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p---ink · 4 years ago

Text

Teach Me.

Author’s Note: So. I finally made a Peter Parker Fiction. And I know the gif is Arvin Russell, but that is for a reason, and maybe you'll see it, maybe you won't, BUT TELL ME IF YOU DO. So this is an unnamed OC fiction, but its mostly reader insert, aside from the fact that she’s black (surprise, surprise) and she has brown eyes. I made her an “OC” because of that fact. Also, get ready for some fluffy head cannons of Peter P. In the not-so-distant future though.

Summary: Maybe Peter Parker, isn't as innocent as he seems.

Warnings: Smut. Smut. and more Smut. Car-smut. Dark-ish Peter (Not really, but he’s not his usual wholesome self)

Song: Star-gazing by The Neighborhood. I literally based this entire fiction on this one song. Even if you don’t read the fic, you should listen to it.

Word Count: 5.5k

“If you don’t mind me asking,” She started, pausing a bit to give him time to look up at her, “ who brings a textbook to a frat party?”

His heart stopped for a moment when he realized who was speaking to him. But then he matched her grin shyly and replied, “It’s more of a conversation starter than anything.”

“Would you say its been working well?”

“I did somehow manage to get someone as pretty as you to speak to me.”

The smile that was already plastered on her face, grew wider along with her eyes and brows. “Wow Parker: Who knew you could be so bold after a few drinks?

“I’ve only had one, so the rest is all me.” He closed his book and readjusted his leg inviting her to sit. Then as if just realizing, he asked, “You know who I am?”

“Of course I know who you are. We went to Midtown together.” She said, getting comfortable on the couch.

“Yeah I know. But we barely spoke to each other. Sometimes I wondered if you even knew I existed.”

“I always kept tabs on cuties like you. Especially you, actually.” She declared.

“And you call me bold.” He muttered under his breath, a small blush creeping up.

“I’m always like this. Anyone who knows me, can tell you that. But anyone who knows you, would say the opposite. You were always so good.”

“Good?”

“Yes! Good. Innocent. Nice. Whatever floats your boat.”

“And I remember you being, bossy, assertive, and intimidating.”

She threw her head back in laughter before stating,“You say that like its a bad thing.” Coming down from her fits of giggles she adds, “You noticed me, too? Never thought I was on your radar.”

“How could anyone not notice you.” He asked. “We had English together our freshman year. First day of class, you challenged Mr. Frechowsky, for inflicting his political views on the rest of the class. He got so red in the face, after yelling at you for three minutes straight, but everyone was more shocked at you for being unfazed.”

“I forgot abou-”

“Sophomore year, you “accidentally” tripped Amy Shuemacker, after she made a rude comment about Ned’s weight. Junior year, you announced that you wanted to be not only the first female president, but the first who was black too. I remember telling myself you’d have my vote. Senior year, you almost had a mental breakdown when it looked like Michelle Obama was gonna run.” Peter finished, with not a hint that he was out of breath.

“I-” She was more than taken aback. “I’m embarrassed that you remember all of that. Its been like four years since we graduated. Frankly any other person would have forgotten.”

“I think its impossible for anyone who’s met you, to forget the day they did.” He admitted to her.

She just stared at him in awe for a moment. Mouth slightly agape from surprise. A shadow of a smile ever so present.

Even though he was the one to say it, it was his face that turned a tinge pinker than before when he realized the weight behind his words. He swallowed thickly, averting his attention to the patterns that lined the carpet, fearing that he made her uncomfortable. In all honesty, he used to have a proper crush on the girl, rivaled by even Romeo’s adoration for Juliet.

This was the same girl he once described as ethereal. He once told Ned that fairies wove the strands of her hair, and butterflies still lived there, claiming that he saw them playing beneath her braids. The sun literally lived under her skin, and it was the secret as to why it would glow, and why her smile was so bright. He would swear to anyone that listened, that the harp was made with her voice in mind, and that it, her voice, played a better melody. He used to be lovestruck. Guess those feelings still lingered.

If you asked him, two minutes ago had he gotten over it, his answer would’ve been yes. Would’ve been.

His sudden fluster—which she found adorable by the way, broke her from her trance as she grinned and said “Don’t act bashful now!” playfully shoving his arm as she uttered the words.

Quickly recovering from his earlier hiccup, he slowly returned her grin and tried to retaliate but before he could, “We have to go. Now.”

They looked up to see an irritated looking preppy girl impatiently scowling down at them. She couldn’t have been much older than 21, but no one told that to her clothes and aura. Her olive skin couldn’t hide the frown lines that had been assigned to her, nor the bags that would put a raccoon to shame. Besides the current circumstances that she would tell them in the next minute, Peter could tell on his own that the girl needed a date with sleep.

“What’s the matter Li? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, aside from the fact that Angie locked herself out of the apartment again.” She said sarcastically, muttering this last part under her breath “I swear I’ve had it with that girl.”

“Ah I see. Well then we better get going.” The girl affirmed, standing from her seat, making Peter rise from his. “Peter it was so nice seeing you. I hate to leave, I would’ve enjoyed catching up a bit more.” She said, turning to grab her coat.

“Well then we should catch up soon.”

She turned to nod her head, seemingly interested in his suggestion. “I’d love that. When did you have in mind?”

“How about now? if its a ride you’re looking for, I can drive you home.” Peter’s inner sixteen year old self, screamed at this opportunity. Time alone, with his four-year crush? He couldn’t not take advantage of the moment.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s all the way on the other side of town.” She informed him.

“But you’re not asking me to do it. I’m offering, because, ‘ya know; I haven’t seen you in a while and I’d like to catch up, too.” He said, second-guessing himself and praying that he didn’t come on too strong. “Ya know. Only if you want to.” He added just in case.

Taking too much time debating whether or not she should say yes, the girl’s friend did it for her. “Sounds great! I’ll see you at home.” Spinning on her heels, and walking out of the door.

“Well.” The girl started, smiling at her old schoolmate. “I guess that settles it.”

“Shit!” He cursed, killing the engine completely, and slamming his head back on the headrest. After a couple minutes of trying to get it to start, the boy gave up like his car did.

It had been a full three hours since Alisha left the party. The time was spent competing about who could find out more about the other. He learned that she still had a thirst for changing the world and community around her. She learned that the boy had been bitten by a radioactive spider and was now New York’s most friendly vigilante. She never knew that Peter could be so hilarious.

They were stranded on some back road, miles away from civilization, with rain coming down on the roof of the car like they owed it money.

“Peter, what did you expect?” She began to question, giggling as she spoke. “This car is so old, Fred Flintstone has a newer model.”

“Hey!” He cried, “Don’t badmouth Karen. She just needs a little work.”

“You mean a lot of work. Karen is ancient.”

“She’s been good to me.”

“Should I call Triple A?” She asked, ignoring his dramatics. “The rain will probably let up by the time they get here.”

“I’ve got this.” He sighed, readying himself to leave the car. “Besides, triple A doesn’t know Karen like I do. They won’t be able to give her the love and patience she deserves” He explained, the car’s rickety door sounding as he disappeared into the rain.

She heard that same distinct sound not ten seconds later, as he reappeared, soaking wet from the rain’s onslaught. His white t-shirt clung to his body, while beads of water raced down his skin. His messy locks, traded their dark brown hue for a jet black one, and his dirty converses shone a little brighter than they did before he left the car.

“Maybe that wasn’t the best idea.” He admitted, the leather making a squelching noise as he glued himself back to his previous seat.

“The offer for triple A still stands.”

“No. I’ll let this play out. But maybe I can call you an Uber.”

“There’s no way I’m leaving you out here all alone. We’ll let this play out.”

“But this may take a while.”

“I’m the reason you’re out here in the first place. And I like your company, so i’ll stay.”

Peter knew he couldn’t argue with that one, so he let silence befall the two of them. It stayed like that for a moment. It wasn’t quite awkward, but it was definitely palpable.

She thought to say something, he did the same, but neither could quite let their words come to life. It was unlike the girl he knew before, who said the first thing that came to mind. Unlike himself, who did the same, but in a less graceful way.

Finally, after what felt like hours of deafening quiet, Peter begins with, “How long have you and Brad been a thing?” The question fresh on his mind, since her phone rang yet again, with his ugly mug lighting up the screen. It was the fourth time she ignored the notification.

It was rare for Peter to hate a person. In fact he didn’t hate many at all. But there was something about Brad that always made his stomach clench. Didn’t help that he was sniffing around his girl.

“Hmm.” She pondered, tapping her chin with her index finger. Acting as if she was carefully thinking about it.“For about for-never and a day” She finally answered.

“Oh I thought, that since—“ Peter stammered, growing embarrassed by his assumption, and the disdain that coated his words.

“Anyone would have, with him blowing my phone up.” She sighed. “But alas, nothing will ever come of us. No matter how much he wants it to. Wish he’d take a hint.”

Back to silence. But this time it didn’t consume Peter. It gave him a bit of hope, enough hope to ask her his next question.

“Back at the party,” he started before pausing, which prompted her to question, yes, before he could properly collect his nerve to ask her what he wanted.

“Back at the party, you mentioned you always kept tabs on me. Especially me. What did you mean by that?”

“I may have had a small crush on you.” She answered without missing a beat. This of course took him by surprise, but not for long.

“Why did you never act on it?”

“Because I quickly realized you weren’t my type.” She said as if it was nothing in the world.

“Ouch. What did I do to make you realize that?” Peter asked. Though his tone was light-hearted, he tried not to let on that he was hurt.

“Nothing.” She replied. “You were just yourself. Peter Parker, the innocent good boy who would never harm a fly.”

Peter thought to himself for a moment. He thought long and hard before he decided to bring up the word she had uttered more than once tonight. “There goes that word again: innocent. What makes you think I’m innocent?”

“Come on Parker. Ned told me you once donated a one hundred dollar bill you found lying on the sidewalk to the local homeless shelter. And that was after you couldn’t find its original owner. That’s got innocence written all over it.”

“Does that make me innocent or a good person?”

“They’re one and the same.”

“There is a big difference between the two.”

“I disagree. The two are definitely interchangeable. Good people are the ones who haven’t been corrupted yet.”

“So does that mean you aren’t a good person?”

“I think I’m a neutral person. Not exactly good, not exactly bad. Just walking the tightrope. I probably would have taken the money, and felt bad about it later.”

They both chuckled at her statement, letting it end that segment of the conversation. Though Peter was done fighting with her about her type’s moral compass, he wasn’t done with the subject all together.

“So,” He paused, and she braced herself, taking notice of how every time he did that, a question she was reluctant to answer followed. “what exactly is your type?”

An uncomfortable breathy laugh passed through her lips as she answered. “I didn’t exactly know it at the time, but I’m able to put it into words now.” She admitted, taking her time as she explained.

“I guess ideally you were my type. Nice. Harmless. Smart. But I was also looking for someone who knew how to take control. I’m in control of everything in my life, so it feels good to meet a person who lets me relinquish that. Or in more crude terms, a person who has the ability to fuck my brains out.” She declared as she leered in his direction with a small smirk playing her lips.

She was only teasing. But she could feel that the air had grown thick on the side of the car that Peter had resided in. For a split second, she could have sworn that she saw something snap in him. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, making her feel as though she had imagined the entire thing.

But she knew that couldn’t have been right. Known for many things, her vivid imagination wasn’t one of them. His breath hitched. His shoulders tensed. She hadn’t imagined that. What he said next, after what felt like an hour of silence told her that she didn’t imagine anything at all.

“Did teaching me, ever cross your mind?” He asked. His grip on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. She saw his Adam’s apple bob after he spoke, and his chestnut eyes focused on the rain that splattered against the windshield.

“U-um I-,” She stammered, Peter catching her by surprise. She had to really think about his question. “I suppose it never did.”

“You still want me?” He asked her, turning his attention back on her.

“Huh?”

“Am I still your type? Aside from the fact that I can’t take control?”

She just swallows, before nodding.

Noting her surprise, but not relenting he says, “Then teach me.”

“What?” She questions, fearing she misheard him.

“Teach me.” He repeated, only elaborating when she scrutinized his face. “Show me exactly how you want to be touched. Kissed. Fucked.”

The way he said the word, fuck, was so filthy. It almost made her lose the rest of her composure. Not like she had much left. He had already rendered her speechless, now he was ruining her panties.

No. She wouldn’t let it play out like this. She had a reputation to uphold.

She peered over her shoulder, then back to him trying to assess whether or not he was serious. When his face showed no sign of amusement, she swung her door open, to trade her passenger’s seat for the back one.

The rain’s onslaught was still vicious, so her previously dry form was borderline drenched. July’s summer heat, did no favors in keeping her warm, and she had no idea if she was shivering from the rain or her nerves. “Are you gonna come keep me warm or what?” She challenged, trying to find her confidence again.

It was only seconds before Peter joined her, but it was no question that his body was shaking with anticipation. He looked at her expectantly, surveying her every move. From the way her eyes flitted to the ground, to the way her hands busied themselves by rubbing at her thighs. She was nervous.

It must have been a snowy day in hell.

“What should we do first?” She asked.

“Does the instructor usually ask the pupil what lessons they should start with?”

“Kiss me?” She suggested, half-ignoring his comment.

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” Peter remarked, amusement glinting in his eyes.

Annoyance overtaking her tone now, she demands this time, “Kiss me.”

“Say please.” He teased.

“Damn it Peter, fucking kiss m—”

And then he glued his lips to hers. They were sweet and gentle, like him, but still managed to convey his longing. He hoped the kiss would capture all the times he imagined doing it when she would flash those pretty brown eyes his way. When she would speak in a way that put an angel’s timbre to shame. Even when she would fucking breathe, he imagined kissing her until his lips fell off. He hoped the kiss would make up for all of the ones he was dying to share with her over the years.

The pads of his fingers roamed over her silky smooth skin, starting at her cheeks, ending at her neckline. He tasted the flavor of her strawberry chapstick, the same one that made her lips feel and look as smooth as butter. When he inhaled and tasted the faint scent of minty watermelon on her breath, he decided he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to kiss her until he committed to memory every bump on her tongue. Then he would be satisfied.

“Like this?” He whispered, pulling back to inhale the same air as her, almost turning feral at the sight of her swollen lips and blown pupils. “Or,” he started, leaning back in to go again, searching her eyes, “like this?”

Whereas kiss one was innocent and sweet, the way that Peter portrays himself, kiss two was the definition of what he could be…or maybe what he already was, she couldn’t tell. He was filthy with the way his tongue glided against hers. The hot wet muscle played hers like an instrument, before locking the two together. One of his hands planted itself on the nape of her neck, forcing her to feel every measure against her mouth. She couldn’t move if she wanted to, not that she wanted to. Just like him she wanted to relish the taste of him.

With his nose pressed against her cheek, and hers against his, they kissed like they wanted to touch the other’s souls. They began breathing in the rest of the other’s air, like they wanted to swap lungs. Exploring the other’s bodies, like they would die if they didn’t study the exact texture of the other’s skin.

