#can’t trust pigeons

[wolfish-chan]

More of my batfam headcanons since you guys liked them

- After Dick moves out, Alfred finds Bruce in Dick’s old bedroom staring aimlessly

- Sometimes, especially in the beginning years as Batman, Bruce has days where he can’t stand to look in the mirror because those aren’t his eyes staring back at him — they’re Martha’s

- There’s a lullaby that all of the family knows because Alfred would sing it to them on their hardest nights, even when they were adults

- Alfred has made the habit of becoming fluent in all the languages his family speaks

- Bruce tries to do the same, but he’s not nearly as fluent. There’s still a lot of proper pronunciation he can’t get right and the kids make fun of him for it constantly

- Alfred speaks with them in their preferred language as often as possible, but usually sticks to English when they’re all together

- Everyone is a polyglot, except Cass, who currently only knows English and ASL

- Cass doesn’t speak often, as she’s still not used to having the ability to, but she wants to become a polyglot eventually, too. Her brothers help her practice

- It’s become a running joke amongst Bruce’s kids that whenever Father’s Day rolls around, they make cards for Alfred instead of Bruce

- Alfred keeps every single one

- No one has any idea what Alfred’s room looks like. Stephanie is convinced he doesn’t have one and that he sleeps in the cave (“I’m telling you guys! He sleeps upside down like a bat!”)

- Bruce is impossible to sneak up on, unless it’s Cass. She likes jumping out from behind corners and spooking him.

- He doesn’t react aside from throwing whatever is in his hands into the air. One time he threw an entire cup of hot coffee in his own face without so much as blinking

- Tim absolutely despises Country music, but Kon listens to it non stop and it’s drives Tim crazy because it’ll get stuck in his head for weeks on end

- Dick and Wally love going to haunted houses together, but only the intense ones where you have to sign a waiver

- They tried to take Starfire with them once, but she knocked out one of the employees when they jumped out at her so she now has a permanent ban

- Dick used to keep those alphabet fridge magnets at his apartment, but he kept finding them rearranged to spell swears and he still has no idea who was doing it

- Tim has a photographic memory which he uses to spout off random facts when someone annoys him

- Bruce: “try that again and I bench you” 13-year old Tim: “well did you know pigeons can be trained to tell the difference between Picasso and Monet paintings” Bruce: “okay”

- All of the younger bats think Jason was the problem child, but it’s actually Dick. Bruce tells them this constantly and they never believe him

- Jason doesn’t visit the manor often, but when he does, he always makes sure no one’s home. He’ll sit in his childhood bedroom that Alfred has kept immaculately clean with all the lights off for hours. He slips out as soon as he hears someone come home

- Jason chooses to ignore that his bedsheets are always newly washed because he knows Alfred is doing it in case he ever decides to come home

- He doesn’t know that Alfred used to do it when Jason was dead, too

- Alfred only ever lets Duke wash dishes because he’s the only one he can trust not to break them

- Dick is ridiculously good at juggling

[its-not-a-pen]

[餘智傳] The 2nd Century Warlord (Part 2)

based on the story by @romanceyourdemons

Read part 1

ninth day as a second century warlord i try to tactfully ask my fake liege lord if he sent the assassin to kill my loser liege lord and it turns out the idea of using assassins never occurred to him, but now that i’ve suggested it he’s really into it. in order to save my loser liege lord i volunteer to be the one to kill him

tenth day as a second century warlord on my way back to my loser liege lord’s city i realize i won’t be able to collect my men from my fake liege lord until i bring back my loser liege lord’s head. this would have been a great thing to think of before i got myself in this situation. i go back to my loser liege lord and ask him to rescue my men, and he tells me that if he could sack my fake liege lord’s camp he already would have. that doesn’t change the fact that my men are still trapped. they’re prisoners, even. i go back to my room to sulk

eleventh day as a second century warlord i find a little caged pigeon in the rafters of my loser liege lord’s room and deduce it belonged to the assassin. without asking permission or telling my loser liege lord goodbye i let the pigeon loose and follow it north. don’t ask what i was doing in my loser liege lord’s room. it’s not important

twelfth day as a second century warlord i disguise myself as a wizard and enter the camp of the coalition leader the pigeon led me to. in the middle of my little sleight of hand performance i make eye contact with the coalition leader’s second-in-command. IT’S THE WIZARD THAT STOLE MY LOSER LIEGE LORD’S WIFE. after the banquet i corner the fake wizard and ask him what the fuck is going on and he just says “wouldn’t you like to know” and leaves. i don’t know what to say to that so i just let him go

thirteenth day as a second century warlord i’m honestly so sick of not knowing what’s going on, so i adjust my wizard costume to passably disguise myself as a woman and break into the women’s area of the camp, where sure enough my loser liege lord’s wife is. i ask her what she’s doing here and she tells me the fake wizard overheard her singing a poem she overheard on the street, not knowing it contains the coalition leader’s formation’s weaknesses. the fake wizard kidnapped her and assigned an assassin to kill her husband before they figured out the poem’s significance. she shares the first couplet with me but i’m discovered and thrown out before she can share any more. she doesn’t need to. through a bizarre coincidence of homophones, it’s the poop version of my misinformation nursery rhyme

fourteenth day as a second century warlord i go back to my loser liege lord and tell him everything, urging him to join with my fake liege lord to attack the coalition leader according to the weaknesses in the nursery rhyme. he tells me frankly that he doesn’t trust me anymore. i ask him to execute me if that’s really true, because i can’t bear to live if i can’t protect him and i can’t protect my men. he agrees to attack the coalition leader

fifteenth day as a second century warlord. due to the information in the nursery rhyme, and thanks to my loser liege lord reminding me of the weather conditions multiple times while planning our battle strategy, our alliance carries the day. my loser liege lord gets his wife back. my men tell me that our fake liege lord actually treated them really well and they’d like to stay with him if i don’t mind. i do mind, now that neither the men i love nor the man i love have any use for me, but i don’t tell them that

sixteenth day as a second century warlord i’m preparing to leave to i don’t know where, maybe to try to become a wizard for real, when my loser liege lord stops me and asks me where i’m going. he says he had hoped i would continue to work as his advisor. i was unaware i was his advisor in the first place. i agree, and he tells me he’s truly honored to have me in his service at last. he has known i am a rare and talented man with a strategic intelligence far above his ever since the day he witnessed me tying branches to my horses’ tails in six inches of mud, and could not for the life of him figure out why

The end.

Thanks for reading! Notes under the cut

CORRECTION#1: the warlord's courtesy name was incorrectly written as Yú zhī 餘知 [plentiful knowledge]. my dumbass did not realise zhī 知 [to know] is a GOD DAMN VERB. It should be zhì 智 [wisdom].

CORRECTION#2: the clothes from part one are from the WRONG DYNASTY!!! BY 1200 YEARS!!!! it's meant to be HAN not MING.

#9 Misreading the standards: Loser Liege's name is Yue, so I decided to go with Lè/Yuè 樂 [optimistic/music]. I made the Chad Liege's name Cháo 巢 [nest] which is pronounced identically to Cáo 曹, the infamous IRL warlord. Just like his IRL counterpart, he is the affable, lawful-evil boss who is kind to his employees. I went ALL OUT designing Lord Chad Chao's outfit. He's got so much drip the yangtze river is about to break its banks. Now THAT'S a main character!

#10 Wardrobe Malfunction: the soldiers are now wearing clothes from the correct dynasty. i even gave them grass sandals! I really wanted to show how utterly outclassed they are, this is the difference between a peasant militia and a professional army. (They're in the exact same poses as part 1, except more terrified).

#11 mountain-water art: man i love doing traditional style backgrounds, the white space is very pleasing. Does it make sense to camp your coalition out in the mountains? No. Is it cool? Hella.

#12 you're a wizard, hairy: my favourite detail is the pigeon from day 11 sitting on the warlord's hat. I had to cut SO MUCH from this scene because there wasn't room. There was going to be musicians, jesters and strongmen. (Based of funerary figures)

I wanted to make it clear that the Coalition Liege is the richest guy of all, but he is all style and no substance. He's got an army of dancing girls and drunk officers. You get the feeling that his Chief Strategist aka Fake Wizard aka Zhuge Liang Knockoff, disproves.

#13 Hua Mulan: RIP the Warlord's beautiful beard ;n; He's wearing one of the dancing girl's outfits and I like to think the ladies helped him do his makeup too. I wanted to add a little character moment for the Wife and Warlord. They're holding hands which is not strictly proper, but I wanted to show the intensity of the emotions.

#14 the supplicant: I really like the framing here, I wanted both faces to be visible so we can see what they're thinking.

#15 enemy of my enemy: the Warlord is finally in command and flying his standard Huáng 黃 [yellow]. He is wearing a wu guan with two pheasant feathers, for a high ranking military official.

#16 the romantic subplot: the Warlord and his Loser are tenderly holding hands while the Wife and Noble Steed looks on with approval. I wanted the handholding to be slightly awkward and kinda spontaneous, like they were both aiming for a manly, platonic hand-clasp but veered wildly off-course into homoeroticism. In the background, an oblivious Lord Chad is showing off the little wooden horse one of his new soldiers gave him (that guy's been carving it since part 1, it's high time we acknowledged his hard work).

Want to learn more about the (mostly) true story that inspired this post? Check out Romance of the Three Kingdoms! TV show, the book and the movie Red Cliff,

[crackedpumpkin]

|| ʙʟᴀɴᴋ ᴄᴀɴᴠᴀꜱ || ᴘᴛ. ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ||

a/n: Hello loves! So sorry I kept y'all waiting for part three, I hope you enjoy this! Just wanted to let y'all know that I'll be flying off to South Korea for a vacation, and will only be back on the 22nd of June so updates will be paused till then. I'll try to continue writing on my trip, but there are no guarantees I won't be too tired lolol. Love, pumpkin.

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

Blackmail — The act of attempting to force someone to do something or give up something valuable by threatening negative consequences if they don’t, especially revealing negative information about them.

That's what the online dictionary says anyway, which is perfect! 

As such, it wouldn't be blackmail as much as it would be....persuasive negotiation. Which is the exact opposite of blackmail, which, again, is perfect! 

Yeah, you’re getting nowhere with this.

You stifle a defeated groan as you collapse onto the plush mattress of your bed, dragging your hands down your face. Your phone beeps with a message, startling you out of your thoughts.

Nicole [ 7.15 PM ]: Did you find what you were looking for?

Nicole [ 7.15 PM ]: ? 

Nicole [ 7.30 PM ]: Update me tomorrow.

Right. Nicole. Your hand falls limply to the side, fingers loosely gripping the device.

Crap. 

How would you explain it to her? She’s always been good at sniffing out your lies. To tell, or not to tell. That is the question. Maybe you should just pretend nothing happened. That’d be the only reasonable thing to do in this situation, right? 

But your art is at risk here. And if it’s anything you’ve learnt over your many years of living, it’s that you’re a stubborn bull that can’t back down once you’re set on something. And right now, you’re set on getting Spiderman to be your model. 

You might get your mojo back if you draw him enough times. Maybe your art block won’t be so constipated anymore, and perhaps you might even get into the art school you have your eye on.

And maybe, just maybe, you might catch the eye of the art scouts at the end-of-year exhibition.

So there’s no way you can afford to give this up. 

You’ll convince him. You have to.

— — — — — 

“So, why’d you ignore my messages yesterday?” 

You flinch away from the sudden hand on your shoulder, fingers decorated with rings glinting in the sun. Michael winces from where he’s standing opposite you, taking a long, slow sip of his juice box. 

You stammer out Nicole’s name in surprise, the girl in question looking at you with a raised brow and serious eyes. She scans your nervous smile and flushed cheeks, letting go of you with a nod. 

“You met him. How was it?”

Damn it.

“I didn’t end up meeting him,” You say with a defeated sigh, hoping it’s not excessive. Being under Nicole’s observant gaze is one of the scariest experiences in the world, with pigeons in close proximity a close second. 

“Okay,” Her dubious tone gives you a slight sense of hope, only for your heart to drop at her next question. “So, why’d you ask me for Miles’s photo?”

“I, uh, ran into him and thought he looked familiar. So, I asked for his picture to double check,” You admit, hoping the truth mixed into some lies would be enough to convince her. 

“Right…What’s your impression of him, then?”

“Cute?” You blurt out without thinking, recalling the framed picture of his young self with his parents on the small table.

“You think he’s cute?”

“M-maybe?” You try, but it clicks once you see the disgust in her eyes. “Yes! I do, in fact, find him very attractive. One might even say that he is now my…crush?” 

You pray she doesn’t notice the underlying wince in your words. Nicole shudders, taking a small step away from you. “You need to get your eyes checked or something. I’ve known the guy since we were in diapers, and trust me when I say that he’s nothing but trouble.”

“I won’t do anything, I promise. Besides, I’m sure the crush is just temporary. It’ll blow over before you even know it!” Mainly because you don’t have a crush on the guy in the first place. But you do need to figure out a way to trap him to persuade him into being your model.

“Wait, you met Miles?”

“Why’re you glossing over the fact that she likes him?” Nicole says incredulously, gesturing to you with wide eyes. It’s probably the most expressive you’ve ever seen her, save for the time you invited them to go cafe hopping with you on a sweltering Monday. 

You’d never heard so many variations of curses before, all of which Nicole unintentionally introduced you to. Since then, you’ve learnt to only hang out on cooler days with better weather and cafes within walking distance.

“So?” Michael shrugs nonchalantly, but the amused smile on his lips suggests otherwise. “Why are you so affected?”

“Because it’s my best friend liking Miles Morales - the guy I’ve known since we were babies. He’s not good enough for her.” Nicole decides with a frown. You turn to her, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes as you place your hands on your heart.

“I’m your best friend?” Nicole rolls her eyes at your words, crossing her arms. “You can drop from that tier anytime, so you better watch out.” She replies simply with a halfhearted glare, but her words have no bite to them. Her ears are tinted red.

“Aww,” You coo, throwing your arms around the girl who baulks in surprise, almost falling to the ground had you not steadied both of you. She wriggles under your tight hug, giving up quickly with a groan. 

“Let me get in on that, chicas-” Michael is cut off when you kick his ankle, biting back a pained cry while you continue to hug Nicole, who has a satisfied smirk at your action. “Good job.” She pats your arm, and you reluctantly let go, dramatically wiping the tears away.

At least you succeeded in distracting her.

The rest of the day practically flies by, your body on autopilot and going through the motions of taking out your textbooks and doodling on them. Math, Science, and History were all meaningless in your eyes as you tried to make another plan to meet him. The past three attempts had shown you exactly how difficult it was to meet with the hero, much less alone. 

You’re not one to give up, though. You stare down at the piece of paper filled with doodles and scribbled words — an outline of a plan, circling Spiderman’s name in red. 

Okay, let’s try this again. 

Attempt #1: Meet Him At The Park - The Friendly Way.

You take a tentative glance around. Good, No dogs are in sight. You look over to the park's far end, where you had set up a sign saying that dog treats were being given out for free if they assembled there.

Sometimes, lying is an essential means of survival. Another quick scan of your surroundings confirms that no one is in the path of the taco truck, and feeling only slightly guilty when you spot the owner’s surprised expression, wondering why his usual customers aren’t present. 

However, you try not to linger on that, choosing to double-check if everything you need is on you.

Phone? Check. Earbuds? Check. Wallet? Check. Spiderman?

You grin once you spot the masked hero landing in front of the taco truck, right on schedule. 

Check. 

Standing up, you slowly make your way over, giving him time to place his order. Every step is light, your heart oddly calm as you approach him. Yeah. You got this. It’s just getting him to agree that’s the hard part.

Okay. You got this. Play it cool.

Walking up to the taco truck, you clear your throat, propping your elbow onto the small metal platform near the baskets of condiments. You casually glance at him, scanning his suit from head to toe before meeting his eyes.

“Hey.” 

“Hey,” he replies slowly with a slight tilt of his head, surprised by your sudden presence. He taps his fingers against the cold metal of the taco truck in a steady rhythm. You take a slow breath. You can take your time. It’s just a boy under the mask, after all.

