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main-routine · 4 years

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WITH THE TAIL BETWEEN HER LEGS ep. 1-2: Ladybug

(A RWBY fanfic for big league perverts)

(AND FUTANARI FETISHISTS)

Blake Belladona was rushing in her motorcycle down the street, her punctuality was an important deal to her, and she was not gonna risk it because her boss is a bitch. Her old friends from Beacon were gathering for Yang's B-day in her favorite bar, and she had to be there for her partner's party. The black cat crossed the streets as if they were her own, ignoring the cars in her sides and dodging any traffic lights and officer she could, trying to waste the less time she could to get to the place of the party, and after 20 minutes of races, she stopped at the parking lot of a western themed place.

As she turned off the black sport bike, she got off her famous ass, and walked to the gatekeeper, pulling a yellow card with a flaming heart as it's logo from a little white purse. "Xiao Long invited me" said Blake at the same time she showed the card to the 6'11" monster blocking the access. "Huh?, Oh so you are the one who was missing, kitty?" answered the man after opening the door and crossing her name from that night's guest list. "Thanks Bruno, I'll bring you some cake later" replied the Belladona, as she passed the door and squeezed in the crowd. The cat eared lady was waved from a private table in the second floor, almost isolated from the noise of the dance floor and the counter. Jaune opened the chain to the stairway and thanked Blake for coming: "Thanks Monty you're here! Yang and Nora has been making me drink all this time, and I don't think I could have any more whisky without vomiting" said the blondie at the same time he went up to the stairs.

"Kitty cat!" Yelled Yang, as she hugged both of her friends, "You and I need to empty another bottle of scotch, Arc… And you Bellabooty: You are gonna show me how good you look on the dance floor or I'm gonna get mad for coming late" claimed Yang as she pulled them towards the private lounge tugging from their coats. As the bottles ran empty and the hours passed the group of eight reduced at each of them went drunk or home. First Jaune and Pyrrha, later Weiss, and lastly Ren carrying a heavily drunk Nora. When the clock reached the 2AM. Blake called a Taxi for Yang and Ruby who were almost too drunk to protest against the measure.

As she helped the staff clean the mess of 5 hours of Nora and Yang she passed to the couch were a drunk Ruby was cuddling.

[Turning_Point]

For the cat, The silver eyed girl was a perfect prey: her mini skirt, loosened because the hours of dancing revealed a tight red thong with black details. Her feet, usually covered by stockings and boots were naked now, trying to rest from the painful heels which the redhead never used. Her gentle chest, even if never as big as her sister's was tightly wrapped in a white corset, pushing her breasts up, and making them look seductive for the black cat. Blake unable to restrain herself, kissed the cheek of Ruby, making the drunk but sleep redhead wake up and hug Blake "Blake? Give me a kiss, please?" Asked the naive Ruby tugging from the coat's flaps the black haired woman and making her fall over her. "Jeez, Ruby, you look insatiable" said Blake before coiling her tongue with Ruby's in the bold style of the Belladona: bravely, passionately, and with a string joining the pair's mouths after they finished. Doing so, revealed a tightness inside Blake's shorts, a tightness never supposed to rise with a friend she never thought she would lay her hands off.

Regretting what she did, Blake ran to the bathrooms and shutted herself inside the toilets.

Blake ripped off her bursting white shorts and threw them in the floor, showing a throbbing dick who was demanding for attention. Attention only Blake could give with her right hand while thinking of the pink lips of the redhead: first spitting on the head of his cock, following by gentle strokes with her hand, distributing the spit of hers and Ruby around all the length of the shaft. The head, feeling the movements of her hand, answered the letting with shivers of pleasure in her hips, and releasing also wet fluids from her pussy dripping in her thighs. With every stroke, the girl pant and shivered, slowly raising the speed until she wanked her meat with mad speed, as she edged in the verge of climax, she heard a worrying call from outside her door: *Knock**Knock**Knock* "Blake? Are you ok?" asked Ruby, making the Cat Futanari drip a drop of her white cream over the sink. Without a warning, the redhead, entered the bathroom with fizzing eyes and barefooted, only to watch the throbbing dick of what she thought was her old classmate...

[End of chapter 1]

Before the surprised girl, could scream in fear, Blake kissed her again, with more time, with less love,but for time and technique enough to compensate for the rude act. "It is not what you think Ruby, I was… always like this, it's just that I forgot to behave myself, and your lips were just too much for me to handle and…" tried to apologize the cat eared futa, only to make Ruby interrupt her with another kiss and a gentle stroke around her breasts: "I'm not scared of you, I was only surprised of your… 'size' " said the redhead as she changed her hands from the cat's breasts to her throbbing rod. "I caused this to you?" asked the naive girl towards Blake as she held with both hands the still boiling meat of her. Blake nodded at the same time she bit her fingers, trying to hold her load time enough to either die of embarrassment or calm her male instincts.

"Then, I should take responsibility for my own mess" replied Ruby as she got on her knees, kissed the crown of Blake's dick and started licking the head of it, making circles around the glans as she looked straight to the eyes of her partner's pain filled face. Then she opened her hot mouth and shoved the dick in front of her to the back of her throat, making the knees of the Cat weak, and getting the cock even deeper inside the redhead's mouth.

"Don't worry *hic* Blakey! I will relieve you of this in ten moves or less!" condemned Ruby to Blake as she pulled out her head and slapped her meat in her blushed cheek:

She ran her tongue from the top of Blake's pussy lips to the back of her cock's head.

"Ruby!..

She licked the neglected dick cheese, running the same tongue that tasted her pussy juice inside the corners of her glans and urethra.

...please...

As she returned the scout to her mouth she gently kiss the urethra of the Futanari.

...this is no good...

Opening slowly, she gave the catgirl's dick a small taste, slurping the head of her 8 inches long cock. Ruining the redhead's pink gloss lipstick and smearing it over her shaft as she closed again.

...Oh Gods!...

Repeating the motion, Ruby shoved again the giant thing inside her cheeks, trying to suppress any instincts that said her to bite it, making it go half the way inside until the petite girl gagged the meat rod once more.

...I...hate...yo…

Blake answered the harassment, grabbing the head of her former captain and sticking her boiling meat again against the will of the redhead, smearing the thing inside the mouth as the girl dripped spit and precum from her lips to her chest

...C-cu-Cumming!"

Blake's cock hardened itself inside the mouth of Ruby, opening the flow of hard boiling white fluid inside the throat of the girl, stiffening her legs as Ruby grabbed the Belladona's ass and pulled it towards her face; preventing the retreat of her coward friend as she swallowed anything the cat spitted at her. As the climaxed cat panted in pleasure, Ruby stood up and walked with an arrogant smirk towards the toilet stall. The redhead entered and started stripping her lower half, showing her fit rear as she put her hands in the top of the toilet and opened her legs."Nine moves Blake, you need to make the 10th" challenged Ruby.

Blake loosened up her legs, recovering from the climax she just released, falling to her knees, and drooling on the floor. Her chest beat at 100 MPH, her lust was winning over her common sense, her dick over brain, and of course her own body heat over the clothes. She took off her white coat, pulled her violet scarf and tore her black blouse, leaving only the black torn stockings she had under the white shorts. Only after that, she stood up again and ran towards the horny redhead.

Belladona stood over Rose, kissing her at the same time she untied her white corset, her new erection throbbed against the inner lips of her leader, trying to enter as it pushed forward without any success. Ruby, without breaking her standing doggy style pose, answered Blake's kiss, coiling her tongue with hers and pushing her hips with her own and making her rod slip down instead of sliding inside. When Blake finally took the white thing out of Ruby, she pinched the redhead's nipples, "Brats like you deserve punishment, Ruby" said the catgirl answering the girl's challenge as she broke the kiss, and locked her arms behind her back.

Ruby, without notice felt her little pussy being forced open by the head of the Belladona's cock, swallowing in intoxicating pleasure every inch of the shaft and releasing love juice in gratefulness, as the cat pulled back her cock, charging another ram at the back of her redhead partner's cervix, and slamming her meat against it. For over 15 minutes, Blake repeated the motion until a yellowish liquid started dripping from Ruby's thigh, exposing the pleasured status of her former leader, making her smirk and replying "thank the gods we were here in the bathrooms instead of my bed, I would have spanked your cheeky ass red as your cape, if you had soiled them" taunted the Bellabooty as she stroked the redhead's clit with one hand and carressed her throat with the other.

"That doesn't need to stop you" replied Ruby, at the same time she slammed her butt with Blake's hips, accelerating the rhythm to the pace of each slap, and as promised by the Belladona It wasn't until her ass was red as roses and the pace was enough for the two of them, that the Belladona stopped, hugging the redhead's waist as she poured her cream in the deepest of Ruby's womb. Ruby's legs trembled in extasis, as the white fluid invaded her deepest corners, and fell apart when the meat rod left her hot vagina, making the excess fluid drip into the bathrooms' floor.

Blake left the petite girl panting, almost knocked out by the orgasm, whispering in her ear "I'll go out and get your sister a taxi, wait here and we will continue this at my place, ok?"

#rwby #rwby smut #ladybug rwby #ruby rose #blake bellodona

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cheerioss · 5 years

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Marinette: Guardian of the Miraculous

part 2

i have too many wips but im writing something else again :)) (woes of a writer/artist/just creators don’t @ me here)

so my brain clearly isn’t prioritising so here’s a really very long lil one shot based on this post i found by @aly4son and it’s pretty cute and fluffy. i decided to make some changes and add some stuff here as well becuz i love fluff hope it’s okayy. this took pretty long becuz i had to figure out how to put everything together ://

and as it stand it is getting way too long so im gonna have to put up a second part whoops.

—

“Hmm… Add a little of this…, a drop of water from the Dragon’s Tears Fountain… Oh, don’t forget the edible glitter…”

Marinette was adding different ingredients to her pot, swirling her wooden spoon at the same time. She was preparing for her final test before she was officially declared the new Guardian of the Miraculous. However, she needed a break from all the formulas and power-up functions. So, she decided to continue playing around with the concoction she’s been working on for weeks, hoping to complete her experiment that afternoon. She knew she could just finish it after her test, but she could feel that she’s so close, and was eager to observe the results.

Ever since she started learning the recipes of the power-up potions, she wondered what other power ups she could try making, if it were possible. She’s been trying over and over again, playing around with different kinds of ingredients. She’d even brought some items from the bakery, if only to give it a little taste and colour. (And also to test a theory of whether it can be used to make power-up potions. It did work out in the end, but only some foods.) She remembered Chat mentioning that Plagg hated those power-up cheese (said it tasted like “liquidy goo you humans take when you’re sick”) and decided to mess around with flavours.

“And… Done! Tikki? Up for another round of taste testing? I think I’ve got it this time!”

“Of course, Marinette! I’m curious though, why did you add the glitter?”

