#you’re not you when you’re hungry noir | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blackynsupremacy · 2 months ago

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THERE’S SOMETHING

ABOUT YOU.

CHAPTER 3

pairing: smallville!clark kent x blackfem!oc

fandom: smallville (2001-2011)

guest starring: aaliyah haughton as lyric james

also starring:

sam jones iii as pete ross

allison mack as chloe sullivan

kristin kreuk as lana lang

summary: ever since lana lang has moved in with the sullivan’s, clark kent’s nightly telescopic views of the galaxy and daily glimpse of the sunrise tend to get lonelier. that is until a moving truck, a wandering amicable feline, and her frustrated owner, lyric james, makes her debut in his life as her family are the new owners of the old potter house next door. things between the new neighbors start to shift as clark is tasked as her personal tour guide at her new school. one little slip is all it takes for her to learn he’s more than meets the eye in this small town.

contains: lots of words, friends to neighbors, use of gifs and photos for visuals, tooth rotting fluff, a bit of angst/arguing, lyric and clark getting closer, mild swearing, cute moments, slow burn, main audience is black readers but everyone is welcome. lyric’s thoughts, clark’s thoughts.

taglist: @rosiestalez @camiesully @paisholotus @ellethespaceunicorn @afrowrites @afrogirl3005 @tryingtograspctrl @zombigrlll @simply-the-best23 @jkr820 @gxuxhdjdu @sabrinasopposite @elitesanjisimp

please read: CHAPTER 2

lyric’s heavy eyes open as soon as her ears hear the siren sound of her alarm clock. darkness envelopes the room. her vision shifts to the alarm clock that reads five am on the dot. her hand slowly reaches to press the button that ceases the alarm. she’s early for once. so early that the sun hasn’t come up yet. wait—the sunrise. even though she’s half asleep and her thoughts are hazy, it all comes back to her memory: her family ate dinner with the kents last night, she also remembers clark, his loft, the telescope, and his invitation to watch the sunrise before school. her deep, brown pupils try to adjust by glancing at various objects in the room like her vanity, her closet, her various posters of her favorite musicians, and noir who’s four paws down on lyric’s chest, her pink button nose a mere centimeter from her owner’s.

“g’mornin’, baby girl. how’d you sleep, hm? you hungry?” lyric coos to her with a raspy voice as her fingertips caress the black strands of noir’s fuzzy head. the feline mewls in response and jumps down from the bed making a soft thud as all four paws strike a perfect landing on the hardwood floor. noir gazes at lyric in expectancy, her signature move of swaying her tail on the floor indicating that she was indeed hungry.

“okay, okay. i’ll get you breakfast, but i gotta be quick.” lyric complies and she sits upright to turn and remove her comforter. as soon as her feet connect to the floor, she makes her bed and trudges out of her bedroom to make her way to the kitchen downstairs, noir traveling not too far behind her. when she reaches her destination, she spots both of her parents continuing their normal routines in a comfortable silence. crystal was preparing breakfast and joseph was reading the news as he munched on a red apple from the table fruit bowl.

“good morning, y’all!” lyric cheerfully greets her parents. a hug and a kiss on the forehead for her father. a hug and a kiss on the cheek for her mother. they were both shocked to see their daughter up so early, but they enjoyed her enthusiasm nonetheless.

“good morning, honey!”

“good morning, sweetheart.”

they respond still continuing their tasks.

“you’re up real early. i guess that means you’re ready for your first day at school?” joseph inquires as he watches lyric grab noir’s usual cat food and purple monogrammed food bowl from the cabinets before she squats down to pour out an appropriate amount, in which noir immediately indulges in. everyone, but lyric notices the wide, dimpled grin spread across her face before she answers,

“uh, yeah! i think i am. it’s a fresh start and no one knows me like that, so—i’ma make the best of it!”

“hmm! first, you’re up at five. now, the cheerful mood. i haven’t seen you this excited and confident to go to school if it’s not the last day of it before summer, lyric. not to mention that sunshiny smile! this wouldn’t have to do anything with a certain boy next door would it?” crystal teasingly jests, her own dimples appear to match her daughter’s expression.

“no, mama! it’s not like that. clark is sweet and all, but i just met him. we ain’t even friends like that yet, but i do appreciate him for by showing me the ropes on my first day. i can’t stay too long because we gotta meet before the bus comes!” she responds to fetch herself a bowl and spoon to pair them with frosted flakes and milk to quickly refuel her energy for the day. crystal feigned a surrender as she raised her hands.

“okay, baby! i’m just saying it sounded like you and clark had a nice time up in that barn after dinner when your father and i left the kents. neither of us didn’t want to disturb you two and we were glad that y’all were getting along, so martha and jonathan said it was fine for you to stay in there for a couple more minutes before clark walked you back home.”

lyric pauses her eating and she feels her face burn up at the realization of why her parents went off without her after the kents graciously invited the james family to have sunday dinner last night.

“ma! ya’ll heard us and ya’ll left me!?” lyric fake gasps and pretended to be hurt, a chuckle leaving her mouth.

“we’re sorry, baby girl. we just haven’t seen you so happy ever since—“ joseph added before lyric finished his sentence.

“omar?” lyric’s tone shifted from bright and jovial to monotonous and cold. there was now an uncomfortable beat of silence between the james’ family, crystal sending a glare to her husband before softening her brown eyes on her daughter. lyric broke it by clearing her throat.

“baby girl, i’m sorry—“

“it’s okay, dad. really. i—uh, i’ma go get ready. i can’t make us all be late, right?”

lyric awkwardly stood from her chair to wash the dishes she used before giving her parents an affectionate hug and goodbye, hurrying up to her bedroom to get the day started.

lyric sits on the stool at her vanity mirror dressed in a beige top with a sleeveless brown vest and matching cargo pants. around her neck she wears a silver military dog tag pendant and around her right wrist, lays a silver bracelet and the other, her black wrist watch. after the routine of adjusting her onyx tresses and enhancing her natural features with light makeup, she puts on her signature hoops to finish off the look. her fingertips leave a lingering touch when the needle pushes through the clasp. her chest gets heavy at the mention of omar’s name a few moments ago.

why the hell did he have to bring him up? wasn’t the reason us being here not to talk to about him? i can’t really be mad—i guess this change has cheered me up to some degree.

the comforting touch of noir’s paw tapping on the back of lyric’s leg awakens the girl out of her head and she gathers the furry bundle of mischief into her arms, pecking her head and stroking down her back. lyric simpers as the cat purrs at the touch and nuzzles her head under lyric’s chin in approval.

“you’re ‘bout to be on your own for a few hours. you better behave. don’t you do anything fast while i’m gone, you hear me, girl?” she playfully reprimanded and squats to release noir from her embrace. noir lets out a meow in response. lyric takes the sound as a yes, but knowing this feline, no promises are set in stone. her eyes peer down at the watch to read it’s a quarter till six. it was still dark, but she knew it would be a matter of time before the sun rose and she didn’t want to let clark down. with her black satchel carrying her camera and new lavender backpack with the required academic supplies, she headed down the stairs to see that her parents were about to depart to their workplaces. joseph places a house key in lyric’s palm, urging her to be responsible for it. the family exchanges the encouraging words of “have a great day and be safe. i love you.”, before they all go their separate ways.

lyric takes her walk to the kent house. the familiar path she’s treaded on a few times feels like the long bustling, sidewalks of her home, but there was no bustling. no horns honking. no people rudely bumping into your shoulder and getting mad at you because they weren’t looking where they going even though their head was down. it was only the quiet sounds of birds chirping and the creaking of the wooden stairs under lyric’s feet as she approached the front door of the kent household. her knuckles reach to knock on the door and she waits not ten seconds later to see the pleasant face of mrs. martha kent. the ladies greet each other with beaming smiles.

“good morning, lyric! how’re you this morning? please come in! why don’t you look pretty. i assume you’re ready for your first day at smallville high?” the older, auburn woman inquires as she steps aside to let the young girl enter her home.

“good morning and thank you, mrs. kent! i won’t front, i’m a bit nervous, but i’m excited for a fresh start! clark asked me if we could meet before the bus came to watch the sunrise. is he around? i hope i’m not too late. i don’t usually get up this early.” lyric chuckles as she clutches the strap of her bag and hikes it up onto her shoulder.

“oh, no, sweetie, you’re right on time! he’s over at the barn now waiting for you. before you go, how’s that cat of yours?” they both snicker, knowing about noir’s quirks. lyric assures that martha of noir’s wellbeing before she bids martha a goodbye and exits from where she came in. the girl roams the path to the barn not without spotting clark’s father, jonathan, up and tending to the livestock. she calls out for the man and waves to greet him a good morning which he positively reciprocates. after the friendly exchange, she’s already entering through the barn door. her feet taking her to ascend the wooden staircase before she calls out for the farm boy,

“yo, clark! are you in here?”

lyric reaches the top and goes around the corner to spot him near the open window, leaning forward on the sill with his bended elbows. clark’s head turns at the sound of her voice and instantly smiles at her timely arrival.

“good morning, lyric!”

lyric returns his greeting with her own grin before sauntering her way closer to take her position beside him at the window. her feet shuffles to give each of them space.

“good morning, clark. i hope i’m not too late.” she responds as she notices the sky about to change colors.

“nonsense! you’re just in time for it to start. you got your camera?”

“got it right here!” clark watched the girl as her hands ventured into the black satchel that she routinely held to reveal a black canon digital camera.

the teens both leaned on the sill. their eyes catching the horizon as the sun slowly, but surely ascends to take its place in the sky reflecting an iridescent, golden light mingling with the fading blue of the once midnight sky. each star disappeared with one ultraviolet ray at a time. with an awestruck countenance, lyric held the camera up to her right eye, adjusting the focus settings to capture every major and minor detail of this moment. lyric generally thought sunrises were beautiful from afar and went along her way, but seeing this up close? it was a treasure. this was something that was given to humans everyday, free of charge and she just couldn’t believe that she could take this for granted. one from her city couldn’t really enjoy the sunrise due to the hectic nature of getting on the train or due to the blockage of buildings that reach the clouds. lyric’s index finger pressed down on the button several times. she beamed when that metallic click reached her eardrums, a sound of her passion, her livelihood, and her emotions. clark’s blue eyes pulled away from the sunrise momentarily to gaze down at lyric because he could already hear the sound of heart thumping at a rapid pace that almost had him concerned for wellbeing, but that fear dissipated as he simply watched her work the camera at the desired angles. he marveled at the beautiful golden light reflecting off the melanated skin of her face and arms. the indention of her dimples protrude as the top row of her pearly whites rest atop her glossed bottom lip. he noticed the tiny sway of her dark hair dance with the small breeze of the morning wind. clark was impressed at her focus and drive to get a good shot of the sunrise. he realized that for lyric this wasn’t just hobby or a past time. it was her art form. her element. clark was so stuck in his trance of staring that even lyric noticed his pupils of blue scoping down at her figure. she halted her movements immediately and slowly let the camera down to her torso. embarrassed, she cleared her throat and stifled a giggle. lyric had an idea to break the silence and break the barriers of her craft.

“hey, clark—earth to clark!”

her voice knocked him out of his trance, his head shaking a bit with rose tinted cheeks of embarrassment for making his neighbor feel awkward. the farm boy cleared his own throat before stammering himself.

“uh—oh. um, sorry, lyric. were you saying something? i didn’t mean to stare for so long, it’s just the way you took a picture of that sunrise. you looked like you were in another world for a second. you seem to love photography, huh?” he questioned, shifting his posture and placing his hands within his pockets.

“it’s all good, clark. by the way you were watching, it looks like i wasn’t the only one in my own world.” the teens pause to chortle at her wit. lyric inwardly smirked as she picked up on that his cheeks flushed a shade of rose and a hint of nervousness in his laughter before she resumed the conversation and gazed at the memory holding device within her hands.

“yeah, i do, but it’s just a hobby. i just like to take photos of different places and things that give inspiration. to be real with you, i haven’t really taken pictures like this since my fr—uh, my family moved. i guess i owe you one for the spot. thank you!” clark received her dimpled grin of gratitude in which he returned with a lopsided smile of his own. he also couldn’t help, but have a gut feeling about her tone mentioning the move of her family from new york. it was filled with a twinge of hesitancy and—sadness? regret? being the empathetic guy that he was, he wanted to check to see if he said anything wrong. the “protecting the privacy” part of him wanted to respect that boundary, so that this connection wouldn’t be ruined.

“it’s no problem, lyric. what are good neighbors for? are you ready to head out to the bus stop? i don’t want to be the reason you miss your first day.” clark geared up for another school day by gathering his signature red backpack that toted the academic essentials.

“yeah! let’s go.” she replied, but then an idea came alive in her brain and she called out for his name, he responds by turning to face her and raises a brow to signal “yes?”. he didn’t want to rush her, but he didn’t want the two to get in trouble by making both of them late, not on her first day of all.

“do me a favor. put your bag down, stand near that wall, lean your back on it, and look at me. don’t move! i just wanna try something. i swear we won’t be late!” lyric pleads and sighs in relief when he does as he’s told and holds the pose before averting his gaze to lyric whose focusing her camera on his tall frame. within three seconds, he hears the familiar metallic clicking sound and once lyric gives him the green light, he returns to his original position and takes his belongings, she beckons him to her with a quick wave of her hand and a look of anticipation on her face.

“i’ve never really done a shot of another person like this, but the lighting was just perfect and i—well, just take a look for yourself, clark. what you think?”

lyric questioned, leaning the device close enough to clark for him to see the small screen that beheld the photo of him. he was thoroughly impressed by the shot! lyric wasn’t kidding when she said the lighting was right. the vibrant colors of the dark blue jacket mixed with his red plaid flannel against the tawny brown walls of the barn exuded that all american charm he possessed within himself. one could tell he worked on a farm as he noticed his skin looked slightly sun kissed. his onyx hair looked shinier and the shadow that casted on his face helped to sharpen his facial features such as the bridge of his nose and jawline. it was almost like something out of an issue of teen vogue.

“oh my god, lyric! you’ve really outdone yourself. i’m not normally a guy for photos, but this looks professional! thanks!” he beamed as his eyes couldn’t tear away from the photo.

“it’s no biggie. i just wanted to do something different. get out of my comfort zone type of thing.”

“lyric, you don’t understand. you could do local shots for people if you wanted. i’d think you’d go far with this if you think on it and do some more!”

“you think so?” lyric asks, tilting her head up for her eyes to meet his.

“i know so—i guess you could say i sparked the inspiration.” clark quips with that contagious charming smile of his that sort of makes lyric’s stomach tumble. she nervously laughs ands taps his arm with the back of her hand.

“yeah, yeah! when’d you get so humble? we better bounce before you make me late.” lyric walks towards the staircase with clark following behind. they rush to bid goodbye to his parents one last time before clark leads her to the bus stop. they wait in a comfortable silence for about five minutes before the long, yellow vehicle arrives in front of them. lyric’s stomach does a turn at hearing the whoosh of the long doors opening, awaiting their boarding. clark gives her a reassuring once over, indicating for her to follow his lead before his feet steps on to board and lyric follows as they make their way down the aisle. lyric felt a bit uneasy as she could tell a few eyes were on her as they walked to the empty seat that clark found across from an african american boy that smiled and greeted him. clark sat himself near the window, allowing lyric to sit on the outside to face the same boy across from them.

“hey! what’s up, clark—oh, and who is this?” his brown eyes glinted with delight as they laid on the new girl that was seated besides his best friend. smacking his teeth, clark playfully rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics.

“come on, pete! don’t scare her off. this is—“

lyric caught clark by surprise as she eased the awkwardness by giggling and introducing herself.

“it’s all good! he’s just trying to be friendly. my name’s lyric. lyric james, i’m clark’s new neighbor. my family and i moved from new york to smallville like, three days ago. i live next door, actually. it’s nice to meet you.” she amicably said and held out her hand for the boy which he eagerly took to shake.

“that’s cool! a new girl next door, huh? welcome to smallville. the name’s pete. pete ross. i’m clark’s best friend. i hope this means you’ll be sticking with us on your first day? hopefully a lot more than that.” pete responds, flashing a pearly white smile to work that ross charisma.

“easy, now but yeah! if it’s not too much trouble. so ya’ll have been tight for minute, right?” lyric chuckles and leans back against the seat before shifting her gaze between the boys.

“mm-hm. when i was little, i was getting pushed around by some jerk, but here comes clark kent, coming to my rescue. let me tell you, he pushed that kid so hard into the door, it literally broke into pieces! ever since then, he’s been my boy.” pete raves before reaching over to send a bashful clark a fist bump of gratitude.

“hey, i was just doing what i had to do to help someone who needed it. i think everyone deserves to be saved.” clark modestly chimed in.

lyric was amazed. that’s the second testimony she’s heard of clark’s courage to step in and save others. it kind of intrigued her how a small kid could push another so hard a whole door could break, but she brushed the thought away as three of them continued to chat throughout the ride to school. she’s learned that pete’s family was very well to do and a respected group of lawyers. his mother was even the judge! lyric found it to be a relief to have another acquaintance besides clark be someone of her culture because when it comes to small towns, there could be a lack of diversity sometimes. their conversation is cut short when the bus pulls in front of the tall, beige school building with the words SMALLVILLE HIGH SCHOOL imprinted on the top. a large, red banner is displayed above the front door, showcasing the crow as the mascot and encouraging the student body to “FLY TO VICTORY!” in golden letters. one by one, the students stood up to walk in a single file line to depart from the bus and make their way through the entrance.

after stopping by the front office to retrieve her class schedule, clark and pete take lyric on a brief tour through the school. they give an overview of the larger common areas such as the cafeteria, library, gym, and the auditorium in addition to the hallways where her different classes would be. lyric made sure for her brain to download every detail of each location the best she knew how. for her peace of mind, she shared one class with clark and another with pete. the trio make a quick stop at another room. it was spacious with technology such as computers and copy machines. a sign in bold red lettering read, “SMALLVILLE HIGH TORCH” along with a myriad of photos on the wall. lyric spotted a caucasian girl with a medium blonde bob that looked preoccupied typing away at the desktop computer. she assumed the girl was in charge of this room they were in. given she was the only one in there before they showed up.

“hey, chloe!” clark called out causing the girl to stop immediately what she was doing. she picked up what seemed to be a newspaper, her nose was deep in it as she followed the sound of clark’s voice, but didn’t notice that she was standing in front of lyric.

“hey, clark! look, i really need all hands on deck on this next story. do you think you could—“ chloe halted as her green eyes met lyric’s brown. her cheeks flushed with scarlet, embarrassed that she was in fact, not talking (directly) to clark. the girl shook her head at own mistake, chuckling before making a formal introduction.

“i am sooo sorry! you’ve probably already heard, but my name is chloe. chloe sullivan and you are?”

the girls reach out for each others hands to shake.

“i’m lyric james. i’m clark’s new neighbor. it’s nice to meet you, chloe! i dig the set up around here. what is this place?” lyric questions, her brown eyes perusing the room before landing on chloe’s enthusiastic face.

“well, first, i’d like to welcome you to smallville high and second, this is the torch! it’s basically like the school newspaper outlet. we put out things like current events and upcoming events, but this is all to get me ready to be a real journalist. one day you’ll see me out in metropolis working on the biggest headlines for the daily planet.” chloe spoke with an air of wit and confidence.

“you wanna see something, lyric? come and follow me.”

lyric looked to clark and pete after she saw chloe go farther back to another room. their faces shown to her that they already knew what the deal was before they all led her to the destination. it was a wall that was plastered with what seemed to be several newspaper clippings all pasted one on top and beside each other like a scrapbook. chloe stood beside the three and triumphantly gazed at it like a proud parent.

