#especially cause someone else put a survey in the chat at the beginning of the semester

[echidnana]

we're not a bitter person prommy but we asked our ra is she could share a research survey for a project we're doing in the dorm's group chat (it's admins only) and she said no. but she regularly (as in every day) pings everyone because she shows doctor who episodes. and also another guy puts his streams in there

[coffeecomicsgalore]

Unveiled Love

@smutember

Ao3

Chapter 20 – Adrenaline Rush

The akuma was another love battle akuma; exactly what the duo needed at the moment.

“Fuuuuuuuuuck.” Ladybug drawled out and Chat looked over at her incredulously. She let out another burp, and made a face at how gross it tasted. 

Chat would always love his lady, no matter how gross or odd she was, but seeing her like this, especially during a battle, only made him watch her every move with worry.

She squinted her eyes and watched at what the villain was doing, seeing if there was any clear indication of where the akuma could be hiding.

“Dammit. Now I need to go down there.” Ladybug grumbled and Chat placed a hand on her shoulder.

“No. I’ll go down there. You stay here while I taunt him.”

Ladybug let out a huff and crossed her arms, watching her husky cat catapult his way down to the akuma’s level.

“Lovely seeing you here.” Chat began, the akuma glaring at him with poison in his eyes. “You know, a way to a lover’s heart is not by his screams or beams, but by his words!”

“Shut up you stupid cat.” The villain spit back. “You know nothing of love. You’re nothing but a stray alley cat trying to play with his food.”

“Oof. That hurt.” Chat said, placing a hand on his chest in feigned hurt. “I would never put my hands on more than one person.”

The akuma chuckled out in a high pitched laugh. “Ha! We all see how in love you are with Ladybug, then you go after a new superhero? If that doesn’t sound like a tom cat, I don’t know what does.”

Chat eyed the akuma up and down as he tried to find another distraction. In the distance, he could hear Ladybug throw out her yo-yo, no doubt impatient about waiting to come down and help him. She was the one who always made the plans.

The moment Chat looked up to see where she was was the moment the akuma decided to attack. His blaster hit Chat right in the chest, and Chat turned to look at the akuma with shock written across his features. Ladybug got down to the ground and covered her mouth with her hands, the feeling of guilt ricocheting off her heart and into every crevice of her body. 

“Chat!” Ladybug called out, anger brimmed in her voice as she mentally scolded herself for her actions. 

“Hahahaha!” The akuma’s boisterous laugh filled the street. 

Ladybug stared at her partner, waiting to see what would happen now that he was hit. The beginning of a headache started to form, and was only gaining strength as the akuma continued to laugh. She refused to remove her eyes from her partner’s form, waiting for the inevitable. Every so often, she would look back at the akuma, ensuring her own safety now that they were probably down one hero. 

At first, Chat felt nothing out of the ordinary. He was ready to go back into battle, and he did so by crouching down and into position with the baton in his hand. Suddenly, Chat felt a rush of lust run through him, his eyes closing as he could feel the arousal building within him. He turned to the akuma and smirked at him, before turning to Ladybug and doing the same. 

Ladybug noticed Chat’s eyes grow increasingly dark, his smirk screaming something mischievous. His body language had changed, too. He seemed more aroused as he looked at her., like the gaze he was giving her was seductive in nature. 

Chat sauntered up to Ladybug and slid the back of his hand down her cheek, his fingertips lingering for a couple of seconds longer as he made his way around her body. Ladybug’s eyes closed at the contact, the familiar feeling of arousal building within her as she noticed his demeanor.

“Fuck, Ladybug. You look delicious.” Chat purred out, causing her to shiver in his grasp.

Ladybug head lolled back for a brief moment, the alcohol’s inhibiting effects making her forget what she needed to do. Her eyes widened as her duty to protect Paris finally edged its way to the front of her mind, and she easily whisked herself away from him to get a plan into action

Ladybug hid up near a chimney, surveying the ground. The akuma was zapping people left and right, making them lust over who they love most. Her stomach rolled when she watched a couple get zapped, then the woman removed her hand from the man’s grasp, leaving her to run to, presumably, someone else. The poor man that was left behind tried to run after her, saying things like, “I want you. Please want me too!” as he continued his trek.

The faint sounds of tapping shoes could be heard behind her, and Ladybug turned around to notice Chat licking his lips before biting the bottom one, letting out a sultry moan in her direction. The sound he made only made her quiver with anxiousness, the feeling of arousal and lust hitting her from all sides.

She wanted him. She wanted to jump his bones. She had been wanting to all day. But once she saw the news about Chat Noir and Multimouse, all sense of anything flew out the window with drinking as the only plausible resolution. Now with the alcohol coursing through her body, Chat’s sensual glare, his delicious body that looked incredibly amazing in the black leather - which now she noticed, housed a very prominent erection that she wished she could lavish - there was no way that she could say no to him.

I’m never drinking alcohol again, she muttered, finally recognizing  that she needed to move before things go too far.

Ladybug whipped her yo-yo at Chat, knocking him in the head, and he groaned as he rubbed the sore spot. She whipped it back, then repelled down the building, searching the ground for any signs of the akuma. 

When he was spotted, Ladybug called upon her lucky charm, receiving a deflated balloon to solve. Looking around to gather her thoughts, she noticed Chat crouching down on all fours, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

Ladybug slipped away before he could, leaving Chat to land in a dumpster behind her.

“Sorry, kitty.” She said, looking back as she ran towards the victim. 

Blowing up the balloon to get it to stretch, she ran into his space and opened up the neck of the balloon, engulfing the blaster with the latex.

She ran a little further, then broke the object causing the purple butterfly to fly out, and Ladybug captured it to purify it. She threw the lucky charm into the air, and restoring the city to its former glory.

Chat Noir came up from behind her and rubbed his head, looking a bit embarrassed at being pawned. Ladybug placed a comforting hand on his shoulder before looking over the victim. After they said their goodbyes, TVi reporters walked up to them to ask them questions about the newest superhero and the rumored love triangle that this has now created, causing Ladybug to go from okay to back to angry again.

“No comment.” She huffed out, angrily, and zipped her way out of the crowd. Chat rubbed his neck with his claws, before saying the same thing, vaulting himself out of view with his baton.

“Ladybug!” Chat called out as she jumped over to the next building. “Get over here.”

“No!” She called out, still bitter from the earlier incident. She wanted to go home and drink some more, betting that another akuma wouldn’t come back tonight. She would figure out how to handle this issue tomorrow, but today she just wanted to drink to forget.

That was until she could still feel the heat of arousal between her thighs. Chat jumped up behind her and Ladybug turned to look at him. She wanted to be angry, but her libido was taking over any rationality in her mind. 

“Milady. Wait-” Chat grabbed her hand to get her to stop, but all it did was cause any lingering rationale to fall. Ladybug turned and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down as she crashed her lips against his. At first, Chat wanted to remove himself from her hold, but he melted into her kiss, chasing her tongue with his.

As if the moment their tongues touched sent fire to their bodies, Chat picked her up and wrapped her legs around his waist and leaned her against the chimney that was away from view. 

The kisses became intense and heated to a point where clothes were extremely uncomfortable, and the feeling of his bulge pressing against her core elicited a moan from her lips. Chat scratched off the crotch of her suit, not even waiting to get home to ravish her properly. He did the same to his own suit, and mentally decided it was probably best to give Plagg and Tikki an array of special treats at this point for all repairs they have had to endure.

“Fuck. LB.” Chat cried out as he found the entrance to her pussy with the tip of his cock. 

“Chat…”Ladybug moaned out, gasping as she felt his hard cock fill her completely. 

Ladybug didn’t have time to get used to the feeling of him being inside her, as he began to thrust as quickly as he could. It was as if they were running out of time and needed to end this before all hell broke loose.

Ladybug grasped onto his collar with one hand, using his bell as leverage with the other, as he rhythmically thrusted into her warm pussy. Chat nuzzled his nose into her neck, smelling her delicious scent on her exposed skin. He placed pecks of kisses along her neck line, and Ladybug could only moan as she lolled her head back at the sensation.

She ran her hand through his hair, tugging on the blonde locks as their lips crashed against each other in haste. Fumbling and moaning through locked lips, Chat thrusted faster and more erratically as the coil began the turn deep within him. He gripped her ass, massaging the tender muscles with his fingertips, and Ladybug moaned again into his mouth.

She removed one hand from his hair and ran it over her collarbone, reaching her breast and caressing the mound. She found her way to her nipple, rubbing the nub through her suit until it was pert. She pinched and pulled on the nub, swirling the thumb around the peak as he continued to thrust. She then brought her hand down to her clit, running her thumb over the sensitive nub giving her an additional friction that she so desperately needed.

Chat could feel that she was becoming increasingly aroused. She began to ride his dick as he rocked his own hips against hers, skin and balls crashing against each other as the sweaty mess of limbs became tangled tightly.

He moaned as his hips moved erratically, and Ladybug crashed her lips against his once more as she reached the peak of her climax. He shoved his tongue into her mouth as he thrust harder and faster, tilting her hips in the right position so his tip could brush against the bundle of nerves within her.

Ladybug cried out as she fell over the edge, and Chat felt her core clench around his cock. He followed suit, feeling the hot cum sputter into her pussy as she came down from her high. He slowly thrusted until he was completely spent, then dropped his head onto his shoulders as they relaxed their frantic breathing.

“So- good-” Ladybug stated, placing her forehead carefully against his temple. He looked up at her and shot her a satisfied smile, then tilted his head to capture her lips in a sweet kiss. Once they let go, Chat dropped her down to the rooftop, and they both laughed at the status of their suits. Detransforming and feeding their kwamis, Adrien gave her a play-by-play of what would happen once they returned home..

“Tonight. I’m going to give you a bath. No talking about this dilemma, no talking about our civilian dilemma either. I’m going to wash you up completely, feed you pizza… and water…” he added with a glare, “and then we are going to cuddle on the couch until we fall asleep. We will do damage control tomorrow.”

Marinette looked as if she wanted to say something, but instead nodded with a slight frown. Deep down inside, she was thankful for the idea. She needed time to just decompress, and after the way the akuma battle went, she didn’t want to drink anymore tonight anyways.