“So, how’s being Spiderman going?” You ask absentmindedly, looking down at your nails and only now noticing that you’re in desperate need of a manicure. 

“It’s going good. And you?”

“Could be better.”

“That doesn’t sound good. Is it anything your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman can help with?” His words are filled with worry, now giving you his full attention.

Got him.

“Well…” You trail off, barely managing to hide the excitement in your eyes and voice. Now’s the time to approach him carefully. If you’re careless, you could lose one of the few opportunities to get him to be your muse. 

“Uh-huh?” He grabs the paper bag of tacos the owner hands him, handing him a crumpled bill from a hidden pocket in his suit with a quick nod of thanks in one smooth movement. However, he hears a slight commotion a short distance away, eyes narrowing as he tries to determine the source.

“I’m an art student, and I need a muse,” You continue, encouraged by his questioning hum and failing to notice the way his gaze is focused on something happening behind you. “So I was thinking-”

“Right, uh, miss. You seem like an absolutely wonderful lady. I’m so sorry, but we’ll have to continue this conversation another day. Duty’s kinda calling right now. I’ll pass by the basketball court tomorrow, and you can ask me your question there?” You can’t tell if he’s smiling, grinning, or even scowling under the mask. But it didn’t exactly sound hostile, so that’s that you suppose.

“Meet me at the sub shop on Fifth Avenue, two lefts after the huge statue and a right at the Lego store. Two-thirty P.M.,” You reply immediately. Why Mr Perez’s shop, in particular, you didn’t know. But you’re not about to chase after his ass again after the last few times. Not a chance in hell.

He agrees with a quick but apologetic nod, already swinging off with his paper bag of tacos and heading toward the angry horde of dog parents around the sign you placed earlier. You watch him land before them, trying to calm the group down.

Well, at least you got an appointment with him tomorrow. The problem now is how to make sure he accepts. Plus, him constantly running off isn’t the most ideal scenario in your situation.

So, you have to make sure he stays put.

You walk off, heading to the sub shop with the beginnings of an idea. (While simultaneously forgetting about the horde of dog parents who’re growing increasingly angrier from the absence of promised dog treats).

— — — — — 

“Mr Perez, nice shirt! Did you separate the whites from the colours? It looks so clean!” You greet as soon as you walk in, taking a deep breath and smiling at the scent of pickle brine. The store is relatively empty, the last customer leaving through the door just as you walked in. 

The store owner walks to the glass door, flipping the sign around to read Closed. He sends you a wary glance, walking back behind the counter to start cleaning up while you lean against the glass display case.

“What do you want?”

“Who said I wanted anything?” 

“You only compliment my laundry when you want something.” It’s true. You do tend to do that. You suppose it’s time to be rid of the habit. But not today, for you have much more important goals to pursue. 

“Okay. I need to borrow the storeroom for, like, a couple of hours tomorrow afternoon. No disturbances, complete privacy. Not even Didi is allowed in.” You get straight to the point, not bothering to beat around the bush.

“...Are you doing drugs?”

“That’s gross. And unsanitary. If I were doing drugs, I’d do it in the Science lab at school.” You point out, scrunching your nose in disgust. 

“Are you smoking? Vaping?”

“No, and no. C’mon, Mr Perez, I thought you knew me better than that!” You huff, though you know that he’s just joking from the amused twinkle in his eyes. 

“Fine. Just give me the signal. Besides, Didi’s at preschool tomorrow till five.” He says simply, wiping down his workstation with a clean cloth. 

“Really? No takebacks!” You say with an exaggerated gasp, not expecting him to actually agree. The bright smile on your face makes him chuckle, shaking his head fondly as he washes up the kitchen knives in the sink. 

“What time will you be coming?”

“Two-thirty. Remember, you promised no questions asked!” You call out over your shoulder as you exit while raising your hand in a quick salute. You saunter on home with your hands in your pockets, chest swelling with pride that you got a guaranteed meeting with the very boy you’ve been trying to convince to be your muse. 

You’ve definitely got this.

— — — — — 

Attempt #2: Kidnap Meet Him At The Sub Store - The Friendly Way.

Two-fifteen P.M.

You glance over at the IKEA clock hanging from the wall opposite you in the storeroom, tying the string securely around the metal shelf. Taking a step back, you survey the setup, scanning it for flaws in your otherwise perfect plan.

You arrange the chair to sit behind a wobbly table that’s about to break any day now due to countless playtimes with Didi’s mischievous ideas. (And maybe some of your own, but Mr Perez doesn’t need to know that.)

The bright light in the slightly cramped storeroom only adds to the ambience (of what, you don’t really know yourself). The punching bag hanging in the corner of the room is definitely no cause for concern. Maybe he’d think that you’re really into exercise. All that’s left is for Spiderman to get caught in your perfect trap. You’re pretty sure he won’t get hurt in the process. 

The only thing left now is to wait. You head out into the front of the store, waving Spiderman over as soon as you see him enter. He follows with a skip in his step, only to slow down when you guide him into the storeroom. 

“Uh…This is new, even for me.” He comments, looking around at the stacked boxes and metal shelves, unsure of what to make of this sudden change in vibe. You gesture at the chair, closing the door behind you. 

“Sorry, I just needed a place away from prying eyes.” You sigh, discreetly watching him take a seat. He does so without hesitation, and you immediately grab the end of the string that’s hooked onto the metal shelf, using all of your strength (and the help of a pulley) to yank it. 

Spiderman yelps, dangling from the ceiling by a tightly secured string around his ankle. “What the-? You said you needed help!” 

“And I do!” You reply, a tinge of desperation in your words. “Just…just hang on.” You breathe out, taking the frying pan on the shelf next to you after securing the string and leaving him dangling still. You approach him, Spiderman failing to notice, too preoccupied with trying to escape.

“Michael better be right about this,” You mumble under your breath, taking a quick swing and hitting the spot on his head that Michael promised would knock anyone out instantly. Spiderman’s eyes close, his cry of protest cut off as his hands fall limply to his sides. 

“Oh.” You stare down at him, squatting down and reaching your hand out to gently massage the spot where you hit him with a guilty smile. You hadn’t expected it to actually work. “Sorry, Morales. My goals aren’t to harm you, promise.”

Standing back up with a wince, you can feel the joints in your body popping from the sudden stretch. You never really bothered with exercise, categorizing your sketching and painting as such.

You huff, grabbing his arms and pulling him across the room after untying him from the string around his ankle. “But one of them might be to start working out,” You say through gritted teeth, finally reaching the punching bag. You take a deep breath, doing your best to pick him up and hold him against it while you tie him up.

“No-” Your muffled cry is cut short when your arms give out, and you fall onto your back with the unconscious hero lying on top of you. You groan, pushing him off you, eyeing the punching bag with distaste.

Another repeated attempt ends in the same result, and your back starts to ache from the impact of the hard surface against your back. You see him starting to stir, your eyes widening in panic, instinctively grabbing the frying pan and hitting him again. He falls back to the floor with a hushed groan while you breathe a sigh of relief.

You stand back up, eyeing the punching bag, before an idea hits you. 

Finally, you sit in the chair in front of the punching bag, taking out your sketchbook from the bag you'd placed on one of the shelves this afternoon and beginning to sketch him leisurely. You spot him slowly blinking, regaining his consciousness as he realises that he’s tied up.

"So..." You drawl, leaning back in your seat with a lazy grin. The city's local hero, Spiderman, dangles upside down in your trap. You actually did it. You got him to stay put.

He struggles to get free from the tightly bound ropes, almost tugging off his mask in the process before giving up seconds after. “Not again…” You hear him groan in defeat, looking back up at you with a deadpan stare.

"I have to admit, I love the new suit." You comment, grabbing a pencil and doing a quick sketch, ignoring his earlier words.

"What do you want from me?"

You pause, looking up from your sketchbook. "You sound pretty young to be a hero." You purse your lips, trying to guess his age.

"W-what? No, I don't." His voice turns gruff, and you chuckle from how obvious he was forcing it to be.

"I don't really want much. Just to draw you is all." You hum, flipping a page and letting pencil meet paper.

"What?"

You don't respond, eyes trained on sketching the dimensions of his midnight black suit. "I like the spray paint."

"Thanks," He's surprised by your comment, hands still furiously working to free himself. 

"Aren't you a villain?" He questions, unable to hold back his curiosity. You weren't really doing anything to him either, not like the muggers or robbers that roam the streets at night.

You were just... drawing him.

"I just thought the suit was cool." You respond simply with a shrug, looking straight at the white material on his mask that hides his eyes.

He flinches, surprised by the sudden eye contact. "And you trapped me because...?"

"I wanted to draw it."

"You could've just asked."

"I tried. You weren't really paying attention, or you weren’t available. Hero duties and all, remember? "

Now that you mentioned it, the hero does remember you from the mugging and the excuses he’d made, shrugging sheepishly in response. 

"Oh. My bad."

The corner of your lips tugs upwards into a slight smile. At least he has the common decency to admit it.

"Could you untie me, though? It's getting a little uncomfortable." He voices out, fingers still trying to wriggle free.

"Sure, but I'll need something in exchange."

He sighs. Of course, you did. People always wanted something from him as Spiderman, be it a photo or to gain clout.

"What is it?" He's wary now.

You grin, hands closing the sketchbook with a loud snap as you place your pencil on your chair, getting up.

"That's easy," You walk towards him with ease, eyes filled with certainty. You're inches away from his upside-down figure, leaning in slightly until your lips are next to where his ear would be under the mask.

"Be my model, Miles Morales.”

He stills at the mention of his name. “Wh-what? I don’t know who this Miles guy is, but I’m obviously not him.” He laughs nervously, shaking his head.

You can practically see the waves of panic flooding through his mind. “You just changed the pitch of your voice,” You point out casually instead, leaning back against the wall with a smirk, your hands in your pockets.

“I’m telling you, I’m not this Miles guy you think I am. Though I’m very sure he may be cool enough to be Spiderman, I am not him.” He almost trips over his words, flinching when you move your hand close to his mask.

“Then I guess you won’t mind if I take this off?” You hum, spotting him trying to use his electric powers to break free. “Don’t bother. The strings are made out of insulated material.”

He flinches away from your fingers brushing against the side of his face, his eyes meeting yours and knowing he’s already lost this battle. “Fine.” He surrenders, his eyes narrowed into a hostile glare directed at you.

“Don’t be like that,” You chide, sitting cross-legged in front of him with a disapproving shake of your head. “Besides, I’m just here to make a deal with you.” 

“Is this about the model thing?”

“Yeap,” You confirm, popping the ‘p’. “Here’s all I’m asking. Let me meet up with you twice a week. I’ll even pay you ten bucks per session. All you gotta do is sit there.” The intensity of his glare lessens somewhat, though you can still sense his wariness. Makes sense, though, considering you’ve just essentially ensured he can’t say no. Besides, your terms and conditions aren’t half bad either.

You wait patiently for his response, giving him time to mull over it. 

“Deal. Now let me go.” 

“Uh-uh, not just yet,” You tut, moving over to your bag, grabbing the makeshift contract you drafted last night, and showing it to him with a triumphant grin. “I even added two different lines for both of your signatures. Spiderman’s and Miles Morales.” 

He rolls his eyes, and you take that as a good sign, cutting him loose. He falls gracefully to the floor, landing in a perfect superhero pose. You applaud, giving yourself a mental pat on the back for staying calm throughout the entire exchange. He takes the pen you hand to him, scrawling his name on the dotted line. You smile widely and keep the contract back in your bag, practically on cloud nine with this accomplishment.

Unfortunately, the euphoria makes you forget you’re still in a cramped storeroom.

Wincing when your elbow knocks against a loosely stacked box, you and Spiderman watch it slowly topple on its side, landing on the floor with a loud bang before looking at each other with wide eyes. 

Okay, so maybe you don’t got this as much as you thought.

You freeze when the door opens, looking behind you to see Mr Perez with his hand on the doorknob. His eyes flit from you to Spiderman, his gaze settling on the open box on the ground with vegetables spilling out of it before looking back at you with furrowed brows.

As soon as your eyes meet, you smile sheepishly. 

“I’ll babysit on Friday.”

— — — — — — —

taglist: (definitely not because I forgot I said I'd tag people lol)

@oh-kurva @brunnetteiwik @queerponcho @sleepingnova @1theestallionyas

[toxintouch]

Love the thought of Mhin’s monster being terrifying; a true threat to your (the MC’s) safety, an insurmountable burden that has destroyed Mhin’s life and that’s why they are so desperate for a cure.

But also…

Thinking about Androcles removing the thorn from the lion’s paw…

The thought that maybe if the monster doesn’t successfully kill you the first time, it will recognize you the second.

That transformation looks like it hurts.  Before, after, during.

The idea that it will be a slow process, a dangerous one, but if you can survive, if you can calm it down–

Preening broken feathers.  A slow and methodical process, but your heart beats like you’re running for your life.  You keep retreating, feather by feather, because you’re not sure how stable this moment of calm is, how long you have before it will try to kill you again. 

You gain Mhin’s trust the same way.  Slow and methodical.  Showing your hands at all times.  No sudden movements.

Mhin knows you ran into their Monster–knows that you know.  They hate the thought of putting this much faith in another person but they hate the thought that the monster might get out and harm people even more.  You could be an ally in this too, they suppose…

They hand over a key to their safe house, show you how to use the security measures they have in place for when they transform.  They explain to you how to safely lock them inside–it can be done from either side effectively but Mhin never gives any thought to which side of the door you’d choose to be on…

You start asking Kuras for medical supplies, unable to give any information regarding why you need them.  You see someone selling hunting birds and carrier pigeons in the market so you ply them for information, paying them back by shelling out a ridiculous amount of money on whatever care products look like they might be moderately useful.

More preening broken feathers.  It seems to–they–seem to understand that you mean to help, now.  The process becomes easier.  You start carefully removing bits of broken glass you find embedded into them–you’re not sure how it got there, if the glass is something mystical or if they went on a little rampage before you were able to lead them into the safe house.  Maybe they’re just like a regular bird and they ran into something by accident.  Maybe it’s been there for years because no one’s been around (or able to) take it out.  

Does it hurt Mhin, too?

You’re even more determined with that thought, though you have to be so-very-careful because if you startle or hurt them, they become agitated.  You’re not sure if they would hurt you on purpose anymore, but they sure as hell could kill you by accident.

It burns your heart to leave some pieces in before Mhin changes back, but you know you have to.  You can’t help if you don’t stay safe. And Mhin always makes you promise to look after yourself when they can't.

Mhin transforms back and realizes that it didn’t take so much from them this time, that the usual pain is a little lesser, that they still ache but it isn’t debilitating.  They write it off at first but the thought sits at the back of their mind. Filling them with unrest. A thorn in their side that they cannot quite reach...

They go to their safe house to check how the locks are holding up and they notice some things.  A large basin for water. Your supplies.  A music box, of all things.

Needless to say, they’re horrified.  They demand to know what you’re doing.  Are you trying to get yourself killed?

“I knew you had no sense but–”

You assure them that you’re taking every precaution.

Besides, aren’t you doing the right thing?  It’s totally logical that they (–it , Mhin insists) can get thirsty, of course Mhin is feeling better when they aren’t being locked in an empty room deprived of water half the time.

The monster looks so sad, now that they aren’t trying to hurt you.  As they became more used to you, you began to see the parts where they and Mhin overlap.  Shared habits.  The way they settle down to sleep at night is the same…

Mhin hates the monster inside of them, but you don’t.

[fennecfics-the-simp-king]

Cuphead Show! King Dice & Devil x Reader preferences (romantic):

Heyyyy I’m gonna be posting more x Reader stuff here. Also some words are censored because Tumblr is a meanie and won’t let me swear in my fanfiction-

The gender for (Y/n) is vague, but it does have menstrual cycle preferences mixed in, along with some talk about these two respecting pronouns and that jazz so, yeah.

Hope it’s a fun read, I might post more of these guys.

Being in a (romantic) relationship with The Devil would include:

• It’s actually hard for him to fall in love or even trust others, so it’ll take a while for him to say “I love you”.

