#clever mutuals with star facts YES
Note
Road trip Rooster write it I dare you
....You come at me again with the daring. Based on this post
Also this got way away from me. Not beta-read.
Length: 7.6K
Warnings: Huddling for warmth in a cold car, slow burn, cursing, mutual pining, angst, fluff, there was only one bed, friends to lovers, feelings of jealousy, explicit sexual content—vaginal sex, breast play
Rating: 18+ Only. Minors interacting with this work will be blocked.
Summary: Bradley Bradshaw has been your best friend since you were kids. Have you been in love with him since you were sixteen? Sure. But he doesn’t know that.
“Big man, haaaaad to take his car.”
“Alright.”
“Never mind the fact that it’s like, 20 years older than he is—”
“Alright—”
“And has a soft top that leaks heat like a…”
You go quiet as Bradley arches his brows, waiting for you to finish your remark. When you don’t, he waves his hand, prompts:
“Like a…?”
“Like a heat-leaker.”
“Wow.”
“Shut up. I don’t have to be clever, I’m fucking cold.”
Bradley rolls his eyes, reaching into the backseat and drawing up a few blankets.
“We knew this might happen, we prepared,” He reminds you. “C’mon.”
You don’t gripe that prepared should’ve meant having enough gas to get you to the next town. You just huff as Bradley turns in his seat, swinging one of his legs up and pushing it across the console and behind you. You scooch across the console and lean back against his chest, drawing your legs up to stretch across the seats before holding still as he layers and tucks three blankets around your upper bodies. You want to argue further, but with the little cocoon he’s created, and the heat of his body behind you, you’re actually starting to warm up a little. Bradley slides his arms under the blankets to curl around your middle. You let your eyes slip closed, then squeeze a touch as he takes hold of your hands in his, rubbing them gently for warmth.
“If we got in the back and took the soft top down,” Bradley murmurs, “We could see the stars.”
“You can see them when I kick you out of the car.”
“You’d kick me out of my own car?”
“Yes I would, Mister ‘We Don’t Need to Stop at That Gas Station, We’ve Only Got a Little Ways Before the Next Motel’.”
“I miscalculated.”
“Damn right you did. Being on leave is making you sloppy—Ow!” You squeak, squirming as Bradley pinches your side. You elbow him in the side in turn, giggling as he tightens his grip on you.
“Get some sleep,” He urges softly. You huff through your nose, tipping your head back against his shoulder and nuzzling into his neck to warm the chilled tip of your nose.
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
--
“I think I have a crick in my neck.”
“Oh, please.”
“Tell you what, the second I get cell reception again, I’m making an appointment for a chiropractor.”
Bradley doesn’t respond, just shovels a forkful of eggs into his mouth, chewing slowly and watching you dispassionately. You can’t help but break into a smile the longer your stare-off goes, and you dip your head, stabbing at your pancakes as you hear Bradley chuckle across from you.
“Such a drama queen.”
“This from a man that talks to his car.”
“That’s not dramatic. That’s just polite.”
“It’s weird is what it is.”
“How are y’all findin’ everything?”
You glance up at the waitress’ question, offering a small smile and a, “It’s great, thanks,” As she tops up your mug of coffee, then shifts to fill Bradley’s. You make the mistake of glancing over at Bradley, and catching sight of him smiling up at her before he murmurs his thanks. You glance between him and the waitress before you force yourself to glance out of the window, taking a gulp of your fresh cup of coffee and trying to drown the jealousy bubbling up in you.
You really have no right to be jealous. Bradley Bradshaw has been your best friend since you were kids. Have you been in love with him since you were sixteen? Sure. But he doesn’t know that. How could he? You’ve never said a thing—you’ve never even hinted. You’ve had romantic relationships with other people. You’ve been telling yourself for the longest time that if you just ignore the feelings you have for him, they’ll go away.
So far, no luck. You can’t begrudge the guy some flirting, of course—he’s on leave, he’s relaxing. But hell, you don’t exactly like to watch.
“You ready to go?”
Bradley’s question jolts you from your moody window-watching, and you nod, setting your coffee mug down and scooching out of the booth. You shove your hands into your pockets and give the waitress a small smile (you can’t hate her; it’s not like she asked Bradley to make eyes at her over the dregs of your breakfast) before heading out of the diner. You’re only a step or two outside before Bradley flings his arm around your shoulders, drawing you into his side. You wobble a little, unable to help the way your smile widens as he keeps you close.
“You know where we’re goin’?” He asks.
“Uh-huh. You want me to drive?”
“I need a damn nap.”
“Now who’s being a drama queen?”
“I had a hike this morning to that gas station and back,” He reminds you.
“Mm, and why did you have to do that again?”
“Alright,” Bradley groans. He fishes into his jacket pocket and waits for you to hold out your palm before slapping his keys into it. You climb into the driver’s side, adjusting the seat and mirrors as you need before buckling up. You glance over, making sure that Bradley’s buckled in as well before you start the car. Bradley slouches down in the seat, drawing his discarded jacket up around himself as a blanket.
“We have real blankets.”
“This is already warm,” Bradley mumbles.
He’s asleep before you hit town limits. You stop at a red light and glance over, biting back a laugh. His sunglasses are askew; his mouth is wide open; his jacket is beginning to slip, showing the slope and bulge of his bicep. You reach out, gently adjusting the jacket around his shoulders before turning back to the road.
--
You’ve been doing these road trips every year since he enlisted. You fly to wherever he’s stationed and take his car from there. You’ve chosen different destinations every time, though it’s typically been a three day drive from whichever base he’s stationed at. If you guys take your time driving wherever it is, it eats up about a week and a half of his leave.
Of course, you keep in touch with Bradley no matter he’s stationed, but having this much uninterrupted time with him is both a blessing and a curse. You love your time with Bradley, of course—but you’re also in love with Bradley. You savor your time spent with him, and do your damndest to ignore the looks he gets from women, and the flirting and one night stands that he’s had in the past. You’ve had one night stands, sure, but never on these trips. He at least goes out of his way to go to their place. Still, it’s made some of your lonely nights in your cheap, cruddy motel room seem all the more cheap and cruddy.
He hasn’t gotten together with anyone on this trip. You’re a day away from reaching your destination; you’ll have three days in Portland, and then three days driving back. He’s got time.
The thought makes your stomach squirm with discomfort. You sigh softly, resting your head on your hand and peering out through the windshield, a single hand on the wheel. It’s a quiet stretch of road, and empty enough that you could floor it if you wanted to. You won’t, though. You don’t want to hit some rough patch of road and jolt Bradley awake.
A couple of hours later, you glance over, doing a double take as you see Bradley shift, then yawn widely. You turn your gaze back to the road as he pushes himself up in the seat, letting his jacket slide down to his lap.
“Why isn’t there music or anything?” He mumbles, voice a touch rough from his nap.
“I didn’t wanna wake you up.”
“I would’a be fine.”
You shrug a little as Bradley reaches out, flicking on the radio. You wince as static blares across the speakers, and relax as he hurriedly turns the volume down with a mutter of, “Shit, sorry.”
You only half-listen as he works the dial back and forth, looking for a signal. He finally manages to hit on some alt-rock channel. You glance over, smiling as he wrinkles his nose a little before leaning back in his seat, muttering, “Better than nothing.” He yawns widely again, stretches, then closes his eyes, tipping his head back against the seat. “How long was I out?”
“Couple of hours.”
“Mm.”
“You wanna stop?”
“Mm…How long are we on this?”
“We’re taking this the rest of the way, but our next scheduled stop is in about an hour.”
“I can wait.”
“You sure?”
“Uh-huh.” It’s another moment before Bradley twists in his seat, rooting around in a bag for a moment before you hear the crinkle of a wrapper and see him settle back down in your periphery. “We cross into Oregon yet?”
“Bout an hour ago.”
“Aww, you didn’t wake me up,” Bradley pouts, opening the protein bar he’s grabbed.
“What precisely did you want me to wake you up for?”
“You know, that thing we do where we say ‘Welcome to blah blah blah’...And we go, Wooo!” He waves his hands for emphasis before taking a bite from the bar.
“You wanna do it now?”
“No,” He grumbles, moodily tearing the snack's wrapper. “Won’t be the same.”
You roll your eyes. “You realize this little performance is cementing you as the biggest drama queen in this car?”
“Til we have to sleep in here again, yeah,” He says between bites of the bar.
“Oh,” You laugh, shaking your head, “That is not happening again.”
“Ever?”
“Never.”
“You’re gonna hurt her feelings.”
“She doesn’t have feelings. She’s not even a she. It’s a car, not a Transformer.”
“One more wisecrack like that and I’m revoking your driving privileges.”
“Sorry daaaaaad.”
“Smartass.”
“Dumbass.”
“Here.”
You glance down, spotting the half-eaten protein bar. You dip your head, taking a bite out of it before looking up again, chewing before muttering your thanks.
“Want another bite?” He asks.
“Nah, ‘m alright.”
“C’mooooon,” Bradley waves it back and forth beneath your nose, “You know you wannaaaa. They’re your faaaavoriiiiiite.”
You snort, leaning out of the brush of the bar against your lip.
“Cut it out,” You chuckle, “Seriously, I’m fine.”
“It’s the last one.”
You duck your head, catching hold of the rest of the bar and tugging it out of the wrapper with your teeth. Bradley laughs beside you, and you raise your hand, taking hold of the bit of the bar still hanging out of your mouth.
“Should’a said in the first place,” You mutter as you chew. “We’ll have to get more in Eugene.”
“Might have some wherever we’re stopping for lunch.”
“Maybe. I kinda wanna make Medford a quick stop.”
“Why?”
“‘Cause if we get to Eugene by four, we can check in, get in a quick nap, grab some dinner, and go to the Track Town Fall Fair.”
“Wee-hoo!” Bradley crows. “Goddamn, I don’t know how you always find a fair when we take these trips.”
“Doesn’t matter how I employ my dark powers, only that I use it for good.”
“For good?”
“Yes. We get whiplash from the bumper cars, you get funnel cake, and then you win me a toy at the shooting gallery.”
“You make a…fair point.”
“Fuck, Bradshaw, that was awful,” You laugh, then pop the rest of the protein bar into your mouth.
--
The fair is bright, and poppy, and loud. You can’t help but grin as you and Bradley stroll through the rows of games and food stalls. There’s a ferris wheel not too far off, lit up and spinning lazily.
“Bumper cars first?” You ask.
“I think we oughta wait for dinner to settle,” Bradley winces. He curls his arm around your shoulders, drawing you into his side. You cuddle close, wrapping your arm around his waist and looking around.
“What, then?”
“You’re so impatient,” He chuckles, lips brushing your temple as he turns his head.
“Am not,” You mumble.
“Bet I can kick your ass at milk bottles.”
“Oh, you’re on, Bradshaw.”
--
There’s only one bed.
You knew that when you got there—when the receptionist at the motel told you blandly that they only had a single available, and would that be alright. You didn’t have much of a choice—you’d looked into the other motels in the area, and they were either full-up, or had alarming reviews. You managed to forget during the fair. You were so caught up in it—in the churros, and the funnel cake, and the bumper cars, and the ferris wheel, and the tilt-a-whirl—
But you remember as soon as you come back that there’s only one bed. Well, it’s hard to miss. It’s the biggest thing in the bland little room. You find yourself absently drawing the plush shark toy that Bradley won you a little closer to yourself. You walk around to your side of the bed (well, what you’ve decided is your side of the bed), and set the shark down on the bedside table.
“You wanna take the bathroom first?” Bradley asks.
“Nah, you go ahead.”
“You sure?”
“Mhm.” You smile at Bradley, watching him head into the bathroom and waiting for him to shut the door before you hurriedly get changed into your sweatpants and sleep shirt. You grab your toiletry bag as you hear Bradley open the bathroom door.
You take a little longer than necessary to wash your face and brush your teeth. It’s not going to be so weird sharing a bed with Bradley. You’ve shared beds before. Hell, you shared the car just last night. You sigh, bracing your hands on the sink. Maybe you’re less worried about being weird, and more worried about getting used to the feeling of Bradley holding you like he holds other girls.
--
It’s a tight squeeze. The two of you shift back and forth, trying to find the best position before you both burst into laughter.
“Here,” He chuckles, rolling onto his side, “Roll over.”
You shift, turning over to rest on your side. It’s only a moment before Bradley tugs you back against his chest to keep you from falling out of bed.
“Alright?” He asks.
“Mhm,” You hum as steadily as you can. You can vaguely make out the outline of the shark on the nightstand. You bite your lip as Bradley’s nose brushes the nape of your neck.
“Night, Bradley,” You murmur.
“Night.”
--
You’re not sure how long it takes you to knock out. You just know that when you wake up, the room is flooding with blue morning light, and Bradley seems to still be sound asleep. He’s breathing steadily behind you. His roughening cheek is tickling your nape (he almost never shaves when he’s on leave). His fingers flex where they’re curled in your t-shirt, then slide a touch, brushing the skin of your belly. You bite your lip, fighting to keep your breathing even.
You could get up, of course—you probably wouldn’t wake him. You could slide from his grasp and shower, or grab your phone and check in with your family, or go out to the car and double-check the route for that day (there’s really no need to double-check—it’s the I-5 straight up to Portland).
Instead, you slide your hand down over Bradley’s, resting it gently there, ready to pull it away at any second. When Bradley doesn’t shift or make a sound, you relax back against him. You let yourself close your eyes again, and revel in the closeness.
--
Your first day in Portland is busy. You’ve gone to the International Rose Test Garden, gone to the farmer’s market, and explored the Alberta Arts District. Your second day, you and Bradley split up and do your own thing, like you always do. You meet for drinks that night (having already gone back to your hotel room and deposited all of the books that you bought at Powell’s City of Books).
“You gonna make me guess how many you bought?” Bradley asks, picking at the basket of fries rules that you’ve been sharing.
“You’ll see later.”
“Damn. It’s gotta be bad if you’re not even giving me a hint,” Bradley chuckles before nodding to your empty beer. “You want another one?”
“Mhm.”
Before Bradley can get the bartender’s attention, someone comes up to the bar beside him, calling, “Ay, Charlie!”
The bartender waves his acknowledgement. The man nods, then glances over toward you and Bradley with an apologetic smile.
“Sorry,” He chuckles. His gaze catches on yours, then sweeps your body. You turn your head, taking up a few fries and shoving them into your mouth. The bartender comes over, taking the guy’s order, then taking Bradley’s. The guy knocks on the bar, drawing your attention just a touch before he walks back to his friends.
“...I saw that,” Bradley says. You shake your head, humming in a noncommittal way. Bradley scoffs out a laugh, tacking on, “C’mon.”
“What?” You ask, turning to get a better look at him. His brows raise, head tipping forward just a touch.
“What?” You repeat, shrugging irritatedly. Bradley looks back in the direction that the guy went in.
“He’s not bad,” He offers. “A little scrawny.”
“Okay.”
“Looks like he uses natural deodorant that doesn’t work and only drinks IPAs.”
“You can let it go now.”
“Why not go for it?” Bradley presses. “You’re never gonna see these people again…Or maybe you will,” He nudges your shoulder with his. “Maybe he’s your soulmate.”
“My soulmate wouldn’t use natural deodorant.”
“What about his taste in IPAs?”
“Irrelevant.”
“So?”
“Let it go, Bradley.”
“Alright.” And he does, for a moment. Then—“There someone you’re not telling me about?”
“What?” You scoff.
“Just—It’s been a while, you know, since you’ve told me about anyone.”
“Maybe there hasn’t been anyone to talk about, you think about that?”
“I mean, maybe, but that doesn’t make sense.”
“Oh, please—”
“You’re smart, you’re beautiful—”
You’re gonna be sick—
“You’re an amazing person,” Bradley tacks on as the bartender sets your drinks down, “I don’t get how you haven’t found somebody—”
“Okay, you know what.”
You take hold of your beer, sliding off of the bar stool and striding over to the guy that had given you that look. You’re doing it out of spite; you’re doing it because you can’t listen to Bradley say any more of what he was saying, how he was saying it.
You don’t know what time Bradley leaves. You don’t know what time you get back to your hotel room. You just know that you’re alone, and tired, and in a shitty mood. You look moodily at the plush shark that you’ve put on your bed, then take it up. You drop it onto the armchair in the corner of the room, putting your jacket over it before you plop onto the bed. You let yourself sag back against the mattress, drawing in a deep, shaking breath. Stupid. What you’d done was so, so stupid. Bradley was just asking a question. Sure, it was a question that you were deeply uncomfortable with, a question that you couldn’t answer without ruining the greatest friendship in your life.
Hell—you worry that you may’ve ruined it, anyway.
--
There’s a knock on your door at nine the next morning. You step out of your bathroom, toothbrush still clenched between your teeth. You peer through the peephole, then step back, opening the door.
Bradley looks as unsure as you feel. You nod him inside, shutting the door behind him and hurrying back to the bathroom to finish brushing your teeth. When you come back out, you find Bradley sitting on the edge of the bed, your plush shark in his hands. He glances up at you, then back down at the shark.
“You name him yet?” He asks. You walk over to Bradley, sitting down beside him.
“I think he looks like a Milton.”
“Milton?” He repeats, brows raising. “...Guess I can see it.”
The two of you sit in silence for a little while before Bradley finally offers:
“Sorry I pushed.”
“S’okay...Sorry I threw a fit.”
“S’okay. I couldn’t keep the title of biggest drama queen in the car.”
Bradley nudges your shoulder lightly with his, and you nudge his in turn, unable to help the small smile growing on your lips.
“Can I ask an inappropriate question?” Bradley hedges.
“I didn’t fuck him.”
“Okay.”
“...Was that the question?”
“Yep…Wanna go get breakfast?”
“Yep.”
--
“Ho…Ly…Fuck.”
“Shut up.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Shut up.”
“Did you get all’a these in case we run out of gas again?” Bradley asks, scanning the stack of books that you bought in the corner of the trunk. “You know, enough to read, and enough to keep a fire going?”
“We are not going to run out of gas,” You insist, heaving your bag into the trunk.
“What if we do?”
“I���m never going to talk to you again.”
“No really, what if we do.”
“No really, I’m never going to talk to you again.”
“...But if we do.”
You sigh heavily, leaning against the car and resting your hand on your popped hip. “If we do,” You press on the word, “Then you’re sleeping in the backseat alone, without any blankets.”
“Guess I can cuddle up with all of your books. All…One, two, three, four—”
“Shut up.”
“Hang on, I’m still counting—”
“Shut up—”
“I just reached double digits—”
“I will close the car door on your hand.”
--
“Bye Oregoooon—” You call over Bradley’s,
“Welcome to California!”
You each let out a Wooo! as he drives back across state lines.
“Made it up on the way back,” Bradley grins, settling back in the driver’s seat and glancing into the mirror, then over his shoulder as he changes lanes.
“You happy now?” You ask.
“Been happy the whole time.”
“The whole time?”
“Ninety-eight percent.”
“Think I can guess the two percent.”
“Bet you can’t.”
“Oh no?”
“No.”
“So it wasn’t the fight?”
“No. Friends fight sometimes, we’re fine.”
“So what was it?”
“It was the fact that you kicked my ass at milk bottles.”
You cackle, smile widening as Bradley looks at you with a grin.
“You’re insane, Bradshaw.”
“You know it, baby.”
You’re still laughing at him, so the term of endearment manages to bounce off of you outwardly. Inwardly, it sinks into your chest. It was probably a slip-up, a one-off—but you’re gonna be thinking about it a lot.
--
“Thank you, ma’am.”
You only just manage not to roll your eyes at his murmur, and his smile. Ma’am. For cryin’ out loud. Bradley’s always been polite, sure, but the way he leans into ma’am now is surely something he’s accidentally picked up from Hangman. It’s gotta be—though you don’t think he’d admit to it. Hell, he might even take offense to it.
You’ll have to keep that in your back pocket for later.
For now, you just pick your fork up, poke at what is, frankly, a fantastic piece of key lime pie, and ignore the way the waitress giggles and tells Bradley that he’s welcome—anytime. But you can’t help the nagging question that you loose once she walks away:
“Gonna go for it?”
“Go for what?” Bradley frowns. “I was just being nice.”
You raise your brows at him a touch before you concede: “Okay.” You don’t want another fight like Portland. Bradley takes up the other fork, snagging a piece of pie. He doesn’t eat it right away, offers, “I mean she’s cute, but…”
“But what?”
“I’m not interested.”
“...Okay.”
“Wanna know why I’m not interested?”
“If you wanna tell me.”
You glance over at Bradley, waiting. Instead of answering, he takes a bigger chunk out of the pie and crams it into his mouth. You snort, rolling your eyes.
“Good answer, Bradshaw.”
--
“‘Just a little detour’,” You mimic.
“Alright.”
“‘We’ll just take a few of the calmer backroads’.”
“Alright.”
“‘May as well get a better look at the state’—”
“Alright,” Bradley groans loudly, getting back into the car from adjusting the soft top, slamming the door shut behind himself. You huff, wrapping your arms around your middle and glaring at the darkening sky through the windshield.
“Can’t believe this,” You grumble.
“I said I was sorry.”
“Hmph.”
