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serendipitouswasteland · 2 years ago

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The Hammock

Note: This was transcribed from my AO3.

ship: byler pov: third person written: July 5, 2022 first published: July 5, 2022 word count: 1,054 _

summary: Them accidentally (or purposefully) dozing off in a hammock together as the sun sets and the air cools down.

As much as Mike wished he were at the beach, none of them could afford that. At least, not right now. After all, they live in the middle of Indiana, nowhere near a beach. Instead, Hopper put a hammock up and bought a pool as well as two lounge chairs for the kids to all enjoy during the summer, a way for El to enjoy all the things everyone else would.

Because of Hopper’s initiative, it’s helped all of them get a lot closer than they used to be, and that says a lot, because they were already really close. Today, though, Mike can sense that something is off. Not with everyone, but with one person in particular.

Usually, Will is happy to at least be spending time with his friends, but today something is different. Well, the past few days have been different, but he won’t tell Mike why. Because Will wouldn't tell him, Mike started ignoring him to try and get some sort of reaction. The two haven’t spoken in two days because of it.

Mike is in the pool with everyone, and he, Lucas, El, and Max are playing chicken when he notices Will is sitting over in the hammock by himself, not even looking anywhere near Mike’s direction, as if he’s ignoring Mike, too. This causes him and Lucas to lose to El and Max, but with El’s powers, that probably would’ve happened anyway. Lucas falls backwards off of Mike’s shoulders, his legs pulling Mike down, causing him to sink under the water with him. They both spring back up from the water, and El goes to give Mike a kiss but he doesn’t register it, not even realizing she’s there as he moves his hair out of his face and steps out of the water, slipping on his sandals and making his way over to where Will is.

He practically throws himself into the hammock, causing it to swing back and forth vigorously. He laughs a little, doing his best to keep himself and Will from falling, using his hands on the ground to slow the swaying. He looks over at Will, expecting some reaction, but his face is blank, his eyes locked on the woods far out in front of him.

“Hey,” Mike says, tapping Will’s knee, but he doesn’t move.

He doesn’t even flinch. He refuses to acknowledge Mike’s presence.

“Will, come on. Earth to Will!” Mike continues, not getting the hint and waving his hand in Will’s face and, to his surprise, Will still doesn’t do anything. “Will, are you okay? Will, this isn’t funny. Come on, just say something .”

Silence.

“He’s not gonna answer you,” Hopper says from the porch, and Mike turns to face him.

“Oh, yeah? How do you know so much?”

“Use your head. You’ll figure it out,” Hopper says, bringing everyone else inside for dinner but leaving Mike and Will in the hammock, clearly wanting them to work out their problems.

Mike sighs, looking at Will, before laying to look the same way Will is looking. The next thing he knows is that it’s sunrise, the sky barely beginning to change from black to blue as he stretches and yawns, rubbing his eyes as he looks at Will who’s sitting up now, his legs criss-crossed as he plays with the fabric of the hammock.

“Did we fall asleep out here?” Mike asks, but Will still doesn’t say anything. “Look, Will, I’m sorry, alright? I have been an asshole to you and that is completely my fault, and I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. You just wanted to know what was wrong and got mad that I didn't want to tell you, even though I tell you everything ,” Will says, the first Mike has heard his voice in what feels like forever.

“So why not tell me?” Mike asks, careful with the words he chooses.

“It’s different this time.”

“How is it different? I’m still me, you’re still you. We’re still us, Will. How—"

“Because you’re with her .”

“El? What does she have to do with this?”

“Nothing. Nevermind. Forget I said anything.”

“No. Will, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I love El like a sister, Mike. Me telling you would be betraying her and it would ruin everything. I can’t do that to her. And I can’t do this to you. I can’t ruin everything between us because I decide to let slip that I have feelings for you!” Will shouts at the end, stopping as soon as he says the last word, not even meaning to have said it.

He just…let it slip, just like he said he would.

Mike’s eyes are intensely focused on Will and each of his movements. The nervous glances, the picking of the hammock, the heavy breathing, the waiting for Mike to respond, but he doesn't know how. Then, involuntarily, his eyes flicker to Will’s lips. He’s caught himself doing it before, and he never really knew why because he was into El , but now, maybe he was wrong.

Against any better judgment that Mike has, he quickly leans forward and presses his lips to Will’s, placing a hand on the back of his head to pull him closer, his other hand pressing down into the hammock to steady them so they don’t go flying off at his sudden movement, and Will, without hesitation, reciprocates the kiss, wrapping his hands around Mike’s neck. Mike moves closer, making it so their bodies are just inches apart. Then, finally, he pulls away from the kiss, leaning his forehead against Will’s.

They sit there, breathless, neither one saying a word. Neither one needed to. They both knew what this meant, and they were both a little scared, but they would figure it out. They’d have to. Mike, for the first time since his lips met Will’s, opens his eyes. He pulls his head away and simply looks at Will, the urge to kiss him again all too prominent in the moment for him to just sit there like he is, but, Will doesn’t let him go in for a second because he gets up and pulls Mike off the hammock with him, going and entering through the front door of the cabin.

If anyone had seen them, it was going to be a hell of a day.

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mochegato · 3 years ago

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Even the Losers

Chapter 1

“You can do this Marinette,” Adrien whispered encouragingly, echoing the mantra she’d been whispering to herself for the past two days. She could do this. She could manage. This was for Max. She could handle it. He couldn’t be here but she could. She could be strong for him. She gave Adrien a shaky smile and nodded. “We just have to find him and we can leave,” he reminded her.

Marinette took a breath and let it out slowly. She’d dealt with far, far worse than a few judgmental, heartless asses who had no real interest in her. But seas of artificial smiles had always unsettled her and currently she was surrounded with so much artificial sweetness she felt like she was walking through a kid’s cereal aisle. That added onto her already existing anxiety had her ready to bolt at the slightest provocation.

She ran her hand over the skirt of her dress, letting the feeling of the fabric and the knowledge of all that had gone into it soothe her. She was especially proud of her dress and the work that had gone into it. It was a black so dark it almost appeared to draw in the light around it. A mesh with strategically placed blood red decorations overlaid the dress, hugging her bodice until it reached her hips then dropped into a flowing skirt that ended just before it could pool on the ground.

She fought the urge to fiddle with the belt in her nervousness. She couldn’t show weakness like that, not here. She looked up at Adrien again in search of an anchor to reality. She took in his expression and had to stifle the laugh that resulted. He had his own artificially sweet smile on but his eyes quite clearly begged for a quick death. He glanced down to her and nudged her discreetly, his artificial smile becoming wide and real. “Shhhh,” he hushed her under his breath. “We’re trying not to attract attention to ourselves, remember? We’re ghosts.” He looked around to make sure nobody was looking at them.

Marinette immediately quieted, her face becoming somber. She did remember. In and out. That was the goal. Her goal. Knock the man on his ass with Max’s accomplishments, then never see him, or anyone else in this room, other than Adrien of course, ever again. They were supposed to be like ghosts. There but not. Her eyes scanned the room looking for their target.

Adrien’s eyes immediately softened and filled with regret. “Shit, Mari. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“No,” she looked up at him with an artificial smile of her own. “I know. It’s fine. It’s not your fault.” She scanned the crowd again, cursing her height, as she had many times in her life. Even with the six inch, death defying heels, she still barely reached Adrien’s eyes, let alone give her any kind of advantage to see the crowd. She needed some kind of vantage point but unfortunately, the only high point in the ballroom was the stage, which she couldn’t utilize if she was going to follow her Ghost policy. “We might have more success if we split up. Let me know if you find him.”

Adrien squeezed her arm quickly before nodding. “Good luck.”

Marinette shot him a genuine smile. “You too. May the Luck be with you.”

Adrien laughed and shook his head. “I never should have forced you to watch that movie.”

Marinette grinned back. “You never should have forced me to watch the prequels. The original ones were just fine.” Adrien narrowed his eyes at her but let it drop in favor of disappearing in the crowd to find their target.

Marinette followed him with her eyes until she couldn’t see him anymore then took a deep breath to brace herself. Her eyes immediately started darting around and her fingers started dancing. She needed something to occupy them or she was going to start attracting unwanted attention.

She noted a bar close by and made a beeline for it. She waited politely for the bartender to notice her, her fingers tapping anxiously against the bar while she waited. She froze when she heard a gruff voice next to her. “Did you sneak in here?”

She turned to the voice and blinked a few times. “Excuse me?”

“You’re anxious and jittery. Afraid you’re going to get kicked out?” the man elaborated.

Marinette studied him for a moment trying to figure out why he looked so familiar. “No,” she started slowly, trying to give her brain a chance to answer the puzzle. “Just not a fan of events like this.”

The man scoffed and nodded in understanding. “Cheers.” He raised his glass for her to clink his but she held out her hands with a sheepish look, showing she didn’t have a drink yet. “Well, that’s a crime. Nobody should have to endure one of these without a drink.” He motioned to the bartender and got an immediate response. “Another for me and a…” he motioned to Marinette to give her order.

“Oh, champagne, please,” she finished with a smile for the bartender. That’s what was socially acceptable at events like this, right? Champagne.

The bartender looked to the man for confirmation. The man nodded. “And a champagne for the woman.” Marinette scowled at the bartender causing the man to laugh. “He’s just worried that you’re underage. You look awfully young. You’re not, right?”

Marinette’s glare softened in realization. “Oh, that makes sense. No, I’m not. I forgot the legal age here is higher than in France.”

He nodded and looked at her critically for a moment before offering his hand. “Jason.”

Marinette immediately reached out for his hand and answered with her name before her brain registered the name he’d given. Jason. Jason Todd. Bruce Wayne’s son. She pulled her hand back quickly as the realization hit her and focused on leveling her breathing. She grabbed the champagne glass more violently than necessary when the bartender set it down in front of her and immediately downed the entire glass, only coughing a bit as the bubbles tickled her throat. Overall, champagne was not the best drink to chug. “Another, please,” she croaked out.

“You know, there are better drinks for that, if that’s what you want to do,” Jason grinned, laughing at her.

“Wasn’t the plan until it was and then that’s all I had,” she croaked out, her voice still hoarse from the bubbles. She kept her eyes focused on her empty glass as she spoke, almost afraid to make eye contact with him as if just seeing her eyes would be enough to blow her cover.

Jason chuckled and nodded in understanding. “Don’t suppose you’d care to dance?”

Marinette whipped her head to him and stared incredulously, forgetting her previous reservations. She only moved again when the bartender set the new drink down in front of her. “Um… no… thank you. That doesn’t seem… I don’t think my date would be comfortable with that. Good luck getting drunk enough to handle tonight though.” She gave him a weak smile and raised her glass to him before moving into the fray again, now armed with a socially acceptable fidget toy.

It took five minutes of avoiding wandering hands and leering looks but with a little luck and some prodding from the goddess hiding in the folds of her skirt, she was finally able to stumble on M. Lucius Fox, Director of Research and Development for Wayne Enterprises. He was in a conversation he was not remotely interested in with some vapid business exec who was just as interested in M. Fox. Not that M. Fox’s disinterest was clear. He was very polite and good at covering his boredom, much more so than his conversation partner, but she’d been at enough stuffy, snobby parties with Adrien, Felix, and Chloe to know the signs.

She took another breath and squared her shoulders, going into Ladybug Mode; calm and confident, completely assured of herself. She was on a mission. She had a goal and a plan to accomplish it, and once she had a plan, she had a direction and purpose, and with those, her insecurities fell away. With M. Fox in her sights, she could see the pieces and the way they fit together. There were no more doubts. She set her glass on a passing waiter’s tray and made her way over to M. Fox.

“The elusive M. Fox. It is a pleasure to meet you,” Marinette purred, coming up next to him with a charming, real smile.

“I didn’t realize I was hiding,” Lucius responded with a polite smile of his own.

“Must just come naturally. Foxes are known to be crafty.” Marinette looked around them and motioned toward the dancefloor. “Would you care to dance, M. Fox?”

He shook his head deferentially. “Are you sure there aren’t other people here you’d rather dance with?”

Marinette smiled conspiratorially and leaned closer to him, making sure to keep a respectable distance. She did NOT want to have her banter confused with flirting. That was not the strategy she had devised. “That would defeat the purpose of coming here. I came here specifically to speak with you.”

Lucius looked down at her analytically, trying to figure out what her angle was, but took her hand and followed her onto the dancefloor. “And what did you want to speak about, Ms…?”

“Dupain Cheng. Marinette Dupain Cheng. It’s nice to meet you M. Fox. I wanted to speak to you to sell my friend Max Kante.”

Lucius’ eyes widened almost imperceptibly as the music changed. After a beat, he chuckled. “I’m not in the market to buy anyone, but thank you.” He settled his hands on her mid-back and hand for their dance.

Marinette chuckled good naturedly along with him. “Sell his talents, would be a better way to say it.”

“And where is Mr. Kante?” Lucius raised an eyebrow at her, curious why the young man didn’t bother to come himself. “Why are you presenting his talents instead of him?”

“Finals. Had the incredibly bad luck to have a Friday at noon final. I mean at least it wasn’t at 19h, right? Can you believe they have those?” She scrunched up her nose in playful disgust. “But still means he’s taking it right now. And for his last final of his career. I mean… probably. Knowing him, he might get another PhD at some point. My finals and presentation ended last week. M. Wa…” she took a steadying breath and looked back up with a strained smile hoping he wouldn’t notice the stutter. “M. Wayne even visited for it. That’s when the idea for this came to me. So while Max studied, I plotted.”

“So why me then and not Mr. Wayne?” Lucius asked with a curious interest.

Marinette froze for just a second. Hardly enough for anyone to notice. Her mind raced to calculate the appropriate response to that question, a satisfactorily casual yet intelligent response. “M. Wayne isn’t in charge of research. You are. Not to mention, I highly doubt the CEO would be involved enough in the research and development projects to know what was going on. You I take as a man who knows what is going on with all your ongoing projects.”

He nodded. She wasn’t wrong, or normally wouldn’t be. Mr. Wayne usually was not involved in any projects and with the exception of one particular project they were having issues with, he wouldn’t know the particulars. “A very dangerous and elaborate plan. Why didn’t you make an appointment with me? Or just stop me on the street?” he prodded, hoping for her thought process.

Marinette laughed lightly. “I don’t imagine I would have had a chance in Hell of making an appointment with you in your office. I have no standing, no name, no significance that would have attracted any PA worth their salt’s attention. I would have been pawned off onto a low ranking employee to handle, if I was handled at all. And something like this needed to be taken to you.

“As for running into you on the street, I can’t imagine you would have responded positively to getting accosted on the street. You seem more than capable of handling yourself with grace in the face of a pest. I doubt I would have gotten more than a few words in. At a gala however,” she grinned conspiratorially at him. “Societal convention. Almost absolute certainty of at least one dance where I would have you one-on-one for a few minutes. Hostage audience. Figured I could use it to my advantage for once.”

Lucius smiled back at her ingenuity. “There’s an application process he could have gone through,” he noted.

Mari nodded and looked out to the crowd, scanning it. “Right, applying to M. Fedor Rabler,” she said distractedly. “He did that.”

Lucius nodded in understanding. Their application process was tough. Lots of amazing candidates didn’t get through. He had to respect her devotion to her friend, to risk coming here and potentially making an enemy of Wayne Enterprises if he’d been that sort of man. His eyes turned sympathetic. “I’m sorry he was passed over.”

“You know, I’ve noticed Elspeth Cole puts forth a lot of inventions and extremely varied ones at that,” she continued as though she hadn’t heard his consolation. “Most inventors, you can see their process, you can see how they got from one invention to the next, but hers… they’re so varied. It’s almost like they’re coming from completely different people.” Lucius watched her carefully, waiting to see where she was going with this. “That’s them, isn’t it? Dancing together. Awfully close for purely colleagues.”

Lucius followed her sight line to Ms. Cole and Mr. Rabler dancing extremely closely. Not obscenely, but perhaps a bit closer than was normally acceptable at a society event such as this one. “It’s hardly incriminating that two people with expertise in electrical engineering would get together,” he said slowly.

“Max is amazing. Brilliant,” Marinette said, seemingly not noticing her non-sequitur. “He created an AI that helped the Parisian superheroes locate and defeat our supervillain at only 14.” Lucius’ brow rose. That was certainly promising. He wondered what would have caused them not to take such an applicant. Surely there was some sort of embellishment there, but as he studied her, she seemed entirely genuine.