• Though the first time he’ll ever say “I love you” (most likely after a few months of you two dating) it is immediately followed by a scrunch of the face and him going. “That was… strange..” 

• He forces you to live in Hell with him, and only lets you visit Earth on special occasions. Family stuff, friends, but other than that YOU’RE STAYING!!

• He’s so dramatic whenever he has to cut his nails. He’ll run away from you, or hide. Once, while trying to find him to cut his nails, you found him on the ceiling.

• Despite hating his nails being cut, he will literally beg you to paint his nails. He won't just do one color though, he likes to change it up a bit. Sometimes he'll ask for grey, gold, red, but he loves the black nail polish!

• Whenever he has to do stuff that he doesn’t want to do, he tries to argue that he’s the devil and because of that, you can’t tell him what to do.

• One of his favorite activities is burning bibles, so...you have to deal with being woken up to the smell of smoke at 3AM.

• He's still not fond with current technology, but he does seem to enjoy Netflix.

• Devil giving you weird pet names: Darlin', succub!tch, shmoopie, baby-cakes, cow-pie, and tortoise-pigeon (Being the main nickname).

• If you ever need to practice your makeup on someone, Devil won't mind. He likes how it makes him look.

• Surprisingly enough, this guy brushes his teeth regularly. He got them pearly whites. That, and he doesn't want to loose his sharp teeth, they're his favorite, apparently they make him look intimidating.

• Devil is a man of art, very therapeutic for him. He loves to paint, sometimes he’ll want you to pose for him. And he's actually quite quick when it comes to painting.

• Both you and Henchmen helping him whenever he basically gets electrocuted by the sweater. The two of you are practically the only people he trusts, with Dice being the third.

• He doesn't care what gender you are, or if you're trans. If you're still you, and if you're not lying about anything, he won't care. Along with that he also doesn’t KNOW anything about that stuff, so you probably gotta help if you want him to understand.

• Even though he's the devil, he would never want you to feel bad about yourself. He loves you unconditionally, he would kill anyone who makes you feel that way, steal their soul, eat it, then spit it back out ‘cause it’s clearly rotten!

• If you go through the menstrual cycle and are having bad cramps, he gets very…awkward. He’s not very affectionate with others so he has no idea how to comfort people. He’ll most likely just have some of his little demons looking after you for a few days.

• He tries to use correct pronouns, he mostly slips up though, and he won't realize. You just have to be there to correct him for him to actually notice.

Random example:

(He's showing you to someone)

"Yeah, she's really adorable, isn't she?"

"It's 'they'.”

"...AHHH!" *frustrated demon noises*

• He’s not frustrated at you or the fact you use different pronouns, he’s frustrated at himself for not doing it right. So don’t worry.

Being in a relationship with King Dice would include:

• Probably says “I love you” way too fast, and by that I mean on the first date. 

• If you wear makeup he’ll experiment with it whenever you’re asleep. (The masculine urge to wear your partner’s makeup)

• One of his favorite parts of your body happens to be your hands. He loves how perfectly they fit into his. Sometimes he’ll preform a type of show using his hand and your hand as the actors.

• If you go sit in the audience him during Roll The Dice. He'll immediately see you in the crowd and blush for the rest of the show.

• When he knows you're in the audience, he'll say this while announcing to everyone: "Ladies and gentlemen! ..and (Y/n).." (he'll whisper your name under his breath, but loud enough for the microphone to pick it up.)

• King Dice ALSO giving you some (semi)weird pet names: Darling, fuzzy dice, you adorable gambler, my wild card, little poker, and pumpkin.

• The personification of drama. 

• Has a lot of gossip and info on the other famous people of Inkwell. Will tell you this gossip. You will listen. You have no choice-

• This man may seem like he knows how to do shit on his own, but he actually needs help with most things. Such as you having to help with this man's bow-tie every morning, because he just cannot figure it out for the life of him.

• Perfectionist, such a damn perfectionist. He won't go on with his day without him looking perfectly chipper, and he also spends hours in the shower. Really making sure to run up those water bills.

• A little sensitive about his age. If you ask him about it, he’ll say "that's not important" which is an oddly a creepy answer-

• If you wake up early, you'll find Dice in the bathroom just looking at himself in the mirror with a blank stare. If you actually enter the bathroom, he'll be so terrified that he jumps INTO the shower and closes the curtain to hide himself.

• He's mostly insecure about his pips, or dots. He knows he's getting old, because his color is fading. So...he buys lipstick to cover the faded coloring. But you smudged it once while he was kissing you, and he reacted like he was dying.

• He fiddles with his mustache when he's nervous and yet hates if tell him it makes him look like a villain.

• Much like his boss, if you go through the menstrual cycle he gets ungracefully awkward. But he tries to be very casual about it, despite his awkwardness being obvious as hell.

• “Oh, it’s that week?” Silent for a second. “Do you need me to get you anything or ..no?”

• Will buy you everything you need. And since stuff like tampons were fairly new in the 1930s and therefore most likely a tad expensive, thankfully he does have the money for it.

• If reminded, will carry some on him for you. If reminded that is, I’m putting emphasis on “IF REMINDED” for a f—king reason! Guy’s on autopilot all day, he’s famous but also has pretty much everything done for him, and so he doesn’t have to think about much.

• If not reminded he will completely forget and therefore freak the hell out if asked if for some.

• Like The Devil, he has no idea what being Non-binary means, or Bisexual, or anything related to that. I’m not saying he’s straight….He’s not, he just doesn’t know there are words for stuff like that other than ‘homosexual’ and a few other words I can’t mention-

• So, he'll mess up a few times when trying to use the correct pronouns, except he'll correct himself very VERY quickly. 

• "He- THEY.. are my partner. I said they, of course I did. I would never say anything other than they.” Silence for a few seconds before then saying in a much more serious tone: “I said they.”

• He cares. He’s just stupid/j

[toxinellebug]

Shadybug’s Paris Headcanons

Paris is not the “City of Love”, it is the “City of Progress”.

Many of those old fashioned buildings from a bygone era have been torn down and replaced with buildings that are more practical than aesthetic or factories.

Plastic is fantastic, the Seine is super polluted (and there is a rumored crocodile living there so citizens are advised to stand clear) but after getting rid of some useless parks, Project Oxygen has already started to improve Parisian Air Quality.

There is no ice-rink.

Admission to the Louvre is ridiculously expensive, and several pieces of art and historical artifacts have been locked up in the archives because it was determined that they were detrimental to public welfare and could incite anarchy. (In reality, the Supreme has locked away anything that is related to previous holders of the Miraculous).

There is a strict curfew and Martial law upheld by the Enforcers under the decree of the Supreme.

As such, there is no need for elections or mayors.

Socialism is prohibited.

This means that Libraries are not free; you need to fill out paperwork and pay a membership fee to gain entrance, and pay a separate rental fee for each book you rent, and the late fees are horrific. The selection of books available is limited as any material deemed to promote dangerous ideas has been strictly banned under penalty of law.

Fire and rescue services are not paid by tax payers, they are paid for by the people who need saving, as such, nobody is willing to go into financial debt over a cat stuck in a tree.

But thanks to the Supreme, there are no more wars, no debates over politics or religion. The world can focus on technological progress. Banning dangerous items has greatly reduced all crime, and Enforcers carry out punishment swiftly and efficiently.

Disobedience is not tolerated, because disobedience leads to civil violence and disruption, which leads to anarchy.

But if you are obedient and work hard, it is possible to move up in the world.

Freedom is a small price to pay for World Peace.

No one knows where the Supreme’s headquarters are located expect for a few elite, and no one knows if the Supreme is one person or a group of people.

But the Supreme guides the world and has lead everyone to prosperity. The Supreme cannot be questioned.

The Supreme defeated the Nazis, the Japanese, and even the Soviets.

Any radical or terrorist groups are swiftly eliminated by the Supreme.

There is no such thing as miracles. Keep your head down, mind your own business, fall in line, and strive for your own success, do not be weighed down by others or allow yourself to fall victim to misleading liberal and socialist ideals and propaganda that will lead to civil unrest. The obedient are always rewarded for their efforts. The impoverished exist due to laziness or criminal intent and are to be avoided. Those who ask for help expect free handouts and wish to leech off the hard work of upstanding citizens; they must be shunned.

Nobody does anything without adequate compensation. Never trust a “free lunch”, it may be poisoned.

Pigeons are disease spreading vermin and every effort is being made to exterminate them.

The Supreme began to suspect that whomever stole from him is hiding out in Paris after certain impossible “miracles” begin to happen in the city.

But the Supreme can’t show weakness and allow those who have sworn loyalty to know that he was robbed. Can’t risk them getting greedy and trying to steal from him as well.

He needs someone naive and inexperienced, someone who can be easily tempted and manipulated into retrieving the stolen Miraculous and keeping their mouth shut about it.

Who better than emotionally unstable teens, angry at the world, and bitterly determined to keep their business secret from adults who could never understand their pain? Teens who have no wealth or power of their own to change their lives and achieve their desires. Teens who would be too prideful or too afraid to admit their mistakes when things go wrong? Teens too oblivious to how the world really works, and could not care less for the consequences of their actions, even if it means slowly destroying the city in order to lure out a man who is determined to play “Hero”.

And, should they prove useless, it would be easy to take their miraculous back and let their bodies deteriorate, along with any and all secrets of magic jewels.

After all, it is hardly newsworthy if some Baker’s daughter suddenly “dies from an incurable illness”, and the Tragedy of a teen model “disappearing”, either as a means to escape the pressures of fame or a desire to join their mother in the afterlife is both entertaining and distracting, the Media will eat it up like candy.

This is the World that Betterfly/Hesperia wishes to change.

[thebluestbluewords]

Spike Time! Because I got inspired by this post:

“Question for you, Auradon boy,” Mal demands, thumping her bag down on the lunch table with more aggression than she should probably show at school. “I need info and none of my usual losers are available to get it for me.” 

Doug looks up from his book slowly than is strictly necessary, in Mal’s opinion. It’s not like she’s threatening him, she’s just pursuing an unusual avenue for information. Never mind that she doesn’t actually like Doug, because he’s the most likely source for the info she needs, and she’s going to get it out of somebody one way or another. 

Doug frowns at her. “What do you need?” 

“You’ve been to the city.” Mal says, swinging one leg over the bench so that she’s at least pretending to sit with him. They’re sharing a girlfriend, or whatever, so she can at least try and look friendly. “And you’re like, a nerd about buildings and stuff, right?” 

Doug’s frown crumples into a more puzzled look. “Sure. I wouldn’t call myself a nerd, exactly, but—“ 

“You care about the history of stuff,” Mal interrupts. “Right?” 

“Sure.” 

“So,” Mal starts, and then realizes that the hand she’s got resting on the table is shaking. She clenches it into a fist. She can’t afford to show weakness. “You know why the FUCK there’s spikes and shit all over every fucking flat surface in the city?” 

Doug blinks. “Spikes?”He echoes, sounding puzzled. “The anti-pigeon spikes are only on the top of buildings. They’re a tool the city planners use to keep the streets clean. If the birds can’t land, they can’t leave, ah—droppings. Everywhere.” 

“Bird shit.” Mal repeats, flatly. 

“Yes.” 

“The spikes are for bird shit.” 

Doug squints at her. “Yes,” he says slowly. “They’re designed to keep away birds and other pests. That’s what the city planning guides say.” 

Great. Perfect. 

“And there’s no other reason they might put spikes at ground level,” Mal says, just to be sure that she’s not the one going insane here. “Like, on every flat surface you could possibly want to sit on.” 

Doug shakes his head. “I haven’t actually been to Auradon city since I was a kid. If there's spikes around on ground level, I don't know why they're there." 

Ugh. Typical Auradon kid. They can list off every fact known to man about kingdoms hundreds of miles away, but when you need a tiny piece of information about your own backyard, they come up blank. "But you can look it up, right?" Mal pushes. "In one of your books, or something."

Doug lifts a shoulder. "I guess. Why?" 

Mal grits her teeth. She's been independent since she was old enough to hold a knife. It's galling to need help from any Auradon brat, much less the one that she's lost half of Evie's time to. She's been the one protecting her crew for years, and it's best if she won't let outsiders know the specifics. Injuries are safest when they're secret, when nobody can tell that you're nursing a weak spot-- 

When you know the lay of the land and can keep it hidden until you're healed. When your puncture wounds aren't infected and oozing gods-know-what all over your clothes. When you have the barrer, thrice-cursed thing that it is, keeping you alive even when your body wants to die. 

"We might've-- gotten hurt." Mal admits. "On the spikes. I need to know why they're there, so I can heal the puncture wound and then melt them down to a pulp." 

"Metal turns into smelt," Doug says, and then looks almost horrified with himself. "Not a pulp. Not that it matters. Is Evie hiding a puncture wound?" 

Ah. This is why Evie likes him. 

"No." Mal snaps. 

"Then--?" 

"I have other friends." 

"You don't." Doug points out, eyes big and wide and fully earnest. "And if it's not Evie, then it's one of the other Isle kids. I haven't seen you bleeding on anything lately, not that you'd show me if you were, and--" 

"It's Jay. Happy?" 

"No. Evie hates when people get blood on her clothes." 

"She's not--" Mal sighs. This sort of questioning is exactly why she doesn't trust Auradon kids. With anything. They'll just talk about things, and not get anything useful done. "She doesn't care about the blood right now. I need you to tell me why the spikes are there. Can you handle that?" 

Doug drops his chin into something almost like a determined expression. Mal's more used to seeing the look on the faces of little kids when they're challenging each other to jump off of something that'll definitely break their legs, but that's unmistakably what it is. "Yes. But I want to know why you're asking." 

"I told you already. I'm going to melt them down. It's stupid to put spikes all over the place where perfectly normal people want to be. We can't be the only ones who want to run around the fucking city without pointless spikes getting in the way." 

"You're from the Isle," Doug points out. "I thought you guys were all about pointless spikes." 

"For ourselves, not for the ground. It's stupid to keep them around wherever for no reason." 

"I'll look it up," Doug promises. "Can I report back tonight, or are you flying into the city to melt them before dinner?" 

Mal's face twitches without her consent. Funny. He's funny. "I can wait until after dinner. But come by Evie's room after then. You can report back once we've eaten." 

"Got it. Can I ask one more question?" 

Mal forces a frown. She's got a reputation to uphold. "I suppose." 

"Why are you asking me, and not Lonnie or Ben? You're friends with them, aren't you?" 

Ugh. The real answer is that Lonnie's off campus, and Ben's too busy to worry with a little thing like oozing puncture wounds from spikes in the city that they weren't supposed to be visiting, but Doug's not going to stop if she tells him that. 

"I'm friends with you," Mal lies instead. "Friends ask each other stuff. Normal questions." 

"Like why there's spikes on the ground." 

"Yeah." 

"Lonnie's not here, is she." 

Stupid perceptive boys. 

"She's off campus for a ROAR tournament," Mal admits. "Evie's not mad about the blood because we had to rope her in so she could forge a nurse's note excusing Jay from the tournament for a minor, normal shoulder injury. We need help, and we need in from you, because you're the next in like of people who don't hate us. Are you going to help or not?" 

"Oh, I'm going to help." Doug pushes his glasses up his nose in a way that Mal can only describe as ominous. "But you might not like whatever I find, and you can't rip my head off about it when I tell you what I've found." 

Mal lets her eyes flash green. "Deal," she says, and sticks out a hand. "Fairy's honor." 

[pumpkin-cake]

Midnight Rain

(part three of ???)

-part one- -part two-

tyler galpin x gn!reader

summary - things go wrong at the Poe Cup !

tw - cursing, some violence

really minor spoilers for WEDNESDAY !

You woke up bright and early the next morning. The morning of the stupid event your stupid mother was stupidly making you do. Your eyes adjusted to the light in your room, and you forced yourself out of bed so you could get into your uniform to which you’d soon change out of into a very embarrassing cat costume. Why couldn’t you be apart of say, Xavier Thorpe’s group? They got to dress as cool scary clown-jester things. Oh wait. You HAD to be in Ophelia Hall.

Well, to be honest, it didn’t matter what you looked like, since you were gonna be changing anyway.