“...You want me to walk back to the gas station now?”
“No.”
“...You gonna make me sleep in the backseat?”
“I should.”
“But?”
“Just get the blankets, Bradshaw.”
The two of you get into position faster than last time. You lean back against his chest, arms folded petulantly over your middle as he tucks you both in. When he worms his hands under the blankets, you tuck your hands under your armpits, out of his reach. You feel Bradley patting along your folded arms for your hands, and hear him sigh as he feels your wrists tucked so tightly against your body.
“Gimme your hands.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“You can’t keep ‘em like that all night. They’ll fall asleep.”
“Good.”
Bradley groans frustratedly. He curls around you, pressing his face into your neck. You curl your hands more tightly into fists, fighting to ignore the rising tide of affection. You’re annoyed. You’re gonna stay annoyed.
“Please give me your hands,” He murmurs. You glare through the opposite window for a moment. Then your eyelids flutter as Bradley smooths his hands over your shoulders, warming you. You let your eyes close fully, drawing in a deep breath. Damnit. Damn this man. You hesitate, then unfold your arms, drawing your hands out. You feel Bradley’s lips pull into a smile, and bite your lip as you think you feel him drop a kiss to your neck. He takes hold of your hands, intertwining your fingers and settling the two of you back again, cuddling you close and curling his arms around you.
“...Thin ice, Bradshaw,” You mutter.
“Sweet dreams.”
“Hmph.”
--
“You still mad at me?”
You lift your hand away from the steering wheel just long enough to flip him off before reaching for your coffee cup.
“C’mon, it wasn’t that bad,” Bradley tacks on.
“You’re paying for my chiropractor.”
“Drama queen.”
“Asshat.”
“Whoa, hey,” He reaches into the backseat, drawing up your plush shark. “Don’t swear in front of the kid.”
You roll your eyes, shaking your head.
“Watch it with your speed,” Bradley adds, setting Milton down in his lap.
“I’m going like fifteen over the limit.”
“I know, that’s why I said to watch it.”
“I’m trying to get us back on track. Your scenic route has taken more time than we originally budgeted, and that’s not counting your second gas mishap.”
“I’ve got ‘til the end of the week, you don’t have to speed home.”
“Yeah, but I don’t. I have a flight back home on Thursday.”
“Could change the ticket. You took Friday off, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but changing it this late isn’t gonna be cheap.” You glance over when Bradley goes quiet and find him fiddling with Milton’s tail. You turn to look out of the windshield again, biting the inside of your cheek. You sigh softly, taking your foot off of the gas and merging out of the fast lane. “I’ll take a look the next time you’re driving,” You offer after a moment.
“...’Kay.”
You reach out, blindly poking at Bradley’s cheek, muttering, “Cut it out.”
“What?”
“Pouting.”
“I’m not pouting—Ow!” Bradley whacks at your hand as you accidentally jab him in the nose. You huff, eyeing the road signs.
“Hey Bradshaw.”
“What.”
“You ever been to Santa Barbara?”
“No.”
May as well. You glance in the rear view, flipping your signal on and merging toward the exit.
“What are you doing?” Bradley frowns. You shrug, putting your foot down to make the exit on time.
“Just taking a little detour.”
--
You usually hate not having a plan when you’re visiting somewhere new, but this time, you’re just letting yourself wander. You go to the zoo, you spend time at the wharf. Sunset finds the two of you sitting on the beach, your shoes discarded, the sand beneath your toes. The breeze coming off of the water is a touch chilly, and you smile as Bradley rests his jacket around your shoulders. You scooch closer to him, pressing your thigh against his. You watch the waves as they creep up the beach and retreat, and listen to the steady lap of them.
Bradley sighs, curling his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer, nuzzling against your temple. You cuddle into him, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes, letting the feeling of his body and the sound of the rolling waves envelope you.
--
“I don’t like fighting with you,” He mumbles.
“What, ‘cause I love it?”
“You know what I mean.”
You smile, snuggling a little closer to Bradley. The only available room at the motel had two twin beds, which was more than reasonable for your needs. You’d started out in your own bed, but when you hadn’t been able to sleep, you’d climbed into bed with him. He’d pulled his covers up around you without missing a beat, drawing you into his chest. You slide a leg over his now, wrapping your arm around his middle and shifting your head on his shoulder. He slides his hand up and down your back in slow, soothing movements.
“...It never feels like enough,” Bradley admits softly. You frown, tipping your chin up to look at him. Before you can ask, he tacks on, “My time with you. Never feels like enough.”
You lower your head, biting your lip and nodding.
“I know,” You murmur. “Doesn’t feel like enough for me, either.”
Bradley sighs, nuzzling your hair and drawing in a deep breath.
“Go to sleep, Bradley.”
“I don’t wanna.”
“Why?”
“The sooner I do, sooner it’ll be morning. Sooner it’s morning, sooner you’ll go home.”
You smile, chest fluttering as you curl your fingers in the fabric of his sleep shirt.
“So you’re gonna stay up all night and make me do all of the driving tomorrow?” You tease.
“Long as you promise to ease up on that lead foot.”
“Oh, please. Doing 75 in a 60 mile zone is not a lead foot.”
“Damn near.”
“Vying for the title of drama queen again?”
Bradley chuckles softly. Your stomach flips as his fingers bunch the fabric of your shirt up a little, his pinkie trailing over your lower back.
“Go to sleep, Bradley.”
“Make me.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?”
“I don’t know, you’ll think of something.”
You snort, tipping your head up and resting your chin on his shoulder. You move a little too fast—Bradley’s still nuzzling against your hair as you shift. His lips brush over your forehead, then skim down the slope of your nose. As you go still, Bradley’s breath brushes your lips. Your heart pounds in your ears; you’re certain your palm is sweating where it’s pressed against his shirt. You can’t quite make out Bradley’s expression in the dim light of the room. You feel his fingers tightening in your shirt before he tips his chin. His lips brush, then press warmly against yours. Your eyes widen a touch, your heart leaping into your throat. Shit—shit. This is everything you’ve ever wanted, but you suddenly find that you can’t move.
Your shock and inaction seem to draw Bradley out of whatever’s overtaken him, and your heart drops into your stomach as he leans away, mumbling, “Shit—Shit, I’m sorry—”
Your brain catches up with your body, your hand lifting away from his shirt as Bradley starts to push himself to sit up. Another apology is falling from his lips as you hook your fingers in his collar, drawing him close again. He doesn’t finish his second I’m sorry as you catch his lips in a kiss. Your panicked thoughts go quiet as his hands flex, then clutch at your wrist. You nearly whimper as Bradley draws you fully on top of him, his groan vibrating against your lips. You plant one of your hands in the mattress, using it to hold yourself up over him as the two of you shift and adjust. He slips his hand up under your shirt, fingers splaying wide against your back. You slide your hand up from his collar to cup his cheek, palm pricking with the feeling of his stubble.
You lightly slip your tongue along the seam of his lips, whimpering softly as Bradley’s lips part, his tongue teasing tenderly against yours. He moans, tipping his head a touch. Your kisses deepen, your tongues twining as you press your bodies together. Bradley gives your shoulder a nudge as he shifts the two of you to sit up. You lean back, gripping the hem of your top and tugging it up and off. You see Bradley’s shirt flung to the side before he raises his hands, cupping your face and drawing you back in. You shift on the bed, straddling his hips and pressing closely to him.
It shouldn’t be so easy. It shouldn’t be so easy to sink into his arms, into his kisses, into his touch like this. It should feel foreign, but it feels like the most natural thing in the world. You smooth your fingers through his hair, curling the strands around your fingers and giving a slight tug. Bradley’s lips part in a moan and you dive in, sweeping your tongue into his mouth. Bradley’s hands smooth over your sides, then up over your shoulders. His palms are a little rough from work, but his touch is careful, and tender. He ducks back from your kiss, pressing one of your chin before his lips drift, smoothing along the line of your throat. You shiver at the brush of his kisses, the light scrape of his facial hair leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.
You tip your head down, biting your lip as Bradley gently grasps your breasts, massaging them. He dips his head, swiping his thumb over a budding nipple before lapping over it. You whimper, fingers tightening in his hair and pressing up against his lips. He draws your tit between his lips, giving it a suck, the tip of his tongue flicking against your nipple.
“Fuck, Bradley,” You mumble, hips shifting down against his. He hums softly, grinding up against you in turn.
“Lay back,” He murmurs against your skin. You do a little reluctantly, climbing off of his lap and laying back on the bed. Bradley hunkers down over you, fingers curling in the band of your pajama shorts. You feel him peering up at you in the darkness, his lips brushing your belly.
“Can I?” He murmurs. You nod, and Bradley tuts softly. “I gotta hear it, baby.”
You huff softly and reach down, resting your hands atop his.
“Yes,” You breathe, giving his hands a little squeeze.
--
You’ve imagined this, over and over. You’ve thought about how it might be between the two of you—tentative? Rushed? You’ve imagined what he would feel like—his body over yours, his thighs pushing yours wide, his breath brushing your skin.
You never could’ve thought it would be like this.
Your greedy cunt throbs around his cock as he eases it just a little deeper. Your nails dig into the muscle of his shoulders, your eyes rolling back into your head as you adjust to him. He growls against your neck, the push and heat of his breath against your jaw.
“Bradley,” You whimper. He grunts in turn, smoothing his hand over the meat of your thigh and tugging it up just a touch higher around his hip. A broken curse leaves your lips as he eases in to the hilt. He tips his chin up, sinking his teeth into the skin of your neck, laying a sharp nip, then sucking the sting from the skin. You can’t bring yourself to gripe with him about the inevitable bloom of the hickey there. You just raise a hand to fist in his hair, turning your head and catching his lips in a heated kiss. Your grip tightens on him, pussy fluttering as he begins to shallowly roll his hips. You let your head tip back onto the pillows, eyes sliding shut as he leans away. You feel him shift, planting his knees before he draws back. Your breath is punched out of you as he begins to thrust steadily.
Your toes curl as you tip your hips up toward him. You don’t bother to stop or staunch the whines and pleas that slip past your lips. You open your eyes as you feel Bradley lean over you, tucking his hand beneath your head and tipping your head up just a touch. You find Bradley’s eyes searching your face; his mussed hair curls down over his forehead; his lips are puffed from your kisses, and parted. You watch as his tongue swipes along his plush lower lip, and you find yourself straining up for a kiss. He tightens his grip on your nape, humming softly as his lips meet yours in a desperate, searching kiss.
You push your body up against him, curling your legs around his and sliding your arms down his back. You pout when he draws back from you, and raise your brows as he rests his hands on the bedframe. You only have a moment to adjust, to catch sight of the devious curl of his lips before his hips begin to hammer against yours.
--
When you begin to rouse, you think it may’ve been a dream. And then you become acutely aware of the slightly scratchy sheets against your bare skin, the soreness in your body, and the warmth and press of Bradley’s body behind you on the narrow little bed. You breathe in elation, and then breathe out panic, your eyes opening wide.
You cannot believe you did that. What were the two of you thinking? And what the hell does this even mean? You’ve known Bradley in one way since you were kids and this is so, so terribly different. You draw in a shaky breath, smoothing your hand over your face and trying to steady yourself. This is going to be fine. Whatever this happens, this is going to be fine, right? You’re adults, you can talk about this calmly and rationally—
You suck in a stunned breath as you feel Bradley drawing you back into his chest, and can’t help the soft giggle that leaves you as he brushes his coarse cheek against your shoulder.
“Are you up yet?” He mumbles. “‘M hungry.”
“Mhm.”
“Think they do room service?”
“We’re not at a fucking Hilton, Bradley. The closest they’ve got here is an overpriced vending machine.”
“...We have to get dressed, huh.”
“Yep.”
“Lame.”
You smile, pushing yourself to sit up. You roll your neck, sighing softly as you release tension. Before you can get up, Bradley curls his hand around your wrist, mumbling, “Hey.”
You turn to look at him, a smile growing unwittingly on your lips as he blinks sleepily up at you. Fuck, he looks good. He looks relaxed, and happy. You never want to forget the sight of him like this. He tugs you back, pulling you to meet him halfway as he props himself up on his elbow. You lean in, pecking his lip, and grinning as his hand lifts from your wrist, cupping your cheek. You’re going to pull away. You’re going to get up, shower, get dressed, and look up places for the two of you to get breakfast…Right after this next kiss…Or the one after that…
You groan softly as Bradley’s arm hooks around your shoulder, drawing you back down with him. You rest your hand on his abs, cuddling into his chest as you trade soft, sleepy kisses.
“Mm…Bradley?”
“Mm.”
“I thought…” You mumble against his lips, between kisses. “I thought…We were getting breakfast.”
Bradley grunts, lowering his arm to grip the covers and pull them back up over the two of you.
“...In a minute.”
--
You’re still in bed an hour later. You groan softly, bouncing in his lap, grinding down on his cock as Bradley mottles the skin of your collarbone with his lips and teeth. His hands grasp your ass, squeezing and guiding you as he pants against your skin. You shiver as you feel a familiar stirring in your belly.
“Bradley,” You warn.
“Yeah?” He murmurs; you can hear the smile in his voice. You loose a shaky hum, nodding, curling your arms around his shoulders and cuddling closer.
“Fuck, c’mon,” He urges, driving his hips up into you. You whine his name out, squeezing down around him as your orgasm wells up and crests sharply. You keep bouncing, sensitive and shaking as Bradley keeps fucking up into you. It’s only another few moments before his hips stutter, then slam up. You moan as Bradley eases the two of you back, laying back down as his softening cock slips from you. You curl up into his side as his fingers sweep tenderly over the nape of your neck. You draw in a deep breath, the pounding of your heart slowing as the two of you come down together.
“...I’m starving,” He mumbles. You roll your eyes, a laugh bubbling up.
“Maybe we should get up?”
“Probably should. Why didn’t you suggest that before?”
“Oh, my god,” You roll your eyes, rolling over and sliding out of his arms, “You know what—”
“What, are you getting up or something?”
“I am showering alone, Bradshaw.”
“That doesn’t sound like any fun.”
“I’m not leaving you any hot water.”
--
“We should check out the maritime museum,” You comment, flipping through a pamphlet. Bradley snuggles closer to you, curling his arm around your shoulder and looking down at the pamphlet. You can only imagine the looks you’re getting with the way the two of you are curled up together on the same side of the booth. Frankly, you can’t bring yourself to care.
“Maybe next time,” He offers. You frown, turning to look at him.
“Why next time?”
He shrugs a little, raising his hand to scratch his cheek, his budding beard rasping beneath his nails.
“Gotta get you back down to San Diego. Flight’s tonight,” He reminds you softly. You smile, gently nudging his shoulder with yours.
“My flight’s on Saturday. I changed it while you were showering,” You admit. Friday flights had been way too pricey, and the time you got on Saturday is going to suck—but it gives you another day and a half with Bradley. His eyes widen a touch, a smile spreading across his lips.
“You did what?” He murmurs.
“I changed it,” You repeat flippantly before turning back to the pamphlet. “So. Museum?”
Bradley doesn’t say a thing. He just presses his face into your neck, peppering the skin with little kisses that tickle, making you giggle and squirm.
--
“We should probably talk about this.”
You practically say it into your dufflebag as you fold your pajama bottoms. You’re too nervous to say it to his face. You expect Bradley to make a joke. Instead, he reaches out, grasping your hips. You take a couple of wobbly steps back when he tugs, smiling as he draws you down into his lap. He curls his arms around your middle securely, resting his chin on your shoulder and sighing softly.
“If you wanna leave everything that’s happened here,” He offers softly, “I’d understand.”
You bite your lip, peering down at where he’s holding you. You smooth your hands over his, shaking your head a little.
“I don’t want that,” You admit before nervously asking, “Do you?”
“No.”
A relieved breath eases out of you, your shoulders untensing a little.
“Okay.”
You turn your head, pressing a kiss to his temple, smiling as he catches hold of your hands and intertwines your fingers.
“I’m gonna tell you something,” He warns, “And I think you’re gonna…Be a little mad about it.”
Your brow furrows at the assertion.
“Okay?”
“...I ran out of gas on purpose.”
“You what?” You howl, jumping up out of his lap and turning to face him. He’s smiling, hands up in apology.
“I—”
“Both times?”
“No! Just the second time. The first one was a total accident.”
“Why the—” You take up a pillow, whacking him lightly with him as he raises his hands and tries to catch hold of the pillow, “Why the—goddamn hell did you do that!”
“I wanted to spend more time with you!”
He says it through his laughter, but it makes you stop. He catches hold of the pillow, tugging you closer before gently prying it out of your grip and tossing it aside in favor of taking your hands.
“I wanted to spend more time with you,” He repeats, drawing you closer, “And I missed holding you.”
You sigh softly, squeezing his hands softly.
“There were easier ways to do that,” You mutter.
“I know.”
“...It was fricking cold.”
“I know.”
“I was so pissed.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”
You sigh heavily, shoulders sagging as the irritation drains fully from you.
“If you ever do that again on purpose—”
“I won’t.”
“You promise?”
“I swear.”
“You better.”
“I won’t…You still mad at me?”
“...No,” You pout. He grins, tugging you closer to stand between his legs, and you smile, unable to help yourself.
“You’re insane, Bradshaw.”
“You know it, baby.”
#Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Reader#Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x You#Bradley Rooster Bradshaw/Reader#Bradley Rooster Bradshaw/You#Bradley Rooster Bradshaw fic#Bradley Rooster Bradshaw imagine#Roadtrip Rooster
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🍓?
@mutuals send me a 🍓 and ill compliment u!
HI HELLO ANDROMEDA
You are incredibly talented in so many more ways than one. Your writing is top fucking notch and I gobble up every single word of every one of your fics and rp threads and literally everything. But! You are *also* an amazing artist, and you put so much thought and care into everything you create. I have seen you dive in head first to things like. even. silly dragon game and then in a weeks time you are easily the Top Number One Go To about that thing. Does that make sense? Like I know hyperfixation is a thing but the fact you can take something and learn so much about it and retain that thing, but then turn around and be willing and able to help other people with that thing. It's just like. Admirable. You are the person equivalent of tofu-- I feel like you could be put in any sort of situation and easily adapt and manage to be the best part of the dish. And I really like tofu too so I promise this analogy works.
I know I talk about how talented you are a lot, but you are also so so so much more than your output. You are genuinely one of the best friends I have and I know that I would not be in the place I am now well-being wise had I not been blessed by the universe in meeting you three years ago now. You are always so Kind-- now this doesn't mean you're a doormat, because you even manage to disagree and have hard conversations but still do it in a way that is kind. And Helpful and Beneficial to everyone involved. You manage to give off the air of "Yes I have a level head and everything is under control" even when you feel like everything is falling apart and that you're overwhelmed. You manage to handle doing so many different things which blows my mind constantly, even if you think you're just failing to juggle chainsaws but I promise that people look at you and admire you for how much you are able to accomplish.
You are so fucking smart and you're hilarious-- honestly your sense of humor is so QUICK and CLEVER and its own special flavor of whacky that is just so wonderful. Like you wonder why you get starred in the discord server all the time it's cause you just manage to say the Exact Right Thing at the Right time to leave people in stitches.
I told you a few years ago, that I would compare you to Princess Celestia, and I know that in part is just me as someone who looks up to you personally putting you up in this position. BUT. I truly think that you are a princess not only because I admire you but because you are just so. Regal. And Lovely. And Yeah Big Fan. I'm a big Fandi-boy. I"m in the Fandidom. 10/10
And you deserve so so so so so so so many good things that whenever I get to hear about something good happening to/for you it just makes my heart feel so happy.
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╔═🫐.
– πέντε
kochetkovv - you're the world to me
1:35 ───ㅇ───── 2:14
↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ
↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺
Volume : ■■■■■□□□
pairing : renata glasc x E
chapter: 5
══.🫐.═╝
Well, to be honest, a few months ago when the Chem-Baroness herself asked me to be her partners i was very excited but i refused.. it was too fast we didn't really know each other. And well, at the end of the day, it was my boss after all so i wasn't really sure if it was a good idea. We both went back to our typical life, but now...going to work was way more fun. I'm not saying i don't like my job and of course working with her is an amazing way to spend the day but working there used to be more stressful, just thinking about seeing her would be enough to make me go crazy. Now, it's more easy. We passed that stage a while ago and we're pretty much friends now. i mean, friends with benefits, and the mutual feelings are here. God, is there even a name for that kind of relationship ?
Our offices aren't that far so when the opportunity comes.. Miss Glasc doesn't think twice about coming to my office in order to see me.
" You are very discreet today E. I don't recall seeing you this morning." She said while passing her hands in my blond hair
" I apologise i have an important project to finish as soon as i can. " i answered while looking at the blueprint on my desk.
" Look at you being so formal. " she said almost whispering, making me wish i was already done with that project so i could put all my attention on her.
That tension between us... it's mindblowing to me.
A tension that we would find hard to control.
We.. pretty much did it everywhere. Doing it in the toilet was an extremely interesting thing because, well, the floor was shining a lot so we could see our reflections in it and let me tell you, 100/10 would do it again.