“i present to you my wall of weird. if you don’t know, there’s still remnants of the green meteor rocks from the fall of ‘89 and those rocks have certain—side effects on different people that give them these abilities that are literally out of this world. this wall contains every headline of incidents that those people were involved in ever since the shower. it’s amazing, really.” chloe walked up in front, her arms wide open presenting the evidence as it were a museum exhibit.

“you mean like superpowers?” lyric inquired, her arched brows raising in surprise. she couldn’t see behind her that clark was tensing at the mention of these bizarre incidents that occurred in their town. incidents that he and his friends were involved in to resolve on so many occasions. incidents that had him and some of the people he loved hurt and almost killed. he cut his eyes to chloe, warning her to shut it down, so lyric wouldn’t be freaked out considering she just moved here seventy two hours ago. chloe got the signal and cleared her throat before stammering,

“y-yeah—i know it’s a lot of heavy information about a place you just moved to. i’m gonna stop talking about it. you don’t probably don’t want to be late for—“

and just like that chloe was literally saved by the bell.

“class…say, how about we catch up later at lunch, you guys? again, it was great meeting you, lyric! i hope to see you more often.” chloe hastily says before rushing to gather her tote bag with her books and venture into the hallway, disappearing into the crowd of students. lyric was getting curious about the wall of weird.

how in the hell does one meteor shower change the course of these small town people that…drastically? it all may sound cool in a comic or a movie, but this was real life with real people who had real powers!

lyric’s eyes stared at the wall of photos, itching to find out who these people were, what abilities they had, and how they lived. her trance was broken when she felt a light tap on her shoulder. she turned around to still see pete and clark waiting for her.

“oh—my bad. did ya’ll say something?” she hated when she was caught zoning out. she awkwardly blinked as she twiddled her fingers.

“it’s no problem, lyric, but we’d be better get to english before we get a tardy. i’ll walk you there!” clark urges, giving her a once over to the door.

lyric gives a nod and one last lingering glance at the wall before the three of them exit the torch to walk to their respective classes in a timely manner. lyric and clark survived the fifty minutes of reading and analyzing a chapter of alexander dumas’ the count of monte cristo, a literary classic of getting your lick back. the perfect revenge. fortunately, they just started on the novel, so lyric didn’t have to play catch up. as lyric and clark walked in the hall between class periods, they talked about how fascinating it was with how the main character could be so influential, giving, trusting, and fair, but still had the people closest to him praying on his downfall. clark’s mind couldn’t help to wander that the character reminded him of his wealthy, but good friend, lex luthor. lex had the money, power, influence, resources, and compassion when it came to the citizens of smallville especially when it came to undoing the sins of his father, lionel, who at the same time was meticulously plotting in his son’s downfall, a devious ploy after another.

speaking of the citizens of smallville, clark felt time freeze when lana lang approached him. smallville’s local, yet tragic sweetheart. lyric’s eyes immediately caught notice of clark’s attention on the other girl. lyric couldn’t deny that she was gorgeous with her long, brown hair and almond hazel eyes. once she flashed her luminous smile, lyric could obviously see that clark was smitten by her. perhaps that was his girlfriend.

“hey, clark. long time, no see! i’m sorry if i haven’t been over to the loft as often, but things have been so hectic down at the talon. i can’t say i don’t miss those sunrises!” lana chuckles, nibbling on her bottom lip and glancing at the floor briefly her eyes shift to the girl that’s standing next to clark. lana’s brows raise at her presence and before she gets the chance to inquire, clark chimes in.

“hey, lana! no, no. you’re fine. i get that with running a business, you take care of well, business! just know that no matter what, you’re always welcome with open arms.”

clark’s known her ever since childhood. this was his first love. he practically sees her almost everyday, but when she comes around, his stomach ties in knots as does his tongue sometimes, but he keeps it together to keep on a decent conversation. there’s a beat of awkward silence that’s cleared by lana clearing her throat to ask her burning question.

“i’m sorry! i hope i didn’t seem rude. i don’t think i’ve seen you around here before. i’m lana lang. it’s nice to meet you.” she greets and gives lyric a cordial grin. lyric returns the favor in the same tone, her own friendly smile before introducing herself for the umpteenth time for the day.

“it’s no worries. i’m lyric james. i’m clark’s new neighbor. my family just moved here from new york.”

“new york? that’s awesome! i’ve always wanted to travel there one day. well, welcome to smallville. as a token of my welcome, i’d like for you to come over to the talon. it’s this café slash old movie theater that i run in town and your first caffeinated drink of your liking is on the house! i’m there pretty much all the time after school, so just swing by whenever.”

“you run own your business? that’s what up, lana! i’ll take you up on the offer if someone is willing to take me because i haven’t really seen smallville like that yet.” lyric responds and playfully cuts her eyes to clark briefly before resuming her conversation with lana.

“i’d love to come and thank you so much!”

“don’t mention it! now, you said you’re the kents new neighbors, so that means you live right next door, correct?” lana questions, quirking a brow. lyric attempts to answer, but clark takes it for her.

“yeah! i meant to introduce you guys. i guess i got a bit…sidetracked, but yes! lyric’s family actually lives in your old house, lana. it’s amazing how that all worked out.”

clark sheepishly adds to the conversation. okay, clark didn’t exactly tell lana that her old home had new occupants right away. between lana working, clark’s chores, and hanging out with lyric, one could say clark was indeed sidetracked. his stomach had that familiar drop when he saw lana’s face shift from content to confusion, her eyes start to squint as her brows furrow.

“wait—what? i thought when dean sold the house, that it was just off the market? i didn’t think anyone could—i just. you know what? it’s whatever. it’s not like it was really my house financially. nell and dean can do whatever they want. sometimes, i wish they’d give me a heads up on things like this. clark did you know about this? if so, how long?”

“lana, i’ve only known since friday. i was out in the loft the night they moved in. at first, i thought it was nell and dean, but i was wrong and i honestly thought you knew, but i didn’t want to bother with you juggling school and the talon.”

clark explained with as much accuracy as possible. he knew how much lana valued the truth. he knew how much she valued places and objects that connected her to her family. lana closed her eyes, inhaling and exhaling. she couldn’t really be frustrated towards clark per say, how could he have seen this coming? the last thing lana needed was another unnecessary rift between her and clark over something that was out of anyone’s hands.

“it’s no issue, clark. i’m sorry for getting so riled up. there was nothing any of us could do. what’s done is done! and lyric, i apologize that you had to see that. i know that didn’t make a great first impression!” lana remorsefully utters, placing a hand on her chest.

“don’t worry, lana. how about we just start over and talk it out later at the talon? i think after today, a cappuccino would do us all some good. i’m sure clark would be willing to lead the way!” the teens all chuckle and nod in agreement of their plans for the evening before lana bids them both a goodbye and disappears in the crowded hallway. lyric’s smile drops, her body turning to make full eye contact with clark and her arms crossed to size him up.

“so you weren’t gonna tell me i moved in the house of your girlfriend? don’t you think that would be a little suspicious? i just got here and the last thing i need is some drama, clark. if there’s something i gotta know, you better tell me right now.” an irked lyric fired at the boy with furrowed brows, but not too loud to not draw attention.

“i’m sorry, lyric, i did mean what i said to lana. she has been busy and that was the last thing i think she needed on her plate. also, i was helping to make sure that you felt at home considering how we first met. you seemed stressed, worried, and this morning i noticed you were a bit sad when you talked about not taking pictures in a while. i won’t pry, but it upsets me when i see people that i know and care about in distress. whether it’d be my parents or my friends. i always feel the need to help even though it sometimes it results in those getting hurt. talk about having the right motives and doing the wrong things.” as each word spilled from clark’s lips, the gears in lyric’s brain began to turn with realization setting in.

he noticed that i was sad? he wants to make me feel at home? he sees me as someone he knows and cares about? he sees me as a friend?

lyric shoulders relax and her arms drop to her side. a strand of dark hair falls in front of her face and her hand sweeps it behind her ear, buying her time to conjure up a response to his plea.

“i—clark. um, thank you for telling me that. look, i’m sorry for pressing you like that. since we’re gonna be honest, i won’t lie when i say that i can see you as someone that i care about too. i didn’t want to pressure you into saying we were instantly friends because i didn’t want to scare you off, you know? we just met, but like i said before, there’s something about you, something good, so i can’t trip because it wasn’t your intention to hurt anybody, but if we’re gonna be friends, let’s both try our best to keep it real with each other, you got it?” her brown eyes gaze up into his blue ones with expectancy.

“i got it, lyric.” they exchange a small smile of understanding and establishment of their official friendship as they move on about their day, fulfilling the next few hours of learning until the ring of the final bell signals the students of smallville high of their dismissal. as lyric walked with her new circle out of the school, it didn’t take long for her personality to instantly click within the group. she hadn’t felt this sense of community and belonging in months. at lunch, chloe was kind enough to let the other three carpool with her to the talon within the next few hours to hang out and study. lyric was down for it, but she had to let at least one of parents know before going out. while waiting for their bus to arrive, clark and lyric stood against the wired fence. he wanted to do a quick check in on her after some of the encounters that she had on her official first day.

“lyric?”

“yeah, clark?”

“what did you think about today? about everything?”

“well, i’ll say that it’s the most interesting first day of school i’ve had since kindergarten.” she responds with a chortle.

“anything in particular that made it interesting?”

“the torch was dope. i really want to learn more about the wall of weird, so there’s really people in this town—this itty bitty town, that had superpowers because of fallen green rocks?”

“welcome to smallville.” he quips with a lopsided smile and shrug of his shoulders.

“damn. well i know i would never fall into that trap of being up on that wall. it sounds like having powers would be so…much. like, it sounds cool, but you can’t play around with that. you know what i’m saying, clark?”

he pauses knowing full well that he understands such a predicament. she’s not exactly wrong, but there’s something else i need to know.

“i know what you’re saying. say, i want to know your opinion—would you think a person with those abilities has the potential to be helpful to others? you know, like a superhero?”

clark’s eyes intently searched her face as she looked to be in thought before answering with the nod of her head.

“oh, yeah! definitely. i wouldn’t personally want that life for me, but for someone else who wants to use it with the intention of making a positive difference, i’d say they go for it! if you’re gonna have any type of power, you’d want it to do some good.”

her enthusiastic tone gave clark a bit of hope and…warmth. the only people who know of his abilities are pete and his parents. they’ve always reassured that clark was great the way he is despite the burden, but he can’t help, but to feel deep down that he was an outcast, a freak of nature. he was an alien for god’s sake and that’s all he knows, but for some odd reason, lyric’s response didn’t make him feel like a freak. more so like a hero, a person. as he saw the bus arrive, he had to clear the air on one more thing while they still had their privacy.

“by the way, lana’s not my girlfriend. she’s just—a really good friend.”

lyric arched a brow in surprise at the boy and a chortle vibrated in her chest.

“oh, for real? by the way you were looking at her in the hallway, i certainly couldn’t tell. clark, it’s so obvious you like her. i don’t blame you she’s sweet, beautiful, intelligent, and independent. i don’t see what’s stopping you.”

“i just don’t want to ruin what we already have. our friendship is very important to me. i’ve basically known her all my life.”

“well, i won’t fight you on that. at the end of the day, it’s your go. now, let’s go before they leave us behind!” she waved him over as they followed their group to the assigned vehicle. after her, clark, and pete boarded the bus, the teens talked, laughed and griped about the day they’ve had. at that moment, lyric knew that smallville would become more bearable due to the aid of her new friends by her side. the bus makes the stop in front of kent farm. clark offered to walk lyric home as she wanted to go and check on noir before they meet up later before chloe arrives. lyric accepts because even though she could walk on her own, she thought it would be awesome to see the look on clark’s face of her token of her appreciation for him helping her out on her first day. they take the brisk walk to her house and clark seems reluctant to step inside her house without knowing if it was okay with her parents.

“are you absolutely sure that i can come in lyric?” clark questioned, a look of uncertainty in his eyes meet lyric’s nonchalant expression.

“don’t trip, kent. you know my parents like you enough. plus, one of them won’t be home until two more hours and this will be quick. have a little faith!” she chuckles and takes out the key joseph entrusted her with, turning the lock, and opening the door. she invites clark into the living room and asks if he needed anything like a snack or drink which he politely declines. his ears perk up at the familiar sound of paws lightly trodding across the floor. simultaneous grins spread across the teens faces when noir enters the room, a soft mewl echoes in the room when her eyes of yellow green lay on her owner and the farm boy that spoiled her days ago. she walks past lyric as if she were a stranger and instantly nuzzles her fuzzy, black body against clark’s leg. he doesn’t hesitate to set his backpack aside and gather her within his arms, a large palm stroking down her spine.

“well, hey, noir! it’s so good to see you, girl.”

lyric’s heart swelled as the room is filled with purrs of contentment, but she can’t help but feel a bit jealous at how quickly her cat of three years switched up for clark, who’s she’s known for three days.

“mmcht, you little traitor.” lyric teasingly sniped, crossing her arms.

“aw, come on, lyric! don’t be like that.”

“don’t be like what, clark? it’s not like i gave her food, shelter, love, and care. a damn shame, my baby girl dissed me.” she replies with a feigned tone of hurt, causing the teens to burst out in laughter.

“i’m glad she’s keeping you company because i need to you sit right there on the couch, clark. i got something for you. i’ll be a minute.” lyric urges before gathering her things and running upstairs to her bedroom. she sets her backpack on her bed and reaches into the black satchel containing the camera. once she takes it out, she steps towards her desk with her computer and takes her seat to power on the device. she swiftly connected her digital camera to her computer, the soft whir indicating it was properly functioning. a cheesy, dimpled smile couldn’t leave her face as the preview screen lit up, revealing the candid shot of clark leaning against the barn wall. the same one she took after the sunrise. the very first close to professional looking photo that she captured of another person. after a messing around with the settings, she moved the cursor to hit the “upload” button. what seemed to be a sixty second transfer felt like an hour before the picture appeared on her screen. lyric double checked to make sure everything was perfect before sending it to print. she made the trip from her bedroom to the home office where the main printer was located and the photo was slowly whirring from it as she walked in. it came out face down until she gingerly took it out and went out into the hallway to stand in front of the staircase. she could hear clark’s melodic chuckles in the distance mixing with the jovial purrs and meows of her cat.

lyric turned the photo around to be face to face with clark. the picture felt almost like a new connection—something precious between new friends. still, she couldn’t help but to stare. there was something about those baby blue eyes, his dark jungle of curls, and that humble charm of his that made her stomach tumble again. she shook her head, chiding herself.

what the hell? why am i acting like i haven’t seen a cute dude before? i see them in magazines and movies all the time, so why i do feel so weird when it comes to clark? he’s great and all, but we still only known each other for three days.

they just established their friendship today, and her thoughts went back to lana lang. the girl who she assumed was already his girlfriend because he shined like the sun by just seeing her smile. the girl he’s known and obviously loved his whole life.

“ugh.” lyric groaned softly, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep up her brown cheeks. she glanced one last time at clark’s picture and she shook her head in disbelief.

you can think a boy is cute and still be friends, right? right.

lyric fixed her face and went downstairs to the living room to find clark with a snoozing noir sprawled on her back across his lap, his large hand gently rubbing her belly. his head is down for a moment, but thanks to his heightened hearing, he knew of lyric’s arrival when he heard the creak of the hardwood steps with each movement of her feet.

“we’re glad to have you back.” he genuinely simpered at her presence and spoke at a volume good enough for lyric to hear, but not to wake the sleeping feline. there was that tumble in her stomach again she shook it off, using her wit to mask her nervousness.

“from what i heard upstairs, it sounds like ya’ll didn’t miss me a lick, but this is for you. it’s not much, but it’s a thank you for everything.” she quipped with a grin and walked closer to sit beside him in the couch and handed him the printed copy of his photo from this morning.

“oh, lyric, you didn’t have to—thank you!” he wasn’t sure if she noticed that his fingers slightly brushed against hers as he took the photo. he examined with the same impressed expression that he had early this morning, his pearly white canines exposed.

“it looks even better on paper! no one’s really done something like this for me before. i can say that you’ve outdone yourself, lyric james.” clark commended with his face turning to hers.

“why i appreciate the compliment, clark kent. it was my pleasure.” lyric playfully bowed and the two softly chuckled before their eyes meet again. they absentmindedly stare at each other for a moment. a thread of unspoken words between them with each second passing by. now, she was starting to feel awkward, she cleared her throat to break the silence.

“i really want you to keep that, you know. as a token of my appreciation and a reminder of our friendship.”

“you can count on me to take care of it, lyric. not to sound cocky, but i really like this picture. it’s so good, it deserves a frame. you know, i might i refer to you for my senior photos. better yet, we can be a reporter and photographer duo for the daily planet after graduation—that’s hopefully if you stay.” he paused in the gravity of the statement. “i’m sorry i got too ahead of myself for a minute!” clark who was now red in the face, bashfully chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck.

why am i already talking about our—i mean the future with her? i need to slow down before i scare her off, but who could deny that would be cool? if she continues with her photography, she can make it as a living!

lyric giggles and places a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“easy, clark. i’m not planning on going anywhere anytime soon. that reminds me, i hate to kick you out, but i gotta freshen up and give my parents the 411 before we meet chloe at your place to study at the talon tonight. i’ll be at your place in a good hour, okay?” the girl helps him by gently picking up noir from his lap and cradling her in her arms. clark agrees with understanding and gathers his belongings, the photo still in his hand.

“yeah, of course! don’t forget to bring your copy of the book from english class. i’ll see you later, lyric!”

lyric walks him to the front door and opens it for him to walk out on the porch. she watches him walk down the steps and before he makes his way down the path, he stops to turn around to give her one last smile and wave which she reciprocates. clark watches her shut the door before he resumes his trip back to kent farm. with each step he takes on the way home, he takes a glance at the gift of his new friend and with each glance, his eyes linger longer, his smile wider, and his spirits, higher.

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tvgals · 2 years ago

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‘ SUCK IT UP . ‘

spider noir x black! reader smut 🌒

“baby, you’re so tense.” you mumble into your husband’s ear, rubbing the heels of your palms against the small of his back. “i know. gotta keep savin’ the world for my sweet girl.” peter groans, a soft moan escaping his lips when you hit just the right spot. “relax a little. you can stop fighting crime for just one day.” you whine, turning peter onto his back while you rest your body on his hips. he looks at you with a dopey grin on his face, he swiftly leans up and brings your face to his, enveloping you in a sloppy kiss. you smile into the kiss and pull away, pushing peter back down onto the bed.

“i thought your back hurt?” you giggled, rolling your hips on top of peters. “if ya keep movin’ like that i’ll make your back hurt.” peter smirks, placing his large hands on your ass, coaxing you to grind harder. “is that a threat or a promise?” you whisper into peters ear. you squeal when you feel his hands rise to your hips to flip you onto the bed, him hovering over you. “whatcha doin’?” you purr, dragging your manicured hands down to peters boxers. “loving on my woman. i can’t do that?” peter asks, pulling your panties down and spreading your lips apart. “never said you couldn’t..” you moan out, arching your back off of the bed.

your husband pumps his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace, the sound of your arousal being overwhelming. “baby…” you whine, wrapping your arms around his neck. “what’s wrong?” peter asks, pulling his boxers down to reveal his hard cock. you bite you lip at the sight and look back up at peter, who’s grinning at your undying hunger. “you don’t want it?” the man asks you, slowly pulling his boxers back up. your eyes widen and you shake your head. “i do want it! please!” you whimper, bringing your hands down to his wrists to stop him.