You got yourself ready for the day ahead of you, leaving your dorm to grab breakfast. All you heard was chatter about the Poe Cup. How Bianca was probably going to win again, and how annoyed they were over it. You ignored it, you heard talk like that all the time. Bianca was just crazy talented, and in your opinion others were just jealous. She was also dating a crazy attractive dude, so she had that going for her too.

You eventually found Bianca in the Quad, sitting next to Xavier who didn’t seem very interested in whatever she was saying. His pencil furiously scribbled across his paper, his brow furrowed in concentration. Bianca’s eyes met yours and she decided to ditch Xavier, who merely nodded in acknowledgement as she stood and went over to you.

“You ready for today?” She asked, the two of you heading to an empty table.

“As I’ll ever be.” You sighed, rubbing your temples.

“Your mom make you do it again?” She chuckled.

“Yup.” You muttered, taking a sip of your drink. The coffee at Nevermore wasn’t as good as the coffee at Weathervane. “Even gave me a whole plan.”

“You’ve got the principal on your team?” She scoffed a bit and crossed her arms. “Not fair.”

“You really think I’m gonna put in all my effort?” You snorted in reply. “I don’t care as much as my teammates about winning this stupid cup. It doesn’t matter that Mom came up with the plan if I don’t give a single shit about it.”

“Well, you have a point.” She agreed, resting her cheek against the palm of her hand and glancing over to Xavier, who was still drawing away.

“…alright, spill.” You hummed, finishing your coffee. “What did he do?”

“He just got all bitchy with me this morning.” She said with a frown. “Said something about trust? I dunno, I was too tired to comprehend a lot of it.” She tapped her nails on the table.

“You think it’s cuz you’re a siren?” You inquired. “If he’s talking weird about trust. Unless you did something that I don’t know about.”

“(Y/n), you know I’d tell you. Or he would, telling you to tell me like you’re some messenger pigeon.”

“I already told him I’m done being Hermes for him.” You chuckled. “Got tired of it last fight.”

“It wasn’t a fight!” She defended, almost pouting when you quizzically raised a brow. “Whatever, but I swear I didn’t do anything to prompt it.”

“Maybe his little white boy ego is insecure for whatever reason.” You suggested. “You’ve never used your powers on him before, have you?”

“(Y/n)! You know I’d never!”

“Exactly. Then I think this is a ‘Xavier Thorpe can’t communicate’ case. Talk to him.” You shrugged, earning a sigh from Bianca.

“It’s not that easy.” She said, looking back to you. “If you were in a relationship, you’d know.”

“Uh huh. Well I am definitely not in a relationship.” You chuckled, finishing up your food. “Don’t plan to be.”

“Oh yeah?” She cocked an eyebrow, glancing to your phone on the table as it lit up. “Who’s Tyler?”

Your eyes followed her to the phone, to which a banner appeared on your lock screen, which was a message from Tyler.

“No one.” You said simply, taking your phone and putting it in your pocket.

“Oh no, now you gotta tell me.” Bianca demanded with a mischievous grin. “You talkin’ to someone?”

“He’s just the barista from Weathervane.”

“Why do you have just the barista from Weathervane’s number in your phone, hm?”

“He’s been tutoring me, I guess.”

“Just tutoring?”

“Bianca!”

“Okay okay, kidding, sorry. But seriously, the barista at Weathervane’s been tutoring you?” She questioned, sitting up as she was now fully interested.

“Yeah. That’s how I aced my homework assignment.” You chuckled.

“Isn’t he the sheriff’s son?”

You shrugged. “I dunno. Why?”

“Well, a dude named Tyler who works at Weathervane who is also the sheriff’s son destroyed Xavier’s mural in town along with some of his buddies.” Bianca said. “He was pretty upset about it.”

Weird.

Tyler doesn’t seem like the type who’d do something like that. He was so sweet to you, and always seemed more introverted. His dumb friends came into the coffee shop every once in a while, and Tyler always seemed so uncomfortable.

“Huh. I’ll mention it to him next time I see him.” You promised, before checking your watch. “We might wanna go get ready. It’s about that time.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🛶~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“O. M. G.”

Here we go.

“(Y/n), you look so cute!” Enid squealed after you exited the tent in your black cat costume. You really hadn’t wanted to do the nose and whiskers, but Yoko pretty much forced you down.

“Don’t push it, Enid.” You sighed.

“So! You mentioned not being in the boat! What’s your plan?” She asked, a huge grin on her face.

“You’ll see.” You waved your hand. “Good luck, Enid.”

“Oh- well okay! Kick some butt, (Y/n)!” She grinned, and you gave another half-assed wave of your hand before trudging to your spot in the woods that your mother told you to wait at. Sure enough she was right.

Kent was standing there pretty awkwardly, but with anticipation. He seemed antsy.

Bianca probably came up with this one.

You stayed hidden, about ready to pull out your hair when your mom started her big long speech. It reminded you of her lectures. Finally, the cue was given to begin. You waited patiently until Kent dove into the water, and you did the same along with the item you held. He didn’t seem to notice, watching as his legs molded into a long tail.

Within about five seconds, you looked exactly like him. You shuddered at the feeling of the tail. Yuck. You clutched the net you held, taking a deep breath before darting over.

Alerted by the noise of your swimming, Kent whipped around and his jaw dropped at a copy of himself zooming towards him with a net. You swam circles around him before diving down and catching him in the net. You smiled cutely and waved, smacking his head with your newfound tail. His eyes rolled back into his head and he began to sink.

That was sort of…exhilarating.

You remembered the task at hand and swam towards the surface, looking for the canoes. You caught Bianca’s gaze, who glared and you and beckoned you over and angrily gestured to the vampire boat.

Right, you were currently Kent.

You decided to play along as to not arouse suspicion. You darted underwater over to the boat, before placing your hands on the boat and shaking. There were yelps from the vampire as their boat began to rock back and forth. You gasped as a compartment in the bottom of the boat opened and a full spear shot out. You let out a yelp and dodged, but the spear fully took out a good chunk of your forearm. You shrieked and grit your teeth, trying not to lose focus and change back into your original self.

You shot up and grabbed the side of the boat and flat out pulled it over angrily, pretty pissed that you were losing a bunch of blood from your forearm. You punched a couple vampires in the face and darted off. By the time you caught up to everybody else, they had gotten to the island. A couple people were guarding the boats, and you waited patiently from afar.

You spotted Xavier and Rowan running back with their flag. They hurriedly got into the boat and their team began to row away. Bianca soon followed, and she shouted angrily at who she thought was Kent to get them. You rolled your eyes and swam after Xavier’s boat, doing the same thing you did with the first boat. You made sure to keep an eye out for traps, not wanting to get impaled or anything.

Just as you thought, some compartments opened and curved blades appeared. They were about eight of them protruding from the bottom, all in L shapes pointing to the edges of the boat. You grit yourself teeth and carefully swam to behind the boat in hopes to slow it down.

But you forgot about one crucial thing. Or one crucial person.

The resident telekinetic.

You felt an invisible force grab you by the throat and force you up out of the water. You let out a shout and gripped at your neck, obviously grabbing onto nothing.

“Uh-!” Rowan’s eyes were wide, like he didn’t know what to do next. He looked at Xavier in a panic.

“Knock him out or something!” Xavier yelled.

Your mind raced. You needed to come up with an idea and quick. You took a deep breath and started to shift into Rowan himself, hoping to scare him enough that he would drop you. Everyone in the boat was completely stunned, and Rowan let out a shout and quickly threw you back into the water. Your head collided with the side of the boat and then…

Everything went dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🌊~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you came to, you felt your head pounding. Your ears rang as you slowly opened your eyes, which one of them also felt sore as well. The light was bright. Too bright.

“(Y/n)! Oh my gosh, you’re alive!” A loud voice exclaimed, only making your head pound even more.

“Shh!” Someone else shushed, but you could hardly see the people in front of you because of how bright the light was.

“Wh…huh?” You said groggily, your eyes adjusting to the light. There in front of you was your entire team, back in their uniforms but still wearing the cat makeup. “Guys?”

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re okay!” Enid said, not listening to whoever had shushed her. “I had no clue that was you the whole time! Xavier Thorpe said your name or something or said something about you and then we all saw you in the water!”

Oh. Right. Rowan dropped you. You being unconscious must have reverted you back to your regular form.

“Did we lose?” You asked, and Enid smiled half-heartedly.

“Yeah. Only because we stopped to go get you.”

Your heart sank. They lost because of you. You were so careless and got hurt, and they all suffered.

“Oh. Okay.” You breathed out. You knew they’d all try to reassure you, but you weren’t going to believe them anyway so what was even the point?

Then, a light clearing of the throat got the attention of everyone. There stood your mother, an almost unreadable expression on her face. Your teammates got the idea, waved to you and left. Once they cleared, she sat at the edge of the bed.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Not great. My head feels awful.” You said honestly. “My eye kind of hurts too.”

Your eye pain wasn’t as prominent as your headache, but you didn’t think much of it as you reached up to rub it. Your mother tensed. You were confused for a split second and then you felt it. The skin didn’t feel as the rest of your body. It felt rough and uneven. It wasn’t some dry skin, either.

“Mom. Get me a mirror.” You said, feeling the rough bit of skin around your left eye. It was in a longer stripe going up and down the eye.

She sighed and fished around in her pocket and pulled out a compact mirror, handing it over and lightly putting her hand on your leg for comfort. You opened the mirror and held it up to reflect your face.

There was a scar running over your left eye. Gross and ragged skin in a line about half an inch thick and about five inches long.

“Mom…what the hell happened?” You breathed out shakily, reaching up and tenderly running two fingers along the scar.

“When Mr. Laslow dropped you off the side…you knocked your head and one of the blades sticking out from their boat…well, you can see.” She sighed. “You’re lucky your teammates pulled you out in time. You could have…drowned.” She said, her voice strained as if she were forcing them out.

“Oh my god.” You breathed out, shutting the mirror and tossing it on the bed. “And you made me do this stupid thing!”

Anger suddenly welled up inside you. You had never wanted to participate. You only agreed at first because Enid was sick, and it was unfair to her to risk losing like that. But because of your mom’s need to win, you suffered. You could have died.

“I never wanted to do this!” You shouted, relieved the infirmary was empty. You moved your leg away from her hand. “This is all your fault!”

She flinched, like she knew you were right, but she didn’t reply.

“Now I have this ugly scar and maybe even brain damage from almost drowning! I hope every time you see me you get reminded of what you did! Now get out!”

Your mother winced once more and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I know that people your age says things they don’t mean.” She breathed out, standing. “I’ll let the nurse take care of you for now. I love you very much, dear.” She leaned down, planting a motherly kiss on the top of your head before walking out.

Well maybe you were a bit harsh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🏥~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After being looked at by the nurse for about a day, it was determined you were now suffering from mild hypoxia brain damage.

Basically, the restricted flow of oxygen being supplied to the brain had fucked up your head. Luckily, it wasn’t severe, and the nurse told you not to worry about any of the more intense side effects. She did warn you about headaches, disorientation, poor concentration, and difficulty coordinating balance. It also turns out you’d been out cold for a day when you first lost consciousness.

Great. More impairments for your grades.

The nurse let you go and you made a beeline for your room, angrily throwing the door open and shut. You sat on your bed and took some deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down and think things through. You knew your mom didn’t want anything terrible to happen to you, what you said just slipped out. You should be angry at Rowan, not her.

You were interrupted by your thoughts by a buzzing of your phone, that was oddly charging on your nightstand. You didn’t remember putting it there.

You took it off the charger and checked it. There were a lot of messages from your friends. Bianca had sent about fifty, Enid about fifty-five, and Xavier around ten. You decided you could catch up with them later. You see them like, every day.

What really caught your eye was Tyler’s name popping up. He only sent you about two messages.

Yesterday: Hey! Haven’t heard from you. Hope you won!

Today: I didn’t see you today. Everything alright?

Why did he bother texting you? You couldn’t believe he even remembered. Guess you were the star customer of Weathervane.

You quickly typed a response.

Yeah, just some injuries from the Cup. I should be back tomorrow.

You were very surprised at how fast he replied.

Oh no! I hope you’re feeling alright. Although, if you are coming tomorrow, I am off work.

Oh? That’s alright, I can just not come in.

No no no! I actually wanted to see if you wanted to grab a coffee and sit with me?

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

HOLY SHIT.

Was he asking you on a date?

Like…a date?

Y’know, yeah. Like a date. I’d like to get to know you more aside from tutoring

If that’s okay, of course

Holy. Shit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☕️~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tags 🏷 @justageek @peachycupotea @realmermaid333 @noahspector @mizzydr @gasolinesavages @elizabeth916

[autumn-equinox-04]

Imagine....

....an AU where Aru never lit the lamp, and subsequently never learned about the Otherworld and who she really is

I had to write down the idea and it somehow evolved into.... this

In this AU our lovely heroine is around 14-15, and living life as a loner, because after she refused to light the lamp that fateful day, she got labeled a liar and no one wanted to hang out with her

Her mom is also away on business trips, more so than ever because she’s getting more and more desperate to find the artifact that will help her keep both her daughter and her husband

So now she’s kind of like a jaded, cynical version of herself- she avoids attention like it’s one of those rats-with-wings (pigeons) and has loads of trust and family issues because hero(in)es with angst are close to my heart it’s only expected with her childhood and upbringing

Another thing worth mentioning: because her mother didn’t tell her anything about the Otherworld, she becomes the only Pandava unaware of who they really are (meaning all the rest have been claimed and instated as one of the heroes)

So because the Sleeper was never released, he can’t be the villain, and this leaves the role open for someone I wish we’d seen more of- Takshaka (I kinda hate him, but I feel like his arc, especially his hate of Arjuna and Indra in particular, is really interesting and something that could’ve been expanded on more in the books)

Istg y'all I have so many thoughts about this-

Should I write this out? I kinda wanna write this out

[satanicspinosaurus]

Seconds

Tags: Bloodweave, Gale’s cooking, blood, cow’s blood, gift giving, fluff, getting together, after a break up, basically two hungry and scared people trying to figure out the world, Gale’s POV, so enjoy all his insecurities, and some verbose writing choices that are intentional, Astarion snark, kissing, ear touching, frankly you can read half of this as a metaphor for sex, author can’t stop you, author thinks it would be a mistake though 

Length: 2k

Rating: Teen

Read on A03: here.

Summary: Gale and Astarion had struck up a friendship after a failed night of romance. Now, with the Netherbrain fight around the corner, Gale finds his heart still aches to give Astarion any scrap of happiness he can offer. This is a story about a man made of failures and hunger, trying to be a good friend. It begins with a steak. And ends with this most delicious second course.

With thanks: To my dear friend @lumienyx, who is frankly encouraging my bullshit at an alarming rate. And to the lovely @tragedybunny who hunted down the typos and errors on this like Tara feasting on pigeons. 

•・・・◉・・・•

Gale rummaged through the spice cabinet of the Inn. He was pleased to see that the cook, who had allowed him to slip her a few gold coins for access and privacy, had managed to craft a solid selection. The sprig rosemary seemed a touch too on the nose, so he grabbed a little bundle of thyme instead- striping it into the butter as the filet sizzled in the cast iron skillet.

It was a delicate process, mainly because he was aiming for as close to rare as humanly possible to achieve. It didn’t give him much time to develop a proper crust, but as Gale spooned the butter back onto the filet, he also pulled from the Weave. Perhaps he asked more than normally would be needed for a simple cantrip. But he needed to infuse all the wonderful things Astarion deserved to taste in it. 

Astarion meandered in a few moments later, when Gale had plated it and was intensely overseeing the food resting as if he could personally will it to perfection. 

The vampire gave a sharp tut after observing the scene, perhaps annoyed his entrance hadn’t been noted. 

“When you said you had a surprise for me to try, darling, I assumed it would be something that would make me interested in swallowing,” the vampire finally said to announce his presence.  

Gale looked up brightly at where the playful swatting came from, a warm smile breaking onto his face. He laid the best knife and fork he could find near the plate and pushed it forward.  

“Ah, trust me my dear friend,” Gale encouraged. “I do believe I have made some acceptable advances since the last time you tried my cooking.” 