It took everything in Peter to restrain himself. To keep his thumbs from traveling beneath her shirt. He nipped at his tongue to keep from nipping at her lips and skin. He tried shifting in his seat to distract himself from the shifting going on in his jeans.

It certainly didn’t help the growing tent in his pants when the girl planted her thighs on either side of his, rocking and rolling her hips to alleviate some of the tension in her panties.

She took over the kiss, setting the pace and overcoming the surprise from Peter earlier.

Her fingers, that were previously glued to his face, began fumbling with the hem of his shirt, peeling the wet material off and over his head. She marveled at his sculpted chest for a moment, before Peter followed suit, pulling her dampened top over her arms and flinging it over the seat.

A throaty groan passed his lips when she resumed her measures against his hips. Grinding herself down on his hardening member.

Her breathy whimpers intensified when his surprisingly warm hands traveled along her skin, caressing her soft flesh. She was getting more worked up the more Peter mimicked the movement of her hips, grinding upwards while simultaneously pinning her waist down.

She tugged harshly on the patch of hair that lived on the back of his neck, eliciting one of the sexiest groans she had ever heard. His heavily lidded eyes that held the same fire as hers, both scared and excited her.

As she leaned in closely, preparing her words carefully she ordered him to, “Kiss me here,” before planting her lips on his neck. Flattening her tongue to lick a stripe up the exposed skin, she began swirling the appendage before nipping, licking, and sucking until his skin had a reddish purple hue.

She got lost in the feel of him, succumbing to the sound of his hisses and moans only to yelp a moment later, when Peter mimicked her earlier actions.

With a fistful of her hair, and her exposed neck jutting out towards his lips he licked a stripe against the skin, just as she did earlier, only his measures were steady and calculated, taking note of every flinch and hitch of her breath. He found her sweet spot in seconds, focusing all of his attention there.

With her nails digging into his flesh, and her hips stuttering, Peter knew he had her where he wanted her. “Like that?” He rasped, pulling away to admire the strings of purple and blue that littered her skin.

“Fuck yea Parker; you learn fast.” She gasped, attempting at a laugh, as she peeled her chest off of him. She took a hand of his into hers, grasping two of his fingers as she bought them to her lips.

Hollowing her cheeks as she sensually sucked and lubricated his digits, she bought his other hand down to her shorts, beckoning him to unbutton them. “Touch me here.” She murmured, eyes taking in the wide curious ones staring back at her.

With the newly slick fingers, Peter did as she told him, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and finding her nub instantaneously. “Right here?” He enquired, when her breathing turned shaky.

“Mmm, god yes!” She praised, as he worked his fingers over her.

Setting a consistent pace, Peter lightly grazed her clit, every time he ran his fingers up and down her folds. “Am I doing this right?” He questioned, flicking and teasing her core.

“Mhm” She mewled, “fuck y-your fingers feel so good” Her speech was now becoming slightly incoherent.

“Yeah?” He groaned, “What about my mouth?” He asked, just before unclasping her bra a little too effortlessly with one hand. Latching his lips against her perky chest, he massaged the other mound with his free hand.

Words were lost on her, as she became a wanton mess. She couldn’t fathom how he could be so skillful with both hands. How a person could multitask the way that he did was indescribable. His hand on her clit didn’t let up, but neither did the one that tweaked and pulled on her nipple. Not to mention the hot tongue that darted and sucked meticulously at her other. She couldn’t stifle her cries if she tried.

Riding his fingers, she pressed his head further into her chest, becoming greedy with his touch, as she sprinted towards her orgasm. She thought that this feeling couldn’t get any better.

Of course, Peter was full of nothing but surprises tonight, and needed to prove her wrong. He let two of his fingers slip inside of her, while a thumb replaced the ones that were glued to her clit. Rubbing circles against her sex, he pumped the two fingers furiously in and out of her hole.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

But the girl didn’t answer, Her mouth hung open as if she wanted to, but the words were jumbled somewhere in her throat. Her face twisted into pleasure, and she couldn’t do anything but succumb to his measures against her body.

It wasn’t long before she felt her stomach spasming, the heat pooling to her core, her already sensitive flower growing even more sensitive, as she came into his palm.

Her juices coated his digits, her walls fluttered around them, and her skin was now hot to the touch, as Peter forced her climax out of her.

Tears flooded her eyes, as she took in as much air as she could. When had she stopped breathing? Maybe sometime during the earth-shattering orgasm her old classmate was giving her.

Once the ringing in her ears subsided, and her lower region began to cool again, she thanked the boy and praised him as she said, “You did so well,” before planting hot wet kisses on his shoulder and neck.

She stopped when she felt his body shaking. Coming back up to eye him, she asked what he found so funny.

Peter tried to hide the smirk that plastered his lips but he couldn’t hold his act any longer. “You just don’t get it do you?” He asks as he casually licks and sucks at his fingers, just as she did earlier, relishing in the taste of her essence.

The confusion on her face and brain was evident. “Get wha—” He had her pinned on her back, before she could utter the last syllable.

The tight space was cramped, but the boy had more than enough room to stalk his prey. He hovered above her, ridding her of the rest of her clothes in one fell swoop, before delivering his monologue.

“I don’t know what it is about girls like you, but I swear you drive me crazy.” He admitted, before removing his jeans in a quick motion. “You always assume that just because I’m a nice guy, I won’t be able to fuck your brains out.” He informed, before revealing a hidden condom and rolling it on before lining himself up at her entrance. “But I hope that if tonight proves anything to you,” He starts, eyes finally darting up to land on her horror-filled ones, “it will be that your mindset can land you in a whole heap of trouble.”

And with that, he grasps the door above her head, before sinking himself into her.

Groaning at the feel of her, Peter’s facade dropped completely. Her tight little cunt feels even better than he imagined, and he hopes that he feels better than she ever imagined.

He starts slow, with the intent of her feeling every ridge of his cock, as it threatens to invade her stomach. Her soft tits bouncing with every thrust, send a jolt through his body every time her nipples graze his chest. The way his name falls off her sweet tongue, has him in shambles, as he picks up his pace, throwing slow and steady out of the window.

Her cries are loud in his ear, as he ruts against her sex. He’s so thick, its hard for her to think straight. He can feel the indents of her nails as they dig into his lower back; she tries to press his ass closer to her, never wanting him to leave.

Maybe if it were any other guy fucking her, she would have felt the seat buckle digging into her back. Maybe she would have felt her sticky sweaty skin on the leather of his back seat. Maybe the awkward position her head was in would have spoiled her experience. But with Peter, she could only focus on the pleasure.

His thrusts were relentless now. His hot breath was fanning the side of her cheeks. His previously damp hair, stuck to her neck, as he drove himself further into her skin. Nothing could distract him away from her in this moment.

Nothing but the faint glow of her phone, that is. It’s buzzing, and vibrations immediately catching his eye, as he held his head up. That same dangerous smirk that she saw earlier returning.

“Look who’s calling, baby.” He purred, overcoming the stutter of his hips. When he held her phone up for her to see, her heart sank at the mischief behind his words. Brad. “Should we answer it?”

“No, Pete!” She cried.

“Oh come on, that would be rude wouldn’t it?” He dared, before delivering a particularly hard thrust, that sent her mind into a haze. “We can stop so you can take this—”

“No! D-don’t stop” She begged, prying the phone from his fingers, and fumbling with the answer button.

“Babe? Hello?” Brad’s irritating voice answered flooding, her phone’s speaker. But the girl didn’t answer immediately, because she was too busy trying to stifle her whimpers.

“Hey Brad!” She finally choked out, sounding somewhat normal. How she managed to do it, she couldn’t say.

“Wow! Finally. This is like my eighth time trying you. I almost can’t believe you answered. What are you up to?”

“Should you tell him what you’re up to, babe?” Peter devilishly whispered against her skin.

“Nothing!” She whined into the phone.

“Whoa. Are you okay? You sound a little off?”

“You should tell him you sound like this because I’m making you feel so good.” Peter suggested, driving her body up and down the seats. “I bet he’d wish he were me right now.”

“I-I’m just a feeling a l-li-little sick is all.” She breathlessly stuttered.

“Should I come over?”

“Ah yes Peter!” She wailed, when the boy starts circling his fingers against her clit, while simultaneously grinding slowly but roughly into her. She’s no longer paying attention to the man on the other end. His curses don’t faze her, nor does Peter’s actions as he releases the phone from her grip.

“Hey Brad. Remember me.” He casually asks, ignoring Brad’s threats. “Yeah no man, don’t worry about her: I’ll make sure she’s real good and taken care of.” He promises, before ending the call, and tossing the device into the passenger’s seat. “Think he finally got the hint?”

Peter then takes the girl’s hips into his hands, lifting her inches off the seat, before pulling her body onto his dick at an ungodly speed.

Crying. She’s literally crying, with tears streaming down her face. Her voice is becoming hoarse with moans. She had never experienced such intense sex in her life.

Peter brings the hand that was previously plastered on the glass down to the girl’s face. “would this be the definition of fucking your brains out, baby?” He grunts, in reference to the girl’s constant repetition of his name. It’s the only word she can remember, as he fucks her into the chair.

His movements shook the car. The heat that their bodies radiated, fogging up the glass. The scent of their sex now embedded in the fabric of his seats. The boy was completely untamed.

Her screams were one among the things that set him off. The way her body writhed against his was another. The stutter in her speech another. But the unbridled lust that her eyes held, was the literal icing on the cake.

Thank fuck she came before him. Her tight little hole constricting and clenching his dick. And when he started slipping in and out, her eyes glued shut, and her chest started to rise and fall, he knew that she had came.

A sweaty fucked out mess before him, she needed Peter to finish her off before she was satisfied. “Drown me in your cum” She begged, and it was like he knew exactly what she wanted.

Unsheathing himself from her, he ridded himself of the condom, and started tugging violently at his cock. Fucking his hand, not unlike the way he fucked her earlier, he spurted his milky white seed all over her supple brown canvas, a husky groan roaring from his chest as he threw his head back in pleasure. His seed extinguished the heat that resided in her skin, and she closed her eyes shut, letting her head fall back down on the seat.

The image of his white paint, all over her stomach, chest, and tits, bleeding into his memory, as he came back down from his high.

Once back down to earth, reality began to sink back in. Immediately recomposing himself, Peter blurted, “Fuck are you okay? Was I too rough?”

His sudden outburst almost made her jump out of her skin, but she quickly recovered. “Oh god no Parker! I loved every minute of that.” She lazily smiled reassuringly. “Do you always fuck like that?”

Peter returned the smirk, blushing before saying, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you like that.”

After planting a final kiss on her lips, he reached into the center console, to scavenge a few wet wipes, cleaning her skin before discarding them.

Moments later, they reunited with their lost articles of clothes, pulling the fabrics over their limbs before crawling back into the front seat.

When Peter put his seatbelt back on, and cranked the car up with no effort, he felt the heat of the girl’s eyes on his skin.

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded by her glare.

“Was there ever anything wrong with the car?”

And then as if just realizing Peter mouthes oh, before telling her simply “No.” Adding on that he just wanted an excuse to spend more time with her.

“Well how the fuck did you know I wasn’t gonna just take your offer for an Uber?” She asked, more impressed than pissed.

“Because you’re a neutral person, and a neutral person would feel too bad about doing that.”

“There’s a lot of things I still have to learn about you Parker.” She admits, sinking down into her seat. Heat rising to her cheeks, as a new crush began to develop.

“Don’t worry. I’m willing to teach you.”

A/N: So like...don’t be afraid to tell me what you think. I swear I dont bite...unless you're into that. also this was edited it, but probably not well, so tell me if you see an error.

#peter parker x reader #Peter Parker smut #Peter Parker x black!reader #black!reader #Peter Parker fluff #spiderman x reader #marvel smut #marvel imagines #spiderman #Peter parker #black reader #smut #dark!peter x reader

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spine-buster · 4 years ago

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The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Epilogue 3: A Love So Tender

A/N: Well, here it is, folks...the last epilogue of The President Wears Prada series. It’s been a blast. Like with Alone, Together and The Storm Before the Calm, we’ve created a little community on this blog, except this time we joined together during quarantine and a global pandemic! I posted the prologue to this April 27th (so right in the thick of it lol) and I’ve been so happy giving you guys something to look forward to every Monday these past eight months! Keep asking your Willberdeen canon questions forever and ever!

Be on the lookout for the post date of my Brock Boeser mini-series “Peaceful Easy Feeling” -- I’ll announce it and put it on my Masterlist. Then, I’ll start my next big series!

As always, happy reading :)

March 2034

“Mooooommmmmyyyyyy! Mommy look!” six-year-old Saoirse Nylander ran through the house to the kitchen where she knew her mom was ready with breakfast. “Look! Daddy let me do my own hair!”

Aberdeen looked down at her daughter to see her blonde hair fixed in to a half ponytail…well, a six-year-old’s version of a half ponytail. Aberdeen smiled down at her daughter. “Looks good!” she smiled. “Can I fix it a little bit before we go to Andy and Maia’s house?”

“Can I eat first?” Saoirse asked as Aberdeen heard more footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Of course! Your oatmeal is right over there,” she nodded her head towards the bowl already set up for her daughter. As Saoirse moved and climbed into the counter stool to eat, Aberdeen looked to her left to see William enter the room, holding their three-year-old son in his arms. “My two Williams,” she smiled.

“Mowning mama,” William Jr. said as Willy placed him down in his own stool, his own bowl of oatmeal also ready to go.

William walked around the island and gave Aberdeen a kiss on the cheek before placing his hand on her stomach tenderly. “Morning, minskatt,” he said before pouring himself some coffee. He looked back at his kids, eating their oatmeal. “Are you excited to see Maia, Saoirse?”

“Mhm,” she smiled. “Can I bring my colouring book so Maia and I can colour?”

“Of course you can!” William smiled. “You know how much Maia loves to colour with you.”

“When you and mommy get home, I’m gonna have a beeeeeeautiful picture,” Saoirse exclaimed before spooning some more oatmeal into her mouth.

Both Aberdeen and William looked at their fridge, adorned with ripped out pages from colouring books that Saoirse and William Jr. did for them. “We can’t wait,” Aberdeen smiled.

***

“Mr. and Mrs. Nylander, I know that we’ve confirmed your pregnancy,” Dr. Collinson spoke to the happy couple.

“We needed the tie-breaker,” William joked.

“Indeed,” he chuckled. “But I must ask you both…have you gone through any fertility treatments that I’m not aware of? IVF, artificial insemination?”

William and Aberdeen looked at each other before looking back at their doctor – the same doctor who had been there and helped birth Saoirse and William Jr. “No…” William shook his head. “We figured we were okay…I mean, with Saoirse’s and William’s pregnancies being pretty easy with no major complications, and the fact that we didn’t have to try for very long before Aberdeen got pregnant…” he trailed off.

