#that's why when you meet Noel it's more of a ??? moment than anything | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hotwings0203 · 3 years ago

Note

as ur irl bestie i am cashing in my favor and am asking- no begging for a dilf damon fic pls <3

😑fine fineee I guess I can take a quick break from writing BNHA stuff for you🙄

CW: NSFW, Damon Albarn being an a-hole, manipulation, gaslighting, language minor stuff like that

The studio itself was pretty spacious, you couldn't lie. As much as you loathed to give this cursed group any more credit, you were hard-pressed to remember the last time you´d been called into such a professional recording booth. You were used to dingy atmospheres, crumbling walls, stained carpet, and even cramped garages at times. It felt like your years of meticulously swaying your hand back and forth on the rosin and tuning your strings until they damn near popped were slowly going down the drain, lost in spaces of screaming adolescent boys and shady market agents. The streets of London were unforgiving for a young musician like you, no room to turn to since others were exactly in the same position as you.

It was by pure coincidence that the day you had played for a local cafe for a small commission, Graham fucking Coxon was sitting in the back of the run-down joint, sipping a murky glass of Bourbon.

You didn't notice him at first, of course. You had simply let the music in your mind travel from your head down to your arms, and allowed it to move through your fingertips to your bow. The serene melody that sang through the air had turned his head to face you, the shitty drink in his hand stopped halfway to his mouth.

Your solo was only a couple of minutes, but the second you were done and packing your bags to head out, the brunette made a beeline for you, blocking your exit.

¨Uh, can I help you?¨ You cock your head and shift your violin case.

¨Yes, you can actually. Listen, I know this is gonna sound a bit straightforward, but I really liked your piece. Did you compose it yourself?¨ He sounds quiet and sounds nervous, with him barely looking you in the eyes.

¨Yeah, I did!¨ You can´t help but beam-it took you several days just to perfect a few meager lines, but in the end you were content with the piece.

¨Wow...that's serious talent right there,¨ He opens the door for you, and you nod before you head out, him trailing behind you as he leaves with you.

¨You make a good amount of money doing small jobs like this?¨ His voice is nasally and low, but with a slightly higher pitch than your typical London accent.

At this, you squint your eyes a bit and turn your head at him. It was nice of him to be interested in your work, but for someone you don't personally know, the idea of talking about your small gigs that merited little to no money was not something you were fond of.

He senses your hesitancy and immediately withdraws. ¨I´m sorry, that was probably rude of me to be so blunt about it. Actually, I don´t think I´ve properly introduced myself.¨ He stops to face you, and you do the same.

¨I´m Graham Coxon. You may or may not have heard of me, but I can assure you that I too enjoy music, as an understatement.¨ He extends a calloused hand and smiles a little bit, adjusting the blocky glasses on his face.

Graham...Coxon? Graham as in....oh, holy shit.

¨No way.¨

¨Er...unfortunately, yes way.¨ His soft voice lilts as he holds back a laugh, and you gape at him.

¨Oh my god!¨ You drop your violin case in the excitement of eagerly returning his handshake. ¨You-you're from Blur! I know you!¨

¨Was from Blur, and ´careful now, don´t wanna ruin your instrument. But listen, I´m kind of in a bind here so I´ll get to the chase. We´re working on a few chords here and there back at the studio, and I´ve been on the lookout for a while for someone who fits our tune. ´Thing is, the deadline for submitting our song is comin´ up fast, so we only have a couple weeks left.¨

You raise your eyebrows, heart pounding in your chest as you listen to his proposition.

¨So I´m thinking, you sound pretty good, it's exactly what we need to fill in our bridge. I´d love it if you came in and played a tune for us. If we like you and you´re cool with it, you could feature on our song.¨

It feels surreal. Were you hearing right? Graham Coxon from Blur asking you to play on his song? This had to be a prank.

¨Ẅait, but you've only heard me once, what if my sound doesn't match what you're actually looking for?¨ You stammer, palms clammy as you wipe them off on your trousers.

¨Well, that's what a rehearsal session is for, lovely,¨ He chuckles nervously and slides his slightly foggy glasses up his nose. ¨So, you wanna give it a go?¨

You think for a moment, biting your lower lip. There wasn't exactly anything stopping you now, was there? I mean, sure, the prospect of playing in front of one of UK's most famous bands was daunting, but this was your chance to finally be recognized!

Taking a deep breath, you pick up your fallen case and nod. ¨Alright, I´m in. When you do wanna meet up?¨

Graham visibility deflates in relief, letting out a shaky exhale. ¨Great. I'll text you the time and place, yeah? The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up, so we´ll be in contact soon.¨

You both exchange numbers, your phone tingling in your hand long after you bid farewell and drive home in a buzz.

When you finally get home to your apartment, you throw your keys onto the counter and flop down onto the mattress. What a fucking day.

So many thoughts bounce around in your addled head. You want to do well, but obviously you don't have their kind of experience in the industry. Should you play more in tune with their song, or continue with your own sound? An idea pops into your head amidst your lunch, a few hours later. Why not just do some more research on the band themselves? Then you'd know exactly what kind of music they're looking for.

The boys and I´ve gotta get a few more things set up.

Oh yeah, who else was in the band? It's not like you didn't know who Blur was at their peak, but you paid more attention to their music rather than their faces. Truthfully, you never really basked in tabloids and newspapers purring about the next big scandal, or the top dogs of Britain´s industry when that stuff was relevant.

You abandon your pathetic sandwich and make your way to your laptop, sliding into a chair and getting down to business. After a few quick searches, you pull up a couple tabs around the name Blur.

Graham Coxon- Recovering alcoholic. Big fight with Damon Albarn.

Alex James- Cute boy turned conservative. Classic case.

Dave Rowntree- Mainly untouched. Became a successful lawyer. Good for him.

Damon Albarn- A fucking mess.

Puffing up your cheeks and putting your hands behind your head, you lean back in your chair. Good god, this man is a wreck. Headlines from decades ago swim in and out of your eyes, loud, obnoxious neon prints of Justine and Damon broken up again? Suede claps back!, or Will the Blur Brothers ever come back to each other? Find out first-hand from Coxon himself!, and worst of all, Albarn relapses again, Damon Albarn from Blur goes head-to-head with Liam and Noel-news flash, the brothers win!

You think you see something about him and a potential wife and child, and that's when you decide it's time to sleep.

After all, there's no point in getting caught up in any of their backstories.You were just there to play a solo and get out. Nosing around in their lives was more trouble than what it was worth, anyways.

Which is exactly what you kept trying to tell yourself as you walked into the modern studio two weeks later, its grey soundproof walls and white floor screaming fancy and rich to you. And fancy and rich didn't come without grit and experience, which you had none of. As if to emphasize your inexperience, you went into the wrong halls twice before you exasperatedly checked your messages with Graham and saw that no, it wasn´t room 311, it was room 113.

Finally, finally, you came across your designated room. The mahogany door was closed, and you placed a hand on the silver knob. You could faintly hear the sounds of a guitar being played from the inside, and it was curiosity above everything else that compelled you to push it open.

From behind the clear window that separated the booth from the recording area, you see them. Graham, Damon, and other men you don't recognize are all in the midst of the song, the same song Graham had texted you the PDF of for the violin notes. You sheepishly take a few steps forward and clear your throat to catch the attention of a bald man leaning back against his chair right in front of the glass. He turns around and you give a weak little wave, clutching your case in the other hand.

¨Hey, I´m here for-¨

¨-Yeah, yeah, Graham told me all about you. Go on ahead and join in, they just started.¨ He pulls a toothpick out from between his lips and gestures to the door of the divider.

You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you make your way through the second door, and the second you step inside meekly, Damon and Graham´s eyes are on you.

Graham continues to play the guitar, only lighting up his eyes and giving you an encouraging nod when you step in, and the other two men on bass and saxophone also give a quick smile in greeting. And Damon…well.

Damon barely acknowledges you.

He continues to sing and stare straight ahead at the wall in front of him as if there's an interesting scene being played out on the grey paint.

You´re unsure of whether to catch his attention and give a proper greeting, but you decide not to as it would interfere with the song. So instead, you quickly grab a nearby chair and stand and set up your rosin and papers.

Your timing is perfect; the bridge is about to come up. Just to be certain, you look up from your poised position and catch the eyes of most everyone except for Damon´s. They all give you a quick thumbs up or an expectant look for your confirmation of playing.

And then, it comes. Damon stops singing, and your cue to sweep your bow across the horse hairs of your strings comes.

Melodious, whole, fulfilling, it was. Graham´s guitar chords harmonized with the tones of your violin, and music that you´ve never dreamed of creating was made by your hands exceptionally.

Everyone was in awe of your raw talent, from the way their gazes were rapt onto your bow, moving back and forth,staying still in some highs and whittling away at the lows. You even thought you saw the producer from inside the booth turn his head towards you from the corner of your eye, but you couldn´ be sure.

Everyone except Damon Albarn.

The song ended a minute later with the signal of a fading out bass, and then there was silence.

¨Right on with that tune.. ´Thought we'd be fucked ova´ if we didn't find someone to take that melody.¨ The bassist with long shaggy hair grinned and you returned one back.

¨Yeah, I was kind of hesitant when Graham ´ere told us he found one to take this position on, but I'm pleased.¨ The saxophone player scratched his chin and hummed his agreement. You felt relief.

Until he spoke.

¨Is this your first time playing?¨

You look incredulously over at him, looking straight on at his face. Sandy hair, lines on his cheeks, slight scruff around his chin, he looked older than his online pictures.

¨Uhh, no?¨ You laugh a little, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice. ¨If I was, I doubt Graham would think I´m good enough to play with you guys.¨

¨I don't think Graham is the only one who needs to think that.¨ Everyone shifts uncomfortably, looking nervously from Damon to you, and Graham tugs his collar as if the temperature had gone up.

But nonetheless, you don't back down.

¨Oh yeah? How so?¨

¨You played the G-string too high,¨ He deadpans, looking utterly bored amidst oceanic hues.

¨What?¨ You flip your music pages a couple of times until you find the page where you played that part. ¨No I didn´t, I was right on tune-do you even know how to play the violin?¨

¨No,¨ he smirks, and with your blood boiling steadily you open your mouth to argue, but thankfully Graham butts in.

¨Damon, don´t be a prick, she played fine. Unlike you, who fucked up on the 5th verse.¨

The man in question lazily stretches his arms above his head, causing his white tee to rise a few inches over his belly button. You can´t help but glance at the skin-it's smooth, cleanly chiseled with part of his v-line showing, a happy trail rising from the juncture.

¨Oi, sweetheart, eyes up here.¨

You snap your gaze back to his smug face, cheeks burning.

¨I didn´t-¨

¨Sure you didn´t. Just like how I didn't mess up on the 5th verse, and how you didn't ruin the song with your shitty violin, yeah?¨ He simpers, and you almost rise out of your seat to snarl at him before Graham jumps in between you two, scolding a very inappropriately-grinning Damon.

You get up out of your chair and huff, shoving your belongings back into your bag as everyone else packs up, the men bickering and playfully throwing shit at each other.

The producer even congratulates you on your successful first day, and everyone cheers and pounds you on your back, your hair falling in your face and gracefully hiding your 120k watt smile.

Damon shoulders right past you, knocking your case right out of your hands. You grapple with it for a second before it hits the ground, and when it does you whip around and shoot him an icy glare.

He's not even looking at you, he's already out the door.

It's quiet for a moment.

¨Well, there he goes again being a dickhead. Classic Damon, you got.¨ The saxophone player points to the leaving blond and grins sheepishly at you.

¨What's his problem?¨ You ask in disgust, shaking your head as you join the rest of the boys leaving.

¨Uh, well...¨ Graham scratches the back of his head and avoids looking at you. ¨He's always been kind of like that, y´know, so don't take it too personally, but between just us four, his wife´s been on his arse for a bit about um...some...domestic affairs.¨ He finishes lamely, and the other two men guffaw at your raised eyebrow.

You don't have a chance to press further as to ask what domestic affairs, exactly because a loud clap of thunder shakes you all to your cores as you step outside.

¨Aw, come on!¨ You stamp your foot and hold out your hand for confirmation of the raindrops about to drop on you all. ¨I didn't know it was gonna rain today,¨ you grumble.

Graham squints up at the sky and wipes some droplets off his blurred glasses, covering his head with his jacket hood as he begins walking to the parking garage. ¨I´ll see you lot in about a week, yeah? Just keep practicing, good rehearsal we had today!¨ He waves his hand and dashes off.

¨Good job on your first day, Y/N. Fancy the weather on your walk back for us!¨ The sax and bass player bid farewell and also do a sprint to their respective cars, splashing through the puddles and sending muddy water on your pants.

¨Urgh!¨ You raise your hands to try and protect your bottoms but to no avail- London's sewage strikes again.

Sighing in defeat, you walk through the rain towards your car, succumbing to the grimy walk. Unfortunately you didn't think to use the parking garage due to high nerves when you first came in.

You walk for about 5 minutes, the rain drenching your hair and clothes and chilling you to your bones.

Could this day get any more annoying?

Oh, but you should´ve known that it could.

Because right at that moment, a black limo swerves right next to you on the sidewalk, sending a massive wave of gutter water right your way.

You swear loudly and jump back, barely managing to avoid the remnants of the sewage tsunami crossing your feet.

Looking up wildly at the offensive vehicle, you make a fist and flip the window off, your lip curled up into a snarl.

The obsidian glass rolls down.

¨Well that's not very nice, is it? Nasty weather we got going on right now, careful it doesn't get on your clothes.¨

Oh.

¨It's you,¨ you monotone, less than pleased to see his salacious grin at your predicament-which was being soaked to your undergarments in brown muddy water, your hair clinging to your face and your violin case lugging down towards the ground, its weight proving mutiny against you today of all days.

¨In the flesh,¨ Damon beams, and you scowl at his cheery attitude.

¨You almost drowned me, asshole,¨ You turn your nose up in scorn, and he chuckles in his baritone voice.

¨Nah, cant´ve love, I can't drive,¨ he clicks his tongue and jerks his thumb to the seat in front of him, where you assume his chauffeur is.

¨Oh, so it was under your orders that your poor driver practically waterboarded me?¨ ¨Well, yeah, I mean what else do you expect me to do when I see a pretty lady walking so harmlessly in the rain?¨ Your voice catches in your throat for a second from his words and the way his glacial eyes twinkle for a moment, but then he erupts in dry chuckles at your demeanor and you throttle your hesitancy at speaking.

¨Shut up, you're absolutely vile, y´know that?¨ ¨So I´ve been told, but to be honest sweetheart, I´d rather hear that in bed, where I´m used to hearing it. Now are you going to get in or shall I talk about my sexual prowess with you the rest of the afternoon?¨ He opens his door from the inside and mockingly winks at you.

You feign a gag, but still decide to jump in the spacious limo when a flash of lightning lights up the sky.

He scoots back to give you space to sit and adjust your violin case on the seats in front of you, but just as you´re about to close the door, he leans in right next to you and reaches behind you to pull it shut himself.

You´re caught still as he draws close, you´re extended hand frozen in midair as his arm against your back flexes and stiffens with it pulling the door. You can feel his breath against your neck as he exhales, can feel some of his hair tickling against your ear and cheek. You hold your breath, not daring to move lest you accidentally brush up against his proximity.

The loud slam of the door causes you to jump, and he laughs a little at that, signaling his driver to go.

You don't quite face him, your gaze down in your lap as his entire body is facing you, still stuck in its position when he was closing the car door.

¨Not nervous, are you?¨ He murmurs in your ear, and you can´t help it when your whole body shivers at feeling the rumble in his gravelly voice.

¨N-no, I´m not. Do you have to be so close?¨ You stammer, barely giving him a sideways glance which eggs him on, much to your displeasure.

¨Not really. But if you´re not nervous, then it shouldn't be a problem, right?¨ He says quietly and leans around to catch your eye.

Before you can lose your nerve and jump out of the car, you snap at him. ¨You just don´t quit, do you?¨

He finally relents and the side of his pink lips lift lazily as he stretches his knees out and practically manspreads across the expanse of three seats. ¨Nope. Not that you really were against it though, ´could feel your heart pounding a mile a minute sweetheart. Trust me, I´m used to making girls nervous, I would know.¨

You sneer at him. ¨Don´t call me sweetheart, and yeah, I was nervous about getting some disease-ridden prick like you getting close to me. God knows how many STD´s you've contracted from bedding some poor groupies.¨

¨Only one way to find out, right love?¨ He leans his head up to the car ceiling and lets his tousled golden hair flop back, his jawline accentuated by the cream-colored seats contrasting with his tan skin.

You catch yourself staring, and shake your head quickly.

¨You must´ve been more hopped up on heroine than I thought if you think I´d ever fuck a self-absorbed, narcissitic bastard like you.¨

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, but once they do your eyes widen and you clap a hand over your mouth in horror.

Damon lifts his head and slowly turns to face you, his mouth set in a thin line.

¨A self-absorbed, narcissistic bastard whose limo you're riding in, need I remind you, so I can´t be all that bad. ´Can't say I haven't heard any of that before love, but most girls who say that end up in my bed anyways.¨

You open your mouth to argue but he cuts you off.

¨Although, ´hopped up on heroin´ is a new one. Just exactly how much research have you done about me so far?¨

Your rebuttal dies in your throat. You were caught.

Your ears burn and your face flushes as you bite your lip in embarrassment. Maybe you went too far, and on top of that you let it slip that you knew about him beforehand.

But you refuse to kowtow in humiliation to this idiot, so you think quickly.

¨I doubt you´ve got your head that far up your ass to disregard how half the world was tuning into your personal life when Blur was big, Damon.¨

He looks unimpressed with your excuse, but before he can open his mouth to question you further, you hurry up with another save.

¨Also, where are we going? You never asked me where my car was.¨

Bingo His eyes brighten and he shouts at the driver, harping on about him being a brain-dead idiot for driving in circles the past 10 minutes.

What a save.

*******************

The moment you step into the booth next week, a drumstick is lobbed at you from seemingly nowhere. You yelp and hold your case up, blocking the weapon as it bounces off your makeshift shield. You bring the case down and shoot a glare towards the only man you know capable of acting so childishly at his grown age.

But he´s already scrolling through his phone, looking for a measure to start from.

¨You´re late.¨

¨Hardly,¨ you mutter, glancing at the clock on the wall. Two minutes past shouldn´t be an excuse for having a drumstick pick out your eye.

¨Good to see you again, Y/N,¨ Graham pipes up softly, sending you an apologetic glance from Damon to you and you stick out your tongue in faux annoyance.

The other two members of your group greet you as well, and you all begin practice. Notes begin harmonizing together, voice and sound coinciding to make music you´ve swayed your hips and nodded your head to on blue nights.

It´s a hot day, humidity clinging to your skin akin to the perspiration hanging off your forehead, and halfway through the song you decide to take off your sweater. You´re wearing a white tank top underneath, nothing too revealing save for the slight dip in the V-neck, but you couldn't care less about modesty at the moment when your fingers were literally slipping in their grasp on your sweat-slicked bow.

During a quick break in your part of the song, you slip off your sweater and fan yourself out. It feels good, but you feel a pair of eyes staring at you. Following the laser gaze, you turn your head to face Damon, but he´s nose-deep in the lyrics sheet, warbling about a broken love or friendship.

Huh, must´ve been imagining it.

Your solo comes up, and you prepare yourself for tackling the notes to your best ability, keeping up with Graham´s rapid guitar pace. Sweat continues to build on everyone´s vicinity when the rapid movement of arms waving around their own instrument causes more body heat to suffocate you all.

Miraculously, the song finishes, and you collapse in your seat like the rest of the men, panting and wiping slick off your foreheads. You reach for a bottle of water on the floor and unscrew the lid, grimacing at its lukewarm temperature but drinking it nonetheless.

For the second time, you have an unnerving feeling of being watched. This time, you whip your head to the side and catch him staring straight at you.

Damon´s face is flushed, his hair tousled, his rose colored glasses steamed up from the muggy aura in the room. His denim jacket is hanging off one shoulder, the rest of his torso covered with a sheer wife beater that accentuates his chiseled dad-body.

But he just stares you down, saying nothing. You frown at him a little bit and shift your body away from him, feeling vulnerable to his laser-gaze. His eyes darken, but Graham speaks, cutting him off from whatever he was about to say.

¨That was pretty good, you lot. Greg, Taz, hold off on the third beat of the fourth measure. We´ve gotta crescendo slightly-¨

¨Y/N, do you have a job?¨

Damon's voice cuts off Graham, and everyone falters as they look at him and then you in surprise.

¨I don´t know what you mean,¨ you respond coolly, knowing that whatever he was about to say wasn't good.

¨I mean, do you have a job? Because as far as I know, most people who work don't dress like whores at their job.¨

His eyes travel from your face down to your slight cleavage, and you sputter in rage as the rest of the boys shift uncomfortably.

¨Damon, for god's sake what´re you on about?¨ Graham asks wearily, taking his glasses off and rubbing his shiny neck.

¨I could ask you the same thing, actually. Because as far as I know, you've fucked enough women in your lifetime that one would think you could keep it in your pants for five minutes without acting like a twelve-year-old. Oh, but unless that´s too professional for you? I guess you´re not as serious about your work environment as you claim.¨ you laugh, and the sax player, Greg, snorts into his water bottle.

Damon sneers, ¨How could I forget, you actually have done your research about my life and sexual endeavors, what a cute little fangirl you are. If you wanted an autograph, you could've just asked, sweetheart.¨

¨Go fuck yourself,¨ you snap. ¨You´re all wearing wife-beaters anyways, what's the difference?¨

Damon starts again but Graham claps his hands loudly, startling you all.

¨Enough, both of you! What's gotten into you? Need I remind you that our song is due in less than two weeks? We need to finish this shit and get on with it. Stop acting like children.¨

You mumble under your breath and Damon shoots a dark look to his childhood friend, but the brunette doesn't back down, and continues to give advice on how to improve their song. You don´t look at Damon the rest of the session out of pure spite, but that doesn't stop him from shamelessly staring straight at you, right until it's time to leave.

The second Graham checks his watch and exclaims that it's a quarter past twelve already, you´re already bolting out of your seat and shoving your violin in its case, eager to get out of the disgustingly hot room.

Fortunately, this time you had the right idea to park in the garage like everyone else to avoid any other unwanted encounters, but unfortunately while it was nice to not be waterboarded on your walk, it wasn´t enough to stop said unwanted encounters from occurring.

Take right now, for instance.

As you stumble to your car in the blistering weather, your energy depletes faster and faster, causing you to be light headed. Practice was already tough enough in the sweltering heat, but after Damon's little scene you don't have any energy to even walk.

You crash blindly into your car, the metal of the doors burning your skin as you make contact with the handle. You hiss and jerk back, swaying slightly as your head fogs up. You can barely see, you feel like your clothes weigh a ton on you, so you slide down the vehicle and sit up against the tires, throwing your head back against the car and groaning. The idea of unlocking your doors and sitting in the seat where no doubt several temperatures higher will be settling on the dashboard and in the front row is nauseating.

Weather-2

You-0

You don't know the building well enough to know where a vending machine is, and even if you shot Graham a text, you don't have enough energy to wander around and scout for it.

And lo and behold, from a distance, a figure approaches. You squint as it draws nearer, and let out a laugh as the features come into familiarity.

The heat must be getting to you worse than you thought, because you´re certain you´re hallucinating Damon Albarn of all fucking people swaggering towards you, one hand holding his denim jacket over his shoulder, and a shit-eating grin on his face as he comes to stand in front of you.

All you can do is pant like a dog, looking up at him with unimpressed eyes.

¨Oi, G-String. ´Brought you some water.¨ he holds out a hand, and you choose to ignore the offensive nickname, insead noticing the large bottle in it, cold condensation covering its expanse.

Your eyes widen and you lick your lips unconsciously, holding your hands out for it.

Damon watches your tongue poke out and loses focus before snapping back to reality and moving his arm above your head. You pout and try to reach for it again, but he laughs and holds it even higher.

You glare and turn your head away from him, suddenly remembering how he embarrassed you earlier.

¨Go away. I don't want it anymore. You´re an asshole.¨ you mumble, perspiration hanging off your lip as you lick the salty beads away once again.

Damon´s eyes never leave your mouth as he listens to you and watches the pink appendage make its appearance again, and his mouth hangs open slightly unbeknownst to you for a second. You cross your arms and glare at the empty parking lot, silently willing him to go away.

He snaps back into focus yet again and shakes his head at you. ¨Oh come on love, I´m just teasing. You look like you´re about to die anyways, might as well make this your last meal-er, drink I mean.¨

¨I´m not taking anything from a complete dickhead who enjoys harassing women about their clothes. You know, for such a womanizer, you act pretty clueless about how comments like that would make a girl feel. No one else but you had an issue with it, or rather, had the audacity to point it out.¨ You cough at the last word, your dry throat and heavy head making it harder to talk.

He sighs and crouches down, balancing on the balls of his feet. He pops open the cap and gently turns your chin towards his face, much to your surprise. You´re genuinely too weak to protest, but when you look at his concerned face, eyebrows scrunched up and accentuating the lines on his forehead, you don't think you'd want to turn away even if you could.

He coaxes your agap mouth even more open by dragging a rough thumb down over your lips, and you obediently open your mouth, mesmerized by his eyes. His movements are soft and slow, as if you were a fidgety rabbit about to run off at the slightest touch. He scoots closer, right over in front of you as you simply gaze up at him, allowing him to pour cool water down your throat, quenching your bone-dry palate.

For a couple of seconds, water floods your mouth but all you can do is stare up at him. The light rays are reflecting off his back, casting a yellow glow around his silhouette and he almost looks like an angel. His hair is mussed as if he'd spent the day running his hands through the golden locks, and the scruff on his face peeks through soft-looking skin.