That had been back when Astarion was still trying to hide what, and more importantly, who he was. Perhaps it had helped in the long run though. It had taught Gale that Astarion could put a wide variety of things in his mouth and pretend to love it. Later, after sampling a decent red Astarion claimed to be vinegar, Gale had come to the quick conclusion that vampirism negatively affected the culinary practice of taste. 

The idea was tantalizing to him. In part because no bestiary had even half the details he could observe in a single evening around Astarion. But he also hoped to reach past the honeyed words for the real truth. 

He was curious, in particular, about why Astartion still attempted to drink wine. It said something about appetite that felt vaguely nostalgic to Gale. 

But then Tav, who had uncritically eaten up Astarion’s sweet smiles and words at the party, eagerly indulged in their place of origin first. Gale didn't feel hurt that Astarion preferred someone else's straightforward affection over his own questions. The tadpoles had made their timelines risky and fortune favored the bold. 

It was a short thing, in the end though. After one encounter, Tav ultimately found her heart lay more with Karlach’s wholesome sweetness. It was better fit for her than wrestling with the delicate halflies that laid nestled to hide half-truths in Astarion’s heart. If it had hurt him, the vampire hadn’t let on, going back to mulling around the camp with hungry eyes and talking of desires. 

And once again, Gale was left turning over the dozens of little curious details about appetite Astarion occasionally dropped; trying to lay them out and find the bigger picture. Gale had been too confident of his ability to uncover that truth once again. Astarion’s sudden thrust backing onto the dating scene hadn’t struck him as quite so desperate, but a beautiful mystery he alone could solve.

He was grateful his hubris had at least allowed him the chance of friendship with Astarion. Rather than once again stripping him of everything when he inevitably failed. No, he savored the friendship he was allowed. Even if, quietly, his heart still wanted to give Astarion all the beauty his mind could dream of and his hands could weave. 

The food was a meager offering, really, but the wizard was happy to see Astarion shrug and sit down to try it. 

Maybe it wasn’t everything Gale had dreamed of in his books to see a bit of excitement build on the man’s face when he delicately sniffed his offering. He was not worthy of giving a thousand days and nights of little pleasures to anyone, it would seem. But, oh, if his heart didn’t flutter a bit at how Astarion’s eyes widened slightly when he gracefully cut into the steak and a weave-enhanced aroma wafted up. 

Gale had truly grown to enjoy his time spent in friendship with the pale elf. He was a stellar, if not acerbic, conversationalist. And the only other person at camp that enjoyed books beyond bawdy romances. Astarion was a person Gale could imagine being around every day for decades without it ever becoming boring. Well, assuming Gale wouldn’t be left alone because the vampire wandered off to find more interesting company than a stuffy wizard. 

At least for now, sometimes he’d say something clever and elicit a sharp grin. Or he’d make a genuine offer to want to properly introduce Astarion to Tara once this was all over, and something soft would grow on the man’s face before he schooled it away. Hells, even walking around Baldur’s Gate and just commenting on architecture with him made Gale desperate to show Astarion Waterdeep.  

It was clear his dear friend had a taste for the finer things in life, but had been left starved. Gale wanted to lay out a banquet for him, to hear his commentary and innovate until he found satisfaction. It was a beautiful thought for the future, but that was a thing still being written. 

Gale needed to try and take that joy and give it in lump sum, lest the worst happened tomorrow. There were notes in his pack on leads Astarion could begin searching down for help finding a place in the sunlight, that he’d entrust to a messenger soon. A desperate letter to his mother, hoping she would extend the clan’s aid to his dear friend. A few letters of introduction that Gale prayed would be enough to get Astarion a chance to observe rare books at Candlekeep if he so needed.  

In the meantime, Gale had but this moment. Watching Astarion primly take a bite of the filet and chew as if he was a bit out of practice. 

This wasn’t the first time Gale had cooked something special for someone - he had a sophomoric idea of what facial expressions to expect. Like always, Astarion didn’t disappoint though with novelty. There was a strange look on his face; emotions roiling so intensely nothing had a beginning nor end. 

“This is shit,” Astarion eventually hissed. 

Gale offered up open palms, apologetic shoulders, and the broken in, embarrassed smile of a man so used to his reach exceeding his grasp in anything that truly mattered. 

“I’m sorry,” he began. “You don’t have to finish it–” 

Astarion looked him dead in the eye. When he had Gale's full attention, he stabbed the piece of meat like it had been carved from Cazador himself. He brought it to his mouth and bit down. Hard. Hard enough Gale could hear the cutlery screech in protest. 

Astarion was a messy eater- a man of singularly devouring hunger. The blood from the filet trickled down his chin, to his chest, marking him temporarily like Gale’s own source of perverse appetite.

Gale watched him swallow and ruminate. 

“This tastes like goodbye,” the man drawled, eyes pinning Gale to his spot. “I don’t like it.” 

Gale smiled, trying to ignore the first thing and address only the second. 

“Well, sometimes experiments don’t always work out,” he began to affably ramble. “I did believe that a few uses of prestidigitation would help overcome your normally exclusively sanguine diet, but I would still appreciate if you could offer some notes-” 

While Gale had been prattling about cantrips, Astarion had decided to switch from rumination to predation. He had gotten up, head refusing to move as he stalked towards Gale like a cat fixated on a songbird. The vampire pounced, slamming the wizard into the cabinets. All it took was a bold hand wrenching one wrist up above his head and a tongue thrust into his mouth to strip him of his power, his self-image as Gale of Waterdeep. 

Astarion devoured Gale Dekarios’ mouth, eating up the moans his actions elicited.  

After a second or eternity, the poor man wasn’t sure which, Astarion broke away to let Gale pant. 

“I want seconds,” Astarion commanded, his other hand running down a thigh- barely keeping to a space that wouldn’t be scandalous if someone walked in. 

Gale tried to master his fluttering heart, to let it accept air and nourishment so it would stop screaming in his chest almost loud enough that it drowned out the orb. 

“You don’t,” he gasped, licking his lips before trying again. “You said you don’t do seconds.” 

That was one of the first, sharp pieces of truth Astarion had flung at him, after their night of gentle love making had cracked through a mask made to suffer only harsh blows. 

People don’t use me twice, he had lilted in the morning. After he had time to lick the wounds Gale’s gentle praise had inflicted and compose himself back to untouchable beauty. Go find someone you can wake up with a thousand times. 

That was back when Astarion wasn’t sure if he would be free, but Gale was still hopeful a solution was available for his own woes. Now things had changed. 

Gale felt the grip on his wrist tighten. Nails that bit into his skin, fearful that without the contact there would be nothing. It was the touch of a man who had rejected the stolen pleasures of ascending, and now wished to ground himself in freely offered affections. 

“I didn’t want you to die,” Astarion offered quietly as his body screamed in accordance. “But I am realizing now that not dying is second to living.” 

Gale wanted to soothe away the worry on the man's face. To cradle the pressed brow gently and let it entrust all its worries to him. But Astarion held him firm. No matter - Gale always had a clever tongue.

"With the number of threats our group has managed to vanquish in the last tenday alone, I think our odds are very good at succeeding, Astarion."

Astarion laughed, letting go of Gale’s wrist to poke at the site where the orb marked him. “I know this is your back-up plan, Gale. Maybe you’ll blow yourself up if we struggle too much against the Netherbain. Maybe you’ll let Mystra own you to remove it. Or she’ll use it as a threat to bargain against your interest in the Crown. But I am tired of petty tyrants’ wants and demands.” 

“She’s a Goddess, Astarion, it’s not remotely-” Gale tried to interject. 

Astarion didn’t even dignify that with a verbal response. He simply looked at Gale, eyes flickering from where the orb burned him to his own, violently marked neck. Astarion knew what manufactured pain was, appetites unanswered. It was why they spoke so easily, they shared this perverse second language. 

“You deserve a choice too,” Astarion eventually said. 

The first kiss in the kitchen was Astarion’s - passionate and aggressive to hide the tenderness it came from. The second was Gale’s - slow and soft, an adventure that ended with being more daring by the hearth. They weren’t so different. Both had left a man gasping for more, a hand traveling to places to hint at encores. 

Astarion leaned into the way Gale’s fingers gripped his curls, the pad of his thumb ever so slightly brushing against his ear in a way that would barely be considered scandalous if anyone ever came in. 

“What if I wanted to choose a second Mr. Dekarios?” Gale whispered. 

Astarion had a talent for saying one thing, but meaning another. It was intoxicating to Gale. The way he could roll his eyes and bring up a lip in a perfect sneer that to an onlooker signaled disgust embodied, a hint of fang and claws coming out. But oh, if the man wasn’t still tender to the touch- a gentle weight that was as inviting as his words were barbed. A secret laid out only for him to discover.

“Well, you should probably get better at cooking, darling. I have no clue how you plan to catch any self-respecting man in your current situation.” 

His hungry red eyes glanced down to a plate that was empty. 

“I, for one, have standards,” Astarion said softly. 

Gale was a man of great pride. It was tempting to press back, to needle the vampire. Perhaps to bring a thumb to wipe up the blood that was still shining on his neck and watch the man lick it off before calling him on the falsehood. 

But on second thought, Gale also desperately needed to close his eyes and believe in the magic of being allowed this close again. He leaned his brow to Astarion’s to give a kiss to the naked skin he found. Not to soothe away the way the vampire had his eyebrows furrowed in concern of being seen. But as a promise he loved this too and wanted it just as much as every other part of him. 

“I look forward to learning about every single one, no matter how small or obscure,” he promised. “I will ascribe them upon my heart, and treasure each word as a gift.” 

Astarion looked at him, searching for the lie. Gale was granted the privilege of watching his eyes grow soft with the knowledge that the wizard was as sincere as he was loquacious.

Then, he had the thrill of watching a vampire who had recently declared he wanted to start living realize he was ravenous.

And that Gale was the perfect second course for this evening and many more to come. 

︶꒦꒷❤︎꒷꒦︶

Author Notes: Thank you for reading this! As always, I would like to remind you thirsty folks to hydrate a bit if needed. Although I suppose for this fic, maybe encouraging you to get a snack would be more appropriate! 

Please let me know if you enjoyed the pun in the tags. :P 

Hopefully this is the start of a solid writing month for me. I'm going to be aiming to put out something each Monday.

[britany1997]

What pets the Lost Boys would have

(Not my gifs)

David:

• A cat. Definitely

• David is already basically a cat

• He doesn’t like people, he DOES like eating, he’s grumpy when he wakes up, he’s low key mean and standoffish but if he likes someone he REALLY likes them

• A lot of people headcanon he calls his S/Os “kitten”

• A cat is perfect for him:)

• He gets a black cat for the aesthetic™️

• He would be chill with any kind of cat tho low key

• His cat isn’t super clingy or jumpy which he appreciates

• But sometimes, while the boys are gone, they take naps together:)

• He sits in his wheelchair, his cat jumps on his lap and they both fall asleep

• If anyone brings it up/catches him he denies it vehemently

• He’s got a reputation to protect

• But that cat has his whole heart

Dwayne:

•Dwayne just gives me dog person vibes

• He’d have a big dog like a Saint Bernard or a Doberman or something

• He’s already the dad daddy of the group so you know he takes care of his dog

• Takes it on walks, feeds it all natural food without added preservatives, gets steals it super expensive dog toys etcetera etcetera…

•Dwayne finds a dog park that’s open late and he brings it and Laddie

• Sometimes Star comes too:)

• He likes to play frisbee with his dog on the beach

• He has a bunch of pictures of his dog: at the cave, in cute little doggie clothes, of the both of them, one where Dwayne just put it on his skateboard and snapped a pic he has that one framed but don’t tell anyone he gets embarrassed

• Dwayne is intimidating but he’s a softy at heart. He loves his dog like his son🥺 (second son cause Laddie)

Paul:

• Ok so EVERYONE always says that Paul is a golden retriever and I completely agree

• And don’t get me wrong this man wants a dog SO BAD

• But the boys don’t trust him with the responsibility of owning a dog rightly so

• He gets distracted sometimes:(

• But he really REALLY wants a pet like everyone else

• They get him a goldfish:)

• David feeds it and complains

• Paul loves it

• Sometimes when they wake up at night, he’s talking to the goldfish

• They’re besties:)

• His fish dies every 6 or so months but Dwayne always replaces it before Paul sees

• He’s had “the same goldfish” for 10 years now

• Dwayne is worried Paul will notice

• He won’t:)

Marko:

• Marko has a bunch of pigeons as pets canonically.

• Obviously he has names for all of them and he low key gets mad when the boys can’t remember their names

• In addition to the pigeons, I think he would also have a parrot

• Marko would adore a parrot’s brightly colored feathers, they match his vibe

• He would also enjoy a pet that talks

• He teaches it cuss words >:)

• This REALLY pisses Dwayne off because this is how Laddie learns most profanities (oops)

• So he teaches the parrot curses in Italian >:)

• He also uses the parrot to freak Paul out

• He trains it to hide in small dark corners of the cave and call Paul’s name.

• Paul thinks the cave is haunted

• Marko thinks it’s hilarious

All in all, the boys love their pets:)

[flightfoot]

So I have no idea how asks work, I hope o am doing the right thing.

Sooooo any miraculous fan fiction suggestion? Maybe something chloe focused? Because I am basically running out of fic about that on ao3,butaybe maybe maybe you can help me? Thank you!!!!!!!!!!(oh and thank you even if you don't aswer oh and sorry if I am disturbing you!!!!!)

Have a nice day :)

I'm happy to help! I read a crapton of Miraculous fics so I can help. I'm glad you specified Chloe fics because well, I need something to go off of.

Oh yeah, it probably goes without saying if you know me at all, but none of these fics will demonize Alya, Adrien, the class, any of that sort. I don't tolerate those fics.

So first of all, @generalluxun really likes to write Chloe fics, so looking through his AO3 page is probably a good idea. I Won't Let You, which is a one-shot of Felix and Chloe talking at the Hawkmoth defeat party, empathizing with each other's circumstances, is a particular favorite of mine, if you want a taste.

Now onto the rest of the fic recs!

well somewhere along the way our words I must've gotten lost by @noirshitsuji

Beelya where Queen Bee visits the Césaire house after Alya writes an article about her fighting Mr. Pigeon alone. Normally Chloé would like the publicity but Alya had titled it ‘The Birds and the Bees’. After that she ends up coming back to complain about her mother. And her father. And about the fact that her oldest friend seems uncomfortable around her. Her visits becomes weekly, then almost nightly. (Don’t forget to include Chloé redemption (and some “Bee Movie” jokes).) * Alya isn’t quite sure how she ended up here, in a place where she isn’t even surprised Chloé would seek her out to talk about her dad, where she wouldn’t even mind her doing so, where she would expect it, where she would– (–thud. She might be in trouble.)

I loved seeing Alya's and Chloe's relationship grow and change through the years here, becoming closer and trusting each other more!

---

Can't Sleep Either, Huh? by EmeraldButterfly

Chloe gets up late at night. Turns out she’s not the only one who’s worried about Pollen. (AU where former Miraculous holders have an empathetic link with their kwamis)

This one's really short, but I love Zoe and Chloe comforting each other, since they can both feel what Pollen's going through at Monarch's hands over the link.

---

at our wedding by @anna-scribbles

“Chloé,” Adrien said slowly, “At our wedding, are we gonna have to…” “No!” Chloé shook her head firmly. “We don’t have to kiss. We can do whatever we want. It’s our wedding.” “Oh, good,” Adrien sighed. “You have to kiss at a wedding,” Félix argued. “I don’t have to do anything and you’re not the boss of me!” Chloé shouted. “Yeah!” Adrien grinned. He grabbed Chloé’s hand again. “Yeah, it’s our wedding.” // Adrien and Chloé, wedding planning through the years.

This one's great for seeing how Adrien's and Chloe's relationship in particular has changed over the years, though Felix is involved a lot as well.

---

Restorative Justice by @kasienda

Chloé has never been a fan of Ms. Bustier’s community building activities. In fact, she detests them. She doesn’t want to learn about the drab boring lives of her peers. And she absolutely can’t stand it when their confessions make her feel things. Feelings that she doesn’t even have names for. But when Adrien unknowingly shares his struggles with his double life, Chloé vows she will do anything to get Ladybug to set things right. Even if it means pissing off the heroine. Chloé was already mad at her anyway.

