#a series of increasingly terrible dinner parties | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hellowoolf · 10 months ago

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on strawberries and masonry: chapter v

series summary: you atone for your sins, now, in a jackson garden, learning to care for soft things and yourself. joel miller is a lethal sort of similar, and misery loves company

you live in jackson and meet joel and you’re both damaged little babies and fall in love (but i’m drawing this shit out🫶🫶)

warnings: angst, age gap (reader late 20s/early 30s, joel 50s), maria is pregnant, the dinner party trope™️, joel picks reader up (but its actually been foretold that he can hold any weight ever, so don’t even worry about it), jealous!joel, possessive!joel, SMUT !!!!!, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected piv, breeding kink (don't...even start), creampie, FEELINGS !! (as always, let me know if i missed any !!)

word count: 7.9k

authors note: an epilogue will be (probably) on the way but this is our last full chapter !! gag !! this is my first ever series and i'm so elated i decided to write and release it. this last chapter drained me mind body and soul and i don't know how i feel about it but i really hope you enjoy <3

series masterlist | masterlist

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the realization of your feelings for joel, that against all better judgment you’re tumbling somewhat unceremoniously in love with him, nestles itself between your ribs to scratch at your bones. it’s a tolerable ache, at first, and because you refuse to give into anything, you let it remain while joel fucks you on his tongue and fingers. you let him cover your skin in his spit and your slick and the marks of his fingernails, and inch closer to the doom of loving him, believing yourself capable of handling it, willing yourself to handle it. and you do. mostly.

what comes first is a need for him you’re unequipped for. his refusal to fuck you properly again (a promise he has continued to hold himself to) becomes increasingly unendurable, and you’re pushed beyond even the lust for him you’d fought against months earlier. you need him, daily, at least, pulling him behind the stables or coming to slam on his door so you can live another day. you want to please him, to mend him, to save him, even though you know you are incapable, and you try what becomes embarrassingly often to get on your knees for him, but he always denies you. yes, this is the first symptom of your almost-love, a wanting that reaches your innermost self and expands beyond the edges of you.

the second symptom is anger, a nefarious deviousness against him, a spiteful resentment for the small ways he rejects you. you are less cautious with him, nipping at him on patrol or in the dining hall with your own sexuality, constructing heavily unsubtle innuendos and whispering them in his ear. you’re looking to punish him, so irrevocably that he’s compelled to kiss you again, to fuck you again, but until now you’ve failed at ensnaring him fully. you barely recognize yourself this way; you have never been one for this wild sort of flirting, the obvious kind, but you succumb to it regardless.

the softness of him is the worst part. you skim your hands up his thighs and pull on the loops of his belt to tempt him to you in the ways he still refuses to give, and he’ll deny you orgasm as punishment, but still he materializes on your porch, or sits you next to him in the aftermath of the pleasure he does allot you, wet with your arousal, and lets you tell him about your life, leaves you breadcrumbs of his. he likes that spot he found on your neck that night when you cut the strawberry, wraps his palm around the base of your skull to feel the warmth of it, and with his callouses circling your skin you know that this is the most awful thing, the most terrible. it’s shameful, really, that he should show you this kindness when you’re this close to complete devotion to him.

“what d’you think, little wolf?”

little wolf. maybe this trumps even his hand on your head. last week, with three fingers in your dripping cunt joel had stilled his hand in you, let you thrash against him while he smiled into your hairline, and you bit hard into the flesh of his shoulder, leaving the marks of your canines there. easy, little wolf, he’d grunted into you, and he felt you pulse when he said it, so he’s kept the name, uses it often.

“hm?” you lift your head from his thigh, bare legs curled up along the couch while he sits back on the cushions. he’d tugged you from your walk to your garden into his home, licked into you while you pulled on his hair, made you come on his sofa like he’d savor the stain. his hand comes from around the back of your head to your face, thumb sweeping across your chin and along your bottom lip. you take it in your mouth and suck, eyes on his as his own mouth drops open.

“bout the jam. you want me to show you how to make it?” he repeats, voice low and broken as you swirl your tongue along the pad of his thumb. you’d brought the strawberries up again, how many you have and the white fuzz they grow; noah helped you remove the heaters from inside the greenhouse as temperatures rose outside, but a chill remained, and so your plant began a slow death. you’re left now with a small batch you like the idea of preserving in sugar and heat. you like the idea, too, of joel teaching you things, of him watching you learn. you nod slowly. “when?” he tilts his head as he asks. you pull from his finger and trail little unhurried bites along his palm, down the inside of his wrist. you want to suck his blood.

“tomorrow? evening?”

he nods, eyes hooded over as he watches you. slick drips between your thighs and sticks them together, wetting over the dried come he’d pulled from you minutes ago. you smile against his skin, teeth grazing his pulsepoint.

“you a good teacher?”

he grins and grips back at your head, tilting your chin up to his face as he leans down to you. “a real delight, i swear it.”

your noses bump and you want to kiss him (the whole of it is you’d like to suck his tongue into your mouth and hold it there, feel behind his teeth, let him spit onto your tongue), another vice he’s denied you since that first time. he sees it in you, this wanting, so he threads his fingers through your hair to hold you in place. the tug at the roots makes you rub your thighs together and he inches closer, close enough to whisper onto your lips “go home, little wolf,” and pulls himself off the couch. he’s practically limping with how hard he is, the strong outline of his cock casting shadows as he walks away from you, and it only serves to make you wetter, but because you’re certain he won’t let you help him (you tried in the stables this morning, hay softening your fall to your knees, but he’d hauled you back up with a gruff quit it) you pull your pants back on and retreat to your home.

stepping down his porch you bring a hand to your stomach, joel’s refusals of you burning green and orange there. the flames heat your skin and lick through your fingers, and the warmth indulges the part of you that hates him, but the rest of you (the part that loves him, lord help you) bends under the pressure. you drop your hand as you approach your house and find tommy leaned up against the fence post. panic seizes you for a moment, but you tamp it down sharply; surely, he can’t know where you’ve come from, surely he can’t smell him on you.

“isn’t this a little past your bedtime?”

he looks up at you with a smile as you come to stand fully in front of him. “yeah, well, i figured you’d be comin back from the garden right about now.”

something sparkles across your cheeks and you hope he doesn’t notice. “mhm. how’s maria doing? she’s in the, what, second trimester now?”

tommy nods, that boyishness and the pride of fatherhood puffing his chest. “that she is. she’s a wonder, i tell ya. don’t know how the hell she’s doin it. but the nausea’s gone away now, so she’s just restin up.”

“i’ve been wanting to come by and visit, but i didn’t know if she’d want me there.” it’s the truth; you’ve seen very few pregnant women in your life, and the magnitude of it frightens and delights you. besides, as little as she seems to enjoy your company, you suspect it’s a lonely existence, cooped up by the windowsill growing little arms and fingernails, and you’re self-aware enough to know you owe yourself to her.

tommy scratches the back of his neck. “well that’s what i wanted to come ask about, actually.”

you tilt your head. “me coming to visit?”

he hums. “maria’s been wanting some socializin, some…” he waves his hands around, looking for the word, “interaction. i figured you could come over for dinner.”

“just me?” you can’t help the surprise in your voice.

“...no. noah, too. and my brother.”

your throat dries out and you stifle a sputter. yes, indeed, dinner by candlelight with your most long standing existing friends, of which you have only two, a pregnant woman who sees you as you have been (a knife, with a girl on the end), and the man you’ve been fucking but not fucking (and you think you may be in love with him, also, but you try to keep this bit irrelevant). yes, yes. a fantastic idea! what a delight!

“i don’t…i don’t know, tommy. maria’s never been my biggest fan.” please, don’t make me come.

“come on, don’t say that.”

“i don’t mean any offense, i just don’t want to disturb her.”

“you ain’t disturbing her! i’m telling you she’d like it if you came!”

“tommy-”

“she barely tolerates my brother as it is, at least you’ll be there to occupy him. please?” and he asks with such sincerity, such unknowing of the things you’ve done to joel, and you know there is no way out.

“yeah, okay. okay. i’ll be there.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“so you’re goin to this…what is it? dinner party?”

joel’s halfway through a bite of something red and meaty when he asks, and you clamp on his moving jaw with your palm.

“don’t talk with your mouth full, sting, it’s not very southern gentlemanly.” he flips your hand away with a grunt and you bite your tongue between your molars to keep from smiling. “yes, i will be there.”

he shakes his head and leans back in his chair, looking out at the milling people filling the dining hall. “i still don’t understand the point of it anyway. the hell we playin family for?”

“joel, you are family.” his eyes flit to yours. “tommy’s family, i mean,” you clarify. he nods, some sort of relieved, the disappointed sort, you feel. you do your best to shake the stick of it, of that feeling, off.

“then why are you goin?”

“well, as it happens, i was invited. besides,” you snort, an unattractive thing but you let it pass, “i think your brother hopes i’ll keep you entertained.”

“entertained? you bein serious?”

you’re golden and beaming with how he looks at you, so incredulous and muscled and stiff with restraint from touching you, you can feel it. “i think his exact verbiage was occupy. he wants me to occupy you.”

“jesus.”

“buck up, cowboy, i’m a delight.”

“uh huh.” you think it’s meant to jab at you, that little grunt, but one end of his mouth turns up as he says it, an imperfect cover of his grin. “he ever do this kinda thing before? before i came?”

you bite the inside of your cheek and look to the ceiling. yes, he did, once. he’d been patrolling with pete mcneilson (a scrawny thing, squirrelish and panicked, but as young as you are) and decided you were fated to be wed, worked his hardest for weeks to set you up. he’d planned the dinner in hopes it would serve as a first date, but your halfway abnormality and owlish inspection of him—tommy’s words, really; he said you looked straight through the poor thing—had frightened him, you suspect. you consider lying, though these days such attempts rarely come out right with joel. you sigh. “yeah, once. maybe two years ago.” joel raises his eyebrows, urging you on. you sort of mumble, “it was a ploy to set me up, really.”

he drops his fork onto the plate, lets it rattle, and you nearly flinch. you’re somewhat surprised to find yourself expecting him to be angry, not that he’s under any obligation to be. really, you might like him to be angry, but he chuckles, instead, biting and smug as he is. “set you up with who?”

“don’t laugh.”

he raises his hands in surrender, grinning, still. “i ain’t, only askin for a name, baby.”

how often he uses it hasn’t dulled the sharp spasm of want that word seizes you with. “no laughing.”

“what did i just say?” he leans closer. “gimme the name, darlin.”

“pete mcneilson.”

joel does not keep his promise. he chokes on his laughter, heaves with it, tenses his ribs to keep it in the box of his chest, but it tears out between you anyway. oh, how gorgeous he is this way. “christ almighty, pete?” and then, shaking his head to himself, he adds “he’d be fuckin helpless.”

you scoff. “the fuck you mean by that?”

joel continues eating again, self-satisfied with some glorious victory that lays itself over his face. “helpless with you, darlin. you’re too damn vicious for him.”

you think for a moment. “little wolf, and all that?”

he clears his throat, laughter dead in the back of his throat but eyes still pinched a little in the tension of his smile. “somethin like that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you think it’s a mistake, going to this dinner, as you walk out your door, smoothing your jeans down your legs. you know it’s a mistake when you walk in and see them all, the whole lot, milling about tommy’s home, your varying degrees of relation to each clashing violently. tommy rushes through the kitchen, mashing boiled potatoes and checking on meat that pours steam from the oven when he vents the door, and maria watches his frenzy with a pleased sort of smile. you know she’ll tense when she sees you here, and so you allow her another moment of secluded safety with her husband, and look around for joel; you’re almost embarrassed at how desperately you search for him, but all of it drains from you when you find him standing next to the dining table with noah, being what could only be described as talked at. you’re filled instead with a gripping warmth, pink and new, at the sight of him, so big and disinterested. he may remain mostly secretive of his feelings with you, but joel is intrigued by you, this much you are certain of, and the picture of him this plainly un-intrigued makes you feel singular, selfish, important to him. yes, tonight is a mistake.

“i can’t believe my eyes, the town ghost has appeared,” noah calls out from across the room. you give him your best attempt at a grin, eyes pulled like gravity and lust to joel but working to keep them ahead.

“in the flesh,” you dip your head in a bow, and noah pulls you into a hug. over the slope of his shoulder you see joel, hip cocked and brittle, and you both have the same thought simultaneously, that he’s never held you like this, not once. for all his increasing softness, he has never held you like this. he’s already angry, you think, gnawing on the figure of you in noah’s arms. you pull away and position yourself between them, nodding to joel, mainly for show. “i haven’t seen you in ages, noah, how are you?” and your sincerity is barely there, so slippery with joel so close, but enough to convince noah.

“haven’t you heard? i’m a mentor, now,” he smiles with sarcasm and a little pride, too. “been showing jesse how we run the patrols and all.”

you’re trying, so hard you are trying. joel is watching you precisely, hawkishly. “so i’ve been told. you started on our patrol route your first day, i think,” and you gesture to joel, but you can’t look at him, knowing you’ll twitch too damningly in his direction.

“ah, yeah, yeah that’s right.” with a playfulness he continues, “of course, we’ve moved onto much harder routes now.”

in the compendium of near-family you’ve concocted in jackson, noah serves as the spirited sort of brotherhood you imagine was normal decades ago. when you met, skittish and cut open as you were, noah found great joy in poking at you; your hardness grated against the easy youth he’s clung to, and you think he liked the challenge of it. as you melted more into the jackson scenery, though, became more earnestly open to friendship with him, he learned instead to lend you this ease, the sarcasm and good humor. there’s something lovely about taking it up when you speak to him, though it’s difficult now, what with the distraction at your side.

you cross your arms. “oh have you? you’re that good a teacher?”

joel coughs next to you, nearly chokes, and you feel the gentle thrum again of a shared thought between you, of yesterday on his couch, of his thumb in your mouth, of the jam (oh fuck, that was meant to be tonight). noah pays no mind, a sweet thing but dull around the edges. “you know it, baby.”

with a squeak of his boots and a grunt under his breath, joel storms into the kitchen and out of sight. you and noah watch him go, your stomach leadened with his absence, and you pull a breath in to lighten the weight, but it’s no use. baby, baby, you know it’s baby that’s driven him away. you feel noah step a little closer to you.

“speaking of, how’s your patrol been? i can’t believe maria finally let you do it.”

you shift: joel, his hands, his voice, the man you killed for him. “they’ve been fine, i guess.”

noah bumps his shoulder into yours. “details, details! you spend every morning with the big bad wolf over there, i mean how does that feel?”

you tilt your head at him. “noah,” you scold.

he brushes off your tone, craning his neck to get a look at joel in the kitchen, continuing, “he seems fucking scary to me. doesn’t he scare you?”

you huff and shove him back, but he looks back at you like he really means it. you’re startled with the sudden urge to tell him the truth, blood and spit and all. it rises in your throat like bile, but you swallow it all back down. “no, not anymore. not…not really.” your voice is heady with the history you and joel have carved with lips and tongues, and you wonder how gory it would all become if you had indulged yourself fully, let the acid of your feelings spill out. as you think it, noah scans your face, looks through it, and you worry for a moment you’re caught, that the whole of it is spread plainly on your features, but tommy comes barreling out of the kitchen with food cradled in his arms, maria in tow, and you’re spared from any further investigation. tommy laughs out your name from the head of the table.

“jesus, i didn’t even see you come in, come sit down!”

you nod, give maria a smile, glance at the globe of her stomach. she’s glowing with it, hand along the curve of her tummy, and she does her best to smile back at you, as soft as she is capable of. noah pulls the remaining empty chair next to him out from the table and you sit, finding joel across from you, biting on his tongue and furious, quietly, desperately furious, looking between you and him. fuck.

like the love, joel’s fury fissures you in two. you are, most viscerally, delighted that joel should be so angry at noah’s arm around the back of your chair. he watches the space between you, daring it to close further, shoulders strung taut like you’re his to fuss over. your heart expands and knocks on your ribcage, arteries singing with the pleasure of it, and arousal pools between your thighs and sticks there.

toe to toe with this delight, though, contends your own boiling rage. how desperately his gaze claws at you serves as a reminder of the ways he denies you of him, of his cock and his tears and his lips on yours. you would gladly give him this, let him bark and snarl like a wild animal in some unhealthy possession of you, if he let you possess him back. but, as it is, the edge of his eyeline cuts you irreparably, marks you with an indictment of you as a lover and him as something less. it makes you fucking furious.

“ellie helps you a bunch in the garden, don’t she?”

you look up to tommy. you haven’t been listening. “hm?”

“ellie. i’m always seein her in the greenhouse.”

you nod, grin at the thought of her. “mhm. she’s been a real help, actually, and it’s nice to spend the time with her. i think a lot of the other kids are sort of afraid of her.”

joel’s eyes gleam over for a moment. he loves her, you know, and whatever rift exists between them has persisted. noah grips your shoulder and shakes it a little, and the shine dries on joel’s brown eyes.

“sounds like a bit of you.”

tommy barks out a laugh and you push noah’s hand away. “yeah, yeah.”

maria lays a hand on tommy’s bicep. “i think it’s good for her. she needs to get acclimated here. she’s not like the other kids.”

you all look to joel. he hasn’t said a thing since you all sat down, actually. he clears his throat, and the rasp of it goes down hard. “no, she ain’t.”

“from what i’ve heard she’s got a real sailors mouth, big brother. that your doin?”

joel’s face pulls into offense. “no.”

“well she musta learned it somewhere,” noah sings. so very sweet, so very dull. joel looks like he might skin him.

“she came like that.”

“came like that?” noah repeats.

this is so very off limits. tommy and maria give each other a look, and they glance across the table to share it with you. stop him, for the love of god. you turn to noah, plead quietly, “just drop it, noah.”

“what? i’m asking him about himself,” and then to tommy and maria, “i can’t ask him about his daughter?”

what began as a wholly good hearted attempt at conversation has morphed, you realize, into the same sort of bear poking noah used to do with you. he’s calling joel’s prickliness and raising him a teasing interrogation. but for all your similarities, joel is not like you now, he will not absorb it as you did. he stares, lethal and still, at noah, elbows on the table.

“come on, we know nothing about the man. i want to hear your stories! give me something.”

joel scoffs and you ask again, “noah, please.”