“then let me do my thing, love.” peter taps his cock on your clit a few times, earning a hungry moan from you. he slides inside and the two of you moan, peter hiding his face between the crook of your neck while holding your hips. peter drags a reassuring hand along your thigh while he sheathes the rest of his cock inside of you, giving you soft kisses on your collarbone. “i love you so much..” peter whimpers, slowly rocking his hips against yours. “love you more…” you spoke, digging your nails into your husbands back.

“i,” peter corrected you. “don’t forget the i, sweetheart..”

he’s so cute i luv him

TAGLIST ; — @draculara-vonvamp @therealcees-blog @laylasbunbunny @lovelytayy @kisminarii @d7n3 @deadgirlkisses @darkknightpeanutbagel

#myatalks🫡#black reader #im black #blkshoyo #i love being black #ilovemyfollowers #ilysm <3 #writing is my therapy #spider noir #spider noir x reader #spider noir x black reader #x black reader #into the spider verse #peter parker x reader #spider man x reader #spider man #spider man smut

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dimicul · 5 months ago

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❧ no thoughts, just thinking about yuji + megumi sharing your pussy like it was made for them.

yuji’s sharp jaw is leaned against the thick plush of your thigh, pink tufts threaded between your fingers as he licks lazily at your swollen clit, big hands holding your knee apart as he laps away, his tongue hot against you. you shiver, small strings of moans leaving your lips as you watch, chest rising up and down. yuji’s tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, a smile curve on his lips as he spreads apart your pussy, soot black lashes covering his eyes.

“think she likes you watchin’, fushiguro,” yuji muses against your bundle of nerves, meeting your gaze from under his eyelashes, the boys lips pressing against you again. you shiver, hips bucking, suppressing the whine that threatens to leave your mouth when you look at megumi, heated gaze on you already.

he strains against the black slacks, evidently enjoying the way the sorcerer devours you. it makes the hair on your neck stand up. his lower lip rolls between his teeth momentarily before nodding, a slow one, his own hand coming to stroke yuji’s nape gently — this seems to encourage the boy who whines against your pussy.

“yeah. ‘course she does.” you don’t miss the way his voice lowers, thick with amusement. how he managed to still be so condescending with his cock straining against his slacks baffled you.

yuji lets out a chuckle when megumi lowers beside him, sly look shared between the two — the breath gets knocked out your lungs, tension thick in the room when the noir-eyed boy presses a kiss to your spread thigh, contour of his jaw digging against you. it earns a desperate plea from your lips, and he looks at you from under those dark lashes and moves lower.

fingers thread harsher into yuji’s hair as his tongue teasingly dips lower, humming, the vibration making your pussy dampen — you find yourself falling apart slowly as megumi kisses your clit, eyes fluttering shut at your taste.

“gettin’ greedy on me, itadori?” megumi muses, his face brushing against yuji’s; you gasp, back arching off the bed, the cheap material of it damp and messy. megumi groans against you, his tongue sliding against yuji’s, the hot wet muscle kitten licking your clit.

“was here first,” yuji mumbles with a pout as he presses a kiss to your thigh. god. they were going to be the death of you.

“please—“ is all you can pant out, your hand moving to stroke the side of megumi’s cheekbone. pale pink lips press harshly against your hole.

you watch them both savour you, occasionally groaning, tongues sliding against one another, yuji’s nose brushing innocently against the side of megumi’s face as he watches — hungry, dazed, slender fingers pinching your nipple with silent admiration. you’re writhing, small pleas leaving your swollen lips and megumi hums. you’re sure you’ll be able to hear the obscene filthy noises filling the room in your sleep.

____

LOL i should be put down x

#megumi fushiguro #jjk #megumi x yuji #yuji itadori #mlm #reader x yuji itadori #itafushi #straight up smut #jjk smut #pussy eater #down bad #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #mature

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mswyrr · 1 year ago

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who's the songbird and who's the snake?

The joke is that adult Snow is going to spend the rest of his life thinking that Lucy Gray was his femme fatale, but actually young Coriolanus was her femme fatale.

At the worst point in her life this pretty boy shows up with a rose & then cares for her as best his limited resources allow. She finds out he's gone hungry too, that his family doesn't have much to eat, but he'll give her what food he has anyway. He risks his life for her, gives her his most cherished memento of his mother. Says and does all these sweet things, treats her like she's precious. It all adds up and she comes to trust him--when she says trust is harder for her than falling in love!--despite her wariness & believes in him to the extent that she writes him a song with the line saying he's "pure as the driven snow" (482) & then... 😬

When he slipped up and said he'd killed 3 people instead of the 2 justifiable ones she knew about, it must have been like she was suddenly in a gd Horror movie. Or the end of a Film Noir, when the femme fatale takes her pearl handled revolver out and points it right at the hero's heart. Her sweet boy transforming into a beast right in front of her eyes.

Who was the songbird and who was the snake? Lucy Gray tells him “I want you to know I don’t really believe you’re here for grades or glory. You’re a rare bird, Coriolanus.” (127) And she liked his singing. “Was that you I heard singing? … I liked your voice." (143). It comforted her in an otherwise completely horrific experience. From his pov she was his pretty, sweet songbird who turned into a snake; from her pov, he was hers. I find her pov more convincing, since Coriolanus does the traditional femme fatale thing and "proves untrue," whereas Lucy Gray was always true to her word.

I super dig the aesthetic, the tragedy, the fact that we get the femme fatale's pov as he tries to justify himself and pretend Lucy Gray was the one who proved untrue. The poignancy of her falling for someone as they are in the process of becoming someone very different. Because, in the end, he wanted control and comfort more than love and truth.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy gray baird #thg meta #coriolanus snow #my meta

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victoria-rue · 1 year ago

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victoria-rue's Recommendation Masterlist part 3

Okay, so, this is my third masterlist. And each masterlist has about 50 stories, so 100+ stories in total. All I'm saying is I might have a problem, but these authors deserve recognition for their amazing works of art. They deserve to be spread out to more people, even if there's only a small amount people that see this. These authors deserve the world ♥︎

Recommendation Masterlist part 1, part 2, part 3, & part 4

Marvel

Miles Morales

❝ white lies ❞ by @berriweb

LINK UP by @qkopi

you loved your boyfriend miles, you really do. he was everything you could ask for; he was handsome, gentle, and very caring towards you like a good boyfriend should be… but there’s also times where he would cancel dates out of nowhere and that would leave you to be disappointed and go home bored. miles then tried to make it up to you by planning to hangout at his place this today, but things go sideways when his twin brother decides to take things into his own hands..

Bereavement by @famwhy

Miles is missing, and all you can think about is getting him back. Upon finally finding him, however, you're taken aback by the copy that stands beside him—the same copy that was staring at you with wide, shaking eyes full of... disbelief?

Peter Parker

Part Of Your World by @waitimcomingtoo

Peter meets a girl who dreams of being where the people are

hoax by @waitimcomingtoo

when Peter strikes out with you but discovers you’re a fan of his alter ego, he gets you tangled in his web of lies

Miguel O'Hara

Across the Street by @quaintii

It's been a couple weeks since a new family moved in, across the street. You go pay them a visit with an offer.

The game of cat and spider by @lucywrites02

You are a criminal and he's a hero. You don't know each other's names, never seen the person behind the mask. You aren't enemies- you are supposed to be but that didn't work out quite well. You liked each other a bit too much, but your relationship was strictly…. Professional? What happens if you meet as normal people, with no masks and responsibilities in your way? What did the universe plan for you? And most importantly…. Will it last?

Daddy Issues by @drefear

Halo by @missdictatorme

You are an AI designed by Miguel. He gave you a unique voice, one he knew he would like listening to. He didn't really gave much thought to how you looked like when he made you a hologram form, he just choose a random picture of a woman from the internet. What happens when you ask for permission to design your own look?

Web of Secrets by @liliacamethyst

Bittersweet Devotion by @diejager

IGOR by @papuhater

Bucky Barnes

i never thought you’d happen to me by @nickfowlerrr

Wade Wilson

Here’s To Us by @baka-bakeneko

Wade's street neighbor needs to use Wade's hot water.

Marc Spector + Steven Grant + Jake Lockley

Already over. by @m00nsbaby

With You by @ivystoryweaver

Eddie Brock/Venom

RUSH HOUR by @ghostheartfelt

you meet eddie during morning rush hour, vv understanding man who admires your connection with your customers and dedication towards your job. eddie's hungry for chocolate (n you), you pique interest in the host and his symbiote.

Miles Morales, Miguel O'Hara, Hobie Brown, Peter Parker (Spider-Noir)

THIS IS A LIFE by @mo0nfairy

in every universe, spiderman will inevitably lose the one thing that matters most to him: y/n l/n. miguel o'hara, peter parker, and hobie brown have all suffered through this story. they soon discover another version of you is alive, bound to fall in love with miles morales and to die abruptly. with the prospect of a second chance and a newfound obsession, these four men will do anything to keep you at their side.

Detroit become human

Connor RK800

Criminal Analysis by @gogogodzilla

You never pictured this life for yourself. Never pictured that android cases would start piling up and you'd be assigned to figure out why they were deviating. You were a forensic psychologist hired by the Detroit Police Department as a consultant. You usually dealt with figuring out what made suspects tick and why they did what they did. You figured it'd be the same thing, as usual, that is until a certain android walked into your crime scene and completely turned your life upside down.

Hunger Games

Finnick Odair

Finnick Odair book series by @mrsnancywheeler

midnight rain (Book One)

finnick had pulled the plug on your relationship long ago, when he could no longer keep from you what he'd been forced into. but after you've returned victorious from your games, he knows you need him as the nightmares come for you each time you close your eyes.

the lakes (Book Two)

it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

the river (Book Three)

the Capitol has taken you away from Finnick, the life you've been trying to build together and now he has to fight to get every part of you back

Avatar

Jake Sully

A Child of the Stars by @berry-blue03

you are Jake Sully's six year old daughter, who goes with him to Pandora. Takes place during the first Avatar movie

ꜰᴀʟꜱᴇ ɢᴏᴅ by @teyamsatan

Being one of two human kids left behind after the war, Jake has never seen you as anymore than a little stray cat, always hanging around his village and his kids. All will change one day when the two of you are stranded together, and he gets to discover there's more to you than he ever thought - enough to risk everything he's built for himself in the last 24 years of his life.

Tsu'tey te Rongloa Ateyo'itan

Do you hate me? by @byunpum

You are the eldest Sully daughter, you are adopted. All your life you have grown up watching tsu'tey, and your feelings for him have grown. Everything changes when one day you go hunting with your crush.

Miles Quaritch

Sweet like cherry by @pandoraslxna

Miles has a secret admirer and apparently, she has a thing for photography.

Damsel, let me de-stress you… by @quaritchsluts

Y/N te Suli Neytiri’ite is captured and imprisoned by Colonel Miles Quaritch and his squad, alongside her childhood friend - Spider - when attempting to aid her younger siblings whom were cornered by the recom team when exploring the woods. As Jake Sully’s eldest child, she knows it won’t be long until her father bites back at the recombinants, as does Miles. Because, how dare he take his precious daughter? His firstborn? So, with the odds against him — as well as the clock — and not to mention the displeased dad on his tail, Miles knows he must do whatever it takes to get all the information out of her that he can. Whatever it takes.

Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan

Ghost girl by @byunpum

After their village was destroyed by humans, Y/N must seek refuge in the forest. Her being rescued by a peculiar family, she discovering that her gift had led her to them.

i remember her hands. and the way the mountains looked. by @vampsywrites

In which the Sullys approach the mountain clan for sanctuary. The Olo'eykte agrees but proposes one condition: Toruk Makto's eldest son must be promised to her daughter. Surprisingly, instead of the solemn response one would expect, Neteyam agrees almost instantaneously.

Jealousy by @eyweveng

You have a secret relationship with Neteyam but find out terrible news from your bestfriend.

~To You He Feels Like Home~ by @ghoul-bonez

You were born to the forest, wild by nature, wild by nurture, and surely wild in spirit. Your animal family had always warned you about strangers, the odd people who looked like you, but when one approaches you, you can’t help but be curious. When your curiosity wears off and you deem him weird enough you’re convinced you’ll never see him again, but Eywa has other plans.

Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk'itan

twin flames by @strangerdangerwrites

Eywa has bonded the Son of the Forest and Daughter of Ember over the pain and grief towards the Sky People.

Ao’nung

Fated Mates by @anemonelovesfiction

-stars- by @adhdduckie

When Y/N, and the sullys first reach the reef, a boy catches her eye, and she does her best to catch his attention. She doesn't believe he likes her back, and she thinks it's ridiculous that she's so whipped for this boy. He seems to have no interest in her.

Ronal & Tonowari

Connection by @blue-sadie

Traveling with the sullys to the Metkayina village and tonowari and ronal falling in love with you at first sight and feeling a connection to you.

Neteyam & Lo'ak

Do It If You Dare by @aonungswifeyy

Picture her being quaritch’s daughter, who tries to kill lo’ak but she gets captured by neteyam and by the end of it all, quaritch finds out she now belongs to both lo’ak and neteyam

Reunion by @yourstrulybluelover

The Sullys have been away for years. They have just returned to the Forrest, not only bringing with them joy and hope but also uprooting masked feelings.

"The Love Shack" by @vivid-ink

You’d heard the whispered speculations and stifled giggles during the daytimes. You’d seen the furtive glances that the other women cast at Neteyam and Lo’ak through coquettish eyes, cheeks stained a blushing mauve as they exchanged coy smiles with the two brothers. And during the nights? Hell, you’d heard the moans and wanton cries for yourself… You were definitely curious, but did you have it in you to go through with their proposition?…

Actors

Jamie Flatters

ALL THINGS CONNECTED by @yawneneteyam

growing up on set together, y/n and jamie share their love for one another through the only way they know.. filmmaking

Time Wasters

Ralph Penbury

Worth It by @wheels-of-despair

Your mother forces you to go to a Valentine's Day dance with a dull date, but Ralph manages to make your night worthwhile.

Scream

Ethan Landry

Perverted by @demontonic

𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 by @n-slayaaaaa

Seeing the Core Four years after an explosive argument ended your friendship brought about plenty of unwelcome emotions—can you let the past go or has your plan for healing old wounds gone too far?

obsessed by @messylustt

getting a call from ghostface is never good. especially when you find out who lives under the mask—the dorky boy who you drunkenly kissed one night.

a father’s malice by @shadesslut

After the Ghostface attacks, Y/N tried her best to move on from Ethan with raising their son, but things get harder after Ethan gets out of jail.

Billy & Stu

Of Friends and Horror by @grimoireofhayley

You have been best friends with Billy Loomis since you both were in diapers, however, when high school hit, Billy's mom had filed for divorce and had left his father. His dad was miserable even in marriage, hence his continuous affairs with Maureen Prescott. Though, after the divorce and his mother leaving, Billy has been different since; He started dating Sidney Prescott, the late Mrs. Prescott's daughter. He never showed an interest in her until now… But why?

The Last Airbender

Zuko

rotations by @reinerispretty

written during the prime of the atla rennaissance (summer 2020), (y/n) is a child of the fire nation aristocracy and a close friend to prince zuko. as circumstances drive the two apart, she finds them thrown back together. this time on opposite sides of a war.

Daughter of the Spirits by @jettingtothemoon

In which y/n comes across the fire nation prince during her stay in Ba Sing Se.

Last of Us

Joel Miller

Against All Odds by @and-claudia

Look For the Light by @cowgurrrl

When you left Boston with Joel Miller and a little girl named Ellie, you never thought it would land you in Jackson, Wyoming with a tiny family.

sun bleached flies by @sempersirens

stumbling upon the settlement of jackson whilst 4 months pregnant had almost felt too good to be true. for the past seven years, you had been able to raise your daughter, mia, surrounded by a safe and supportive community. however, your small slice of paradise came tumbling down the day joel miller arrived. despite only crossing paths for a fleeting encounter all those years ago, you would never forget the face of your daughter's father.

Strawberries and Cigarettes by @hischeapcigar

you're falling in love with the person your dad hates the most

Miraculous Ladybug

Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir

New Bug in Town by @lilian-writes-sins

With Marinette AKA Ladybug gone, Chat Noir has to hold down the fort and protect the city of Paris from Hawkmoth, while waiting for Master Fu to choose the next Ladybug miraculous holder. The city is in disarray for months, with no sign of Ladybug returning, people are starting to lose hope. Until one day, when some passersby see a red and black figure jumping on the rooftops.

78 notes · View notes

amostimprobabledream · 2 years ago

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Colour in my dark side (Homelander x Goth!Reader)

Blame @blindmagdalena for this, ages ago we were discussing Homelander becoming attracted to a goth!Reader who is indifferent to him and this is what spawned. Enjoy!

It’s hellish hot.

The Con is swarming with people, and your all-black outfit isn’t helping at all. This is not your idea of a good time – it’s loud, bright, every fifth person stinks of B.O, and there’s always some kid shrieking somewhere and you’re hungry. Posters and clips of the Seven are playing everywhere – you’re sure if you did a three-hundred sixty degree spin, you’d be able to see a whole movie play out across the whole venue. Honestly, it’s too much. You’ve never really cared all that much about Supes, to be honest. Sure, saving people’s lives is admirable and they deserved every bit of credit and however much money one paid Supes for doing that. That all made sense.

But all this? The tacky clothing lines and toys and comics? The endless ad campaigns and shitty movies and TV shows? It was all just so much. You had no idea how any sane person could bear it, but then, you were pretty biased in that respect. And every one of the Seven except maybe Black Noir were so not your aesthetic – the cheesy grins and spangly suits made your eyes hurt.

So why are you here?

Because your friend Jen practically begged you to come with her. She’d had tickets for SupeCon for months. Apparently, her sister was originally going to come with her, but somewhere along the way, plans changed, things got confused and she couldn’t make it. Jen promised she didn’t expect you to pay for her sister’s ticket and that she’d treat you to lunch, just as long as she didn’t have to go alone. You’d dragged her to some weird events in your time, so you agreed, if slightly reluctantly.

But now you’re here, it’s exactly as bad as you thought it was going to be. And it’s about to get worse.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe the Seven are finally here!” Jen squeals and bounces up and down next to you, while you stand there watching her in befuddlement. No doubt you make an odd pair to anybody watching – she fits right in and you look like a crow amongst a flock of sparrows.

“I mean, yeah, they are scheduled to be.” You reply, in the most deadpan voice you can muster. Jen usually catches onto your sarcasm very quickly, you’ve perfected the art of saying it subtly, but today she’s too excited and it goes right over your head.

The Seven enter with screams of applause that makes you wince, wanting to clap your hands over your ears. Homelander is in the lead, of course, waving to the crowd and even giving a cheesy thumbs-up. Queen Maeve, A-Train, Black Noir and Starlight follow him, not as bombastic but each of them seem to have their fair share of fans too. You don’t know where The Deep is and it looks like they haven’t gotten around to replacing Translucent yet.

Jen is busy snapping pictures of them as they walk to their booths. Apparently there’s going to be a short Q&A later about whatever movie it is they’re supposed to be plugging at the moment. Apparently this one is a big deal because it’s the first one with Starlight in it, but Jen promised she wouldn’t make you stay for that, thank god.

“God, most people don’t look as good when you see them in person, but they’re all so good-looking!” Jen gushes, bouncing on her heels.

“I guess.” You offer neutrally, trying not to sound too critical because she’s here to have fun.

They look a little uncomfortable to you. Well, it’s hard to get any vibes from Black Noir, to be honest, but Maeve has a just-swallowed-a-lemon face and Starlight’s smile has a nervous edge to it. You read somewhere she used to be in beauty pageants as a kid and it shows when she’s in front of a crowd. A-Train and Homelander seem to be soaking in the attention, though, which doesn’t surprise you at all.