“Lead the way Chaton. That sounds like a lovely idea.”

---

“Well…” Hawkmouth announced as his transformation fell. “It seems like Ladybug has a bit of competition against this mouse. I mustn't let this information slip away.”

Gabriel crossed his arms behind his back as a plan formulated in his mind. “Yes. Your love will fall, Ladybug and Chat Noir. And I will get your miraculous. Even if it’s the last thing I do.”

[anthropologicalhands]

ceg fic: miss do it right

title: miss do it right gift for: @clemdhoffryn for @crazyexvalentine word count: 4,885 summary: Valencia is ready to propose to Beth. The question, however, of when and where requires expert advice. Valencia & Heather, Beth/Valencia. notes: Happy Valentine’s Day!

~

“I need your help,” Valencia announces, breezing into Heather and Hector’s foyer, straight into the living room and perching on the arm of the couch adjacent to Heather’s current seat. “Also you really need to get a gardener—that trellis is leaning over.”

“Hector’s getting around to it,” says Heather, looking up from her magazine. “Hi, welcome back to West Coast, Best Coast or whatever. Didn’t I tell you to start texting if you were gonna come over?”

“I told you I was planning a wedding this weekend,” Valencia says archly, as if the mere statement of fact automatically absolves her of visitor’s etiquette. “Remember? In the group chat?”

“Oh, I remember. I just kind of generally assumed it was in New York. Since you do, you know, live there.”

Valencia pouts. “Come on, aren’t we hashtag gurlgroup4evah? Physical walls are meaningless. And I totally gave you a key to my place. You could do the same exact same thing to me and I wouldn’t mind.”

“That argument worked when you were in East Cameron, not East Coast. When am I ever gonna go to New York?”

“For me, obviously,” says Valencia. “Or for a Home Base conference, I guess.”

“They’re a West Coast chain.”

“So? Weren’t you planning on revolutionizing their corporate headquarters, or something?”

“I was, but that’s like, halfway through my five-year plan that I’m going to start next year.”

“Oh. Are you really not happy to see me?” asks Valencia, and she sounds just a tiny bit deflated, like she’s actually worried that that’s the case. Heather drops her magazine on the side table (occasionally, she marvels at how adulthood came upon her so fast—these have mermaid feet, irony unintended, that make her ridiculously happy).

“I’m happy to see you, Vee, can’t you tell?”

Valencia narrows her eyes. “Usually you’re happier.”

“You literally just walked in when I wasn’t expecting you for three weeks. Let me have a reaction time. And given your stance on Hector is lukewarm at best I’m still surprised to see you here.”

“I follow Hector on Instagram, and I happen to know that he has a surfing competition in Monterey this weekend,” says Valencia knowingly. “And I definitely know that you are always down for adventures, especially if there is just the right amount of drama.” Valencia wiggles her shoulders for emphasis.

Heather leans forward, studying her friend. There’s something surprisingly spiky and Rebecca-like about her energy –not out of whack, not in a bad way, but it’s there.

“Everything all right, Vee?” Heather asks. “You’re weirdly hyped up. Are you on a Guatemalan coffee kick again?”

“Please, you know I’m on a kombucha cleanse right now.”

“Kombucha can do all this?” Heather gestures up and down Valencia, like her “this” is the new “it” and she’s Clara Bow. 

(Heather took a film class for like, three weeks in freshman year before she dropped it for being insanely pretentious.)

Annoyed, Valencia swats Heather’s hand away—all right, she’s not too far gone.

Valencia gives an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “No, it’s not the kombucha. It’s something way more important.”

There is a very meaningful pause; Heather waits, unsure whether it is done out of Valencia’s natural sense of making an entrance or for Heather’s benefit is a sincere question.

“I’m going to ask Beth to marry me.”

“Oh,” Heather blinks. “Wow.”

It’s not an unexpected announcement and given with Valencia’s usual careless confidence. But there is trepidation there, if one knows how to look for it.

“Does it seem weird? Tell me if it’s weird.”

“Uh, not weird, no,” says Heather carefully. “But given what happened a few months ago, I have to ask…”

“Yeah, we’ve been talking about it,” says Valencia irritably, waving a hand. “We’re on the same page. But I want it to be right, and I need help to make that happen.”

“Okay. And you’re asking me because…”

“Because Rebecca has a lot going on, and while I love the girl, I need someone who won’t let me get carried away with something way out of my budget.”

“That makes sense,” Heather agrees. “What about Paula?”

“She has that big case she’s presenting on Monday, and she doesn’t know Beth as well as you do.”

“True. That afternoon at the Korean spa means we’re bonded for life now, united by a great and terrible event.”

“You loved it. Didn’t you feel all nice and fresh?”

“Only because I had to grow a whole new layer of skin. I’m amazed Beth liked it; she was completely pink.”

“I mean, that happens if she steps out in the sun for five minutes without a hat,” says Valencia fondly. “But I’m not asking you to climb into a sauna, I’m asking you to help me propose to my girlfriend. Will you do it?”

“I mean, obviously. I’m a total romantic, so of course I’ll help.”

Valencia’s forehead wrinkles in a very pointed way. “You got married because of health insurance. I just need someone to tell me if I’m getting out of bounds with like, budget and expectations.”

“Wanting your partner to be healthy for the long run is very romantic.”

“Not enough to try to skip the actual wedding part,” grumbles Valencia.

“Who is asking who for help getting married, again?”

“Fair,” concedes Valencia grudgingly, though her smile undercuts some of her pretense. She kicks herself up and off the couch and gestures imperiously at Heather. “Now come on, we need to get going if we don’t want to be late.”

“Uh, we? Where?”

I have a vineyard in Temecula to make sure it is an ideal venue for my client, remember? We can multitask on the drive up.”

“Uh, now?”

“Why not?” With a flourish, Valencia pulls out a notebook that is already crammed full of post-its and other notes. “You can look at this on the way up. Plus, I can guarantee that we can ask to sample some of their viticultural offerings.”

“Well, when you put it like that.” Heather stands and stretches. “I did have a busy afternoon planned for contemplating my existence, but I’ll move for free wine.”

~

Valencia’s planner, much like her initial dream wedding plans, is elaborately and meticulously tabbed. Leafing through the pages, Heather briefly recognizes one of the strange commonalities between Valencia and Rebecca that reminds her that, as strange as the beginning of that friendship was, there’s a reason that their bond is as strong as it is. Valencia drives. It gives her a weird burst of fondness for them.

“You really thought these out,” says Heather, reading through a meticulous list of what it would take to plan a flash mob in Times Square with a reasonable budget. 

“Right? I mean, I have ideas for days. It’s what I do—dolling up other people’s bad ideas and persuading them that mine are better. I can do this forever.”

“Great. So, why do you need me?”

Valencia’s fingers drum against the wheel of her rental car, clearly annoyed. “Because I’ve been striking out. Like, these are objectively great proposal ideas, right? But I can’t decide which one is actually, like, the best one.”

“I can see that,” says Heather, eyebrows shooting up when she turns a page and sees an elaborate plan for a hot air balloon proposal scribbled out with angry red marker. “What are you looking for, then?”

“Something that speaks to both of us. Like, as awesome as my spacing is for the choreo, I know that Beth wouldn’t want a flash mob in Times Square.”

“Yeah, that seems like a you thing. A pretty specific you thing.” Heather shoots her an inquiring look. “Did you?”

Valencia shifts uncomfortably. “There was a time where I might have mentioned it to Josh.”

“Wow.”

“Hey, Josh is terrible, but if he choreographed a dance proposal, it would have been amazing.”

“Can’t argue with that.” One of the pages just seems to be a froth of white lace paper surrounding a list of names at its center. Heather squints at the neat penmanship, idly wondering if she needs glasses or if Valencia’s handwriting is just really that small. “Is this a guest list?”

“No. I also really always wanted to do it at someone else’s wedding. Preferably Denise Martinez’s—”

“Valencia…”

“But that’s also not Beth’s style,” finishes Valencia slightly irritated. “Like I said, the proposal has to match both of us. I did learn from my mistakes, you know.”

“I’m not saying you didn’t,” says Heather mildly.

“And that list is out of date anyways. Denise got married last month and I hear that her and her new husband are already fighting.”

“Don’t sound so gleeful.”

“Sorry,” says Valencia almost contritely, merging off the highway. “We have a long history.”

“So I heard. We definitely need to unpack that some time.”

~

“Oh, this is perfect,” Valencia breathes, overlooking the gently rolling hills and the rows of twining grapevines.

“It’s pretty great,” Heather agrees, coming up besides her, hands tucked in her pockets. “It’s practically worth the sticker price.”

“Nothing’s worth the sticker price. I’ll get a better deal.”

“That winery owner guy seemed pretty stodgy.”

“I have my ways,” says Valencia enigmatically, which both impresses and concerns Heather in equal measures. 

“I don’t doubt it.” There’s a pause as they survey the scenery together. 

“Why wouldn’t you propose to Beth here?” 

“Hm?” Valencia turns to look at Heather, the arch of her eyebrows more inquiring than sharp.

“You and Beth. I mean, this place makes a wicked rosé—”

“Since when do you use wicked? That’s an East Coast word.”

“’Cause it’s a great word? And I’m from Michigan, which is kind of East Coast.”

Valencia pulls a face.

Heather rolls her eyes in response. “Whatever. But seriously, this seems ideal. It has a view, it’s romantic—it’s everything you wanted. And you and Beth have family here, so you can have a big party after she says yes.”

“It has a lot,” agrees Valencia wistfully. Then she sighs. “But it won’t work.”

“Why not?”

“Josh and I used to come here. Too many memories.”

“Oh.”

“Right? Josh just ruins everything.”

“Okay, it’s been three years, I think you can lay off of Josh.”

“Nah. I’ve dedicated too much time into it. I’m going to be doing this until after we’re both married. Speaking of Josh, you’ve met Rosa, right?”

“Yeah. I like her. I didn’t know that you met her—”

“Oh, yeah. Nice girl,” says Valencia, sounding vaguely surprised. Given Josh’s previous type, Heather can’t entirely blame her. Valencia continues, “But for whatever reason, they work well together. We had a long talk - I warned her about all of his flaws, and she said that she knows and she was positive she could handle it. Then she complimented my earrings.”

