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sukirichi · 3 years

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no guidance

pov: you ask your step-brother to guide you in your first time

part of the everything step cest collab by @dilfhub thank you for everything! 💕

note. lol this rotted in my drafts for weeks but i finally finished it eeeee

cw. virginity loss, sexting, mild corruption themes, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), possessive! akaashi-ni, slight dumbification, pseudo-incest (step siblings)

You knew better than to associate with the likes of Miya Atsumu. As if him being one of the most notorious fuckboys in campus wasn’t enough of a warning sign, his reputation was also infamous for being the “Virgin Killer.” In simpler terms, he took pride in corrupting the innocence of whoever was foolish enough to fall into his trap, and yet there you were, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you shamelessly sexted with him.

Unsurprisingly, he’s asking for nudes. Again.

It had been approximately three months since you passed notes with the said Miya twin (and of course you liked the worse of the pair) before your friendship escalated into something...more sexual. It was no secret Atsumu had a high sex drive, something you were still foreign with, so you weren’t really taken aback by his open vulgarity over his desire to fuck you.

The first month, you were nice enough to sent him a snap of your titties. Albeit still a little shy over not having sent anyone such an intimate photo before, you were beyond exhilarated.

The next, you sent him a booty pic. It wasn’t anything sexy since you were only in your campus hoodie, the door locked because you didn’t want your parents walking in on you trying to get a good angle of your rounded buttocks.

And just last week, you finally gained enough courage to take a photo of your glistening pussy, sent with a caption of ‘thinking of you...’

Now, you weren’t stupid despite your preference to act naive and innocent. You knew your actions would entice him to lead into something more, if his dick picks that show him already leaking weren’t enough of a telltale already. But as your phone pinged and his name flashed above your screen, the words, ‘meet you at Issei’s party this weekend? I think I’ve waited long enough’ loud and clear – your heart dropped into your chest.

Without another thought, you shut your phone off and rolled to your side.

The thing was, you’ve never really had sex. You couldn’t even be brave enough to lose your virginity to your hairbrush or to buy a dildo despite your friends’ insistence it was much better than an actual cock (quote unquote: both can make you orgasm, but the former didn’t come with toxic attitudes of horny college boys.)

Sure, you’ve watched porn, and you watched a lot – but nothing could compare to the actual experience of it. Your fingers could only get you so far.

Glancing at your phone that kept lighting up with texts from Atsumu, you felt something stir deep within your stomach. Curiosity? Arousal? Nervousness? Excitement? Perhaps all a mix of both. You’ve heard from all the girls Atsumu’s slept with that even though he meant bad news, his cock could be likened of that of a blessing that converted them into ‘I hate him’ to ‘Gosh, I wanna fuck him again.’ Addicting, they called him, and now you were being offered a path to being on a path that most likely had no point of return.

You sighed.

The saner part of you warned you to stay away. There was no rush to lose your virginity now. Just because most of your friends had enough experience, it didn’t mean you had to be the same as them. After all, you came from quite...a strict household.

While everyone had been away from their parents and independently living in their dorms, you still stayed under the same roof as your father and step-mom, along with your older brother who was only a year ahead of you. Akaashi was a very sweet presence to have that you didn’t mind not experiencing that ‘youthful freedom’ too much, simply because your brother was a better company than whoever you could room with. He was kind, always ready to help, and you could confidently say you trusted him more than you did your closest friends.

Maybe that was the reason why you knocked at his room past midnight, shifting your weight from one foot to another. The faint sliver of light peeking from the cracks in his door told you he was probably still working on projects and the like, really not a good time to bother him, but you couldn’t hold on any longer.

At the back of your mind, this was the right thing. He was the right person.

“’Kaashi-nii...?” you knocked again, aware that he had a habit of listening to music on full volume while studying. “Are you there? Oh, were you studying, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to barge.”

Your brother stood in front of you, his headphones hung around his neck. He’d swung the door open to reveal that he was, indeed, previously hunched over his desk to work on something. Upon seeing the guilty expression on your face, Akaashi smiled at you in reassurance. “Hey, no, it’s fine,” he ushered you inside, setting you down at the edge of his bed while he sat across you in his swivelling chair. “Do you need help with homework again?”

“No...”

Turning away from him shyly, you opted to fiddle with your fingers as you stared at your lap. You had come here in a whim. You didn’t really think this through, and even though you’d been in his room a thousand times before, his dark blue sheets and tidy room that smelled sweetly of his detergent and vanilla cologne made you feel dizzy.

It didn’t help that he looked so mouth-watering in this light too.

Messy hair, long, slender fingers that absentmindedly spun a pen in those pretty hands of his, his dark eyes hazy and as welcoming as ever under the dim light of his desk lamp – how could you resist?

“What is it?” Akaashi quickly picked up on your silent worries. He’d always been observant, taking his role as your big brother seriously that he had attuned himself to sense even the slightest differences from you. Even though you’d only become family when you were already in middle school, it felt like you had known him for a much longer time than that, his warm hands rubbing soothing circles in your knees pulling the tension away from you.

“You know you can tell your brother everything, right? I’ll listen to you, you don’t need to feel scared or nervous.”

Guess it was now or never... “There’s this boy in my class...”

Akaashi’s eyes immediately darkened. All the warmth in his face disappeared, now replaced with a hardness you didn’t think was possible for such an understanding, patient guy like him. “Is he hurting you, forcing you to do something you don’t like?” his questions shot out one by one, and your eyes widened when he held you firmly by the shoulders. “Do I need to hurt someone?”

“No, no, it’s not like that!”

Your brother relaxed back in his chair. For a moment, your mind conjured up the dirtiest image of bouncing on his cock (and you know his cock is pretty after accidentally walking in on him changing clothes in high school) as he studied, but you quickly shook the thought away with a clear of your throat.

“What’s wrong then?”

You took a deep breath. “I just...I like him a lot and he asked me to have sex with him someday,” your words came out barely above a whisper, the courage seeping out of you until meeting Akaashi’s eyes felt impossible. “I said yes because of course I like him but...I’m afraid.”

“Hey,” Akaashi tilted your chin to look at him, his blue eyes pooling with worry and brotherly concern. “You know you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“I just don’t want to disappoint him. I-I’ve never done it before and I feel like I won’t make him feel good. That’s why I came here,” you peered at him under your lashes, tongue darting out to nervously lick at your lips that felt uncomfortably dry. “You told me I could ask you for help in anything and you’re my brother so I trust you a lot to guide me on this one.”

The silence in the room was suffocating.

You were so close to running out of his room and pretending you didn’t exist for the rest of your life because what the hell were you asking? He was your brother, he obviously didn’t see you as a woman. You bet in his eyes, you were nothing but a little sister, and there really was no stopping him from kicking you out of his room until – “You want me to be your first time?”

You looked up at him so fast you actually felt your neck ache from the sudden movement. Heat spread all over your body, especially to your core at the unreadable expression in his eyes, yet it wasn’t...bad. He wasn’t rejecting you.

“Yes, please.”

Akaashi nodded at your hushed words. Slapping his palms to his knees, he walked to his bedside table where he pulled out an inconspicuous bottle with some sort of liquid you weren’t familiar with.

“Okay. Nii-san will teach you everything, but first, I need to prep you.” Fuck, fuck, fuck, this was actually happening!

You could barely process the events that happened next as he discarded his shirt to the ground, exposing his toned upper body to you from years of playing volleyball. While you sat there frozen and with a frantic beating heart, your brother barely blinked an eye as he gestured for you to take your clothes off. Wordlessly, you pulled your top off and shimmied out of your underwear. Too shy upon being exposed to a male for the first time in your life, you immediately headed towards his bed and closed your eyes, breath heavy and laboured as you waited for his next movements.

Akaashi’s hand went up to your knee, and you flinched at the contact, relaxing only when his soothing smile greeted you. “Lean back for me. Just relax and loosen up, okay? I’m not going to hurt you, Nii-san will make you feel good.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you did as he told. You were still shy, but you were feeling a lot less nervous. His hypnotizing gestures of caressing your thighs made you sigh in contentment as your head hit the pillow, legs falling open like it was second nature to spread yourself to your brother.

The thought had you biting your lip.

Before you could think too much about it, you felt a cool liquid being spread all over your lips. You gasped and clutched on the sheets out of reflex, staring forward as your brother stared at you cautiously, his lube coated fingers experimentally rubbing circles over your pussy lips. It felt so lewd for him to touch you like that – those same hands that always held yours in your weakest moments – yet it felt so good; the strange sensation tightening your chest.

“I-it’s cold.”

“I’ll warm it up for you,” he reassured, “How far have you gone? Any prior sexual experience?” Akaashi then began to playfully roll your clit between his fingers, eliciting a high-pitched whimper from you. He grinned at your reaction – so vocal for him already – and he was determined to hear more of it. “Ever tried sucking someone off?”

“No, but I’ve watched a lot of porn.”

“Porn is different from actual sex, baby,” the nickname fell so effortlessly from his lips that you didn’t dare question it anymore. Not that you could anyway, because the tip of his finger was prodding against your hole that was embarrassingly clenching around nothing. “How about here? Have you tried masturbating?”

“Don’t ask me such embarrassing questions!”

“You’re spread open for me already, you don’t need to be embarrassed,” You covered your face with your hands to hide, but Akaashi pried them away, his grip on your wrist both demanding yet gentle. “Tell me so I know how many fingers I can put inside you. I need to stretch you out.”

“Just one.”

“Louder, baby.”

“Just one finger,” you blurted out, finding it harder and harder to breathe the more he glided his fingers between your slit. Fingering yourself couldn’t even compare to the beauty of having him do the same to you, your arousal only heightened by his dedicated stare at your shaven pussy. From below your bodies, his pants had begun to home a tent.

“Two hurts a little bit and ‘em too sore.”

“What a tight cunt,” he commented with a smirk. “I’ll have to take my time with you then,” You nodded gratefully, about to smile at him with hearts in your eyes when Akaashi slowly slid a finger in. Your moan came out breathless and muted as you stared at him, mouth open in a silent gasp. The intrusion wasn’t anything new but he expertly pumped his finger in and out of it that your walls fluttered around him, head thrown back for another broken moan as he slid another digit. The stretch felt fucking perfect – the slight sting more than welcome in your virgin cunt that was now being fucked by your brother.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’ll feel better soon. Just relax.”

Openly, your slight squeaks of pleasure had increased in volume. Akaashi fingered you until he was knuckle deep, his other palm flat on your abdomen. Had you been in a better state of mind that wasn’t previously clouded with pleasure, you would’ve been embarrassed at the loud sloppy sounds of your pussy, but you remained there with trembling thighs, your nails digging at his thigh as you stared at him wide-eyed.

“Feels good?”

“M-more,” you begged through gritted teeth, “Nii-san, more.”

“Not yet, baby, you’re still too tight,” Sooner than you’d like, Akaashi pulled his fingers out of you. Both of you gazed at the webs of arousal between his fingers; your face painted in shock while he smirked at it, chest swelling with pride. Then, his eyes slid over yours, hooking his hands under your knees before he settled between your thighs.

“Come here. I’m going to go down on you.”

“Nii-san, no!” your protests fell on deaf ears, almost as if he knew you didn’t really mean it. His ears knocked with your knees locked around him, and you shivered as you felt his hot breath right before your burning cunt. “It’s embarrassing...don’t want you looking at my kitty like that.”

“Your kitty is very pretty and Nii-san wants a taste of you,” he mumbles while pressing kisses all over your pelvic bone, his sticky fingers massaging your inner thighs into relaxation. Your head pressed back harder on the pillows at the sensation, the pleasure too immense and he was just starting. “Didn’t you say you want me to teach you everything? This is just a few lessons you have to learn so don’t be shy. I’m sure you taste heavenly,” Clenching your jaw from the overwhelming bursts of ecstasy, you failed to notice how he dipped his head further, tongue darting out to lick a flat stripe. Your eyes blew wide open as he torturously and slowly dipped his tongue from your hole, the wet and warm muscle licking all the way up from your slit until the clit. “See? I told you. Heavenly.”

“’Kaashi, ‘Kaashi, oh, oh!”

“You sound so pretty but don’t be too loud,” Somehow, he managed to raise his arms and placed a palm over your mouth. “We don’t want Mom and Dad to overhear.”

Your legs trembled around him until you nearly suffocated him, but how could you stop when he was rolling his tongue side to side, licking and cleaning up the previous wetness he’d pulled from you?

It was too much, too good, and soon you were moaning behind his palm as you came all over his face.

Akaashi greedily slurped up the juices that squirted all over his face, unbothered by the mess you’ve made. He didn’t stop until he was sure you were completely clean, and you were already on the brink of overstimulation when he locked his lips around yours, sucking whatever he could take. Unable to take it any longer, you pushed his head away and fell on your side in a desperate attempt to catch your breath, sending him a seductive glare, only to soften as you his lips, cheeks, and nose shining under the moonlight.

“Nii-san, your face—”

“It’s okay, I’ll clean up for later,” he shrugged it off and stepped out of his sweatpants, ripping a condom you didn’t even notice he had. You watched with baited breath as his cock sprung free, the tip red and glistening with pre-cum. Akaashi rolled the condom over his throbbing cock and situated himself before you, pumping his length a few times before aligning it with your hole, sending you one last look of approval.

“You ready for my cock now? This might hurt a little bit. You just need to relax and I’ll go slow, okay? Tell me if anything feels uncomfortable.”

Nodding, you made yourself comfortable and braced the sheets for preparation, wincing a little as he pushed the tip in. Akaashi felt you clamp down on him, his hips stilling just as he loomed over you, his arms resting beside your head. In this position, you could see each detail of him – the thickness of his lashes, the love blooming in his eyes, the sweat beading in his forehead and everything soft and slow written all over his face.

“Still okay? I can stop if you want.”

You shook your head and wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him closer. He raised a brow at your initiation, but you merely smiled at him to hide the mild discomfort. “I can take it, just keep going.”

A few minutes later and a hundred still good? later, Akaashi had slid himself in. He allowed you to get used inch by delicious inch until he was completely seated inside you, hip pressed to hip and his hand caressing your cheek. “You’ve done so well,” he praised, “How does having a cock stuffed in you feel?”

“S-so full,” you replied numbly, the feeling of him throbbing inside your heat so fucking delicious. “Love nii-san’s cock.”

“Yeah? I’ll give you more then,” he warned, and you knew you couldn’t go back anymore when he placed his palm flat beside your head. Akaashi began to move his hips, slowly at first to let you accommodate to his length which your pussy hugged greedily. You were moaning left and right and his groans above you was erotic enough to make you cum on the spot, the pleasure doubling as your pebbled nipples grazed his toned chest.