“It’s for flair, for the potion I’m brewing. If this works, you’ll see why I wanted glitter in there.” Marinette threw in a wink, and dipped a little spoon inside the pink, glittery liquid. Tikki floated towards it and took a sniff, noting the scent of champagne coming from it. I wonder if kwamis ever get drunk, didn’t think we’d try that before in all the time we spent in the miracle box.

She quicked sipped the delicious brew, and immediately felt a tingling sensation.

“It’s happening! It worked!”

In a flash of pink, Tikki transformed, her usual self now a sparkling crystal-like texture, her centre spot and tail (?) now dazzling diamonds.

“Wow… Well, what power up is this?”

“It’s called the Elegant power up, ooooooor Exquisite. Haven’t really decided on the name yet. It’s just a little fun power-up I came up with, you know, like a fancy dress transformation.”

“Cool! I’m sure Kaalki would love to try this power-up. It’s glorious.” Tikki laughed at her own little joke.

Oh, how she wished she could snap a photo of Tikki, but kwamis don’t show up on cameras. It was a great accomplishment, and she was really proud of herself. Specially created with an original outfit designed by her, a sketch of the design slowly added into the mixture while it boils. (Another absurd theory that flitted through her mind.) Never thought this crazy idea would work but here we are.

“Alright, I’m going to try transforming. Ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Marinette!”

“Elegant Tikki! Spots on!”

The familiar feeling of transforming washed over Marinette, yet it feels completely different at the same time. The swirls of pink magic disappeared to show a red cocktail dress with exquisite black sequins scattered on silk, the fabric a darker shade of red than what she usually wore. Extremely fancy indeed.

A Mandarin collar wrapped around her neck with a mini brooch which had a symbol engraved into it, a representation of her Chinese heritage and the pattern associated with the Miraculous. The top half had black polka dots, embodying her super-persona’s namesake, along with a matching mask and gloves, both of which had intricate embroidery. Her hair was pulled up into a stylish updo, braids twisted to form a crown above her head. Her red heels has little ladybugs on them, just like the one in her hair. Just how she imagined it.

“Wow, this is even better than what i would have done!” Marinette twirled around, noticing that the outfit has a litte glittery shine to it. Now she wish she would get to wear this someday; she felt like a princess! (Well, it was pretty funny because Chat would always call her civilian self that.)

In the midst of admiring her work, Master Fu walked into the room. His eyes widened at the sight in front of him, and Marinette shrieked, quickly transforming back to her usual self.

“Ah, sorry Master! I was messing around with an idea I had and I completed it just now. Don’t worry, I was practicing potions before that.”

“I’m not mad, Marinette. On the contrary, I’m actually very pleased that you have managed a feat that even my masters were unable to achieve back when I was in training with them. Perhaps I could show it to them when I return for a visit.

“In the mean time, how about you use this power-up for your Guardian officiating ceremony. It is something to celebrate after all and you deserve it.”

Marinette didn’t know what to say. She just thanked the master profusely, grateful for the opportunity to try out her new invention. She didn’t bother trying to refuse because she knows that there would still be one no matter what she says. Master Fu simply waved it off with a chuckle.

“Now, would you like to have your final test today or prefer to still wait for tomorrow? I feel that you are ready.”

—

School was still a priority, being in senior year and all. Marinette could only work on designs during her free time, and with Hawkmoth around those are scarce. Marinette would sometimes sketch out ideas besides finishing her homework, for fear if forgetting them. She absolutely hated it when an idea struck while she was busy fighting an akuma.

Good thing was, she didn’t need to worry about measurements. The miraculous will ensure that everyone’s suits and dresses would fit them to a t. So all she had to do was make sure that the designs represented each of the holders perfectly.

Tikki wholeheartedly agreed that Marinette deserved to be celebrated as the new Guardian, she hadn’t had a holder who was a Guardian since millennias ago. She was positively buzzing with exhilaration, moves animated with so much zest Marinette was afraid she might explode.

Chat was the first person she told about becoming a Guardian. He was surprised, after all he wasn’t aware of her receiving training, but that was short-lived as he immediately tackled Ladybug in a humongous bear hug for her sensational achievement. He even said, and I quote, “My, I’m honoured to be graced with the presence of the great and powerful Guardian of the Miraculous Box,” topped off with an exaggerated bow and a kiss to the knuckles.

He was also ecstatic about the prospect of a new transformation. Ladybug told him to assure Plagg that she had added a different flavour to it, and will add some cheese to his batch on top of infusing it in his beloved camembert. That night, Plagg denied purring loudly in his sleep. (“You were dreaming, Adrien. Hallucinating!”)

Three months of constant sketching and resketching, coloring in and retracing it for the potion, Marinette finally got the designs out. She asked the kwamis for their opinions on the designs, (after a mini celebration of their own, obviously.) and they gave their input. Some even made flavour requests, though they still kept the champagne in there as they loved it and it made the power-up more fancy.

Then it’s another week of measuring, mixing, and carefully infusing the correct batches into the different snacks. She almost put Wayzz’s herbal tea flavoured potion into Pollen’s honey comb, if not for Tikki and Wayzz’s interference. Oh, the look of horror on Pollen’s face would send Plagg laughing with tears.

With everything ready, it’s time to paaaaaaaaartay! (Clearly Xuppu was here :) )

—

With the help of Chat Noir, they managed to get the miraculouses to the respective holders’ rooms before they arrived home from school. She handwrote all the dissolving letters containing the information, taking care to use her cursive. Those online lessons really paid off, even Tikki couldn’t recognise that she was the one who wrote it.

Ladybug hid behind a rooftop as she watched Max open read the letter, coming to the conclusion that everyone else is doing the same. She hoped that she had made her instructions clear enough, considering how… excited some of her classmates could be.

—

Everyone was confused when they found a box in their rooms, realising soon after that it was a miraculous box. Alya and Chloe immediately opened their boxes, paying no mind to the paper that were below.

“Oh, finally! Ladybug is giving the Miraculous to me! It’s about time.”

“Trixx! Does Ladybug need me?” An extremely loud gasp, “Oh my gosh, is she here? Do I get to hold on to my miraculous?”

The kwamis questioned had to clarify that no, Ladybug was not nearby as there is no emergency, no, it was only for a few short hours, and no again, the miraculous was technically not theirs but “belonged” to the Guardian for safekeeping unless they are permanent holders. They were only temporary holders who are called upon when their help were needed.

(Ladybug and Master Fu had them make sure they got it through their heads after getting irritated when some people kept begging for it again. And also to inform those whose identities were compromised that it was their last time using theirs.)

“Please read the letter before you do anything, Alya.”

“It contains some important information that you really must know before you call upon me, my queen.”

All holders read through the letter:

“Dear [Name],

I hope this letter finds you well. I’m to be officiated as the new Guardian of the Miraculous, and it would really make my happy if you could join me tonight. Along with your miraculous, you will find a small snack for your kwamis. It is to be consumed strictly before transforming, so do not waste it as I’ve only provided a small piece.

You will transform tonight at 4am, going going to the address listed below. Don’t worry, the kwami will be able to help you with that. I know it is late but this is to ensure no reporters or your parents will see you sneak out. Hawkmoth rarely comes out at night anyway, so that’s a bonus.

Chat Noir and I are greatful for your contributions as the heroes of Paris, so we would also like this to be a celebration of thanks. Hope to see you there!

Signed, Ladybug

Address: 53 Rue de Corentin, Petit Fortune Hôtel 3rd floor”

The letters dissolved with a flame of green sparkles, kwamis reaffirming the chosens that they know the address and will help them navigate.

#miraculous #ml #mlb #marinette dupain cheng #master fu #ml kwamis #guardian!marinette #ml ficlet #miraculous ladybug

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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Overpowered Part 7 [FINAL] (Branjie)- athena2

A/N: Well, the last chapter is here and I’m in my feelings. Three months ago, I was looking at Brooke’s superhero runway look and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. I decided I really wanted to write it even if no one would read it. The response this fic has gotten has blown my mind. Every comment, like, reblog, etc. has given me such joy and it honestly means the world to me; the sequel definitely wouldn’t have happened without your support. I’ve put my heart and soul into this for 3 months, and I’m really happy with the ending. Thank you, thank you, thank you, to everyone that read, commented, liked, shared, etc. If I could thank each one of you, I would. I’ve got some exciting new works planned, and I hope you’ll stick around to read them!

Also, thank you @writworm42 for helping me get the final scene together

Brooke’s fingers constantly drift to her ring, like she needs to touch it just to prove that it’s real.

To prove that her entire life is real.

When the worries break through and threaten to consume her, when she struggles to see herself as anything other than a burden weighing Vanessa down, Vanessa’s promise to love her forever and always be there for her echoes in Brooke’s brain and forms a protective shield over her, fears and doubts ricocheting off and banished from her mind.

Her vows in return extend the same protection, and she hopes it makes Vanessa feel safe when she struggles herself. She hopes Vanessa knows that Brooke will always love her no matter what.

She rubs the smooth ring in their hotel that morning, trying to calm the bouncing in her leg as Vanessa sleeps. Vanessa had been too excited to sleep much on the train, and Brooke is so grateful Vanessa didn’t even mention flying down to Florida, that she was willing to spend a whole day on a train for her, that she’ll let Vanessa sleep all day if she needs to.

She pulls out her notebook and flips through the pages Vanessa had written her for Valentine’s Day, all her favorite memories the two of them made. Brooke giggles to herself as she reads about when she and Vanessa made pizza, and Vanessa tossed the dough in the air and got it stuck to the ceiling. She’s reading about the time they were on patrol and took a break to play in the snow when Vanessa’s phone blares. Brooke jumps, papers scattering over her lap, and Vanessa rolls over with a groan.

“This hoe can’t even leave us alone on our honeymoon,” Vanessa grumbles as she puts the phone on speaker.

“I have exciting news I think you’ll like to hear,” Silk announces grandly.

“The last time you had exciting news, it was about the crunch wrap at Taco Bell, so-”

“Quake and Shockwave are going away for life in the Pacific Prison. They’re gone, and I mean it this time,” Silk cuts Vanessa off.

Neither of them speaks. The Pacific Prison, on the other side of the country, was reserved for the worst criminals.

Vanessa ends the call, and Brooke turns to her, wetness in the corners of her eyes. “We’re really safe, Brooke,” Vanessa says. “They can’t touch us again.”

They embrace in the bed and Brooke holds on to Vanessa and this moment, completely wrapped up in the security like a blanket.

They break apart, and Vanessa pushes tangled hair out of her eyes and pulls her clothes on. “You could have woken me earlier,” she insists.

“I wanted to let you sleep. Besides, we have time. We have the whole week.”

We have our whole lives, she thinks, and today is just the beginning. —

They decided on Disney for their honeymoon. Vanessa hasn’t been since she was a kid, and Brooke is pretty sure she went before, but can’t remember it that well.

They talked and laughed and pointed out all the animals and weird billboards they saw out the window on their train ride, which Vanessa had booked without hesitating over the 24-hour journey; she knew without question that flying wasn’t an option.