But most of the time we would meet at her place, spending the day talking about more importants things, like poetry, history and books. Renata Glasc is certainly the most dangerous woman in Zaun but if you have the chance to get to know her you would find instead a very clever woman, that knows a lot of anything that you could ever think of. And needless to say spending time with her make me immensly happy. A feeling that seemed impossible for me to reach, before meeting her.
Every other day we go to each other's houses, of course my apartment is not as big as her mansion, but she doesn't care, she just wants to spend some private time with me. And since we started this little adventure, when she invites me to her house Renata cooks, and oh my god her dishes are delicious, it's like eating at a 5 stars restaurant.
In fact we really act like a married couple, I do the dishes while she is busy playing music to relax the atmosphere and then come and help me wipe the plates. And when we are together, it's no longer the big Renata Glasc but only.. Renata, her suit jacket and suit are taken off and I get to see Renata in her shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and believe me it's a pure pleasure.
In the bed she assigned me the right side, yes she's kinda a maniac on the edges..but it does not bother me since most of the time we find ourselves in the middle, or naked.
Renata has never let me touch her sexually, I haven't had the opportunity to do make her really feel anything yet and that bothers me because I'd like to give her what she deserves, but she probably has her reasons. And at least I'm allowed to see her completely naked, so I think that's a good start.
In her mansion everything is white, the people who clean are doing their job very well, you can see it in the tiles it's shiny here too. When I cross them I always say hello and sometimes I chat with them for a few moments, they're all adorable.
And of course it wouldn't be Renata's house if there wasn't giants stairs with a carpet on each steps and a huge portrait of Herself in the middle. You can't miss it.
I went up the stairs to my office, while passing back i stopped at Renata's office before continuing my day and she gave me a kiss on my temple. It makes me smile just thinking about it When I open the door I put my things on the desk and I decide to sit down, and I see the horror..
A bomb stuck under my desk, I try not to make any sudden gestures and to keep my calm...
E, clenched her teeth, the drop of sweat ran down her forehead, is this the end of her life? Suddenly she looked out of the window to try to get Renata's attention, but she was not in her office.
I'm going to die, she thought.
Two masked men who were watching the scene attentively, were standing on the roofs not far from Glasc industries, one of them had a button, he was ready to press.
"I'm waiting for the signal" says one of the two.
"Kill her."
And the man pressed the button.
E's office exploded in a second, and she was propelled through the window.
In a few seconds everything was on fire.
E, still unconscious, tried to scream but nothing came out, she was in shock. So much pain, so much blood.
Renata, who heard the explosion, feared the worst, the death of her beloved, the adrenaline was so strong that the baroness went up the stairs by 3, and her worst nightmare had arrived. The office was nothing but flame and smoke.
"MADAME GLASC DO NOT GO IN" said one of her colleagues but she did not listen, this scene reminded her of the death of her parents. Protecting her mouth because of the smoke she took the fire extinguisher and extinguished everything, still trying to find the one she loved.
"ELIA!" she shouted. She wanted to find her even if it meant losing her voice. But in vain. With all her strength she lifted the debris and found the horror... the two dismembered legs of E, but she did not find the rest of her body.... she looked out the window seeing no trace of the rest, just blood on the floor.
Renata Glasc, cried, for the second time in her life, kneeling on the ground...
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Okay but Nuea and Kluen’s dynamic is actually pretty clever. Mutual Pining™ is one of my all-time favourite tropes, don’t get me wrong, but in order for it to work, there has to be a good reason the characters aren’t together despite their mutual crush and often the fallback is that they’re just very oblivious to each other. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it just makes Star In My Mind a refreshing change. Because the mutual pining here - while yes, in part due to confusion and miscommunication - is primarily due to personality and circumstances. And interestingly, the mutual attraction is something they’re both vaguely aware of but refuse to act on.
On the one hand, we have Nuea. He’s the go-getter, the loud and open and straightforward one who always says what’s on his mind. He’s the one who, by his own admission and previous demonstration, would approach and confess to his crush. Even in his dreams, he pictures himself confessing to Kluen first, not the other way around. It’s just in his nature.
But here’s where the circumstances come into play. 1. He’s already confessed and received a non-answer. As far as he’s concerned, he’s been as good as rejected. 2. He thinks that Kluen has a girlfriend and is unavailable. And he’s way too self-respecting and strongwilled to be a secret mistress.
But he isn’t stupid either. He doesn’t need to be for the story to work. He’s fully aware that Kluen was leaning in for a kiss during the drawing lesson, straight up calls him out on it, but the moment - and the knowledge of his attraction potentially being mutual - doesn’t change anything for him. Because Kluen still hasn’t admitted to having feelings and because he’s still, to Nuea’s knowledge, taken. Nuea isn’t stupid but he does have tunnel vision and situational bias (and self-respect).
Then, on the other hand, we have Kluen. He’s harder to get a read on, by nature of being a quieter, less emotive character. But after Nuea’s confession and immediate move to Germany, it’s likely he thinks Nuea moved on and got over him. And to make matters worse, Nuea’s stubborn, slightly prideful, “let’s plow forward” personality leads him to deny ever having known Kluen at all. That adds to the uncertainty. Barrier 3.
The only way Kluen can be sure either way is by asking Nuea. This presents several problems. First, he’s a very reserved person who clearly struggles to convey his emotions and open up to others. There’s also the fact that asking Nuea if he still has a crush on Kluen would mean outing his own crush. Because why would he care to know the answer unless he likes Nuea, right? He thinks Nuea still likes him but then Nuea pretends they don’t know each other. He thinks Nuea might still like him but then he hears Nuea sweet-talking someone on the phone. He thinks Nuea might still like him but then someone comes running to Nuea’s aid and calls him Dao, the nickname that’s reserved for romantic partners. At every turn, there’s something to make him question and hesitate.
I think what makes it such an interesting dynamic is that they’re both in the exact wrong position. If the roles were reversed (ie. if instead Nuea had found out about Kluen’s crush immediately before getting shipped off to another country and surprise reunited a year later), they would’ve gotten together by the end of the first episode (depending on the situation with Gia, that is). And that makes for excellent characterization.
#desperately hoping they don’t pull some kind of weird stunt with gia#I really want there to be a reveal that they were never actually dating#which is my guess for what’s gonna happen#I wasn’t expecting to like this show but I’m really in love with the characters and the engaging pacing#none of my friends are watch simm so I’m just gonna scream into the void and hope it screams back#I hope this sounds vaguely intelligent?#kluennuea#nueakluen#kluendao#star and sky: star in my mind#star in my mind the series#star in my mind#star in my mind meta#asian lgbtq dramas#asian dramas#thai dramas#thai bl#asian bl#bl dramas#*my stuff
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Starker - Morgan’s best friend Peter
I’ve seen these incredible posts going around by @fearlesstarker : so I just had to write a little something. Fluff ahead, kids.
Morgan tries to take a moment to really think about it.
She sits back and straightens her spine; the way she does in class when she’s about to prove that everyone in the room- including her professor- is a moron. She cocks her head, examines Peter Parker opposite her, and thinks about it. Truly thinks about it.
“Yes,” she concludes after a moment, all the data filing away neatly, everything coming up a match.
Peter looks up at her, eyes rimmed-red with tears, hair a brown, scraggly mess atop his head. “What do you mean?” He sniffles, still in his pyjamas, still smelling like cologne too expensive to be his.
“You and my dad.” She says, nodding, “Yes.” She gets up and heads to the kitchen. She has a studio-apartment, of course. Her dad would settle for nothing less.
Peter follows at her heels: radiating anxiety. “Morgan, I-”
“It’s fine, Peter. Do you want some tea?” Never espresso’s for Peter, he has enough energy as it is. She pulls down two white ceramic mugs.
“Morgan.” He says again, voice firmer this time. Deeper. She still remembers hearing it break when they were both thirteen, curled up together in a tent on the school’s camping trip.
They’d been shit at building their tent. It had collapsed in the middle of the night and they’d lain there, under stars, sharing secrets. His voice had cracked for the very first time, and she was the first person to know, and she’d held his hand and-
“Morgan.”
The mugs are shaking in her hands.
“Morgan, look at me.”
His hands then, on her shoulders, turning her round, and she’s being hugged by her best friend. By her brother. By Peter B Parker.
He’s taller than her- but only in the physical sense, and she buries her face in his chest and tears come and he holds her so tight- like he doesn’t remember how strong he is. Like he thinks he’s still that scrawny thirteen year old who needed Morgan to protect him from bullies. But he isn’t. Not really.
“I’m sorry.” He whispers into her hair, then thinks better of it. He pulls away and looks into her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Morgan. I’m sorry I slept with your dad. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to. I’m sorry for keeping this a secret. I’m so, so sorry.”
She wants to tell him it’s okay, but she’s crying too hard.
“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.” He vows, his voice breaking, “it was a one-time thing. I won’t- I won’t pursue it. Not if you’re not okay with it. I’m sure- I- I know your dad feels the same way.”
“It’s just so…”
“I know.” Peter cuts her off, pained, “I know how it looks. But I promise- it isn’t like that. We connected last summer, remember? When he helped me fix up my car? And-and it was like we were seeing each other for the first time. He’s a good man, your dad, I swear, Morgs, and-and-please, please don’t hate me-”
“God, Peter.” She laughs, watery and honest, “I’m not upset because of any of that! “ She smacks his shoulder. “How can you know me so well and be so blind? I’m scared I’ll lose you. You’re mine, Peter Parker, d’you hear me?”
His face breaks into the most glorious smile, and she knows she loves him the way she loved him when they were thirteen. When she understood family was so much more than blood. “All yours.” He promises. “That will never change.”
She believes him. She sighs, and wipes her cheeks, and nods, pulling herself together. “Well alright then,” she breathes, “but don’t think for one second I’m calling you dad.”
His laughter sounds like music.
***
Evidently, she’s not the only one who thinks so.
Because a month later, she’s sitting at the dining table, and her dad’s setting down something that looks dangerously like home-made spaghetti, and there are candles on the table, and it’s subtle- but she can see it.
Her dad’s sweating.
“Looks good.” She says, even though it doesn’t, trying to calm him down.
Tony gives her a knowing look. She grins at him.
“Don’t sass me, baby Stark. I spent all day on this and in spite of DUM-E’s best efforts, there weren’t even any fires.”
“Not any?” She arches her eyebrow.
Tony winces.
Peter...laughs.
Morgan watches how her dad lights up at the sound. How he brandishes his serving spoon at Peter warningly, and their eyes meet, and there’s a moment- something soft- and raw- just like the meatballs.
“I’ll get us take-out,” Morgan says gently, and she’s worried for a second, that they don’t hear her. That this is how it’ll be from now on- she used to be both of their number ones, and now she’s both of their number two’s.
She orders from the Chinese place across the road- the one that knows them, and the three of them sit in front of the TV and settle in for a movie.
Peter dishes out, and he serves Morgan first. All the spring-rolls and the crispiest noodles.
Something small- bright and lovely- burns within her as she takes her plate.
And when, during the film, she and Peter begin to doze off- it’s her who gets the blanket first. Draped lovingly over her by her dad. It’s her head he kisses before he tends to Peter and she knows- she hasn’t lost anything.
She has only gained.
*
The Press-
Don’t care. It’s weird. Morgan keeps waiting for the backlash. In fact, all of Tony’s team seem to be waiting, but it never comes. It seems that most people expect handsome billionaires to have boyfriends half their age.
“Huh,” Peter says, in a new, custom-made suit that compliments his skin-tone, “I guess that means you’re old news, Tony Stark,” and he kisses the edge of Tony’s mouth. Morgan pretends not to watch.
Her dad turns to Peter, grinning, mischievous, young in a way he hasn’t seemed in a while. “Don’t worry. I can do something about that.”
*
Proposing to Peter on the red carpet for GLAMOUR’s man of the year award does spark the headlines.
“Really, dad?” Morgan laughs, phone nestled into the crook of her neck because she can’t find her airpods.
“What can I say? I have a flair for the dramatic.”
“More like a flair for the idiotic.” Comes another voice, a little muffled, and Morgan smiles.
“Is that Peter? Tell him I say hi.”
“Morgan says hi.”
“Oh! Say hey back.”
“Peter says hey.”
“Is he coming up for the LA workshop?”
“Are you coming up for the- hey, you know what, you talk to each other.”
“So grouchy in the morning.” Peter teases, and there’s the sound of kissing, and Morgan faux-retches.
*
When she thought about it, way at the start, she did the pros and the cons. Their obvious compatibility, mutual interests, and potential were some of the heaviest pros.
There were cons, too.
When she makes the drive up, through snow and sleet, back to Stark Tower. Back into New York. In the middle of her academic year even though her dad told her it was fine (and she knew it wasn’t fine) she sees him sitting in his lab, buried deep in work.
“Dad.” She says quietly, ruffling his hair.
“Sweetheart,” he says gruffly, voice rough from dis-use. “I told you, you didn’t have to come. Tell me you didn’t drive in this weather. I would have had Happy-”
“Dad.” She says again, because she’s learnt from watching Peter how to deal with people who are just a little too clever and a little too impatient. Who does he think she gets it from?
She rests her head on his shoulder and Tony sets down his instruments, but Morgan’s already seen the way his hands were shaking.
“You guys will be okay.” She promises, because she’s a genius but also because there are some things you just know for sure. Without a doubt.
*
She finds Peter at a bar outside of Cal-Tech.
He’s nursing an orange juice, but he smells like whiskey.
He cringes when he sees her. “Morgan, I know this must be so awkward-”
“A whiskey neat.” She tells the bar-tender, who squints at her like he’s trying to figure out her age, before recognizing her and stumbling in his haste to obey. “Nothing to be awkward about.” She says. “I’m not on anyone’s side. I love you both. Let’s just drink and maybe do some karaoke.”
Peter peers at her, as if trying to gauge her sincerity, and he slides back onto the barstool. “Okay,” he says eventually, “but only if it’s High School Musical. And only if I get to be Troy.”
“You can be Ryan.”
“If you’re Chad.”
They grin at each other.
Everything’s going to be okay.
*
Morgan’s the one in a white dress at the wedding and that feels...right, somehow. Weird. But right.
Her dad’s in some designer ocean-blue suit. It looks effortless on him. Peter’s in a deep burgundy, a bordeaux, and he cups Tony’s jaw in his hand and whispers something that makes Tony’s entire body ease. Tensionless. Free from burden.
Morgan hasn’t seen that very often.
There’s crying (theirs, Morgan will insist to the tabloids, and not hers at all) and there are doves, and the beach, and food, and dancing and golden rings on fingers.
A little after midnight, she’s about to head back to the hotel when she sees them. Two lone figures under the stars.
“How was that?” Tony whispers, arm around Peter’s waist, voice soft as waves.
“Pretty good for a first wedding.” Peter teases, kissing the underside of Tony’s jaw. “It was perfect, Tony. But everything’s perfect with you.”
“I’m not perfect,” he whispers.
“No.” Peter agrees, smiling, and he wraps his arms around Tony’s neck. “We are imperfectly perfect together. I love you.”
Tony kisses him like he can’t help himself, before he pulls back and traces Peter’s eyelashes. “I love you.”
Then, both of them, together: “We love you too, Morgan.”
She gasps, and darts back into the shadows- all fruitless, of course. They’ve seen her. They will always see her.
But then the taxi comes and she sees her own face in the rear-view mirror.
She’s smiling. Just as hard as they are.
#fluff#starker#Peter and Morgan are best friends#Morgan stark#Tony stark#Peter parker#college student peter#college student morgan#marriage
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Hi here are some reasons ROTI is one of my favorite seasons:
Chris is a huge dick but it’s like balanced between how okay he was in s1/2 and how like murderous he was in s5/6 and it’s kinda funny!
The boat scene with gen 1 was mostly adorable
Jo is such a cool character, like she’s funny and interesting but has a lot of moral ambiguity and negative traits to balance it out. Her relationship with the maggot team, especially Cam and Brick, was entertaining to watch!
I know people think Zoke is bland but tbh I thought it was adorable. Like that nose boop where Mike goes “:D” in Grand Chef Auto. Also the fact he’ll do anything to save Zoey was great, and their conflicts had a healthy resolution in the end. Seeing Zoey accept him was awesome (even if it wasn’t tactful), and to me it felt like she became less judgmental after too, so mutual development. They aren’t the most intriguing separately but I’m a sucker for the “dorks for dorks” dynamic
Same with Samkota! I love how Sam got Dakota to feel more empathetic and how she motivated him, and they didn’t reject each other based on a difference in social standing. Also I just love both of them separately, Dakota’s so determined and lonely, and Sam is willing to befriend her and make anyone feel happier but also has less game motivation. Balance baby
Cameron and Mike had such a sweet friendship, the scene where Mike tries to save him and Zoey in the mine is *chef’s kiss*
Also: Cameron! I love him sm! His excitement at new experiences was great and I love how he overcame all the bullying he endured and won, and had the heart to split it! He isn’t perfect, he can definitely be socially clueless and he’s bad at keeping secrets, but he’s a good character!
Scott was such a good antagonist. He’s not a good person but he’s super clever, and his self-sabotage plans were pretty original. Guys he’s so smart
Lightning was both hilarious and sympathetic. Ik he was a jerk towards the end but I felt so bad for him bc of his dad, and him losing wasn’t good but I think it could’ve developed him and helped him learn to be less arrogant. Also he was kinda justified in being mad at Cameron, though not to the extent that he was
Staci was annoying but I think she had potential. Lying to get people to like you because you’re lonely but instead driving them away? Her growing and learning to build her own identity? Yes please!
Dawn and B’s friendship was great, also it was nice to see a mute character who wasn’t mysterious or unstable. B is smart and I love them. Also Dawn! I wish we could’ve seen more of her, she’s so noble and cool
Commando Zoey! That’s it that’s my input
Brick learning to be more assertive and getting booted for it hurt but in a good way
Anne Maria is funny and it broke my heart that she left so early, also her and Jo’s bickering is peak married couple content
Svetlana did nothing wrong we love Svetlana in this house
And all the other alters, but mostly Svetlana she just wants to save everyone and do flips she’s so funky
The monsters made the season feel newer and separate from 1-3, also Dakotazoid wasn’t exactly a good end for her arc buuuut I do love me some monster women who protect their friends
Mike and Zoey being movie nerds lives in my head rent free I love that for them
Zoey just wanted to make friends guys she doesn’t have much social experience I know she was judgy but she was trying her best and she wasn’t nearly as much of a Mary Sue as she was in all stars she’s great I love her
Okay I think that’s all rn but yea gen 2 is pogchamp
#total drama#td mike#td zoey#td cameron#td lightning#td dakota#td sam#td jo#td brick#td scott#td staci#td b#td dawn#td anne maria#td svetlana#zoke#tdroti
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THE VAMPIRE LESTAT COVER ALBUM - the legendary Vampire Lestat is back and bigger and badder than ever, this time bringing a whole album of song covers ranging from classic bangers to newer fresh takes on chart hits! get your copy now, complete with a transcript of the artist's commentary on each song!
(songs I think Lestat would cover and release as an album in an attempt to re-kickstart his career and/or make some sort of dramatic statement to Louis. tracklist and "artist commentary" under the cut)
Survival - Muse
“And I’ll reveal my strength, to the whole human race, yes I am prepared, to stay alive, and I won’t forgive, and vengeance is mine, and I won’t give in, because I choose to thrive! Yeah I’m gonna win!”
Oh, I wish this song had been around back on that opening night at the Cow Palace - how apt that would have been! What a fucking anthem! They would have been rioting all night. I mean, they already were, but, like, because of the music. Not because vampires were being immolated in the middle of the crowd. Different kind of riot.
The Bitch Is Back - Elton John
“I’m a bitch, I’m a bitch, oh the bitch is back, stone cold sober as a matter of fact, I can bitch, I can bitch, ‘cause I’m better than you, it’s the way that I move, the things that I do!”
One day I want to have this play as I walk into Night Island. I’ll time it perfectly so that I throw off my coat - my denim jacket, or- oh, no, a fur! Maximum drama! - just as the chorus starts. Armand will know that I’m coming of course, but I think that’ll just make it even better. And I have good memories to this song... [muffled question] Sorry, gentlemen don’t kiss and tell, bébé. [laughter]
Everybody Loves Me - OneRepublic
"Oh my, feels just like I don’t try, look so good I might die, all I know is everybody loves me, head down, swaying to my own sound, flashes in my face now, all I know is everybody loves me”
Look, do I even need to explain this one? Didn’t think so.
Bad Reputation - Joan Jett
"I don't give a damn ‘bout my reputation, I've never been afraid of any deviation, and I don't really care if you think I'm strange, I ain't gonna change - and I'm never gonna care bout my bad reputation"
This one's fairly self-explanatory again. It could have been my personal anthem when I was mortal quite honestly. And it's an awful lot of fun to jump about and headbang to, don't you think? That's a new thing I've found out about, headbanging. People have been hopping about to music looking like fools for centuries but now there's a name for it. Fantastic.
bad guy - Billie Eilish
"I’m that bad type, make your mama sad time, make your girlfriend mad type, might seduce your dad time… I’m the bad guy. Duh.”