Heather has to smile at that. She is the least well-acquainted with Josh of their friends (though she’s probably seen him in far more intimate situations than most people ever have to see their friends), so her personal frustrations with him tended to be from far briefer interactions, over much more quickly. She’s glad to see that Josh seems settled in a way that he hasn’t been since she’s known him.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” admits Valencia, softening a little. “I am actually happy for him. But I have to keep up appearances - we were together way too long.”

“That’s fair.”

~

Once the vineyard has been approved (and Valencia has worn down the owner to her terms), they head back to Heather’s place, open a couple extra bottles of rosé and buckle down.

“Too much hassle,” says Valencia, X-ing out what seems to be a plan for a private yacht.

“Too showy,” agrees Heather, marking off a flashing billboard. She turns the page and squints at a picture of a dark room lit by hundreds of tiny flames.

“Isn’t Beth allergic to those candles?” she asks.

“They would be soy,” Valencia protests, but rather hastily reaches across the page to mark it out. “Still, you have a point.”

“That’s also a fire hazard, right there.”

“I’m not Rebecca,” says Valencia irritably.

 “That’s still a lot of open flames. I’m just saying. Why not just go Big Fish and propose with a bunch of flowers?”

“I can’t. Beth’s allergic to flowers.”

Heather blinks.

“Seriously?”

Valencia shrugs. “Look, there’s a reason she hired me to do certain events that she couldn’t. She’s all about the hands-on activities. Pollen and natural phenomena - not so much.”

“Got it. So Big Fish is totally out?”

“Totally.”

~

Despite what Heather expected and the width and breadth of the notebook, they are burning through the ideas in the planner at an alarming rate. Valencia is clearly panicking too, if the two glasses of rosé are any indication.

“You know what would be great? The Met! Yeah, you could hide behind one of the exhibits to record, we’re surrounded by all this history, I’m sure they have something by Sappho in there, Beth loves her stuff—”

“Okay, just so we’re setting reasonable expectations or whatever, I can tell you right now that I am not going to New York just to help you propose,” Heather warns. “I have like, a household budget, and there’s only so much that I can dip into Hector’s accident fund and still have enough.”

Valencia lets out a little huff that indicates that while she respects Heather’s commitment to her budget, she continues to be less-than-impressed. It reminds Heather to text Hector and tell him that he might need to spend the night out with the guys—just because him and Valencia are no longer on murder terms doesn’t mean she can feel like she can guarantee his personal safety.

“Okay, fine. Skip to page sixty-eight.” At Heather’s disbelieving look, Valencia shrugs defensively. “What? A girl can dream in destinations.”

Heather does as she’s asked without further commentary. It’s not that Heather expected that helping Valencia plan a proposal would be simple. But Valencia knows her tastes—Heather was reasonably certain that her role would be as a yes woman and occasional financial wisdom rather than active decision making.

They aren’t using the couch or even the coffee table anymore—they’ve pulled off all of the cushions and have created a sort of nest on the floor.

“I can propose at a concert!” says Valencia, entirely too brightly.

Heather raises her head off one of the cushions. “You guys like going to concerts?”

“Not really? But everyone proposes at John Legend’s concerts, so it would work.”

“Beth likes John Legend?”

“Kind of? She doesn’t mind him but she loves Chrissy Teigen. And maybe we’d get some good karma from their marriage.”

“Not bad. You might also get drinks spilled on you,” Heather reminds her. “It could be sticky. Plus, other people might propose at same concert and steal your thunder.”

“Ugh, true. Plus, the scheduling doesn’t work out—he won’t be on tour for a good few months.”

Perhaps it is the tiredness, or remembering that she still needs to write up the shift schedules for next month, that prompts her to suggest, “Why not Home Base? I mean, you guys did agree to meet there. So, like, it’s sentimental.”

Valencia somehow looks affronted, disgusted and poorly hiding it, and despairing all at once. Heather would almost be impressed.

“I’ve been going to Home Base longer than you’ve been working there, Heather. I really don’t want to propose marriage at the bar where I used to pick up Elena from softball practice. It doesn’t feel right.”

Heather props herself up on her elbows so that she can look at Valencia properly. “Okay. What doesn’t feel right? It’s not going to be perfect.”

“I’m not going for perfect,” says Valencia irritably. “I gave Rebecca perfect, and look where that landed her. A perfect proposal would mean an island vacation, and dessert for Beth, and possibly sky writing. But it would also mean debt and she would so not be happy about that.”

 “Great. Is that the only thing you’re worried about?”

 Valencia’s hands twist against each other in her lap. Then they untangle and she dives into her purse and pulls out a small black box, which she sets on the table between them. Gone is her haughty event planner bravado, now Valencia just looks lost, more than Heather has ever seen her. 

“This proposal has to feel right because I messed up the first time.”

“The first time?”

“The ultimatum,” says Valencia glumly. “I don’t want it to be too much—it needs to be something that Beth would love to accept. Something that proves that we know each other and can be a part of each other’s lives.”

“Can I see it?” At Valencia’s nod of permission, Heather reaches over and opens the box to look at the ring.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it? Moshe has a good collection. I’ve known this is the one for her for ages now. And…I want that feeling about how I propose. Does that make any sense?”

It does. Heather nods, waiting for Valencia to continue.

“It’s just…I made such a big deal about wanting to get married, and I want this proposal to show her that I know her, and it’s not all about me me me.”

“Of course.”

“That’s why I asked you. You might not be the biggest romantic of all of us, but you follow your gut about what feels right. And I want that confidence when I ask her.”

It’s both touching and terrifying to have that much faith in a person. Awkwardly, Heather pats Valencia’s shoulder. Valencia leans into the touch anyways, seeking whatever awkward comfort that Heather tries to give.

“You know, she’s going to love you whatever you do,” says Heather slowly. “And obviously, you know her well enough to know that these insanely awesome proposals are still awesome, just not right. We’ll find something better. And, like, I’m not gonna give up. You’re not going to leave California without a game plan.

Valencia gives her a tiny smile.

“Thank you, Heather,” she says. She looks ready to say more, but then there’s the sound of a very small gong being struck.

Valencia frowns, pulling her phone out of her pocket, scans the screen, and sighs. “I have to go. The client with the vineyard wants to meet now, of all times. I’m gonna go to her place, but when I get back, maybe we can just have a girls’ night in? No more proposal talk?”

“Sure, whatever you want. I can just duck out and like, get some more rosé. Just wines. Ablutions to drown our frustrations.”

Valencia smiles wanly and sees herself out. Heather waits until she’s sure that Valencia’s car has pulled away before hitting her speed dial. Heather is the coolest of her friends, even now that they are all responsible adults, and sometimes that means admitting that you are out of your depth.

~

Still, Heather isn’t lying when she says she needs to go pick up wines. She does.

At Il Cabino. Where Rebecca is waiting at a table for two, astonishingly early.

“You need to help me,” says Heather, not bothering with niceties. As frustrating as Rebecca’s flakiness can be, it is refreshing that she never gets insulted by Heather’s brusqueness.

“Oh, absolutely,” says Rebecca, eyes wide. “I know I haven’t been very good at that in the past, but like, right now I’m all ears.”

“Valencia is going nuts about proposing to Beth—”

Rebecca nods sympathetically. “Oh yeah, I know.”

“You know?”

“Yeah. She’s been texting me.”

Heather looks closely at Rebecca and only sees frank interest in the other woman’s gaze, no impression of jealousy or hurt. “Okay…so you know and you don’t feel left out?”

“She made it very clear that I’m not supposed to help, and given my past record for helping Valencia with anything, I figured the least I could do is let her do her thing,” says Rebecca with remarkable understatement. “Anyways, I’m actually crazy busy. My singing lessons are turning my brains to mush.”

“Hm, and I was hoping to hear that you were actually working your pretzel stand so we could swap tips as fellow businesswomen.”

“Nah, I just let AJ take care of it. His rent is less than a hundred bucks, he can manage.”

“Right. Enough about your life, back to my problems.”

“Shutting up now.” Rebecca mimes zipping her lips.

“Thank you. But Valencia is driving me insane with rejecting every single proposal idea I have. And, like, my ideas are good. I’m good at organizing events.”

“Right. You guys are crazy good at that.”

“I suggested Home Base, kind of as a joke, and she nearly bit my head off.”

“I mean, Home Base is not super romantic. I had enough sex in the back room there enough to know.”

“What a coincidence, so did I,” says Heather dryly. “Which means I probably should pay for an extremely thorough cleaning, but that’s besides the point. If Valencia isn’t feeling it, it’s not going work. So I figured, I’ve been striking out, I might as well ask our local romance expert for tips.”

“Aww,” coos Rebecca, placing her hand on her heart. Then her expression shifts from soppy to self-deprecatingly wry. “You guys must really be in a tight spot.”

“Yep. So…what do you have for me?”

Rebecca looks thoughtful, not unfocused like when she goes in her head or is too absorbed in her problems.

“I mean, Beth isn’t a total romantic, but she likes to make things meaningful,” says Rebecca after a pause. “She wouldn’t be in these kinds of events if she didn’t. Maybe for Valencia, she’s asking Beth to spend the rest of their lives together. Ask her about if there’s any specific moment when she knew that she wanted Beth to be in her life forever. Like, I know you are big on how there isn’t one moment of magical epiphany and I totally agree, for the record—but she made the decision that it was gonna be Beth at some point. Maybe asking when and where would give her a few new ideas.”

It's an almost stupefying simple idea. Heather nods slowly. “Right. Like, what do they do together that makes Valencia want to spend every day doing the same thing?”

“Exactly. Like, it’s just about finding resonance, right? Something that reaffirms how they feel, but not in an artificial or contrived way. Just love.”

“Right,” says Heather, starting to smile. “Thanks, Rebecca. That helps a lot.”

Rebecca beams. “Any time. And uh, not to be mercenary or anything, but since I gave good advice, does that mean you can pick up the tab? Music lessons have really tightened up my budget and you did offer to take me out to happy hour, so.”

~

“You’ve been gone a while.” 

There’s a faintly accusatory tone to Valencia’s words when Heather gets back. She’s already sprawled over the couch, reading the magazine that Heather dropped earlier that morning.