“Nii-san! So big!”

“I know, baby, you’ll get used to it, don’t worry. It’ll feel better soon,” he rasped, scowling when you raked your nails down his back, though not hard enough to draw blood. It would definitely leave a mark though, and the pain of it urged him to move his hips faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through his room that began to warm by each passing second. “Feel better?”

“Feels so good,” you cried around him, reaching up to bury your head in his neck and clinging to him like a koala. It did feel so good, so much so that you just might get addicted to this. “Love Nii-san’s cock.”

At your words, Akaashi’s patience that thinned a while ago completely broke.

His pace increased and he gripped your hips tightly, sitting back on his knees just to watch his cock slide in and out of you. The lube made sex feel a hundred times better from how easily he’s easily punching through your walls, the sight of you splayed out for him – hair strewn across the pillow, little whimpers leaving your lips, breasts bouncing right before his eyes and abused pussy lips hugging his shaft – it made him growl with possessiveness.

“This is how you should be fucked – you gotta be fucked right,” he announced, thumb coming down to rub your clit. As expected, you cried out and tightened around him.

He faltered for a moment at how tight you were, but he kept pushing, driving his cock in and out of you until he turned into you a sobbing, slobbery mess.

“You sure that boy of yours can make you feel this good?”

“N-no, Nii-san’s cock only!”

“That’s right, it’s just gotta be me, okay?” driving both his hands around your neck just to clench your airway as a warning, Akaashi fucked you harder than before. The sudden inability to not breathe made you impossibly tighter around him that you felt each ridge and vein kissing your bumpy walls. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, I’m Nii-san’s property!”

“I’m gonna mark you as mine, claim this pussy as Nii-san’s only, yeah? You want that?”

“Cum in me, ‘Kaashi, cum inside!” you prompted, and what good of a brother would he be if he didn’t grant his little sister’s wishes? Growling, Akaashi snapped his hips hard until the tip of his cock successfully kept repeating that sweet spot in you that you didn’t even know you had. You were crying, moaning, too fucked to respond as you came, and your lewd expression was all it took before he was releasing his cum inside the condom. “Kaashi, Kaashi, ah!”

Akaashi quickly pulled out his cock and took a minute to regain his breath, his head cradled on his hands at the earth-shattering orgasm you both had. Not a moment later, he’s tying his condom and throwing it to his bin, finding his way right beside you as you blinked sleepily at him.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No, you were great. Just tired.”

“Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?”

You smiled at his concern, pulling him in closer for an embrace. He was warm and sweaty that it felt uncomfortable, but you wanted him beside you, and Akaashi began to caress your hipbones with so much tenderness. He knew he was a little rough for losing control like that.

“I’d love that, thank you,” you mumbled, more than ready to call it a night and sleep when his weight shifted off the bed. Akaashi rummaged through something in his drawers before he disappeared in the bathroom for a bit, coming back to spread your legs open once more. “Wh-what’re you doing?”

“It’s called aftercare. If your partner can’t provide this and pamper you, I suggest you break up with them,” he snickered, and you hissed at the sensitivity as he wiped away your cum with the towel. You soon relaxed, however, all thanks to Akaashi’s doting nature that you were falling asleep on his bed, allowing him to clean you up as he pleases. He set the towel aside and snuggled right next to you, his nose bumping your jaw to pull you away from dreamland for a little while. His previous sexual aura had now dimmed; his brotherly concern present again. “You still want to fuck your classmate?”

“Hmm...he’s really handsome, and I heard from the other girls he’s got a huge cock too,” you giggled, not really aware of your words as you said, “Probably even bigger than yours.”

Thinking that he might be offended, you almost apologized after a moment, but Akaashi only laughed as he hugged you tighter. “Size doesn’t matter. It’s who owns the cock and their talent in pleasuring their partner that matters,” he confidently stated, fingers running up and down your spine that brought chills down to your toes as he nibbled on your ear. “And I know I fucked you so good he can’t compare.”

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lovesgonnabe · 3 years

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Love Is Worth It - Episode II: The Talk

Characters: Chris Evans x Maya Alonso-Evans (Black OFC)

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, cursing, slight Implied smut

Word Count: 2928

Summary: What happens when a dad has to have a tough conversation with a 5 year old about something he may never experience?

Point of View: Chris Evans

Authors Note: It has been a while since I’ve written so please bear with my rustiness, and there’s slight edits so there may be errors. RIP Chadwick Boseman.

Disclaimer: This is about to be super dramatic and very fluffy. Also italicized is a flashback.

Taglist: @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss if you would like to join the taglist message me.

Please leave a note and tell me what you think!

I Just Don’t Understand...

As I walk into the house i was having a hard time processing what had just happened on the other side of the door and having a screaming child, barking dog and the anxiety monster on my back isn’t helping.

And I swore I put the heater on but the house was cold and empty.

“Delilah give daddy a minute sweetheart” I told my crying baby girl.

She cried as loud as she could as I sat her down on the couch with a now whimpering Dodger at her feet

As I paced trying to think, the commotion around me was crippling, I just couldn’t endure the pain my entire body was in, I was in a state of powerlessness.

I’m always prepared especially for moments like these, but at the amount my ability to think was out of the window when I realized i was not mentally prepared for this. Doing the next best thing I called in reinforcements.

the phone rang four times before he picked up “Chris this better be damn important and why is my niece screaming like she’s dying?” Austin said on the other line.

I sighed running my hands through my hair “It’s Maya, she just got arrested in driveway and I don’t know what to do an- quiet down sweetheart, it’ll be alright.” I said.

I sat down on the couch laid Dede on my chest as I tried my best to calm her down, and keep myself together.

“Hold on, What do you mean arrested, what did she do.” Austin asked in shock now giving me his full attention.

Who is Austin you may ask?

Well he is our attorney...

Who also happens to be a prosecutor for the Southern District of New York...

Oh and did mention he’s Maya’s older brother.

Of course I told him everything I knew and then some.

I thanked the heavens when I turned on Frozen and Delilah calmed down to a sniffle, i started to feel like I had some control of the situation.

“That’s some bullshit man, ok listen I’ve gotta make some calls, don’t go to the station, don’t call for her or pick up any calls from the police station, just let me handle it and I’ll text you when it’s taken care of got it?” Austin said

I sighed “Alright we can do that” Austin chuckles “look I know that feeling of being helpless right now, and it’s all gonna be alright, she’s gonna back home tonight, so just relax, this is just something we sadly have to go through, I’ll be over this weekend to check on her” I nodded like he could see me and we hung up.

I took a deep breath and rubbed Delilah’s back and a few tears escaping from my eyes as looked at Elsa save Anna at the end of frozen. I wiped my face because I had to stay strong for my baby girl and I looked down at her.

“Hey Lilah how about some pizza for dinner tonight?” I asked her, nodding her head she wiped her nose mumbling that she was gonna take a bath.

She reminded more and more of her mom everyday from her big brown eyes to her high cheeks and button nose she was becoming just like the woman love.

When she got up all I could think about was when Maya was pregnant with Delilah.

—————

Maya laid on the bed rubbing her belly looking at me with an annoyed look on her face.

“Chris I’m being serious there is going be a day when we are going to have to face the reality that we will have to talk about race relations with our little peanut” Maya said.

I chuckle as i walking out of our connected bathroom leaning against the doorframe looking in adoration of her infatuation with her little belly.

“Babe I understand that trust me I’ve read more how to raise a multiracial baby books than I can count” I said. She looks at me I’m like I’m crazy and rolls her eyes.

“Maya I’m joking but don’t you think its a bit early to having these conversation the baby isn't even here yet babe.” I sighed

Shaking her head she gets up from the bed “well that was a terrible joke Chris and it's never too early to think ahead especially since, I may not always be around so you have to be one to be prepared.” She said.

She steps in front of the vanity mirror in our room stripping the red satin body hugging dress she wore from our dinner date tonight. I know what she was doing but I couldn’t focus on how beautiful her glow was because of how morbid she was acting.

Walking to her from the door frame, I got up behind her and wrapped my arms around her softly rubbing her belly. “Don’t say that, we are going to be together till infinity you better believe that.” I placed my chin on her shoulder and kissed her check.

She whispered sadly “Chris I do believe that, It’s just statics show that black women are 3x more likely to die in childbirth than white women, I just want you to be prepared” I groaned.

She reminds me that deathening fact at least once a week but I keep my cool stood up straight and grabbed her hands, placing them on her belly while intertwining them with mine.

We caught each other's gaze in the mirror, her pregnancy glow makes me want to make sure she keeps popping out babies. The way her skin glistened under our dimmed lights and how soft she felt under my touch to her sweet smell Lavender, this woman was my world.

“Look I refuse to leave that hospital without you ok. Maya I don’t know what I’d do if I were to lose you” I softly respond

“Now repeat after me we are going to have a beautiful, healthy, happy baby girl and we are leaving that hospital together.” I say as we held an intense gaze through the mirror in front of us.

She chuckles “I still think our little peanut will be a boy but I guess we’ll find out in a few days” I let out a gut busting laugh. “Whatever you say my love” I kiss her shoulder then the sweet spot behind her ear

I whispered in her ear “maybe we can start you know practicing for that baby boy right now?”

I stand, slowly pushing her back down bending her in front of the vanity with her hands on the chair, I move my hands to her hip and sent a smack to her ass.

She sucked her teeth “Don’t think you’re slick we aren’t done with this conversation” she moans as I gently rub her clit. I chuckled and got to work.

———————

I concluded that without her no matter how much we’ve prepared there is no way I was ready to handle situations like these especially alone.

By the time the pizza gets here I’ve emptied the groceries from Maya’s car, feed Dodger and changed the movie.

When I came into the kitchen Delilah was on her little step stool gabbing the plates then the cheese and utensils.

I raised an eyebrow very confused as to when my little girl was becoming a big girl.

“When did you become so independent Dede” I said give each of us two slices

She gave me a said smile and said “I just watch mommy do it.” She shrugged

We walk in to the living room and I started Princess and the Frog or Delilah’s favorite movie.

We sat in silence for a bit and then sniffling again she asked “daddy why did they take mommy today”

This is the talk I’ve been dreading it was something Maya and I agreed we’d give her when she was 10 and we’d give it together.

When we talk about it all Maya would say was “you will know what to say when the time comes at least that’s what my mom says”

Yet all I could do was look at those big brown eyes and hesitate, i paused the movie, grabbed her hand and just went off the cuff with what came from the heart.

I sigh “look at our hands do you see any difference?”

She nodded “yeah mommy says she dark chocolate, you’re white chocolate and I’m a cute Caramel, we are all different but we all love the same”

I laugh, it would be like my wife to be teaching me while she wasn’t here.

We put our plates down and scooted closer to each other still holding hands.

I hesitate again “the thing is sweetheart there are some but not all people in this world and a lot of them are white chocolate like me and they don’t like that mommy is dark chocolate so they do mean things to them like what happened today.” She nodded with her processing the information face.

“Ok daddy but why aren’t more white chocolate people like you, mommy didn’t do anything we just got ice cream.” She asked still somewhat confused with the entire situation.

My little peanut is one of the smartest cookies I know and I forget sometimes that she is still only 5. It pains me to see that she even with how bright she is she is still too young to fully comprehend the severity of the situation.

“That I don’t know but I do know that mommy’s gonna be ok and that no matter what I love you and mommy more than anything In the world” I said with a reassuring smile.

“One more question since I-I am Caramel and not white chocolate like you would that happen to me” she asked.

This is the dreaded question as a father you don’t want to see your kids in pain you want them happy but the reality is that the one thing I’ve learned with being with Maya is that being black in a white America isn’t easy.

Running my hand through my hair the wrapped my arm around her “It may happen Lilah but mommy and I will do everything in our power to make sure you are ready for those moments, but right now just worry about being a kid and we’ll take care of the rest.” She nodded and I kissed her forehead.

We continued our movie session and sat in silence until the end of the movie when Delilah wanted to watch Moana.

It was midnight on school night but I decided that Delilah wasn’t going to school tomorrow and I let my assistant know to relay the message that I was not coming to set tomorrow. So I turned on the next movie.

Half-way through I got a text from Austin

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11/25/2020 12:49am

Austin: Hey bro just got off the phone with the Boston PD precinct Maya’s at she’ll be released in about one hour and she good go

Chris: Thank You, I’m on my way.

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I wanted to cheer so loud but Dede and Dodger were asleep, so I called my parents to drop Delilah off which my mom agreed happily.

After dropping Dede off at my parents who I am still shocked were still awake this late, I headed to the precinct, my body was shaking with nerves. When I got there I parked and rushed inside.

When the front desk lady began speak I cut her off “I’m here for Maya Alonso-Evans” she looked at me like she was gonna scream with excitement but I guess my face said it all.

She escorted me to the back “Chief Demilio will see you now” my hands were sweaty I knocked and heard a come in.

Walking into the office there she sat with dry tear stains on her face, looking disheveled, she ran to me and threw her hands around me as she started to cry some more.

“its gonna alright baby I’m here” I whispered and hugged her back tightly.

“Hello Mr. Evans thank you for joining us we are just wrapping up here, would you like to take a seat” the weird looking man behind the mahogany desk asked.

I ushered her back to her previous seat and I stood behind her placing my jacket on her shoulder as I rub them softly “no I’m good with standing” I say with a menacing face.

He clears his throat and looks at us awkwardly “ok then, on the behalf of Boston PD we would like to give our sincerest apologies for the inconvenience of this mix up and the officers will be dealt with accordingly.” I raised an eyebrow at his shortness and at the sorry ass apology we were getting.

“Ok so what is going to happen to these officers then?” I ask with my hands still on Maya’s shoulders trying to keep both of us calm.

He smirks “one will be put on administrative leave for the next month and the other indefinitely until we can get this all sorted” he says to us show us the file.

Maya sighs an exasperated sigh looking as if she could pass out right there.

I speak up “that’s it the are getting a paid vacation?” I asked highly confused at this situation.

“The board thinks due to the incidents in this case that this is best punishment we can give them, we know your upset Mr. Evans but you must look at the circumstances” he says talking down to me as my breathing began to pick up.

I chuckled “the only circumstances I see was my wife being falsely accused for a crime that she didn't commit and being arrested in front our 5 year old daughter wh-“ Maya put her hand up cutting me off speaking for the first time since I got there.

Placing her hand on top of mine “It’s ok Chris I just wanna go home” she got up grabbed my keys out of my hand and without another word walked out and I followed right behind her shaking my head.