“Omg, hey, look this way!” Jen says, suddenly turning her phone the other way and leaning her head towards yours. “Picture!”

“Ugh, do we have to?” you ask, but you dutifully pose anyway, but you don’t smile. The flash stings your eyes and you blink, hard.

You blink several times, eyes watering a bit, but you manage to prevent them from leaking, which is good because you don’t want to fuck up your eyeliner. Now Jen is staring at the rapidly-forming queue, chewing her lip as she deliberates and you fish your phone out of your pocket and start scrolling through it, absent-mindedly.

“Fuck it, I’m going in.” she says, turning to you hopefully. “You wanna come? I know you don’t really like the Seven, but you could at least meet Black Noir yourself?”

"Yeah, I don't think so." you reply without looking up from your phone. "Standing in line for hours just so some Vought barbie doll can bare their teeth at me and give me an overpriced piece of junk with their name scrawled on it is not my idea of a good time."

Okay, maybe that was a bit mean - the heat and hunger is making you snippy, but fortunately for you Jen doesn't mind when you're grouchy so she simply laughs at you.

"Say what you want, Morticia, but I'm going to catch 'em all!" she grins at you. "I can't wait to talk to Starlight, she's the only one of the Seven I don't have any hand-signed merch of yet!"

You glance over at where the girl in question is sitting. Homelander gets the end table, obviously, since they're saving the best for last and if there's an emergency, he needs to be able to get out quickly (he's been known to crash through roofs before, apparently, so he's right next to the emergency exit door), but Starlight's on the table next to his. Between all the other members of the Seven there's something fragile-looking about her, with her dainty white costume and the hair in soft blonde waves. You know that's not true; she has to be tough to have been let into the Seven at all.

But...for some reason you find yourself feeling sorry for her.

"She looks so young." is what you end up saying.

“Yeah, I guess? I just wish she’d ditch that hairband; I had one just like it in middle school,” Jen says, shrugging. “Still love her, though! I’m gonna go get in line now!”

You nod, not really paying attention anymore and glance around, wondering if you should bother buying a hotdog or something – can you last another couple of hours before Jen gets you lunch?

“Okay, I’m getting a slushie. Do you want one?”

She smiles and shakes her head, hitching the strap of her bag further up her shoulder.

“Nah, it’ll have melted by the time I’m finished getting autographs. Go on and listen to The Cure or something.”

“Fuck you,” you reply with a smirk and Jen laughs and trots off towards the back of the line, her hair swishing. You’re glad she drove here because she’s going to struggle walking anywhere with all the shit she’s buying.

The line is so long it’s snaking around the room, but the Seven are used to events like this so hopefully she should only be an hour or so. You sigh and dodge a family that nearly steamroll right over you, a mother and father arguing loudly while their kids whine and shriek behind them, the youngest one squeezing an A-Train toy that is already missing an eye. You make a disgusted face as you dodge them – you don’t want their gross sticky hands getting on your clothes.

After buying yourself a slushie that’s so big it’s slightly too large for you to hold one-handed, you dodge endless streams of people until you get to a wall and lean against it. You can’t see any chairs anywhere, which is a shame because your feet are really starting to hurt.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you mutter to yourself, stabbing your straw through the slushie and taking a long, refreshing gulp. A soft sigh leaves you; “Ah.” At least it’s quieter over here. While you nurse your drink and distantly wish you’d brought a flask so you could put some alcohol in this (you feel like alcohol would make time go by quicker), you get this prickling feeling and glance up, wondering if Jen decided she was too tired to wait.

But no. It’s not her. Instead, Homelander is staring straight at you. At first you don’t register that he is, merely that he happened to glance up in your direction, but after a couple of seconds of his unwavering gaze, it occurs to you that he might actually be looking at you. You glance over your shoulder just in case and relax – there’s an enormous poster blown up to the size of a billboard on the wall a foot or so above your head. He must be staring at that.

Right?

A moment later some guy steps in front of him to get his comic book signed and you can’t see Homelander anymore. Realising you’re nearly finished with your drink, you jolt a bit in surprise – did you drink that really fast or did you just lose track of time for a bit?

Something else occurs to you as you slip away from your quiet spot by the wall and toss your drink.

You really, really want to smoke.

That sounds like a great idea, actually. It’ll get you out of this hellhole for a bit, give you a fix you need and there might be a wall or something to perch on and rest your aching feet. True, you’ll be out in the blazing hot sunshine in all black, but sacrifices must be made.

You send a quick text to Jen and disappear out of there – the venue is strictly no smoking but you’re pretty sure if you nip around the back, there won’t be a problem. You can guarantee some of the stall owners find somewhere to get a nicotine fix, running a stand in a crowded, noisy hellhole like this for nine hours straight.

What you don’t notice is eyes tracking you across the room, and you’ve already rounded the corner of the venue when Homelander stands up and claps his hands, announcing the Seven are taking a quick break and they’ll be right back to finish off the signing, folks!

Cheers and groans swell up in equal measure, but before anybody has any time to protest (though none of the Seven seem to mind this announcement), he’s already vanished through the emergency exit.

Blissfully, you stretch your legs out as you have another suck on your vape. Your instincts were right on the money – you didn’t find a handy wall, but there’s a staff-only door with a couple of stairs that you’ve sat down on. If anybody comes outside, it’ll probably be people working for SupeCon and god knows they probably need a cigarette break more than you do.

Anyway, it’s not like there are any signs back here that say “No Smoking”. An implication is not a concrete rule.

"Smoking's bad for your health, you know."

You jolt and look around, even though you already know who that voice belongs to. What the fuck?

They say famous people always look smaller up close, but in Homelander's case it's the exact opposite. He looks bigger if anything, perhaps it's the way his cape sways importantly behind him or the eagle epaulettes give his silhouette a severe, angular look, but while a few minutes ago you were alone, now it's like you're in a crowded room all over again. You lower your vape.

What the hell is he doing back here? Somehow you don’t think Homelander wanted to get away for a quick nicotine fix before he returns to his adoring public. You stand up, not wanting to be stuck crouching on the steps while he looms over you.

"They do say that, yeah." you deadpan, rubbing your lips together where there's still a lingering taste of your flavoured smoke.

He's looking at you strangely - though Homelander is smiling, there's something flat about it, like it's just something he does while on standby. There's no genuine feeling behind it at all - it doesn't match the look in his eyes, and somehow despite the warm sunshine bearing down on you, suddenly you feel a little chilly. Perhaps he doesn’t appreciate jokes.

"So." Homelander says, popping his lips. "Not to sound too forward, but I couldn't help but notice you earlier. You, ah, stick out a bit in there, even brooding over there by the wall."

His eyes pointedly run down your outfit, and you glance down reflexively too - you're not the only person wearing black in there, but most of the people who are are the ones dripping in Black Noir merch. You're the only person you've seen who isn't wearing any colour or even a hint of Supe gear. Plus you were standing directly in Homelander's line of vision, even if you figured the hundreds of people inbetween you and him would be more than sufficient to hide you. And he'd been so busy dramatically signing every Homelander-related item shoved under his nose that the notion he'd bother noticing a single person in such a big crowd was honestly baffling to you.

Is he coming onto me?

Yeah, right. Homelander, the most baseball games and apple pie person in existence, the All-American boy himself, hitting on a random goth chick?

"Oh?" you reply, wondering where he was going with this.

He tilts his head, looking down at you and you're reminded of a bird of prey staring down a mouse. It makes you straighten your back - you're free to do what you want, and if you don't want to drink the Vought Kool-Aid everybody else here seems to have, what difference does it make to him? It's almost like he's offended there isn't one person here desperate to bask in his presence. It's not as if you've ever disliked Homelander (though he isn't helping his case presently), it's just none of this is you.

"Not a fan of Supes?" he asks lightly, but there's a mocking note in his voice that surprises you. Normally he sounds as rehearsed as those action figures of his. "Does saving lives bore you? Hm? Is that why you came here, to show us all how different and unique you are? Tickets aren't cheap - seems a lot of money for a normal person to spend on not caring."

"My friend asked me to come." you reply, a little defensively, which is ridiculous. Why should you feel the need to explain yourself to Homelander? It's none of his fucking business. "Look, it’s not that I didn’t get in line because I don’t think saving lives matters or anything, I just-“

“You just don’t want to talk to…what was it? Oh, right, a ‘Vought Barbie-doll bearing their teeth at you’?” Homelander says, and shame prickles your skin to have your own words thrown back at you. He steps a little closer and you can smell him – some fancy cologne that probably costs more than your entire outfit put together, plus a sort of woodsy smell like pine trees. You can’t even detect a hint of sweat – apparently sweating is below such beings.

You make a sound, a sort of scoff of disbelief. This can’t really be happening, can it?

“Look, I’m not…I never said I don’t think what you actually do is important. But this?” you wave a hand in the general direction of the Con. “All the pomp and circumstance? Yeah, not my scene.”

“Too bright for your dark tastes, huh?” Homelander says, and is it you or is his voice pitched a little lower than before? It sounds rougher for sure, like stone scraping against stone.

You press your lips together, because can’t think of anything to say to that. It’s pretty obvious he’s not going to be mollified and you’re not apologising to him – if he can’t let go of a little comment made by a total stranger, that’s his burden to bear. You just want to go home. So, you stuff your vape back into your pocket and turn to leave, blowing tutti-frutti flavoured smoke out of the corner of your mouth. You’re tired and hungry and you just want to get out of here and go to lunch.

Unfortunately for you, Homelander seems to have other ideas.

His hand suddenly shoots out and grabs your wrist, tugging your arm out straight, making you stumble forwards – he damn near yanks you right off your feet. He does it so fast you don't have time to react at first, then your eyes narrow in bewilderment.

"Hey-!" you protest, and try to squirm free, but his fingers lock around your wrist. It's like trying to pull your arm out of a steel door and the most insulting thing of all is that Homelander isn't really trying - it's like somebody effortlessly pinching the neck of a kitten to make them go limp. He looks calmer now that he’s caught you off guard, shooting you an amused little smirk. You go still.

"Looks like you're a fan of ink," Homelander says, his eyes tracing up and down the tattoos on your body. Distantly you remember that he has X-ray vision and heat surges to your cheeks - is he-?

But his next words make you go still.

"Since you didn’t have anything for me to sign…I suppose I can make do.”

Easily holding you still just by one arm, he tugs out a Sharpie that was apparently nestling against his hip, held there by his belt, and whips it out, tugging the cap off with his teeth. You catch a glimpse of the side of the pen - it's permanent ink.

"What the fuck-?!"

He ignores your protests, no doubt your squirms are so ineffectual to him you might as well be trying to break down a door with a feather, and he begins writing on you. He's careful not to accidentally tear your fragile skin with the force of the pen, but a shiver goes shooting down your arm as the chilly tip of the pen glides across your forearm, breaking out in goosebumps. You feel like you’re watching this happen from far away, somehow, disengaged from the situation now that you know you can’t run away.

It doesn't take long, only a few seconds, but for you those moments stretch on, elastic as a rubber band being pulled tight before someone releases it. When he's finished, he lets go and you jerk your arm back like it's been burned.

Homelander's autograph is still wet with ink, but already you can see the darker spots being absorbed into your skin - it takes up the entirety of your forearm, written in huge, looping scrawl. You can only stare at it in disbelief - how long is this going to take to wash off? Probably weeks, even if you do scrub it every day with soap or a body scrub or whatever the fuck else you might have to use to get rid of it. You look back up at Homelander, who has already put the pen away. He's grinning at you broadly now, but his fangs are bared and you want to step back from him. You only don't because there's a wall right behind you and you have the perverse thought that looking like you want to run away might excite him.

"You know, I always thought tattoos looked a little…trashy." Homelander confides with a smirk, and his eyes travel up and down the length of your body in a way that would be indecent even without knowing he can see straight through your clothes if he so pleases. "Especially on pretty girls like you, even if you hide it under all that. But I guess it's all about finding ones that suit you best, isn't it? Maybe you can get that made into a real one."

Your jaw drops at the absolute fucking gall. If it were anyone else you probably would have thrown hands with him right now, because who the fuck does he think he is?

But you already know that. He's The Homelander. The best-case scenario is you'd break your hand on him. Worst case?

You don't want to think about what the worst-case scenario might be. You might like dark things, but this is different.

“Well?” Homelander nudges and you continue to stare at him, bewildered. “Aren’t you going to say thank you?”

The air seems to shiver with tension and you nervously lick your lips, uncaring that you’re still wearing lipstick. You’re stalling and he knows it.

“Homelander!”

Before you can even begin to formulate some kind of reply that fulfills the requirements without actually having to say the words, a woman in an absolutely hideous pantsuit comes running up to him and he rolls his eyes, turning to her.

“For fuck’s sake, Ashley, what is it now?” he says, and if he hadn’t just forcefully scribbled all over your skin and demanded you thank him for it ten seconds ago.

You recognise an opportunity when you see one and take that moment to beat it, trying not to run, but in the end you can’t help it, holding your arm to your body like you’ve broken it. You know Homelander is watching you – you can feel his eyes on your back, but you don’t turn around.

As you hurry back entrance hall, you spot Jen, who is now laden down with bags of stuff.

“There you are!” she says. “God, my legs are aching from standing around, but I’m all done! I’m thinking Applebee’s…are you okay? You look a bit clammy.”

“Yeah,” you say, dropping your arm and pressing it to your side. The signature is big, but it’s on the inside of your arm. If you take care to keep it hidden under a booth or against your side, hopefully Jen won’t see it. You don’t feel like explaining how you got it. “Just hungry.”

“Same here. Come on, I think I parked in Bay C…”

You follow Jen out, silently sending up a thanks to whoever might be listening that she’s happy to leave now, that she doesn’t think to ask you any further questions. She’s in her little Supe bubble and you’re not going to pop it. Especially not if you know Homelander can hear you.

At least it’s quieter over here. While you nurse your drink and distantly wish you’d brought a flask so you could put some alcohol in this (you feel like alcohol would make time go by quicker), you get this prickling feeling and glance up, wondering if Jen decided she was too tired to wait.

Especially if you know he might still be watching you.

“Fuckin’ assholes.”

He popped the top off a carton of milk he had awaiting him in his apartment, not even bothering with a glass as he chugged the stuff down, cool and sweet and delicious against his parched throat. As he drank, the one spot of entertainment of the day floated to the surface of his mind.

Namely, the face of that little goth girl when he’d grabbed her arm, the way she immediately stilled when he started writing his name on her skin. For all the weary sighing and under-her-breath snark, there would be nothing she could do about his name branded across her skin like that. It would fade in time, of course, but he got a distinct fission of satisfaction knowing she’d be thinking of him, whether she wanted to or not, every time she looked down at it.

Even if she covered it with black clothes, they’d both know it was there. Like a little secret.

That was Homelander’s assessment of the day. Oh, he’d smiled for pictures, he’d signed the mass-produced bullshit people pushed at him and he’d answered questions about a silly movie he barely remembered making. Such trivialities that Vought deemed worthy of his time. But anything for the fans, right?

Lazily, almost absently, he started undoing the front of his suit, one-handed, fishing out his already hardening cock. Setting the milk aside, he braced himself against the wall as he started to jerk it in some frantic pumps of his hand, overcome with the memory of her, the whiff of her Vape and the hitching of breath when he touched her. Homelander moaned throatily and threw his head back, imagining how it might feel to put his name on the girl permanently, to ink himself on someone who thought they were o very removed from the world he inhabited – no, not inhabited – ruled. She was just as much something to amuse him as everyone else.

As few more frantic jerks made him come, a hot, pleasing flush after a long, boring day of pageantry and ennui.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, with a smile, lashes casting shadows across his cheeks with his eyes closed in bliss.

Perhaps there was something to be said about tattoos after all.

The water hisses as you scrub and scrub and scrub, foamy white bubbles dribbling down your arm and splashing back into the sink.

Nothing. The Homelander signature is still there, gleaming starkly in the dim lighting of your bathroom. You’ve been working away at it for hours now, but whatever pen he used is apparently an excellent quality one. You're just thankful Jen was too hyper from meeting her idols to notice you were suddenly doing everything one-handed.

But an idea comes to you as you stare resentfully at your reflection, gingerly patting your arm (which is sore now from hours of scrubbing and soaking it) – if you can’t get it off you and you’ll have to live with it for a couple of weeks, the best thing to do seems obvious.

Namely, improve it.

So you hurry into your room and start fishing through your desk drawers until you find it – another Sharpie, one you have ironically brought to gigs with you before for bands to sign if you can get them alone for a minute. But it will serve another purpose tonight.

Tugging the cap off with your teeth, you lie your arm flat on your desk and hover the pen over Homelander’s name.

Very carefully you make your adjustment, grinning around the cap as you do.

A second later and it’s done. The word Homelander is still there – except that the ‘m’ is blocked out with a black star, so now it actually reads “Ho★elander.”

“How’s that one for trashy, asshole?” you mutter to yourself, a surge of petty glee rising up in you like sap oozing forth from a tree, savagely pleased with your handiwork.

As you flop onto your bed, a line pops into your head, and despite what a long, bizarre day it’s been, you laugh and say out loud;

“I went to SupeCon, and all I got was this lousy autograph.”

#Homelander x Reader #Homelander x You #Blogging #Writings #The Boys (2019)#Homelander being Homelander #Mild smut

196 notes · View notes

linkemon · 2 months ago

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Dance, you fool, dance (Adrien Agreste x Marinette Dupain-Cheng) [Cinderella AU]

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you’re interested.

❖ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴄɪɴᴅᴇʀᴇʟʟᴀ ᴀᴜ, ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪꜱɴᴇʏ ᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴏɴ ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀɪᴍᴍ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ ᴏɴᴇ (ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʙʀᴜᴛᴀʟ). ❖ ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ ɪꜱ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ 8ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ.

ᴘʟᴀɢɢ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀᴅʀɪᴇɴ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜɪꜱ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʟᴀᴅʏʙᴜɢ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴅᴏᴏᴍᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜰᴀɪʟᴜʀᴇ. ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴᴠɪɴᴄᴇ ʜɪᴍ, ʜᴇ ᴛᴇʟʟꜱ ᴀɴ ᴏʟᴅ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀʀɪɴᴇᴛᴛᴇ — ᴀ ᴘᴏᴏʀ ɢɪʀʟ ᴡʜᴏ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ᴀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍʙɪɴᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴅᴇꜱɪʀᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴅᴜᴛɪᴇꜱ ᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄɪᴛʏ'ꜱ ʜᴇʀᴏɪɴᴇ…

Adrien went out onto the balcony. A cool wind caressed his face. He felt a shiver. He didn't know if it was because of the cold breeze or the excitement. He decided to enjoy the last rays of sunshine for a moment longer. He sighed quietly and pressed the pink Valentine to his chest. The carefully cut, tiny heart stirred great emotions in him. Compared to the rest of the letters and gifts, these few simple sentences touched his heart. He wanted to believe strongly that it was Ladybug who wrote them. After all, it was her trademark that had flown off the decorative card a moment ago. How had she done it? He had no idea.

The spotted insect brought happiness. Just as it should. The boy felt a pleasant warmth around his heart. He didn't even notice the moment when a smile appeared on his face. It happened naturally. Just like when his mother was still alive. The big, cold house didn't seem as empty as it had a moment ago.

— You should give it a rest. — Plagg's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

The owner of the miraculous looked at him in disbelief.

— It's enough that my father doesn't care about me. At least you could support me — Adrien said reproachfully.

The kwami circled his head and hung upside down in the air. He waved his black tail. He only did that when he was really pissed off or hungry. Or both…

— I'm sorry. I'm just worried about you — he snorted.