“And yet, you still let yourself into my house. How was the meeting?”

“Okay. Honestly, it’s a good thing I’m in a personal crisis right now or I would have never agreed to do their wedding. Ugh, what annoying people. But, I promised, no more wedding talk. Tell me what’s been going on at Home Base. Don’t spare any details—I know you love that drama.”

“I do love drama. But before we get into that, I think I have one more suggestion that might help you with the whole proposal situation. Just one.”

“Okay?”

“I’m not a traditionally romantic person. You know this.”

“I do.”

“And I married Hector when I did because he really needed the health insurance. But I knew that I wanted to spend my life with him before that. He makes me laugh. He makes things light in my life. Even when he does something stupid like almost lose his toe.”

“That’s…surprisingly sweet, Heather.”

“Don’t say it’s wasted on Hector,” Heather warns.

“I’m not, but trust me, it’s hard.”

“Good. But that was a very roundabout, Rebecca-like way of asking: maybe think about when you decided you wanted to marry Beth?”

Valencia exhales noisily, slumping back against the sofa arm. “I’m almost never not thinking about it. When we’re at work together, when we’re talking, whenever I see her when I wake up in the morning with all of the light in her hair—” Valencia abruptly stops speaking, eyes wide.

Heather takes the opening.

“So there is a moment?”

“Yes.”

“In the morning?”

“Yes!”

“So you’re basically saying that she’s your sunshine?”

Valencia is too excited to be annoyed by Heather’s teasing. “Yes, exactly. She’s my sunshine! Which believe me, was sometimes the only thing that got me through this winter. It was cold.”

“I’ll bet,” agrees Heather. “New York isn’t exactly balmy.”

“Yeah, yeah. No, this is perfect.”

“So you know what you’re going to do?”

“Uh huh.”

“Are you going to tell me? Where will this event take place?”

“Our apartment. That’s our home now. It’s a shoebox and extremely uncomfortable, but it’s also ours. And mine. And that’s the first time I ever had something like that.”

Valencia actually sounds giddy.

“What do you think?” she appeals to Heather.

“That sounds just like both of you.”

“I think so.” Valencia looks conflicted. “But I want to share it with you guys too. Like, I want a little fun, otherwise I’ll just start crying and in the sloppy way, not the movie-style pretty way.”

“Again, I can’t go to New York. Paula’s too busy and Rebecca is equally broke.”

Valencia’s eyes sparkle. “Okay, but what is the best way to visit New York without visiting New York?”

Heather has an inkling of where this is going.

“You’re going to livestream your proposal?”

“Of course not. I’m going to livestream after she says yes.”

“Oooh boy.”

Valencia flutters a hand. “I think she’ll be fine as long as the actual moment itself is private. She’s not like me—she doesn’t want to get a proposal in front of people. So…you think it’s good?”

“It’s perfect. Out of curiosity, why did you want to be proposed to in front of people?”

“I mean, it used to be a social-capital type of thing, but honestly, I don’t want all of West Covina there. I would want you guys, and my family to share the moment. Cause you love us, you love Beth…and it’s still nice to be the center of attention once in a while. But that’s me, not Beth. Now, enough proposal talk. Let’s crack these wine babies open.”

Heather nods, a little distracted, a new idea forming in her head.

~

“The drone was a nice touch,” Paula observes as the three of them crowd around Heather’s laptop in her kitchen a few weeks later.

“Not mine. That was all Valencia.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe Valencia’s engaged!” Rebecca’s squeal is exactly what Valencia seems to want, she just beams all the brighter. From within the camera, Beth seems amusedly resigned, leaning her head on Valencia’s shoulder, admiring the ring.

“Well, since you have your girls on the line…” says Beth, and Heather smirks, the only woman of the lot of them who knows what’s coming, as Beth disappears out of their sight line, and emerges with a small velvet black box of her own.

“Oh my god!” Valencia’s squawk has all three of them jerking away from the laptop, but the general cacophony from Paula and Rebecca more than make up for it.

“A double proposal!” Rebecca’s grin is so wide that Heather’s own face aches in sympathy.

“Valencia, Valencia stop shaking me, I have a whole speech prepared, and I know it’s not a flash mob in Times Square—”

“I don’t care!” Valencia shrieks. “How did you—when—”

Beth laughs, giddy with adrenaline.

“Thank Heather,” she says, her voice clear even over the faint buzzing of the drone. “I called her for advice, and she didn’t give me any details, but she did say that if I wanted to propose, I might want to consider keeping the ring in the apartment. Preferably under the bed.”

“Heather!!” Valencia glares at her across the country, mascara running, but the smile on her face is impossible to repress.

“Told you I’m romantic,” says Heather mildly, but still smiling, pleased.

“I know,” says Valencia. “Thank you.”

She turns back to Beth. “But I thought you wanted a private proposal. Everyone’s watching us right now—”

“I did, and I’m glad I got one. But you’re not me. Valencia, you are a sun, and you draw all of us in your orbit—”

There is more, but Heather can barely hear any of it, between the screamlets coming out of the laptop and the shrieks echoing around Rebecca’s kitchen. Rebecca is punching Heather’s arm and saying something about she knew Heather was secretly a romantic at heart, she just knew it, and Paula is looking misty again, but Heather only has eyes for the two women on the other side of the screen, wearing rings and embracing so tightly it’s like the drone isn’t there at all.

What? She said she’s a romantic.

[jeagerism]

I. the one where they meet

Word Count : 3.1k

A/N : welcome to the v first part of waiting game!!! i hope you like it!! please feel free to give feedback, as it helps me work faster and i then know what you guys want in future chapters! ty to @soulspideys bc ya got me out of a hole with this!!! anyways enjoy bbys!

---

He’s going to be late.

Peter’s been repeating this to himself since he’d woken up this morning, alarm blaring with giant red numbers reading 8:13 A.M. He had made sure to set extra alarms, each one with a different tone, and had managed to sleep through them all.

So, he’d jumped up, shoving himself into the outfit he’d had laid out the night before, hauled his backpack onto his shoulders, and grabbed his keys before leaving his dorm room and making a mad dash for his class. He’d woken up so late he didn't even get to fix himself the tea he had planned on making.

He is so going to be late. And on the first day of class, too. Fuck. Right about now, he's questioning what compelled him to sign up for an 8 a.m. class. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but as Peter just about manages to arrive outside the building his class is held in, he's cursing himself out.

He risks a glance at his watch and winces. 8:23. There's a part of him that cringes at the thought of walking into the lecture hall, knowing all eyes would immediately be on him. Peter had been so hopeful for the first day of college. But now he’d be labelled as the kid that was late to his first class. Fuck fuck fuck.

He doesn't want to go in.

He does anyways, of course. Sucking it up and moving along, he wraps his hand around the door handle and pulls.

Creeeaaaaak.

He wants the ground to swallow him whole. The groaning of the door stops once Peter slips inside the classroom, only to start again as it closes behind him. But when he looks up, he's surprised to see that no one’s even spared him a glance. The professor is still speaking, pencils are still moving.

A breath. Thank God. He makes his way past students, scouring the rows of people for an empty seat. There's someone occupying each and every seat he comes across. He’s just about ready to give up hope when he spots an empty seat a few rows up, right next to someone in a giant grey hoodie.

Peter approaches the person, nudging their forearm gently. “Um, is anyone, uh…” He trails off, awkwardly rubbing his neck. Please please please let me sit here. They glance up at the touch of his hand.

“Yeah, sure.” They move their things over to give him room. He settles into his seat, pulling out the colorful notebook labeled Psychology, and gets to work writing notes immediately.

The class passes much quicker after that, but Peter can feel himself dozing off periodically when the professor pauses his lecture. He really wishes he’d woken up earlier. He’s grateful the class ends when it does, hundreds of students pouring out of the room almost instantly.

A sigh leaves him as he puts his things back into his bag.

“Hey, um-” Another book lands beside him. When he looks up, you give him an encouraging smile. “You, um, you missed a few topics...before you came in.” You shrug a shoulder, holding your backpack strap on the other. “So, uh, you can copy mine? Like, I can give you my notebook and you can give it back next class, o-or you can take a few pictures, or I can take a few and send them to you!”

Peter doesn't say anything, instead choosing to stare at you with wide, curious eyes. He didn't think anyone had noticed him come in, despite the noise he caused. But you had, and you're offering to help him. No one else had done that. You're an angel.

The smile on your face drops as suddenly as it had come, and you begin reaching for the notebook. “And you probably think I'm weird and was watching you and am just trying to get your number! Okay, um, sorry for tha-”

Peter shakes his head, also reaching out to grab the notebook. Your hands brush against each other’s, and you both jump back as if you'd been burned. “Uh, yeah, I can give you my number? And you can just text me the notes I missed, i-if you want! You, like, totally don't have to-”

“No, I will!” Your eyes fall from him to the floor. “Um, it's no, no problem.” Slipping your phone from your back pocket, you hand it out to him. “Just, like, put your number in…”

His hands are shaking so bad Peter is worried he’ll drop your phone. He's not used to this, meeting new people had never been his forte. Sure, he could be as brave as he wanted when he was Spider-Man, but now? This was all new. Peter Parker was Spider-Man, but at the same time, Peter Parker was not Spider-Man.

He types in his number slowly, double, then triple checking to make sure he’d put in the right digits. “Here you go”, he mumbles, handing it back to you with pink cheeks.

“Peter.” You whisper his name to yourself with a smile. “I'm Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” Y/N.

“Great! I'll, you know”, you hold the device up, wiggling it, “text you.” You smile, turning around and head for the door of the classroom.

Peter watches you leave, rooted in his spot, smiling like an idiot. Because he may have just made his first friend in college.

---

Throughout the next week and a half, you talk a lot more than either of you had expected.

You text him the notes he’d missed, just like you'd said you would, and the conversation continues. It's mostly about things either of you didn't quite understand during class, but when Peter slips in a joke about how nasally your professor sounds, you both relax.

The next time you two see each other is in the library. Peter’s busy looking for a book for his art class, fingertips brushing over the spines as he walk. He becomes so focused he doesn't notice the person on the other side of the bookcase until he hears his name being called.

“Peter!”