¨Swallow, or I'll really waterboard you this time,¨ he says lowly, chuckling a bit as he catches you staring so adamantly right in his face. You jerk back to consciousness and swallow hastily, accidentally choking on the gulp in your rush.

He laughs even more and lets go of your chin much to your disappointment as he adjusts himself to sit next to you, not seeming to mind the scorching car metal. The absence of his hand on your face leaves a cold, empty feeling in your heart despite the heated blush on your cheeks

¨You´ll burn yourself,¨ you mumble, lolling your head over to look at him.

But he looks straight ahead and shrugs casually. ¨Not any more than you.¨ You both sit in silence for a few minutes, occasionally sipping from the bottle he passes towards you and watching cars go by.

¨You didn't answer my question. Why do you harp on me in the studio? You act like a normal human being here.¨

Damon looks thoughtfully at a white sedan passing by, then speaks.

¨As I´m sure Graham has blabbed to you already, I´ve been having some...trouble with the missus, let's say.¨

You say nothing and raise a questioning eyebrow.

¨For the shitty attitude,¨ he mutters and swipes the bottle from your hand, taking a large swig himself.

¨And, like you said earlier, I am an asshole. Of course I´ll enjoy harassing pretty women over their revealing clothes,¨ he smirks and gives you a once over.

There it was again, pretty woman.

You scowl and get up to leave, but what he says stops you in your tracks.

¨Taz was lookin´ at you,¨ he says quietly, suddenly very interested in the now-empty bottle. ¨´Didn't like it, but I couldn't say anything to him. Graham likes him too much.¨

Huh. Maybe the pair of eyes you felt back in the room didn't only belong to Damon.

He cracks a small smile and looks up at you, his face adorably innocent and wide as he sheepishly admits, ¨I´m used to butting heads with blokes like him for women.¨

You jerk back up to your feet, brushing off any insinuation he was giving and pat his knee awkwardly, ignoring the fire now igniting once again in your chest.

¨Thanks for the water, I needed it. You might wanna move if you don't want to get run over by my car.¨ You reach down and pick up your case as Damon clambers to his feet.

He looks amused as you fumble for your keys, nervously turning the lock and sitting in the hot car, obviously eager to get away from his intimidating gaze.

¨I´ll see you next week, yeah?¨ You laugh breathlessly and roll your window down to call out to him.

He says nothing, but merely cocks his head at you, his eyes now obscured by the rose-colored glasses he puts over his eyes. He waves a little and watches as you drive away a little too fast.

But as it turns out, you don't see him next week.

******

It was just your luck that one of the cutest guys from your work asked you out on the very same week you had practice with the boys. You contemplated moving the date to another time, but...you deserved to have some fun time off too, right? It's not like it would make too much of a difference in your skill, anyways, you´ve gotten all the strings down and such.

So, you decide to go on this date. It goes well, the dude was cute, dorky, lacked a little pizzazz but nothing a bottle of fancy red wine and a night of movies couldn´t coax out of him. It honestly wasn't anything too big, you exchanged numbers and made plans to meet up again soon. After parting ways, you threw yourself back into the regular regime of practicing your violin and meticulously listening to the booth recording every night, just so you could perfect your part to a T.

The day came where you had to go back to practice, and you were ready, veins pumping with determination to make these last few sessions the best you´ve played yet. You texted Graham that you´d be there soon, and he gave you a thumbs up in return. When you finally arrived in front of the room, you were 10 minutes late. The boys were already playing, by the sound of the percussion booming outside the door. You grimace and take a deep breath, turning the handle in and hurrying inside the booth.

No one really spared a glance at you, so you assumed you were okay in terms of punctuality. You opened your case and started strumming your strings, counting the measures and beats until it was your turn. Damon´s voice rang out, melodious and airy as ever, dropping octaves and floating on soprano tones. Your bow moved across his words, accenting his tones and adding emphasis to his sorrowful song. And then, after a couple of minutes, it was done.

¨Alright you lot, pretty good for today. ´Specially you, Y/N, you caught up pretty quick, I expected you to slack behind but I'm actually impressed.¨ Graham flashed you a nervous grin and you beamed back at him in return.

¨Yeah, speaking of, why were you gone last week? I expected someone who makes below the poverty line would actually want to work for their money,¨ Damon chuckles a little meanly.

You feel your smile drop a smidge.

¨Well actually Damon, not that it's any of your business, but I went on a date.¨ You smirk at him, enjoying the way his mouth opens slightly and moves silently.

But he regroups quickly and glares at you. ¨None of my business? The deadline is only a few days away, and you´re whoring yourself out and going on dates? I guess you´re not as professional as Graham thought.¨

Everyone shifts uncomfortably, and blood rushes to your face, anger clouding your mind. Why was he being like this? He was fine the last time you saw him, you actually thought maybe he was going to change the way he addressed you.

Graham speaks up. ¨Damon. You´re overreacting man, I gave her the okay, and she played fine today. No harm done, seriously, there's no need for that kind of language towards her.¨

¨Actually, there absolutely is a need. If I knew you were going to invite a prostitute as our sub-in then I would´ve never agreed to have her here. Didn´t know you were so low on money Y/N, I would´ve spared you a couple pounds.¨ He sneers.

¨Damon!¨

You laugh bitterly and rise to your feet. ¨Oh that's rich, coming from the man who fucked half the continent just because he couldn't get over one girl. No wonder every real woman in your life including your wife wants to leave, nothing is ever good enough for you. Except heroin maybe.¨

The words leave your mouth before you can take them back, and there's a pin drop silence as if a bomb had been dropped. In a way, it kind of did.

Damo glares at you. Everyone is holding your breath, including you.

¨Get out.¨

¨Hey,-¨ Taz tries to gently interject but Damon throws the mic at him.

¨I said get the fuck out. You´re not practicing with us anymore, you can pack your shit and leave.¨

Tears brim at the corners of your eyes, and you choke out a small ¨Fine.¨

You hear Graham berating him behind you as you fly through the door, telling him that they need you, it's too late to change people, but the words jumble in your ears as the door slams shut. You don't hear what Damon says, if he even says anything, and you aren't interested in his comebacks right now.

It's only when you leave the car, tears streaming down your face in rage and embarrassment that you groan to yourself, your hands reaching an empty seat with one foot out the door-

You forgot your violin case.

************

It's nighttime.

The crickets chirp as you creep silently through the parking garage, the soft thud of your shoes echoing a lot louder than you wanted in the empty lot. The studio itself wasn't closed, but you were sure Damon must have informed the manager there not to let an ex-musician like you back in there.

Wearing a black hoodie and black pants was a smart move- you blended in with the shadows well. The doors weren't locked, and you hiss out a small ¨yesss¨ as you slip inside the mostly dark building. Needless to say, you were proud of yourself for navigating through the windings pitch-black hallways to your old booth.

Testing the handle lightly, you sigh out in relief when that too gives way. Unfortunately though, the second the door shuts behind you, you immediately stumble forward and fall.

The room is dark, darker than the other hallways so you can barely see your hands. The only source of light you´re granted is the dim red bulb on top of the booth door. And speaking of, that's exactly where you need to go...which proves to be harder when you keep bumping into random shit and cursing when you feel potential bruises forming on your shins.

Miraculously you stagger through the next door towards where you last sat, and blindly feel around the floor and chairs for your violin case. You feel nothing there, but panic starts settling in your heart when you can't find it.

¨Looking for something?¨

You scream and lurch backwards, knocking your head into some kind of stand. Groaning, you rub your head and hold a hand on your racing heart as you squint into the dim red room, placing the voice to the person.

¨D-Damon?¨

¨In the flesh sweetheart. ´Knew you'd come back for this, s´just my luck I came back to get it tonight so I could give it to you personally in case you wanted to be stubborn. But this is even better than I could´ve hoped.¨

You make out his silhouette in the obsidian abyss in front of you. He's sitting with knees spread on a chair, a few feet in front of you as he leans his head back on the wall. Your precious violin case is being held hostage in his arms, and it's the absolute love you have for the brittle instrument that propels you to your feet and moves you to get the hell out instead of interrogating him.

¨What, so you were just here the whole time listening to me falling around like an idiot?” You laugh incredulously, and you see the area of his shoulders move up and down.

¨Was pretty funny to watch, honestly. You sound cute when you curse.¨ He stands up to his fullest height now, the red light bouncing off his back, giving him a sort of demonic halo.

You knew it was actually time to leave when you felt those stupid butterflies in your stomach rise up again.

¨Right, well, I´ll be on my way then. Good luck with your song and whatever, I´ll just take the case...¨ You trail off as your extended hand is left in midair, no violin case reaching it.

He cocks his head at you. ¨Why are you in such a rush to leave?¨

You can´t help the scoff that escapes you.

¨Are you serious? You were such an absolute dickhead to me this afternoon, you said all sorts of horrible things to me, and you even fired me for Christ's sake! I want nothing to do with you, so could you please give me my case back so I can go?¨

He's silent for a moment before answering. ¨Are you done yet?¨

It isn´t just the light that's making you see red now.

¨Fuck you, honestly.¨ You whirl around and stomp towards where you guess the door is, ignoring the clatter behind you and bingo you locate the handle, but as soon as you turn it-

A hand reaches from behind you and pulls the ajar door shut.

¨Don´t go. I´m sorry.¨

You´re absolutely still as you feel him towering over you, his arm dangerously close to your midriff as his hand remains on the knob.

His voice is low, and you can feel him breathe against your neck, mere inches away. You can´t help the involuntary shiver that passes through you, and he feels it too, inhaling deeply when he gets close to your ear.

¨You smell so good.¨

¨Leave me alone, Damon,¨ you whisper, your voice catching in your throat from the overwhelming onslaught of emotions passing through you.

He breaths in and slowly lets his hand rest on your side.

¨I can't do that. You know why. You have to have known by now.¨

You tremble in his touch, yet allow his hands to wander down to your hip, the other coming around in a sort of hug to pull you closer to him.

¨We can´t.¨

¨Sure we can.¨

You can feel his erection bumping against your ass.

¨You´re not worth this.¨

¨I´ll make myself worth it.¨

And as soon as he latches onto the back of your neck, you´re like putty in his hands, a moaning mess as he sucks galaxy-colored hickies on your skin. You can feel yourself grow wetter as he shoves his hands up your shirt and teasingly pulls down the bridge of your bra, letting the weight of your tits fill up his hands appreciatively. He starts rolling your hardened buds in between his skilled calloused fingers, and you whine and throw your head back when you feel him rut against your ass, panting raggedly in your ear.

You rub your thighs together, desperate for some form of friction as he squeezes your tits, and then letting one hand ghost across the expanse of your stomach, down to brush against the rim of your panties. Damon chuckles meanly in your ear when you buck against the stilled hand over your mound.

¨You want this?¨ He lightly nips your ear. He smells like old spice and sandalwood.

You nod desperately, frustrated with him not giving you his thick fingers already.

But it's not enough for him. ¨No no, pretty girl, use your words now. I´ve barely touched you yet and you´re already moaning like a wanton little slut for me? And here I was thinking you weren't that easy.¨

You stop jerking your hips and blood rushes to your face at his insulting words. You try to move out of his grip, huffing and regretting the whole thing but he outright laughs now and spins you around, tugging you forward until your chest is slotted against his. You pout at him and look away, but he's quick to grasp your chin and pull you in for a rough yet sensual kiss.

Pushing you backwards against the wall, he deepens the lip-lock, tracing his tongue over your lips, nipping at the soft flesh and darkening his eyes when you whimper and look up at him.

He knows what he´s fucking doing when he again drops his hand under your pants and over your panties, his other palm wound up firmly through your hair. He pulls your head back and lets you breathe for a second from his kiss of death before he speaks again.

¨I didn't hear an answer, slut. Do you want this?¨ He leans forward until his nose brushes against your neck, flicking his tongue out to taste your saccharine flesh.

You tremble against his firm body when he pushes his pelvis against you, letting you feel how hard he is for you.

It doesn't matter anymore. Maybe he was right, maybe you were just an easy slut putting up a facade for him, but when his clothes erection grinds up against your pussy you can't care less.

¨Y-yes, yes, ´want you, please,¨ you pant, frantically gripping the back of his cropped hair as his head descends to mark your neck again.

¨What a good girl,¨ he whispers, finally allowing his digits to oh-so-slowly trace over your mound, pressing down harder when you jerk against him. He finds your wet clit and flicks it a few times, snickering when you gasp and moan. Your body writhes in place but he holds you literally between a rock-or, wall- and a hard place, preventing you from scampering off.

He drums his fingers against your folds, paying no attention to the way you grip his head tighter against you, silently begging him to go further.

But he relents eventually and retires from just pushing and prodding your folds, allowing his slicked fingers to slowly dive into your drooling hole. You whimper and bite back a string of curses when you feel him fill you completely, scraping against your walls for that one special spot.

His mouth moves off your neck and he rises to face you, a stupid smug grin on his wet lips, his eyelids lowered and trained on you. You flush at his lustful expression and gently push his head away, not wanting to accept his victory yet.

¨My fingers are literally fucking you right now, and you still won´t let me look at you? What, too embarrassed you couldn't continue being a stone-cold bitch for long?¨

You open your mouth to snap back but right at that moment he curls his fingers and grazes your G-spot, simultaneously grounding his wet palm against your clit.

With a loud gasp and the sluttiest moan you´ve ever made, you cum hard, your mouth open in a silent scream and your tongue hanging out like a bitch in heat as you do so. You fall forward against him.

You don't even need to look up to know that he has a shit-eating grin on his face.

¨What was that sweetheart? Sorry, ´couldn't hear you over those slutty moans. I think even the pornstars I´ve been with would give you a standing ovation if they heard what you just sounded like.¨

Your words are slurred as you curse nonsense at him, yet you´re still gripping his forearms to keep a hold on yourself. Your ears are ringing and you see spots as you come down from your climax, and surprisingly enough, Damon holds you close and doesn't let you slip down to the ground as you expected to when your knees start to give out.

Instead, he lifts you up quite easily and carries you over to a table in the corner of the room. You don´t know how he even navigates his way through the dimly lit room, but you suppose after almost half a lifetime in studios he knows his way around.

You offer no resistance as he sets you down gently and begins to lift your shirt off of your body. You manage to lift your arms weakly up in the air for easier access to stripping, but when he starts to kneel down to take your pants off you stop his hands at your knees and look at him with scrunched eyebrows.

He stops and looks up at you. His eyes aren't so darkened anymore, they´re wide and imploring, probably noticing your hesitation.

¨Damon, I...¨ You trail off as he maintains eye contact with you and slowly lowers his pursed lips to your calf, lightly pecking his way up to your knees and ensuring that you´re watching his every move.

Your breathing increases again as his pink appendage darts out, his saliva cooling on your exposed thighs. He sucks on the plush skin and turns his head upwards to face you.

You want to run your hands through his hair.

¨You have a wife,¨ You breathe.

¨Not for tonight I don´t.¨

Your voice gets caught in your throat at that. He positions his hands at the side of your knees, fingers curling around the hem of your pants in a second attempt.

¨Let me make you feel good, love.¨

His answer is in the form of your hand reaching for his collar and pulling him up into a standing position until he towers over your seated form, once again breath stolen in a heated kiss.

Damon fumbles with his zipper as you shove your pants off, fully ready for him now, your dampened panties solid evidence of your need for him.

He pulls his cock out and it bounces out, slapping up against his stomach.

You do a double take. The tabloids were right. He was absolutely huge.

It was disgusting almost, it was insulting really. How the fuck could he be that big? You lose count of how many inches he is when you start to get light headed, realizing with a jolt that he plans to put that monster inside you.

And fuck, why did it have to be so pretty too? Normally you wouldn´t use the word pretty to describe a dick, but fuck, that´s the only appropriate word that came to mind as you admired the white flesh as it mixed in with a dull pink flush turning into an angry shade of red as your eyes progressed up to his tip...which was soaked with precum, mind you.

He was neatly shaven everywhere, including his plush balls. No wonder he got to fuck half the continent.

Damon notices your gawking and smiles lazily, taking a fist around his prick and stroking lethargically up and down.

¨You gonna just stare at it all day or are you going to spread those cute legs for me?¨

Spoken like a true middle aged fuck-boyman.

You look up at him beseechingly, thoroughly intimidated by his length. He merely scoffs, winking at you when he wrenches your tightly closed knees apart.

It's almost like he falls into a trance when he presses his now-naked torso against your chest, when he slots himself between your legs and drags his tip through your sloppy folds and up onto your clit. His mouth falls open slightly and he moans when your juices coat his dick, making it slippery and easy to push the first few inches ever so slightly into your spasming cavern.

He can't help but want more, need more as he practically smothers his weight onto you, forcing you to lie back on the table and letting your legs dangle off the edge. He hunches over you and thrusts minutely into your pulsing folds, groaning when you whine and lace your fingers around his neck and tangle your legs around his back, dragging him impossibly close into you.

For a moment it´s just the sound of you two panting and moaning like inexperienced teenagers, and a zing of pride zips up your spine at the realization that Damon Albarn, one of the world's most renowned playboy is whining and humping against your pussy, reduced to nothing at your hands.

He takes your hands from around his neck and grips your wrists, forcing them above your head on the table. He leans down and kisses you, hard. You give him back the same energy when your hips move up and down along his length, pushing your inviting hole towards his eager and jumping dick.

¨Pretty little girl,¨ he murmurs against your lips, and you nip his bottom lip playfully in retaliation. He slowly starts to sink himself into you, and you practically purr at the feeling of his veiny member dragging against your sensitive walls until he stops.

You look at him questioningly, and blanch when you see the mischievous glint in his cobalt eyes.

¨I want you to count for me.¨

¨Count…?¨ You shake your head in confusion and he pulls out, making you groan in annoyance.

¨I want you to count every inch I put inside you. Unless your slutty mouth can't even do that? I'd be surprised if you couldn´t, you usually have so much shit to say.¨ His voice is low yet teasing, and a shiver passes through you when the rumble of his chest vibrates against your nipples.

¨F-fine, I´ll count.¨

He hums in approval and regroups, guiding his length into your awaiting pussy once again.

It´s almsot torture how slow he goes, and your toes curl at how vivid the sensation is at this pace.

You almost forget to do what he asks until he ducks his head down and teeths your bud.

¨Ah, fuck! One!¨ You yelp, writhing to get away from his lecherous gaze and hold on your poor tit.

He tuts and licks the swollen area until the pain subsides a bit, and then he continues to push.

¨T-two,¨ you moan and let your head fall back. It's unfair how tightly he´s holding your reins-you want him to plow you down, not take his sweet time in this punishment.

¨Damon, can´t you go any faster? Please, I want y-¨

¨-I didn't take you for a masochist, Y/N, but I´m happy to play around with these cute tits if you want to bitch more.¨

Your scowl is cut off when he suddenly shoves two more inches into you, and you mewl loudly at being filled so much.

¨Three! Four! Fuck, oh god, please,¨ you babble nonsense as he curses above you, his form shaking in an effort not to push all the way in.

¨Doing so good sweetheart, you´re almost halfway,¨ he smirks and you gape at him in disbelief.

Halfway?

Five, six, seven, eight, and nine go painfully slow, and by the time he´s fully sheathed inside you, plush balls pressed against your ass, you´re an incoherent, drooling mess.

Your hair is in your face, your cheeks are flushed, and your body bounces up and down as he begins to rock inside you, finally giving you what you want.

His name is chanted like an obscene prayer from your mouth as he grunts and shakes the table. Your legs are wobbly and unable to do anything except press him tighter against you to the point where he can barely move back. The skin of his stomach slaps against yours, his balls slap against the crevice of your ass, and your pussy practically sloshes with every stroke in and out.

He fists your hair with one hand and pulls your neck up to meet his searching lips, his other hand holds your wrists fast against the table. You want to touch him, you want to explore your body as he has conquered yours but he doesn't let you feel anything else apart from the rapid thrusts inside your battered body.

Damon switches positions and lifts the back of your knees up and pushes them forwards until they meet your chest. He lets his body weight rest on the back of your thighs as he pulls out and pushes back impossibly close inside you, closer than he did in missionary.

You sob with need as he plunges into you and reaches a higher spot than before, his tip grazing your cervix. He pounds into you, and you thrust your hips up to fuck back into him, calling out his name as if he were your god.

It´s a good thing the rooms are soundproof.

You feel your second climax comes when he paves way through your tight walls and batters your uterus. It doesn´t hurt so much as feel intense, and your choked moans become panting gasps when he brings a hand down to swirl his thumb over your aching clit.

¨You´re not going to meet with that prick from your work again, yeah? Say it. Say it if you want me to let you cum.¨ He could have been speaking an alien language for all you knew. Your poor addled brain didn't pick up anything except for the word ¨cum¨, and you were a goner.

¨Yes, yes, anything you say, anything you want, just please let me-¨

And oh he does.

It comes over you like a tidal wave, your mind going blank, your eyes seeing white as your legs shake from your earth-shattering orgasm. You feel like you´re going down a rollercoaster, and you never want to stop dropping.

Distantly, you hear him groan and say your name. You can feel pulsing in your filled walls, with what you assume is his ropes of cum. It feels like when you came, it practically squeezed all his cum out with your clenching.

He lets out a shaky breath and falls forward, his nose inches from yours, his breath puffing in your face.

Your eyes are glazed over, but you´ve never seen anything more clearly before.

Maybe Damon Albarn really was worth it.

#blur #damon x reader #damon albarn #damon albarn smut #britpop #90s damon #90s #smut #fluff #britpop smut #damon fluff #Damon Albarn #damon albarn x reader #Damon albarn smut #Damon albarn fanfic #Damon albarn fanfiction #blur fanfic #blur fanfiction

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robinofgothamcity · 4 years ago

Text

♡ prompt: “i'll make sure never to leave you alone.”

♡ pairing: Baron Zemo x fem reader

♡ lyric inspiration: “you know I’m just a flight away, if you wanted you could take a private plane, los kilometros estamos conectando y me prendes aunque no me estes tocando.”

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes / for OBVIOUS reasons, heavy spoiler warning if you are not watching or are planning on watching Falcon and the Winter Soldier. this is kind of based on episodes three and four.

“we might need to call an old friend of mine for help,” Sam told both Bucky and Zemo. Bucky gave him a look of confusion, “she’s a friend of my sisters. before the blip and all that, she was a working college student. she’s really good at being a decoy for things,” Sam explained.

Bucky sighed, not knowing whether to agree with this or not. Zemo had no say in the matter as he was on a very strict leash with Sam so he didn’t bother to say much.

“well, what are we waiting for? if we need to be in Madripoor soon, I think it’s best we get ahead of the game before it gets any later than it already is,” Bucky stated as Sam agreed.

Zemo had been ‘kind’ enough to fly them back to where you currently stayed at.

the four of them touched down in Wisconsin in the later part of the morning. the wind was blowing briskly through the air as they all groaned about the slight cold. Sam was never the one to like the cold in the first place, Bucky for obvious reasons despised the winter climate, and Zemo found the Wisconsin farm scenery to be eye-catching.

“wait, how is she going to help us again?” Zemo asked as Sam put the information of your current house into the GPS. “she’s worked a lot with computers. she became friends with Sarah while she went to school in Louisiana. I think she could be of help considering she’d blend in with the younger crowd without us seeming suspicious,” Sam went into detail.

both Bucky and Zemo were confused on the entire situation but followed Sam’s lead regardless. they ended up in a small town a few hours out of where the plane touched down. your house was surrounded by a bunch of farm land and from the looks of it, you kept up with outside work.

“with her knowledge in computers and being able to blend in with the crowd, she could gather information that neither three of us could get.” Zemo looked up to Sam, “I know Madripoor better than anyone. what gives you the implication that I can’t get the information myself?” he asked.

Sam waved him off as they got to your doorstep. your house looked cozy in comparison to how you lived before the blip. he knocked on the door softly, stepping back almost immediately. it took you a while to answer it but as they heard footsteps, they heard a ‘who is it?’ from the other side of the door.

“it’s Sam.”

you jumped back in surprise. you weren’t expecting to have Sam of all people knocking on your door at this hour. Sarah hadn’t told you that he was even going to come and see you.

“Sam? James?” you asked, immediately playing with the skin on your fingers out of nervousness, “is something wrong? I wasn’t expecting you, nevertheless James here,” you continued as you let them inside. you looked at the third person, confused on who they were, “uh, may I ask who you are?” you questioned.

“that’s Zemo but that isn’t important. we need you for something we’re working on,” you sighed in defeat.

your life pre-blip was as normal as it could possibly be but after the blip, you lost your boyfriend at the time and your family dynamic had completely changed. you were no longer as close with your siblings, you were really never close with your dad to begin with, and your mom was just trying to fit back in as normally as possible without freaking out that something would happen to any of your siblings or yourself.

“there’s a group of people who re-created the super soldier serum and we need help finding out who did it and why,” you immediately whipped your head up to look at Sam, “as in the thing that created Winter Soldier here and Steve?” you exclaimed, a sense of panic coming out as you spoke.

Sam nodded, trying to calm you down before you could deny him all together, “since you still look kind of young and you were getting your degree in computer science, I was hoping you could come with us to Madripoor and scope out the scene while we talk to some people,” he explained.

“Sam, I never even finished my degree. the blip happened before I could graduate and post blip, I haven’t touched a computer to that extent,” you replied. Bucky put his hand on your shoulder, “we really need you. you’re not someone who would catch attention easily and whatever you do remember could still help us in the long run,” he interjected.

as Zemo watched both Bucky and Sam try to persuade you, he could tell you weren’t falling for it but now that he was standing in your kitchen, he could see the pictures of you and your family and probably some friends on your fridge door.