“how am i doing anything wrong here?” his words devolve into childlike mumbles, unused to being denied this way. “i’m trying to make some fucking conversation.”

voice resigned from subtlety, all desperation, you call across the table, “maria, how’s your pregnancy coming along? tell us a long story about it.”

tommy snorts with your bluntness, but all three millers soften with a breath. maria rubs along her tummy, smiling down and speaking, but you go deaf to it as noah brings his arm all the way up, slinging it across the line of your shoulders. and you know, like all the other touches and like his antagonizing of joel, that he means nothing real by it. but joel takes the world in as meaningful: all of it, including noah. you can’t bear to look at him, but even still you burn with the steaming point of his gaze, frenetic and livid.

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“joel, jesus, slow down,” you call out as you hurry after him. tommy and maria had let you all loose to the jackson twilight, and with a smiling salute noah pranced off home, brushed already of the dust he knocked loose from joel at the dinner table. but joel eats up the ground in front of him with large, pacing strides, muscles corded in the back of his neck. you want to ride him, punch him in the stomach.

“go home.”

you catch up to him, grip a hand on the sleeve of his coat. “i will not go home. i want you to have a conversation with me first.”

joel doesn’t stop, drags you with him through the front door of his house by the fabric of his jacket. the door slams behind you and as the sound rings out joel whips around, boxing you against the wood. he heaves, little hurricane in his chest, casting shadows on you, even in the dark. “i’m not in the mood for a conversation.”

“yes, sting, i gathered that, but you’re being a fucking asshole.”

he huffs and looks to the ceiling, praying, you think, for divine intervention, or perhaps a lightning bolt to set the house ablaze. he can’t look at you when he asks it. “have you fucked him before?”

“jesus christ, no!”

he laughs, a little insane and swinging like a church bell. “seemed damn cozy in there to me.”

“yes! i’m sure we did! he saved me from bleeding out in the middle of winter joel, i told you that.” he adjusts his stance and peers back down at you, looking almost sorry with the thought of you red and unmoving, but because your fury is insatiable you poke him in the chest, adding, “besides, what if i had? what’s it matter to you anyway?”

he grips your wrist, asks incredulously, “what’s it matter to me?”

“no really, why give a shit? i promise i’ll still let you stick your fucking ring finger into my–”

“not another fucking word.”

the diseased part of you laughs with the irony of this moment, at the anger and jealousy you’d hoped for in the dining hall this afternoon; it isn’t exactly what you’d pictured. you sag with that thought. “please, baby,” his grip on your wrist tightens when you call him that, “throw me a bone. you seem entirely disgraced by the fact that we do…what we do, god forbid anyone found out, you won’t even,” you push a quick breath from your nose, “you won’t even waste the fucking energy to fuck me, kiss me. so tell me, please, what is your problem with–”

“you wanna know my fuckin problem? you drive me fucking crazy. i am clinically fuckin insane, darlin, and it’s your fuckin fault. beggin me to fuck you, fuck your face, i mean jesus, the things you ask of me.” and then, mainly to himself, “i ain’t strong enough for this shit. the hands and the eyes and the,” he remembers you in front of him, faces you again, “and the looking, i mean what—shit—what kind of fuckin look is that? you look at me like–like–”

“like what?”

“like you love me. you look at me like you love me. do you know how fucked up that is darlin? and i’m doin my goddamn best to keep you at arms length and it’s damn near impossible but i knew that first time that i–” another heave, “that i’d fuck you again and i’d love you too. be in love with you. and i couldn’t be that selfish. how could you ask me to be that selfish?”

his fingers around your wrist have formed more into a desperate sort of hold, thumb reaching up into the cup of your palm. the weight of his admission presses through your diaphragm, that i’d love you too, but the rift in you, the love and the anger, is growing savage, and you lash with it.

“i’ve never asked a fucking thing of you. i’ve wanted, jesus joel i’ve wanted, but i never asked you to go on this emotionally stifled quest to prove—prove what exactly? that you’re good? i mean, christ, we’re both awful!” you poke him hard in the chest. “you’re awful and i–i’m awful, and,” the momentum of your fury is slowing, you can feel it dragging its feet, “and you won’t let me get close to you. i’d let you in anywhere. and you won’t,” the loving is thawing from you, and like snow in your hands it drips into water and dirt, down your front, and you’re crying suddenly, caught up in the great tragedy of what you’re about to say. “you won’t let me do it, you won’t let me love you even a little bit. but i can’t help it.” you flatten your palms on his chest, gentle, nearly losing it at the hummingbird winged hum of his heart. “if you can’t do it, i’ll leave you alone. i promise you, sting, i will leave you alone, i won’t ask again, i won’t beg it of you. tell me you don’t feel it and i’ll go.”

he takes a stilted breath in and looks down at your fingers on his front, runs his rough hands up them slowly, feeling you here with him. “i–i…”

you nod, tears hot and fat running lines down your cheeks, and move to pull away. you open his door behind you, facing him still, but he jerks something frantic and closes it again. his hands come up next to your head on the door, and the both of you are so silent you can hear the wood creak with the press of his palms. you wait.

it comes out with a great pain at first, a terrible ache you see in the grimace of his face, but it eases as it goes, eases as he tells you, “i love you, little wolf, i do, i do.”

and then there’s a moment of stillness, of unsureness. what do you do now? what does anyone do now? oh, but he loves you, he loves you, you have to write it on a wall somewhere, burn a forest and bottle the ashes, wreak some irrevocable havoc. he loves you.

you drag a hand from his chest up to his face, and with a shudder he leans into the warmth of it, nods against the skin, affirming some wordless agreement, and leans down to press his lips to yours. and it’s been so long you can’t help the whimper that escapes you, squeaky and wet still with the damp residue of your tears, but he’s soft and hot against you, pulls his hands down around your waist and squeezes into your spine. you say his name against his lips and he nods again, presses harder, groaning when you pull the hair at the nape of his neck. you open your mouths to one another, hoping to suck each other’s souls out, you think, and he licks into your mouth with a moan. you’re still whimpering his name somehow, over and over, meaning nothing by it other than you like the taste of it along with his tongue, joel, joel, joel, and he replies with the heated moving of his hands along your body.

joel grips under your ass, pulls you against his cock as he ruts you into the door, speaks gruffly against your lips, “tell me again.”

and you do, somewhere between your moans, “i love you, i love you,” and he seizes with the sound of it, ducking his head to suck marks into your neck. you hitch a leg over his hip and he takes it as an invitation, dragging his cock through his jeans again along you.

with his face still in the crook of your neck and a muffled up he hoists you fully into his arms to take you up the stairs, and if you were more lucid you would notice you’re in the same spot you were months ago, the first and only other time he let you have him, but as it is you swirl your hips as best you can against him as he walks, biting the skin that beats with his jugular. you’re drunk on the scent of him, on the pressure of his body. he lays you down on his bed and leans over you with wild eyes as he drags the fabric of your shirt up. he mouths along the skin as he bares it, mumbling into your skin, “so pretty here, baby.”

you raise your back from the bed to pull your shirt and bra off fully and he groans, hands flying to grab at your tits, tracing a line between them with his nose. “and here.” you lift your hips and he pins them with his own, the heft of his cock dragging against your clit through your pants and you mewl with it. joel moves back up to your ear, still pulling at the flesh of your breasts and rolling your nipples between his fingers, to whisper, “i’m gonna take you slowly. can you do that, darlin?”

and no, you’re not sure you can, but you nod breathlessly anyway.

“good girl.”

that drives you fully to madness, you think, and you tilt your head back into his bed, writhing into a moan. he smiles into you as he moves his face back down, down, past your sternum, hands moving to pull at your jeans. “can i take these off?”

“yes, please.”

he nods and pulls them from you, and runs his hands back up your legs. you can feel your own dripping, the gusset of your panties soaked through with arousal, and his smile drops as he looks at it, a single finger coming to run down the fabric. you shudder, and so does he, you think, hand still on your thigh tightening as the pad of his finger wipes along the dampness. “fuck. this for me?”

you’re already nodding. “yes, yes, you, please, touch me, please.”

and with that joel is pulling them down your legs, leaving a trail of glistening slick where the fabric sticks to your flesh, and joel heaves you to the edge of his bed, kneeling with a grunt to the floor. you hum around a whine as he bites and licks up the insides of your thighs, his own moans reverberating back to you. his fingers, wrapped around the crease where your legs meet your torso, will leave bruises, you’re sure.

“joel,” you plead, but he doesn’t really hear it, heaving open mouthed around your cunt now, breathing you in.

with a long inhale he drops his forehead to your navel, squeezes you between his hands. “so good, baby, this pussy is so good.”

your eyes slip shut and you feel yourself pulse with his words. joel sees it, too, and finally, fucking finally, closes his plush lips around your clit, slurping and sucking as you all but scream into the space of his room.

“fuck joel, fuck, oh my god.”

“yeah?”

you thread your fingers through his curls and tug, and his groan makes your hole flutter. he circles his tongue around your little button, flattens it, flicks over it with the tip, and the drool of his own spit mixes with your slick as it slides from your hole to his sheets below you. you’re fucking aching now, so empty as he sucks around you, but before you can even plead for them, you feel his two fingers slip inside you, gliding in easy around the wetness he’s pulled from you and the slip of his saliva. he curls them, petting against someplace only he has ever reached, and you keen.

“that’s it, huh? there?” and it’s only halfway smug, all the rest earnest, and you pull harder on his hair. your nerve endings flare up and catch fire, his scissoring fingers within you, his taste buds on your clit, his sheets bunched at your head, it all tears at you with unbearable feeling, you feel with an intensity that blurs your vision. with the pulse around his knuckles, joel can feel how close you are, raising his lips from you with eyes hooded. “oh, you’re close, darlin, i fuckin feel it,” he rasps, and you nod again, delirious and mouth open, as he circles his thumb in the path of spit his tongue left. the noises you make would be humiliating in front of anyone else, you think, but his brows furrow with each of your blasphemous little whines, and so you let them claw out as he watches his fingers thrust in and out of you. “c’mon little wolf, let it go, let me have it.” and you do, you throw it at him, really, pulsing around his fingers and gushing down his hand, moaning wildly something that sounds like his name as he groans with the squelch of it.

he pulls his fingers away only as you relax, spine released and flat again on his bed. he drags his eyes up and down your body, spent but not yet satisfied, as he rids himself of his own clothes, and your pussy shudders with her own heartbeat again as you take him in. his cock reaches stiff between his legs, blushing and pearled with precome, and you lick your lips with finally, finally. he pumps himself once, twice, stalking towards you again, but you stand from the bed with shaky legs, sit him in the wet spot you made together. as you sink to your knees he curses and squeezes the base.

“jesus christ, baby.” but you only smile as you run your nose up the underside of his shaft, tentatively pressing the flat of your tongue along his head to collect what’s escaped him there. the salt and musk of it makes you whine and you fit your lips around him, laving along his skin and watching his hands bunch in the sheets. you smooth your lips down his head, lower, lower, and suck, cunt fully dripping again at the noises he makes. a broken version of your name leaves him as you start to bob your head, spinning your chin as you come up, letting your teeth graze the vein along the underside.

“oh fuck, you—shit—your mouth is so fuckin good,” and he brings a hand, now, to collect your hair and wrap his fingers around it, anchoring himself more than you, “yeah, yeah, that’s it baby, fuck.” you moan into him and his hips twitch as it moves through his skin, and fuck you want him to fuck your throat. you bring your fingers up to move his other hand, clenched taut at his side, to your head, pushing it down to show him. his fingers tighten in your hair as he starts to move you on his own, pulling you into him as you gag and swallow around his head. “oh fuck, oh fuck,” he grunts, hips starting to rut up to meet your face, and your hand finds its way to your clit, rubbing in tight circles as he thrusts deeper, sputtering as he grits out, “fucking gag on it.” you hum, so gloriously pleased with yourself and the taste of him, feeling him twitch in your throat, but with one final drag of your tongue on him he pulls you off. you start to whine but he’s heaving you up by the elbows to straddle his lap, grabbing you by the jaw to bring your face to his. your tongues meet and circle, the both of you groaning at the taste of the other, and he drags his wet cock along your seam. you angle your hips so he catches on your opening and his hands tighten on your waist.

“you still want it, darlin?”

you almost laugh, maybe you do, nodding with your hands on his shoulders. “yes, yes, please.”

and when he pushes in it is not like last time. he’s slow, agonizingly so, as he lets you sink down, your forehead dropping to his as you groan in unison. you clench and throb when your thighs meet, fully seated, and he pulses inside of you, but he doesn’t move yet, brings a finger from your waist to between the wings of your shoulder blades. as you breathe together, chests meeting in full flex, he drags the pad of his finger down, your body open and seizing with feeling of him.

“you like to touch me there,” you whisper.

joel nods. “it holds you up.” and something about it makes you wail. when his finger reaches the bottom, he bands his whole arm around your back, pulls you impossibly closer against his chest and moves his head next to yours, asks into your ear, “can i move now?”

you twitch as his breath fans over the side of your face, whispering back some sort of please, please, and he starts to thrust into you, slowly but deeply, so deeply that his tip kisses your cervix, and you both hold each other tighter as he drags back out.

“fuck, joel, so good.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

“you’re fuckin—ah—soakin me, baby.”

between the whispers in your ear joel takes your lobe into his mouth, biting and releasing, kissing the spot beneath it. your body tenses in his arms as his cock ruts in and out of you, still so slow and still so much, and his bicep around your back flexes to keep you in place.

“what is it?”

“fuck me faster, please,” you whimper. you feel his little smile into your skin.

“you said you could take it slow.”

“and i—fuck—i’m trying.”

he groans, long and with the movement of his cock in you. “one more second like this, just like this.” you try to roll your hips again but his grip stills you. “you have no patience, do you?” you shake your head. without a word, he reaches up to push your elbows up and over his shoulders, and you wrap your arms down his back. he nods a little, whispers just like that into your skin, and you throb around him.

the slap of his skin on yours rings through the room as he speeds up, thrusts meeting you, and you scream like this is salvation (you think it might be). neither of you can control your noises now, not that there was much control to begin with, and joel grits out agonized moans into the arc of your ear. your nails scrape up and down the skin of his back as he pounds up into you, clawing marks and holding there. again you’re on his name, repeating it with a fever and a cry, joel, joel, joel.

“fuck, i fuckin love the sound of my name like that, baby. you sound like you’re mine.”

you do your best to nod, head bobbing at his shoulder, i am yours, i am yours, but still it’s only his name coming out. he fucks you harder, holds you harder, moves like a zealot into your softness. he brings a thumb to your clit, circles it tightly, eats up your noises with a gluttony that pulls you right there, right there.

“i’m so close, joel,” you whimper.

“fuck, i know, i fuckin feel it. come on, darlin, come on my cock.”

again, you do, you do as he asks, pulled tight into him as you pulse and thrash, ecstasy washing over you.

“yeah, that’s—oh god—that’s it, that’s it,” he rasps, thrusts unrelenting, slapping against the wetness dripping between you. as the rigid pleasure runs through you and your body relaxes again, he picks you up, knees his way up the bed to place you down beneath him. you watch his face pull together as he forgets his plan for a moment, fucks you into the bed with a hand on the headboard, but he collects himself again and heaves you over by the crook of your knee so your stomach is to the mattress, keeping the head of his cock inside you. you hold yourself up by your knees and elbows, feel his hands spread down your back and around the globes of your ass before he picks up his pace again, hips meeting your ass in harsh bumps that make you scream into his pillows. the kick of him inside you is coaxing your body again towards orgasm, and you arch your back for him.

“such a tight fuckin fit, ain’t it?” you whine in response, pushing your hips back against his. he pulls you up, back flush against his chest, spreads his knees a little to rut deeper up into you. with what sounds like waning sanity, he grits into your ear, “you make it fit for me, darlin, i know you do.” your bag arches off his chest as you go stiff, so startlingly close again. you’re defying your own anatomy now, gone from the confines of your body, submerged fully in a rapture that beads like sweat down your skin. “fuck me, you gonna come again?”

“yeah, yes, fuck” you heave.

he nods against your shoulder and slides the paw of his hand down your front to rub you, using the flat of his hand to press into your clit. “i’m gonna—oh fuck—you’re gonna make me come, where do you want it?”

and you know you shouldn’t, but you’re so fucking close, and you want it. “inside, joel, please.”

his thrusts are stumbling now, losing rhythm. “yeah? you want me to fill you up? fuck,” and he laughs breathlessly, “tha’s how we’ll tell everyone, i’ll fuck you full of my fuckin baby.”

the both of you vibrate with that notion, buzzing together, barely human anymore, and suddenly you’re falling into climax, a third and quick and jolted one, pulling him with you as you clench and flutter, and the pump of his warmth inside of you feels like the most wonderfully selfish thing you’ve ever done. and as his cock softens inside you, a mix of your come sliding out, he’s really just holding you, wrapped up in his arms on his bed. he kisses you in the silence, up the line of your shoulder and to your ear. “stay here, baby,” and he pulls out as you lie all the way down, wipes you both with a rag before climbing up behind you and cradling you in the crook of his body.

night has fallen fully now, but the moonlight peers through his window and marks the wall ahead of you. joel’s hands are warm as they run up your sides, draws his name on your hip. you smile.

“sting.”

J–O–E–L. “hm?”

“will you tell me again?”

he stretches out his fingers and leans his head over yours. you turn to meet his face. and you think it hurts him, still, to say it, but he does, forehead creased with sincerity and a will to tell you anyway. “i love you, little wolf.”

“i love you, too.”

joel thinks a moment. “are you…” you sit up a little to see him fully, and even in the darkness you can see the flush of red around his ears. “do you still want me to show you how to make the jam?”

oh god, he is so tender for such a violent thing. “mhm,” you hum, but turn all the way over to situate yourself into his chest. through the hair spattered there, you add, “later.”

his thumb finds your spine again, traces it like he’s done before. in his arms here, you can admit that this, now, is your greatest achievement, the closest you’ve ever been to sacred. the puffs of his breath on the top of your head, the slowing of your heartbeats as you both drift towards sleep, yes, this is holy, a sanctified thing, the loveliest thing you’ve ever grown.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

aaah !! i can't believe this story has come to a somewhat-end !! i can't thank you all enough for the support on it. as my first fic it was fucking terrifying to put out, but i'm so glad i did 🍓🤍🤍

taglist: @koshkaj-blog @limerence4u @shotgun-shelby @5oh5 (let me know if you wanna be added or removed !!)