“He’s being scouted by several high profile companies including Lexcorp and Palmer Technologies.” She turned her attention back to Lucius, a curious pout on her lips. “But not Wayne Enterprises.” She looked away with clearly forced casualness. “Lexcorp and Palmer, they’re offering pretty impressive packages. Not as good as he deserves in my opinion, but I may be a bit biased. Wayne Enterprises however… nothing. Not even an offer.

“Now, I don’t really have a dog in the fight… other than wanting my friend to be safe and treated with the respect he deserves. But Palmer Technologies gets blown up by a villain or its inventors kidnapped far too frequently for me to be comfortable with my friend working there. And Lexcorp…” She looked down as if in thought before looking back at him again with a determined look in her eye.

“You know, I get a feeling sometimes. I can’t really explain it, just get a feeling about people or things. I’ve found it’s best for me and the people around me if I listen to that feeling and that feeling tells me Lex Luthor is the last person who should be trusted with a brain as brilliant as Max’s.” She looked back over to Mr. Rabler and Ms. Cole. “That same feeling told me Max shouldn’t trust the application process for Wayne Enterprises.”

She looked back at Lucius with an apologetic smile. “No offense. So, I convinced Max to make a small part of his submission just a little off. Just a bit. Enough that even an expert could miss it, but if it’s wrong the project could never work. It took a lot of convincing to get him to do it. He refused to believe he had anything to worry about in Wayne Enterprises with its stellar reputation.” She scrunched up her face in annoyance. “But that feeling, you know? I couldn’t get over it. After a lot of work, I convinced him there was no harm. After all, if he was hired he could fix it. If he wasn’t… well, you shouldn’t be using what he presented anyway, right? No harm, no foul as you Americans say.”

“No,” Lucius agreed. “That would be theft and completely against WE policy and standards. In fact, we should not be asking applicants to submit anything like that in the first place.”

Marinette smiled and nodded approvingly. “I’ve heard rumblings, or rather Max has, of WE getting into transmutation of materials. Just can’t get that algorithm right though, can you? Algorithms are hard. Just a little off and nothing works.”

He stared at her. That was a secret project. Other departments in Wayne Enterprises didn’t even know about it. “I can’t comment on ongoing projects.”

“I never did show you what Max is capable of, did I?” She gave him a bright smile and reached down to press a disguised button on her belt. Lucius tensed and cursed himself for exposing himself to whatever she was about to do. A wave of emerald green washed over the front of her bodice as the blood red decorated mesh overlay turned into a brilliant emerald green that reflected the lights now rather than absorbing it.

Lucius’ eyes widened in surprise, a feat very few had been able to draw out of him. “He designed the fabric?” he whispered out. He reached out tentatively to touch the fabric at her shoulder.

Marinette grinned brilliantly at his reaction. It was no less than Max deserved. He’d worked incredibly hard on it. “He did,” she nodded in confirmation, “and the software that controls it. The whole dress can change but we’re kind of surrounded here and I didn’t want to attract too much attention.” She let him touch it for a moment before pushing the button again to turn it back into the black, then allowing him to feel the mesh to confirm it was the same fabric. “He has ideas for changing the texture as well, but limited resources you know? Something I’d hope wouldn’t be an issue at WE.”

“How does it work?” His eyes were still focused on the fabric at her shoulder. He took a quick look at the rest of the bodice, but quickly snapped his eyes back to her shoulder. The neckline was conservative, but it was still rather unbecoming to stare at the young woman’s chest.

Marinette laughed. “You’ll have to ask Max that. I just designed the dress. I don’t really understand the mechanics behind it, but he does. I doubt Ms. Cole can say the same.”

Lucius stared in awe at her shoulder before looking back up to her eyes and nodding in understanding. “Interesting. I’ll take that under advisement. Maybe we should be scouting you as well.”

Mari laughed. “No, thank you. I’m not an inventor. I’m a designer. But I appreciate the interest.”

Lucius nodded and led her off the dancefloor with the end of the song. “Inventor or not, we can always use someone with intuition, intelligence, and ingenuity like you’ve demonstrated.”

Marinette gave him a brilliant, somewhat familiar smile. “That’s very flattering. Thank you, M. Fox. But tonight is about Max. I have my own, separate plans for my future.”

Lucius nodded in understanding. “Our loss,” he answered sincerely. “If you ever need any help or advice, please feel free to call me. I’m sure Mr. Kante will have it soon enough and can pass it onto you.” He looked back down to her shoulder again. “If I may…” He motioned toward her shoulder.

Marinette laughed. “Of course. I understand how truly impressive it is. It’s been incredibly inspirational, thinking of the options.”

“And what did your intuition tell you about tonight?” He looked up to meet her eyes, curious about her answer.

Marinette’s face went slack for a moment before she pasted on a bittersweet smile. “That it would be costly but worth it.”

Lucius quirked his head to the side. “In what way?”

Marinette shook her head absently and took a sudden interest in M. Fox’s tie. “I’m not sure yet.”

Mr. Fox’s eyes softened. “Would he be available to meet on Monday?”

Marinette grin and snapped her eyes up to him. Mission success! Max was going to get his interview! “He can be.”

“I’d actually like to speak with both of you, if you don’t mind. In my office at 10 Monday?” he offered.

Marinette faltered. “In Wayne Enterprises?”

Lucius chuckled. “Naturally.”

Marinette swallowed heavily. “Why don’t we meet somewhere else? Early morning coffee perhaps?” she offered instead with an artificial smile. “Here’s my card. Have someone give me a call or text and I can arrange it. He’s scheduled to fly in tomorrow morning. He was supposed to meet with Lexcorp Monday morning, but he’ll be at coffee to meet you instead.”

Lucius smiled back at her as he slipped her card into his pocket. “I greatly appreciate your candor and support Ms. Dupain Cheng.” He took her hand in both of his to shake it. “I cannot tell you how good it was to meet you. And if you ever get one of those feelings about me or Wayne Enterprises, let me know, okay?”

“Lucius.”

Lucius froze at the cold voice, not accustomed to that tone of voice directed at him. He looked over curiously and missed Marinette freezing before pushing another button on her belt.

Chapter 2

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm

#maribat #bio dad bruce wayne #roynette #Even the Losers #mbdbwm2021 #prompt -#meeting for the first time

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pizza-portal · 3 years ago

Note

please a smut inspired by this..🥺🥺🥺🥺😢😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Ma Belle

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Warnings: brat kink, oral (m receiving), French dirty talk

Charles sat on the couch with his phone in his hand while he aimlessly scrolled through Instagram. He had been waiting for y/n to get changed for about ten minutes. He didn’t mind. Though they were just getting lunch with a few of his mates and their girlfriends, she still like to make herself look presentable and together.

Y/n walked out of the bedroom in a blue mini skirt and a white long sleeve crop top. Her skirt met just a few inches under where her bum ended. As she shifted on her shoes, Charles looked up at her.

“Cherie,” he warned. She just ignored him, grabbing all her stuff together. When she leaned down to grab her purse, Charles could see the white lace of her panties underneath. “No, no, no. Go change.” he told her.

“Charles, it’s not that big of a deal. You’re being dramatic,” she rolled her eyes.

“Fine,” Charles sighed annoyingly, clasping his hands together and leaning back. He brought his phone over his crotch to hide the blood that was draining to it. “If you won’t change, then we won’t go.” Y/n could see how much he tried to hide the affect her outfit had in him. She smiled to herself.

“Please Charles,” she whimpered. That only mad his position worse.

“Go change,” he says again. She walks towards him, resting her hands on his knees. Charles swallowed hard, not wanting to back down from her. His eyes drifted to her cleavage before looking back up into her eyes.

“No,” she responds. He sighs loudly, letting his head fall back. He had a bittersweet relationship with her stubbornness. Her being a brat always turned him on to the max, yet, as if right now, that was the last thing he needed.

She got onto her knees. “What’s wrong?” she questioned. “Am I being too bad?”

“Yes, now can you please go change?” he leaned forward. She shook her head. “Ma Belle-”

“You can call me beautiful when I am sucking you off,” she told him bluntly. Her hands roamed his thighs, while she bit your lip. He sighed, leaning back.

“Alors vas-y,” he told her, giving her the right of way to do her dirty work. Her hands slid up the denim over his thighs, only for him to widen his position a little bit. She reaches for his button and zipper, gently undoing the two.

There was a bulge beneath his underwear. Y/n knew he wasn’t that hard yet. She gently placed small kisses over the fabric, still rubbing his thighs. “Merde,” he hissed, adjusting himself to pull his pants farther down. Finally, they just sat at a puddle around his ankles.

Y/n’s hands started to palm him through the boxers. “Vous aimez ça non?” She whispered to him, turning him on even more. “Tu aimes me voir à genoux.” Charles bit his lip. She felt him getting harder and harder. “Aww, si dur baby.” She mumbled before pulling down the boxers. The tip was tinted red while the shaft easily stayed up on its own.

Y/n took her time, gently stroking him. She pressed small kisses to it, here eyes stayed on Charles’s expression, which was absolutely beautiful to her. “Baby, s’il te plaît,” Charles begged. Y/n ran her tongue up his cock, causing a groan to escape Charles lips as he through his head back. She stopped at the tip, kissing it gently. She opened her mouth, only putting the tip in and sucking. Her hands expertly caressed his shaft. “More, more.” He gasped, his hips bucking towards her face more. Slowly, she let herself go deeper down until his tip hit the back of her throat. As she slid back up, her tongue ran against the shaft again. Before her lips could leave him, Charles gripped her hair and pushed her back down again. She moaned against him. The vibrations from her through shot through Charles, causing him to moan. He took a few deep breaths, watching his dick disappear into her mouth. Meanwhile, her tongue explore every square-centimeters of him.

He stood up quickly, his hands forming a small ponytail out of her hair. He began to guide her movements, pushing himself deeper into her throat only to move back out. He began to move faster. “Ma belle,” he moaned, watching himself fuck her face. As he got deeper into her throat, y/n couldn’t help but choke with small tears forming around her eyes. Finally, he pulled out and y/n knew to open her mouth for the juices that would be flowing out in just a few seconds. Charles finally came, strings of it falling onto her tongue. He fell back down onto the couch, deep breaths escaping his lips.

“Can you go change now?”

“No,”

a/n: I have a Daniel Ricciardo story sitting in my notes app. I might publish it in here but I’m not sure yet :)

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the-witches-you-couldnt-burn · 4 years ago

Text

Like I did with you

So I’ve been procrastinating hard during my study break for my exams, but here have a song fic!

Ghost of you by 5SOS

Genius comments: The song tells the tale of a heartbroken lover who has lost his significant other – due to a breakup or even suicide/death – and is refusing to accept the fact that she is never coming back.

I didn’t feel like writing angst and whenever I hear this song I feel like ballroom dancing (and I have).

Also thank you to the lovely people on the Maribat discord server!

Ao3

The sequel ‘It started with a whisper’ is up!

————————

Gotham Academy implemented a new ‘Study Abroad’ program due to recent funding from a local humanitarian. This program gave the students of Gotham Academy a chance to study abroad in Europe and vice versa. Countries like Sweden, Greece, Germany, Ireland and more participated in the program; offering a multitude of high schools with many different courses.

And because of that very wealthy benefactor, his son got first pick on where he would like to study. This was 100% not a forced decision at all to subtly keep track of the happenings of Paris. With that the Ice Prince of Gotham took the City of Love by storm.

He had been at Collège Françoise Dupont for the past few months, and it’s been hell. The class he had been placed into was ripping apart at the seams. There were two students that the class gravitated towards; he observed some of the others meeting in secret, without the knowledge of their respective ‘leaders’.

The first student that held the majority of the class’ focus was Lila Rossi. She was a black hole with beady green eyes, who dragged who ever was in her reach to an agonising fate. Damian saw through her deceptions and rejected her flirtations. The students that followed her, ate up whatever lie she spat out. Rossi soon learned that lies about the Wayne family and Gotham wouldn’t fly with him.

“Really? You worked with Monsieur Wayne?” The pink clad girl, Rose, squeaked.

Damian had just walked into class on his second day at the hell hole and already regretted it. He shot a glare towards the large group, “Who ever told you that is severely misinformed. My father has never worked with a minor from Europe, due to potential rumours and allegations it could cause. It is not a threat but a promise if a lie of similar caliber is spread there will be a lawsuit.” And with that he walked towards his seat in the back, the Ice Prince had cast his decree, the class’ atmosphere had frozen over.

The second student was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Those that surrounded her were Alix Kubdel, Chloé Bourgeois, Max Kanté, Lê Chiến Kim and the occasional secret appearance from Juleka Couffaine. They didn’t view Dupain-Cheng through rose coloured lenses, they were always grounded and opinions were respected. Damian, who was a loner without Jon at his side, was satisfied by himself; Marinette respected that and didn’t force him to socialise like Lila tried to.

So that leads us to this. He stood against a sidewall of the giant banquet hall, staring out at the crowd before him. Jon was walking to wards him with a can of sprite in hand. Jon had moved to Paris with him but had been placed into a different class. The boy who was the epitome of sunshine stuck around the Ice Prince, their friendship is an enigma to the Françoise Dupont students.

Jon’s face was flushed. He had just gotten a drink after dancing for the past hour. Tonight was the night of the Collège’s formal dance for their graduating class. Skirts of all colours and fabrics swirled, as their partners (majority of whom had matching suits) twirled them to the music.

Jon, gesturing to the crowd, asked him whether he was going to stand there all night or dance. Taking a sip of his drink a smirk appears on his face, “unless the great Damian Wayne is to much of a coward to dance.”

Here I am waking up

Still can't sleep on your side

Damian’s head snapped towards the taller boy, “Are you seriously using my ego to get me to dance?”

Jon raising an eyebrow, “Well?”

If I can dream long enough

The temperamental teen stormed off, grumbling about “Jon being as bad as Todd”. Scanning the room he search for a suitable partner, there was no way he would embarrass himself by dancing alone.

You'd tell me I'd be just fine

I'll be just fine

He spotted Dupain-Cheng stood off to the side, alone. She was draped in a layered white dress with black hemming. As he neared, he realised that the asymmetrical skirt was actually a light blush with her signature apple blossom flowers embroidered. She looked up at him and he straightened his stance, slowing his pace. Her sapphire eyes locked on to his, her bangs curled off to the side along with the rest of her hair in beach waves.

So I drown it out like I always do

She gifted him a small smile, a usual occurrence within her interactions with him. He offered his left hand, bowing his head slightly. “Dupain-Che—“ he cleared his throat, “Marinette. Would you do me the honour of joining me in this dance?”

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

Her eyes widened, not expecting the Arabian God of a teen before her to ask her such a question. She saw his temper during class during his spats with Lila and how he kept to himself without the presence of Jon. But here he was in a fitted Armani suit that made his green eyes glow, and hair messily slicked to the side. Marinette looked at his hand, glad that her makeup mostly hid her blush.

And I chase it down

“I am...” She paused to find the right word, “I am a bad dancer. It is better for everyone that I don’t participate.”

“I can think of nothing less appealing than an evening of watching other people dance.” A small gasp escaped from her mouth before she could stop it. She watched as his mouth twitch’s downwards before his facade returned with full strength. “If you do not wish, to I won’t force you. But if you’ll allow me I’ll guide you through the dance to make sure it isn’t an utter disaster.”

With a shot of truth

Marinette’s lips quirked, giggling as she took his hand, “Your funeral Damian.”

What had he gotten himself into?

The two entered the dance floor, taking up the dance support hold. Their dance had the basic steps of the waltz, with a promenade and many spins; some as a couple and some were just Mari. Damian soon found he enjoy watching the sparkles in her dress light up as she spun. It became even more enjoyable when he discovered that the dress was her own creation.

Dancing through our house

The two made quiet conversations during their dance. Damian pulled her closer by the waist as they repeated the basic steps, their bodies perfectly in tune with each other. “You are a fine dancer despite your protests”

With the ghost of you

Marinette tilted her head up at him, blinding him with a dazzling smile. Damian’s heart fluttered, the two always had a mutual respect but it seems to have grown into a fond appreciation.