“can I talk to her?” Zemo asked Bucky softly. Bucky gave him a look, almost as if what he said was disgraceful to hear, “why?” he asked back. Zemo pointed to the pictures on the fridge, “because I know how it is to lose family.”

Bucky whispered to Sam about what Zemo had told him and while Sam wanted to refuse, while you were gone making coffee for them, Sam ultimately let him. “do not blow this for us. you’re on thin ice and if you screw us up, you’ll be back in that German prison cell before you could say your name,” Zemo put his hands up in defeat as he slowly walked into the kitchen.

“need help with that coffee?” Zemo asked. you turned around, shaking your head no as you looked through the cabinets, “no, I’m okay. thanks for asking. I just need to find the coffee before meeting you three out there again,” you replied.

Zemo reached into the pouch inside his jacket and pulled out a brown bag, “coffee from Germany. it’s the best you’ll get,” he said as you grabbed the bag and opened it up. the strong smell of coffee hit your nose as you coughed from it, “where did you get this?” you asked.

Zemo laughed, shaking it off, “I’m a Baron, ( your name ). my family has a lot of things,” you nodded, not quite understanding what he meant by that but agreeing regardless, “listen, I know you’re hesitant on going with us to Madripoor but we really need your help. you’d be doing the world a favor by it,” he elaborated.

you remained silent for a moment, “what has the world done for me? I lost my boyfriend, the guy I thought I was going to be with forever. my family and I don’t even talk to each other anymore so why should I help it out?” you responded, not caring if Sam or Bucky heard. Zemo put his hand on your cheek before sighing, “I lost my family in Sokovia. I know what that feels like more than anyone in the world and look at me now,” he replied.

Sam and Bucky looked at each other nervously as they watched you try and contain your tears. they couldn’t exactly tell what Zemo was telling you but they could sense you were actually debating the idea now.

“did you ever move on? how did you move on is what I should be asking,” you asked quietly. Zemo stayed silent for a moment, not knowing whether he should answer genuinely or not, “being alone for as long as I was makes you come to terms with a lot of things,” he replied.

you gulped, trying to push down whatever tears wanted to come out.

“I think I’m over what happened pre-blip but I guess what’s stopping me from fully moving on is that we’ll never be the people we were before hand. what would I get out of helping all of you again?” you asked Zemo, now blushing at how close you were with him, “finding out where the serum is coming from and possibly having peace of mind,” he replied.

you put the cups down and walked back into the living room, “you both owe me something. I don’t know what it is yet but you do,” you told Sam as he and Bucky sighed in relief, “give me a few minutes to gather my things,” you told them before heading upstairs.

“what did you tell her?” Bucky asked as Zemo watched you walk upstairs with an almost mesmerized look, “nothing any of you would understand,” he responded before sitting down on the worn out couch.

all of you touched down in Madripoor hours later. you had chugged back to melatonin gummies and passed out the entire flight back to Madripoor. you weren’t exactly a fan of planes so to be inside of one for hours made you extremely nervous.

you were sent off to get some information while they went off in their own direction to get something else they needed. you were told to get back to them before dusk so after you got the bits of information they needed, you met them back at the car.

“your name is now Noel, you’re a friend of ours and that’s all you need to know,” Zemo said as he handed you a fake id. you took it as Zemo relied Sam’s fake information to him, laughing at the nickname he was given, “high-town is beautiful,” you whispered to Zemo. he nodded in agreement, “indeed. we should visit it again,” he replied.

as all of you arrived to the club/bar, you heard the music blaring from outside and figured this is what Sam meant when he said you’d blend in with the crowd. you sighed before plastering a smile on your face and dancing your way inside.

“we should get some drinks,” Zemo told all of you. you nodded as you followed him to the bar. the small altercation between the bartender and Sam had you clenching your eyes shut as he cut up the snake, “please, that’s so disgusting,” you said, trying not to gag.

Zemo could see the uncomfortable look on your face and unknowingly hid you behind him. he knew that small protective feeling from anywhere. the last time he had that feeling was with his wife. Zemo didn’t want you to see anything that made you mildly uncomfortable.

within a few seconds, Zemo had shielded you immediately as an altercation brokeout with Bucky and a few others. you looked at Sam and Zemo in fright as Zemo made sure to keep you safe while Sam apologized for it. he knew you weren’t even mildly used to these kinds of scenes and if he was being honest, he knew in a way this could be traumatizing you.

“Selby is ready to see you now,” you heard someone say. you followed behind Sam and Zemo as he had Bucky right next to him. as all of you walked inside the room, you could see the woman immediately look at Bucky and you a bit more interestingly.

“you know you can’t just walk in here and demand to see me,” she said to Zemo. he nodded as Selby looked to Sam before giving him a backhanded compliment, “and can I ask who that is?” Selby asked as she pointed to you.

you stood stiff as a board as Sam tried to speak up but was interrupted almost immediately by Zemo, “my wife,” he said, now more softly as he touched your had. Selby chuckled, “you wouldn’t want to make a trade for her, would you?” Selby asked.

Sam immediately went on the defense as Zemo denied it, making sure you weren’t in her plane view anymore. Sam made sure that you were okay before returning back to the conversation at hand and within a few mere seconds, the once calm conversation turned deadly as Sam’s phone had went off and caused the domino affect to follow. Selby was now dead and all of your phones pinged off with money now on your heads for killing Selby.

“see! this why I didn’t want to do this!” you screamed to them as you chucked your heels to the side and slipping on your trusty Crocs that you had put inside of you bag, “now you’ve dragged me into things I have no idea about,” you continued to scream as you followed Zemo out the door.

he could tell you were on the verge of a panic attack as all of you ran in separate directions. Sam had given you a gun to protect yourself with. you weren’t the one to use a gun for anything so to even be carrying it around terrified the shit out of you.

you could tell that if you didn’t even cause a commotion to get the people to disperse, you’d be dead in a few minutes. you shot at the air, hoping no one got hurt in the process as everyone ducked for cover. you let out a shout as the bullets rang off into the air, making you drop the gun as soon as your rounds were finished.

all of you landed in some alley as you stood up against the building, trying to catch your breaths in the process. Zemo immediately asked if you were okay and reassured you that you were no longer in harm. you were safe....for the moment; however, he knew that wouldn’t last as long as he’d hope as he knew that you were now apart of their vigilante group whether you wanted to be or not.

after you met the infamous Sharon Carter, she had brought all of you to her place. she could sense that you did not belong in the group as she noticed how panicked you were by the entire situation. you hadn’t said a word after introducing yourself to her and frankly, she was concerned for you.

“I have clothes upstairs you could change into. I get the feeling you aren’t in the mood to party so you could stay on the second level until it ends.”

you thanked her, grabbing your bag and walking up the stairs. you landed inside of a room as the clothes were inside of the closet. you quickly slipped on the athleisure wear and sat on the bed, trying to calm yourself down from the previous events.

“you okay?” you heard Zemo say from the door. you didn’t respond as you remained looking at your shaky hands, “hey,” he whispered, bending down on one knee looking at you.

“do I look okay?” you replied a bit hastily, “I have money on my head for something I didn’t even do. I’m a criminal now, Zemo. I had no intentions of ever becoming what I am now. I just don’t understand why any of you would do this to someone who was still recovering from the blip!” you exclaimed as tears ran down your face.

Zemo sighed, seeing the look of hurt, distrust, and panic all over your face. he had no idea you’d be this upset with the entire situation but seeing as you looked at the text that had your face with the wanted sign over it, he could tell you were realizing the severity of the situation.

“what do I even tell my mom? my siblings?” you asked, “they have no idea of any of this and now I’m some criminal with a target over my head.” Zemo grabbed your hand and rubbed it softly with his thumb, “I know and after all of this is over, you’ll be free to do whatever you want. you just have to stick through this. we need you here,” he replied.

you growled, “and what do I get out of it? trauma? therapy again?” you retorted. Zemo shook his head as you unknowingly slipped to his side and cried to his shoulder, “possibly but at least you’ll have people by your side this time. I’ll make sure you’ll never have to be by yourself again,” he said.

you looked at him through tear stained eyes and nodded as he brought you in for an embrace. you were comforted by the cologne he was wearing as he sang softly in your ear. it sounded like some lullaby you would’ve heard as a kid.

“promise?” you asked him. Zemo nodded, bending down to give you a kiss. you quickly reciprocated the kiss and had Zemo hold you close as the two of you remained kissing each other, “promise,” he murmured against your lips.

from the crack of the door, Sam and Bucky wanted to interrupt you in order to kill Zemo for even thinking of kissing you but from down the hall, Sharon warned that it wasn’t any of their business to do such a thing.

Sam knew that he had all the consequences falling on him if something happened to you and being that you were now a wanted woman for the killing of Selby, the very least he could do is let you have this with Zemo. he might’ve hated his guts like it was nobodies business but for the time being, you were calm and not trying to kill him or Bucky.

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #helmut zemo #zemo imagine #zemo x reader #zemo x you #zemo x y/n #falcon and the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #tfatws imagine #tfatws x reader #sam wilson #bucky barnes #falcon #winter soldier #baron zemo

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witchsheartbooks · 3 years ago

Note

If you aren’t too busy, could you possibly do some headcannons for Claire + the boys with their s/o during a blackout due to a thunderstorm??

Personally I find peace in the rain but I did pepper some variety in there for you, Dear anon so please enjoy.

Claire:

As a loud clap of thunder resonated against the roof of the house you shot up in bed with a start.

You hated thunder storms they always made you anxious. The noises, the flashing lights outside, how rickety everything felt in the house when a storm would get severe enough.

You just did not vibe with any of it at all.

Claire wasn’t exactly fond of storms either, but she didn’t mind them too much. Her only real gripe was the fact that she wouldn’t be able to sit outside and enjoy the flower fields she liked to visit or the garden the two of you shared.

Stirring sleepily in bed her voice groggily carried through the room, “What’s wrong y/n. Did the storm wake you?”

Hearing her voice just made you melt you could never quite describe why Claire made you so relaxed but whatever the reason, you appreciated it none the less.

You glanced at the bedside clock, but the numbers didn’t show. It wasn’t even lit up- fuck a blackout? Really? Right now when you felt your most vulnerable?

Your mind began racing again, thoughts only slowing as Claire drowsily booped your nose with her finger. “Y/N look over here.”

Weird how she was the one redirecting you for once.

You gently took her hand as she was withdrawing it, fingers clasping tightly.

“I’ll hum for you ok, y/n? Then we can go back to sleep.”

Reluctantly, you laid back down, resting your head against her chest so the only sounds you could focus on were her heartbeat and the soft chime of her voice.

You were asleep again in mere moments.

Ashe:

He always found the rain soothing, on nights he could sleep anyway.

Sometimes it quelled the nightmares which often clutched at his heart.

As thunder rumbled, he felt you stir next to him, your arms gripping his midsection in a vice.

“Awake now then, Y/N?” You groan at his statement. Atleast Ashe was warm. Why wasn’t he asleep?

You slowly sit up, rubbing your left eye. You then notice the room is pitch black and the sound of him setting a book aside resounds through the empty room.

That made more sense, seems he couldn’t sleep and chose to read. In the dark…?

“Is the power out?”

He hummed a reply, “Yes, and I was just getting to the interesting part of this citation. Though, perhaps your company will be more interesting, hm?”

The two of you then proceed to talk through the rest of the evening. That book had interested him but any time he had with you was more precious.

Wilardo:

You had been helping Wilardo with the flowers all day and had fallen asleep quite early.

Normally you consider yourself a night owl. You rarely sleep at normal hours but because of the work you did today, you had ended up passing out on a loveseat in the living room.

Wilardo couldn’t bring himself to move you since most of the time you were a light sleeper anyway. He had put a soft blanket on you though.

A thunderclap resounded, shaking the roof of the house which then awoke you with a start.

You didn’t recognize your surroundings at first but before you had a chance to get up a low gravely baritone grasped your attention.

“Yea, that one was pretty fuckin’ loud huh?”

Rising from his spot on the couch, he turned to look over to you. Seems instead of choosing the bed, he laid in wait on the couch closest to you.

Had he intended to sleep there if you hadn’t woken up? That seemed possible.

Wilardo was never really picky about where he slept so long as it was close to you.

He stood from the couch, stretching and with an exhale he crossed the distance between the two of you.

“Power went out bout ten minutes ago. Least the garden will be well watered. We can check any wind or flood damage tomorrow.”

Wilardo had brushed some stray strands of hair from your face, gently stroking backwards to pat your head before withdrawing his hand.

“We can stay up as long as ya need to, y/n. Can even pick the room ya want since the window in this one is so damn large.”

You shake your head, rising to meet him with your blanket draped on your shoulders. Sauntering to the windowsill you sit along it among the cushions.

Sure, the rain was scattering hard across the window, but it was something you enjoyed watching.

The sound of the thunder itself was your only real aggravation when it came to storms.

Wil had followed you, sitting behind you and pulling you back with a tug so you could lay back against him.

Both of you had napped here like this on sunny days, though tonight you both exchanged small stories as you watched the rain paint the window.

Sirius:

You were watching the rain from bed, unable to sleep.

Sirius was asleep next to you, arms curled around your midsection. It’s how he always slept but denied it anytime it was brought up in conversation.

A loud thunder clap resounded outside, with this the lavender went rigid against you.

The two of you may be an item now but he still was rather reluctant to be completely open about his emotions with you.

Thankfully, you were the observant type so this didn’t frustrate you as much as it would for most.

Exhaling, his arms had tightened into a vice, you could tell he was hoping you weren’t awake yet.

Sirius loathed displaying weakness in front of others, especially those he greatly admired.

You counted yourself lucky as being one of very few on that list.

Mocking a yawn, you stretched your back against his chest, a hand reaching back to comb through his hair.

You even went so far as to fake the bleariness of sleep in your voice. “What’s wrong, Sirius?”

He melted into you, rather reluctantly but so long as you didn’t bring it up then it was likely he wouldn’t chastise you for it.

“This bloody storm is making sleep nigh impossible for me.” He grumbled tiredly with a huff.

You let him vent about it, you know storms bothered him; especially if they were loud.

“Mmm, then we could talk until it passes?” You suggested gently. Your goal was to redirect his attention onto something else.

He scoffs, “That isn’t the worst idea. Though it seems you’ll be the one leading the discussion this time, Love. I find myself unable to still my train of thought.”

“Oh? Don’t I lead in most situations anyway?” You couldn’t help but tease him slightly, he had left himself open for such a statement with his phrasing.

You could feel his glare but he only sighed, “Yes well it isn’t as if you’ve complained about it in the past now have you? And you’re rather lucky, I let no one else do anything of the sort.”

He paused, burrowing his face into your shoulder upon realizing what he had said with a loud “Ugh, how is it that you bring out this sort of honesty in me so easily?!”

To this you laugh, “It’s not so bad. Atleast it stays between us. So, I wouldn’t stress so much about it.”

“I suppose you aren’t wrong…it’s simply embarrassing that it happens to begin with.” With this statement, silence carried between the both of you for a few minutes.

That was until thunder clapped again and he tensed against you back.

You roll to face him and bring his face to your chest, “Relax. You’re wound up tighter than a bed spring.”

Sirius grumbled quietly until you began to hum softly.

It took a few minutes but gradually he drifted into a light sleep in your arms.

Noel:

He was always up in the evenings, rain or clear nights it didn’t matter.

You had dozed off next to him, he was already in a down mood from there being no stars that night.

Lightening lit up the sky outside the window and the thunder clapped so hard it shook the house.

Noel’s chest tightened and instinctively he gripped your hand.

Loud sounds bothered him more than he could explain.

He had reacted this way if you ever dropped a pan too. You wondered if it was related.

Stirring from both the sound and pressure of his hand, you recognize the signs and sit up quickly.

You rub his shoulder and hum softly.

He leans into your chest, curling like a cat as you sooth him through his panic attack.

You’d done this before, but in the pitch black like this where only the occasional lightening lit the room.

It felt like you were closer to him than you’ve ever been.

That thought alone brought you peace as you focused on soothing Noel back to his senses.

Gradually he found them, slipping into the depths of sleep against you so very shortly after. ~Mod Sirius

#Claire Elford #Wilardo Adler #Sirius Gibson #Noel Levine #Ashe Bradley #Witch's Heart #headcanon #headcanons #Mod Sirius

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ladydarklord · 4 years ago

Text

The Mighty Boosh on the business of being silly

The Times, November 15 2008

What began as a cult cocktail of daft poems, surreal characters and fantastical storylines has turned into the comedy juggernaut that is the Mighty Boosh. Janice Turner hangs out with creators Noel Fielding, Julian Barratt and the extended Boosh family to discuss the serious business of being silly

In the thin drizzle of a Monday night in Sheffield, a crowd of young women are waiting for the Mighty Boosh or, more precisely, one half of it. Big-boned Yorkshire lasses, jacketless and unshivering despite the autumn nip, they look ready to devour the object of their desire, the fey, androgynous Noel Fielding, if he puts a lamé boot outside the stage door. “Ooh, I do love a man in eyeliner,” sighs Natalie from Rotherham. She’ll be throwing sickies at work to see the Boosh show 13 times on their tour, plus attend the Boosh after-show parties and Boosh book signings. “My life is dead dull without them,” she says.

Nearby, mobiles primed, a pair of sixth-formers trade favourite Boosh lines. “What is your name?” asks Jessica. “I go by many names, sir,” Victoria replies portentously. A prison warden called Davena survives long days with high-security villains intoning, “It’s an outrage!” in the gravelly voice of Boosh character Tony Harrison, a being whose head is a testicle.

Apart from Fielding, what they all love most about the Boosh is that half their mates don’t get it. They see a bloke in a gorilla suit, a shaman called Naboo, silly rhymes about soup, stories involving shipwrecked men seducing coconuts “and they’re like, ‘This is bloody rubbish,’” says Jessica. “So you feel special because you do get it. You’re part of a club.”

Except the Mighty Boosh club is now more like a movement. What began as an Edinburgh fringe show starring Fielding and his partner Julian Barratt and later became an obscure BBC3 series has grown into a box-set flogging, mega-merchandising, 80-date touring Boosh inc. There was a Boosh festival last summer, now talk of a Boosh movie and Boosh in America. An impasse seems to have been reached: either the Boosh will expand globally or, like other mass comedy cults before it – Vic and Bob, Newman and Baddiel – slowly begin to deflate.

But for the moment, the fans still wait in the rain for heroes who’ve already left the building. I find the Boosh gang gathered in their hotel bar, high on post-gig adrenalin. Barratt, blokishly handsome with his ring-master moustache, if a tad paunchy these days, blends in with the crew. But Fielding is never truly “off”. All day he has been channelling A Clockwork Orange in thick black eyeliner (now smudged into panda rings) and a bowler hat, which he wears with polka-dot leggings, gold boots and a long, neon-green fur-collared PVC trenchcoat. He has, as those women outside put it, “something about him”: a carefully-wrought rock-god danger mixed with an amiable sweetness. Sexy yet approachable. Which is why, perched on a barstool, is a great slab of security called Danny.

“He stops people getting in our faces,” says Fielding. “He does massive stars like P. Diddy and Madonna and he says that considering how we’re viewed in the media as a cult phenomenon, we get much more attention in the street than, say, Girls Aloud. Danny says we’re on the same level as Russell Brand, who can’t walk from the door to the car without ten people speaking to him.”

This barometer of fame appears to fascinate and thrill Fielding. Although he complains he can’t eat dinner with his girlfriend (Dee Plume from the band Robots in Disguise) unmolested, he parties hard and publicly with paparazzi-magnets like Courtney Love and Amy Winehouse. He claims he’s tried wearing a baseball cap but fans still recognise him. Hearing this, Julian Barratt smiles wryly: “Noel is never going to dress down.”

It is clear on meeting them that their Boosh characters Vince Noir (Fielding), the narcissistic extrovert, and Howard Moon (Barratt), the serious, socially awkward jazz obsessive, are comic exaggerations of their own personalities. At the afternoon photo shoot, Fielding breaks free of the hair and make-up lady, sprays most of a can of Elnett on to his Bolan feather-cut and teases it to his satisfaction. Very Vince. “It is an art-life crossover,” says Barratt.

At 40, five years older than Fielding, Barratt exhibits the profound weariness of a man trying to balance a five-month national tour with new-fatherhood. After every Saturday night show he returns home to his 18-month-old twins, Arthur and Walter, and his partner Julia Davis (the creator-star of Nighty Night) and today he was up at 5am pushing a pram on Hampstead Heath before taking the train north to rejoin the Boosh. “I go back so the boys remember who I am. But it’s harder to leave them every time,” he says. “It is totally schizophrenic, totally opposite mental states: all this self-obsession and then them.”

About two nights a week on tour, Fielding doesn’t go to bed, parties through the night and performs the next evening having not slept at all. Barratt often retreats to his room to plough through box sets of The Wire. “It’s a bit gritty, but that is in itself an escape, because what we do is so fantastical.”

But mostly it is hard to resist the instant party provided by a large cast, crew and band. Indeed, drinking with them, it appears Fielding and Barratt are but the most famous members of a close collective of artists, musicians and old mates. Fielding’s brother Michael, who previously worked in a bowling alley, plays Naboo the shaman. “He is late every single day,” complains Noel. “He’s mad and useless, but I’m quite protective of him, quite parental.” Michael is always arguing with Bollo the gorilla, aka Fielding’s best mate, Dave Brown, a graphic artist relieved to remove his costume – “It’s so hot in there I fear I may never father children” – to design the Boosh book. One of the lighting crew worked as male nanny to Barratt’s twins and was in Michael’s class at school: “The first time I met you,” he says to Noel, “you gave me a dead arm.” “You were 9,” Fielding replies. “And you were messing with my stuff.”

This gang aren’t hangers-on but the wellspring of the Boosh’s originality and its strange, homespun, degree-show aesthetic: a character called Mr Susan is made out of chamois leathers, the Hitcher has a giant Polo Mint for an eye. When they need a tour poster they ignore the promoter’s suggestions and call in their old mate, Nige.

Fielding and Barratt met ten years ago at a comedy night in a North London pub. The former had just left Croydon Art College, the latter had dropped out of an American Studies degree at Reading to try stand-up, although he was so terrified at his first gig that he ran off stage and had to be dragged back by the compere.

While superficially different, their childhoods have a common theme: both had artistic, bohemian parents who exercised benign neglect. Fielding’s folks were only 17 when he was born: “They were just kids really. Hippies. Though more into Black Sabbath and Led Zep. There were lots of parties and crazy times. They loved dressing up. And there was a big gap between me and my brother – about nine years – so I was an only child for a long time, hanging out with them, lots of weird stuff going on.

“The great thing about my mum and dad is they let me do anything I wanted as a kid as long as I wasn’t misbehaving. I could eat and go to bed when I liked. I used to spend a lot of time drawing and painting and reading. In my own world, I guess.”

Growing up in Mitcham, South London, his father was a postmaster, while his mother now works for the Home Office. Work was merely the means to fund a good time. “When your dad is into David Bowie, how do you rebel against that? You can’t really. They come to all the gigs. They’ve been in America for the past three weeks. I’m ringing my mum really excited because we’re hanging out with Jim Sheridan, who directed In the Name of the Father, and the Edge from U2, and she said, ‘We’re hanging with Jack White,’ whom they met through a friend of mine. Trumped again!”

Barratt’s father was a Leeds art teacher, his mother an artist later turned businesswoman. “Dad was a bit more strict and academic. Mum would let me do anything I wanted, didn’t mind whether I went to school.” Through his father he became obsessed with Monty Python, went to jazz and Spike Milligan gigs, learnt about sex from his dad’s leatherbound volumes of Penthouse.

Barratt joined bands and assumed he would become a musician (he does all the Boosh’s musical arrangements); Fielding hoped to become an artist (he designed the Boosh book cover and throughout our interview sketches obsessively). Instead they threw their talents into comedy. Barratt: “It is a great means of getting your ideas over instantly.” Fielding: “Yes, it is quite punk in that way.”

Their 1998 Edinburgh Fringe show called The Mighty Boosh was named, obscurely, after a friend’s description of Michael Fielding’s huge childhood Afro: “A mighty bush.” While their double-act banter has an old-fashioned dynamic, redolent of Morecambe and Wise, the show threw in weird characters and a fantasy storyline in which they played a pair of zookeepers. They are very serious about their influences. “Magritte, Rousseau...” says Fielding. “I like Rousseau’s made-up worlds: his jungle has all the things you’d want in a jungle, even though he’d never been in one so it was an imaginary place.”

Eclectic, weird and, crucially, unprepared to compromise their aesthetic sensibilities, it was 2004 before, championed by Steve Coogan’s Baby Cow production company, their first series aired on BBC3. Through repeats and DVD sales the second series, in which the pair have left the zoo and are living above Naboo’s shop, found a bigger audience. Last year the first episode of series three had one million viewers. But perhaps the Boosh’s true breakthrough into mainstream came in June when George Bush visited Belfast and a child presented him with a plant labelled “The Mighty Bush”. Assuming it was a tribute to his greatness, the president proudly displayed it for the cameras, while the rest of Britain tittered.

A Boosh audience these days is quite a mix. In Sheffield the front row is rammed with teenage indie girls, heavy on the eyeliner, who fancy Fielding. But there are children, too: my own sons can recite whole “crimps” (the Boosh’s silly, very English version of rap) word for word. And there are older, respectable types who, when I interview them, all apologise for having such boring jobs. They’re accountants, IT workers, human resources officers and civil servants. But probe deeper and you find ten years ago they excelled at art A level or played in a band, and now puzzle how their lives turned out so square. For them, the Boosh embody their former dreams. And their DIY comedy, shambolic air, the slightly crap costumes, the melding of fantasy with the everyday, feels like something they could still knock up at home.