#joel miller fic #jackson!joel #joel miller #fem!reader #the last of us #tlou #hello woolf #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #on strawberries and masonry #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x reader

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azaisya · 4 years ago

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nobody had any requests so you get nhs again bc i love him

#nie huaisang #mdzs #mdzs fanart #mo dao zu shi #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #candlesart #a series of increasingly terrible dinner parties

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adorethedistance · 3 years ago

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My Hockey Masterlist

General Masterlist

My complete and cohesive Hockey masterlist as of 4/15/24

All my fics will be linked below the cut. Requested players will be addressed on an individual basis.

✮ - Personal favorite

New York Islanders

Mat Barzal

Black and White ✧ After attending one of the isles’ many fundraising events, a simple walk in the park turns into a moment the two of you will never forget.

Designer Dress + Old Shoes ✧ Mat takes you to an Islanders Gala, but being surrounded by expensive things and even more expensive people, you start to feel like a total imposter to this new world.

He’s An Idiot ✧ When Mat unceremoniously reveals he’s had a girlfriend for two months without telling you, something goes terribly wrong as you turn toward a good friend for comfort.

✮ Like That ✧ When Mat forgets your evening plans and accidentally stands you up, he makes a 1 a.m. apology with the help of your cat, Luna.

Ruins ✧ Your relationship is falling apart faster than you can think of a solution.

✵ ✵ ✵

Anaheim Ducks

Jamie Drysdale

Mini-Series

First Meet ✧ Meet-cute with Jamie Drysdale in a smoothie shop.

First Date ✧ Jamie invites you over and cooks dinner for your first date, complete with bottle service and banter.

First I Love You ✧ After a day that gets increasingly worse, Jamie plans a date night to indirectly celebrate your two-month anniversary.

Coming soon: First Time.

Oneshots

Sweet Creature ✧ Domestic bliss featuring everyone’s favorite baby ducks.

✮ About a Month ✧ A rest day with Jamie is rudely interrupted by Trevor’s return home, and your relationship is uncovered once and for all.

I Can’t Remember ✧ Attending a complete stranger’s party can be super cool if he’s rich and he has a cute face.

Enough For You ✧ Your boyfriend of one year breaks things off leaving you to turn to your best friend like you always do.

Dating Jamie Drysdale Would Include... ✧ Bullet points of boyfriend!Jamie headcanons.

It’s the 21st Century ✧ You and Jamie both are antsy about sharing your first kiss together, but the moment is swiftly ruined by those pesky American boys.

Trevor Zegras

IG edits

Trevor x Actress ✧ you’re the star of your own Netflix show when a certain fanboy becomes a whirlwind romance.

Trevor x Model ✧ soft launching Trevor on your ig as a big fashion model.

Mini-series

Birthday Girl

Birthday Girl ✧ Your birthday celebration is under threat by the impending doom that is Trevor Zegras's presence.

part 2 ✧ A heated moment with Trevor in the kitchen has you screaming crying throwing up.

part 3 ✧ Maybe your hatred for Trevor was misplaced after all...

PDA ✧ Trevor comes to visit you for the holidays, and your relationship is quite an adjustment for your brothers. (Informal part 4)

Baby Fever

Baby Fever ✧ You and Trevor watch after Baby Terry, which incites conversation about your own family future.

part 2 ✧ A collection of moments at the pumpkin patch add incentive to the baby making conversation.

Oneshots

I Don’t Just Like You ✧ Tension builds with Trevor over his new partnership until the two of you confess your feelings.

I Love You ✧ When Trevor accidentally lets it slip that he's in love with you, the heat of the moment confession turns into the fuck of a lifetime. (18+)

Thought of You ✧ Trevor is extra clingy after a long trip of away games.

Princess Antics ✧ Dating a famous hockey player is tough sometimes, but dating a Disney Princess may just give Trevor a run for his money.

Do It, Then ✧ Today was not your day and your only hope for any kind of redemption lies in the hands of your TKE boy.

House Rules ✧ This is the first time Trevor’s invited you over to hang at TKE outside of party hours and the evening goes better than anticipated. (Informal part 2 to TKE House.)

Team Spirit ✧ Attending games at the Honda Center is risky when you’re a famous singer but maybe a certain fan experience will make the risk worth taking.

✮ TKE House ✧ Trevor refuses to leave you alone until you attend a party at his frat, and the night takes an unexpected turn.

Media Day ✧ What a great day to be an aspiring photographer on media day when your model keeps flirting with you.

Birthday Girl, part 2, part 3 ✧ Your birthday celebration is under threat by the impending doom that is Trevor Zegras's presence.

PDA ✧ Trevor comes to visit you for the holidays, and your relationship is quite an adjustment for your brothers. (Informal part 4 to Birthday Girl.)

✵ ✵ ✵

Vancouver Canucks

Quinn Hughes

RollerMagic ✧ When your only snack gets caught in the vending machine, another snack swoops in to save the day (I’m sorry Idek what I’m saying)

✵ ✵ ✵

Los Angeles Kings

Alex Turcotte

Distraction ✧ Alex Turcotte is utterly smitten with the girl from his history class and his teammates are not helpful when it comes to playing wingmen.

✵ ✵ ✵

#Hockey masterlist #hockey!au #nhl #nhl masterlist #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #Mat Barzal #mat barzal x reader #new york islanders #new york isles #nyi #Jamie Drysdale #Jamie Drysdale x reader #Anaheim ducks

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embarrassingresultofmyfreetime · 4 years ago

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2020 Masterlist

Here’s a list of all the fics I’ve posted this year! (Listed by category, then chronologically:)

Link to my ao3 where you can read all of these: embarrassingresultofmyfreetime

Currents wips:

And They Were Quarantine Mates

An old disease has resurfaced on Earth- one which most humans recover from but is permanently lethal to Time Lords.

Because of this, the Doctor stays on Earth to make sure her humans make it through okay.

And because of the Doctor, the Master- against his better judgement- also chooses to stay.

Reluctant to leave the safety of the Doctor's Tardis, the Doctor and the Master find plenty of ways to pass the time but it can be difficult to enjoy each other's company with so many things left unsaid.

Good thing they have plenty of time in isolation to work it out.

Word Count: Currently 88,172

Spyfall: Battle For Humanity

This is a little number I like to call: Roleswap AU with Dhawan!Doctor and Whittaker!Master

It's sort of a rewrite of Spyfall p2 but it's better.

Word Count: Currently 5,688 (will be about 12k when finished)

~~~

Main fics (completed):

Please Tell Me Why Do We Worry

Summary: After learning about the final loss of Gallifrey, the Doctor takes some time to grieve and finds herself with surprisingly mixed feelings about the whole ordeal.

To her surprise, a knock at her Tardis door soon reveals the Master not only alive, but in uncontrollable mental agony as he reveals that the Doctor's suffering has been amplifying his own emotions via their telepathic bond.

Note: (After so many kind and positive comments on this fic, I finally gained the confidence to start posting more! A huge thank you to so many people it means so, so much to me!)

Word Count: 5,068

Second Chances

When Graham finds a teleportation cube offering an all-expenses-paid vacation, he, Ryan, and Yaz take up the offer and give the seemingly-distant Doctor some time to herself.

After the events of Skyfall 1&2, the trust between the trio and a certain timelord is shaken. However, when their vacation quickly becomes a nightmare, it's up to the Doctor to bring about peace on an upsettingly familiar planet.

Note: (A rewrite/fix it of S11 episode Orphan 55)

Word Count: 7,130

All’s Fair In Love And War

Having escaped alive and alone, the Master dwells on his failure and uncertainty at what to do next.

Purely by accident, he runs into a version of the Doctor he's never met before and she gives him a much needed perspective on their relationship.

Word Count: 4,653

Truth and Reconciliation

“I... I destroyed a lot of things, but not this... trove of secrets. This is what started it all.”

Missing Scene where the Master goes to Gallifrey and discovers the truth of the timeless child for the first time + alternate ending to The Timeless Children episode

Word Count: 7,563

The Doctor Finally Gets Some Rest

(Ch2 update Missy pov)

The Doctor promised to guard Missy for 1000 years, but Missy doesn't mind returning the favor.

Word Count: 5,671

I Wouldn’t Wish It On My Best Enemy

"Just deserts appeared to finally be served for the Doctor. All her running had come to an end, all the lives she's taken or caused had finally been assigned a numerical value, and all the morals she had once believed in seemed to crumble to dust right before her eyes.

A life sentence.

She had JUST BEEN TOLD she would never die, and the first thing the universe does is give her a life sentence.

What kind of cruel joke is that?"

Basically: The Doctor reflects on herself while in prison, the Master rescues the Doctor and actually helps her, and idk read the tags

Word Count: 4,629

Brand New Reality

In an alternate timeline: The Master is killed in the Time War but the Doctor finds a way to salvage his oldest friend's mind by binding it to his Tardis and building him an android vessel as a way to interact with the physical world.

The Doctor also manages to save the Time Lords from their war- but he is still a renegade in their eyes. As punishment, the High Council uses the Doctor- and by extension the Master- as their personal diplomats/field agents.

The Master isn't too happy about being trapped on the Doctor's Tardis, the Doctor is fed up with being the equivalent of a dog on a leash to the Time Lords, so in a moment of anger and also pure luck- they break out from their world and end up on a parallel one with a very different version of their universe and very different versions of themselves.

(Shalka!Universe Doctor and Master meet their modern counterparts- the Thirteenth Doctor and Dhawan!Master)

Word Count: 10,148

The Imposter(s) Among Us

The Doctor has been searching the universe for the Master, but it's only when she takes a break to help a damaged space vessel that she runs directly into him!

The Doctor has a hundred and one things to ask him, but there's no time for any of that now. The ship is barely functional and if the mysterious murderer doesn't get to the Doctor first, then the trigger-happy crewmates might throw her out the airlock before the killer gets a chance.

Word Count: 12,655

My Dear, Doctor…

The Doctor investigates an anomaly to find that her previous self has stood up their oldest friend for the umpteenth time.

Confused as to why the Doctor can't recall ever receiving Missy's invitation in the first place, the Doctor goes searching for answers and ends up finding far more letters than just one…

Word Count: 6,657

~~~

Series:

And They Were Happy Au Parts 1-4:

Part 1: Dinner and a Show

All his lives, the Master had always believed that he and the Doctor could hold on for about the same amount of time. He always imagined that when they reached their last lives, they would both give all this up and spend their retirement years bickering and raising bees or whatever. The Master didn't particularly like bees, but he had always imagined that the Doctor did and as long as they were together, that was enough to satisfy him.

What he had discovered in the Matrix had proved his ideal endgame impossible.

The revelation that the Doctor was The Timeless Child meant that the Doctor would always live on. They would always evolve and survive no matter what happened. The Doctor would always race to people in need; and now, they would never have any reason to stop.

(AU where the reason the Master wanted the Doctor to kill them both in The Timeless Child is bc he's on his last life)

Word Count: 5,120

Part 2: Dinner and a Show One-Offs

"The Doctor did her best to space out her visits with O. For every couple adventures she had with her 'fam', she would stop by his home once or so. Sometimes she let months slip by, because she knew that the longer she waited, the less of O's limited time she used up.

She felt guilty to calculate it, but if O was already in his mid-thirties and he lived a full human life...

Suffice it to say, she wanted it to last for as long as possible. She had never had a situation as stable nor as safe as she now had with O. After everything they had both been through to get to this point, she refused to jeopardize a single moment.

For all the pain the Master had caused her, O was well worth the wait."

(By popular demand, a continuation of 'Dinner and a Show')

Word Count: 10,926

Part 3: Unjustifiable

O- having no recollection of his actions as 'The Master'- returns to being Earth's Horizon Watcher.

O is proud of his work and he cherishes the Doctor's frequent visits, but it's becoming increasingly apparent that she's been keeping more secrets about his past than he had theorized.

To make matters worse, the arrival of an advanced species of aliens on his doorstep brings with it a whole new plethora of problems. Something terrifying resurfaces when O hears they're searching for a Tardis and things go terribly wrong.

Word Count: 23,870

Part 4: Found Family

The Master finally gets around to seeing the universe in a more peaceful way and runs into a young woman looking for her father.

Word Count: 3,663 (Will possibly be updated at a later date, but complete for now)

~~~

Oneshots Inspired by others (specific inspiration in the beginning notes of each):

All Alone In The Dark

While heading back to Earth, the Doctor hears someone calling for her help.

She tracks it back to the Master- injured yet alive- and finds him trapped in his own head, reliving his last confrontation with The Time Lord Council before the destruction of Gallifrey.

Word Count: 1,926

You Again

The 10th Doctor and Missy each escape their last canon appearances believing that the other is dead for good.

So imagine their surprise when they run into each other at a party in the 1920's.

Word Count: 6,943

Sick Day

The Master has everything set up for his latest evil scheme but when he tracks down the Doctor, he realizes his best enemy is in no condition to fight. So the Master does what any good nemesis does and takes care of him.

Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

Word Count: 2,807

Prompt: "Right now, I don't know if I want to kiss you or shove you off a bridge!" "Can I pick?"

The Master’s Tardis had traced the call seven minutes in advance to this exact time and location. He pushed open his Tardis door to find himself in front of some no name bar with graffiti scrawled on the side, situated in front of an empty ravine. He was on Earth, and there was probably a similarly ramshackled city around him, but he didn’t so much as spare it a glance.

The Master’s steps were determined, his jaw clenched, and his hands shaking despite his signature device in hand.

He had been on the other side of the universe, licking his wounds like any old villain would when disappointed by their latest nemesis showdown. It all made his blood boil to have caved so soon. To come back and HELP the Doctor.

The Doctor still had O’s number and her call was scheduled to be made in exactly seven minutes. A hysterical, agonizing call that begged the Master to intervene. He wasn’t sure what was worse, hearing the Doctor in so much despair, or the disappointment that hearing her in such agony somehow didn’t lessen his own.

Word Count: 2,410

The Beginning and The End

Prompt: First Doctor, Dhawan!Master, Gallifrey, and the dialogue: "I know my words mean close to nothing for you. But I do, in fact, love you very much."

Basically Theta (Academy Era Doctor) accidentally runs into the Master on a burning Gallifrey

Word Count: 4,499

Kisses Like That

The Doctor's never understood why humans enjoy kissing so much- but a certain, somewhat familiar woman piques his interest.

(Missy goes back in time to give 10 a lil kiss)

Word Count: 1,885

Spyvember 2020

Collection of short fics I did inspired by Spyvember prompts (from Tumblr)

Word Count: 15,506 (6 separate chapters)

~~~

Thank you to everyone who has inspired me, commented on my work, read any of my writing, and overall has just supported me in any way this year!! Thank you for keeping me motivated and helping me improve as a writer!

My best wishes to you in the new year! <3

#here's a version w a break for mobile users lol #otherwise its the same #doctor who #dw #doctor who fic #doctor who fanfic #thirteenth doctor #dhawan!master #dhawan master #yasmin khan #ryan sinclair #graham obrien #thoschei #spydoc

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reeltoreal-cl · 4 years ago

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Black TV Shows & BGLOs

In 2020, the United States is finally confronting its issues with racism in society as well as the entertainment industry. With that, there has been a surge in black content on various streaming platforms.

Television shows with predominantly African-American casts often feature a glimpse at special pockets of black culture. One pocket often featured is the cultural experience of pledging historically black fraternities and sororities, otherwise known as Black Greek Letter Organizations (BGLOs). The five fraternities and four sororities that comprise BGLOs, affectionately called “The Divine Nine,” are officially known as the National Pan-Hellenic Council (NPHC).

Feature films tend to focus either on stepping, as with Stomp The Yard and Step Sisters, or the issue of pledging vs. hazing, as with School Daze and Burning Sands. Black sitcoms and other small screen productions, however, tend to explore BGLO issues with more nuance and humor.

A Different World - Ep. #216 - “It’s Greek to Me” - 1989 - NBC

Hillman College best friends Dwayne and Ron are in the midst of pledging fictional fraternity Kappa Lambda Nu. As time goes on, Dwayne becomes disillusioned with the process and argues with Ron over whether what they’re enduring is worth the benefits of the frat. Dwayne eventually drops line while Ron crosses into the brotherhood, and they see that their friendship can survive different paths. The matter is handled amicably and respectfully, and Ron is seen in future episodes as an active member.

Season 2 is when A Different World found its identity within the HBCU experience, as Debbie Allen took over the direction of the series after Denise’s character departed. Debbie and sister Phylicia Rashad are both Howard University alumnae, and Phylicia is a member of Alpha Kappa Alpha.

A Different World - Ep. #421 - “Sister to Sister, Sister” - 1991 - NBC

Though no episodes depicted Whitley pledging, in this one Whitley oversees Kim’s pledge process for fictional sorority Alpha Delta Rho. Like its predecessor, the episode questions the pledge process itself, and further, the ethics of whether someone should pledge a friend. While Whitley defends her actions, Kim ultimately gets revenge when she over-seasons Whitley’s eggs with pepper. Whitley realizes she was being harder on Kim because they were friends, and learns how to be a better sister overall.

You can watch A Different World with a subscription to Amazon Prime Video.

The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air - Ep. #408 - “Blood is Thicker Than Mud” - 1993 - NBC

Once Will and Carlton matriculate to University of Los Angeles, they decide to pledge fictional fraternity Phi Beta Gamma. However, things take a turn for the worst when Will finds out he made the cut, but Carlton didn’t because he doesn’t “fit their image.” When Carlton finds out the truth, he reads them for filth in an iconic speech that defends his authenticity. There is no mention of the fraternity in the rest of their college experience.

You can watch The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air with a subscription to HBO Max.

Moesha - Ep. #224 - “Prom Fright” - 1997 - UPN

The episode begins with Frank reminiscing about Kappa Alpha Psi with his frat brother, complete with cane twirling and chanting, “I'm pretty on my left, I'm pretty on my right, I'm so damn pretty I can't sleep at night!” Frank believes his frat brother’s Harvard-bound son would be a good fit to date Moesha as an alternative to Q, but later finds out the boy isn’t interested in Kappa or anything Frank had hoped for. The boy even says he isn’t interested in organizations that perpetuate a “herd mentality,” a rarity in depictions of children with parents in BGLOs.