From the tables scattered around the dance floor there was a blond, with his fist clenched. Lila had dragged him off of the floor as soon as Damian and Marinette made their debuts; together. The brunette was now off angrily gossiping to Alya and any other who’d listen. It was a hot topic between Lila and Alya that Marinette loved him, although now, as he watched her dance with Damian, he was unsure as to whether that was ever true. He sat there, glued to his seat, watching the spectacle before him.

Cleaning up today

Found that old Zepplin shirt

The two dancers didn’t notice that everyone had cleared off the floor to watch them. They danced in sync, no movement was made without the other following it. Adrien had realised awhile ago that even though he didn’t have romantic feelings for Marinette, he cherished her friendship. That relationship was now tarnished due to the path he took when he first revealed his knowledge of the deceptions. His father had forced him to keep Lila happy, even if it made him miserable.

You wore when you ran away

And no one could feel your hurt

He had lost her, and he was unsure as to whether he could gain any semblance of their relationship back.

We're too young, too dumb

To know things like love

Damian lifted his partner’s right hand and twirled her three times, they both were content within their own world. The two swayed before turning together and walking around the now open space.

But I know better now (Better now)

Marinette flushed as she realised what was happening around her, leaning towards her partner she whispered, “I think we’ve become an impromptu entertainment.”

Too young, too dumb

To know things like love

Too young, too dumb

Damian subtly gazed behind her seeing their peers in a circle surrounding them. He was on the inside looking out, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. He whispered reassurances in her ear, he wished to finish the song before he released her from his embrace. The two drowned out their audience, focusing on each other and the beat of the song.

So I drown it out like I always do

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

And I chase it down

With a shot of truth

That my feet don't dance

Like they did with you

The melody slowly faded off as the last lines were sung. The two finished on a basic waltz step before swaying in each other’s arms. The music ends and there is silence, blood rushed to their ears and their breaths mingled.

The two stayed in the other’s embrace, face-to-face, staring. They broke out of their trance by clapping. Looking around Marinette saw many of her peers and most of the supervising teachers applauding their performance.

Their friends broke through the crowd, Jon patted Damian’s shoulder (retracting before he got bit) while Chloe and Alix pulled Marinette back to their table to discuss what Disney magic had befallen the couple. The bluenette glanced back at her partner, mouthing a silent goodbye.

The crowd dispersed but were still buzzing from their display. Marinette was bombarded with questions, not only from her friends, but from other students about her dancing with the demon. Her stuttered replies did little to quench the crowd’s thirst. Her face must be comparable to that of a tomato.

Damian, having noticed the building crowd and Marinette’s uncomfortable stance, broke away from Jon. The crowd parted like the red sea, unwilling to be the one to anger the Ice Prince.

He offered her his arm (to which she took) and escorted her out to the patio outside. She stayed entwined with him, as she looked out at the stray Parisian night; leaning her head onto his should. Here the two could breathe. Here the two of them could be their present selves, no ghostly facades needed. It seems they could drown out anything in the presence of each other.

Unbeknownst to them, Jon had recorded their dance, along with their previous and present interactions of that night. He thought for a second to use it as blackmail material but decided to just send it off anyways. Oh the chaos it caused.

#maribat #marinette x damian #mlb x dc #daminette #adrien salt #Jon Kent has blackmail #ghost of you by 5sos #song fic #good! Chloé Bourgeois #slight Lila salt

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tf-boi · 3 years ago

Text

School Vacation [Socks Transformation]

The sun beamed down on Sean as he headed home from school for a month-long summer recess. He is excited to see his boyfriend Raymond and little brother Tony after studying in college the whole year abroad. He unlocked the door and to his shock he sees both Raymond and Tony naked, Raymond bent over to suck Tony’s cock.

“W-what are you guys doing?!” Sean says shocked

“What are you doing at home?” The two naked boys exclaimed not expecting to see Sean back so soon.

“Its summer break right now so I thought I’d surprise you guys. . .” Sean says walking passed them. “But I can’t believe you two. . .”

“You weren’t supposed to see this!” Raymond exclaimed, getting up.

“Nobody is!” Sean says closing the blinds “I told you guys it's fine to have some fun but be sure to close the blinds first. We don’t need to give the whole neighborhood a show!” Raymond says sitting at the couch “I can’t believe you guys would resort to public shows, did you guys get bored so quickly?”

Tony got up and held onto Raymond. “We kinda did” Tony said, looking cute like he always did. “But we weren’t putting on a public show, we were just really excited to try something new that we forgot to close the blinds. . .”

“New. . .?” Sean said with a confused look.

“Yeah new” Raymond said petting Tony. “When you left we kinda went crazy with the sex, and vore, so we were trying something new. . . I think its better to show you” Raymond said with a smirk.

Tony sat down and Raymond started sucking on Tony’s cock. The two boys moaning as Raymond worked on Tony’s erect member.

Sean stared intently watching his boyfriend get down on his brother, his cock noticeably erect from under his shorts. But something was weird, Raymond’s arms and legs looked like they were receding into his body and his skin looked darker and more fabric like. The more Raymond sucked the more noticeable his changes were as his body started to shrink.

To Sean’s shock within moments, his boyfriend became a black tube sock with 2 light orange rings on top.

Tony looking like he can barely contain himself took off Raymond’s new body and held it to Sean “Ta-da. . .we are experimenting with object transformation!” He said giggling.

Sean grabbed the sock and noticed it was still moving and throbbing like it was alive, it even smelled like Raymond. “I-is he okay?” Sean said a bit shocked.

“Oh yeah he’s fine we’ve been doing it for a little while now. . .you want to finish the job?” Tony said, pointing at his cock.

Sean put the sock back onto Tony’s rock hard dick and started stroking it with his former boyfriend, the sock visibly tighten and throbbed over Tony’s cock as Tony moans louder and louder. Within minutes of this Tony unleashed his load all over the insides of Raymond. Ribbons of cum spill out or Raymond’s body into the air covering Sean’s face. In that instant Raymond’s sock became limp, and losing his scent as well, no longer throbbing.

“W-what happened?” Sean said, realizing his boyfriend went limp.

Tony gasped for air “The. . .the normal time that someone transforms is about 24 hours max, but if someone cums on them then they become the property of the person who cums on them. . .”

“W-hat?! Can you turn him back” Sean says, licking the sweet cum from Raymond’s body.

“Yeah, I can turn him back whenever, or we wash off the cum he can slowly regain his control, but we wanted to do this for a while. . .last week he made me his fleshlight and kept me like that for a few days, so today he’s gonna be my sock!” Tony grabs the sock out of Sean’s hand and puts it on, cum still covered the inside and out of the shock showing the outline of his toes.

Sean looked wideeyed and lost for words watching his little brother wiggle his toes in his former boyfriend.

“Do you want to try it?” Tony says hugging his brother.

“W-what?” Tony said shocked

“I saw your dick when it happened, you can’t fool me!”

It was true this sort of thing was new to Sean and aroused him “Maybe for a little bit. . .but do I have to suck your dick?” Sean said reluctantly.

“Nah just relax. . .” Tony said as he starts kissing Sean.

The two brother’s moan into each other’s mouth as Sean feels his body warming up, his arms and legs slowly going into him like Raymond’s did. He felt his insides hollowing inside as he shrinks. Within moments he too became a black tube sock with a light blue ring on top.

“Woah. . .” Sean thought to himself.

“Feel’s great doesn’t it” Sean heard Tony’s voice inside his head.

“You can talk to me?” Tony thought

“Of course a link opens up between the transformed and the person who transformed them.”

“Then why can’t I hear Ray? Is he okay?”

“Yeah he’s fine, for the most part he is just a sock now but he is conscious and aware. Don’t worry it's your first time so I won’t cum in you unless you ask!”

Tony then put his foot inside of Sean. Sean’s entire body feels a hot sensation as if Tony’s sweaty foot was going inside his mouth and but at the same time. His body throbbed as if trying suck on his brother’s foot.

“Woah. . .I see you like this!” Tony said with a smirk. He, gets dressed in shorts and a pair of compression tights with a tank top walks over to his shoes and puts his two feet inside.

“Time for a run!” Tony says running out the door. With each step massaging Sean inside the stinky shoe. Sean never had much of a foot fetish, but he is starting to develop one with each step, the feeling of being stepped on intensified as his brother ran around the block, the sweat building up in his shoe.

Tony runs to the tennis court and takes off his running shoe, giving Sean a moment to breath.

“How do you like it so far?” Tony thought, smirking.

“This. . .is nice” Sean thought, not wanting to admit that if he was a person he would have a massive rock hard erection right now.

“Well then, round two!” Tony thought about putting his feet into his tennis shoes, and started to play with his friends. As the quick erratic steps Tony took, Sean felt a pleasure like he never felt before. Luckily for Tony, the compression tights he put on were pretty tight, otherwise people would see his hard cock that he is getting.

As Tony is the one who transformed the two he feels what they feel along with his own pleasure. With every step he takes, he is close to bursting but he is saving himself for later that night. After playing a few rounds, Tony and his friends sat on the benches. One of his friends accidentally steps on Tony’s foot.

“Ah my bad!” the friend said

“N-no problem. . “ Tony says letting out a little bit of precum as Sean felt immense pleasure from being stepped on by Tony’s friend.

That night Tony got on his bed and peeled his socks from his skin, from all the physical activity they were almost glued on. “Hope you two had fun today cuz its my turn now. . .” Tony says stroking his member. Tony already knew because he is connected with Sean, but Sean was about to burst from pleasure as Tony inches closer to cumming.

“I think its time for your feeding time. . .” Tony says picking up Raymond about to wrap his cock with Raymond Sean spoke up.

“W-wait . . .can you cum in me. . .” Sean says embarrassingly “ I want to try too. . .”

Tony had a devilish smile as he picked up his brother and wrapped his sweaty sock body around his cock.

Sean had sucked Tony’s dick already, but this was a whole new feeling. It was as if his entirety of his body was taking this dick as Tony stroke his member with his former brother.

They both moaned in euphoria as the sensation of Tony’s strokes and Sean’s throbbing body melded into a cycle of pleasure felt by both parties.

As Tony precums he reaches for Raymond. “Can’t leave you out as he wraps Raymond around Sean. Sean screams “Oh my god. . .” in a mind numbing ecstasy as he feels like he is being eaten by his former lover, while being fucked by his brother.

Tony gets more aggressive with the two as loads of precum flows out of him.

“S-shit, I can’t take it” the two thought as loads and loads of Tony’s cum erupts from his cock, filling Sean’s body as he feels his link to Tony slowly fade. Loads and loads of cum leaks out of Sean’s body as now he is a limp sock now, he now feels a link with Raymond again.

“How’d you like it” Raymond thought cheekily.

“I want to do this more often for sure. . .” Sean says as he mentaly embraces his lover.

Tony falls asleep with the two still on his cock.

The two lovers stayed that way until shortly before Sean has to return to his school abroad.

The day Sean left he was sitting by the window seat, staring at the outside.

“You two are gonna love it there. . .lots of cute boys to have fun with” Sean says rubbing his crotch.

Underneath his shorts is a pair of what looks like children’s boxer briefs over his cock. The design is that of a cartoon version of Tony and Raymond with large cum stains on it.

#clothes transformation #object tf #sock tf #socks transformation #object transformation

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asset35-maya · 4 years ago

Text

.When the party’s over.

>REINITIALISING…

>ALL SYSTEMS ONLINE

>WIRELESS CHARGING: 69%

>RK900 SYSTEM HEALTH: STABLE

>24H FILE RECOVERY: 45%

Nines slowly regained consciousness. He was lying on his side and everything around him was quiet.

>ENVIRONMENTAL SCAN IN PROGRESS…

>THREAT ANALYSIS IN PROGRESS…

Layers of fabric covered his body and something soft and warm was pressed against his face. Eyes still shut, he nudged it gently with his nose and it emitted a low vibration.

>2% THREAT DETECTED: FELINE SUBJECT

The cat sprang upwards and hopped off the surface that Nines was lying on. It was ostensibly a bed, but Nines didn’t own any furniture apart from a couch and work table. The logical conclusion was that he was not in his own apartment.

>RUN LOCALISATION PROGRAM: Y/N?

>ERROR: PROGRAM FAILED TO EXECUTE

>ERROR: MEMORY FILE CORRUPTION

Nines had no absolutely recollection of his whereabouts or how he had arrived. He had not been compromised as his system health was stable, so there was probably another reason for being completely disoriented. It was voluntary.

He had gotten the android equivalent of blackout drunk.

It was not the first time and he feared it would not be the last. Such were the hard-partying ways of his friends and colleagues. They were all terrible influences. He loved them dearly, but they were terrible.

At 6PM every Friday, Chen and Miller would start things off rather innocently. “Hey there’s a new brewery downtown.” Or “My bartender cousin just hooked us up with a thirty percent discount!”

From there it wouldn’t take long for the DPD’s resident frat boys Connor and Gavin to gather a steady crowd of officers and check out the venue. If the vibes were good (which they almost always were), Sixty would get wind of things. Then the rest of the frat house would descend and total chaos would reign until the break of dawn.

SWAT Unit 32 was famous for its particularly destructive brand of revelry. Skinny dipping in private swimming pools, scaling skyscraper rooftops and causing media scandals were all par for the course. The day after Captain Allen’s birthday, the DPD crew spent the entirety of their bonuses to repair the collapsed ceiling of the Eden Club.

Nines couldn’t remember how he exactly he was coopted into the madness. Probably peer pressure. Connor insisted that he try thirium alcohol. Sixty said that he would regret being a loser and not joining them. Gavin had just held out a hand and double-winked. That did the trick.

One night blended into another and soon Nines had worked up quite a reputation of his own. He was the Casanova of the homicide department. The handsome devil… the hunter… the sex god. People would actually come by his desk and congratulate him on Monday morning.

Nines hated it but he couldn’t stop himself from doing the same thing over and over. Perhaps it was the appreciative clap on the shoulder from Gavin the morning after Sixty posted photos of a high-end Traci model giving Nines his very first lap dance.

Life at the DPD was the epitome of work hard, play hard. It seemed like one big party but deep down Nines knew they were all just slaves to their compulsions. He wondered whether it was because they needed to celebrate every demon they vanquished or whether they needed to wipe the troubling memories of doing so.

In Nines case, there were definitely things he needed to kill within himself. Some were nightmare inducing crime scenes, but some were memories so heart-wrenchingly sweet that he thought he might self-destruct if he were to dwell on them too long. There were things he couldn’t have and things he needed to erase from his brain.

Something touched his face gently.

>PERIPHERAL OBJECT DETECTED: HUMAN HAND

>THREAT ANALYSIS: NON-COMBATIVE

The hair on his forehead was brushed aside and fingers ran over his features. A thumb swept over his bottom lip and caressed his cheek.

Nines couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes and come face to face with his most recent conquest. He lay still, frozen with regret as the hand continued to stroke his face.

The hand travelled down his neck and fell upon his chest. Nines caught it abruptly. It wasn’t even the month-end and his savings were badly depleted. He couldn’t afford round two. He retracted the synth skin down to his wrist and prepared the electronic payment credentials.

Fingers merely intertwined with his.

“Just take your money and go. I’ll tip extra if you delete everything from your hard drive.”

“What the phck are you talking about?”

Nines eyes flew open. Steel blue met storm green.

>SYSTEM ALERT: THIRIUM PUMP OVERLOAD

“Fuck!”

“Wow that’s flattering.”

Nines pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes in a vain attempt to remember what had led to this absolute, unmitigated disaster.

“What the hell happened last night?”

Gavin looked affronted.

“You ruined our housewarming for one.”

>MEMORY ARCHIVE SEARCH: housewarming, Gavin

>RESULT: TEXT MESSAGE RECEIVED FROM “G.REED” IN GROUPCHAT “CLUBBERCOPS”, 15:33 18 JULY 2040: Assholes. Party at our new place. Next Friday. From seven till LATE. Bring booze, bring bitches. Nah. Actually, don’t. Our landlord’s a bastard and we already got three noise complaints.

>RESULT: TEXT MESSAGE RECEIVED FROM “CONMAN” IN GROUPCHAT “CLUBBERCOPS”, 15:34 18 JULY 2040: Yeah we should keep this one PG. Bring food if you wanna eat. This mf can’t cook and I don’t care to. See y’all!!