Dr. Collinson nodded his head. “That’s good to know. Because I do have some further news for you.”

“What’s that?” Aberdeen asked.

“You’re having twins.”

The words hung in the air for an excruciatingly long period of time. “Excuse me?” Aberdeen asked.

“Twins. You’re having twins, Mrs. Nylander.”

Aberdeen looked over at William. “I’m going to cut your penis off.”

***

“TWINS!!!!!” Bee exclaimed, jumping up and down as she hugged Aberdeen. “Twins, Aberdeen! Oh my goodness!”

“More Nylanders?” Morgan piped in. “Christ almighty.”

***

“TWINS?!” Aleida was shocked when Aberdeen told her the news over the phone. “Twins!”

“Who’s having twins?” Aberdeen could hear Fred’s voice in the background.

“Aberdeen and Will!”

There was a pause. “More Nylanders? Good God.”

***

“Twins, William? You knocked her up with twins?” Jason deadpanned into the phone.

“We’ll have four, just like you,” William said.

“More Nylanders…Jesus Christ.”

***

“Oh! What fantastic news!” Svea beamed over the FaceTime call. Elias was smiling beside her. “You must be so excited, guys.”

“We are. We joked that we were only supposed to have one tie-breaker though,” Aberdeen said, looking at William beside her briefly. “Now we’re getting two.”

“Do you know the sexes?”

“Not yet. In a few weeks they’ll tell us if they’re identical or fraternal, and I think that will be very informational,” William said.

“More Nylanders…” Elias shook his head. “God help us all.”

***

“This is fantastic news, Aberdeen. You’re such a great mom already,” Brendan said from across the table, his smile stretching from ear to ear. “Saoirse and Will Jr – I mean they’re just delights.”

“Thank you, Brendan. There will be two more to add to the MLSE family room during games. Not to mention more Nylanders occupying the city of Toronto.”

“More Nylanders…wow.”

***

September 2034

The Toronto Maple Leafs and the entire MLSE organization would like to extend our heartfelt congratulations to William Nylander and his wife Aberdeen Bloom on the birth of their twins, Jonas Alexander and Astrid Elina. Jonas and Astrid join big siblings Saoirse and William Jr.

***

November 2035

BREAKING: Aberdeen Bloom, the youngest person ever to win the Booker Prize for Fiction, has just won the prize for a second time for her latest novel, A Love So Fond. Bloom becomes the third woman (after Hilary Mantel and Margaret Atwood) to win the Booker Prize twice, but the first woman under forty to accomplish the feat.

***

The First Monday in May, 2036

William looked at Aberdeen lovingly as she touched up her lipstick in the mirror of their hotel room. She was wearing a beautiful dress, styled to perfection. He was wearing a suit, tailored to equal perfection. “You look beautiful, minskatt,” he said, hoping it would calm her down a bit. He knew she was nervous.

She looked over at him as she clicked shut the lipstick tube. “We’re going to the Met Gala, Willy,” she said as if it was the first time he’d heard the news. He’d heard. He’d heard for months now. Anna Wintour invited them to the event. Aberdeen screamed bloody murder when she got the invite. “We’re going to the Met Gala.”

He giggled slightly. “I know. Who would have thought all those years ago two kids who hooked up the night of a graduation would make their way to the Met Gala.”

Aberdeen smiled. “Who would have thought an aspiring writer and a hockey player would accomplish so much that we’d even get invited to the Met Gala.”

“I had nothing to do with this,” William shook his head, smiling. “You did all of this. I’m just in the background, remember?”

Aberdeen couldn’t help but smile. The man in front of her supported her dreams without question. There was nothing she thought of that William didn’t think she’d be able to accomplish. Her two Booker Prizes were evidence of that. Her Governor General’s Awards and Giller Prizes were evidence of that. Her numerous other awards were evidence of that. “You’re not in the background, Willy,” she told him once more. It was something she told him time and time again, even though she knew he was joking. To think he still used a joke he made when she was twenty-two years old…she couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re the reason I’m able to do this.”

Their conversation was cut short by Aberdeen’s phone ringing. When she dug it out of her purse, she saw Orla requesting a FaceTime call. “It’s the kids again,” she said, holding up the phone and turning around so that when she answered it, whoever was calling would see both their parents. When she accepted, she saw Saoirse’s face first. “Hi baby,” Aberdeen cooed. “Did you forget to tell us something?”

“Maia wants to know if she can come over this weekend to play. Is that okay?” she asked.

“Of course,” William answered. “I’ll talk to Uncle Morgan about it when we get home tomorrow night.”

“Let me see!” William Jr.’s voice was heard off camera. Soon, Saoirse had turned the camera around so he could see his parents. “Hi mom and dad.”

“Hi baby,” Aberdeen cooed again. “Do you have a question too?”

“No,” he said. “You look pretty, mama.”

Aberdeen couldn’t help but swoon. “Thank you, baby. Are you having a good time at grandma and grandpa’s house?”

He nodded his head enthusiastically. “Grandma just made popcorn!”

“Wooooo! Movie night!” William exclaimed from behind her. “Be good! Go to bed on time.”

“I will,” William Junior nodded his head. “Bye daddy. Bye minskatt.”

Aberdeen furrowed her brows but couldn’t help but laugh at her son. She could hear William chuckle from behind her too. “William! Why’d you call me that?!”

Williiam Junior didn’t know what the big deal was. He knew he was named after his dad; it was only fitting that he test his limits and call his mom by her first name too. “Daddy’s name is William, and my name is William, and your name is minskatt! Daddy always calls you that! Hi minskatt, bye minskatt, I love you minskatt. Minskatt is your name!” he argued like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

William thought back to so, so many years ago. To Aberdeen asking him why he called her minskatt and him telling her why. A tear escaped his eye and he brought his hand up quickly to cover it. Aberdeen noticed. She looked back at William Jr. “Okay William. We’ll talk more when we get home, okay? You better be good for grandma and grandpa.”

Aberdeen ended the call with a couple of more air kisses. When she was finished, she placed her phone down and saw that William kept wiping his cheeks with his thumb. “Hey…hey come here,” she said gently, walking over to him because she knew he wouldn’t move. “Was it Junior?” she asked.

William nodded his head. “You remember what I told you, like, fifteen years ago? About why I call you minskatt?”

Aberdeen nodded her head automatically. She’d never forgotten. “Of course,” she said softly, bringing her hands up to wipe some of his tears away with her own thumbs. “It was always your dream, wasn’t it?”

William nodded. He leaned down slightly to kiss her, even though he knew he’d get lipstick on him and that Aberdeen would have to reapply it for the fourth time before they even left the hotel. “I know you’ve accomplished so much with your writing and I’ve accomplished so much with hockey but my best accomplishment is you. Us. Our family. The love I have for you.”

Aberdeen nodded her head. She understood. She knew. “Mine too.”

“It’s been fifteen years. Fifteen years and four kids, Aberdeen. And still. Still. I think about you when I’m not even thinking.”

Aberdeen smiled. She kissed him once more. “Jag tänker på dig när jag inte ens tanker.”

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binas-idea-vault · 4 years ago

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Hear Me Out (this one is gonna sound dumb) : Dream SMP Scooby-Doo AU

JUST TRUST ME ON THIS ONE-

picture it with me at least for a second alright because i have many things to say (Scooby-Doo was and still is my favorite show to binge ever because there’s not really a storyline that spans throughout episodes so you can just watch any random episode. therefore tis the best show to turn into an AU that is comprised of oneshots that can be read in any order)

so without further ado let’s get started.

Micheal as Scooby-Doo because yk, Micheal supremacy. i don’t really think much else needs to be said for this.

i think Ranboo would be Shaggy because of obviously Shaggy’s connection to Scooby-Doo, they’re both tall and also because arguably Shaggy has the most protag powers out of everyone else in the cast. most of the places the team go to is because of a contest Shaggy and Scooby won. and out of the characters in the Dream SMP who is the most portrayed by the fandom as the protagonist? Ranboo. a case could be made for Tommy being Shaggy and whilst i do see it, i think that Ranboo is more Shaggy (in this au anyway).

i feel as though the closest fit for Tubbo in this au would be as Daphne, since Tubbo is really intelligent but his intelligence is sometimes downplayed with the way the fandom portrays him and his commentary can be hilarious much like Daphne’s one-liners in the show. also they’re both kinda danger-prone, with Tubbo getting his life constantly threatened by people on the SMP and being put into positions that can endanger him (like when he was appointed president of L’Manburg) and how Daphne is trapped somewhere by the bad guy/fake monster in almost every single episode (and always manages to escape like the absolute queen she is). so whilst both characters have some differences i think overall they’re the best fit.

hear me out on this one, Foolish as Fred. both are categorized as himbos and make things more complicated than they need to be (Fred’s elaborate traps to catch the bad guy/fake monster and Foolish building the mansion as he himself said he made it way bigger than it needed to be, i’m pretty sure it’s like the same size as the prison or taller than the prison i forget which. just, Foolish’s multiple insanity arcs during the mansion building process). also Foolish gets along with Ranboo and Tubbo so them being a group just makes sense.

which leaves Reader as Velma (random side note but i searched up characteristics of Velma to make sure i was getting the description correct and i almost wrote a description for Velma the villager from animal crossing until i double checked and was like “this doesn’t sound like Velma-”) who is the ‘brains’ of the group. really the logical thinker who has an extensive on obscure topics (like Norse writing from that one episode in season 3 i think) and who always has the spiel about the bad guy/fake monster after the group figures out who it is. also some random one-liners and the obligatory person with glasses joke (ignore if unlike me you don’t have terrible eyesight-).

Dream would be a bad guy that keeps showing up again and again in different fake monster costumes who wears a mask under the fake monster mask (like the overdramatic and meta person he is) who originally had help from Sapnap and George until they decided to quit (redemption arc) and help the team catch Dream every once in awhile.

Tommy would be a character that shows up a lot/is referenced a lot but technically isn’t part of the main cast since he is close with Tubbo (and begrudgingly close with Ranboo/getting closer with Ranboo in the canon).

the Eggpire is an organization of people who use fake monsters to try and scare away people from certain areas so businesses go bankrupt and the Eggpire can take over for profit (most of the motives in the episodes are for business reasons and this is the best i could come up with-). also a recurring bad guy that isn’t too central for the plot of any other episode and their past antics are referenced so you don’t have to watch the other episodes they’re in. most of the Pro-Omlette crew are also in those episodes with the main team helping them stop the Eggpire’s most recent scheme (by the Pro-Omlette crew i mean Captain Puffy, Eret, and the Syndicate minus Ranboo since they’ve all expressed a distaste towards the egg) . (this is making me want to make a Carmen Sandiego inspired AU my brain needs to stop-)

the other characters not mentioned are random bad guys/fake monsters or they are the people who notify the main team about a fake monster/are being affected by the presence of the aforementioned fake monster.

uhhh that’s about it, i was at first thinking SBI Scooby-Doo but then i was like “well there’s 4 members of the cast + Scooby-Doo which we could put as Steve so there wouldn’t be room for a Reader character if we’re staying true to the source material” so then i thought of the Syndicate as Scooby-Doo characters but technically speaking there’s 5 members (Niki, Ranboo, Technoblade, Philza and the unknown member with the code name Harpocrates) and also i dont know who i’d put as Scooby-Doo and of course no space for a Reader character.

(i have no idea how to end these things so yeah-)

#dream smp au #dream smp x reader #dream smp scooby-doo au #platonic dream smp x reader

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thesiouxzy · 3 years ago

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MILFORD, CT—Citing a wide range of deals customers will “never forget,” fast food chain Subway announced an exciting new promotion this week to honor and commemorate Subtember 11. “With a number of terrific discounts on special sandwiches as well as our classic footlongs, you’ll always remember where you were on Subtember 11,” Subway president Fred DeLuca told reporters, referring to Subway’s special promotion in which, for a limited time only, visitors of the restaurant’s tens of thousands of franchise locations will be able to “fly on in” and pick up two footlong subs of their choice for only $9.11. “From the Structural Steel Melt on Tower 7–Grain bread to the Twin Chowers cold cut combo with Ground Zero–Carb vinaigrette on a Let’s Whole Wheat Roll, we’ve got something for everybody this Subtember 11.” DeLuca added that the special promotion will be “first responders, first served.”

https://www.theonion.com/new-subway-promotion-to-honor-subtember-11-1819575535

#9/11 #9 11 #subway #september 11

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clnriswood · 5 years ago

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ARCHIE ANDREWS X READER

Big Little Town: Part Two

a/n: hello! very long chapter incoming! this one is kind of world build-y but i promise after this it’s angst galore. lmk if you want to be on a tag list, love you all and can’t wait to keep writing!

There hadn’t been much unpacking progress that afternoon. The girl had been in a pretty much constant state of fear and mingled excitement, so the only thing she’d managed was making her oak framed bed up with thick patterned quilts, and her window with a wispy white curtain. Archie saw her bring it upstairs and hang it up, of course. She’d noticed him eyeing her discreetly from his desk, but he was polite enough to pretend not to see what she was doing. After that the drapes had stayed closed. Now, the girl was heaving other objects into her room as a last minute distraction, the current item in question being a large gold framed mirror that she leaned decoratively against the wall opposite her bed. Her mother had helped her bring it up, and now they both stood in front of the mirror, staring at themselves in the vast reflection.

“What do you think?” her mother smiled.

She looked at herself, thinking. She hadn’t changed since earlier, but there was now a visible panic sweat building on her brow.

“I think I’m going to piss myself,” she concluded.

“Oh!?” her mother gaped wih surprise, giving her a light slap.

“Sorry,” she grumbled, turning away and sitting defeatedly on the edge of her bed.

“Don’t say that. It’s a blessing, really,” said her mother, sinking down beside her and placing a hand to her knee. “You have people coming right to you to try and be your friend!”

“How is that a blessing?” she replied dumbly with a furrow of her brows.

“Well,” she tried gently, “you aren’t so good at approaching other people first.”

The girl shot her mother one of those daggered glares she’d gotten so good at.

“Nevermind,” her mother dropped it with a scoff.

The girl stared down at her scuffed up sneakers, tapping them together uneasily.

“She’ll be here soon.”

“She?”

“Betty,” the girl explained. “She’s picking me up to take me to Pop’s.”

“I thought Fred Andrew's boy was doing that?” her mother said with surprise. “Doesn’t that make more sense? He lives right ther-”

“No,” the girl said. “Betty offered first.”

Lie. Immediately after receiving Archie’s invitation he’d asked to take her over but she made something up about Betty taking her and then had to frantically text Betty and lie to her that Archie couldn’t take her and then had to ask her to bring her instead and then-

“You really are bad at this lying thing,” her mother concluded her thought for her.

The girl gaped in mock hurt, but then dropped the expression, too lazy to even try pretending her lie wasn’t, well, a lie.