Creepy? Check. Sexy? Check. Tongue-in-cheek? Check check. This song was great and a lot of fun to cover.
Lover to Lover - Florence + the Machine
“I believe there’s no salvation for me now, no space among the clouds, and I feel I’m heading down, but that’s alright, that’s alright, that’s alright”
I don’t know, this one just felt very relevant. Also the piano was great to do. You might have noticed that I’ve picked a lot of songs with piano, and that’s because I bullied the studio into getting me a goooooorgeous grand piano for the recording space and I wanted to use it as much as possible!
Feeling Good - Muse
“Stars when you shine, you know how I feel, scent of the pine, you know how I feel, oh freedom is mine, and I know how I feel”
I just really like this song - I’ve done a cover of an excellent cover! Can- can you put emojis in this? Do people still use emojis? Well imagine I’ve put the shrug one. Wait, isn’t there- Daniel, Daniel, come here, isn’t there a shrug emoji made up of keyboard- [muffled words] yes! The shrug one! Yes, put that in the transcription. [ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ] I just like this song.
The Man - The Killers
“I got gas in the tank, I got money in the bank, I got news for you baby, you're looking at the man, I got skin in the game, I got a household name, I got news for you baby, you're looking at the man”
I feel like this one speaks for itself too. Can you put that shrug emoji thing in here again? [ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ] Yes!
J'ai Pas Envie - MIKA
J'ai pas envie, de faire comme si, comme les maris, qui disent oui, j'ai pas envie, j'ai pas envie, j'ai pas envie d'te faire plaisir, j'ai pas envie, j'ai pas envie, si tu m'aimes viens me le dire"
Look, I'm not going to translate the whole song for you, because it has all this clever wordplay you just totally lose in english… but the gist of it is that these two lovers are… at odds a lot. It's… it's maybe a little spiteful [laughter] but in a fun way! It's a fun song! Louis won't even be mad about it, it's MIKA.
Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy - Queen
"When I'm not with you, think of you always (I miss those long hot summer nights), when I'm not with you, think of me always, always"
[Long pause] God, I miss Freddie.
Let 'Em Talk - Kesha
Ah, full disclosure - I put this song in purely because of the expression Louis made when I played it in the car and it got to the line “can suck my dick” and she did that popping noise… it was incredible, and I just knew I had to cover it so I could see his expression when I said that. I can’t wait to play it to him. [laughter]
So What - P!nk
"So so what, I'm still a rockstar, I got my rock moves, and I don't need you, and guess what? I'm having more fun, and now that we're done, I'm gonna show you tonight, I'm alright, I'm just fine, (and you're a tool, so)"
I'm actually a big fan of nineties and noughties female stars - all that grrrrrrrl power, it's great fun, you know? I'd say this one is fairly self-explanatory, because I am still a rockstar! This is my new album! Fuck you EMP and your sniffy little article calling me "washed up"!
Little Lion Man - Mumford & Sons
"But it was not your fault but mine, and it was your heart on the line, I really fucked it up this time, didn't I my dear?"
This one could be self-deprecating, but it's also very vindictively angry at the same time, and that's a combination I definitely get. Like, oh, it's my fault, isn't it? It's my fucking fault again, what a surprise. Perhaps "learn from your mother or you'll spend your days biting your own neck" is a little on the nose… [muffled words] you've read my books, right? [muffled words] Good, good.
Missy - The Airbourne Toxic Event
"But I swear there's still some good in me, I think if you'd stuck around you'd see, all the botched attempts at integrity I once had"
Oh, I was feeling philosophical when I picked this one. No, philosophical isn't the right word… melancholy? Do people still use that word? "I swear I swear I swear I'll never get sad" is both furiously defiant and yet so self-defeatingly ironic. [Exasperated noise] Enough of that. Next!
Please Don't Leave Me - P!nk
"I don't know if I can yell any louder, how many times have I kicked you out of here, or said something insulting? I can be so mean when I wanna be, I am capable of nearly anything, when my heart is broken… (please, please don't leave me)"
Oh, we’re… we’re getting to this section now. [clearing throat] Well, I have to make up for that sucking dick line, don’t I? Get a bit vulnerable. Oh God, why did I decide to do this bit? [muffled words] [bad chicago accent] But why buy the cow? Because you love him, you really do. [sigh, laughter]
Next To Me - Imagine Dragons
"Oh, I always let you down, shattered on the ground, still I find you there, next to me, and oh, the stupid things I do, I'm far from good it's true, still I find you, next to me"
Why did I- I don’t remember putting so many of these ones in.
Run To You - Pentatonix
"I've been settling scores, I've been fighting so long, but I've lost your war, and our kingdom is gone... how shall I win back your heart which was mine? I have broken bones and tattered clothes, I've run out of time"
[Sigh] [clears throat] Yeah. I think we can move onto the next one.
Love of My Life - Queen
“Love of my life, don't leave me, you've stolen my love, you now desert me, love of my life, can't you see? Bring it back, bring it back, don't take it away from me, because you don't know, what it means to me”
I play this one sometimes on my baby grand when we've had a fight, and it's impossible for him to stay angry. He's a sucker for this sort of… formality in romance. God, I wish I'd realised that earlier. If I'd written him a letter in fancy copperplate script with scented paper and enclosed rose petals politely requesting him to bend me over his desk back in the day, it might not have taken two centuries of mutual blue balls for us to figure our shit out. Ah well, live and learn… as it were. [muffled words] Look, I did a whole bunch of vulnerable songs! Now I get to make sex jokes! [laughter] oh fuck off.
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Mutual Enduring
Hello everyone! Today on the wavewave agenda we have a whump two-shot! With a side of humanformers (they're still from cybetron and age like in canon but they look and act human) Slightly warning for mentions of torture and some sexy stuff.
Continuity: Fan continuity (mostly a mix of IDW 1 and TFP)
@wavewave-week
Wavewave Week- Day 4- Power/Affection
He hated the feeling of cold metal against his skin, the needles, the darkness, the restraints that caused his arms and legs to go numb, but most of all he hated remembering.
The memories of the night the empurata was performed on him were memories he purpusely supressed, the only thing m he couldn't be rid off was the pain, at least not without medication.
Both he and Breakdown had been captured by MECH, neither could manage to escape or free themselves. It was an illogical outcome, that humans had gotten the best of two Cybertronians, but alas his current predicament was proof that it was possible.
He didn't know where Breakdown was, or if he was still alive, but if he managed to escape he'd look for him. He owed the man that much after he took a hit for him.
"Shockwave!" A female voice called out. He heard an alarm sound along with footsteps and gunfire. Just what was happening outside his room.
His was fading in and out of consciousness, but he could see the wall falling apart. Some people had taken down the door.
The voice from before called him again, it was louder and more distinct, as he could now recognize.
"Monochrome?" He muttered. His throat was raspy from dehydration and he couldn't speak properly.
"Yes it's me. Don't worry we're here to get you out."
"Breakdown, is he...?"
"He's safe, he's the one who told us you were still here and alive." he recognized Knockout's distinct voice as the medic began undoing his restraints. He didn't sound too chirpy however. "Just what did they do to you?!"
He couldn't answer, but deduced the man was asking about the peeled skin of his arms, or the scars on his chest. Even if the room was more illuminated now, he still couldn't properly discern the silouttes of his comrades.
"We'll carry you out. Just hold on until we get to the Nemesis. Please Shockwave! Please try to hold on!"
He could feel her tears falling on him. Why? Why would she cry for him? Why would anyone cry for him? They both carried him away from the building, setting the place ablaze as they escaped.
Outside it was nighttime, the stars looked so tiny from here, or maybe that was his vision failing him again.
There were more voices in the distance, getting closer. Obsidian, Strika, even Breakdown was there although he sounded much different. There was one voice however he was not expecting, at least not in such a desperate manner.
Soundwave's melodic voice was so strained, he was asking a myriad of questions in rapid fire to both Knockout and Monochrome. The medics had to calm him down as everyone finally headed towards the arriving Nemesis.
Shockwave's conciousness was slipping, the last thing her remembered was holding onto Soundwave's hand as he was weekend away to the medbay.
***
Soundwave has never felt as powerless as he did at this moment. Well, except perhaps for the time he found Shockwave after his empurata.
Both tragedies had been similar. The man he loved was covered in blood and in desperate need of care. The first tragedy he'd survived, but forgotten who he was before it, what he had before being turned into an emotionless man who simply cared for logic. The second was still unfolding, and all Soundwave could do was pray that he survived. Even if he changed once more, even if that small spark of remembrance was gone.
"Why is it taking so long?!" He asked, throwing the glass he was holding to the wall, where it shattered to bits.
Rumble and Frenzy both looked surprised but didn't question it, Laserbeak and Buzzsaw had fallen asleep, while Ravage and Megatron had just arrived at the scene.
"Soundwave stop!"
He froze upon hearing Megatron yell. The tall man also looked to be worried, but no one could tell for certain.
"I'm concerned for Shockwave's health as well but stressing like this won't help anyone. He's receiving medical attention, all that's left to do now is to wait.
When he's well, he'll need support, especially yours. You must be in good health as well."
He nodded, still nervous and mad. His superior must've noticed as he pulled him into a hug. While they were close he knew Megatron was not the type to be affectionate in public. He returned the hug, holding back the tears and simply letting himself go.
It too a while for the two to separate. Ravege then took over comfort duties and purred as he nuzzled his friend. Soundwave picked him up and pet him as he waited outside the medbay. After what seemed like an eternity, Monochrome came out of the room, her scrubs were covered in blood but she was smiling.
"He's okay. His organs were fine and all we had to do was place some skin grafts and rehydration serum. You may see him now if you like, he'll be up soon." The dark skinned woman yawned. "I however will be going to bed."
"Go, I'll join you soon enough." Megatron told her.
She nodded and left. His superior turned to look at him. "Do you want me to go with you?"
"No, it's fine. Go with your wife, I'm sure she's tired after all of this, and so are you. Thank you sir, and please thank Monochrome on my behalf too.
Megatron nodded before leaving. Rumble and Frenzy took care of the pets before he headed inside, hoping Shockwave wouldn't forget even more.
***
The two people he first saw were Knockout and Breakdown. The medic was changing his gloves and coat while Breakdown spoke to him from his bed. His tanned skin was covered in bandages, and he wore an eyepatch. He soon noticed that Shockwave was awake.
"Shockwave! You're awake!" Breakdown beamed. "I'm glad you're okay. It seems like we'll be matching now." He joked as he pointed to his eyepatch.
How? How could he endure such torture and still be smiling like that? It was one of the many questions his research wouldn't answer.
"It's satisfactory to know you were rescued and alive. Thank you for your concern Breakdown."
"Anytime."
Knockout walked over to his side. "May I give you a quick check up now that you're awake? I have to know if you have any lingering pain."
He would've laughed but he didn't have the energy to be sarcastic at the moment, he simply nodded and let the medic examine him.
Someone else came into the room, it was Soundwave. His blue hair was a mess and his eyes looked as if he'd been crying. Neither Breakdown nor Knockout seemed surprised.
"Medically you're fine. Don't take off these bandages in at least two days, they're waterproof and soft so they'll allowed you to sleep and bathe, if you don't have anything else you need me to look at you should be good to go."
Shockwave nodded and tried to stand, but he would've fallen down face first had Soundwave not picked him up. "I'll carry you."
He didn't protest as the other man carried him away or when they arrived at Soundwave's room instead of his lab.
"I volunteered to care for you. Tomorrow you can go to the lab, but tonight you should rest. I'll ready a bath for you and make you food."
He stayed silent and seated on Soundwave's bed as the blue haired man ran around the room. He put his sons and pets to bed and was now serving him dinner.
Why was he always so caring? The two of them knew eachother for milenia, Soundwave was the only person he remembered after the shadowplay and empurata experiments performed on him, yet no matter how hard he tried to remember he couldn't recall anything else. Were they once close? He couldn't say, but that seemed like the most likely hypothesis.
"Food's ready."
"Soundwave."
"Yes? Is anything wrong? Do you want something else? Maybe you'd rather take the bath first, sorry I can reheat the soup after, no worries."
"No no! I'm fine. I just ...I must ask you a question."
"Yes?"
"Why do you care so much for me? Our fields of work are vastly different, as are our social circles and our personalities yet you constantly look out for me...You're also the only person I can remember from my old life. Why is that? Can you give me an answer?"
"I can, but not now. We can talk before we sleep. I promise."
He decided to trust his comrade. After eating and taking a bath he was ready to speak with Soundwave. He sat beside him on the bed waiting for him to speak.
Soundwave was trembling, as if he was terrified of speaking. Shockwave was not good at dealing with emotional people but somehow he knew what to do.
His hands fell upon Soundwave's fair face, their red gaze was full of tears but he didn't look away. Soundwave placed his hand over his tenderly.
It seemed he was finally ready to answer him.
***
"I love you. I've loved you for centuries. Before the war happened and you were tortured, we were sparkmates... Then you were taken from me, and I thought I'd spend my life pinning for that version of you, but I didn't, because I love you still. Even if you don't remember, even if you're more alligned with logic than emotion, even if you don't love me back. I still love you Shockwave."
It wasn't in his nature to be surprised, but he would've never expected this answer.
It made sense, he'd seen how the couples of the Nemesis acted, or even human pairs. The fact that despite their distance Soundwave was so caring towards him, or that he'd be the only one his mind refused to forget. Even now, he seemed to know what the other wanted without voicing it.
Soundwave thought he'd faint when he felt Shockwave's lips over his. He'd always been a greedy kisser, even in their youth. He'd sometimes surprise Soundwave with a deep kiss before parting ways, other times he'd simply seduced him with his soft voice and clever hands.
After letting go they both took a moment to intensely memorize the other's face. Shockeave hadn't changed much save for his missing eye, which was now made of glass, and the scars upon his neck and arms that hadn't faded in centuries. Soundwave looked almost the same, but his built was stronger and he was now as tall as Shockwave.
"You taste as good as I remembered." He whispered. "I've missed you."
"Soundwave, are you certain I'm what you desire? There are other cons who'd give you the affection you crave, the affection you deserve. I don't know if I'll ever be the man you first fell in love with."
"Shockwave, I'm certain that you're the only one I want. Whether you're a kind senator or a serious scientist or a combination of both. I love every aspect of you."
That was all the confirmation he needed. He kissed Soundwave again, this time the blue haired man seemed to melt into the gesture, giving all control to him. Shockwave smirked as he gently bit Soundwave's bottom lip.
"Mmh! Seems like you haven't forgotten that."
"I've bitten you before?"
"Many times. You've left lots of marks. Not that I'm complaining."
Soundwave gently placed Shockwave upon the pillows. "And while I love your bites, I think I'd prefer spoiling you with kisses."
He let Soundwave do as he pleased. As promised the spymaster kissed his lips, cheeks, neck and even his chest. After three days of torture, this was exactly what he'd needed.
"Soundwave, let me kiss you too."
His heart raced when Shockeave pulled him into a kiss. Soundwave felt the scientist hands tangled in his hair, he kissed every inch he could get his lips on, and wouldn't let go until they were both breathless.
Sleep was taking over for them both. Soundwave pulled Shockwave close, careful not to worsen his injuries. "Are you comfortable?"
"Very much so."
"Good."
"I could tell you craved this. Your desperate touch, it breaks my heart."
"You don't need to worry about that, Shockwave. I'm fine now that you're with me.
I'll take care of you. And once you're better we'll hunt down the humans who hurt you and Breakdown. I promise."
"That's comforting to hear. But all I desire now is to sleep by your side. I intend to give you more affection tomorrow."
Soundwave smiled. "I'd like that. Goodnight dear."
"Goodnight."
Shockwave was not used to sleeping, much less with another person by his side, but the beating of Soundwave's heart and the feel of his arms around him was enough to grant him the most peaceful sleep he had in centuries.
#wavewave#wavewave-week#tf soundwave#tf shockwave#tf breakdown#tf knockout#tf rumble#tf frenzy#tf lazerbeak#tf buzzsaw#tf ravage#tf Megatron#tf oc#tf Monochrome#two-shot#mini fic#tw: torture
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rooftops untouched by the frost
Brian May x Reader
also published in issue #2 of the akom fanzine, which you can read here
synopsis: in which you seek an escape from a rowdy New Year’s party, and encounter a young guitarist seeking precisely the same.
warnings: drinking, swearing
word count: 2k
a/n: happy new year, happy new year, may we all have our hopes, our will to try.
⭒
31st of December, 1972
You’d never liked these parties.
Student parties, they were, full of people who thought that the best way to enter the new year was with a headache and a roughened throat, bodies racked by the alcohol consumed the previous night, and the results which followed.
When your friends mingled, you stuck to the corners, where you wouldn’t be seen, wouldn’t be found.
But the corners grew stuffy, or occupied with people who could not keep their hands off of each other, and so you drifted.
It was in 1972 that you discovered the respite from the rest of the party guests.
Wandering the house, you’d found that the owners were far more wealthy than you had initially believed, which was saying something for people living nigh upon the centre of London, and a hallway led to a bedroom, led to a hidden ladder, led to a roof.
Outside, it was cold, and the night was blue-dark, in lieu of the black which was not possible in such a light-polluted place as the Big Smoke.
Still, some light splintered the darkness of the sky— stars.
There were always buildings to obstruct them, clouds both natural and spurned of human activity in factories or transportation, but up here, on the roof, you suddenly had a clearer view of them than you’d ever had before.
You had not seen stars this bright since leaving your home in the north.
Wrapping your arms around your upper body in an imitation of a winter coat, you lifted your eyes to the heavens.
You shivered at the sight, at the light of the stars which brought to mind some of your fondest memories, warm and bright, in contrast to the cold, bluish glint of the burning spheres of gas themselves.
“Cold?”
You nearly leapt from your skin at the sound of another voice.
A lanky young man with curly hair and soft eyes smiled up at you from where he sat perched near the edge of the roof, clutching a mug with both hands, a blanket draped loosely over his shoulders, though he now pulled it tighter around him.
“Yeah,” you laughed. “Suppose it’s my own fault, coming up here.”
He shrugged. “I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t want to spend any more time down there than… well,” he smiled, “than you.”
You returned his smile easily, feeling strangely as though a mutual understanding had just passed between the two of you.
“I’ve got another blanket, if you’d like.” He held up a mound of wool, offering it to you.
“Thanks,” you responded earnestly, and the blanket fell from his fingers to yours. You unfolded the bundle and swept it around you, sitting down beside him at a distance you dubbed respectful.
With a quiet sigh, you looked upward again, until from beside you, your companion asked,
“Irish coffee?”
“Pardon?”
He raised a thermos. “Would you like an Irish coffee? I’m afraid the cream’s gone a bit flat, but other than that, it’s completely sound.”
You eyed the thermos with the practiced eye of someone who often walked London alone, wary of strangers and their intentions. But this stranger had already poured his own drink from the thermos, and he could hardly have lain in wait up here, for someone to come by and drink his offered Irish coffee. If he’d been ill-intentioned, he would have mingled downstairs, taken someone off to one of the many shadowy corners. But he was not downstairs. He was up here, avoiding people, just the same as you, and prepared to share the source of his warmth.
You could just as easily have said no, and so you said yes.
“If you’re willing to share,” you replied, and he smiled amicably in return.
“‘S why I offered, isn’t it?” He unscrewed the top of the metal bottle, before giving you an apologetic look. “I’ve only brought one mug with me, which I’ve already put to use, so you’ll have to drink from the thermos cup,” he indicated the lid of the bottle, which doubled as a handleless cup. “Tastes a bit metallic, sometimes.”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” you answered. He nodded, and poured your drink.
You thanked him when he passed it to you, happy that your hands could now regain some of their former warmth.
“You come here often?” you asked, taking a sip of your Irish coffee.
He nodded. “Every New Year’s Eve.”
“Since when?”
“Since 1968,” he said. “Or, rather, 1967, seeing as it was New Year’s Eve.”
You raised your eyebrows. “Never any friends to party with?”
“I could ask you the same.”
You rolled your eyes good-humouredly. “Guess I should have seen that one coming.”
“Yeah, you really should have.”
You feigned astonishment at his sass, but his gentle smile coaxed a response from you soon enough. “Plenty of friends,” you said. “Just not one for partying.”
He inclined his head. “Ditto. Always been more of the head-down academic type.”
“Oh?” you tucked your feet beneath you, having discarded your rather uncomfortable party shoes. “What do you study?”
“Astrophysics,” replied the stranger, and you let out a vague whistle from between your teeth.
“Makes you quite clever, then.”
“Not particularly. It’s all relative.”
You scoffed in return. “I don’t believe you.”
“Well,” he laughed, “that makes one of us. Unless of course you mean you don’t believe in me, because that makes two of us. Some of those lectures make me want to bash my head against a wall.”
“Astrophysics that hard?”
He sighed heavily. “Oh yes. But I’m in love with the stars, so I’ve no bloody choice but to study them.” He turned to you, then, and in the sudden moment of eye contact, a tingle ran down your sides. “What about you?”
You looked down into the still-steaming cup held snugly in your hands, and lifted your shoulders in a noncommittal manner. “I’m between things, right now,” you imparted. “I’ve got an okay job, though.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I work in the record shop near Tower Bridge.”