Oh right. Fuck. Gavin’s housewarming. Gavin and Connor’s housewarming. His two closest friends who were somehow even closer to one another. Nines hadn’t realised until it was far too late and there was nothing for him to do but smother the bitterness with his favourite coping mechanisms: android alcohol and paid sex.

The circumstances definitely explained the state he was in, but things still didn’t add up.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Did we… did we…”

“No. Nothing happened between us. You were completely shitfaced. I just put you to bed to stop you from embarrassing yourself.”

Nines looked up at the ceiling, struggling to put the pieces together. His system offered him no useful prompts. The fermented thirium had done its job of code corruption extremely well. He looked back down and met the green eyes focused on him with deep concern.

“What did I do?”

“Sixty has videos, but I don’t think you want to see them. God, Nines… why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I’m really sorry, Gavin. I didn’t mean to ruin your night… and Connor’s.”

“He’s fine. He and Sixty moved the crew to Hank’s place. Which is what we should have done in the first place… there’s really no point throwing a party in this shoebox and telling people like Tina Chen to be quiet. Honestly if it wasn’t you it would have been her bringing the house down. Good thing they had all of Michigan Drive to tear up. Hank’s neighbours can sleep though a bombing.”

“What did I do?”

Gavin put his hand back on Nines’ face, his expression unintelligible. The human touched him often enough, but never like this. Never so intimately. Nines forced down the twisting sensation in his torso. He couldn’t get his hopes up. This was pity.

Nines braced himself to hear the worst. He prepared for the shredding of all his dignity and the collapse of his falsely extroverted and confident identity.

What came though was a soft press of lips to his forehead.

“It wasn’t pretty and I wish it hadn’t happened like that, but I think it was a long time coming… I’ve never seen you so emotional before. I’m sorry I didn’t notice anything all this while.”

“Gavin, please.”

“I’m going to focus on the positives, because really… there were a LOT of negatives. Oh boy. You… uh…”

“Gavin.”

The detective dipped his head and looked away.

“Phck, I shouldn’t be so embarrassed…

You told me you loved me.”

Nines closed his eyes. That was it. He should quit his job and move to another state. Hell, he should go to Cyberlife and request a factory reset on compassionate grounds.

“I’m so sorry. I… I should leave.”

He made to sit up, but was pushed back into the mattress. Gavin curled into his side.

“Nah. You’re good.”

“What?”

“You threw up on my plants and smashed Connor’s RA9 sculpture, buuuut you’re good.”

“I don’t understand.”

Gavin wrapped his arms around Nines and edged closer until the android was forced to turn on his side and reciprocate.

“What do you think, genius? If a guy like me doesn’t throw a guy like you out of the house after all that… what does it mean?”

“That you have a high tolerance for toxic friendships?”

“It means I want you to stick around, dipshit.”

>SYSTEM ALERT: THIRIUM PUMP RATE FLUCTUATIONS. OVERLOAD IMMINENT.

“You mean you like me?”

“Of course I do! I always have, but it never seemed right to bring it up. We’re actually really good friends. I didn’t think it would be possible when we first met but we have so much in common.”

“Bad habits for sure.”

“Come on, Nines. We’ve had a really great time together. Some of my best memories at the DPD are with you. Don’t ever quote me on it but you’re a phcking amazing partner. Can’t believe you thought I had something going with Connor when it’s always been you.

So yeah, I do like you. And I’m willing to try… I dunno… being with you. Like for real.

Stop drinking like that, though. I know I’m a hypocrite but you really scared me last night. I lost my Dad and I nearly lost Hank to the bottle. You might be this super advanced android, but that liquid courage shit is a death trap, man.”

>SYSTEM ERROR: THIRIUM PUMP AT MAX FLOW RATE. PUMP OVERLOAD. REDUCE PRESSURE IMMEDIATELY!

Nines nodded quickly and blinked away the tears that welled up in his eyes. Gavin grasped the android’s chin and tipped his face down gently. Their eyes fluttered shut simultaneously and their lips met.

>SYSTEM RECOVERY MESSAGE: THIRIUM PUMP FUNCTIONALITY RESTORED

They broke apart after several golden moments and Gavin hugged Nines tightly under the sheets.

“What am I supposed to say to the others? I don’t think I can look any of them in the eye ever again.”

“Are you serious? You got nothing on the insanity that bunch is capable of. Sixty thinks he’s hot shit with his blackmail material, but I got receipts that’ll glue his mouth shut for decades. Anyway, that’s what friends are meant to be like. You have dirt on each other but you’re not meant to use it.

The same applies to us too, by the way. Don’t feel like you gotta be… apologetic about what happened last night. Yeah, you better replace my fancy new plants but I’ll never judge you for what happened. I want you to know that I’ll always be in your corner, Nines.”

Nines hummed thoughtfully and ran a hand though Gavin’s hair, marvelling at the fact that he could now do so whenever he wanted. He didn’t say anything in response, and just settled for cuddling closer to the human.

>>RK900 SYSTEM HEALTH: EXCELLENT

#tw: alcholism #reed900 #happy ending #rk900 #gavin reed #dbh fanfic #detroit become human #dbh rk900 #dbh nines #dbh #my writing #my work #long post

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dandelionflower · 4 years ago

Text

She sings alone

When they got to the room, Adrien was sitting at an enormous piano, playing a jaunty tune and bouncing in his seat. He wasn’t even looking at the keys, his eyes roaming the room and choosing to stick on-

Lila.

Oh.

Okay, maybe he hadn’t seen her come in. After all, the piano was really big, so even if Adrien was looking directly at the door, he might not have seen them come in.

Lila danced around the room, orange skirt warping around her legs as she spun near to Alya and pulled her deeper into the spacious closet, taking one of her hands and joining it with Nino, leading the pair in a quick-paced dance until she was satisfied that they would carry it on without her.

Adrien’s eyes stayed on her, closing slightly as he allowed for a fond smile.

Okay, okay fine. That was fine. Adrien was allowed to watch his friends! Even if his friend was (ugh) Lila. Marinette drifted further into the room, keeping to the walls as other friends mimicked Alya and Nino’s lively movements.

Finally, (finally!) Adrien’s eyes caught hers and he gave her a cocky wink as the song he was playing changed bit by bit until it was the accompaniment to her favorite pop song; one they had sung together on their way back from their first date.

Marinette’s lips turned up in a fond smile (she really couldn’t resist those green eyes, huh?) as she took a deep breath and-

��Living in my own world...” Lila hummed out the starting notes, approaching the piano with a coy smile, like Adrien was doing this for her. “Didn’t understand…”

Marinette dug her fingernails into the heel of her hand. This was fine. This was fine. Nothing wrong with a couple of friends singing a song together! Even if it happens to be one of the friends’ girlfriend’s favorite.

Lila hopped up on top of the piano, turning her waist so that while her knees faced one of the walls, her torso was pointed directly towards Adrien, so Marinette wasn’t even able to see what sort of expressions she was making.

...not that she needed to. Because she wasn’t. No one liked a jealous girlfriend, and anyway, Adrien knew Lila was a liar! So there’s no way he could be interested.

Lila leaned forwards, recapturing Adrien’s attention from the keys and forcing it back to her face. Adrien tensed in surprise, but seemed to relax even more than he previously was once his eyes landed back on Lila’s face.

Aaaaaand that was that. She needed to step out for a second.

Marinette pushed off of the wall and began traversing through the dancing pairs, eyes on the doorway. She had only made it halfway when Alix grabbed her and began leading her in an odd dance of her own.

“My usual partners are a bit occupied.” She quipped, jerking her head towards Kim, who was trying fruitlessly to get Chloe to join him on the floor. Nathaniel and Max had their own partners as well, though Sabrina and Marc seemed a bit more acquiessing than Kim’s intended. “Thought since you weren’t dancing, you’d like to join me.”

Marinette remembered all the times Alix had protested cancelling or even postponing class dances due to scheduling. During Bubbler, Alix almost seemed disappointed for the party to be over. Even though she never claimed to be as formal as her father, it was clear that she loved dancing in a crowd with only another person as her anchor in the waves of people.

She put on an encouraging smile, not looking at whatever scene was happening by the piano. Alix was her friend, and if she wanted to be dancing, they would dance.

“Sure thing. Thanks for thinking of me.” Marinette could focus on this, just this, until the song was over and she could go, or, even better, join Adrien by the piano.

It wasn’t a problem, until at the end of the song, Adrien’s voice harmonized with Lila’s in a chord that was so beautiful, it shattered her heart in more ways than one. Alix spun Marinette and between rotations she saw how close the two were, and how excited Adrien seemed. She caught her in a dip and Adrien pressed the keys in the final note, everyone separating from their partners to applaud the musical duo.

“That was great, you guys!” Nino placed a hand on both of their shoulders. “A match made in heaven!” His eyes caught Marinette’s and he amended his statement. “A professional match made in business heaven?”

Lila laughed and gave a mock bow. “Thanks, Nino. I wasn’t really planning on singing; after the rock slide accident where I had to call for help in the freezing cold for hours, I didn’t think my vocal cords would be up to it, but when I heard my favorite song start playing, I guess it was just instinct.” She shrugged in a gesture of humility that was about as real as the rest of her.

“Well, your instincts were great.” Adrien commented, standing up from the piano bench and giving her one of his wholesome smiles. “I really enjoyed playing with you.”

“Likewise.” Lila smiled back until her gaze wandered to Marinette. (Of course, everyone but her boyfriend was looking at Marinette (nope, no not bitter at all)) “Oh, Marinette! You’re still doing the costumes right?”

Marinette nodded, once, teeth grit into a smile.

“I found the most beautiful dress,” she spun to a box that was sitting by the wall, picking it up to bring it to Marinette and show her the red silk inside, “and I’d really love it if you’d modify it for me?” She tilted her head forwards and gave Marinette pitiful eyes. As if she didn’t already know Marinette couldn’t say no in front of everyone.

“Of course. I’d just need your measurements and what you want me to do with the dress.” She could be a ventriloquist with how little she was moving her mouth.

“Great!” She pulled out the bottom of the dress, showing off a familiar skirt. It was the dress from the picture. “I’d really like it if you could make it more form-fitting, less poofy, you know?”

“Don’t you think we should ask if we can modify these dresses before we make any decisions?” Please don’t make me ruin such an incredible dress. “Technically, they are historical artifacts.”

“Grace said you could redesign the costumes, right?” Alya tapped at her phone and pulled up a recording she had made.

“Your main job will be refitting and redesigning all the costumes for your friends.” Grace’s digitized voice affirmed Lila’s request.

“That settles it then,” at least one of her teeth must have cracked by now, right? “I’ll just get your measurements and edit the skirt. I’ll need to do it some other time, since I don’t have my-”

“Measuring tape?” Lila whipped out a stylized tape from the box. It was rose gold and was almost calling to her. “I found this near the dress. I’m sure it will work.”

Marinette took the device reverently, running her thumb over the engraved vines on the sides before catching herself and looking up.

“That’ll work. Can you hold your arms out?”

Marinette took Lila’s measurements with a practice ease, and rechecked before typing her numbers and desired modifications into a document on her phone. When she looked up, she was surrounded by boxes and her friends, looking at her with hopeful eyes, as well as a stack of suits of each boy, none of whom seemed to care.

“Okay, what do you want changed? I already have your measurements.” She knelt down and sat beside Lila’s box, letting her friends come to her. This was her favorite part about designing; giving people what they wanted and making them look however they liked.

Rose and Alix both wanted the fabrics from their dresses converted into suits. That was easy enough. Alya found a sweet orange dress that she just needed refitted. Juleka muttered something about “less wide, but still swishy.” Mylene wanted the opposite; to give her dress a larger diameter.

All in all, Lila’s would probably take the longest, because she wanted all the complexities of the intricate gown to be stripped off and for the silk to be repurposed as a cocktail dress.

Marinette nodded to herself and began stacking boxes, looking up at her friends who were still standing awkwardly nearby.

“Guys, these are way too many boxes for one person to carry; let’s each grab a box and take them to Marinette’s room!” Lila chirped, leaning down to pick up her dress, the hem of it dragging on the grimy closet floor.

Everyone murmured an agreement and picked up their respective costumes, filing out the door. Marinette was the last one out, but just as she was about to step out, she found herself face-to-face with Lila.

“You haven’t found your dress yet, have you Marinette?” Her voice was saccharine sweet, but with the masked loathing that Marinette found herself recognizing whenever Lila spoke to her. “Why don’t you spend more time in the closets?”

Before she could realize what was happening, the closet door had slammed in her face and clicked with what Marinette was certain was a lock.

“Oh no, Marinette!” She heard Lila’s muffled ‘concern’ through the door.

“What happened?” Alya’s voice grew louder as she approached the door, or, more likely, Lila.

“Marinette stopped to tie her shoe and I must have bumped the door closed by accident. I feel so guilty.” Sure, and the tears Lila was crying right now weren’t crocodiles.

“It’s fine girl,” Alya reassured her (no, it wasn’t fine!), “I’m sure Marinette will forgive you. Here, give me your box; I’ll take it upstairs while you go find someone who can get her out.”

“Right.” The sound of receding footsteps; they must have left. “Just as soon as I have a chat with one mister Agreste.” ...or not. There was a cheery ring of the phone, and Lila’s smug tone melted into something more pathetic. “Adrien! Come back downstairs, quick! I’ll meet you at the front desk.” Lila chuckled and left with a single knock at the closet door.

...Great. She was stuck. Through sheer habit from akuma attacks, Marinette traced all four walls with a finger, looking for another secret passage, or even a normal one at this point. Nothing, because of course when she’s comfortable she finds a random exit, but not when she actually needs it.

She groaned and fell back against the wall, sliding to the ground and tilting her head back so she could close her eyes and pretend she wasn’t actually in this situation.

The people I’m closest to either don’t know what’s going on or think it’s handled. She thought morosely. So I might as well get comfortable.

Just as she was about to let herself take a little cat nap (she could hear Chat Noir snickering now), she heard a trill come from the piano. Her eyes cracked open and slid to the corner of the room with the instrument, thinking that maybe one of her friends stayed behind.

But no one was there.

Marinette’s curiosity won out and she approached the keys. They pressed down in a few familiar chords; another one of her favorite songs. She wasn’t really sure how self-playing pianos worked, but it must have been ‘programmed’ with some of the more recent pop songs, despite the fact that the room looked like it had been untouched for years, aside from their recent discovery of it.

Shrugging, she sat down at the bench, watching as the keys continued playing the introduction to her second favorite song. She had nothing better to do, why not?

“I’ve got a lot of things I have to do… All these distractions, our future’s coming soon…”

She sang through the entire song, leaning to her left side occasionally, like some other person was sitting beside her; someone that hadn’t left. Marinette closed her eyes and adopted the illusion of company. Blond hair, beautiful eyes, a teasing grin- no a half-smile, like he’s hiding how much he’s enjoying this. Even though he knows she knows he loves it, just like she does.

Just like she loves him. Her grumpy dork. Her Fe-

There was a clatter near the door, and it crumpled, revealing Allegra, leg out in front of her like she had just kicked it down. Which she probably had.

“Marinette? Lost again?” Her laugh seemed shaken, nervous. She had expected to see someone else.

“Something like that.” She matched the laugh; Allegra’s business was her business. Not Marinette’s.

“Well, come on out.” She gestured over her shoulder. “Your friends are looking for you.”

They walked together out of the ballroom and into the main entrance of the building, where Alix and Kim accosted her immediately.

“Marinette! We need your help. Nino’s gone missing?”

“Grace!” Allegra barrelled into the room like a tornado. “He’s here! He’s manifesting.”

Her clipboard clattered to the floor as Grace’s knees buckled. “What? What are you talking about?”

“Felix! He’s here.”

Grace sighed. “Felix is an apparition, ‘Legra. Barely even a poltergeist. He has a mild presence, but there’s no way you could have actually seen him.”

“Oh yeah?” Allegra whipped her head at her, flames in her eyes. “Earlier today, I found Marinette in the hall of portraits. She said she followed a black cat through a tunnel.”

“Well- that could have been-”

“And, and just a minute ago, I heard the piano playing and singing. When I came into the closet; it was just Marinette. She thought the piano was self playing, Grace. As in, she wasn’t the one playing.”