She got her things they took before they booked her and we headed to the car, I opened the door for her she quietly thanked me and we started our journey home.

The first 10 minutes was a comfortable silence then I decided to break it.

I grabbed her hand and kissed it “honey you alright?” I know it was an awful question to ask but something had to be said.

She shrugged her shoulders “I am just exhausted right now all I want is food, maybe some sex and a good cuddle with Delilah, did you leave her with your parents” she ask now checking her phone.

I nodded “Dede asked me if what happen to you would happen to her” we were now at a red light and looked at each other.

Maya groaned and rubbed her forehead “what did you say?” She looked at me again

I let out a heavy breathe “I just told her it could happen and that we’d deal with it when she got a little older and that not all people are like the men from today.” I started tapping the steering wheel with my left hand, I was nervous.

she let out a relieved sigh “Ok that works” was all she said and I looked at her confused.

She chuckled “What? You did your best among the circumstances. Isn’t that what the police chief said back there” she rolled her eyes and I laughed at her sly remark.

“There goes my baby. Have you heard from Austin yet?” I ask turning on our street.

Then she laughed “yeah he called me while I was in a holding cell to let me know when I’d be let out.. You know his frat brother is the attorney general of Massachusetts” I chuckled and pulled to the driveway.

Once I parked, I got out and opened her door and she asked me to carry her in, she wrapped her legs around my waist and I walked us into our home.

With her looking at me as I focused on getting us both up the stairs she starts kissing me all over my face “Hey I know you wish you could’ve done more babe but you did what’s most important and that be a father to our beautiful daughter.” She said as we reached our room.

I dropped her on our California King and stood between her legs rubbing her thighs.

She sat up rubbing the hair on the back of my neck “You are the rock to my roll you make me feel safe and today you protected me the best you could, I love you papi remember that” she softly kissed my lips.

Her lips tasted like sin and strawberry lip balm. Her back felt like velvet as I ran my hands up her warm body and into her hair pulling on it softly. As our kiss deepened, her embrace felt like home to me and I would not know what I’d do if had loss her tonight.

I whispered back “I love you to the moon and back my love”

Many people do not agree with our relationship and don’t understand why I’d choose Maya over all the other women I could be with. But this was my choice to make and I wouldn't change a thing. However, for those who disagree with me.

Fuck Them!

#chris evans x black ofc #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x poc!reader #black reader #chris evans fanfiction #poc reader

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youllallriseintheink · 3 years

Text

Like a Heart Needs a Beat, chapter 1.

Hello, everyone. This is part one of two of an Abby x Lacie story. The first chapter is pretty much just going to be pure fluff, and next chapter the ink-related angst will kick in.

This story, and the next two two-part shipping stories I write, will be “canon” to my version of events.

---

It wouldn’t have been the first time that Bertrum had dragged Lacie to one of the parties he hosted, but that didn’t mean that she had to like it. She got it, she really did- Bertrum thought she deserved to experience the finer things in life (some of which, to be fair, Lacie did enjoy), and didn’t get that no amount of exposure would make her enjoy this. Still, as she was now, forced into a suit once owned by Bertrum’s son and listening to Bertrum trade compliments that were really insults (or whatever they were. They had a strange way of communicating with each other that Lacie didn’t think she wanted to understand) with his client while dozens of men were flirting with each others’ trophy wives in the background, she felt out of place and a little irritated at Bertrum for insisting she come. It was as Joey and Bertrum were getting especially petty that Lacie just had to look away, and across the room, Lacie saw a woman who looked twice as miserable as she was and only slightly more in-her-element.

Lacie approached her. It was a pretty girl, despite looking like she was completely done with this party. She was wearing a grey suit, clearly tailored for her, and had short, curly hair, dark eyes, clear, dark skin. Her body was pretty nice, too. Yeah, Lacie was going to do this.

“Hey,” Lacie said, “You look like you could use some air. Want me to show you a place where we can get away from the party for a while?”

The woman slowly turned her head to look at her. “Sure. Why not?” she replied without changing expression. Lacie would have to hope that would change and that the woman wasn’t just a natural sourpuss.

Lacie smiled. “Come with me.”

Bertrum was a nice man. He allowed Lacie to step out of parties when she needed to, and even gave her one heck of a place to go when she did: Bertrum’s bird room.

Bertrum loved birds. Bertrum raised birds. It was his favourite hobby. The bird room contained two cages of small, pet-store birds, a larger cage for his doves, and a number of nests for his other birds- three chickens, two ducks, a goose, a swan, and (out of place as they looked amongst the farm fowl) two peafowl. It was easy to keep so many pets when you could pay people to look after them. The bird room opened up to an outdoor enclosure, but this time of day they were all in their nests.

“Pretty cool, right?” Lacie said. “Wanna feed em’? I’m the host’s plus-one. Don’t worry, he won’t mind.”

The woman seemed pretty impressed. “Sure,” she replied.

Lacie showed her to the plastic barrel of dried corn in the corner. The birds crowded them, eager, which made them laugh.

After they’d spent a while feeding the birds, the woman had cheered up significantly, and so Lacie tried to make conversation.

“So. My name’s Lacie. And you know why I’m here. What’s your name, and why are you here? And why don't you want to be here? Because it's obvious you don't.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Abby Lambert. Nice to meet you, Lacie. I’m here because Joey Drew begged me to be his plus one so he wouldn’t have to come alone. And... instead of telling people that I was his friend or his coworker, or lying and telling people I was his girlfriend, he made up this lie that I’d won a contest to get to go with him. That I was his biggest fan. I’ll be honest- that pissed me off. He didn’t think it was right for his image, I guess."

“Oof, that sucks. You know, I’m just one of Bertrum’s engineers, and I don’t know an eighth of the high society stuff he does, but he would still never do that.”

“Thanks. And thanks for taking me out for some air.”

“No problem.”

It was a few more minutes of feeding birds before Lacie decided to throw her shot. “If Joey wants to be a jerk he can stay here on his own. Wanna get out of here?”

Abby looked Lacie up and down, and suddenly Lacie wished she were wearing something a little more revealing than this ill-fitting suit- especially since Abby’s was accentuating every curve of her body. But Abby clearly liked what she saw.

“Yeah. Yeah, that would be nice.”

The two took a cab to Abby’s apartment, where they spent the night.

---

After the one-night stand, Abby had left Lacie her number. If one night was good, why not make it several? And then, Lacie had surprised her by asking her out. To an art museum.

“You like art, right? It’s not just a job? I mean, I wouldn’t want you taking me to a construction site.”

God, she was a dork. A muscular, handsome dork. Abby had to roll her eyes at herself for being so caught up on a woman, but she eventually broke down and asked Joey a few pointed questions during their lunch break a few days before the date. “So, Mr. Romantic- can you give me some tips about how to sweep a woman off her feet? I’m meeting someone tonight.”

Joey had smiled teasingly at her. “Oh, my. The ever-serious Abby Lambert is lovestruck!”

“You’re gross. It was good sex. That’s all.”

“Right. That’s why you came to me for advice. Well, I’d say just be natural. Be friendly, make jokes, find common interests, all that common-sense stuff. And then at the end of the night invite her over for some wine and radio, read her signs, and that’s when you start getting physical.” Joey suddenly went from smiling and talking with his hands to being much more serious. “Oh, and... I’m sorry about the other night. You know how it is... I respect you, the art department respects you, but I can’t trust random people to do so, and I can’t avoid interacting with people who won’t.”

He didn’t even have to say that it was because she was a black woman. It was the same reason why Joey had promoted someone else ahead of her as head of the art department- he hadn’t trusted that the others would accept her authority. But, after she’d handled the art department while her ex-superior was on vacation and there hadn’t been any problems, Joey had snatched the promotion right out of his hands and put it in Abby’s. Not fair to the ex-head of the art department, but Joey rarely was. Even if he wasn’t perfect, though, he was still one of the few in this day and age who would hand a high position to her under any circumstance, and one of the few she could discuss her relationships with.

“Maybe we should just not talk about that. See you soon, Joey.” Why think about that when Abby had more cheerful things to think about?

---

When Lacie showed up to the art museum, she was wearing a leather jacket, scuffed jeans, and heavy boots. She’d definitely stand out in a dainty place like this.

“So, do you know anything about art?” Abby asked as they went to the first section, which featured a number of surrealist paintings.

“Not a thing!” Lacie admitted, not at all ashamed. “Are you the type who likes to teach, or the type who just wants me to shut up and enjoy it on the level I’m at?”

“I... guess I wouldn’t mind explaining some things.”

“Okay. So, this one,” Lacie gestured at a painting of half-melted clocks hanging off of tree branches and the like. “It must represent something real deep, right?”

“Well, there’s more to art than symbolism, and surrealist stuff doesn’t have to have a deeper meaning. But... maybe it means that time just melts away when you’re having fun.”

It was midnight before Abby was back in her apartment. The museum had closed before they’d felt like any time had passed, and so they’d gone for a walk together in the city and stopped at whatever shops caught their eyes. It had been fun.

Abby’s apartment was the apartment of a chronically single woman in her thirties who had made it. It was clean and organized, but not too clean and organized. It had a large window overlooking the city in the living room, and near it, an eisel had been set up, with a half-done painting on it of a sunset over a city skyline. There was a rack of oft-used wine glasses in the kitchen, lesser-used exercise equipment in the laundry room. Abby’s bedroom contained her collection of houseplants, two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and a closet full of suits her mom had tailored for her at a reduced cost.

Joey had always said that he never wanted to get married because he didn’t want to share space with anyone else. Abby had rolled her eyes and punched his arm for that. Joey was always coming up with reasons why he didn’t want a relationship, and none of them were true. Abby, on the other hand, had just assumed and accepted that it just wouldn’t happen. The chances were against it unless she made it a priority in her life, and she was focused on career and art. Could it really happen with this hooligan? It was hard to imagine letting her into this apartment- this apartment of a woman who had made it- on a permanent basis. But, maybe. Only time would tell.

---

Things went from there. They continued to date for over a year. Abby taught Lacie how to draw, and Lacie taught Abby how to fight. They started spending more nights than not over at each other’s places. Joey still didn’t know about it, because Abby knew how jealous Joey got when it came to relationships. Shawn on the other hand definitely knew, and teased the hell out of Lacie for it and later came to Lacie for help with his own relationship once he got into one.

Christmas that year, Shawn had scrapped together enough funds to visit Ireland. This was a problem, because Shawn and Lacie usually spent their Christmases together. As per usual, Lacie didn’t have the means to visit her home state of Alpaccia, so it looked like it would be a lonely Christmas for her.

“You want to come visit my family?” Abby offered as Lacie had been complaining about it.

“Yeah. I’d love that,” Lacie admitted. She hadn’t had a Christmas with a real family in... well, a long time, at any rate.

Abby’s family consisted of her mother and her two-years older brother, who had brought a wife and two kids. The father had died in the war while Abby was a child. They had a traditional Christmas together- old Christmas records, decorating a tree, staying up late to play cards and chat once Abby’s niece and nephew were in bed until they could barely keep their eyes open, and then watching the kids open their presents in the morning.

It kind of hurt Lacie to see such a beautiful family, but it was nice, too. It hurt because she remembered having to go off to her friends’ houses when her parents were too high to remember to feed her. She remembered having to make her own doctor’s appointments at the age of nine, and running off to live with her big sister at fourteen. But it was still nice to be there, just because it was.

As they were packing up in the guest bedroom, Lacie started crying, and Abby took notice. She’d never seen her cry before.

“What’s wrong?

“Nothing,” she said, and thankfully Abby had left her alone about it.

It was a week later, after Lacie had had some time to think, that she made her offer. “Abby, I want to start a family with you. I know we can’t get married in the traditional sense, but we can get a place together, find some man to give us a kid, and stay together for the rest of our lives. I could even buy you a ring if you want. Do you wanna do this?”

Abby was awestruck. “Lacie... oh my God, yes. Let’s do it.”

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #abby lambert #lacie benton #lacie x abby #my fanfiction #joey drew #thanks to lovelykitten2017 for the Bertrum headcanon!#(the one of him owning lots of birds)

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belovedrival · 3 years

Text

“It’s Jonas.”

It’s been almost six months but I did say I would talk about my experience, so here goes...

(It’s really long, I started this draft when Jonas was three months old)

I was told that I would be induced on March 10, a Wednesday. My due date was the 17th but baby had been measuring large for months so my doctor just wanted to go ahead with it. I agreed. We’d made it to 39 weeks and that was good. Plus, I felt huge and just...done with being pregnant.

I worked (from home) on the 10th. It felt sort of surreal, knowing that we’d be at the hospital at 5 pm that evening, but I knew I needed to work to keep my mind off what was coming. For a while, at least.

We’d started packing the hospital bags for weeks before. I’d left my suitcase open next to the bed and I’d throw things in there whenever I’d do laundry or think of something else I wanted to take. I sort of knew then that I was majorly overpacking (and in hindsight it’s laughable how much stuff I never wore/used) but at least we were prepared, right?

Yeah, about that...

Mister drove to the hospital. Since I was being induced, it wasn’t any frenetic, movie scene type, panicked dad experience. We just put our things in the car and drove there. On the way we talked about how strange it was, knowing that when we came home (God willing), there would be a baby in the car seat. Of course at that time we still didn’t know if our baby was a girl or boy.

(Mister told me later that he was almost certain baby was a boy. He said he’d heard too many nurses/medical personnel ‘slip’ while we were having ultrasounds and whatnot.)

People can choose to find out or not, but it puts a whole other dimension on the experience when you don’t know in advance. Just my two cents.

As we turned into the hospital parking lot, Mister told me to open the glove box. “There’s something for you in there,” he said. I opened it, trying to swallow the bowling ball that had lodged itself in my throat.

“Oh!” I said. “What I always wanted - an owner’s manual!”

When I’m nervous, I often joke.

There was a small white box next to the owner’s manual. In it was a necklace with an aquamarine pendant; one of the birthstones for March. Of course I cried.

We took an obligatory selfie before going inside the hospital. After getting checked in, we went to our room. I remember thinking that we’d only be in that room probably a day, and that 24 hours later, we’d be upstairs post delivery.

Ha. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!

I was given a drug to start labor (not pitocin). I’ve always hated needles and so getting an IV was not part of my top 100,000 Things I Love to Do List. Thankfully, the nurse who put it in was really good, so I barely felt anything.

The one major memory of this whole experience (other than Jonas, of course) was how good the nurses were. I am forever grateful to them.