Then there was a ring at the doorbell. It was distant, but still, struck a fearful cord that sure sounded loud in the girl’s ears. She stood up slowly, tucking her phone into her jean’s tight back pocket and attempting to suck in a confident breath.

“Shame,” her mother’s cheeky words followed her out the room, “I wanted to see how much that Archie boy had grown.”

Thank goodness her back was to her mother as she descended the creaky stairs or she would’ve been in for a whirlwind of questions concerning the absolute red that seeped into her daughter’s cheeks.

. . .

Betty drove a little blue car that was, honestly, a little messy. Not that she was judging, it was just unexpected to see the neat blonde with a book scattered and paper strewn backseat. There was even a bundle of red yarn, like she was going crime solving or something. The thought made the girl laugh to herself. Yeah right.

The car was pretty quiet, (Y/N) thinking of her mother’s remark at her inability to approach people first, one which seemed very relevant at the moment.

“So, what sort of things are you looking forward to at school?” Betty finally broke the silence with some easy conversation.

The girl’s eyes flickered as she watched the flare of passing headlights, responding, “I hear you guys have a good music program?”

“Oh yeah,” Betty flashed her straight white teeth. “I’m awful at that stuff. Archie is great though!”

“Yeah I-” the girl shook her head and wrinkled her nose with embarrassment, “I know I… I used to know Archie. And you, kind of.”

Betty tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, not wanting to be rude but having no indication of who the girl was in her memory.

“I’m (Y/N),” she said, “which you know already. But my full name is (Y/N/) (Y/L/N).”

Betty repeated her full name slowly, trying to see if it rang any bells. She tried again but nothing stirred. She repeated it once more, and it took a second for it to actually hit her.

“OH MY GOD!” she hit the brakes with surprise, her blonde pony swinging.

She turned to get a look at the girl, a good look this time. Her perfect pink lips dropped open.

“You’re-” she shook her head, searching for the right words. Then she settled on gorgeous. “Not that you weren’t before,” she explained quickly, her lashes fluttering, “you’ve just changed a lot.”

Betty turned her big blue eyes slowly back to the road and started driving again with a short little laugh.

“Thanks,” the girl said bashfully, unsure of how else to reply. “You haven’t. Changed, I mean. You were always really cute.”

Betty let out an ugly snort, making the girl’s lips stretch wide into a smile.

“What?!”

“Please,” Betty scoffed. “I was not cute. I was embarrassing. I thought I was going to grow up to be either a princess, the president, or both simultaneously.”

“Are you kidding? That’s still my dream,” she joked, making Betty release a sweet airy laugh.

Sure enough, the girl found herself warming quickly to Betty Cooper.

“I was actually jealous of you, y’know?” Betty said as she turned her head to look at the girl with a grin.

“What? Me!?” she chortled. “Me, the weirdo with no friends?”

Betty shook her head, eyes back on the road now, “one friend.”

And just like that, the panic sweat was back.

“Archie?” she said nervously.

“Yeah, little Archie,” Betty rolled her eyes, “I had the biggest crush on him when we were kids.”

The girl gave a nod, twirling a piece of hair nervously around her index finger. Huh, looks like there was competition for her childhood crush. She couldn’t blame Betty for liking him. Any little girl with two eyes would’ve. Not wanting to sound too obvious, she asked, “do you still?”

Betty ugly snorted again, and then scolded herself for the reaction.

“Don’t tell Archie I laughed at him for that.”

“Believe me I won’t,” the girl chuckled.

“I’ll always love that boy but we’re very different people,” Betty explained, pulling up to the diner. “Plus I’ve got Jughead, and he’s got Ronnie.”

The girl was so busy absorbing the flickering neon lights of Pop’s famous (in her mind) Diner, that it took her a second to process what was just said or what it meant at all.

“What’s a Jughead?” she said stupidly to herself.

Betty just smiled and opened her door, the girl blindly following after her. It had been so long since she’d been to the diner, but not much had changed, other than it looked like it’d had a fresh coat of paint and someone had finally fixed that dreadful buzzing light in the “n” of the sign. The girl tripped nervously behind Betty into the diner, the door letting loose a little jingle as they stepped in. Unlike the cool night air they’d just briefly been exposed to, Pop’s was filled with a warmth and delicious sugary smell that made the girl salivate at once. A feeling of absolute nostalgia swept over her, one so strong Betty had to shake her out of it.

“(Y/N), hey, they’re over here.”

She snapped out of it, hair whirling around her shoulders as she turned to her left, eyes landing on a nearby booth where three people sat. One was a black haired boy in a beanie who sat with his legs up against the table but shifted upwards with a smile when he saw Betty. That must be the boy she’d just referred to as an it, she thought to herself. Then there was a raven haired girl in a sleek black dress who sat about as prim and properly as a person could in a plastic-y diner booth. Ronnie, she presumed. And then there was Archie Andrews. Archie Andrews with the beautiful brown eyes that were glued indiscreetly to her. Archie Andrews with his arm around the stunning girl beside him.

“Fuck,” the girl began to whisper, but then, catching their eye, let the word buzz out into nothingness as she gave them all a big fake smile hello.

“Jug, Veronica, this is (Y/N),” Betty introduced the girl politely.

“Pleasure,” Veronica offered a hand, Jughead giving her a nod of acknowledgement.

She took her hand awkwardly as Betty pulled her up a chair to sit at the end of the table.

Oh good, like she could fifth wheel any harder.

“And Archie, you know (Y/N)!?” Betty beamed.

Archie’s eyes sparkled with knowing as he gave a nod, one the girl barely caught as she looked away quite quickly. Up close he was even more terrifying. And by terrifying she meant handsome. And by handsome she meant terrifying. A loose red strand of hair fell in front of Archie’s enthralled stare, and he was too dumbfounded to do anything about it, so Veronica fixed it up for him, making him snap out of his short lived trance. He moved his eyes over to his girlfriend, giving her a half smile.

“What’ll we be having?” a kind voice interrupted them.

The girl looked up into the eyes of none other than Pop himself. He wore the same old Pop’s uniform and the same old smile. He had that glorious Santa Clause twinkle in his eyes, and just the jolly Santa Clause laugh to go with it.

“My my, if it isn’t (Y/N),” he shook his head.

“You remember me?!” she said with both surprise and flattery.

Pop gave her a pat on the shoulder, addressing the group, “this girl used to come in every afternoon, sit right up on those stools that were too tall for her little legs, and order an extra-chocolate chocolate milkshake,” he smiled. Then, looking down, he chuckled, “how could I forget?”

She looked up at him with a huge grin, “you never did tell me your secret.”

“Ah, you’re old enough now,” he shrugged, “it was an extra brownie.”

“What?!” her mouth fell open, “that was it!? But you’d go back there and make it seem like you were doing this big magical thing-”

“Extra brownie,” he cut her off with a proud little wheeze, to which she shook her head. “I presume it’ll be the same for tonight, right?”

She scoffed, crossing her legs in her chair and sitting up a little better, “right.”

Pop nodded, “good to have you back, kiddo.”

The girl turned back slowly to face the others, who of course were all staring at her. There was a shared expression amongst them that she couldn’t place. They didn’t speak for a few seconds. Then it was Jughead who finally said what they were all thinking.

“You’ll let us try that thing, right?”

She let out a sigh of relief, and then a laugh and a shake of her head, “of course.”

. . .

Once they’d all passed the milkshake around the table once, every person had come to the same conclusion: this girl had taste. Then they’d all ordered themselves a round of her extra-chocolate chocolate milkshakes, even Archie. As she took sips of the delicious sugary goodness, it felt like social fuel being pumped into her lungs. She bonded with Jughead over their interest in fiction, Veronica over their interest in fashion, Betty with everything, and Archie with nothing, since she didn’t really speak to him. The neon lights of the diner sent a warm pink glow over the group, flushing their skin with the retro aura that made Riverdale what it was.

“A cracktown in the middle of the forest,” Jughead had decided to call it.

“Jug,” Betty hit her hand to her forehead with a laugh.

“No, seriously (Y/N) you wouldn’t believe the crap that happens here,” Jughead said, tossing a brownie chunk in his mouth.

“Relax, Jones,” Veronica said. “Don’t go scaring off our new girl so soon.”

The girl smiled a confused smile, unaware of what subtext she was missing out on.

Changing topic, Veronica asked what she might be looking forward to at school.

“Oh, um, the music,” she responded for the second time that night, averting Archie’s eyes as she did so. “I play guitar.”

“Do you now?” Veronica arched a sharp brow. “So does this ginger stallion beside me.”

Veronica grabbed Archie’s large arm and gave it an encouraging squeeze.

He nodded, and she made direct eye contact with him for only the second time that evening. His eyes softened when he caught her looking, making her stomach turn. Not that either would say it, but she was the one who had taught him to play, something they both recalled. He cracked the tiniest of smiles for her, making her forget how to breathe as she found herself suddenly very interested in the bottom of her milkshake glass. An awkward silence, the first and only of the night, ensued.

Veronica, feeling responsible for it, said, “well it’s late. I should be heading home before daddy worries.”

The girl had to pinch herself under the table to keep herself from laughing at whatever the hell had just been said. She raised her jaw to give Veronica a smile, the group rumbling with mutual chatter and goodbye’s as she parted without Archie, who she apparently called Archiekins.

“Me too,” Jughead said, “not because of my daddy issues,” he clarified. “I have a paper to write.”

“I’ll take you back,” Betty said, helping her boyfriend out of the seat after her. He leaned up and planted a kiss to her cheek as he stood, wrapping an arm around her.

It was kind of a funny sight to see the pink clad blonde girl with the black clad emo boy, but they did seem a good pair. The two stared at her.

“(Y/N), you coming?” Betty smiled.

The girl was far too nervous to even acknowledge Archie for a goodbye as she stood, making a clamor and hitting her knees on the table, “yeah.”

She barely got a step away before Archie cut the group off.

“Actually-” he started

They all turned to look at him.

His eyes were now fixated right on the girl, and confidently. Not that they weren't before, just that he seemed a little unsure of how to act around her up until the given moment, for whatever reason. He had his legs spread apart now, shoulders comfortably back against the crimson backside of the booth.

“I’ll take you,” he said.

“Well-” she protested.

But he wasn’t having it this time.

He did this incredibly frustrating blink smile thing at her that made her heart do somersaults.

“I’ll take her,” he said again, firmly, and to the others this time.

Feeling trapped, the girl turned to Betty for guidance. But Betty, being Betty, just smiled.

“Have fun you two.”

She felt like she was being abandoned by her new sister and her sister’s edgy boyfriend, helpless as they walked hand and hand away from her. She kept her back to Archie long after they left, too scared to turn. Her heels were glued together, and she raised her chin up to stare into the blazing lights above in a failed attempt to make the nightmare end. Then, slowly, she tilted her head, enough to address him without looking properly.

“After you.”

. . .

Archie drove an old truck that made strange noises when it ran but felt homey nonetheless. The seats were faded and it smelt of must and what she presumed to be his own scent, which was a kind of mingled sweat and dark cologne mixture that she strangely liked. An old CD was crammed into the car’s disk drive, and it hummed out low rock music that soothed the girl’s nerves. For a while, neither of them spoke, but it was he who finally broke the silence.

“Sorry,” Archie huffed lightly as the girl studied her void surroundings.

It was pitch black on the roads, and she had her head pressed to the cool glass as she stared into the inky black of the night. Archie had rolled his window down so that an icy breeze rolled up onto her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

“For what?” she spoke softly into the surface of the glass, her knees against the door.

“Oh, I know it’s not much,” the red haired boy said, moving his eyes between the road and the girl beside him.

“I like it,” she smiled, tilting her head to look at him and flashing her teeth.

Archie’s lips curled upwards, “yeah?”

He stared at her, his own teeth bright white against the darkness of his car.

“You think I wouldn’t?” she said, moving her knees from the door to facing forwards.

“Well,” he shrugged, “some people in this town have very expensive tastes.”

“Mmm?” she challenged, wiggling a brow at him. “And you think that includes me, Archiekins?”

She’d said the last word with the best Veronica impersonation she could manage; it was awful.

Archie let out a short loud laugh that he then stifled with his free hand. He leaned back further against his seat, relaxing his shoulders and keeping one hand lazily planted to the steering wheel as he shook his gorgeous red hair with amusement.

“I don’t know,” he laughed, his large eyes glimmering as the passing car lights shone in them. “You could’ve changed.”

“Yeah right,” the girl said, easing up and turning so that her back was now fully against the passenger door and her front was pointed directly at the boy.

Archie’s face flashed with some expression she couldn’t make out.

“What?” she prodded him.

“I don’t know, is it so hard to believe?” he shrugged, tilting his head to look briefly down at her.

She averted his eyes instantly. So apparently she wasn’t fully accustomed to him quite yet.

“What do you mean?” she asked the road.

“I mean-” he started, squinting his eyes and swaying his head as he selected his next words, “you’ve definitely changed.”

“Hm?” she said with mild surprise, turning back to look at him and feeling her heart skip a beat when she saw that he was still right there, staring back at her where she’d left him.

Archie didn’t know how to explain verbally, so he just kind of lingered his eyes very curiously on her before moving them slowly back to the road. He suppressed a smile with a bite of his cheek, making her frustrated.

“What?” she snapped.

“There’s not a very gentlemanly way of putting it,” he rolled his head attractively to look back down at her, smirking.

Her raised brows very slowly settled as she realized what he meant, her face burning with embarrassment as she turned it back to the outdoors and prayed he couldn’t make out her expression. So what, he just pointed out that she looked different. But what was that supposed to mean? She had to pinch her thighs to gather herself.

“So then who's to say you haven’t completely changed?” she finally responded in a cool tone.

“If it isn’t obvious by the dump on wheels that I drive,” he laughed, “me.”

“Really?” she taunted, mimicking his seductive head roll and blinking sweetly up at him, “I think you’ve definitely changed.”

Archie snorted and crinkled his nose adorably, tapping the girl off with his shoulders playfully, “hey.”

He wore this inquisitive smile as he turned quickly to look at her. He wanted her to elaborate on what she’d meant, but she just left him hanging like he’d done to her.

“Well,” he decided with a slow exhale, “I’m kind of relieved, to be honest.”

“Why?” she asked, taking his focus on the road as time to study the perfect curvatures of his cheeks, jaws, and lips.

“I’m glad you’re still, you know, you,” he said. “Sweet. Sassy. Kind of scary.”

She knocked his elbow with her own, “shut it Andrews.”

He opened his lips just wide enough to flash the edges of his jutted canines, “there she is.”

She couldn’t help but giggle, moving her legs and folding them to sit crossed legged in his seat. Archie didn’t seem remotely surprised.

“Yeah well, are you still the Archie Andrews I know?” she asked.

“Mmph,” Archie puffed lowly, “you could say that.”

“Elaborate,” she said.

“A lot has happened since you left. So, no. But, also yes? I’m still me underneath everything, I just think that a lot of people forget that... including me,” he explained somberly.

