my friends on our night out (before covid rip)-- closest

A Good Friday night

good omens (2019)

["the pocket guide to boy/girl/mischief" meme] who's the boy and who's the mischief though????

Papageno and Papagena take their first-born egg trick-or-treating

Angry Birds - The Musical. A pig stole an egg and the bird unites with death to take revenge.

I love my bird wife

Someone got murdered during the funky chicken dance

throuple murders child and steals sibling of said child

When you and your friends have widely different tastes in literature

angel leading twink to his rightful place (hell)

draco malfoy from a very potter musical and a death eater are very much in the wrong show

What have I gotten myself into

Mlm/wlw solidarity but I’m not telling who is who

A woman stands with a pink dipshit with an egg and a reaper.

A bird-couple makes a pact with Death, sacrificing their first-born bird-child in order to bring good luck upon their unborn bird-baby

There are three types of people on Halloween:

Uh oh, I don’t think the mother hen is very happy about this...

oh god, they’ve invented seussical. It’s too early!

gay brunch

Three little maids from school are we

guys maybe if we dress gay enough we can distract everyone from the dead flapper bee in the back

those three killed a duck for her egg and are facing the conswquences.

Duck has egg with human, shocked and upset due to biological impossibility

When you bout to make a banging omelet so you invite your fellow queers

"No mortal man could pass that egg, but heaven shall repair your rectum."

originally taken from: the Salzburg Festival’s 2007 production of Hector Berlioz’s Benvenuto Cellini, featuring Maija Kovalevska (left) as Teresa Balducci, Laurent Naouri (center, in chimney) as Fieramosca, and Burkhard Fritz (right) as Benvenuto Cellini

Responses:

“In this same interlude it doth befall That I, one Snout by name, present a wall; And such a wall, as I would have you think, That had in it a crannied hole or chink, Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, Did whisper often very secretly. This loam, this rough-cast and this stone doth show That I am that same wall; the truth is so: And this the cranny is, right and sinister, Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.” - a midsummer night’s dream, act v scene 1

"ah yes a prime specimen. see here, right in this box is our one of a kind hob goblin that can be all yours for the low low price of your soul"

what, YOU don't have a special eavesdropping chimney window?

Hänsel und Gretel plotting against the witch

man takes a wrong turn and ends up in a chimney, catches his girlfriend cheating-- closest

when you end up third wheeling the straight couple

lady cheats on her leather jacket wearing scummy boyfriend and when he unexpectedly comes home she hides the lover in the chimney

A straight girl and her gay best friend gossip about stuff idk

Idk Shakespeare?

experimental couples therapy feat. the chimney mf from mary poppins

Area Couple Inadvertently Traps Santa-in-Training in Chimney as they Attempt Rooftop Flirting

Landlords laugh over student renter's misfortune

I never asked for this

Ay yo lil mama lemme whisper in your ear

voyeurist listens to sandy and Danny from grease

Psssst! Did you hear about Susan? You won’t believe it!

lady and the tramp meets beauty and the beast?

human trafficking

And for just $30 you too could have your own tiny brick cage!

Psst I’m wearing assless chaps under this dress

A couple tortures a man in a box.

It's all fun and games being stuck in a chimney until your greasy uncle steals your crush from right above you-- okay ngl this could actually be a great Don Pasquale concept

Taking eavesdropping to the next level

Will you two stop being lovey dovey and let me out? SUMMER LOVIN, HAPPENED SO FAST—

overhearing how people talk about you when they think they're alone puts you in the shithouse

Does he know we can see him?

dear god, i am so fucking hungry, yall please just do whatever heterosexuals do so i can go eat a popsicle

the human version of the trash man from sesame street is realizing that those two are going to fuck on his trash can

Tmw you capture an angry short dude and start trashtalking him where he can hear

Omg what if we kissed but we actually kissed the lil goblin man under us

"Remember, don't feed him after midnight"

originally taken from: the Théâtre de Capitole du Toulouse’s 2017 staging of Giacomo Meyerbeer’s Le prophète, featuring Leonardo Estevez (right, on fake horse) as Le Comte d’Oberthal

Responses:

“When I said we needed to drain the swamp I didn’t think there were people actually living there”

horse? what horse? no sir i dont know what horse youre referring to.

definitely don't have a napoleon complex going on

King stole La Scala‘s Lohengrin set

king breaks all his horses, has to use statue dragged by servants as transportation because he’s too kingly too walk

Emperor Söder and his subjects on a carnival procession

man on horse makes a big deal out of being on a horse

That’s not Zeffirelli because the horse is not alive

Who the fuck put a horse on the stage

isn't this that picture of napoleon on the horse

Area Count Thinks Citizens will be Intimidated by his Extremely Fake-looking Horse Statue-- closest

Everyone wants their turn on the giant plaster horse. Police are there to make sure everyone waits their turn.

Night out with the lads

Local royalty horrified at the state of his own damn kingdom

gay army fights different gay aesthetics-- hi author how does it feel to be the funniest fucking person on this quiz

Well at least I LOOK badass

ceasar if he hadn't gotten stabbed (colourised)

some soldiers jumped out of my kindergarten fairytale collection book to burn the don carlos flemish deputies at the stake

It’s just a model

Is that how you feel pulling up in your Honda Civic, Madge?

Someone rides a horse statue in public.

Just a normal party with the bros.

what is this, some kind of crossover episode?

Terribly sorry for all the fuss, it’s just, that is, my horse is afraid of neck ruffles. I’ve tried to talk to him about it, but he’s—whoaaa there—he said he was a french courtier in a past life and he’s allergic to English fashion

Horse seller, listen to me! I am riding into battle. I need your strongest horse. - We have horses at home. - The horses at home:

All hail Incitatus the king

we are not ripping off shakespeare’s henry viii. what the fuck. this is about lenny xi you uncultured swine, go drown in a pit of your own farts

oh god is that hamilton

Guy Removed From Art Museum For Sitting On Statue, more at eleven

Gay <3

Officer: This horse... is a virgin! Crowd: *cheers*

originally taken from: the Parma Verdi Festival’s 2017 staging of Giuseppe Verdi’s Stiffelio, featuring Maria Katzarava (left) as Lina and Luciano Ganci (right) as Stiffelio

Responses:

That One kid in class

its a mEntAL BreAkDowN *final countdown but kazoo*

*record scratch* yeah, that's me. you're probably wondering how I got here-- closest

Dad keeps monologuing, teenager is done

left: all of my concerned friends, right: my emo ass having a very public mental breakdown

the demons in the corner of my room when im just trying to sleep

lady gets mansplained to (do i need to say more, we've all been there)

It’s probably an area baritone telling off an area soprano-- sorry; it’s a tenor. soprano is right though.

That was a fake horse in the last photo right?

child comes out as gay to father at a particularly bad time

dissociation solves everything

I can't believe it's not butter

Honey we talked about this

My sleep paralysis demon is Crowley from supernatural

child has nightmare of boring job

When you start dating a singer but he won’t stop practicing at night

just an average day in a hetero marriage

what do i do my wife's having period cramps again

Stop having an existential crisis. It’s time to sing!

“No son of mine will kin Gomez Addams under MY roof”

Crowley stares into space while a teen has post nut clarity.

When he wont stop reciting jordan peterson monologues!!

Do you realize how effed you are?

Ugh, not this lecture again! Dad’s Practicing For His Experimental Indie Band Again

asking your parents for help with your own personal situation and them just ranting off about what they went through instead of helping in any way

Will he shut up already!

no one tell him he’s yelling in the wrong direction, no one tell him plnsbdjddhdj

this kid is tired of his dad listening to rush limbaugh (a man who claimed to be pro life but died anyway)

Me internally vs externally

Daddy issues

originally taken from: the Grand Théâtre de Genève’s 2020 staging of Giacomo Meyerbeer’s Les Huguenots, featuring several chorus members

Responses:

It’s the deadly eye Of Poogley-pie. Look away, look away, As you walk by, ‘Cause whoever looks right at it Surely will die. It’s a good thing you didn’t … You did? … Good-bye. - shel Silverstein

why the fuckith? my good sir, i beg of you to put your pants back on

I hate this itchy hat

Titanic Extras hear that they have to do extra hours

people waiting to board the titanic watch someone fall off the plank

pov: you’re a time traveler

guy in the flatcap is embarrassed by patriotism and pathos

No idea. For some reason Le Marseillaise comes to mind

Is this from Harry Potter?

disneyland main street usa workers on strike

local tries to hide behind Newsies cap to avoid unpleasant but inevitable conversations. meanwhile, some very fashionable ladies look on.

"Thank fuck, 2020 was just a dream after all"

“We gather here today because this bitch got exactly what she deserved” “heaven!” “Stfu Stephanie she’s going to hell and we all know it”-- not quite but this basically happens later on in the opera (and act) so yeah (except the person in question very much Did Not Deserve It)

dc movie filter on bridgerton

america?

looks like my history teacher paused the prohibition documentary again

Who still wears page boy hats bro?

Coming out to a room of people who Already Knew That

Bitches are relieved at some party.

Several drunk people exiting getting off the subway attempting to seem sober and rational but realizing they have somehow lost all of their possessions

How tf do I act natural in this situation-- closest

“do you think any of them noticed that I don’t know the pledge of allegiance”

It's too fucking hot outside for this outfit

when hyyh yoonkook ending just hits different

pedestrians watch in horror as the triangle shirtwaist factory burns and the workers throw themselves out of the windows from a dozen stories up

Starting the pledge of allegiance be like

He's having a heart attack oh no oh god oh fuck

originally taken from: if I remember correctly, the Semperoper Dresden’s 2018 semi-staging of Johann Strauss II’s Die Fledermaus, with Jonas Kaufmann as Gabriel von Eisenstein

Responses:

“William Shakespeare wrote: "To thine own self be true And it must follow, as the night the day Thou canst not then be false to any man" I believe this wise statement best applies to a woman A blonde woman Over the past three years she taught me And showed us all That being true to yourself never goes out of style Ladies and gentlemen Our valedictorian: Elle Woods!” - legally blonde the musical

eat ass, suck a dick, and sell drugs

woooooorrrrd

Finally Jonas has graduated! It’s about time, considering he’s an international star.

what my professors think they look like

Prof. Dr. Dr. When someone tells him there are more than two genders

'and since you've now graduated high school, you'll be entering college etc. blablabla' .........meanwhile, there's a whole row of graduates daring each other to chug the cheap vodka one of them has brought in gallons (yes that happened at my graduation, lol)

Jonas darling baby <3-- can’t argue with that

I just realized I have no idea what the actual fuck happens in an opera

ok this one is just what jonas kaufmann always wears you can't fool me.

"as valedictorian i will share with you the importance of loving the floor"

"Yes, mother, my art degree will make me money!"

Graduation speakers are out, singers are in

Senior year takes a new meaninbg

mansplainer professor explains the concept of feminism to women

Your Prof when you finally turn in that missing assignment be like

younger boris johnson (derogatory)

jonas kaufmann retires from opera and takes up motivational speaking

What a fine graduation evening we’re having today

-70 points for slytherin you all have no swag

A man with a college hat sings.

An obviously greying actor trying to play a university student in a low-budget porn parody

How it feels to graduate high school after being held back for years

East High is a place where teachers encouraged us to break the status quo and define ourselves as we choose. Where a jock can cook up a mean crème brûlée, and a brainiac can break it down on the dance floor-

I may not have been "cool" in high school, but in ten years you will all be working for me!

I finally got my GED!

that one guy in ur intro to cultural anthropology class who mansplains to the professor somehow fucking graduated

he;s just graduating and taking his speech too serously idk

Graduation speeches with that one dude who got held back 3 times

Smrt

originally taken from: the Metropolitan Opera’s 2011 staging of Gioachino Rossini’s Le Comte Ory with Joyce DiDonato (left) as Isolier, Diana Damrau (center) as Countess Adèle, and Juan Diego Florez (right) as Le Comte Ory (disguised as a hermit)

Responses:

There is something very [disturbing grunts] About polyamorous couples - polyamorous, Chris Fleming

jinkies

femme fatale (including to herself)

I’ll have a threesome soon !

Hot guy walks by, everyone swoons.

thirdwheeling friend does not realize the other two are having sex

When your girlfriend had „just two beers“ again

jesus is exasperated about having to drag the two ladies towards doing what he needs them to do instead of purple dramatically declaring suicidal intent over the smallest trivial matters and red being equally dramatic about declaring that it's not the way! stay alive! i love you!!

The throuple is thriving

Get off the milf

orgy

my last three braincells because im a horny slut

countess receives too much love and is confused on how to react

Rasputin's lesser known romp with a much older czarina of russia

Woman's soul leaves body

Jesus and co. are worried after another woman gets pregnant without having sex

bisexual looks at photos of celebrity couples

When you go to the party to socialize with new people but your weirdo friend group starts getting clingy

Jesus cumming

one of those weird church christmas pageants but everybody's drunk

What have I done

Hozier??????????

Jesus assfucks some purple lady being hugged.

This time, the chick IS the magnet

An affair/threesome gone awry (2019 colorized)

What do you mean they canceled GLOW?

“I TOLD you it was cashmere!”

Are you wearing the - - The Gucci dress? Yes I am.

It's not what it looks like!

jesus is fucking that one cheerleader who grew up to be a suburban mom with one (1) super cool dress she stole from her kid who is desperately hugging her middle begging for it back because the spring fling is coming up and jason might actually make eye contact with her for more than three seconds.

jesus and mary magdaline and some other bitch

I’m at a bar and these drunk girls are flirting with me, do I lOOK GAY?!

Shrek 5, jesus's return

c. 2025 First attempt of an Officer and his Wife with a Handmaiden (colourized)

just about all of these are close lol

originally taken from: the Bolshoi Theater’s 1993 staging of Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s The Maid of Orléans, featuring Nina Rautio (left) as Joan of Arc and Vyacheslav Pochapsky (right) as Thibaut d’Arc

Responses:

Don’t look, I’m still pooping

yall, the audacity of this man. he fuckin talked to me

*i can't even tell you how wrong you are* *it would be insulting to ME*-- closest

Cospeto!

„No I’m not talking to you, you keep cracking bad jokes!“ - „But I got another!“

when you’re mad at him but he says he’ll buy you food if you cheer up

When I’m wallowing in self-pity but my friends won’t comfort me

right: wanna fuck ;) left: yeah, fuck OFF lmao

Her face is screaming “don’t tell me what to do”

Yeah I got nothing

gay man tries to hit on a lesbian bc he thinks she's a twink. she's not amused but she's watching this happen anyway

me tired of MET's bullshit and them organising a Netrebko, known blackface apologist, a recital during Black History Month. (sorry im still fucking salty lol)

"stop smiling at me like that I'm trying to pout over here"

"I got fleas, you got fleas... wanna fuck?"

I have the best idea!

Haha nooooo don’t hit me with that bat you’re so sexxyy

lesbian is bothered by dilf

Me trying to flirt

if call me by your name was hetero and set in america

how many more dad jokes can i take before i explode

So. You’ve gotten yourself in a little pickle again.

What if we fought in the Russian revolution together ✨???????... unless??

Two people flirt in a poor place of town/

"If you ask me what I've got under this dirty, shapeless tunic one more time I swear to god I will kick your rotting teeth in"

You look like ur gonna kill me but ok

Really? You again?

Okay, I’ve been sitting here for 20 minutes, do you think it’s safe to—oh god, he’s still there.