I love this, everyone sits down in a circle and talks about their feelings and problems and work on making things BETTER, on healing and fixing things.

---

This last one is a special treat, it's one of the best Miraculous fics I've ever read (and that is saying a LOT).

Hold Me By Both Hands by @angelofthequeers

“I know he said never to take you back,” Plagg mutters. “But he’d change his tune if he knew.” He looks Adrien straight in the eye and, more serious than Adrien’s ever seen him before, says, “There’s someone you gotta meet. He’s been looking for that book for ages.” How differently might the events of season 2 have gone if Adrien had also known of Master Fu from the start?

This is a rewrite of seasons 2 and 3, with Lila being active and sneakier, Adrien not being left in the dark, and everyone talking things out a lot more. I ADORE the interweaving plot threads of this fic, it's fairly episodic in nature and it packs a lot into its word count.

The single best plotline it has, and the one that shoots it up to the top of my list of best ML fics, is its Chloe Redemption plotline.

Basically, Adrien says he won't be friends with Chloe unless she starts treating people decently, and so, taking this to heart, she goes looking for help in learning how to do that because well, she doesn't want to lose Adrien. So naturally, she goes to Marinette.

Marinette helps, but there are no shortcuts here. If you've seen The Good Place, Chloe's character arc here is a lot like Eleanor's was there, with her not only needing to learn how to be nicer to people, but t find reasons to WANT to be a better person, outside of simply wanting to avoid a bad outcome. I literally wrote an essay about Chloe's character development in this fic, THAT'S how much I loved it.

Anyway, seriously, check this fic out!

[sunflowergraves]

Will Character Analysis: Panic Attacks

I did a breakdown of Will's character a few weeks ago after my first read-through of TSATS. I went back and reread the book (mostly because I'm obsessed), and I noticed something that I don't think a lot of people picked up on. Will was having panic/anxiety attacks throughout the course of the book.

I think this is extremely important to recognize because it gives us a better understanding of why Will was reacting the way he was during the entire quest. It also answers some questions that I previously had.

As someone who has severe anxiety and suffers from panic/anxiety attacks, it makes complete sense that Will would also. He is forced into uncomfortable and challenging situations that he can't control. He feels useless and incompetent, especially when it comes to helping his boyfriend. And he already felt lonely, scared, and unsure before they even started. Combine all that with overstimulation and stress and you've got yourself a great recipe for mental disaster.

If you don't want TSATS spoilers, I suggest stop reading here. I'm going to provide some examples from the book to help me out. This will also be pretty long tbh lol.



The Subway Ride:

As they were leaving the station, Nico asked Will to stop shaking his leg (an anxious habit). Soon after this, Nico noted that Will had closed his eyes and started using a breathing technique. He also said that Will did this often to calm down and decided to leave his boyfriend alone.

Breathing techniques are a very common way to help prevent an attack or calm them down. I've had it drilled into my head that breathing techniques are one of the first things to do when I feel overly anxious/upset.  

As a healer, Will most likely knows about these and uses them to help keep calm. He had just experienced a very stressful taxi ride (which he is described as clinging to the seatbelt for dear life) and is now on a train to start his journey to Tartarus. I'd be freaking out too.



The Trog Tunnels:

The second time Will exhibited an attack was when they were crawling through the tunnels with the Trogs to get to Menoetius farm. Will was complaining about feeling closed in and felt like the tunnel would collapse. He also started feeling nauseous, woozy, and forgetful. The second they left the tunnel, Will immediately needed to rest. He kept his eyes closed and felt better once he had a minute to breath.

These are all symptoms of a panic/anxiety attack. While symptoms definitely range based on the severity of an attack, the most common ones are dizziness, nausea, and brain fog. This is because your brain is tricked into thinking what is happening is a life-or-death situation. It's pumping adrenaline into your body, but there's nothing happening physically to you. This leaves you with a body filled with energy and a mind screaming with chaos.

The only way to really stop these attacks is to sit down somewhere you feel comfortable (literally anywhere but a tunnel in Will's case) and calm yourself down.



The Tartarus Argument:

The fourth example is the argument Will and Nico had after the whole pigeon fiasco. The power of anxiety leads you into overthinking and what was Will doing? He believed that Nico was going to abandon him and that he deserved it. He was 100% convinced of this despite Nico's very stubborn loyalty trait. Will literally broke down in gasping sobs, unable to think of anything but being left behind.

Will had been facing attack after attack since this moment that he finally just broke. When faced with doubt and fear and panic towards the one he loves, towards the person he trusts, coming back from that brink is almost impossible.



Tartarus:

Will was basically in a constant state of panic during the entire Tartarus trip. He was pale, shaky, loopy, and irritated. The rational brain train had left the station and it was not coming back.





As a fellow struggler of anxiety and attacks, I'm glad they added this side of anxiety, even if it was never explicitly stated. I believe that it was purposeful that both authors didn't state that Will was having attacks because it is a sensitive and heavy topic that is hard to discuss, especially when they were covering a bunch of other bases.

The main reason I wanted to make this though was again to drive him the point that Will was not a whiny, weak-spined character. He was struggling with his own anxiety and fears which drove him to act the way he did. I always see people preaching the importance of supporting others, yet my dash is filled with angry, hateful comments towards a character that is meant to represent people like me.

[stardustprompts]

the empire of gold   (  the daevabad trilogy book 3 ) part 1  -   s. a. chakraborty change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying     tw ; death , war , violence

‘please tell me I’m seeing things. please tell me this isn’t what it looks like.’

‘you don’t get to die. understand? I didn’t save your life a dozen times so you could leave me here.’

‘I suppose war is often more violent than expected.’

‘I had the impression that you and normal did not quite fit.’

‘why do something that would make sense?’

‘it wasn’t you. I didn’t trust anyone. I was afraid to.’

‘it always felt like I was one mistake away from losing everything.’

‘you don’t always have to do everything on your own.’

‘if you rule by violence, you should expect to be removed by violence.’

‘if you could do it all over again, would you not have done anything to save her?’

‘when you left I thought it might’ve been because you hated me.’

‘I don’t blame you for anything that happened that night. and I could never hate you.’

‘I could never hate you. not in a thousand years.’

‘I actually thought you’d be happier if I stayed gone.’

‘you shouldn’t have to keep saving me like this.’

‘I thought I made very clear to you I never intended to let you out of my debt.’

‘I don’t think I can do this.’

‘I’ve always liked choosing my own path.’

‘I’ve got a lot of experience finding slivers of light to cherish when life gets more miserable than usual.’

‘every time I think there’s no lower our world can sink, we all plunge deeper.’

‘don’t. don’t do that. there’s no way (name) blamed you, and he wouldn’t want you killing yourself thinking that.’

‘you are not the only one who’s seen your world broken. nor the only one who grieves for their dead.’

‘you are impossible, do you know that?’

‘I could kill you. it would be nothing.’

‘you are brave, you are strong, and you will survive this day, I swear.’

‘I love you. I always will.’

‘I’m tired of resting. and of having nightmares as well.’

‘it’s been easier to keep busy. if I’m doing things it keeps my mind from everything else, though that’s probably a cowardly thing to admit.’

‘not wanting to be destroyed by despair doesn’t make you a coward, (name). it makes you a survivor.’

‘you chose a very inconvenient time to develop a conscience.’

‘you’ve changed for the better, whether or not you want to admit it.’

‘I don’t know what you’re running from. I don’t know what you’re planning next. but you could have a life here. a good one.’

‘you could have a life here. a good one.’

‘we can’t stay here. we can’t—- I’m sorry I wish we could.’

‘you know it. I know it. it’s only a matter of time.’

‘we will never be safe here and neither will anyone around us.’

‘I don’t want to be safe. not if my people aren’t.’

‘I am nothing like him. I would take a blade to my throat before I’d do the things he’s done.’

‘you and I, we tried, okay? we tried more than most.’

‘(place) is a death trap. it corrupts and ruins everyone who tries to fix it. and we could be free of it. both of us.’

‘I’m going to say something no one has a right to tell you, but it needs to be said and there’s no one else.’

‘we have a duty to go back, no matter the consequences.’

‘you and I don’t get to look away from that, no matter how tempting.’

‘forget it. I’m not going to waste my breath trying to save you from yourself again.’

‘you want to go die out there? fine. but you’ll be doing it alone.’

‘we need to be careful. no reckless plans of self-sacrifice and spouting off things that will get us killed.’

‘thank you. I don’t think I could get through all this without you.’

‘I just don’t understand why you had to be so mean.’

‘this is going to end with us in prison, isn’t it?’

‘not everything has to be a transaction, (name).’

‘your expression is not bolstering my confidence.’

‘you’ve really got to find a way not to look like a startled pigeon every time you lie.’

‘people are often afraid of what they don’t understand.’

‘there is honor in being a weapon.’

‘I envy you sometimes. I wish I had your faith in people’s goodness.’

‘who are you to decide who is a monster?’

‘I used to believe it all. I had too.’

‘because it had to be true. If the ___ were people, innocent mothers and fathers and children, and I did to them the things I did … then I am damned. I am a monster.’

‘I worshipped them, I trusted them, and they lied.’

‘what is any of this supposed to mean if it makes room for such an atrocity.’

‘my best and mind are telling me that I followed the wrong people.’

‘what do I do with that kind of burden?’

‘you are the bravest man I know, and you run.’

‘sit with this burden. you may find doing so is easier than holding it over your head and waiting for it to crush you.’

‘you have been blessed; you have been granted the power, the privilege, the time to fix things.’

‘i’m so tired. everything I build gets broken.’

‘it’s all for nothing. nothing’

‘it’s not for nothing. we can still put things right.’

‘don’t look at me like that. I don’t need your pity. I don’t need anything.’

‘there’s no one else here, my friend. you don’t need to keep up this front.’

‘I thought you were dead. I thought I was dead. I thought I’d failed everyone, and I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t even fight back.’

‘you’re a good friend. probably the best one I’ve ever had. but if you tell anyone I cried, I’ll kill you.’

‘have you an actual plan or just wild fantasies that will end with our deaths?’

‘why do you look like you’re considering something very reckless?’

‘if i have found a glimmer of pleasure in all this, it is the assurance that you will destroy yourselves just as spectacularly.’

‘it is those we are closest to who have an opportunity to observe our weaknesses best.’

‘maybe they were afraid. maybe they were right to be.’

‘I wish you had told me. there weren’t supposed to be any more secrets between us.’

‘I feel like we just fell into a trap.’

‘I thought— I thought maybe there was a chance.’

'sometimes it’s wisest to let people show you who they are.’

‘you did not survive in (place) by sticking your head in the sand.’

‘I have never— for even a moment— forgotten how people view me.’

‘I left my home and a peaceful life to come here in the hopes of fixing things.’

‘I won’t be threatened.’ 

‘in my experience, parents are capable of doing a great deal of hurt to their children.’

[mxpseudonym]

Even if it's your fault, I'll fix it

alt title: Luca is a messy bitch who lives for drama and Blossom's happiness

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Blossom OC

Summary: When he finds out Blossom has been surpressing her firey ways in the name of love, Luca makes sure to let Blossom know she never has to hold back.

Length: 6778 (but it goes by fast)

Warnings: None

A/N: This is a real story-length addition to the Luca x Blossom unofficial series! I enjoyed writing this and am so happy to finally share it after weeks of ironing it out. Enjoy!

.:.

She loved Luca Changretta.

She was in love with Luca Changretta.

If she didn’t know it before, somehow, she knew it now. In the little alley outside of Luca’s cousin’s home in Brooklyn, she leaned against the brick apartment building, looking up at the clotheslines that went from window to window.

It was warm enough and breezy. If she leaned to the right a bit, she could see the open window and balcony of the apartment 5 floors up that she'd just come from. If the music spilling from the window didn’t give it away, the radio on the windowsill that was the color of the Italian flag sure did.

She clenched her teeth at the thought of going back in. Supper wasn’t for another hour and a half so it was an apartment full of women, some Changrettas and some who married in (or, in her case, were soon to marry in) who were cooking the best food on the block. Their hands mixed, pinched, rolled, and chopped together food that tasted like home. But while their hands worked magic, their mouths ran wild.

Mrs. Changretta’s grievances may not have moved Luca, but they moved his aunts and grandmother. She may have been his Blossom, but to everyone else, she was someone to be tested and brought to heel.

But the worst part, was that she loved Luca Changretta. On her best day, she could argue with God himself and only lose by a thin margin. She was her own best advocate and a professional at being stubborn- difficult even. For every one thing said, she could return it tenfold with something witty. But for Luca, she was quiet.

How could she possibly fight the family she was going to be marrying into with her usually fire? She sighed, looking up again and wishing she was one of the pigeons flying from rooftop to rooftop or even a blouse fluttering in the breeze. The metal door next to her creaked open.

Luca’s Aunt Vera smiled gently when she spotted her. Vera married into the family decades ago, but from what Blossom heard, there were growing pains. Uncle Eddie was too head over heels for Vera for it to matter though. After two decades together, there wasn’t much the family could say without beating a dead horse. The only reason they bothered was because Aunt Vera had yet to have a child after so long of trying, and any weakness was fair game for vengeful gossipers.

But that morning, Uncle Eddie walked her all the way into the apartment and kissed her sweetly before leaving her in the battlefield of women while showing his strength. The message was clear: don’t mess with his treasured wife. Blossom wasn’t surprised though, Aunt Vera was kind and quietly funny. And in her late 40s, she was as stunning as ever. Uncle Eddie was lucky as far as Blossom was concerned.

“Here you are,” she said. Blossom nodded.

“Here I am.”

“Lonnie was right about the alley, then. But you can’t hide any longer, unfortunately. Nonna just got back from the market and is putting people to work,” Aunt Vera told her, then sighed. “I’ve been where you are. They’re a tough family. But avoidance makes it much worse, trust me.”

They locked eyes and said, in those few quiet moments, more than Blossom even knew how to put into words. Aunt Vera held out a hand and Blossom took it.

.:.

Cousin Marcia was the ringleader for the most drama. Blossom noted this as she sliced lemons quietly, biting her tongue as not-so-hushed whispers about her floated in from the hallway.

Lonnie, Luca’s youngest sister, was in charge of watching the children who were peeling potatoes on the stoop and Aunt Vera was arranging the tables in the large dining room. Blossom was without her allies while listening to Marcia spread all kinds of opinions to the younger wives of the family who eagerly jumped on the bandwagon. Blossom could hardly blame them. It was likely better to feel included with the Changrettas than an outsider never to be trusted.

“If you ask me,” Marcia said from around the corner, “That girl doesn’t think too highly of us Changrettas. Dana, how long did it take you and Tony to get hitched? A year and a half? And Nathaniel and Ruth, only 8 months. She’s an uppity bitch if you ask me.”

Blossom glowered at the cutting board, face enflamed. It wasn’t so much the words themselves as it was that she had to restrain herself. Piercing words flew through Blossom’s mind towards Marcia, but only manifested as slicing open the rind a new lemon. She knew what Marcia was going to say and how she was going to frame it.

“Now this girl has been stringing Luca along for half a decade at least. I bet she’s waiting for someone better, richer*, to come along. Like she’ll find it. And she’s got him so lovesick he’ll carry on for who knows how long. He’s so foolish, I can’t see how he could run anything with that judgment.”*

A gentle hand appeared on her back, taking her away from the scathing comebacks she was plotting in her head.

“Good, even slices,” said Nonna Changretta. The old woman had made the trip to New York with Luca’s mother and two aunts at the start of spring when it was warm enough to travel and would stay for a few months to make the most out of it. Blossom had only met her a few times, but this Nonna reminded her of her own who had passed only a few years before. And at that moment, her praise was like a glass of water in the desert.

“Thank you,”

“Nonna. Just like everyone else.”

Blossom smiled at her warmly and repeated the name. And as if it was her stage cue, Marcia came around the corner with more smugness than Blossom though could fit in the house.