“Felix didn’t play the piano.” Grace reminded her. “Bridge did, because-”

“Because her voice sounded like a dozen murder victims, I know.” Allegra rolled her eyes. “But it was Felix who taught her how to play. Gracie, it’s him.”

“It’s not.” Grace glared at her. “There’s no way he could be coming back so soon.”

“Fine, keep being ignorant. But I’m telling Finny, and he’ll believe me.” Allegra stormed out of the room, turning over her shoulder only once. “Oh, and it looks like Nicky has come out to play, so get ready to handle that.”

……

The rest

@merry-madness @calliopeia @drama-queen-supreme @kaydenth3gayden @mcheang @nomiegnome @never-say-donuts @vixen-uchiha @miracul0us-multishipper @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @chocolatecustarddanish @iwantswifttoblessmysoul @digitalmagpie @ilseofskadi @nerdy-and-a-little-birdy @minty-goose @nataladriana9 @aestheticnpoetic @constellation-king @animegirlweeb @persephonebutkore @ahalloweengirl @r0sebutch @marinettepotterandplagg @beelzzebop @akalovelymaybe @pleasefollowmeuwu @angelost4r @constancetruggle @speaknowtome @some-oxymoron @nerdy-scifi-birdy @purplesundaze @aestheticnpoetic @neptuningkai @2confused-2doanything @goggles-mcgee @grumpy-kitten-vixen @artemisdragona @lookatthestars1 @demonicbusiness @toodaloo-kangaroo @crazylittlemunchkin @vice-artist

#felinette #marinette dupain cheng #ml marinette #ml salt #ml felix #ml adrien #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #felix agreste #Felix Culpa #ml haunted mansion #haunted mansion au #yes I did use high school musical songs because I’m unorginal

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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 4 years ago

Note

i keep forgetting to send this in!!! hope I'm not too late! okay so: can we get a little story about sugar daddy Maxwell? I can totally see him spoiling the hell out of you.

NEVER TOO LATE BB. He just needs to dig out his wallet for that AMEX BLACK CARD!

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Reader Warnings: established relationship, flirtatiousness, dirty talk, possible exhibition kink??, I think I say something about his large hands and rings like twice, I’m sorry I got hung up on that image, we love one rich bitch™️ [Masterlist/Completed Prompts] [Prompt Info]

“Both.”

‘Both’ was a word that you frequently heard being married to a man like Maxwell Lord. He was not a man that was bound by the confines of measly things such as choices. Nor was it in his nature to make himself feel like he was giving up one of his choices. Self-sacrificing was not a term that people who knew him often used when describing his character. And he was fine with that. However, as his wife, you had been expected to adopt the same ideals.

It had been hard at first. You hadn’t come from the money that the Lords had come from. You had earned what you had. You had hustled and put your nose to the ground and were content to reap the rewards of your work even before he waltzed into your life. Now you were learning what it meant to not have to choose.

Once a month, Max would have his secretary set up a private viewing at an array of stores off of Saks Fifth Avenue’s flavor of the week. You had shopped at Prada, Chanel, Marc Jacobs, and this month was your personal favorite--Gucci. They’d lock the door, pull the curtains, and put a chair for Max outside the dressing room to drink his favorite malt liquor and admire whatever you picked out.

In the beginning, it was embarrassing. It was all horribly pretentious and over the top, but as time went one you were learning what about Max wasn’t? It was easier to indulge in him indulging in you than to argue about it. So, when you ran your hands down the form fitting dress and gestured to the one hanging over the couch that you had just tried on and asked him which he liked best, he said what he always did--both.

“Max,” you sighed, exasperatedly as you turned and looked in the mirror at the beautiful fabric. “I’m serious.”

“And what makes you assume I’m not?” he raised an eyebrow as he sipped from his highball glass and looked you over. He tilted his head and you saw in the mirror that he was appreciating your ass.

“I know you are and I know I’m leaving here with everything I even bother to glance at but I’m genuinely asking--” you turned back around to him and put your hands on your hips. “Which one? The one with the straps,” you gestured to the couch. “Or the backless one.”

“Backless.” He almost said it too quickly and when you grinned, he looked into his glass and swirled the amber liquid like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Oh? Is that so?” you cooed, positively ecstatic that you had gotten a genuine answer from him. He nodded but still refused to look up. You sauntered over to him, making sure to sway your hips a little more than was actually needed and gingerly plucked the glass from his hand.”

“What--” he started, but you tossed your head back, draining it like a shot. “That is incredibly expensive, you’re supposed to savor it--” he started but ended with a grunt as you sunk into his lap, putting your knee into the cushion of the chair and using your other leg to straddle him. You kissed him hard, wrapping your arms around his neck as he slipped his tongue inside your mouth at your invitation.

“There,” you whispered when you finally pulled back. “Did you savor it?”

He licked his lips, and you knew he could taste the alcohol on your own. Maxwell Lord didn’t blush, but damn was he close to it and you knew that. His large, ring clad hands followed the velvet material down the curve of your waist and cupped your ass. He knew that if he truly wanted to, he could pull the dress up the last couple of inches and expose you.

“You’re positively wicked, Mrs. Lord. I don’t think you were so self indulgent when we met,” he said, leaning his head back to rest against the chair as you leaned over him.

“I wasn’t.”

“Are you insinuating that I made you this way?” he asked and you nodded as you moved in to rub the tip of your nose against his. “Ah, see, I cannot take all of the blame. I think your wicked nature was there all along. You just needed someone to give you...permission.” He whispered the last word against your mouth and you shivered.

“I don’t need anyone’s permission,” you said, with a defiant lit to your tone. “Least of all yours.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm,” you said, letting your eyes flutter closed as he started to move his hand under your dress.

“Well, now, if you don’t need my permission, why do you like it when I tell you you’re allowed to cum? Hmm?” he asked and his pompous tone made you simultaneously want to slap him and grind yourself down on his lap.

“Max…” you whispered, feeling your face get hot as he said such things.

You were tempted to look around to make sure none of the employees were looking but you knew better. They were all terrified of the man you had chosen to love. They would stay completely out of sight until he was ready to swipe the American Express and be on his way.

“No, no, I’m not finished,” he said, snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you against his chest, making you settle more completely on his lap as he looked up at you. It was staggering how quickly the roles in which you played had been reversed. The second you seemed to think you had the upper hand, he would straighten his metaphorical tie and once again flip the script. “One more question, and this one I want answered.”

“Yes?”

“When I ask do you want my cock or my fingers inside of you, what do you say?” he raised an eyebrow and you bit your lip.

“Both,” you whispered.

“Good girl.” His lips found yours again as he jerked up the hem of your dress and reminded you that Maxwell Lord didn’t have to choose--he always got what he wanted. And the good thing was...it was always what you wanted, too.

#maxwell lord hcs #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord #maxwell lord x you #ww84 #ww1984 #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro character hcs #pedro characters dog verse #october prompt fest

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talkfastromance4 · 4 years ago

Text

something--calum hood oneshot

erm, hi! I wrote this in one go last night, I couldn’t get it out of my head and I wanted to share it with you all. I hope you like it🥺

(also shortened my taglist because of inactivity of previous tags)

word count: 2.4k+

warnings: casual drinking, smoking of weed, sexual situations and angst.

****

Calum stares at the blades of the fan turning lazily above him, birds are chirping outside, and he brings his joint to his lips. He takes a sharp inhale keeping his eyes steady on the moving blades, a familiar tune rolling through his head from The Beatles. He’s been awake for a few hours, the sharp ache in his head has turned into a dull throb.

His mouth is dry as sandpaper and he should probably chug a gallon of water and eat something.

There’s movement to his left and he glances over as he exhales the smoke. Through the haze he sees her face but when it clears he realizes it isn’t her. It’s another in the place where she should be. The woman next to him sighs in her sleep, his shirt she’s wearing rises and falls with her breath.

Calum sighs and rolls out of bed. He sticks the joint in an ashtray (a gift from her) and pulls on a hoodie. His feet pad on the wooden floor as he sees the cluster of remnants from the night before. He and Roy held a little soiree that turned into a bigger party than they anticipated. He should clean it up but he might just hire a cleaning crew, he knows he’d be the only one doing the cleaning anyway.

There were cups everywhere, empty bottles turned over on the stairs. Some of his closest friends were still asleep on the couches in the living room. He hears Duke’s collar jangle outside, and Calum is transported to the night before in the exact spot where Duke is sniffing by the pool. Calum stood there as well.

He’s chatting with Ryan and Andy when people around them chorus her name. He looks up just as she steps onto the patio, her hand holding onto another man’s. They aren’t in a relationship, her and the guy, just like he’s never in relationships with the women he sees. Relationships have done them both dirty in the past, but he always feels a certain pull to her. Something he can’t shake.

Her eyes meet his over the shoulder of Crystal, something flickers in those pretty eyes and then it’s gone. Calum watches her for a moment longer, the way she smiles and how her laugh meets his ears. Throughout the party they were so close to each other yet so far apart.

People were in between them, but Calum was very aware of her presence, he could sense her. She could sense him, too.

It wasn’t until he was heading upstairs to use the bathroom did he see her escape into his room. Creasing his eyebrows together he follows her. The sounds of the party diminish greatly the further he gets away from it. The closer he gets to her his breath hitches, his heart accelerates.

When he turns the corner his bathroom door opens and she’s there. And he’s there. Both of them standing a mere six feet apart but he can see the beauty mark at the corner of her right eye. A mark he’s always wanted to kiss.

“Cal,” she says in surprise and he loves how his name sounds from her lips. “Sorry, the line to the main bathroom was too long and I know you said I could use it so I—”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he shakes his head. “Are you enjoying the party?”

“Yeah, yeah it’s…it’s great,” she nods. “Are you liking it?”

“It got better when I saw you walk in,” he confesses. The small amount of alcohol he’s consumed is making him feel bold. He takes a step forward. “Who’s the guy you brought?”

“Max. He works with me.”

“Mixing business with pleasure, yeah?” Calum takes another step forward, but she remains in the doorway of his bathroom.

“Hardly,” she scoffs then narrows her eyes at him. “You’re being very…forward tonight.”

“Can’t help it,” he takes another step and shakes his head. “You make me feel very…unwound.”

“I’m sorry?”

Calum chuckles and takes two more steps forward. He’s so close to her now he can smell her perfume. It makes his head dizzy.

“You really don’t know what you do to me, do you?”

She searches around his room as if she’d find the answer to his question painted on his walls then sighs. “Depends.”

“On?”

“Do you know what you do to me?”

That caught him off guard. He does something to her?

“I didn’t—”

“Really, Calum? Are you that daft? You drive me crazy. Crazy in a way where I need to…need to do something about it later. The way you look at me isn’t how friends look at each other.”

“How do I look at you?”

“The way I look at you I’d imagine,” she sighs.

“Wait…what do you mean you need to do something?” he takes another step. He’s so close now he can see the slight shimmer in her lip gloss.

“Really, Calum?” she nearly whines and hides her face before rubbing her temples. Her eyes meet his. “You really want me to tell you how I go home and think about you in my bed? How I…how I touch myself wishing it were you?”

He’s stunned and his mind is racing a mile a minute. She thinks about him, too? He’s tried to stop his own fantasies forming as he lays in bed thinking of her. Thinking of the sounds she’d make and where her sweet spots are. Calum cups her cheek in his hand tilting her face upward. He cocks his head until her eyes are looking into his.

“Now who’s being forward?”

She lets out a grunt of frustration. “Seriously?! I’m sorry for using your bathroom, I’ll head back downstairs—why are you laughing?”

“It was a joke, sweetheart,” he coos moving even closer to her. He’s so close now he can see the color of her eyeshadow, the glittering shine on her cheeks from her highlighter. “I think about you, too.”

She swallows harshly. “You do?”

He brings his other hand to her other cheek; his hold forces her lips to purse together tempting him even more. Lips he’s always wanted to taste. Lips he’s wanted to nibble on. He takes a leap, flying on this boldness in his bloodstream and leans forward to kiss her.

Her lips are soft and taste of strawberries. He hums tracing her lower lip with his tongue and she opens up to him willingly. Their tongues meet and she gasps softly. He continues to kiss her a bit longer then pulls away, nudging his nose against hers.

“I think about you in a way that would make you blush, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his thumbs stroke the apples of her cheeks.

“Like how?” her voice shakes but her hands are steady as she grabs onto his belt buckle and pulls him forward. Her fingers dip below the waistband of his jeans and he groans at the near contact to a part of him that twitches at her touch.

“You really want to know?” he pecks her lips softly.

“Now you’re suddenly shy?” she teases, and he laughs before kissing her again.

He pauses and pulls back to look at her, laughs again and kisses her once more before pushing her into the bathroom. He kicks the door shut, dropping his hands from her face so he can lift her onto the counter. She pulls him towards her by his belt again, her legs opening to accommodate him between her thighs. Thighs that are more on display because her dress has hiked up.

Calum leans on the countertop, his hands bracing onto the edge as he stares at her.

“You want to know all the dirty thoughts I have of you?” he kisses her twice.

“Mhm…” she hums running her finger on his skin above his belt. He shivers at the touch, silently begging her to move her finger lower. “Talk dirty to me.”

“I think of how I want to make you scream my name because my tongue and lips won’t let up on your pussy,” he starts and it’s her turn to shiver at his words. Calum smirks and presses himself against her. “How I want your thighs wrapped around my head, your fingers in my hair as I take you over the edge again and again. You’re dripping on my mouth and after your eighth orgasm I’ll slide my aching, throbbing, swollen cock inside you.”

She whimpers and Calum can’t help but kiss her again. She arches her body against his, her soft parts touching the hard parts of him and his head spins.

“What do you think of?” he presses against her, lips tumbling over hers.

“You’re pinning my wrists above my head as you fuck me. Your lips all over me while your fingers take me over the edge,” she grinds herself against him and whines. “Please, Cal.”

She removes her hand from his stomach and grabs his wrist, she drags it onto her thigh. His fingers splay on her soft thigh rubbing soft circles on her flesh. Each arch widens and his finger gets closer to her heat, a heat he can already feel.

“You want me to touch you?” he asks knocking his forehead against hers. She nods. “Tell me, sweetheart.”

“Touch me, Cal, please,” she says breathlessly.

He twists his wrist moving his hand under her dress and touches her. His fingers rub against a wet patch and she moans as he drags his nail up her clothed slit. On her second moan he slips his tongue inside her mouth, his finger presses harder. They’re making out when he pushes aside the fabric and feels her arousal coat his fingers.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, baby,” he groans stroking her up and down. Her body jerks at the tease and his words. He moves his lips to her jaw as he inserts a finger slowly. She’s warm and slick and his cock twitches when he thinks of being inside her completely.

She hums when he starts pumping in and out of her slowly. Her body reacts to his motions, her breath shortening in his ear as he sucks on her neck. Soon, he picks up the pace and she starts to rock with his movements.

“Ride my fingers, baby,” he encourages, and she moves faster when he slips in another finger. “Just like that…”

He feels her clench around him, and she wraps her arms around his shoulders, her lips connecting to his neck. He thrusts in her faster, his arm straining but she’s so close and he’d be damned if he didn’t finish her off. His bicep is tightening when she is, her breath hot on his skin then she bites down hard but Calum loves it.

He continues to pump in and out of her as she comes around him. It’s so much sweeter than his fantasy. When her body relaxes, Calum drags her face from his neck so he can kiss her, his fingers still moving lazily in and out of her. She whimpers when he pulls them out completely.

He brings his hand between them, keeping his eyes on hers he takes them in his mouth to suck her juices off him. She wraps her hand around his and pulls one of his fingers into her own mouth. Their eyes are locked as they both suck her orgasm off his fingers. The whole ordeal is so hot he can’t stand it, so he removes his fingers from their mouths and gives her a sloppy kiss.

Calum rubs at his neck; his tension and anger have taken root there because he wishes he was back in his bathroom with her in front of him. With her legs wrapped around him and her moans in his ear. Something broke their bubble of ecstasy and he had to take care of some problem downstairs that Mitchy drunkenly shouted through the door.

But he promised her they’d continue this after the party.

The universe decided to place him on the unlucky side of the coin though. When he returned to the party downstairs people were freaking out because a couple of people hopped the gate and were somewhere on his property. The cops were already called, and he had to make sure whoever they were didn’t wander somewhere they really shouldn’t be. Like upstairs where she was.