Have you seen Godot?

she is tired of everyone’s shit. she has done so many derivatives it physically pains her to see a variable. dont test her. ur icarus rn.

idk pick better pictures-- I HAVE DIED THE SHEER AUDACITY AND HUBRIS I LOVE THIS

200% done with your crap

Homeless man has fucking legs of steel n is gonna show off his Russian dance moves

originally taken from: the Théâtre de Capitole du Toulouse’s 2019 staging of Paul Dukas’ Ariane et Barbe-bleue, featuring Sophie Koch (right) as Ariane and I don’t remember who the person on the left is rip me

Responses:

The knight who wore this into battle sure was swaggy

dear god its hiddeous

Capitalism

Knight in shining armour gone even more wrong.

ghost contemplates the safety of spiky motorcycle helmet

„Stop! He feels bullied!“

'this is my newest take for jesus's crucifixion crown ...... what do you mean they already put him up'

That’s probably a really expensive magic helmet idk. IDK-- closest

Omg I love the adventure zone!

minesweeper (windows xp)

"Okay whatever you do don't touch the shiny spiky ball" "It's so shiny I wanna touch it"

Taking down the trash way too late

IT'S NOT A PHASE MOM

Darth Vader got stuck in the freezer.... again. Leia isn’t happy

Star Wars 2030

“And here is the very latest in motorcycle helmet trends” “Look, I only came to the mall for a pair of socks “

futuristic kkk

long-suffering jewelry store attendant really wants to retire

Put it down put it down put it down

“Hmm no you should see a doctor about that”

A weird ass crown is presented

The creation of sars-cov-2: an experimental Eurotrance nightclub art piece gone horribly wrong

How it feels to want something that u cant have

AND WE WILL CALL IT—SPIKE MAN actually do you think that’s too obvious?? Because of the—yeah, because of the spikes?? See, that’s what I’m worried about. I want it to be SCARY

I know it's risky but... lube me up

use the force luke.

that is a weird fleshlight

When you get an ugly gift and need to find a way to get rid of it, so your family member/friend offers to smash it

Touch the orb

originally taken from: the Opera Vlaanderen’s 2019 staging of Fromental Halévy’s La Juive, with Nicole Chevalier (left, with bottle) as Princess Eudoxie, Enea Scala (center, under table) as Prince Léopold, and Roy Cornelius Smith (right) as Éléazar

Responses:

When no one comes to your birthday party :(

fantastic, day 487 of mischief and they have yet to find my masterful hiding spot

i really wonder who he thinks he's playing footsie with

Marriage crisis. Reason sits under the table-- closest but not in the way you think (after all, the man under the table IS a tenor).

the last supper afterparty after jesus left

When you order the last supper on wish

espionage at the Politischer Rosenmontag

Probably the wrong opera but is that Leporello under the table

Now THIS is a Good Friday night

this was every birthday party i went to between the ages of 5 and 11

that awkward moment when you drop your fork under the table but when you re-emerge everyone else has left except one drunk lady and the guy trying to deal with her

After the last supper

Tfw you arrive to the dinner party too early and have to hide until a more fashionable hour

When the cishets aren’t home

waiter hides from customers

Nobody: My dog every time I’m eating:

what's left of the homies Jesus had dinner with

university chem lab experiment gone terribly wrong

I’ve been under the table FOR 30 MINUTES

Set your friends up by tossing them off under the table, they’ll think it’s each other n fall in luv

Someone hids under a table

"You're about to see an surreptitious-under-the-table-dick-sucking master at work"

5 yr old me trying to eat the desert under the table without my parents finding out be like:

They never invite me to their parties!

Just another girl’s night in

Oops! Didn’t notice you the table.

dionysus - bts (2019, colorized)

just a normal episode of eric andre (eric is the one under the table)

Just a normal day with the boys

Thievery

originally taken from: the Théâtre de Capitole du Toulouse’s 2017 staging of Giacomo Meyerbeer’s Le prophète, featuring Kate Aldrich (left, surrounded by women in white) as Fidès and John Osborn (center, looking like a Jesus doppelganger) as Jean de Leyde

Responses:

Hold up, is that Eggman above Jesus?

holy disco

Looks like Tannhäuser. Our lord and saviour Richard Wagner. Now I need to be saved from that.

catholicism

me defending pineapple on pizza (THANK YOU)

jesus but hes about to be abducted by the alien ufo above him

Emmmmmmm Heaven? Idk

Lord of the rings?

ewww christianity gross

"behold, I am Important"

"Seriously?? It's not ACTUALLY pyjama day? Fuck you guys!"

Jesus at the Disco

Jesus Finds The Molerat People Who Live Under Bethlehem

disco is heaven

Want to join my new religion?

the kkk

church christmas pageant where everyone's sober but it's based on the director's fever dream

Am I the only one who sees the giant demon? Just me? Okay...

“Oh god I think I’m starting my period”

A party is held with a priest in the middle

"Let's get this secret Vatican sex party rolling!"

The new avengers endgame set is looking great!!

You know, guys, I try not to be a bother but...I can’t help but feel like I missed a dress code memo for this wedding??? It’s cocktail, right??”

Jesus visits Hogwarts

I must really stink if no one will even come close to me

the extra ass funeral i DESERVE

star wars life day

A cult at it’s best-- closest

Shrek 5, Jesus is still there I guess

originally taken from: the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden’s 2013 staging of Giuseppe Verdi’s Les vêpres siciliennes, featuring Bryan Hymel (left, standing) as Henri, Lianna Haroutounian (center, kneeling in the black gown) as Duchess Hélène, and Erwin Schrott (kneeling to her right) as Jean Procida

Responses:

When the director’s like “great rehearsal guys, just a few notes before I let you go” but it’s already 9:13 and your mom’s waiting in the parking lot

loyalist of subjects

bow before your queen

They forgot to take down the stage boxes after the Vienna opera ball but the show must go on.

somebody forgot to book chairs for this funeral

Me sharing God’s (Hayley koyoko) word on the discord server

mass execution bc the oboe solo sucked ass-- closest

That’s too many black suits I can’t see shit

I can’t even tell what’s going on here

8th grade school assembly about how it's uncool to shit on the walls at school

let's all get fancy so we can go to the opera and sit on the stage (idk this one's hard lol)

"Yes i am a time traveller, now don't freak out"

Tfw you forget to pay your lighting bills

White guys make decisions that will benefit them and screw someone that’s not a white guy over-- OUCH but that is too real (although not really in context here)

dead man gives speech at his own funeral

brotus and the boys ??? last meeting before the stabbing

high society social function ends in mass murder-- right opera, wrong scene

Someone walks into the talent show stage with a dog

Black-dressed bitches worship a man.

Worst school assembly of all time

POV:You're the window in the classroom and someone said "its snowing"

When the conductor shows up fashionably late to the orchestra concert

That's what you get for choosing the cheapest ticket option, get back in the mud where you belong

theyre just trying to jump into a grave at a funeral leabe them alone this is normal

oh my god he really whipped his dick out in front of everyone, this is just like in 1776 guys, except some women are actually in the room this time,

A funeral, stop wearing so much black

I want to slap their bald heads like rice

originally taken from: the Teatro Real Madrid’s 2018 staging of Gaetano Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor, featuring Roberto Tagliavini (right) as Raimondo

Responses:

Crowd “haha!! Looks like someone missed the all-black memo!! Now it’s laugh-in-your-face time! / Guy on the floor (whispering to guy against wall): go, save yourself! I’ll hold them off...”

if i leave now i wont be a witness and can tell the police i had no idea

it was the best of times, it was the worst of times

Guy in the back pretends to help but is to far away to even know what’s going on.

priest walks in on beginning of an orgy, contemplated joining but is too scared-

when someone brings up capitalism but you’re just trying to play minecraft

lol lets trample this guy while the judge isnt looking

Again. Too many black costumes

Loved this Dostoevsky novel

i would know if opera directors were more creative with clothing choices ngl

me on parties lol

"imma just sneak out of here while everyone else is distracted"

"Where did he get this flooring!? Amazing!"

Everyone act normal!

The tell tale heart but they got REALLY drunk

man tposes to ward off vampires after being caught undercover

boys ???? night

the priest really shouldn't have visited the insane asylum-- closest

He’s FINE everyone’s been hit by a car before

Something happens in a room.

Perks of being a wallflower

There's always that one person in the fight whos trying not to get involved when they really wanna

Oh good, they’re all posing for a Rembrandt painting, I can just sneeeeaaak out the back here...

The gamer livestreaming Resident Evil + everyone watching the stream ? waiting for him to open the door just knowing it will trigger a chase scene

Quick!

the guy t posing in the back is regretting his every decision.-- also accurate

the us senate jumps ted cruz, some other wack ass gop senator is trying to sneak away

...I spoke too soon, however this is a James Bond mission

Queers help fellow queer do math but it's a struggle

#opera #opera tag #results #screencaps #captions #caption #caption this #caption contest #this seems to have gone over well and I am Pleased

33 notes · View notes

meliaaizawa · 3 years ago

Text

MARRIAGE CELEBRATION

Sho and Mei’s loved ones throw them a little party.

Word count: enough to put a page break

*Meiya’s POV*

I sleepily opened my eyes to the light coming from the window. There was a slight breach in the curtains, letting in just enough light, angled to perfectly hit my face. As my mind and body woke up, I began to notice my surroundings more. I felt the soft, steady breath of Shota breathing on the back of my neck, and I suddenly remembered that I was married… not that I had forgotten… but I just assumed I was dreaming. I was weighed down by his arm over me, but I managed to shift and turn around so that I was now facing him. He stirred a little bit in his sleep and barely opened his eyes to see me looking at him before closing them again and pulling me closer into him, falling back asleep. Though I was wide awake and would’ve normally been out of bed by now, I nestled into his chest, closing my eyes and wanting to stay in his arms forever.

A couple hours passed, and I dozed off a few times, but was reawakened again by a kiss on my forehead. I opened my eyes to see Shota looking sleepily at me. “Morning,” I said softly. “Mmm,” he replied sleepily before releasing me from his hold and stretching. I stretched as well and rolled out of bed. Since the paperwork came back sooner than we had expected, I hadn’t moved all of my things into Sho’s apartment yet, including my clothes, so I stole a shirt and pair of pants from him and went into the kitchen to make some coffee. Shota finally crawled out of bed too and joined me in the kitchen, as the scent of fresh coffee drew him there. I poured him a cup and handed it to him, smiling as he wordlessly took it and began sipping as he sat down at the kitchen table.

I poured myself a cup and sat down across from him, resting my feet on the chair next to me. We sat in a comfortable silence, just looking at each other and enjoying each other’s company. As I eventually reached the bottom of my coffee cup, I was the first to break the silence. “I guess we should tell everyone that we’re officially married,” I said, still not quite believing it as I said it. Shota sipped the last bit of his coffee and nodded. “That would be smart,” he said, simply. I stood up and reached for his cup to wash it, but he kept his grip on it and reached for mine instead. “I’ve got it,” he said, taking both cups and walking over to the sink. As he washed the cups I walked up to him, got on my tiptoes, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” I said lovingly before turning to head to the door.

As I sat on the floor and laced up my shoes, Shota gave me a quizzical look as if questioning where I was going. “I have to go back to the old apartment to get dressed… I don’t want to show up to your parent’s house looking like this,” I answered his look. He shrugged and said, “you look fine,” as I got up and looked at him smugly. “I’ll be back soon,” I said, turning towards the door, until I was gently stopped by Sho’s hand on my arm, turning me back towards him as he leaned down to kiss me. “Ok,” he said afterwards, with a cute small smile on his face, making me grin as I opened the door and headed out. I walked to my old apartment, as it wasn’t terribly far, smiling like an idiot the whole way there.

I went into the apartment, closing the door behind me. The lights were off, so apparently my old roommate wasn’t home. I turned on the lights, and the first thing I saw was the approved paperwork for our marriage. I walked up to the table where it was sitting and read. “Shota and Meiya Aizawa.” I would never get over seeing my name with his last name behind it. I went and took a shower, then chose one of my favorite long, flowery dresses to wear. As promised, I was back at our apartment soon, brining our marriage certificate and an already-packed box of clothes with me. When I got back to our apartment, I set the papers on the table, then headed back to our bedroom. I opened up the drawers in the dresser that were designated to be mine and began transferring some of my clothes when the bathroom door opened.

“Can you give me a hand?” I heard Sho ask. I turned to see him standing in the doorway wearing a button up shirt, holding the two ends of his black tie around his neck. I looked at him with raised eyebrows and smile. “You’re dressing up?” I asked in a surprised tone. “Tch, don’t get used to it,” he grumbled, slightly embarrassed, making me smile even wider. I went over to him and tied his tie before looking him over. “Perfect,” I said, smiling up at his uncovered face, as his hair was halfway up. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously at me as he looked me over. He didn’t need to say anything out loud for me to know he was complimenting me. “You ready?” he asked, and I nodded. I slipped our papers carefully into my purse before we headed out of the apartment.

I held onto Sho’s arm as we walked together toward the transit station to go to the Aizawa’s residence. It wasn’t terribly far from our apartment, but since we would have to make several stops today to see everyone, we decided to take public transportation. I felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest out of nervousness of seeing Sho’s parents. His mother had always been kind to me, but, frankly, his father scared me. He often wore an expressionless face or one with a small scowl to it, which is where Sho gets it from…. But unlike Shota, I have no idea how to read his father’s expressions, so I always feel like they’re negative ones towards me. Sho must’ve noticed my hands fidgeting in my lap, as he put his hand on my knee and patted it reassuringly.

We arrived at the house and walked up to the door, with me at Sho’s side. He knocked on the door, and to our surprise, it was answered by Hizashi. “YOOOO!!!! It’s way past lunchtime, I was starting to think ya were too busy to show up!!!!!” he said with a wink. I smiled at the surprise of seeing him, while Sho’s eyebrows furrowed. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “We invited him and some others to come over and celebrate you two!” Shota’s mother said, appearing at the door as Hizashi stepped to the side. “Some others?” I asked, as Sho’s mom stepped aside too, to reveal all our closest friends and family standing inside.

My mom, Hizashi, Sho’s parents, Tamashi, and also Obo’s parents were all standing inside. “Everyone’s here!!” I said, excitedly grabbing onto Sho’s arm and looking up at him as we walked in. He looked around at everyone wide-eyed, apparently as surprised as I was. “Your mommas have been planning this little shindig, calling me nonstop to see if you were married yet. I got Tamashi to hit me up once the paperwork had been approved and then BOOM, here we are to celebrate you two lovebirds!” Hizashi explained in his usual animated fashion. I smiled a bit nervously and noticed Shota bow before everyone, so I joined him. “Thank you all for coming,” he said before straightening himself. As we did so, Sho’s mom had her arms wrapped around both of us. “Welcome to the family, Mei,” she said kindly.

As she let go, her husband approached us, and I found myself bowing again, nervously. I eased up when I felt his gentle hand on my shoulder, so I straightened back up and looked at him. “I trust no one more than you to look after Shota. Stick with him,” he said, matter-of-factly, letting go of my shoulder. “No matter how difficult he may be,” he added, looking judgmentally at his son, though somehow, I could make out the faintest hint of a smirk. I next locked eyes with my mother, who I went to with open arms, hugging her tightly. “I’m so excited for you both,” she said, as she tightly held me. I was doing fine with my emotions until I heard a slight quiver in her voice. “Thank you, mom,” I said as she let me go and I wiped her eyes before wiping mine.

She then turned to Shota, still standing next to me. “Please take care of our Mei,” she said, looking up at him, with her hand on his forearm. He smiled smally and nodded. “I will,” he said, looking at me out of the corner of his eye and subtly reaching for my hand to hold it. As mom stepped aside, Obo’s parents stepped forward, and I immediately began to feel the tears I had wiped come back. “Oboro would’ve been so happy for you… but we are too,” Momakumo said to me, her eyes glassy. I wrapped my arms around her, crying into her shoulder more than I had planned to. After she let go, I was soon wrapped in the arms of Papakumo, who was always like a dad to me. “So happy for you, kiddo,” he said as he held me, kissing the top of my head

“Oboro always respected you. He loved Mei as if she were his other half, but I know he would rest easy knowing that you are the one who’s really her other half,” Obo’s dad then said to Shota. Sho smiled sadly at her and said, “I appreciate that,” shortly, but genuinely. I could tell he was sad, though he showed no signs of crying. I held onto his arm and squeezed it, letting him know I was with him through it. Hizashi was the next to approach us, with his demeanor more serious than it was upon our arrival. “While we’re on the topic… Obo wanted me to give this to you. We had been compiling it together just in case you guys ever got together,” he said, handing us a wooden box that I immediately recognized to have once belonged to Oboro.

I looked down at the box, and looked up to Shota, who gave me a nod as if to say, “you open it.” I opened the box and saw around 10 or so polaroid photos from our school days. I blushed upon seeing the photo directly on top. We were on the rooftop, probably after lunch. Shota was laying flat on his back, sleeping, and I was sitting a bit away looking at him with my sketchbook and pencil in hand. “Mei drawing her favorite subject” was what the caption in Obo’s handwriting said at the bottom of the photo. The next photo we pulled out was one where Sho and I got tangled together in his capture weapon during a class exercise. We were tied so tightly together that Ushiwaka-sensei had to cut the bonds to separate us. “Tying the knot already lol” the caption said.

Nearly all of the photos were candid, and I don’t remember any of them being taken… Me falling asleep on Shota’s shoulder on a bus ride, Shota and I studying together by ourselves at the library, me sharing my bento lunch with Sho… all with some kind of cheesy caption from Obo. “Poor boy doesn’t know he’s in love.” “The lovebirds on a study date.” “Meizawa.” was what a few of them read. “Meizawa?” I asked after getting to the photo with that caption, which was of me and Sho from behind, walking home from school together. “Oh, yeah, that’s the ship name we had for you two… quite a few of our classmates were in on it too,” Hizashi said, looking toward Tamashi, who was in our class. She nodded and said, “yeah, a lot of us thought you worked well together, and look at you now!” I looked up at Shota to see his reaction, and I could see a small hint of a smile. “Thank you for passing this along to us,” Shota said sincerely, looking up from the box. I jumped into Hizashi’s arms, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Thanks, Zashi… this is perfect,” I said as he hugged me back.