Indeed, many fans come to gigs in costume. At the Mighty Boosh Festival 15,000 people came dressed up to watch bands and absurdity in a Kent field. And in Sheffield I meet a father-and-son combo dressed as Howard Moon and Bob Fossil – general manager of the zoo – plus a gang of thirty-something parents elaborately attired as Crack Fox, Spirit of Jazz, a granny called Nanageddon, and Amy Housemouse. “I love the Boosh because it’s total escapism,” says Laura Hargreaves, an employment manager dressed as an Electro Fairy. “It’s not all perfect and people these days worry too much that things aren’t perfect. It’s just pure fun.”

But how to retain that appealingly amateur art-school quality now that the Boosh is a mega comedy brand? Noel Fielding is adamant that they haven’t grown cynical, that The Mighty Book of Boosh was a long-term project, not a money-spinner chucked out for Christmas: “There is a lot of heart in what we do,” he says. Barratt adds: “It’s been hard this year to do everything we’ve wanted, to a standard we’re proud of... Which is why we’re worn to shreds.”

Comedy is most powerful in intimate spaces, but the Boosh show, with its huge set, requires major venues. “We’ve lost money every day on the tour,” says Fielding. “The crew and the props and what it costs to take them on the road – it’s ridiculous. Small gigs would lose millions of pounds.”

The live show is a kind of Mighty Boosh panto, with old favourites – Bob Fossil, Bollo, Tony Harrison, etc – coming on to cheers of recognition. But it lacks the escapism to the perfectly conceived world of the TV show. They have told the BBC they don’t want a fourth series: they want a movie. They would also, as with Little Britain USA, like a crack at the States, where they run on BBC America. Clearly the Boosh needs to keep evolving or it will die.

Already other artists are telling Fielding and Barratt to make their money now: “They say this is our time, which is quite frightening.” I recall Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer, who dominated the Nineties with Big Night Out and Shooting Stars. “Yes, they were massive,” says Fielding. “A number one record...” And now Reeves presents Brainiac. “If you have longer-term goals, it’s not scary,” says Barratt. “To me, I’m heading somewhere else – to direct, make films, write stuff – and at the moment it’s all gone mental. I’m sort of enjoying this as an outsider. It was Noel who had this desire to reach more people.”

Indeed, the old cliché that comedy is the new rock’n’roll is closest to being realised in Noel Fielding. Watching him perform the thrash metal numbers in the Boosh live show, he is half ironic comic performer, half frustrated rock god. His heroes weren’t comics but androgynous musicians: Jagger, Bowie, Syd Barrett. (Although he liked Peter Cook’s style and looks.)

“I like clothes and make-up, I like the transformation,” he says. Does it puzzle him that women find this so sexually attractive? “I was reading a book the other day about the New York Dolls and David Johansen was saying that none of them were gay or even bisexual, and that when they started dressing in stilettos and leather pants, women got it straight away with no explanation. But a lot of men had problems. It’s one of those strange things. A man will go, ‘You f***ing queer.’ And you just think, ‘Well, your girlfriend fancies me.’”

The Boosh stopped signing autographs outside stage doors when it started taking two hours a night. At recent book signings up to 1,500 people have shown up, some sleeping overnight in the queue. And on this tour, the Boosh took control of the after-show parties, once run as money-spinners by the promoters, and now show up in person to do DJ slots. I ask if they like to meet their fans, and they laugh nervously.

Fielding: “We have to be behind a fence.”

Barratt: “They try to rip your clothes off your body.”

Fielding: “The other day my girlfriend gave me this ring. And, doing the rock numbers at the end, I held out my hands and the crowd just ripped it off.”

Barratt: “I see it as a thing which is going to go away. A moment when people are really excited about you. And it can’t last.”

He recalls a man in York grabbing him for a photo, saying, “I’d love to be you, it must be so amazing.” And Barratt says he thought, “Yes, it is. But all the while I was trying to duck into this doorway to avoid the next person.” He’s trying to enjoy the Boosh’s moment, knows it will pass, but all the same?

In the hotel bar, a young woman fan has dodged past Danny and comes brazenly over to Fielding. Head cocked attentively like a glossy bird, he chats, signs various items, submits to photos, speaks to her mate on her phone. The rest of the Boosh crew eye her steelily. They know how it will end. “You have five minutes then you go,” hisses one. “I feel really stupid now,” says the girl. It is hard not to squirm at the awful obeisance of fandom. But still she milks the encounter, demands Fielding come outside to meet her friend. When he demurs she is outraged, and Danny intercedes. Fielding returns to his seat slightly unsettled. “What more does she want?” he mutters, reaching for his wine glass. “A skin sample?”

#I hadn't seen this one before so I thought I'd share #noel will never dress down #ah yes the patient boyfriend Julian Barratt

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star-maiden · 4 years ago

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Oracle of November - Healing and Personal Growth

Theme: What is needed for your highest growth and healing?

Hello and welcome! This week we are seeing a bit of a change with my readings! (Don’t worry. I will still do the Tarot Forecast). With everything that has been happening in the world recently, I think many of us are noticing a shift in energy. People are fearful, worried, anxious, angry, and all the shades of feeling that come in between. This week, I was inspired to do this oracle reading focusing on the themes of healing, self care and what we need to focus on to become the best, brightest version of ourselves. I asked Spirit to share messages that we needed to hear at this time to support our highest growth and healing, and in general help us handle everything that is happening in the world in a healthy and supportive way. As with all of my readings for the collective, these messages are meant for a wide range of people, life paths and situations. It is general outlook advice. As such, you may find that not everything resonates with you completely, and that is ok. Please take only what resonates and leave the rest. You will also want to check your sun, moon and rising signs for the message or messages that are meant for you. I sincerely hope that these messages will serve your highest and greatest good, and assist you in making wise, informed decisions. May you be safe and supported at all times!

⭐ Another deviation from my usual modus operandi this week is that instead of my tarot cards, I will be using an oracle deck. This is fairly unusual for me because I tend to only use my oracle deck in private readings for myself or with clients. However, I feel that this particular oracle is best suited to the task of providing us with the messages that will be most supportive at this time. If you guys like the oracle reading, I may start doing a monthly oracle for the collective. Please let me know if you would be interested in seeing that! This deck is the Starseed Oracle by Rebecca Campbell and Danielle Noel.

General Message: The general message for the entire collective at the moment is The Void. Stop. Embrace Winter. The Great Cosmic Womb. The message of this card tells us to surrender to the unknown. Trust that just because we do not have all the answers and cannot see every little thing that is happening beneath the surface, it doesn’t mean that something is not at work. We will all be best served by taking a sacred pause at this time. Rest, replenish and prepare ourselves to move forward in action again when the time is right.

♈ - Aries: The Great Severing. Mars energy. Anger. Conflict. Softening to love. For you this month, Aries, I am sensing that there is a rift that needs to be mended. This may be a conflict with loved ones or acquaintances, or it may be an internal conflict that you have been struggling with. This card is one of shadow work and confronting anything in our lives that make it difficult to feel connected to love, and supported in our work/daily lives. This card is appearing to tell you that it’s ok to feel the way that you do, even if the emotions may seem negative. In order to move away from hurt and anger, we have to go through the experience and process of feeling these things. Whatever is coming up for you, acknowledge it, process your feelings by allowing the experience. It doesn’t make you “weak” or incapable in any capacity, it makes you human. Still, do not feel ashamed of your reaction to difficult emotions. Wanting to hide away, to close your heart off and to protect yourself from further pain is normal. However, when this happens, it’s important for you to acknowledge what is happening and consider the reasons why. Do what you need to do to move through the experience of your emotions. It may be that you need some time for yourself, or that you need to talk to someone you trust, or even that you need to seek professional support. All of this is perfectly ok. Take care of yourself, Aries.

♉ - Taurus: Soul Plan. The Fated Life Vs the Destiny Life. Taurus, right now you need to remember your roots and your strength. What was it about your character, personality or spirit that has carried you so far already? You have wandered away from yourself, and have not been standing in your power. This card is telling you that you have not lost your strength, but rather you have forgotten. Sometimes, when we find ourselves in unfamiliar situations, or on a path to which the destination is unclear, we experience doubt and fear. This is ok to feel, but don’t let it rob you of your agency. You are being called to remember the strength of your soul and the inspiration of your spirit. What can you accomplish when you lead from a place of love, rather than an illusion created by fear?

♊ - Gemini: Messenger. Sirius Energy. Bringing Harmony and Balance. The message for you this month, and the way that you can support your highest growth and healing right now rests in the power of your voice. This is the power of your mind and your words to create and communicate. It may even be that you are not the one in need of healing at this time, but that you are being called to act as a mediator for someone else. The message of this card is that there are certain souls on this planet who are here to spend their lifetimes uplifting the collective energy, and to be the guardians of balance and harmony. Their life path or purpose, in this sense, is to help the collective recognize the connections that tie us together. This includes connections between people, people and the planet, with spirit and the divine. It is possible that you are one of these souls tasked with holding this frequency of pure love. There may be a special calling or work that you feel drawn to, or you could simply be meant to live your life with great love and intention, leading by example. This month, consider how you can create balance in your life? Who does this benefit? How does creating balance take care of you? Be sure not to create this balance at the detriment of your own well being, though.

♋ - Cancer: Loosen Your Grip. Coping Mechanisms. Destiny. Addictions. Let God In. This card is appearing to let you know that there is something, a feeling, habit or idea, that you have been holding onto too tightly. It is likely that you have used this thing as a coping mechanism; as a way to distract yourself from the things that are not going well in your life, or to cover a vulnerable aspect of yourself. This is not supportive for you, and has become a hindrance to your growth and happiness. It is time to let go, and to trust yourself and the experience you are having now. You are strong and capable, and can meet any challenge with grace and ease. Do not let fear tell you otherwise. Call in support if you need to. The oracle book says this: “Loosening your grip doesn’t mean that what you are clinging to will go away. It may. Or it might stay. But you can be sure that what is for you will find you.” Take this time to let go of anything that is not serving you, or that is destructive in any way. Letting go is part of the healthing process.

♌ - Leo: Star Bathing. Light Body. Crystal Grid. Transmission. Activation. I’m hearing a question for you, Leo. Spirit is saying “Where do you shine?”. In what ways do you feel most inspired to show up in the world? In what ways do you feel stifled? This card is asking you to consider what has been going on recently in your life. Is there anything that makes you feel especially drained, or reluctant? If so, it could be that it is not meant for you and needs to be let go. It could also mean that you are spending too much time focusing on outward actions, and not enough time doing things that are meaningful and restorative for you. Evaluate your feelings and energy levels. Take things slow. Is there anything that needs to change?

♍ - Virgo: Earth School. Life Lessons. Soul Growth. Study. Higher Learning. There is something that you need to learn, a karmic lesson perhaps. What has been showing up for you again and again? Virgo, pay attention to any patterns that may appear in your life right now. This is a sign that you need to pay special attention to these areas as it is time to mend them. This card also asks you to consider your perspective on any difficulties that show up in your life right now. You may find them easier to handle if you think of them as opportunities for growth, rather than “getting something wrong”. This month, consider: How are you being called to grow and learn?

♎ - Libra: Earth Pulsing. Pulse of the Mother. Slow Down. Time in Nature. Wow, Libra! Spirit’s message for you came through so clear! This month, you need to focus on self care. If you have recently found yourself in a cycle of “go, go, go” and are feeling a bit tired, then it’s time to rest. It’s time for you to reconnect with nature, with yourself, with the earth energy. When you take time for yourself, you allow for stagnant energy to fall away, and open yourself up to receiving more energies of love and inspiration from the universe.

♏ - Scorpio: You’re not for Everyone. Embrace Your Weirdness. Face Your True North. The message of this card tells you that you shouldn’t try to fit in or conform to anyone’s perception of who you are. Rather, you should focus on being true to yourself, and showing up in the world in a way that makes you happy. Sometimes, this is difficult for others to accept. Most often, it is the people who are closest to us that carry the strongest opinions of who we should be, and it can sometimes result in conflicts and disbelief whenever we uncover a side of ourselves that was previously hidden. Others may not agree with our choices or styles, but this is ok. We need to learn to be ok with each other's differences, and if someone cannot accept you for who you are, then it is a waste of your time and energy to try and convince them otherwise. In life, there will always be people who don’t like you because you don’t fit in the box that they have created to categorize and understand the world around them. This isn’t your fault or problem to fix. For every person that dislikes you, there is also someone else who will love you fiercely and stand up for you should you need it. Seek out these people. Don’t waste your time and gifts trying to make someone else see your worth. If they can’t see it already, it’s their loss.

♐ - Sagittarius: You are Not Alone. Isolation. Physical Connection. Community. With this card, Sagittarius, I am hearing that perhaps you have been spending too much time in your head. You may have withdrawn into yourself to deal with something, or to protect yourself from pain or conflict. In fact, many people find it deeply nourishing and healing to pull back from the buzz of the world, go within and rest. It is a great tool of self care, and a wonderful way to take care of ourselves when we feel overwhelmed. However, we can also spend too much time alone. If we stay withdrawn to the point that we are completely isolated from everything and everyone around us, then this can also be draining and damaging. Right now, it may not be safe for you to venture out and you’ll want to consider your personal health and safety when making decisions. One great tool that we have is technology. If you have been feeling isolated and alone, reach out on social media or to your friends via technology. How can you reach out to the people in your life to feel more supported?

♑ - Capricorn: Forge. Don’t Follow. Be the leader you wish you had. This month, Capricorn, you are being called to heal and mend something that happened in the past. This may be something that happened to you or to someone around you. Pave a new path forward by leading by example. Is there something that occurred in the past that you feel was handled poorly? This could also be in reference to social justice and equity. How can you be a leader in this situation? The book says “the most courageous and needed leaders are the ones who don’t wait for permission, or until they wake up feeling ready. They take a deep breath, put one foot in front of the other, and figure it out as they go.” This is a powerful message. Like Gemini’s message, I’m sensing that it may not be you who needs healing at this time. It may be that you are being called to light the way for someone else. If no one is stepping up to the plate on topics that you are passionate about, then forge your own way. If this is something that you feel very strongly about, then no one else would be able to meet your goal with the same level of skill, passion, experience and unique perspective as you can. How are you being called to lead right now?

♒ - Aquarius: Big Picture Thinking. Pleiades Energy. Visionary. Inspired Ideas. You are being called to bring healing and renewed energy into your life through your creativity and inspiration. Is there an area of your life that feels stagnant and watered down? If so, then it is time to breathe some life back into it; to rekindle your passionate spirit. It is never too late to make changes and to learn new things. Aquarius, you may be the sign that knows this lesson best. What new ideas or creations are you being called to pursue? These ideas may be revolutionary in the sense that they turn the status quo upside down, or they may be of a “big-picture” perspective; designed to create change on a large scale. This card is asking you to dream a new world into being for yourself. To do so, you will need to envision what sort of future you’d like to have, hold this vision and follow it with daily action. Walking this path may take great courage, but it will be worth it in the end.

♓ - Pisces: Child of the Cosmos. The intelligence of the universe lies within you. This month, you are being called to trust yourself. Trust your inner knowing and all the work you have done thus far.The intelligence of Spirit; of the universe and the Divine is within you, just as it is in all living things. It is the part of you that knows the way forward no matter how unclear and uncertain your logical mind becomes. However, because we all live our lives with free will, it can sometimes be hard to recognize the deeper wisdom of our higher selves. We may become disconnected from our intuition, and forget to trust our own sense of knowing. If you have felt lost lately, then this card is a reminder to look within. Trust the voice of your intuition, and let it guide you forward. You are always connected to the source of inner strength, wisdom, flow and power. You just need to remember.

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northern-passage · 3 years ago

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Dunkins first name is Donuts, it makes sense, plus I despise donuts. Anyways, genuine question, what are the R/Os favorite part about hunter, in the crushing stage?

hmmmm...

Noel: xe always initially has a crush on the hunter, mainly because.... they're a hunter. Noel has been on xir own for a while with no other hunters to confide in so when xe first meets the hunter xe has a sudden infatuation with them due to that - though it will fade pretty quickly if the hunter doesn't reciprocate (this is why Noel always flirts with the hunter in the healing scene)

i think xir favorite part about the hunter would be their personality - xe finds an aggressive hunter to be incredibly amusing and endearing, a genuine hunter to be refreshing and sweet, and a stoic hunter to be frustrating but interesting. i think Noel has the... most sincere attraction to the hunter in the beginning out of all of the companions, despite the crush coming from a superficial place.

Clementine: they're wary of the hunter at the start but also very intrigued - living in the south, Clementine never saw hunters up close and personal like this. the initial attraction they feel would definitely be around the ~danger~ aspect, the thrill of romancing a hunter. i think Clementine would be really into the novelty of it, and they pretty quickly try to see how far they can go. there's also the fact that Clementine sees the hunter as someone who can help them and (most importantly) protect them.

their favorite part would be those initial moments either in the tent playing the pandura together or in Blackwater where it's just the two of you and they get to see you let your guard down a bit. they'd have a real sense of satisfaction over being able to get you vulnerable like that and eventually it would change into a genuine affection and happiness over the fact that the hunter feels comfortable around them in that way.

Lea: i don't even think Lea themself knows what they like about the hunter... the hunter is someone they've known for a really long time and have tried to keep at an arm's length and now that they've finally stopped pushing so hard they realize they both have been pretty shitty to each other.

Lea just has a sense of relief over it all & even if the hunter doesn't want to be partners, they're just glad to finally have it all out in the open. in general, there's an ease that comes with talking to the hunter that Lea appreciates, and they're already closer to the hunter than anyone else; that familiarity is really important to them and has potential to develop into something more. Lea also appreciates having someone that challenges them, and that competitiveness definitely has Undertones that can also develop into something more. all of that to say that Lea is the most surprised out of everyone at the realization that they are attracted to the hunter...

Merry: she is very simple... most of her attraction will be physical in the crushing stage. she thinks the hunter is hot and she'll make it known with her flirting - she doesn't plan for anything more than a few romps with them... but it never works out how we plan it.

talking to the hunter about their family and Gael would definitely be the start of actual romantic interest, though she will fight it tooth and nail the entire way. she does feel a connection with them, with her being a criminal/pirate and them being a Hunter - while she would never compare the situation one for one she does feel that there is a similar sense of "I can never go home" that they both share. Merry doesn't talk about her history or the things that happened to her but she sees the hunter as a person who she potentially could talk to and as a person who would actually maybe even understand.

#thank you!!! this was fun to think about #noel lykaon #clementine #lea chen #merry harlowe #ask #oogaboogaoogaboogaooga

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nicknellie · 4 years ago

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Wow, it’s so crazy that Noel Gallagher released a song about Sunset Curve and Julie and the Phantoms! Title and lyrics from We’re On Our Way Now by Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds.

Good Luck In The Afterlife

Remember what might have been,

Had I walked you home,

And said, “I’ll see you later,”

You were living the dream,

But when the morning come,

You’d gone to meet your maker.

Bobby couldn’t count the hours he spent wondering what might have happened if he had stopped to think for just one second. If he had reminded himself that the boys were pretty much clueless if he wasn’t there to knock the occasional bit of common sense into them. If he had thought, just for a moment, that maybe they should have all gone to get the food together.

In every scenario that came to his mind, his boys were still alive. Because if he had gone with them that night instead of staying at the Orpheum, he would have noticed that the street-dogs tasted strange. He would have told them it was a bad idea, made them stop eating them, taken them somewhere else to get food. Maybe he would have had to put up with Luke’s grumbling (“They would have been fine, Bobby, it’s not like we’ve ever got sick from street-dogs before.”) but at least his boys would have been safe. Maybe the pizza they ended up getting, or the burgers, or the cheap takeout wouldn’t have been as familiar as a pre-show ritual, but at least they would have still performed together that night. At least Bobby wouldn’t have had to cancel the show, had to identify his best friends’ bodies, had to go through that painful shift to realise that now he was going it alone.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it. If he had been there things would have been so different. If he had simply walked them there at the very least and said goodbye to them properly. Maybe then he wouldn’t be feeling so guilty, so struck with this devastating grief. At least that way their last memory of him wouldn’t have been him flirting with some girl instead of hanging out with them on the biggest night of their lives.

It had been stuck in his head for days. All those different what-ifs, those wasted potentials, the moments that could have been the best of their lives. It was so unfair – that night had been setting them up for greatness, possibly the most important night of their careers, and it had come crashing down along with Bobby’s entire world. It was all he could think of. They had been so ready, so excited, so full of life, and in a few short hours it had been snuffed out like a candle burning too brightly.

He remembered waking up the morning after, absently wondering if it was some cruel nightmare, but knowing it wasn’t. That night he had slept in the studio, wanting to be close to his boys in any way he could. Waking up there without them wasn’t the same – if anything it just made the loss hurt more. No matter how brightly the sun was streaking through the windows or how happily the birds outside were singing, Bobby couldn’t make himself believe that it would be a happy day. That any day, from then on, could truly be happy.

He kept thinking about it, everything they could have had, to the point where it felt as if he was remembering a past life or an alternate reality. It was like he was drawing memories from another Bobby’s brain, feeling the fame and freedom they would have held together. It was at that moment that he decided he needed to carry on. He needed to do whatever he could to achieve their dreams alone, to make his boys proud. He was sure that they were out there somewhere, watching over him, cheering him on. They could have had everything, and Bobby was determined to get it for them.

Good luck in the afterlife,

I hear the morning sun doesn’t cast no shadow,

You chose to drift away,

But look at you now.

It was Trevor Wilson who left his mansion that day. It was Trevor Wilson who got in his car and gave his chauffeur the directions of where to go. It was Trevor Wilson who climbed out at the destination, head hooded and bowed to avoid recognition. But it was Bobby who sat in the grass in front of the graves of his three best friends, the boys he had loved and never forgotten, and felt tears pricking at his eyes in the bitter breeze.

He knew he didn’t visit their graves as much as he should have. It always hurt, seeing the three of them together when he couldn’t join them himself, knowing that they were completely unreachable. It was the closest he could get but it just made him feel far away. But when he did visit, he spoke to Luke, Alex, and Reggie. He told them about his music career and how he wished they were building it with him, he talked about his new-born daughter Carrie and how she was the best thing that had ever happened to him, he talked about his memories of them and laughed over stories they wouldn’t hear.

But it was alright. If he imagined it hard enough, Bobby could almost hear them laughing along. Like they were listening to him and keeping him company even from far away.

He wondered what they were doing at that moment, if anything. Ever since they had died Bobby had been curious about the afterlife. Was there one at all? Were his boys all together or had they been separated? Was there a heaven and a hell, or just one place where all departed spirits went? Most importantly, were they alright? He didn’t think he could bear it if he ever found out, somehow, that the boys were unhappy. If they couldn’t have their lives then all he wanted for them was happiness.

He found himself wishing them luck sometimes. Good luck for whatever would come their way. He wished that good things would happen to them, that they would all find their happiness, something that made their souls sing the way they had when they were alive. Something that made Alex’s heart beat like his drums, Reggie’s thud like his bass, Luke’s riff like his guitar.

Over time, Bobby had come to terms with their deaths. It had taken years of therapy, learning to accept that he wasn’t to blame, realising that they would never come back and working out how to be okay with that. Now, he saw it less like they had been ripped away from him and more like they had simply flown the nest, their time up, ready to move on. It wasn’t necessarily true, he knew, not when they’d had so much ahead of them, but thinking about it that way helped.

When he spoke to the gravestones, he would imagine how the boys would reply. Whenever he told them about a new song he had released he heard Luke’s enthusiasm as he told him he’d done a great job, Reggie’s excitement and desperation to hear it and jam along on his bass, Alex’s quiet appreciation of the music and the way he would have hummed the tune under his breath for weeks afterwards. When he had first told them about Carrie he imagined the jokes about him getting old because he was the first to have a kid, and each of them holding her with varying levels of terror and adoration on their faces.

Most of all, he imagined them being proud of him. Proud that he had carried on and persevered this long. Proud that he had built a family from the wreckage he’d been left in and got his confidence back. Proud that even if he was Trevor Wilson now, he was still Bobby at heart.

We’re on our way now,

The truth can be so hard to swallow,

Hey now, ‘cos you’ve got the love, you’ve got the love, lady,

I’m worn out, ‘cos with every little trick they try to drag you down,

You don’t know why.

Luke hadn’t slept since the night they had played the Orpheum. Ghosts didn’t necessarily need sleep, but it was possible – Luke hadn’t even bothered trying. He simply couldn’t believe their luck. They’d struck gold and none of it seemed possible. The whole thing, this entire journey they had been on with Julie in the past few weeks felt like a dream and a nightmare, but he never wanted to wake up.

It had been difficult to begin with. It wasn’t the easiest thing, getting to grips with death and being a ghost, especially when he had apparently missed twenty-five whole years of life on Earth, everything moving on without him and his friends. It had put into perspective how much each individual life really meant – the world didn’t stop when a person died, and there was so much that could be missed in such a short time. There had been the empty space he was greeted with whenever he turned to tell Bobby something, the hollow feeling in his heart whenever he thought of his parents, the conflicted feelings he got whenever he thought about the people he had met in death. The whole thing, this monumental transition, had been harder than anything he’d ever done.

But then there was Julie. Julie, who was light a ray of sunshine to light up his darkest days. Julie, who had talent beyond measure and a heart the size of a planet. Julie, who brought him back to life. She had made it so much easier with her love and her reassurance and her strength. The way she made him feel was like nothing he’d ever felt before, and he couldn’t attribute all of it to her power when she made him, Alex, and Reggie visible. His soul sang for her, a leaping melody of rich highs and gentle lows, composed for her by him. Without her, he wouldn’t have been nearly as happy as he was.