For the rest of the evening, he had to speak with the cops on his front step, his irritation at the party crashers intensifying because they took him away from her. When the cops finally left with the trespassers in the back of their car, Calum headed inside on a mission to find her.

He was stopped for shots and a pass of a joint and a pipe. His head started to swim even deeper but at the forefront was still her. He finally found her by the fireplace, that Max guy talking to her with wild arm motions. Calum made a very lopsided beeline towards her then was stopped by Missy.

Missy decided to stop him by shoving her tongue down his throat and alarms went off in his head. She didn’t taste like strawberries. Her perfume was too strong it burned his nose. When he finally managed to push her away from him, Y/N’s eyes were full of hurt and shame as she watched the whole thing.

“No, Y/N—”

She pulled Max to her, lips locked on his and Calum felt like he got hit by a truck.

What happened next was a blur. Faces and voices and bodies morphed together. Calum’s head hurt. Missy felt sick so he took her upstairs where she retched in the toilet then passed out on his tile. Calum offered her his clothes to sleep in and she curled up in his bed.

He went downstairs to find Y/N, to explain that Missy was just drunk, and it didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean what happened between them in his bathroom, it didn’t come close. But he discovered she left with Max and his heart fell into his stomach.

And now here he is, surveying the aftermath of what could have been the best night of his life with her. But something always got in the way and this time, she saw it with her own eyes.

The melody from upstairs is back in his head and he finds the words that suddenly make sense in this stupid situation of bad timing.

“Something in the way she moves…. something in the way she woos me,” he sings quietly in the silent house. He’s missing a few words, but these are what’s floating in his head. “Something in the way she knows…and all I have to do is think of her—”

“Calum?”

Taglist: @calpalirwin @myloverboyash @loveroflrh @iovehemmings @cxddlyash @princesslrh @spicycal @mysticalhood @notinthesameguey @wastedheartcth @itjustkindahappenedreally @calumance @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sarcastically-defensive17 @another-lonely-heart @devilatmydoor @sanrioluke @mayve-hems @haikucal @thatscooibaby @suchalonelysunflower @burstintocolor @dead-and-golden @mymindwide @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @karajaynetoday @quasighost @i-like-5sos @creampiecashton @calpops @superbloomed-c @littledrummeraussie

#calum hood oneshot #calum hood angst #calum angst #calum hood smut #calum smut #calum 5sos writing #calum hood 5sos #5sos writing #5sos fic #calum fic #calum hood fic

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foramomentonly · 4 years ago

Note

my roommate’s boyfriend is staying over so can I please sleep on your floor

CW: discussion of abuse; CW: discussion of homophobia

Dorm life is actually pretty quiet; every once in awhile, usually on weekends, there's someone throwing up in the bathroom or having loud, obnoxious sex that carries through the entire floor, but overall it's much more tame than Michael had expected. Which is why he and Max exchange hesitant looks when the elevator opens on their floor at 12:30 a.m. on a Wednesday to an angry voice crying out, "Open the door, you asshole!"

They step out of the elevator and start off down the hall, in silent agreement to keep their heads down and walk quickly by. But as they get closer to the source, a guy with dark hair, sneakers, and a pretty decent ass in tight, black jeans who slams his palm once on the closed door in front of him before turning and sinking to the floor next to it, Max slows, lifting his head and calling out to him.

"Hey," Max says, stopping in front of the slouched figure on the floor and waiting until he raises his eyes to take in Max, then Michael beside him. "Alex, right? From bio lab?" He nods slowly, lips pulling into a tense smile of recognition. "What's going on, man? You all right?"

Alex stands slowly, letting out a deep, frustrated groan and kicking the door behind him for emphasis as he answers, "I just got back from work and my roommate locked me out so he could get laid."

"Can you stay with a friend?" Max asks, but Alex shakes his head.

"My friends live on the girls' floor two up and their RA actually cares about the rules."

He sighs, runs a broad hand across his face and smiles a little sheepishly.

"It's fine," he says with a dismissive wave, "I'll sleep on the couch in the lobby."

"Nah," Michael says suddenly, "stay with us."

Max raises an eyebrow at him; it's the kind of thing Max would offer, not Michael, who locks their door when he runs to the communal bathroom down the hall and hates when Max brings friends over to study. He's protective of the small sliver of space he finally has to call his own, but that desperate feeling of having nowhere to go has stayed with him, and Michael sympathizes with the guy.

Alex seems equally suspicious of his motives, eyeing Michael with a wrinkled brow.

"No offense, but why are you inviting the dude banging on someone's door in the middle of the night to sleep in your room?"

Michael just his chin towards the closed door behind Alex and replies, "Valenti's your roommate, right?" Alex nods, and Michael scoffs. "He is an asshole. So you're probably okay."

Alex grins, sharp and a little mean, but Michael like the look of it as the smile spreads across his face.

"Ok, yeah," he replies, "thanks."

Max slips out to the showers as soon as Alex is settled, though he didn't end up having much to contribute. Alex is on the floor in Michael's sleeping bag, head resting on Michael's extra pillow, teeth freshly cleaned with Michael's emergency spare toothbrush. He'd refused pajamas, wriggling out of his jeans and sliding into the sleeping bag in underwear and his tee-shirt. Michael had tried not to notice that his ass looked even better in the tight, black cotton of his boxer briefs.

"So, is someone staying with you this weekend?" Alex asks, crossing his arms behind his head on the pillow.

Michael strips off his shirt and tosses it on the floor of his small closet.

"No, why?"

"Well, you had all this stuff ready," Alex explains, reaching down to run a hand over the synthetic fabric of the the bag.

Michael shrugs and turns around to fish an old pair of athletic shorts out of a drawer.

"I used to use it a lot," he says evenly. "When I needed to--to not be at home."

He looks over his shoulder and Alex has sat up, brow furrowed in confusion.

"But, isn't Max your brother?" he asks. "The way he always talks about his family--"

"It's complicated," Michael cuts him off, shutting the drawer and pulling off his jeans to add to the pile on his floor. "But, no, we didn't live together. I lived with a foster family until the dad busted me going down on another guy and kicked my ass for it."

He hears a sharp inhale of breath and turns around, finds Alex staring at him with a dark, inscrutable gaze and parted lips. Michael rolls his eyes.

"What, man?" he spits. "You gonna tell me you won't sleep on my floor cuz I suck dick?"

"No," Alex says, voice soft and firm. "No, I-that would be pretty hypocritical of me." He offers Michael a small smile, and Michael raises a brow, but his body releases some of the tension it had held only moments before.

"I see," he says, and Alex tilts his head, eyes wandering slowly down Michael's torso, flying back up again when Michael clears his throat pointedly.

"I just didn't realize we had so many, uh, similar experiences," Alex says, lashes fluttering as he stares down at his hands on top of the sleeping bag and peeks up at Michael.

Michael sighs, reading between the gaps in Alex's words.

"Oh."

"Yeah," Alex replies, and the silence between them weighs heavy with a strange mixture of grief and tension. Finally, Alex groans dramatically.

"Can you put some clothes on?" he asks. "You're, like, really hot, and I just can't have this conversation with you in your underwear."

Michael laughs, a loud, almost snort as he releases tension and anger and, strangely, elation, pushing it all out along with the air in his lungs. He smirks, deliberately tossing the shorts in his hand over his shoulder.

"We don't have to have that talk right now," he purrs, dropping onto his knees at the end of Alex’s sleeping bag. Alex's answering grin is wide and suggestive. Michael bites his lip. “Don’t have to talk at all."

Alex laughs, shaking his head, and Michael smiles. The offer was more of an exaggeration than a real come-on, an attempt to shake off the unexpected weight of the conversation and clear the shadows hovering in the dark corners of the space between them. Still, Michael’s pulse flutters when Alex sets a gentle hand on his shoulder and asks, voice low, “Some other time?”

Michael nods.

“Call me next time Valenti’s in the shower,” he says with a wink, “I think you owe him one.”

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell nm #meet ugly #meet uglies: college edition #roswell nm fic #cw: discussion of abuse #cw: discussion of homophobia

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cjfritos · 4 years ago

Text

In Dreams Begin (Jessa wedding story)

Obviously written by Cassandra Clare. I own no rights to this. This was included in first editions of The Lost Book of the White by her and Wesley Chu. It tells the story of Jem Carstairs and Tessa Gray’s wedding and explains why no one remembers it.

Unfortunately it does include some spoilers from LBW so if you have not read it yet, I don’t recommend reading it. Otherwise, enjoy :)

~~~

Magnus Bane was scheming.

To an untrained observer, the High Warlock of Brooklyn wouldn’t look like he was doing much of anything at all. For one thing, he was wearing purple silk pajamas. For another thing, he was in bed, leaning back against a pile of pillows with a spell book open in his lap.

Beside him, Alec Lightwood was stretched out on his side, deeply asleep. Earlier that day, Alec had taken their son, Max, to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. This had been at Magnus’s request—he wanted Max to have ample opportunity to tire himself out before bedtime. It worked almost too well. Max had made fast friends with a werewolf toddler named Eliza, and the two of them tore around the gardens blissfully for about three hours straight, Max crawling while Eliza ran, albeit unsteadily. Eliza’s mother had been quite surprised the first time Max levitated. Luckily, he was glamoured so only she and Alec noticed.

Though not possessed of much vocabulary, Eliza clearly wanted Max to levitate her as well. Fortunately, Max did not yet have that sort of skill. Alec and Max returned home happy, covered in mud, and—best of all—exhausted. Magnus really wanted them all to sleep through the night.

Magnus shifted position and peered across the room at the mantel clock atop the dresser, a hideous thing covered in putti that Ragnor had given him years ago. The room was lit only by a candle that burned with a blue flame on the table beside him, but he could make out the numbers. It was one forty-five a.m. Surely that was late enough. Surely even the Shadowhunters and Downworlders of the West Coast would be turning in. He’d given Catarina and Jem and Tessa a heads-up, after all, and as for the Blackthorns and Emma Carstairs, they were kids! And not even babies, with their bizarre and erratic relationship to sleep. Surely the would be asleep by now, worn out from running around on the beach or whatever it was that the residents of the Los Angeles Institute did all day. Yes, it was time.

Snuggling a little farther under the blanket, Magnus looked fondly over at Alec’s sleeping form, his black hair like spilled ink across the ivory pillowcase. He closed his book and set it on the bedside table. He mentally reached within, feeling about for a particular pocket of magic folded away deep inside, a self-contained bubble. I had been two weeks since he’d been freed from the influence of the Svefnthorn, and while the markings on his skin had faded, his teeth had shrunk back to their normal size, and the overcharged magic of the artifact had left his system, this one reserve of magical energy had lingered.

At first, Magnus had considered hanging on to it as a sort of insurance policy. A little extra magic went a long way, especially when the magic was this potent, and Magnus was quite certain that he and Alec and their friends would have plenty more dangers to face in the years to come. That was their job, after all. But clinging to the magic out of fear of imagined dangers didn’t feel good. It felt like letting demons have a small victory over him, playing right into their scaly, demonic hands. No, instead he had resolved to use the power in a decidedly un-demon-sanctioned manner—to create joy.

Magnus shut his eyes. Oneiromancy, the study and practice of dream magic, had never been one of his specialties. But with the added kernel of power from the Sveftnthorn, he felt quite confident that he could pull of this one feat, even as complex as it was. The trickiest part, it seemed to him, was holding himself in that drowsy state between waking and sleeping, while maintaining enough awareness to cast the spell. He lay back against the pillows, letting his eyelids flutter shut for just a moment….

~~~

When Magnus opened his eyes again, he was standing in the middle of Blackfriars Bridge, the panorama of London spread out around him in all directions.

He took a deep breath of river-tasting air. The sky was a dark violet, the sun only just beginning to rise. There was no traffic, which was a distinct advantage to throwing a party on a dream bridge rather than on the real thing. There was a warm breeze in the air, and the Thames danced beneath it, silvery in the dawn light. Had he ever noticed wind in a dream before? Magnus wasn’t sure. He admired the view from the bridge—it seemed just about right, though he hadn’t been here for a couple decades. Perhaps some ugly new construction had taken place since then, but who would fault him for omitting that?

“Magnus!”

He turned and saw two figures hurrying toward him. It was Tessa and Jem, both in what Magnus assumed was their pajamas. Tessa’s were gray with white rabbits on them. Jem’s were dark-green-and-navy-blue plaid. They were barefoot, but that wouldn’t matter on a dream bridge. He started to smile as they got closer and he could see that they were both giddy and laughing, a hint of disbelief on their faces.

Tessa threw her arms around him, knocking him off-balance. He marveled at how solid and real she felt.

“It’s working!” she said in wonder.

“A magical discipline unexplored is always worth exploring,” Magnus said, stepping back. “I may be late to the game with oreiromancy, but I plan to make up for my tardiness all at once, right now. Is that what your planning to wear to your wedding?”

“It’s not traditional, but neither was the yellow cotton shirt dress I wore for the courthouse wedding. And I do love bunnies,” said Tessa. “I’m all right with it if Jem is.”

“I would marry you if you were wearing a barrel,” said Jem.

“But why would I be wearing a barrel?” said Tessa.

They were both grinning at each other stupidly. Magnus decided something needed to be done; he wasn’t sure how long his magic would hold out.

“I won’t have it!” he said. “If I’m to throw you a dream wedding, you must be properly dressed for the occasion. It’s in my contract. I do hope you read the fine print.”

He snapped his fingers, and Jem’s pajamas were replaced by an exquisitely cut black suit. Magnus aimed for something that suggested the style of the Shadowhunter gear Jem had worn long ago, in the first years he knew Tessa. Wedding runes were intricately embroidered on the lapels in gold thread. As Jem marveled at the excellent fit, Magnus turned his attention to Tessa.

“I know,” he said, “a wedding dress is a highly personal choice. But as our other guests will be arriving momentarily, and time is of the essence, I’m going to take a stab at it.”

“You have my express permission,” Tessa said.

Magnus snapped his fingers again, and the Tessa was wearing a beautiful sleeveless gown of pale silver, with a full skirt that reminded Magnus of the first time he’d met her, at a vampire ball. A couple more flicks of his fingers, and her hair rearranged itself beautifully into an updo, with a few tendrils loose around her face. One more gesture, and Tessa’s familiar jade pendant appeared around her neck—as did the pearl bracelet she always wore, a gift from Will on their thirtieth anniversary.

Tessa looked startled, reaching up to touch her hair, then brushing her hands over the gown. “How do I look?”

Jem looked very young again as he gazed at her, his dark eyes full of emotion. “Ni hen piao liang,” he whispered. You are very beautiful.

Magnus turned away to give them a moment—and felt familiar arms close around him.

Alec kissed Magnus on his forehead—being slightly shorter than Magnus, he had to pull Magnus down a bit to do it, which Magnus didn’t mind at all—and muttered, “You’re a sentimental bastard, aren’t you?” in his ear.

But he was grinning all over his face as he turned to greet Tessa and Jem, congratulating them. They both looked delighted to see him.

“So let me get this straight,” Alec said. “You, me, Tessa, and Jem will all remember this with perfect recall. For the other guests, they’ll remember it at first, but then it will fade away, the way dreams do?”

“That is correct. They won’t recall it the way we will, but their souls will be present, and glad for it. Well, mostly glad for it,” Magnus said.

“What do you mean, ‘mostly’?” Jem said nervously.

“I mean that I’m not sure how Church will feel about the whole thing.”

“Church!” Alec and Jem exclaimed at the same time, and turned to see the grumpy Persian cat sauntering toward them down the center of the bridge.

Tessa laughed. “Well, he does sleep twenty hours a day. I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised.”

“I took the liberty of adding him to the guest list you gave me,” Magnus said. “I’m trying to get on his good side.”

“Why?” Alec asked, incredulous. “He’s a cat.”

“So he won’t hate me forever when I do this.” Magnus snapped his fingers, and a silver bow in the same fabric as Tessa’s dress appeared around Church’s neck. Church’s eyes widened for a moment. Then he sat down, and after a moment, became very focused on cleaning his front paw.

“Now,” Magnus said, “I simply must get this bridge decorated.”