He looks up, startled, but his shocked expression morphs into a smile when he notices it's you. “Hey, Y/N.” His finger snags on the corner of a book as he tries to come up with something else to say, and it, along with a few other books, comes crashing to the ground by his feet. Well, at least he has an excuse for not speaking.

“Shit.” He bends down, stacking the books one on top of the other, cheeks burning. How was it that he’d managed to make a fool out of himself again, and it was only his second time seeing you in person? He can feel the eyes of everyone in the library on him.

You're knelt beside him before he can blink, adding the last stray book to his stack.

“Sorry, I'm just, really clumsy all the time and”, a pause, “I'm embarrassing myself aren't I?” He’s almost certain his cheeks have never been this red in his life.

You bump shoulders with him, standing as he does. “Nah. At least, not to me.” You survey the people around you, most giving the two of you dirty looks. “Not so sure about them though.”

Peter sets the books on the shelf gently, stuffing both hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on his feet. “So…what're you in here for?” You look confused for a second. “Not that you're, like, not allowed in the library or anything! You can totally be in here, just wondering-”

There's a loud shushing sound from the corner of the library, leaving Peter silent, and you giggling quietly.

“I'm picking up a few anatomy books. You?”

“I'm, uh, an art major, so. Looking for something for a project”, he says.

You beam up at him. “That's so cool, Peter.” He shrugs. “Seriously. You should show me some of your work sometime.” Internally, he's freaking out. Because you do not need to see the crappily one sketches he has, especially the one he’d started of you.

But he finds himself nodding anyways. “Yeah, sure. That would be fun.” No it wouldn't. It absolutely would not, why did I say that? He supposes there's just something about you that leaves him wanting more. “So, um, do you need any help looking for your books?”

Another smile. “Please.” You lead him to the section of books you'd been picking through, naming off a few titles you needed. It's easy to start talking from there, about how he's liking classes and how you're undecided for a major at the moment. “I don't really know what I want to do yet. I want to branch out, I guess? I just want to make sure that when I do pick my major”, you sigh, “I want to make sure I know that's what I want.”

He likes that answer. It's nice to know someone who's as undecided about their future as he is. After everything that happened last year, he's grateful for that.

After you collect all of your books and his, and Peter offers to carry every single one, you leave the library still chatting up a storm. Something about the way you smile shakes him to his core. And he knows he's not supposed to think this, because he's just met you, but your one of the prettiest people he's seen.

He doesn't tell you this of course. Even if he wanted to, he doesn't get a chance.

“Hey, Peter!” Ned. He tilts his head at his friend, who jogs up to them with a goofy smile upon seeing you by his side. “See you've met Y/N!” Ned holds his fist out for you.

You laugh, and bump your fist against his. “Hi, Ned.”

Peter’s eyes flit from you to Ned. “You know each other?” Does he sound jealous? No, no, there's not a chance he does...right? The smirk Ned gives him makes him scowl the tiniest bit.

“Yeah, we have a few classes together. We ate lunch together the other day, which was really nice because I don't really know anyone other than you and him. I'm...not very good at making friends.” Which Peter almost doesn't want to believe, because how could anyone not want to be your friend?

Ned takes Peter’s silence as a queue to begin speaking again. “Well...if you don't have anything to do right now, Peter and I were meeting a few friends for lunch...if you want to some along.”

I'm gonna kill him.

Peter opens his mouth to intervene, but you're already shaking your head excitedly. I'm screwed. He was going to spend an hour with you, in a sandwich shop, with his best friend right next to him, probably embarrassing him even more than he’d already managed to do.

You glance up at Peter. “That'd be great, actually. That saves me from eating lunch in my dorm, or even worse”, you grimace, “the cafeteria.” Not that the cafeteria was a bad place. It was very clean and had surprisingly great food. But he knew what you meant. He’d been the kid with no friends to sit at lunch with before Ned came along.

So, Peter grins, nodding his head. He's still got your books in his hands, which are getting sweatier and sweatier as he think about lunch. It's with the really pretty person from his Psychology class, but holy shit, it's with the really pretty person from his Psychology class.

“That sounds amazing!”

---

You look beautiful when you laugh.

Peter decides this about fifteen minutes into lunch. You haven't talked much since you've gotten here, most of your attention on Bryce, Ned’s boyfriend, but every few minutes you catch eyes, and it's enough for him.

When you'd first arrived, you'd looked around in awe at the sandwich shop. Apparently you'd never been. Rhodey had taken him and Ned a few weeks before they were scheduled to move into their dorms. They had fun, they talked a lot. About Tony. He misses him. About last year's events. He misses her.

You were nervous about ordering, so you had Peter do it for you. You told him you trusted him to make the right choice, so he got what he did his first time, what he’d gotten every other time since visiting. He felt like a kid in a candy store when you told him you liked it.

“So, Peter.” Ned pats him on the back. “How you doing this week? I know we share a dorm, but you haven't really been there a lot.” His best friend gives him a pointed look. “You promised me, Rhodey, and Pepper you'd try to be home more.”

Peter wets his lips, anxiously looking up to make sure you weren't paying attention to them. “I know, I just…”, he sighs, “I just like to be there, just in case. I know this isn't Queens, just…if I'm not there, what'll happen?”

Ned huffs. “The police will get them?” His eyes soften the tiniest bit. “I know how you are about this, since last year, but it's better here. We made sure of that. So, just try to come home more?” He smirks. “Unless you're spending all your time with Y/N-”

“I'm not!” Peter elbows him, glaring. “I'm not, I just have psychology with her. That's all.” But that's not all. You glance up again, and smile at Peter when you lock eyes. That's so not all. “I'll try to be home more, just quit with the jokes.”

“Who said they were jokes?”

Peter groans, pressing his hands to his cheeks. “Shut up, Ned.” He checks his watch, releasing a puff of air. “I've got to get back, I need to start sketching out ideas.” Grabbing his wallet, he pockets it. “I'm gonna head out.”

You jump to your feet at his words. “Oh, I'll come! I've got some things to do back at my dorm anyways.” You shuffle past Bryce. “Nice to meet you! Bye, Ned, see you on Wednesday!” Your arm brushes against Peter’s as you stop beside him. “Let's go?”

The breeze feels nice on his face, calming him. People bustle around the two of you, talking on phones or holding binders and textbooks. It’s loud, but Peter doesn't mind. He doesn't do too well with quiet now, anyways.

“I'm glad I went to lunch with you.” He takes careful notice in the way you say you. Not you guys, but you. Just him. It fills him with a strange kind of warmth.

He mumbles a soft reply, “Yeah, me too.” The two of you cross the street, and some protective part of him reaches out to grab your hand as you do. Maybe it's reflex from days spent out with May, or maybe it's just because it's you. He doesn't question it too much.

You look surprised, Peter tugging his hand back a little at that. “S-Sorry, I-” But you don't let go. Not even when you've reached the other side of the street. He hides his smile by looking away.

“It’s okay.” He's so, so screwed.

He walks you the rest of the way home filled with glee. You reach the outside common area too soon. “Do you want me to walk you back to your dorm, or…?”

You shake your head, letting his hand fall from yours. He misses the warmth, although he's not sure why. Friends. “No, it's alright. Thank you, though, for lunch. You and I should do it again soon.”

You and I.

“Yeah. Yeah we really should.”

---

Search History :

i think i have a crush

do i have a crush

queens, new york july accident

how do i know if i like someone

good conversation starters

art throughout the ages

---

It’s the next week when Peter is sure he's doomed.

He's tried his best to keep any and all feelings away. The beginnings of a teeny crush had been pushed to the back of his mind. Getting too close so soon isn't good. He doesn't want a repeat of last year.

But it seems the universe hates him.

He shows up to psychology early, notebook and black and blue pens in one hand, a travel mug of tea in the other. Peter’s there early enough that he can pick his seat, wherever he wants. He chooses a seat right in the middle row, close to the exitway. The rest of the class starts pouring in, and pretty soon the room is filled.

You drop into the seat next to him as the professor starts talking. When you smile, Peter tries his hardest not to show how happy he is you sat next to him.

“Today, you're getting assigned your first collaboration assignment.” They explain the work in detail before grabbing the binder in front of them. “Pick your partners and get to work, I've emailed you the other information.”

The room gets loud as the words leave the professors lips. People around the lecture hall move around, getting into pairs. Peter glances worriedly at his peers. He doesn't really know any of them, except for, well, except for you.

“Do you want to be my partner, Peter?” Why do you have to sound so hopeful? Spending more time with you sounded great, like a dream, but Peter was positive that you managed to pull him in too easily. Spending time alone with you would surely lead to disaster.

“Yeah!” He flips his notebook open as you open up the email you’d been sent. You begin rambling about the topics you can choose from, a gleam in your eye.

“Oh, and we can work on it out of class, too, obviously. We can go back to the shop and work, or-or we could go to the library and study while working and kill two birds with one stone.” You grin. “You're really cool, so I'm glad you're who I get to work with on this.”

He's so, utterly, terribly, horribly screwed dammit.

“I'm glad it's me, too.”

---

Search History :

how to stop liking someone

how fast can you get over a crush

queens new york bank robbery

attribution theory

---

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[miraculouslbfangirl]

Fixing thing up

AO3

Part 1

Spoilers: Love eater and Miracle Queen

Marinette had Luka’s arms wrapped around her as tears fell from her eyes. Everything that happened that day was overwhelming and it was nice to have someone comforting her without asking questions she couldn’t answer.

The fact that Master Fu wasn’t there for her to return the Dragon Miraculous left an unsettling feeling at the pit of her stomach, especially after seeing Hawkmoth withdraw the Akuma. That was the last drop of water that caused the dam to break.

However, she knew that Adrien was the main reason for her distress. She had even compromised the battle because of her jealousy. Seeing him and Kagami sharing that ice cream in such an intimate way clouded her judgments.

She should let him go for the sake of her sanity. But, could she? It would be easy to let Luka fill the emptiness of her heart, but wouldn’t be fair to him. She knew that her feelings for Adrien wouldn’t disappear magically and she would only hurt Luka in the process.

Marinette stepped back removing herself from the warmth of his embrace “I’m sorry Luka, I didn’t mean to….”

“Are you alright?” He asked at last.