Although he missed Bobby and performing as Sunset Curve, he was glad he got this second chance as part of Julie and the Phantoms. This really felt like their big break, like they were finally on their way to achieving their greatness. In a way, everything would start to feel complete once they put themselves out there and rose to great heights. Bobby had made a name for himself, and it was time for the rest of Sunset Curve to join him, along with one incredibly talented girl who Luke would risk it all for.

But all that didn’t mean he wasn’t frightened. If anything he was even more scared. Now they had so much more to lose – each other and their second chance. He wasn’t sure they’d get a third.

There was only one person that really had a chance of ruining it all again, getting in their way. Caleb. Luke hadn’t seen him since that night and he was glad of it, but also wary. They had no idea where Caleb was, what he was planning, how he was going to get back at them this time. Caleb Covington didn’t seem like the type of ghost who knew when to leave an issue alone. Luke was sure that he would be back.

All that confused him was the fact that Caleb had never really explained why he wanted the boys as part of his band. It seemed like very extreme lengths to go to just because they were good musicians. It made him wonder if he, Alex, Reggie, and Julie had some untapped well of power deep inside each of them. If they did, and if they could harness that strength before Caleb could get to them then Luke was certain that their futures as legends would be cemented. As they deserved.

Good luck in the afterlife,

I hear the morning sun doesn’t cast no shadow,

You chose to drift away,

But look at you now.

Julie thought about her mother a lot. She knew that Rose was looking down on her, that much was certain. If she hadn’t been, then Julie would still be locked away, trapped by her grief, struggling to face each day as it came. She wouldn’t have had the boys, she wouldn’t have been playing music, she would have been quiet and empty still like she had been for so long.

It was Rose she had to thank. When she was alive, Rose would always build Julie up, tell her how much she was worth, that she was loved unconditionally and forever. Julie had thought that would all go away when she passed, but Rose – in her wisdom – had found a way to Julie still. She had carried on sending those messages and signs, showing Julie she loved her rather than telling her, urging her to carry on and be the star she was meant to be.

In return, Julie tried to find ways to thank Rose. She would talk to her because she was certain that she could hear. She would sing for her because Rose had always adored Julie’s voice. She would wear Rose’s old clothes, decorate rooms with dahlias and butterflies, sing along to the songs they had loved to duet while leaving Rose’s part free as if she would sing along too. It wasn’t a lot, but Julie knew that her mother would see it as enough. Julie’s private, quiet ways of honouring her mother would always be worth more than anything.

Sometimes, when she felt pensive, Julie would let herself think about how far she had come. She would stop being modest, just for a minute or two, and admit that she was strong, she was powerful, she was talented, and she deserved every good thing she had got. Julie hated thinking about the darkness she had been stuck in for so long, but when she thought about how she had created her own light and pulled herself out she felt nothing but pride. When she thought about what she was creating with the boys, she felt joy. When she thought about Rose, she felt a pleasant contentedness, knowing she was still there, rather than that damned hollow feeling she’d held for so long.

She could imagine how Rose would have reacted if she had still been there. After the performance at the Orpheum, Rose would have rushed backstage even if she wasn’t allowed, swept Julie up in her arms, twirled her around with a delighted laugh and told her that she was magnificent. She would have been so proud, Julie knew, so Julie felt that pride for herself.

“Look at you,” Rose would have said, straightening Julie’s jacket or running a gentle thumb across her cheek. “You’ve done so well, my little butterfly. You’re a star.”

She would have worked on songs with Julie, sang with her, prepared and supported her for her next gigs with the band. Just thinking of it made Julie realise that she had to do that herself, but it was alright. She could be her own cheerleader – her mother had taught her well and she could see that she had come a long way and deserved to be recognised for it. Besides, she had her dad, brother, and aunt there to remind her of it, as well as Flynn, Luke, Reggie, and Alex.

It wasn’t the same as having Rose, not really. Nothing ever would be. But the feelings Rose gave her would never go away – the confidence, the giddy joy, the focus, the feeling that everything would be alright eventually. Rose and her signs made sure Julie knew that. Julie schooled herself, made sure that she knew it no matter what. She always knew how far she had come and she was nothing less than proud.

Taglist (if you want to be added or removed just let me know): @ace-bookworm @williexmercer @willex-owns-my-heart @itstiger720 @the-reckless-and-the-brave @that-one-newsie @bluedarkness @lookingthroughmirrors @tmp-jatp @salty-star @julieandthequeers @lmaohuh @sunnysbright

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miraculous-rewrite · 4 years ago

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Miraculous Rewrite- Father Knows Best

It’s been four seasons, it’s time to meet Nino’s father

We open on The Base, specifically on Kagami charging forward with an attack, training sword held aloft. It clatters against a training shield, held by, of course, Nino.

“Look at Nino’s form here.” Kagami huffs between strikes. “He’s only got a shield in battle; he has no offensive weapon, therefore his best move against an offensive opponent is to wait for them to tire themselves out.”

“It ain’t my only option, but this thing can only BE used as an offense at a distance.” Nino chimes in. “‘It’s not the weapon it’s how you use it’ is great and all but if you don’t wanna acknowledge that certain weapons need different strategies you’re gonna end up up a creek without a paddle because you tried to turn a shield into a sword...heh…” Nino jolts his arm and forces Kagamiu to back up. “Watch.” He charges forward now, the shield positioned to be used as a sort of battering ram. Kagami swings her sword low and sweeps his feet out from under him.

“Wonderful demonstration Lahiffe.” Kagami huffs as she aims the sword to his nose. “Some of our friends have less than obvious weapons, and your input has been appreciated.”

“Anytime Dudette.” Kagami wrinkles her nose at the term but helps him up. “So, any questions?”

We cut away to see, who else, the team newbies, Alix, Max, and Kim.

“Uh yeah.” Alix raises her hand. “I get that you guys are like… really not wanting us to have to learn on the job or anything , but this is getting old.”

“I mean we DID take on that dolphin guy, even if He messed with our memories-” Kim adds on “Are we really sure The Old Order is all that? Scorpion is a nightmare sure, but his friends haven’t been all that dangerous-”

An off screen clatter startles the lot of them, and Nino peers over the lot of them to the computer setup to see Chloe grabbing Luka’s upper arm, she seems to be speaking quietly to him.

“Uhhhh… I’m gonna go, you don’t need me anymore Right ‘Gami?”

“Don’t call me that… But no.” Nino salutes her and heads over to the two by the computers.

“You guys doing okay?”

“We’re fine Lahiffe.” Chloe snipes, but after a pause sighs. “Nino- sorry. Nino.”

“Do you guys need to head off? I can make up an excuse so it wouldn't be weird and I need to go pick up Noel from daycare anyway-”

“We’ll be okay Nino.” Luka smiles. “I guess some things are just kinda setting me off without realizing it. Chloe’s got my back though.” He puts a hand on Chloe’s shoulder, who coughs and pointedly looks away.

Nino glances between the two of them, his gears turning. “Yeah! I get ya. But like dude, I know I’m younger than you, and Chloe I know we’ve only ever been friends because of Adrien, but if either of you guys need me to go full Big brother Mode, I can definitely do that for you guys.”

Chloe and Luka share a look, before Chloe whispers something in Luka’s ear. The older teen nods, and Nino looks pleased for a moment, before Luka’s reaching forward in order to tug Nino’s hat over his eyes, and the Turtle holder squacks in surprise.

“If we need help, we know who to turn to, Nino. Go pick up your brother, we’d hate to keep you waiting.” Luka assures him just as the hat is tugged up back into place, and he makes a gentle shooing gesture towards the door. “Tell Noel we said hi, alright?”

Nino huffs at the two and waves off the message before overdramatically storming off, smiling to himself when he hears laughter at his antics.

“Nino, might I ask why You’re always so content in allowing the others to think you less aware than you are?” Wayzz zips down from the Kwami hangout space to tuck himself under his hat once more.

“Wayzz, my dude, we need levity right now. Adrien can’t do it consistently because he’s just doing it to not have a breakdown, so it’s up to me.”

“It doesn’t HAVE to be-”

They’re both cut off by the clatter of the door opening, this time to Alya, she’s in the middle of tearing a page out of her notebook and making a beeline for the Plan Wall. “Oh boy… Babe- Babe put down the notebook-”

Nino trails after Alya, and now we get a good look at her, she still looks tired, but less from lack of sleep and more from sheer stress, her hairs the kind of mess where you think she didn’t even brush it today.

“Alya. Babe.” He grabs her shoulders and pulls her off the wall. “What’s up?”

“I spotted Scorpion with two more Miraculous wielders downtown, neither of them were the Dolphin OR the Macaw. There’s another two wielders we haven’t seen yet, they’re lying low and they’re waiting to strike us and I need to put that down on the board so we know what to expect and-”

“Okay, okay you can put that down. Team Bad Guy is..Seven people now? Okay, easy. We’ve still got like four people on them. But you’re not stewing over the weekend again. Write it down, and then come with me-”

“But I still need to-!” For a moment Nino’s calm expression turns to a more stern look and Alya, more stunned than cowed responds with a quick ‘sure…’ So she writes that down quickly and waves slightly at the others before letting Nino drag her off.

“Okay babe, you’ve been going crazy since the whole ‘Hawkmoth is Adrien’s old man’ thing got blown. And I can deal with my best bud being all shaken up about it, at least he’s got like, Felix and Kagami and Marinette. But You’ve got me. So What’s the deal?”

Alya huffs before looking off to the side. “It’s just…! This is what I've been doing since I first became a Secret Keeper! I’m the one who put the pieces together! The one who investigates! I had suspicions about Gabriel Agreste being Hawkmoth BEFORE anyone else did! And I STILL wasn’t ready to be right about it!”

She gestures vaguely back at the main room of the base as they climb into the elevator. “I’m The one who had the theories! The one who had the answers! I have to KEEP having the answers or-!” She runs a hand through her hair.

“Or…?”

“Or Marinette only put her trust in me in the first place because I was her friend. If I don’t have anything to OFFER beyond handling Trixx then...” she huffs and puts her head on Nino’s shoulder. “Then there wasn’t anything about me worth being a superhero beyond the people I made friends with when I first got here.”

Nino puts his arm around her shoulders and leans his head against hers. “Babe, you’re great at wielding three different Miraculouses, You were gonna be the next Black Cat if Adrien hadn’t been awesome and re-earned Plagg. You’re a GREAT Lady Temp. And you were the first of us to be offered to be your own hero in the first place!”

The two begin to walk through the streets, Nino clearly doing his best moral support possible as they veer through Paris and come to the daycare place, the same building as his kindergarten, but a different room.

“Hey Mme Lemark! ‘S Noel ready?”

The teacher looks surprised at him. “Nino! Noel’s already on his way home, your father came in to pick him up, didn’t he tell you?”

There’s a long pause.

“Ma’am, my parents are divorced, and my mom had a “no unsupervised contact” clause.”

The teacher looks surprised and holds out a ‘one moment’ type gesture before hurrying to the school office, but Nino isn’t waiting for that shit, he turns on his heel and darts out, leaving Alya to follow behind.

“I’ve never pried before, Nino, but what exactly is your parents’ well, y’know?” Alya asks as the two run down the familiar path to the Lahiffe household.

Nino hesitates for a moment, before answering. “Mom and Dad were ‘happily’ married when they had me, Dad started seeing other women behind Mom’s back, tried to smooth it out by having Noel, and fell back into his old habits twice as bad as before. He liked that Mom worked, since it meant he didn’t need to, and barely cared about the kids he had.” There was a brief moment of bitterness in the last statement, but he carried on. “Mom divorced him just before the last year of college, and the current status is he gets visitation in the contact centre only for the first two years, just to make sure he got his act together, before we might get exposed to his behavior.”

“So you think your dad tried to use the fact that we’re close to two years as a way to take Noel?”

Nino laughed, stopping in front of the door and pushing it open. “No, Alya. That would imply he didn’t want my mom to marry him again. They’re here.”

Nino takes a breath and tightens his cap on his head before striding into their apartment, and sure enough There’s M. Lahiffe, he’s sitting on the couch in the living room, the Television’s on some sitcom, and Noel is sitting uncomfortably close to him playing a game on a tablet.

“...Pop.” Nino grits out. M. Lahiffe startles and turns around and… oof unfortunately he and Nino look quite a lot alike, he’s wearing a too big suit that rumples strangely as he stands. Noel turns in a snap and drops the tablet racing off the couch even as M. Lahiffe scrambles to catch him and collides with Nino’s legs. He wraps his arm around him and buries his face in his pants.

“Hey little man-” Nino reaches down and puts a hand on Noel’s head. “You doing okay?”

“He told Mme Lamarke that it was his turn with us-” Noel mumbles against Nino’s pant leg.

“Hey!” M. Lahiffe growls and Noel flinches. “I wasn’t lying to her Noel, don’t tell your brother lies!”

“I’m aware that it was two years visitation in the contact centre.” Nino interjects immediately, eyes focused on his dad. “That’s the last year of college,” M. Lahiffe looks away first, “and the first year of lycee, which I’m still in. You don’t have permission to see us unsupervised yet. And we all know Mom’s still working until after supper.”

“It’s close enough. You two need to get used to this again, and I’m not letting your mother pretend like you’re mature enough to raise Noel while she’s working. You two still need a strong man in your lives.”

“Oh, like you?” Nino’s gone full Feral mode now, voice low and dangerous, Noel’s clinging to his pant leg even tighter and even Alya looks about to take a step back. “As if you EVER had anything to do with us past sneering at report cards and telling either of us how much BETTER life was before I was born and ruined it. That’s why you liked Malika so much, right? No Baggage?”

“Malika-?” Alya states quietly but it seems like she’s not heard.

“No wait that was Layanna, you liked Malika BECAUSE she had kids of her own but they were still in the ‘cute baby’ phase.” Nino huffs, all fake casualness.

“Hold on boy-” M. Lahiffe takes a step forward, but Nino bends down to grab Noel and lift him onto his hip.

“Legally, I can call the cops on you since you're violating custody laws to this extent and thus endangering myself and Noel, both of us Minors, but I’d rather just have this over with, so maybe you should just leave.”

“Don’t you want the family to be whole again?”

“Maybe one day it will be.” M. Lahiffe perks up. “I think my mom’s been digging the barista down the street, he treats her nice.” At the glare that was suddenly sent his way Nino straightens his back, glares upward defiantly and basically goes full Carapace mode.

“Get the hell out of my house, Pardon my English, Noel.”

“What sort of son is willing to just throw his father out in the cold like that? You think if I didn’t care about you I'd have kept this thing all these years?” His father undoes his blazer and pulls out his tie, and sure enough there’s a tie tack on the end with a shoddily made shrinky dink attached.

“YOU didn’t keep that. MOM did, and you put it in ‘your box’ when she told you to pack your shit up. Leave.”

M. Lahiffe is about to approach them again, but this time Alya cuts in. Grabbing his wrist and with all that Rena Rouge strength guides him toward the door. “Nice to meet you M. Lahiffe, glad to finally know Nino’s entire family, now get bent.”

She slams the door the second he’s through the threshold and locks it.

“We should probably call your mom and leave a message so she knows when she gets home and can prepare… do you think this validates a restraining order-?” she turns and Nino hasn’t moved.

Noel, however, has both his hands on Nino’s cheeks, practically dragging his brother’s gaze down to his. “Nino, it’s ok. He doesn’t have a key. We’re okay.”

There’s a beat of silence, before Nino slowly reaches up, still supporting his brother with his other arm, pressing the palm of his free hand against Noel’s own cheek, and the brothers smile.

Alya looks back to the door and humms. “Well… that certainly happened, Who wants sandwiches? You guys got Peanut butter and jelly here?”

The scene shifts with the dialogue “-Of course these pretentious french and their overly fancy dishware! When I was a girl our only expensive things were purely for decoration! What’s the point in having something so expensive and fragile it cannot be used?!” Wu Lian is rambling through Tsering Wan’s spear extension.

“When we were children automobiles had only barely been invented A-Lian.” He responds, surprisingly lightly. “Times change, as too do traditions over the years. Especially for these ever flighty Europeans.”

“UGH I’m sure you’re right Tsering, but STILL! We were going to clean them!”

“Just play nice for a bit longer, Great Healer. Gabriel Agreste is not our intended target.”

“....Ugh how dare you buy my calm with flattery…. Very well Mighty Warrior.” Tsering Wan coughs and takes his eyes from the screen to look away. “But the longer we must deal with this one fool the less worth it Miss Sancour becomes.”

“Imagine dealing with them for months on end.” Wu Lian gave an audible shudder at that.

“How did you ever manage?” But before this can continue something breaks up the noise. Tsering Wan quickly ends the call and re-caps his spear, shifting it to the knife mode and sheathing it for stealth.

Creeping to investigate what caught his attention, he peers around the corner of where he was hiding behind on the rooftop and-

There’s the little bee, doing patrols all by her lonesome. Scorpion snarls, muttering out loud to himself. “She flutters by without a care while her wily sister hides like a coward… I wonder how much she’d have to scream before she calls for help from the Little Tiger…”

Tsering Wan takes the spear back out and is about to approach-

“Master Wan!” he’s interrupted by a stage whisper.

Tsering wan turns and is sure enough greeted by Sun Min. Sun Min looks excited, holding out his own weapon--a pair of brass knuckles-with a small screen slid out between his left ring and pointer knuckles.

“Miss Sancour’s going to do a solo Akuma, would you like to join us to pass judgement?”

“I already know how Miss Sancour works as Monarcha Sun Min.” he hisses out, clearly barely keeping composure. Sun Min blinks.

“Oh, right! So you do! Can’t believe I forgot you’ve been here the longest.”

“Do the others find it necessary I attend?”

“No…? But I mean, I’m pretty sure Master Zhao Kai wants you there. But he always wants you present for stuff, he really respects you!”

“Tell them if they don’t need me they won’t get me. I’m busy.”

“....Busy spying on a teenage girl?”

“Busy planning on how to use her to draw out her sister!”

“Who is also a teenage girl.”

“Sun Min, leave me be-”

“You know I’m not super comfortable with you daydreaming about torturing and murdering teenagers. I mean I’m already not sure if I’ll be okay if we decide ‘child murder is fine’ on its own but feeding into your revenge complex to do it is really skeeving me out. We’re supposed to be the good guys here, ya know?”

In a quick Move Tsering wan grabs Sun Min’s wrist and flips him so he’s pinned against the wall. “Your arrogance blinds you child. Do not forget who trained YOUR master. You may have the Kwami of Justice but you are in no way anything more than just as biased as the rest of us. Do not judge another man’s heart without knowing your own.”

“Fine! Fine! Geez! I’ll stop asking!” Once Tsering Wan is off of him, Sun Min looks off to the side, and then grabs his wrist. “You really might wanna clean up the act if we ever have to go public though, people will start thinking you’re a supervillain with all the dark clothes and choosing violence.”

Tsering Wan wrenches his wrist away and Sun Min raises his hands in surrender before turning and walking off. “Fair, fair. I’ll go see how Miss Sancour makes her Champions without you. Enjoy salivating over a teenager with thoughts of bloodlust.”

Sun Min jumps off the rooftop, de-transforming just as he hits the ground, and hears a roar of frustration from the Order’s strongest warrior as the Bee has vanished by now, and pulls out his cellphone.

“Hey Yun Eun-Ji, I didn’t wake you did I? No? Good. Sooooooo first off thanks for telling me about the whole ‘signing to activate our powers’ thing, That’s why you’re in the scholar circle, to be smart FOR me…” A laugh can be heard over the phone, and Sun Min joins in with the laughter. “But yeah I took a good peek in on Master Wan and… Did you know the Order before the war told people to not handle the Scorpion for more than about a day because it’s a very difficult Miraculous to control and can warp its user if going unchecked?”

The voice is faint, given it’s over the phone, but clear and definitely feminine. “Oh, so that’s why Master Wan is like that?”

“Don’t let any of the upper ranks hear you talk like that, but… yeah probably.”

“So… are you going to bring that up to the others?”

“Hell no! I could get thrown out of the Order for questioning one of the Older Council’s stability like that!” Sun Min pauses. “But it does make me curious about our ‘enemies’”

“When are you gonna get let out to play?” Yun Eun-Ji questions. “I’d suggest, though I’m certain you’ve already got the same thought, to grab one of their leaders?”

“Great minds think alike A-Yun! And I can hear the eyeroll, hush. But yeah, I was gonna aim for either the leaders…. Or the one that pissed off Master Wan the most.”

We cut on that note to not the one that angered a Scorpion, but the sister, as she heads back home and is interrupted by a text.

Alya: Hey, I don’t know how to say this gently, but you’ve been dealing with the start of a divorce and all… Nino’s dad just showed up and practically broke visitation orders.

Amber: Omw

Amber:.......What’s Nino’s address again?

Alya: orz

Amber pockets her phone and heads off. About a block away from her apartment she sees a tall thin man on the street corner, and getting closer it seems as though he looks quite a lot like Nino. Amber of course puts the pieces together quickly and stiffly walks past him.

“Hey-” The man stops her with a hand on her shoulder. “You look familiar. You were in my boy’s class during primary, weren’t you?”

Amber is… not okay. You can see the absolutely rancid vibes she’s sensing off of this guy. “Uhhh no, I just moved her from New York last year, so you might have me confused with my sister.”

“Huh.. maybe… Hope you're not a bitch like her-” He paused “Sorry, Not a Bad Person like her, if you see my boy Nino, tell him his Pop was lookin out for him, huh?”

Amber, pointedly NOT going to fight a man in the middle of the street, nods stiffly before she’s let go, and enters the apartment complex Nino’s family lives in.

We cut instantly to the living room as Amber flops down on the couch. “-So yeah you’re dad’s a jerk.”

“Didn’t need to tell me.” Nino responds easily, he’s sitting on the floor with a still somewhat shaken Noel sitting in his lap, Alya leaning on his side. “He’s been like that for as long as i can remember.”

“So what are our options Amber?” Alya speaks up, pulling out--and Nino groans when he sees this--her notebook.

“Well, he’s certainly not gonna get better claims on custody after this whole thing, and you guys have got at least one teacher who can confirm he broke visitation. He still wants your mom back, which means he’s unlikely to DO anything particularly damning in a court of law though so I’m not sure if that’ll be enough to get him banned from visitation entirely.”

Alya’s rapidly taking notes. “What about a restraining order? He took Noel under false pretenses that’s technically kidnapping.”

“If Nino called the cops on him it would have been. No one blames you for not doing so Nino, but it does mean that your mom would have to go through a lot more hoops to get a restraining order on him.”

“She doesn’t have the time for that shi-” Nino huffs. “That stuff.”

“Fair enough. Unfortunately unless he pulls something like this again there’s nothing we can do on a legal level, But Noel’s testimony of this event will definitely be key during the hearing process. God knows how many hearings I had to sit through while Mother was trying to keep me and Chloe-”

Nino clutches Noel a little tighter, something Alya notices and steps in. “But! It’s not likely he’ll be needed at all right? Since His dad is still plenty horrible?”

“Actually they’d need to go over everything so yeah he’ll probably be called on-!” Amber is cut off with a sharp elbow. “....Oh! Yeah uh… Noel’s got nothing to worry about!”

A window crashes inward.

“Dammit, every time.” Amber grumbles.

“Boys-” who else would it be? M. Lahiffe, All Akuma’d up and charged, raring to go. “It’s time to bring things back to how they were, Father Knows Best shall restore our family!” He looks as though he were made of porcelain, like a perfect little doll, his suit now perfectly tailored and the tie tac he’d shown off earlier large and plastic.

“‘S a bit of a mouthful for an akuma name-” Amber huffs. “You sure you don’t wanna workshop that?”

“Yes I’m sure you ingrate!” Father Knows Best snaps at her, Amber and Alya shuffle up quickly to stand between him and Nino and Noel. “Stand aside girls, I’m not interested in adopting more children.”

“Well you’re sure as hell not getting your hands on THESE children!” Alya pulls up a defensive position. “Nino, Noel, get to the hospital, warn your mom. We’ll take care of this guy!”

Nino lifts Noel and gets to his feet. “This is on me Alya. My father, my fight. I can take him. YOU take Noel and warn my mom.”

“No offense Nino, but I’m not interested in your ‘ignoring your own mental health to take care of others’ martyrdom shit right now!”

“Okay that’s enough arguing.” Amber cuts in. “I’m just gonna fight this guy now.”

“Couldn’t agree more blondie.” Father Knows Best responds, charging for Amber as she rushes toward him. They grapple quickly and Amber despite her smaller size and weight is able to go toe to toe pretty easily.

Nino and Alya unfortunately are still arguing on who should take Noel and who should back up Amber. Which of course means Amber gets overpowered in the time spent and thrown off to the side.

“Now, On to my two favorite boys!” Father Knows Best chirps. “Noel buddy, you remember that zoo we always went to? You used to make little flappy hands at all the birds!”

Noel, who was like three during said visits, cringes away and buries his head in Nino’s shoulder.

“Go Nino! Now!”

Alya throws out her hand and this time Nino agrees, clutching Noel tighter and running.

“You stay out of this girl! You think you’re getting my approval for dating my son after something like that?!”

“Don’t need it! I only needed his mom’s approval! Because she’s the one who mattered!” Clearly using the classic ‘bait the akuma into a rage’ trick. But surprisingly, this time it fails. He huffs and turns around, waving a hand and heading for the widow.

“Whatever, I don’t need a teenager’s approval. I have a wife to woo.”

Alya makes a charge after him but he’s gone by the time she reaches the shattered window.

“Well… that’s troubling. Hey Amber?”

We cut quickly to Amber whose laying on the ground where she’d fallen with her phone out. “Already on it.”

BuzzBuzz - Akuma alert, Nino’s deadbeat dad.