Moesha - Ep. #401 - “Moesha Meets Brandy” - 1998 - UPN

There is no discussion about Greek life in this episode, however, Moesha’s new college boyfriend Aaron and his frat brother show up wearing Kappa Alpha Psi shirts for their weekend trip to Big Bear.

Moesha - Ep. #407 - “A Terrible Thing Happened on My Tour of College” - 1998 - UPN

Moesha and her friends take a campus tour for prospective student weekend of Maynard University. Part of their introduction to campus is a step show featuring Omega Psi Phi, Kappa Alpha Psi (and Moesha’s ex Aaron from #401), and Delta Sigma Theta. This episode centers on Moesha grappling with the betrayal of a college student named Melvin drugging her drink at a college party, but thankfully Aaron comes to her rescue.

One of the writers on Moesha was Mara Brock Akil, who pledged Delta Sigma Theta at Northwestern University.

You can watch Moesha with a subscription to Netflix.

Sister, Sister - Ep. #608 - “Greek to Me” - 1998 - The WB

Like the transition from ABC to The WB, the show saw Tia and Tamera transition from high school to University of Michigan. As the twins are exposed to Greek life, Tamera finds her anniversary dinner plans interrupted when Jordan goes undercover for student newspaper to investigate hazing. Meanwhile, Ray tries to convince Tia to pledge Alpha Kappa Alpha, while Lisa tries to sway her towards Delta Sigma Theta.

Lead actor Tim Reid wore an Alpha Phi Alpha sweatshirt in this episode, as he pledged the fraternity at Norfolk Stage College.

You can watch Sister, Sister with a subscription to Netflix.

The Parkers - Ep. #101 - “Grape Nuts” - 1999 - UPN

As Nikki and Kim start Santa Monica Community College, they also decide to pledge the fictional Alpha Alpha Alpha, or “Triple A’s.” As they continue in the pledge process, however, Nikki becomes increasingly fed up, which leads her to tell off the sorority sisters. She drops the line while Kim goes on to cross.

This is a rare depiction of a mother and daughter on the same line, as well as an extreme age gap in pledges for a collegiate one.

The Parkers - Ep. #404 - “Meter Maids Need Love, Too” - 2002 - UPM

Kim and Stevie are troubled by three ex-cons pledging their same sorority. Meanwhile, a fictional fraternity pledge bothers Professor Oglevee and T. While some sororities have clauses against criminal records, this is a rare depiction of one in which women who’ve traded prison for college are able to participate.

You can watch The Parkers with subscriptions to Netflix and YouTube TV.

Girlfriends - Ep. #616 - “Game Over” - 2006 - UPN / The CW

The show’s transition from UPN to The CW coincided with Joan’s transition to “It Girl” with the success of her restaurant The J-Spot. In this episode she mentions that she will be honored at a gala for business women thrown by Delta Sigma Theta, and needs to ask one of her potential suitors to be her date.

With this show being set post-college, this reference is a reminder that sororities and fraternities continue to be involved in their communities well beyond the collegiate pledge process and for good causes.

Girlfriends creator Mara Brock Akil pledged Delta Sigma Theta at Northwestern University, and previously wrote on Moesha.

You can watch Girlfriends with a subscription to Netflix.

Luke Cage - Ep. #108 - “Blowin’ Up The Spot” - 2016 - Netflix

When the police bring in Mariah for questioning, Misty jokes with Priscilla, “Look, I was just about to compel her to make a statement before you let your little soror Skee-Wee on out of here.” This is a reference to Alpha Kappa Alpha, but Priscilla corrects Misty with, “Oo-Oop,” indicating that she and Mariah are members of Delta Sigma Theta instead.

Similar to Girlfriends, the show exists outside of the collegiate realm. Mariah is a politician and Prisicilla is an inspector, showing that women in these organizations go on to have prolific careers, in which they are often expected to have each other’s backs in various situations.

You can watch Luke Cage with a subscription to Netflix.

Dear White People - Ep. #104 - “Chapter IV” - 2017 - Netflix

With a blast from the past, this episode sheds light on Coco and Sam’s friendship as freshmen and how their different experiences affected it. Coco is eager to join fictional sorority Alpha Delta Rho, while Sam wants to join the Black Student Union. Alpha Delta Rho is more interested in Sam than Coco due to colorism, and when Coco finds out, she drops. When the sorority sisters later attempt to enter the Pegasus Party that Coco is in, she denies them access.

Colorism is a topic that many in the African-American community are finally beginning to have open conversations about. This is another rare depiction among portrayals of BGLOs, as it is a controversial part of the culture that speaks to issues of elitism.

Alpha Delta Rho may be a callback to A Different World, as it bears the same name and similar colors to Whitley’s fictional sorority. Early on in the episode, Sam even describes their historically black dorm “like a mini Hillman College.”

You can watch Dear White People with a subscription to Netflix.

Marlon - Ep. #208 - “Homecoming” - 2018 - Netflix

When Marlon and Stevie return to Howell University, Marlon is reunited with his frat brothers, with whom he founded a fictional fraternity for those rejected by the more popular ones on campus. Marlon looks forward to overseeing the latest line of pledges, until he realizes that Stevie is on line as an alumnus. It is later revealed that Marlon was the one who blocked Stevie from joining while they were in college, and Stevie becomes determined to prove his worth. Stevie ultimately completes the process, and the episode is punctuated by a step show.

You can watch Marlon with a subscription to Netflix.

While popular 90s sitcoms and TV shows in the late 2010s feature similar references to BGLO experiences, they often were able to host more complex conversations about them in the span of an episode, especially in regards to character values and relationship dynamics. Here’s hoping that as the new renaissance of black television takes place, we see even more diverse perspectives on these fraternities and sororities in relation to issues at large.

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downn-in-flames · 5 years ago

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and it was like slow motion

What do you do when the one who means the most to you is the one who didn't show?

{prequel the first to and all the pieces fall}

notes: this is just a short little one-shot prequel to a novel i've got in the works - it's an alternate universe in which voldemort doesn't exist and james + lily don't get together during their seventh year. the novel picks up about three years after they've graduated hogwarts, and this one-shot takes place in september 1978.if you can't tell by the title and summary alone, this fic is heavily based on the moment i knew by taylor swift, and the series as a whole pulls from the red, reputation, and lover albums. :P

read it on: hpft | ao3 | ffnet

She'd be lying if she said she didn't pick this dress out specifically for James.

He'd always liked her in yellow, always told her it made her look like sunshine. And she'd always flushed at the compliment, unsure if it was meant to be friendly or meant to be something more.

She's now almost positive that it was the latter.

The sweetheart neckline is also for his benefit; it shows off her cleavage just enough that she knows he won't be able to resist glancing at it every so often, and she'll obviously call him out on it, and he'll stammer out some sort of excuse, and she'll respond with something coy, and…

She's getting ahead of herself.

But she can't really help it - she hasn't seen the bloke since graduation, so it's natural that she'd be a little overeager about the thought of seeing him again.

She watches as her reflection runs her hands over the fabric, making sure every last inch of it is in place. Her red hair falls down her back in waves and her makeup is mostly natural - nothing like the sort of stuff she's gotten used to - but it's enough to make her look like she's positively glowing.

There's a knock on the door, effectively startling Lily from her trance of watching herself in the mirror.

She knows, objectively, that it's not James - James has never been great about getting anywhere on time, he was at least somewhat better while he was Head Boy, but that was only for official things. Anything else, and he was useless.

But even despite that logic, she feels hope rise in her chest anyways.

When she opens the door though, there's no tall, dark-haired boy behind it. Instead, there's Marlene and Dorcas.

"Hot damn," Marlene says, in lieu of a normal greeting. "You look like you're trying to stun someone."

Dorcas snorts at that. "Let me guess, he's about yea tall, plays professional Quidditch, perpetually has sex hair, name rhymes with Hotter?"

Lily flushes at the call-out.

Arguing with her would be entirely useless - Dorcas is completely aware of how much she'd come to fancy James in their last few months of Hogwarts.

"You're going to succeed, you know," Dorcas tells her. "Potter could barely keep his eyes off of you in Hogwarts robes, much less this. He'll be goddamn speechless."

"I'm honestly surprised this is the first time you're seeing him since graduation," Marlene adds. "Quidditch training can't be that time-consuming, can it? You two were practically attached at the hip by the last month of school."

Lily shrugs, trying her best to keep her face impassive. "I dunno, I guess it's just a big adjustment for him, getting used to the whole professional athlete life."

"Yeah, I suppose."

But the truth is… she doesn't fully get it either. She's written to him five or so times since graduation, asking about life and training and casually suggesting that maybe they grab dinner and catch up with each other, if he's got a free night any time soon? And yet, every time, her owl has returned empty-clawed. He's not responded to her once. She knows full well that he was always terrible at responding to his mum's letters at school - he got more than one half-hearted Howler about his lack of response - but… five times?

She supposes she can ask him about that when he gets here today. Or, at the very least, decide on a better form of communication where he'll actually remember to answer her.

Because despite all of the letters going unanswered, she knows he'll be here today. This is different from a short blurb of a letter - this is a party they'd all had planned since the first of September last year. A reunion party when the Hogwarts Express left King's Cross for the first time without any of them on it. They'd talked about it constantly all year.

She combs back through her memory of seventh year, through the many, many times he said he'd be here today - he wouldn't go back on that.

Her little flat is decorated perfectly for the occasion - red and gold balloons all over, just like their House colours, and lots of sweets available, just like the ones the trolley witch always comes around with. And the, of course, a fair bit of alcohol, which is decidedly not just like the Hogwarts Express, but seems to be a necessity at a post-graduation party.

Marlene and Dorcas sit on her couch, poking through the candy selection on the table in front of them, and Lily's just about to join them when there's another knock.

It's Remus this time, and he gives Lily a big hug as soon as she opens the door for him.

"It's so good to see you, Lil," he tells her.

She beams at him. "You too."

"I keep feeling like I've forgotten something," he laughs. "Shouldn't we be on a train right now?"

"Shit, I'm supposed to be running a prefect meeting right now."

"I'm sure they're all awfully lost right now, without either of their Heads," Remus replies.

"Oi, Lupin, stop talking about school and come pour yourself a drink!" Marlene yells from the other side of the flat, and Remus' attention is diverted.

"McKinnon, you haven't changed one bit."

"Well of course I haven't," she answers reasonably. "It's only been three months - how much can someone change in three months?"

"Hey Marley," Dorcas says to her, "remember that summer you left Hogwarts straight as an arrow and came back loudly announcing to everyone you knew that you were 'gay as hell'? Because I'd say that's a pretty big change for three months."

"I was never 'straight as an arrow'," Marlene retorts. "I was just heavily closeted - there's a difference."

Dorcas shrugs, then throws her arm around her girlfriend. "Fair enough."

"Evans!" Through her still-open front door she hears the all-too-familiar voice of Sirius Black yelling her name - she briefly entertains the hope that James will be walking up to her doorstep with him, but when she turns her head to see him, it's just the one.

"Black," she replies with a grin - even though she's disappointed that James isn't here yet, she's undeniably excited to see Sirius as well.

He spins her around in a tight hug as soon as he crosses the threshold into her flat - honestly, she can't believe a full three months have passed since she's seen him. He gives damn good hugs.

"I've got to say," he says, appraising her after he sets her back down, "you pull off Muggle clothes infinitely better than wizarding ones."

She's got a whole closet worth of elaborate and increasingly risqué wizarding dress robes that would likely beg to differ, but Sirius can't know about those (because he'd surely ask how she's managed to get her hands on all of those, and that's a question she absolutely cannot answer for him), so she just laughs and agrees with him.

"I never did much enjoy Hogwarts robes."

"Neither did I, Evans," he replies with a grin. "Neither did I."

Then he turns his attention to Remus, who's still standing on Lily's other side. "Moony, long time no see," he says, and there's a slightly devious look in his eyes that makes Remus flush.

Lily makes a mental note to figure out what that's all about eventually.

Mary arrives a few minutes later, then Peter after that. Everyone pours themselves drinks and makes themselves comfortable all across Lily's living room, stealing chairs from her kitchen or sitting on the floor as they all trade stories and memories.

"Remember our first train ride to Hogwarts, Evans?" Sirius asks her. "Remember what little shits James and I were?"

Lily thinks back to that day, back to that exchange in the train compartment where she'd so passionately defended Snape to an exceptionally obnoxious James and Sirius. It's a strange memory to think back on, purely because of how tainted it's become. The boy she'd protected turned out to be a closeted blood purist who called her a nasty slur and condoned attacks on her friends, and the boys she'd been yelling at grew up to be the good ones, and the ones she's actually friends with now.

"We were all little shits," she clarifies.

"Speaking of Prongs," Peter chimes in, "where is he?"

Lily's almost glad someone else brought up James' absence - she's had her eyes on the door almost constantly for the past fifteen minutes or so, just waiting for him to walk in. She hopes no one has noticed that, but knowing her friends, at least one of them has.

Sirius shrugs. "No fucking clue. He's usually late, but he's not usually this late. Not to mention that it's, well… "

"It's Lily's party, and James's ability to be on time only exists specifically for her?" Marlene finishes, none-too-subtly.

"Yes, exactly that."

Lily tries to act more nonchalant than she feels. She's not going to acknowledge the sinking feeling that's started in her gut, not going to give it any power over her while she's supposed to be enjoying time with her friends. He's just running later than usual, that's all.

"It's fine," she tells them. "He'll get here when he gets here."

She's greeted with more than one slightly suspicious look, like they don't believe she's as casual about his tardiness as she seems, and she immediately feels the need to turn the attention away from herself. They're all acting like she's made of glass or something, and she doesn't like that one bit.

"How has James been lately?" Mary asks. "I haven't heard from him once since graduation."

She's looking at Lily as she poses the question, like she's expecting Lily to have seen him more recently. Lily doesn't want to admit that she hasn't heard anything from him either, if only because acknowledging that means coming to terms with the fact that maybe she's no different from Mary in his eyes.

But maybe no one's heard from him. Maybe he's just stopped talking to Sirius and Remus and Peter as well and it's just an everyone thing as he adjusts to his new training schedule.

"He's doing pretty good," Peter answers, not picking up on the fact that Mary's question was aimed at Lily and not him. "He spends most of his time training or with his teammates though - I've only seen him like four times all summer."

Four times. Peter - and presumably Remus and Sirius too - have seen James four times since graduation. She hasn't seen him once - hell, she hasn't even gotten a single letter. And clearly, yeah, he is busy, but he's not too busy to see his other friends.

She'd really thought, after graduation and that last night before they left Hogwarts, that they were in a good place. That his feelings for her were the same as hers for him - he'd certainly made it seem that way, at the very least. After all of that, why would he decide to stop talking to her - and just her?

"He's too good for us now," Sirius says, and the smirk on his face says that he's being sarcastic, but his words hit Lily with full force.

She hadn't really let herself consider that option before, the idea that James would somehow move on - move past - his school friends, ditching them entirely for a new life. He'd never made any sort of indication that he was planning on doing that at school, had never said anything that would make her believe he thought himself above the rest of them after signing his Quidditch contract.

She doesn't want to believe he'd be that person.

But time is ticking, and he's still not here.

***

The hours pass by, and Lily's trying her best to enjoy herself, sipping at a butterbeer and laughing along with everyone, but really, she just wants to be alone.

She looks around the room - everyone's talking and laughing, but it's still obvious that there's one thing missing. That there's one person missing.

And in that moment, the truth finally sinks in.

Despite his promises and the fact that all of his other friends are here today, James isn't coming today. Something has changed between the two of them, a total about-face from their last interactions, and he's decided to cut her out as a result.

Sirius's earlier sarcasm was a thin mask of the truth - James is probably too caught up in his new glamorous professional Quidditch lifestyle to give a damn about some girl from his Hogwarts days anymore.

And as usual, she's put her faith in someone who's decided that the best option is to crush it under their heel.

She feels a tightness growing in her chest, and suddenly, the desire to be alone becomes a need. "I'm going to the loo," she says abruptly, interrupting whatever conversation that she was only halfway paying attention to her, setting her bottle down on the table in front of her and leaving the room as fast as she can without acting suspicious.

She goes down the hallway and closes the door behind her.

There, in the bathroom, she tries not to fall apart, fingers gripping at the edge of the bathroom sink tightly. She stares at them, watching her knuckles go white.

"He said he'd be here," she says hopelessly, to no one but herself, her voice barely above a whisper.

She knows it's stupid, because he said he'd be here months ago, and things change, and he's incredibly busy with Pride of Portree. But he'd told her, with her hands in his and a look of utmost sincerity in his eyes, that he wouldn't miss this party for the world.

And like a fool, she'd believed him.

She looks back up at the mirror, at the single tear running down her cheek, and her jaw sets. She should've known better than to let herself care this deeply about someone again. She shouldn't have given James this power over her, the power to cut her this deeply over something as little as blowing off a party.

Fuck. She swore, after Snape, that she wasn't going to give anyone else the potential to break her like that. She wasn't going to let herself fall for anyone's stupid tricks or lies anymore.

And… maybe that's the problem. Nothing about James has ever felt like a trick, or a lie, or like he's ever anything but what he appears to be. That's one of the things she likes best about him, the fact that he's unapologetically himself and doesn't waver from that.

The idea that he's changed so much in three short months - from the boy who'd become one of her best friends and trusted her with all his biggest secrets, to someone who wants nothing to do with her - feels like such a sudden and unexpected shift. Especially when, as Marlene had pointed out just a few hours ago, it's not like the rest of them have changed much since school ended.

But it seems that's exactly what happened - she really can't think of any other plausible explanation for all of this. And really, she should've realised it a while ago.

She curses herself, again, because why the fuck did she not see this coming? Why did it take three months, multiple unresponded letters, and a no-show at a party for her to realise James doesn't really care about her the way she'd let herself believe he did? Why did she let herself get blinded by affection and feelings and rose-coloured glasses, only to get herself hurt again?

Petunia, Severus, James. She's been through this shit three times now.