“Yeah. I’m…” Marinette averted her gaze. He was so nice.

“It’s Adrien, isn’t it?” She could notice resignation in his voice.

“I don’t really want to talk about it. It’s just not meant to be.” Marinette trailed off as she hugged herself.

“Or maybe it is. I have a feeling that all you need to do is let him know how you feel.” With a gentle yet sad smile on his face, Luka motioned to the other side of the street where a blond boy stood looking like someone had kicked his puppy.

To say that Marinette was surprised was an understatement, she was shocked. “I… ahm…”

Luka chuckled bending to get his bike. “You deserve to be happy, Marinette.”

Instead of just walking away, Luka approached Adrien saying something that Marinette couldn’t hear. After visibly tensing, Adrien answered him sporting a determined face. The boys took their separate ways and Adrien made a beeline to her.

“Can we talk?” He asked with a hint of apprehension. Marinette nodded and he led her to the bridge that overlooked the Seine. “Is it true that you like me?” Adrien asked with no delay.

“I, hum… who told you?” Marinette stammered taken aback by his straightforwardness.

“I want the truth this time. No fashion admirer excuse, please.” He leaned his side on the parapet facing her.

“I do.” Marinette sighed and looked at the river with a lost stare. “It’s not like it matters since you like Kagami anyway.”

Adrien reached for her shoulder in an attempt to make her look at him but she didn’t. If he wanted to have that conversation she couldn’t look at him. “Why do you think I like Kagami?” he asked.

“Why?” She snorted. “You told me you loved someone, Adrien. And you had asked my help with Kagami. Now you ask why I thought you like her.” Her knuckles were turning white with the force she was using to grip the parapet. But it was all she could do to control the anger building up inside of her. Did he think she was an idiot?

Adrien flinched away a little, unused to be on the receiving end of her rage. The only other time had been when they first met and he didn’t want to repeat that. He decided that being honest was the best move just like it was back then under the rain. Honesty was what he wanted from her too, wasn’t it?

“I guess that I’m guilty at that. Making you think that Kagami was the girl I’m in love with.” He said in a low voice.

Marinette snapped her head to look at him confused “If it’s not Kagami; who is it? Why did you even ask my help with her then?” So many emotions in only one day were making her voice harsher than she intended.

“It’s a girl with whom I work. She likes another boy. I thought that going out with Kagami would work, but it didn’t.” He looked dejected, helpless. Marinette would have pitied him if not for the realization she just had.

“So, I’m your third choice.” She spat. “Wait, no. Why am I even considering myself a choice to you? You probably came here to reject me properly.” Marinette crossed her arms in front of her chest forcing the tears to not fall.

“Can you let me speak?” Adrien said visibly losing his control.

“Go ahead. Explain yourself.” She demanded motioning for him to continue.

Adrien shook his head but kept eye contact with her. “I’m not going to sugarcoat this. If I want a chance for us I have to be honest with you.” She nodded but didn’t try to interrupt him. “I have loved this girl since the begging of the school year. Because of that I never allowed myself to look at anyone else as a potential love interest. That includes you. Actually, my goal with you was to become your friend which wasn’t an easy thing to do since you always ran from me.”

“I was too nervous around you, you know, because of my feelings” Marinette clarified.

Adrien smiled understandingly “I had no idea. In the beginning, I thought you hated me.” He chuckled “Anyway, becoming your friend was a victory for me, I wouldn’t jeopardize that. Not when I hadn’t a clue about your interest and I thought you liked Luka. Kagami, on the other hand, always let clear that she was interested in being more than friends.”

“So, when you decided to move on, you went for the obvious choice.” Marinette concluded, voice a little softer.

“Well, you kind of helped with that and it seemed to be the right thing. She was there, I had my heart broken, but it wasn’t. Then she said you liked me and … I… I like you, Marinette. I felt that with you it could be different.” He leaned forward resting his elbows on the parapet.

“That might not work either. I don’t feel like being a fallback. I thought about moving on from you with Luka.” She saw him gulp nervously. “But I knew that wouldn’t be fair to him and I don’t think that being with you while you love someone else would be fair to me either.”

“So, you’re rejecting me.” Adrien lowered his gaze to his hands.

“Not exactly, I really like you, Adrien. But I don’t want you to be with me just because the girl you love rejected you. What if she decides she wants you overnight? Where does that leave me?”

Marinette didn’t know where her strength came from. She had never imagined herself turning Adrien down like that. She just wanted to curl up in her bed and cry or maybe throw herself at him and kiss his sorrow away, but she couldn’t. With Kagami, she knew what to expect but that other girl was a mystery. There was no way she would have peace if she started a relationship with him like this.

“Look Marinette, if you say yes, I will be with you and only with you.” He looked at her pleadingly.

“Maybe, or maybe you’d feel torn. I don’t know how much you love her.”

“I…”

“Let’s not rush things.” She spared him from trying to explain.

“Could we go out more frequently at least? As friends, to get to know each other better?” He had such a hopeful expression on his face that Marinette couldn’t help but giggle.

“Sounds go…” she was cut short by Adrien’s arms lifting her and throwing her over the parapet.

“Plug your nose.” He instructed right before jumping after her.

Marinette could see bees flying everywhere as she did what she was told. They swam to under the bridge and returned to the surface when they couldn’t hold their breaths anymore.

“Where are they coming from?” She asked right before they dove again as bees came back to them.

Adrien stayed underwater but Marinette emerged right away to survey the area. There were bees everywhere and, for what she could conclude, they seemed to be hunting humans since the bees immediately chased her as soon as she put her head above water.

Marinette knew that neither she nor Adrien would be able to stay underwater. She submerged when she was almost at the bees reach, her mind racing trying to find possible solutions that wouldn’t need her transforming.

Once underwater she saw that Adrien had emerged just a few meters away but she was definitely not prepared for the light that covered his body as he was coming back down revealing a powered-up Chat Noir in its wake. She was held speechless and would have drowned had he not taken her from her stupor when he used his baton as an oxygen supply for her.

“We’ll talk about this later. I think you already know you can’t tell anyone.” Nod was all she could do to assure him as she tried not to freak out; she had more important things to deal with. “I don’t know exactly what’s happening but those bees look like the ones that Queen Wasp controlled.”

Master Fu, Marinette’s mind screamed at her. She knew something was off when she couldn’t find him. That was her fault. She screwed her eyes shut trying to regain her bearings.

“Marinette, calm down. Ladybug and I will deal with this as we always do.” He said putting a hand on her shoulder.

She shook her head. He didn’t understand. How could he? He didn’t know she was Ladybug. She pushed herself up to the surface hoping that her magical macaroons were still in conditions to be used. They were wet, of course, but she gave the acqua one to Tikki either way.

“Acqua Tikki spots on!” She sighed in relief when it worked and dashed back to where she had left Chat giving him back his baton.

“You��” He tried to say as he plugged the baton to his back but words failed him.

“We’ll talk about this later.” Ladybug repeated his previous words and he nodded his agreement. “This is my fault…”

She told him about Master Fu’s disappearance and he did his best to reassure her that they would deal with it. And they did. Together. Just the two of them against them all. He was by her side when Master Fu lost his memory and the weight of being the guardian fell on her shoulders. He was by her side when Master Fu boarded the train leaving their lives forever. He didn’t say or ask anything about their romantic relationship. They just stood side by side as their partnership reached a new level.

Only later they met at a rooftop to talk. They had refused their friends invite to grab an ice-cream at Andre. It was an unspoken agreement between them that that wasn’t the time.

“So, you’re the Guardian now.” Chat said as she sat by his side on the edge of the roof.

“I’m scared.” Ladybug felt his hand cover hers and give it a light squeeze.

“It’s a big responsibility, but Master Fu didn’t say you are the best miraculous holder he’d ever met for nothing. I’m sure you’ll do fine.” He took her hand in his and smiled reassuringly. “And I’ll be by your side, for whatever you need me for.”

The softness in his eyes melted Ladybug’s heart. She wrapped her arms around him burying her head in the crook of his neck. “Thank you.” She pulled herself from him reluctantly adjusting her position to look over the city and rest her head on his shoulder. “When you told me earlier that the girl you were in love with was someone you worked with…” she let the question unspoken.

“Who else could it be?” He said softly. “Guess I cannot resist your charms, My Lady.” She could sense that he was grinning and smiled at his use of the nickname for the first time since the moment she told him off for lying that he had a girlfriend.

“I needed confirmation.” She felt him shift his body and had to lift her head from his shoulder. He was looking at her now.

“Talking about confirmation, is Adrien the boy you turned me down for?” He smirked trying to tease her but apprehension was laced in his voice.

“Yes, he is the boy I love.” She teased back but he averted his gaze. She cupped his cheek to make him look at her. “You are the one I love.” Ladybug said softly resting her forehead on his.

“So, what now? Do we keep our agreement from earlier? Hang out to know each other better?” He asked.

“Why don’t we turn those into dates?” Chat looked at her surprised. “So many things happened today. I’m confused and scared of what we’re going to face from now on. But if there’s one thing that I’m sure of is that I love you.”

“And I love you” he grinned from ear to ear.

“I don’t see a reason for us not be together. Do you?”

“Nope.” He thought for a minute. “Maybe, my father.”

“I think we can manage.”

“What about Lila?” He added chuckling.

“Are you trying to make me give up on you?” Ladybug asked in mock offense.

“Just testing how strong your love is.” She punched his arms lightly. “Hey! I said your love, not how strong you are.” He rubbed his arms.

“It’s not strong enough for your dramatics.” She got up pretending to leave. He rose too, reaching for her hand, spinning her and dipping her for an over-dramatic kiss that left her breathless.

“I think you love my dramatics.” He said smirking still holding her in a dip.

She shut him up bringing him down for another kiss by his bell.

[goyaagogo]

The Dinner Party

⚠️smut!⚠️

You watched out the window as the streets disappeared, and the darkness of the forest took over. The suburbs were one thing to visit, but you were in the middle of fucking nowhere.

“You alright?”, a concerned voice next to you projected into the stillness of the back seat of the car.

You turned to face your boyfriend, Nick, who searched your eyes for a hint as to what was plaguing you.