After he let go, I hugged Tamashi, thanking her for all her support through the years. “I’m going to miss you, roomie,” she said as I hugged her. “But you belong with Shota,” she added, using his first name for the first time as she smiled at him. “Ok, now that everyone has greeted our newlyweds, the festivities can begin!” Sho’s mom spoke up. “I heard that ramen was one of Mei and Shota’s favorite things to eat together, so we have a ramen bar set up in the kitchen,” she added. “And when everyone’s ramen has settled and their inner rockstar can’t stay inside any longer, I brought my karaoke machine from the radio station to hook up,” Hizashi said to my delight. I heard Shota sigh. “Oh no…” he said, in his tired tone. “Oh YES…” I said, smirking up at him as I hugged him from the side, just so happy that he was my husband and that there was no escaping now.

#shota aizawa #aizawa shouta #bnha #fluff #meizawa #aizawa #aizawa x oc #aizawa x wife

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years ago

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Written In The Stars LX (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: We are almost over with book three which is amazing but also a bit scary like wow this is really going by so fast h e l p -Danny

Words: 4,552

Warnings: Yelling at kids and a tad of violence

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Nineteen: A Window to the Past.

"I found this at the base of the Whomping Willow. Very useful, Potter, I thank you..." Snape threw the cloak aside. "You're wondering, perhaps, how I knew you were here? I've just been to your office, Lupin. You forgot to take your potion tonight, so I took a gobletful along. And very lucky I did... lucky for me, I mean. Lying on your desk was a certain map. One glance at it told me all I needed to know. I saw you running along this passageway and out of sight."

"Severus —"

"I've told the headmaster again and again that you're helping your old friend Black into the castle, Lupin, and here's the proof. Not even I dreamed you would have the nerve to use this old place as your hideout —"

"Severus, you're making a mistake, you haven't heard everything — I can explain — Sirius is not here to kill Harry —"

"Two more for Azkaban tonight," The man didn't care to listen. "I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes this... He was quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin... a tame werewolf —"

"You fool– Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?"

Thin, snakelike cords jumped from the end of Snape's wand and twisted around Lupin's mouth, wrists, and ankles; he fell to the floor.

"NO!" Mel ran towards him at the same time Black started toward Snape, but Snape pointed his wand straight between Black's eyes and Harry grabbed her wrist before she could move further.

"Give me a reason," Snape threatened. "Give me a reason to do it, and I swear I will."

"Professor Snape — it — it wouldn't hurt to hear what they've got to say, w — would it?" Hermione asked beside her.

"Miss Granger, you are already facing suspension from this school," Snape said harshly. "You, Potter, Dumbledore, and Weasley are out-of-bounds, in the company of a convicted murderer and a werewolf. For once in your life, hold your tongue."

"But if — if there was a mistake —"

"KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!" Snape shouted. "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!"

"DON'T TALK TO HER LIKE THAT!" Mel yelled back, snatching her wrist from Harry's grip and raising her wand before she could think it through. "DON'T YOU EVER CALL HER STUPID AGAIN OR I'LL–"

"WHAT?" He roared. "You'll knock me unconscious and then what, Miss Dumbledore?! The Headmaster will feel beyond proud once he finds out he brought up a scoundrel!"

"Better a scoundrel than a petty, feeble man!" Harry pulled down her arm harshly.

"What are you doing?" He hissed. "You believe them?"

"If Black were a dark wizard he would've tried to kill us already," She turned to the boy and tried to pull her arm away. "Let go."

"No."

"Harry, I'll hex you if I have to–"

A short chuckle let out Black's mouth, he was looking at her from the corner of his eye, without completely turning away from Snape.

"You are your mother's daughter, Mel. But this isn't worth an expulsion– lower the wand."

Mel wanted to hiss at him something like 'You really think I'll listen to you?' but Snape was faster.

"Vengeance is very sweet. How I hoped I would be the one to catch you..."

"The joke's on you again, Severus. As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle, I'll come quietly..."

"Up to the castle? I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black, pleased enough to give you a little kiss, I daresay..."

Black looked afraid for the first time that night.

"You — you've got to hear me out. The rat — look at the rat —"

"Come on, all of you," Snape ignored him. He clicked his fingers, and the ends of the cords that bound Lupin flew to his hands. "I'll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the dementors will have a kiss for him too —"

"The werewolf is my family and you won't drag him around like that," Mel growled, stepping forward between Lupin's body and the men in front of her.

Harry moved as well, but he crossed the room and blocked the door. He was a few feet away from her.

"Get out of the way, you're in enough trouble already," Snape spat. "If I hadn't been here to save your skin —"

"Professor Lupin could have killed me about a hundred times this year," Harry said. "And Mel about a thousand times more throughout her entire childhood. We've been alone with him loads of times, having defense lessons against the dementors. If he was helping Black, why didn't he just finish me off then?"

"Don't ask me to fathom the way a werewolf's mind works," hissed Snape. "Get out of the way, Potter."

"Stop calling him a werewolf, that's not all he is!" Mel's fist clenched. "He's as human as you are, and perhaps even better at it!"

"Perhaps," Snape said through gritted teeth, "they're right when they say women in your family go mental before coming of age."

She could've raised her wand and attack right at that instant... If it wasn't because Harry lost his temper at the same time.

"YOU'RE PATHETIC!" He yelled. "JUST BECAUSE THEY MADE A FOOL OF YOU AT SCHOOL YOU WON'T EVEN LISTEN —"

"SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!"

"YOU REFUSE TO SPEAK AT ALL!" Mel argued back.

"Like father, like son! The both of you– have just saved your neck; you should be thanking me on bended knee! You would have been well served if he'd killed you! You'd have died like your fathers, too arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black — now get out of the way, or I will make you. GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

"Stupefy!"

"Expelliarmus!"

The children had raised their wands at the same time, all of them pointing at Snape. The man's body flew and crashed against a wall, blood starting to drip from his forehead. Mel's spell had come out stronger than expected, and if felt as if part of her energy had gone out with it as well.

"You shouldn't have done that," Black said. "You should have left him to me..."

"No offense, but you didn't have that under control," Mel stated, walking over to the bed and retrieving Snape's wand. "And he's right– I'm like my dad, I don't kneel for anybody."

"We attacked a teacher... We attacked a teacher..." Hermione panicked. "Oh, we're going to be in so much trouble —"

"You better take in the fact that we're expelled 'Mione," Mel shook her head, tiredly reaching for her uncle at the same time as Black.

They froze for a moment, then Mel nodded silently once and the man reached to untie her uncle.

"Thank you," He said to the children.

"I'm still not saying I believe you," Harry told Lupin. He looked at Mel, waiting for her opinion.

It was hard to wrap her head around it, but the way Snape had reacted was still fresh on her mind, he'd insulted her father's memory and if she was honest, if there was any chance that Lupin and Black could prove that what they did was right– if she could save Hermione from getting expelled (and to convince herself that her uncle was a good man) she had to take it.

"If he is who you say he is, then turn him back," Mel said in sort of child-like demand.

"All right, it's time we offered you some proof," said Lupin. "You, boy — give me Peter, please. Now."

"Come off it," Ron said weakly. "Are you trying to say he broke out of Azkaban just to get his hands on Scabbers? I mean... Okay, say Pettigrew could turn into a rat — there are millions of rats — how's he supposed to know which one he's after if he was locked up in Azkaban?"

"You know, Sirius, that's a fair question– How did you find out where he was?"

Black took out an old paper and showed it to them.

It was the photograph of Ron and his family that had appeared in the Daily Prophet the previous summer, and there, on Ron's shoulder, was Scabbers.

"How did you get this?" Lupin asked Black, thunderstruck.

"Fudge," said Black. "When he came to inspect Azkaban last year, he gave me his paper. And there was Peter, on the front page... on this boy's shoulder... I knew him at once... how many times had I seen him transform? And the caption said the boy would be going back to Hogwarts... to where Harry was..."

"My God," said Lupin softly, staring from Scabbers to the picture in the paper and back again. "His front paw..."

"What about it?" said Ron defiantly.

"He's got a toe missing," said Black.

"Of course," Lupin breathed. "So simple... so brilliant... he cut it off himself?"

"Just before he transformed," said Black. "When I cornered him, he yelled for the whole street to hear that I'd betrayed Lily and James. Then, before I could curse him, he blew apart the street with the wand behind his back, killed everyone within twenty feet of himself — and sped down into the sewer with the other rats..."

"Didn't you ever hear, Ron?" said Lupin. "The biggest bit of Peter they found was his finger."

"We've heard," Mel said bitterly.

"Look, Scabbers probably had a fight with another rat or something! He's been in my family for ages, right —"

"Twelve years, in fact– Didn't you ever wonder why he was living so long?"

"We — we've been taking good care of him!" said Ron.

"Not looking too good at the moment, though, is he?" Lupin insisted. "I'd guess he's been losing weight ever since he heard Sirius was on the loose again..."

"He's been scared of that mad cat!" said Ron.

"But Scabbers had been ill long before," Mel replied, knowing Harry and Hermione were thinking the same. "Remember? You bought the tonic for rats and that's how Hermione got Crookshanks..."

"This cat isn't mad," said Black. "He's the most intelligent of his kind I've ever met. He recognized Peter for what he was right away. And when he met me, he knew I was no dog. It was a while before he trusted me... Finally, I managed to communicate to him what I was after, and he's been helping me..."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"He tried to bring Peter to me, but couldn't... so he stole the passwords into Gryffindor Tower for me... As I understand it, he took them from a boy's bedside table..."

"Oh, Neville..." Mel sat down on the bed, feeling really, really drained.

"But Peter got wind of what was going on and ran for it... This cat — Crookshanks, did you call him? — told me Peter had left blood on the sheets... I supposed he bit himself... Well, faking his own death had worked once..."

"And why did he fake his death?" Harry demanded. "Because he knew you were about to kill him like you killed my parents!"

"No, Harry —"

"And now you've come to finish him off!"

"Yes, I have," said Black.

"Then I should've let Snape take you!"

"Snape's a nasty man," Mel frowned. "They deserve to explain themselves– And that's all they've been doing since we got here, do you honestly think we're in danger?"

"Harry," Lupin urged, "don't you see? All this time we've thought Sirius betrayed your parents, and Peter tracked him down — but it was the other way around, don't you see? Peter betrayed your mother and father and killed Matthew in the process— Sirius tracked Peter down —"

"THAT'S NOT TRUE! HE WAS THEIR SECRET-KEEPER! HE SAID SO BEFORE YOU TURNED UP. HE SAID HE KILLED THEM!"

That one bit was true, but Black shook his head in what Mel could only think of as grief.

"Harry... I as good as killed them. I persuaded Lily and James to change to Peter at the last moment, persuaded them to use him as Secret-Keeper instead of me... I'm to blame, I know it. The night they died, I'd arranged to check on Peter, make sure he was still safe, but when I arrived at his hiding place, he'd gone. Yet there was no sign of a struggle. It didn't feel right. I was scared. I set out for your parents' house straight away. And when I saw their house, destroyed, and their bodies... I realized what Peter must've done... what I'd done..."

Friends dead, children abandoned. All because he'd trusted the wrong man.

Mel understood, more yet, she felt it the same way she could feel whether if an artifact had dark magic in it or not. She could sense his innocence, he lacked the darkness needed to cause that chaos.

"Enough of this," said Lupin. "There's one certain way to prove what really happened. Ron, give me that rat."

"What are you going to do with him if I give him to you?"

"Ron, come on..." Mel pleaded, rubbing her forehead to try and disappear the weariness.

"Force him to show himself," Lupin assured him. "If he really is a rat, it won't hurt him."

Ron handed it over.

"Thank you."

"Ready, Sirius?" Lupin inquired.

Black silently asked Mel for Snape's wand. She gave it up.

"Together?" He asked quietly.

"I think so... On the count of three. One — two — THREE!"

A flash of blue blinded her momentarily as she heard Ron shouts and the rat's squeals, she heard them until they stopped sounded like squeals, and more like human yells.

He was a very short man, hardly taller than Harry and Hermione. His thin, colorless hair was unkempt and there was a large bald patch on top. He had the shrunken appearance of a plump man who has lost a lot of weight in a short time. His skin looked grubby, almost like Scabbers's fur, and something of the rat lingered around his pointed nose and his very small, watery eyes. He looked around at them all, his breathing fast and shallow. Harry saw his eyes dart to the door and back again.

"Well, hello, Peter," said Lupin pleasantly, as though rats frequently erupted into old school friends around him. "Long time, no see."

"S — Sirius... R — Remus..." Even Pettigrew's voice was squeaky. Again, his eyes darted toward the door. "My friends... my old friends..."

Black's wand arm rose, but Lupin seized him around the wrist, gave him a warning look, then turned again to Pettigrew, his voice light and casual.

"We've been having a little chat, Peter, about what happened the night Lily, James, and Matt died. You might have missed the finer points while you were squeaking around down there on the bed —"

"Remus, you don't believe him, do you..? He tried to kill me, Remus..."

"So we've heard. I'd like to clear up one or two little matters with you, Peter, if you'd be so —"

"He's come to try and kill me again! He killed them and now he's going to kill me too... You've got to help me, Remus..."

"No one's going to try and kill you until we've sorted a few things out," said Lupin.

"Sorted things out? I knew he'd come after me! I knew he'd be back for me! I've been waiting for this for twelve years!"

"You knew Sirius was going to break out of Azkaban?" Lupin frowned. "When nobody has ever done it before?"

"He's got dark powers the rest of us can only dream of! How else did he get out of there? I suppose He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named taught him a few tricks!"

Black laughed again, he sounded so animal-like that she shrunk in her place fearfully.

"Voldemort, teach me tricks? What, scared to hear your old master's name?" said Black when he noticed the way Peter had flinched. "I don't blame you, Peter. His lot aren't very happy with you, are they?"

"Don't know what you mean, Sirius —"

"You haven't been hiding from me for twelve years. You've been hiding from Voldemort's old supporters. I heard things in Azkaban, Peter... They all think you're dead, or you'd have to answer to them... I've heard them screaming all sorts of things in their sleep. Sounds like they think the double-crosser double-crossed them. Voldemort went to the Potters' on your information and Voldemort met his downfall there. And not all Voldemort's supporters ended up in Azkaban, did they? There are still plenty out here, biding their time, pretending they've seen the error of their ways... If they ever got wind that you were still alive, Peter —"

"Don't know... what you're talking about... You don't believe this — this madness, Remus —"

"I must admit, Peter, I have difficulty in understanding why an innocent man would want to spend twelve years as a rat."

"Innocent, but scared! If Voldemort's supporters were after me, it was because I put one of their best men in Azkaban — the spy, Sirius Black!"

"How dare you," Black growled. "I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter — I'll never understand why I didn't see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who'd look after you, didn't you? It used to be us... me and Remus... James and Matt– Hell, even Emily had your back!"

"Me, a spy... must be out of your mind... never... don't know how you can say such a —"

"Lily and James only made you Secret-Keeper because I suggested it! I thought it was the perfect plan... a bluff... Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they'd use a weak, talentless thing like you... It must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters– Not only that, but the youngest Dumbledores as well, father and daughter..."

Alarms were going off inside her mind but she felt too tired to fight them, she supported her head against Harry's side, still sitting on the bed, and closed her eyes for a moment.

"Professor Lupin?" said Hermione timidly. "Can — can I say something?"

"Certainly, Hermione," said Lupin courteously.

"Well — Scabbers — I mean, this — this man — he's been sleeping in Harry's dormitory for three years. If he's working for You- Know-Who, how come he never tried to hurt Harry before now?"

"There!" said Pettigrew shrilly, pointing at Ron with his maimed hand. "Thank you! You see, Remus? I have never hurt a hair of Harry's head! Why should I?"

"I'll tell you why," said Black. "Because you never did anything for anyone unless you could see what was in it for you. Voldemort's been in hiding for fifteen years, they say he's half dead. You weren't about to commit murder right under Albus Dumbledore's nose, for a wreck of a wizard who'd lost all of his power, were you? You'd want to be quite sure he was the biggest bully in the playground before you went back to him, wouldn't you? Why else did you find a wizard family to take you in? Keeping an ear out for news, weren't you, Peter? Just in case your old protector regained strength, and it was safe to rejoin him..."

Pettigrew opened his mouth and closed it several times. He seemed to have lost the ability to talk.

"Er — Mr. Black — Sirius?" said Hermione.

Black jumped at being addressed like this and stared at Hermione as though he had never seen anything quite like her.

"If you don't mind me asking, how — how did you get out of Azkaban, if you didn't use Dark Magic?"

Mel wanted to say 'Mione, always bringing up the best questions' but she could barely muster a smile. Merlin, why was she so tired?

"Thank you!" Pettigrew squeaked. "Exactly! Precisely what I —"

But Lupin silenced him with a look. Black was frowning slightly at Hermione, but not as though he were annoyed with her. He seemed to be pondering his answer.