“So,” he said thoughtfully, “you like music, then?”
“It’s my whole life,” you answered.
He shifted to face you, pulling on the edges of his blanket. “Ever heard of a little band called Queen?”
You thought for a moment. “No, I’m afraid not.”
He ducked his head with a smile. “I didn’t think so. But maybe one day, you will have.”
“Any connections to this band which you seem rather confident in?”
He smiled again, a small expression, half smug, half shy. “I’m the guitarist.”
“Any good?”
He grinned fully. “Very good.”
“Well,” you sipped your drink, “maybe I’ve heard of you, then.”
He gave a vague shake of his curly head. “I doubt it.”
You felt suddenly eager to know more about him, allured by his kindness, his sudden shyness, the cryptic details he offered of his life, in pieces like shards of glass, but soft at the edges like faded photographs.
A faintly nervous feeling bubbled up in your stomach.
No, not nervous.
You had butterflies.
It’d been a good while since you’d last had butterflies.
“It’d be easier to tell you whether or not I’ve heard of you if you gave me a name,” you said.
He blinked, then seemed to realise your implication. “Oh, god, I’ve forgotten to introduce myself.” His cheeks had already been flushed from the cold, but now he blushed. You smiled amusedly. “I’m Brian,” he told you, and extended his hand.
You offered your own name in kind, and shook his hand. “So Queen,” you said with a flourish, “hasn’t made the papers?”
“No,” Brian conceded. “But,” and here he raised his mug, as though proposing a toast, “I think that our luck could change this next year.”
You raised your eyebrows. “Really?”
Brian seemed to retract his statement “I don’t know, of course. But I just have this feeling. I can’t explain it. It’s completely irrational.”
It was irrational, certainly, but you understood him. There was a particular excitement to the unknown, and as someone who had spent several years in rather uncertain circumstances, you knew the spirit of anticipation that arose the slightest opportunity.
“No,” you said. “I know what you mean.”
A light seemed to brighten in his eyes. They were hazel, reminiscent of the coffee you were drinking.
“Cheers to that,” he answered, and tapped his mug against your cup.
The ceramic met with the metal in a dull clink, and the two of you drank in silence.
Raised voices could be heard from below, a multitude of men and women, before one louder voice shushed them all.
You frowned, puzzled, then asked Brian, “Have you got the time?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah. Two minutes to twelve.” The corner of his mouth turned up as he eyed his watch. “Or should I say, two minutes until 1973.”
There was something thrilling about putting it that way. You realised suddenly that it had been a long time since you had been excited for the new year. This time, however, you were. You were excited, and you couldn’t explain it.
You tugged your blanket more tightly around you, not because you were cold— the Irish coffee had seen to that— but because another shiver had sparked along your spine.
“It’s a bit exciting, isn’t it?” you said. As the chatter downstairs grew louder for each passing moment, you were beginning to feel the full weight of the anticipation pent up inside of you.
Brian smiled. “A bit, yeah.”
You wondered if he felt it too.
A countdown began down below, accompanied by the sound of Brian setting down his mug.
You told yourself it was the Irish coffee, the cold, the stars, the fact that it was New Year’s Eve. The fact that it was about to be midnight.
You told yourself you were alone, and that he was too, and he’d been kind to you, and he was just there.
But the truth was, you weren’t the type to go around kissing strangers. This was a first.
His breath stilled in his throat and he stiffened momentarily, before his lips grew soft and his hand rose to your face, and the blanket fell from his shoulders.
He tasted of coffee and whiskey and cream, and of the night, and his touch was as gentle as the curling of his hair. He had breathed into the kiss and you felt the flutter of his heartbeat, the pulse of his wrist where his skin rested warmly against yours.
Dimly, you were aware of people cheering, and then a cacophony of sound, shrill and suddenly booming, and you and Brian jolted apart.
Sparks sputtered across the sky in bursts of light, and Brian laughed upon realising what had startled him.
“Fireworks,” you murmured breathlessly, as he brushed the pad of his thumb over your cheek.
“There were always fireworks,” he said, and drew you closer, to brush his lips over yours again.
And when he kissed you the second time, you knew that it wasn’t the Irish coffee, the cold, the stars, the fact that it was New Year’s Eve. It was you, and it was him, and the lights of the city which glittered in the dark, as surely as the stars.
Below the high house in the midst of London, people flooded the streets. They danced and sang and threw confetti, and welcomed home their hopes of what 1973 would bring.
All about the country, there stood thousands of people, haloed in rainbow lights and looking up— not at the stars, but at fireworks. Still, the stars were not upstaged by this, because the essence of fireworks is the same as stars. Amidst the pure and simple act of watching lights dance across the sky, beautiful and ephemeral, the hearts of onlookers remain untouched by the frost of human affluence.
And perhaps, for just a single moment, in gazing up instead of down, all sorrows are forgotten.
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You know the drill. Marichat time with a dash of Adrienette. It is Adrienette April after all, I’ve gotta do a little something. Mari is 17 Adrien is 18, I’ll use “...” to show changes in perspectives as per usual.
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Adrien thought it would be a calm Tuesday, nothing special would happen. He’d somewhat memorized Hawkmoth’s schedule and learned that he didn’t usually release akumas on Tuesdays. For what reason? Nobody knows. Maybe he needs breaks from all of his crushing defeats. I mean seriously, how old is this guy? Can’t even defeat two teenagers and he’s been trying for what, almost three years now?
He let his mind wander during the ride to school. Even though he could legally drive now, his bodyguard still had to make sure he made it to school safe. At this point, he’d rather the Gorilla adopt him, he made a much better father than his own already. Even if he is paid to do it. No one was waiting for him at the front when he arrived, which was refreshing. There were usually swarms of fangirls waiting to escort him inside, especially after one of his photo shoots. They had become much more, revealing lately. What with him being and adult now. Which was difficult seeing as how he still had to go to school with teenagers that would tear him to shreds for an autograph. Unfortunately though, Nino wasn’t even at the front.
He stepped out. On his right he saw a group of girls wearing shirts with his face or his name on it, and in front stood a cute petite woman wearing a black skirt and a pastel green t-shirt. She was very angry, pointing at them, apparently telling them off. The other girls looked back and forth at each other before they spotted him. They nearly trampled Marinette as they made their way over. “Oh please Adrien, can I have your autograph?” One of them practically shoved a notebook up his nose, “Can you sign my shirt?” One of them said, turning around. A bright flash blinded him as one of the girls took a photo. He felt a hand on his shirt as one of them tried to take it off. “Umm,” he backed away, uncomfortable “sorry but I have class.” He managed to push through them and walked up to Marinette. “Hey, can I walk to class with you?” He nearly pleaded, he didn’t want to be left alone with them if he could help it, usually Nino ushered him inside but he wasn’t here for some reason. “Sure, I was about to ask you anyways, those girls were about to rip you apart.” He rubbed his neck.
He was glad Marinette was more comfortable around him now. Sure she didn’t always stammer in front of him when they were younger but she never seemed fully comfortable to be with him either. She seemed comfortable now though, looping her arm through his as they walked into the school. “So I’m going to assume you made this yourself?” She nodded in response. “The paw prints took furever to sew on too.” He giggled, “Clever, and where are these pawpurrints” he punned back. She pinched the hem of the skirt to show him, his eyes went wide for a minute. “Oh calm down I’m wearing shorts underneath.” He sighed in relief and squinted at the prints. Sure enough there were tiny paws sewn around the hem, almost as if a kitten stepped in green paint and walked around her skirt. “Wow, you’re stitching is purrfect.” She laughed, “Thank you, it’s taken years of purractice. I’m sure you could do it too.” “No way, I couldn’t pawsibly match the purrfection that is Marinette’s craftsmewnship.” The pairs laughed as they entered the classroom, their friends were huddled in a group, caught up in a friendly debate.
“Oh hey Mari, Adrien.” He waved, “What are we talking about?” Alya crossed her arms, “Well I think Mr. Superhero has moved on from his bugaboo but some of us aren’t convinced.” He could confirm Alya’s theory, he had moved on from Ladybug. In fact the person he moved onto had just walked him to class, but she couldn’t know that yet. Not until Hawkmoth’s defeat anyways, he didn’t want to hurt Marinette like he hurt Kagami. Alix sat in the back of the class with her feet propped up on the desk, as sucker in her mouth as usual. She smiled coyly at him. Ladybug had given her the rabbit miraculous already which gave her insight to everything in his life. Possibly Ladybug’s life too. “There’s no way he’s moved on,” was Rose rebuttal, “He still flirts with her, he’s clearly still in love.” Was he flirting with Ladybug? He though he was just being friendly, he’d toned it down a lot at least. Marinette snorted, “Oh come on Rose he flirts with everyone.” Alya quirked her head “Girl what are you talking about? No he doesn’t.” Marinette crossed her arms, “Oh yes he does. The first time Nathaniel was akumatized, Ladybug had me go on a date with him to trap him.” Nathaniel blushed, “And Chat Noir came by to tell me the plan. You wanna know what he did?” Marinette put on her best smirk and turned to Alya, “Hey I haven’t even introduced myself,” she mimicked, grabbing Alya’s hand and getting on one knee, “I’m Chat Noir.” She kissed the back of the bloggers hand and stood up. “And then he started flexing and saying things like ‘don’t worry you’ll be save with me.’ And when I asked about Ladybug he said ‘she’s busy with something tonight so, you get to be my Ladybug.’ Honestly he’s a flirty as they get.” She concluded and crossed her arms. The girls just stared at her in shock. His chest felt hot and he quickly rubbed the back of his neck as if it would cool him down. How did she even remember that?
“Marinette I have met Chat Noir on multiple occasions and he’s never flirted with me like that.” Marinette turned her head to the side adorably. “But what about when you were Rena Rouge? I saw him getting real chummy when your sisters were the Sapotis.” Alya grinned, “I think that was more to make his lovebug jealous. Well, ex-lovebug because we’ve clearly found out who has the cat in the bag.” Marinette waved her arms in front of her, “Hang on now, this happened years ago. Who says he has a crush on me?” Alix snorted and everyone stared, she hand her phone in her hand and was starring at it, clever little cover up. Juleka raised her hand, muttering “Actually he was on your balcony last night.” The class gasped and Alix stifled a laugh. Adrien tried really hard to remain neutral, which was really difficult seeing Marinette’s pink face. “He just stopped by because he was bored, I’m sure he stops by lots of people’s houses.” Everyone else shook their heads, Chloe decided to speak up. “Well he stops by the hotel to get milk but he doesn’t speak to me.” Then Lila stalked up to the front, “Well actually I know who Chat Noir fancies now, and it’s certainly not Marinette.” Adrien stood, “Oh really now?” He challenged crossing his arms. “Yes it’s quite embarrassing but it’s actually me.” The class gasped but Marinette laughed. “Ok now that’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one. Chat Noir doesn’t even like you.” Rose turned to Marinette, “Now that’s quite rude, I’m sure Chat Noir doesn’t dislike anyone.” Marinette raised her hands in surrender, “Ok sure but he doesn’t fancy her either.” Adrien was glad Marinette was on his side rather than believing her. Since Lila had joined the Agreste foundation, he’s had to do very uncomfortable photo shoots with her. And with summer right around the corner, bathing suits would be in soon and he wished for time to slow down. Lila had already been way to touchy with him, now picture that but basically naked. Not his idea of a dream come true to say the least.
“Well then,” Alya crossed her arms and hip bumped Marinette “we’ll just have to assume he’s in love with you then.” Marinette’s face turned a deep red which made Alya smirk “And it seems the feeling is mutual.” Marinette hid her blushing face before a Giant and very familiar hand picked her up and carried her out of the school. “August!” She screamed in surprise. While the class was distracted Adrien snuck out and transformed in the hallway before leaping over their heads and onto the roof. Thankfully, preschooler August was much easier to speak with than toddler August. “Pretty doll.” He said, starring at Marinette.
Chat flicked his bell to get Gigantitan’s attention, “You’re right, very pretty.” He winked at her before turning back to August, “But she’s not yours, is she? We shouldn’t take things that aren’t ours.” August bent down to Chat Noir’s face, “She’s not yours either, finders keepers.” He smirked, “Hey now, we never said she wasn’t mine. But either way there is a big difference between dolls and humans. So put her down and we can talk about this like big boys.” August contemplated for a second. Chat Noir had learned from his last battle with him that August was a big boy now, a lesson he learned the hard way.
Coming to a decision, August stood up straight, and dropped Marinette. “No!” He sprinted off the rooftop and dove after Marinette. She reached for him and he grabbed her, pulling her flushed to him and spinning mid air as he collided with the sidewalk. Marinette sat up, completely unaware of their very compromising position. He propped himself up on his elbows and turned his attention to August “Oi! Big boys don’t drop pretty girls August.” Marinette laughed and butterflies fluttered around his stomach. “Well this pretty girl thanks you for the save kitty.” She flicked his bell and smiled at him. August made an other swipe at Marinette and Chat rolled them over into another compromising position, praising the fact that Marinette had worn shirts today. Marinette blushed up at him before he dug an arm under her back and stood with her. “What do you say to a game of keep away?” She smirked, “I say game on kitty.”
After defeating August and returning him to his school, Chat brought Marinette back to their school. Their whole class whooped and cheered and whistles at the pair. Alya approached clapping slowly as he slid down his staff with an arm wrapped around Marinette’s waist. “Well would you look at that. Someone is smitten.” He pretended to be confused. “What are we talking about now?” Nino walked up and looped his arm around Chat’s shoulders. “Oh just the fact that you and Marinette seem awfully, what was the word you used earlier Marinette? Chummy.” He continued to play dumb, “I have absolutely no idea what you’re stalking about civilian.” Alix, who was much taller than Marinette now, strode over and took Marinette’s hand. “Come here a second.” She lead Marinette to the center of the group, in front of him. He gave her a look that said ‘Alix I’m going to kill you.’ She smirked back and lifted their hands above Marinette’s head, spinning her around. Her skirt flew in all directions and her lose hair glided gently in the breeze. Alix smirked at him, “There’s your proof. Absolutely captivated.” He was so going to get back at her on patrol later. He made a pact to stop dating until Hawkmoth’s defeat and for the past few months, she was absolutely no help. He laughed it off, “Well like I said, she’s a pretty girl, especially in my colours.” He grinned at her blushing face.
“As lovely as this Chat was I’ve got places to go, things to see. I bid you all fair well.” He turned and started walking away but he didn’t get far before a hand grabbed his bell, spun him around, and kissed him. He pulled back in disgust as Lila grinned up at him. “I did miss you last night kitten.” She cooed, and poked him in the chest. A very angry Marinette made her way over to them with a water bottle. She shoved Lila away held it out to him “Rinse.” She instructed and he did, taking a big swig of water and swallowing. Then Marinette wrapped her arms around his neck and, standing on her toes, kissed him.
That was much better. You know what? Screw the pact, he closed his eyes and let the butterflies in his stomach emerge and fly around them. It was almost like they were in a world of their own. He smiled against her and lifted her so he could smile up at her. Each kiss sent a bolt of lightning through him and the cheers of their classmates just barely reached his ears. An angry Lila tried to run away but Juleka and Rose stopped her and started lecturing her about consent. He wanted to spend a lifetime just like this. With her legs and arms wrapped around him, the world was peaceful. There was no Hawkmoth, no Lila, no danger.
She pulled back and smiled at him, “Purromise that won’t happen again.” He grinned, “Believe me purrincess, I don’t want to kiss anyone but you.” He spun her around before putting her down and giving her a quick kiss goodbye. “See you tonight?” She asked, he nearly combusted on the spot. “That is a very dangerous questions my dear.” She smirked “Do I seem like the type to run from danger?” He laughed, this girl was going to be the death of him. “No you almost certainly aren’t.” In an attempt to make her blush as much as he was, he bent down and kissed her exposed collar bone. “I will see you tonight then.” Before she could tease him back, he leapt away.
Adrien emerged from the restroom and the second Alix spotted him she grinned and approached. “Broke the pact I see, how’s that kiss?” He smiled, “Worth it.” She laughed at him. “It’s about time too, you do realized she’s had a crush on you for ages right?” “Oh I knew that, one time she confessed to me and I had to go over to her house for breakfast with her parents, that was awkward. I was still in love with Ladybug you know?” Alix stared at him, “Hang on was this as Adrien or Chat?” He looked at her confused. “Chat, who else?” She laughed at him, “Must have been a fleeting attempt to get over a Mr. Adrien Agreste.” His eyes widened, “Wait she had a crush on Adrien, me?” She nodded, “It stopped about a year ago, seems she moved on to, well, you.” He smacked a hand to his forehead, “Mon dieu, I could have dated her in civilian form all this time?” Alix grabbed a sucker from her pocket and handed it to him. “Don’t worry model boy, once we defeat Hawkmoth you can snog her to your hearts content as yourself.” He popped the sucker into his mouth. “You know, August loves these things.” He said crumpling the wrapper in his pocket. “Oh really? I’ll be sure to give one to the pretty lady next time he gets akumatized.” He really hoped there wouldn’t be a next time, for his heart’s sake.
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That’s all for this fic, thanks for reading!
#miraculous ladybug#miraculous ladybug tales of ladybug and chat noir#miraculous lb#marichat fanfic#marichat#marinette dupain cheng#adrien agreste#alix kubdel
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February 22, 2021: Pillow Talk (1959)(Part 1)
Y’know, I actually do like Doris Day.
She’s funny, she’s talented, and she’s a timeless beauty that I remember very well. TOO well. You guys ever have that one thing that your parents crammed down your throat SO MUCH that you got sick of it? Well, that’s what my Mom did with The Thrill of it All.
Which is, for the record, a cute movie, and one worth watching again at some point. But I’m gonna ease my way into that with Doris Day and Rock Hudson’s first movie, 1959′s Pillow Talk.
However, while I’m not stranger to Doris Day, I’m afraid that I don’t know too much about Rock Hudson from experience. Well, there is one interesting tidbit about him: Hudson was one of the biggest stars of the ‘50s and ‘60s, and his career continued up until his death in 1985...from AIDS-related complications.
Yeah, Rock Hudson was one of the biggest gay celebrities in Hollywood, although he never publicly came out. However, it was somewhat of an open secret in the community at large, and basically all of his female co-stars know about it.
And said secret was revealed posthumously, after his tragic death during the height of the AIDS crisis. He was by far one of the most high-profile deaths during this time period, and you’d think that would’ve caused more waves about the AIDS-crisis, considering that he was good friends with...well...another actor.
Yeaaaaaaaaah, not gonna get into Reagan and ALL OF THAT SHIT here. This here is a movie blog, not a political blog! But, uh, yeah, a LOT of fucked-up shit about Reagan and the AIDS crisis, obviously, and part of it was Rock Hudson. So, yeah, it’s something that I wanted to address before we got into this whole shindig.
Because, again, I’ve never seen a Rock Hudson movie, but dude was a pretty huge deal, and this was a part of his life that I felt it unfair not to at least acknowledge. SO, with that out of the way, let’s have a little Pillow Talk. SPOILERS AHEAD!!!
Recap
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We start with that might be one of my favorite opening sequences so far this month, which you can see above. From there, Jan Morrow (Doris Day) wakes up, humming the theme song from the credits, which is clever, considering that she sang it! Talented lady, seriously.
Jan wakes up and goes to the phone, intending to make a call. However, this is where we get a pretty stark cultural difference, and a needed history lesson for some of us, me included. See, Jan’s phone line is actually a party line, seen through this neat little visual edit.
See, this is what’s called a “party line”. From the 1870s onwards, there was a shortage of available phone lines. By the time you get to the ‘60s, more and more people had personal phones in their households, but without enough lines to go around. And so, some people were forced to share their phone lines with others, hence the party line system!
Here’s the thing, though: if somebody was on the line already, anyone else on that line could hear the conversation of other people. Which is exactly what’s pissing of Jan right now, as she needs to make a call, but the line is being used by her party line partner, songwriter Brad Allen, who’s serenading his girlfriend (?) Eileen (Valerie Allen). Not sure that they’re actually dating, but Eileen definitely wants to.
After Jan’s insistence, they get off the phone, and Jan’s able to begin her busy morning at last. Well...almost. Brad’s now talking to Yvette (Jacqueline Beer), and she wants him to sing HER song to her, which is LITERALLY just the Eileen song with a different name and in French! Which is...hilarious. It’s very funny, not gonna lie.
Once again, Jan tells him to get off the party line, and hangs up angrily. She leaves just as her cleaner woman, Alma (Thelma Ritter) arrives, fresh off of a hangover. Jan goes to try and get a line of her own, and the manager, Mr. Conrad (Hayden Rorke) makes a WEIRDLY sexist comment about jumping to the top of the list if she were pregnant. Which, yeah...weird.
Anyway, Jan, in her frustration, tells Mr. Conrad that she’s hired of sharing the line by a “sex maniac.” Mr. Conrad asks for specifics, and is AGAIN WEIRDLY SEXIST ABOUT IT. He asks if his dalliances with other women disturb her in particular. But yeah, he also says that if he is indeed a “sex maniac,” they may need to disconnect him altogether. Which has...uncomfortable undertones all on its own, but whatever, moving on.