Other than the IV and monitors, Mister having to sleep on the sofa, and me laying on a hospital bed, we could almost trick ourselves into imagining we were staying at some sort of hotel. Almost. For a few hours, anyway.

Wednesday night into Thursday morning was okay. I was feeling persistent pain. It wasn’t terrible, just uncomfortable, and I knew that it was part of the process. I didn’t sleep great but I was able to get some rest.

Around six o’clock there was a shift change, and my nurse for the day came in. Liz had a kind of cheerleader vibe about her, very positive, and in some other circumstances I might’ve found her annoying. But I liked her.

My doctor came in a little after seven and broke my water. That experience was...weird. I mean, it was a new experience for me, so it’s hard to describe. Uh, water is wet, so it was wet? Honestly, the thing I remember the most is that there was some meconium after Doc broke my water, which worried me a little. Baby was doing fine and no one seemed super worried, so I set it aside. I DID think it meant I was guaranteed to have the baby that day. How wrong I was, and not for the first time...

They gave me pitocin after my water was broken. So my contractions increased. It felt more like strong period cramps to me. I should say at this point that I have a high pain tolerance. I don’t know what the same level of contractions would feel like to someone else. Sometimes I was only mildly aware that I was having them.

Probably one of the most annoying things about my entire experience Wednesday/Thursday/into Friday was not being allowed to eat anything. I had ice chips, and water, and Liz managed to get me some Jello. This was actually something of an issue, because I had gestational diabetes, so at first nobody wanted to give me anything except for sugar-free Jello. I did have some of that, but as the day wore on and there wasn’t much progress, Liz talked to somebody and got me some regular Jello. I would’ve preferred something else, but Jello was what I was allowed, so Jello I got.

I...don’t really like Jello. Seriously, like if it’s the only thing, I’ll eat it, but...yeah.

The hours ticked by. Progress was slow. At first I looked forward to Liz and the other nurses coming in and checking me, but by late afternoon, it was clear that things were slooooooow. The best part of Thursday was sometime in the afternoon Liz suggested bouncing on the ball. I was really happy to get out of bed and bounce for a while. After doing that, I decided it was time for the epidural.

I’d decided beforehand I wanted an epidural. As I said, I absolutely hate needles, but I also didn’t want my body to be so stressed that labor couldn’t progress. In the back of my mind, I also thought that if the situation changed, and a c-section became necessary, the epidural would already be in place.

After the epidural was put in, I started shaking on the edge of the bed, tears rolling down my face. Liz was still holding on to me, and Mister was there, and they both asked what was wrong. I couldn’t speak for a minute. It felt a little like I was five years old, still terrified of that darn needle, and all the tension I’d suppressed had to get out somehow.

“It’s okay,” Liz said, giving me a hug. Sometimes that’s all that’s needed. I was sorry to see her go when her shift ended. She said she was working again on Saturday and that she’d stop by to see us after the baby was born, to see what we were having. (She did stop by.)

This was a constant refrain from most of the nurses: upon first coming into the room, and looking at the white board that had my information and seeing next to “Baby” was written “Surprise!!” we inevitably got the question, “You don’t know what you’re having? That’s awesome!”

Getting the epidural made the pain diminish, but it also made things more complicated for me because I couldn’t move. Overnight, a tag team of nurses turned me one way and the other, and checked me.

(I should also mention that all of the staff at the hospital had already been vaccinated, and they all wore masks into the rooms. We did not have to wear masks in the room, but if we went outside it, they were required.)

By Thursday night, both Mister and I were feeling rather discouraged. All day Thursday we’d been told that baby would come “by the afternoon”, then “by the evening”, and then late Thursday, “by Friday morning”. Bear in mind that I’d been on an IV/ induced since roughly six pm on Wednesday.

Maybe this sounds laughable to people who’ve had 72 hour long labors, but I’d been mentally prepared for around 24 hours of labor. My twin sister had been induced with her first, and her labor had gone about that long. Around midnight on Thursday I was feeling pretty discouraged. Mister wasn’t angry but he said (when we were alone) that he felt like the staff had been overly optimistic. I just don’t think either of us had thought about the implications of me being induced without any sign of active labor. In hindsight, I was glad it was done then, but...yeah. Not being mentally prepared for that long of a labor was hard. I felt bad for everyone who was waiting on updates; it felt like literally nothing happened for about thirty hours. Like I think was dilated to five by Friday morning. And effaced? Practically nothing. My cervix wasn’t getting thinner at all.

Early Friday morning, a new nurse started her shift. My first impressions of Diana were...well, I thought, “she’s definitely not as friendly as Liz.” She was more brusque. As I hadn’t slept much Thursday night, and having been in the same situation for over a day, I didn’t care nearly as much about making friends. By that point I was tired - physically, mentally, emotionally.

But Diana was awesome. She got me turned onto my hands and knees, and had me start doing some vigorous exercises, to really move labor along. I was fine with doing whatever she said because I was REALLY ready to be done. So it felt a little like my cross country days in high school, at the finish of a difficult race. I was tired, I wasn’t sure how much I could do physically, but we had a GOAL and dammit, we were going to do everything to get there!

By late morning, even after the exercises, I was still dilated at a five. Hardly effaced at all. After checking me again, Diana left the room. The option of a c-section had been discussed, especially since it was over 24 hours since my water had been broken.

“I think I’m done,” I said to Mister. Even though I’d never really been 100% ‘I want a natural birth experience’, it felt a little like giving up. I started crying again. “I just don’t think this [natural labor] is going to work. I’m done.”

“If you’re done, that’s it,” Mister said. “Tell Diana you want a c-section.”

I have to say something here about Mister. Even though he kept saying he didn’t know what he was doing or how he should support me, he was AWESOME. He supported every decision, and listened to me talk about the different options. For as hard as labor was for me, I think he had a different hard time. All he could do was literally sit there and watch me go through pain and doubt and fear, and comfort me as best he could. He was a great comfort.

(This is why even if thoughtful partners don’t think they’re doing a good job at supporting laboring moms, they most likely are. Their presence is invaluable. For anyone who doesn’t have a supportive partner with them, or an absent one, my profound condolences.)

When Diana came back in, I told her I wanted a c-section. This was around 11 o’clock Friday morning, March 12th. “I agree,” she said right away, patting me on the shoulder. “You’ve done everything you possibly can to get this baby delivered naturally. I trust mom’s instincts on this.”

Her support meant so much. Really, when a veteran nurse says they trust your instinct, how can you not feel better about your decision?

She left to contact my doctor and several other people, and Mister let people know what was going on. At that point I was more relieved that soon it would be over. I wanted to see our baby.

Mister said later that he learned that hospitals have two speeds: 1) we’re in no rush; and 2) something is going to happen NOW. While my c-section wasn’t an emergency, once the decision was made, things did happen fast. Diana brought the anesthesiologist into the room so he could numb me up. As I already had the epidural, this didn’t take very long. After a few minutes of letting the medication work, Bryce asked if I could feel my toes.

“No,” I said. It was weird. I knew I shouldn’t feel them, but I couldn’t help saying, “I’m trying to wiggle them!”

“No, no, it’s good you can’t feel them,” both Bryce and Mister said. I was wheeled out of the labor room a few minutes after that (I was not sorry to leave it) and taken to the OR. Mister went with someone else to take our stuff to the recovery room.

I’ve been in operating rooms before. They aren’t places that make me want to stay there. Bright lights, metal everywhere, many thoughts of what could go wrong...although I will say that all the staff in the OR made me feel confident. I was glad to see my doctor.

I felt better once I was in the OR (the only time in my life I’ve ever felt that way) but it felt like a long time until Mister arrived in there. He’d gone with a member of staff as they took all our stuff to a recovery room, then been taken to the OR. Once he was in place, everything started.

Doctor M had asked me before Mister arrived if he wanted to ‘announce’ was the baby was. I told her that he most likely would, but to ask him. She did, and he said yes, he’d love to do that.

There was a blue sheet in front of me so I really couldn’t see anything that went on - which was PERFECTLY FINE with me.

Obviously, I was flat on my back, and everything below my chest was numb. The doctor and others asked me at various times if I felt anything, and I didn’t (other than tugging and pulling). At one point, I suddenly smelled the unmistakable scent of something burning. “What is that? That burning smell?” I asked, glancing above me (really, behind me) at Bryce, who stood there.

“I’ll tell you later,” he said.

Which immediately told me I didn’t want to know what it was.

Yeah, it was me burning, while the medical staff cauterized me, keeping me from bleeding to death.

(The fact that cesarean sections are major surgery, and regularly happen every day in the United States, is, frankly, a miracle. Everyone hears about the horror stories when something goes wrong, but considering the number of women who go through them without incident, we as a society completely take them for granted.)

As the tugging and pulling continued, and Doctor M said things like, “there’s the head”, the sense of anticipation increased. I’ve never felt anything like it before. Both Mister and I knew any moment we would meet our baby, and after waiting 39 weeks (and eight years before that), it was almost unbearable.

Doctor M said, “Here’s the baby!”

I heard a slight cry, and I looked up at Mister, who sat on my right, holding my hand. He looked down at me and said, “It’s Jonas.”

Even thinking about that moment now brings tears to my eyes. In knowing Mister almost eleven years, I’ve only seen him cry maybe five times. Including this year, on March 12th. We both were bawling, and laughing at the same time, as Jonas VERY loudly screamed his disapproval at being evicted from his warm, cozy space. At one point, Mister, laughing as he cried said, “One of the ---s (our last name) needs to stop crying in here!”

He has a rather husky cry, Jonas does. I loved his cry from the moment I first heard it (though I don’t actually like to hear him cry, if that makes any sense).

As I was sewn up, Mister moved his chair over to where our baby was, under a heat lamp. Then he brought Jonas over to me. My first thought was, he’s HUGE. My second thought was, he was the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen.

He weighed nine pounds, five ounces at birth, and had a fifteen inch head circumference. After I heard that, I knew a natural birth was never going to happen. He was born on Friday the 12th of March, at 1:14 pm. The digital clock on the wall said 13:14, which I thought was cool. And it made it a bit easier to remember the time :)

He had lots of dark hair, which I loved. My sister’s had bald babies, so it was nice to have a different-looking kid. Over the last few months, his hair almost entirely disappeared due to cradle cap, and is coming back in...blond. Genetics!

I can say now that it’s past, that I was more afraid during pregnancy than I could admit to anyone, even Mister. I have always been a worrier, and finally being pregnant after so many years, and being high risk due to my age (and my shunt, and the gestational diabetes...) I was in almost constant worry of something going wrong. First of miscarriage (no one needed to tell me of the statistics regarding older mothers), then of stillbirth, like the cord getting wrapped around baby’s neck, and death happening before delivery could happen. I have heard of at least two different stories of that happening to pregnant women in the ninth month - friends of friends of mine - and the fear of that, or something else equally catastrophic happening was, at times, almost crippling. I would’ve preferred to have never been pregnant at all rather than suffer a miscarriage or stillbirth.

Perhaps it sounds childish, but mentally I didn’t think I was strong enough to have the dream of motherhood dashed, when every day of pregnancy brought that dream closer. I was (and still am) too much of a realist to ignore the statistics; I couldn’t pretend I was 22 and have a blissfully ignorant uneventful pregnancy. To this day, even after giving birth to a healthy baby, one of the biggest things that will set me off is the assumption that way too many people have. “We’re planning on getting pregnant soon.” “Just have kids, you’ll understand.” “I can take you out and make one just like you.” [a redneck phrase I’ve heard being said to a misbehaving child]

Not many of us can “plan” on getting pregnant exactly when we want to - or even within a year’s time. Not all of us can “just have kids” - they’re not like going to the store and getting a gallon of milk. (I recognize the privilege of living in a society where going to the store and expecting fresh milk can also sound arrogant to those who don’t live in one.) ‘Take out’ a kid (even said in jest), and ‘make another one’? I MIGHT have another child in the next couple years. More likely, I won’t. Not all of us can just get pregnant at the drop of a hat. (That’s assuming the one wanting to get pregnant even has a male partner or sperm donor at the ready...some never find that person to have a child with. And adoption can be a great thing, but not everyone is cut out for it. Shaming infertile and childless people for not wanting to adopt is disgusting.)

I was open with my OB-GYN about my fears during pregnancy and she referred me to several resources, and monitored me for PPD. My best friend’s son died in March 2020, a year before Jonas was born (though Billy had severe disabilities which made his death a certain thing), and my sister had had a stillborn son in August 2019 (my nephew Christian). So Jonas being born healthy was a huge relief for me. I can’t really describe the relief, except to say that as much physical weight I gained during pregnancy, letting go of the weight of the worry was felt even more deeply than losing the pounds since his birth (and I’ve haven’t lost all of that).

I will probably always worry about *something*, when it comes to Jonas. He gave me a scare earlier this week, rolling off the couch before I could catch him. He’s fine...and the incident scared me more than it scared him. But every day since he was born is a reminder of the gift he is, and I hope I never lose sight of that, even on the frustrating days (and there have been those over the last almost six months, and there will be more to come).

If you ever wanted children, and are fortunate enough to have them, cherish them. Be grateful for them, even when they drive you up the wall. Even when you only want three minutes’ peace, and they won’t give it to you. Love them anyway. I try to.

#this was heavier than i thought it would be #don't get me wrong #i had a good experience overall #nurses are awesome #nurses #hospital #birth #birthday #march 12 #jonas #2021 #life #real life #family #me and mister #mister #he's great #pregnancy #parenthood

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tomakethisworldabetterplace · 3 years

Text

푸른밤 : 140205/06

(Cr.) Translated by @BlueNight0525 - at twitter

Blue night, I'm Jonghyun

In the old movie "The third man" the man confessed using these words: "I make comic faces and stand on my head and grin at you between my legs, and tell all sorts of jokes. I wouldn't stand a chance, would I?" Also in 'Scent of love' this is how the confession was like: “Under the subject of being a junior, if I said I like you, would you laugh?" The main characters in the movies use quite various ways to express their liking, but never plainly saying it. Sometimes pitifully, again sometimes making the people watching feel embarrassed too. What's strange is, whether the confession is followed by a happy ending or by a lonely sad ending, the memory of it would remain for a long time. Probably because of the thrill one would feel at the time. The excitement and thrill that remains in one’s memory for a long time, I’m experiencing it these days in this place.

The 5th of February, between today and tomorrow. This is Blue Night.

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Right before I got on air I was so hungry I ate a hotdog and a burrito in a hurry, because I was scared the mic might pick up the sound of my growling stomach, I came here after filling up my stomach. Everyone did you have a late night snack? If you eat right now then it’s considered a late night snack right? Since it’s past midnight.