"I don't know how I did it," he said slowly. "I think the only reason I never lost my mind is that I knew I was innocent. That wasn't a happy thought, so the dementors couldn't suck it out of me... but it kept me sane and knowing who I am... helped me keep my powers... so when it all became... too much... I could transform in my cell... become a dog. Dementors can't see, you know..." He swallowed. "They feel their way toward people by feeding off their emotions... They could tell that my feelings were less — less human, less complex when I was a dog... but they thought, of course, that I was losing my mind like everyone else in there, so it didn't trouble them. But I was weak, very weak, and I had no hope of driving them away from me without a wand...

"But then I saw Peter in that picture... I realized he was at Hogwarts with Harry... perfectly positioned to act, if one hint reached his ears that the Dark Side was gathering strength again..."

Mel decided to believe them, she believed because they were okay with telling a truth that had weighed on them for a long time meanwhile Pettigrew was eager to squirm away from it, he seemed small and helpless, ready to jump on anyone's throat if given the chance.

"...ready to strike at the moment he could be sure of allies... and to deliver the last Potter and Dumbledore to them. If he gave them Harry and Mel who'd dare say he'd betrayed Lord Voldemort? He'd be welcomed back with honors... So you see, I had to do something. I was the only one who knew Peter was still alive..."

"It was as if someone had lit a fire in my head, and the dementors couldn't destroy it... It wasn't a happy feeling... it was an obsession... but it gave me strength, it cleared my mind. So, one night when they opened my door to bring food, I slipped past them as a dog... It's so much harder for them to sense animal emotions that they were confused... I was thin, very thin... thin enough to slip through the bars... I swam as a dog back to the mainland... I journeyed north and slipped into the Hogwarts grounds as a dog. I've been living in the forest ever since, except when I came to watch the Quidditch, of course. You fly as well as your father did, Harry..."

She finally looked up at Harry, he was holding Black's stare, no hesitation in his eyes.

"Believe me," Black was looking intently to the both of them. "Believe me. I never betrayed James and Lily. I would have died before I betrayed any of them."

Harry looked down at her and she immediately knew what he was thinking. That ache on Black's voice... it resembled so much the one they felt whenever one of them was in danger– the anguish she drowned in when Harry was about to die in Salazar's chamber, or Harry's when he thought Quirrel had killed her.

"We believe you," Mel said. Harry nodded as a reply.

"No!" Pettigrew fell to his knees and crawled over to Black.

"Sirius — it's me... it's Peter... your friend... you wouldn't..."

"There's enough filth on my robes without you touching them," Black spat.

"Remus!" Pettigrew squeaked. "You don't believe this... wouldn't Sirius have told you they'd changed the plan?"

"Not if he thought I was the spy, Peter. I assume that's why you didn't tell me, Sirius?"

"Forgive me, Remus," Black pleaded.

"Not at all, Padfoot, old friend," said Lupin. "And will you, in turn, forgive me for believing you were the spy?"

"Of course," said Black, smiling weakly. "Shall we kill him together?"

Mel looked up. That wasn't what she was expecting to hear them say.

"Yes, I think so," Lupin replied lowly.

"You wouldn't... you won't..." gasped Pettigrew. And he turned to Ron. "Ron... haven't I been a good friend... a good pet? You won't let them kill me, Ron, will you... you're on my side, aren't you?"

"I let you sleep in my bed !" He exclaimed in disgust.

"Kind boy... kind master...you won't let them do it... I was your rat... I was a good pet..."

"If you made a better rat than a human, it's not much to boast about, Peter," said Black.

It was Hermione's turn.

"Sweet girl... clever girl... you — you won't let them... Help me..."

"Don't touch her!" Mel stood up but immediately regretted her decision as the world started to turn upside down.

Harry put an arm around her waist and called her name with worry. She didn't respond.

Pettigrew crawled over to them.

"Harry... Harry... you look just like your father... just like him... Mel..."

"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HARRY? HOW DARE YOU FACE THEM? HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT JAMES AND MATT IN FRONT OF THEM?"

"Harry," Pettigrew, insisted. She felt her body being pulled away from the man, Harry's arms around her waist to keep her steady. "Harry, James wouldn't have wanted me killed... James would have understood, Harry... he would have shown me mercy..."

Harry ignored him, his attention still on her.

"Mel," He continued. "Talk to me..."

"I'm all right," She mumbled, fighting against her dizziness.

"You sold Lily and James to Voldemort," said Black to Pettigrew. "Do you deny it?"

"Sirius, Sirius, what could I have done?" Pettigrew finally burst into tears. "The Dark Lord– you have no idea... he has weapons you can't imagine... I was scared, Sirius, I was never brave like you, Remus, Matt, and James. I never meant it to happen... He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named forced me —"

"DON'T LIE! YOU'D BEEN PASSING INFORMATION TO HIM FOR A YEAR BEFORE LILY, JAMES AND MATT DIED! YOU WERE HIS SPY!"

"He — he was taking over everywhere!" gasped Pettigrew. "Wh — what was there to be gained by refusing him?"

"What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who has ever existed?" said Black, with a terribly fury in his face. "Only innocent lives, Peter!"

"You don't understand!" whined Pettigrew. "He would have killed me, Sirius!"

"THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!" roared Black. "DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!"

Black and Lupin stood shoulder to shoulder, wands raised.

"You should have realized," said Lupin quietly, "if Voldemort didn't kill you, we would. Good-bye, Peter."

Only then Harry returned his attention to the scene unfolding in front of him.

"NO!" Harry yelled.

Mel stepped away and sat back on the bed, Hermione immediately sitting beside her to see if there was anything she could do. At the same time, Harry had taken a few large steps to stand between the three men.

"You can't kill him... You can't."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@tiphareth2018 @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @celestialhayi @mikariell95 @thesuitelifeofafangirl @kylosleftbuttcheek @steve-thotgers @tomshollandz @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #ron weasley #hermione granger #severus snape #remus lupin #Sirius Black #WITT fic

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years ago

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26. I Hate This Fandom, and I Hate All of You

I absolutely stole this line from an old friend in the Glee fandom, because it’s one that I think about EVERY TIME a fandom gets on my nerves, much the way that even this fandom does and in particular Simon stans. Idk what to tell y’all if y’all feel some type of way... be better people. ANYWHO! Shoutout to my friend for a quote that still means a lot to me 10 years later. Word Count: 4119

There was a lot of buzz surrounding the mini vacation for Simon’s birthday. Their families were together in Belize. Simon’s photos only reflected Simon either being with Grace and Hazel on the trip, or Grace. For the type to hyperfixate and go through everyone’s pages, they could find entire group photos and stuff on Mr. Laurent’s and Mrs. Monroe’s pages as Mr. Monroe didn’t have social media and Mrs. Laurent’s wasn’t sophisticated (inspirational quotes and recipes and DIYs that she was never going to actually try). Simon’s selected photos always looked like professional stills of the scenery, candids and capturing all the beauty possible, while Grace took hundreds of photos of everything from hijinks and mishaps to food to selfies, and they always just looked like somebody living her best life.

But, someone asked, “Are you in Belize with Grace Monroe?” on Simon’s photo of a pair two pairs of bare feet in the dirt - one an older person, dark brown skin, several scars from previous damages and new callouses, and a younger person’s lighter brown skin and cutesy temporary tattoos on the base of their feet.

“Grounding, also called earthing, is a therapeutic technique that involves doing activities that “ground” or electrically reconnect you to the earth. This practice relies on earthing science and grounding physics to explain how electrical charges from the earth can have positive effects on your body.” Simon had put as the caption. In the same photo set, you could see an image of his own feet in the dirt, and...

“These are Grace and Hazel Monroe’s feet, right???” When they flipped through the set, there was near the end of several pictures of the landscape and sky, silhouettes of two people in the sunset - remarkably shaped like Grace and Hazel dancing in the dirt.

“OMG OGM GOM MOG MG OOMG…”

“Simon and Grace are BACK ON y’all!”

“Grace is letting Simon post photos of her! You all know that she’s very secretive about Simon these days, and now they’re in Belize and he’s posting photos! We WON everybody!”

“GRACE???”

Grace’s comments were a little bit less like that. A little bit. She had almost forgotten how “Simon’s fans” could get. She had looked up one of those “foods to order when you’re in Belize” articles and gotten everything on the list, took a photo of the table top and captioned, “About to go IN!” And less than a few moments later, had SO MANY, “Are you with Simon/Simon is gonna eat most of that/Save some for Simon/What did Simon order/So jealous that you get to eat all of that! Save room for desert AKA Simon!” That was the point where she decided to go on a comments black out. There could be no more comments on whatever photos that she took for the rest of the trip. Simon left his open, though. It blew his mind that half a year ago, people were telling him that they were disappointed in him for hurting Grace and lying about it, or that they were disappointed in him for trusting Grace again after everything, and now SOME of those very same people were extremely excited just to see them having brunch together that they were already working on wedding date headcanons and pregnancy foreshadowing. This entertained him. Grace wasn’t as much of a fan and contacted Hazel’s social media rep to ensure that any comments or questions about Simon were promptly deleted from any of her pages. Sometimes, they did that too. That was less amusing to Simon. He really believed that kids should be left out of things like that.

Simon knew that he was the reason that they didn’t last, as friends or otherwise and he had come to terms with that, but he still wanted her to be able to forgive him someday, trust him again and let him be a part of her life. This wasn’t her intention with this trip, so he definitely couldn’t take it as a sign. She was enjoying Belize with her daughter and making the most of the fact that her parents had foolishly invited him along, thinking it could be beneficial in some way. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to enjoy his limited time with her to the fullest.

Plus, he and Hazel had made some small steps to acceptance on her tour of their memory lane. Surprisingly to him, Grace was very open with Hazel about her wrongs. She did tell her about how she fought and hunted down Simon’s bullies, how she stabbed one with a fork and kept it just to remind herself of that day. She told her things that Simon never would have wanted to ever let his kids know that he had done. Hazel just hugged her, told her that she understood her pain better now and that she was proud of her for being able to be a good and strong person now. She posted something about her mom being her hero and being so glad that she had somebody like her in her life. It was really cute.

Simon went to follow her on her social media and someone even noticed THAT. “Simon Laurent is now following Hazel Monroe on like everything!” They posted with screenshots of his name following each account and an eyeballs emoji. He… blocked the person. He didn’t block people very much, but where Hazel was concerned, he didn’t want any of his stuff to bleed over into her space. Grace wouldn’t like that and he didn’t like it, either.

He and Hazel had spoken about the charm bracelet. She had been chronicling the charms with their stories, and said something like, “I feel like I’m wearing a sacred relic on my wrist.”

“Speaking of…” Simon had said, and reached into his satchel. “I made you copies of something…”

He showed her some pages of what could ONLY be two Esmoroth books and she squealed, hugged them to herself and stuck them in her own tote. “Expect my notes on them, soon.” He gave her a salute. Grace watched them interact and she couldn’t remember many moments that he talked to kids - like she had seen him at work with them and even sometimes whenever she caught part of one of his scouts things, but seeing him and Hazel sort of bonding affected her. She was equal parts cautious and soft. Simon seemed genuine though, and that only became more noticeable during the trip.

He was doing stuff like making sure she was walking on the inside when they went down streets, reflexively shielding her in crowds, helping her over, up onto stuff whenever she looked like she might struggle - things that Grace would normally do/try to do but wait it out to see if Hazel could do it herself or ask her if she needed help. Simon jumped into action and it didn’t seem to bother Hazel, so Grace was able to watch her get babied a little bit. It was cute. She snapped several photos, just for herself, though.

They got back to the villa to see that Mrs. Monroe had arranged another dinner. “This woman, I swear,” Grace mumbled. Simon laughed a little.

Mrs. Monroe announced, “We had a spa day and I got the Laurents makeovers. The three of you get washed up and dressed. The photographer is already here and I don’t want him to catch you three looking like… This.” she circled her hands at them, then waved them off.

“What… should I wear?” Simon asked as they walked off.

“I’ve set your outfits out!” Mrs. Monroe called at his back, “All of you!”

“I really feel like I’m 15 again,” Grace said shaking her head. Simon let out a grunt of agreement.

Hazel wondered, “This is what 15 feels like???” Not her 15. Grace was NEVER gonna do this type of stuff to her. But, the occasional bossiness of GlamMother Monroe would be fine. ONLY on occasion.

They reconvened with the family on the patio, overlooking the water as they were relaxed enough to not be as uncomfortable as at the birthday dinner. Hazel and Simon were talking about how far along she had gotten in his book, which she had her copy of at the table and was going over notes so far (she was pleased with where it was going and she enjoyed the angst between the Future King and the Idol Princess, “A lot more than I would have before everything I learned about you and my mom,” Grace heard her say.

“Do you want more?” Grace heard an unfamiliar voice ask.

She turned to see Mrs. Laurent staring at her with gray eyes… Simon’s eyes. Ugh… This is where he got those? She forced a smile and shrugged, “Someday.”

The woman leaned closer to her and said, “It gets tougher whenever there’s another. You have a hard time juggling the same amount of love that you have in you between more bodies.”

“I don’t think I’ll have that problem, but I’m going to take everything that the professionals say into consideration whenever I begin to think about expanding the family.”

“Simon was really easy. You just give him a little block set or something to build and he would leave you alone for hours. His sister needed constant attention. She just couldn’t stand not being focused on. I could easily leave Simon alone for half a day whenever he was 6. Hope couldn’t be left for a couple of hours, even having someone there with her…”

“Leave her alone,” they heard Simon growl at his mother in a low voice. The woman frowned and sat back in her seat. “Are you okay, Grace?” Simon looked at Grace’s hands clutching the table. She looked at them too, and released her grip, then saw Hazel, looking at her concerned and looking at Mrs. Laurent suspiciously.

“Yeah. She was just talking about motherhood.”

“About how she was terrible at it?” Simon asked.

“Simon…” Grace started.

But Hazel interjected, “Not everybody has a mom like you, Grace.”

“My mom isn’t perfect…”

“I think she meant a mom who is like you,” Simon said. Hazel nodded. “Some of us got hit a lot and yelled at, called names…”

“Abandoned in a field for days…”Hazel added. “Not to say that GlamMother was better! Just… sometimes it’s harder to trust people again, depending on what they did and well… as a mommy, doing bad stuff to your kid makes it so hard to even be nice.”

Grace nodded and adjusted Hazel’s braids. She had braided her hair whenever they were on the plane, to pass the time on the long flight. “I understand. I’ve been hurt by somebody that I thought really loved me before…” Simon blinked and turned away. Hazel gave him a sympathetic glance. Grace added, “But, I’m really trying not to be angry with them forever, and I think maybe our moms might be able to inherit a little bit of the same kind of forgiveness that we would want from others.”

Hazel scoffed, “She is definitely talking to you, Simon. There’s no way I’m forgiving any time soon.”

Simon said, “Noted,” and stared into his cup. He sat for a while longer and then took his cup and left the table. Hazel lowered her eyes, avoiding looking at Grace.

Mrs. Laurent offered, “He’s always been really sensitive. I’ll go…”

“No,” Grace said. “You… stay.” She stood up, glanced at Mrs. Laurent, slid Hazel’s chair away from her a little, basically letting Hazel know not to engage with that woman (though Hazel seemed to be the only person that the woman was kind hearted to, probably reminded her of her daughter or something). Grace found Simon pacing and clenching his fists. She turned to leave. This was a private moment, but he glanced up, saw her and stopped moving. She winced and clasped her hands together, “I was coming to check on you.” He relaxed a little and sat down on the nearby stairs.

She leaned against the rail and explained, “I’m not saying that you have to forgive your mom if you want me to forgive you. That’s not what I meant to convey. I just mean… that I try to think about things from the other person’s shoes a lot more than I used to. I remember right before I snapped, I asked my mom if you really believed all of the things you said about me, or if you were just a really good liar. I still don’t really know for sure what the answer is and I don’t think you do, either. And, whenever we don’t even fully know ourselves, how can we possibly know what others are going through? For all I know, you’re in the most pain that has ever pained anyone. I couldn’t say. What I can say is that I won’t let your pain be an excuse to hurt me, and as long as you aren’t hurting me, I see no reason to punish you.” She sat next to him. “But, maybe you and your mom can’t be like that, and that’s valid. I was just throwing something out in the air. I probably should have thought it through.”

“It’s true though. The stuff I did is just as unforgivable as the stuff she did. How can I expect you to ever trust me again when I’m not willing to do the same with her?”

“I mean… you and me are different people. You and her are different people. Not everything is interchangeable.”

“Any time I’m near Hazel, you look like at any moment, you expect me to throw her into the ocean. It feels really bad, but I get it. So… I know that she MIGHT be hurting too. It’s just… so hard. And to think that this is the way that I make you feel when I’m around, trying to pretend that I’m normal… It’s the most painful part. What can I do though? I made it this way. I did things that can’t be undone. Even in trying to rectify it, that’s just… treating an injury. I’ll never be able to remove the scars.” He had tears falling down his face, which he wiped away before she could have the chance to feel bad. “And you’re the last person that I should be whining to about it, because you’re the victim in this story.”