And this time, she's done with it - she's had enough. She's done letting people in, letting them have such a profound piece of her heart, because clearly even the people she thinks are somehow different and better turn out to be exactly the same as everyone before.

She wipes the tears from her cheeks, determined not to let herself continue to cry over someone who doesn't deserve it.

There's a soft knock at the door and Remus' voice comes through from the other side. "Lily?"

"Yes?" She wills her voice not to crack - and it doesn't. If nothing else, her Order work so far has really done wonders for her acting abilities.

"We just - I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Of course. Despite her best acting, James's close friends have always had a bit of a sense on when something's really wrong - her abrupt departure from the party seems to be no exception. She's willing to bet more than one of them followed her down the hall.

She gets confirmation of that when she opens the door and is face-to-face with both Remus and Sirius. "I'm brilliant," she tells them, hoping like hell that it's not too obvious that she was crying just a few minutes ago.

"Evans, I've got no clue why he didn't show today," Sirius says. "I mean, we've definitely talked about it recently, so it's not like he just forgot about it."

Lily doesn't miss the subtle elbow from Remus at that, a small jab of you're not helping.

"It's fine," she lies. Even though it's not.

But what else is she supposed to say? That the one person whose presence meant the most to her is the one who didn't show up, and that it's finally shown her just how much he doesn't care about her anymore?

"No, it's not," Sirius argues back. "It's real shitty of him to just not show up to something we've all been planning for a year with no explanation to you whatsoever."

And secretly, she agrees with him. But she also refuses to let him know that she cares that much.

"It really is," she tells them, brushing her hair over her shoulder. "He's got his Quidditch career to pay attention to now, and like you said, he's too good for us - too good for me - now. That's fine, I really don't care."

She'll keep saying that out loud until she starts to mean it.

If not letting herself care about anyone is the way she stops getting betrayed, than so be it. She'll be a heartless ice queen if that's what it takes.

Both Remus and Sirius just look at her, slightly aghast, and Lily thinks to herself that, at the very least, a shocked look is better than a pitying one.

"Lily - " Remus starts.

"Let's get back to the party, yeah?" she says, and the nonchalance in her voice feels less faked this time. "I want to watch Peter get his eyebrows get burned off in Exploding Snap for the thousandth time."

***

The next morning, after everyone's left (because of course everyone else ended up getting too plastered to Apparate home and ended up crashing on the floor of her tiny one-bedroom flat), she goes about the process of cleaning up the apartment from the mess they'd made the night before. She's long since abandoned the yellow party dress in favour of an oversized T-shirt and pajama shorts, and she waves her wand and watches as the empty bottles and cups pile themselves in the bin, the balloons deflate and follow suit, and all her cushions right themselves again.

Then she sets down her wand, because she wants to do this next part by hand.

When she'd moved into this flat, she'd covered the walls of her living room with pictures of her Hogwarts years. The room is filled with images of her laughing and smiling with friends - and somehow, James is a nearly constant fixture in all of them.

And so, one by one, she removes every single one of them from her walls. Every single photograph with his stupid face gets put into a pile of memories she no longer wants to be confronted with every day.

But as much as she just wants to get rid of them permanently, she can't quite convince herself to part with them just yet. So she summons a small black storage box from her closet, piling them all inside and closing the lid neatly on top. Locked up in a box, just like she's locking them all away in her mind.

She carries the box into her bedroom, shoving it as far under her bed as she can manage. It can stay there and collect dust for… Merlin knows how long. And maybe one day, when she truly and completely stops giving a fuck about James Potter, she'll find it and laugh and shove it into the bin for real this time.

The rest of her Sunday is spent deep-cleaning the rest of her flat, writing an update to Dumbledore, and perusing the Sunday edition of the Prophet for anything interesting. The sun is low in the sky when an owl comes knocking at her window, bearing a tiny, rolled-up scroll.

She opens the window for just long enough to take the letter from the owl, before sending it on its way. She unfurls the note, revealing one messily-written line in black ink.

I'm sorry I didn't make it yesterday. -J

She looks at the letter - if it can even be called that, it's barely even a sentence - and answers it aloud with words she'll never send.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, too."

#hp fanfiction #jily fanfiction #jily #james potter x lily evans #angst #jily angst #jily fic #harry potter fanfic #and when you get me alone it's so simple #that's the series tag for all these things related to this one novel and all the one-shots that have spiralled out of it #because i have no self-control and this universe has run away from me

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walkerismychoice · 5 years ago

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Stripped Bare - Chapter 12 (Bryce X MC AU)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Bryce X MC (Charlie Hawkins)

Summary: It’s the day of the bachelor and bachelorette parties. How will Bryce react to Charlie being around strippers that aren’t him?

Rating: Mature/18+ (Again nothing explicit, but there is stripping in this one and lots of alcohol consumption)

Word Count: 3457

"My hair is going to be down, so I want everyone else’s hair up," Katelyn dictates to the stylists. "I'm thinking a lower chignon for all of them, but I don’t want them to be too matchy-matchy, so make them a little unique.”

The stylists get to work as Katelyn floats around from chair to chair micromanaging. Katelyn apparently doesn’t trust an unknown stylist for her own hair and is flying in her hair stylist from back home the day before the wedding.

Kyra leans over towards Charlie when Katelyn moves to the other side of the salon to supervise the Sarahs. “Only Katelyn would make her bridesmaids get pre-approval on their hair like this. What a waste of time.”

“Seriously. But at least we have wine!” Charlie holds up her glass, and Kyra clinks hers against it.

Charlie’s stylist works with her natural curls, pulling it back and adding in floral hair piece. Much to Charlie’s surprise, Katelyn approves of it without any revisions, but the same cannot be said for the rest of the girls. After multiple reference pictures are taking, Charlie gets tired of waiting in the salon and goes and sits on a bench outside.

As she takes in the sights and sounds around her, she hears her phone buzz in her purse, pulling it out to see a series of texts in her group chat with Aurora, Sienna, and Jackie.

Sienna: Hello???? We haven't heard from you in days!

Jackie: What Sienna really wants to ask is, have you banged Bryce yet?

Sienna: Jackie!

Aurora: Come on Sienna. You're the one who bet she'd give it up by night two

Charlie: OMG you guys are the worst! No, I am not sleeping with Bryce

Jackie: At least it got you to talk to us finally. So you mean to tell me you've been spending 24/7 with the hottest guy we've ever met and you haven't hit that yet? What a waste. If that were me...

Charlie: Ugh, I'm putting my phone away now

Sienna: Wait!

Sienna: For real though, how are things going?

Charlie starts to type the truth, how she's fallen hard and thinks there's a chance he might feel the same, but then she erases it. If she puts it all out there to her friends, it means she's admitting it to herself as well, and she's still not ready for that.

Charlie: Katelyn is as awful as ever, but Bryce has been a model fake boyfriend. I'm not sure I'd be staying sane without him

Sienna: ❤

Jackie: Oh, you so want him! You better tell us when you finally hook up

Aurora: Yes, please do so these two can finally shut up about it

Charlie: Probably not happening

Sienna: But you're saying there's a chance!

Charlie: SMH. Talk to you guys later

~~~

The girls go straight to lunch from the salon. Charlie checks her phone during a lull in the conversation and sees a text from Bryce.

Bryce: How's it going? Are you missing me terribly yet?

Charlie rolls her eyes but she can't help but smile.

Charlie: Seems you are the one who can't go more than two hours without texting me. Who is missing who here?

Bryce: What can I say? I'm getting used to having you around. What are you doing?

Charlie: Eating lunch. You?

Bryce: I grabbed some lunch on the way back from the gym. Now I'm going to get in the shower.

Charlie: I see

Bryce: Picturing me naked now, aren't you? I can give you a little visual to go with that if you want

Charlie has no idea what he means by that and she’s both curious and afraid to find out. She tries to think up a witty reply to reject his offer, but it’s too late because a photo is already coming through. She glances around the table and shields her phone just in case, and when it fully loads she’s glad she did. The picture is of Bryce taking a selfie in the bathroom mirror, positioned just right that if the bottom of the mirror was any lower, she’d be getting an explicit view. The room suddenly feels about twenty degrees warmer and she fumbles to type her response.

Charlie: OMG Bryce! I’m in public you know

Bryce: That’s why I didn’t show you the rest 😉

Charlie: Very funny. I think I'll be getting my fair share of naked men tonight

Bryce: Hey! You don't need them when you have me

Charlie: Sorry, gotta go! TTYL

Charlie laughs to herself as she decides to put her phone away. She's starting to get looks for being on her phone so much, but she also likes having the upper hand with Bryce for once. She'd figured it was no coincidence Bryce kissed her the way that he did right after finding out there would be strippers at the bachelorette party, and his texts seem to confirm he's at least a little bit jealous. She thinks it's funny he's worried at all about them, but then again, look where she is with the last stripper she met.

They finish up lunch and Kyra and Charlie get a drink together at the bar before getting ready for the party. Charlie makes a point not to check her phone until she gets back to the suite, making herself comfortable on the bed before scrolling through his messages.

Bryce: You're killing me Charlie

Bryce: How about this

Bryce: You can skip any amateur league lap dances or whatever, and I'll give you one when you get back. Since you've already had the best, I'd hate for you to be disappointed by someone else's sub-par performance

Bryce: Deal?

Bryce: I'm headed out on the fishing boat now, so I might not be very available for the rest of the evening. Just be safe and have fun

Charlie is glad she’s alone because she’s probably got the stupidest grin on her face right now. Of course he uses his cocky front to pretend like he’d be doing her a service, but when she reads between the lines, she can’t deny any more that he’s into her. She’s still terrified of what it all means, but she just might be ready to take a risk and find out.

~~~

“Damn, Charlie. You look hot!” Kyra compliments Charlie and her sweetheart neckline little black dress as she boards the party yacht. Katelyn gave strict instructions that all the bridesmaids were to wear black cocktail dresses, so she could stand out in white. At least they didn't have to wear any tacky "bride squad" t-shirts or penis paraphernalia.

“Thanks, you too! You’ve got legs for days!” Charlie remarks regarding Kyra’s short halter dress, and they both giggle.

"So what do you think of this boat? Pretty swanky, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess one good thing about Katelyn's desire to flaunt the family wealth is that we all get to benefit."

Kyra scoffs. "Must be nice to be on the rich side of the family."

"Oh, god, I'm sorry," Charlie apologizes. "My privileged asshole side is showing."

"Nah, you're good." Kyra claps her on the back. "For growing up like you did, you are surprisingly down to earth and relatively normal."

"And as painfully awkward and insecure as the best of them."

"Aww." Kyra pinches her playfully on the cheek. "That's what makes you so lovable. But not that insecurity crap. You are awesome and you should own it.”

Charlie sighs. “That’s the kind of thing Bryce keeps saying to me. Always telling me how amazing I am. It’s nauseating really.”

“Oh stop. If you don’t appreciate that man I will gladly take him off your hands.”

Charlie laughs. “No I’m good. I think I’ll keep him for awhile.” It comes out of her mouth so naturally, like she finally believes it’s a legit possibility rather than a hopeless fantasy.

"So, should we grab a drink?” Kyra shifts her eyes to the bar.

Charlie holds her arm out, as if to escort Kyra. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The boat soon fills up with the remainder of the party guests - the Sarahs, Stephanie, Landry’s other groomsmen’s significant others, and a handful Katelyn's other friends that have just arrived in Jamaica for the wedding. They aren’t all bad, but Kyra and Charlie mainly stick together. As they move from cocktails through dinner, the guests are getting increasingly tipsy, and Stephanie appears to be rethinking her decision to be trapped at sea with a bunch of drunk women.

Charlie heads to the bathroom for a timeout from the noise and the crowd as they head to port to pick up the strippers. She’s proud of how well she’s pacing herself as she’s still determined not to get as drunk as that first night ever again. There’s still no new texts from Bryce on her phone, but then again she never did text him back. She scrolls up to his bathroom selfie to study it again and just looking at it makes her think unspeakable things. The tease is almost better than seeing the whole thing.

Feeling a little brave with a couple of drinks in her, Charlie decides to send a selfie back. She fixes her hair in the mirror and straightens her dress. She’s got a decent amount of cleavage and her push-up bra is doing a fabulous job, but a little more wouldn’t hurt, so she adjusts her cups just so and snaps a picture, sending it off the caption, ‘hope you are having fun!’ Within seconds she can see Bryce is replying back.

Bryce: Woah. What are you doing wearing a dress like that when I’m not there to see you in it?

Charlie: There’s always later...

Bryce: I’m ready to go back to the room now if you are

Is he serious? It's tempting, but for a multitude of reasons, she can’t take him up on that offer even if he means it.

Charlie: But I can’t miss the strippers!

Bryce: You know I can take care of that for you

Charlie: But how do I know you are the best if I have nothing else to compare to?

Bryce: What am I going to do with you?

Charlie: Maybe later you can show me

What's gotten into her? Just yesterday she could hardly look at Bryce without blushing and now she's sending him suggestive text messages.

Bryce: Oh, you bet I will

Well now she's blushing. Charlie splashes some cool water on her face and composes herself, rejoining the group just as the boat pulls up to the dock.

A short time later, two men dressed as law enforcement officers enter the boat. Charlie knows exactly what's going on, but with all the alcohol that's been collectively consumed, it causes a commotion. Charlie and Kyra sit back and laugh as everyone tries to figure out what's going on.

“Oh my god. They are all dumbasses.” Kyra rolls her eyes. “We stopped specifically to pick up the strippers.”

Charlie shakes her head. “This might be more entertaining than the actual show.”

“Ladies, we have a problem here.” The tall one with a Jamaican accent starts as the other shorter one with sandy blond hair pulls something out of his duffel bag. “You’ve started the party without us!”

Suddenly "Get Ur Freak On” starts blasting out of a small portable speaker and the two men tear away their shirts in unison. Once the initial confusion wears off, the drunk women start cheering. The strippers make their way to the makeshift stage area, while the party guests find seats in the chairs that were previously set up around it. Charlie and Kyra sit off as far as possible to the side to avoid being directly in the action.

“Well they aren’t bad-looking at least,” Kyra assesses from afar.

But they aren’t Bryce either. “They’re okay. Neither is really my type though.”

“Well when you have someone as perfect as Bryce, it’s hard to compare. I bet he’d make one hell of a good stripper.” Charlie shoots Kyra a look that in her mind conveys the terror of hitting too close to his secret being out, but Kyra must perceive it as something else. “Sorry, I know I shouldn’t thirst after your boyfriend like that, but I’ve seen the way he can move.”

Charlie laughs nervously. “I’ll suggest it as a backup career if the whole surgeon thing falls through.” She breathes a side of relief that Kyra doesn’t really know his secret, but talking about him makes her think to check her phone again, and sure enough there’s another text from Bryce.

Bryce: Help! Bob is trying to make me keep up with him, and dude is like a professional drinker

Charlie: I doubt he’s forcing drinks down your throat. You can pace yourself

Charlie: Anyway, gotta go. Strippers are here! Charlie takes a quick picture of the shirtless dancers, still with police hats on, and sends it to Bryce before stashing her phone away.

The strippers, or Clive and Dan as they have introduced themselves, continue on to do their stripper thing, getting down to their very tiny underwear with ass cheeks bared. Charlie’s time in the strip club two weeks ago was more than enough exotic dancing for her to see in person for one lifetime, but she is enjoying watching the other women act like fools. In fact, Katelyn seems far more interested in these men than she ever has in Landry, but that’s not surprising. She always figured Katelyn would go for the first available man who could put up with her. Katelyn completed her undergraduate, but her real goal was the Mrs. degree.

Dan comes over towards Charlie with a massage oil slicked chest and encourages her to rub her hands on him to which she politely declines. However, Kyra has no problem jumping right in, and Charlie gives her the side-eye as soon as he moves on.

“What? Just because this is cheesy as hell doesn’t mean we can’t have fun with it. So far the only man I have touched in any way, shape or form on this trip is Bob.” Kyra shudders. “You have Bryce’s abs. Let me have these.”

Charlie chuckles. “You’re right. Feel all the abs. No more judgement from me.”

The men alternate taking paying customers back to the captain’s quarters for brief, private lap dances, and when Kyra is approached by Dan, she takes him up on it. Charlie uses it as an excuse to step outside and check in with Bryce.

Bryce: Dude, cop outfits? That is laaaaaaaame

Charlie: Says the man who dresses up as a surgeon

Roughly two minutes later, Bryce replies back

Bryce: But theirs is fake

Charlie: And yours isn’t?

Bryce: Ive hadd lots to drunk. Bobby can be persusave

Charlie: I can see that. Don’t drink too much more. I don’t think I could carry you home.

Bryce: Don’t worry I fiiine. And rememembre Im the only stripper who gets to give you a lapdance.

Charlie: We’ll see about that

Charlie leaves it at that and heads back inside. What she means is that given the state he seems to be in, she doubts he’ll be in any condition for anything but but bed when they get back. If he interprets it as her teasing that she might get a lap dance from one of these guys, she’s okay with that. He didn’t heed her advice to slow down on the booze, so he shouldn’t expect her to follow his direction either.

The strip show winds down after Katelyn gets a very lengthy private lapdance with Clive that raises some eyebrows, and not long after the boat pulls into the dock where the women are meeting up with Landry’s party.

“Woah!” Charlie struggles to maintain her balance with her first couple steps. “I haven’t had that much to drink. I guess sea legs are a real thing.”

“Somehow its easier to be tipsy and walk in heels on a yacht than it is to walk on solid ground right now,” Kyra observes. “Oh look, the guys are already here.” She nods towards the shoreline where most of the men don’t look in any better shape than the women.

Despite the fact that most everyone could stand to go home and go to bed immediately, the majority decide to hit up more clubs downtown.

“I think Bryce, and I are just going to head back,” Charlie tells Kyra.

“Oh, yes.” Bryce agrees. “I’ve been waiting all night to get this one to myself.” He grabs Charlie and gives her a big, sloppy drunk kiss.

Kyra laughs. “Have fun with that.”

“Are you sure you are good if I leave?” Charlie asks.

“Yeah, I’ll stick with the group. Plus Dan said he’d make sure I got back safely.” Kyra motions towards the now dressed in normal street clothes dancer.