FoxxyLady - Seems to not be in agreement with the divorce, mentioned trying to “woo his wife”

Bugaboo - Is Nino alright?

FoxxyLady - Nino and Noel are heading towards the hospital, they were gonna try and cut off the dad, but no idea if they’ll make it.

Bugaboo - So likely no Carapace unless he gets Noel somewhere safe first. I’m guessing you two are gonna tail the akuma.

BuzzBuzz - We can get eyes back on him easily

Jabberwocky - I can make it

DragonLady - You most certainly will not

Jabberwocky - WHAT BETTER TRAINING THAN ON THE JOB

DragonLady - No.

MonkeeSee - D’ya know the ability yet? Might be good to have a canceler on hand…

DragonLady - [squinty-eyed emoji]

DragonLady - …..So this is why the Old Order killed you first in the doomed timeline

Monkeesee - wut

DragonLady - Alix, you and Max will continue training, I’ll fetch Luka to watch you both. I��ll join Kim and Marinette.

Pawesome - Christ every time i pull away to do something without my damn phone on hand something happens.

Pawesome - I’m coming btw I’ve always wanted to punch Nino’s shitty dad in the face

We end on Adrien, apparently just pulling away from learning how to make Stir fry with Uncle Micheal to pocket his phone, citing a friend emergency and booking it. Transforming the second he could and darting into the streets.

Chat Noir is joined quickly by two girls dressed in red, Ladybug quickly taking point and him falling to her right hand. Bouncing with his monkey agility, not in formation but still in the group, Roi Singe is on their heels.

“Hey Ryuuko?” Roi Singe shouts as he hops through the air.

“Yes?”

“Did the Old Order really kill me first in the Bad Timeline? Or did you just say that to try and get me to take back volunteering to come?”

“Not an appropriate conversation pre-battle, we’ll talk more later.”

“....Huh… You know I didn’t think I was that important to the team- Is it just because of Uproar?”

“Roi!” Ladybug cuts in, now looking rather aggravated herself. “Please focus.”

“Right, sorry!”

Sure enough that small headstart was all they needed to outrun the Akuma. Nino and Noel reach the hospital with ease and immediately rush in. “I need to speak to Nurse Lahiffe! It’s an emergency!”

Thankfully it seems like the receptionist knows him. “Kid, what’s going on are ya hurt? Is Noel Hurt?”

“Our father got akumatized and he’s after her!” The receptionist goes a bit pale and escorts the two of them further inside.

Sure enough just as the boys vanish around the corridor, Father Knows Best breaks down the doors.

“This is a place of healing, so I’ll be polite. Take me to Monika.”

“Monika…? Not familiar with that name… I like, JUST got this job.” The receptionist chuckles nervously “Still getting used to everyone here!”

“Make an announcement. ‘Monika Lahiffe to the front lobby, the love of your life is waiting’” He recites with a finger waggle. “Come on, Do it.”

“Oh? Not interested? Well… I suppose I could use a little sister. Someone to babysit the boys-” he swipes at his tie tac and a second tac is made in his hand. The receptionist moves to run but he grabs her arm and forces her to stay. “Now now, little sister, who would run from their beloved big brother?”

He pinned the tie tac into her hair like a barrette and the magic slips around the receptionist, making her skin shiny like porcelain and little blush marks appear on her cheeks, her nurse scrubs turning into a light blue checkered overall dress and white blouse, and her hair going up into high pigtails.

“But I don’t wanna!” The receptionist stomps her foot “You can’t tell me what to do Big brother!”

“You will or I’m gonna wrastle you little sister!”The receptionist huffs and sits back down in her chair. “Monika Lahiffe to the front office, your true love or whatever is waiting blah blah blah gross stuff please come before he starts looking for you.” all rattled off in a bored voice. After which we cut directly to the Lahiffe family and where they are currently hiding, some sort of undisclosed office.

“Stay quiet boys, if we can just keep calm we’ll probably buy enough time for Team Miraculous to get here.” Monika Lahiffe huffs, peeking out the door just a crack. “It’s okay Noel, No need to be scared. He’s not gonna lay a single hand on anyone in this family.” Noel is still clutching to Nino, and even though he WAS an Akuma before, and he’s been hunted by an Akuma before, this is different. He’s quietly crying into Nino’s shoulder.

“It’s time to stop running Monika…” Monika huffs to herself. “Nino Sweetie, keep an eye on your brother, I’m going to go see if I can get him out of the hospital, away from the patients.”

“Mom no, that’s an Akuma out there! And He’s obsessed with getting you back!”

“All the more reason I should make sure he’ll leave if he gets what he wants. If anything I can probably lure him away.”

“Mom!”

“Just stay here sweetie. The heroes will be here soon and I’m not letting you or Noel get hurt anymore by that man.”

“Well I don’t want you to get hurt either!”

“I’ll be okay Nino-”

“STOP SAYING THAT!” Noel flinches in Nino’s grip at his shout. “Stop pretending like you’re okay when you’re always tired from shifts and you’re always sad but you pretend you’re not for mine and Noel’s sake! I can see you’re not okay Mom! Please! For ONCE protect yourself! This isn’t gonna help! You’re not gonna get closure from that asshole! You’re just gonna get hurt again!”

“Nino, what other choice do we have? If a fight erupts with the heroes here people will get hurt!”

Nino huffs, looks to the side and puts Noel down on a chair. “You might wanna see this dude.” stated quietly to a sniffling Noel.

“....Wayzz Transform me.”

“I Didn’t want to tell you, I thought it would just make you MORE stressed out, but I think… we all kinda do this in this family… pretending we’re okay to help everyone else, but I don’t think it’s very healthy.” Carapace admits once the shocked silence fades. “Mom, I’m Gonna go out and fight the Akuma. I’ll draw him out of the hospital so he won’t hurt anybody. But please. PLEASE. Be safe.”

“Nino…”

“That bastard isn’t laying a hand on anyone in this family again.” Carapace unsheathes the shield and vanishes behind the door with a ‘click.’

We cut back to the lobby, Father Knows Best is sitting in one of the waiting room chairs, looking bored.

“This is taking too long, I’m going to find them!”

“Fine, have fun bro.”

“I will thank you little siste-!” a flute spins through the air before nailing him in the head.

“Really Rena? That’s like the fourth time.” Bellflower chimes in.

“It’s a valuable move!” Bellflower rolls her eyes but Rena’s enthusiasm doesn’t fade. “Hey Scuzzball! This is a place of healing, don’t use it to stalk your ex wife!”

“Oh great… Little Sister do you mind? We might need more siblings for this.”

“Whatever.” The receptionist gets up and stretches. “Why not adopt one of ‘em?”

“Oh! Good idea Little Sister! I could use a Long Lost Hero Daughter!”

“Sorry I’ve already got parents.”

“My dad is actually pretty okay, not in the market for a new one.”

Bellflower goes low, Rena Rogue goes high-

And we cut away to the rest of the episode’s team arriving at the hospital.

“Okay everyone get ready.” Ladybug spins her yoyo. “We’re gonna need to go extraction team, we gotta get him away from innocents first.”

Chat Noir kicks down the door and Ladybug darts in on point, just in the nick of time too, as Father knows best is hovering over Bellflower with another spare tie tac in his hand. He’s just about to pin it onto her suit when Ladybug’s yoyo darts through the air and wraps around his wrist, pulling him downward. “Ah! You ungrateful-!” He turns to see Ladybug and Chat Noir. “Ahhhh you two are the ones they’re always talking about.”

Bellflower takes the opportunity to get out of that position, but just as she goes to run what looks to be an army of former nurses grabs hold of her and restrains her.

“Ladybug! He got Rena!” She kicks harshly at the one holding her and sure enough it vanishes into orange smoke.

“What?!” Ladybug leans in before, once again, a flute goes hurtling through the air, this time at Ladybug, who actually catches it.

“Rena…?” Stepping out of the shadows is a little doll not unlike the receptionist, but with yellow foxlike eyes and her pigtails hiding long fox ears.

“Papa, she took my flute!”

Rena approaches Father Knows Best and tugs on his suit jacket. “Papa!”

“I know dear, I’ll get it back for you. Go find your brothers for me?”

“Hmmm okay.” Rena spins around and moves to leave when Ryuuko slides between her and the door.

“I will be your opponent Rena Rouge.”

“What?! No fair I don’t have a weapon!”

“You should have considered that before you threw it at Ladybug.”

The Mirage army, though unstable, has sheer numbers on their side, and are keeping Roi Singe and Ladybug occupied. Meanwhile Bellflower and Chat Noir are going after Father Knows Best.

He’s surprisingly agile for a crusty bastard and it’s difficult to pin him down.

Until of course, the whir of a discus being thrown rips through the air and clobbers him against his back, Carapace’s shield bouncing and returning to his grip.

“I can’t BELIEVE this man had so much power for so long.” He mutters, looking around at his minions.

“He just wants to play dollhouse with us and leave whenever it gets difficult...Hey!” Father Knows Best turns to Carapace and sneers.

“You want to get the Lahiffes you gotta go through me.”

We hear a bit of Nino’s voice dub over as the two clash. “You can’t ignore the past, and getting closure from your abusers is a myth. But you also can’t just pretend like everything’s alright just for the sake of helping others.”

Bellflower is about to step up, but Chat Noir puts a hand out to stop her.

“Back off Bell, this is Carpace’s fight.”

Carapace’s head pops up in the middle of a battle of wills, his shield versus Father Knows Best. “No it isn’t! I’d like some help please!”

“Oh! Well in that case, Cataclysm!”

“Swarm! Blind him!” the swarm of bees surround Father Knows Best’s head, and Carapace quickly throws up shelter around his head to keep them there. The entire tie is crumbled beneath Chat Noir’s fist.

We clip to a few minutes later, as M. Lahiffe is taking in the whole ‘getting akaumatized’ thing. All of the heroes are cold to him, Ladybug informing him of his antics with clinical efficiency, Rena Rouge glaring from the corner of the room. Chat Noir says something about transforming back and dips, but Carapace stays. He’s just staring at him.

“You got a problem turtle kid?”

“....No. You’re just a lot smaller than I expected. I’m gonna detransform soon, I’ll go find the Lahiffes and tell them it’s safe.”

He waves and walks off.

Sure enough, before too long Nino arrives with Monika and Noel behind him. Monika hands Noel off to Nino, though Nino tries to stop her she smiles at him.

“Mom you don’t need to-”

“I’m not doing this to protect you, I’m doing this for me, sweetie.” she winks and Nino huffs.

M. Lahiffe stands as Monika approaches him.

“Monika It wasn’t my fault, I got-”

“Akumatized yes I know. I don’t care.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t need nor want anything from you, but if I ever hear you violated visitation again and approached my sons, I WILL make you pay. Nino, Noel, the boss gave me the rest of the night off, let's order take out!”

“Yay!” Noel throws his hands up “Can we watch a movie too?”

“Sure thing kiddo! But we all have to agree on one!” Noel scrambles out of Nino’s grip and runs right past his father to grab Monika’s hand. Nino walks past his father one last time and smirks.

“What, You gonna hit me you little punk?”

“Nah. You’re just a lot shorter than I remember.” he tightens his cap and walks on.

But right as the Lahiffe family are about to leave the front door clatters open, revealing an irate Adrien, Amber is clinging to his arm and trying to hold him back.

“JEAN LAHIFFE!” Adrien zips through the room and we see him grab M. Lahiffe by the collar, reeling back for that punch he was promised.

#Miraculous rewrite #Miraculous ladybug #Father Knows best #Rewrite #Mod Vega #Mod Aimee

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carewyncromwell · 4 years ago

Photo

The Cinderella AU is back, and...ahhhh, my babiiiiies. *dissolves into a pile of happy goo*

The Winter Festival presented in Royaume is most strongly related to the celebrations for Saint Nicholas in French provinces such as Lorraine, which are held on December 6th and include lots of music and a parade led by Saint Nicholas (or Pere Noel, as he’s also called), the French alternative to Father Christmas and Santa Claus. Florence’s holiday likewise resembles Italy’s Feast Day, which is hosted on December 8th.

Back in the olden days, dancing wasn’t just done for fun -- it was considered a standard form of socializing. Prior to the 19th century, it was far more common for Europeans to dance in large groups that then switched partners frequently, as opposed to being locked onto a specific partner, and this applies to both formal gatherings and more informal ones. Strict pair dancing really came more in vogue in the early 1800′s with the German waltz, so during the Renaissance, one could expect to see a lot more swapping of partners at parties than one generally sees in the modern era. There were couple dances at that time, of course, such as the lavolta -- they just weren’t as popular as dances like the waltz became at formal gatherings later on. Country dancing, or dances performed at informal gatherings, was generally seen as more lighthearted and easy for people to join in without being expert at it, while court dances, which were generally saved for more formal events, were much more performative and choreographed.

Carewyn’s dress in this sketch was strongly based off of this absolutely gorgeous dress, which was inspired by real Renaissance artwork.

Previous part is here – whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you enjoy! xoxo

x~x~x~x

With the arrival of winter, Carewyn found herself busier than ever. The King and Queen of Royaume had ordered that the palace be fully furnished with holiday cheer, so Carewyn and the rest of the staff soon had their hands full, putting gold-trimmed garlands around every banister and decking every hall with holly and ivy. Carewyn wondered how in the world the King and Queen could afford such finery when they still couldn’t seem to scrounge up enough funds to have the proper tools and supplies in stock for their staff, let alone to give them proper food rations -- but from what Bill and Charlie told her, this wasn’t too uncommon.

“It’s like this every year,” said Charlie, sounding very surly. “The royals and the court always pig out on the most sumptuous feasts, and then we have to pay for it after the fact. Just you wait until New Year’s -- the Queen always likes hosting a huge masked ball to ‘start the new year off right’ and the nobles end up leaving the worst messes behind...”

Bill sighed. “I don’t think it’s all selfishness on their part, really. I think it’s to try to lift the Prince’s spirits, more than anything. You know he isn’t allowed to leave the castle grounds...and I’m sure he no doubt hears all about the Winter Festival and all the other celebrations in town around this time of year, from the staff. The holiday season can’t be that much fun, when you’re forced to sit and watch from the sidelines...”

Andre did indeed seem to be in a forlorn mood. Whenever Carewyn caught sight of him walking through the palace gardens with her cousin Iris, he seemed to always be looking away, off into the distance, while Iris tried to engage him in conversation. Carewyn couldn’t help but feel sorry for him -- as much as his parents clearly were spending beyond their means, it seemed to be largely so that they could try to shield him from the War going on outside. It wasn’t a good decision, Carewyn thought, but a slightly understandable one...and more importantly, Andre himself had no hand in either the staff’s struggles or his own captivity.

One day Carewyn was polishing the floors in one of the guest suite, singing the song Orion had given her for the second time that day, when the partially ajar door was very quickly shoved open. Carewyn looked up just in time to see a ruffle of bed curtains, as if someone had leapt onto the guest bed and drawn the curtains so that they were hidden from view.

Carewyn opened her mouth, ready to ask who was there, only to be interrupted by a familiar voice echoing down the hallway outside.

“Your Highness?”

Iris?

Carewyn frowned deeply. She heard heels clapping down the hall, and sure enough, her brown-haired, slender cousin came into view through the open door.

Iris caught sight of Carewyn inside the guest suite, and her confused expression instantly turned ugly.

“Have you seen the Prince?” she demanded.

Carewyn raised her eyebrows innocently. “No.”

“Well, if you do, tell him that Lady Iris is looking for him,” said Iris waspishly. “And see that you don’t speak to him either.”

“I don’t quite know how I can tell his Highness that you’re looking for him, if I’m not allowed to speak to him,” said Carewyn rather coolly.

“You know full well what I mean,” Iris snarled under her breath.

Eying the almost completely polished floor, she rather pointedly strode right through the part Carewyn had just finished cleaning, dragging her heels to leave long, streaking footprints through it.

“Prince Henri might like using you as his little dress-up doll, but don’t think it means he actually likes you,” she whispered coldly. “Why would a prince ever be interested in a servant girl with no dowry or prospects?”

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed upon the streaks on the floor before flitting up onto Iris’s face with a very stony look. She was very tempted to remind Iris that she had no interest in kissing up to the richest man that would have her, and that a man and a woman didn’t have to be romantically interested in each other to engage in conversation...but, honestly, she didn’t see much point. She wouldn’t be able to soothe Iris’s jealousy no matter what she said, and Carewyn quite frankly liked the thought of Iris leaving far more than to try to make her feel better.

Satisfied that she’d gotten the last word, Iris picked up the skirts of her lavender brocade gown and strode quickly from the room and down the hall in search of Andre.

Carewyn remained on the floor for a moment, waiting for the sound of her cousin’s footsteps to fade away. Then she slowly rose to her feet, walked over to the door, and closed it, before she got back down on her hands and knees so she could start cleaning the part of the floor Iris had slid her feet through.

“Andre?” whispered Carewyn without looking up. “Is that you, hiding in there?”

There was a rustle. Then the bed curtains parted, to reveal Andre sitting on his knees on the bed.

“You knew it was me?” he murmured.

“I thought it might be,” said Carewyn, offering him a small gentle smile even though she didn’t fully look up from her work.

Andre looked almost guilty. “...Thank you for covering for me, Carewyn. I don’t mean to insult your cousin, I just...need some space.”

“It’s all right. It can be draining, not to have any time to yourself, even when you are around people you like. And really, I didn’t lie -- I hadn’t seen you, however much I thought I might know where you were,” she added with a wry smile.

Andre tried to smile, but it came out rather forced and faded very quickly. He glanced from Carewyn to the closed door and back.

“...Does she always talk to you like that? Iris?”

Carewyn paused in the work and looked up. Andre’s face was twisted in a very troubled frown.

The maidservant returned her focus to the floor so as not to look at him, scrubbing at a particularly dirty streak.

“Not always,” she said mildly.

Sometimes she says worse things.

Andre’s eyes narrowed slightly, becoming sadder still. “Carewyn...I had no idea. I mean, I understand your mother was estranged from your family and your father skipped town, but...Iris is your cousin. Even if she’s nobility and you’re not, the way you talked about your family, I thought...”

He trailed off. He felt incredibly foolish, for not having questioned whether Iris and Carewyn’s relationship was really that good. KC had even complained about her mother trying to matchmake her with Carewyn’s cousin, Arsen Dupont, hadn’t she? Did that mean that all of Carewyn’s family talked to her the way Iris did?

Carewyn, however, was very stoic in her response. “Please don’t judge Iris based on how she speaks to me, Andre.”

Grandfather would be furious if I were the reason Iris didn’t marry Andre. The only reason that Iris and Andre shouldn’t marry should be Iris herself, and her own stupidity.

“Good people don’t have to get along with everyone, not even their own family. The way Iris speaks to me is just as much my own doing as it is hers -- and truly, her words are just words. They don’t injure me. If you enjoy her company, then you mustn’t judge her too harshly for something like this.”

Judge her harshly for other reasons.

Andre didn’t look very comforted. He adjusted himself on the bed so that he was sitting on the edge with his feet on the floor.

“...To be honest...I don’t really enjoy it that much,” he muttered.

Carewyn looked up again.

“She’s amiable enough, I suppose,” said Andre uncomfortably, “but...well, I was curious to meet her because it sounded like she enjoyed fashion and might have some good ideas for me to try out. And she had a few -- I mean, I still don’t think ash gray suits you at all...but I ended up finding a rather nice shiny pewter fabric for your shoes, and -- well, you’ll see it when they’re done. I think you’ll like them. But even with that...it just feels like, a lot of the time, she’s only saying what she thinks I want to hear, rather than what she really thinks! Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike flattery -- but I already get that all the time at court. Especially around this time of year...”

He looked down at the floor, his shoulders dropping as he rested his arms in his lap.

“I have plenty of servants and subjects and...well, people who only want to be around me for my crown,” he said dejectedly. “I guess all I was really hoping for was...”

“A friend.”

Andre looked up at Carewyn in surprise. She’d put down her rag on the edge of her bucket, her eyes full to the brim with compassion.

Within seconds, the Prince’s face had burst into a delighted, relieved expression.

“Yes! Oh, I’m so glad you understand, Carewyn. Erika always says I shouldn’t complain so much...and I know she’s right -- I have a lot to be grateful for. It’s just...”

“You can have a lot to be grateful for and still be missing what you need,” said Carewyn very primly. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to do more or be more. It’s how you express that feeling that matters.”

Andre cocked his eyebrows curiously. “Express it?”

Unable to meet the Prince’s eye straight-on, Carewyn fixed her ponytail so that some of the hair coming out of it was restrained again.

“Well...to Lady Rath’s point, complaining about a problem, or wishing it would go away, never really solved anything. My mother used to say that ‘dreamers never make a dream come true’ -- if you want something to happen, then you need to act on it, not just sit around and wish that things might change.”

That’s why I can’t just sit back and wait for the War to end so Jacob can come home. If he’s out there on the battlefield, in pain and alone, I need to find out where and figure out some way to reach him.

Andre considered this for a long moment. At last his face split into a huge, blazing white smile.

“You’re right! You’re absolutely right, Carewyn...”

He leapt off the bed, bent down to get down on Carewyn’s level, and grabbed both of her shoulders.

“Will you go to the Winter Festival with me?”

Carewyn was taken aback. “What?”

“I’ve never been, not even once, even though I’ve always wanted to,” said Andre, his eyes bright with excitement. “Of course we’d probably have to be sneaky about it...but the courtiers will be plenty occupied all night here, with Mother’s ball. There are plenty of times I’ve been able to sneak out of the ballroom and no one’s ever found me, even when they were actively looking. I have the perfect purple brocade doublet I could wear...and I’m sure your new shoes will be stunning with the dark blue velvet gown I made for you...”

“Andre,” said Carewyn, a bit taken aback by his enthusiasm, “hold on. Brocade and velvet...those are hardly things to wear outside the palace, if you don’t want to be noticed.”

Andre blinked. “They’re not?”

“No,” Carewyn said very firmly, her eyes narrowing reproachfully as she slid out of his grip. “Only people of status and wealth wear those materials. People in town wear cottons, linens -- wool -- and they’re far simpler than even the uniform I’m wearing right now. You and I would stick out like sore thumbs, especially since all of the nobility will be at the Queen’s Ball. I doubt we’d last more than five minutes in town before we got caught.”

Andre deflated visibly.

“...I see,” he said, disappointed. “If only I’d thought of this sooner...I could probably have made us something else, if the Festival wasn’t the day after tomorrow...”

Carewyn bit the inside of her cheek. She didn’t love the thought of going against the King and Queen’s wishes, and of course spending time with Andre was uncomfortable considering she was supposed to stay out of Iris’s way, but...well, she agreed with Bill. It had to feel pretty rotten, to be stuck on the sidelines, watching everyone else have fun and longing to join in, during the holidays. Carewyn had never really gone to the Winter Festival as a kid since her mother didn’t like large crowds and she’d preferred spending quiet time at home with her and Jacob...but Andre clearly wanted to go to the Festival so badly...

“...I could...always go pick something up, in town,” Carewyn said slowly, her eyes lingering on Andre’s shoulder rather than his face. “I’m supposed to be meeting a friend at the castle gate around noon...I could always convince him to walk with me to look for some festival clothes for both of us. Then you could always tailor what I bring back, in case it doesn’t fit correctly...”

Andre looked like Carewyn had just presented him with a unicorn for a Christmas present.

“Oh, Carewyn...you’re absolutely brilliant, that’s what you are! Don’t worry, I’ll give you plenty of money -- buy whatever you think is best -- ”

And that was how Carewyn got roped into going to the Winter Festival. But really, she knew she couldn’t in good conscience let Andre sneak out on his own...and despite herself, her heart was much too gentle for her to even think of trying to tell him not to go, however much trouble she knew both of them would be in if they got caught.

All the more reason to make sure we don’t, she told herself.

When she met Orion at the gate that day, she told him she had some shopping to do before the Festival. Orion had quirked an eyebrow when she had him hold up several peasant-worthy outfits over himself so Carewyn could examine them, but Carewyn refused to tell him who she was shopping for, merely that he was around Orion’s height.

“Can I take this to mean you’ll be attending the Festival after all, my lady?” Orion asked, his eyes trailing over her face with some interest. “I believe you told Ginny Weasley that you’d be too busy.”

Carewyn avoided his eye as she took the outfit he was holding from him and placed both it and a forest green and white dress she’d found on the counter so she could pay.

“I am -- but I’ve opened some time in my schedule for it all the same, at least in the evening.”

Something flickered in the back of Orion’s eyes. Was it curiosity, or was it disappointment? “The gentleman you’re shopping for must be someone special, for you to reschedule your plans.”

Carewyn couldn’t fight back a proud huff. “He’s special only in the way that he needs help, and I’m the person who can give it.”

She took the clothes from the cashier and started heading out of the shop. Orion followed along behind, his black eyes running over her face even while she refused to look at him and narrowing ever-so-slightly.

“...I see.”

Andre was pleasantly surprised by what Carewyn had brought back for them. Although yes, they were made of far less expensive fabrics than he was used to and lacked decoration, he was very pleased with the colors. He’d mentioned having a purple doublet before, so he wasn’t surprised she picked that color of tunic for him, but he was very happy when she picked out some very handsome emerald green trousers trimmed with gold embroidery to go with them, as well as some tall black leather boots with gold buckles. Andre hadn’t really put purple and green together much before, but he really liked how the shades looked together. Carewyn’s dress, however, he did make one large alteration to besides just the fit -- adding a rather pretty trim to the front and back of bodice and the bottom of the skirt made of thick silvery linen ribbon. (He claimed that it was to help the dress better blend with her new pewter gray silk slippers, but Carewyn also just suspected he couldn’t help himself, seeing how plain the dress she’d gotten was.)