They run through the gates at Magic Kingdom and Brooke is bouncing up and down, and Vanessa couldn’t stop smiling if she wanted to. She feels like a kid again, the sky bright and a perfect day blooming in front of her. They approach the castle and Brooke gasps.

“I’ve been here before!” she exclaims. “I think I was 9, maybe?” She rubs hard at her temples, trying to force the memories to come, and Vanessa is about to ease her hands away and tell her it’s alright if she can’t remember when Brooke claps. “The train ride! There’s a roller coaster like a train! Can we go on it?”

“Of course we can,” Vanessa laughs. “You’ll like Splash Mountain too. That one was my favorite. It’s a water ride.”

“You go in the giant log!” Brooke shrieks. “I remember!” And she grabs Vanessa’s hand and they wade through old memories as they make new ones.

They get matching ears and stuff themselves with so many mouse-shaped foods that Vanessa almost hurls on Thunder Mountain, which Brooke drags her on three times in a row.

They have to dial back their strength before they break the wheel on the teacup ride, and Vanessa may or may not speed past some screaming 5-year-olds to get a front row seat on Splash Mountain, a decision she regrets slightly after the mammoth order of chili cheese fries she and Brooke split.

She can’t remember the last time she felt so carefree, so weightless. She thinks she could actually float away. Brooke is by her side, slurping at her second ice cream cone (sometimes Vanessa thought the ice powers were scarily accurate), and there’s nowhere she’d rather be, no one whose arm she’d rather have around her shoulders on the It’s a Small World ride.

That night she kisses Brooke as red and blue fireworks soar and fizzle in the black sky over the castle, and just like on their wedding day, the explosions of joy inside her rival any in the sky. —

They come back home and resettle into life as a married couple. It’s honestly not that much different than it was before. They volunteer at the animal shelter together again, cats and dogs licking at their hands. They make dinner together, looking for any excuse to bump shoulders or brush arms as garlic is chopped and spaghetti boils. They wedge themselves into the couch with all three pets, Vanessa flicking through channels while Brooke flips through cookbooks. They go to bed with limbs intertwined, difficult to tell where one ends and the other begins.

They fulfill their vows everyday. Brooke insists on patrolling when she isn’t feeling well, and Vanessa tucks her into bed that night and spends the next day swirling honey into tea to soothe her throat, simmering chicken soup, and laying cold washcloths on her sweaty forehead. Vanessa gets deep into it with a villain going after a young girl, fists flying and rage burning, and Brooke cleans all her cuts and spreads cream on her bruises and massages her aching muscles, helping the anger ease out on a wave of gratitude that the girl wasn’t harmed.

They each go to Nina, and Brooke dutifully takes her medication every morning. Progress takes time and isn’t always in one direction, Nina reminds them both as they continue to heal.

They zip through damp spring air, Frost maintaining her death grip on the handle, Yvie with her legs draped across Scarlet’s lap in the backseat while they hold hands, Vanjie howling out the window on their way to another crime.

People come up to them and deliver sincere thank you’s thick with tears, two young kids throw their arms around all four of them in turn, and for all the joking and griping, for all the fears and doubts, they know that keeping people safe makes it all worth it.

That battling supervillains and battling your personal villains equally make you a hero. —

Brooke reads her file again, piece by piece. She knows to do it with Vanessa or Nina, after she read it alone one day and wound up on the bedroom floor, knees to her chest, the tide of panic so strong and swift she couldn’t fight as it overtook her and stole the air from her lungs.

She learns that she was an only child and that her parents died when she was 20, a few months before she began dancing professionally. She started in on the business side of the company six years later, working her way up, and was the youngest co-director in the company’s history, her heart filling with disbelief and a long-ago pride as she reads, Vanessa’s steady hand on her shoulder grounding her.

The nightmares aren’t as frequent, and she gets occasional flashes of her life pre-lab, sometimes just a random image, like a photograph floating through her mind. Sitting at a desk doing homework, her tiny hand clutching a stuffed monkey, a glittering gold dance trophy, smiling in her black graduation robe.

She still gets big ones, flashbacks that feel like they last for days, depleting her energy while the horror of memory traps her in its grasp, helpless until it ends. She manages them easier now, knows to lie down afterwards and let her body and mind rest.

She decides to tell Yvie and Scarlet what happened. Nina said it was her information to share, and she wants to share it. Brooke trusts them, and she’s pretty positive they won’t pity her or think any less of her, and they don’t. They both shed tears and give her big hugs and say how happy they are that she’s healing now.

Ra’jah said that with all the complicated drugs the lab gave her, most of them advanced and untested, it’s likely she won’t regain all her memories, and Brooke is genuinely okay with it. After over a year of being locked in a cage she didn’t know was a cage, not knowing the happiness she was being denied, not even knowing her own name, any memories at all are special and enough for her. She writes down her flashes and dreams and revisits them, focuses on the memories and the delight, or sorrow, or nerves she might have felt at the time.

And every day, she makes new memories. Memories of blowing flour at Vanessa across the kitchen. Memories of slow-dancing in the living room at midnight, heartbeats replacing words. Memories of Vanessa tripping over Apollo after said slow-dance, both of them laughing till they cried, sharing crinkly-eyed grins.

Just like Nina told her to do in one of their first sessions, she lists things she does know.

She knows that she is in a much better place than she was a year ago, both mentally and physically.

She knows her parents loved her in the flashes she gets, even if she doesn’t remember completely.

She knows she has friends that love and support her.

She knows she loves Vanessa, and Vanessa loves her.

She knows that she will continue to do the best she can. —

Vanessa knows something’s up when Brooke picks at her food and excuses herself right after dinner, but she’s not sure what until Brooke emerges from the bedroom with her pointe shoes on, brow furrowed and teeth digging into her bottom lip.

“Vanessa, I…I want to show you. I want to dance for you.”

Vanessa has wanted to see Brooke dance since Christmas, but she didn’t say anything because she didn’t want to put that pressure on her.

They move the coffee table and Vanessa seats herself on the couch while Brooke stands, eyes on her feet. Her shoulders rise up and down twice, then she nods to herself, and starts to move.

Vanessa remembers when they used to fight, when Brooke’s fighting techniques were so graceful and elegant that Vanessa thought she seemed out of place as a fighter, like her body should be doing something else. Now, she knows exactly what that something is.

Brooke spins and twirls and jumps and Vanessa’s eyes are wide, forcing herself not to blink because she doesn’t want to miss a second. Brooke moves so exquisitely, so beautifully, that their living room transforms into a stage and her leggings and T-shirt become a delicately sewn costume. Vanessa is lucky just to take her beauty in.

Whatever nerves Brooke was showing melt away. Her eyes are bright and focused, not a hint of hesitation in her movements. It’s the most confident Vanessa has ever seen her.

She makes it look so natural, so easy, though Vanessa knows if she tried it she’d be flat on her ass with a broken ankle.

Her eyes have the same sparkle as when they went to the ballet last week: like a missing part of her had been found again. —

Brooke’s not sure when, but at some point while she dances, she stops thinking and simply lives. There’s no couch, no walls, no ceiling to box her in or imprison her. Even Vanessa fades into the background. There’s no thought of what move is next, no consideration of what criminals she’ll stop later; it’s just the air flowing around her, existing solely to whoosh past her limbs as she goes up on her toes and spins around, and it feels like flying.

She’s been practicing in their room, studying YouTube videos and observing herself in the mirror, but out here is different. She has the space to roam, and she’s not going cross-eyed staring into the mirror looking for her flaws.

She just lets herself go, lets herself be.

Nina was right. Even though she’s not perfect, it doesn’t matter; she feels each stretch in her muscles, mind quiet and calm as her body takes over, every atom of her being alight with pleasure. She didn’t need to be perfect. She just needed to be free.

She finishes with a flourish and a deep breath, oxygen going in and intensifying the good ache deep in her muscles, and Vanessa bursts into applause.

Heat floods her cheeks. “You liked it?”

“Liked it?” Vanessa scoffs. “That was incredible, Mary!”

“I just-” A sob swallows Brooke’s response, cheeks damp without warning. She can’t explain it, wouldn’t even know how to start. There truly aren’t any words; the closest she can manage is a bird spreading its wings for the first time, nothing to hold it back.

Vanessa rubs her back in understanding. “You don’t gotta talk. Just let yourself feel it.” She takes Brooke’s hand. “I’ve never seen anything like that. Seriously, Brooke.”

It’s like the lab’s chains never even bound her.

It’s like a part of her she thought gone forever has come back to her. —

“I’ve been thinking of working with A’Keria,” Vanessa admits one night, head on Brooke’s chest and arm around her waist, stroking her hip.

“Instead of at the base, you mean?” Brooke questions.

She nods against Brooke’s skin. “She said the woman who owns the salon is looking for someone to do make-up, and that’s what I used to do, you know? I mean, working at the base is great, but I think I need a bit of a change.”

The base is calm, and predictable, and she had needed that stability when she first got her powers and was readjusting to the world. But now she’s ready for more, something besides reviewing case records and running daytime city monitors.

“I think that’s a great idea.”

“You do?” Vanessa had thought so herself, but it also seemed like too big of an idea to think was good on your own; the kind of idea where you wanted to see what someone else thought of it.

“Yeah. If you want to do it, I think you should.” Brooke’s voice is enthusiastic, fingers twirling Vanessa’s hair.

“I think I will.” She pauses before her mouth opens again. “Have you thought about leaving the base, doing a different day job? Maybe you could work at a ballet studio or something?”

Brooke is silent and Vanessa holds her breath. Brooke’s been doing great lately, especially with her meds, but changing jobs is a big deal for anyone and maybe she shouldn’t have asked.

“I’ve talked about it with Nina before,” Brooke answers right as Vanessa is about to tell her she doesn’t have to. “I…I think I’d like to. Eventually. I know I’d have to work on it with Nina. I mean, the last job I had was 2 years ago and I barely remember it, and I’d have to do interviews and stuff and just thinking about it makes my stomach hurt-”

“Hey, hey, just breathe,” Vanessa soothes, feeling Brooke’s chest tighten and her heart take off beneath her. “I know that would be hard for you. You don’t have to be in any rush. You just be you. If you decide to change, I’ll be here to help you. If not, I’m here too. I’ll always be here.”

Brooke’s lips are soft against her temple. They fall asleep quickly, and she calls the salon the next morning. —

“Are you sure you want Vanessa to teach you to drive?” Yvie asks, fixing Brooke a pointed stare as she sips orange juice.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Vanessa demands across the table.

Scarlet pipes up. “Well, we drive around with you in that death trap of a car every night-”

“I know how to drive,” Brooke insists. “I just haven’t done it in a while.”

The lab gave her a motorcycle to use on her missions and to go to her appointments, though they sometimes drove her home in a security car depending on how out of it she was after the drugs hit.

“Vanessa’s a decent driver,” A’Keria starts.

“Thank y-”

“If your only other option is walking,” A’Keria finishes around a mouthful of toast.