In the past Charlie would have been concerned about her friend going home with a stripper she’d just met, but now she’d be quite the hypocrite to raise objection. “I’m sure he will,” Charlie winks at Kyra and decides she’s been spending entirely too much time with Bryce.

Charlie guides Bryce on the short walk to the resort, and he wastes no time questioning her about her evening.

“Didn’t you see my last texts?”

“Oh, did you send me some more?” Charlie plays coy. She did briefly glance at his series of replies saying he hoped she was joking and worrying about why she wasn’t texting him back. She wants to mess with him some more, but now that he’s there in front of her she doesn’t have the heart. “Don’t worry, I saved my lap just for you.”

Bryce perks up, a wide grin spreading across his face. “You know I really did miss you tonight.” Bryce puts his arm around Charlie but stumbles and almost brings them both to the ground. “Oops, sorry.”

“Let’s just focus on getting back to the room without incident.”

They step inside the building and make it up to the room. Charlie isn’t sure what Bryce still has planned, but she knows nothing but sleep is happening for him tonight. Charlie guides Bryce to the bedroom and sits down on the bed to take off her heels.

Bryce walks up in front of Charlie and starts playing with the first button on his shirt. “Are you ready for your show?” He works at the button but doesn’t even seem to have the coordination to get it undone.

“Maybe I should help you.” Charlie stands up and moves his hands to the side, easily popping the top button.

“I like where this is going buuut this isn’t how strippers work, silly.”

Charlie laughs under her breath. “I know but this shirt’s a little tricky for you right now. I’ll just undo the buttons.”

“Okay.” Bryce leans in close and sniffs her hair. “You smell so good Charlie. I just want to eat you.”

Bryce is wasted and as much as Charlie would typically be annoyed at this type of behavior, it’s the first time Bryce has let himself give up any sort of control around her. He’s actually kind of adorable when he’s drunk and she still owes him for taking care of her on that first night anyway.

Charlie slides the shirt over his shoulders and tosses it on the back of the armchair in the room. “I’m going to go change in the bathroom and let you finish up out here.

“Wait!” Bryce grabs her by the shoulders and sits her back down on the bed. “The show is not over yet. Bryce hastily peels off his undershirt with no finesse whatsoever and then unbuttons his jeans. He drops them down and when he tries to kick them off his feet, he goes tumbling to his hands and knees.”

“Are you okay?” Charlie untangles the pants and helps him to the bed.

“Maybe you were right. This was not my best performance. I owe you an IOU. Wait, does that sound right?” Bryce scratches his head.

Charlie shakes her head. “Just get comfortable and I’ll get you some water so you aren’t hating life in the morning.”

Bryce chugs down one glass and then another before lying back, struggling to keep his eyes open. “Charlie, you are the best. We should be together...for reeeaal. We’re both so pretty and we can be sucs- sussess- good doctors together.”

Charlie covers him with a sheet and tries to refrain from bursting out laughing because he’s clearly talking nonsense right now. “Goodnight, Bryce,” she whispers softly, but is only answered back by the sound of his snores.

#playchoices fanfic #open heart #bryce x mc #bryce lahela #Stripped Bare #my fic

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badchoicesposts · 5 years ago

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Don’t Dream It’s Over Chapter 14

Series Summary: Liam and Ali thought that their relationship was perfect, but their whole world came crashing down when Constantine called him back to Cordonia. Four years later they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party, determined to make things between them work even if it isn’t always easy.

In this AU, Liam and MC (Ali Moonessar) dated for a year in New York while Leo was still crown prince. They broke up when Constantine asked Liam to come back to Cordonia, but they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party before the social season. The story will contain flashbacks, which will be italicized, of their relationship and follow them as they try to navigate the season with Ali as a suitor. I’ve messed around with the timeline a bit so that it fits the story better. I’ve also added in a few OCs of my own.

Pairing: Liam x MC (Ali Moonessar) Platonic!Drake x MC

DISCLAIMER: I’ve changed up the timeline of the social season a bit to fit my story better. I’ve based it off of some research I did on the British Social Season. Some of the dialogue, especially Olivia’s, was taken directly from Book 1 of The Royal Romance but was changed a bit to fit my fic.

Taglist: @flowerpowell, @ao719, @kingliam2019, @emceesynonymroll, @hopefulmoonobject, @dcbbw, @qammh-blog, @liamxs-world, @drakesensworld, @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @lauradowning29, @texaskitten30, @senseofduties, @indiacater, @alexintheskyy

A/N: This is my first time ever posting a fic. Please let me know if you enjoyed it and would like to read more. I thrive on validation, lol. Thanks for reading! Also special thanks to @lauradowning29 who gave me the motivation to get this out early!

Catch Up: Masterlist

The next evening Ali, Hana, and Lizzie were getting ready for Olivia’s ball, none of them too excited to attend after the previous night. Ali slipped into the champagne colored satin maxi dress that Emma had made specifically for this occasion. The satin material made the dress look formal and classy, while the wrap style of it cinched in her waist and flattered her figure. A high slit went up the side of her left leg and exposed her sparkly, heeled shoes, which added about five inches to her height.

“Can Emma design my clothes too?” Lizzie asked, her jaw slack as she took in Ali’s appearance.

“She’d probably be really happy to hear you say that,” Ali admitted.

She noticed Hana smile at the other woman’s name, but didn’t comment. Before going back to New York, Emma mentioned that she and Hana had exchanged phone numbers so they could “talk about their designs” since Hana was into fashion as well. She knew they had been speaking often, but didn’t want to pry into their whatever relationship they had just yet.

The three of them went down to the ballroom of the chateau and made a beeline towards Maxwell.

“Ladies, it’s a pleasure to see you this evening,” Maxwell said stiffly, “And Lady Moonessar, I must say, you look utterly becoming. Truly a diamond in the first water.”

Ali was confused, and she was sure her face betrayed that.

“Thank you, Lord Maxwell, for that, uh, very formal compliment,” she replied, using his title as well.

“Tonight I am representing the Duchy of Ramsford at this important social event.”

“Oh, so Bertrand got to you?” she asked.

“He’s been calling me all day to remind me,” Maxwell frowned.

“Well, I have complete faith in you,” Ali said, in attempts to get him to cheer up.

“We should be taking our seats,” Lizzie spoke up behind them.

Ali looked around and noticed that the tables had elegant name cards on each of the plate settings.

“Yeah, about that,” Maxwell began, “Lizzie and I are sitting at the head table with Prince Liam and Olivia, but you and Hana are at the furthest table in the back.”

“I’m guessing Olivia had something to do with that,” Ali said.

“Yeah, I’m sorry to leave you guys, but we should get over there,” Maxwell said, motioning to the table at the front of the room.

“Don’t worry about us. Ali and I will make the best of it!” Hana said, optimistically.

“Yeah, have fun, Max.”

The two women walked over to their table and were greeted by Drake.

“Welcome to the table of exiles,” he said indifferently.

“Hey, Drake. I’m glad to see you,” Ali said, taking her seat next to him.

“I think it’s supposed to be even more of an insult that Olivia placed us next to a commoner,” Hana commented, taking her seat as well.

They were the only three people at this table, while all of the others held at least six.

“Yeah, I have a feeling she saw it as hitting two birds with one stone. She was probably also trying to get in Liam’s head by sitting the two of us next to each other,” Ali said to Drake in an undertone. “Let’s just say his morning text today was a lot less enthusiastic than usual.”

“It’s not like he has anything to worry about,” Drake mumbled back.

“Drake, you don’t seem to be bothered at all by being seated in the back,” Hana said, breaking up their whispered conversation.

“What can I say? After years of getting treated like this, you build up a thick skin. Besides, back here? Out of the spotlight? At least we can relax.”

Ali nodded in agreement and watched as servers began to fill the room, placing plates of food down on the other tables. They were gone as quickly as they came, passing over their table completely.

“I’m sure they’ll be back,” Hana said hopefully.

“It’ll probably be a while. We’ll be the last to eat because of where we’re seated, if there’s any left at all,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

“But, the lobster bisque. Do you really think we’ll starve?” Hana asked sadly.

Drake shrugged, and the three of them watched as a few servers still moved around the room, all overlooking their table. The three of them made casual conversation for the next hour as they all got increasingly hungry.

“The service here is terrible, but even still it’s not the worst I’ve had. Believe it or not, I’ve been to a wedding where they didn’t serve dinner until midnight,” Hana said.

“You think that’s bad? I’ll tell you a real horror story,” Drake said, leaning forward in his chair, “Let’s set the scene. Casual get together. Lots of people I don’t know, but that’s fine because there’s a bar. Man’s true best friend. So, I figure I’ll grab a drink. I go up to the bar, and they’re out of whisky.”

Ali refrained from rolling her eyes at his comment, almost sighing in relief as a server approached their table. Three bowls were placed in front of them, and they were forced to refrain themselves from inhaling the food before the server even walked away from the table.

“There’s no lobster in my bowl. It’s just bisque,” Hana said, running her spoon through the liquid. “This is the saddest soup I’ve ever seen.”

“And the coldest,” Drake said, placing his own spoon back down after tasting it.

Ali was just about to try the soup herself when the orchestra began playing, and Olivia moved to the front of the room.

“Hello, dear guests, and welcome to the Nevrakis family’s chateau. It means so much that you join me in this place that’s so dear to my heart. I hope you enjoy the festivities tonight as much as I will.”

Drake scoffed at her words.

“Now please join me up front to begin the Cordonian Waltz,” she concluded.

“We haven’t finished eating!” Hana exclaimed.

“I don’t think she cares,” Drake said.

“Well, let’s do this,” Ali said, stomach still grumbling. “Are you coming, Drake?”

“No, I’ll just… stay here with the food,” Drake said, looking around uncomfortably.

Ali took her time walking up to the front of the room, not eager to do any dancing.

“Olivia, may I have this dance?” she heard Liam ask as she made her way over to Maxwell.

“Of course. Anything for you, Prince Liam,” Olivia said happily.

“My lady, may I have this dance?” Maxwell asked, bowing to Ali exaggeratedly and making her smile.

“I would be honored,” she replied, allowing him to lead her into the loose circle forming on the dance floor.

She and Maxwell began to glide seamlessly across the dance floor.

“Wow, you’re doing really well,” Maxwell complimented.

“Thanks, I’m sure Bertrand would be glad that all of his training paid off. I think he was ready to murder me for how long it took to get this right.”

Maxwell spun her effortlessly before they finished in the end pose with her back pressed against his chest, and his arms around her.

“We’re about to switch partners. Looks like you’ll be with Liam next,” he whispered, pushing her forward into Liam’s arms.

“Good evening,” Liam said, catching her in his arms.

“Hey, how are you?”

“I’m doing well. It’s been a lovely evening so far,” he replied, as they carried out the same steps that she had just executed with Maxwell.

Her nerves were building at his chilly demeanor.

“Liam, you know I was joking when I said I would take Drake and I being a cute couple into consideration right?” she asked, her voice slightly frantic but still quiet enough that only he could hear.

Liam’s body relaxed slightly.

“I know, and I know that you would never go behind my back with someone. You just looked awfully cosy when I saw you last night,” he said, somehow sounding ashamed and defensive at the same time.

“I slipped when we were outside, so I grabbed onto him. The storm was getting pretty bad, and I didn’t want to lose him, so I just held on until we got back inside,” she explained.

Liam spun her under his arm and pulled her back to him, now completely ashamed at his reaction.

“I’m sorry for getting jealous,” he whispered in her ear, his arms circling her as she leaned her back into his chest.

They swayed silently for a second, and she felt him relax his body against hers, keeping her pressed as close to him as possible. He rested his cheek against the top of her head and closed his eyes, taking in her smell of her hair.

“I love you, Liam. Only you,” she said quietly, closing her eyes as well and placing her hands on top of his where they rested on her stomach.

She leaned her head back against his shoulder, neither of them was quite willing to let the other go just yet.

“Ahem!” Olivia’s voice sounded loudly beside them.

They jumped away from each other and was met with the face of an angry Olivia. Ali also noticed a few of the other nobles glancing at them and whispering enthusiastically amongst themselves. All of the other couples had already switched partners.

“Lady Alison, I believe he’s my partner now,” she said, trying to conceal her anger.

“Of course,” Ali said, bowing her head and walking back into Maxwell’s arms.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired and hungry,” she said, not wanting to tell him about their disagreement.

“Hungry?” Maxwell asked, confused. “Dinner was just served.”

“Yeah, Olivia made sure Drake, Hana, and I didn’t eat,” Ali said.

“Oh!” Maxwell exclaimed, surprised.

“It’s not that big a deal,” she said, before realizing he was reacting to something behind her.

Ali turned her head just in time to see Olivia pull Liam into a deep kiss. Olivia wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and gasps were heard all throughout the ballroom. Ali tried her best to keep her expression neutral, not wanting to give a negative reaction. After a moment too long, Liam gently pulled himself away from her, and whispered something in her ear before pulling her out of the ballroom. People began to talk excitedly amongst themselves, some of the other suitors visibly angry. Many of the people in the room looking to her and waiting for a negative reaction.

“I think I’m going to sit down for a bit,” she said to Maxwell, making her way back over to the table and taking her seat next to Drake.

Drake looked over at her as if he wanted to say something, but thought against it and remained quiet instead. They sat in silence for a moment before he finally spoke up.

“Do you wanna get out of here? Get some actual food?” he asked.

Ali thought it over for a moment, and then nodded.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

He took out his phone and sent someone a text before getting up. They slipped out of one of the ballroom’s side doors, careful not to draw too much attention to the fact that they were leaving together, and he led her outside to a large SUV that already had the keys inside.

The drive to wherever they were going was silent but not uncomfortable. Ali watched as the trees passed by, all covered in white snow, and rubbed her hands up her arms. The flowy bell sleeves of her dress only went down to her elbows, and she hadn’t thought to grab a jacket before they left. Drake turned the heat up as they pulled up to a small diner.

“Wait here,” he said.

He quickly ran inside and came back out about ten minutes later with a bag and two large drink containers. He handed the items to her and got back behind the wheel, driving them about five minutes away to an empty stretch of land. He turned onto the grass and parked the car, reaching over the grab the bag.

“It’s an American style diner. I figured you could use some real food,” he said passing her a wrapped burger and a small container of fries.

“Thanks.”

The two of them ate in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again.

“Are you okay?” he asked, staring straight ahead of him and out the windshield.

“Yeah, I just- I’m just tired of feeling things,” she mumbled, shoving a few fries in her mouth. “I know that sounds dumb, but I’ve been so emotional since I’ve gotten here, and I’m just ready to go back to not feeling eight million different things at once.”

She let out a self-deprecating laugh.

“It’s kind of ironic, isn't it? Court is the place where you’re not supposed to show how you’re feeling. You can’t react to anything too strongly because if you do you could offend someone or cause a scandal. But, at the same time, it’s one of the most emotional places I’ve ever been.”

“Well, that’s why isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Everyone grew up at court thinking that they weren’t allowed to feel anything, so now they don’t know what to do when they experience any kind of emotion. Everyone has to be so proper all the time, so know one actually knows how to act, how to be normal. Instead of dealing with their feelings they gossip, start rumors and point fingers,” he said.

Ali leaned back in her seat and reflected on his words.

“Ya know, fancy steaks and tiny finger sandwiches are great and all, but I think this might have been the best meal I’ve had since coming to Cordonia,” she said, ready to change the subject.

Drake chuckled.

“You can thank me with a bottle of whiskey.”

Ali laughed and took a sip of her milkshake.

“I don’t think I’ve even touched alcohol since that night. The bachelor party. I’ve been too terrified that I would screw something up if my inhibitions were lowered even the slightest bit,” she admitted.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think you’ve impressed most of the people you’ve met so far. You’ve definitely been the talk of the season. The whole scandal may have changed a few people’s opinions, but I’ve heard mostly good things about you,” he said, wiping his hand on a napkin and throwing it back in the food bag, before buckling up his seatbelt. “And if you need a decent drink, something stronger than champagne, you know where to find me.”

“I just don’t want to embarrass myself, or Liam,” she said.

“I don’t think anything you do would ever embarrass Liam. The man worships the ground you walk on.”

“He does not worship the ground I walk on,” she said stubbornly.

“Yeah, he does. Why do you think Olivia kissed him tonight?”

“Because she felt like it,” Ali said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“C’mon, you’re smarter than that. You and Liam got too close on the dance floor, and she was jealous.”

Ali remained silent for the rest of the ride back to the chateau. It was obvious that Olivia had feelings for Liam, but she had been too caught up with her own emotions and the fact that she and Olivia had gotten into so many disagreements to stop and consider the other woman’s feelings.

“Don’t be too mad at him for what happened. It’s not like he could have pushed her away and caused a scene in front of everyone. She’s technically still one of his suitors. Besides, he loves you, not her,” Drake said.

Ali nodded her head. She knew that he was right, but she was still wasn’t happy about it.

“Thanks for tonight, Drake. It was nice to get away from all of this,” she said, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and making her way up to her room.

She was just about to pull her dress off when she saw a small envelope placed at the foot of her bed.

Ali,

Please meet me in the grand suite, upstairs at the end of the east wing. I believe I owe you an apology.