“Nonna is too kind. You’re not even family and you get to call her that,” said Marcia. Two of Luca’s nieces stood behind her and nodded, arms crossing like they had something to prove. Blossom reminded herself to put the knife down before turning to the grandmother of the family.

“You are too kind. And if you want me to do anything else, just let me know,” Blossom offered while wiping her hands on her apron. Nonna patted her hand with a smile then turned to Marcia.

“Let’s welcome her warmly. Good intentions make for good food,” Nonna said.

“But Nonna,” Marcia whined all of a sudden and made her way across the kitchen to grab her hand. “I’m just thinking about Auntie, oh! I mean Mrs. Changretta.” Blossom rolled her eyes at the mistake that simultaneously made Nonna’s eyes soften.

“Your mother in law may have been my goddaughter, but she was like my own child. Audrey is your Aunt, no matter what,” Nonna all but gushed. Marcia gave Nonna a hug with tears welling in her eyes, but she wasn’t so overwhelmed that she couldn’t give Blossom a pointed pout as she sniffled.

“You mean the world to me. And that’s why I said what I did. It may be a little mean, but whenever Luca brings her around, she never helps out. She just shows up and eats!” Marcia said. She stepped back from Nonna, wiping her non-existent tears as she turned to Blossom who could only watch the show with crossed arms.

“I haven’t been allowed to see a kitchen until Luca and I got engaged. I always bring food, Marcia, you know this,” Blossom said evenly. “Now I’m always here.”

“You never even use Changretta recipes,” Marcia accused. “How can you call it cooking?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Blossom stepped closer to her, and Marcia stepped back with a comical look of fear on her face that made Nonna place a hand on Blossom’s arm.

“Don’t get violent, dear. I’ve heard about your temper.”

“My temper?” Blossom asked, head whipping around to the old woman who was now several degrees colder towards her.

“You have given Luca such a hard time about getting married when we all see how much he spoils you,” Marcia carried on. “And then you make him wait, stringing him along. And now you’re in here, bringing your own recipes and ruining tradition.”

“Tradition?! Those recipes are from my family’s tradition. I was sharing it,” Blossom started, only to get cut off by one of the nieces.

“Who even asked?”

Blossom took a deep breath, ready to give each of them hell. But in a split second she clenched her hands closed instead.

“Dear, you may do things a certain way in your home, but Marcia is right,” Nonna said. Blossom’s mouth dropped open for a moment. She was the one who was wrong? “I don’t know why you’ve taken so long to agree to my grandchild about marriage, or why you’ve given my daughter such a hard time. But to become a Changretta, you must humble yourself,” Nonna told her with fervor.

“Yes, be humble,” Marcia agreed. Blossom pressed her lips together to stop any words from escaping. Anything she said now would be a waste of breath. Nonna tasked her with preparing the chicken because she was the only one who wasn’t busy and wasn’t squeamish about blood and feathers, while Marcia got pulled to sit for a bit of wine and catching up.

Even as she plucked feathers, Blossom didn’t blame Luca’s grandmother for any hardships. The matriarch had a bleeding heart for those in need and a fierce sense of loyalty. Not to mention Blossom was new to the whole family.

It was Marcia she had the issue with.

Some families welcomed new in-laws with open arms and Blossom never expected the Changrettas to be one of them. They had a business and a reputation after all. Luca’s lobbying for her helped a lot, but it wasn’t enough to get anyone to deal with their least favorite cousin not cousin on her behalf. Marcia and Frank didn’t have much to do with the business and they weren’t exactly loyal to the Changretta name. So why on Earth was Marcia of all people spreading rumors about her amongst the family and taunting her?

Blossom speculated it had something to do with wanting to get on Mrs. Changretta’s good side, which meant Marcia and Frank were probably up to no good. But the truth wouldn’t stop Marcia from being a pain in her neck.

She washed her hands thoroughly when she was done, then headed downstairs to the place Lonnie knew where to find her. As the breeze fluttered through a white dress that was ready to be taken down and folded, she thought to herself that she did love Luca very much. It made all of this seem worth it.

.:.

Luca leaned over the passenger seat of his car to look out window with a furrowed brow. He’d just pulled up to the apartment and could already tell something was off. Blossom’s arms wrapped around herself while she talked to Lonnie and his Aunt Vera on the steps. Even with her back to him, she looked meeker than when he left her that morning.

He sat back in thought, a million reasons why crossing his mind before he stopped himself. The first order of business was seeing if she was actually upset and how much so. Luca hopped out the Ford, avoiding cars and kids in the middle of a foot race to walk around to the sidewalk.

“There’s my brother,” Lonnie alerted them with a chin jutting in his direction. She was newly 16 and already full of the Changretta loyalty and stubbornness. His Aunt greeted him warmly like she always did, but Blossom on the other hand barely looked over her shoulder at him even when he moved into his place next to her and slid the purse off her shoulder to hold it for her.

“Take good care of Sister,” Lonnie said with a big smile as she reached for Blossom’s hands. “We’ll have dinner sometime, just us. Maybe Thursday after school? You can teach me how to cook veal.” Lonnie grimaced at the idea of it, but quickly returned to a smile.

“I’ll help,” Aunt Vera agreed, patting Blossom on the shoulder. Luca looked between them and then at his fiancé. She glanced at him for only a moment and he knew. She was actually upset alright. They kept coming up with ideas until Blossom chuckled and begged them to stop.

“Alright, alright, we’re going now,” Blossom said. Luca went ahead and opened the door for her, helping her step up into his Ford then paused. He leaned into the door way. His eyes scanned her body as if he would find some sort of wound on her skin. She looked at him expectantly while he observed her.

“Did you have a good time?” He finally asked.

“Really good,” she said. She nodded for emphasis, and now he was certain. She was very upset.

The drive back was quiet, neither doing more than stealing a few glances. Luca wasn’t a genius, just a diligent detective when it came to his Blossom. After 5 years of going steady, she’d finally agreed to marry him. And while his mother was impatient for either a wedding or, preferably, a breakup, Luca didn’t mind going at her pace because now he knew her best.

Blossom was lost in thought and staring out the window to stop him from getting a good look at her expression. But he kept looking anyway, his heart not knowing whether to ache or ignite in rage.

“Pay attention to the road,” she told him suddenly, finally looking forward long enough to nod toward the streets he should have been navigating with more care. But half a glance was enough. Being 3 blocks from his apartment didn’t stop him from pulling his car over and taking out the key.

Luca tossed his toothpick out the window, ignoring her questioning. He angled himself to view her fully, then leaned forward to grip her chin. He tilted her head this way and that in the evening sun until she pushed his hands away.

“You’ve been sad since I came and got you,” he announced the problem he was trying to solve. His voice was tender but serious. Always serious when it came to her. “Did something happen? I know it, I can tell. What happened?”

“You always do this, saying you can see it in my face.” She huffed and pressed the back of her hand against her cheeks. She refused to admit anything at all. “Anyway, I just ate too much. I can walk the rest of the way.”

“Aht!” Luca grabbed her hand before she could turn to open the door. “You’re not going anywhere. Tell me. Did you talk to my mother? Is that why you were on the sidewalk with Lonnie and Auntie V and not inside when I picked you up? Hm?” He prodded.

Blossom sighed then gave him a tight smile and an arched eyebrow. It was a look that told him loud and clear not to make a fuss anymore. Luca’s head dropped for a moment. He lifted it again with a stern look and wagging finger.

“If you have a problem and you hide it from me, when I find out I’m going to keep all of your grandmother’s candied walnuts to myself when she sends them.” He ended his threat with a firm pinch to her cheek. She couldn’t resist the urge to smile for a moment as she pulled his hand down.

“Of course, I talked to everyone, it was a Changretta women’s evening,” she reminded him. She paused for a moment. Her fingers tapped his knuckles thoughtfully then looked up at his ever patient face with another smile.

“Your cousin, Marcia.”

“Oh no.”

“She’s good at making her opinions well known. She was telling some of your nieces that I was uppity and looking down on the Changrettas because we haven’t gotten married yet. She said I must be waiting for someone better and richer to come along.” She let out a sigh and looked at their interlaced hands. “Then she told your grandmother that I never help and I’m trying to ruin tradition by bringing my family’s recipes into Changretta kitchens, and your Nonna lectured me about marrying into your family meaning that I needed to be humbler.”

Luca let out a low whistle as he sat back in his seat, but never letting their hands separate. “Family” was a generous term for his cousins who were so distant they didn’t even share his blood. When his Nonna’s goddaughter passed, she took in her son because there was no one else to raise him well. But Frank was spineless and found a wife in Marcia who was after his money and the Changretta influence. It didn’t take long for him to act like he was owed everything.

Frank and Marcia didn’t work for anything but threw the Changretta name around like a badge of honor to get all sorts of benefits. Luca was sure they had a few hundred dollars on a tab at one of the best restaurants in the city. Angel said he’d take care of it, but his brother heeded his mother’s warning to tread carefully and now his pseudo-cousins were bringing the trouble to the house.

"She’s got some fucking nerve.”

“It’s not a big issue. I’ve got thick skin, and your grandmother’s just thinking about respecting your family.”

“You shouldn’t have to have thick skin.”

“Luca, this is your family, not some strangers. Even if you don’t like them, your Nonna does and she’s important to you. You treat me so well, too. I need to shoulder some of this.”

“Blossom, do you know I’ve known my family all of my life?” He asked, making her eyes roll. “We’re one hell of a force to be reckoned with, even when it comes to each other. Okay? When I met you I thought, ‘damn, she’s gonna give them hell,’” he admitted. “You haven’t tip toed around before and you don’t have to start now.”

“But it’s not so easy. Your mother, your aunts, your Nonna, and all of your family are here now. I’m just one person.”

“Since when?” He asked, pointedly.

“But when you’re not there,” she whispered earnestly, more earnest than he’d ever seen her. “And even if you were there, what if you end up getting cast aside in the business because of me? Isn’t Uncle Eddie a sitting duck because he went against the family?”

Luca suffocated the giddy part of him that wanted to point out that she cared so much about him. Now was not the time. He squeezed her hand instead.

“Uncle Eddie isn’t a sitting duck,” he said. “He’s been asking me to keep him in the city at his station for years because Auntie V is an only child. Her parents are older and stick alive, God bless ‘em.” Blossom didn’t look convinced even as he assured her that he was a capable son, and that an invaluable member of the Changretta business. “No one is making me a sitting duck.”

“That makes me feel better,” she admitted. Luca shifted closer to her in the small space. Blossom glanced around through the windows and suddenly wished they weren’t on the side of the street. Luca was too unpredictable.

“Don’t hold back next time. You’ve never needed me to protect you, but I still do it. I’ll talk to Nonna,” he said softly. It warmed her chest as he kissed her hand.

“You’re playing favorites,” she accused.

“Yes, definitely!” He nearly shouted, making Blossom startle then smack his arm.

“You scared me,” she said, laughing at his outburst and incredulous expression. Luca suddenly reached up and grasped her face.

“Fuck Frank and Marcia. Doesn’t matter what you get into, just tell me. Even if it’s your fault, I’ll fix it,” he said, a heated promise. “I love you when you’re righteous and I love you when you’re about to rip someone’s face off. Sometimes I even like it more.”

“You’re sick,” she said, muffled from his hands still squishing her cheeks.

“As a dog,” he agreed then leaned over and pressed his lips against hers in a forceful peck.

Blossom finally made him get back in his seat and take them the few minutes up the street to his apartment. He held her hand tightly from the car to his front door. As he unlocked it, he checked again. “You’re sure Ma didn’t say anything?”

“Your mother’s problems with me have definitely made their way into the Changretta news mill. Your aunts fought me on everything today. My dress is tactless, the way I make arancini is wrong which it’s not. And I don’t respect my elders because I speak at the wrong times.” She smirked a bit. “That’s actually the most comforting part. Reminds me of my grandmother saying I was too rough.”

Luca held the door for her. He went on about how they were too hard on his precious Blossom while sitting her down in the living room. He put the radio and handed her her favorite wine in a glass, not stopping until he was next to her with her legs in his lap, hands massaging her calves.

“You’re too sweet to me,” she told him quietly then said through gritted her teeth, “Maybe we should try having you be rougher with me. Then they’ll pity me and treat me better.” Luca just huffed and focused on the task at hand.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I’d never. This the least I can do since you’re doing me such a big favor.”

“Favor?”

“Two, actually. Braving the Changrettas, and agreeing to marry me.”

Blossom sat her glass aside just as the radio announcer began reading the headlines. She moved her legs from Luca’s lap, but shifted her dress so she could straddle him before he could protest.

“I’m going to get you into a lot of trouble,” she told him. Luca nodded in excitement, earning yet another accusation that he wasn’t in his right mind. And yet, Blossom’s Bordeaux was left forgotten on the table as the latest films were announced, and Luca had a new lipstick stain to remove from his collar by the time they reached horse races.

.:.

Blossom’s short temper was the roughest part about her, Luca thought. But the rest of her was soft. If she knew they were sick, she’d make her fellow nurses soup whether she liked them or not. If Lonnie wasn’t wearing stockings in autumn, the teen would get scolded on her way to the shops so Blossom could buy her a new pair.

It was how she could be hot headed and sometimes careless with her words, but always deeply kind that made him love her. And it was what made him certain that her holding back with his family was probably doing more harm than good. The Changrettas knew tough love, and they were just as scared of her as she was of them.

It took two weeks for his mother to pull him aside and start talking about the things his Blossom would say and do at the family gatherings nowadays. How his mother was sure she’d lost her mind.

“Luca, Luca, Luca. Even Nonna can see that she is arrogant and crass,” his Ma told him. He slid a toothpick in his mouth and waited for his favorite phrase.

“She doesn’t know her place.”

He had a few Uncles and cousins talk to him over business lunches about how Blossom had ruffled their wives and mistresses by being blunt. A beating around the bush kind of way to say she was making trouble. But Luca just tucked the tie Blossom had made him into his suit before leaning over his steak.

“Why can’t she say it? It’s true.”

Meanwhile, he’d never been so close to his Uncle Eddie who was having a ball. Apparently his Aunt Vera had never felt more courageous around the Changrettas with Blossom around, and had actually started going to more of the gatherings. By the turn of seasons, his Blossom had her fire back, and a few of his nephews asked where he’d found a woman like her.

But even Luca knew that this wouldn’t be solved until one pivotal moment. And that moment would involve the two people who he hadn’t seen in weeks and was even sure they were avoiding him. His pseudo-cousins were likely stewing in this change of behavior, getting frustrated that Blossom wasn’t getting ostracized, but instead gained a few friends within the family. And knowing them, they would eventually cause a scene to turn the tides again. When that moment would come, he’d be ready.

The tension at the Changretta gatherings weren’t gone, just different. Blossom set the tables in the church hall where Nonna’s birthday lunch was going to take place as soon as the food was ready and everyone was sitting. Nonna told her weeks before that all she really wanted at her age was to see everyone, young and old, in one place.

“I see you’re keeping busy.”

Forks were being pulled from Blossom’s hands before she could look up at Aunt Vera’s usual radiant smile.

“If I sit still, I’m afraid I’ll be asked to scale a fish all of a sudden.”

“You tried to hard to please at the beginning. Now they know you’re good at things like that.”

They chatted as the room filled slowly. It was reaching noon and Blossom had yet to see Luca, Angel, or any of the men who ran the business. Vera looked around for Eddie as well, but turned to Blossom with a small scowl before she found him.

“Marcia just got here with her followers.”

“Pay them no mind. Nonna’s birthday matters more than anything. I want to live until 93 too, so it’s good karma,” Blossom teased. Still, she glanced over Aunt Vera’s shoulder to see Marcia all dolled up with Luca’s nieces by her side once again. She also found a teen with a bow in her hair hurrying past the crowd toward them

“Auntie V, Sister,” Lonnie huffed. She was out of breath but had a big grin on her face. Aunt Vera quickly got her some water as she caught her breath. “I have an urgent message for you,” she continued.

“For me?” Blossom looked to Aunt Vera with a raised eyebrow, then back to where Lonnie was gulping water.