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Listener: That’s right, I like the shivers you get just from the words “I like you”, especially if it’s conveyed by a voice it sends shivers and is more exciting.

Jonghyun: I’ve talked about that heart fluttering sensation in the opening. I’ve also been feeling that excitement for a few days too and it seems like I will keep feeling it in the next several days too. Encountering something new and also when experiencing something for the first time, you mainly feel excitement. A heart fluttering feeling. I think those feelings are quite precious to me. That’s why this time that consists of meeting you everyone is truly exciting and feels nice.

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Listener: Jonghyun DJ it’s been 3 days since you started as a DJ now. Did you get used to it now?

Jonghyun: I got adapted to it but I still get as nervous and excited as ever. Funny enough I’m a shy person so I think I’m someone who’ll do better tomorrow than I did today and much better the day after tomorrow than tomorrow. How is it everyone? Am I doing a bit better than yesterday? How was it yesterday? Was it more alright than the first broadcast? I was worried about this to be honest.. In the morning.. no not the morning. I woke up in the afternoon, since I slept late, but when I woke up in the afternoon I listened to yesterday’s Blue Night.. but still it was... in comparison with the first night, I felt that the nervousness had decreased a bit. It was together with Lee Jihyung-ssi and he really accepted me and guided me really well. There’s a guest for today too, so I’m looking forward to them.

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Being alone is truly hard, just like how no child can run as soon as they were born, they’ll have to crawl at first, then get up, and lastly run. Everyone, I hope you can watch over me a little bit longer please.

Also there’s no female guest in Blue Night.. (pd whispers that there is one) Ah there’s one! PD-nim just told me right now. For me, honestly, I don’t really mind, whether it’s a male or a female guest, I just hope they are older than me and that a lot of people who have a lot of things to teach me would be the guests here. I have a bit of interest in getting some counselling and learn a bit more.

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Corner: “places where music stays”

Taking the Camden town tube and traveling to north London again. This is North London, where a small street is located, Abbey Road. In front of the Abbey Road there’s Abbey Road Studios endorsing its same name. It’s where the pop music legends, The Beatles, recorded nearly all of their albums. Members of The Beatles, who were in the process of the last recording before disbanding, were worrying a lot about how to proceed with the album title and cover jacket picture. Furthermore the photographer was given only 10 minutes. After being pressed by the time, the photographer went straight out of the studio and took the scene of the members in Abbey Road. It was a normal picture with nothing special in it, however the power of The Beatles was great. The Beatles’ Abbey Road album was a huge success as soon as it came out. With more than 7 million copies sold in 1 year, it started bringing in tourists to Abbey Road. Ones who want to take a picture of them walking down the Abbey Road, just like The Beatles. Until now it’s still a dream that’s in the bucket list of so many music fans.

We just listened to The Beatles’ Golden Slumbers. It’s a song that was released in their album Abbey Road. A deep appeal, the voice is really nice. I really like it.

Today we talked about the Abbey Road studio and The Beatles. I also have some memories with Abbey Road Studios. I visited England as SHINee in 2011 and back then we had a chance of performing in Abbey Road Studios. But unfortunately.. My body is that of a healthy strong young man, but why did I only get a serious cold just when I went there.. Suffering from a high fever I remember not being able to finish the performances till the end. I think there were around 5-6 songs, but I was only able to participate in the last song. Back then I had a fever, was in a foreign country and my body was hurting too. That’s why I just started crying. If I’ll get another chance later on, I wanna visit there and perform again.

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Listener: I really like the “places where music stays” corner. It really feels like going on a vacation

Jonghyun: That’s right this corner is about us travelling together. In the future we will go to a lot of other places and will tell you about a lot of music stories, so I hope you can always listen to it.

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Listener: This is a broadcast that I listen to while studying and only today that I knew that the DJ changed. I haven’t listened much yet, but I like your modesty despite your young age.

Jonghyun: Aigo thank you (laughs) You praised me for being humble (laughs) thank you. Since I’m young, I’m in a position to learn a lot. In the future I will continue to meet you with that appearance. Always.

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Jonghyun: 0279-Nim sent in : (Today the middle school teacher appointment examination results came out and my friend passed. However I couldn’t congratulate them, I still have another exam left. It’s a different exam, but seeing how my friend passed I’m feeling impatient. I’m really a bad person for not being to truly congratulate my friend, aren't I?)

Ah and also 2234-nim sent in: (Today the employment examination results came out, I’ve been preparing for 3 years for it, but I failed. I feel really gloomy) is what they sent...

Just like the messages said today, the successful candidates for the middle school teacher appointment examination were announced today right? Some of you have yelled out cheering and some have shed tears. However I feel like that under our country’s system it’s like there’s always a lot of sad people. Of course I haven’t experienced all of that but I can understand those feelings a bit. When I was a trainee with no promises, without knowing when will it end, and seeing trainees I was together with, debut or when they show a really good performance… I think I felt the same thing you’re feeling right now. To the people who passed I hope you can really enjoy that feeling of happiness today. You deserve that, don’t you? Since you studied hard and put effort into it. However don’t forget the fact that one of your friends, who studied together with you, is very sad today. Um..Then for you today I will console you first, then later play a congratulatory song. We will listen to ..

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Jonghyun: Today our Blue Night family is really having a hard time.. 5872-nim sent in: (I too failed, thank you for comforting me.) Of course I should give you comfort. When there’s a happy event, we’ll smile together, when you’re having a hard time, we will cry together, when there’s something to be angry over, we’ll get angry together. Since I’m right here, please send in a lot of your stories. (to a listener) Ah, it must’ve been really hard for you... Just like in movies, there’re good days, but just like in movies too, there’re sad days too.. Since today is a hard day, just like in movies, there will soon be just as much of a good day.. I hope you will find strength and that you’ll find comfort listening to Blue Night.

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Listener message: I’m graduating high school tomorrow, I’m feeling restless that I’m now an adult.

Jonghyun: How restless you must be;; Graduating high school tomorrow.. from elementary school to middle school, and now high school, and also from high school to now having to take one step further to society. When I was like that I thought that I can everything now (laughs) I was around 20 years old, when I graduated high school, and I thought now I can do everything! I think it’s best to feel these things slowly. I think it’s best to put on a small plan and do things one and two at a time. When I was 20 years old, I wanted to do so many things, but I ended up not experiencing them all, and after time flies by, it become such a shame. I hope you can experience it all.

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Listener: I’m writing my resume while listening to Blue Night right now. Since it got cold, it’s a tough time. I hope I’ll succeed with the resume I’m writing right now.

Jonghyun: I hope you will get a good result. Oh, talking about your resume. Wouldn't be more captivating if you wrote something more unique than others, like writing that your hobby is listening to Blue Night?! (laughs) Wouldn’t it turn eyes, if you write Blue Night? I’m just kidding, try writing something unique on your resume~~

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Dialogue from "The three sisters":

The time will come when we will be gone forever, we will be forgotten. Our faces, our voices, and even how many of us there were. But our suffering will be transformed into happiness for those who live after us. Peace and contentment will cover the earth, my dearest sisters, our live is still not finished. We will go on living.

"Today, aside" is a dialogue, that comes on Anton Chekhov’s play "The three sisters". It’s a piece of work that shows how frustrating it becomes, when people’s dreams and hopes crash with the circumstances or the surrounding reality in our society. I said this earlier, but today the entrance exam’s successful candidates were announced. There seemed to have been a lot of disappointed people. I wanted to relay these lines to them. The world isn’t over yet, tomorrow will come again. Today’s ending song.. I’m presenting it to the ones who were disappointed by the results and the ones who were happy with them. To all of the youths of this earth, it’s Radiohead’s Creep. Until now, this has been Blue Night Jonghyun.

Playlist: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=17fjccKlF5Y&list=PLKl0KJ7mGLDNmETrFMIbxpVV72bNPMYz-

(Cr.) List by @bluenighttonight - on twitter + playlist by me on youtube

#푸른밤 #140205 #blue night radio #blue night #jonghyun #kim jonghyun #shinee jonghyun #SHINee

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bananaofswifts · 3 years

Link

Your guide to the singer-songwriter’s surprise follow-up to Folklore.

CARL WILSON

When everything’s clicking for Taylor Swift, the risk is that she’s going to push it too far and overtax the public appetite. On “Mirrorball” from Folklore, she sings, with admirable self-knowledge, “I’ve never been a natural/ All I do is try, try, try.” So when I woke up yesterday to the news that at midnight she was going to repeat the trick she pulled off with Folklore in July—surprise-releasing an album of moody pop-folk songs remote-recorded in quarantine with Aaron Dessner of the National as well as her longtime producer Jack Antonoff—I was apprehensive. Would she trip back into the pattern of overexposure and backlash that happened between 1989 and Reputation?

Listening to the new Evermore, though, that doesn’t feel like such a threat. A better parallel might be to the “Side B” albums that Carly Rae Jepsen put out after both Emotion and Dedicated, springing simply out of the artist’s and her fans’ mutual enthusiasm. Or, closer to Swift’s own impulses here, publishing an author’s book of short stories soon after a successful novel. Lockdown has been a huge challenge for musicians in general, but it liberated Swift from the near-perpetual touring and publicity grind she’s been on since she was a teen, and from her sense of obligation to turn out music that revs up stadium crowds and radio programmers. Swift has always seemed most herself as the precociously talented songwriter; the pop-star side is where her try-hard, A-student awkwardness surfaces most. Quarantine came as a stretch of time to focus mainly on her maturing craft (she turns 31 on Sunday), to workshop and to woodshed. When Evermore was announced, she said that she and her collaborators—clearly mostly Dessner, who co-writes and/or co-produces all but one of these 15 songs—simply didn’t want to stop writing after Folklore.

This record further emphasizes her leap away from autobiography into songs that are either pure fictions or else lyrically symbolic in ways that don’t act as romans à clef. On Folklore, that came with the thrill of a breakthrough. Here, she fine-tunes the approach, with the result that Evermore feels like an anthology, with less of an integrated emotional throughline. But that it doesn’t feel as significant as Folklore is also its virtue. Lowered stakes offer permission to play around, to joke, to give fewer fucks—and this album definitely has the best swearing in Swift’s entire oeuvre.

Because it’s nearly all Dessner overseeing production and arrangements, there isn’t the stylistic variety that Antonoff’s greater presence brought to Folklore. However, Swift and Dessner seem to have realized that the maximalist-minimalism that dominated Folklore, with layers upon layers of restrained instrumental lines for the sake of atmosphere, was too much of a good thing. There are more breaks in the ambience on Evermore, the way there was with Folklore’s “Betty,” the countryish song that was among many listener’s favorites. But there are still moments that hazard misty lugubriousness, and perhaps with reduced reward.

Overall, people who loved Folklore will at least like Evermore too, and the minority of Swift appreciators who disapproved may even warm up to more of the sounds here. I considered doing a track-by-track comparison between the two albums, but that seemed a smidgen pathological. Instead, here is a blatantly premature Day 1 rundown of the new songs as I hear them.

A pleasant yet forgettable starting place, “Willow” has mild “tropical house” accents that recall Ed Sheeran songs of yesteryear, as well as the prolix mixed metaphors Swift can be prone to when she’s not telling a linear story. But not too severely. I like the invitation to a prospective lover to “wreck my plans.” I’m less sure why “I come back stronger than a ’90s trend” belongs in this particular song, though it’s witty. “Willow” is more fun as a video (a direct sequel to Folklore’s “Cardigan” video) than as a lead track, but I’m not mad at it here either.

Written with “William Bowery”—the pseudonym of Swift’s boyfriend Joe Alwyn, as she’s recently confirmed—this is the first of the full story songs on Evermore, in this case a woman describing having walked away from her partner on the night he planned to propose. The music is a little floaty and non-propulsive, but the tale is well painted, with Swift’s protagonist willingly taking the blame for her beau’s heartbreak and shrugging off the fury of his family and friends—“she would have made such a lovely bride/ too bad she’s fucked in the head.” Swift sticks to her most habitual vocal cadences, but not much here goes to waste. Except, that is, for the title phrase, which doesn’t feel like it adds anything substantial. (Unless the protagonist was drunk?) I do love the little throwaway piano filigree Dessner plays as a tag on the end.

This is the sole track Antonoff co-wrote and produced, and it’s where a subdued take on the spirit of 1989-style pop resurges with necessary energy. Swift is singing about having a crush on someone who’s too attractive, too in-demand, and relishing the fantasy but also enjoying passing it up. It includes some prime Swiftian details, like, “With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from your door,” or, “At dinner parties I call you out on your contrarian shit.” The line about this thirst trap’s “hair falling into place like dominos” I find much harder to picture.

This is where I really snapped to attention. After a few earlier attempts, Swift has finally written her great Christmas song, one to stand alongside “New Year’s Day” in her holiday canon. And it’s especially a great one for 2020, full of things none of us ought to do this year—go home to visit our parents, hook up with an ex, spend the weekend in their bedroom and their truck, then break their hearts again when we leave. But it’s done with sincere yuletide affection to “the only soul who can tell which smiles I’m faking,” and “the warmest bed I’ve ever known.” All the better, we get to revisit these characters later on the album.

On first listen, I found this one of the draggiest Dressner compositions on the record. Swift locates a specific emotional state recognizably and poignantly in this song about a woman trapped (or, she wonders, maybe not trapped?) in a relationship with an emotionally withholding, unappreciative man. But the static keyboard chord patterns and the wandering melody that might be meant to evoke a sense of disappointment and numbness risk yielding numbing and disappointing music. Still, it’s growing on me.

Featuring two members of Haim—and featuring a character named after one of them, Este—“No Body, No Crime” is a straight-up contemporary country song, specifically a twist on and tribute to the wronged-woman vengeance songs that were so popular more than a decade ago, and even more specifically “Before He Cheats,” the 2006 smash by Carrie Underwood, of which it’s a near musical clone, just downshifted a few gears. Swift’s intricate variation on the model is that the singer of the song isn’t wreaking revenge on her own husband, but on her best friend’s husband, and framing the husband’s mistress for the murder. It’s delicious, except that Swift commits the capital offence of underusing the Haim sisters purely as background singers, aside from one spoken interjection from Danielle.

This one has some of the same issues as “Tolerate It,” in that it lags too much for too long, but I did find more to focus on musically here. Lyrically and vocally, it gets the mixed emotions of a relatively amicable divorce awfully damned right, if I may speak from painfully direct experience.