— My feelings are sincere…— the teenager began.

They could be. But that didn't change the fact that he was a fool in love.

His interlocutor stopped listening after the first few words. The kwami knew where this monologue was leading. A dead end with no way out. No room for discussion. They had been through this many times. It always ended the same way. Agreste refused to accept that Ladybug wasn't interested in him. He simply tried harder than he had before. He couldn't see how different they were. Or how much he had submitted to her as Cat Noir. He should have solved his own problems first and take care of his own life. It wasn't healthy.

Love can be beautiful but it's also often destructive. The superpower of destruction should teach him something after all this time. Not everyone is destined to live a long and happy life. Sometimes it's better to let go and look elsewhere. Happiness can be found anywhere but time is limited.

— You’ve failed in all of your lives — Plagg muttered.

He looked into his school bag for camembert. He had already eaten the entire supply. There were only leftovers. He unwrapped the wrapper with sadness, inhaling his favourite scent. He touched the soft, yellow interior with his paw. It didn't look like he would get another portion of the delicacy anytime soon.

— What do you mean? — The boy walked back into the room.

— Nothing like that. — The glutton swallowed the stinking cheese. — Forget about it.

He hoped the subject would be closed. He shouldn't have said that. Such things should be kept a secret. Nothing good ever came of that knowledge. Master Fu forbade him from talking about it.

— If you could elaborate, then theoretically we could talk about my participation in the camembert campaign. There's supposed to be a whole truckload. Someone has to eat it after the photos. I'm sure they'd like to treat us to it...

A modeling career at a young age was never easy. It involved a lot of sacrifice and hard work. Sometimes, however, it turned out to be useful.

Green eyes flicked to his for a moment. He knew immediately that the kwami had caught the bait. His only real weakness was food.

— I shouldn't... But then again... I could get a whole truckload of cheese...— he mused.

The internal battle did not last very long.

— So what’s it going to be? — Adrien pulled his smartphone out from under a pile of Valentine’s Day gifts. — Should I let them know I agree?

He received an eager nod.

He wrote a text message, then sat down on the couch. The maid brought tea. He took a sip of the warm drink. The taste of lemon and honey spread pleasantly down his throat. It warmed from the inside, bringing memories of past, better days.

Red and pink didn't fit in this room. They seemed to irritate the eyes. All these declarations of love were useless to Agreste. He only wanted reciprocity from one person. He had already given himself to the lady of his heart. He helped her as much as he could and supported her. She trusted him. He could feel it. He was ready for anything. He unwaveringly believed that this wouldn't change. He simply needed to double his efforts. One day he would get through to her.

Outside the window, a bright moon was already beginning to reign. It was accompanied by twinkling constellations against the dark sky. For a moment, the boy hoped that he might see a shooting star. But nothing of the sort happened. Life was no fairy tale. Nothing and no one would fulfill his wishes for him. He had to do it himself.

The teenager grabbed a large, gray blanket from the closet. He snuggled into the soft material, feeling tired after the day. Plagg sat down next to him, claiming a piece for himself. He shifted restlessly, trying to find a comfortable position. It took him a long time to gather himself to start the story.

— You're not the first Chat Noir I've ever known. There were others before you. That's why I know you and Ladybug aren't meant to be together. — He rubbed his face with his paw. — I'll tell you all their stories. Maybe it'll talk some sense into you. And if not...— sadness settled on his face — your love will end in disaster. As always...

Marinette carefully placed the tray of cookies on the counter. She looked at her creations with a critical eye. She was still a little short of her father's level. The girl tried her best but he had left very few recipes. He probably hadn't expected to ever need them written down. Everything should be in your head. That's what he always told her.

She savored the smell of yeast dough for a moment. It made her feel safe. She spent the entire day thinking about her troubles. She ate a colourful macaroon from the display to cheer herself up. She missed Tikki. She always knew what to do and how to comfort her.

She adjusted her apron and began taking another batch of sweets out of the oven.

— You won't believe what's happening! — Alya burst into the bakery excitedly.

The girl almost dropped the pastries at the sight of her friend. Instead, she touched the hot baking sheet with her finger. She hissed with pain and quickly dipped her finger in the cold water from the bucket. Thing weren't going well at work. If she could even call working for free work.

— The article is in print now, so I can finally tell you! — Césaire waved a piece of paper covered in ink.

She got down to work, as energetic as ever. Marinette sincerely admired her friend. In a world where men ruled, she found the time and strength to fulfill her dreams. She openly challenged them, laughing in their faces. She intended to get into the most widely read magazine in the country. Many would say that it was a lofty dream but she didn't let it intimidate her. She worked in a pastry shop and in her free time she wrote articles. For now, only for the local newspaper but it was a start.

— The prince is organizing another ball — the writer chattered happily. — I couldn't tell you earlier because it was forbidden. Yesterday the palace guards came. They said to write about it by order of the king himself, do you understand? I was so lucky to be in this hole after hours. I spent the whole night writing an article... Are you even listening to me? — she asked, dissatisfied.

Not hearing the answer, she just sighed and went to serve the customers.

Dupain-Cheng read the printed page over and over again, wondering if she was dreaming all this. The solution to all her problems practically fell from the sky. Prince Adrien was looking for the mysterious lady from the two previous masquerades. He hoped she would come to collect the earring that had been found on the stairs. The baker squeezed the note tighter, following the next sentences. He was proposing marriage to the stranger. She covered mouth with her hand, not believing her own happiness. That had to mean that he reciprocated her feelings. Even after she had confessed the truth about her origins. After all, he had explicitly invited all the girls in the city, including the lowly ones. A pleasant warmth spread through her chest. He was thinking about her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. She was beside herself with joy.

But then she remembered her promise to Tikki. No one could find out Ladybug's identity. The heroine of Paris was to remain a secret to all people. So how was she supposed to get married if she couldn't tell His Royal Highness the truth? The euphoria was replaced by fading hope. She had a duty. She should keep her word to keep the city safe. She was also doing it for her beloved, although with a heavy heart.

She made a decision. She would go to the ball and get her kwami back. She would try to explain everything to Adrien. If he loved her, he would understand. Or maybe he would even wait, if one day the city would no longer need her. Then she could really think about the wedding. But she didn't count on that much happiness.

— Marineeeeeette! — Chloé screamed from upstairs.

She ran up the already ruined stairs. The whole house needed renovation but it would have to wait. Like all the other expenses. If only the girl's father hadn't remarried, perhaps her life would have been completely different. She kept telling him that Audrey wasn't wife material. There were rumors that the mayor's widow had somehow gotten rid of her previous husband. She had inherited a considerable fortune from him. However, she had spent it all surprisingly quickly. She saw her chance for a better life in Tom. Despite his protests, the marriage was concluded. Shortly after, the man who had been head over heels in love died. He left behind a bakery and an almost empty chest. Marinette wondered if it could have been murder. It wasn't that hard to get poison if you knew where to look. Bribing a doctor wasn't a problem either. Ultimately, however, Marinette decided that such a venture wouldn't make sense. Bourgeois knew perfectly well how much money was left. Besides, she had never intended to run a business. This situation didn't help her in any way. And unlike her daughter, she did nothing out of pure malice but out of a desire for profit.

The girl pushed the creaking door open. She looked at the room and cursed under her breath. She had only just cleaned yesterday. And today the floor was covered with every possible outfit. Dresses and petticoats were spilling out of the wide open old oak wardrobe. Between them were frames and dozens of pairs of colourful shoes. A few ribbons flew out the window because of the draft. She turned her gaze to the dressing table. She didn't look any better. Earrings, beads and necklaces were scattered in disarray. A black, skinny cat was nudging one of the trinkets with its paw. It wagged its tail happily whenever it managed to hit the target. In the middle of the mess stood her dissatisfied stepsister. She took a deep breath. Another scream was coming. However, her mother reprimanded her with a look. She tightened the corset. With a deft movement, she began to lace it. Marinette watched with satisfaction as Chloé suffered.

— I'm glad you're here — Audrey said.

She looked at her stepdaughter's reflection in the mirror. A look full of contempt. She no longer had to hide it. White flour and black hands. This was what messing around in the bakery ended up like. She promised herself she would never stoop to that level. She had survived this long, she would manage now. All she had to do was get the money. And then she would leave this filthy dump. She would sell the place to the first buyer she came across. She would forget she had ever had to endure this town. The villagers accused anyone who suddenly found themselves better off of murder. No one was looking from her perspective. If their last resort had been a relationship with an aging, fat baker, they would have done what she had done without hesitation. Fortunately, it would all be over soon. She had almost reached her destination.

— Chloé needs a new dress for the next ball.

— How do you know about the ball? — Marinette couldn't contain her surprise.

Alya had just come in with the article. The papers were still in print.

— Don't ask stupid questions — said the sister, trying to hold back the tears that were welling up in her eyes. — It's obvious that mother knows everything that goes on here.

— We have no money — said the baker.

She should have said: "You don't have any money." She managed to save up a little. Unfortunately, only from tips. The rest of the budget was controlled by Bourgeois. It looked more or less like she was spending at an alarming rate what her employees had worked hard for. She had no idea how to manage money. Suppliers looked at her with disdain. The decline in product quality meant worse baked goods. And that, in turn, translated into customers and low revenue. It wouldn't have been a tragedy if she hadn't been so wasteful. Unfortunately, it all went to her spoiled daughter.

Marinette still couldn't believe her father had left her out of the will. Someone had probably forged it but without hard evidence she had no chance. The courts had strangely turned against the poorer citizens more than once. All she could do was try to make ends meet. One day she would quit her job and leave but not yet.

— We won't ask for a seamstress. You take care of it — Audrey finally turned to her.

— I have a lot of work at the bakery…— the girl began.

— Césaire will take care of it — the woman interrupted. — Get to work.

The baker looked into the cold blue eyes. She was ready to protest but then an idea came to her mind. Perfect. It would solve all her problems. She must have been exceptionally lucky today.

— Only if you take me to the ball with you. — She lifted her chin high.

She might be a total loser but a lot depended on it. Especially her future life and the fate of Tikki. She wouldn't let herself be used. Not this time. She would act like Ladybug. It had to work.

The woman stood in silence for a moment. She considered the offer. She glanced at her daughter out of the corner of her eye. She put a finger to her lips, seeing that she was going to say something. Audrey was sick and tired of everything. She wouldn't let such an opportunity slip under her nose for a stupid reason.

— I agree. — She nodded and went back to looking through the pile of clothes.

Marinette congratulated herself. For once she had succeeded at something. And without a miraculous. She felt her confidence grow. She had a chance to play this whole situation right.

The girl looked at her hands. They were all pricked and red. Her fingers were numb from holding the needle all the time. She picked up the dress. Marinette looked at her design critically. She wanted to ruin it on purpose but Audrey wasn't stupid. If it didn't meet the standards, she could say goodbye to the ride.

She still couldn't believe how she had made it in time. She had never sewn so fast in her life. She handed the clothes to her stepmother. On one hand, she was proud of them but on the other, the thought of whose hands all her hard work would end up in made her feel sick.

Chloé had requested yellow and black fabric. The striped creation swayed with every step. Her sister had tied her hair into a tight bun decorated with gold combs. The longer you looked at her, the more she resembled a bee. Or better yet, a wasp. At least the former was useful. Meanwhile, the latter was much more vile…

— Be ready at seven. We won't wait — Audrey said as Marinette left the room. — Finally, all my problems will be over — she added quietly.

The girl ran to the well. She wasn't as dirty as she had been when she spent her mornings at the bakery but she still needed a bath. She lugged several buckets of water up to the upper floor. Luckily, there was a tub nearby. Her stepsister had been soaking in it all morning.

She shuddered as she dipped her foot. The water was freezing cold. She hadn't had time to heat it up. She forced herself and began scrubbing her skin.

The question that kept recurring in her mind was: Why did her stepmother have such faith in her daughter's chances? Despite all her faults, she wasn't stupid. There was no reason she should have bet on her winnings. Chloé didn't have an earring and the prince barely remembered her. And yet, her mother acted as if she had this one in a bag.

Marinette began to comb her hair. The black, tangled strands gave way under the pressure of the brush. They dried very quickly in the warm summer air.

She looked out the dirty window. A carriage was parked outside the house. Every vehicle in the area had been booked as soon as the news had spread. Perhaps people were hoping to find a very similar earring and grab a chance at marriage. Or some simply wanted to see the palace with their own eyes. Even the oldest couldn’t remember the last time the common folk had been allowed to visit it. All they needed was an invitation, handed out exclusively to women and their families in all the larger squares. They were also informed that without proper attire, there was no point in coming. The guards had to weed out the girls somehow and the mysterious stranger had so far appeared in beautiful dresses. Adrien knew the truth but the town had been expecting a rich young lady.

Wild roses were climbing the side of the building. Her favourite red flowers were growing just below the windowsill. She leaned over to pick one and tucked it behind her ear. That would have to do. She didn't have time to do an elaborate hairdo. The clock ticked quietly, counting down the seconds.

She went to the chest. She lifted the lid, hearing the familiar creaking of the hinges. She jumped away from it with a squeak. She didn't expect what she found inside at all. Mice were running around on the bottom. She felt disgust. She instinctively raised her hand to her mouth, feeling the vomit rising. The little creatures looked nasty. Some of them had traces of blood on their fur. They were pawing with their gray paws, biting into her dress. Marinette had no choice. She quickly dipped her hand in to pull out the dress. The red material was covered in round holes where small, sharp teeth had bitten through it. She looked around the storage room. Something flashed in the light of the setting sun. She looked at it closer. Gold glitter. And next to it, a remnant of some old cheese. It wasn't a coincidence.

She ran out of the house in just her petticoat.

— You’re not planning on going like that, are you? — Audrey seemed surprised.

Her eyes showed she had no hand in this. Chloé's behaviour confirmed that she was the culprit. Golden particles shimmered as she climbed into the carriage. She turned and stuck out her tongue at the girl.

— You…— Marinette began, clenching her fists.

She felt anger rising in her. She took a deep breath to calm herself. Tikki always reminded her not to be angry. The akumas were just waiting for sadness and anger. And now, without her powers, she had no way to face them.

— We can't wait — the stepmother said dryly.

The coachman took these words as a sign to depart. He grabbed the reins. The pair of gray horses obediently took off. The black carriage left clouds of dust behind it.

The girl stared at her smiling half-sister. She even had the nerve to mock her by sticking her head out the window.

The sight should have broken her. Instead, she felt determined. She wouldn't let her win. She'd still take her down a peg by showing up at the ball. Besides, she had to get the miraculous back. She couldn't leave it in the palace. The kwami was counting on her.

She ran back home. She began nervously sorting through the things in Bourgeois's closet. She pulled out the remains of the black material. There wasn't much left but it should be enough. She took the scissors and with a deft movement cut out a dozen or so circles. She sewed them to the dress. They covered what the mice had chewed out. Delighted, she put the dress on. She spun around a few times, admiring her work. She looked like Ladybug again. Even if it wasn't her usual costume.

This time, instead of the city, she was saving her own life.

There was still the matter of getting to the ball. She was already late. All the carriages in town had been booked. Besides, they had long since left. Some had set off into the centre of Paris first thing in the morning, fearing the crowds. The only means of transport she could think of was a horse. She didn’t have one. After all, the bakery didn’t need animals. But her neighbour, Max, kept one in a paddock nearby. He never looked after it. He was always playing games. Gambling had become second nature to him. His mind was full of ideas for his own versions of chess or cards but no one understood their rules. So he put all his creative work aside, focusing on the standard winnings to get by. On an evening like this, he sat and earned money, depriving people of their fortunes. A faint glow of light could be seen in the window of his house.

Marinette looked around the street nervously. There wasn't a soul in sight. As she opened the gate in the fence, she felt a pang of guilt. She had never robbed anyone before. And certainly not for her own gain. Sometimes she destroyed things borrowed from the locals when she fought villains but everything always went back to normal after they were defeated. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She was doing this for the city. After all, who would save it when her powers ran out?

She released the bay horse. Riding bareback was no easy feat. She clung tightly to the brown-red mane. She urged the horse along the cobblestone streets, praying that no one would look out the window.

As she entered the forest, she felt uneasy. The darkness was only illuminated by the light of the crescent moon. The beaten track was covered with a few leaves. The branches of the trees creaked in the gentle wind. Dust rose from under her hooves as she urged her stallion to ride faster. Time was running out and she was already late.

What exactly should she tell the prince when he got there? She didn't want to break his heart so much. Their acquaintance didn't last long and yet something sparked between them. They met at a ball thrown by his father. A dozen or so times after that. She never told him how she managed to sneak under the guards' noses. It was her secret. They talked all night long. About trivial and serious topics. Until one day he kissed her. She smiled to herself at the memory. How wonderful it would be to be able to repeat this every day. To fall asleep and wake up next to him. To share her life. To comfort him in sadness. To be the one he turned to with everything. His kindness always moved her deeply. She saw how he treated others. Once she was fighting in the palace. Instead of saving himself, he shielded a maid who didn't manage to escape in time. Adrien was special. She was sure of that but did she have the right to stand by his side? She accepted the duty. She swore not to break her promise to Tikki.

The glow from the palace illuminated the darkness of the night. She had seen this building hundreds of times but it amazed her every time. Its vastness made her feel tiny. Massive, old, stone walls. Countless hundreds of windows and doors. Rooms where one could easily get lost. Like a huge labyrinth full of splendor.

She drove through the guard station without any problems. Many guests were coming and going through the main gate. She tied the bay horse to one of the free posts. She hoped no one would steal it. Many thieves were just waiting for such an opportunity. Coachmen or servants guarded the carriages but the poorer ones had to rely on themselves. Some came with their families. She saw people changing each other. They probably came after the party to stand guard. Sometimes the horses were their most valuable possessions. No wonder they were so well looked after. If they didn't have them to plow the fields, they would suffer from hunger. Despite this, they wanted to try their luck. Marrying a prince could change anyone's fate.

She walked through the garden, wondering how it looked from a different perspective. Up until now, she had only seen it from above. Being a Ladybug had its advantages but she missed out on truly beautiful views. She was especially pleased with her favourite flowers. The main alley was planted with roses. Multicoloured buds created colourful carpets. Butterflies danced above them, fluttering their wings impatiently. They reluctantly ran away from the guests strolling under the moonlight.

Marinette climbed the grand marble staircase. She put on a red mask and tied a ribbon. When she reached the palace gates, she felt proud. She was already close to her destination.

— Please step back. — The calm and formal tone made her stop in her tracks.

A tall woman stood in front of the entrance. Her black hair was tied in a bun. She had glasses on her nose, which she adjusted every now and then with a quick, businesslike movement. In her blue dress, she resembled a peacock. Long feathers were cleverly pinned under the corset. She would have looked beautiful if not for the severe expression on her face.

— Of course. — She smiled nervously. — Here's the invitation.

— You misunderstood me, miss. No more people will be allowed in here today — the strange guard announced.

— Excuse me? — Marinette felt something twist inside her.

She was almost there. She was so close to getting her miraculous back.

— That's right. You should have come earlier — the woman sighed.

Nathalie was sick and tired of everything. She had been standing in the doorway all evening, checking on the guests. The king himself had asked her to do it. She couldn't refuse him. Everyone at court was already gossiping about her behind her back. Many men were vying for the position of advisor. They had commented on her gender more than once. If she had given them a reason, they would have kicked her out. So she patiently endured the boring task. Nothing irritated her more than being late and besides, the guards had asked her not to let anyone else in. So for the past hour, she had been turning away anyone who had even thought of coming at such an hour.