“Oh,” she frowned, “troubled past?”

He laughed bitterly, “like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I might,” she said, squishing her lips together with curiosity.

Archie shook his head with concealed hurt, not knowing where to start. He took a minute to himself before replying, during which he pulled up to their street and into his driveway.

“My dad passed away this year,” he decided.

“Oh,” the girl’s heart dropped.

She used to see Fred all the time when he and Mrs. Andrews would get Archie from school. She’d even written him the personalized essay on why he should get Archie his first guitar, and it had worked. Hurt but not knowing how to reply, she just stared at him, but he wasn’t looking back.

“I’m sorry,” she settled lamely.

“Me too,” Archie turned finally, resting his upset eyes on her, “about your dad.”

“Oh?” she said, taken aback.

“I mean,” he explained, “I knew back then, obviously. But I never said anything about it. I didn’t want you to think I judged you for it.”

“Honestly it’s fine,” she shook her head.

“No,” he cut her off, “because now I know what it feels like. To be the kid with the dad who died. Everyone treats you differently, like you’re, I don’t know, a victim. So nobody talks about it, it’s like they think I’ll self-destruct if they do,” his eyes settled in his lap. “And I don’t want that. I just want my dad.”

Her shoulders slumped with sadness, brows knitting as she leaned forward for his hand. She stopped though, not sure of if that was okay, so she asked.

“Can I?” she half whispered, tapping her fingers against Archie’s hand, which was still clutched tightly to his gear shift.

He just gave a little nod yes.

His hand was shaking a little when she reached for it, so she reassuringly wrapped her fingers around it, like in one of those friend hand holds where you don’t lock fingers. Archie wordlessly stopped her, nudging her fingers aside so he could lace his long fingers through her own. It took her aback, but there was no denying she preferred it. Kind of enthralled at the sight, she just looked at their hands together, hers much smaller and colder, feeling safe entangled in his. And his hands felt good. Rough. Warm. Familiar. Realizing it’d been the first time they’d actually touched in years, she felt her throat go hard. Archie seemed to pick up on it too, because when she lifted her gaze he was looking at her, kind of flickering his eyes back and forth between her own. She felt her heart pick up, thumping loudly in her ears, her blood filled with a faint electricity. But this time she didn’t look away. It felt too good to. So she let Archie do it, though he looked reluctant to do so. He retracted his hand timidly, making her instantly go cold without it.

“Hey,” he started softly, “are we okay?”

She stared at him with a slightly tilted head, “of course, why?”

“Well,” he said nervously, “You kind of shut me out with those curtains before. And then I got a text from Betty saying she was taking you to Pop’s at the last minute, which was weird because I’d already offered. And, well, you didn’t speak to me at all until ten minutes ago.”

He said it all to his knees instead of to her face, his lips curled into a frown.

The girl closed her eyes in embarrassment, shaking her head, “I’m sorry. It’s not what you think.”

When she opened them again he was looking at her, awaiting her next words.

She gulped nervously. It wasn’t exactly like she could admit she’d been hit full force with a suppressed wave of years of her own pent up frustration and feelings when she saw him.

“I just,” she sighed, rubbing a thumb nervously over her wrist “I was afraid.”

“Of what?” he replied with surprise.

“You,” she admitted, settling for the partial truth. “I hadn’t seen you in so long and I didn’t know how much had changed or if you’d-” she shook her head, pausing, “if new Archie would still like me.”

He released an airy laugh, “are you kidding (Y/N)(Y/L/N)?”

That threw her off guard. Back in the day he had often called her by her full name. Whether sweet or stupid, she had never decided. But this time it definitely felt sweet.

“No I’m not, Archie Andrews,” she said slowly back, drawing her gaze away.

That made him grin that damn grin that drove her insane.

“I could never stop liking you,” he promised with enough sincerity to make her look up again. “Promise.”

She smiled timidly, “how am I supposed to get that when I’m being dragged into a new friend group the very night I’m moving back into town?” she said. “I mean, they’re lovely of course,” she defended, “but you can’t blame me for being nervous.”

Archie squinted his eyes, taking in her words before deciding, “you're right.”

“I am?” she said with a confused laugh.

“Yes,” he nodded. “I know you, and I should’ve known better than to think that was your thing.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“And I promise,” he added, “next time it’ll be just us.”

She blinked at the fiery redhead with mingled hope and nervousness, “yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, tilting his head forward with an encouraging smile. “Tomorrow I’ll come over and help you unpack. And then after we can do whatever you want, and you can catch me up on everything I missed,” he beamed.

Seeing him get so excited to spend time with her practically sent her off the deep end, her heart feeling like it was being squeezed out by Archie himself. She beamed back at him, making him smile, if possible, even wider.

“Wait,” she realized, feeling upset wash over her, “aren’t you supposed to see Veronica tomorrow?”

“Oh,” Archie said, knitting his brows, “it’s alright. I’m sure she’ll understand me helping out an old friend.”

Ouch. It was sweet, but still, she couldn’t help the sting that came with “old friend.”

“Really?” the girl asked.

“Of course,” he reassured.

She nodded nervously, feeling incredibly grateful to have him back. So she told him.

“I’m really happy to have you back.”

He let his lips fall into a content close, his chocolate eyes twinkling, “I’m happy to have you back too.”

The two stared at each other, an awkward quiet ensuing, neither sure of what to say next. Both luckily and unluckily, the girl’s front porch light snapped on, making both of them jump. The girl’s mother was by the door, and she was waving down Archie’s truck.

“Oh my god,” the girl said with horror, “Archie run.”

But he wasn’t listening. In fact, he was halfway out the truck.

“No way, Mrs. (Y/L/N)!?” he said cheerfully, extending his hand as he walked out to meet her halfway.

The girl cursed under her breath as she climbed out the vehicle, so appalled she could barely look.

“Archie!” her mom said, hobbling over in her pink robe.

She shook the boy’s hand, marvelling at what a handsome young man he was.

The girl’s sneakers crunched over the grass and leaves as she stood beside them, her eyes darting between the exchange and the ground but unsure of where to stay.

“Last time I saw you you were just a tiny little thing with a football twice the size of your head!” she chortled.

“And last time I saw you you looked just as youthful Mrs. (Y/L/N),” Archie replied.

Damn that boy was smooth.

Her mother clearly enjoyed it, voicing, “always an angel, Archie.”

The porch and moon’s light combined sent shadows over their faces, crickets chirping obnoxiously as her mother patted Archie off with a laugh. They made small talk that was frankly too unbearable for the girl, so she wordlessly slipped off and into the house before they could say anything. As soon as she got in she bolted up the stairs, hands running through her hair nervously and back hitting the door of her room once she was safe inside. She sucked in a few breaths, eyes fluttering as she processed the catastrophe occuring downstairs, and just generally in her life. A minute later she heard the front door close, and her mother yelled up something that sounded like an indistinct “well gosh I get what you mean now!” That only embarrassed the girl further, making her slide down against her door with a groan. Thank God her drapes were closed so Archie didn’t see it all happening. Well, speaking of…

The girl slowly opened her eyes, lifting her body from the ground with a sigh. She stood, staring at her curtains. She could see light flooding in from the other side, meaning Archie was now in his room. Sucking in a slow breath, she tucked her long hair behind her ears and approached her curtains slowly. Her face was expressionless as she felt for the fabric, her heart just a little too fast as she timidly pulled it aside.

There was Archie, breathtaking as ever. He sat on the edge of his bed, phone resting in his hands like he was contemplating using it. But then, feeling her bedroom light flood over to his side of the divide, Archie looked up with knowing. She still had one hand holding the drapes, the other loosely by her side, clutching her own phone. Archie stared at her with a happily taken aback expression, his chest heaving lightly against his white tee, his hands steady as they unlocked his phone. The auburn haired boy looked at her for a second, then down at his phone as he typed away a message. Then he looked back up. Her phone screen lit up at once.

No goodbye?

She chuckled, looking up in time to catch him smile with a tilt of his brows.

The girl typed back.

Sorry. Too rough down there, had to get out.

This time Archie laughed.

Goodnight, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

She smiled.

Goodnight, Archie Andrews.

He didn’t text back after that, he just stepped forward and reached for his own blinds, tilting his head at her in a wordless goodbye. Neither wanted to be the first to shut the other out, so instead they just closed their blinds together, the last thing she caught being the ever so faint twitch of Archie’s content lips.

#archie andrews x reader #archie x reader #archie andrews imagine #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale #riverdale fanfic #riverdale self insert #riverdale x reader #archie andrews fanfic #archie andrews fic #archie andrews gif #kj apa x reader #fanfiction #betty cooper x reader #jughead jones #veronic lodge #archie andrews x y/n #writing

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quakerjoe · 5 years ago

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Look Up the word SOCIALISM. Please. It has fuck-all nothing to do with guns.

I ran across this comment:

“I am for gun rights.. does that make me less socialist?”

Are you fucking kidding me? There are really people THIS stupid. This is why America is about to collapse like the Soviet Union did. It’s not because we were outspent like they were, it’s because we’re suffering under TWO pandemics right now- Covid-19 AND TOTAL FUCKERY because far, FAR too many people are just that ignorant.

As a veteran, I was trained to use firearms. They’re tools for hunting and killing. End of story. Want one? I’m all for it! Everyone who’s willing to put in the effort to train and get a license for one should have one if they really want to. I’m all in, hoss.

However, when you’re equating having a killing tool that makes it way too easy to put someone to death with alongside a political style of governance, you’re a fucking idiot. Only in #Murica do people have this issue. By my account, the 2nd Amendment should be shit-canned. It’s outdated and nobody takes it seriously anymore. How so?

“A well regulated militia...”

Let’s stop right there. When this was written, children, there was no standing army in the new USA. At best, each state was, in theory, expected to raise their own militias and even then, they owned their own weapons that they had to buy themselves (and we’re talking the same rifles they also used for hunting with). A British Regular of the time, a professional, well-trained soldier, could fire 3 rounds per minute. A yokel from some Colonial/State militia? One. Maybe two at best. Training was nothing less than lax back then and it was insanely expensive.

To the point- if you want to join a state militia, i.e. the National Guard, then fine; own a gun. In the more modern sense, if you want to join a branch of our fine armed forces, then you’ll train and you can have a gun. No problemo. Once you’re discharged and leave, you can transfer your training creds and easily get a civilian license to own and operate one. Easy-peasy. Right?

But no. Not in #Murica. Here, people no longer read and deteriorated cognitive skills only let too many yokels retain what they want to hear, like NRA talking points on FOX fuckin’ “News”. These selfish cunts are so wound, stupid and bent on being free-range ammosexuals. What the fuck are they afraid of? I’ll tell you.

Smart people.

The whingers on the far right... motherfuckers one and all... with their bibles in one hand and guns in the other... They fail to know what hypocrisy is here. Be that as it may, they’re scared of smart people. They know that more often than not, they’re ability to have an intelligent conversation is rather stilted and smart people can kick their asses when it comes to how politics work, what Jesus actually said in that bible they never read, and how viruses work for that matter. These wank-socks need their guns to make them right in an argument.

To compound things, these knuckle-dragging, inbred, mouth-breathers are mostly a bunch of “nigger haters” and they know that the “Justice” system will continue to jail the Black Community for the most minor infractions, essentially re -instituting slavery while they can literally go into Federal property, armed, take it over, vandalize it, and then leave scott-free. Precedence has been set. They can shoot Black people with little to no repercussions. Precedence has been set.

I could go on and on, but I’d like to bring this question to your attention: What the unholy fuck does that have to do with socialism? Eisenhower was not only a president but he was a general during WWII and his policies were very socialist. By today’s standards, the man would be what right-wing fuckwits would call a “radical leftist”. So would Abraham Lincoln.

Capitalism, as it stands today, un-regulated and un-tethered, has done what for the USA? Massive class warfare and overwhelmingly unfair practices by the top financial elites? Yep. All the rules of olde that were put in place after the Great Depression that were designed to keep that from happening again have been dismantled since Reagan’s time and mostly by the GOP while the Democrats say and do little to nothing about it and they’re only getting more complacent about it. I’m not saying that Capitalism is bad; far from it. However, if it is left to its own devices, it will work like a cancer, not like a working form of governance. No system is perfect, but Capitalism is the most vulnerable, especially in a nation with a base in democracy like the republic that the USA used to have and doesn’t anymore. Once disinterest and complacency set in, the rich and powerful will swipe democracy out from under you like a table cloth without a care as to how many dishes they break or how big the mess will be; you won’t see it coming and you’ll be the one left having to clean up after. The food and drink will be gone along with the silverware, but the mess is all yours to enjoy. You know- like NOW.

Switzerland has a government a lot like ours. It’s a Democratic Republic. “Everyone owns guns!” Um, true to a point. Men do. Women do. BUT. They’re all trained. Come legal age and graduation from high school, you’re in the army, Fred. You do your bit for country and then when you get out, you keep your gun. NO AMMO. Repeat- NO AMMO. That’s all under lock and key where you, as a reservist for life, would go to train periodically.

Chicken-shit fuckwits in #Murica are too fucking scared and/or lazy to join the armed forces or law enforcement. BUT they still want their guns without having to earn the right or privilege. THAT is what pisses me off. No “militia” skills, but boy they’re fast and happy to endanger everyone else just so they can sit out in the woods with their friends, shoot beer cans and have circle-jerks around the ol’ campfire while talking about race cars and titties and swapping jokes about how many “niggers” it takes to do something.

It’s not just a redneck stereotype; it’s the real deal. Those industrial-grade gun fuckers out in Michigan who thought it’d be just fine to “occupy” the capital while armed make the rest of us who earned the right and privilege to have firearms look bad. You also know damn well that there really aren’t BLACK people acting like these infantile taint-barnacles either. You don’t see hordes of women packin’ heat on the way to the clinic for a routine checkup, do you? They ought to, especially when there are anti-abortion fucks out there ranting about shit they know nothing about, spewing their lies by twisting biblical verse when in fact the bible is NOT anti-abortion. It is only mentioned ONCE, and the verse is FOR abortion. Imagine a woman coming in for a pap, palming a .357 on her way through a crowd of these ignorant cultists who think they’re doing “the lord’s work”...

All of this shit isn’t particular to any form of government except for American-style “democracy” where uninformed opinions are now given the same merit and weight as that of a well studied, well informed fact. Anyone who wants to “make America great again” would have noticed that the policies in place that made us a world power to begin with were all backed by SOCIALIST principles, providing a regulated and more fair framework on which the gears of capitalism were attached to run like a smooth, well tuned machine. Today, that framework is shot to pieces and the whole system works more like the junk drawer in your kitchen.

Today, #Murica has a framework made of PLUTOCRACY, welded together with FASCISM and let’s not forget that it is painted in Red Socialism for the Wealthy, White Supremacy, and Blue, sunny-skies of Nationalism that keeps the masses proud of this country because of what we were, not who we truly are. Those days are far gone; days when the NRA was FOR GUN REGULATIONS and were all for proper education, safety and training, in an era where SOCIALISM built our infrastructure, rich fucks were taxed heavily to keep them from gaining too much power over the masses, and we were on the rise in industry, sciences, and education.