On her way to work, Jan’s friend Jonathan Forbes (Tony Randall) shows up to bring her a STRAIGHT-UP CAR, holy shit! He’s doing so to thank her for decorating his offices (she’s an interior decorator, he’s a car dealership owner, so...fair exchange?). She insists that it’s too personal, which confuses him, as it isn’t perfume or lingerie.
But, uh, dude? IT’S A WHOLE-ASS CAR!!! Look, I’m with her on this one, don’t just give me a fuckin’ car out of the blue! I don’t care what the reason is, tell me that shit first! And Jonathan is CLEARLY trying to make it just a little more personal, if you get my meaning.
Jan finally arrives at her office, owned by Mr. Pierot (Marcel Dalio), and she tells him that an inspector has been sent to look after Mr. Allen. This inspector is Miss Dickenson (Karen Norris), and being of the wimmins, is immediately entranced by the apparently irresistible Mr. Allen, sabotaging any attempt at inspection.
The next morning, the inspector’s report comes through, and Miss Dickinson has of course cleared him of all charges. He calls her, and the two clash in a way that definitely means they’ll never, ever, ever fall in love, no sir, not these two, not a CHANCE IN HELL
They agree to make a schedule for using the phone, and Brad accuses Jan of being jealous of his free-wheeling, bed-hopping lifestyle, which she takes great offese to. But after they hang up, she thinks on the idea of having bedroom problems. Looks like Jonathan wants to fix that, on account of being the THIRSTIEST MAN ALIVE.
Dude has three three ex-wives, all of which were revolts against his mother, for which he’s seeing a psychiatrist.
...CHRIST, the man’s a walking-talking red flag. Jan also says that she doesn’t love him, like...AT THE FUCK ALL, and the man just straight-up says, “How do you know, we’ve never even kissed.” Ai which point, any normal person would see the phantom neckbeard and whip out the fuckin’ bear mace, but Jan just lets him lean in for the goddamn kiss!!!
Jan...standards, Jan. My God. Anyway, she still turns him down, he asks her to get married again, and she leaves. For God’s sakes, man. Anyway, she goes home, where Alma’s listening to Brad serenade a girl over the party line. Jan notes the time, and tells him to get off the line. He calls back, and tells her off.
Brad gets a visitor: his old college friend FUCKIN’ JONATHAN AGAIN. He bemoans being a millionaire (po’ babyyyyy), then reveals that he’s pining over Jan, whom he doesn’t know is the person on the party line with Brad. He hears a good amount of information about Jan from Jonathan.
After the conversation, Brad tries to somewhat reconcile with Jan, but she doesn’t have any interest in doing so. That night, the two have separate affairs. Brad meets up with a woman named Marie, and serenades her with the same goddamn song from earlier, that suave motherfucker. Dude flips a switch, and the door fuckin’ LOCKS! Jesus, state-of-the-art hook-up tech of 1959.
Meanwhile Jan is attending a dinner held by an extremely client, Mrs. Walters (Lee Patrick). Needing to get home, she has her son Tony (Nick Adams) give her a ride. But on the way home, they stop and WHAT THE FUCK TONY??? I actually can’t find a clip or GIF of this, so I’ll tell you...he is ALL THE FUCK OVER HER, and it’s GROSS. CAN WE PLEASE STOP SEMI-RAPING DORIS DAY? WHAT THE FUCK, IN NO WAY IS WHAT I JUST WATCHED OK, HOLY SHIT!!!!!
Like...wow, that was the most uncomfortable I’ve felt watching a movie in a WHILE. And it’s not even because of the act itself, it’s because of how...OK it feels in the context of the film. Jan is BARELY upset by this slimy little weasely-faced rapey CREEP LITERALLY ASSAULTING HER IN THE FUCKING CAR. And in case you were wondering, yes! This film was written by FOUR MEN.
This is gross. Sorry, but this whole sequence is gross, and it gets even LONGER, because she AGREES TO GO GET A DRINK WITH HIM. WHY, JAN? STOP ENCOURAGING THIS BEHAVIOR. He tries to get her drunk (but ends up drunk himself), but she tries to leave. However, who should be sitting one table but Brad, who realizes who this is. Jan tries to leave, but Tony tries to get her to dance with him, AND SHE ONCE AGAIN AGREES, JAAAAAAAAN!!!!!!!
And its during this time of distress for Brad that, OF COURSE, he finds himself extremely attracted to her. And since he knows who she is, but she doesn’t know him, he decides to fake his identity. And there we go, we’ve got a creepy-ass one-sided relationship set-up.
Meanwhile, lightweight Tony passes out on the floor, drunk as shit. Brad goes into help, putting on a take Texas accent and calling himself Rex Stetson. And OF FUCKING COURSE, she’s lost in his fuckin’ eyes. Damn those eyes, and his suave bullshit.
They shove Tony into a cab, then take his car, which appears to be too small for Brad, which makes sense, given the fact that Hudson was 6′4″, goddamn! The two take a cab, and the two reveal their mutual attraction to the audience, through their inner thoughts. Looks like all Jan needed for a relationship was handsome-ass Rock Hudson.
In her thoughts, she thinks on how honest and down-to-earth Rex Stetson seems, unlike “monsters” like Tony and Brad Allen. And OF COURSE this is how we get this started. OF GODDAMN COURSE this is how we start this relationship. Liar revealed, LIAR REVEALED, I FUCKIN’ HATE THAT GODDAMN TROPE SO MUCH
Soon after “Rex” takes her home, he goes home herself, and gives her a call, inviting her to dinner the following night. She accepts. Then, in the middle of the call, Brad pretends to pick up the line as himself, in order to set up the two identities as being separate...this is reverse You’ve Got Mail, isn’t it?
Think about it. Two people that hate each other, and they’ve never seen one another, but also love each other after meeting in person. IT’S THE OPPOSITE OF YOU’VE GOT MAIL. Ugh. Fine. Even down to the fact that he has a sizeable advantage over her, due to his full knowledge of the situation. He even tries to use his identity as Brad Allen to set-up their date the next night for success.
And it works, goddamn. A clever yet manipulative asshole, this dude is. They get on a horse and carriage, and we hear the inner thoughts of Jan, Brad, and the dude who owns the horse. And, yeah...it’s funny. The two go to dinner, where Jonathan shortly arrives. Brad gets him out of there with...mildly fatphobic means, but it is the 1950s, so things were just kinda...entirely that.
But in any case, Brad gets away with it, and he and Jan spend a hell of a lot of time together going all around the city. And the whole time, he’s playing the role of “Rex.” Ugh. This is a good halfway point, so let’s go to Part 2 here! See you there!
#pillow talk#michael gordon#rock hudson#doris day#tony randall#thelma ritter#nick adams#romance february#user365#365 movie challenge#365 movies 365 days#365 Days 365 Movies#365 movies a year#my gifs#mygifs#silverscreendames#old hollywood
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Please wait, LoveAlarm is syncing itself to your heart!
Falling In Love With Riverdale, Theme 1: Sugar
Part 1/3
At this very moment in the not-so-idyllic town of Riverdale, Betty Cooper is 16 years, 41 weeks, 1 day, 20 hours and 34 minutes old and, to see Kevin describe it, she has been in love with Archie Andrews for 1 year, 5 months, and 14 days.
From inside the relative security of the F Hallway girls’ bathroom, she takes a deep breath to mark the magnitude of the moment, and hits [Install] on her phone. It takes less than a minute for the blue line to complete a circle and once it does, she opens the app and fills in her personal details.
Please wait, the app cheerily asks her, bright pinks and blues swirling across the screen, LoveAlarm is syncing itself to your heart!
Well, Betty sighs to herself, there’s no going back now.
LoveAlarm is the latest matchmaking app to launch and in the two weeks since, it seems like *everyone* at Riverdale High has downloaded it. It syncs itself to your heart and a bright red heart alarm would ping if there is someone within twenty feet who loves you.
Naturally, the romantic landscape of Riverdale High School has been completely leveled.
Midge Klump and Moose Mason both downloaded the app, only for it to tell Midge her love was unrequited. Ginger Lopez had situated herself in a prime location outside the gym doors when basketball practice let out—nobody within twenty feet of her—in the hopes that when the team’s star power forward, Anthony Parrish, came out, their phones would mutually ping.
Instead, it was Ben Button who walked down that stretch of the hallway; instead, it was Ben Button who made her phone ping. Then Anthony came out and *his* phone pinged, but Ginger’s did not again. According to the school grapevine, Ginger had lost her shit and called Ben a ‘baby-faced freak’.
Truthfully, the whole concept behind the app horrifies Betty, but she has to know. Making sure that every possible setting for the app is set to her phone’s vibrate function, she shoulders her backpack and heads into the cafeteria.
The walls are decorated from corner to corner with red, white, and pink streamers in anticipation of the Valentine’s Day party that will be held on Friday. PizzaShak is giving them a great deal on heart-shaped pizzas.
Her friends are at their usual table in the corner and with every step Betty takes, she is closer to knowing. When Archie hears his phone chime once she is within the twenty feet circumference, will he put two-and-two together? Will her own phone buzz with the truth? All around her, the crowded cafeteria is full of hopefuls checking their phones.
The round table has three curved benches attached to it. Kevin and Veronica share one, and across from them, Jughead and Archie split the other two. Betty slides into the space on Jughead’s left, exchanging happy hellos with her friends. Wordlessly, she hands over one of the two sandwiches she’d packed for Jughead to take. As always, he makes a show of letting out an aggrieved sigh when he spots the lettuce and sliced tomato in there with the turkey, but dutifully takes his sandwich while sliding over the remaining brownie square from his vending machine packet. This is their unspoken pact: she makes sure the bottomless pit that is Jughead Jones is sated with something healthier, he makes sure she gets a non-Alice-approved treat.
The sandwich she made is gone in three bites.
<Good?> she signs, arching one eyebrow.
<You know it,> Jughead replies, still chewing the last mouthful of turkey sandwich.
Betty has been deaf since she was three years old, after a bout with meningitis, and just because she’s well-liked among her peers doesn’t mean many of them would go as far as to learn sign language for her. That Kevin, Archie, Jughead, and Veronica have is part and parcel of why they’re her best friends.
A booted foot taps insistently against hers under the table and Betty turns away from Jughead, still grinning, to focus on Kevin.
/Did you watch The Bachelor last night?/ His hands move as rapidly as he speaks.
/No,/ Betty tells him. /Unlike you, I actually studied for the History test./
“Har har,” Kevin deadpans. They’re both distracted by Veronica clapping her hands.
“OMG!” she says gleefully, slapping Kevin’s bicep. /Kelley is an ICON! I told you./
As much as Betty loves her friends’ ridiculously dramatic day-after recaps, she’s too distracted to really pay attention to whatever last night’s spectacle had been about. Across the table, Archie is checking his phone, thumbs tapping and sliding across the screen. A wide grin splits his face and he turns the screen out to show Jughead.
3 people in a twenty feet radius love you!
Betty flushes and looks away, embarrassed. Of course. As covertly as possible, she takes advantage of everyone’s inattention to check her own phone.
Zero.
Nobody within a twenty feet radius loves you.
As Cheryl Strayed wrote, “acceptance is a small, quiet room”. As the realization sinks in, Betty watches, as if from a greater distance, Archie glancing around at the nearby tables, determined to figure out who those three people could be. After a few murmured words from Jughead that she can’t decipher thanks to his head being turned away from her, Archie takes off to make the rounds. A process of elimination, most likely.
Betty isn’t sure what she feels. Irritation more than disappointment? Relief? The latter emotion surprises her, especially now that she knows Archie isn’t in love with her. Kevin, and then later Veronica when she’d arrived in Riverdale, have been after her to confess her feelings to Archie but Betty has kept demurring or putting it off. Her usual excuse being that she’s too scared to wreck her friendship with him.
Sure, they’re right when they say she’s being a coward; but is her relief after the LoveAlarm revelation just relief that now she won’t have to actually bare her heart?
She turns off her phone.
******************************************
He knows he shouldn’t be, that this definitely qualifies as eavesdropping, but here Jughead is, glancing up and over to the table where Betty is sneakily carrying on a conversation with Veronica.
It’s 7th period Honors Bio and all they need to do is finish a worksheet before the bell rings, which is easy enough, but Mr. Beeker had also stipulated silence in the classroom, so it’s a clever loophole that Betty has found. Abby, her interpreter, is absorbed in her phone, leaving Jughead to covertly watch shifting hand shapes and fingerspelled letters.
<You’re not as s-t-e-a-l-t-h-y as you think you are,> Veronica signs smugly.
<??>
<Your phone. At lunch. You d-l LoveAlarm.> Smugness melts into concern. <Well?>
This is news to Jughead, and unwelcome news at that. He shouldn’t be surprised that Betty has downloaded that stupid app and really, he should’ve seen it coming. Dread fills him as he awaits her response.
Of course Jughead refuses to download LoveAlarm. Why would he give an app his heart data? They’d only sell it to soulless companies looking to target him with ads tailored to the object of his romantic yearning.
Betty.
The facts are these: Jughead Jones is 17 years, 3 days, 6 hours and 11 minutes old. He’s also been aware that he’s deeply, irrevocably in love with Betty Cooper for 1 year, 4 months, and 19 days. An eternity, basically.
A rare beam of sunlight has broken through the February gray outside, casting a pale glow on her downturned face, the long eyelashes that brush her cheeks. It’s the flare of her nostrils and the tight press of her lips together that tell him she’s upset.
There’s a sharp pang in his chest.
<He doesn’t.> The words, accompanied by a shake of Betty’s head that makes her ponytail bounce, are all he needs to understand.
Jughead isn’t obtuse, he knows which ‘he’ they’re talking about, the only one ‘he’ it could be: Archie. Blame Kevin, he’s shit at subtlety.
So, Betty had downloaded LoveAlarm and now she knows Archie isn’t in love with her. The latter isn’t news to him but he would’ve been fine if Betty had continued to go through life not knowing that particular fact. But it’s the sentence that comes next that breaks his heart.
<I have a zero. Nobody loves me.> What goes unspoken but, to Jughead, is writ large upon her face is: ‘I’m not lovable’.
He looks away from their conversation, angry that anyone would make her feel like this. Ashamed that he is a guilty party in this.
That night while lying on his bed, Jughead finds himself torn.
What he had seen earlier has given him food for thought. Which is just as well because he likes to take the time to think broadly and deeply, much in the same way he likes to eat. Next to him on the bed, his phone is open to the App Store, and LoveAlarm waits there patiently, ready for his decision.
Is Betty Cooper worth it? Unquestionably Yes.
Is he willing to risk discovery? Having his heart spilled right out there for her to see...even worse, for others to see? Vulnerable and already bruised, where it’d easily be crushed into messy smithereens?
Unable to answer that, his brain circles back around to the first question: is Betty Cooper worth it?
With a low, drawn-out groan, Jughead hits [Install] and gives corporations access to his heart.
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Top 10 Rated T Completed Fics!
AKA I am terrified by Boogum’s posting ability
Sx: 0.45
Here we see a lot of the commonly recommended stories. Tempest in a Teacup and Zuko’s Tiny Dilemma were just under the cut-off and I see both of those on a lot of lists.
List under the cut!
Title: such selfish prayers
Author: andromeda3116
Summary: Katara's ambition, so long set aside for the good of others, breaks free and sets fire to her soul. Or, Katara has a vision of her canon future, casts it aside, and becomes a world-changing politician instead.
Score: 10 / 10
Tags: Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence
Title: i'm still here
Author: owedbetter
Summary: "You see me."
And somehow, that makes all the difference.
Score: 9.9 / 10
Tags: Post The Southern Raiders, Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence
One moment changes the course of history. Katara and Zuko are imprisoned by the Fire Nation Army during the Day of Black Sun, and when they escape, they find themselves adrift in the Fire Nation with no one to rely on but each other. With only six weeks before Sozin’s Comet arrives and four nations to cross, the pair must track down Katara’s allies, save the world—and learn to trust each other.
Title: The Color of the Stars
Author: bluenebulae
Summary: “Roads were made for journeys, not destinations.” ― Confucius
Canon divergent from Part 2 of 'Day of Black Sun.'
Score: 9.9 / 10
Tags: Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Enemies to Friends to Lovers
Title: The Things We Hide (Restricted Access)
Author: Lykegenia
Summary: The Southern Water Tribe stood for a hundred years against the Fire Nation, indomitable until Sozin's Comet tipped the balance in Fire Lord Ozai's favour. Now, as planned, the South is decimated, Chief Hakoda is a puppet on his throne, and Princess Katara is a political prisoner held in the Fire Nation capital to ensure his good behaviour.
But Ozai has little time to gloat. A vigilante masquerading as the Blue Spirit is causing unrest among the people, rebel ships still hound his navy, and right under his nose the South's most powerful waterbender waits with the patience of ice to strike at the very heart of his empire and bring it crashing down.
Score: 9.8 / 10
Tags: Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Blutara, Slow Burn, Enemies to Friends to Lovers
Title: Who I Am (or Who I Was)
Author: audreyii_fic
Summary: The war is over, and the world spins on. Epilogue of Sparrowkeet!verse.
Score: 9.8 / 10
Tags: Sparrowkeet Universe
Title: The Worst Prisoner: The element of change (Book 1)
Author: emletish
Summary: What if Sokka was there during the events of the Blue Spirit? What if crazy fate and a series of poor life choices threw four kids together? Can enemies ever become friends? A shenanigan-filled fic about unlikely friendship, stupidity and sarcasm. Zuko joins the Gaang in season 1 shenanagins! Also romance and drama! AU, canon divergent from season 1, eventual Zutara.
Part 1 of The Worst Prisoner
Score: 9.8 / 10
Tags: Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Series
Title: Rescue Me
Author: hootowl
Summary: “Because they're going to arrest me for earthbending.” And they did, but things didn't go according to plan. In fact, failure had never even crossed her mind. A capture!fic...of sorts. Chapters edited: 18/32
Part 2 of Noble Boldness
Score: 9.7 / 10
Tags: Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Series
Title: Catching Sparks
Author: mercy_angel_09
Summary: Seven years after the fall of Fire Lord Ozai, Fire Lord Zuko is under pressure to marry and produce an heir. There's just one small problem - any time he shows any serious interest in a girl she leaves him with a flimsy excuse on her lips. Determined to get to the bottom of it he reunites Team Avatar and they come up with a clever solution - send Katara undercover as a bridal candidate to flush out the person responsible for chasing the others away.
It's all fun and games until someone loses their heart.
Score: 9.7 / 10
Tags: Fake Relationship, Iroh Ships It, Mutual Pining
Title: The Worst Prisoner: The illusion of separation (Book 2)
Author: emletish
Summary: Four friends separately make their way to Ba Sing Se, learning wisdom along the way. Will our two lovers, forbidden from one another, find each other again? Will Aang find the courage to be the avatar the world needs? Will Sokka be condemned to more conversations about feelings? A shenanagin filled romp through the Earth Kingdom. Zutara yes, but this is primarily a friendship fic
Part 2 of The Worst Prisoner
Score: 9.6 / 10
Tags: Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed
Title: Once Around the Sun
Author: eleventy7
Summary: Later, Katara can see how it all fell apart. Azula in her cell, growing roses; Zuko surrounded by enemies, slowly dying; their friends in the Earth Kingdom, safely escaping. And herself at the centre of it, saving lives and breaking promises. Set after finale, eventual Zutara.
Score: 9.6 / 10
Tags: Post Series, Slow Burn, Minor Character Death
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Home for the Holidays (1/2)
This is part one of my gift to @timeladyelpia for the @dwsecretsanta gift exchange! Apologies for the delay; I hope you enjoy this! Your info said you enjoy reunions and established relationships, so that’s what this is :)
Ten x Rose, 4400 words, teen
Also tagging @doctorroseprompts
Summary: Despite being locked away in different universes, the Doctor and Rose have managed to stay connected through their marriage bond, celebrating holidays and special events even through the impenetrable distance. After celebrating three Christmases apart, fate brings them together once more just in time for the holidays.
Note: If anybody remembers this little ficlet (If Only in My Dreams) I wrote for last year’s Ficmas, I borrowed from that idea and wrote the reunion. However, you do NOT need to have read that in order to understand this.
AO3
The holidays were one of the hardest times for the Doctor. Though he didn’t naturally celebrate—at least not any Earth or human holiday—Rose had. Oh, he would join in the festivities with his past companions, wishing them Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Joyous Festivus, or whatever holiday they in particular celebrated, but he was always on the outside looking in.
But all of that had changed when he’d met Rose, when he regenerated into his current body and left her and the Earth to fend for themselves during a Sycorax invasion while he was—helpfully—in a regenerative coma. All on Christmas Day.
When it all had blown over—blown up, more like it, thanks to Harriet Jones, former Prime Minister—he had strangely been invited to Christmas dinner at the Tylers’. Even more strangely, he’d said yes. After he changed, of course. He couldn’t very well have Christmas dinner in his borrowed jimjams. No, he’d gone back to his TARDIS and found himself a new outfit before heading back up to Rose and her mother.
Even now, remembering the look of appreciation in Rose’s eyes when she beheld him in his new suit sent butterflies through his stomach.