Besides, the gracious ruler Gabriel Agreste had no desire to marry his son off to his dream bride. He had his own plans for that but knowing the prince's stubbornness, he promised him this privilege. In return, he had to behave responsibly and promise to take the crown. He had rebelled more than once, much to his father's chagrin.

So the ball continued, and Sancoeur felt her patience slowly wearing thin.

— Look what’s going on over there. — She pointed resignedly toward the ballroom.

Marinette followed her gaze. To her surprise, few people were dancing. Unlike the previous parties, the music wasn't lively or cheerful but perfectly quiet. Just right for conversation. Some people were standing at tables with food. Some weren't even hiding putting it in their bags. They must have been poorer residents who decided to invest in the opportunity. Food prices had skyrocketed since the attacks on the city began. Importing exotic food cost a fortune. Probably more than one thief had also robbed someone of jewelry or money. This was the perfect moment.

The throne was placed in front of the entrance. The king was nowhere to be seen but Adrien was sitting right next to him. Dressed in black and green, he spoke to the guests with sadness on his face. Only when looking at him did Marinette understand what was going on. A line of girls and women of all ages was winding in front of the dais. One by one, they approached to show him their jewelry. The search for the earring was still ongoing.

— But I have to go in there! — she protested.

She lifted her skirt and started running. She passed the woman but she didn't get far.

— Guards!

Two strong men grabbed her by the arms, pulling her toward the stairs. She struggled, trying to get another few meters. She was aware that everyone was looking at her but it didn't matter. What mattered was her lover, standing on the other side of the room.

— Let me go!

— Why not? — the man cackled.

His gorilla-like frame towered over everyone gathered there.

— Because I’m Ladybug, damn it! — Marinette screamed.

It wasn't until the sentence had left her mouth that she realized what she had done. She froze, processing what she had said in her head. Most of the guests had already gone back to their own business but the guard looked at her more closely, raising an eyebrow.

— Leave her alone! — She had never been so glad to hear the sound of someone’s voice as she was at that moment.

He stood before her. His blond hair reflected the glow of the candles from all the chandeliers. She wanted to ruffle it, like she always did when they were alone. He stood out from the crowd in his dark, formal uniform. He looked even more handsome than ever, though she was sure that was impossible. But the most beautiful thing was his smile. The corners of his mouth turned up as he recognized her despite her new dress and mask.

— You're late — Adrien whispered.

The hint of amusement quickly faded, though. He held out his hand, holding a red earring with black dots. He wanted confirmation. He had to know if it was really her.

She felt bad that he had to wait for her so long. She held out the second one to pair up. The boy raised his head. There was so much warmth and hope in his gaze. She wasn't sure if anyone had ever looked at her like that before. As if she was his whole world.

She reached out for her own. This wasn't the time to lose herself in a feeling she couldn't have. She was here for Tikki and she should be the priority.

To her surprise, Adrien clenched his fist and withdrew his hand. She looked at him questioningly.

— I'm afraid... that if I give you this earring — he took a breath — you'll leave...

How close to the truth he was... It was exactly what she should have done and yet her heart ached for him. The thought of leaving him made her feel awful. So she kept quiet, not wanting to spoil anything.

— Will you dance with me? — he asked.

She nodded, unable to utter a single word.

She thought about how perfectly their fingers intertwined. A pleasant warmth spread through her body when he pulled her closer to him. A pleasant shiver ran through the place where he touched her waist. Green eyes stared at her the whole time. They spun together to a calm melody. She didn't know all the steps but it didn't matter. She felt safe in his arms. Responsibilities disappeared. There was pure joy left. She looked at his face shyly, trying to gather her thoughts. He made her head spin. How wonderful it would be to stand by this man's side in front of the altar. She wanted to become his support. To be the confidant of his secrets. The only person she would ever love. The vision of a prince in the arms of another woman couldn't form in her imagination. It hurt too much.

— You were shouting earlier... — the prince hesitated. — Were you trying to get my attention or are you really the Ladybug?

Marinette stumbled. He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her back up. She knew that was enough for the answer.

— What if I am? — She looked up.

She was afraid. Although she didn't want to admit it to herself. She was afraid of revealing this secret but she was even more afraid of being rejected.

— Just one more reason to love you. — Adrien snuggled into the crook of her neck.

She sighed with relief. A smile crept onto her lips. She couldn't stop it.

— Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. — The boy placed a gentle kiss on her cheek.

She smelled the roses. A sweet, rich scent. He must have been walking in the garden earlier. She felt safe, breathing in that familiar fragrance It reminded her of all the nights they spent together. The furtive glances, the shy grasping of hands and the pearly laughter that carried over the palace towers.

The violinist finished playing sad notes. The last notes dispersed into the air. The hall was once again swarming with curious glances. Whispers of conversation carried in the silence. The spell of the moment was broken.

— How do you imagine that? — The girl took a step away from her partner. — How would I marry you?

— Everything will work out somehow — he assured. — The important thing is that we have each other.

This wasn't the answer she was expecting. She was already having trouble hiding her identity. Taking on the crown required being the center of attention. How would she sneak away to fight evil? When would she ever find the time? New duties, etiquette and responsibility for her subjects... It was a high price to pay for love.

And yet Adrien's words, though stupidly naive, seemed beautiful in their simplicity. Maybe she was worrying too much about everything? After all, she, too, deserved happiness. If she didn't reach for it, she would only have herself to blame.

— I'd like to give you more time to think but I don't have it. — The prince nodded toward the throne. — Wait for me by the fountain. No one will disturb us there.

He handed the earrings back, enjoying her touch for a long moment. He turned to leave but stopped for a moment and added:

— No matter what you choose, I hope you'll be happy.

Marinette stood in the middle of the room for a moment, dumbfounded. She knew why he had gone. He had intended to bring his mother's engagement ring. The late Queen Emilie had left it behind for her son to pass on. The girl had only heard about it once but she hadn't asked for details. This conversation was causing her beloved pain. She preferred not to press. However, she was aware of how important it was to him.

She headed for the garden. The fountain was their secret meeting place. When they felt like being outdoors, they would evade the guards and spend hours gazing at the stars.

The girl sat down on one of the benches. The gray stone was already chipped. The gardeners almost never came here, so nothing was repaired. It was one of the few wild corners on the estate. This allowed the plants to climb freely around the dirty poles. They formed a messy tangle, wrapping themselves around everything they encountered.

The girl put on the earrings. A wave of relief washed over her as Tikki appeared above the water. The kwami somersaulted over the multi-tiered fountain.

— Marinette! — she screamed, clinging to her chest.

The owner of the miraculous embraced her gently. Now, with her powers back, she could face everything. She told her little friend about what had happened. Mainly to prepare her for the shock. The disbelief with which she looked at her when she realized that a new person was sharing the secret was enormous. Ladybug understood the agitation. It reached its peak when she announced her decision:

— I intend to accept the proposal — she said seriously.

— You can't! — The reaction was immediate. — It won't work!

Tikki grabbed her finger possessively. The rule about not revealing identity was made for obvious reasons. It was meant to protect its users and therefore had to be followed. It had been that way since the dawn of time. No one had ever tried to change it.

— Adrien already knows — Marinette picked a lone wild rose. She turned it over between her fingers — and besides, I could help a lot of people.

Everyone. From women like Alya, who couldn't make it in a man's world. To people like Max, trapped by addiction. To people barely making ends meet. Subsidies for the poor and meals for the hungry. They could all have a better life. Besides, finding Hawk Moth with the help of the royal guards might be a lot easier than finding him alone. She would have spies at her disposal, along with an army. That way, she would solve all her problems.

She knew she was looking for arguments to convince herself that she was making the right choice and yet she couldn't help herself. She wanted as many things as possible to speak in favour of her decision.

— Someone’s coming — the kwami squeaked.

This interrupted the conversation.

— Hide — the girl ordered.

The mere thought of the prince asking her to marry him sent butterflies through her stomach. Her heart was pounding but she decided to stick to her decision. She would make it. She would marry the love of her life and reconcile that with the protection of the city. She would have support and then she would be able to bear it all.

Marinette didn't expect the figure that emerged from behind the thick bush. The moon hid its face behind the clouds. It was as if it didn't want to watch what was happening. A purple streak moved in the dark night so quickly that the girl barely had time to register it. A blade flashed. Blood gushed from the open carotid artery. Blood flooded her eyes. Blinded, she tripped over something that was probably a root. The victim's terror was reflected in the fountain's surface as the red stream mixed with the dark water. The girl tried to croak out anything but no words wanted to leave her throat. Instead, a wheezing whistle played the last mournful melody of her life. A short, unfinished note. Marinette couldn't see the attacker. She desperately stretched her hands out in front of her. As if that could change anything. Fear filled every corner of her mind. She became desperately aware of how much the human body could hurt. Was she really that fragile? She struggled, trying to do something. Anything to stop it. No breath brought relief. A suffocating stench filled her nostrils. She no longer knew if it was blood or the scent of roses. Everything mixed in an uneasy madness. She swallowed back tears, feeling her head fall back onto the cold, hard pavement. Lying down was better. There was no point in fighting the inevitable. Her arms and legs wouldn't listen to her. No matter how much she screamed in her mind to move even a single limb. No one and nothing was under her control anymore. The red world was covered in black dots.

Chloè looked at the king with terror in her eyes. Her future father-in-law was a monster. No other word fit the image. Seeing the bloody massacre, she couldn't stop vomiting. Her stomach rebelled and she threw up everything she had eaten at the banquet. The goo stained her dress. Her mother looked at her reproachfully but said nothing. She had more important things to worry about. Audrey extended her hand toward Gabriel. Two earrings rested on her palm. The Ladybug Miraculous was now in her possession. She had to play it right. Everything depended on the next few minutes.

— How do I put them on? — the girl asked, looking at the jewelry gleaming in the night.

She had never pierced her ears. She was afraid of the pain and even more so of the blood.

— How could you have missed it? — Hawk Moth's face darkened with silent anger. — If she puts them on now, Adrien will know right away!

His son had to believe that this was the real Ladybug. Everyone would believe the heroine's words when she told how she was attacked when she came to collect her property. If that happened, no one would investigate the murder. The lying peasant would be forgotten as an object of gossip and slander. Even if the prince still felt sentimental about her, it wouldn't interfere. She was dead. Nothing could change that. Now the future ruler would marry someone worthy of his status and would stop causing trouble forever.

— Easy. I have a plan. — The woman took the blade from his hand. — Honey, close your eyes — she told her daughter.

Her tone was calm and composed but the young Bourgeois sensed that there was something odd about the request. She instinctively took a step back. Audrey grabbed her hand, raising the blade. Fear grew stronger but she could not move. She stood as if spellbound, staring at her mother's face.

— They’re just ears — the mother said, getting down to work.

— So how did you like the story? — Plagg pulled the blanket over himself. — I think it's scary.

Adrien looked at his kwami, raising an eyebrow. Maybe it was bordering on horror but in the safety of his apartment it didn't make that much of an impression on him. He'd probably get into the spirit of it on a class trip, by the bonfire but it certainly would not be enough to keep him awake at night. Besides, Chat Noir shouldn't be afraid of stories like that.

— They would have gotten away with it if it weren't for...— Agreste began.

— meddling kids and dumb dog! — finished the black creature. — I watched that cartoon...

The boy laughed, patting him on the head. He should definitely limit his TV viewing.

— That’s not it. I meant the king — he corrected.

— You think it's his fault? — His little friend put his paw to his face. — You people always think differently...

He never fully understood the twists and turns they took to achieve their goals. Some things seemed much simpler to his kind. Like fate, which his owner tried so hard to fight.

— Whose fault is it, then? — Adrien asked, genuinely surprised.

— Stupid Ladybug, of course. — Plagg shrugged. — That's why there's a ban on revealing your identity. If she hadn't revealed herself, no one would have noticed. She should have left with the miraculous when she could.

— I understand what you're saying, but...— the blond hesitated.

— Still unconvinced?

He nodded.

— I've got more stories. I'm sure you'll like one of them. Now go to bed because you've got a chemistry test tomorrow.

Kwami was right. Mrs. Mendeleev didn't give any leniency and certainly not because of lack of sleep. He laid his head on the pillow but one question still haunted him:

— What happened next?

— The prince married Chloè. She lived comfortably with her mother, though not very happily. The king ruled until the peasants' resentment reached its peak. Rebels broke into the palace. They murdered everyone except the prince. It was around then that he found my miraculous. We wandered around but he never really took advantage of me. There was no need for that because the people rebuilt the city themselves from the ruins of the civil war and... You know what? To fall asleep at the very end? — The creature sighed and covered the sleeping boy carefully.

#adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrien x marinette #miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #oneshot #cinderella #alternate universe

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safety-writes-noms · 1 year ago

Note

OKAY HI- HEARD YOU WANTED ASKS SO

MAYBE SOME OF YOUR VORE IMAGINES ON NOIR OR MIGUEL?

Or just whoever you want hshs

YES OFC POOKIE I’LL DO BOTH

Also I’m most familiar with writing g/t vore so i hope that’s okay and im sorry if it’s not your preference 😔

VORE BELOW CUT

Noir:

He comes from a dimension where people are starving in the streets and food is a precious resource. So if you offer to let him nom you or ask him to, he’ll be really appreciative. Especially if he’s hungry and needs a small placeholder before he can get to actual food.

Always has a protective hand placed over his belly if there’s someone tucked away inside. It makes him feel a bit more secure, knowing that the person is completely safe now but he can never be too sure. Only takes it off when he needs to.

Monochrome internals. It goes with his permanent black and white coloring. Plus i think that’d just fit. Once someone has asked him if he drank sharpie bath water. He didn’t even know what that was.

He has a cushy stomach, if not a little cramped and a little slippery. It’s moderately loud with it’s gurgles and growls, but not too loud. I feel like it’d be really warm inside, so it’s pretty comfortable. It is a little bit slimy though.

He’s up for it at any time any place. Oh, you’re cold and you want in? Say no more, he’ll swallow you and get you to a warmer area. You’re hiding from a group of people trying to hurt you? He can’t have that, he can put you in a safe and comfortable place while you hide. You just want to get eaten just because? He’s fine with that too. Down the hatch.

He’s big on comfort noms, whether or not it’s him who’s being comforted or a different person. He finds that it’s easier to calm down if he has someone inside, a small weight in his belly that helps him stay grounded. If he’s the one doing the comforting, its really easy to relax in his belly. It’s soft and warm and the constant slow movement of his other organs shifting as he breathes makes good ambiance.

Miguel:

this man is not gentle at all. He barely ever indulges himself for noms unless it’s utterly necessary. Or if he’s really close with the person, he’ll consider it at least. So when he does swallow someone in the events of an emergency, he’s not all that nice. He just nabs them, swallows them down and resumes whatever he was doing before hand, which is most often trying to contain anomalies.

He probably won’t explain and his only goal at the moment is to finish the mission, spit the person out into a safe place and leave. He’ll also be a little grumpy if the reward for his efforts is just a small stomach ache. (Even tho it’s kind of his fault for not explaining anything)

Like i said in my last post, he enjoys mouthplay a lot. If he’s comfortable enough with the person there’s a chance he might not even swallow, simply content with having something to (gently) fiddle with as he works. Although once or twice he’s accidentally had them slip down his throat when he wasn't intending to swallow the person.

He’s got a strong throat and can work someone down in just a few gulps with minor difficulty. Unless they’re actively fighting against him, in which he usually just presses a finger against his throat and pushes them down from the outside.

Despite the fact that he rarely ever indulges himself, he genuinely does like having someone tucked away inside. He just doesn’t think he deserves to have a break or should have one to just enjoy himself. Not when there are anomalies popping up everywhere, he still has repairs to make, he has thousands of people waiting on him to make life and death decisions every day and he can’t afford to “slack off”, in his words.

#sfw vore #SW answers asks #s: spidervores #spidervores #extreme cuddling #nonsexual vore

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mangocheesecakeicecream · 9 months ago

Text

Let’s talk about “objet petit a”, which is a concept related to “castration” which is related to “the entry into language” and which is a concept which Lacan invented. It’s sort of, as he says, the only concept which he really invented. The others, he mostly stole, whereas “objet petit a” is really an invention. “L’objet petit a”, cause of desire. Cause of desire. That is, we often think we lose something at the beginning, and we search for it our whole lives, and that’s not wrong but it’s not sufficient. I find that what’s interesting about the lost object, about “objet petit a” - cause of desire, is that it’s because there’s the loss, the initial loss, that I desire. It’s like a little kick-starter. It’s not the end goal. It’s not the destination you aim for, it’s more like the engine. And what’s more, what follows is a relation to lack in life that’s interesting. It helps me because because basically I hate lack. I like everything to be full. I don’t like lacking in my life. I don’t like being too hungry, I don’t like being too thirsty, I don’t like being hot, I don’t like being cold, I don’t like it if someone doesn’t text back, I don’t like it if they text too much, I don’t like blah blah blah… There comes a time when you have to take into account the fact that life is lacking. In any case, life is not adapted to our selves. Ah. There’s something uncomfortable about it. This initial lack, present from the moment of conception it’s imperfect, we are not complete. That is, there is already a lack, from the moment you are named by your parents, first, you didn't even get to choose your name so you’re already submitted to someone else’s desire, and it’s a mess. To come back to “objet petit a”, in philosophy, we have the subject - oneself and the object, that which the subject identifies, or which identifies the subject. Voila. Subject > object. Lacan’s “objet petit a”, as one of my philosophy teachers used to say long ago is basically ... neither completely object or subject. Basically it’s a little bit of the subject that escapes. We even call this the falling object. Obviously this is conceptual, clearly there’s no… But, actually in the umbilical cord there’s already this little piece of the mother a little piece of the child and we don’t really know who it belongs to The placenta is in mother, but at the same time it’s... It doesn’t belong to one or the other. It’s a mess! An example comes to mind, one of my teachers said that “objet petit a” is lost because of language, and it’s through language that we try to recover it. It’s a phrase that I had some difficulty understanding. Like, the loss through language and the fact of trying to recover it through language, that can never be achieved because the more we name it, the more it dies, the more it escapes. It was something I could grasp theoretically but I had trouble really feeling it, perceiving it personally. - Mardi Noir

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aalissy · 2 years ago

Text

Roles Reversed

Anddd here’s the second and final chapter for the day! A bit of reverse love square bc a smitten Adrien is my fave Adrien! Wish we had gotten this for a bit longer in s5 :’).

AO3

Shifting his bag, Adrien looked up at the bakery hopefully. He was currently standing outside those doors, waiting for the best moment to go in and hopefully get a chance to see Marinette.

Yes, Adrien Agreste was completely and utterly smitten by Marinette Dupain-Cheng. He knew that the very first day he met her.

Though they hadn’t gotten off on the right foot, he was positively determined to make her one of his first friends. And, yet, when that thunder sounded in the distance and he blinked down into a pair of curious, sapphire blue eyes he found himself wanting more. And then that umbrella snapped down on her head filling him with such euphoria he couldn’t help laughing.

That was the day his crush started. It evolved quickly after that. Growing into something bigger each day Adrien saw her kindness and utter brilliance.

Yes, he was absolutely smitten with her. If only she noticed him.

No matter how often he flirted with her, it seemed like Marinette would only ever shake her head or roll her eyes. Like she didn’t quite believe he was being serious.

Adrien couldn’t help but wonder if that did have something to do with the gum incident. Perhaps she still blamed him for trying to fix one of Chloé’s pranks.

But, he was determined to win her over. Just like that day in the rain he’d show her his heart and get her to realize that his love for her was true.

Sucking in a deep breath and summoning some of his Chat Noir courage, Adrien pushed his way through those doors. The bells chimed above him and all at once his nerves completely vanished the second that he saw Marinette’s smiling face.