“A survivor,” she corrected. “Who has chosen to try to understand. Let’s give each other a little more space. We went around town, living in the old days and that maybe threw us a bit out of reality’s orbit. You were fine before we hung out..” He opened his mouth to debate, but she caught herself and corrected, “Well, not fine, but better. And… you need to get increasingly better. Until you’re well.” She got up and he watched her go back out and collect Hazel. They turned in early that night. He went back out to talk to his mom…

The Laurents were awake early and the only ones in the kitchen with Hazel whenever Grace emerged from their quarters. Mr. Laurent had made pancakes and eggs, and Hazel was stuffing her face and reading. Simon was next to her, ready to protect her, if he had to, while his mother was nursing a cup of coffee with a full, cold plate in front of her. “Good morning!” Grace cheered and kissed Hazel on top of the head, then Simon, though she awkwardly cringed after she did. He blushed, but didn’t make a big deal out of it. Yeah, she requested space, but she was also always affectionate and they had been around each other a lot the past few days.

“Good morning,” Mr. Laurent said. “Plenty of pancakes and eggs!”

“I’m having breakfast with my parents, but thank you for the offer,” she said in a fake sweet voice. “Hazel, why don’t you go get ready for the day. We’re spending it with your grands.”

“Yes!!! They give the BEST day out presents!” Grace sat down, and Simon noticed that with the off the shoulders blouse she had on, he could see the tan marks on her now even darker brown skin. He… liked tan marks. And… her hair smelled really good. Her lips looked so moist… She squinted her eyes at him and he quickly turned away and grabbed his plate and Hazel’s to clear them from the table.

“What do you all have planned for the day?” She asked.

“I’m going to take Samantha to the beach,” Simon said.

“If you can find her. I told you to keep her in her crate,” Mrs. Laurent said.

“I let her out in my quarters, not in the entire villa. She’s somewhere in my space,” he said. They had been bickering. He told her that he was trying to forgive her, because forgiving her might mean being able to forgive himself for the things that he had done. She told him that even if she tried for the rest of her life, she couldn’t forgive him for what he did to Hope… So… They weren’t any closer to whatever it was Grace was at in her growth journey. “I might do something with my hair,” Simon said, shrugging his shoulders as he washed dishes and returning his attention to Grace’s question. “Since I have that patch on the side from getting kicked in the head, I sort of want to do something Viking looking or elvish… Maybe a braid and a side do.”

“That sounds hot,” Grace said. He blushed again. “There might be something in Hazel’s Celtic book! There were some hairstyles in there. She carries the thing around a lot. Every since we found out that she had it in her DNA, she’s sorta been obsessed with Celtic history and the fact that there’s hazel tree lore is her favorite coincidence in the world.” Simon smiled and put the clean dishes away.

“She’s a great kid. You’re doing great with her.”

“It’s really not that hard. I just love her a lot and always try to give her what’s best for her and trust her to let me know if she doesn’t agree with what’s best for her… which isn’t often, at all. I worry that she sometimes maybe has too much emotional maturity. Like, if I shouldn’t coddle her a little more…” She bit her lip. “Like… how can you even tell when it’s what’s best?”

“She is happy and healthy. I trust that you do what’s best.” He cut his eyes at his mother and dismissed himself just as Hazel returned. They high fived each other when they crossed paths and Grace got up so that they could leave. She’d meet her parents elsewhere later. She couldn’t just stay in there with the Laurents, no matter how nice they were maybe trying to be.

She and Simon did well enough keeping their space through the rest of the trip. By Monday morning, when they were all back home, Grace wondered if Hazel needed a day to recover, but she was SO READY to get to school and brag to her friends about how she had been given drafts of the next two books of Esmoroth and how she wouldn’t tell them what happened and they would be SO jealous and think she’s SO cool. “They might even think that I’m lying. That’s why I have photos of me and Simon, with both of the drafts. They’re gonna be extremely, extremely envious.”

Grace laughed, “Why do you want your friends to be envious?”

“Because, that’s how you know it’s the good stuff.” Hazel still had her braids in. They probably wouldn’t last as long as that style would in Grace’s head, but Grace estimated she still had a few weeks before they would have to take them down. Also, Grace noticed that after giving Simon the leaf in her hair whenever they went to get on their planes home… She hadn’t replaced it. She put in one of her leaf clips and almost left the door without Grace! Grace caught up with her and the girl was as lively as ever. Grace didn’t have that same enthusiasm.

The weekend was exhausting for her. Seeing her parents wore her out. Seeing them, the Laurents, and specifically Simon? She was about to sleep this entire day, until it was time to meet up with Hazel afterschool. Back in her own bed, with her own energy in her space, her own schedule and company (or lack thereof) it was great.

Simon had went live while he was working on styling his hair, to clear up all of the rumors about he and Grace rekindling their romance, which essentially boiled down to, “Grace and I are not together. We aren’t even friends again. The Monroes were nice enough to treat my family to a vacation for my birthday. I love, admire, adore, worship, would die for Grace, but I’ve done too much stuff for her to ever trust me again and I have to be okay with that, so all of you should be, too.”

Grace didn’t know until Hazel told her that Forgive Him Grace and Groveling for Grace were a thing. She watched the video and was amazed that they had taken his words and decided to do the complete opposite, because of course they did! She merely made a post, with no tags or links that said, “I hate this fandom, and I hate all of you.” Some were in the comments laughing, because they knew exactly what she was talking about. Some were asking her what fandom it was and offering words of kindness. Some were just flooding it with those stupid hashtags.

Simon messaged her to apologize and insist that he didn’t mean for THIS to happen. She turned it into a video call, which he immediately picked up.

“Your followers have always been a very… special kind. Unreasonable. Stubborn. Obsessively defensive, even when you absolutely don’t deserve it.” He looked embarrassed. “You trained them too well. Jeesh.”

“They’re literally a little cult on the internet,” he said.

“Yup. They better not be bothering my baby.”

“No. I shut that shit down the moment I see it. I actually pinned an exile list to the top of my pages specifically for that.”

She checked and saw “For troubling Hazel Monroe, you will be exiled and your name will go upon this wall of shame.” It was followed by a list of names of people he blocked and at the bottom, “Leave her alone or you won’t be welcome here.”

“This is kinda adorable,” she said. “I love how you are with her. It means a lot to me.”

“You mean a lot to me, so she does too,” he said. She bit her lip and blew air through her lips. He smiled. “I love that you still do that. I was counting the similarities and differences.”

“I’d love to hear what you came up with!” She said.

“Okay. Similarities: You still do that brrrr thing with your mouth when you’re thinking or uncomfortable. You still play with people’s hair as a show of affection. You playfully tugged on Hazel’s braids so many times! Your feet still bother you… though they seem to be giving you more trouble than before. You still try to play nice with people and speak sweetly… Differences: You’re more confident. Not that you were insecure before, but you used to care what people think about you and now, you just don’t. It’s really sexy.” She blushed. “You’re independent. You don’t need anybody else and you used to always want somebody around. Like, you love Hazel and keep her close, but I can tell that you also allow her freedom and don’t demand her obedience like your parents did to you. And you’re… everything. I can’t believe that I convinced myself that you were nothing. You’re everything, and I would do anything for you.” They both just stared at each other a while.

“Well… That’s a nice thought. I’ll think of you if I need anything.”

“Or if you want anything…. Anything at all, Grace. I swear.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you soon. Get your followers together!”

“I’m on it,” he said and rested his chin on his hands. She exited the conversation and took a deep breath. She didn’t know what he meant by any of that, but she had a feeling that it would be clear soon. Simon never made a declaration that he wasn’t going to come through about. Even “new” Simon.

#If They Didn't Get on the Train #AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics

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naturaldisasterfanfiction · 4 years ago

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34. Part 6

I shuddered at the thought, the thought of me having to play mother to a child that isn’t even mine. I hope she gathers herself for her child “not going to lie but even if I was angry with Chris, and I was hurt. I wouldn’t be bothered. I would take my child and be happy. I hope she acts right, I’m not for kids being hurt but if she goes bad and doesn’t take care of him and then Chris is gonna look to me, and then what” I said to Mel “you married a man with kids Robyn, it could happen but don’t wish these things into existence but I think that bitch is mentally unstable anyway, it’s scary. How she snapped at that boy, but I wouldn’t mind Roro being here, she’s such a happy child. That is what I like about her. I mean I think with him he may have been brainwashed with her ways; you know!?” Mel ain’t wrong “I’m not sure about him at all, Chris doesn’t have that bond anyways but if Chris ends up going court and then wins more rights over his son then I wanted, then I’m kind of not going to be happy” Mel snorted laughing “be nice to the bitch then” side eyeing Mel “nah, she ain’t getting my money, she can fuck herself. Chris is just not rubbing my feet right now, he’s here on his phone. He needs to be like me, not care for my phone” I huffed out “but I think you may need to have that thought in your mind and accept what may happen, you know?” Mel is right “let me check on what he’s doing, I don’t want people upsetting him. He likes to read into things, I need his page deleting again” walking around the counter slowly, he has not moved away from his phone at all. The thing is people love to harass Chris because they know he takes it to heart, and cares because Chris was looking at me with puppy dog eyes and then I spoke. That bitch is a bully, and I won’t have it, he just wants to a quiet life. Chris is not weak, never that but he just wants a quiet life that he pays the bitch money, like now. She’s using Aeko as a ploy to get to him. I know his son won’t go hungry; he will be ok. I am keeping the care packages; I don’t even care about that. I don’t know where that bitch is mentally, but if things get bad I’m gonna have to have that child here. I’m not a bad person but still, I rather not.

Resting my arm on Chris’ shoulder looking down at his phone, why is my husband like this. Why does he have to get himself caught up on Instagram, pressing a kiss to the back of his head “what are you doing? We are supposed to be going upstairs” this man is staring at his tagged pictures “huh” he looked up at me “what is it? Talk to me, why are you staring at your phone and not looking at me? It’s our time” he poked his lower lip out “they are saying mean things?” I think they are “Fenty isn’t mine, they are saying how ugly I was as a baby when your forehead was bigger than my phone screen, and apparently my mom liked a post but like what if she didn’t read the caption” I sighed out “delete Instagram, you was happier without it. I want you to delete it, once you can handle the shit people say then you can go back on it. I don’t want to treat you like a child but it’s not good for your mental being when you are trying to better yourself, people are gonna tag you in shit. It’s bullying, they always do it to you. What did your mom like, tell me?” I rather we speak on it then just leaving it alone “that Rihanna got what she wanted, a baby. She will throw him soon, DNA test needed” rolling my eyes “Delete your Instagram, you don’t need this negativity” Joyce is asking for a beating from me, she is digging into this hole that she can’t escape “Robyn, Tina is on the phone, Joyce is trying to contact you?” Frowning at Dennis, Joyce is trying to call be “Joyce who?” Walking of towards Dennis and see what the fuck is up “my mom?” Chris said behind me, that boy adores his mom and she’s a bitch “is on mute?” I asked Dennis following him into the living room “yeah, Tina called and was like is Robyn there because if so Joyce is on the phone, i said who? She said Chris’ mother, I mean she has Chris’ number right?” Looking behind me and I knew Chris would be behind me following me, I didn’t want him too, but he did, I don’t blame him because it is his mother.

Taking my phone from Dennis, taking in a deep breath before answering “Tina” I said “she’s muted but she called on withheld and she said she got in touch with your manager, I’m like Robyn is her own boss so chile, I don’t know. But your publicist called me, but can I put her through?” Tina said “but what does she want? Didn’t she say what the issue was? She has her son’ number, I don’t get that she rang you like this” turning to Chris all in my space “Chris, I am going to go into another room, private. This is a private talk between us, and I don’t want you to be upset about shit yeah, then I mean it. We are going! Let the world go to shit, I don’t care. One minute Tina” moving my phone away from my ear “but I would like to hear what she has to say, it’s not fair, why didn’t she ring me. Why am I being penalised, for what!?” he spat “because she is what she is, I promise I will tell you what she says, do you trust me?” I asked “I do but I want to hear” he is hard headed but so can I “if you trust me then you will let me go and I will be back to tell you, I would not let her ever disrespect you but I can’t concentrate on this call and see your sad face, you know” Chris has this sad face now because he’s been reading shit “fine, you better tell her that she is hurting me” nodding my head “I will, just wait here. I will be back” walking by Chris “yeah so Tina, did she mention anything to you? Like what the fuck this is about!?” I would like to know anything before I answer this call “nothing, just that can I speak to Robyn, I did say she is busy and she said with my son then it clicked on who she is, Chris’ mother so yeah” rolling my eyes “ok put her through” I will go into the second living area, hopefully Chris stays put.

Sitting down on the couch “you called” I said, she is being awfully quiet for a woman that called me “I have never been an evil person Robyn, I love. I love everything and everyone, and you have married my son I see” she said “he married me, he purposed to me. I didn’t kidnap your son, clearly you think I brainwashed your grown ass son. He made his decision” I don’t want to snap at her “he is brainwashed when it comes to you, you had sex with him unprotected knowing full well what you wanted” and she says she is nice “what I wanted? Oh yes, I wanted to be the third baby mother, I wanted to be caught up in Chris’ issues, I wanted to play step mother, yes I wanted to deal with Chris’ bipolar and his odd ways, yes I wanted that. I wanted to heal Chris from his past because he hasn’t healed himself because nobody fucking cared to do it, yes Joyce! I wanted that, any sane bitch would just do what that bitch in Germany has done, oh you are just vile. Why the fuck would I wait all these years of my life to be in this situation!? Huh? Riddle me this, why is it you’re still stuck on the fact I stole your son? I didn’t steal Joyce, I took a broken man that was stuck on drugs and because I love him, if it wasn’t love he would be on the fucking streets and he would be a sperm donor, fuck!” I snapped, I just couldn’t hold back on that “you one big deluded bird” I need to not be rude “you got that bitch crying it’s love, and you crying I stole a boy you didn’t care about! Yes he is an adult, you right Joyce, he is a grown adult that his own mother failed him, I mean I am mothering him, oh wow. I am angry at you! I should be telling you, you stole your son’ adulthood because you shipped him off in his childhood to New Jersey because you couldn’t handle him, you leave him alone Joyce. You called me for what!? Hurt that I married him, mhmm. You can also stop using his name to sell your old people clothing, nobody wants those tacky shits, you also are on the list to not use his name. Only me, his daughters, his son will use his name. You! Let me find out you do, you’re getting sued, I suggest you sign those papers too Joyce!” the phone disconnected, just like that she ran off, I will not put up with shit.

I have known Chris since we were teenagers, I know everything about him, and I fucking know everything. His mother couldn’t handle him, she shipped him off. How can she allow her son to have sex as a child, I would like to murder her to be honest and they expect him to be sane. Fuck that, but that is done now. Getting up from the couch, I am done and if I get another issue now I am going to scream. I want to have some peace with Chris, no drama. I opened the door and Chris was already stood there “you don’t listen do you” tilting my head a little “you know me, you was sticking by me, like you out here dishing out gag orders on people” I chuckled “Chris, you’re my husband. I will be doing what I can, I am always doing something. I am sticking by you, like you do me. It’s ok, no evil will come between us. She will be coming to you Chris; she will want you ok?” Chris nodded his head “did you delete your Instagram?” that is the first thing “yeah, I turned my phone off too. Mel said it was be best if I did. Too much drama happening now, like people are all up in the air about it. Us being married” smiling at Chris “that is fine, I need to give my phone Dennis then we are going upstairs. We can talk about anything you like too. I am all ears, but you need to rub my feet” walking into the kitchen “those are my snacks! Get off, this fat bitch needs it but here Dennis. And please look after my daughter. If she does play up then you may come to us, do not post pictures of her, not the face anyways, you know the deal. Have fun” Jah looks like he is up to no good “he wants to wake her” Mel said “don’t bother, she will hate you for it” I said walking off “gummy drop want foot rubs huh” Chris put his arm around me “I do, and you better deliver. I think maybe we should literally sit in our robes too” I was in my robe, but I put something on to come down, after the minor meltdown earlier which I am over now.

I giggled seeing Chris in my Savage x Fenty robe, I swear he is the cutest “so you got boxers on?” I have to ask because you never know, he lifted the Robe showing me his boxers “ohhhhhh Savage Fenty boxers now? Mhmm I wonder who designed those, your dick looks bigger in those” I winked at Chris “my wife did that, I like them and this robe. I feel like a brand new guy” raising my leg at Chris “come on now” Chris chuckled getting onto the bed, he grabbed my foot “be nice now” side eyeing him gripping my foot, he sat across from me “do you have panties on?” Chris stretched my leg out to check and I yelped out “aye, I see your coochie” trying to reach over to slap his hand but Chris has a grip on my foot now “I have panties on thank you” laying back on the bed “I was just testing you gummy drop, if you take your robe off, I will take mine off” frowning at him “mhmm why you want me to take my robe off Christopher? After calling me gummy drop, I am not removing anything” Chris moved his hand and came over to me, hovering over me “I miss this” looking up at him “this position?” Chris grinned, biting on my bottom lip “I do, a lot actually” reaching my hand up and placing it at the side of Chris’ cheek, he lowered his head as he rested it on my shoulder, wrapping my arm around his neck, he didn’t lay on me but he was careful with me and just rested his head on my shoulder “I love you” pressing a kiss to the side of his neck.