“Hey!”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Brooke cuts in. “I mean, I just want to go to the grocery store, not-”

“Drive for NASCAR?” Silk snorts.

Vanessa takes her to an empty lot that afternoon. Brooke keeps readjusting her sweaty hands on the wheel. The last time she’d driven had been in a downpour, her worried focus enabling her to see through raindrops and her own teary, bloodshot eyes, to get Vanessa from the cemetery Brooke knew she went to when she was upset.

“You gotta take your foot off the brake,” Vanessa instructs softly.

“I know, I know. I’m just…nervous.”

“Nothing to be nervous for, baby. I won’t let anything bad happen.”

Brooke nods and eases onto the gas. She breathes in and out as the car glides across the pavement. It’s…okay. Sure, they’re going about 15 miles an hour, but she finds her grip loosening as she makes easy turns and changes directions.

“You’re doing great!” Vanessa encourages. “Maybe I’ll open up a driving school!” —-

“We really do have cake for everything, don’t we?” Scarlet muses. “Brooke’s like a lesbian Martha Stewart.”

“Bold of you to assume Martha Stewart isn’t already a lesbian,” Yvie murmurs thoughtfully.

“I didn’t see you complaining over those tree cupcakes for Arbor Day,” Silk states.

Vanessa digs into the chocolate cake, her leg nestling against Brooke’s under the table. She just started at the salon that day and Brooke wanted to have pizza and cake for her, spending the afternoon on caramel filling and cream cheese frosting.

It’s only been a day, but she already knows she loves it there, feels some of the old Vanessa peeking through, delighting in the salon gossip with A’Keria and the other girls and helping her clients feel good. And the best part is, she’s just Vanessa. No one knows about Vanjie, and she can focus on powders and lipsticks instead of weapons and fighting tactics.

It’s comforting to know the old Vanessa isn’t entirely gone. —

“There’s, um, there’s a job opening at this ballet studio. The same one that did the show Vanessa and I went to,” Brooke explains.

“And you’re interested in it?” Nina prompts.

“Well, maybe I could- I mean,” she sighs and starts again. “I want to. I-I think I might be able to, but I would need some help. Is that okay?”

“Brooke, that’s wonderful! I do think you could take on something like this, and we can talk about anything you’re fearful of or think you need help with. This is a big step and I’m proud of you. I want to tell you that again, Brooke. I’m very proud of the progress you’ve made. I know it hasn’t been easy for you, but you’ve worked so hard and you deserve to be proud of yourself.” Nina’s voice washes over Brooke and her insides heat up.

“You really think so?” Brooke asks, grin breaking free.

“I know so,” Nina affirms. “Think of how far you’ve come. Remember our first session?”

Brooke did, face flushing at the memory. Even though she knew Nina wasn’t that kind of doctor and Vanessa promised Nina wouldn’t hurt her, Brooke sunk into the chair with her knees against her chest and her head down, and Vanessa had stayed outside the door just in case. But Nina had been kind, and told Brooke to use her first name instead of Dr. West, and by the end of the hour, Brooke was at least able to lift her head up.

“Yeah.”

Nina smiles. “You hardly talked. But look how much more comfortable you are now. I know you still have days that don’t go as well as you’d like, but you’re still here, and you keep working. Have pride in that, okay?”

Brooke nods because she can’t speak around the lump in her throat. Brooke has felt the changes in herself, but to have someone else, someone like Nina, notice and tell her she’s doing well, is a kind of pride Brooke can’t describe.

“Oh, and Brooke?”

“Yeah?”

“Speaking of progress, do you remember when I asked you to try not to apologize when you’re here?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, it’s been an hour, and you didn’t apologize once.”

Brooke’s eyes narrow and all she can do is stare at Nina in disbelief, rifling through her words from the past hour. Sure enough, she can’t remember an apology passing her lips.

For just a second, Brooke almost apologizes for not apologizing, I’m sorry’s second nature to her.

Brooke closes her mouth, suppressing the reflex, as Nina’s words sink in. It may have taken over 6 months from when Nina asked, but she did it.

Progress takes time, Nina always said, and while some small part of Brooke thinks something like this shouldn’t have taken so long, she knows not to measure herself with shoulds and shouldn’ts. Her progress is her progress.

Her face spreads into a wide smile. “That’s, um, that’s good then,” Brooke manages.

Nina smiles back. “It sure is.” —

Vanessa’s been at the salon a month now, thriving like a summer flower after a cold winter. Her body is strong and focused, and with Nina’s blessing, she starts doing monthly therapy sessions instead of weekly ones.

She nuzzles against Brooke one night and cautiously slips her hand under Brooke’s shirt. Usually Brooke would go rigid when Vanessa got too close to her scars. One time she even pushed her hand away, like she was ashamed of them.

But tonight, she doesn’t. She tenses the tiniest bit, but then the muscles relax again. “It’s okay,” Brooke murmurs, and Vanessa sets her fingers, warm with love, over Brooke’s icy skin.

Her fingers brush over the tiny one between her ribs, then the one below it, the one Vanessa stitched herself after Brooke took a bullet for her on the night that they- and the life they have- began. She warms the one just above her waist, where the doctor shot her.

And then her hand roams up to the big one, the thick, raised line that starts at the hollow of Brooke’s chest and runs to her abdomen; based on her file, this is how they’d repaired the internal damage she sustained in the crash.

She knows Brooke has always been torn about her scars, much like Vanessa is about the one she got from the lightning strike. They are permanent reminders, etched on skin, that they suffered through things no one ever should. But they’re also signs that they survived those things, that they’re still living.

She rests her hand over Brooke’s heart, the gentle beat calming beneath her hand. Instead of telling Brooke that the scars make no difference to her, that they don’t make her any less worthy of love, she lets her hand speak as it warms Brooke’s body, hoping Brooke understands that Vanessa loves her no matter what.

The knowing look in her green eyes says that she does, and Brooke slides her hand up Vanessa’s shirt, stopping at her hip. Vanessa nods, and goosebumps form as Brooke’s hand smooths over the small pink scar on her chest before settling on her heart.

They just lay there, arms tangled up, hands on each other’s hearts, pulsing against their touches.

It reminds her of their first night together, no need to talk as their touches exuded more love than words could ever describe, as their hands delicately explored each other’s faces, unaware that the lips and noses and cheeks they were touching would soon become familiar terrain.

Unaware that they would soon come to recognize the sound of each other’s breathing.

Unaware how big a space they would soon occupy in each other’s hearts. —

The July night is warm, and they had looked at the calendar that morning and realized it was one year. One year since Brooke was released from her hospital bed after being shot, one year since Vanessa took her home and they began their new lives together, free from the lab.

One year, and things are still changing. Vanessa got promoted to head make-up artist at the salon, and in two weeks Brooke starts assisting the director of a ballet company, taking the first step to get where she would like to be someday. Silk took care of the paperwork, replaced all her personal documents the lab had stolen; Nina spent weeks with her practicing interview skills and ensuring she felt ready to work outside the base; and Vanessa supported her the whole way, rubbing her back when she threw up from nerves the morning of her interview and insisting on a pizza party when Brooke got the job.

The city shines below, bright lights beaming, so dazzling they almost made you forget the crimes occurring below. Crimes they were going to stop.

They settle on the blanket Vanessa’s laid on the rooftop, suits on but masks off, still Brooke and Vanessa, as she unpacks the basket, laying out marshmallows, chocolate bars, and graham crackers.

“S’mores?” Brooke asks uncertainly.

“S’mores, baby!”

“But there’s no fi-ohhh.”

Vanessa winks. “This is one of the best perks of fire powers. I kept forgetting to show you.” She dangles a marshmallow above the small flame flickering in her hand, watching as the skin crackles to a crisp golden brown before laying it on top of the chocolate and forming a perfect s’more.

Brooke takes it in her eager hands as Vanessa whips up another for herself, arranging potato chips on top, and they laugh as marshmallow clings to their lips, trading sugary kisses to get it off.

“Vanessa, I love you,” Brooke says. “I love you so much, and I don’t know if I told you today, so I want to say it now and make sure you know.”

Vanessa reaches over and takes her hand. “I love you too, baby. So, so much. And you better know it too.”

Their lips meet again, Brooke’s hands resting on Vanessa’s hips and Vanessa’s hands stroking Brooke’s back, love bursting off them in sparks. No matter how many times they’ve kissed, each one is special in its own way, like a snowflake.

“Got a report of breaking and entering at the department store on 13th,” comes the voice in their ears.

“What’s a kiss without Silk to interrupt it?” Vanessa mumbles.

They reach in one for one last kiss, one last blend of sweet chocolate and sticky marshmallow, of fire and ice, before reaching for their masks.

They traipse down the ladder and Vanjie revs up Bertha. Frost extends her arm and they lock hands over the center console.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Vanjie tears away from the curb and they head deeper into the city, chasing the moonlight that shines on them both, each of them thinking how beautiful the other looks with the moon in her hair.

They both know they won’t be able to do this forever, that eventually a day will come when they have to hang up the masks. And when they do, they might pick up the phone and call a child adoption agency. Hopefully by then they’ll have the cozy little house they’re saving for, with flowers and a vegetable garden in the back.

But that’s the future. A future neither thought they could have, but one they can make happen.

Together.

For now, they have lives to live and memories to make.

They have each other.

And they’ve got a city to save. —

Post-Credits Scene Years Later

“These are the flowers we’re gonna give Mommy,” Vanessa instructs Lily, wiping frosting from the cupcakes Brooke made off her lip. “It’s her first show as the director and we want it to be special, right?”

“Right!” Lily agrees. “Wanna hold ‘em! I a big girl, Mama.” She flashes the brilliant grin Vanessa has seen every day since they adopted her three years ago, and Vanessa knows she’ll never tire of it.

Vanessa smiles. “You are a big girl, huh? You can hold them.” She bends down and puts the bright bouquet in her daughter’s tiny hands. “I’m gonna get Mommy, okay?”

“Okay!”

Vanessa knows exactly where Brooke is going to be: their bedroom, staring out the window at the garden. Her favorite place to think.

Brooke’s shoulders rise up and down evenly, and Vanessa knows she’s doing her breathing techniques. The sun shines off her short blonde hair, and she fills out her black suit so well it should be illegal. The sight of her still makes Vanessa’s body warm and her heart flutter, even years later.

“You okay?” Vanessa asks, taking Brooke’s hand. “You were quiet during dinner.”

Brooke nods, and her eyes are damp. “Yeah. Just…thinking about how lucky we are. You and A’Keria running the salon now, and me directing the company, and Lily…we’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”

“We sure have.” It hasn’t been an easy road for either of them, but it’s taken them places they never thought they could go, given them things they never thought they could have.

“Have I told you today how much I love you?” Brooke asks.

Vanessa nods. “You sure did, baby. And I love you too. Don’t you forget it.”

Vanessa stretches up and kisses Brooke, and it still feels like the first time.