You smile faintly, “Yeah...just forgot Ramona’s vacation home was in the middle of nowhere.”

“Yeah, where are you taking me? I didn’t know she was way out in the boonies.”

Nick said turning to look out his window.

Neither of you really wanted to go to this dinner party tonight, especially since it was almost 2 hours outside of Manhattan, but seeing that your boss, Ramona, was hosting, there was little hope for escape. When Nick first told you he wanted to go, you thought it was sweet of him to want to keep you company through the night, but the more you thought about it, it became apparent that he might have had ulterior motives; Harry, your ex, was probably going to be there. It secretly drove Nick nuts that you had dated Harry, he couldn’t help but still feel a pang of jealous anxiety stab at him whenever you had a work party to go to; He knew that that’s how you had met Harry.

You turned back to the window only to see that the car was coming to a stop. Ramona’s mansion stuck out like a sore thumb against the dark backdrop of the night with its white stone exterior and dark wooden shutters and door. The large French windows glowed with life, the shadows of guests moving about inside.

You got our the car and jumped over the puddles that riddled the driveway. Nick reached out and grabbed your hand, helping you to hop over each one, keeping your brand new heels safe. You looked at Nick in that moment, and a feeling of love ebbed over you. But you knew you didn’t really love him —at least, not yet—you were just trying it on for size, seeing how the thought of being in love with him felt to you.

Nick held your hand as you both ascended the steps and stood for a moment, smoothing down your hair, while he adjusted his tie.

Before you could even knock, the door flew open and there stood Ramona, looking fabulous as ever.

“Oh Y/N! I’m so glad you could make it! And Nick, always a pleasure to see you.

Please come in!”

“Giles will take your coats,” she said nodding to the man in a tux with a solemn look on his face, “and the bar is in this room, just over here to your left. Do make yourselves at home, dears, I’ve got to go supervise in the kitchen—I’ll talk to you soon!” and with that, Ramona teetered away on her impossibly high heels.

“Does she ever take a breath?” Nick whispered under his breath with a grin, he was right— Ramona hardly ever let anyone get a word in edgewise.

You and Nick made your way into the parlor where a bar was set up. He ordered you both neat whiskeys.

You downed yours in a swallow and ordered another.

“Candy is dandy but liquor is quicker, huh?” Nick asked with a smirk.

You smiled politely at his comment and turned around slowly, surveying the room, searching the numerous faces for Harry.

You weren’t sure what you wanted; half of you wanted to see him, the other half was absolutely dreading it. It felt unsettling, not knowing where he was, or if he was even there to begin with. If you could just seen the guest list, or— better yet— see him, then at least you’d know he was here— you could stop guessing and wondering.

You get your wish as your eyes find him through the parlor doors and in the next room. He stood casually propped up against a towering bookshelf, a highball half full with what you guessed to be a gin and tonic, unless he’s changed his order since you last saw him. God, he looked good. He was looking around at no one in particular when your eyes met. You quickly looked down at your drink and cleared your throat. When you looked up again, he was still looking at you, his eyes fixed intently and curiously on you.

You turned back around to face Nick hoping he hadn’t seen Harry and felt relieved to find he was chatting with the bartender and another guest. Your hand shook only slightly as you downed the rest of your drink, hiccuping as the whiskey’s smooth burn made its way down your throat. You had to get out of there, you were sure you were gonna be sick.

You place a gentle hand on Nick’s arm, “I’m going to find the restroom.. will you be alright alone for a minute or two?”

He smiled gently, “Yeah, of course. Are you okay, though? You look a little pale...”

You nod and tell him you’re alright, just need to lay off the whiskey.

You leave the room and head down the hall, to where you remember Ramona’s guest bathroom is and jiggle the doorknob before you realize someone’s in there. You couldn’t believe your luck. You just need one minute, one second to get away and collect yourself. You wander towards the front foyer towards the grand staircase.

The hum of the party fell into the distance as you ascended the steps quietly, hoping no one else had found themselves upstairs. You head down the main hallway and find the bathroom. You shut the door and breathed a sigh of relief as lean on the counter, looking down into one of the double sinks. You assured yourself that Ramona knew better enough than to put you two at the same table. But that wasn’t good enough, you’d still know he was there. A panic rose inside of you as you realized you were essentially trapped; the car wasn’t scheduled to pick you and Nick up until midnight. What were the chances you could get an Uber out here?

You took one last deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom smoothing down your dress, when you looked up, there was Harry. He was leaning against the wall a little ways down the hall. He stood up straight once he saw you approaching, an awkward, embarrassed look on his face.

“You’re following me?” You asked, barely able to get the words out. Now you were really wishing you hadn’t had that second whiskey.

“Yeh looked upset...wanted to make sure yer alright.” he said bashfully, a flush creeping up through his cheeks.

“I’m fine... just needed a second...”,

You both stood there facing off in the long hall that seemed to stretch on forever. You felt like you were at an impasse, how was this supposed to end?

“Listen, Y/N...” Harry started, running his hand through his hair, looking slightly frustrated, but he didn’t continue.

“What Harry? What do you want to say?”

How could he cause you to be so close to tears even after all this time? And there wasn’t even anything to be upset about, really— if breakups were a competition you were sure you had won; you now had a wildly successful career and you were in probably the most stable, legitimate relationship of your life.

“I just miss yeh, Y/N.” he said quietly, his voice scratchy with emotion.

“Harry, you can’t do that to me...what am I supposed to say to that?”

He took a couple steps closer, as you continued with your thought, feeling a swell of emotions rise up in your chest,

“You can’t just say that! I mean, what do you expect me to say?! I’m here with someone, Harry, I’m not single. And even if I was...” your thoughts trailed off as you realized that if you were single, you’d most certainly indulge him in this tryst.

“And if yeh were...?” He asked, your face so close to his now that you could feel his breath. You felt yourself weaken at his scent, taking in the feeling of having him near once again. How had you spent this long without him? You suddenly reached up and grabbed his face, pulling him in for a kiss that grew more passionate with each passing second, your kisses becoming more greedy, more desperate. What the fuck were you doing?!

Harry reached back behind you and opened the bathroom door, as you stumbled backwards back in. The door slammed shut behind Harry and you pray no one downstairs heard.

He wastes no time and hikes your dress up around your waist and pulls down your thong before starting to massage your clit. A breathless gasp escapes your lips and he helps you up onto the counter. Your heart is thumping wildly beneath your breast, so wildly, in fact, that you swear you can hear it. You grasp at the back of his head, trying desperately to pull him in closer, to kiss him harder. Fuck, you missed this. The feeling of his lips on yours and then on your neck, and then on your breasts. The straps of your dress hung loosely below your shoulders as he began sucking on your nipples. Your hands drop to his waste and unbuckle his belt frantically, trying to then get his pants unbuttoned. You pull down his boxer briefs and grasp his growing cock, eliciting a low moan from his pink lips.

Harry makes his way below your dress and slides 2 fingers into you, as you work his cock with your hand. The tension between you two is almost unbearable. You know what you want Harry to do, but you also know it’s wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong—but you can’t even fathom stopping. All you can think about is Harry, and his cock, and how badly you missed him, and how maddening it was that you still wanted him; but here you were, and here he was.

He grabbed your hips and tilted your lower half so that he could enter you, but he didn’t just yet.

Harry looked deep into your eyes, a wild fury you had seldom seen before had taken him over.

“ Are yeh sure yeh wanna do this, love?” he asked, his voice sounded primal as he tried to speak evenly.

You nod your heard furiously, and squeak out a barely audible, “yes!”

He waits no longer before he slides into you. You feel your walls tighten around him as you gasp in shock; you forgot how good it felt with him.

You bury your face in the nape of his neck as he thrusts deeper and deeper into you.

“Oh God, Y/N... yeh feel so tight” he whispers grasping your hips harder.

You feel delusional with pleasure, as you quickly approach your climax— begging Harry to fuck you harder and deeper, feeling your body build up in anticipation.

“Cum for me, Y/N... I can feel yeh getting close...”

Your head flew back and hit the mirror and your whole body tensed as you rode out your orgasm, hardly believing that it was feeling this good. Harry stood perfectly still, holding your body tightly as muscles spasmed over your entire body.

“Fuck!” Harry hisses as he steps back from you.

You’re coming down from your orgasmic high and you realize Harry didn’t cum... or did he?

Harry turns from you grabbing a tissue from the box on the counter. You feel naked and vulnerable, watching him clean up; he was being oddly quiet.

“Did you not wanna cum?” You ask cautiously, wondering what happened, feeling the flush of self-consciousness.

Harry clears his throat, “I... I did cum, Y/N. I came inside yeh.”

[crimsonrevolt]

Congratulations Paige you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Augustus Rookwood.

↳ please refer to our character checklist

Welcome back Paige! To hear from you was such a pleasant surprise and to have you back is even better! We never know what Augustus is going to do and that’s what makes him so great! He’s complex and interesting and we’re ready to have him back on the dash!

application beneath the cut 

OUT OF CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION

Paige, 25, she/her, EST. I’m from Tennessee in the United States!

ACTIVITY

I’m currently having to share a laptop with my mom, and Chronic Fatigue keeps me pretty dead for most of the day, but I plan to get online at least once daily to reply to anything I owe. So 5/10 maybe? I mean, I’m ALWAYS available via chat though, to plot or just talk.

HOW DID YOU FIND US?

Originally, Alexis, your former (original?) Rabastan. Then I was here for months, left, returned for a year, left, and I’m baaaaaaaaack! Lol You know I can’t stay away from my trash son.

WHAT HARRY POTTER CHARACTER DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH MOST?

In the past, I said Hermione without hesitation. I was always the one who felt a bit left out when new to a school, the one who lived to make teachers happy, and was a little too weird to make friends on my own without an intervening force. However, now I would say Minerva. In my friend group, I tend to be “mom”. I use logic and my mediating skills to make sure everyone stays out of too much trouble, work on guiding them through tough situations, and I always offer snacks when someone is upset. Also, cats are my life, and if I could become one, I would. Though even with the benefit of magic, the process would be incredibly complicated and I’m super lazy.

ANYTHING ELSE?

Nope!

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER

Augustus Rookwood.

Middle name: Xavier.