A goofy grin spread across his cheeks as he found himself drawn towards her. “Fancy seeing you here, Marinette.”

She scoffed, shaking her head at him even as her smile grew wider. “Yes, fancy seeing me at the bakery I live and work at.”

Adrien leaned across the counter, trying to memorize her face. She was so pretty. Even when she was looking at him like he was absolutely insane.

Her eyebrow slowly rose as he continued to just stare. “Did you want to buy a croissant? Or maybe a macaron?”

“What if I told you I came by just to see you?”

Marinette’s lips parted with surprise. She blinked down at him before the confusion slowly faded to a look of utter amusement. “I’d say that you could have asked to hang out instead of simply coming to the bakery.”

Adrien chuckled, his eyes glimmering at her playfully. “Ah, but would you have said yes?”

Her expression softened before she nodded her head. “Of course, I would have, Adrien. We’re friends. We can hang out any time you’re free. I know you’re usually busy with your father’s photoshoots, though.”

And there was the word. The word that he had come to utterly loathe. Even though it should have lifted his spirits, it instead caused his hopes to crash down. Friend. That’s all she’d ever see of him.

Marinette must have seen his face fall because she instantly perked up, grabbing a croissant and pink macaron before placing them into a bag. “You look hungry, Adrien. Why don’t you eat these? And, maybe, on my break we can find some time to meet up in the park. Would that be alright?”

He cheered up quite quickly, grabbing the bag from her and nodding his head eagerly. “That’d be absolutely lovely, Marinette. Thank you for finding the time to meet up with me.”

“No problem, Adrien.” She winked at him and his heart fluttered. So adorable. “I know how hard it is for you to find time to meet up with friends, so of course we can meet up whenever you have free time.”

He beamed at her. Marinette was just so warm and caring. It was no wonder he loved her. Now if only he could get her to love him too.

Paying for the treats, he then reached over and took the bag from her. Adrien’s heart quickened as their fingers brushed. A shiver ran down his spine at the touch. Was his mind playing tricks on him or were Marinette’s cheeks slightly pink?

But, within the next second, the blush was gone and she was grinning at him once more. “My break is in an hour. Will you still have time to go with me to the park?”

Adrien nodded eagerly. All his father needed to know was that he decided to take some time to study after his fencing lessons. It’s not like he ever noticed he was gone when he was Chat Noir.

“I’ll always have time for you, Marinette.”

“You’re so silly, Adrien.” She giggled, tapping his nose from across the counter.

He should have felt disappointed but instead, he just felt completely lovestruck. She touched his nose! That was two touches from the girl of his dreams on the same day. And, wasn’t that truly wonderful?

Giving her a dazed wave, Adrien turned around and sat down at one of the empty tables. Pulling out the croissant, he practically devoured it while he waited. It was positively delicious.

He was definitely going to have to summon the courage to confess to her later today. Maybe that would convince her that he was serious about his feelings for her. But, then again, wouldn’t it be better if he designed an elaborate date idea before confessing?

Yep, it would definitely be best to save the emotional confession over a moonlit dinner by the Eiffel Tower. Ooh, or maybe even a date on a boat on the Seine!

It was decided then. He was definitely going to save the confession. Today Adrien would just continue flirting with her. Maybe he could even see if Marinette would be willing to go on a date with him by the Eiffel Tower.

Casting a quick glance over at her, he felt his cheeks warm when he noticed that she was already staring. Marinette simply grinned and waved at him, completely unaware that all Adrien could think about was finding a way to woo her.

She mouthed I’ll be out in a minute and he quickly straightened up. He was definitely going to think of this as their first date.

Maybe he could even figure out a way to hold her hand.

Even just thinking about it sent tingles up his hand. Stretching his hand out, Adrien glanced at the clock. He couldn’t wait until it was time for her break!

#miraculous ladybug #ml #mlb #miraculous #ml fic #fic #fanfic #adrinetteapril2023 #adrienetteapril2023 #adrinette #adrienette #love square #reverse love square #reverse crush #reverse crush au

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xhanisai · 2 years ago

Text

Fanboy

AO3

Pairing - Lady Noire X Adrien

Prompt - ‘Fanboy’

Summary -

"Lady N- bug...?" He held his tongue in time so that he didn't out himself. The names they had for each other when they swapped their miraculous weren't common knowledge after all. The current black cat wielder eyed him for a little while, her feline greens scanning his face and body for any injuries or discomfort (and her adorable, adorable kitten ears perched on top of her head remained poised and alert).

"Yes and no. Right now, I'm Lady Noire." She winked and it was like a cupid arrow shot his heart.

~(x)~ . . . "Adrien! Attention!" The blond boy hardly had the chance to even process the words yelled at him because, in an instant, he found himself tackled by a tiny blur of black right before the area he was standing on was completely demolished by the latest Akuma's power. By the time Adrien and the blur rolled to a standstill on the ground nearby, hidden away from the monster's sight, he finally recognised the heroine that cradled him in her arms and straddled his hips with hers. "Lady N- bug...?" He held his tongue in time so that he didn't out himself. The names they had for each other when they swapped their miraculous weren't common knowledge after all. The current black cat wielder eyed him for a little while, her feline greens scanning his face and body for any injuries or discomfort (and her adorable, adorable kitten ears perched on top of her head remained poised and alert). When she was satisfied with what she saw, she got up from his frame (much to his dismay) and helped him up to his feet effortlessly, all with a fanged smile that held more of a hungry, mischievous edge compared to the confident grin she always wore as Ladybug. "Yes and no. Right now, I'm Lady Noire." She winked and it was like a cupid arrow shot his heart. She was way too cute; all he wanted to do was squeal like a fangirl and hold her in his arms whilst jumping up and down. "O-Oh. I see. How come you're wearing the ring? Is Chat Noir okay?" He played up his clueless civilian act, hoping that she didn't pick up the way his heart elevated in speed and the way his complexion started to take on a kissed rosier hue. "Chat Noir? He's completely fine, don't worry about him," With how she placed a clawed, slim hand on his shoulder, he almost guaranteed that no, her partner was not fine at all. Not with the way she continued to watch him with those curious and slightly playful-looking eyes and the way she tapped her tiny claws on his firm bicep. He really, really wasn't fine. "That's good to hear! Hahaha!" Adrien cursed himself for the way his voice rose in pitch and when her smile turned devilish, he lost all his speaking skills and remained as stiff as a board. "Are you okay? Your heart is beating a little fast, Adrien," Her fangs glinted dangerously (wonderfully) and she placed her other hand on his chest, long braid wrapping itself around his ankle loosely. He wasn't able to handle it any longer and before any of them knew it... . He fainted. . . . ~(x)~

#my writing #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug and chat noir #lady noire #adrinoire #ml fanfiction #ml fanfics #ladrien

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hdowlpost · 2 years ago

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Masterlist and Reveal of the 2022 hd_owlpost Winter Gift Exchange

Here they are – all 130 owl gifts delivered by our owls to you – our wonderful hd_owlpost giftmakers, pinchhitters, owl helpers, readers and commenters.

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ficbrish · 1 year ago

Text

Waking Up With You Chapter 2

“Damn… is it time to go already?” [AO3]

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Tags: During Canon, POV Alternating, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Developing Relationship, Shameless Smut, Fluff and Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Some Humor, She falls first, He falls harder, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, First Kiss, First Time, Kissing, Bathing/Washing, Shower Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Fisting, Oral Sex, Ass to Mouth

[[TW/CW: Grief, smoking, alcohol, food, booty-eating, fisting, light dom/sub undertones]]

[Previous Chapter]

MacCready didn’t mention breakfast meant Diamond City. Renée had made the perilous trek between towns often enough by now to recognize their route after that first turn, but he still held onto their destination like it was a secret.

“We’re going to Diamond City, right?”

“You’ll see.”

Renée was so hungry by the time they got there she even started to regret passing up one of those super mutant grab bags on the way over. Sticking her hand into a pile of dismembered flesh, that had been lying on the floor for who knows how many days, and pulling out a bit of bloatfly would have been better than the pit of anger now festering in her belly.

MacCready looked so proud of himself standing in front of the noodle bar with his hands triumphantly placed on his hips. The light beaming through his expression made him seem as if he’d just gifted her the world.

Or maybe it was just the same shit-eating grin that refused to leave his face ever since this morning.

The robot spoke first, “Nan-ni shimasho-ka?”

“Yes! Two of them!” MacCready tossed his caps on the counter smoothly like a noir protagonist before his Icarus burn, “And stay nearby! Today we eat ‘till the lady’s had her fill.”

Renée settled onto one of the stools, “Oh, you dreamboat.”

He joined her with a tsk, tsk, “Better start showing some appreciation for my generosity, boss. I’ll unionize, you know.”

He looked up at her through the brim of his cap and her face flushed with sudden heat.

Two could play at that.

Renée gracefully reached for the side of his face. Her fingers gently wrapped around his ear, her thumb tracing along his jaw. The smugness left his eyes for something softer. He covered her hand in his.

“And how would you do that?” she purred, “You’re my only mercenary.”

MacCready took their hands off his cheek to rest them in his lap.

“I’ve got bargaining power,” he stated confidently, moving her hand slightly further up his thigh. He was subtle about it. No one saw. Her heart thudded as her palm brushed over that secret part of him.

Clouds of steam carrying the smell of hot noodles got placed under their noses.

They dug in without another word, slurping and swallowing without even tasting. Behind them some man started shouting at a security guard to stay away from his wife. Something like that usually immediately captured their attention, but the bustling market around them became a dull thrum to their senses. There were only noodles; they took over completely.

After all of about five minutes, half-satisfied and ready for a nap, Renée and MacCready sat back in their stools. The robot cleared their empty bowls.

“Noodles for breakfast?” she asked as they waited for another round.

“Well, it’s past noon, which makes this lunch. Perfect time for noodles.”

A gruff individual next to them in a green jacket and ratty cap interrupted the robot from its preparations, “They had some already! I’m next!”

They shared an amused look and a smirk. MacCready took his cigarettes out of his pocket and offered one to Renée, which she gladly accepted.

“You ever gonna get some of your own?” he asked, unlit cigarette dangling between his lips, “Or are you just gonna keep borrowing from me?”

She leaned in as he held out a flame for both of them.

Their faces hadn’t been this close since the walk over when he pulled her into an alley to steal a kiss. They smiled and blushed at the memory as they inhaled, and the sparked cherries cast a warm glow over their expressions.

He’d very obviously wanted the gesture in the alley to be spontaneous, but she’d known what was coming—he took the time to clear the area first. Now that Renée knew about Lucy, she could see her dreadful fate in every ounce of RJ’s thoroughness. She saw the strength of his affection in it as well. Words could never ring as sweet as the sight of his professional paranoia taken up a notch by her presence.

He’d tangled his fingers in her hair as he consumed her. It wasn’t wise to be so oblivious to the Wasteland around them. Having something precious to protect was the only reason they were able to pull away and keep going.

“Technically, all the cigarettes are mine,” Renée blew her smoke into the street, “I just make you carry them.”

“Gee, thanks.”

He took another drag and chuckled at the end of his exhale.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“This!” that ear-to-ear smile of his was back, “I mean, can you believe this?!”

Renée tried to hide her gleeful expression with another puff, but she wore the corners of her mouth as earrings just like he did.

Pre-war men only ever acted like this before they made it between your knees. Even Nate had tried to brush her off before she swallowed her pride and begged him to stay. It wasn’t about whether they cared for you, or how much. That’s just how men were.

Then that world ended.

“Oh, thanks!” RJ’s eyes grew wide as their second round of noodles got placed in front of them.

Renée tried to look at hers the same way he looked at his. Now that she wasn’t ravenous, the bowl in front of her had lost some of its appeal. It wasn’t the salve to her desperation anymore. It turned back into more strange food from this strange, new world.

Their hands touched as they put out their cigarettes in the ashtray between them. MacCready laced his fingers with hers and gave them a squeeze before he let go.

That feeling hadn’t changed since the bombs, that rush. Blood still boiled the same. Nerves still crackled like lightning.

Renée took a deep breath.

Maybe the lingering sourness would never go away. A pre-war relic, she would always be spoiled. She’d known the real Earth; RJ and most everyone else only knew Hell.

“This is shaping up to be the best day of my life,” MacCready said with a mouth full of noodles.

She slurped up some of hers through the steam. Renée couldn’t deny a certain comfort they brought. They were warm, hearty; and razorgrain added something exquisite that didn’t exist before.

Even taking their time, it wasn’t long before they were lighting cigarettes again over emptied bowls. RJ took hold of her hand and played with her fingers as they smoked.

“How long has it been since your last date?” He was absolutely smug about it.

“Is that what this is?”

“I didn’t ask you about this one. I asked you about the last one.”

She rolled her eyes, grinning, “Oh, you know. Over 220 years. But who’s counting?”

“No,” he chuckled, “That’s not what I meant. Before that stuff.”

“That stuff?” she laughed, “You mean the global, nuclear apocalypse and being cryogenically frozen?”

“Yeah.”

A cloud of smoke left her lips, “Do married dates count?”

“Of course they count!”

“Hmmmm… It was before we knew about Shaun. Actually… just a little before we found out. We went out to the drive-in.” She paused, laughing bitterly, “If I’d known that would be our last date—Hell, my very last trip to the movies!—I wouldn’t have fallen asleep.”

RJ’s face went a bit dark.

“Oh, fuck,” she realized, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about how—You know… Falling asleep and… and all that. Unless you weren’t even thinking about!—And now I’m bringing it up…”

He chuckled, “Hey, don’t worry about me. I can handle it, talking about what happened. Now that you know, I probably won’t stop talking about it. No, I was just thinking about how I—”

He thought for a moment and continued after a drag, “I understand it. That last day with Lucy… the two of us kept fighting. It was something really dumb; how my manners and language were a bad influence on Duncan, other small things I can’t really remember… Whether it was warm for the season! But really, it was just because we were hungry and tired.”

Renée nodded thoughtfully and ashed her cigarette, “Funny how that happens. It doesn’t matter how much you love someone. Eventually, everybody’s gotta sleep.”

Their laughter overtook all other sounds in the heart of the crowded marketplace. Their animated joy stuck out like radioactive material in the obsidian-black night, but no one turned their heads. The way their hands lightly rested on each other’s thighs marked their little sphere as too intimate to interrupt. Even catching a glance of the expressions in their eyes felt like a violation.

They lit another cigarette instead of ordering more noodles. MacCready pulled out a bottle of bourbon they’d found earlier from his pack to pass between them.

The sun started to dip before he leaned in and whispered, “Where can I get you alone?”

* * * * * *

MacCready hadn’t been inside Renée’s Diamond City house since the night she bought it. The shack was an impulse purchase she’d immediately regretted, something Renée did just because she could. Just because she went from someone who lost everything to someone who could throw away 5,000 caps just to lighten her pockets, and she needed something tangible and external to prove how far she’d come.

It was a tomb then, packed with a dead man’s furniture. Their first steps into its threshold disturbed layers of dust like piles of snow. No one had been in there since its previous owner disappeared years ago. The mayor never bothered to have it cleaned before he sold it. Just like Kellog’s house, it sat locked and untouched.

Contained, locked, undisturbed; these all meant one thing—safety. After months of watching each other’s backs, they finally had security beyond themselves and each other; walls with locked doors that only they had the keys to, a solid roof, and Diamond City security outside. They also had two stories of space to spread out in and the chance to sleep alone. Renée stretched out on the dodgy bed. MacCready took the beat-up couch on the floor below.

All that space in the dark. Alone.

Renée called down for him pretty quickly, and MacCready went right to her side without any hesitation. Back-to-back again in the dead man’s bed, they were finally able to sleep that night.

Everything about today was different.

They crossed the threshold with their hearts in their throats, having come this time solely for the purpose of sharing the same bed and each other within it. The moment that the front door was shut, everything they’d ever held back was expressible, even promised.

“Oh, woah! You did all this? Since when?!”

Renée laughed it off, “It’s just a side project. Nick and Piper sometimes help out too.”

The house itself had transformed just as much as their intentions. The whole place was completely gutted and renewed.

“Just a side project,” he repeated, mocking her in awe. “It’s amazing!”

“Nah.”

MacCready took his hat off. Then he shook his head as if he had long, flowing hair instead of his short crop. He ran his fingers through it, scratching his scalp along the way.

Renée always watched him do that whenever they were about to settle in for the night. He did it reliably, like a signal marking their territory. It wasn’t a unique gesture. Plenty of people took their hats off in similar ways. It wasn’t even a sign that he was relaxed. His back rarely faced the door; his gun stayed nearby. Just something he did out of habit.

This time with an uncharacteristically huge smile on his face.

“You have lights! And art! And a kitchen! That’s a whole kitchen!”

Renée chuckled at the way his voice cracked with excitement, “Yes, it is. You know what else it has?”

“What?”

“Indoor plum—”

“INDOOR PLUMBING?!”

“And—”

“And?!”

She couldn’t help but match that smile of his, “Hot—”

“No!”

“—water.”

“Shut up! No!”

“Yes,” she laughed.

“You’re crazy!”

Still laughing, she unlaced her boots and asked him to do the same.

“We should shower,” she suggested as they lined up their shoes by the door.

“Oh, you had me at ‘hot water’!”

Renée led the way, stripping off her clothes and leaving them in a trail along the floor to be picked up later. Everything she took off, he took off too. Socks left their bodies first, then bits of armor. They were both topless by the time the faucet started running. Their pants were the last to go.

They hadn’t kissed since the alley, but that was remedied the moment their heads hit the flow of water. It was breathless, gasping. Their lips made chaos of time. They’d only crossed that line this morning, but the feeling was ancient like meeting again across lives. Every touch was the very first and the very last. They had so much to make up for.

“Gross!”

“Eeew!”

Streaks of dirt ran down their faces like mascara on a rough night.

Renée was horrified, “But we took baths yesterday!—Oh god!”

MacCready caught her train of thought from the panicked look in her eyes, “Relax. I would have tasted it on your neck. No, this has gotta be from all that fresh Boston air on the walk over.”

“The walk you insisted on us taking?”

“It got us here, didn’t it?”

Renée smiled, “Guess it was worth it.”

She positioned her face under the water, eyes shut tight against the flow. MacCready was glued to the way the water bounced off her cheekbones and ran down her lips. The dirt washed away, leaving her cool, brown skin rich and fresh. He never let himself really, truly see her before, and the sight of her now hit his heart like a view of the ocean.

“You’re—”

She shook her head, stepping out from under the faucet, “I’ve got facewash somewhere.”

MacCready stepped under the flow while Renée leaned half-out of the curtain.

“Codsworth made these,” she said while his eyes were still shut.

“Made what?” he asked, and the water rushed into his mouth, which he instinctively spat out.

“RJ!”

Laughing, he stepped out from the faucet and wiped the water off his pink face, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

“You just spit all over me!”

“What did Codsworth make?” he asked, laughter still dying out.

“What didn’t he make? We’ve got facewash, soap, shampoo, and moisturizers for both the skin and hair.”

“Skin and hair?” he teased, “Ol’ Butler Bot’s been busy.”

“Yeah, well, after 220 years of waiting around, he’s picked up a new hobby or two.”

They took turns scrubbing and rinsing their faces with Codsworth’s cleanser. It had a refreshing minty quality to it that made them both astounded he’d ever been kicked out of a town. Robot or not, this was art. But such an outcome was also plain and predictable; bigotry was never based on anything real.