He had stayed for dinner and the snow-that-wasn’t-snow and for dessert. And even once that was finished, once the food was cleared away and the dishes piled high in the sink for the following morning, he hadn’t wanted to leave quite yet. So he had accepted Rose’s invitation to sleep on the sofa for the night. Not that Time Lords needed much sleep. (However, newly-regenerated Time Lord could certainly use a nap.)
He had spent the next couple weeks with the Tylers, which was virtually unheard of for him. But the TARDIS had been in no shape to fly, thanks to whatever jiggery-pokery Rose had done to the old girl to look into her heart to become the Bad Wolf. And thanks to his less-than-stellar driving while his brain was imploding and collapsing during some regeneration complications.
No matter, he had been able to get his beloved ship flying again a week or so after the New Year. In the interim, between TARDIS repairs, he had reconnected with Rose. Answering all of her questions regarding regeneration. Filling in the gaps of her memory during her time as Bad Wolf. Recounting all of their adventures together to prove to her, without a doubt, that he was still the Doctor. Still her Doctor, though he’d never exactly stated it as such.
(Little did he know then that Rose had already considered him her Doctor. She later confessed to him that his earnest attempts to convince her of his identity had been endearing.)
On the evening before he and Rose were to depart for the stars once more, Rose had stayed up late with him in Jackie’s living room and had presented him with a small package. She had seemed slightly embarrassed or self-conscious as he ripped into the brown-paper-wrapped parcel; she had begun rambling about traditions and new beginnings and something about “together”, which he very much liked to think about. He liked the idea of him and Rose together forever.
Upon indelicately ripping off the wrapping paper, he saw a simple white box. When he removed the lid, a Christmas ornament lay nestled in a soft bed of shredded cotton. His hearts had constricted in his chest as he pulled out the ornament, two penguins clad in hats and scarves leaning in to touch the tips of their beaks together. Beneath, in an elegant script, were the words “The Doctor + Rose’s First Christmas” and the year.
“I know it’s silly,” Rose said, still looking anywhere but him. “Christmas is over now, and it’s not like we even had a tree in the TARDIS to put it on, but I saw it and couldn’t resist. Obviously, I wrote in our names. Not many ornaments have ‘the Doctor’ written on ‘em.”
He pulled her into his arms, silencing her words. “It’s perfect,” he said through the lump in his throat. “Tell you what. We can put it up on the tree next Christmas. And get another ornament to go with it. Eh? Can be a tradition.”
Rose wrinkled her nose. “You put up a Christmas tree in that box of yours?”
“Not usually,” he admitted. “But you celebrate Christmas. I want the TARDIS to feel like home for you, and if celebrating all of your little human holidays makes it feel like home, then I want to celebrate with you, however you’d like. If you’d like.”
Her expression softened and she smiled shyly at him. “The TARDIS is already my home, Doctor.”
The admission both floored and delighted him. A big, beaming grin split his face in two, and the echoing expression lit up her face too.
He very nearly kissed her then, and he spent the rest of the night, after Rose had gone to bed, cursing himself for not seizing the opportunity.
No matter. They got there eventually, after a few hiccups in the road.
By the time their second Christmas rolled around, they were an actual proper couple, and they went shopping together not only for their first Christmas tree, but also for the companion to the penguin ornament. They’d decided on two polar bears decorating a Christmas tree together, snouts pressed together in a supposed kiss.
They had bought other decorations as well, but they displayed their couples’ ornaments proudly on the front of the tree, making sure no branches, lights, or baubles obscured them from view.
“I wonder how long it’ll take before we have enough couples’ ornaments to decorate the tree just with them,” Rose mused as they de-decked their tree after the holidays. “Ages and ages, I’ll bet.”
“Well, it’s a good thing we’ve got ages and ages,” he replied, a goofy grin on his face. “Forever, in fact.”
And they did. They had forever together. Whatever Rose had done as Bad Wolf had changed her at the cellular level. Her body wasn’t breaking down at all; it had enough regenerative energy—courtesy of the TARDIS—to replenish any aged and dying cells before they turned hazardous. For all intents and purposes, she would live just as long as the Doctor. Longer, perhaps.
Upon realizing what that meant for them, for their future together, they decided to bind themselves together in every way possible. One soul in two bodies. At least, that was how Rose had liked to think of it when he had explained the telepathic marriage bond. An open channel between them, their minds, allowing them to see the most intimate parts of the other.
There had been no one the Doctor had wanted to share that sort of connection with, apart from Rose. There had never been anyone like her before—nobody he loved as deeply, fiercely, wholly, eternally—and there would never be anyone like her again.
Not even now that she was gone.
It had been over three years since Torchwood. Since Canary Wharf. Since the Daleks and Cybermen and parallel worlds and Void breaches that ended with the multiverse being saved, but with Rose being trapped permanently in another world.
In those first few moments, as he watched the Void breach fold in on itself like a crumpled piece of paper, the Doctor had held his breath and tensed for the inevitable slash of pain in his mind as his bond with Rose broke. But when a minute passed, then two, then ten and his bond with Rose was still there, he relaxed a fraction.
The anguish and desperation clanging from her half of the bond was what kept him sane, funnily enough. Regardless of their mutual devastation, the fact that he could still feel her in his mind meant he hadn’t truly lost her. She wasn’t truly gone. He wasn’t truly alone.
It had taken months for them to adapt and adjust to their new reality. Time moved around them differently; Pete’s World, as he’d dubbed it, moved slightly faster than their prime universe. And time didn’t really exist in the TARDIS. However, they tried to sync their internal body clocks with each other, to sleep and eat and relax at the same time to make up for the fact that they weren’t physically with each other.
Despite having his wife in his head at all times, he still missed her. He missed her more with every passing day. Nevertheless, they had coped as best they could.
However, the holidays still hurt. It hurt to try to celebrate with Rose when she was—literally—worlds away. Universes away. It hurt to go out and get a Christmas tree. It hurt to decorate it. But above all, it hurt to pick out and purchase their couples’ ornament alone. He’d had to pick out the last three on his own, and if his calculations were correct—which they were, because he was quite brilliant—he would be needing to go out and buy a new one soon. Their sixth overall, the fourth he would buy alone.
Despite Rose’s confidence in the Dimension Cannon—a clever bit of technology that the Torchwood researchers and engineers in Pete’s World had been developing for well over a year now—it seemed as though the Cannon hadn’t worked enough to bring her back to this world in time for Christmas.
But he didn’t care when she came home. He just cared that she did come home. One day.
He had been skeptical of the Cannon when Rose first informed him of its creation, but now that it began showing signs of life—acting as a crude teleport—he was cautiously optimistic that one day it would work. Once he or any of the Torchwood scientists managed to figure out how to poke a hole through the Void, through the fabric of reality, large enough for Rose to squeeze through, but small enough that the entire microcosm of the multiverse didn’t implode in the process. It was a delicate balancing act.
However, now that Rose was busy testing the Dimension Cannon, letting it blast her to whatever corner of her universe it fancied, their bond was a little more strained and out of sync. It had nearly given him a hearts-attack when she went utterly silent one day, only to reappear in his mind hours later as though nothing had happened.
She had since taken to warning him about when she was planning a Cannon jump so he wouldn’t be alarmed if she disappeared from his head for a few hours. Though he appreciated it, it didn’t stop his anxiety from squeezing a tight band around his chest. Every time her half of the bond went quiet, he feared he would never hear from her again.
Inevitably, though, she always returned. She would always return.
He had taken to running errands on the days she did her Cannon jumps. Not only did it distract him from the silence in his head, but it gave him a break from trying to keep his body clock synced with Rose’s. He didn’t need to concern himself about when or where he went, or for how long.
On one particular day in the beginning of December—for Rose, at least… Pete’s World had gotten completely out of sync with their universe by now—the Doctor had decided to visit Ghealach, a small moon on the other end of the galaxy that was basically a junk shop masquerading as a bazaar. The unique feature of Ghealach, however, was that it was utterly psy-null. Telepathy was strictly forbidden as a security measure; the shop owners didn’t want a telepathic being creeping into their heads to swindle them out of money and supplies.
As such, if the Doctor were to go to Ghealach, it meant his bond with Rose would be silenced.
I’ll be there for just a few hours, he told her that morning. I should be done by the time you’re back, but in the event that I’m not, I don’t want you to worry.
Thanks for telling me. Stay safe, Doctor.
He snorted. I’m not the one blasting myself to the gods know where.
He got the impression she was sticking her tongue out at him, and so he rolled his eyes right back.
Be safe, he murmured, passing a kiss and a caress down their bond.
He piloted himself to Ghealach but stayed in the TARDIS until Rose’s presence faded from his mind, indicating she’d gone on her jump.
Wearily, the Doctor rubbed at his eyes and at the dull throb that pulsed behind his temples. Ignoring the ache, he grabbed his overcoat, swung it around his shoulders, and exited the TARDIS.
Ghealach was bustling with activity. All sorts of creatures were buying and selling, bartering and trading. While he usually loved the atmosphere—all of those people, all that life—he couldn’t stomach it today.
So he moved with a purpose, knowing where he could find the parts that he needed to fix the TARDIS. Well, not exactly fix, as nothing was technically broken. But the mechanisms behind the fine-tune precision needed for landing at the coordinates he set must be going a bit faulty. He was landing in an incorrect time or location more often than usual.
If Rose were there, she would’ve teased him about his poor piloting skills.
Pushing that thought aside, the Doctor strode from tent to tent, turning out his pockets to exchange whatever baubles and trinkets and bits of alien tech he happened to have.
It took nearly two hours, but he finally had all of the pieces he had sought out to find, plus a few extra bits he didn’t need but might one day have use for.
It took another half hour or wandering to find the TARDIS again. He hadn’t realized how far he had wandered into the labyrinthine stalls of the market. But he finally beheld his glorious ship. It was odd not to hear her welcoming hum as he approached. Even his bond with his ship was muted on this moon.
He slid his key into the lock and turned it, pushing the door inward. Her central rotor gleamed in welcome and the lights flickered between bright and dull. As soon as he closed the door behind him, leaving the psy-null territory, he felt his ship’s utter joy and delight.
“I missed you too,” he cooed to his ship, affectionately rubbing one of the coral struts as he draped his coat across it.
It was only when he’d skipped up to the center console that he realized his ship wasn’t the sole presence in his mind.
Oh! You’re back earlier than I thought, he said, cringing. Sorry, love. Didn’t think I'd be on that moon for so long.
“Doctor.”
Her voice was faint and breathless, and the Doctor clenched his jaw; it sounded as though she was right beside him. He was getting bombarded with a mixture of emotions, strong ones at that. Stronger than he usually felt from their strained bond.
What’s the matter? Everything all right? Jump go okay?
“It’s you… It’s really, actually you.”
He frowned at the display controls of his ship as he worked on sending her into flight. Rose was coming across clearly. He could read every thread of thought and emotion: disbelief, confusion, love, hurt, happiness, desperation. All of it. Everything that was going on inside that beautiful head of hers was broadcast for him to see.
But if he could sense her so easily, then that meant…
Where are you? he asked, frantically tugging the display screen so close to his face that his nose nearly brushed it. He typed at the keyboard fervently, even though he had no coordinates to input. I’ll find you, Rose. I will find you. Gods, you’re here. Where are you? I’ll find you.
A choked sob sounded from his wife, and he reached into himself, into their bond, to cradle her close. A maelstrom hit him, and he couldn’t seem to soothe her, no matter how much comfort and love he swaddled her in.
I know, love. I know. We’re so close. All these years and you’ve finally done it. You’re brilliant, you are. We’re so close now. Just tell me where you are and I’ll come get you and bring you home. But I need to know where you are.
“Turn around.”
Turn around? What? Where are you, Rose? I need as much information as you can give me so I can find you.
“Turn. Around.”
His mind was still churning even as something—someone—touched his shoulder. Fingers gripped his shoulder hard and tugged. Spinning on his heel, his jaw slackened as he beheld the blonde standing before him. Rose. His wife. His bondmate. His everything.
“Rose?” he croaked, clenching his hands into fists at his side.
She looked nearly the same as the day he’d lost her. The planes of her face had sharpened, the roundness of youth having faded over the years, and her hair was a gentler shade of blonde, seemingly professionally dyed rather than a cheap bit of bleaching product she found in the shops.
His eyes roved across her face hungrily, urgently willing her to be real, as his mind sought her out. He hadn’t realized how muffled their bond had become, separated as they were through universes, but now it was in perfect focus, at full power. It was as though a radio station that had been staticky was now tuned.
And all of the emotions swirling through both of their minds was being broadcast on all frequencies. Shock and disbelief and tentative, delicate hope.
“Oh, Doctor!”
Rose launched herself at him, pulling him from his stupor. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, holding her as close as he could. Her warm, small body contoured to his, pressing against every inch of him until there was no space left between them.
Her hands scrabbled at his back, searching for better purchase to cling to him. He buried his nose into the soft spot where her shoulder met her neck and breathed in deeply, inhaling the smell of her. She smelled like energy and electricity, but beneath that was the familiar scent of Rose. Of home.
“What… How…?”
“It worked,” she said, her voice warbling. “The Cannon… it worked. With a bit of help. Needed a bit of alien tech to help brace the Void open, then close it up behind me. Some friendly aliens helped out with that. Though they said the fabric of that reality was already fragile. Not sure what that was about. Torchwood promised to look into it, and I said we’d look into it from this side of things.”
“Fragile?” he asked, pulling away from her. “How can the fabric of reality become ‘fragile’?”
Rose looked like she was about to open her mouth, perhaps to offer her input, but the Doctor realized he didn’t particularly want to talk about the fabric of reality or the universe or anything that wasn’t Rose.
He shook his head and cradled Rose’s jaw in her palm, brushing his thumb against her lower lip. She sighed, her warm breath ghosting across his hand.
“I’ve missed you,” he rasped, raking his eyes over her face to recommit every detail to memory. She was even more beautiful, more breathtaking, than he remembered. “So much, Rose. There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t miss you. And I know we were never truly apart, but…”
Rose rocked up onto her toes, fisted her hands in the lapels of his suit, and tugged him down until their mouths met in a hard kiss. All thoughts left his mind as he lost himself in her. The taste of her, the touch of her, the smell of her, the sound of her, the sight of her. His senses were utterly overwhelmed by her, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Pleasure sparked through his veins as their lips moved together in a familiar rhythm of pulling and yielding, sliding and gliding.
A full-body shudder rippled down his spine as his mouth parted for her probing tongue. The little whimper she let out weakened his knees and he stumbled back a step until his backside pressed against the central console of the TARDIS.
Rose followed, not breaking the kiss. The Doctor braced himself against the console, more than willing to let Rose cage him in, resting her weight against his. Their bodies moved together, rocking and writhing as their hands explored every inch of each other that they’d been deprived of for three and a half years.
“I missed you,” he murmured between frantic kisses. “I love you.”
I love you, he whispered into her mind. His half of the bond wrapped around her half even tighter than his body wrapped around hers, needing to feel her everywhere, needing to hold her close to convince himself that this was real, that she was real, and that she was here with him.
“I’m here,” she mumbled against his mouth. I’m here. I’m back. I came back. I love you. I love you.
Her hands moved restlessly across his body, alternating between pressing into the small of his back and his hair. Desire rippled through him as their hips and legs tangled together, rubbing and grinding and relishing all of the sensations they’d been deprived of for these many long years.
Sure, they’d had the mental presence of each other during their separation, but no number of mental embraces could replace a real hug, of being ensconced in another’s arms, two bodies inhabiting one space.
A deep groan rumbled up the Doctor’s chest as he devoured Rose’s mouth. The bedroom was too far away for the utter need throbbing through them both. Hastily removing all necessary pieces of clothing, they joined together on the raggedy old jump seat. Their bodies moved as one, touching and kissing and teasing and tasting until their coupling culminated in the pinnacle of pleasure and love.
Afterwards, they sat slumped together, panting for breath and clinging to each other. The Doctor skated his fingertips up and down the smooth expanse of Rose’s spine. She still had her shirt on, and the fabric bunched and fell with every up and down motion of his hand.
“I love you,” he said groggily, pressing a series of kisses to the column of her throat. His mind was blissfully blank and full of Rose. She was everywhere, filling the deep, dark expanse of his mind with her light and warmth.
“You feel so good,” she sighed, nuzzling closer physically and mentally. “I hadn’t realized how faint our bond had become. But now… God.”
“Mmm,” he hummed in agreement. Then he asked the question that had slowly been eating away at him. “How long were you waiting in here? How did you even find the ship? That moon… you wouldn’t have been able to feel her—or me.”
“Maybe a half hour,” Rose said. “Felt like an eternity. But then I reminded myself that I was lucky enough to have found the TARDIS at all. I would’ve been devastated to know I’d landed here but just missed you.”
He would’ve been devastated too. Even more horrifying was the idea that Rose wouldn’t even have been able to reach out for him to tell him where she was, what with that telepathic dampener suppressing their bond.
“But I was just wandering around when I found the TARDIS,” Rose continued. “I nearly walked right by her at first, ‘cos I didn’t think the jump had actually worked. I figured I was on an alien planet in that other universe. But then I walked past her and the door just… clicked open. That’s when I turned and saw her, and I ran right in.
“But then I wasn’t sure which version of you it would be. Everything about the TARDIS looked the same, so I figured I wasn’t too far off. Then I was beginning to think about how I would explain everything if it was a past you. Especially if it was a past you who hadn’t met me yet; how on Earth would I explain to you who I was and why you needed to help me.”
“The marriage bond would’ve been proof enough,” he assured her, tapping at his temple for emphasis. “The bond transcends time, through regenerations, past and present. No matter which version of me walked through those doors, I would have known who you are.”
“Thank God it was you,” she said. “Though for a minute there I thought I went mad and was invisible.”
He offered her a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I didn’t think to look around the TARDIS. I didn’t expect anyone to be in here.”
She smirked at him, then nestled her head into the crook of his neck, letting out a sated sigh Despite the sound of utter contentment, she murmured, “We should get up.”
“Or we could stay here like this forever,” he countered.
“As wonderful as that sounds, my legs are going half numb,” she retorted. “And I feel disgusting. I could use a shower, if you’d care to join me?”
His belly swooped in renewed desire as he nodded fervently. Rose grinned at him, her tongue poking teasingly out of the corner of her mouth. He pinched her bum for her cheek, causing her to shriek with laughter and swat at his hand.
A daft grin settled across his face at the sound. Oh, how he’d missed her.
He couldn’t help but lean up to plant a row of tiny kisses across her jaw, beginning at the sensitive skin beneath her ear and working his way to the corner of her mouth. He felt her cheek lift in a smile as her hand went to the back of his head to keep him where he was. As if he would ever wish to stop kissing her.
“Shower?” he mumbled against her skin, slowly making a path down her neck.
“Mhm,” she hummed distractedly.
He laughed softly and pressed a final kiss to the hollow of her throat. “Come on. Let’s get cleaned up.”
Rose heaved a great sigh but dutifully lifted herself off of his lap to stand on wobbly legs. He followed suit, and they each fixed their jumble of half-off clothing before they moved, hand in hand, down the corridor of their home.
Part Two (the Christmas fluff) coming soon!
#timeladyelpia#dwsecretsanta#ficandchips#doctorroseprompts#dwfic#doctor who#ten x rose#reunion#romance#my fic#home for the holidays
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dirty secrets pt. II, d.d.
words: 2.9k
requested by anonymous
have you considered doing a part 2 to dirty secrets? like ending with them getting nearly caught, I want more lol
&
continuation of dirty secrets where the squad finds out david and reader just fucked?
disclaimer: it is late but it is here. there’s fluff, there’s smut, there’s a little bit of angst. it’s fun for everyone. am I cooking pt. III bc this was too long? maybe.
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“Okay, let’s do this.” Jack said, positioning himself a few feet from the pool. “Just do that again, come out of the water and then up the pool.”
I closed my eyes and held my breath, diving in the water from the pool of our Coachella house. My hair was completely wet… as was the crop hoodies and desert shorts from the new fanjoy collab Vlog Squad merch. Once I rise, the water drips from my hole body, as I hold myself onto the side of the pool to sit by the edge, looking straight at the camera.
“That was… perfect.” Jack said. “It looked amazing (Y/N).”
“That will look amazing on the montage.” Zane commented, loving the scene.
“Thank God we have Jeff and (Y/N) to sell the merch. Can you imagine if it were just me? We’d be doomed.” Jason joked and everybody laughed.
“Oh yeah, because this isn’t awkward for me at all.” I laughed, clearing my eyes from the water.
“What do you mean just Jeff and (Y/N)?” Todd asked, hands on waist, outraged. Jason shrugged.
I was laughing at their interaction, when I felt my skin burning. I looked around only to see David staring back at me, smiling and biting his lips. I looked away and smiled, trying my best to keep our little act together.
Since the party, we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other. There wasn’t a day where we didn’t secretly met and fucked. We decided to keep it a secret from all of our friends, which required some skills to achieve. After barely making out unnoticed from the party, with some lame-ass excuse that only worked because everybody was hammered, we were smarter and strategic about our sneaking around. We developed signals and little hints. Making sure our dirty little secret was only ours to keep.