This is the song sung from the POV of the small-town lover that the ambitious L.A. actress from “Tis the Damn Season”—Dorothea, it turns out—has left behind in, it turns out, Tupelo. Probably some years past that Xmas tryst, when the old flame finally has made it. “A tiny screen’s the only place I see you now,” he sings, but adds that she’s welcome back anytime: “If you’re ever tired of being known/ For who you know/ You know that you’ll always know me.” It’s produced and arranged with a welcome lack of fuss. Swift hauls out her old high-school-romance-songs vocal tone to reminisce about “skipping the prom/ just to piss off your mom,” very much in the vein of Folklore’s teen-love-triangle trilogy.

A duet with Dessner’s baritone-voiced bandmate in the National, Matt Berninger, “Coney Island” suffers from the most convoluted lyrics on Evermore (which, I wonder unkindly, might be what brought Berninger to mind?). The refrain “I’m on a beach on Coney Island, wondering where did my baby go” is a terrific tribute to classic pop, but then Swift rhymes it with “the bright lights, the merry go,” as if that’s a serviceable shorthand for merry-go-round, and says “sorry for not making you my centerfold,” as if that’s somehow a desirable relationship outcome. The comparison of the bygone affair to “the mall before the internet/ It was the one place to be” is clever but not exactly moving, and Berninger’s lines are worse. Dessner’s droning arrangement does not come to the rescue.

This song is also overrun with metaphors but mostly in an enticing, thematically fitting way, full of good Swiftian dark-fairytale grist. It’s fun to puzzle out gradually the secret that all the images are concealing—an engaged woman being drawn into a clandestine affair. And there are several very good “goddamns.”

The lyrical conceit here is great, about two gold-digging con artists whose lives of scamming are undone by their falling in love. It reminded me of the 1931 pre-Code rom-com Blonde Crazy, in which James Cagney and Joan Blondell act out a very similar storyline. And I mostly like the song, but I can’t help thinking it would come alive more if the music sounded anything like what these self-declared “cowboys” and “villains” might sing. It’s massively melancholy for the story, and Swift needs a far more winningly roguish duet partner than the snoozy Marcus Mumford. It does draw a charge from a couple of fine guitar solos, which I think are played by Justin Vernon (aka Bon Iver, who will return shortly).

The drum machine comes as a refreshing novelty at this point. And while this song is mostly standard Taylor Swift torrents of romantic-conflict wordplay (full of golden gates and pedestals and dropping her swords and breaking her high heel, etc.), the pleasure comes in hearing her look back at all that and shrugging, “Long story short, it was a bad ti-i-ime,” “long story short, it was the wrong guy-uy-uy,” and finally, “long story short, I survived.” She passes along some counsel I’m sure she wishes she’d had back in the days of Reputation: “I wanna tell you not to get lost in these petty things/ Your nemeses will defeat themselves.” It’s a fairly slight song but an earned valedictory address.

Swift fan lore has it that she always sequences the real emotional bombshell as Track 5, but here it is at 13, her lucky number. It’s sung to her grandmother, Marjorie Finlay, who died when Swift was in her early teens, and it manages to be utterly personal—down to the sample of Marjorie singing opera on the outro—and simultaneously utterly evocative to anyone who’s been through such grief. The bridge, full of vivid memories and fierce regrets, is the clincher.

This electroacoustic kiss-off song, loaded up with at least a fistful of gecs if not a full 100 by Dessner and co-producers BJ Burton and James McAlister, seems to be, lyrically, one of Swift’s somewhat tedious public airings of some music-industry grudge (on which, in case you don’t get it, she does not want “closure”), but, sonically, it’s a real ear-cleaner at this point on Evermore. Why she seems to shift into a quasi-British accent for fragments of it is anyone’s guess. But I’m tickled by the line, “I’m fine with my spite and my tears and my beers and my candles.”

I’m torn about the vague imagery and vague music of the first few verses of the album’s final, title track. But when Vernon, in full multitracked upper-register Bon Iver mode, kicks in for the duet in the middle, there’s a jolt of urgency that lands the redemptive ending—whether it’s about a crisis in love or the collective crisis of the pandemic or perhaps a bit of both—and satisfyingly rounds off the album.

#taylor-swift #pop #rock #country-music

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lovemesomesurveys · 3 years

Text

Do you have any tan lines? Nope. Have you ever wished you could stop time? Yes. I’ve also wished I could speed it up. Is there any pictures on the wall you're in? Yeah, there’s several. Who was the last person who called you? My mom. Did you make any money today? No.

Have you ever fallen and twisted your ankle? No. What was the highest place you've ever jumped from? I haven’t jumped from anywhere. Have you ever gone swimming in a river? No. Ever been so unfortunate to slip on wet rocks? Nope. When was the last time you got completely soaked by rain? It’s been a long time. One of the times that comes to mind is when my mom, aunt, a former friend, and I were at an outdoor festival and we got caught in an unexpected rain storm. It just started pouring down hard and we were not prepared at all. We had to run back to our car, which was parked a good distance away and yeah we were absolutely soaked.

Is there something you really want to buy at the moment? I’d love to be able to book a beach vacation getaway. Would you ever consider culinary school? No. I’m not a cook and have no interest in trying to become one. Do you ever watch the clouds, to see if they look like objects/animals etc? I did when I was a kid sometimes. When was the last time you didn't want to get out of bed? That’s me everyday. It’s a real struggle. Are you excited for anything coming up in the near future? No. My foreseeable future consists of more doctors and appointments and struggles and spending most of my time in bed. Speaking of dancing, do you know any real dance moves? I know them, but I can’t do them. Do you save cards from your birthday/x-mas, etc? Yes. What was the last souvenir someone got you? A shirt. Do you have a favorite remix of a song? One of my favorite covers is Adele’s cover of George Michael’s “Fast Love” that she preformed at an award show in honor of him after he died. I can only describe it as hauntingly beautiful. I really wish she would have released a studio version of it. When was the last time you printed something off? I don’t recall; it’s been awhile. Are you one of those people who can learn music/songs by ear? No, I wish. There was a guy in my piano class I took my senior year in high school that could do that. It was really cool. Has the power gone out recently? No, but I have a feeling it will happen soon. It always does when we have a lot of triple digit degree weather, which is what this week has consisted of. Do you like driving at night? I don’t drive, but I like nighttime drives. Like, whenever I travel I love leaving really early when it’s still dark out. It’s a different experience. Does seeing roadkill make you sad, or just grossed out? Both. Does wearing heels make you feel sexier? I don’t wear heels. What do you think is the most saddest sounding instrument? The piano can sound that way. What day do you go back to school (if you're in school)? I’m forever done with school. When was the last time you've gone shopping with a friend? It’s been a few years. Do you ever go out to dinner with your Mom? We haven’t physically gone out to eat for dinner in quite a long time. What is your favorite kind of salad dressing? Ranch. Have you ever bought fireworks? Not me personlly, but my dad and brother do every 4th of July. Do you really pay attention to the ratings on movies? Sometimes, but I ultimately decide if I want to see it or not. Have you ever snuck in to a theater/dance/bar etc? No. If given the chance, would you go to Ireland? Sure. Who was the last person/website to send you an email? I don’t feel like checking. Has your phone ever rang and scared you? Yeah. I’m such a jumpy person anyway. If you have a cat, does it ever "converse" with you? I don’t have a cat. If given the chance, would you ever fly in a fighter plane like the F-16? No. Are you afraid of standing on the edge of hills/skyscrapers/cliffs etc? Uh, YES. Do you have a favorite species of wild cat (tiger/lion/cougar etc)? No. Do you support the funds designed to protect endangered animals? (Like WWF). I haven’t done much myself to support them, but I’m glad they exist. What type of a drunk are you? (Obnoxious, calm, emotional, violent, etc) I was a chatty drunk. I feel like I was annoying, ha. I was also the sad drunk. Do you have an absolute favorite name (boy or girl)? I love the name Alexander. Are you good at pronouncing foreign words? Uhh, depends. If you're not already, when do you plan on getting married? I don’t want to get married. Can you tolerate the smell of cigarette smoke? Nooo. It honestly makes me sick, like I get lightheaded and dizzy, I get nauseous, and I get a really bad headache. When listening to music, do you usually tap your foot etc to the beat? I sometimes tap my fingers and hands. Have you ever literally cried on a friend's shoulder? No. Was there something that "made your day" today? It literally just turned midnight, so today is just now starting. Do you have a favorite kind of chocolate bar? White chocolate. Are you happy that it's summer? Ugh, no. It’s hot and miserable. Is there anything that you should be doing right now? I’m about to make my nightly bowl of ramen. Has anyone had expectations that you just couldn't live up to? (finishing this a couple hours later...) That’s how I’ve been feeling. Are you currently in a relationship? If so, how long have you been dating? Nope. Would you ever consider being a DJ at a party if you were paid? Nah. Have you ever tried those electric toothbrushes? Wow, this question makes it seem like they’re so futuristic and rare lol. Yes, I use electric toothbrushes. Are you or anyone you know devoted to "being green"? Not overly so, no. When it comes election time, do you vote (if you're old enough)? Yes. What was the last movie you watched that was on TV? I watched Fear 1994 on Netflix recently if that counts. How long have you had an account on bzoink? I don’t have an account on bzoink. Do strapless bras work for you? I don’t like them. I only wear them if I have to, like with a dress. Do you have a favorite hair elastic that you use almost always? No. Has anyone told you that they wanted to marry you/ were planning on it/etc? No. When you were younger, did you have a yoyo? I did. I couldn’t do any tricks, though. What was the last video game you played, if any? Animal Crossing: New Horizons. Has anyone ever called you nerdy? Yeah. Have you ever had to call 911? Yes. Has there ever been a tornado near where you live? No, fortunately. Are you a rollercoaster addict? Noo. I’m a big scardy cat. Do you feel comfortable enough to wear short shorts? No. I’m very self-conscious about my legs. About my body in general, really. If you have iTunes, do you find the Genius recommendations helpful? I don’t even recall what that is; I haven’t used iTunes in almost 10 years. Are you quick at looking up numbers in phonebooks/ words in dictionaries? Phonebooks, wow. I haven’t used a phonebook or actual dictionary in yearsssss thanks to the Internet/Google. Have a favorite actor/actress from Old Hollywood? (Marilyn Munroe, etc) Lucille Ball. Out of Biology, Chemistry and Physics, which are you the best at? None of those. Is there a friend you can always talk to about anything? I don’t have any friends. Can you stand spicy foods? Not anymore. :( It’s gotta have like barely anything like McDonald’s or Taco Bell mild hot sauce type of stuff. It’s wild because I used to be obSESSED with spicy food. I put hot sauce on everything and had a high spicy tolerance. Then a few years ago I developed a sensitivity and I can’t even have red pepper flakes now. It sucks. What's your opinion on people who stretch their ears? Hey, do what you want. I’ll admit the really stretched out lobes freak me out, though. Do you think tattoos are expressive art or unattractive? To me they can be either one, it just depends. What is your school mascot? -- Do you find black and white photos to be pretty? Yeah. Food you make doesn't taste as good as food made by others, true? Sometimes. Especially foods like sandwiches for some reason. I think they’re way better when my mom or a deli makes them. Is there a certain color that doesn't look good on you? I don’t think I look good in anything, so. Have you ever heard anything interesting about Nova Scotia, Canada? Not that I can recall. Have you ever seen a bear in the wild? No, thankfully. Do you know when you will get to see your significant other next? I’m single. What's the book you're currently reading? ”Such a Good Girl” by Willow Rose. Is your room currently a disaster? No. If going to a concert, do you prefer it to be outside or in a stadium? Definitely in a stadium.

Do you have a case for your camera? I use the camera on my phone, which I do have a case for. Can your cellphone take a beating? I’ve dropped it a few times and so far so good. Is there a month you prefer over others? October and December. Do you ever buy lottery tickets? Just a couple of times. Can you recall the most disturbing movie you've ever seen? A Clockwork Orange is one. Are you more of a tape or a glue person? Tape. Of course, it does depend on what I’m doing. In some cases, glue is the better option. Has anyone you know gotten mono? Not that I know of. What is/or was your graduating year? I graduated UC in 2015. Have you had a weird dream lately? All my dreams are weird. Have you ever gotten an autograph from someone famous? Yes. Do you own a pair of slippers? No. Do you ever watch VHS movies anymore? No. I don’t even recall the last time. Has your computer ever decided to completely erase itself? No, but I’ve lost stuff because of viruses back in the day. :(

Only when the power goes out do we realize how much we rely on it, true? It definitely becomes quite apparent quite quickly. Have you ever picked an apple off the tree and eaten it? No. Can you say yes / no in different languages? ”Si” and “No”, ha. Are you good at styling your own hair? No. Especially not anymore since I just don’t have the motivation or energy to do anything with my hair, which is why it was always up in a bun. I finally just cut it really short and have been wearing a cute wig if I go somewhere cause that’s all I can to do right now. I am sad, though. It was so long. Out of the traditional superheroes, which one is your favorite? The Scarlett Witch and Iron Man. What color is the shirt you're wearing right now? Black. Have you ever been lost? Physically and figuratively, yes.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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yikeswtfmate · 4 years

Text

Strange Times || Ch. 3

previous part // Strange Times Series Masterlist // next part

Summary: Ray does some thinking. These new revelations are bad news, but maybe he can work around them, until he can’t anymore.

Pairing: Raymond (Charlie Hunnam - The Gentlemen, 2020) x Reader

Warnings: swearing; sexual references and themes; some sadness

A/N: this has been a whirlwind and i’m probably going to take a short break from this fic; i’ve barely scratched this part together so i might need more time to come up with the next part, especially because of what i have in mind for it; i really don’t want to write it just for the sake of it and then be unhappy with how it turned out, so please be patient with me! until then... here’s part 3

A/N 2: should i make a masterlist for this series? i made a moodboard for it this week just bc i was bored so might as well? let me know!

It’s been almost a month and Raymond can’t yet say whether Y/N’s pulling his leg or his skills are starting to fail him, because there is no other explanation for her completely falling off the face of the earth for hours on end without him knowing anything about it. When she told him so nonchalantly about her plans that first night, he expected he’d be able to track her every movement without too much fuss. Y/N Pearson, however, is a woman of many talents, so he was forced to finally admit that she was right in warning him not to underestimate her.