Today, smart people are feared, intelligence is out of fashion, and pride in how stupid and ignorant one is has become the national pastime. As a nation, its people are arrogant and endlessly selfish and too stupid to know to punch up when punching down is easier because Americans, in general, are lazy. Even worse, they’re offended by everything while BEING one of the most offensive people to wander the Earth.

Don’t believe me? Keep an eye on the comments to this post...

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ronweasleyisourking · 5 years ago

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Next gen headcanons

Edward "Teddy" Remus Lupin

Nonbinary, uses he/him and they/them pronouns

Pansexual, but has mostly dated boys

Hufflepunk

Mixed bag of depression and anxiety

Tattoos and piercings everywhere. Also, a tattoo artist.

Walks with a cane due to chronic back pain

His first kiss was with his best friend, Basil Haywood-Karasu

He dated Victoire for a bit, but it didn't work out. They're better as friends

Lived in between houses for most of his life. His grandmother Andromeda and his godparents, Harry and Ginny share custody

When Andromeda began having a hard time getting around on her own, Harry and Ginny opened up their house to her happily, though this was after Teddy moved out on his own

Winifred "Winnie" Margaret Weasley-Wood

Daughter of Percy and Oliver

Bisexual

Gryffindor but almost Ravenclaw

Named after her late uncle and Grandma Molly, whose full name was Margaret, though she would never admit it

Has read every book in the restricted section, whether she was allowed to or not

Hands are constantly in motion. Does math in the air, taps fingers on surfaces, sometimes just does random stuff with her hands, has to stop herself from doing hand motions when talking, etc. Has no idea what causes it.

The shortest of all her siblings/cousins

Hosts a Qudditch Little League for her siblings/cousins

Victoire "Vic" Apolline Weasley

Bisexual

Ravenclaw

Sort of a preppy punk. Loves faux leather jackets but also loves tiaras :) completely beautiful, let's be honest

Curses in French all the time

Attended Magik N.O.U., a wizarding school in New Orleans in her 7th year, which sparked her love for travel

Learned wandless and non-verbal magic just because people thought she couldn't; the dictionary definition of "girls can be smart AND pretty"

Could totally kick Teddy Lupin's ass

Has to worst temper of anyone in her extended family. And that's really saying something

International Hit Wizard

Georgie Rhyme Jordan

Child of Lee Jordan, honorary Weasley due to his relationship with Fred prior to his Fred's death

Pansexual and Genderqueer; he/him or any pronouns

Feminist AF

Really into street art. May have graffiti-ed a few anti-Brexit and anti-Tory pieces around England, but there's no proof

Not vegetarian but has cut down on meals with meat

Was born with atrial septal defect

Megara "Meg" Rhys Weasley-Wood

Demigirl. Experiences some dysphoria but not a lot

Partially deaf due to an untreated ruptured eardrum.

Has a huge, fluffy, orange cat named Hercules

Blind enough that she has to wear coke bottle glasses.

Animal lover right to the core. Donates to any and all shelters that she knows have good practices and tries to adopt as many animals as possible from the bad ones

Loves divination. Has minor seer powers.

Has a magical disorder where smoke comes out of her hears when she gets mad.

Frederick "Freddie" Gideon Weasley II

Bisexual. In love with Taras Krum, who was in a student exchange program with Durmstrang and Hogwarts.

Suffered severely after getting hit by a bludger in his 6th year; a concussion and head trauma leading to epilepsy

Severe depression and imposter syndrome

Not much of a prankster

Bookworm

James "Jamie" Sirius Potter

Red hair + hazel eyes + freckles everywhere

Got a gold tongue piercing at fourteen and that's how he found out that he was allergic to gold

Smoked pixie dust once

Lover of poorly timed finger guns and funky socks (yes, he is bisexual, why do you ask?)

Not a professional quidditch player or auror

He runs a diner called "Lumos" that serves the best burgers in the wizarding world

Doesn't think he can do anything right

River Lee Jordan

Trans girl; lesbian

Allergic to cinnamon

Loves pranking; Dominique, Lily, Romany, and her prank their cousins all the time. They're terrifying.

Writer but she works as a herbologist assistant, waitress, and cashier at WWW on the side just to support herself

Can hear magic. It's an almost constant buzzing when she's around her family and at Hogwarts. Sometimes just needed to be alone so that she couldn't hear the buzzing.

Gwendolyn "Wendy" Lucille Weasley-Wood

Pansexual

Has a genderfluid s/o, Ari Spinnet-Bell

Very environmentalist. Tries not to be annoying about it.

Founded a Hogwarts theatre club and actually wrote a few, very very gay plays and musicals

Hosts a podcast/blog with her roommates (River, Ari & Susmita) called Witches Unstitched where they talk about anything and everything under the sun

Helped create a bunch of healing potions with all the plants she has in her greenhouse(s)

Dominique "Dom" Gabrielle Weasley

Pansexual and Aromantic

In a QPR with Lorcan Scamander, her best friend

Hates being compared to her older sister

When Lorcan got cancer and got pulled out of school, she took time off school while he was getting treatment

Shaved off all her hair when he lost his

Leader of the Pluto is a Planet society at Hogwarts

Best friend in the family is James, despite the fact that she and Arthur are in the Slytherin! Marauders together

Loves firewhiskey and menthol cigarettes (don't tell Wendy)

Illegal animagus - a white cat. Her nickname is Duchess.

Arthur "Art" Rubeus Potter

Gay + in love with Scorpius Malfoy

Dyed the tips of his hair green and silver when he was 12

Loves leather jackets, chokers, and combat boots

Has too many piercings to count, but his favorite is his deep purple nose ring. Hates the idea of a tongue ring

Trained himself in Legilimency and Occlumency

Learned Parseltongue, Mermish, and several other creature languages because "he was bored"

Knows quite a bit of dark magic, but is not a dark wizard

Had a lot of tattoos. Most were of creatures from the Black Lake, the Giant Squid taking up his entire back, and a merperson takes up his upper left arm

But over his heart is the Scorpius constellation, sketches of the four animagi are on his left hip, and on his ankle are magically fading footsteps that would eerily familiar to anyone who had looked at the Marauder’s Map

Went to a wizarding school located in the Great Barrier Reef, which offered courses for 18 - 21 year olds who had graduated from wizarding schools around the world

Loves puns, boxing, extra greasy pizza, potions, pet names, horror movies that are actually scary, singing in the shower, and his boyfriend, Scorpius Malfoy

Marine Mazoologist

Roxanne "Roxy" Fabian Weasley

Bisexual

Has been known to "experiment" with girls. In the Quidditch locker rooms. Forgets to lock doors. Oops

Her patronus is a coyote. Her happiest memory is of when her and Fred jumped of the roof of Hogwarts with their brooms. They had been trying to recreate the last scene of Pratical Magic, but like, with brooms

Loves cooking and knitting with her Grandma Molly

Studies in the strangest places. Lily once found her studying in the secret passage to Hogsmeade one night. Her brother found her sleeping in the Astronomy tower, with books strewn around her. Scorpius and Arthur once found her studying in a secret alcove (they still won’t admit to her why they had wanted to be in secret alcove in the first place)

Down to fight anyone for any reason

In love with Susmita Patil

Healer

Rosa "Rose" Bud Granger-Weasley

Lesbian

An absolute foodie

Named after a Charles Dickens character

Allergic to cats, which irks her mom and pleases her dad

President of the current Hogwarts chapter of S.P.C.W. (Society for the Promotion of Creature Welfare). Hermione has worked tirelessly in the ministry to get laws passed but even ministers can't change everything in a day

After graduating, her, Arthur, Dominique, Roxanne, Scorpius, Lorcan, and Lysander all went on a camping trip. Harry, Ron, and Hermione got really anxious about it

Loves reading trashy tabloids to call down. Circles all the stories about her family to torture her cousins with (jokingly)

It's a 50/50 shot whether she going to argue with you, and cite her sources, or if she is going to knock your teeth out

Spent her 7th year at The Salem Witches Institute in Massachusetts, a private all-girls school

Historian for wizarding history. Runs a small museum out of Grimmauld Place, which the Potters don't live in but Harry stills owns + has cleaned up a bit

Lily "Lils" Euphemia Luna Potter

Has meniere's disease

Vegetarian for medical reasons

Needs to wear glasses but never does

Gryffindor, but wanted to be in Slytherin

Will help out anyone and everyone if she can

Lived with Teddy for a bit after he moved out on his own

Asexual and Panromantic. In a polyamorous relationship with Frankie Longbottom and Estelle Huang

Had a pet snake named Besa. The snake was nearly longer than she was tall, non-poisonous, and the sweetest thing ever (at least, according to Lily)

Beat up James when he said that she "threw like a girl". She cracked one of his ribs, gave him a black eye, and broke his nose in three places. To this day, he claims that his nose is a little crooked (he was nine. she was five.)

Went to a wizarding school in the Himalayas in her 5th year, on the international student exchange program

Has very long hair that is almost always up in bun(s), braid(s) or ponytails. Has to magically shorten it for Quidditch games

Loves mysteries

Hugo "Go-Go" Cabret Granger-Weasley

Genderfluid [they/them]

Colorblind, dyslexic, and has ADHD

Dragonologist in Sweden, but almost went into wandmaking

In love with Allie Longbottom, who always painted her face Hufflepuff colors for games after Hugo got on the team

Uses medically prescribed pixie dust to help with their extreme anxiety; is careful not to take too much

Has a pet ferret that they named Star Boy

Joshua "Josh" Wilhelm Weasley-Wood

On the autistic spectrum

He takes his emotional support golden retriever, Laurel, to Hogwarts with him to help with the changing enviorment

Loves matchbox cars. Has hundreds of them. Carries one or two around with him at all times to fidget with

Loves hiking through the Forbidden Forest, with supervision from his dad, Professor Percy Weasley, or one of the other teachers, of course. All of them are willing to walk with him when they have time, but he loves hiking with his dad most

Has a hard time focusing when there's a lot of noise around him, so of course he has noise cancelling headphones

Learned how to fix up cars and bikes from his grandfather; opened up his own mechanic shop; loves riding the first motorcycle that he and his grandfather fixed up through the streets of London, especially with his girlfriend Lavi

It took him a while to overcome balance issues, but with training to be a seeker in Quidditch, and a lot of time spent taking practice drives on his bike in the fields around the Burrow, he was able to overcome them and once he did, he was on his motorcycle every chance he got

Has accomandations made for him when it comes to eating at Hogwarts, because the food can bother him sometimes

Hates when different foods on his plate touch

Romany "Romy" Charlotte Weasley-Wood

Lesbian-Oriented aroace; in a qpr with Maisie Greengrass

Is prone to accidental magic and has a bit of an anger issue that she works through with a punching bag, bring a beater on the Quidditch team, and playing drums

Her, Tessa Weasley, and Sariel Goyle formed a band called Bloody Bitchin' Babes that played underground gigs at Hogwarts parties before getting work at parties and bars

Hates all of her classes, except Transfiguration

Her plans look like the walls of detectives in murder mysteries. Photographs, post-it notes, paper ripped out of notebooks, red strings, and everything

Burnt Hufflepuff

Royal "King" Kingsley Jordan

Bigender + Bisexual; xe/xem pronouns

Loves all types of clothing but especially suits, flowery blouses, crop tops, chunky belts, scarves, and Doc Martins

Plays the piano all the time, xe even has a piano in xyr room

Gets chronic migraines, has been known to sit/lay in the dark for hours until the pain subsides. Hates taking meds for it

Never has her phone screen brightness above the lowest setting because xe hates that xyr light sensitivity may take xyr away from xyr phone, which is xyr life

Would love to travel one day

Louis "Louie" Antoine Weasley

Only has a little bit of veela charm, usually enough to get him out of minor trouble, and it isn't always permanent

Started taking in magical creatures when he was seven, when Luna gave him a suitcase like Newt Scamander's and got another one when he started adopting muggle creatures as well. He especially loves his mokes and his chickens.

He loves swimming in the Great Lake with the Giant Squid

Loves carmelized apricots, pumpkin gorgonzola flan, cinnamon roll cheesecake, molasses cookies, Bulgarian candy -specifically chocolate bars, sweet potato pancakes, and homemade butter-maple syrup

Was in a student exchange program with Beauxbatons in his 4th year and again in 6th year with the Canadian wizarding school and he loved both experiences

Tessa "Tess" Rue Weasley

Can see people's auras

An expert at potions. Began working on a cure for lycanthropy at the age of 13 and a long 17 years later, she finally accomplished it. She always says that she would have done it quicker if only she didn't have to sleep to live

Part of the potions club at Hogwarts, which is a much less snobby version of the Slug Club that actually has to so with potions talent and not just fame

With her cousin Louis's help, she was actually able to tame a baby raccoon and named him Meeko after the raccoon in Pochahantas to help her and also trained him to help her nick a few things from her cousins sometimes

Loves classic fantasy lit, especially Narnia. Tried to charm a wardrobe to take her to Narnia, and let's just say that it didn't turn out very well and that it was really hard to reverse

Shaves her head in fourth year, because she was tired of all the work it took to take care of her hair

Penelope "Penny" Elodie Weasley-Wood

Named after Penelope Clearwater, who was her father's best friend and who died in the Battle of Hogwarts

She was adopted from Ukraine and loves everything about the country. The language, the music, the art, the people...

Went on to be a dragon tamer at a Ukranian dragon reserve, which she applied to as soon as she turned 17, and when she got an offer, she took her N.E.W.T.s in her 6th year so that she could take the job immediately

At the dragon reserve, she met Norma Hawryluk, who she fell in love with and a baby Ironbelly whom she named Vera and raised. No one but she had Norma could touch Vera though, because of the dragons' extreme rage issues

Constantly stole her sibling's and cousin's clothing

Gets stuck in her head sometimes

Romulus "Rome" Wolff Jordan

Asexual and Aromantic

Has a fluffy white cat named Marigold (Royal named her)

Loves wearing a ton of rings. Like, one on each finger.

Will only eat rocky road ice cream, and no other flavor ever

Has aphantasia, or the inability to voluntarily visualize images in his mind, but can still dream, because it's involuntary

Loves to sketch a lot. Will sketch everything he sees

Loves turtlenecks; hates crocs to no end

Big windows with amazing views are his favorite thing

Genevieve "Genny" Maribel Weasley

Prone to anxiety attacks

Polyamorous lesbian, in a closed poly relationship with Noa Spinnet-Bell and Lyric Scamander

Best friends with Romulus, her cousin. She is loud and fierce, and he’s quiet and passionate, and together they’re going to take over the world two steps at a time

Figures out that technology works in the Room of Requirement and starts a tech club that meets on Wednesdays, and has movie nights on Fridays

Brought a pet pig named Prince to Hogwarts

Unofficially a freelance curse breaker, but worked as an intern at the dragon reserve in Romania with her Uncle Charlie the summer after Hogwarts. Eventually moves to South America because her girlfriend, Noa Spinnet-Bell, got recruited by their Quidditch team, Tarapoto Tree-Skimmers

They move to a farm where Genny gets her own horses!!!