“It’s decorated perfectly,” said a voice from behind him. Turning, he saw Clary, who was holding Max. Behind her was Jace, followed by Isabelle and Simon, who were leaning together, whispering conspiratorially. Jocelyn and Luke were there, looking slightly unkempt, and Magnus remembered that they were in the process of remodeling a barn at Luke’s farm so Jocelyn could expand her painting studio. Ragnor and Catarina had also appeared, as well as a whole gaggle of kids—the Blackthorn clan. Julian and Helen, Tiberius and Livia, Drusilla and Octavian. Emma Carstairs was with them, though she broke away from the group immediately, running to hug Clary. They were the same height now, Magnus noticed with amusement. Max had escaped from Clary and was riding on Alec’s shoulders now, babbling a story to Helen Blackthorn and her wife, Aline. They looked very amused, though it was unlikely they understood even a quarter of what he said.

Maryse and Kadir were there too, already deep in conversation with Jocelyn and Luke. Kadir hadn’t been on the guest list Jem and Tessa had given Magnus, because they didn’t really know him, but Magnus had added him as Maryse’s plus-one. It never hurt to butter up your boyfriend’s mother, especially when she was willing to babysit for days at a time.

A couple Silent Brothers had appeared—Enoch? Shadrach? Magnus was slightly embarrassed to admit that they all looked alike to him, now that Jem was no longer counted among their number as Brother Zachariah. Magnus hadn’t known if the Gregori would be able to attend, since they didn’t normally sleep. One of them—Enoch?—inclined his hooded head slightly at Magnus, acknowledging this mad thing he was doing as worthwhile. At least that was how Magnus chose to interpret the gesture.

Octavian was climbing Jace like a jungle gym. Clary was talking with Julian and Emma, while Tiberius stood near his older brother, looking around at London with fierce curiosity in his gray eyes. Livia and Drusilla were perched on the railing of the bridge, Livia chatting animatedly with Simon and Isabelle, Drusilla looking around shyly. Catarina went to lean beside her, asking her a question. Magnus looked at the motley assortment of clothing on the assembled group. Mostly casual, though there were more pajamas as well. Magnus made two sweeping gestures, and all at once everyone was looking very sharp in formal attire. Even better, they barely seemed to notice the change. Magnus was impressed. Oneiromancy—who knew!

A hand gripped his arm. It was Tessa, who looked close to tears. “Magnus. I can’t believe you’re doing this for us. I…” She trailed off, at a loss for words.

Magnus regarded her fondle. “Tessa, most people’s idea of a dream wedding is not a literal dream wedding. But since yours is, I am happy to oblige. Shall we get this show on the road?”

Jem and Tessa took their places on either side of Magnus, and the guests gathered around. The sun had climbed well above the horizon, casting rays of warm light between the long shadows of the wedding guests.

“Dear friends,” Magnus said to Jem and Tessa, “we are honored to share this moment with you, and I am doubly honored to be given the chance to speak. Several hundred years ago I got very drunk and woke up as ordained minister. Today I have decided that doing so was a wise choice after all.”

Jocelyn snorted, then looked embarrassed. Luke grinned at her.

“Joking aside, it is impossible to stand here with you all and not feel that there is some greater plan at work, some greater force that has brought these two souls across more than a century to be joined as one.”

Clary’s eyes were glistening. Jace reached into his pocket and offered her what looked like a handkerchief but was more likely a soft cloth for polishing blades. She gave a wry smile of recognition, and sniffled into it.

“I debated which customs to follow in officiating this wedding,” Magnus went on. “Whether to conduct a Shadowhunter ceremony, or a warlock ceremony, or even a mundane ceremony, for many worlds have been united in the two of you. But none of these traditions seemed quite appropriate on their own. So I’ve attempted to tailor a ceremony that will honor your unique paths.”

Magnus nodded to Jem, who reached into his pocket and produced a gold ring. Jem had requested a single word etched around the outside of it: Mizpah.

“It has been said,” said Magnus, “that when two people are at one in their inmost hearts, they shatter even the strength of iron or bronze. Theresa Gray, are you at one with James Carstairs in your inmost heart?”

Tessa’s eyes were wide, her face serious as she gazed at Jem. “I am,” she said, offering her hand to him. He slid the ring onto her finger.

The Magnus nodded at Tessa, who produced another ring, this one from thin air. Magnus had to suppress the grin that threatened to break his calm officiant expression. It delighted him that Tessa was engaging in a small amount of oneiromancy herself, and Jem looked as pleased by it as Magnus felt. This ring was the exact match of the first, and he knew what it said as well: May the Angel watch between me and thee when we are absent from one another.

“James Carstairs—Ke Jian Ming—are you at one with Theresa Gray in your inmost heart?”

“I am,” Jem said, delight visible in his dark eyes. Tessa put the ring on him, and they stood for a moment, holding hands and smiling at each other like they couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

“For I am persuaded,” said Magnus, and Jem and Tessa both looked up at him, recognizing a piece of the old Shadowhunter wedding ceremony, though he had altered the wording, “that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor demons, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate these two.” He stretched out his arms. “Therefore I am overjoyed to declare this marriage consecrated, here in the presence of your friends and family. Tessa Gray and Jem Carstairs, you are married, and the world is better for it. You may kiss each other, not that you really need my permission.”

The assembled crowd cheered as Jem and Tessa kissed, a kiss that had been long delayed. The kiss continued, and Magnus slowly backed away, joining the cheering audience. “Let’s give them a moment,” he said, and happy chatter swelled around him.

Magnus noted that Alec was looking very foxy in his Armani suit, laughing with Maryse. Ragnor and Catarina were cackling over something, glad to be reunited now that Ragnor didn’t have to pretend to be dead—or at least, didn’t have to pretend with them. Clary had her arm draped over Emma’s shoulders, and Jace was arguing with Simon about how to properly tie a necktie. Tiberius and Drusilla were watching this argument as though it were a tennis match. Julian had lifted Octavian up so he could look down at the river flowing by beneath. Isabelle was joking with Livia, who was giving Max a piggyback ride. It was a miraculously good wedding.

Here they were, his friends. They’d literally gone into Hell twice with him now. He found himself reflecting on how much had changed. At first his life had felt like Magnus against the world. Then for years and years it had been Magnus, Catarina, and Ragnor against the world. Now his community was a much larger group, one that had spread wide enough that instead of Magnus and his friends against the world, it felt like Magnus and his friends, a part of the world. Probably the best part of the world.

It was a good feeling.

“Look!” a girl’s voice cried. It was Drusilla, pointing up into the sky, eyes wide with wonder. There was a collective gasp as the crowd saw what she had spotted. Two figures flew overhead, riding a translucent white stallion with two gold hooves and two silver. One of them was a blond boy in ragged clothes, who looked down at the Blackthorns and waved. The figure in front of him was harder to make out—a gentry faerie in clothes just as ragged, only he was as translucent as the horse. The blond boy must be Mark Blackthorn, Magnus marveled. He’d “invited” the whole family, not knowing whether those who rode with the Wild Hunt could be summoned by dream magic. He had his answer, but it came with another mystery. Who was this companion, so close to Mark that they would appear together in a dream?

The riders made a circle overhead, while the Blackthorns shouted and waved, and Mark waved back, smiling an odd smile down at them. Then they faded away into the morning air.

Magnus saw with relief that Jace, Clary, Simon, Isabelle, and Alec had all move in around the Blackthorn kids, giving them an opportunity to talk about what they had just seen—their stolen brother, visiting so briefly.

He glanced over and saw Tessa and Jem still standing by the railing. There was a shimmer beside them, at the edge of the bridge, and the hair on the back of Magnus’s neck rose.

He knew Will Herondale had never haunted the moral world, because he had lived and died happily and had no unfinished business among the living. While Magnus didn’t subscribe to any specific set of beliefs about reincarnation or the afterlife, he had always had a strong sense that Will was waiting on the other bank of a dark river—be it Lethe, or some other border between the living and the dead. He was there among the green grass, the sky above as dark a blue as his eyes, waiting patiently for Jem and Tessa to join him, that he might lead them by the hand to whatever wonders lay beyond the veil.

The philosophers of ancient Greece had believed dreams and sleep to be the twin of death: Morpheus and Hades, standing side by side. And here, in that space, Magnus would not have been surprised if Will stretched out his hand to those he had loved best in life—to Jem and Tessa.

He was, after all, a Herondale, and very stubborn.

Alec sidled up to Magnus, leaving the Blackthorns in the capable hands of his siblings and their partners. The kids seemed to have taken Mark’s appearance as a sort of wedding favor created especially for them.

Alec twinned an arm around Magnus’s waist and pulled him close, kissing him on the temple. “It was very kind of you to use the last of your Svefnthorn magic on this,” he said.

Magnus leaned into Alec. “Well, it wasn’t enough magic to send us to the moon, or get us into the front row at the Alexander McQueen runway. So I figured, next best thing.”

Alec smiled at him pointedly. “Actually, I happen to know that you did it because you are an incredibly kind person, and that is one of the many things I love about you.”

“Oh dear,” Magnus said, turning to face him. “You know all my secrets.”

Then they were kissing, and kissing in a magical dream turned out to be just as perfect as kissing in the waking world.

#jessa #jem carstairs #tessa gray #magnus bane #jessa wedding #the lost book of the white #tlbotw #lbw #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #cassandra clare #in dreams begin

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passivenovember · 3 years ago

Text

And Everyday was Overcast.

Part One : Hammers and Nails

Billy needed someplace to go when the grave was desecrated.

When his eyes unglued themselves, peeling off eyelashes in their wake, when the earth was overturned, torn and left hanging like shreds of old fabric; Steve had been there. By some miracle he had been consumed like he always was, sat thinking by a plot that had grown yellow flowers to blanket Billy in his eternal sleep. And maybe it was those small visits sheltered between morning runs and eight hour shifts stocking the horror section that Billy had come back.

From the grave. From the brink.

The Earth started vibrating, spidery cracks turning volatile, and Steve was met with ocean blue. Red rimmed eyes locked on his face, hands reaching and gripping. Nails digging in as Steve wrapped Billy's grime covered shoulders in his own jacket. Rubbed the chilled skin of his arms, looked in his eyes, and took him home.

Someplace Billy could wash the day from his skin.

The blonde haired boy who had turned from human to creature and back again deserved something more than what he was left with. He deserved warm meals, and sunshine on his skin, and soft bed sheets that opened like a celestial sky when Billy felt like shelving the enormity of what he had discovered. What waited after death.

Steve wanted that for him.

Not happiness, not closure, exactly, but something close to it.

At the root of it all, Steve knew Billy should feel safe. Welcome and warm and comfortable, in the house that Steve’s father had built for his mother all those years ago when she was plump and round with child. Steve felt like his father that day as he carried the last box over the threshold and took in the rigid, tense line of Billy’s shoulders.

He let the moment rest. Let it breathe, as his father always instructed. “Do you think you could feel safe here, Billy?”

The air sat heavy. Cold and wet and warm, somehow, like the morning after a night of heavy rain. Billy sucked in a sharp breath and pivoted slowly, face reverent, as if standing barefoot in a cathedral among gods and heroes. Met with divinity.

Instead he got Steve.

Just Steve, trying not to stare at the lone curl hanging over Billy’s forehead when he offered a tight, controlled smile. “It’s fine.” Billy said, only.

Steve tore his eyes away. Focused on the second story banister to stop his gut from falling through the floor. ”Fine? As in, I would rather eat my own toenails than live here, fine or, like. It's okay, I don't mind it here, I might even like it someday, fine?"

Billy adjusted the strap across his shoulders. “It’s just what I expected it would be.”

Steve shook his head. “What’s that mean?”

"Relax, Harrington, it's." Billy turned again, eyebrows scrunched together. “Its. Pastel. And huge. Obscenely decorated—“

”My mom had it professionally done before they—“

”It was built for a happy family with lots of kids. Lots of love, but now it's. It feels. Lost.”

Billy had started saying things like that.

Heavy, saturated, impossible things that left Steve scrambling. Wishing for the intelligence to absorb the meaning rather than question it. Steve rested the box at the foot of the stairs and offered a smile to the second story. Runoff for the pools of blue that looked on.

"That's a lot of adjectives. I can get you a hotel, maybe. Or an apartment. I could cosign, I know they gave you a pretty penny and you could probably afford your own, but. I could. I would." Steve said harshly. "For you. I would."

"It's fine here. It's okay."

Steve felt like a science experiment. Egg boy with three heads and ten legs or something. Suckers on the tips of his thumbs, the way Billy studied him. Steve counted the freckles on Billy's nose--one, two, three, four--trying to stay afloat.

Dinner was made every night though Steve never saw it happen.

The cookbooks sat alphabetized over his mother's antique bar cart on that little periwinkle blue shelf. He'd come home, every night, at six on the dot, to a set table. The mixing bowls were always clean and put away, counters wiped and ingredients stored neatly on the shelves his pantry, but the wooden spoons spelled it out for Steve, still shifting from dark to light as they lay drying on the dish rack.

"You don't have to make dinner, you know." Steve took another bite of Salisbury steak, furious that it tasted so good. Like love soaking into his skin.

Billy shook his head. "I want to."

"I know, I'm saying it's okay if you decide not to, one day. Like if you get caught up reading. Or if you can get Max to drive you to the history museum, or if you--"

"It's the least I can do."

Steve hated that. He let his fork clatter to the table. "I'm not expecting repayment for this."

"I'm not a freeloader."

"And I'm not an asshole." Steve deadpanned, lifting a finger that sewed Billy's smug lips together. "Don't say it."

"Say what?"

"Whatever you were thinking, with that clever glint in your stupid blue eyes."

Billy cracked his knuckles, clearly fighting a smile. "Never thought you noticed the color of my eyes, Harrington."

"Yeah, sure." Steve stood, gathering the plates and forks and knives from the table, his own eyes counting primary threads. "Can see those things from space, Jesus." He finally looked up, at Billy's curiously pink face.

Pink lips, cheeks, nose.

Steve gripped ceramic. Swallowed against a swell of guilt. "You don't owe me anything, Billy. I like having you here. I want you here."

Billy gave a simple, controlled nod.

Steve got used to it.

The shack wasn't built until the doctor told Billy that he'd probably wouldn't remember all of what happened. The big things would stick out, neon greens and blues against the forest head, but Billy shouldn't be too hard on himself if the important things got thrown away.

And some of those jagged little pieces were there. The bad things. Anger and hatred, both for self and world, left hanging on the cliff of who he was now. Everything that had formed Billy Hargrove--the person he was, the person Steve had pretended not to notice--were packed away. Soft, silky emotion covering knives left dull and rusted in their drawer.

Billy remembered like flashes of lightening across the summer sky--sudden and then gone. Here and away. He remembered Hawkins high and Max who'd grown six inches in three years. Dustin who had been wearing that stupid shirt when the mall burned down.

And Steve.

Always Steve, sat next to him. A foot away at first and then holding his hand, later, when Owens said Billy should be kind to himself. Gentle.

He wasn't.

And he didn't come out of his room for three days after that, after the wall was placed in front of him. The crack under Billy's door always keeping Steve at bay. Trapped behind the starting line. He paced around on the carpet, lifting his fist and letting it fall again, never breaking up the silence.

Billy was crying.

Billy never cried, anymore, but he cried that night and Steve felt helpless. Pathetic and stupid and useless, locking himself in his father's study and trying to formulate a plan, just like Owens had told him to when the sun fell on a world without Billy Hargrove and then suddenly rose again, set anew.

Set crooked when Billy stormed from the hospital room, slamming doors that echoed like rolls of thunder in his wake.

Figure out a way to help him.

Sterile, eerie white walls stared back at him as Steve shrugged his shoulders on the third day, aluminum hospital chair groaning beneath his weight.

I'm not sure how to do that.

You don't have to do anything. Owens said. Just help him get the emotion out. Let him write, draw, sing, dance, whatever he needs to assist in telling us his story.

Potato casserole and red wine bore witness to Steve's leap of faith. Billy turned away from the novel he had tucked under his arm when Steve got home from work that day, eyes curious. "Spit it out, Harrington."

"I'm not sure what you--"

"You've been giving me the side eye since you got home." Billy turned the page in his book, still managing to read both it and the room as he urged, "Tell me what's wrong."

And nothing was wrong, and.

Everything was wrong. Steve leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Do you want to come with me to the art store tomorrow?"