The kiss is interrupted by Lily’s hand tugging on Vanessa’s dress. She thrusts the flowers at Brooke, whose tears fall harder as she accepts them.

“Are you sad, Mommy?” Lily asks.

“No, baby, I’m not sad. I’m really, really happy.” Brooke scoops Lily up, and the little girl is sandwiched between Brooke and Vanessa in a hug.

“A’Keria and the others are gonna meet us,” Vanessa reminds Brooke. “You ready?”

“Ready.” Brooke nods.

“Ready!” Lily shouts.

They pile in the car, and this time, they’re not racing to stop a criminal. This time, they’re riding to live their lives.

And it is every bit as heroic.

17 notes · View notes

wackpainterkid · 5 years

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Ok so one of the things I wanted to see in skam nl is noah and liv just laying in bed and she's stroking his hair and singing alulaby . If there's a way to incorporate that, I'll be grateful. Also drunk noah would be so funny 🤗😂

a/n: installment 2 of Manon’s Mondays! (I’m still not changing the name, also sorry for the delay, I got held up) To the surprise of absolutely nobody, I made this angsty and emotional. Did I cry while writing this? No. (Maybe… yes) Either way, enjoy some gentle hairstroking and soft lullaby singing, friendos ♥

rating: T

3500 words

also on ao3

hesitate

The way to Noah’s house is something Liv knows by heart by now; she has both walked and cycled it numerous times, each time with the same kind of excitement running through her veins. Excitement to see him, to hear his voice, to be with him. It causes her steps to become faster and faster once she nears the familiar surroundings of his house

Though the hurriedness she is walking with right now also has something to do with the very heavy grocery bags she is carrying.

Liv barely manages to ring the doorbell without letting anything drop and taps her foot on the doorstep as she silently begs Noah to come and open the door for her quickly.

It seems like he’s heard her pleads as the door swings open after less than a minute, revealing Noah covered in paint splatters. Not that that surprises Liv.

“Okay,” she begins, hoisting the bags off the step. “I bought groceries and I’m thinking: a nice oven dish with a lot of vegetables and a lot of cheese, because you know how much I love cheese–”

She tries to enter but Noah doesn’t budge from his spot in the door opening, forming a barrier between her and his house.

“What are you doing here?”

Liv furrows her brow at his question.

“We were supposed to have dinner, you weirdo.” She shoots him an incredulous look. “Did you forget?”

“Yeah, I must’ve.” He rakes through his hair. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she reassures him with a small smile. Her ego is not that fragile that her boyfriend having a moment of absentmindedness would hurt it, nor would it bruise her pride. “But can you let me in because these bags are getting heavy.”

“Of course.” Noah subtly shakes his head as if he’s trying to get rid of the distraction. He quickly steps out of the doorway, leaving room for her to haul the two weighty tote bags inside.

“Thanks,” she says in passing as she walks through the hallway to the kitchen.

With a heavy thud, she sets the bags on his kitchen table, letting out a humph once the weight leaves her arms. Her arms now free, she takes off her jacket and places it over one of the high chairs around the table before rolling up her sleeves and beginning to unpack the groceries.

“How was your day?” She looks over her shoulder as she puts a bottle of juice and a box of strawberries meant for dessert in the fridge. Noah is standing by the table, staring into nothing and her question pulls him out. His head makes an abrupt motion before looking at her.

“Fine.” His voice cracks and he clears his throat to remedy it.

“Just fine?” Liv shuts the fridge again. “Nothing noteworthy happened?”

“Not particularly.”

“Okay…”

And for the first time in a very long while–Liv honestly cannot even remember when it has ever been like this– their conversation grows awkward. The silence that follows definitely isn’t better.

He knows too.

“So, what did you say we were making?” Noah asks with a smile.

Liv looks at him and decides something is off. She doesn’t know why exactly but something definitely sits wrong with her. Something in the way his smile just doesn’t reach his eyes. Something in the way his mind continues to stray elsewhere. This isn’t like him.

“What’s going on with you?” She chooses to ignore his question and go straight to the matter at hand. Her arms cross and her head tilts as she takes him in again.

“Nothing.” His answer comes too quickly, sounds too defensive.

“Are you sure because you’re acting kind of strange?” Though she formulates it as a question, by now she’s quite certain what his normal behavior is like. This isn’t it.

Noah lets his mask of indifference slip on, the carefully sculpted cover summoned to hide what lies beneath it. Liv sees it smooth out his features and the hairs on her arms rise in response. Because of the last time this happened, because of what this means– which she isn’t sure of but that doesn’t keep her brain from coming up with twenty-three possible scenarios, none of which are particularly pleasant.

“I’m fine.”

She is almost offended by his assumption that she’s either so naive that she’d believe his lie, or that she’s so indifferent that she would accept his placating so quickly.

“Noah, I don’t know what’s going on, but it doesn’t seem like you’re fine.”

“Liv, I’m fine. Just let it be,” he says curtly.

And in an instant, that tone makes her excitement to cook together and to spend a quiet evening together disappear.

“If you’re going to be like that, I can just leave too.”

Her mouth purses and she challenges him, challenges him to continue lying and see where it leads, challenges him to just come clean and tell her already.

She’s anything but in the mood for this.

Noah doesn’t say anything, however.

His blue eyes just meet her stare head-on.

“Fine.” Liv puts her hands up in the air in defeat. “Let me know when you’re ready to be an adult. In the meantime, I’m going home.”

She storms out of the kitchen, memories of another similar situation flashing past.

Inhale. Exhale. Her chest moves up and down as she attempts to calm herself down, to stop her blood from boiling with anger.

They’re supposed to be open with one another. That’s what their relationship is built on.

Liv knows that isn’t easy all the time.

She knows, because between the both of them she is definitely the person with the tallest walls. But he can’t ask her to be open with him and then not grant her the same privilege, that’s not how it works in a relationship.

By the time her apartment building comes into view, it’s no longer anger that is on Liv’s mind but exhaustion that dominates. The kind where she just feels like shutting off her brain to let it rest for a moment, to stop her from overthinking.

Her hand delves into her pocket to fish out her key and she quietly slides it into the lock. She is hoping to slip into the apartment and into her room unnoticed, so she can avoid any questions but Ralph notices her almost immediately.

“Hi Livvie!” he says, and his voice causes Liv to flinch.

“Hey, Ralph.” She lets out a quiet breath before hanging her jacket up on the coat rack. She moves to the kitchen and throws her keys on the table there. Her eyes wander around the room. Seeing that her plans to have a lovely dinner were unsuccessful, perhaps she should grab something to eat before her stomach starts complaining.

“How was it at Noah’s?” Ralph continues to shout, probably because they’re still not standing in the same room.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she replies loud and clearly, so she doesn’t have to repeat herself.

There’s still half of a cucumber left in the refrigerator and she removes it from the rack, immediately starting to munch on it as she makes her way to the living room.

Ralph’s gaze scans her as she enters the room and not-so-gracefully slouches down in the couch. She can see him wanting to ask more but eventually deciding against it, which sends a surge of relief through her body.

“Then we won’t,” he says with determination. “You want to see my thrift store haul?” His head motions to a bag Liv assumes is filled with clothes.

Her lips curl. This is exactly the mindless distraction she needs right now. “I’d love to.”

Ralph ends up performing an entire fashion show for Liv, showing her all of the clothing he managed to acquire during his shopping trip. At some point, he starts vogueing and Liv whistles and laughs all the while devouring the entire piece of cucumber she’d gotten.

“I’m not entirely sure about this shirt, to be honest,” Ralph says eventually, holding up a dark blue shirt with large flower-like shapes drawn on it in a slightly lighter shade and considering it with a tilted head. “I like it, but it doesn’t really fit my style. I feel it’s more of a shirt for–” Ralph cuts himself off before looking at Liv.

“Noah?” she completes his sentence, “Yeah, it definitely is.” She’d have to be blind to not see that the shirt would fit right into Noah’s closet.

Ralph leaves the shirt and the fashion show be and goes to sit down next to her, slowly as if to not scare her away. He gently places her legs over his and Liv can sense that that which he previously dismissed would now have to be discussed.

And sure enough, Ralph asks her, his head propped on his hand: “Do you want to talk about it now?”

“There’s not a lot to talk about.” She lifts her shoulders in a shrug. “Noah was—is being stubborn and we had a fight.”

Ralph’s head moves in understanding, but then his eyebrows draw together.

“Okay. But why are you here and not at his place talking it out? Did you run away?”

Liv scratches a bit of nail polish off her thumb and her eyes travel from her fingers to Ralph’s.

“No, I don’t think so? I came back here because I was just not feeling like dealing with him when he was being like that.” As the words come out, Liv just knows she’s being too vague, that her lack of explanation is making it seem like she did run away from her problems to avoid anything staying might bring forth. “He was being all defensive and pretending like nothing was wrong, but I know him, something was definitely wrong. And he keeps on encouraging me to be open with him, so why is he not doing the same?”

Ralph ponders over it for a bit, wiggling his mouth as he takes in her words.

“I see where you’re coming from, but don’t you think that might’ve been a slightly too extreme reaction? Maybe he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet? Maybe you should just give him some time?”

Maybe she should have trusted him from the beginning.

Fuck.

“Yeah…” Liv hesitantly agrees. “Maybe. We’ll figure it out, though, don’t worry.”

And the reassurance is as much meant for Ralph as it is for herself.

“Of course, you will.” His hands end up on her shins and give a comforting squeeze. “I’m supposed to leave to go out for dinner with Bennie, do you want to join?”

Moving her legs off of his to free him, Liv shakes her head. “No, it’s fine, there are leftovers in the fridge with my name on them.”

“You’re sure?”

Liv nods, the corners of her lips curled. Ralph is honestly the best roommate she could wish for. Okay, he can’t cook and okay, sometimes she takes on the role of the adult in the apartment too often for a seventeen-year-old but when Ralph is so caring, so considerate, she can’t be mad about all the rest.

“I might stay over at Bennie’s too.” And there’s a tinge of guilt to his timbre which Liv does not want to hear.

“Ralph, that’s fine, have fun,” she orders as he gathers his things and gets ready to leave.

“Hey, Ralph.” He looks back at her before stepping into the hallway. “Love you,” she says with a wink.

And Ralph seems to glow with the words of affection. “Love you too, Livvie.”

After he leaves, it takes less than twenty minutes before her stomach is unsatisfied again and Liv goes to heat up some remnants of some quiche she made yesterday to fight its complaints. While the oven buzzes, she flips through the TV-channels before deciding to watch a rerun episode of The Voice. It is mindless TV but at least it is entertaining and some of the performances actually manage to blow her away.

Every time a commercial break comes on her mind drifts to Noah. It replays the conversation they had earlier, it comes up with reasons she should reach out to him and reasons she should not, things she has to tell him and things he might say in return.

She opens and locks her phone six times.