It’s not to say that it’s because of lack of trying – he’s had David tail her Uber for a few days but she somehow managed to slip away, only to pop back up in Oxford exactly the second Mickey started handing him his ass because she was nowhere to be found until midnight. Then he tried tracking her phone, just to find out that she’s been leaving her phone on the coffee table every day, although Rosalind somehow always knew how to get in touch with her (whether she’d let Mickey and Raymond know where Y/N was, was a completely other story). Finally, he decided he’ll just tail her himself, but that backfired when he followed her into a nursery store without too much preamble.

Trying to find his bearings, thoroughly confused as to why she’d enter this shop, suddenly horrified she might be pregnant with a fucking cunt, whoever this fucker is he’ll find his death today, he was startled by a hand slipping on his arm, bringing him flush against her small body. Looking down, he couldn’t help wondering what the fuck she was on about now, smiling innocently at the approaching shop assistant and completely ignoring him.

“Hi, darling!” She thrilled in the most obnoxious voice he’s ever heard. “My hubby and I are expecting this tiny wonder that’s growing inside of me, and we’d like to look at some cute little tiny clothes for this amazing bundle of joy that will grace our lives!”

To say that Raymond never felt more terrified in his entire existence should say something, considering he has three older sisters who each had the right mind to think he was actually their little puppet throughout his entire childhood. Three hours later, after listening to more coos than he’d care to ever experience again and now knowing how much every single stroller in the Kingdom fucking costs, Y/N escorted him outside (still latched like a fucking octopus to his arm, never having let go) and turned to him with another blinding smile that would be more fitting for a snake? Fox? Fucking Loch Ness monster? He’d take anything over her at that moment.

“What the fuck.” He doesn’t even have the energy to try to appear more threatening.

“What, babe? I thought you wanted to know what I’m doing all day. Isn’t that why you and Mickey have been freaking out? That I’m being naughty and doing unspeakable things? I just showed you that I’m being a good girl.”

He looks at her for a moment, his jaw set. Maybe one of these days he’ll just break his bottom teeth from all the tongue biting and teeth grinding he does whenever she opens her mouth. There’s a small part of his brain that lets him know it’d be great to get back at her by spanking her ass until it’s bright red, but he pushes the thought aside and just turns around and starts walking away.

“Hey!” She yells, heels clicking rapidly on the pavement until she’s in step with him again. “What the fuck, Ray? You can’t just up and leave!”

“I can and I am. I’m not putting up with your shit anymore, love. You’re Mickey’s responsibility, not mine, so you can do whatever the fuck you want for all I care.”

“Aw, Ray! Come on, babe, you don’t mean that!”

She grabs his hand, forcing him to stop and look at her. Disregarding the fact that they’re in the middle of a very busy shopping centre and everyone has to get around them, Y/N swings their interlocked hands between them, nearly making Ray think she’s a sweet angel. It’s easy to forget she’s been keeping him on his toes from the moment she stepped foot on British soil, when she looks up at him through her eyelashes, a small smile on her lips, almost – but not entirely apologetic.

He sighs and hangs his head. She will be the death of him, but apparently he has no control whatsoever over his body or feelings anymore, and with an arm around her shoulders, Ray brings her into him and directs her back in the direction of their house. (Their house? Since when did he start thinking of his own house as theirs?) He just wants to go home and maybe erase this whole encounter with something strong to drink.

He’s not even aware they’re holding hands until they are forced to split by an errant toddler. He notices how she smiles over at the little pig-tailed girl, a softness in her eyes that is surprising in a way that strangely warms his own heart. She takes his hand again, interlacing their fingers on reflex, unaware of Ray’s slow blink in her direction. He’s thoroughly enjoying her little display of affection, having more or less been subconsciously craving them ever since she first kissed him.

There’s a flutter in his heart, a missed beat that makes him question this whole thing with Y/N. He’s more than aware that she pisses him right the fuck off, but he can’t help but miss her presence and erratic personality the whole time she’s not with him. One month, and she’s already clawed her way in, gnashing unintentionally at the veins around his heart, until she’s found her way in. With a start, he realises that above all the dirty thoughts he’s had, all the images of her bent form before him, he wants to protect her, keep her safe, tuck her under his arm and kiss her head.

He realises now that whenever he steps down into the kitchen to find Y/N making coffee, still dressed in one of his t-shirts (having been seemingly diving into his wardrobe on a regular basis), bed hair sticking out, eyes half closed, smelling like she’s still dreaming, his heart swells. She would hand him his mug and with her own in her hand, she would trudge her feet behind, peck his cheek and stroke his jaw on her way up to her morning shower. And now, he doesn’t want anything else, but that. That moment to keep happening, every morning, every day for the rest of his life and what in the name of Jesus, Joseph and Mary, what the fuck!

“I’m home!” Raymond announces as he steps into the house. For a split second he’s surprised once again at the words he’s just uttered, unsure about how to feel knowing that Y/N is still currently living under the same roof as him.

He was comfortable in his life, alone and uncommitted, sure that he would never find anyone who would understand the sort of existence he’s leading, until Y/N barged into his life guns blazing and fucking up whatever sense of security he had until now. Not to mention that understanding earlier in the week that his feelings for her developed so high as to shoot the fucking moon did nothing to alleviate his irritation with her. If anything, it’s gotten worse, especially since she’d become even more secretive lately, until he snapped at her in the morning before she left with a final slam of the front door.

He doesn’t want to get into another fight with her, not in the mood for another shouting match where he’d try to pry out whatever the fuck she’s been doing. He’s tired of her keeping him at an arm’s distance, but doesn’t want to admit that he’s hurt by her not trusting him enough to confide in him. A tiny voice in his head points out that he hasn’t been truthful with her either – hiding his own feelings can only show he’s a coward, but he waves that away. All in good time, he’s not in a hurry, although the thought of Mickey finding out does more than put him off the whole ordeal.

“Got you that ice cream you kept going on about like a bloody lunatic yesterday!” He shouts, trying to distract himself from the dark thoughts that swirl into his mind.

There’s no response and the house feels empty, cold, desolate. An icy shiver runs through his spine, worst case scenarios running before his eyes. He’s left Y/N at home, having just stepped in when he went out to buy some groceries. He declined her offer of joining him when he saw how tired she looked, but now he fears it was a mistake.

He takes out the gun from its holster, slowly moving around the hallway and now that he’s closer to the back of the house, he can hear a small tune playing from the living room. He steps carefully around that particular creaky floorboard and inspects the space which seems clear. It’s only when he stands next to the kitchen island, that he sees Y/N’s head over the sofa. She’s sitting on the floor, next to the vinyl recorder, chin on her knees, hair falling around her body, as if she’s surrounded by a halo.

Raymond lowers his gun, places it on the kitchen counter, but is unsure what he should do next. This is unprecedented, having never seen Y/N this small before, shoulders hunched over as if in defeat. He makes up his mind, and sits himself on the floor next to her, back to the sofa, close enough that she can touch him if she so wants, but far enough to retreat if she wants to be left alone.

“This was my grandpa’s favourite song.” She murmurs.

She places her cheek on her knee, a movement small enough to allow him to look at her. He notices the tear stains on her face and there’s nothing he wouldn’t want to do more in that moment than to just brush his thumbs under her eyes and kiss her forehead. In time with the lyrics, she starts whispering the words, silently asking him to pay attention. He realises this is important to her, so he rests his head on the sofa and closes his eyes. He vaguely remembers buying this particular vinyl in a dingy shop, thinking it’s one of the most beautiful love songs he’s ever heard.

There’s a shift and Y/N crawls between his legs, curling in on herself on his chest. He raises his arms, placing one around her waist and another one to brush her hair. One of her palms rests on his bicep, drawing slow circles into the soft sweater, and she continues to murmur the song.

Raymond keeps his eyes closed, waiting for her to speak, revelling in the feeling of her skin. Her hair is soft and smells like vanilla, mixing in with the undertone of her cinnamon shower gel, and he wonders whether there is anything sweeter in this entire world than to hold her in his arms.

Rosalind warned him that there’s more to Y/N than the trouble she likes to stir, more than the reckless girl who lunges herself into aristocratic gossip and shitty remarks intended to shock. He’s used by now to the brash personality, peppered with unabashed flirtations and caustic curses, the brilliance of her mind whenever they debate an important subject, the vast knowledge that she still surprises him with. But this is never something he would have expected her to be. This mellow and sad part of her that she’s been hiding so well is the entire galaxy in his eyes, confusing him to no end as to why she would show it to him. She trusts you, Raymond, Rosalind’s words echo in his mind, going against all he thought he knew about her. She’ll never say it, but she’ll show you.

He kisses her temple then, a smile on his lips, but he wants to take her pain away. He wants to stop the tears from falling, although he’s not entirely sure what caused them in the first place. She looks up at him, eyes searching his face, and she kisses his jaw tentatively. It tickles her lips so she licks them, but Raymond stops her in her tracks when he kisses her cheek softly. He doesn’t move back, waiting for her reaction and there’s a question there, behind her pupils, blown wide, unsure and afraid. She moves her face closer until her breath fans over hips lips, and her body turns over his, and now they’re chest to chest. He brushes a strand of her hair behind her ear, thumb caressing the side of her neck. She leans into the touch that now moves up to her cheek, and her head rests in his palm now. She opens her eyes again, waiting, asking, hoping.

This is it, he thinks. This is enough and he gives in. Raymond kisses her then, the sweet scent of chocolate on her tongue, tentatively at first, capturing her lips in a dance that he dreamed of having – it’s different, softer, more meaningful than the rough kiss they’ve already shared. Lavishing her, hands move into his hair, while pulling and sucking at his lips. She shifts again, straddling his hips, leaning into him so he moves an arm on her waist to steady her. She moans into his mouth, the sweetest melody covering his veins and there’s fire in his lungs that spreads around his entire body. They come up for air and he peppers kisses on her brow, her cheeks, her nose, while she places her palms flat on his chest. Her forehead rests on his and there’s a moment where they just breathe each other’s air.

“I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me.” She whispers.

“We both know I have to bruise your ego from time to time so you can come back to reality.”

“You’re too good for me, Raymond.”

He brushes a hand over the side of her head, taming her hair after his ministrations. She leans into his touch again, filling his heart with affection.

“I’m really not, love. I’m too fucked up to ever be good enough, nevermind too good.” He smiles. “And speaking of fucked up, your brother is going to kill us if he finds out about this.”

“Well, that’s a sobering thought. Please, never speak of Mickey when we’re in this position, ok?” She chides, rubbing her hips into his to emphasise her point, which earns her a surprising whine in return. “Oooh, I like the sound of that.”

“The floor is really not the place to be doing this, babe.” He grunts, as she starts sucking and licking at his neck.

His arms find their way to her hips again, forcing her down, trying to create as much friction as possible. There’s an uncomfortable strain to his jeans, and his cock is suddenly even more alert and asking for attention. His unspoken plea is clearly understood and with a giggle, her hands fly to his belt buckle, tugging and loosening. He feels more than sees the zipper opening, fingers creeping under his shirt, leaving a burning trail on his skin. With a grunt, he grabs the back of her neck, bringing her even closer, sucking on her tongue and demanding her own breath. He pulls her sweater off with his free hand while she tries to make good work of removing his jeans.

Raymond warned her that the floor is not fit for this, so he grabs her ass and hoists her up, leaving a trail of jeans, sweaters and shirts behind them as he makes his way to the bedroom, never letting her go. He places Y/N carefully on the bed, intent on making this last, and not rush it into a quick and dirty fuck. He looks at her, splayed before him, red faced and wet lips, such expanse of bared skin just for him. He lowers himself above her, bruising her with another kiss.

“You’re mine now.” He whispers into her lips and she nods, pulling him closer.

Bloody fucking hell, Y/N Pearson will be the death of him.

#raymond x reader #ray x reader #charlie hunnam x reader #the gentlemen #raymond the gentlemen #ray the gentlemen #the gentlemen 2020 #the gentlemen fanfiction #charlie hunnam fanfiction #charlie hunnam fanfic #charlie hunnam fic

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a-dorin · 4 years

Text

the bet - poe dameron

word count: 1,945

warnings: drinking, smut (near the end), cursing, kissing, dominance kink

summary: poe dameron is a man who loves gambling. one night, after some drinks, rey makes an offer he can’t refuse. poe will do whatever it takes to win, even if his own personal feelings get in the way.

poe dameron loved taking risks. the adrenaline rush when it came to making risky decisions gave him a high that he coudn’t get enough of. so, not only was he a rebel pilot, but he was also a huge gambler. whether it was poker games, bets, or slot machines, poe was an avid participant. not only was he just a gambler, he was pretty damn good at it too.

poe sat at the table, his eyes narrowed as he was in deep in thought. he glanced at his hand, grimacing. his odds weren’t good, but he still had a decent chance of winning the game. his opponents, chewie, bb-8, rey, and finn, all sat around him, looking at their own hands. those who could drink were beyond tipsy, and chewie and bb-8 were the chaperones, ensuring nothing went awol over a simple game of cards.

“it’s your turn,” finn’s eyes shot daggers at poe, “he always fucking does this. we all know he’s gonna win. so why are we still playing?”

“because it’‘s fun,” rey matched finn’s stare, “besides, we have nothing better to do.”

“yeah,” poe added, “it’s not like the first order has even made a move in the past month. things have been quiet lately. quiet is good. why can’t we just enjoy the normal aspects of life, such as this game of cards?”

finn rolled his eyes, taking a swig, “whatever. we all know you’re going to win, poe.”

“i have a different offer for him,” rey smirked, setting down her cards, giving finn a smirk, “how about we make a bet?”

the word caught poe’s attention immediately, “and that is?”

“so eager,” finn muttered under his breath.

“no really,” poe repeated, his eyes alight with excitement, “what’s the wager?”

“you, start dating your best friend, (y/n). if you get her to have sex with you within that month, you get my pay for the month,” rey locked eyes with poe, her stare hard.

poe swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck, “that’s a little, crafty? isn’t it?”

“sure it’s kind of childish,” rey agreed, nodding, “however, we all know how you feel about her. wouldn’t you want to fuck (y/n), finn? maybe you’ll get a chance before poe will.”

“i mean,” finn blushed slightly, trying to be sensitive for rey’s sake, “she is really pretty. she’s out of my league though.”

this bet was tempting to poe. even though the two of you had been friends for a years, his feelings for you weren’t exactly platonic. he cared about you deeply. maybe it was time to finally ask (y/n) out, and it wasn’t the alcohol talking.

“okay,” poe cleared his throat, “i’m in.”

rey stuck out her hand, “let’s shake on it then, poe dameron.”

as rey and poe shook hands, the wager was set. finn and chewie exchanged uneasy glances. this could only end badly. really really badly.