All my love,

Liam

Ali sighed and placed the note back down on the bed. It was short and to the point. The last thing she felt like doing was talking about what happened tonight, but she knew that this was something that they needed to do. Her fingers traced over his neat handwriting, the last handwritten note she had received from him jumping to the forefront of her mind.

~~~

Ali perched herself awkwardly on the edge of Liam’s bed as she watched him pile clothes into his suitcase. She had no idea why she had offered to help him pack, why she thought it would be a good idea to physically help him move on from the life they had together. She was only torturing herself, watching as the one person who made her happier than she had ever been prepared to leave her.

She was here because she was being a good girlfriend. That’s what good girlfriends did, right? They helped their boyfriends pack up all of their memories, making sure they were all bundled up neatly together so that they could easily be forgotten and disposed of as soon as he left the country. But, was she really even his girlfriend anymore? Their relationship had ended the moment he announced he would be leaving. It didn’t matter if he wouldn’t be gone for another two days, they were practically over already anyway.

A sigh escaped her lips as she pushed herself off the bed and hastily made her way over to his nightstand. She scolded herself for thinking so selfishly. Liam had a life outside of her, and she couldn’t ask him to give that up. It wasn’t her place. He had important responsibilities. She should be thankful for the wonderful time they had been able to spend together.

She wiped away a tear before yanking open the first drawer and dumping the contents out onto the bed. It had been mostly trinkets, but the package of condoms that he kept there caught her eyes, and she didn’t have the courage to ask him whether or not he wanted to keep them or throw them away. She wordlessly threw them into the suitcase and reached for the next drawer.

“Wait! Don’t go in there!” Liam called after her.

She had already pulled the drawer open, however, pulling out the envelope that was addressed to her.

“What is this?” she asked, holding the envelope in her hands.

“I was going to give it to you before I left,” Liam whispered as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.

“What is it?”

“It’s a- uh, a letter.”

Ali furrowed her brows in confusion and tore open the envelope. The letter was handwritten on Liam’s personal stationary. As Ali skimmed over his words she quickly realized that it was a goodbye letter.

My love,

I’ve been trained for everything I could have ever imagined, but the one thing I was never prepared for was saying goodbye to you. I never learned how to deal with losing you. I never entertained the idea of falling in love before you came into my life. I never thought I would be able to care for someone as much as you…

Ali dropped her hand down to her side, a scoff leaving her lips as she refused to read any further. She tried desperately to hold her tears back, but her vision was already becoming cloudy and it wouldn’t be long before she was a mess. She had been trying her best not to show him how upset she was, but he was making it difficult.

“Ali?” he said her name softly, reaching forward to place a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t touch me,” she said, shrugging it off, and moving towards the window.

“You’re mad at me,” Liam stated.

“I’m not mad at you!” she said, surprised at how hostile her voice sounded.

She wanted to scream. She wasn’t mad at him. She was mad at herself. She was mad at herself for loving him. She was mad at herself for not breaking things off when she found out that he was a prince and for getting so attached. Deep down there was always a part of her that was scared things wouldn’t work out between the two of them because of this. Why had she ignored that? She should have gotten out before her feelings for him had become so strong.

“I’m not mad at you,” she whispered, feeling guilty when she saw the hurt on his face. “I’m just going to miss you. It’s easier to push you away than to admit that.”

“I know,” Liam responded, pulling her into his arms and pressing his lips to her forehead.

A part of her wished that he wouldn’t be so understanding. That he would get mad at her for snapping, and they would fight, so it would be easier to watch him leave. But, deep down she knew she would never be able to live with herself if that’s how she parted ways with him. He meant too much for her to be okay with things ending like that.

She didn’t want this to hurt so bad, but she had no idea how to make it stop.

~~~

She slipped off her heels and replaced them with a pair of fuzzy socks and set out towards the east wing. There was no way she was keeping those shoes on any longer.

She knocked softly on Liam’s door, and he met her with a look of relief on his face.

“You disappeared during the ball, and I was worried that you weren’t going to show up tonight,” he said, pulling her into a tight hug.

“Yeah, Drake and I went out for something to eat,” she said, wrapping her arms around him as well.

She felt his body tense up again and pulled away from him with a scoff.

“What was that noise for?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“I just think it’s funny that you get upset about me spending time with Drake when I have to watch women hang off of you and shove their tongues down your throat every day,” she said casually, dropping down onto his bed.

Liam’s arms dropped and he looked at her with a guilty expression, causing Ali to somewhat regret her petty words. Only a little though.

“Liam, we’ve both told you a million times. We’re just friends,” she continued ranting, angrily tugging at the hem of her dress. “Besides, you’re the one that asked him to look out for me. Obviously we’re going to end up spending time together!”

Liam let out a breath and sat next to her, taking her hand in his and bringing it up to his lips.

“I know, I’m sorry. Seeing you two holding hands last night bothered more than it should have. I believe you when you said that it was innocent. I just didn’t expect to hear you say that you were with him after you disappeared tonight,” Liam admitted, rubbing nervous circles on the back of her hand with his thumb.

“I only disappeared because you kissed Olivia.”

He went to speak, but she interrupted him.

“And I know it’s not your fault. She’s one of your suitors, and you can’t play favorites by only spending time with me. I just didn’t expect to see her actually kiss you. It’s easy to forget that it’s not just the two of us when we’re away from court events for a while, so when we come back to this stuff, and I see you spending time with the other ladies it still bothers me. I love you, and it’s not the best feeling in the world.”

She cuddled herself into his arms and allowed him to pull her back into a lying position. Her stomach was in knots and an unsettled feeling washed over her as silence enveloped them.

“I guess all of this has been hard on both of us,” Liam said.

“Yeah, it has. I just… I just don’t want you to doubt my feelings for you, Liam. I know that may be hard considering everything that’s happened, but I know how I feel about you. There is no doubt in my mind about any of this. I love you, and I’m glad that I’m here with you,” she said, her stomach still churning.

“And I don’t want you to doubt my feelings for you either. I’m sorry about this kiss, and I shouldn’t have gotten jealous. When I saw you getting close to Drake it... brought up a few insecurities,” Liam said.

“What kind of insecurities?” she asked.

Ali pushed herself up to rest on her elbow so she could see his face as he continued to lay on his back.

“Drake could give you a proper relationship right now. You wouldn’t have to hide in the shadows and steal moments together. He can give you a normal life. One away from all of this.”

“Liam, I can live with stealing moments together as long as it doesn’t stay this way forever. The thought that one day we could have a life together, a family together, makes it all worth it. It’s definitely not easy, but I’m willing to do whatever I have to, to make this work because I want this. I want you,” she said, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Thank you. I needed to hear that,” he said, a small smile gracing his features.

Liam cradled the back of her head in his hand and pulled her into another kiss.

“You looked stunning tonight,” he said, running his hand up the leg that was exposed through the slit of her dress.

Ali pulled herself up into a sitting position, her smile not completely meeting her eyes.

“What is it?” he asked, sitting up as well.

“I don’t think that burger is sitting well with me,” she said, clutching her stomach and trying to will away her nausea.

“Do you need anything?” he asked, concerned.

“Where’s your bathroom?” she asked, quickly standing up.

Liam led her to the bathroom, and she immediately fell to her knees, emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet. He stood behind her, holding back her hair and gently rubbing her back.

“Oh, that burger was a lot better going down than it was coming back up,” she groaned, leaning into his arms.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, it’s my fault. The food was probably too greasy. I’m going to head to bed. I’ll be better in the morning,” she said.

She took a minute to get herself together before getting up.

“Will I see you tomorrow?’ she asked, making her way to the suite door.

“I’ll find you. Would you like me to walk you back to your room?” he asked.

She nodded and Liam wrapped her safely in his arms, walking her back to her room where he tucked her under her covers for the night.

#the royal romance #trr #the royal heir #trh #liam x mc #the royal romance fic #trr fic #liam x mc fanfic #liam #king liam #my fics #drake walker #drake x mc #choices #choices fics #playchoices #playchoices fic

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heisalonetonight · 5 years ago

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hi - anon from before - pls excuse me bc i'm absolutely /sobbing/ at your response bruh. thank /you/ for answering so openly (just like Adrien! :0 ) I'm shook at the fact you started publishing from 14 to now, that's incredible!! can i ask what you published? :0 Also wow @ that characterization of Adrien towards the end, it really makes a lot of sense!! is there a difference between Adrien and Chat? Or are they similar but just show different amounts of certain feelings? :0

Oh, just poems and stories! I don’t want to show off lol they were achievements for sure but I’m sure you have something better to do than read about them :P And thank you, I have a lot of opinions about who Adrien is and how he does it. Onto Chat vs Adrien - I think inherently they are the same person, obviously, but Chat Noir lives without the same sort of ... suffocation, I guess? Being Adrien Agreste is work. That’s something that he carries with him every minute of every day - being an Agreste means that there are always cameras somewhere, and his every move is scrutinised. As much as Adrien likes to kick back and relax with his friends, and really does love and trust them very deeply (and god, he loves being called ‘dude’!), the role his friends play in Adrien’s life is actually very minor, by necessity (not by choice: he would always choose to hang out with those guys, sans the nights his father promises he’ll make it to dinner this time - this time). He is working. He has expectations to manage and a phone which is waiting to call him home at the drop of a hat when his father hasn’t quite managed to make this meeting, could he please stand in, or Adrien, there’s a charity event you need to attend, or Adrien, please turn another 13 degrees to the left so the cameras can get your smile properly while you talk to your friends. Adrien’s got a lot of very high expectations put on him which are inherently expectations, rather than goals - they are things he can fall short of or meet, but they are so high it is impossible to exceed them, so his options are disappointing his father or .... not disappointing him.

Adrien really, really cares about his father. I think it’s underestimated, the turmoil that he goes through in Chat Blanc - since the disappearance of his mother his father really, truly changed, and Adrien really believes that that’s because Gabriel is trying to hold things together. He thinks his father has, essentially, fallen apart, and when has it ever been like Adrien to hold somebody’s turmoil and fear and sickness against them? His father is sick. He’s afraid of going outside, he’s afraid for Adrien so hard that it’s sometimes suffocating, and Adrien wants him to get better. Before he met Ladybug, Adrien Agreste needed to find something - some relationship - to anchor himself into, to strap himself onto and not let go of, and for him that relationship was his father’s. To Adrien, he and Gabriel are a team. The same sort of team Ladybug and Chat Noir are, the same sort of inherent and unbreakable bond that they have: he is inseperable from his father. Whatever this terrible grief is, whatever it has stolen from Gabriel, they are in it together. They are in it together and it is just Adrien’s turn to be the part of the team who does more work, and that is because Gabriel is self-destructing, and Adrien aches for his father to be better, more than he aches to be wanted. And besides, Adrien doesn’t do love like that (here’s a link to the fic exactly on that subject!). He doesn’t do it like his father needs to earn it, he has been loved like that before - like he could be loved if only he was good enough - and he would not wish that on his worst enemy, much less the people he loves. Gabriel does not owe him anything, to earn Adrien’s love. If the only way to express it - their partnership - is through the avenues of work that Gabriel opens up to him, asks him to do, then that’s what Adrien will do. He considers them a team.

Chat Noir, meanwhile, has a different partner - a teammate who will play the game with him in equal parts, who often overtakes him because she is just amazing and dynamic and beautiful, who soars past him on gilded wings and takes his breath away. And then she turns back to offer him her hand, to pull him onward, because she loves him, and it has never in her entire life ever been a problem for Ladybug that she did not feel loved, that she did not know how to show people that they were wanted. She has never even hesitated to smile for people - especially Chat - or to support him when he’s down. She has been wildly, miraculously, crazily kind to him, and been open about her emotions, and accessible, and responsive, and amazing, and his best friend (sorry Nino) he’s ever had, the best friend he’s ever been lucky enough to meet. And you know his luck! She takes his breath away not just because she is kind and gentle and soft, where everybody else in his life has always been hard, but because she is basically a genius and she knows it, and she’s ridiculously impressive, and Adrien Agreste, my friends, is 100% the sort of guy who is turned on by girls who can kick his butt, that is the sort of thing he loves, not least because they don’t need him to be doing anything - they don’t need him in the charity event, they don’t need him to be on call, they don’t need him - but they want him. Ladybug wants him. And if she does need him, it’s only in equal parts to how often and how badly he needs her. She is so.... Anyway. Let’s not go on a long rant about what he loves about Ladybug, I do need to finish this response conceivably within the next several years. The key difference between Chat Noir and Adrien Agreste is that the people who they tie themselves into the world with either love him or they don’t, and Adrien feels like he must be doing something wrong (not being able to reach his father properly - he thinks he just hasn’t found the right path - he thinks they are a team and it is his job to reach him, and he hasn’t done it, yet, and it make him a bad teammate), though he is very quiet about his confusion, and he does what he is asked to do because he has very little alternative. Ladybug’s team... being on Ladybug’s team comes as easily as breathing. It makes him happy. It teaches him everything he needs to be taught about the world, about how love works, about what it is like when you are just - well - happy, and you don’t care if anybody is watching. That same thing can be said, increasingly, more and more often, of Adrien’s time he spends with his friends - Marinette and Kagami and Nino and Alya and Max and everybody - and in fact we have seen the influence of people who really love him leaking into his behaviour, as he is slowly departing from doing every single thing his father ever asks from him, as he sneaks off to London (from which he was, I remind you, once banned, even though he could have gone to his uncle’s funeral) with nary a glance behind him, with this breathy little exhilaration which is only cemented by his friends’ acceptance and excitement rather than disgust and disappointment. He hosts his party. He finds ways to live when he still can, he finds ways to breathe these stolen gasps of air when he’s got the time to do it, and it just would not have occurred to him to even try, before this series started. Before he met someone (in this case, Plagg) who offered him an out.

There’s a lot to write about Chloe here as well, but I am already several paragraphs deep into this. Chloe’s role as his only friend is important and he really does like her a lot, she is one of his closest and is literally his oldest friend, and there’s a lot to be said for how he defends her and tries for her and believes in her. They are genuinely, really friends. But we’re not getting into it.

As Adrien prioritises his partnership - his team - with Ladybug more and more, he is growing to learn what a real team looks like. Chat is loose and easy and relaxed and he relishes that, and he loves being with her more than he loves anything else in the entire world, because he has her back and he really believes she has his, and the whole rest of the world really doesn’t matter. I’ve written about this before - he has long-held beliefs about the world, absolute truths that he feels he can dig and dig and dig and dig and he will never come out the other side, they’re just true. They’re just true.

But it costs Adrien something, to believe that he is a team with his father, and it does not cost him anything to believe the same of his best friend. Still, he will not ever let one of his absolute truths go easily (which is why he struggles with Kagami so much - one of his truths is that he is in love with Ladybug; and why he struggles with Chat Blanc, letting his father go, even though he knew that’s what he had to do), and that is why ... he is a sad boy. It is because he is fighting to find out where the truth is. He knows it has to be there somewhere. He knows it has to be buried somewhere under these swathes of work and isolation and barely-acceptable-son-but-thanks-for-trying behaviour. He just isn’t looking hard enough, there is want, somewhere under there. Gabriel wants him, somewhere there. It does not help that Gabriel throws out occasionally flashes of love, a hug here, concern for him there, a conversation once a month. It doesn’t help that he is being strung along.

(As a spoiler, Adrien is wasting his time.)

Anyway, the differences between Adrien and Chat are really just how much of Adrien is actually welcome, at any one time. Adrien mostly just works for his father, has always mostly just done work, he has a packed schedule - and nobody cares who Adrien is, they care what the young Monsieur Agreste can do for them. Chat is always welcome. Chat is always wanted. Chat always feels wanted, and she finds new ways to make him feel it almost every time he sees her. He craves that, and flourishes in it. I guess that’s the main difference.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug rp #mlb rp #adrien agreste #chat noir #ingrid talks #Anonymous

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hell-yeahfilm · 3 years ago

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THE MAGUS AND THE FOOL

Shortly after Carry Iverson moves to Austin, Texas, he has dinner with his cousin, Donovan, and his wife, Fallon Macandeior,and first hears of Oskar Jacobi, who happens to be his neighbor. As Carry gets to know more of the well-to-do people in his cousin’s orbit, he keeps hearing talk about Jacobi, including a series of wild rumors that seem increasingly improbable, such as that he’s a drug dealer or that he “killed a man who discovered that he was a direct descendent of Hitler.” Carry finally meets the man when he’s invited to a party at Jacobi’s house. Carry is charmed in a way that borders on obsession. Jacobi’s descriptions of himself are almost more fantastical than the rumors, which only attracts Carry more. Things get more complicated when Jacobi talks Carry into orchestrating a reunion between himself and former lover Donovan, which sets a series of fearful events in motion. The story offers an interestingly modern, queer spin on F. Scott Fitzgerald’s famed novel, with Jacobi as the Gatsby figure—a man whose conspicuous wealth hides the fact that he can’t have what he wants most. Carry gets caught up in Jacobi’s web the same way Nick Carraway gets pulled into Gatsby’s, but with the added layer that Carry is sexually attracted to Jacobi. Like Gatsby, though, there’s also a deep sense of foreboding that everything will end terribly. The story meanders somewhat, with many scenes involving Carry getting pulled into social situations with an assortment of odd characters. Everyone’s wealth feels over-the-top, and although Carry is sympathetic to an extent, most of the other characters are deeply unlikable rich folk who seem put out by how much money they have—and it’s taken as a given that no one is faithful to their spouses. Also, early in the novel, Carry befriends Donovan’s friend Levi, and when readers eventually find out more information about him, the reveal feels a bit clunky.

from Kirkus Reviews https://ift.tt/8GYVFMr

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azaisya · 4 years ago

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*a-qing voice* MY daozhang

#xiao xingchen #a-qing #a qing #mdzs #mdzs fanart #mo dao zu shi #candlesart #a series of increasingly terrible dinner parties

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lucatorahaven · 6 years ago

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Lucatora Marriage Headcanons

-As she gets older, Kumatora moves to Tazmily Village to get a well paying office job (anddefinitelynottobeclosertolucasnopenuhuhwhywouldyouthinkthat).

-She gets the idea to marry him when he stays over at her place one night during a storm. They play games, watch a movie, sleep in the same bed, and she wakes up to Lucas making breakfast for her. It was only after he left that Kuma realizes that she wants every day to be like this.

-After picking out a suitable ring, Kuma goes to Flint for his blessing. Flint is a little surprised when she asked him, but he nonetheless obliges.

-Meanwhile, Lucas thinks about whether or not he and Kuma should marry, and asks Flint. Flint wants to keep Kuma’s proposal a secret, so he says that Lucas should wait a while.

-Kuma takes Lucas out to a picnic during the night. After flirting, teasing, and more flirting, Kuma asks Lucas to stand up, and pops the question. Lucas says yes about a dozen and a half times. after which Kuma kisses him and princess carries him to her place.

-Kuma refuses to wear a dress for the wedding. She thinks that they are uncomfortable and over-complicated. Off-hand, Lucas mentions that he wonders how she would look in suit. In the end, she wears a black suit and he wears a white one.

-Lucas moves in with Kuma and becomes a househusband, cooking for her and cleaning the house. Kuma can’t get enough of Lucas’ face being lit up after she tells him he’s done a good job.

-Kuma sometimes comes home with little gifts for Lucas. He responds with “you shouldn’t have”, “oh gosh, is this for me?" and "you’re the best, Kuma!”