By the time the episode ends, her quiche has been devoured and she has not become any wiser on what to do with Noah. She goes to clean her plate, all the while humming one of the songs used in the episode under her breath, giving her thoughts something else to occupy themselves with than him.

A soft yet sudden knock sounds on the window and Liv startles, dropping her fork in the process.

It rattles on the floor before Liv goes to pick it up and gets back up, a frown on her face as she watches the window.

It’s late.

Not inhumanly so but definitely not the hour one would expect visitors to show up. She slightly separates the blinds and sees Noah. And it’s a weird mix of relief and nervousness that swirls around inside of her at the sight of him

She goes to open the door.

“Hi,” she says.

“I–” Noah begins but then stops again. He’s fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater, pulling them downwards to cover his hands.

He hasn’t looked at her yet.

“Noah?” Liv isn’t sure what she’s asking him. Maybe whether he can look at her. Maybe whether he’s angry with her. Maybe if he’s okay.

Suddenly, his gaze moves up. His eyes stare into hers and she can see the answer to every possible question.

He isn’t fine.

And while she knew that already, here he is, admitting it to her, asking for support.

Liv doesn’t hesitate and goes to stand on her tiptoes before wrapping her arms around him. They form a tight circle around his back and she draws circles on the surface, trying to soothe him. His hands cling to her like they’ll never release her again.

She doesn’t know how long they stand in her door opening but the cold night air is creating goosebumps on her skin and she’d love to seek out some warmth. Liv releases Noah, just long enough for her to be able to close the door behind them and to pull him inside her bedroom.

They end up in her bed.

His head is on her stomach, his arm around her middle. Her hand in his hair.

Silence lingers around them but it’s not the kind of silence from before. This is just how it always is, how they always are. Liv knows they have things to discuss but the uneasiness, the doubt has completely vanished.

Because they’re in here, in her bed, together.

“Are you ready to tell me what’s going on?” she finally asks, not entirely sure that Noah hasn’t fallen asleep.

He takes a deep breath in response and grabs her hand, drawing figures on her palm with his index.

“It’s my dad.”

“What about him?”

“He was here.”

A frown appears on Liv’s face as she looks down at him. In the five months they have been together, his dad has never come to visit. Noah told her that his dad spends half of his time in Belgium and spends the other half of his time traveling the world. Somehow, however, he has never thought the trip to Utrecht was worth it.

Not once.

Not when Noah graduated, not when he got accepted into art school, not when he told his dad about her.

So, to hear that the mysterious Mr. Boom suddenly did come to visit surprises Liv.

“What was he doing here?”

“No idea,” Noah admits. “I just came home and there he was sitting on the living room couch, his pristine suit and all. And for a second I was actually happy to see him.” His voice cracks. “I thought: ‘my dad is here. My dad. the only family that I have left.’ He instantaneously made me regret thinking that, though.”

A sad expression appears on Liv’s face as she’s finally hearing what has been troubling him, as she’s finally finding out why he felt the need to pretend that he was fine. With every piece of the puzzle she receives, she feels her heart shatter into another piece.

“Feel like telling me what he said?”

She doesn’t particularly want to hear but it might be important for him to share, for someone to understand the extent of his anguish.

He lets out a shaky breath.

“Only if you want to,” she reassures him.

His arm tightens around her even more.

“My dad has never been a kind and doting parent, or he was once but I can barely remember that time. When my mom left us, he became cold and distant and that hasn’t really changed since. Somehow, he always finds a way to criticize me and he always says that it’s to make me better, more ambitious, more like a true member of the Boom family.”

Liv tries to keep as quiet as possible as he tells what he needs to tell her, but her hands never leave his body, telling him that she’s there, that she’ll support him. There’s a cold indifference in his voice but she knows that he would not be able to repeat the words if it wasn’t there. She knows it’s to protect himself.

“This morning was… it wasn’t good. I hadn’t seen him in almost eight months and he barely even greeted me. What he did do was hold an hour-long rant bashing just about everything that I am and that I do. How I’m way too much like my mom, that I probably should’ve gone and lived with her. That even though he raised me, I still ended up the same as her, useless for the real world because who would want ‘a boy with a brush’. Told me that he was just wasting his time and money on me. You get the gist of it.”

Liv feels her throat close up as he talks. God, and that’s supposed to be the one person to love you unconditionally. The relationship with her own parents wasn’t the best either but at least they loved her, at least they pretended to care about her. Her heart aches for him, for the boy lying on her stomach, holding onto her hand like it’s a lifeline. He deserves so much better. He deserves to be cherished and appreciated, to be cared for and protected. He deserves to be loved.

“Hey,” Liv says to catch his attention. “I love you.” Her hand combs through his hair, again and again.

His eyes briefly close before answering. “I know that.”

“Good.” She kisses his forehead, trying to transfer more of her love.

“Liv?” he says.

“Yeah?” She looks down at him.

“Sorry for not telling you from the start.”

“It’s alright,” she whispers back. “I’m sorry too. For not being patient enough.”

The silence envelops them for a while again, but, while you could hear a pin drop in her room, she knows that inside Noah’s mind things aren’t so calm. Even though Liv doesn’t know the exact words his father told him, she can hear they are currently playing on a loop inside Noah’s head. The disappointment and disdain in his father’s voice clamoring over and over again.

He’s not going to be able to fall asleep like this. She brushes his hair again, her fingers tangling in the soft black locks. Liv lowers herself, bringing their eyes to the same level and she can still see the pain lingering in his irises. Her hand traces the birthmark under his eyes, the scar on his forehead. And she thinks back of him standing in front of her door, she thinks of him lying here, vulnerable and hurting and all she wants to do is protect him but she doesn’t know how.

And when she doesn’t know what to do, she sings.

And so that’s what she does.

I will take your pain

and put it on my heart.

I won’t hesitate

just tell me where to start.

I thank the oceans

for giving me you

you saved me once

and now I’ll save you too

I won’t hesitate

For you

Tears appear in Noah’s eyes as she sings and she might be crying too. But her hands keep tracing his hair and her breaths keep echoing his breaths and her mouth keeps producing the hum of the song on repeat, drowning out anything else, chasing away the thoughts that were deterring him from sleep, replacing them with appreciation and care and love.

And once Noah falls asleep, his breathing leveling out and the tension in his limbs slowly dissipating, so can she.

a/n: Should a Jonas brothers song make me this emotional? No. Should I even be listening to the Jonas Brothers? No, but here we are. Anyways, hope you liked it! I’m posting a SkamNL fic every Monday, see you next week for a fluffy fic!

#skam nl #skamnl #written words #manon's mondays

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rebelheartsmustbefree · 3 years

Text

Luc: I listened, let the reply roll around my brain, deciding what day I would go.

“So you're there by yourself?” I turned my head, a brow cocked to look at you, and a wicked grin spread across my lips.

“I’ll pop to see this bar of yours, don't worry, the wolf will find you.” I chuckled and turned back, drinking my coffee, my eyes in the pathway, my peripheral vision on you. “Do you want to let those wings tonight before you have to go to the bar tomorrow?”

Wings: Of course he will find me. I'm saturated with your scent and his. *Another sip of coffee down, and then I let it rest on my thigh for a moment, tapping my fingers along the side.*

Yes, I'm alone. Things never get too out of hand there that I can't handle it. *I lift my other hand to rub over the back of my neck. The short hairs there are still prickled and on end as I rub over them.*

Absolutely. Two nights in a row with my wings free, that's never happened for me before. It will feel good. *I ran my finger up through my hair before dropping it down to my stomach, breakfast was damn good, and I was still full.*

Luc: I dropped my head back and closed my eyes, coffee still in hand. “Then that's what we should do. We can go out before sunset and watch the sun go down tonight, as well as up....” I chuckled.

“Any requests, or shall we just go for it?” In my mind, I was walking my land, thinking of stunning places to watch the sunset. I didn't want us to return to the place we had watched it rise. I wanted to watch it there because that was the specific rock we’d jump from into the water. It was where I’d helped clean your wings.

Wings: *I smiled at the prospect of being able to watch the sunset and rise with you tonight. All the while being able to let my wings out again. That was one of the best parts about being here with you. And the scenery. And I'm definitely not just talking about your land.*

I say we just go for it. It worked well for us last night, and it was incredible. *My eyes went over to you, your head back and eyes closed, looking sexy as ever. It was effortless with you. And you knew it. Cocky ass Wolf. But that was one of the reasons I enjoyed you so much. I laughed to myself, thinking it was a good thing I didn't have an ego because there wouldn't be room enough with how big yours was.*

Luc: “Going for it sounds good. We can eat before we leave.” Though I knew you didn't need food, the wolf did. I had no intention of letting him eat you or do the best I could not put temptation in his way. My brain was showing me memories of last night. How happy you’d looked. How your smile spread across your lips, the blush you thought I didn't notice that often spread across your cheeks. I chuckled.

“I will find us the perfect spot.......well, the wolf will. He knows the best spots.” I rolled my head towards you and opened my eyes, winked and grinned.

Wings: *I grinned back at you, and it was automatic. Like I couldn't help myself. Nor did I want to. Just my natural reaction to just seeing your smile. I went back to my coffee, thinking about getting to let my wings free again tonight. It made me happy. I was very grateful you let me hang out and do that with you.*

I have no doubts that between the both of you, you'll find someplace amazing. *I glanced down into my coffee cup and could see it nearing the bottom. Getting to my feet, I glanced into yours, seeing the same.* want some more, Luc?

Luc: I downed the last mouthful of coffee in my cup and held it out. “Go for it, Wings.”

Mine and the wolf's eyes watched as you walked back into my house. The way it felt familiar with you there, moving around. There weren't many people who came here; I didn't allow it. This was mine. I sat up......an angel moved around my kitchen, the way your body flowed, your muscles moving just under your skin. Your arse in my shorts.

I grinned to myself and sat back. Fucking Wings, the thought brought a massive grin to my face.

Wings: *Grabbing your cup, I made my way back into your home, getting us a refill on the coffee. Like any other time, I felt your eyes on me. I felt it every time. It was a warm feeling, one like that spark left on me. Only it was heat, and it licked right up my spine. That was only one of the ways you affected me.

I brought our coffees back, joining you on the deck again. You had this huge grin on your lips, and I couldn't help but wonder what made you smile like that.* nice and hot and fresh for you, Blondie. *I handed your cup back to you and opted for leaning against the railing of your deck, the sturdy wood bracing me at the small of my back as I took a drink of my coffee.*

Luc: “Just like me, Wings...” I chuckled and took the coffee. I looked up into those blue eyes, shone in the sun, not as brightly as I had seen them but still stunning.

The wolf stirred again, his eyes watching, taking in every microscopic inch of you. He saw things my human eyes missed. The way the hairs on your arms lifted to the tiny breeze in the air. The way your mouth changed when your eyes turned to look into the house. The way it twitched when you looked back at me. He growled. Cocky bastard. Both of us.