“My brother says no matter what happens today, to not get flustered and to not be scared. You can fight and scold all you want, he’ll be here soon.” Lonnie was giddy to be the one to let Blossom off the reigns. Aunt Vera couldn’t hold in her laugh.

“Luca reminds me so much of Eddie. If I had more of a fighting spirit, he’d let me go crazy,” she reminisced.

“The last thing we need is two troublemaking gold diggers, though. Isn’t that right?”

Marcia walked strutted over, haughty as ever. She looked Aunt Vera up and down, then Blossom.

“Don’t you know how to bite your tongue for the greater good?” Blossom asked her. “Be hateful all you like, but it’s your grandmother’s birthday.” Marcia scoffed and looked to the nieces who were just as ruffled.

“Hateful? You been reading a dictionary or something? And I know what day it is. You are the guest here,” Marcia reminded her. A few of the gathering Changrettas were tuning into their conversation as Marcia got louder. “Don’t be so uppity.”

“Is this how you treat guests then? Not to mention that we’ve been here all morning helping Nonna set up. You’ve been nowhere to be found.” Blossom pointed out, and went on to ask the nieces if their mothers knew where they had been either.

“Why do we have to tell you anything about where we’ve been? You’re not my mother, you’re just some hussy who crawled into Luca’s bed.”

“How dare you?” Aunt Vera gasped as she stepped forward. Turning to her, Marcia smirked.

“Do you finally have something to say? They’ve called you all sorts of things since I’ve been around, and this is the first time I’ve heard your voice. Feeling brave?”

“Don’t you have something better to do?” Blossom hissed. She glanced around the crowd that was fully watching them now and stepped in front of Aunt Vera. She may have had thick skin, but Aunt Vera wasn’t like her. “Stop it.”

“Let’s go all the way, actually. Aunt Vera, you’re forgetting about family aren’t you? This woman has insulted us so much already. When will you choose your actual family first. Oh wait. You don’t even have a child to attach you to the Changrettas. I guess you’re not actually-”

Blossom heard the slap ring through the hall before she felt the stinging in her right hand, or realized she’d reached up and hit the woman. The shock of the audience left the room quiet as Marcia slowly turned back to her, a hand reaching up to her cheek.

“Marcia Gallo, we have the same amount of Changretta blood as you. None. You have been a brat this whole time because you married Nonna’s goddaughter’s son. That I can endure and bite my tongue about. You’re spoiled rotten and use the Changretta name to run up tabs and do illegal gambling. God knows what else.”

“How did you,” Marcia started pathetically, but Blossom kept on.

“But this? It’s come to this? You feel brazen enough to call out such a thing here? Are you in your right mind?” Blossom asked loudly.

I hand on her waist made her jolt and rip her heated gaze away from Marcia and turn to see the comforting face of Luca Changretta.

“What,” she stammered as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. “When did you get here?”

She looked around him to see the missing Changretta men in toe, including Frank who was sulking as he walked through the crowd.

“I’ve got good timing, huh?” He praised himself and sent her a wink. But all amusement dropped when he turned to Marcia. Even in his linen suit, a casual look for the occasion, he was still menacing in his own right. “What’s this about?”

Marcia let out a laugh in disbelief, eyes watering from the pain and her own frustration. “Your girl just hit me, Luca. Can you believe it?”

Luca perked up in surprise and whipped his head down to his Blossom. Their eyes only met briefly, but it was enough to let Blossom know her partner was about to put on a show. She let her eyes fall to her hands as she nodded.

“Well, no. I can’t believe it,” Luca said. He took a breath as he looked around and said loudly, “You see, my Blossom is the gentlest, most caring woman I know.” A Changretta acquaintance questioned him from the crowd of bystanders, but Luca glowered at the man, which was enough to shut him up for the rest of the day. “Virtuous even, like a little lamb.”

“A gentle woman with a strong right hook. There’s a first time for everything,” Marcia spat. Her own eyes held contempt but had met her match in the Changretta’s youngest son.

“For her to be forced to do something like that. I can’t imagine what you’ve put her through,” Luca said. He tsked her and squeezed Blossom’s shoulder. Luca looked down to see Blossom surpressing a smile, and that was enough for him. “But I did happen to hear something on my way in. You called me wife a name. I dare you to repeat it.”

“I didn’t,”

“Hussy,” Lonnie said, popping up from behind her aunt. “You did call her a hussy.”

“Hussy,” Luca said the word slowly. “You must not value your wellbeing.” Marcia’s eyes quickly scanned the room for her husband just as Frank was pushed through the crowd.

“Don’t try to come in here and scare me, Luca. This girl here is nothing but trouble. I won’t go easy on her just because you’re here. I’m thinking about the Changrettas,” Marcia said. She used her lifeline then looked at Frank. He couldn’t meet her eyes, but grabbed her arm.

“Shut up, woman,” he told her under his breath. Marcia gasped. Blossom would bet that he’d never said a word against her before. There was shuffling behind them, and Blossom looked to see the crowd parting for Nonna.

“Have you all had enough fun making a mess of this sacred hall? On my birthday of all days?” The old woman asked as she came to stand in the center of it all. Blossom quickly moved to get her a chair and helped her sit. Nonna patted her hand and gave a gentle smile. “Good girl.”

“I’m sorry we’re making a ruckus on your birthday,” Blossom apologized.

“Don’t apologize now. Isn’t it always like this when you’re around?” Marcia scoffed, then looked at Nonna. The tears gathered in her eyes as if a director somewhere just said ‘action!’. “Nonna, I was just telling her about family. Your family is a precious thing. Mother’s family,”

“And who is your mother’s family?” Nonna asked.

Everyone turned to Nonna in surprise. She’d never asked such a question before. It separated the beloved goddaughter’s family from the Changrettas themselves. Frank looked up at her, eyes wide and hands ready to tremble.

“Frank,” Nonna began, “I’ve disappointed your mother and further disappointed you.”

“No, never,” Frank pleaded. He kneeled by her chair and grasped her hands.

“I’ve spoiled you, and made you stupid. I’ve let you bring this woman in our house. I’ve let her be unkind. I’ve let you both drag the Changretta name through the mud for your pleasure,” Nonna listed until her voice wavered. Her children and grandchildren all took a step forward to comfort her but she raised a withered hand to stop them. “Angel and Luca have already shown me what you’ve done. The debts that you owe, all attributed to our name.”

Luca pulled out a thick stack of folded papers from his pocket. and tossed them on the ground next to Frank. The man didn’t have to look, and Blossom gathered it was because he’d already been confronted before he arrived. Now Marcia was flipping through papers helplessly while Frank pleaded with the woman he saw as a grandmother.

If Blossom didn’t already know what they were, the look on Marcia’s face was enough. Pages of IOUs, loans, property purchases, and the like.

“You’ve been following us since the beginning?” Marcia asked quietly. But she didn’t need the answer.

“Nonna. I just wanted to make my wife happy. I wanted to live in pride like the Changrettas, but nothing ever made me feel like one,” Frank muttered. His head dropped.

“You eat at our tables, you drink our wine. You run for the business, and you get all the opportunities we do,” Luca said. He wouldn’t let the man gain an ounce of pity. “And now, you let your wife bully my sweet Blossom like this for months? When will it end?” Luca asked as he pulled Blossom into his side. She didn’t dare look at her fiancé. She would laugh at his dramatics if she did. Nonna stopped Luca from going forward.

“Frankie,” Nonna called, making him raise his head. “It’s time for you to leave the nest. Go to Chicago. Never use the Changretta name. And don’t come to our city again.”

Blossom watched the most gentle version of a family exile that she could ever imagine. The Changrettas’ gang led Marcia and Frank out of the hall. The room was abuzz and if there was anyone left to spread gossip to, Blossom was sure the grapevine was moving as fast as ever. The nieces who followed Marcia were pulled aside by their mothers and Blossom could only imagine the tongue-lashings.

“My dear,” Nonna called to Blossom who was by her side in a moment. “I heard every word Marcia said to you. You’ve endured it all this time for Luca haven’t you?”

“For that crazy man? Never,” Blossom teased. “I never thought the Changrettas were a soft family. So I expected a few trials. But Marcia made me protective over you all. Forget about me. I didn’t like how she treated you all. She was always rude or lying.”

Nonna patted her hand then looked for her grandson. Blossom pulled Luca down to kneel so he didn’t tower over them.

“You’ve found a wife we can all be proud of, Luca,” Nonna said. “Audrey will always be your mother and she’ll never think anyone is good enough. But I’ll talk to her. I see how much you love one another.”

“That means so much to me,” Blossom said with a squeeze of her hands.

Blossom watched as Luca placed a toothpick in his mouth and leaned against the the wall of the alley outside of his cousin’s wives’ home in Brooklyn, then turned her eyes to the clothing lines.

The baby shower inside was winding down, and Luca had pulled her out to escape any questions about their own children. Now that Marcia and Frank had been gone for a few weeks, the gossip about her had come to a close. She would take the baby talk over getting her character questioned any day. Still, she stood beside him and looked up at the clothes on the line in thought.

For so long, her mother begged the saints to give her a husband who could tame her. Her mother never went to church, which she thought actually helped show that she really meant it. They’d never agreed on much. Every day was a competition to see which would win out, her mother’s pride or her own stubbornness. So while her mother prayed for that, Blossom prayed that she would find someone who could understand her. She never would have thought the saints were actually on her side the whole time.

She no longer desired being something light and airy, blowing in the wind. Her eyes fell to Luca again. He was lost in his own world as well. Next to her was a partner who would tell her that her only jobs were to never doubt herself, to not be afraid, and to let him love her well.

Luca turned to her and raised an eyebrow.

“Admiring my profile?”

“Oh yes. You’re very handsome,” she said quickly. He grinned at her and crossed his arms.

“What are you thinking about that’s put you in a good mood?”

She raised up on her tip toes and pressed her lips against his, to which he wasted no time letting his hands find her waist.

“I was just thinking that you’re doing me a big favor.”

~

>> Luca Changretta Master List

[keanureevesisbae]

endeavors #6 - a challenge

Summary: Grace is still looking for a job, but August is right there to make time go by faster.

August Walker x Grace Stanford (asian ofc)

Wordcount: 1.1k

Warning: Usage of sex toys (vibrators, dildo's), female orgasms, overstimulation.

Masterlist // endeavors masterlist

It’s been two weeks and I still haven’t found a job. August tells me that I will find a job eventually. Parts of me believes him, but that is mostly wishful thinking. Sometimes I fear I’m never gonna find one.

However, being out of a job, means more time at home and August knows exactly how to get my mind off things. We’ve fallen into a habit of morning sex, every single time we wake up. Depending on who’s awake first, they walk into the other person’s room, gets rid of their clothes and within ten minutes, we’re already a sweaty and moaning mess.

I can safely say that during the time August and I have been doing this, I’ve been feeling more confident about my body than ever before. Before I would feel this tendency to cover up, to hide myself, but August never lets me. He holds my wrists in hands, pushes them in the mattress and sternly tells me I do not have to hide for him. 

Sometimes I wonder whether or not there is more growing between us, because sex can either be tender or rough. Either way I trust him completely. However I am always quick to push those thoughts aside. August and I are just fuck buddies. 

It’s his day off and August wouldn’t be August if he didn’t have something planned. The planning is totally none of my business, but that doesn’t really matter to me. Instead, I always allow him everything. The word ‘pigeon’ is never used, mostly because he takes his time and it appears he knows my limits better than I know myself.

Never had I expected August to have taken this so seriously.

As I’m preparing coffee, I hear August walk in the kitchen and before I can even say good morning to him, I feel his hand patting my behind. ‘Morning,’ he says. When he senses my lack of reaction because I’m utterly shocked and flabbergasted, he smirks. ‘What? I told you I’m an ass man.’

That’s not why I’m surprised. It’s the whole idea of his hands on my ass and the smacks accompanied by it, that make my feel very giddy inside. 

‘I know,’ I say and while I try to act all coy about it and slightly flirtatious, I know he caught up straight away, making a mental note of it and will use this against me for when the time is near. 

‘I’ve got a plan for you today,’ he says. 

While every cell in my body is trying to fight against it, I can’t and it shows. My entire body is tense and ready for whatever he got planned for me. He must have had a lot of experience with women who are just at the ready for him. 

And that realization always makes me remember the fact that we are just experimenting. Nothing more, nothing less.

‘Okay,’ I say. 

‘So, at around three in the afternoon, I want you out of your clothes on my bed, okay?’

I nod. ‘Okay.’

He walks up to me, smiling and as he kisses my forehead, I feel his hand on my ass and before I can say anything about it, he gives it a firm smack. ‘I can’t wait, Grace.’ 

﹌﹌

Because I am an overachiever and a chronic people pleaser, I’m on the bed at three o’clock sharp, totally naked. He only leaves me waiting for less than a minute, still wearing the outfit for today. The jeans that hug his thighs perfectly, the grey t-shirt. I bite my lip, my core burning with anticipation. He places two dildos on the bed, one a little larger than the other.

I know he bought those by himself, knowing way too well that while I’m becoming more comfortable with my sexuality, sex stores still freak me out. 

His name is already at the tip of my tongue, but I quickly manage to keep it in. August knows I’m desperate for him, needy for him, no need to give him more confirmation this soon.

There are times where he tells me what to do, using his words, sometimes only his hands and sometimes a combination of both. Not today. He grabs my ankles, spreads apart my  legs and without saying a word, he kneels in between them, his lips starts kissing the insides of my thighs.

His tongue slides through my slit, my fingers gently tugging his hair. ‘You taste magnificent,’ he whispers. 

Time goes by and during the entire build up, he has yet to let me cum. Instead, he withdraws his fingers each time I’m even remotely close and kisses my inner thigh, instead of circling his tongue around my clit. 

‘August,’ I whine, ‘please, let me cum.’

He looks up, a smirk ever so wicked on his lips. ‘Be careful what you wish for, Grace,’ he warns me.

August is never too embarrassed to use lube in the bedroom. I once asked someone for a bit of lube and that same guy told me I was broken. The first time August grabbed it, I wanted to say something about how that wasn’t necessary and he sighed, telling me that you can never have too much lube.

And after his preparations, he slides the dildo inside, welcomed a little too eagerly. August once more checks in with me, but when I buck up my hips to him, he chuckles. ‘Eager little slut, aren’t you?’

It’s the first time he said anything like that and I let out a breathy chuckle. ‘Well,’ I whisper, ‘I thought you liked me like that?’

August and I look at each other and when I smile, he lets out a soft little ‘tsk’ before he says: ‘You won’t be such a smiley lady after I’m done with you,’ he says. 

And I just know he’s right.

﹌﹌

Instead of smiling, I’m on the brink of crying of pleasure. Shivering, moaning and withering on the sheets. I’ve reached my high once, twice, thrice. Solely because August drilled that dildo in me and I can say: while I am used to his cock, I will use that thing for masturbational purposes when August isn’t home.

The dildo exits my cunt, dropped somewhere on his bed and he cages me underneath his frame. I’m trying to catch my breath, my legs clenching together.

‘Have I told you you’re a good girl?’

‘No,’ I manage to choke out. ‘You called me a slut.’

His lips are so close and I want to kiss him, however he doesn’t budge and I can barely move in the aftermath of what we did just now.

‘You kinda are,’ he chuckles. ‘You’re my slut though. And… You’re my good girl.’ His tone is low and brass and it sends the necessary shivers down my spice. I involuntarily let out a moan, because that’s what his words do to me. ‘And we’re no where near from done, Grace.’

﹌﹌

endeavors taglist: @diegos-butt // @thelastsock // @liecastillo // @mis-lil-red // @sofiebstar // @abschaffer2 // @crazybutconfidentaf // @summersong69 // @gearhead66 // @xobriellaxo24 // @kebabgirl67 // @eldarwen333 // @kingliam2019 // @cherry-gemz // @sillyrabbit81 // @enchantedbytomandhenry // @lyrarodriguez // @islacharlotte // @sunshine96love // @oddsnendsfanfics // @xuxszx // @omgkatinka // @pterodactylterrace / @peaches1958 // @pandaxnienke // @teamfan7asy // @raccoon-eyed-rebel // @geralts-yenn