Name’s full meaning: Majestic, splendid, bird/forest

FACE CLAIM

Daniel Sharman

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER

What I put in my first apps: I’ve always been drawn to the darker characters. Especially the ones who appear very controlled when in the public eye, and then “let loose” when they’re behind closed doors. Then there was mention of his family basically putting him on a pedestal. I’ve always loved (and had a muse for) characters that have a little too much responsibility put on their shoulders by their parents, and then begin to crack under the pressure in highly destructive ways.

Augustus seems like the type of person who originally started out trying to be the best son he could be. Who nodded and smiled at his parents’ plans for his future, worked his hardest in school, and then one day realized there was someone out there (The Dark Lord) to whom he could devote himself, and not have to be so perfect and “good”.

Which is why he will last in this war. No one suspects the “good little quiet boy” who kept his nose in his books, and his potentially deadly spells to himself. Not even the Dark Lord wanted him at first. Not until Augustus showed him exactly what he was capable of, behind a locked door, when everyone else was out trying to make as much noise for their cause as possible.

Now that he has an excuse to use the dark skills he’s kept to himself for years, Augustus kills when asked to and tortures just for the fun of it. However, he draws the line at children, and will convince another member of the group to kill/torture them when sent to “take care of” an entire family. He can’t exactly explain why he’s protective of children, or why that mindset changes as soon as they’ve reached an age when they can defend themselves. Perhaps it’s just too easy, and he likes a challenge.

Now that I’ve actually played him: He evolved over time and his ability to suppress his emotions slipped drastically depending on who he was with. There were far more bad influences than good ones, and soon, a few too many people knew his secrets and he was caught. Since then, he has retreated back into himself as much, if not more than before, and mainly focuses on his job and making the Dark Lord proud. And God, he feels like screaming every minute of every day. As the climax of the war draws nearer, situations become more and more tense. The whispers behind his back make his skin crawl, and although he knows he will be protected if he lashes out, he swallows his curses like acid. He was betrayed once, and won’t let it happen again.

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

Preferred ships? Augustus/everyone, to be honest. Augustus will have sex with anyone. Long time friends, people he wants to manipulate, strangers, whatever. Sex isn’t tied to emotion for him. It is purely the pursuit of pleasure. Hell, he would probably have sex with the Dark Lord without even being commanded to do so. Because yolo? But romance is an entirely different animal. It requires trust and emotional connection and way too much of oneself. Therefore, Augustus has only felt such a connection once, and he’s not sure he wants to repeat it. However, he could easily be in a relationship or marriage with someone out of convenience or friendship. Though no monogamy or cute stuff unless pretending for the public. He thinks it would be selfish to tie someone down like that if he can’t offer them what they need emotionally.

Overall, Augustus identifies as an aromantic pansexual (though those labels aren’t exactly a thing in the 70s/80s), as a cis male (he/him/his). There has been some gender experimentation with polyjuice potion, but that was purely for fun.

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER:

Patronus: Lynx. (Lore states that the secretive lynx represents controlled power, individualism, and sharp-sightedness. Lynx people are generally exceedingly observant, quiet, intelligent, and curious. Though their independent nature can strike some as aloof, they are often excellent guides and steadfast friends.) Boggart: Someone outing him for what he’s done. Such as, a member of the Wizengamot reading a list of his crimes. Wand: Hazel (Wandlore states that “A sensitive wand, hazel often reflects its owner’s emotional state, and works best for a master who understands and can manage their own feelings.”), 10 inches, Dragon heartstring core, Unyielding.

Blog: http://avgvstvs.tumblr.com

LINK TO VISUAL AESTHETIC

Brief playlist: “Choke” - I Don’t Know How But They Found Me, “Strangers” - Halsey (ft. Lauren Jauregui), “Run” - AWOLNATION, “The Last One” - Black Veil Brides

Aesthetic: On one hand, he’s a smoking gun, hands dripping with blood, wet leather after a surprise storm, teeth on pale skin, the way a bottle of alcohol holds the scent when empty, skin rubbed against a rough brick wall, and sins in hallowed places. But then he’s also the smell of old books, chalk covered hands from solving impossible problems, secrets whispered to empty rooms, lies screamed into crowded places, nails digging into palms, tantrums behind locked doors, cold chains, hot coffee, lightning and hurricanes. But then as an Unspeakable, there’s all this mystery surrounding his job, and the strict rules he must follow.  So order and perfection. But as a Death Eater, there’s all this chaos and mess. Augustus in school was far different. Sweaters with sleeves a little too long, glasses to read that kept slipping off, smudged parchment, top marks hidden from fellow students, praise from teachers sounding too much like the praise from his parents, the death of a sibling and the expectation to immediately get over it, sitting in windows and watching the world move too fast. Everything was perfectly imperfect, and he did everything he could to grasp and absorb the chaos around him, and hold it tight.

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

The following section should be looked at like a survey for your character. Answer them in character and feel free to use gifs. Or, if you’d rather, answer them in third person or OOC without gifs. Answers do not have to be extremely lengthy.

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it: “I would not invent my own. I would simply rework the pre-existing Obliviate and make it much more permanent and impossible to reverse. The incantation would be obliviscaris in perpetuum (forget forever) and it would be invaluable for those who wish to use it on victims, or for those who have something traumatic or highly sensitive in their past that they’d rather forget..”

♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you: “I would choose to take the Dark Lord with me, obviously, despite him never being one to follow someone else. His powers surpass anything the forest could throw at us. Also, I would bring a time-turner with me, due to its ability to help me return to any moment before I run into trouble, and allow me to take a different path.”

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make? “Those that require me to go against my deceitful nature and be completely honest with people. Like, a decision that if I am being truthful, would end my carefully constructed public image.”

♔ What is one thing you would never want said about you? “I would never want someone accusing me of something, whether I did the deed or not. How I spend my time is an entirely private matter, and I would rather not have others prying into my life, no matter what they believe I have done.”

REACTION TO LAST EVENT DROP

While Augustus is glad that the Ministry is fully within the clutches of the Dark Lord’s side, he disagrees with the eradication of non-purebloods. He has never been a blood purest due to his childhood as an outcast and the discovery that those with colorful family trees tend to be the kindest. And after his time spent in America surrounded by Muggles, Augustus doesn’t really give a shit who your parents are. He plans to do almost everything he can to avoid a total genocide. Sure, murder and mayhem are fun, but one must draw a line at the slaughter of friends. Perhaps. While he has no plans to actively work against his fellow Death Eaters, he will not turn down direct orders. And for now, his orders are to stay focused on his work in the Department Of Mysteries. He has a plan for The Dark Lord that only someone who works in the Love Chamber can properly research.

WRITING SAMPLE

Augustus hadn’t been in this to make friends. Since childhood he’d fully accepted that he was born to be a loner. Besides, everyone else just got in his way. But as he sat, with cold metal chains wrapped around his wrists and ankles, clinking every time he tried (and failed) to find a more comfortable position, he felt truly and utterly alone. For the first time in his life, he began wishing there was someone by his side. Anyone, really. Just another warm body to deflect some of the angry, betrayed looks coming from the seats in which sat the Wizengamot and others. At that point, he would have even accepted a few of his least favorite acquaintances.

Unfortunately, everyone he knew was either dead, in Azkaban, or in the audience, watching with bated breath. This trial was one that had brought out spectators from every department of the Ministry. NO ONE had suspected the quiet wizard who went directly to and from the Department Of Mysteries every day, never making enemies or even standing out very much. He’d played his role perfectly. Even now, he kept his true self behind a facade, acting the part of the wrongly accused. Because he truly intended to leave the trial a free man. What good was the word of Karkaroff against his? The headmaster of a foreign school known to breed dark wizards, against a ‘friend’ of many at the Ministry? He’d spent countless hours cultivating false relationships with these people, earning their trust, and then gathering secrets. And until his name was spat by Karkaroff, it hadn’t so much as flashed through people’s minds. Not since he was pardoned all those years ago after his interrogation at the hands of Aversio.

The questions were easily answered with lies, and he even asked some of his own. “Where were you on the night of (…)?” “Where was I? Where were your Aurors? How could you let this happen?” “Who else answers to He Who Must Not Be Named?” “Clearly you’re bringing anyone in these days. If I pointed at any of you, would you put them on trial too?” Until the lies weren’t enough to get him released, and a vial of Veritaserum was brought out.

Rookwood started to sweat in that moment. His breath became ragged and his hands began to violently shake. If he was being honest with himself, he would have realized that it was sheer terror he was experiencing. As the potion was carried across the room and uncorked, he’d half expected someone to burst into the room and save him. The other part of him knew his entire life was about to change for the worse. Even as the liquid was forced into his mouth, possible scenarios of escape danced through his mind. If only the chains were slightly loose. Maybe one of his fellow Death Eaters sat amongst the crowd. Yaxley? Cassius? Dolores? Perhaps someone would have a sudden change of heart and remember how impossible it seemed for him to be a part of this. But alas, the chains were magic, all of his comrades had already been captured or killed, and after the trial of Barty Crouch Jr., no one trusted even the least suspicious person.

And then words were spilling past his lips, almost too fast, with the sting of Veritaserum still on his tongue. When asked about his dealings with the Death Eaters, he held nothing back, despite the deep ache within his very soul that got stronger with each new thing he revealed. Both the Wizengamot and the audience gasped as he told details of the lives he’d destroyed. How he’d stalked several entire families before torturing and killing them. The bodies he’d left in alleyways. The memories he’d stolen from those he’d left bloody and beaten. The way it made him feel when people begged. He told them it was an almost sexual satisfaction, and the Veritaserum-induced smirk that went along with his words must have been the final nail in his coffin, because the trial ended swiftly after that.

Augustus was forced to watch as his beloved wand was snapped in half in front of him, and he was immediately taken to a cold, damp room where an elderly wizard stripped him of his fine, embroidered robes and a pair of striped, dirty ones were shoved into his hands. He would be taking a portkey to Azkaban directly from that room, without a chance to say goodbye to anyone. Not that he cared very much for anyone in his life, especially those not currently residing in the prison he was destined for, but it was all very sudden. Like a flower being plucked from a vast garden and shoved into a dusty old vase, just waiting to die.

And in this little vase of his, he was alone.