-One time, Lucas went to a block party while Kuma was at work. Some of the less… accepting neighbors passive aggressively accused Lucas of being a t***, being shorter then his wife (and most other women), having a higher pitched voice then most guys, not working and “being gay but too afraid to come out.” Kuma came home to find a melancholy looking Lucas cooking dinner. After much pressing and prodding he finally told her. Kuma wasn’t having any of it, and told Lucas that he has nothing to be ashamed of, that she loves providing for him, and that she couldn’t be happier. The next morning she marched to each of the rude peoples’ houses, yelled their ears off, and dragged them back to apologize.

-…Except for one individual, who crosses paths with the two at a store, muttering some very unkind words to Lucas. They both freeze, and Lucas looks at Kuma with worry.

“Lucas. Hold my jacket.”

The person hears the cracking of knuckles, and turns around to find a R I P P E D Kuma. They dash away with speed they didn’t know they had, making a point to stay clear of Kuma and to not insult Lucas.

-Absolutely no one is permitted to hit on Lucas, figuratively or literally. If Kuma finds out, she’ll be more than happy to show you her new technique, “PK Slam you into the nearest wall.”

-Lucas never drinks, smokes or even curses. Once, Lucas bumped his elbow on their counter and launched into a flurry of child-friendly swears. Kuma thought it was hilarious and adorable.

-You know those Tumblr posts about noticing a bizarre detail in a movie or late night inquiries and terrible puns? That is Kuma to Lucas, every day.

-One of Kuma’s favorite things to do is talk about each other’s day as she strokes Lucas’ hair while he lies on her lap.

-Lucas loves to draw!!! He draws stuff from anime, video games, or whatever he feels like. He has an art blog which Kuma mods. She has anon asks turned off, just in case.

-Some nights, Kuma wakes up to find Lucas not in bed, but instead quietly sobbing in the living room. When he sees her, he quickly assures her he is fine before being enveloped in a hug. Thanks to Kuma, these nights have become increasingly rare.

-Lucas listens to classical music. Kuma proudly headbangs to metal. “Anyone who doesn’t think it’s the best genre is WRONG and a COWARD. (except you Lucas, you listen to whatever you want, you perfect angel you).

-Kuma is a huge anime/video game nerd. Before the marriage, she had a body pillow of a cute boy, but got rid of it for obvious reasons.

-Kuma’s favorite video game series of all time is… Guilty Gear! The perfect mashup of anime and metal! Every time Lucas watches her play it, he is extremely confused at the game and extremely amazed at Kuma.

-Sometimes out of nowhere, Kuma pins Lucas against the wall and says something she knows will turn him into a bushing, stuttering mess. She adores it.

-When Kuma asks him his opinion on something, she does it partly because she cares about it, partly because she thinks it’s so adorable when he talks about things he’s passionate about.

-Lucas has lost count of the times he’s felt a pinch on his rear or has caught Kuma ‘mirin.

-When he’s not getting destroyed by her in multiplayer, Lucas attempts to act as Kuma’s voice of reason when she plays solo. Key words being "attempts to.”

“Okay. There are three Level 90 enemies patrolling the area. You should leave and come back when you-”

“You see that raccoon?”

“…Yes?”

“He’s looking at me weird. He needs to die.”

“What? You can’t be serious-”

“A WARRIOR NEVER FLEES A FOE!”

“WAIT, NO! KUMA, NO!”

“YEEAAAAHHHHH!”

“… You died and lost all of your loot to kill a raccoon.”

“Yes. And?”

“That was completely pointless!”

“No it wasn’t. The point was that raccoons shouldn’t look at me weird. I set an example.”

“*sigh*, What am I gonna do with you, Kuma.”

“Well, you could come sit in my lap, for one.”

“Oh!… um… o-okay.”

“That’s a good boy.”

-One Halloween, Kuma and Lucas decided to dress up, because why not? Kuma dressed up as Ragna from Blazblue, and made sure to pick out the most adorable Taokaka costume for Lucas. It was very hard for her to not pick him up and cuddle him like a teddy bear, but she manged to hold out until the end of the night.

-Lucas receives an invite to the Nth Smash Bros. Tournament! Everyone is surprised to see how Lucas has aged, and that his wife tagged along to protect him. That purple dragon is gonna have his head mounted on a wall if he so much as looks at Kuma’s precious hubby wrong.

-Another of Kuma’s favorite things is to watch Lucas sleep. The little sounds he makes is just…uwu. It’s made a million times better when she gets to hold him.

i spent over two hours writing this who cares lucatora is life hahahahahahazzzzzzzzz

#submission

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wulfies-corner · 7 years ago

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Reasons Why (BTS Reaction to their S/O Deciding not to Drink Alcohol) *REQUEST*

A/N: My first request! I had a lot of trouble with this as the idea wasn’t my own, but it was fun! Just letting everyone know that I did this because this anon was the first ask I ever received on tumblr. It was special and I was excited about it. My requests aren’t currently going anywhere as I’m currently still in the process of writing two series. I MIGHT open up my requests, but that depends. It’s a pretty big MIGHT. Anyway, please enjoy!

Fandom: BTS

Genre: Reactions/Fluff

Summary: BTS reactions/interactions to your decision to not drink alcohol. Each member’s reader has a different reason.

Jin

Even during nights where you and the boys would go out or hold little movie nights in the dorm, you and Jin would spend most of the night cooking or just being in the kitchen. It was never unusual that you and Jin would go through the whole night sober anyone could be, so nobody ever really bothered you about it. At least, that’s how it was now. A few years ago, when you and Jin started dating, he sat you down with a question.

“(Y/N), please don’t take offence to this,” he started slowly to your confusion, sitting beside you at the dinner table and watching you munch on a piece of cheese. “Sure, what’s up?” “Is there a reason why you don’t drink?” He asked. “Even when we go out to a bar you end up just mooching off of Namjoon’s chicken wings, you never seem to have anything other than juice or mocktails.”

You looked down but smiled when Jin started babbling as if he offended you. “No, don’t worry about it, Jinny. I… I’ve always had kind of a hard time talking about it no matter how much better I feel about it now.” “You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay. You deserve an explanation anyway considering,” you chuckle faintly. “My dad was a pretty bad alcoholic. He’s smart, talented, everything you’d want out of a great dad, but my mom was a pretty terrible person and it weighed too much on him. He drank himself into calmness and I hated seeing him in these… stupors. I hated watching him get hurt because of both alcohol and my mom. When my mom finally left it took him years of work, rehab, AA meetings and relapses until he was fully sober. I can’t let myself fall into the same hole, so I choose not to drink at all.”

Jin smiled at you. “I understand. You know, I can be quite the good mock bartender. If you want any special drinks without alcohol in them, I’d be happy to make them for you.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you support me,” “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

Yoongi

You were glad that Yoongi was often the most chill member of the group. When you explained to him that the reason you chose not to drink was just a simple personal choice, he was all for supporting you in the most casual way you could imagine.

When he visited with your family in your home country for the first time, he casually did his best to speak proper English to your relatives, to be polite and likeable. You didn’t expect that much effort to impress your family since you had already warned him that it wasn’t easy to gain your extended family’s affection, but it looked like he was actively trying. Despite how rude they were and slightly offensive your grandfather was, he maintained his composure and respect in the midst of your slightly abusive relatives.

At least he did until dinner.

Both your parents didn’t often intervene at family gatherings. Your father was timid, especially since he had grown up the softer of the two and his set of three brothers, as well as growing up in the care of his verbally strict father. He never made any moves unless something was escalating to violence. Your mother was a little more vocal, but she had already spent her anger on a heated argument with one of your uncles earlier in the day, so she expected you to defend yourself.

However, that was not happening anytime soon. “(Y/N), drink your wine.” Your youngest aunt looked over at you, noticing that you hadn’t touched your wine glass. You had been reluctantly sipping at the tiny glass of tomato juice that you also hated but despised less than the alcohol sitting in front of you. “Don’t you know how expensive that White was?”

You looked down at your plate, stuffing more food in your mouth so that you wouldn’t have to answer.

“Listen to Aunt (A/N). Drink,” your grandfather spat. He never liked you but tolerated you because you were family. He found you a delinquent and uncultured for reasons you couldn’t fathom. He was also the only person in your family that wasn’t okay with Yoongi coming to visit from Korea.

“I don’t mean to show any disrespect,” Yoongi said as clear as he could, speaking through his thick accent. He gripped your free hand underneath the table, “but (Y/N) has chosen not to drink. Don’t you think it might be decent to not try and force her?”

“I don’t think you understand-” you oldest Aunt tried to speak, but Yoongi interrupted her. “Then take her glass and finish it yourself. Don’t you see how uncomfortable she is? If she respects you, the least you can do is respect her decision.” Yoongi turned to smile at you, reached for your glass and moved it to the centre of the table, nodding when you quietly thanked him. The rest of the dinner felt silent and awkward, but you were thankful that he was there to support you in the midst of family you were forced to spend time with.

Hoseok

Somehow, in the world of Twitter, scandals and an increasingly nosey Taehyung, you and Hoseok were trying to keep a generally secretive relationship. A few months ago you had lost your house due to some unavoidable financial circumstances, and you were thankfully allowed to move into the BTS dorm. This, of course, went from one thing to another, and a few weeks before your birthday party, you found out that you were pregnant.

Hoseok took the news pretty well, and you could dare to say that the two of you were excited about it: but now wasn’t the time to announce it. While you and Hoseok were a secretive couple, you could be a little… obvious at times.

At the party, you avoided drinking. In fact, you didn’t even try to hide it. You wandered around the flat with a wineglass full of milk in hand, Hoseok following you around and drinking anything alcohol related that was offered to you.

“You know, sweets, they’re gonna figure it out if you keep doing that,” you whispered as you both awkwardly walked away after he downed a shot offered to you by Namjoon.

“Don’t worry,” he cooed. “They won’t.” Sure enough… “Hey, (Y/N), got a reason for hanging onto that milk?” Taehyung asked as he approached you with a grin, also nursing a non-alcoholic drink of simple orange juice in a champagne glass. “Could ask you the same question,” Hoseok fired back before you could open your mouth. You rolled your eyes.

Taehyung squinted at his elder, smirking. “I’m the sober one out of this group. I’ve seen (Y/N) get shitfaced on multiple occasions while I’ve always had my trusty orange juice. Yet here I stand, watching you down all her alcohol while she drinks cow squeezings.”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter, “cow squeezings?” Taehyung grinned mischievously at you. At this point, everyone had turned to the conversation. “Yeah, why aren’t you drinking, (Y/N)? You’re usually Jabba drunk by now,” Jin squints in your direction, placing down a bowl of cheese dip and chips on the living room table.

“I think I know,” Namjoon adds, a smirk spreading on his lips.

“Don’t you-”

“(Y/N), you’re pregnant?!” Jimin interjects nearly immediately.

Everyone who was sitting down *coughYoongicough* and standing away from the conversation all moved to crowd you after they heard Jimin’s accusation. Hoseok did his best to block them from getting too close, but he was tipsy and more than a little bit wobbly.

“Calm down,” you put up your hands in surrender to the horde of boys, “yes, I’m pregnant.” However, that didn’t stop any of them. Through the crowding and the tipsy group (except for Taehyung), Hoseok did his best to defend you. “There’s another human life in her belly,” he cried, “don’t crowd her! She’s mine, leave her alone!”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and laugh. No matter how secretive you tried to be, everyone else always found out sooner or later.

Namjoon

“Want anything, (Y/N)?” Namjoon looked at you with a smile, doing his best to talk over top the loud music in the half restaurant half bar you two managed to stumble into during a walk through your hometown. “Oh, no thanks,” you shook your head, watching as he nodded and asked the server for just a single glass of his own choice of drink. He had also ordered wings that you would pick at, but you never really had any interest in alcohol. Besides, restaurants in this area always served a glass of water anyway so you would be fine.

“Any reason why?” He asked curiously as the server turned to walk away.

You shrugged. “Never really was interested,” you answer honestly. “I never liked bitter drinks to begin with and the number of drunk drivers nowadays is appalling,” you explain to his nod of agreement, “I don’t want to condone it, you know?”

“I understand. The aspect of alcohol isn’t going to appeal to everyone,” he agrees, “sometimes it barely even interests me… but I’m curious to know what this caesar tastes like.”

You smiled. “I wouldn’t know, but my dad likes them. It’s got hot sauce I think, clamato juice, celery salt, some other stuff and vodka if I remember correctly. Something to drink if you like tomatoes, I guess.”

“You seem to know your stuff for not being interested in alcohol,” Namjoon comments.

You laugh, “yeah, I suppose. At one point I wanted to know everything that there is to know so I could immediately find out what I liked once I was of age, but it really went downhill when I had my first one on my 19th birthday.”

Namjoon squinted. “19?” “Yeah, the legal age is 19 in Canada,” you explain to his ‘ooooh’ of realization, “anyway, I wanted to have a daiquiri, since I’ve had mocktails before and I liked them a lot, but as soon as I tasted it, my whole opinion of alcohol in general just went downhill.”

“Must have been one sucky drink,” he comments, thanking the server as she returns with wings and his drink. You took one of the wings to nibble on, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, pretty much. But hey, it’s not like I’m missing out on much.” “That’s true. Mocktails can get you pretty far in life and sometimes they taste even better,” he smiles at you as he tastes his Caesar. His lips turned up into a smile, shrugging and making the ‘not bad’ expression. “Like it?” “Yeah, better than I thought it would taste.” He takes the celery stalk out of the glass and bites off a good portion of it, resting his elbow on the table and raising his eyebrows seductively at you as he chewed.

You stuck your tongue out at him playfully. “Dork. Help yourself,” you chuckle. “I’ll carry you home if need be.”

Jimin

“So, is it a medical thing, or…?” You looked up at Jimin from your soup. “Pardon?” “The reason you don’t drink. I’ve been curious about it for a while, but I never really had any time to think over the question…” Jimin chuckles to himself, cheeks already tinted with embarrassment. You perked up with a smile, shrugging. “It’s not that big of a deal,” you say, to Jimin’s relief. “My liver isn’t exactly doing the best job in the world, so to maintain what function it has left I can’t have anything with alcohol contents.” Jimin had a small glass of champagne with him while you just had a simple glass of milk. While it looked out of place in the rather fancy restaurant that was the setting of your date, neither of you minded. “I just figured that I should ask before I do the whole ‘proposal in a champagne glass’ bit,” he jokes.

You had to keep yourself from laughing out loud. “If you try and pull that I’m standing up and leaving you stranded right here and now,”

Jimin raised his hands up in defeat, grinning. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

“Good. But… you’re okay with it, right? The whole me not drinking thing?” Jimin shook his head. “You don’t have to worry one bit. As long as you’re comfy and healthy, I won’t mind having you be my designated driver.”

Taehyung

On nights out, Taehyung always chose not to drink. Whether it be a personal or health decision, he never said, but you welcomed the fact that you weren’t the only one without alcohol at the restaurant. Both you and Taehyung sipped at orange juice in your champagne glasses, everyone else with the traditional drink in hand.

“You’re of age now, aren’t you, (Y/N)?” Jimin asked as he reached for the beef Jin was currently cooking on the grill, only to get his hand slapped away. Most everyone was doing their own thing: eating, staring off into space or trying to grab what Jin was still cooking on the small grill in the middle of the table.

“Yeah, why?” “Then why aren’t you having champagne with the rest of us?” He asked, recoiling his hand and sticking his tongue out at Jin.

You looked down at the table, biting your lip. It was your choice, could people not respect it? “Yaah, don’t go bothering her!” Taehyung exclaimed. “You don’t bug me about my orange juice.”

“Sorry,” Jimin side eyed you, “but seriously, is there a reason you don’t drink?”

You sighed, shrugging. You brought your glass to your lips briefly, thinking about your answer. “I don’t get the appeal of alcohol,” you state honestly. “It tastes bad and makes you stupid.”

Taehyung smiled widely at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “See? I think orange juice is much better than alcohol, there’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

You returned the smile sheepishly. Jimin nodded at you as well. “I mean, as long as you’re here to celebrate with us, right?” “Yeah.”

Jungkook

Sometimes Jungkook went a little overboard with the drinking. You couldn’t blame him, really, he had just come of age in a group where everyone else could drink but him. He always thanked you for having drinks like the Shirley Temples you liked instead of alcohol, but you never told him that it wasn’t entirely to be in support of his legal inability. Besides, you were also younger than him. After a long day of work, Jungkook invited you along to the restaurant he liked with the group, you agreeing quite quickly. Time spent with your boys was worth the drive out. Still, you had gotten a bit shy when you and Taehyung were the only ones out of the group not drinking. Jungkook, already having downed a beer, leant over to put his head on your shoulder, a stupid smile spread across his face. “Come on, (Y/N)~ have a drink!” “Oh, no thank you,” you timidly denied, biting at the straw to your Shirley Temple. “I’m okay.”

“Aw, why not?? We’re of age now, have fun!” Jungkook started wiggling in his seat, you rolling your eyes. “I don’t want to end up like you, that’s why,” you state bluntly. You recoiled back into yourself when Jungkook sat up straight, eyebrows raised at you. “Sorry.”

“(Y/N), it’s okay, we’re not judging you,” Jin says from across the table with a smile. “I think Kookie’s a little bit too excited.”

“(Y/N)~~~ just one sip, come on, pleaaaseee?” Jungkook flashed that bunny smile you had a hard time saying no to. Still, being unable to drink is being unable to drink.

“Kookie, I can’t. I’m sorry, I’d like to but…” “Huh? You can’t or you choose not to?” He sat up straight, eyebrows raised in confusion again. “Kookie-” “Oh my god, tell me you’re not pregnant.”

Everyone erupted into laughter, including you. “No, Kook! I’m not pregnant, don’t worry!” Through Junkook’s sigh of relief, “I was born with one kidney. I can’t drink at all.”

That line seemed to have sobered Jungkook up. “Oh, I’m sorry (Y/N),” he apologized wistfully. “I didn’t know.”

You smiled somberly at him as he began to continuously apologize. “Jungkookie, it’s okay. I’m fine with my juice. Don’t feel bad, I’m still here to celebrate, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Thank you, (Y/N).”

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