Wings: *I glanced out towards the woods; a soft breeze was making the leaves dance. A few multicoloured ones near the tops were already turned to their festive fall color. I didn't want to sound like a broken record, but it was so beautiful out here. I couldn't get over how perfect it was. The sun was warm on my face, the late afternoon warmth was at its peak.

Sipping my coffee, I looked back at you, your eyes already on me, my smile grew.*

What do you think you'd want for dinner before we head out for the night? I can make you something. I gotta earn my keep somehow.

Luc: The wolf's eyes shone through mine; my tongue flicked out over my lip, slipping along. Damn fucking wolf. I fought with him internally, a battle he fought well but lost. I closed my eyes and put him back in his cage.

After a moment, my eyes were clear, and I grinned. “I have a fridge full of food; we can decide and cook it together...we did so well this morning,” I smirked. “Make the most of me helping; I fully intend to let you wait on me at your bar.” I chuckled.

Wings: *I smirked, shaking my head with a deep chuckle. That look was all primal. Had to be the Wolf. The kind of stare that seems to see right through me. Another chill claims me, I try my best to shake it off.*

You just want to watch my ass as I walk away, don't you? Mmhmm.. I can feel that already. *I snapped the waistband of your shorts, the elastic snapping against my hip.*

Just don't go making me too hard, Lucian. I'll never manage to get my jeans off that way. *I snickered into my coffee cup as I took another drink.*

Luc: “You know that's going to happen, Wings.” I winked at you, a huge smirk on my face. “In fact, I will work on it purposely just to watch you try and walk.”

I drank some coffee and slid off my chair. I closed the distance between us and stood in front of you. “Isn't that usually the case when you're around me? Hard....constantly....” I chuckled.

“Let's go and find food Wings; we can put something in and let it cook.

Wings: I think that's the case for both of us, Blondie. *My eyes met yours, a confident grin on my lips, my hand raised to place it on your stomach as I slipped past you.*, let's go see what we can get going in the kitchen.

*I headed in and went for the fridge, checking out what you had that we could fix up and throw in the oven as I finished my coffee.* I can make some pasta. Smother it in cheese. Get our stomach all warm and full before we head out for the night?

Luc: A small roll of my eyes happened and then followed you as you wandered back inside the house.

“I’m happy with that. Tell me what you want me to do, Wings.” I then laughed and went to the upright where I kept my pans. “What pans do you want?”

I wasn't sure what this cheesy pasta was, a brow cocked. “Does it have meat in it? I like my meat.”

Wings: *I smirk as I turn around, your question was much too tempting to pass up.* what do I want -YOU- to do.. hmm. That's a dangerous question, Lucian. *One brow waggles just to be the goof I am.

I placed a pack of chicken breasts on the counter and pointed to it.* There will be chicken in it, is that okay or do you need more meat?

*I sat the pan out to start boiling the water for noodles.* I'm going to cheat this time and just use Jar spaghetti sauce. One day I'll make you some homemade sauce with meatballs and such. Sound good?

Luc: A laugh exploded from me at your answer. “I knew you wouldn't be able to resist Wings. All those bad things are going through your mind right now...” The laughter subsided, and a huge smirk appeared.

“Chicken is fine; I like chicken with anything. Usually full ones....” Another chuckle. I didn't mind you using a jar, but I looked when you said meatballs.

“So what you're telling me....” I closed the cupboard and leant against it. “Is....” I folded my arms. “You want to eat my balls one night?” I smirked like a motherfucker.

Wings: *preparing the chicken, I listen to you with a half cocked smirk the whole time. I knew you would circle back around to those balls. Your balls.

I passed by you, brushing my body against yours on my way to placing the chicken in the casserole dish.*

Admit it, you're imagining your balls.. in my mouth. *I turned to glance at you briefly before starting the pasta and sauce.* and to be specific.. if I'm cooking it.. wouldn't you technically be eating... -MY- balls?

Luc: As your body brushed against mine, my eyes bore right into yours.

“Oh, imagining your balls in my mouth all right...” I smirked.

You continued making the food as I leant against the fridge, and I watched the smirk spread into a grin after your words.

“If we are technical, yes, I would be eating your balls at my table. I like spreading things across my table and munching down on them...” I chuckled and moved; I contemplated brushing against you but didn't; the imagery in your head would have much more effect on you.

Wings: *I glanced over at the table as you mentioned it, ignoring the chill that licked right up my back and tickled my spine. You fucking ass. You knew the imagination you evoked from me. I groaned and continued with prepping the dish.*

You seem like you're the kind of man who would like a spread on that table. Food or otherwise..

*I side eyed you with a smirk, never stopping with preparing the food.* Can you hand me the cheese, Luc?

Luc: I pushed up off the fridge, knowing the images in your head were swirling. “That's true.....” I opened the door. “What better way to enjoy something than spread it....” I grabbed the cheese and closed the door, holding it out for you to take.

“I let you have that image, Wings.” I grinned and then walked behind you, picking up some pasta and popping it into my mouth with a mhmm down your ear. “Delicious,” I whispered against the soft skin of your neck.

Wings: *I take the package of cheese from you, knowing full well you were winning this back and forth between us. You knew which buttons to push of mine and how hard to push them before I became flustered.

And then your word, along with warm breath, hits my neck, and I knew I had lost this round. I blew out a breath and applied the cheese on top before slipping it in the oven, setting the timer.*

There. About forty-five minutes and that will be hot and ready for us. *I couldn't make eye contact at the moment. You knew me all too well. I slipped by you to rinse out the pans and dishes we'd used for prep.* Are you hungry?

Luc: A grin set across my lips as you slid out from in front of me. I turned around and leant where you had stood a second ago. “I'm always hungry; it's my super secret.” Amusement filtered through the words.

I chuckled and thought I’d give my shorts a break and your dick from the hardness that kept coming and going. “You want a coffee while we wait?”

My body moved quickly and fluidly to the coffee maker. Hitting heat. I stood and watched you, too much concentration in those eyes for rinsing a pot. You were trying to blank out images. Your shoulders were tight, too tight. Your back is a little too straight. I smiled.

Wings: *Moments pass, and I realize I had been too quiet for too long. Shit.*

Yes, to the coffee. *I shut the water off and then realized that response was far too late since you were already making the damn coffee. I turned and opened up the dishwasher and began putting our dishes away from this morning so I could start filling it with these ones.* Do you want a salad or anything with our pasta bake?

*I finished with loading the machine and leaned against the counter, finally able to look right at you, smiling wide.*

Luc: I tilted my head every time you bent down to remove something from the dishwasher, fuck that arse was something else.

When you’d finished, and you turned and smiled at me, I grinned. The coffee maker stopped dribbling water. I turned and poured in one swift movement. “Salad sounds great. I’ll make it. I'm good with my hands.” I held the steaming mug out to you.

“You can put your feet up, not on my table; feet aren't allowed...” Smirking.

Wings: *I laughed, taking the coffee from you.* oh, feet aren't allowed on there? I can respect that.

*I hopped on the end of the counter, out of your way so you could make the salad.* Hopefully, my ass on the counter is okay? *My brow arches with the question as I take a drink of my coffee. My hands wrap around the mug to warm my fingers from being wet from the water, enjoying the heat of it.* next time, and when I make meatballs and sauce for us, I'll make some homemade bread too. It will be delicious.

*That word almost caught in my throat. I remember just moments ago how it sounded as you breathed it out over my neck. I went back to my coffee, closing my eyes to savor the sip.*

Luc: “Arses are allowed everywhere.” I chuckled. As I walked past, I brushed my palm over your thigh. I pulled open the door to the fridge, grabbing everything to make a salad into my arms.

With the chopping board in front of me, a knife in my hand, I began slicing and dicing. I threw out a hand to the cupboard above me, grabbed a bowl. Lettuce, onion, cucumber, peppers, tomatoes, mushrooms, corn, spring onion. Salt, pepper, oil, vinaigrette. I grabbed the bead and ripped it onto a baking tray, splashed with oil and garlic salt and slipped it in the oven with the pasta to make croutons.

“We can take them out in 10, add them to the salad.” I grinned and picked up my coffee.

Wings: Everywhere you say? *I wagged my brows at you over my coffee cup as I take another drink. I still felt the warmth of your hand on my thigh. It was like you were leaving me with memories each time you touched me. No touch was irrelevant.

I watched you getting this salad put together, chopping everything up, making dressing and making your own croutons. My brow raises in complete amusement. That was damn impressive right there.

When you were finished prepping them, you slid them into the oven, and I shamelessly checked out your ass. Damn that ass of yours. Made those shorts look good.*

Damn.. homemade croutons, I can honestly say I'd never had them, but I'm sure excited to try.

Luc: “You thought I couldn't cook?” I laughed and crossed my arms, leaning against the counter, the edge digging into the small of my back as I crossed one foot over the other.

“I’ll have you know I'm quite adept in the kitchen, not just at the table...” I couldn't help the smirk spread across my lips. “I was taught, it's not a natural gift...” I laughed some more. “I'm not Wings, but I can hold my own..” I gave you a lopsided grin.

“Talking of arses on counters, yours is the one that's been there the longest...”

Wings: Your cooking skills were not the reason for my comments, Luc. *I shook my head with a laugh, letting my eyes wander over as your leg crossed over the other one. Eyes move from your legs and upward, soft skin and muscles, abs flexing almost as if they knew I was looking. My lips curve into a grin as I meet your eyes.*

No, you're not me. Thankfully. It would be weird if I got turned on by myself. You're you. That makes it hot. *I winked, snickering as I sip on my coffee. I swallowed it down with a hum and decided I wanted to tease you.*

So what you're saying is.. all the hot men who sit on your counter never are left there sitting long before you've carried them off? Mmh.. now I get it. *Wags my brows*

Luc: “Now that would be telling, I don't kiss and tell....” I frowned. “Don't lick or fuck and tell either....” Wiggling my brows.

“I’ve divulged enough telling you of the table...” I pushed off the counter and walked over to you, your knees slightly apart as I pressed my waist between them. “The couch has never had a man on it, naked.” I bent forward; my arm reached around you, and my hand wrapped around the garlic salts. My eyes, though, never left yours. I took a step back and went back to the oven.

Wings: *I almost spilled my coffee when you slipped between my legs, trying my best to keep my composure. I chuckled, which sounded more like a groan, and kept my eyes on yours.*

The couch? I'll have to remember to change that, Wolf.. *I cleared my throat as you backed off and went back to the oven with your seasonings. Fucker. I was calm and okay until then. Now I was all flustered again and watching every move you made as you worked.*

Luc: I opened the oven, pulled out the croutons, quickly dashed more garlic on the top and slipped them on the glass part of the counter for hot things that weren't me.

“They’ll take a little to cool, but we can throw them in when your pasta is ready.”

There was no hiding the hard on I had in these shorts, not that I cared. The fucker had been on and off all day; in fact, every time I’d stared at Angel's arse for more than a minute, my dick had twitched. I may have to grab some tissues for the Angel at some point, though.