Elias "Simon" Jacques Weasley

Has fibromyalgia, which makes it difficult for him to stay in Hogwarts. With the chronic joint pain, fatigue, dizziness, and difficulty with memory, it was easier for him to get privately tutored by his dad, who was the Ancient Runes professor

Severe anxiety and depression, which was most likely caused by his fibromyalgia, but there's no telling

Vegetarian for personal reasons, and had James teach him how to make vegetarian burgers and other vegetarian meals

Loves water-based magic and might have gone into the exchange program for underwater schools in the Bermudas or Oceania, but he didn't want to risk his condition

Can beat anyone at any board game. No one knows how he does it. Ron played wizard chess with him for eight hours once, but eventually gave up on ever beating him

Is the publisher of a Hogwarts exclusive magazine. Uses his older sister’s computers to work on it. Works on his novel in his spare time. Occasionally holds poetry slams by the Great Lake. Just loves writing in general

Matilda "Tilly" Honey Granger-Weasley

Has a photographic/eidetic memory

Got expelled from Hogwarts in her sixth year for using an unforgivable curse on another student who was bullying/harassing Elias, but doesn't regret it all.

Finishes up her studies at a small non-boarding wizarding school in Romania, where she lives with her Uncle Charlie and his queerplatonic partner, Barnaby, and their cat, Wick

With the help of Barnaby, dyes her hair platinum white (think Zoe Kravitz when she had white hair)

Moves to America almost as soon as she graduates

Travels the world to write about different wizarding communities for the Quibbler and for her sister's museum

A little too obsessed with Joan Jett

Loves lucid dreaming

Elliott "Ellie" Ryleigh Weasley-Wood

Genderfluid

Has narcolepsy. Tired all the time and been known to dose off during class. And meals. And conversations

Needs to wear glasses but doesn’t, because they don’t want to look like a nerd. Looks like a complete nerd when they run into shit all the time and it doesn't help that their notes are always wrong because they refuse to sit in the front of class

Witnessed a car accident on a street one day and has been able to see thestrals ever since. Hates to think about it

Loves strong tasting food. Spicy, hot, cold, salty, super sugary, bitter... down to eat anything to be honest

Became a therapist for the wizarding community

Amare "Mar" Sabra Weasley

Own a huge shaggy grey and white dog named Ollie who she took to Hogwarts with her and is her best friend

Ellie, her cousin, is her other best friend and they love building huge forts and watching Disney movies together with tons and tons of snacks. Ollie always joins

Didn’t care one bit about school. Hated studying with a passion. Barely ever showed up to class. Was in detention more than all of her siblings and cousins combined

Worked as an intern at Lee Jordan’s radio broadcasting company for a few summers and hosted her own show that was based around old music after her sixth year

Alcoholic. Can't even be around firewhiskey

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chiseler · 5 years ago

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Ralph Bellamy

In spite of an extensive and busy film career that saw him in all manner of parts, particularly in his early days, the very name “Ralph Bellamy” became code during the classic Hollywood period for a guy who didn’t get the girl, a thick and thick-witted fellow that the heroine would strenuously try to imagine settling down with while the thin and stylish Cary Grant, who was not made for settling down, waited for her to come to her senses. And if he were merely that, merely the obviously lackluster placeholder option in romantic comedies like Leo McCarey’s The Awful Truth (1937) and Howard Hawks’s His Girl Friday (1940), he might not be worth writing or thinking about. But just look at him closer, or remember what he was doing for a moment, and the picture immediately gets much stranger, and more disturbing, than that.

When I think of Ralph Bellamy, the first thing that comes to mind is a single concluding shot of him in the masterfully timed scene in The Awful Truth where Irene Dunne, Grant and Bellamy are in a fancy nightclub and Grant’s Southern girl date Dixie Belle Lee (Joyce Compton) gets up to do an embarrassing nightclub act to a song called “My Dreams Are Gone with the Wind.” The song begins conventionally enough as a ballad, but whenever Dixie Bell gets to the line “gone with the wind,” a hidden wind machine blows her skirt right up over her head. Every time this happens, McCarey cuts back to the table with Grant, Dunne and Bellamy and their individual, mounting reactions.

Grant is mortified and keeps looking upward, while Dunne is mortified for him but also somehow disbelieving, even panic-stricken, which she builds steadily in a complex and funny series of push-and-pull facial spasms. The characters they are playing are very conscious, very fastidious, and so this is almost too much for them to handle, and so it’s easy to get so wrapped up in what they’re doing that you forget to gauge Bellamy’s reaction until McCarey cuts to a close shot of him staring at Dixie Belle with an alarming kind of half-formed, sticky lust, both blatant and unconscious. It’s a look of pure stupidity caught unawares, and it is so intensely imagined that it almost throws the scene off balance. Just who is this guy? What is he capable of? Bellamy got an Oscar nomination for The Awful Truth, which suggested that people felt a new screen character had been introduced.

His name in The Awful Truth is Dan Leeson, and Dan is an oil man who has a domineering mother. In His Girl Friday, he is an accountant named Bruce Baldwin, and Bruce also has a domineering mother. In that movie, Cary Grant makes an art of looking at Bellamy’s Bruce as if he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing and hearing. And so it begs the question: just what is he seeing and hearing? Maybe a proto-Norman Bates? Bellamy takes a certain kind of hearty American male dimness to such a point of larval weirdness that you begin to question just what might happen to the women if they did somehow end up with him. Those two movies suggest that the women would be bored with his niceness and long for Grant’s edgy playfulness, but are the men Bellamy is playing really all that nice? Isn’t there the suggestion of a pervert somewhere in his character, revealed for what it is in that close-up of him looking at Dixie Belle Lee with her skirt blowing up over her head?

We need to go a little further back in his filmography to find the most troubling character he ever played, Allen Macklyn, another rich guy, in Hands Across the Table (1935). When manicurist Regi (Carole Lombard) first goes to see Allen, he is seated and talks with his back to her for a moment and then turns around until we can see that he is sitting in a very glossy and plush wheelchair. She takes that in, and while she does so, Allen’s eyes light up with lust as he looks her over from stem to stern. When he talks to her, the dialogue tells us that his life is a lonely one, but that’s not what Bellamy is playing. If a more vulnerable or appealing actor had played Allen Macklyn, the way the film uses him as a stopgap might be somewhat unpleasant, but because it’s pervy Bellamy, he lets us right off the hook. When it becomes clear that Lombard’s Regi is going to marry Fred MacMurray, Bellamy doesn’t seem crestfallen; in fact, it is easy to imagine him offering to pay to watch them make love! There’s no pathos in his playing here, only that note of creeping and unsatisfied horniness that was a fallback mode for Bellamy, his most distinctive contribution to the screen. Whenever he does it, I’m always torn between “Ick!” and perverse fascination.

Dig a little further back in his career, in the films before he became “Ralph Bellamy” or “that guy in the movies, Ralph Bellamy,” as Cary Grant meta-ishly calls him in His Girl Friday, and you will find even odder things, slow-talking judges who seem horribly stubborn and sure of their own power, gangsters who seem to have wandered into the profession by mistake but sure do enjoy themselves bullying people, reporters and pilots and society duds, all of whom share Bellamy’s intense and pre-occupied and immovable quality. The most startling moment in his films is probably the scene where he unexpectedly punches the vampy Constance Cummings in the face in This Man Is Mine (1934), as if a beast in him might be woken up from its slumber if you weren’t too careful. He worked a lot in the early 1930s, averaging between seven to nine movies a year, and he might be called an all-purpose player in that he could be put into most roles in his early days, but he bends everything to his own implacable, impenetrable essence, which could seem menacing even when he was at his sunniest (or especially then).

By the 1940s he was doing mysteries, but he was also very involved in founding the Screen Actors Guild, and he was president of Actors’ Equity from 1952 to 1964, honorably doing all he could to make sure Equity resisted the blacklist. In later life he made a kind of career out of playing Franklin Delano Roosevelt, again in a wheelchair, in Sunrise at Campobello, which he did on stage and then in a movie version in 1960 with Greer Garson fluting it up as his Eleanor. But the disturbing side of Bellamy was perhaps most fully revealed by his doctor in Rosemary’s Baby (1968), an amiable fellow who turns out to be in cahoots with a group of devil worshipers. He is creepy enough in that movie to suggest what Dan Leeson and Bruce Baldwin might actually have had in mind for those screwball comedy heroines.

He did a lot of TV and lasted well into the 1980s to play rich old codgers in Trading Places (1983) and Pretty Woman (1990), and these films were enough to show that his persona had changed remarkably little since the 1930s, which were a very different time. The thing about Ralph Bellamy that’s most unsettling and unexplained is that watchful, unchanging quality he had, and what it might have been hiding. By most available accounts he was a good guy in life. He married four times, the fourth time happily and for decades, and he was politically progressive and reputable. So why is it whenever he’s on screen my skin starts to crawl, and why is it that I sort of enjoy the sensation?

by Dan Callahan

#Ralph Bellamy #The Chiseler #Dan Callahan #Greer Garson #Trading Places #This Man is Mine

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dracosollicitus · 6 years ago

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Some Harry Potter headcanon/Fix-It/who even knows

Harry Potter does not go straight into Auror training after the Battle of Hogwarts. In fact, he doesn’t do much at all.

Harry finds himself at a loss after the death of Voldemort, and he stops speaking to everyone he knew before the war - Ron and Hermione included. It just wasn’t the same for them when Voldemort’s body hit the ground, and the world changed. They couldn’t understand.

The summer of 1998 passes fitfully, and lonesomely. He hangs out near Godric’s Hollow, often in a tea shop or a library. A group called the Spice Girls hits number one some time around his birthday. Harry’s pretty sure he likes them. He’s more sure of that than anything.

He turns eighteen at the foot of his parent’s memorial. He rests a hand on Lily’s grave, and then James’s. “You should have had more of these,” he whispers, and a warm summer breeze envelops him in a way he hasn’t felt since he released the Resurrection Stone on the forest floor.

“Did you know that I was technically The Master of Death?” Harry asks weakly, his back to his father’s marker, staring out at the gate that separates the dead from the living. He thinks about Sirius. Cedric. Moody. Tonks and Lupin. And Florence and Dobby, and Lavender, and Colin, and Dumble-- “It’s probably more fitting than The Boy Who Lived.”

A boy who became a man too quickly weeps at the graves of parents who were barely two years older than he is now when they sacrificed everything for him (not for the world - for him. It’s the most important distinction he could possibly make). The beams from a passing car cross into the graveyard momentarily, illuminating the tapetum lucidum of a cat with most peculiar markings.

He walks out of the inn where he’s been staying the next morning, and startles when he recognizes the shape sitting most primly upon a stone wall across from the front door. She’s absent the pointed hat he had grown familiar with over the last seven years, and she’s traded out emerald robes for a crisp white shirt tucked into grey trousers, but he’d recognize those stern frames and thin mouth anywhere.

“Good morning, Professor,” Harry calls out warily. She gracefully stands and gestures for him to follow her. Harry does because he’s exhausted, and angry, but he’s not rude. Not to her. Never to her.

They settle in a tea shop, and with a wave of her wand, a bubble of privacy descends over them, one unnoticed by the Muggles rushing about on the first of August.

She asks him how he’s been, and Harry writhes under her knowing gaze. He mutters something about needing time away from it all and the wizarding world doesn’t really need him right now - and Minerva McGonagall stares at him the whole time, not bothering to hide her disbelief. “Potter,” she says in a voice as crisp as her outfit while she pours them both a cup of tea. “That is the greatest load of bullshit anyone’s ever tried to give me.” He stares at her now as she scoots a cup made just how he likes it (two lumps of sugar, no cream) towards him. “And I taught your father and Sirius Black.” She takes a luxurious sip of her own cup, and when Harry doesn’t move to lift his off the saucer, she lifts a single eyebrow at him, and he hastens to change that.

Truth be told, Harry doesn’t think the world needs him anymore. He’s served it as best he could. Died for it. Let other people die for it. He’s still not sure why Dumbledore had to punish him one last time by pushing him to come back.

He’s still not sure what to do with his anger for being raised to die.

Minerva McGonagall does not waste breath on I never knew what he intended or I am so sorry, my dear boy, you have no idea. She doesn’t waste time on words that will fall on tired ears. Instead, she sets a small pouch on the table and opens the drawstring delicately. Withered hands vanish from sight for a moment, and she pulls out a small cake. “Hagrid baked this,” she says calmly, setting it on the table between them.

Happee Birthdae, Harry! the chocolate cake proclaims in a painful echo that reverberates somewhere behind his heart.

“Most likely inedible,” McGonagall says, sniffing with distaste. “But no point in letting it go to waste.” She procures a knife from seemingly nowhere - looking up briefly with unmasked concern when Harry flinches at the sight - and Banishes it the second she’s cut two hearty slices. “I’ve bought him recipe books,” the professor says conversationally after they’ve both taken a wince-inducing bite. “But you can lead a thestral to water.” Harry nods and doesn’t tell her that the cake, crumbling like dirt and tasting much the same, is the best thing he’s eaten since he said goodbye to his parents in the forest.

“Before I forget,” she says, as if she could forget anything. “Filius sent you this.” A beautiful Snitch lifts from the bag next - I open at the close, Harry desperately tries not to think - and is passed across the table. The Snitch sits warm and familiar in his hand. “It’s enchanted to send messages,” McGonagall says, her hand back in the bag. “Pardon me, Potter, when I mentioned I was coming to visit you, I was suddenly overwhelmed by people in my office who wanted to me to bring...”

She trails off at that, and next comes a strange green amulet. “Slughorn,” she says by way of explanation, her nose wrinkled. “Says it belonged to the former president of the banking guild.” Her eyebrows are still raised when she brings out a bag of homemade toffee. “Molly Weasley sends her love,” McGonagall says. Harry takes it and stares at it while McGonagall continues to rummage.

Broomstick polish from Madam Hooch. His favorite Honeyduke’s chocolate from Professor Sprout. A box with a picture of a grey and black rectangle on the outside.

“The girl said it was called an Mp3 player,” McGonagall says doubtfully. “Muggles put music on it, I believe.”

A half dozen letters in Hermione’s careful lettering. No less than twenty five letters with Ron’s scrawl on the envelope.

The emptied bag is placed next to Harry’s saucer, and he stares at the pile in front of him with the ghost of guilt still burning at his eyes. Last is a letter, addressed to Mr. H. Potter at the Road Less Traveled Inn, Godric’s Hollow. “There was no official address,” McGonagall says, the letter suspended between them for a moment, and then it stays with Harry. “And I wanted to deliver this by hand.”