#Chrianna #chrianna ff #chriannaff #fanficton #fanfiction #fanfic

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goodnightallwhites · 4 years ago

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Dark Times: Cuz Sonia by Zenalite

Chapter 1 - Sonia Life could be strange. Growing up, people taught me that it was better to appear strong than weak, and that strength was the only way to get what you wanted. There were so many cringy scenes in middle-school where this failed to bring results. One time a classmate had asked me if she could copy the answers from my homework; I told her sure, so long as she let me kiss her. She rolled her eyes and walked her sweet young ass away while my male buddies laughed and congratulated me. When the weakest guy in our class gave her his homework, we called him out and mocked him, but our cutie responded by giving him a quick peck on the cheek when it was over. I remember burning with rage at the thought that some spineless little shit felt her lips while I, who was daring as I was told I should be, was left a kissless virgin. It never occurred to me to use the same strategy. That I later met Lara in high school and watched her slowly succumb to wanting to black cock addiction to the point that I held her as a party as they stole her virginity before my eyes was pure chance. These things were accepted because I loved Laura and was afraid to lose her, not because of some grand plan. When Yennefer approached me and told me she wanted Lara to share me so I could be her boyfriend too, the entire thing blew my mind. Somehow, I, the loyal cuck that put up with everything, was the last boyfriend standing while the others got kicked to the curb. Through my selfless devotion to Lara, I not only solidified her love for me, but won the affection of the most popular ice queen in school. Even though none of them fucked me or would fuck me, there were butterflies of good feeling flying all around me. Scratch that, it felt amazing. Any fucking loser could go out and buy pussy with a few bucks, and there were plenty of dumb guys born with big cocks that could get a girl wet and willing for half an hour while they fucked only to face her cool disdain afterwards. I was loved. I was wanted. Of course, it did feel bad to think that I might not fuck any of them, but it was an okay sacrifice. It certainly helped that they wanted to fuck black guys and only black guys. On one hand, I wasn’t and could never be black, so there was no need to feel like I failed in any way. On the other hand, these girls were objectifying these poor black studs to such an extent that they spoke of them more like toys than people. It was all a little racist, but… There’s no way I’m going to call Lara or Yenn racists to their face. As I said before, Yennefer told me that she wanted me, and that Lara needed to accept that a great cuck like me needed to be shared, at least with the top bitch if not the entire school. It would’ve been nice if Yenn went and delivered this message herself; instead, she was sending me out there to get devoured if things went wrong. Lara opened the door for me dressed only in a pair of ripped denim shorts and a crop top. The frayed bits from the jeans brushed tantalizingly against her smooth and tan legs as she moved idly and the perfect outline of her breasts showing through the thin fabric of the top. A sexy smile played over her lips as the brown eyes settled on me. “Mr. Boyfriend, I presume? Where are my flowers?” “In my pants.” Lara burst with laughter, not expecting the wild card response. “That’s rich.” Then, her features softened and lost all tension. With a low whisper, she grabbed my hand with welcome gentleness and said, “Come inside, baby, I missed you.” She went barefoot over the polished floor of her living room, the muscles working along her long and tone legs as she dragged me along, those perky and soft breasts swaying enticingly under the crop top. Unlike Yennefer’s strong scent of lilac and gooseberries, Lara’s was understated, fresh and a little metallic. We headed into her room and she locked the door. “My parents might be home soon.” Some soft rap music played from her laptop resting in bed. I took note of the printer at the lying in the middle of the floor and the new images that were going up on her wall. All of them were pics of black guys or white girls, at times together, most of them captioned in the most overt way possible. One showed a blonde girl wearing a Swedish flag tee and surrounded by bare-chested dark-skinned guys: EUROPE IS IS GETTING BLACKED. Another was just a close-up of a girl’s sweaty abs: WORK HARD FOR BBC. Lara drank in my reaction. Her blood rushed just from looking at them, and her hands went absentmindedly over her nipples as they started nudging through. “Well? Do you like them?” “I do…” I made myself say, though it was strange. The political ones were especially strong. “Though maybe they’re a little” - her eyebrows began to rise suspiciously as the words left my mouth - “direct?” Lara watched me closely, then leaned in and let her hot breath fill my ear. “I am very direct. Mostly.” A giggle came out of her, then she grabbed the laptop and flashed a picture on screen, showing a white girl holding hands with a skinny white guy as she kissed a really buff black bull that must have been in his forties. Under it, Lara had written: BREEDING READY. “How about this one? Good enough?” She found it hard to take her eyes off of the image. “Uh. It’s nice.” “Oh, fuck off! Be honest with me! I’ll tell you what…” Her finger came up to her lower lip and moved across it. “If you give me a better one, I’ll give you a reward.” A reward? Well… “How about HER HAPPINESS COMES FIRST?” Lara thought about it then bobbed her head happily and giggled. “That’s great. I love that.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she made the edit, then our creation slithered out of the printer and across the floor like eldritch baby. My beautiful girlfriend grabbed it and pinned it to the wall next to the others. “There we go! Now, about your reward…” Lara turned around and came towards me slowly, swaying her hips in a sensual way while her fingers circled caresses around her toned tummy. Close enough that her breasts almost pushed into me, though she made a point not to engage in any physical contact. “Do you think I’m breeding ready?” As my eyes went over her wide hips and jiggling breasts: “Definitely.” “I could get pregnant even today. Can you imagine? I’d make a baby for us. A strong black baby, of course, the only type that’s worth having. Would you like that? Would you like to know your girl is carrying a superior man’s child?” She took my hand and placed it over the hot flesh of her stomach, letting me feel the silky skin and the hard abs flexing under it. “Can you imagine cuddling me to sleep as a black baby is growing inside of me, sweetheart?” She brought her braid around and stroked it suggestively as I melted under her unbearably hot gaze. Suddenly, Lara stepped back and grinned, as I was left trembling with arousal from her words. “Got you.” It was funny to her, but scary to me. In a matter of seconds she managed to take me to an entirely different place. Surely I wouldn’t have wanted another guy to really make her pregnant. But all it took to make me feel like that's what I wanted most in the world were a couple of well-placed words. “I--” Her phone rang before I could speak. Lara spoke to her mother quickly and politely, then hang up and cursed. “Fuck. Honey, you need to go. My mom’s coming. We’ll talk later.” And just like that, with questions in my head and an unbearable erection, she threw me out of her apartment, even before I could deliver Yenn’s message. She can’t say I didn’t try. It’s time to unwind, I thought. But as soon as I got home, Mom came and told me in a hush-hush manner that my cousin came over and that she was resting in my room. “Be nice to her, she’s having a rough patch.” My cousin Sonia and I weren’t very close. We had been once upon a time, eons ago, but then she moved away with the rest of her family. I still remembered the clumsy way we parted ways when she left home, with her refusing to come out of the car to say goodbye. I only saw the back of her ginger head through the window. Of course, we talked since then, but it always felt like talking to a stranger… So, why did she come here today? The door to my room opened soundlessly, and Sonia was just there… sleeping on the bed. The way her hip rose in the air was as a mountain, the light jeans stretched to their utmost as she bent towards my view. Despite the larger-than-life rounded fat ass in front of me, her waist was small, and her lower half bent almost entirely out of view so that it was all one could see from the door. I gulped. “Sonia?” She exhaled softly. “Cuz? Is that you?” “It is.” Her head came around, just enough that one of her bright aqua eyes connected with me and realized her huge butt was lewdly directed right at my face. Blushing, she sat up and awkwardly played it off by toying with her fingers. “Sorry about that…” But now I could see her chest and the extreme way the ribs of her green sweater stretched across it. God, how big had she gotten since I last saw her? Even with as thicc as she was, those cowtits were massive... “Sorry to pop in like this.” “No worries, I’m happy to see you.” Sonia seemed weirded out by that. “You are? But we barely talk… Listen, I wanted to ask you something: Do you think I’m a good person?” “S-Sure,” I quickly voiced. “Why wouldn’t you be?” “You know I’ve been dating this guy for a while now… and I think I screwed it all up. He had this friend he said was platonic, his best friend, but I made him break off all contact with her. Then it turned out he was talking with her after all, and so I followed them.” “You followed them?” “To prove that he was lying! But I didn’t get the reaction I wanted… He was just… He cried, Cuz. He said I made him break the heart of his best friend. And she called me a bitch. And so…” And so she came to me to make her feel better about her shitty behavior. Six years we didn’t speak, and now this?... I did my part. I weaved her a version about how he should have been honest from the start or explained his position better, and how I always knew she was good and honest. It was enough to make tears well in her eyes and get her to smile. “Oh, Cuz, you’re so nice to me… You always knew how to make me feel better. I missed that. A lot.” As she spoke, I couldn’t help but wonder how big those jugs on her chest were. They were at least three times bigger than Lara’s - simply gigantic. And none of it was there when I saw her just a few summers ago. The words BREEDING READY from before came to mind, and all I could imagine was a black baby suckling from each one of those milkers. “Hey… You aren’t staring at my boobs, are you? Hehe!~ Don’t worry, everyone does it. Even old grannies.” Her hands came around them as if they were her babies. “You need strong hands just to lift them up.” “Black hands.” My reply wasn’t even conscious. I just spoke. “Huh? Come again?” I couldn’t believe what came out of my mouth. “Nothing, nothing! I was muttering to myself.” But seriously, it was undeniable that she would have looked perfect getting blacked. All those soft white folds enveloping a big black cock, that ginger hair getting pulled on by strong dark hands… “Was your boyfriend white?” Sonia thought about that. “I mean, yeah. Why do you ask?” I shrugged. “A lot of girls in my school date black guys.” “Really? Oh, wow. I could never do that!” The way she said it sounded so amazed and confident that there wasn’t a doubt in my mind she meant it: the idea of dating a black guy hadn’t even occurred to her. “I don’t really think I’d feel comfortable, you know?” “Dating someone that isn’t a pale ginger?” Sonia smirked. “No, you idiot! Dating a person that’s, you know… God, don’t make me say it. I feel bad saying it. But black guys aren’t exactly my type, let’s put it that way.” The almost completely unveiled racism combined with my antipathy towards her coming all this way just to use me made me want to see her punished and blacked. Hard. “Why don’t we go out?” “Hmmm? Go out? Where to?” “Let’s find you a boyfriend.” “Hahaha! You aren’t serious, are you? You’re crazy, Cuz. I don’t even have good clothes.” “You look fucking amazing already. Come on.” Sonia lowered her head shyly, so far down it was almost in her boobs. “You keep complimenting me, I’m gonna die. But okay. Let’s do it!” Before that, I needed to make a call. I left her in the room and headed to the bathroom, then scrolled with shaky fingers for Yennefer’s name. It rang a couple of times, then it said busy. Busy? Seriously… As I stared at the screen at the denied call, I suddenly saw my face reflected back. She was video calling me. Oh god… Her pale and dark-haired form materialized on my screen. She wore a shiny robe and was brushing her hair. “Why, hello darling. You’re a fast little worker bee, aren’t you? I wasn’t expecting you so soon. Has dear sweet Lara seen come to terms with the new way things will work from now on?” “Uhhh… I’m working on it,” I said optimistically. Yenn stared right into the camera so I could feel her icy stare and sighed. “Disappointing, yet predictable. What would you like from me? I hope you aren’t begging for a show, I’m quite dressed and ready for my beauty sleep.” “Uh, no, no, no…” Her eyes narrowed threateningly. “I mean, I would LOVE that, but no… I wanted your help. You see my cousin’s over and I thought I would, uh…” “Initiate her in the Dark Arts?” “Something like that, yeah.” “And she’s come to our church begging for our teachings, or are you seeking the BBC version of a koan to force enlightenment upon her?” “Whatever the second is, probably.” Yenner smiled affably. “You are endearingly stupid, do you know that?” “Yes.” “Now, now.” She raised a finger in warning. “Vanity does not suit a man. Anyway, I suppose I can arrange this for you. I am very generous. Get your delightful cousin, I’ll send you an address soon enough.” “Thank you, Yennefer.” A smirk. She reached so far back with her brush that the robe began to open, showing a glimpse of-- Call ended. Sonia and I snuck out before my mom became aware. I only called her once we were at the bus station, pretending that Sonia insisted I go and that I had no choice. Meanwhile, Yenn sent me an address that appeared to be closeby. Standing there at the bus station by herself, my ginger cousin looked oddly vulnerable. She seemed very conscious of her bovine ass and breasts and the way everyone stared at her over them. A few girls that were trying to show cleavage by squeezing together some breasts that were baby-sized gave her genuinely hateful looks. “I hope that place we’re going to is more friendly…” I was worried Yenn would send us to some seedy club, but it turned out to be some teenage meeting spot, a book store turned cafe after 5 p.m. where people could take books out and read them while drinking. Sonia loved it, and we sat there for a whole two hours while I wondered if I had gotten the place wrong. “This is great, you know!~” She smiled happily as she flipped through another book she found. “Going out was a great idea. Not many boyfriends here though, except maybe the ones in these pages.” There was nothing to do but pay and make our way back home. Yennefer, what the hell? It was as we were chatting and walking up towards the bus stop that three guys got in our way. They looked like proper thugs, with face tats and golden teeth that flashed while they spoke. I said black guys, not fucking criminals, Yenn. “The fuck do we have here?” one of them said, circling around Sonia. “Ginger meat.” Another rubbed his palms together eagerly, then pulled on his crotch. “Looks tasty.” Sonia’s gaping eyes glanced at me as the three walled her in and started groping her, tugging at her tight sweater, palming her huge ass cheek, and running their dark fingers through her ginger hair. The few white guys that passed us by pretended not to see it and kept going like proper cucks. “Leave me alone…” said Sonia breathlessly. “I’ll call the police. Cuz!” I raised the phone to give the impression, at least, until one of them yelled at me to put it down or get my ass beaten down. I was beginning to question whether or not these people had anything to do with Yennefer at all. Could they have just been random guys? A bit suspicious… “Seriously…” Sonia tried again, her voice breaking down. One of the guys reached up and got a feel of her breasts, sinking his fingers into the warm folds of the plump flesh. “Goddamn,” he drawled. “These are some monster tits on you, aren’t they? We should inspect these. Make sure you don’t have breast cancer.” “I don’t!...” It was too late for her to fight back, as they were already pulling her after them. Whatever fight there was in Sonia evaporated pretty quickly when facing three black guys with arms about as thick as her waist. What kind of girl could have fought just one of them, let alone three? “Cuz! Do something!” she yelled. “What’s he gonna do?” one of the guys asked, laughing. That was true, I wasn’t about to do much of anything, except follow along and see where this led. They took her down an alley and then up a set of stairs that led to an apartment. They got her in the living room and locked the door, then threw her on the sofa as they took off their tops. Even my cousin, as strongly as she must have felt against the idea of being taken like this for the first time, took a moment to stare at the rippling musculature of their glistening and tattooed chests. Already, their dicks were so hard that they were outlined down the side of their pants, twitching ready. To my surprise, they didn’t rip her clothes off. In fact, despite all their big talk about how they were going to inspect her and so on, patting her down and feeling her up through her clothes was the most of what they seemed to be doing. Sonia looked away as they explored every curvy of her body, moaning each time they squeezed too hard on her. One of them came and dropped down on the sofa and pulled her in his lap, while the other two flanked Sonia. “Such a pretty ginger slut,” the one to her left said, coiling some of her ginger hair around his dark finger. “Uhm…” Though she appeared distressed, it was clear that the all the touching and attention affected her body on a deep primordial level. Not only were her cheeks a deep red, but her eyes were fluttering and her chest heaved with her heated, breathless inhalations. “Cuz?”...” said a lone whisper, but she wasn’t even looking at me. Only at the strong black bulls surrounding her that were ready to put her in her place. The guys took her pale hands and brought them down to their dicks as they throbbed through their pants, snaking so far down their thighs that even I found myself hypnotized. I watched dumbfounded as Sonia’s expression went from one of excitement, to pure shock as her fingertips explored the length and shape of their powerful shafts. “You like that?” they asked her. “You feel that thing under you?” The guy she was sitting on started moving his hips and grinding her ass back and forth over his dick, slowly moving her back and forth while she jumped each time his dick hit her crotch. I could only wonder what her parents or boyfriend might have seen if they saw her being slutted up like this. Her mind was being warped in real time, and I could see the enchanted smile that started curling her as she took in the true size and might of those big black cocks. Her palms started moving by themselves over the shafts; at the same time, her own hips started rocking and helping the bull under her. Turned on by her new show of interest, the studs plunged their hands into her doughy breasts, each one kneading a different part, their strong fingers abusing the soft teenage tits of this breeding snowfunny as her white cousin watched helplessly. At some point one must have accidentally pinched one of her nipples, because Sonia threw her head back in pure pleasure and cooed submissively. The guy under her grinned, flashing his golden teeth. “You like that, bitch?” The aqua eyes looked to me for a brief second, as if seeking my approval. “I love it,” she confessed, still blushing wildly with shame, but completely unable to help herself. From the exhilarated way she sought to touch their cocks, it was crystal clear that the drugging effect of BBC lured her in. Her eyes went from one dick to another, gaping and unable to look away. “They’re getting bigger!” Sonia was awestruck. “No shit.” My cousin bit her tongue, then the wet mouth opened instinctively. “Can I see?...” she whispered, as if hoping no one could hear that. “What was that?” asked the guy under her. “N-Nothing,” stammered Sonia. The thugs brofisted each other and laughed it up. “You hear that, bro? She wants to see your dick.” The more I watched these guys, the more I realized there was something off about them. They were just so… stereotypically thuggish. There was an unreality about their behavior that went at odds with the mild manner in which they conducted themselves. The black guy under her yanked her head back by the hair and looked her in the eyes. “Well? Did he hear it right? You want us to get our dicks out and fuck you?” Sonia hesitated for a second. But it was only a second. A clear gulp went down her throat. “Yes.” The thug shook her. “Say it, you dumb white bitch. I want to hear it.” The obscene cowtits trembled on her chest. “I want to see your dick.” “My black dick.” Sonia’s eyes closed and she took a deep breath. “I want to see your black dick. Please,” she added. “Please? Well, ain’t you fuckin’ thoughtful. On your knees.” “Huh?” Before she could follow any order, the thug threw her to the ground and stood up before her, ordering her to kneel. “On your fucking knees, bitch! Now! Don’t you fucking hear me?” Sonia did as told and got down in a position of total submission, presenting herself as her hands were folded in her lap. “Please, sir…” He grabbed her by the ginger locks and came close enough that the outline of his big black cock twitching in his pants was right in her face. “Why don’t you kiss my dick? Show me how much you like it.” This time, there was no lag between his order and her actions. As if she were planning to do it all along, the full lips puckered up and landed right on the shaft, not just once, but many times over, delivering kisses so gentle they could have been meant for a lifelong lover. Even her tongue came out to lick it up and down, not caring it was trapped behind a layer of fabric. The thug laughed grimly, then pressed her face against his dick gleefully. I watched my racist cousin smile happily as she got her nose and mouth rubbed against his black cock. Yenn, you delivered… “Please, sir, just let me see it… Please…” she begged, as obedient as any worshiper now. How she went from a kidnapped victim to a cockcrazed slut in less than fifteen minutes was pure magic. He snorted and pushed her away. “Fuck no. Dumb white bitch. You think I’d waste my energy with you? We’re done here. Come on, get the fuck out of here.” Before Sonia could wipe the shock off her ashen face, he started kicking at her to get out, finally grabbing her by the hair and to shove her out the door like unwelcome trash. I was left behind, and once the door closed, the thug came over to me and spoke casually: “Okay, I think we’re done here,” he said, in a totally different voice. “Are we good?” “Uhm. I’m not sure?...” “Yenn said she needed a bit of a push... so, we got her there, right?” The other two started removing the gold off their teeth and wiping off the face tats. Wow. It had all been a sham? The guy watched me impatiently. “Well?” “Yes, you did great…” “That’s wonderful.” He put his hands together and bowed ever so slightly. “Thanks. So how would you rate my performance, on a scale of one to ten?” “Oh my god,” the other two said, dropping their thuggish voices as well. “Leave the kid alone, man, he’s not here to rate your acting. Performance, he says.” They snorted. “You haven’t gotten a role in two months.” “If this wasn’t a role, then I guess I won’t share the pay, huh? Anyway, you should go now. Tell our friend things went well, I could use the boost.” I came out of the apartment amazed at their and Yenn’s professionalism, and found a dismayed Sonia waiting for me. “Jesus!” She ran over and hugged me, and I could feel the warm breasts pressing into me. “I thought they were going to hurt you.” “Thankfully not.” She took a step aside and pushed her hair back, avoiding eye contact. “What happened in there… You know that was just acting, right? I was just trying to avoid getting raped or worse.” There was no way that was the truth of it. Even if she played it up, she definitely got excited by them… she still was, as could be seen from the glazed eyes and the shivers that kept passing through her. Yenn, you should’ve told them to go the whole way... As we went back home, I could tell her mind was elsewhere. “You said… those girls at your school only date black guys?” she asked me once we were back on the bus, going home. “Most of them.” “Huh.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “None of them got hurt?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Hurt? Why would they get hurt? How racist are you, Cuz?” “Not racist! I’m just wary of new things, that’s all. But that’s… that’s good to hear.” For someone that had just been kidnapped and molested by black thugs, at least as far as she was aware, this was a very sudden change of heart in the opposite direction. “Maybe one day I’ll give it a shot.” I felt like toying with her further. “You just have to be careful.” “Careful?” Sonia blinked anxiously. “Of what?” “You know…” I kept my voice low as other passengers crowded around us. “That.” “I don’t know,” whispered Sonia harshly. “Tell me!” “I mean, you saw it even tonight. Black guys have cocks so big that they’re incomparable to tiny white pencil dicks. Most girls can’t take that. Some of them like serving as cocksleeves, sure, but it will still tear you apart and ruin you. These bulls will fuck you so hard that you scream and lose your voice. You won’t even be able to walk or talk after they’re done with you. You’ll just be a shivering hot mess. And the best ones get so many girls that they have no long term interests. All they’ll do is break you, put a black baby inside of you, and then throw you away like a used rag.” I could almost see the whole scene playing out in her head through the small movements of her face. At the end she just looked inwards, licking and biting her lip. I felt proud, pulling the same trick on her that Lara did on me, though I was getting aroused as well.. “Sounds awful,” she whispered, not even there with me anymore. Sonia was in her mind now, getting destroyed by black cock. In the span of a single evening, my “cuz” was turned into yet another BBC slut. I did this, I realized. Pride swelled in my heart.