Wings: *I finished my coffee and hopped down off the counter to check the timer on that pasta dish.* That'll be done in about ten minutes or so, and then we can feast. *I rub my hands together, proud of what we can get accomplished together in this kitchen amid all the times you rendered me useless just by being sexy.

I grabbed some plates down from the cupboard, silverware next and then headed in to set the table for us.* It smells so good. I hope you like it. *I smiled at you as I turned, finishing up with the table and coming back to rinse my coffee cup in the sink.*

Luc: The wolf watched as you walked to the table; I wished he wouldn't do that, decide to take over my sight. The muted colours of his sight, carefully watching as though he had his prey in sight.

That smile as you walked back to the sink, the wolf growled, my chest rumbled. My nose was on your skin, my tongue out before I had any say in the matter; it ran the length of your arm unhindered by anything, another growl. My tongue dragged along your shoulder, to the soft skin at the crook of your neck, another growl. My tongue went back in my mouth, and I took a step back, shaking my head. My eyes became my own again.

“Ten minutes, you say, I'm starving.”

Wings: Lucian.. *My voice was a low groan, the cup was set down in favor of clutching the edge of the sink, eyes squeezing shut as I prayed silently that I wouldn't combust in these shorts. He would definitely have my scent on these shorts with how hard I was right now. The growl let me know exactly why the lick was happening.. or who was really doing the licking.

Your tongue drawing right up my neck in the crook had me white knuckle gripping that sink. I refuse to come in these shorts, for fucks sake. I opened my eyes and turned to grab a hot pad and check on the pasta. The cheese had browned slightly, and it was bubbling around the edges. I pulled it out and carried it over to the table. I knew full well I was straining against these shorts, and I didn't care one bit. You did it to me, and you had every right to see that.*

Come on, Let's eat so we can hit the woods. I'm in need of a dip for sure.

Luc: I followed the food, the wolf now restless for everything. I could feel my muscles trembling. He could fuck off; I wanted food. I quickly ran my hands under the water, dried them and threw the croutons on the top of the salad, bringing them over to the table.

The pasta’s aroma had my stomach growling loudly; I think it was my stomach. Serving spoons for the salad and juice, I went back and collected. Sitting opposite you at the table.

“He likes you.... The wolf.” As though that was an explanation as to why my tongue was attacking you while you washed the pots. I‘d had a full view of the hardness of you, that damn fucking wolf.

Wings: *My teeth drag over my bottom lip as I look over the table at you, your words hadn't come as a surprise, but you actually saying them.. that was different.*

I can tell in many ways. *I sat up from my chair and grabbed one of those spoons, dishing us out some of the pasta. Here and there, my eyes would catch yours, and I'd smile.* I like him too... the Wolf.

*I sat back down and let you dish out the salad for us. The words repeated in my mind as I watched you. It went unsaid, but I knew you understood I liked the whole package of you. All of you.*

So he won't bite me when we're out there? *I wasn't afraid of him, just respectfully cautious. I didn't want him shredding my wings like we'd had a pillow fight.*

Luc: After plating the salad on the plates with the pasta, I thought about your question.

“He's temperamental, he likes you, but he likes rabbits too...” I chuckled at the comparison that I knew you’d know wasn't true. “I don't think he will. If he is hunting, just keep out of his way....” I grinned and grabbed my fork. “I don't want to come back to me and have to take you to the hospital; that would take some explaining....” I looked over at you and smiled. “Wings coming out of your back, shredded. I'm not sure the world is ready for oh ‘oh it was a wolf, me, attacked the angel.’

I took a mouthful of food, making noises at how good it was.

Wings: I do stay out of his way. And if he bites me, just let me heal. Don't take me to the hospital. *I laughed, getting some of that salad on my fork and to my mouth. I wanted to taste what you'd made first. A mouth full and grinning, it was quite delicious.* incredible croutons with this salad, Luc. Damn.

*I shoved another bite in, groaning this time, getting another crouton and some of that dressing you made. It all worked together so well.

After swallowing my second, embarrassingly big bite of salad, I went right for the cheesy, saucy stuff, yet another big bite set on my fork, ready to feed my face.*

And if he bites my ass, you'll have to take care of that wound. *winks*

Luc: I’d filled my fork with both cheesy pasta and salad, and I was glad I’d swallowed when you told me I’d have to take care of your arse.

“Your arse doesn't heal? “ I smirked. I took another mouthful of food. Damn, it was good. The pasta holding all the cheese instead of it being in the salad added another dimension to it. As we sat eating, I felt a swell of pride that you like my croutons, my salad. I found myself grinning.

“Any injuries, I will make sure you're well looked after. You'll be the top priority.” Just one wag of my brow and a smirk on my lips until I dug into the food again.

Wings: All of me heals. But if this ass gets bitten by those Wolf chompers, you'll need to nurse me back to health just because I want it. *A smirk plays upon my lips as I pluck a piece of cheese from my plate and pop it in my mouth. The idea of you taking care of me made me heat up like the oven we just cooked in.

I was enjoying this meal. We cooked it together, and it was feeding that Wolf, so maybe he won't chomp on my ass after all. I didn't need to be bitten just for you to look at my ass. I knew you did any chance you could get.*

Are you excited to head out tonight, Luc? *I knew I was. Getting to see the sunset and rise with you was going to be lovely.*

Luc: I burst out laughing; I could imagine you running around with your arse stuck out so the wolf would bite it if he went for you.

“Don't worry, Wings, I'm sure he won't bite you.”

I continued to eat my food as you spoke.

“I am looking forward to it...” I looked over at you, my lopsided grin in place. “I’m going to take you somewhere different from the other night; we can go swimming first if you want to.” My brow cocked.

Wings: Swimming sounds perfect. And I can't wait to see where you take me this time. *I smiled across the table at you, I could feel my Wings itching to be let out again. They were going to get spoiled and want this all the time.* I can't wait to take these shorts off..

*I couldn't help the smirk that graces my lips. It was true. I've been restrained in these shorts and a painful on and off hard on all damn day. And you knew it. Probably every inch of it. Like I knew yours.*

I really like cooking with you, Luc.

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ihopeyourewell-blog · 7 years

Text

Dear Senator Elizabeth Warren,

When I was eight years old, I ran for president of Mrs. Wiley’s third grade class. I was running against a few people, but I knew my real competitor was Scott Balerno. Scott was a boy that our entire grade knew was very smart, because the teachers told us he was very smart. I knew that if I wanted to win the votes of my 31 fellow third graders, I was going to have to give Balerno a run for his money.

I made neon green and orange posters that said “Don’t be wacky, vote for Jackie” with a photo of me wearing a backwards Pepsi baseball cap and hung them around the small classroom. I gave an impassioned speech about my plans to make 3B the scholastic utopia we all dreamed it could be. I campaigned at recess, going around to different friend groups asking if I could count on their votes, which was a huge sacrifice because 30 minutes campaigning were 30 minutes not spent reading Junie B. Jones on a bench in the Prayer Garden. It was the longest week of my life. At the end of the week everyone voted for their chosen candidate and Mrs. Wiley made the announcement Friday before we left for the weekend. She proudly announced that there had been a TIE, so Scott Balerno would be the class president, and I would be the vice president. We had the exact same number of votes, and Scott was given a higher position than me. We were not co-presidents. Scott was president, and I was his vice president. I was elated. I felt accomplished. I had won something!

You know, if I am being totally honest, I didn’t realize how messed up this was until about 15 minutes ago while I was showering and thinking about what I was going to write to you about. Now to be fair, Mrs. Wiley may have given us those roles because B(alerno) comes before F(elker) or because she didn’t think it would really matter, but now, sixteen years later, I can’t help but wonder if he got to be president because he was a boy. I can’t help but wonder if he got to be president because his mom came and helped out in the classroom, and my mom didn’t. I can’t help but wonder if it wasn’t actually a tie, but that Mrs. Wiley felt bad that I made posters and wanted to give me a taste of victory. At nine years old I didn’t feel like I was in the position to challenge or question this decision. At nine years old I didn’t realize that one of my greatest abilities and straight up responsibilities is to challenge and question decisions that are unjust and wrong. At nine years old I didn’t yet know that you existed.

Strong women everywhere worship you and weak men everywhere fear you. Weak men mock strong women for loving you so much, because their piss filled brains cannot comprehend what it’s like to have a real life superhero fighting real injustice for actual humans. Weak men mock groups of united, strong women because they are so afraid our greatness will outshine their mediocrity. The other night, you were literally silenced by not only white mediocrity but white evil. AND not only were you silenced, but Mitch McConnell also further silenced the most silenced population in America, black women, by not allowing you to read Coretta Scott King’s words. You have worked tirelessly to earn a seat at the table, and this week you were basically told “Yeah, but it’s not the same seat. And also, by the way, it’s actually the same chair we use for time out. And your time out starts now. But Bernie can read the letter though.” My blood boils.

Women are so unique and different, but I’m sure we can all think of a time when we have been silenced by a man or an institution. I don’t care whether you are liberal or conservative or whatever Susan Sarandon thinks she is, we can all relate to this. We can all relate to having to act a certain way to appease men, so that we aren’t labeled as troublemakers, or hard to work with, or oh my goodness, god forbid, undateable!!! (Also shout out to you for proposing to your husband! That is for real so cool. I bet he is like, so in love with you and sets up foot baths and cheese plates for when you get home from defending the democracy of the United States of America. I bet once a day he blushes thinking about how lucky he is to be with you, that he cannot possibly believe you chose him. I hope he eats pussy like a champion.) If I have realized anything in the past few years of my life, it’s that I would much rather be a troublemaker than someone who blindly follows the rules just because I am told. I would rather not have recess for a week because I publicly challenged Mrs. Wiley than be some dude’s afterthought vice president.

America sucks right now. People are buying their ways into the most important and crucial jobs in America. Racists are being appointed to positions where the main job requirements should be “not be racist”. Millions of people’s lives are at stake, whether it's the threat of losing healthcare, not being able to re-join their family in this country, the lack of access to education, or simply because of the color of their skin or god they choose to worship. The President of the United States is tweeting at a department store. The Big Bang Theory is still the most watched show on television. It sucks. Every day something happens that makes it suck, but you make it suck so much less. Knowing that you are fighting for justice and excellence every single day, even when you are publicly told to sit down and shut up in your place of freaking work, makes it sucks less.

I cannot even imagine how terrified those men are of you, Elizabeth. These are the same men whose women that they are “okay" working with are Betsy DeVos and known villain and possible robot Omarosa. These are the same men who didn’t want women to be Ghostbusters. These are the same men I want real time facial reactions from when a woman is finally elected president. I want to see their disappointment, much like the daily disappointment so many Americans have felt since November 8th, 2016.

Senator Warren, you are an icon.You are a beacon of hope in a sea of disappointment and I am forever grateful for that. Your persistence is inspiring. I cannot wait for my children and my children’s children to learn about you, and other strong women, in history class, that is if we still have schools by then.

With the utmost respect,

Jacqueline Felker

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