The night of the Festival, Andre went down to the Queen’s Winter Ball. After going through the motions for a half hour or so to throw off suspicion, Andre slipped away, and -- after quickly changing into his peasant clothes -- met Carewyn by the gate of the palace. When he got there, he found Bill, Charlie, and their little sister Ginny waiting just across the street, ever so “casually” looking away from the castle wall as Carewyn carefully opened the gate and she and Andre slipped out. Once the gate was closed, the three Weasleys swooped down on Carewyn and Andre, Charlie grabbing Andre’s arm and Ginny grabbing Carewyn’s, and the group flooded into town to meet up with the rest of the Weasley clan.

From the moment they arrived, Andre looked happier and more laid-back that Carewyn had ever seen him. Carewyn couldn’t help but feel like just walking around the Festival, surrounded by ordinary people who had no idea who he really was, made this the best day of the young Prince’s life...and she had to admit, as much as she could take or leave parties, his enthusiasm was infectious. When Ginny suggested they go dance, Andre was absolutely thrilled at the thought of learning how to do a country dance, and pressured Carewyn to show him how. Carewyn hardly thought herself the best choice for this, but found it difficult to say no, seeing how excited he was. Once Carewyn, Charlie, Andre, and Ginny jumped into the fray, though, she did find herself having fun. The steps were actually pretty easy to follow along to, especially compared to the sorts of court dances she’d always seen her older cousins practicing at the Cromwell estate, before any private balls they were invited to.

It didn’t take long, though, for someone to spot Andre. In the middle of one of their dances, a hand came from out of nowhere and snatched a hold of the back of the Prince’s purple tunic, pulling him back out of line.

“Hey!” yelped Andre. “What are you -- ?!”

He looked up, to see the rather tall and foreboding frame of his fencing instructor.

Andre gave a very weak smile. “Aha...hi, Erika.”

Erika’s expression was very stony. Carewyn, Charlie, and Ginny immediately hopped out of line and over to them. Standing right behind Erika and dressed in a sapphire blue cloak that obscured her elegantly trimmed linen dress was KC.

“Lady Rath!” said Charlie with his best attempt at a winning smile. “KC! What a nice...surprise! Heh...”

KC raised her eyebrows coolly. “Hello, Charlie...Carewyn.”

Bill had rushed over too, sensing trouble.

“It’s not their fault, KC,” said Andre quickly, “I can explain -- ”

“Oh, don’t worry,” said KC, her arms crossing as she looked at Andre. “We know full well it isn’t their fault.”

“I say it is,” said Erika rather bluntly, her eyes flashing dangerously at Carewyn and the Weasleys, “considering they encouraged it.”

“It isn’t their fault because they wouldn’t have felt able to say ‘no’ to the Crown Prince of Royaume, even if they’d wanted to,” KC pointed out logically.

Andre suddenly looked very guilty. He glanced from the Weasleys to Carewyn, almost silently asking if he’d pressured them into any of this. Charlie, in response, spoke rather forcefully.

“Well, frankly, we did want to! Andre deserves a fun holiday, for once. Reckon it’s a helluva lot better than that stuffy old ball going on up there.”

He jabbed a thumb behind him in the direction of the palace.

“The Prince’s safety is more important than a fun holiday,” Erika shot back coldly, “as are the King and Queen’s orders. You’d do well to remember that, Weasley.”

“Erika, please,” said Andre desperately. “No one from Florence would dare come this far west of the border...and even if they did, none of them would recognize me, dressed like this. And you said it yourself, KC, it’s likely they won’t attack our forces anyway until after the 8th -- that’s when their winter holiday is, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” granted KC with a frown. Her voice became much more thoughtful as she added, “Though if they wanted to be really clever, they’d strike on or the morning immediately after a holiday, when everyone’s got their guard down...”

Carewyn faced Erika with as much conviction as she could, even though she was completely eclipsed by the taller and stronger woman’s shadow.

“I realize the Prince’s safety is important,” she said in a very low voice, so as not to be overheard, “but if there truly was anyone who meant to target him, wouldn’t they be more likely to look for him at the Winter Ball, rather than here among the peasantry? And considering that the palace is only about five blocks away from here and he’s in the company in one of the castle’s most capable guards,” she nodded in Bill’s direction, “and both his combat instructor and our army’s chief military strategist...I’d say that he’s quite well protected.”

Erika gave Carewyn a beady look.

“People say you’re nothing like your family, Cromwell,” she said rudely, “but I think they’re full of it. You’re just as pretentious and fawning as the rest of them.”

She nonetheless released the back of Andre’s collar.

“I’ll stay for two hours only,” she muttered to him sourly. “When I go, you go.”

Andre beamed from ear to ear.

KC and Erika weren’t much for dancing, but they did loosen up in time, while sitting with the rest of the Weasleys and enjoying some of the fresh sugar-dusted crepes, mince pies, cocoa, and coffee. Before long as well, Andre had mastered the art of the country dance. Ginny was thrilled to have someone else who was just as excited to dance as she was, and -- bless her heart -- the twelve-year-old treated Andre with the same amount of cheer and respect as she probably would’ve anyone else, just like her brothers did. She even ended up giving Andre pointers about how to do the dances better. Carewyn soon found herself getting pretty tired, but Ginny, Charlie, and Andre all kept pulling her back into line with them, and she bit back her exhaustion if only to see them smiling a little longer. It had been a really long time since she’d been able to make anyone smile like that, while doing so little -- it made herself feel that little bit better about herself, and made her stand just that little bit taller.

While dancing to a particular song, the woman playing the fiddle sped up very abruptly, changing tempo. Soon everyone was rotating in chaotic, joyful circles, switching partners constantly. As to be expected in country dancing, a few people made mistakes that they had to correct, but nobody really cared. One mistake, though, was Carewyn losing her footing and tripping over her skirt. The new gray silk shoes Andre had made for her, as lovely and comfortable as they were, were more like slippers than any proper outdoor footwear and didn’t have great traction, so she would’ve fallen right off her feet if someone hadn’t suddenly appeared behind her and caught her with an arm gently looped around her back.

It was Orion. He was dressed in clothes that were nicer than usual, but still modest, including some brown suede boots and a handsome forest green doublet that ended up being the same shade as Carewyn’s dress, though he still lacked the high-collared undershirt one would usually see from a nobleman.

“Forgive me for catching you twice, my lady,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

Carewyn couldn’t help but smile. “At least you weren’t hurt after throwing yourself under me this time -- ”

They couldn’t continue the conversation, though, without getting locked up in the midst of the group dance. Carewyn was forced to twirl in sequence, just to avoid another pair moving on through.

“Shall we?” she asked.

Orion suddenly looked oddly wary, like a foal learning how to walk.

“I’m afraid I’ve never done this before,” he murmured, just barely dodging another pair of dancers.

Following the sequence, Carewyn rested an arm lightly around Orion’s waist, steering him in a circle.

“Don’t worry,” she said, as she offered him an encouraging smile. “It’s only a pattern...no one will complain if you make a mistake. Follow me.”

His face betraying some hesitance, Orion nonetheless found himself letting go, mirroring Carewyn in stylized turns and spirals through the dancing crowd.

Orion had come to the Festival because he’d guessed that the mysterious “guest” Carewyn was shopping for was -- in fact -- the Prince of Royaume, and thus this would be the perfect opportunity for Orion to meet him and get a better fix on his character. But even with this goal in his mind, he’d found his inner balance oddly disturbed, when he caught sight of Carewyn. She’d always been a rather pretty woman, but in the company of her friends -- smiling with such pure, undiluted happiness, at the sight of how happy they were -- her blue eyes sparkling with such soft emotion, every time they laughed -- her ginger hair flying free as a flag behind her as she twirled around them...it distracted him. It was an unwelcome distraction, one he was quick to scold himself for, before trying to relocate his center and return to the task at hand. And yet, when Carewyn lost her footing, he found himself once again throwing away his own internal balance and laser-pointed focus in favor of turbulent, emotional chaos...and soon they were dancing, and Orion found himself surfing in that chaos -- relishing that wild, but liberating warmth he felt coming off of her. Was it some magical aura she had, that made him feel like he was dancing with a blazing, soothing fire even as the snow began to fall overhead?

Carewyn Cromwell truly was a remarkable woman, to divert the Prince of Florence’s focus away from his one and only goal...and yet, as Orion danced with her, he couldn’t help but think...oh, if their world could be but a world where they could dance like this anywhere...even in Florence, where everyone knew his face...

When the dance came to an end, everyone clapped, and Carewyn and Orion moved off to the side together to sit with Bill, Ron, KC, and Erika. Erika was very suspicious of Orion from the off-set, finding him way too “pleasant” for her tastes, but Orion wasn’t the least bit offended. If anything, he said with a wry smile, her aggressive aura in some ways reminded him of a good friend of his. After several more rounds, Andre, Charlie, and Ginny finally came to sit down with the others for a quick break.

“Whew! I’m parched,” said Andre. He brought a hand up to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“Here,” said Bill.

He offered the Prince a stein of apple cider. Andre gulped down about half of it before lowering the stein, his mouth stretched into a broad smile.

“Oh, Carewyn, thank you for this,” he said, reaching out a hand to squeeze hers. “If I’d had any concept just how much fun this was, I would’ve come years ago.”

Carewyn smiled, looking genuinely touched. “I’m glad you’re having fun, Andre.”

Orion glanced from Carewyn to Andre and back. His face was very unreadable, but his black eyes had widened noticeably.

This must be him, he realized. Prince Henri.

The thought was a club to the back of the head, knocking some sense back into him after having gotten so thoroughly distracted. Orion’s thoughts moved very quickly as he watched the two interact.

“I am,” Andre said fervently, his eyes squinting slightly as he beamed. “And I hope you know how grateful I am...”

Something grimmer flickered over his face.

“...I hope you know...Iris was wrong, about how I see you.”

Carewyn was startled. “Andre...”

“I don’t just see you like a little dress-up doll,” said Andre very seriously, as he squeezed her hand. “You’re my friend, and a good one, at that. And for what it’s worth...” he smiled broadly, “...I’d say any royal should be proud, to have you on their arm.”

Carewyn was clearly a bit overwhelmed by the Prince’s complimentary words. Her gaze had drifted down to the table.

“...Thank you, Andre,” she said very softly.

Although her face was demure, her sparkling eyes and voice betrayed some deep, genuine emotion -- and despite himself, Orion felt some warm pride welling up in his chest, at the sound of it. Catching himself, Orion forced himself to return to the task at hand and lightly cleared his throat.

“Forgive me,” he said politely, “but I don’t think we’ve met.”

Carewyn looked from Andre to Orion quickly.

“Oh -- yes,” she said, “Andre...this is Orion. Orion, Andre.”

Andre’s eyes lit up at the name.

“So this is the infamous Orion you’ve been telling me about, KC!” he said, shooting a bright grin over at his cousin.

Orion raised his eyebrows curiously. “‘Infamous?’ I must wonder what she’s told you, for me to have earned that title.”

KC grinned. “Just that you saved Carewyn from a bucking horse, pulled her out of a ravine, and climbed over the castle wall twice just to visit her.”

Ginny’s freckled face lit up. “Orion, you did all that? That’s so romantic!”

Both Orion and Carewyn immediately tried to correct the record, but no one seemed to care much. Andre was laughing most of the time.

“Are you well-traveled, Orion?” asked Andre. “Judging by the way your doublet is distressed, I’d guess you’ve been to the Islands in the Southern Sea -- I’ve only seen such fabrics as imports.”

“I’m...afraid I haven’t, actually,” confessed Orion. “Though I have been to the Southern Sea.”

Florence’s castle was actually positioned on the shore, right by the sea. It was one of the few things Orion could say in its favor, even though there were times it made him long to cast off and never return.

Everyone seemed interested in this.

“You have?” said Charlie eagerly. “What’s it like?”

“Did you sail on a ship?” asked Ginny.

“Were you ever attacked by pirates?” added Ron.

“Nothing that exciting, I’m afraid,” Orion chuckled. “I’ve only seen it, not sailed it...at least, not yet.”

Carewyn’s red lips turned up into a full, pretty smile. “It must be beautiful, though.”

Orion turned to her, his own mouth spread in a grin. “It’s breathtaking. A seemingly endless void of blue that nonetheless sparkles as green as jade and as white as pearl. It’s as translucent as crystal, and yet so deep and mysterious that ships have been swallowed whole by it, and no man could ever discover all of its secrets. Its waves whisper to you as it ghosts the shoreline, and yet it can also roar and ravage like a beast, without warning or mercy. It can hypnotize you, draw you in...make you long to drown yourself in it, while simultaneously wanting it to spirit you away, over the horizon...”

Like your eyes.

Orion caught himself staring in them. Closing his eyes and bowing his head, he forced a soft laugh.

“Forgive me -- I’ve gotten carried away...”

“Not at all,” said Carewyn gently. She rested a hand lightly on top of his forearm. “It sounds wonderful.”

Orion found himself unsure of how to respond to her touch. He’d never really been around a lot of physical affection before, so he was at a bit of a loss of what to do in such a situation. Fortunately Carewyn withdrew not long after, and Orion tried to find his center of balance again by turning his focus back to Andre.

“...I must say, though...your attention to detail is impressive, Andre. I can see why you and Carewyn get along -- she also has an eye for hair and clothing pieces.”

“Of course she does,” said Charlie, sparing a playful smile in Carewyn’s direction. “Carey is our little lady, after all.”

Carewyn shot Charlie an attempt at a sardonic look, but it was foiled by the broad smile that had conquered her face.

“That she is!” Andre laughed.

“A lady with considerable grit, however,” said Bill, his mouth turned up in a wry smile not unlike Charlie’s. “I’ve never seen anyone else climb up onto a mantle, just to reach a chandelier.”

KC looked at Carewyn incredulously. “What? Why didn’t you get a ladder?”

“It wasn’t necessary,” said Carewyn primly, crossing her arms. “I had it under control.”

Orion’s black eyes sparkled affectionately. “I’d say even an experienced soldier in the field would hesitate before climbing over a steep cliff and into a briar patch at the bottom of a ravine...wouldn’t you agree, Andre?”

Andre nodded. “I daresay so! Though I’ve never been to the battlefield myself, or met any soldiers...I would dearly like to, though.”

Orion frowned. “Like to?”

“Well, yes,” said Andre, his tone becoming more serious. “We could use all the help we can get out there...I’d love to feel like I could really help the war effort on the ground, rather than staying at home. Especially when my comfort is built on the backs of those who are hurting.”

Orion’s gaze fell down onto his hands as they clasped together on the table.

“...Your conviction is inspiring,” he said softly. “But believe me...a battlefield is not a place anyone should like to visit.”

Not long after, Erika rather abruptly rose to her feet and told Andre it was time to leave. The group all left the festival together, though Carewyn lingered behind with Orion, so as to try to give Andre cover for getting back inside the palace without anyone noticing.

Once they were alone, Orion once again found himself off-balance. He’d acknowledged before that Carewyn indeed was a person to be admired, as well as a person who could be admired by anyone...even him. He did admire her. He enjoyed her company -- he found her witty and engaging -- he identified with her independence, resilience, and determination -- he was struck by her compassion and utter selflessness. She was like him in so many ways, and yet she was methodical and insightful, as well as braver than a bear, despite her size. Her voice was so soothing, and yet it rippled with a kind of deep passion and emotion that it truly rivaled the deep, dark sea. And tonight especially...tonight, he kept catching himself staring...but none of that mattered. None of it should matter, in the face of achieving peace for Florence.

“She’s not on your side,” McNully’s words returned to him. “She’s on Royaume’s. Just...mind that you use your head as well as your heart, all right?”

Orion couldn’t help but feel as though using his head would be easier if he could more easily tell which way was up.

“I’m glad you came, Orion,” said Carewyn. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a better dance instructor -- dancing isn’t really my area of expertise.”

Orion’s black eyes sparkled mischievously. “Perhaps we shall simply have to dance again in the future, so that we might practice.”

Carewyn giggled. “Somehow I doubt either of us will be attending any grand balls in the future.”

Orion’s amused gaze softened as it trailed over her cold-kissed pink cheeks and along the snowflakes clinging to the ginger waves cascading down her back.

Carewyn tilted her head, her lips twisted up in a wryly questioning smile. “...What?”

Orion looked away quickly.

“Forgive me -- I merely...don’t recall ever having seen you wear your hair down before. It’s...different.”

Carewyn brought a hand through her hair absently. “Mm...yeah, I guess it would be. I don’t wear my hair down much, but...well, I figured for a casual event like this, it wouldn’t be a problem...”

“It’s no problem at all,” said Orion. He kept his tone as level as possible, even though he felt a flush creeping up his neck. “I was just thinking it was appropriate...to see you letting loose with your friends, the same day you chose to wear your hair free...”

He came to a stop, and Carewyn stopped too, turning around to face him properly. Orion reached out his hand and -- very tentatively -- took hers, holding it between their chests like a gentleman.

“...You should be allowed to feel like that more often,” Orion murmured. “Free.”

Carewyn scanned Orion’s face, her eyes lingering on his before dipping into the corners of lips. Orion felt his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He wanted to kiss her hand, but...did he dare?

“She’s not on your team.”

“You reckon little Miss Knight-in-Shining-Armor would take kindly to that, when she finds out?

“Mind that you use your head as well as your heart, all right?”

It was just too much. Orion couldn’t think, whenever his thoughts got too loud. Closing his eyes, he took several deep, measured breaths. Only once he’d brought his heart rate down did he open his eyes again.

“I should go,” he said at last, his voice coming out much more calmly than he felt.

His eyes flickered down to his hand holding hers again, but he’d already lost his nerve. He released her hand, even though his hand felt like it had chilled as soon as the contact was broken.

“...Good night, Carewyn.”

He turned to go.

“Orion.”

Carewyn’s hand enclosed over his. Orion stiffened, his heart pounding full-force once more, and he turned back around to face her, just as she raised his hand up to her own lips and placed a gentle kiss to the back of it.

Orion stared. She raised her head with a smile, releasing Orion’s hand with a kind of muted confidence even despite the pinkness of her cheeks.

“Until we meet again, Mr. Freeman.”

With this, she picked up her skirts and darted away up the street, in the direction of the palace.

Orion stared after her. He stared long after she was out of sight, his galaxy-like black eyes staring at the swirling snow without even seeing it. He tentatively took his own hand, trailing his thumb over the place her lips had grazed...and despite all judgment, despite all rational thought, he found his lips turning up in a smile of their own accord. He’d never felt so light and so off-balance in all his life -- was this what it felt like, to glide on a bird’s wings? And yet he knew, despite the weightlessness he felt, it was instead indicative that he’d fallen.

In the midst of using her to get intelligence about her kingdom...in the midst of him following the strategy he’d laid out to get the end of the War he wanted, by learning their weak points and using them to soften others to him...Prince Cosimo Orion Amari, heir to the throne of Florence, had fallen head over heels in love.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #cinderella au #my art #my writing #orion amari #carewyn cromwell #andre egwu #bill weasley #charlie weasley #ginny weasley #ron weasley #katriona cassiopeia #erika rath #murphy mcnully #skye parkin #GAAAAAAH #I am so friggin' happy right now #the drawing was tricky but I'm actually kind of happy with it!#carewyn could sense orion's shyness and decided to give the poor guy a hand :3 #she probably isn't as aware of how deep her feelings are yet as orion is but she is very fond of him #that'll be made clearer in the next part #also andre I friggin' adore you ;~;#in carewyn's canon she and andre actually dated briefly at school XDD #but they ultimately broke up because they needed something different in a relationship #andre isn't really as feelsy and sensitive as carewyn and as stoic as she is she honestly does appreciate sensitivity #andre's the sort to push carewyn's more perfectionistic instincts not help her chill the f*** out like orion can #but they still make great friends <33

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milasartblog · 3 years ago

Text

New place

Despite that angels don’t really need to work as they can use powers to do their job good, the psychological support is still important for most of them. Her job was not the easiest one, but she chose it for herself. And yet, if with angels she has great experience, she had zero experience with demons. Nicole’s experience with King of Hell is a separate one as it was Michael’s request.

Nicole: It’s almost time for our session. Ugh, why do I have a feeling that he will use this trick again on me? Well, guess this is my price for accepting such request. Still, not every specialist has a chance to gain such experience, talking with King of Hell himself. Not even mentioning that he can be...someone else than just a "demon". I’m still surprised that no one besides Noel knows about it. Maybe it’s for the best.....I wish I could interact with more demons.

She looked at the clock, then felt an energy flowing in the room. It was a sign that he will appear soon. Nicole prepared her papers and pen as turned around to see that her client was already here.

Nicole: You're not late this time, sir Lucifer.

Lucifer: And you're still being formal as usual~

Nicole: You know that it's a neccessity for my job. Therapist and clients should have neutral-

She couldn't finish her sentence as she looked at Lucifer, who was wearing the lingerie, then she looked at herself. Her face got stunned as she covered herself.

Nicole: Are you kidding me??! Not again!!

Lucifer: What? It's more comfortable like this~ Plus, I thought that you got used to it~

Nicole: Ugh, you're impossible.

She snapped her fingers and both Lucifer and her were in casual clothes. The demon made cute upset face.

Lucifer: Awww, again these boring clothes. Well, guess I have to stay like this for an hour.

Nicole: As it should be. Now, shall we start?

Lucifer nodded as they both took a sit and they began the session. It was another usual session, just topics vary from time to time. But most of them were about the confidence. It's surprisingly how King of Hell himself can't be confident sometimes. Well, when you have to guard the nephilim from someone who tried to lure him to their side and then almost kill him, then your confidence sure will stagger. Lucifer didn't tell about Ghemora and Nazeel to Nicole, tho about the last one she could have some guesses. Still, coming to her for help was one of the best suggessions that his beloved made.

Nicole: Well, i can only suggest to sort the problems and situations.

Lucifer: Sort? Like trash?

Nicole: Well, that's not the best comparison, but something like this, dividing them. For example, those that you can handle yourself better solve now. Those that require a help from the closest people can vary from not neccessary to very neccessary. The key point here is communication.

Lucifer: Do i have to talk to myself if i'm solving things alone?~

Nicole:....*sighs* If it helps boosting your confidence, then sure. Comments can organize your thoughts and steps.

They kept talking untill the time of their session was coming to its end. Time flies fast as mortals tend to say, but when it's about Heaven, Purgatory or Hell, it's almost like if the time wasn't actually here.

Nicole: Well, it's time to finish our session.

Lucifer: Seems like it.

Nicole: Hope this conversation helps you, sir Lucifer.

Lucifer: Again with formalities~ Just Lucifer is enough, really~

Nicole: If you say so, Lucifer.

He smiled as looked down for a moment before getting up and getting ready to leave. Suddenly, he stopped and looked at Nicole.

Lucifer: Look, Nicole.

Nicole: Yes?

Lucifer: I was thinking about something recently. Would you like to work in Purgatory as a therapist both for angels and demons?

Such suggestion made Nicole stunned, but also curious as she tried to stay professional.

Nicole: In Purgatory?

Lucifer: Yep. There angels and demons come across quite often and most of them will be glad to have a psychological support like you. Well, at least I think so. Plus, it can be quite an experience for you as a therapist.

The angel thought for a moment, trying to find any trick behind it. But surprisingly, he was looking right into her eyes, nor she could sence any demonic energy. Still, she couldn't help, but wonder.

Nicole: Why do you suggest me such thing?

Lucifer: Are you doubting me?~ Hehe, no surprise, I'm a demon after all~ But my intention was to thank you for the support you gave to me for such long time. Maybe it's strange for divinity to ask for help a therapist, as, you know, we are so poweful and so. But reality sure gave a huge slap to my face, showing how brutal it is and how things can be for real.

Nicole: I would actually replace slap onto punch. It sounds more brutal.

Lucifer: Hehe, yeah. Anyways, I thought that maybe with new place you can accomplish your goal: to help everyone, not only angels. And maybe learn something new.

Nicole looked down in a thought. It was a great opportunity for her to understand the angel and demon psychology, how they can be different from each other, or even have something in common, and maybe how they can co-work with each other. Plus, it was a chance for her to see Purgatory herself.

Nicole: Alright, as a thank you, I will accept such suggestion. But as far as I remember, lady Lilith is in charge of Purgatory. Will she accept me as a therapist of Purgatory?

Lucifer: I'm sure she will~ We can even go and talk to her right now~

Nicole: Wait, now?? But-

She couldn't finish the sentence as they both were teleported to Purgatory, to the meeting room, where right now was Jikan. He jumped a bit from the surprise, but seeing that it was Lucifer, sighed with relief.

Jikan: My King, it's surprising to see you here. Did something happen?

Lucifer: Oh, not really, Jikan~ I just wanted to chat with my Queen. Is Lilith here?

Jikan: Yes, she is. Let me tell her that you're here.

And he went quickly towards the way Lilith was. Nicole stood still, a bit stunned by sudden teleportation. The waiting was not destined to be long as Queen of Hell came to the duo.

Lilith: Oh, Lucifer, i didn't expect to see you here~ Are things going well? And who is it with you?

Lucifer: Things are doing like they usually do~ And this is Nicole, angel therapist that helps angels psychologically and is interested in demon psychology. And also a therapist who helped me during some...tought times.

Lilith: Oh, I think you have told me about her once. That's surprisingly nice of her~

Nicole was frozen for a moment, fixing her glasses and looking at Lilith. Unlike Lucifer, queen was more dressed and polite, which surprised her more. She bowed.

Nicole: It's honor to meet you, lady Lilith.

Lilith: No need such formalities, Nicole~ I don't bite~ It's first time I hear that such angel like you is curious about us demons, not to mention helping Lucifer mentally.