Renée grabbed the shampoo after putting the bottle of facewash away. It came in a solid bar like soap, and its creamy color nicely complimented the lighter skin under her hands. MacCready always found them unbelievably soft. No matter how many times they picked up a gun, the way they felt defied logic. Not that he had a lot of experience touching her hands. Not yet. The sight of them now possessed him with an impulse to tear that bar out of her grip and press her smooth palm against his face. Then kiss her fingers one by one.

“Bend down,” she told him.

He lowered his head, ready for anything. She ran her hands though his wet hair, lathering it.

“Oooh, that’s nice.”

Renée chuckled, “Have you ever had your hair washed before? I mean—By another person?”

“No. You?”

She nodded even though he couldn’t see it. Her hair, now thoroughly soaked through, bounced with loose, dripping curls.

“By my mother when I was a kid. And then every time I went to the salon,” she answered.

“God this feels good.”

“Not even before a cut?”

“Always cut my own hair. I even did Lucy and Duncan’s.”

“Wow. Impressive.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!” she giggled.

When she took her hands away from his scalp, he straightened up and shook his head like a dog. Speckles of suds flew everywhere.

“You’re next,” he was barely audible over her shrieking laughter.

MacCready’s hands were strong and covered her whole head. She was going to tell him to make sure to really get into her roots, but she didn’t have to. The same focus and concentration he had through a scope, he took to her coils.

“How do I compare?” he asked, a cocky smirk in his tone.

Renée couldn’t help but cackle, “Compared to who? My mother? Or the women at the salon?”

“I don’t know. If you tell me I’m not as good as Ethel or Tiffany…”

“Ethel and Tiffany?” she laughed, “Why is that their names?”

“Old world names,” he shrugged.

They were too hysterical to help each other out with the conditioner. Every time MacCready started to touch her hair, he pretended to be Tiffany, and Renée kept doubling over from the joke. They had to scrub and rinse it out of their own hair.

She grabbed a washcloth when they were done.

“We’re not sharing that, are we?”

“Obviously not, RJ,” she rolled her eyes, “Turn around.”

“What? You’re going to wash me now?”

“That’s the idea, smartass.”

“Nah, uh, ladies first,” he took the sudsy cloth out of her hand, “You turn around.”

MacCready’s touch was rough, but thorough. He started with the back of her neck and went up behind her ears before moving on to her shoulders.

“Arm’s up,” he told her, and scrubbed her underarms as she lifted them. It tickled and she broke into squealing breathlessness. She felt him grow a bit behind her as she squirmed against him, a thickness starting to poke her bottom.

He brought the cloth down Renée’s spine next. One, slow stroke followed by a kiss to her shoulder, and she let out a long sigh. He meticulously attended to each part of her back, washing from left to right, top to bottom. Then he took the same level of attentiveness to her arms. One at a time, he wrapped them in the sudsy cloth before dragging it all the way down to her fingertips.

“The trick is getting under your fingernails,” he said scrubbing them, “Dirt likes to hide under there.”

“Oh, does it?” she chuckled.

MacCready washed his along with hers. Holding her hands as he scrubbed them, he traveled from her fingertips to his.

“Can’t wait for me to do that?”

“Not with what I have planned.”

“Really? And what would that be?”

“You’ll see.”

His confidence seemed to vanish when he asked her to turn around so that he could wash her other side. Renée noticed his eyes dart down.

He guiltily looked back up, “You ready?”

She snickered, “You like my boobies, RJ?”

His shock of laughter ricocheted boldly across the tile walls, echoing around them before he decided to play along, “I do, but they’re not nearly as nice as mine.”

The army had beaten the silly stick out of Nate. Renée was so used to his disgruntled reactions that time seemed to split out of MacCready’s playfulness. She found herself falling so easily into something familiar, affectionately provoking the man who made her melt. But RJ’s responses were so different. Not better, not worse. Just different, and she saw the moment play out both as what it was and what it wasn’t.

MacCready’s nervousness seemed to disappear when he brought the cloth over her throat and collarbone. Renée could feel her pulse race up by her ears. Then his hand moved over her heart and a calm rushed over her. A sigh came out like a half-sob.

“You okay?” His eyes and expression were tender with concern.

She nodded, “Just feels really nice.”

“I like it too.”

She smiled; her eyes still closed.

“Um, can I…?” he asked, staring at her breasts.

She caught his gaze, “Go ahead, RJ.”

“Man! I’ve thought about doing this—I mean!”

Her face already hurt from laughing so much, “It’s okay. I’ve thought about it too.”

“Then, um…” he brought the cloth over one and rubbed his hand over it.

“You feeling me up, MacCready? Or cleaning me?”

“Both,” he chuckled.

He took his time on each breast, and then brought an equal amount of care to her waist. When he finished washing her belly, he got on his knees and kissed the stretch marks adorning her hips.

“That’s dangerous,” she sighed.

“Nuh uh. Not yet.”

He rubbed the cloth all over her hips before bringing it between them.

“You ready?” he asked looking up at her.

She grabbed a fistful of his wet, clean hair, “Do it.”

He pulled the cloth between her legs, tenderly scrubbing every detail. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“You ever have anyone do this for you?”

“No,” she admitted, “It’s kind of weird. But I don’t mind you doing it.”

Still kneeling, he scrubbed her thighs next. RJ kissed her knees when he finished them, before moving onto her calves. Then he lifted her feet up one by one and even got between her toes.

“Not having your stinky feet in my sheets tonight.”

“I could easily kick you in the face right now, you know.”

“But you won’t.”

She almost fell backwards pretending to try. He caught her as she started to slip.

RJ saved the best for last, “Show me that a—spin around.”

She obliged, “Is this situation not explicit enough yet for you to curse in?”

“Not yet.”

Renée felt the smack of the wet rag bounce off her ass and gasped.

“Shit! Was that okay? I mean—Shoot was that okay?”

She wiggled her hips, “Do it again.”

She felt it hit the other side.

MacCready scrubbed each of her cheeks individually before getting between them. And once he got between them, he seemed to never want to leave.

“You good back there?”

“Uh… too good.”

You could hear her stupid grin in her tone, “I must be pristine enough now to eat off of.”

“And good enough to.”

His words and the ragged way they came out bewitched her.

“You can put your face closer if you like.”

She felt his nose brush against her cheek and caught the groan in his throat.

“You like my ass, RJ?”

“Yes.”

She smiled, feeling like a femme fatale from one of Nate’s movies, “I bet you want to eat it.”

“I do. Please, boss. Please let me taste your ass.”

He said “Boss” like it was the name of a deity. It made Renée want him to pin her down and tear her to pieces.

“Go ahead, merc. Eat it.”

His tongue went right for her asshole with a high, desperate moan. Renée braced herself against the wall and spread her legs apart as he licked around it and sucked. He squeezed her cheeks in his hands, crushing his face between them.

His moaning and gasping under the flow of water was driving her mad, “I need you RJ.”

It took him a moment to pull away, “You’ve gotta wash me off first. But I guess… Since I like ya, I could let you cum.”

“Please,” she begged, arching her back.

He resumed his task, bringing his fingers to her front. He teased them along her folds as he indulged in her ass. She felt so good he bit her ass on the cheek and moaned.

His fingertips found her stiffened clit and traced circles over and around it. He resisted the urge to feel inside of her until she pleaded more. When he finally just had to, Renée cried out with relief.

“More!” she demanded again.

He added another finger.

“More!”

And another. In fact, he ran out of fingers before she ran out of demands. RJ pumped in and out of her with his whole fist as his other hand teased her clit. His tongue played with her asshole and licked up and down her crevice.

He didn’t stop until she screamed and clenched around him.

He held her steady until she regained her balance, her knees having gone weak. She turned around. He was still kneeling, and she was still shaking.

“Your turn,” she panted.

They laughed as he stood up and Renée changed out the washcloth. MacCready held his mouth open under the water and rinsed it out a few times.

“I want you to kiss me,” he explained when he caught her watching.

Renée could barely even think, so she stole RJ’s scrubbing technique starting with his back. His shoulders somehow seemed even wider without his clothes on.

“You’ve got moles.”

“Guilty.”

“I like them. One, two, three… four, five of them. They look pretty on you.”

“Pretty? Me?”

“Yeah. I said what I said.”

He chuckled, “Thank you.”

“In fact… You’ve got a lot of pretty things on you, RJ. For example…”

Renée liked how she could tell from the back of his head that he had his brow raised.

She reached around to his front and grabbed hold of what she was looking for, “I think your dick is one of the prettiest ones I’ve ever seen.”

She could feel it pulse in her grip, throbbing as thickly as the heart inside her chest. Her breasts pressed into his back, and she could feel the echo of his own heartbeat under his skin.

MacCready’s body tensed when she let go of it. She resumed scrubbing his back.

Renée cleared her throat, but neither of them talked. She just kept washing him in the same way he washed her. Top to bottom, chest to toes. Until there she was on her knees, face-to-face with his cock as the water beat down over her head.

“All clean.”

MacCready had a hungry, far-away expression on his strained face as he ran his hands through her wet hair. His eyes rolled back as she took hold of his shaft and placed her lips at its head. She opened her mouth, and he let himself be consumed.

He groaned and gave into it a bit before lifting Renée off her knees.

“I can’t get enough of this,” he said through a mouthful of kissing her.

“I need you, RJ.”

“Say it again.”

“I need you.”

They were slippery, but MacCready still managed to lift her up into a similar embrace from this morning. With her legs wrapped around his hips, he guided himself between her thighs and dove inside her. She greeted him with a high, ecstatic whine and a gasp.

He leaned in for another kiss. It was his new favorite thing, rutting deep within her while messing with her tongue.

“I want more,” Renée moaned into him.

He groaned from the frustration of leaving her lips, “Wanna get on the floor?”

She nodded and he carefully let her down after pulling out.

Renée got on all fours with her ass up and felt MacCready catch it in his strong grip.

“Get back inside me,” she begged.

“You really want me?”

“I want you deep, please.”

She gasped as he put in his full length, with his big, rough hands wrapped around her hips adding power to his thrust. She could feel his balls clap against her as he continued to bash himself into her again and again. It shocked her how much she liked that. It sent waves and rushes of blood from her stomach to her toes.

“Fuck me,” she shouted over the water. It echoed, bouncing between the tiles.

He slowed down and she groaned.

“Cum for me and I’ll go fast again.”

It was already happening before he asked. When he felt her tighten and pulse, he sped up.

Renée’s head felt the same as it did after a second hit of psycho jet. Nothing in all her fantasies of him could have prepared her for the feeling of an orgasm being torn out of her right on top of a waning one the way it was happening now.

“I’m still cumming,” she squealed in a voice she didn’t recognize.

He just moaned, and that echoed through the shower too.

Renée felt incredibly stupid when the next wave came on. Nothing of herself was left but a sensation that compared to having her soul sucked out of her body through his cock. No thoughts. No sense of being. Just a vague sense that if he stopped now, it would kill her.

“I’m cumming,” she heard him shout, “Oh god, I’m cumming!”

The sound of his voice was far from her consciousness. Consumed with sharp pleasure, her being was boiling inside her center and being torn apart like a star meeting a black hole.

It was like she could feel his climax on top of hers. Like the bruise of two good aches stacked on top of each other.

The sensations finally let go of them. He fell back onto the shower floor in a daze, and she settled onto his lap. They sat there holding each other under the water with the best kind of overwhelm.

Finally, MacCready was able to speak, “Can we get out now? Kinda getting sick of all this water.”

Renée kissed him in agreement, laughing her mind back into her head.

* * * * * *

“Codsworth make this too?” MacCready asked as Renée rubbed lotion on his back. He was lying on his stomach on her brand-new bed, in what was a completely different loft than the one from before. It was well-lit, clean, and colorful; with Grognak posters covering the walls and bright green plants in every possible corner. She straddled him, still naked, running her hands all over the length of his back.

“No, um… Actually, this one was a… a gift.”

Her response was uncharacteristically cagey, but she sounded more shy than secretive. MacCready wasn’t about to pass that up.

“From?” he poked.

“A certain… a certain singer at the Third Rail.”

“Magnolia?!”

“Don’t start!”

She could see his heaves of laughter through his back.

“You fucked Maggie?”

“Wait, she lets you call her Maggie?”

“Not to her face.”

Renée playfully smacked him between shoulder blades. It was gentle, but he acted like it wasn’t.

“Ow!” he laughed.

“Oh no, my hands slipped!” she said unconvincingly, “They’re just so lotion-y.”

“Uh, huh.”

“Wait, did you fuck her too? Did we fuck the same person?”

“I tried,” he shrugged, which from his current position was more like a squeeze of his shoulders.

Renée laughed, “Damn do I have better game than you, RJ?”

He twisted around and pulled her squealing down onto the bed. Again, he found himself all over her mouth like it was a drug.

“Holy shit, where have you been?” he asked breathlessly.

“Language!” she teased, “And right the fuck in front of you. This whole time!”

“Sharing the same bed,” he laughed.

“You’re an idiot, RJ.”

“I really am!”

“No! You’re not!” she pouted.

“Okay. I’m not.”

She smiled again, “That’s better.”

Looking at him like that, she found words that felt like a betrayal. She was only supposed to find those words while lost in different-colored eyes. They were the only thing on her mind, the only thing she wanted to say. But they felt like spitting on the dead, so she held her tongue.

MacCready knew her better than that, knew there was always a story behind her knitted brows.

“What’s up?” he asked, suddenly serious.

She smirked without any levity in it. Then she just shrugged. MacCready took the hint to just sit there and hold her.

“Moving on…" she started hesitantly, “Moving on means not holding back with each other for the sake of the past, right?”

“Right. I’d say so.” He didn’t know where this was going, but he was patient.

“And that doesn’t erase them? Moving on?”

Something in her tone made him think of Duncan. It shared a quality with the way he’d ask if there were monsters in the night.

He thought for a moment, searching for the best answer.

“I don’t see how anything ever could.”

Renée buried her face in his chest. She groaned a few times, and lightly banged her head against his bones before speaking again, “The things I want to tell you feel like cheating even though I saw him die.”

“I think I know what you mean.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to say anything before you’re ready to, but can you tell me one thing?”

“Hmm?”

“Is it good or bad?”

“Good.”

“Good.” He breathed a sigh of relief that made her head lift and go down with his chest.

“I just… um…” Renée bit her lip, “And I’m not saying that I’ve never been satisfied or that Nate was bad or anything. Okay?”

“Uh, okay.”

“I’ve just… I never… I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard before. Like I’ve done it, but I’ve never felt that.”

She looked up to find the most disgustingly smug expression on his lips.

“Oh, fuck off with that,” she warned him.

“What?” he was grinning so hard that his voice was strained with self-satisfaction.

She just lowered her eyes.

He softened his, “Hey, come here.”

His hand consumed the side of her face and she shut her glare with contentment.

“I don’t know if what I felt was more intense or just different, but I know I haven’t felt anything like that since Lucy. And you two are impossible to compare.”

“Lucky. I can’t help comparing you and Nate.”

“That’s okay too. A little scary, but okay.”

She chuckled, “You really don’t compare us?”

“It’s not that I can’t, it’s—Okay I know this sounds silly, but I don’t compare you because it would break my heart. Not because you’re better or worse! Not anything like that. But because it’s… It’s not fair. You can love Nate forever, and I can love Lucy forever, but they’re not here. We get to feel this, and be this together, and they’re just dead.”

Renée adjusted her arms to hold him tighter. They stayed there like that for a while, holding onto each other as a tether against cosmic injustice.

She spoke again to lighten the moment, “Magnolia was my first here. After Nate.”

“Maybe it was the blue vault suit.”

“Oh, are you not gonna let this go now? That I’m better than you?”

“It’s tight in all the right places.”

“RJ!”

MacCready sat up, bringing Renée into his lap. They were both naked, their cleaned skin still drinking up the lotion they’d put on after their shower.

He held the back of her neck and spoke so close to her lips that they touched on certain words, “And after Magnolia?”

“Just some guy.”

She’d save the story about Pickman for later. It was a long one, and she was enjoying the way he was so close to her mouth too much to interrupt it.

“And then?”

“And then you.”

The way he finally grabbed her lips was hungry.

“And then?” he asked again.

Her eyes were soft, “And then just you.”

“Yeah?” his voice had a desperate hitch.

“Yeah.”

“Say it.”

“Just you, RJ. Only you.”

“For how long?” he asked, kissing all over her neck.

“Forever,” she admitted, “Is that crazy?”

“Yes. But I like it.”

It was their first time in a bed. Not a pantry wall or a shower. It was the first time he threw her legs over his shoulders and heard her scream his name into his chest.

It was the second time she came that hard.

Afterwards, only MacCready could speak, and then it was only one word, “Cigarettes?”

The terrace was the best part of Renée’s impulse purchase. All the buildings in Diamond City were ugly, but seeing rooftops sparkle in the city-lit darkness always had some kind of magic to it. No matter where you were or how good the view.

Plus, it gave her a place to smoke.

“We smoke inside all the time.”

“Yeah, but not anywhere that’s ours. This is my house. I bought it. We smoke outside.”

“Woooow,” he took a drag, “Take off your shoes, smoke outside… You’ve got rules.”

“I do.”

“And here I thought you were the lawless type.”

“I am! People are complex, RJ.”

He laughed.

Then he wrapped an arm around her and said, “I wish we never had to go.”

He felt her nod against his shoulder.

“Hey, Renée?”

She looked up at him with her cat-like blue eyes, a trail of smoke leaving her lips, “RJ?”

He kissed her once before he spoke, “I love you. Big time.”

She smiled, “Big time?”

“Huge,” he grinned.

“I love you big time back.”

* * * * * *

They fell into a pattern for the next few precious days. From the bed to the terrace, and the terrace to the bed, they dragged each other into a blissful oblivion.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t in the stars for them to stay. Reality waited by the door. It hovered on the welcome mat, haunting their ecstatic pause.

One night, smoking on the terrace, MacCready opened the door and let it in.

“Daisy, uh… Daisy said I could leave with one of her caravans to visit the homestead.”

“When—?”

He took a drag and ashed his cigarette, “Transmission came through today. Duncan’s doing great.”

MacCready’s voice got caught in his throat at the end of that sentence. Happiness and relief welled in his eyes, as did all his pent-up worry.

Of course Renée was happy, ridiculously so, but she’d literally killed for the moment RJ was having, and would kill again as many times as it took to have it herself. They knew Duncan was okay, and where he was. He was safe, cared for. MacCready had the chance to see him, hold him again. All while they still knew next to nothing about Shaun.

Renée spoke over the envy lodged in her throat, “That’s so great!”

They embraced and cried, celebrating that one of their children was going to make it.

“You need to be there, RJ.”

“I know. Would you—?”

She shook her head, “We’re almost ready to storm Ft. Hagen. I’d love to! But I have to be here.”

“Wish I could be here for that.”

“I know, me too.”

“I’m sorry I won’t be.”

“Please don’t apologize. It’s Duncan.”

He squeezed her tight, “You’re going to find Shaun.”

For the first time, she let herself feel her full fear. Her voice trembled, “We’ve already waited so long.”

Her cries were muffled by his jacket where she buried her face. MacCready held Renée while she broke apart. Months of terror, uncertainty, and searching came crashing out of her in hyperventilating cascades. His emotions escaped with hers, and they stood there purging every feeling until they had nothing left inside.

He got them water when they calmed down. Then they sat down and smoked until the sun came up.

One more day together, and then they’d make the trek back to Goodneighbor.

“Maybe when I’m back, we’ll be able to figure everything out for the four of us,” MacCready said as they sat there on her roof, “You, me, Duncan, and Shaun.”

Renée squeezed his hand, “I hope so.”

#sole survivor/maccready #smut #fluff #renee kilburn #fallout #fallout 4 #full fic #sole survivor x maccready #maccready x sole survivor #waking up fic #BrishFics

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