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polygamyff · 5 years ago

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45. Part 6

I am glad people have left but now I want my furniture back, the only people to not leave is Marquis and Joy, like isn’t he tired because surely he is old and it’s way past his bed time right now “I want to say thank you mommy, thank you for looking after Reign even though she woke up and she played up, thank you. I am now back at work tomorrow so I will sort myself out so you can go back to Cali, I know you want to go back” my mother smiled at me “it’s ok, I don’t mind. I will stay however long you need me, but I see that Maurice is very good with her alone, he doesn’t really need anyone to help him” walking up the steps with my mother “you think? So, when I am at work you think he will be ok?” I questioned “he will be fine; he dotes on her so much. She gets so much attention, he is very attentive to her needs, I have watched him. Any sign of upset, he is there. He hasn’t been there for her a lot but he is surely making it up for it right now, I find it so adorable. He reminds me a lot of Thomas with you, the smallest detail of Reign just grabbing the couch to drag herself up, she gets that cheer. I think he will be fine; he knows what to do. He also knows what to do with you I see” looking at my mom just smiling at me, I laughed looking away from my mom in shame “well” I dragged out “don’t well me, you don’t wait the both of you. Are you taking precautions?” my mom asked “yes, I want another baby but I want to make sure that it’s not where my child can get sickle cell, I am going to get that done professionally, but I am. Trust me” these stairs are fucking long, Maurice is not wrong at all “I am proud of him though mom, he is listening to me. He is eating healthy, he didn’t drink. He was drinking water, I didn’t think he would at all” I am so happy “he just needed you here Robyn” making our way to the living room “you’re right, I can watch him that way. He knows it” like I said Marquis is still here “are you thinking of moving in here?” I asked them, I mean clearly they are here still “just wanted to make sure the people leave and you’re ok, my son has a beautiful home. His forever home” Marquis said, sometimes I don’t believe what he says at times because half of the things he says seem fake to me.

Looking around the room, I mean does he expect me to clean this. I am sure he doesn’t think that, I can’t do this “you must hate me” Marquis said “you didn’t really respond to what I said about your home” shaking my head “Maurice adores you, I have to tolerate you. I just think you’re wrong in the treatment of Malik, even Joy” looking over at Joy before looking back at Marquis “if Maurice ever places Reign above any of my other kids he will hear it, I don’t play that shit. All of my kids get the same” Maurice would not want me to say anything, but I can’t help it “Malik was not deserving of things” I sniggered “so was Maurice, wasn’t he running form state to state on drugs? Didn’t you chase him and made him go to rehab? I still think Maurice has got issues, like the fact he calls Paula his mami, I mean it’s odd” Marquis’ face dropped, he wasn’t liking what he is hearing “I know” I added “all of it, how did Joy get you back? I mean it seems like it’s taken a lot for you to care for her” I am on a roll right now, I have no Maurice to shut me up “she was going to get me in trouble for child abduction, that I stole Maurice and he was underage for me to take him. The stupid thing I did was not make her sign a contract to shut her up, I had no choice but to bring him back, not like he wanted too” Maurice never knew this, I let out an oh “you’re a very strong woman Robyn, something my son needs in his life. And I do regret getting him married, I regret doing that to him and it will always be my biggest regret. I have calmed down, somewhat but I am leaving this company in good heart knowing he has you. I am not sorry for treatment of people; I don’t care for them. Maurice is always my number one, and if I didn’t think you was good enough there was always ways of making you go but I see you love him” Marquis made a very bold statement “I think it would be me letting him go because I wouldn’t want to see him hurt, now that is love but I would win that. Anyways! Nice of you both to come” I said walking off “Joy it’s been a pleasure, Jay walk them out. Thank you” I need to go to sleep.

Marquis is funny, I give him that. He thinks he would win in this, he wouldn’t because I would let Maurice go and it would be Maurice chasing me. Marquis loves some sort of power, no matter what he likes to know he has that, but he doesn’t, he is redundant now, he is done with. I just want Maurice to get what is his, I want him to have this company so that really makes his dad redundant. The fact I know why he had to come back, Maurice doesn’t know but I do, and I am shocked he even said it to me, he really doesn’t care for feeling besides himself, I am shocked. So, Joy was going to get him in trouble, so this would be the moment she found out he had a Spanish mami, wow. This is some shit, I am surprised he doesn’t have a Spanish child, he has one in Germany. Oh, maybe that boy is this, no that can’t be because he looked Spanish but then again Marquis is white as shit, his black genes are fair as fuck, ok my mind is running with me. Walking into the bedroom, Maurice has that godforsaken night light on for Reign in this bedroom, I refuse to be listening to baby soothing sounds with that light on but he does it “she has just gone to sleep” Maurice said, oh he is awake “you caught me” I said laughing, I was about to attack the light “I see everything, has everyone gone now?” nodding my head “just your parents left, I am glad you’re awake. Unzip me again, was she ok?” looking over at Reign, she is hugging the hell out of bubzy “not hugging you tonight?” I questioned “she was getting angry with me, maybe too much love?” I chuckled “what are you like, she needs her space too” I bet Maurice was annoying her too.

Dragging my feet along the carpeted floor and to the bed “joining the cuddle gang huh? I been thinking where all my tops been going, you just here wearing them all” I giggled as I carefully moved back the covers “I can, because you’re my man and what is yours is mine. That is it, and I don’t think Reign is participating in your cuddle gang, look at her. She is moving away from you” Maurice looks so offended “I find you rather rude” climbing into bed slowly, I don’t want to wake her “so, how do you feel now, look how far apart we are? Are you going to finally actually get her room done?” I questioned “mhmm possibly, not sure. I kind of like it, I don’t have to put up with your constant kicking, your negative energy when your asleep, your snoring too, I can’t even deal with that” putting a finger up at him “shut up and go to sleep, I have work tomorrow. Luckily not the morning shift” I do miss him close; I want him close to me, but Reign has taken over the middle of the bed so here I am, stuck on the other side. Moving onto my side, getting comfortable. Maurice is staring up at the ceiling, he doesn’t seem at peace at all or like he is going to sleep. It makes me sad that he was taken from his mother, he did get the love, but he deserved to be with his real mother, he never got that, and I find that sad, he doesn’t have that bond “what’s wrong?” I asked him “nothing, why?” he said “I just think you’re not about to sleep, I can tell. What are you thinking about?” I asked “life, I am happy. Just business, I get those brain waves on when I am thinking on the next project, it’s all good. I will fall asleep eventually” I hope he does.

I knew as soon as I fall asleep little momma would be waking me up, and she did “you wake daddy up, not mommy huh? Your momma tried to play me saying you’re her favourite” Reign is so damn adorable in the morning, her crazy ass hair. Reign lifted up her bubzy and placed it on my chest “can I have it?” she then placed her hands on my body and used me to hold herself stead as she got up on her legs “you go Mi Amor, you start using them legs baby” Reign smiled so wide that her pacifier fell out “eeww, eewww. Your saliva all over me, eeww” Reign giggled at me and then started saying her own little words “mhmm, I agree Reign. Whatever you say I agree with” lifting Reign and sitting her on my stomach facing me “yay, you can now sit on me” she grabbed her pacifier off of me “you be using me to put all your shit on huh, it’s ok. Only I accept you to do this to me” Reign sighed out, frowning at her “why you sighing out huh? Hey, Reign. Say dada” I need her to say dada first, grabbing her pacifier from her “hey, look at daddy” Reign whined out “say dada” she shook her head “excuse me? Who learnt you such a thing, you don’t say no to me” she reached towards her pacifier knowing damn well she could never reach “fine” placing it in my mouth, Reign’ frowned at me but she found it amusing.

Terry is feeding Reign, I don’t mind it she wanted too. I am surprised Robyn has never got angry at my tagged pictures, because like recently because of my birthday coming up I have been tagged in a lot of my past pictures, I have met a lot of people. It’s shocking to see actually, lot of women though. My eyes widened, because I do remember some of these women on a sexual level, they need to understand I am changed but people like to celebrate on my birthday and I do not blame them at all, it’s a good vibe and it’s always a party when it comes to me. Tapping on the picture of me and this white girl, I remember her “I do” I said to myself, Italian model and she was good. Looking down at the caption ‘Il mio piccolo compleanno di Maurice presto! Ecco i ricordi. Pre-Birthday wish sexy’ raising an eyebrow “did you say something?” Terry said, looking up at her “oh nothing, talking to myself” I said, liking the post. I mean it’s rude to just ignore it “Terry, can I ask a question please?” locking my phone, placing it on the table “sure, me and Reign don’t mind. If it’s a business question I can’t help with that” she said, I laughed “no, it’s probably relationship, I don’t know what category that is. Is it wrong of me to like a post that was done by a female, like me and this female is in the picture together and we know each other from fashion week. She gave me a pre-birthday wish. So, I liked it, somehow Robyn may see it but is it wrong of me to like it? Is that like a bad thing?” I mean I know it’s her daughter, but I like to know “I don’t think it’s a bad thing at all, I would say it’s foul play if you were openly flirted and initiated a rude conversation with them. Or if they posted something inappropriate. My daughter should never risk a relationship over something so silly, social media is a terrible place but in a relationship you need to pick your fights and liking a post is not it. But if the post is no good then I would recommend steering clear. My daughter is not me Maurice, she will probably pout all day about something so little. I mean the girl upset herself over you giving this little one all of your time but I would say the same to my daughter, it’s no harm” nodding my head, I like Terry a lot, she is wise.

“Well, well, well. Look who it is” placing Reign on the floor so she can play “yes, it’s grandad. And look what grandad got you angel, my beautiful baby” looking behind me at my dad “grandma has it” Reign is actually looking in awe, she looks so happy to see him “what did you get her dad?” I said, my mom placed the gift on the couch “oh wow, Reign. Grandad got you a walker” this is cute “I thought she may need it, she is growing so fast” my dad placed his stick on the side “don’t bother picking her up, you going to break your back. Let me get her for you” picking Reign from the floor “be nice to grandad, he got you a walker Mi Amor” pressing a kiss to her cheek before giving her to my dad “oh my angel, I missed you so much. Yes I did, oh yes. I know” Reign is talking for the gods today, she is in a good mood “hey baby” my mom said, she gave me a hug. Leaning down so she can kiss my cheek “hey mom, you didn’t have to get Reign anything. She has loads of things, just need to sort her room out” sitting down on the couch “doesn’t she look so pretty” pulling a face at my dad “she has just come out of bed, stop playing” Reign reached up, she wants his glasses “oh you want my glasses now, you can’t have that” he shook his head and so did Reign “no? Who taught you that, you are so clever” my dad gushed.