Nicole: Umm, it's more for gaining experience. Plus, a personal request from sir Michael.

Lilith: Right~ So, let me guess, you suggested her to work in Purgatory and you want to ask my approval?

Lucifer: Yep.

Lilith: I see. Well, I'm fine with such idea~

Nicole: Wait, r-really?

Lilith: Of course~ People here will be glad to have such mental support like you~ Plus, you can gain more experience here~ Tho, some demons don't neccessary need it, but to give it a try is never bad.

Nicole took a moment to think of everything. Doubts crowled on her back. Won't it make her relationship with her sister conflicted? And what Noel will think of her? It was a chance for her to understand demons more, and she couldn't let it go like this. Her face looked upset for a moment, but quickly shifted to the working one.

Nicole: I'm so sorry if I sound selfish, but if I accept this offer, will my workplace in Heaven still be active?

Lilith: It's up to you. You can have both cabinets here and in Heaven. Maybe even one in Hell if you want~

Nicole: I see. Well, then I accept this offer, but under one condition. Everyone, who comes to my place should wear clothes.

Lucifer: Aww, really? Even in Purgatory?

Lilith: I can agree to it~

Lucifer: You too?? Man, you women are evil sometimes.

Lilith: Sorry not~ Anyways, want to talk about it at my office? We can discuss the time and place and other stuff that is required for you.

Nicole: Sure. But before we go, I want to express my thank you for the suggestion, sir Lucifer.

Lucifer: It's fine. Just doing what is the best. Tho i'm still not glad for the condition.

He made an irritated face as Nicole and Lilith giggled. They said goodbyes to each other before going to their own paths. Who would've known that such opportunity will knock on Nicole's door. She wasn't expecting it either, but if it means to achieve her goals, then this chance should not be missed. And Nicole will sure not let it go away.

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

And that's another story for the universe^^ So sorry for not writing anything with Okaria et Feria for a long time X'D Hope you will like it^^

Nicole and Lucifer belong to @wildstarfan and @milasartblog (both me)

Lilith belongs to @captainthane and @wildstarfan

Jikan belongs to @captainthane

Okaria et Feria belongs to @wildstarfan and @captainthane

#my art #oc #oc character #okaria et feria #demon #lucifer #lilith #queen of succubi #queen of hell #nicole #angel #therapist #jikan #meeting #suggestion #new place

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jlalafics · 4 years ago

Note

Modern Au dabble where Everlark connect on the roof of one of their houses and then cute kiss leading into ya know? Thanks! You and your books are amazing! -Zeffie ♥️♥️

Hey love! Thanks for this amazing prompt. I hope you wanted this ficlet with a good amount of spice...

Enjoy @hungergamesfangirl02 (Zeffie)!

_____

The moment she steps onto the roof, Peeta spots her.

She is circling the space with her roommates; the sharp-tongued woman with blunt bangs and crimson lowlights and the blue-eyed blonde wearing a crown of flowers. His roommate, Gale, had a one-night thing with the blonde. Peeta can still remember the muttered moaning of her name through the thin walls of their apartment: Madge…Madge…Madge…

Peeta drinks from his red cup, trying to quietly observe the girl in the middle. She’s wearing a cropped jean jacket and a shift burgundy dress with embroidered straps. The ankle boots lengthen her rich-colored legs and he wonders, albeit briefly, what he would see if a sudden gust of wind were to sweep through.

However, it’s summer in the city.

Balmy and warm, the sun just going down and it’s practically another day.

“Peeta!” He turns, spotting Finnick, his other roommate, and Annie, Finnick’s girlfriend. It’s his friend’s birthday and a possible engagement party. Annie doesn’t know, but Peeta and Finnick just picked up the ring from the jeweler this afternoon. “Why are you hiding in the corner?”

“You know that I’m not the party type,” he tells them with a smile. Peeta eyes his friend. “So…anything interesting going on?”

“Not quite,” Finnick responds, throwing an arm around Annie’s shoulders. “Maybe a little later.”

Peeta nods, trying to suppress his smile. It’s not often that his friend is uncertain; he’s known Finnick since they were in diapers and his bronze-haired friend has always moved forward, unafraid of what was ahead of him.

However, when it comes to Annie, the man is total mush.

“You need to circulate,” Annie tells him, her green eyes full of kind concern. “It’s been a year since Delly.”

“Who’s Delly?” comes a brash voice.

They all turn to find the woman with red hair standing before them.

And, right next to her is—

“Katniss!” Annie is rushing towards the pretty girl to give her a hug. Then she goes to Miss Blunt Bangs, embracing her as well. “Johanna!”

They all pull apart and Annie introduces them to Finnick and Peeta.

“I’ve seen you before on campus,” Finnick says to Katniss—Peeta is already in love just hearing her name. “You’re a voice major, right?”

Katniss nods. “Yup, but more song writing and composition than singing.”

“Well, you should talk to Peeta here.” Finnick waves at hand at him, clover eyes sparkling. He knows Peeta well enough to identify when he’s interested in something…or someone. “He’s exceptionally talented when it comes to playing. I don’t think there’s an instrument that he hasn’t experimented with.”

Katniss turns, grey almond-eyes on him. “I’ve seen you around before.”

“I don’t go to Juilliard,” Peeta stammers out.

“No!” She grins and he finds himself smiling back at the way her face completely blooms with loveliness. “I’ve seen you sitting on this roof. You play out here sometimes.”

“Yeah, Katniss has been mini-spying on you,” Johanna informs him.

“Really?” He eyes her and Katniss’ cheeks color—geez, now she’s even more gorgeous. “I’m flattered.”

“I actually live over there—” Katniss points to the adjacent building. It’s at few floors higher, but just enough for someone to look over and see clearly onto their roof. “—sometimes I go up to write or to look at the stars.”

“Don’t lie to the man,” her friend retorts, earning a glare. “At least tell him that you’re a little hot for him holding a guitar.”

“Johanna—” Annie thankfully interrupts. “Thresh has been looking for you.”

“I gave him a blowjob last month and he’s been hitting me up ever since,” she replies. Looking over at Katniss, Johanna winks. “Have fun with your mystery man.”

The two girls walk off, leaving Finnick, Peeta, and Katniss standing together.

“Oh!” Finnick looks around. “I think I better make sure that we still have enough ice and prepare for my birthday speech.” He pats Peeta on the back. “Have fun.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen a more obvious setup,” Katniss tells him when they’re finally alone.

“They mean well,” Peeta replies. “At least, Annie and Finnick do. Johanna is a bit of a mystery.” He looks over to the bar. “Did you want a drink?”

“Sure.” They head to the bar; Peeta tries to keep cool as Katniss joins his side. Their hands are a muscle movement away from touching and he stiffens his hand. “I’d love a Corona and lime.”

“Very summer of you,” he replies before requesting it from the bartender. “How do you know Annie?”

The bartender places the tall neck bottle, placing the lime wedge at the opening, before handing it to Katniss.

They find their way to a spot at the far corner of the party and settle down together on a lone bench. Finnick is talking to the DJ and he sees Annie talking to Madge, whose arm is around Gale’s waist. Johanna has found Thresh and they are dancing, both decently tearing up the floor.

It’s the perfect summer night.

“She works with Johanna,” Katniss explains. “I think they’re EAs for the two CEOs, so they’re always working together. I’ve known Johanna my whole life. When I found out I got into Juilliard, I didn’t hesitate to ask her to come with me. She didn’t hesitate to say yes. Her home life was less than ideal.”

“That sucks.” Real smooth, idiot. His tongue is so tied around her, but Peeta takes a breath and searches for another topic. “How about you? What’s your family life like?”

“I have one sister. Sweetest girl you’ll ever know.” Her smile goes soft and sad, lost in thought. “My Dad passed away when I was five.”

“I’m sorry.”

His hand goes unconsciously to hers resting between them. Peeta motions to pull away, but her fingers entwine with his.

Their eyes meet, silently agreeing that it feels right.

“It’s fine. He was sick for a long time,” Katniss explains. “When I was 12, my mom met Haymitch and we all kind of loved him from the start. They got married when I was 13 and have been thoroughly happy ever since.” She moves closer. “And you? Tell me about your family.”

“My Dad’s a businessman,” he starts. “Have you heard of Mellark Bakery?”

“Yeah, they have that huge factory across the bridge,” Katniss replies. “Your Dad work there?”

Peeta holds out his free hand, wondering if he should have open this can of worms. However, if this is going anywhere (is it too early to propose?), he should probably tell her about his family.

“Nice to meet you. Peeta Mellark.”

Katniss let out a laugh, putting down her Corona to shake his hand.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was meeting with a son of industry!”

“My Dad is actually pretty cool,” he tells her. “He’s always been very encouraging and supportive of me and my older brothers, Emmett and Noel. Emmett is an artist and Noel is a chef.”

“And your mother?”

“Pretty opposite.” Katniss squeezes his hand, listening intently. “She’s a society woman. Very beautiful, but very cold.”

“Oh, she is going to hate me,” Katniss replies.

Peeta grins at her words. “Already planning to meet the parents?”

“Of course. We’ve connected, you know?” she proclaims. “Now that I’ve seen you up close, there’s no going back.”

“And your family?” he counters. “Would they like me?”

“They’re going to love you,” she says, her grey eyes on him. “You seem so easy to care for.”

Peeta looks at his feet, overcome by her words. “How do you know?”

“Last month, I was coming home from school and you were walking out of your building. There was a little old woman coming out of her taxi and she seemed to be struggling to even open the door. So, you opened the door for her, and you helped her set up her walker on the sidewalk. Then, you paid for her cab and helped her inside your building. Nobody does shit like that anymore. Everyone always seems to be looking out for themselves, nowadays.”

“Mags has lived here the longest, so she’s kind of building royalty,” Peeta explains. “Also, her husband died a while back and she has no kids. The people in this building are her family and we take care of one another.”

“I like that,” Katniss tells him.

“I like you,” he blurts out. “I mean, if it hasn’t been obvious enough.”

Katniss doesn’t respond, but she shifts a little bit closer to him as she stares into his eyes.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

Peeta is intrigued by her abruptness. “What did you have in mind?”

She pulls him by his hand to stand up. He rises and their chests brush against one another. It is brief, but it is enough to light a fire in his belly at the feel of peaked nipples against his thin flannel button-down.

“We’re going stargazing.”

++++++

“For some reason, Johanna has a deal with the maintenance crew in the building,” Katniss recounts as they step onto the roof of her apartment complex. “No one else but myself, Johanna, and Madge are allowed up here.” She leads him over to a set of lounge chairs. “I don’t really know what kind of deal she cut, and I’ve never bothered to ask.”

“That’s probably for the best,” he tells her. “Are you allowed to bring people up here?”

“I’m pretty sure that Johanna and Madge have brought guys up here before.” Katniss turns to him, her eyes glowing under the light of the moon. “You are the only person that I’ve ever brought here…the only person I want to bring here.”

Peeta isn’t sure if it is the moon…or the Corona…or the heat of the night…but something dances inside his chest, telling him to go to her. Her eyes are on him, hunger so intense in them that there is nothing he could do but go to her. Katniss follows suit, marching towards him with determination.

A groan escapes her lips at the feel of him hard against her pelvis. “Peeta, please…”

They meet in the middle of the roof, breaths heavy and Katniss reaches to cup his cheek. His arm rounds her slender waist, pulling her close to let her feel what she does to him.

“What would you like?” he asks, voice roughened with need. His free hand moves along the lines of her body and she whines, pressing closer to him. “Tell me what you want, Katniss.”

“I want you to kiss me.” Katniss’ mouth grazes against him and he nearly crumbles at the feel of heat between her legs. “Then, I want you to fuck me until we both see stars.”

His mouth is on hers, slotting them together. He sucks harshly at her upper lip as her hands reach for him, holding his face in place as she bites at his lower lip. They both moan into one another, tasting lime and alcohol and the fire between them.

Katniss moves them towards one of the chairs, her hands traveling down and reaching to the buttons of his shirt as her tongue sweeps into his mouth. His own hands move to yank at her jean jacket until she shrugs it off.

“Touch me, Peeta,” she says into his mouth. His shirt has been tossed to the ground and her hands roam unabashedly against his heated skin.

Peeta reaches for the hem of her dress and Katniss complies, lifting her arms up so he could pull the dress over her head. Once it is off, he steps back and looks at the beautiful woman under the summer moon.

Every inch of her skin is caramel and Peeta licks his lips ravenously as his eyes rove over lush breasts with rosy nipples…the graceful dip of her waist…full hips…and nude mesh panties that cover a thatch of dark hair.

“You are beautiful,” he rasps.

Katniss slowly sits down on the lounger, resting back. Her chest heaves, nipples pointed in the warm air, as she waits expectantly for him.

Peeta kneels before her. Carefully, he takes her boots and places them next to the lounger. Then, he is at her center, mouthing her through the mesh and sampling the honey pleasure of her core. Her hands go to his hair, fingers running through his hair and nails scratching at his scalp as he sucks and tongues her through the scrap of nothing.

“Fuck! Peeta!” Her wails are like gold and he moans, vibrating against her cunt. “More, please!” He moves the scrap of cloth away from her quim and plunges his tongue inside her. “Oh my God!”

Part of him is thankful for the party next door, the vibration of music sheathing her cries in the air. Peeta loves the sound of her, unabashed in showing him how good she feels. Katniss pushes herself against his tongue, legs wrapping around his head as she humps his face.

He is drenched in her; his new favorite drink for a summer’s night.

Peeta’s hands move to his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them quickly.

Pulling away, Katniss whines at the motion until she sees his pants undone. Her eyes, already smoky, have gone obsidian at the sight and he pushes his briefs down, his erection jutting out.

She sits up, one hand pressed to the seat as the other reaches to his length, wrapping her fingers around him. Her thumb moves to the mushroomed head, spreading the precum and he almost seizes at the sensation.

“You’ve given me what I want,” she tells him, her hand stroking him slowly. “What do you want?”

“I want to show you the stars,” Peeta replies, his hand reaching to her panties and she lifts her hips, letting him slide them off until it joins their pile of discarded clothing. He stands before her, reaching for the waist of his jeans and boxers before pulling them off in one motion. His shoes and socks followed, joining her boots.

He stands before her, naked and obviously wanting.

Katniss lays back, pushing herself up onto her elbows, admiring the sight before her.

“I did watch you from here,” she says, her voice strained. “You’d fiddle with your guitar and I’d fiddle myself.”

The image of Katniss, hands on herself…fingers dipping into that dripping cunt is just too much.

Peeta falls to his knees, yanking her down until ass is at the edge of the chair, the backs of her legs pressing along his front.

Then, in one motion, he thrusts roughly into her sodden quim.

The moment Peeta slides into her, her whole body growls.

He can feel her contracting around him and he begins to move, savoring the feeling of being surrounded by her slick. Peeta leans down and their lips meet, her body practically folding in half so he can taste her.

Katniss moans into their kiss, tasting her essence against his tongue as they move against one another. The chair creaks under the pressure of their fucking and he can’t imagine that it feels very comfortable.

He attempts to lift her in-between thrusts, but Katniss frantically shakes her head.

“No, just like this,” she gasps into his sweaty skin. Her legs spread away to wrap around his waist. “Won’t be long now…”

She feels too good, silk and sopping around his cock. Her grip on him is the perfect pressure and as he thrusts, Katniss arches up, bottoming out.

“Holy fuck, you’re amazing,” he groans. “There is no way in hell that I’m letting you go now.”

Hell, Peeta is already convinced that this woman with the dark waves and smoky eyes is the woman that he’s going to marry. In his mind’s eye, he already imagines her in a white dress…carrying her over the threshold of her dream home…of fucking her against every wall of the house…of filling her to the brim until she’s swollen with his child.

“Don’t let me go,” Katniss cries out, her insides beginning to flutter around him, and he juts his cock shallowly knowing that he’s going to spill inside her at any moment. “I wanted you since the moment I saw you…fuck….oh…” Her muscles pulsate around him and her pelvis rises to meet his thrusts.

Her cries are swallowed into the starry sky above them and Peeta watches her in the beauty of her climax. Her hair flows behind her, her skin glistening, and she’s smiles up, her eyes full of love.

She’s watching him, jaw clenched, as the sky above is suddenly illuminated by fireworks, creating a halo around him.

Peeta comes undone, filling her, his pelvis pressing to hers until he is spent.

After, he lays, pillowed against her chest, her hand smoothing down his mussed hair.

“I see stars…” she whispers against him.

“Annie must have said yes,” he explains. “I picked up the ring with Finnick today.”

Katniss snorts. “When Finnick does something, he goes hard.”

“So do I,” he tells her.

She kisses the top of his head. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’ll see.”

They are married three months later.

FIN.

#Everlark #Everlark Fanfiction #Everlark Ficlet #Rated M #Modern AU #summerinthecity!Everlark

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mae-gi-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Une Premiere | Ju Haknyeon (The Boyz Christmas Series)

La Joie De Noel Series.

'Une Premiere' : A First, included in the expression ‘That’s a first’.

In which you and Haknyeon go on a first date on Christmas Eve.

things to know: - moelleux au chocolat : molten chocolate cake. It has a liquidy chocolate sauce inside.

I dedicate this story to: @atbzkingdom , Dee, thank you for always bringing me comfort and for always having my back. Being friends with you on Tumblr has helped me so much this year and I wanted to write this fic for you as a gift. So I hope you like it <3

-♡-

The warmth of Haknyeon’s hand on yours was burning through your palm and making it sweat bullets even though the cold was busy biting at the rest of your body.

You were surprised that he hadn’t pulled away in disgust yet. Your mind was internally screaming at you: you had one job Y/N, and that was not to make a fool of yourself!

You wouldn’t have been in such a state if not for the sudden inclination of such events tumbling one after another so that they left you feeling dizzy with euphoria, in a mess of feelings that made you want to squirm in place.

When Haknyeon had proposed to you that it was about time you’d had a first date with him -- he had confessed his feelings a few weeks ago and ever since there was this unknown, unspoken feeling that teetered between the two of you as though you were constantly balanced on a plate about to crash at any moment -- you had agreed wholeheartedly without thinking twice about the consequences that followed.

Like right now, when you were practically unable to function because he’d intertwined his fingers with yours like it was the most normal thing he could’ve done.

You wondered whether he could hear the way your heart seemed to palpitate within your chest like a ping pong ball.

Y/N you loser. Get a grip.

The Christmas Eve market was bustling with people and shining with lights that were strung, multi-coloured LEDs adorning the pedestrian cobblestone and turning the scene in a fairytale wonderland. You could hear music, Christmas jingles that floated through the air, and managed to somewhat relax despite your initial nervousness around the said young man.

"Oh look, they have Christmas cookies,” Haknyeon tugged you along to one of the stands where a multitudes of red, green and white Christmas cookies were displayed for the occasion.

“Three for five dollars!” The girl beamed while handing out samples.

“Woah it’s good,” your eyes rounded in surprise as you looked at Haknyeon, who chuckled at your expression, “we could buy some for your grandma. She likes Christmas cookies doesn’t she?”

His thoughtfulness for your own grandmother made your heart soften. He was so considerate that you wondered how someone as angelic as Haknyeon could walk this earth.

Precisely one of the reasons why you’d fallen for him so hard.

After thanking the cookie seller and stuffing one of her Christmas cookies boxes in your bag, you followed the string of people down the line of stands filled with various Christmas-themed items; decorations for sale, gift ideas already wrapped up in their respective bags, food items that would make good appetizers for your own family dinner if you hadn’t already prepared anything.

"Oh my gosh they’re all so pretty!” You couldn’t stop yourself from exclaiming as you crouched along the row with barely restrained excitement thrumming through your veins, “what do you think? Look at this one!” you held out a glittering gold angel silhouette, “your sister would love that.”

“Yeah. Unfortunately she’s at that stage where she likes to shove everything in her mouth, edible or not,” Haknyeon grumbled softly, causing you to giggle as you tried to hang it off his ear.

He eyed you with amusement, “Do I look like Christmas tree material?”

"More like boyfriend material,” the words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them, though he just burst out laughing before tugging you closer to drop a kiss at your temple, “you’re so cute.”

Face burning with heat at his bold action, you tried your best not to show your embarrassment, which proved to be useless since he noted the way you ducked your head away and how your hands seemed to pick at your nails in that adorable way of yours whenever you weren’t sure of what you should be doing.

Deciding to warm yourselves up, you decided to stop by one of the cozy coffee shops that sold only Chocolate-themed desserts. Haknyeon’s excitement doubled when you confessed you’d never actually been to this place, quickly whipping the menu from your hands and promising that this was going to change your life forever.

“You’re in for the biggest surprise of your life,” he stated upon spotting the waitress making her way to your table. You had not failed to notice, in all this flurry of excitement, that his hand had entangled once more if yours under the table and was now currently rubbling circles over your palm.

You hoped that your face didn’t betray the way your heart was racing about hundred miles an hour.

“Y/N,” he probably noticed your expressions, “you okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” oh shit. Were you that obvious? “so what’s so special about that place anyway?”

“I’ll tell you later,” and his hand squeezed yours softly, almost making you gasp at his tenderness.

A few minutes later your table was filled with a moelleux au chocolat and a macha-dark chocolate infused crepe garnished with bananas and snow sugar, accompanied by two hot macha lattes decorated with foamy little kittens.

Haknyeon didn’t hesitate to feed you, even folding the crepe nicely so that there was no need for you to open your mouth wide. Though you made a face at being babied (especially in public), he just insistently kept on urging you until you gave in.

“Good?” he tilted his head, watching you with affection practically brimming through the corners of his eyes.

You nodded, taking a quick sip of your latte and sighing in bliss, “okay, you win. This is really good.”

“Told you it would.”

You cut into the moelleux as the chocolate oozed out of the cake, a delicious sight really. You reached over the table, “your turn now.”

Haknyeon accepted your offered fork though from the reddish tips of his ears, he was just as embarrassed as you were. This was the first time you two were out in public, officially anyway. Still, you couldn’t help but coo at how cute he was.

“I’m not cute,” he scowled while unable to keep the grin off his face, “you’re the cute one in the relationship.”

“That’s debatable,” you take another bite of the crepe, “have you seen yourself?”

“Actually I have, and I disagree with you.”

Without warning, he reached over to pinch your cheek, “look at you, so adorable,” he said, laughing as you swatted him away.

It was getting closer to midnight by the time you two hopped off the last night bus to walk towards your house, the streets alight with golden hues cast by the light posts and the snow that bathed the entire scenery in magic. A muffled silence rang through your ears, only interrupted by the soft stomping of your boots up your porch as you looked up and perceived the darkness coming from your humble abode, meaning that everyone was already asleep and no prying eyes would be peeping out at you.

Haknyeon’s grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly when you finally reached your door. Turning to meet his gaze, a small smile tilted your lips upwards when you are met with his eyes that seem to shine brighter than the snowflakes falling to the earth.

“I had a lot of fun today,” you murmur out, scared that speaking too loudly would break the magical bubble you’ve created with Haknyeon by your side, “thank you.”

"Would you...” he tilted his head to the side, eyes averting for a second before locking with yours once more, “would you be okay to do this again?”

You knew it was eating him up on the inside, but you decide to drag it out of him, pressing your lips and drawing out a hum as if you were thinking it over.

Haknyeon just shuffled uncomfortably, glad that the darkness was hiding the red flush creeping up his neck.

“Sure,” you grinned then, “why not? I quite liked it--”

And that was when you spotted a gleaming sliver of leaf atop Haknyeon’s head. Your mind stuttered to a stop, heart jumping up through your throat.

“What?” Haknyeon frowned at your shocked face, before tilting his head up. You scrambled to stop him, “don’t!--”

Too late. He gaped at the mistletoe hanging atop his head, blinking slowly.

And when his head dipped back down slowly to gaze at you, something in his eyes had shifted. His orbs a darker, glimmering obsidian as he seemed to trace your features for a full minute.

Silence. You wondered whether he could hear how your heart was beating a thousand miles an hour.

“It’s just a petty tradition,” you finally found your voice and hoped you didn’t sound so desperate as you struggled to string a coherent sentence together, “I mean, really. Think about it--”

But he only tugged you closer, causing your words to die in the back of your throat as he leaned down so that his nose brushed yours softly, “should we just...” he gave you a look, hesitantly licking his lips and making you swallow, “humour it?”

It felt like all air had constricted inside your lungs so that no words could make their way out of your mouth. He was so close, chest brushing yours and his hand entangled with your own in a firm grasp that had goosebumps skitter up along your arm.

Your head dipped into a nod.

Haknyeon’s sigh was shaky. His other hand softly skimmed along your waist to pull you closer still, before he tilted his head and softly, tenderly allowed his lips to touch yours.

Your heart skipped a beat. He was so warm. His lips so soft.

It was impossible not to melt slightly.

When it was clear that you had no intentions of pushing him away, Haknyeon proceeded to pull you even closer so that your curves blended into his frame, causing your lips to part with a soft gasp, one that he swallowed as he proceeded to kiss you a little deeper, a little longer. He massaged your lips with his own plush ones, catching your lip, kissing it, before going to your lower lip and letting his teeth nibble on the patch of skin with growing endearment. The sensation had sparks fly through your chest, butterflies practically rocking through your body as your lips gently moved back against his, as shyly as a baby fawn taking its first steps and Haknyeon would be lying to say that his own heart hadn’t leapt in excitement at how innocent you were, at the purity of your kiss, your lips.

When you parted, it was only to come up for air and he took this chance to run his thumb over your lower lip in adoration.

“Merry Christmas Y/N,” he breathed, nuzzling the side of your face before burying his nose into your hair.

Your hands wound around him in a gentle hug and you closed your eyes, allowed yourself to feel his warmth encircle you, “merry christmas Hak.”

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