Natalie gave me a towel to dry off, since I was freezing a little. “I desperately need to change clothes.” I told Natalie and in that moment David smoothly entered the house, headed to the one room were Jack was storing boxes of the new merch.
“Yeah, there’s dry ones in the merch room, everybody got the ones we stored in the living room already.” Natalie suggested, mindlessly.
“Oh okay. Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll be right back.” I told Natalie, smiling softly.
I walked calmly to the inside of the house, but as soon as I turned left to face the hallway, I ran for my life. Laughing as I found the right door, I opened it only to find David’s hand grabbing mine and pulling me inside, quickly closing the door behind me. Our bodies collapsed and his hands were on my face, pulling me to a kiss, where I couldn’t help but keep smiling.
“I’m literally making you all wet, baby.” I whispered to him, kissing him back.
“Oh no, that’s my job!” David laughed and I felt his tongue sliding into my mouth.
We found a wall free of boxes and packets, David masterly took off my hoodie and shorts in a split second. “You’re getting better at this, quicker.”
“I’m good with my hands,” He stated as he kissed my thighs from the knee up.
I nodded, “I’m one to tell.” I bit my lower lip, crossing my fingers in his brown messy hair.
We discussed previously that since literally all of our friends were in this house with us for the whole weekend, maybe we should keep apart and not call attention to ourselves. In the end, it was only three and a half days. We could do it, right?
Wrong.
We arrived four hours ago to the house. Posted some Instagram stories. Played some volleyball. Changed clothes to the new merch, filmed endless bits for David’s montage. Took pictures to advertise the merch later. All of the VS protocols, you might say. Needless to say, when I saw David wearing the desert shorts, I sneaked him into his room and got down on my knees.
We didn’t even last four hours. Three and a half days? Yeah, no.
“David, you need to stop looking at me that way. You know what it does to me.” I whispered and closed my eyes when he took off my panties and started licking me. “How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself that way? Oh. OH.” He hit some right spots and I pressed my hands on his hair, harder.
“I can taste what my look does to you, actually.” He teased. “It’s really good.”
“Son of a… Oh.” He resumed his business, knowing exactly how to make me tic.
David positioned one of my legs over his shoulder, giving him more liberty to, well, basically destroy any sanity I had left. The wet and warmth of his tongue hitting just the right places in my clit was giving me a quick build up, which raised even more when I felt his long fingers inside of me. My hand went straight to my mouth, biting the back of my index finger to keep myself from moaning. I circled my hips on his face and he hummed, always loving when I did that, specially when I sat on his face.
Took me a second to reach my orgasm and any strength I had left in my legs were quickly gone. Luckily, David was clever enough to hold me tight by the waist, leading me down to the ground, on top of him. I fell by his side, smiling happily, giggling when he made his way on top of me, kissing my face, lips and neck.
“You look amazing when I make you cum, did you know that?” David whispered to my ear, biting my neck softly. “Even more amazing than when you looked all wet with my merch.”
“You did like that, didn’t you?” I laughed to myself. David nodded, now kissing the valley of my boobs.
“I might not even put on the montage, because I’m jealous of it.” David smiled, knowing exactly how my reaction was gonna be.
“You wouldn’t dare! You know how hard it is to do that and not look like a gumball?” I looked at him, caressing his face.
“You’d never look like a gumball.” David chuckled, giving me a quick peck.
“Wait until the third day of Coachella, you might change your mind.” I joked back.
David changed his shirt to a dry one and left the room swiftly, firstly hearing if anyone was outside and then making a run for his room. I took my time to dry my hair and put on another pair of shorts and some t-shirt. When I made my way out to find everybody, they were still out playing and eating some food that Jason was preparing.
Then Coachella happened, all of us got drunk, danced, walked around from stage to stage, took a bunch of pictures together and had the time of our lives. For the whole first day, David and I spent mostly apart, which was a fun change of pace, because by night, even if we were exhausted from the festival, we’d be texting each other and sneaking out at 4 am to be together somewhere where no one would see us.
Honestly, a part of us were loving being together but the adrenaline of sneaking around and maybe getting caught was giving it an extra thrill. We didn’t want our friends lurking around and asking us a million questions about relationships since we didn’t wanna label anything or ruin this amazing thing we have.
On the second day, though, the girls and I spent the morning getting ready together, helping each other look our best. Not to suck my own dick, but I looked gorgeous, as well as my girls Nat, Cass and Kristen. Needless to say, it annoyed the hell out of me when despite our mutual arrangement of keeping a distance, David spent his day with Madison Beer, Kelsey and Stass.
And I couldn’t even bitch about it to my best friends.
“Oh, you’re in a mood. What’s up with you, girl?” Kristen noticed my grump.
“Nothing,” I said, like a spoiled child.
“Are you 5 years old?” Kristen laughed at me.
“Yes,” I frowned, then laughed with her. “I’m tired, my feet hurts, that’s all. I really want an iced coffee, but I’m trying to manifest it coming to me instead of me walking all the way over there.”
I was great at excuses with most people. Not David, though. He always read right through me. That happened when the little time we spent together inside the group bus after the festival, he asked me something and I barely answered.
I met him outside the house at 3:45 am. I lied down on the grass, looking up to the sky and seeing the stars, something that was hard to see in Los Angeles. David made his way to me and lied by my side, but instead of looking at the stars as I did, he kept looking at me.
I didn’t really say anything about his arrival, “Are you gonna tell me what’s been bothering you?” His fingertips ran through my arms, giving me chills. It’s hard being mad when my body doesn't even follow.
“I can’t.” I told him.
“Why not?” He kissed my shoulder.
“Because if I do, I’m just gonna look like I need to be put into an insane asylum.” I stated. David laughed at me, even though he seemed unsure if he could without making me more upset.
“If it makes you feel any better, I already think you need to be put into an insane asylum, so anything you say or do won’t change anything.” He told me, affective and cute.
I tried really hard not to smile. “I’m going to scare you away.”
“Are you a serial killer?” David asked me, pretending to be serious and furrowing his brows.
“No.” I raised one brow at him, confused at his question.
“Then you’re not scaring me away,” David was destroying any angry bone in my body. I was now back to being my normal pudding self.
“God dammit, you make it really hard to be angry.” I hid my face in my hands.
“Just tell me, please?” His hands caught mine and caressed it. I sighed and nodded.
“Maybe I’m a little bothered by the fact that your day was filled with Instagram Models and Pop singers.” I shrugged, rolling my eyes to myself.
David chuckled. “I was just staying away as we agreed.”
“Yeah, but… I thought that would be around Jason or Dom.” I whined and David laughed louder.
“So, the girls are the problem.” David nodded and messed his own hair. “Okay, I get it. If it were the other way around I’d be bothered too. But honestly, I was just trying to get some content for the montage. I’d rather just have been with you.”
“Did you get any good shots at least?” I touched his face and caressed his skin.
“Not sure, maybe one or two. I’ll probably just walk around with Jeff tomorrow and make him be dreamy and stupid and that will be the montage.” David chuckled, leaning his face on my hand.
I laughed. “Honestly, if you put Jeff doing the most random shit in the world, the viewers will still absolutely go nuts.”
“That’s true.” He smiled at me. “Are we okay? Do I get to kiss you now?”
“I was hoping you’d do worst things to me than that Dobrik,” I bit my lip and pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt.
It was all dark outside, everybody was sleeping. Having him all to myself was enough to get me wet. I was wearing just an oversized merch shirt and panties, which earned me an approval growl when David slid his hand under it to find my boobs. Pulling the shirt up, he put his mouth on one of them, sucking and biting and licking. His left hand spending some time on my other boob, but then sliding down, feeling my body, taking my ass in his hand and groping, pulling me closer.
I loved how at this moment, there was no rush. There was desire and fire, but we could take our time and feel everything. The chilly night weather and the fact that someone could walk in on us was a trigger, but at this point we didn’t really care. David’s mouth found my neck and then my lips, which he continued to kiss intensely, making me breathless of how much feeling was there in his lips and tongue. His hand found my panties, which he slid into and started rubbing my clit, teasing me. His hair was soft on my hand, but I wanted to tease him too, so I found his already hard dick pulsating inside his pants. I took his whole length in my hand and slowly stroke him, competing on who could be the bigger tease.
David one-upped me, thrusting into me with three fingers, which made me moan in the middle of our kiss and made him smirk. Bastard. I bit my lips, pulling him back to the kiss, wanting him more. His curled up fingers inside of me knew how to read the one spot that would corrupt me. As payback, I jacked him off faster, but he was winning by a mile. I bit his lower lip and he moaned, softly, he liked a little bit of pain.
My pleasure was rising fast and he knew, he could feel it in his fingers. “You’re so fucking hot and you’re all mine. Every piece of you is mine to do whatever I want with you and to make you cum as many times as I want.” His whispers in my ear were filled with breathless sighs and growls.
As I was about to reach, he stopped and as a reflex my hand held his arm and my nails carved into his skin. “David…” It was a warning and a beg.
“Shhh… Be a good girl (Y/N).” He bit my collar bone.
In a swift movement, he took me by the waist and pulled me on top of him. Arranging everything, he moved my panties to the side and let his cock out of his pants, positioning himself on my entrance. “I want you to ride me, (Y/N).”
I barely could say anything, as my body easily slid down on his cock and I felt him filling me whole. “Fuck.” I whined in pleasure.
David sat down on the grass to help me ride him, both of his hands on the back of my thighs to give me the support I needed to come up and down on him. First slowly, then gradually getting faster and faster, the positioning allowing him to reach even further inside me. I managed to pull him back to kiss me again, but that lasted a couple of seconds since my moans were taking the wheel here. His kisses went to my neck, sucking it, my head fell back, giving him room.
“Fuck, baby. You’re so good to me. No one rides me like you do,” He praised me and that just made me even hornier. He kept motivating me to go harder and faster, kissing every bit of skin he could. “Yeah, just like that, feel me all inside you.”
His praises were rusky in his deep tone, faded with deep sighs. He slapped my ass, which earned him a louder moan. He loved how responsive I was to everything he did and how, just like him, I loved a little pain.
I kissed him again, harder and more desperate, as I was reaching my climax, that way helping him come undone as well. I rode him faster and faster and then slower and slower. Finding my own rhythm back down from that high. Once we were done, both breathless and sweating, I kissed him softly and fell beside him on the grass, chuckling.
Todd had the worst headache, which woke him up after a couple of hours of deadbeat sleep. He found some Advil in his bag, but his water bottle was empty, which made him whine and get up, sleepily walking towards the kitchen. He tried to fix his hair, which was all over the place, without much success, and his eyes were barely able to fully open.
He found the kitchen, opened the fridge and got himself a cold bottle of water, then after a few sips he swallowed the pill. Walking outside of the kitchen, he faced the yard glass door. Everything was dark, but far on the grass bit of the yard there was something moving, something he couldn’t exactly tell what.
“Is that a coyote?” Todd asked himself, frowning.
Quietly, he opened the door and lurked in the shadows, trying to figure out what the hell was happening there. He took a couple more sips of water, until his eyes were used to the darkness and started to give form to whatever that was.
The movements were steady and repeating. Then it hit him. Someone was literally fucking in the house yard in the middle of the night. “Holy fucking shit.” Todd whispered.
“Is that...?” He squinted to try and find out who that was. The girl was on top, clearly, and then she fell onto the grass and Todd saw the guy fixing his messy hair. “David?” His eyes went wide. “Holy shit, but wait… Who the fuck is that?”
Then he put two and two together, realizing that there was only one single girl at the house with that length of hair. “Oh my fucking God.”
He couldn't wait to tell Jeff.
#david dobrik#david dobrik x reader#david dobrik fluff#david dobrik ff#david dobrik smut#david dobrik angst#david dobrik fanfic#one shot#smut#angst#david dobrik request#requests#vlog squad#vlogsquad#todd smith#toddy smith
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Reflections- A Good Omens Fic
This is madness… In a certain bookshop in Soho, a certain angel sat across from a demon sipping wine.1 None of this was unusual. In fact, it had been going on for as many decades as the bookshop had been established. Decades had come and gone, automobiles clogged the once quieter streets, and bebop continued its attempt to permeate the windows of A.Z. Fell & Co. to no avail.2 And A.Z. Fell and Anthony J. Crowley or as they were more occultly and ethereally known, Aziraphale and Crowley, had spared a few hours for each others’ company. More often, in recent years, given their mutual investment in the boy, Warlock Dowling. Warlock, for his part, had had a rather unusual childhood of influences, including an imposing nanny, a gardener, and two tutors.
Aziraphale reflected on those days as he stared at his wine, swirling it to slow his consumption. Back then, they had had to spend more time together. Even the Arrangement had been more cooperative from a distance. Though of course, they had always offered each other help when needed. Or rather, Crowley had. Aziraphale certainly wouldn’t help with any sort of temptation that would require the aid of two metaphysical beings. He simply couldn’t. The Arrangement was simply a matter of convenience.
They had grown familiar, so that by the time they had elected themselves for the upbringing of the Warlock, their time together felt almost natural. Certainly more natural than his time Above. He shivered slightly. It contrasted every written record, but Aziraphale found heaven cold, almost sterile in the never ceasing white walls and windows. And then there were his comrades-in-arms. Aziraphale’s gaze lowered further. He knew he wasn’t a proper angel. Not given his preferred company, the joy he took in human indulgences like food and books and wine. To him, the bookshop seemed a more enjoyable world than heaven had ever seemed. And now the clock was ticking. He had declared a side. Or rather refused what should have been his side. Aziraphale had been glancing above for some sign of Divine Wrath for the past twelve hours. If I’m already on Earth, where would I Fall? He had wondered where Crowley had Fallen. Had he simply landed on Earth? Or had Hell swallowed him once the sulphur had done its work. He glanced back woefully where he knew his wings lay hidden. I really do prefer white to black. “It would work...” Crowley’s voice jolted him back to the present. It had a way of doing that. In fact, sometime between the Blitz and discovering the actual antichrist child, Crowley’s presence had started something he was pointedly ignoring. Or trying to. I’m an angel. He argued to himself, there is no difference in my feeling for him than any of Her other creatures. Aziraphale sighed, he’d never been good at lying to himself for very long. Centuries at most. “What Dear?” Crowley hissed softly by way of reproach, leaning closer, “Look, Above and Below will be looking for blood, a whole vat of it in my case, and that’s just a start.” Aziraphale had been more focused on the Fall 3, he hadn’t given much thought to an execution.”It’ll be Holy Water for me...” HIs oldest friend shrugged, “Oozing about in the Underworld for Eternity.” Crowley took an unceremonious gulp of wine, “Hellfire.” Aziraphale replied glumly, “That’sss my point!” Crowley always did hiss a little more when he was stressed or drunk… or drunk because he was stressed. Aziraphale found the tone slightly comforting. He then dismissed the thought. “They can throw me in a vat of the stuff, won’t do anything. I’m already burning.” “Yes but they wouldn’t do that to you.” Aziraphale said tartly, “You’ll get Holy Water,” Crowley leaned even closer, and it was all the angel could do to not look at his lips. Dear Lor- On second thought, probably best not to call the attention of the Divine. He failed miserably as Crowley pulled that sinful smirk of the Serpent thinking of something terribly clever, “My body will.” Crowley’s eyes roved his body and he felt his decided to beat pulse quicken. Aziraphale frowned, What was he- His eyes widened as he realized what Crowley intended, the precise way the snake was looking at him. Not as a meal, as an assessment. Like deciding on a suit. “You mean...” The color rose on angelic cheeks, he stood abruptly, “No.” Crowley stood to follow him, “You’ve possessed people before-” “That was an emergency and she willingly shared-” “So’s this. And it won’t even be body sharing. More like body swapping.” “No.” Oh the thought of what Crowley would could do, what he would see of himself, well his given body. “There must be another-” “Can you think of a better idea?” He couldn’t, “You don’t even know if it will work.” “But it might. Besides,” Again, that smirk crossed his lips and Aziraphale failed miserably at ignoring his lips, his gaze drifting lower to a long lean neck. “You must’ve wanted to take this for a drive,” Crowley was simply teasing, but his thoughts were too flustered of late. “I-I-” “We’ll get to stay on earth...” There it was, that softer tone he’d always worked so hard to ignore. “We’ll get more time. More bookshops. More music. More everything.” Everything. It reminded him of when the demon had said they could go off together, and how much it had taken to say no. He’d never felt worse. He swallowed harshly. “I-I- suppose it’s worth a try...”
The first thing he noticed was the silence. Aziraphale was so used to the continuous drone of God’s Love and Divine Will, it was simply the background noise of his existence. The constant hum telling him what to do, what his purpose was at all times. It was still there, but Aziraphale realized for the second time in as many days, how much his body had become an echo chamber for the pressures of the Divine.4 With Madame Tracy, it was quieter. This was near silence. He had to focus to even register the drone. He sighed in relief, or rather he would have, had his clothes not constricted his breathing. Just how tight are these jans?5 Black nail polish coated the tips of slender, almost feminine hands. He touched them carefully, He has such lovely hands. A throat cleared, “Right, see you tomorrow,” Crowley was nodding him out of his own bookshop. The nerve! Though the wink tempered the gall of it quickly, “Tickety Boo,”
Shaky breath, he’d tried to go to his private rooms quickly. Longer legs provided a faster stride as he reached the cold stark reality of his counterpart’s quarters. He froze as he passed a full length mirror. Something he avoided as a general rule. He liked his clothes, he made sure they were straight and rather ignored what was underneath. He claimed out of avoidance of vanity. That wasn’t entirely true. The echoes of a thousand ethereally voices sniping at the state of his form, rang in his ears. He’d rather thought there was no harm in making his appearance more comforting. Humans made such lovely food, and his rounder shape had made people more comfortable than the harsh angels that existed in most angels… and demons… and most of the occult and ethereal universe. Over time, the voices had been added to the echo chamber of his form, noise he chose to try to ignore. But today… hands that weren’t his own, ran over thighs that weren’t his own nervously.... Today his reflection would show his spirit. But above it was something more, something beautiful. Urgently stripping off demonically summoned garments. He drank in every inch of his not his own body. Long lithe muscle, a flat abdomen, and fiery hair. Aziraphale shakily ran a hand along not his lips. Touching the mirror pensively, “I love you,” His soul shivered at the voice that formed the words. Wiping tears as he realized he had caused Crowley’s form to cry. Mortified, “No no, this won’t do.” It was overwhelming, the amount of love he felt surging through his veins. Selfish love. Love without borders, love without end. Not a service to the Purpose or the Plan. A love that was his, alone.
Across town, in a bookshop more familiar than the Gardens of Eden, an occult filled body was currently in a state of shock. Love. Divine love. And Purpose. The ultimate torture of Falling was experiencing the hole left from God ripping Her Love from your soul. The fire and brimstone bit was nothing compared to the void. Most demons forgot it to cope. Unfortunately for Crowley, he’d orbited the only ethereal being on earth for millennia. Aziraphale simply oozed with Love, he reeked of it. The angel truly adored all God’s creatures, excepting, of course, for the Evils he had to thwart and occasionally keep as company, given their arrangement. Angel had given the poor serpent such emotional whiplash over the centuries. A thousand nos, twice as many yeses. Each played in his mind like a broken record, each given with no regard or reason for the methods of the last answer. And yet, simply being near Aziraphale had forced his Falling to remain fresh. A wound constantly reopened by virtue of accompanying the virtuous. And now, a gambit that neither side would approve of. A plot that was both so Heavenly and Hellish it could only be described as Human. Crowley had anticipated some slight discomfort, missing his familiar body and so on, but what he hadn’t counted on was the residual traces of Love as he walked across a rug in the bookshop. It hit him like a ton of bricks and he dropped to the floor as though Falling again. It ate at his being 6, but for a moment, he felt it again. The Divine Purpose. The desire to create and give… the feeling of the stars at his fingertips. A portrait for all to see, but all in Service. All according to Divine Will and Power. Will... Free Will. Crowley sat up, remembering precisely why his wings no longer glowed a pearlescent sheen as he stared in the mirror. “Bastards.” The word sounded less guttural in Aziraphale’s soft posh voice, but the tone reminded him of his purpose. None so Divine, but perhaps focused a bit on the ethereal. Or specifically, one part of it. He pushed himself off the floor. “I only ever asked why.” Dusting off Aziraphale’s coat, because he knew he’d want it so, he busied himself around the shop. Not moving so much as a page to a different position, because he knew he’d have Hell to pay from a certain angel.
1. Not so much sipping, as “drinking as fast as was angelically and demonically possible to do”.
2. Not for any practical reason. Aziraphale simply believed his bookshop should be quiet, unless he chose to play music. Therefore, it was.
3.And the things he’d prefer to do beforehand.
4.The first time had been with Madame Tracy, which had felt rather like the volume getting turned down to a tolerable level after constant shouting.
5. Or jeans as the rest of the universe would have told him.
6.What Crowley didn’t know was the feeling he was currently suffering through would have killed nearly any other demon.
#good omens#fanfic#ineffable husbands#ineffable spouses#slight angst#crowly x aziraphale#crowley x aziraphale
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