Hearing the buzzer go off downstairs, unlocking my phone to check “are you expecting somebody else?” my dad asked “not really” checking the camera “it’s just Ally” I said getting up from the couch “Ally I am coming down” I said, Ally looked around so confused and then looked at the camera “oh” she said “basic as shit” locking my phone “I will be back, and Reign. Be good for me and dad, stop fussing” I said while making my way to the stairs, jogging down the steps. Jay would have answered but he said he has an appointment for the dentist, so I guess I need to do my own shit for a while, I don’t mind it anyways. Unlocking the door and pulling it open “hello to you, when are you exactly coming back?” Ally walked inside my home “I am enjoying being at home actually” closing the door “well you are needed back so I came here to drop off some paperwork, I also need you to sign off for some things. Is that ok?” nodding my head “I don’t mind it, come on up. You can see my dad and Reign; Robyn should be awake too. It’s a shame you couldn’t come last night, let’s take the lift” I gestured “well I have been off too, I went back and there was so much to do but I have caught up. I have some of your mail in here too, I have logged in your address here but still. There is some mail coming to the hotel still” nodding my head.

Smiling at Robyn “morning baby, oh how I do love seeing you like this” no makeup now, her hair tied back “even my nails are gone. It’s horrible, morning” pressing a kiss to Robyn’ lips “seems a little busy around here, hi Ally” Robyn said before walking off “Oh is your dad feeding Reign” Robyn said, Ally bought out the black box “oh my god! It is here, Robyn!” grabbing the box “I was about to say, it came with the mail” Ally added, turning to Robyn “look what daddy got you, I mean me” Robyn looked at me all dumbfounded, she is confused “what?” she said in a whisper “just what you asked for, I have delivered. Come, let’s open it on the couch” I ran ahead, I am so excite for Robyn to see this “what on earth?” my mom said, jumping over the couch and sat down “Maurice, watch the couch!” Robyn scolded me “I know, I am excited. Just sit, come on! I did this this for you” Robyn looks so confused, she is not sure how to take this “looks expensive” Terry pointed “it is, for me Terry” Robyn finally sat down “here you go, look inside” placing it on her lap “seems a little light in this baby” side eyeing her “well I will take it back, open the box then Bonita” I am excited for her to see it, Robyn opened the box “no fucking way!!” Robyn shouted out “you got me a black card? Oh my god” Robyn placed her hands over her mouth “you really did it” her voice became high pitch “hey, don’t get emotional” placing my hand on her arm “sorry” Robyn wiped her tear “just I didn’t think you would, and you did. I have never had this, everything. Oh god” I chuckled “it’s cool, I got it you. See, I put Robyn Davenport, for you Robyn. This is yours; it’s connected to my account. Hey, don’t cry” pressing a kiss to the side of her face, placing my arm around her “I am just emotional, thank you Maurice. Thank you for everything, I am so happy. I got a black card, thank you” Robyn sniffled “you got priority, you do not need to ever worry about money. Take this card with you, there is no limit. If you need a store to be open later for you, then you can get that. Don’t cry Robyn, you know I always got you” I am shocked she cried.

Reign is asleep but I am taking her with me “Jay you can stay here, I am just dropping off Robyn at work. First day for her, I want to drop her off. Dad, I will call you. Have a safe flight” my dad walked over to me, he gave me a hug “it was a special day, see you soon son. Miss you already angel” moving back from the hug “and sort that room out for her, if she tells me she hasn’t got a room yet I am coming back to do it myself” nodding my head before hugging my mom “I will” I laughed “have a safe flight back” I sighed out moving back from my mom, it was nice seeing my parents “call me though, let me know you got back safely” I waved them off “nice to see you both” Terry said smiling at my parents, where is Robyn because we do need to leave right about now because New York traffic is not the best so we do need to go now “sorry, I am here. I just feel so naked right now, it’s been so long since I been back at work. Bye” she said before running by my parents “well you need to hurry up Robyn” I said.

Parking outside the hospital “I wanted to ask, why did you cry when I gave you the black card? Did you think I wouldn’t, you know I am very giving towards you” putting the car in park, I am using Robyn’ hired car for now “it’s just everything Maurice, I didn’t ever expect this in my whole life, I didn’t expect to have a baby now, or have a soon to be husband. I didn’t ever think I would be living in New York, and I am just thinking of everything you have done. How far we have come, I got emotional because of how much I am loved by you Maurice, you treat me well. That is all, not a bad thing” I chuckled nodding my head “I understand, don’t cry though. I always got you baby” placing my hand over hers “thank you for bringing me to work, on my first day. It makes it so special to me, I will promise to let you know what time I finish, it slipped my mind the time” I love this woman so much “super proud of you, Reign and I both are. I will see you when you come back then” leaning over the panel to kiss Robyn’ lips.

#Chrianna #Chrianna FF #Fanfic #Fanfiction

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minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong · 6 years ago

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Privacy - A Yoongi One Shot

Request: heyo! idk if your requests are open but i really loved the way you wrote sweet tooth and i was hoping to request a yoongi x male idol reader. maybe they’re like out in the store or something when a fan recognizes them? something like that? i really love your writing it’s so good 😊

Description: You and Yoongi have a very warm relationship. But unfortunately, they’re forced by circumstance to keep it a secret. Outings together, dates, even trips to the grocery store mean face masks and thick jackets. But what happens when the two of you get caught where you least expect it?

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: Yoongi x (male) reader

Genre: Fluff, just straight fluff and a little angst if you squint

Warnings: None!

A/N: Hey guys! This request was so fun to complete, holy cow. Honestly, I loved this prompt and it was a really natural scenario. I liked it! I hope you guys enjoy it too. Ah, and a quick note: my requests are actually super closed! Haha, they have been for a few months, but I’ve been getting a few in my inbox. The ones I’ve received up until now, I’ll definitely complete within the next few weeks, but I’m not taking any more requests for the time being! Thank you for your patience and understanding! Love you guys~

- Mercury

It hadn’t been long since you and Yoongi started seeing each other. Just shy of five months. For normal people, that was plenty long enough to get serious. But not quite for you. Couples in the industry weren’t nearly as rare as the media thought, but nonetheless a same-sex couple was big news around your contemporaries. Nobody particularly minded, of course. Yoongi had said on numerous occasions that gender was never an issue in love, and you’d been rather vocal about your crush on him during interviews. Once word got around to your fellow idols, you’d received an outpouring of support.

But with it, came an outpouring of warnings.

You could still distinctly remember that text from Jackson.

Hey! Congratulations on your relationship! I always knew you guys had a thing for each other lol. A word of advice though, from a veteran…don’t let the fans know. Not everyone is as accepting as we are.

Of course, you understood his point. Not only was your group rather new, but you were only just gaining momentum with the public. Each new MV marked a significant increase in fans. Every comeback saw more faces in the audience, more people cheering for and supporting you.

Perhaps if you were a solo artist you’d have come out properly. Perhaps you would have held Yoongi’s hand proudly as you strolled through the grocery store, no masks, no baseball caps, no oversized clothes, no eyes scanning like surveillance cameras, ready to run at the slightest hint of movement. Perhaps you’d post all those couple pictures you had stored on your phone: you and Yoongi on a beach in Jeju, soaking in the sunlight, Yoongi sleeping on your lap, lashes dusting the apples of his cheeks, Yoongi silhouetted against the lavender sky. Perhaps you’d add a mushy caption, in both Korean and English like those trendy idols did.

But you didn’t have only yourself to worry about. Your group mates, four of the kindest and most hardworking boys you’d ever met, were relying on you too. And one public slip-up could be catastrophic for such a young group. Hadn’t you learned from what happened to E’Dawn and Pentagon? Hadn’t that served as a cautionary tale?

Nonetheless, as you held his hand and he read the back label of a cereal box, you couldn’t help the urge to just…scream it. Take the microphone from one of the cashiers and announce it over the PA system.

“I love Min Yoongi!” you’d shout, alarming middle-aged mothers and startling children as they chased one another through the candy aisle. “I love him and we’re dating!”

But instead you simply smiled and held his hand, your whole body warm beside him. Gently, you leaned into his side and he hummed a little. “What is it?” he asked, voice muffled through the mask.

You shook your head and sighed, resting your head against his shoulder. “Nothing, really.”

“Not nothing,” replied Yoongi, turning to face you seriously, your fingers still laced. His heavy brow was lowered and he watched you with what you were certain was a pout on his lips. “You’re thinking about something.”

You opened your mouth to protest before shutting it with a sigh and rolling the tip of your shoe into the linoleum, trying to find the words. “I’m just…thinking about us.”

“Us?” he asked, then pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Don’t make a face like that when you think about us.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Not like that, dork,” you said, shoving the side of his head lightly and dislodging his baseball cap. Instead of picking it up, he simply stared down at you, now exposed in the middle of the grocery store. “I mean…aren’t you sick of hiding?” you asked.

He blinked at you for a moment, his brow furrowing. “We aren’t hiding,” he said, gesturing around the aisle with his free hand. “We’re out in public.”

You sighed and tugged on the top of his face mask with your finger. “What’s this then?” you asked, quirking a brow.

“It’s…a precaution,” he said, then shook his head and pulled you flush against his side, watching the rows of cereal like they held the answers. He always did that. Avoiding your eyes when he was about to say something soft. “I don’t want to put our careers in danger.”

You were quiet a moment. You’d had this conversation more times than you could count and the result was always the same. An impasse. You loved your fans, but you couldn’t quite trust them to have a good reaction. You loved each other, but you couldn’t risk your livelihood. Nothing every added up just right.

“E-excuse me?” called a small voice from beside Yoongi.

You peered out across his chest and locked eyes with a young girl, probably around middle-school age, with big brown eyes and cheeks flushed with rose. “Yes?” asked Yoongi quietly.

The girl held in her hand the black baseball cap Yoongi had dropped, her small hands clasped around the bill. She smiled gently. “Is this yours?” she asked.

Yoongi released your shoulders and bent down to retrieve his cap. You could hear the smile in his voice as he responded. “Yes,” he said, placing the hat back on his head. “Thank you for grabbing it.”

She beamed at Yoongi with the fondness of a fan and cleared her throat a little. “Um…I know this is weird, but…are you Min Yoongi?” she asked.

Yoongi’s back went rigid and he spared a look at you. Your eyes were wide and your heart was kicking up in speed with worry. If this girl knew Yoongi, she might say something about him grocery shopping with a guy. She might have even saw the two of you embracing. But…why did she look so happy?

Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck and nodded his head slowly. “Yeah…,” he said, his voice revealing his worry.

The girl clapped her hands and grinned. “I knew it!”

She laughed a little and glanced over her shoulder down the aisle. Only then did you notice another, slightly older girl lingering at the end cap by the bread. She stiffened when she noticed you staring and you thought she might run.

“Hyejin!” called the younger girl, waving her hand excitedly. “I told you! It’s Yoongi and Y/N!”

Yoongi jumped a little and turned to stare at you with round eyes. “U-uh-,” you began, but before you could say anything, the older girl was running down the aisle to join the first and both of them looked up at you as if you had stars in your eyes. “Hello,” you said with a curt bow.

The girls giggled. “You’re my favorite member!” blurted the older girl, Hyejin. She glanced between you and Yoongi and smiled brightly. “I had a feeling you two were dating.”

You stiffened and stared at her, pulling down your face mask and shaking your head. “O-oh, no, uh…we’re not! We’re just-,”

“You’re right,” said Yoongi, pulling his own face mask down to reveal a soft, knowing smile. He turned his tender eyes toward the girl and she blushed. “We’re buying ingredients for dinner tonight. Do you have any recommendations?”

The girl gaped before nodding her head furiously. “I know how to make a really good carbonara!”

The younger girl approached you with a grin, holding out her phone to you with trembling hands. “C-Could I get a picture with you?” she asked gently.

You blinked at it, then looked at Yoongi whose hand had been seized in the older girl’s grip, guiding him down the aisle toward the pasta. You then turned back to the girl and a shy smile crept across your lips. “Um…sure,” you said, taking it from her hands and bending slightly to match her height.

You took a few photos together until the girl found one she liked. “Oh! I’m Mijin by the way,” she said with a smile. “I’m a really, really huge fan! My sister too,” she said, then turned down the aisle to see Hyejin talking animatedly about pasta. She laughed. “Sorry she stole your boyfriend.”

You flushed and rubbed your hands together. Nervous habit. “Ah…s-she can have him. Nobody knows it, and he’d die if he knew I told you, but he makes super bad puns at home.”

She glanced at you slyly and gave you a smirk. “Really?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and put on an exhausted expression, sighing. “Which country's capital has the fastest-growing population?” you asked.

She giggled. “Hm,” she began, then shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“Ireland,” you said, eyeing her. “Every day it’s Dublin.”

Mijin let out a rapturous laugh that captured her sister’s attention. The girl rushed back to us and glanced between us with narrowed eyes. “Did she tell you something embarrassing about me?” she asked.

Yoongi approached at a leisurely pace, smiling. “No! Something embarrassing about Yoongi,” said Mijin, still fighting off laughter.

Yoongi cocked a brow and crossed his arms. “Oh?”

You glanced away, scratching your jaw, and whistled a little. “I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

Yoongi flicked your forehead and the two of you chuckled. Lingering quietly beside you, the two girls exchanged loaded glances. Suddenly, you worried that you’d been too affectionate with Yoongi. Were these two not so accepting after all? Was it really just like Jackson said? You felt your stomach go cold and you watched your hands as they clasped the grocery basket, knuckles straining against your skin. You took a deep breath and mentally prepared yourself for whatever onslaught of anger you’d face.

But, to your surprise, Hyejin simply cleared her throat and rocked back and forth on her heels, a bashful flush in her cheeks. “Um…Y/N?” she asked quietly, standing close to your side.

“Yes?” you managed to choke out, your nerves suffocating.

She scratched her arm and quietly handed you her phone. “Could…could I also get a picture?”

You stiffened and glanced between Hyejin’s downcast eyes and her pale, outstretched hand. “Uh,” you began, then shook your head, returning to your senses with a smile. “Of course.”

She beamed up at you and giggled as she took her spot beside you, holding up a V sign. “Wait!” called Mijin, grabbing Yoongi by the thick sleeve of his black sweater. “Let’s get a group selfie!”

You paused for a moment as Yoongi came to stand behind you. Without saying a word, he wrapped his arms around you from the back, resting his chin on your shoulder. Your heart raced as you strained your neck to meet his smiling eyes.

“Yoongi-,” you began.

But he simply silenced you with a peck to your cheek. “Take the picture. I think it’ll turn out nice.”

Blushing, you obliged and snapped the shot, all four of you smiling in the deserted grocery store aisle. Once the photo was taken, Yoongi settled for simply holding your hand in his, your face masks still wrapped below your chins, revealing your faces in entirety.

Hyejin was about to speak when a shrill voice shouted from all around the large store. “Mijin! Hyejin! Come to the registers right now!” she shouted over the PA system.

You laughed a little, concealing it as a cough, and wondered just what would have happened if you’d followed through with your impulse to use the PA system yourself.

“Aw!” whined Mijin with a pout. “I wanted to stay longer.”

“Right now!” repeated the voice.

Hyejin and Mijin exchanged nervous looks before smiling brightly at the two of you. “We gotta go,” said Hyejin gently as Mijin began jogging in place. “Th-thank you guys for taking the pictures.”

You smiled and patted her head. “Thank you for being our fans,” you said.

She smiled. “Is…um…is it okay if I post it? All of my friends would be so excited,” she said, her eyes round and expectant.

You were about to adamantly refuse, mindful not to allow this breach to spread further, but Yoongi beat you to it. “Please do,” he said, then draped an arm over your shoulders. “And tag us.”

The girls giggled and agreed to Yoongi’s request before running off down the aisle, waving over their shoulders before disappearing. Quickly, you threw Yoongi’s arm off of you and shot him a glare.

“Min Yoongi, do you realize what you just did?” you asked.

He laughed a little, the gummy kind, and shrugged. “Is it so wrong to be proud of my boyfriend?”

You stiffened, struggling to maintain your resolve, and coughed a little, crossing your arms. “Still…what if it turns out bad?”

Yoongi laughed a little, gently cupping your face in his warm hands. “What if it doesn’t?”

The simplicity in his words disarmed you and you could do nothing but stand still, flushed, as his thumbs traced circles into your skin. Without a word, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. It was a chaste kiss. The kind you’d wanted to do a million times on your late-night dates to the park, your covert coffee-shop trysts, your early morning walks through the city. The kind you saw couples do every day. His lips were soft and gentle, and revealed the quiet intensity that made you fall for him in the first place.

You sighed into him as he slowly broke away, leaning back to give you a grin. “And besides, that Hyejin girl has a crush on you,” he said with a wink. “Gotta keep my competition in line.”

“Yoongi!” you shouted, giving his chest a big smack.

But there was no malice in it. And as you two continued shopping, masks forgotten, smiling freely, you knew that whatever was to come you could face it together. As cliche as it seemed, you knew that your feelings for each other were strong enough to withstand outside pressure. Your companies would have your heads on a silver platter. Your group mates would give you endless lectures. You may have an army of Yoongi stans checking you out and sizing you up.

But you knew one thing for sure: if Mijin and Hyejin were anything to go by, you could both trust your fans.

And more than anything, you could both trust each other to weather the consequences, whatever they may be.

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