Harry knows an invitation to Hogwarts when he sees one.

“It does not matter if it takes you a month, or a year, or a decade,” McGonagall says, her hand covering Harry’s briefly. “Hogwarts will always be there for you. As will the people who love you.” She squeezes gently, lifts her hand to wipe the tear that’s fallen from bottle-green eyes, and stands. “And we won’t ask you to do a bloody thing besides learn, Potter.” With that, she sweeps from the tea shop, leaving Harry to cry in front of the pile of evidence that there are adults, friends, family in this world who love him and who have only ever wanted the best for him.

It hurts to let go of his anger - and some of it he keeps, tucked safe and warm under his heart, well into old age - but he does.

On September 1st, 1998, a boy with a single suitcase to his name walks into King’s Cross. He blinks up at platform 9, and then number 10 through eyes unburdened by glasses. He made the switch to contacts sometime over the summer, thinking them less bulky, less recognizable, one less thing to worry about breaking when so much had already been broken. He looks at the platform, and then he sees them.

A boy with flaming red hair is tucking a flyaway curl behind the ear of a girl jabbing her finger at a book and talking a mile a minute. Harry watches the boy laugh at something she said, watches her swat him affectionately, and he walks up to them.

They look up at the same time, and their faces light up with matching grins. “Took you long enough,” Ron chortles, his arm around Harry’s shoulder. “Ginny’s been looking for you on the platform. I thought we were gonna have to steal another car, mate.”

“Oh, leave him be, Ronald,” Hermione says, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. She throws her arms around him, and Harry rests his chin on her dark, wild curls. “It’s going to be a good year,” she says firmly, wetly. Another pair of arms wrap around Harry, and the trio stands for a moment, swaying from the weight of their embrace between the platforms.

“Let’s go home,” Harry says, and Ron laughs, punches his arm lightly, and then grabs his suitcase and Hermione’s. “What did you pack in here, woman?” Ron moans, dragging her suitcase with exaggerated effect. “Did you pack an entire library?” He disappears through the dividing wall.

“Well...” Hermione says, smiling at Harry over her shoulder. “Now that you mention it.” She, too, vanishes from sight, leaving Harry to stare at the brick wall for a moment longer.

Behind this wall is a mess of loss and pain and suffering. Behind this wall are the memories he had buried himself in all summer. When he crosses through, the distance he built up over the last few months will be gone - he’ll confront the forest, the place where Fred fell, the site of his last struggle with Tom Riddle. Harry will see faces he remembers-and suffocate from the weight of the faces he won’t see. He can turn around still. Or.

“Let’s go home,” he whispers to himself, his feet carrying him forward once more.

#harry potter #hp headcanon #harry potter fix it #long post #what even is this #jkr keeps giving us content we don't want #me: goes back to old content and fixes it so it's what i want #hp #headcanon #minerva mcgonagall #and rubeus hagrid #the adults who loved harry most #the boy who continued to live

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lizzytheauthor · 5 years ago

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Character Summaries!

I wrote this on my main blog a while back, but here to refresh peeps memories and get it on my writing blog proper; warning there are minor spoilers

Fred - 6ft 3in, Male, short red hair (kinda like a crew cut-ish), freckles, kinda stocky, Green eyes, Gay Synthetique Person, technically 3 years old. He’s a wicked smart inventor, and gay. Sometimes he gets too preoccupied with his inventions and forgets to do chores, or check in on his friends. He does, however, care deeply about his friends, and is constantly trying to invent new things to protect Sydney

Jezzibelle(My wife’s OC that she let me steal) - 4ft 10in, woman of color, blonde hair (kinda shaved on the sides but poofier than a mohawk), toned but not shredded, purple eyes, ace/panromantic human, 23 years old. She is very laid back, tries to see the best in people, and is typically soft spoken. The cow themed hoodie she wears is a security blanket, while she may not always wear it properly, she will at least have it tied around her waist. She has a deep love of animals and follows a vegetarian and sometimes vegan diet.

Garland - 6ft 10in, male, grey hair with red strands (and he lets it grow out a bit, but never past his shoulders), he’s more bulky but he always wears a trenchcoat so we are unsure if he’s fat or muscular, blue eyes, straight human, he’s 41 years old. He’s currently the President figure of the United States, he staged a revolution at age 20 (the year 2023). He is also the Head of the FBI. His brother was killed by a Synthetique Gang in 2025, and he is very traumatized by that. He had a son with a woman named Sheeva at age 18, but they gave him up for adoption since they agreed they weren’t ready for a child. He suffers from alcoholism, drug dependency, and depression.

Sydney - 5ft 7in, trans girl, red hair of medium length (almost always in a ponytail or bun), she’s really skinny but not at all in shape, she has brown eyes, she’s a lesbian [[redacted]] technically 23. Sydney has always dreamed of becoming a cop or FBI agent so she could help people and solve crimes. She’s extremely perceptive and hyper intelligent when it comes to solving puzzles, but very oblivious to common sense things, and incredibly uneducated. She suffers from anxiety, and cannot handle crowds at all.

Nere - [[Redacted]] technically 48 but also 50. Nere is an enigmatic time traveler. Frequently goes by he/him pronouns, and no one can quite say they know him, moreso just know OF him. He has an even more mysterious boss that he answers to, and his plans and goals are completely bizarre and unknowable.

Rose/Josh McMeren - 5ft 11in, genderfluid, dark blue hair (long/in a ponytail when presenting feminine, tucked under their hat when presenting masculine), they are muscular due to being in the police force, they have green eyes, they are a pan human, aged 25. McMeren has been in the police force for almost 3 years, their partner is Grey, who have been in a loving relationship for 5 years. They are very outgoing, and can almost always be seen around town going for jogs. On days where they feel inbetween they don’t care which name you call them, or what pronouns.

Grey - 4ft 6in, greygender, very long grey hair past their butt (and protective of it!), they are a little out of shape but are trying to better themself due to McMerens active lifestyle, they have grey eyes, and is also a pan human, aged 24. Grey sometimes uses female pronouns, but not often. They really love dresses, but are frequently seen in sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. They met McMeren when McMeren pulled them over for going too slow on the highway. Grey is very very shy, and often hides behind McMeren when there are new people talking to them. They also have slight agoraphobia.

Timmy - A bike. Cannot speak. Not even slightly sentient. No age.

Finnick - 4ft 2in, trans man, brown hair(imagine shaggy from scooby doo for the hairstyle), he’s overweight, he has hazel eyes, he’s a bi human aged 27. Finnick eats an exclusively vegan diet, he works with George at the Department of Public Relations as George’s assistant. He went to university, but he’s not terribly intelligent. [I’m still working on him, don’t worry]

George - 5ft 11in, male, silver hair (mohawk when not at work, wears a beanie at work), he’s shredded, blue eyes (but often wears silver contact lenses to match his hair), he’s a gay human aged 31. George is the Head of the Department of Public Relations, he was a close friend of Garlands during the revolution, and is the most neurotypical person in my cast. He’s very outgoing, and loves making people squirm due to social conventions. He tries to be everyone’s friend, and has over 1000 friends on social media. He got his right arm, left leg, his back, and half his head replaced with metal equivalents, he calls himself “Half-n-Half” cause of this.

Arthur Whately - 6ft 3in, male, brown hair down to his shoulders, very out of shape and kind of plump, brown eyes (wears glasses), he’s a straight human aged 40. Arthur teaches Ancient History at Cambridge University, specializing in ancient artifacts. He’s one of the most prominent scholars of ancient history, and many respect his opinions. Unfortunately, he also has a habit of spout the occasional conspiracy theory, lowering his credibility to all except those who know him personally.

#my writing #original characters

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graceelizabeth2 · 6 years ago

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Killer Queen Part Six

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

So... It’s officially dead week at school which is basically just the week before finals. And I have a broken toe. Go me. So, I will be spending a lot of time on my computer. I have lots of ideas for this series but they might not get executed as soon as I would like but they will get up eventually. Y’all might just not hear from me for a week or two. I’ll try to update but there is no guarantee. Love ya. Thanks for indulging my ramble. Enjoy the update.

@wint-er-voices @rain-must-fall @allieburakovsky @moveimbi

Turns out that I was right. The album did well enough that the band went on several small tours. They even put out a second album and they finally broke into America. I was graduating from Uni in just a few days. Rog had promised me that he would be there, but at this point, I was slightly skeptical. The boys were still on tour and the phone calls I got from the road were getting shorter and shorter. Eventually, I stopped picking up because I really didn’t want to hear him forgetting about me.

“Hello?”

“Amy, darling!” I sighed. Not that I wasn’t happy to hear from Freddie, it just sent a twinge to my heart.

“Hi, Fred. How’s America?” I ask, boosting myself up onto the counter so I could comfortably listen to him.

“It's amazing, dear. We’re selling out almost every night. I wish you could see the crowds, it seems they really love us.”

“Rog! Stop it,” I heard a woman’s voice yell out somewhere behind Freddie.

“That’s great Freddie. How is Deaky?” I play with the hem of my sweater, pulling at a loose thread.

“Ask him yourself. Deaky! Amy wants to talk to you,” and there was shuffling on the other end of the line.

“Hello there, Amy. How are you?” John’s soft voice came over the line.

“I’m good Deaky. How’s the tour for you?” I heard more laughter and tried (not successfully) not to wince.

“Tour is good. Everyone on the tour with us is really awesome. The groupies are always good fun,” he chuckles.

“Why Deaky! Have you been having fun with the groupies again?” He laughs and I can see him scrunching his nose and pouting.

“Maybe… If they’re going to be around us, they had better learn to play scrabble. ” He trails off. “Brian wants the phone. Miss you, see you soon Ames!” I laughed and repeated the sentiment to him before I heard Brian’s voice.

“Hello dear.”

“Hi, Bri.” This time I could distinctly hear Roger telling Freddie to fuck off. “How’s the road?”

“Well, right now we are in the middle of buttfuck nowhere for a bus stop but the shows have been good. Never gets old.”

“That’s good Bri. Um, how is, I mean-”

“He’s right here if you want to speak to him.” I swallowed hard and pulled the string that was hanging down off the hem of my sweater off.

“No, he sounds busy.”

“He isn’t busy Ames, he's just-”

“It was good to speak to you Bri. Give the boys my love.” I put the phone down in the receiver and wrapped my hands around my waist, trying to keep in the feeling.

________________________________________________________________

** AT THE SAME TIME**

I walked up to Brian and grabbed the phone. “My turn now, I believe.”

“Wait, Rog, she… she hung up.” I looked at him.

“What?”

“She hung up. She thought that you were too busy. You do know that her graduation is in three days right?” I nodded.

“I’m flying out tomorrow.”

“Good luck mate. You’re going to need it.” Brian put a hand on my shoulder and I just looked down at the phone in my hand.

The show that night was just awful. Freddie, Brian, and Deaky could tell that I was just off and they tried to help as much they could, cracking jokes and trying to get my rhythm back.

“That’s it for us darlings, we have to get our Roger to an airport. He’s got someone to get back to.” Freddie pulled me out from behind my drums, pushing me forward to the front of the stage. “His bird is graduating Uni in two days!” Brian chimed in and I sent him a small death glare. I could see the semi-disappointed looks of the girls in the crowd. I raised my hand in thanks and walked off stage. This was going to be interesting.

________________________________________________________________

Someone was knocking on my door rather incessantly. It was 8 in the bloody morning.

“Mary, you have keys, you don’t need to knock-” I opened the door and instead of Mary, another blonde stood in my doorway, holding a bunch of flowers.

“Miss me?”

“Rog,” I breathed and launched myself into his arms

“Hello, doll.” His strong arms wrapped around me, twirling me around before setting me down and giving me a bruising kiss. I tried not to cry but was rather unsuccessful. I turned and walked back into my apartment, trying to hide my tears from him.

“Petal, why are you crying?” He followed me, concern leaking into his voice. I sat on the kitchen counter, wiping my eyes with the sleeves of the shirt I had on. He came to stand between my legs, his hands gripping my knees.

“Why are you here, Rog?”

His face twisted and he spoke softly. “Because I promised you before I left for the tour that I would be at your graduation. It’s important to you and I want to support you. And because it was killing me on the road to not see you.”

“Roger-”

“No, listen to me, Amy. I could sell out shows for the rest of my life and do what I love all day, but if I’m not coming home to you then its all worth shit to me.”

“What if you forget about me one day?” I ask, trying not to let him see how sad the thought really made me.

“Not possible. I was miserable without you.”

“But when you called, the calls were always short.” I played with my fingers.

“That’s because I was always the first one to the phone and the other boys were hounding me. By the time I got to the hotel, you were either in class or at work so I couldn’t reach you. And what you heard on the phone the last time when Freddie called was everyone telling me to shut up about you.” A few more tears made their way down my cheeks. “The groupies are tired of you and they’ve never met you.” I laughed and cupped his face in my hands.

“While we’re on the topic of things that are uncomfortable, I have a question.” Roger’s eyebrows raised as if to say, ‘go on’. “Why me?”

“Why you? Well gee, there’s probably only a few thousand reasons.” I hit his chest playfully. “Why you? Because you are the only girl that didn’t just fall into my arms. You can put me in my place when I need it. You just seemed to know all the places that I needed you. In Freddie’s words, you’re my better half and I’m your bitter half.” I laughed and wrapped my arms around his neck. “There’s that smile that I’ve missed.” I leaned in to touch my forehead against his and just to soak in this moment of pure domesticity.

“I love you, Roger.”

“I love you too, Petal.” He smiles at me and presses a kiss to my lips.

“I’m so happy you’re home,” I say, pressing kisses down his neck.

“I’m happy to be home too, love.” We spent the rest of the day wrapped up in each other, not bothering to leave the apartment.

________________________________________________________________

“Amy Elise Miles, Bachelors of Science, Astrophysics.” The Vice Provost called my name and I stepped on stage, holding my head high. ‘Shake right and grab with left, turn and smile.’ I repeated in my head, trying to remember the instructions the professors had told me beforehand. “Good job, Amy.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Walking across that stage felt incredible, like every night I had spent slaving away on papers and differential equations had been worth it.

“Go Amy!” I could hear Roger yelling with my parents and I just shook my head, smiling. The Vice Provost continued to drone on and I just kept tapping my foot, waiting for the end.

“Graduates, please rise.” We all stood and set down our degrees. “Please move your tassels from right to left. Congratulations, graduates.” The president of the University smiled at all of us. In the flurry of activity afterward, I felt two arms wrap around my waist. I spun around and threw my arms around Roger’s neck.

“I’m so proud of you sweetheart. So proud.” He yells as he spins me around before setting me down, dipping me and pressing a bruising kiss to my lips.

#bohemian rhapsody fanfic #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy! roger taylor #roger taylor fanfic #bohemian rhapsody #BoRhap Boys #ben hardy imagine #fanfic #ben hardy #roger taylor

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