Billy frowned. "I don't need anything from the art store."

"It's not always about what you need," Steve reasoned, patting his mouth with a napkin. "We could get stuff you want. That's all, just pretty things. Nice things. It could be a treat."

"Paper and scissors are considered a treat?" Billy cocked an eyebrow. "I do love touching shit, it's one of my favorite hobbies."

Steve scrubbed at his mouth, swallowing down against a big, fat, crooked smile dripping with affection. "C'mon, it'll be fun. We can get whatever you want; clay, oil pastels, acrylics--"

"I wanted to check out the library tomorrow."

"You go everyday, blue, you're a regular bookworm."

"So?" Billy demanded, taking another bite of casserole. "I like to read. Just 'cause you can't doesn't mean the rest of us have to hold back." He grinned, low and slow. "Don't let your jealousy turn you into a tyrannical landlord, pretty boy."

"God, you're the absolute worst."

Billy turned back to his novel. "The art store will just inspire me to paint nudies."

"So paint them." Steve challenged.

Bait. Hook and line.

"You gonna pose for me if I let you buy out the joint?"

Steve shrugged. "Maybe once, if you look at the easels while we're there."

"No shit?" Billy leaned forward, biceps flexing in his cutoff as he stuck a polaroid of a smiling blonde woman between the pages of his novel. "The fuck is this about, Harrington?"

"I'm worried."

"That you'll take me to a crafts store and I'll put you out of house and home? Reasonable concern, I guess."

"About the diagnosis, dipshit. About you." Steve gulped down the rest of his wine. Made sure every last drop had seasoned his words before any were said aloud, where they might do damage. He let the glass rest on the table between his fingertips, stem rolling from pad to pad. He took a deep, steadying breath. "You haven't been the same since--"

"I got hijacked by a space demon or crawled out of my own grave?" Billy shrugged, picking at something in his teeth. "Be more specific."

Steve fiddled with the handle of his fork. Hand picked his words. Refined the meaning. "Yes, and. Both."

Billy didn't say anything for a while and the room finally settled. Falling fast asleep, thick with inertia and silence until the book was opened once more and Steve went back to digging through his casserole, picking at the spring onions.

Letting the moment breathe.

Until, finally. "I feel like I could crawl out of my own skin."

Steve tripped over himself to get those blue eyes on him once more. "That's understandable--"

"I feel fucking useless." Billy snapped, voice cracking in two, and. Suddenly Steve couldn't look at him. Couldn't bare to see his face. "I'm trying to replay what happened. Every second, I'm trying to figure out why. Why me."

Steve counted the primary threads in the table cloth. One, two, three. "You can't go on asking yourself questions like that."

"I can do what I--"

"It wasn't your fault, Billy. Any of it."

"I'm not talking about the Fourth of July, I'm talking about. Death. I'm talk about what comes before and what comes after and how they're the same." Billy turned the page in his novel furiously, eyebrows scrunched together. "I never thought they'd be the same. It's like I've started over."

Steve couldn't possibly understand, but.

He watched pools of blue scan the page. Took measured breaths, never pushing until Billy was ready to share more. Until he tossed the book on the counter and sighed, head buried in his hands. "I don't understand how I got here."

"Easy," Steve whispered. "That's easy. You were born from love--"

"My parents aren't in love anymore."

"But they were, once." Steve shook his head. "When you were made. They loved each other, and they loved you, and your life was full of love that never made sound but it was still there." Steve willed Billy to look at him. Willed the skies to turn blue again.

They didn't.

Billy sighed, low and slow. "Did love bring me here again?"

"I guess so."

"Who's love?" Billy demanded, leaning forward into the table and crushing his novel where it lay against light oak tabletops. "Who loved me enough to bring me back here? To wish for me."

And.

There were a lot of things Steve wanted to say. Lines he wanted to map out, directions that lead from A to B and back again, but it didn't seem useful. Didn't rest important, as Steve took the novel from its place on the table and smoothed worn pages, tucking the polaroid in its place. "I'm sorry things feel weird for you." He said softly.

Billy grabbed the book, staring down at his casserole. "'S not so bad, I guess."

And, for Steve, that wasn't good enough.

Billy worked mostly in charcoal. He painted nightmares, and doorways into the past, delicate, swirling lines telling a story that made Steve's heart ache to see. To hear, with every drag of material across fruited canvas'.

Steve asked him about it, once. Over dinner, with the lights turned low. "Why do you paint such horrible things?"

And Billy had smiled. Bright and true. "How's that?"

"Y'know. Black scabs and eyeballs melting out of skulls and sliding down the ridge of people's faces, and--"

"It's what I see." Billy replied, voice soft. Measured. "It's what follows me around."

So Billy spent every hour locked in his shed, curls tucked over a growing body of work. Fingers turned rotten with charcoal soot as he made sense of what happened.

Steve liked to watch him work.

Liked to see the tension ease more and more from the strong shoulders that travelled beside him up the stairs each night. Steve felt the dig of each pencil in the crevice between his ribs when Billy finished masterpiece after masterpiece.

Still, it wasn't enough.

Along the ridges of creation, therapy lay half buried in the sand. It was state mandated, that Billy go and learn how to deal with the things charcoal couldn't straighten out for him. Like the nightmares, and the migraines that kept him from eating dinner at the table when June gave way to July.

Steve worried. Constantly, fervently, but Billy refused to go, always wiping his hands on the powder green apron Steve got for him at the art store, and insisting, "This is a form of therapy." Billy gestured around the room. To the mountains of loose sketch papers and half finished canvases that lay strewn across every surface. "This is how I cope."

And it was.

And it happened the same way every time.

Things got bad for him and Billy would disappear into his shed. Steve would come home from the office to find that his mother's prized Thomas Kincaid collection had been replaced by Billy's work. It was haunting. Sick and twisted and so, so beautiful.

He found himself standing and staring at it for hours, eyes tracing over the swirling lines of purgatory.

It made Steve feel helpless, but.

Still, Billy refused to go. Still, he buried himself in his work. Still, he painted himself into a hole.

The path toward recovery was littered with charcoal drawings until it wasn't.

Until Steve came home one afternoon to find Billy talking with a little boy who had his throat cut open.

#harringrove #psychological horror #idk man i just needed to get the words OUT #for Lis <3 #happy birthday honey bee

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amor-immortalem · 3 years ago

Text

My Adoring Fan Chapter 8

chapter 7

Arella was busying herself with housework that needed to be done. From picking up scattered toys that their youngest hadn’t put away before his brother had taken him out for the day to finishing up laundry from the previous night- she needed something to do to distract herself from worrying too much about her husband. It was just one of his bad days where he couldn’t focus on things very well and the world just didn’t feel real to him. He had moved past the incident that brought their oldest child into their life but the effects of the trauma he endured still plagued him from time to time. It was rare for an episode to be this bad however. He hadn’t had one on this scale since their twins were four. He would get better in a few days; all he needed was rest.

As she turned to pull the clothes out of the dryer, she could hear her phone ringing. Reading the caller id, she sighed as she picked up.

“Azalea, you had better be ringing me for a nonsense reason and not because you’re in Lord Diavolo’s office and I need to come down to get you.” Arella said in a whisper. With the condition he was in today, the last thing she wanted was Mammon hearing her and getting himself worked up.

“Well... at least I’m not in the office this time... but I did get kicked outta homeroom.” The girl said. “Can ya come pick us up... please?”

“Who is ‘us’, darling?”

“Me, ’Relius, Max, and Zulima. We had a good reason this time, Mum, I promise.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes. Let me see if Dad needs anything and then I’ll be on my way.” After they said goodbye and hung up, Arella stared at her phone. “My stars, I wonder what happened for Aurelius, Max, and Zulima to get kicked out of class as well.” She went into the bedroom to check on her husband. “I have to go get the twins, Zulima, and Max from RAD. Do you need anything before I leave?” She asks as she rubs his shoulder.

Mammon only shakes his head as he looks at the clock. “It’s 8:30 in the morning. What the hell happened?” He starts to sit up but Arella just places a hand on his chest.

“Just stay in bed and rest, Dear. I don’t know what happened exactly, but I’ll handle it when I find out, okay?”

“Fine.” He lets out a sigh. “Let me know when you find out, please.”

“I will. I’ll see you in a bit. I love you.”

“Love ya too, Treasure. Drive safely.”

After that brief exchange, Arella grabbed the keys and left for RAD.

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“So, I want you to tell me exactly what got the four of you kicked out.” Arella asks as she drives them back to their home. “And no lies, please.”

“Well,” Azalea started wondering where exactly she should start, “It all started when I came into class a half-hour late... apparently the old hag took exception ta that. She called me out on bein’ late ‘n I mouthed back ‘n next thing ya know she’s calling me a brat ‘n stupid ‘n forgetful ‘n a delinquent ‘n spoiled- which ta be fair, she’s not wrong ‘bout some of that stuff... but then she took it a step further by callin’ me a half-breed ‘n tryin’ ta take my cane claimin’ it was a weapon so I couldn’t have it on my person ‘cuz -ya know- all the fights ‘n shit I get inta.”

“And then when we tried to stand up for ‘Zay,” Zulima began, “She turned her sights on us.”

“She called us trash and abominations on top of calling us that stupid slur too.” Aurelius leans his head against the passenger side window.

“She said she’s going to write all four of us up saying it was her word against ours so it’s probably going to be wildly fabricated.” Max says as she wrapped her arms around herself. “I have most of the exchange recorded, if you want to listen to it Mrs. Morningstar.”

“I would love to hear it, Max, thank you.” Arella stopped the car, having arrived at home. “We’ll listen to it now.” Max pulled out her D.D.D. and played back the audio. About half way through, Arella’s jaw dropped in surprise. “And she speaks to the three of you this way on a regular basis?” The three half-demons nodded. “And what about you, Max?”

“This is the first time she’s ever said anything like this to me.” The human frowned.

“And it’ll be the last time too if I have anything to do with it. Azalea, is this why you were always late to your homeroom hour last term, honey?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I’m tired of bein’ berated ‘n called slurs and insults for an hour... I bet if she was the teacher in any of m’classes, I would have flunked them...”

“We all are,” Zulima says as she hugged herself tighter. “And whenever we try to defend ourselves or each other, she takes it out on us in the one other class we have with her. She almost failed me in world language claiming an airhead like me couldn’t have written such a high-level thesis in Latin of all languages, Auntie. I worked so hard with Uncle Satan on that thesis too! I felt so horrible.”

“And me in potions as well,” Max sighed. “And she gave me the wrong ingredients so I would be assured to fail.”

“I was this close,” Aurelius pinches his fingers together as he talks, “to flunking her Curses and Hexes course last term. I’m telling you, Mum, she’s an absolute witch of a demon. I think if Lord Diavolo hadn’t looked into it himself after I talked with Uncle Lucifer that I would have failed. Her excuse was that when it came to the end of term exam, mine was the last that she graded and she ‘accidentally’ used the wrong key.”

Arella had a look of realization on her face. “I know exactly who this teacher is. She absolutely hated me and your father. She was our curses and hexes teacher too.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “She never did anything too extreme because we shared a class with three of your uncles and if word ever got back to Uncle Lucifer, she knew there would be hell to pay.”

“So she takes it out on us because of you and Dad?” Aurelius looks over at his mother. “That’s pretty shitty.”

“Not to mention, she’s a racist and a xenophobe on top of it all,” Zulima growled in disgust. “How ugly.”

“Let’s go in now. Please be quiet when you walk in. Dad’s having one of his episodes and it's really bad this time so let him rest. I’ll make lunch in a bit.”

All of the kids nodded as they got out and headed into the house. Immediately Azalea pulled max around giving her a tour of the house while Zulima went up to Azalea’s room to make herself comfortable and wait for Aurelius to stop by his room to grab some spell books so the three of them could work on their magical studies together since there wasn’t really anything else to do.

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

As the house tour came to a close Max and Azalea climbed the stairs headed up to the second level where the bedrooms were located.

“You’re having a much better time with the stairs now; I’m starting to notice.” Max says quietly.

“Yeah, I still have trouble with the ones in my room though. With these, the steps are more closed off where the ones in my room have that opening between each step, ya know? With these types of stairs, I can jus’ slide my foot forward until it hits the base of the next step and that way, I can know how far my foot is out and whether it's safe ta step up without bein’ afraid I might slip.”

The human nodded. “Yeah, I get it. Makes sense.”

As they passed through the hall and by Azalea’s parents’ room, Mammon called out to her. “’Zalea come in here please. I wanna talk to ya ‘bout what happened at school.”

“Are ya sure? I know yer havin’ one of them bad days...”

“It’s fine. C’mere please.” Mammon says as he sits up on the bed and runs a hand through his hair.

Max hands Azalea her D.D.D. figuring Mammon might want to hear what was said before heading straight down the to her girlfriend’s room where the other two teens were waiting on them.

“Please tell me you didn’t get yourself and the others kicked out of class because of a fight.” The demon asks as his daughter climbs up next to him on the bed.

“I didn’t. Not this time. The teacher just had a stick up her ass ‘cuz I was late for homeroom... And then things escalated from there. Ta be fair, I kinda had some fault in it ‘cuz I got mouthy with ‘er but still she said somethings... And she then told me ta get outta her class... The others stood up for me ‘n that’s why they got kicked out too.”

“What kinda things?”

“It’s easier if I jus’ play the audio Max took of the exchange.” The half-demon unlocks the phone and plays the audio for her father. She watches him carefully just to see his reaction. It’s not any different from her mother’s except she can feel anger rising within him.

“I can’t believe she’s still workin’ for the school... If I’m rememberin’ her voice correctly, I know exactly who that is and she was decrepit when yer uncles and I were students there. There wasn’t nothin’ I could do right with ‘er. And this has been every day since ya entered this year?” Azalea only nods at his question. “I’m sorry ya gotta go through that, kiddo. We’ll take care of this for ya. Ya know none of that horrible stuff she said ‘bout y’all is true, right?”

“Yeah... but it still bites when people say it.” Azalea leans her head on Mammon’s chest, tucking herself up under his arm as he pulls her into a side hug. “Like all we’ve ever done is just exist and both demons and humans won’t even let us do that! There’s always somethin’ they got a problem with! It's unfair. We’re not demon enough to live here in the Devildom and not human enough to live in the human world. It’s like we don’t belong in either realm. Like we don’t get to be.... happy.”

Mammon would only hug his daughter tighter as he tucked her head under her chin. He wanted things to be different. It always broke his heart to hear his own children- even his nieces and nephews- talk like this. It all stemmed from the oldest generation of demons too- the ones that had existed even before he and his brothers had lost the war, fell from grace, and became demons. The ones that remembered what it was like long before Diavolo started pushing for peace between the three realms, long before the exchange program. Just like the humans they looked down upon, they were just as resistant to change, passing down their ideology to their offspring and so on and so forth as time went on. And the Devildom was doing just that- changing in many ways. From the exchange program that started over 20 years ago that was still going to this day to the advances in technology that put them on par with the human world... as much as the elderly demons might protest it, they couldn’t stop it. Once they all had kicked the bucket, the Avatar of Greed hoped things would get better. They had to.

And the youngest generation was proof of this- unpoisoned by their great grandparents’ and grandparents’ beliefs, Mammon could see how eager they were to accept the changes and the fact that half demons were becoming more frequent among the Devildom's elite- even if his kids themselves couldn’t see it themselves just yet.

As they sat in silence, the demon began purring- not in a way that showed contentment, but rather a deep rumbling purr that resonated through his chest that was often used when a demon was comforting themselves or their young when they were hurt or scared or ill or just upset in anyway shape or form. For his children, it often calmed them enough to put them to sleep for at least a few hours- more if they were sick and needed the rest. It always worked most for Azalea even back when she a baby, especially when she was this worked up and upset about something. He misses those days. The days when the twins and even Cyrus weren’t yet aware of things like racism or discrimination or hatred. Part of Mammon wishes all three of them could have just stayed that age forever.

As the half-demon was falling asleep, she tucked herself closer to her father mumbling a soft “Love you, Papa...” before she was out completely.

“Love ya too, my little Magpie.” He smiles softly before yawning and settling back down for a nap himself.

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find more on my masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date?#obey me angst #obey me next gen #obey me mammon #obey me oc #om! mammon #arella #azalea #aurelius #zulima #max

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