******

you typed away, sighing to yourself. as a nurse at the infirmary, your task today was typing out patient reports. it was tedious, as you had to include every minuscule update in the patient’s progress. your head throbbed as you typed, and you took a break, rubbing your temple.

a knock on the door startled your thoughts, causing you to flinch slightly. however, you felt a wide smile form on your face as your best friend, poe dameron entered the office, a bouquet of wildflowers in his hand.

“i heard you were having a bad day darlin’,” poe smiled slightly, “so i brought you these.”

“how sweet,” you beamed, embracing poe, “did you have any duties assigned today?”

he shook his head, “nah, only some mechanical work on my x-wing.”

“slow day?” you raised a brow, taking the flowers. you inhaled their sweet scent, feeling happiness bubble inside of you. poe’s visit was much needed.

it was approximately three weeks and six days since the night poe made the bet with rey. unfortunately, due to the war, there wasn’t any progress. it was a slight relief to poe, as he didn’t want you to know about the wager. any time you were near finn, rey, bb-8, or chewie, anxiety bubbled up inside of him.. if you found out, you would probably never speak to him again.

however, poe desperately wanted to win. winning came naturally to him, and losing, well, poe rarely lost. and he was sure as hell a sore loser. he loathed losing, even more than the first order. poe was also a man of his word, even when he made drunken bets. the money also motivated him. who didn’t want someone else’s money?

there was one small incident that also goaded poe to go through with the wager. one night, approximately a week since the bet was made, poe was sneaking back to his room. as he passed by yours, he heard his name, and stopped, pressing his ear to the door. he didn’t mean to pry, but the way you said his name startled him. after listening for several minutes, he knew exactly what you were doing.

you were sprawled on your bed, panties off, thinking about all the things you wanted poe to do to you. you thought it was okay since it was well past midnight, but poe had heard. and he wasn’t the same since. a small part of him wanted to just bend you over and make you take him as he fucked the shit out of you whenever the two of you were around one another. the sexual tension was almost too much to bear lately.

“how much longer do you have?” poe referred to your shift.

“i was actually just wrapping up,” you chirped, “did you want to do something after?”

“i did,” he nodded enthusiastically, “can you meet me at my quarters after you’re done?”

your heart skipped a beat, “yeah, i can. is everything okay?”

“yes darlin’,” poe grinned, “i’ll see you in ten minutes.”

you waved to him as he exited the office, your heart fluttering. you were undeniably in love with the handsome pilot, and everyone seemed to know but him. often, poe would bring you lunch or dinner while you were at work, and vice versa. anything poe did for you made you swoon, and you felt helpless.

it’s not like you were afraid of rejection. you were afraid of the consequences that followed. you preferred not to lose your best friend over something silly like a crush. besides, poe had more important things to focus on. the war, was one. poe came and go with the other pilots, and your worry only intensified every time he left. yet, he always came back.

finishing up with your work for the day, you left the office, anxiety building up inside of you. was everything okay between the two of you? poe did seem to be acting a little off when he visited you earlier. maybe it was nothing.

after navigating your way through the endless hallways and gates, you were finally at poe’s door. you knocked softly, and he swung the door open, pulling you in by your hands.

his lips met yours forcefully, kissing you hungrily. you dropped your bag at the doorway, savoring the way his lips tasted. he licked your bottom lip, asking for entrance. you let him in, and his tongue explored your mouth, fighting for dominance.

poe picked you up by your thighs, carrying you to his bed. he laid you down, placing sloppy kisses down your neck. his fingertips fumbled with the buttons on your shirt, desperately trying to get your shirt off you.

the thing was, poe had been thinking about all day. he was aching for you by the time you got to his quarters. the thought of you laying naked beneath his own body was too much for him to handle. he needed to experience the feeling himself. he wanted you so bad, regardless of the bet or not.

“is this okay?” poe murmured against your lips.

you bit your lip, “yes.”

“have you been thinking about this?” his eyes searched yours, “have you thought about me fucking you and your tight pussy?”

widening your eyes, you could feel the wetness pooling between your thighs. of course you thought about this. you thought about it too often, especially at night. a heated blush filled your cheeks as you realized what poe was referring to. he must have heard you that night.

“did you-” you began to ask, but you were cut off.

“i know babygirl,” poe’s eyes were dark with lust, “i know what you want me to do to you. i heard your cries that night, and i want you to know that you’re going to be screaming this time.”

the nickname only made you wetter. poe continued to kiss down your neck, wasting no time as he unbuttoned your pants. he slid them, as well as your underwear, down your legs, casting them to the floor. he didn’t want to make this hasty, but you were practically begging for it. he could see the desperation in your eyes.

“you’re so wet princess,” he murmured, “are you gonna do what i tell you to?”

you nodded, and poe smirked, “good. now bend over for me.”

you couldn’t help but obey, bending over on the bed. poe unbuckled his belt, taking off his own trousers. without warning, you felt his cock inside of you, filling your tight pussy. you moaned, the sound echoing off the walls.

poe fucked you senseless, his hips slapping against your ass as he pounded your pussy. he gripped a handful of your hair, the other hand rubbing circles on your sensitive clit with his rough fingertips.

“are you going to cum all over my cock babygirl?” poe’s tone dripped with lust.

“yes,” you could barely get the word out.

poe picked up his pace, practically slamming into you. feeling yourself not being able to take anymore, you came undone, gripping the sheets as pleasure washed over you. poe’s strokes slowed, and he pulled out, cumming on your back.

“don’t move,” he ordered, the dominance still apparent in his voice. he disappeared, returning with a towel. he rubbed your back, cleaning you up.

you weren’t how to feel. your best friend and the man you were in love with, poe dameron, just bent you over. you were putty in his hands the entirety of it. he handed you your underwear, and you put it on.

“do you want me to go?” you whispered.

“of course not,” poe’s eyes softened, “i want you to stay here.”

he offered you his shirt, and you gladly accepted it. poe watched intently as you slipped your own shirt off, your breasts bouncing in your bra. you slid the shirt on, grateful for poe’s scent. poe wore nothing but his underwear and a shirt as he threw the cover off the bed. he bent over, searching under the bed for a new one.

you laid in bed next to him, laying your head on his chest, “hey poe?”

“yes?”

“are we together now?” the question burned in your mind, and you knew you needed to ask.

“yes,” he answered, placing a soft kiss on your temple, “i’ve waited a long time to do that, (y/n).”

“me too,” you whispered.

poe began to run a hand through your hair, the action extremely soothing. you drifted off, content to be in the arms of the man you loved. on the other hand, poe burned with shame, guilt bubbling up in his stomach. he loved you, almost too much.

but a wager was a wager. and he won.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x y/n #star wars #the rise of skywalker #the force awakens #the last jedi #poe dameron fanfiction #star wars x reader

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slurp-imagines · 4 years

Text

Random Word Prompts: Fukunaga Shouhei

(ask meme link)

Night: What are their sleeping habits?

Fukunaga has a decent sleep-schedule for a teenager tbh. He usually gets sleepy around midnight, but he’s fully capable of going to bed earlier if he knows he has an extra early start the next day.

Left to his own devices, he’d probably sleep from midnight until 9 or 10 am. So he’s not the earliest riser, but he still doesn’t like missing the entire morning.

Lowkey one of those people who can function normally on like 5 hours of sleep though. But he chooses not to push it lol, because then he’s suspicious through the whole day that he’s gonna crash

Also he likes hugging something while he sleeps! He uses a body pillow at home, but he also has a couple stuffed animals that he likes (and that he refuses to feel embarassed about).

When Nekoma has to take the bus for away games, he might roll up his jacket or something so he can hug it and take a nap.

When he’s in bed, he prefers to sleep on his side, but he could probably fall asleep in any position.

He doesn’t move around thaaat much. Occassionally he’ll wake up on his stomach though, most likely lying on top of whatever he fell asleep hugging.

Rust: Do they like themselves?

For the most part, he does. He didn’t always, though.

Fukunaga didn’t have very many friends during elementary and middle school. Most people weren’t overtly mean to him, but there were a few notable exceptions, and those insults stuck with him. The rest of the time, he would just fade into the background.

And altogether, those experiences would sometimes make him wonder if he was even likable at all, or if people who were being nice to him were only doing so out of courtesy, or if he would always be somewhat of an outsider.

But somewhere during his last year of middle school, he kind of had a switch flipped? He was like... you know I guess I’m just weird or something. Whatever

He doesn’t really know how he arrived at that train of thought, but he’s glad that he did, because he has a much better time afterward. He doesn’t feel like he’s trying so hard.

By the time he’s in high school, he’s pretty comfortable with who he is, and people’s opinions of him don’t affect so much. By the end of his first year he even starts to feel like he’s made a few real friends. He’s found his group, his place– and every now & then before he goes to sleep, he’ll remember that fact, and have to smush his smile into his pillow.

Fukunaga does ocassionally get a little down on himself, though. Like maybe he’ll wish he was a little better at saying what he thinks, or a little less awkward to talk to, or a little more like a son his parents could brag about.

But he can think of a bunch of things that he does like about himself, too– he’s a good listener, he’s a good friend, he’s funny, he’s pretty nice, he’s a hard worker... And it all balances out the negative.

Gold: What was their first kiss with their S/O like?

Awkward. Very, very awkward. But he’s very, very cute so it’s ok

Fukunaga really likes showing physical affection to his s/o, but he’s pretty shy about it. Especially if it’s in public and double-especially if it’s early on in the relationship.

When they’re in private, he does his best to push through his embarassment though. He never really thought it mattered if he was blushing a lot, or if he couldn’t meet their eyes– not as long as he still got to touch them, and not as long as they still reciprocated.

The eye contact thing turned out to be kinda important for a kiss though. He kind of just leaned in and closed his eyes without getting a proper look at where he’s going first. And even though he’d definitely been thinking about it for a while, he also kind of did this on impulse in a “right now Shouhei it’s the perfect time go go go” sort of way, so they probably weren’t expecting it.

So basically, his first kiss is preluded by him headbutting them or clicking their teeth together or something equally disastrous in his mind.

Fukunaga would immediately jump back, somehow blush even more, and stammer out an apology. His mind is a running stream of “oh shit oh shit oh shit”

His s/o probably has to console him a little, lol. Preferably with a smile so he knows they’re not mad at him for messing up their first kiss so bad. He’d even be fine laughing at himself a little as long as his s/o’s laughing with him

He tries again, and it’s probably something sweet and chaste and honestly pretty short. After they part, he follows it up with a shy little smile and asking for another.

He’s giddy for the rest of the day.

#fukunaga shouhei #haikyuu!!#hq!!#fukunaga #shouhei fukunaga #hq imagines

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the-hilda-librarians-wife · 4 years

Text

Halloween Coutdown - Burn

Summary: Hilda’s classmates are beginning to pick up on her witchcraft. She doesn’t care, but the librarian doesn’t like people talking about her apprentice behind her back. Family Fights Halloween themed ficlet

Notes: 4 days until Halloween!! This chapter takes place in the 5 month skip in Family Fights. If you haven’t read the fic and want to, the link is here. If you don’t feel like it, you just need to know that the librarian is training Hilda to be a witch.

(I dedicate this chapter to the awesome @mr-hyde-and-mr-seek, who unknowingly helped me pick the theme for ths fic and who just gives my writing and me more support than I could possibly hope for. Everyday is halloween when I’m with you, fren <3)

Read it on ao3

Spooky song rec: Burn The Witch by Queens of the Stone Age

It had been years since Maven had set foot on Trolberg’s Elementary School. Before her sister had complained about it and asked her to stop doing it, she’d often pick Myra up when her classes were over. The last time she’d been there, it had probably been to walk her home.

Her own memories of the place felt more like a haze. She did remember that she’d attended that school, and that she’d had few friends and so spent her recesses in the library, and she even had some weirdly specific recollections of sneaking out of physical education to write stories in a secluded corner of the dressing room. She wasn’t there for her sister, though, much less for the pleasure of remembering her childhood years. That day, she was there to pick her apprentice up.

Leaning against the grids that surrounded the school, the librarian watched a group of children walk by her, complaining about how unfair it was that they would have classes on Halloween, and she thought about how much easier this was for people for whom All Souls Night was just another holiday. Being a witch, she had much more ease sensing the things that lurked in the shadows at that time of the year, and they were more likely to target her as well. That was exactly the reason why she’d asked Hilda to allow her to accompany her home that day, even though it wouldn’t really be Halloween until midnight.

She was probably exaggerating on her worry, but a young witch with too much power and not enough control over it was the perfect target for all the dark creatures that arose when the veil got thinner. When she’d talked about this to her, Hilda had promised not to leave her house alone on Halloween, especially since there would be no fun in trick or treating alone, anyway. She did, however, reveal that she walked to her house alone after school, and Maven was not completely at ease with that.

When she asked Hilda if she’d allow her to pick her up at school, the girl hadn’t looked like she’d wanted to comply, though she tried to hide it. Even when she accepted, she didn’t act very happy about the prospect. Maven didn’t think it was anything she’d done that had upset Hilda, since they had been talking normally just seconds before, which left her to wonder about Hilda’s behaviour.

Walking side by side with her two closest friends, Maven noticed Hilda leaving her school’s main building when she waved enthusiastically at her, now acting as happy as ever, if a little nervous. After they said their goodbyes, the trio parted ways. The girl returned inside the school, the boy left for the school’s auditorium, and Hilda ran her way.

“Hey, Mave!” She greeted joyfully. “Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon. How are you?”

“I’m fine.” Hilda began walking, taking the lead since she knew the way to her house way better than Maven did. “What about you? Have you done anything interesting today?”

“If by interesting you mean magical, then no, That will only begin tomorrow.”

At the mention of magic, Hilda glanced around, which made Maven lift her eyebrows. She’d never seen Hilda being skittish before, and she didn’t even think the girl had it in her to be.

“Are you sure everything is fine, Hildie? You seem a little bit… off.”

“Me? Oh no, I’m fine!” She assured, clearly lying. Knowing she’d been caught, Hilda was about to come up with an excuse when they heard a gasp. They still hadn’t left the school’s block, and on the other side of the grids there was a playground for the children. Inside it, a boy was pointing at her.

“I knew it! I knew you were a witch! You’re with the witch librarian!”

Hilda sighed wearily, and Maven crossed her arms. Her apprentice had told her about the boy, and how his misadventures with the Great Raven had led him to believe she was a witch, a belief that had only gotten stronger when he heard her chanting a small good luck charm before an exam.

“Trevor.” Hilda groaned. “Can you please just leave me-”

“Little child, you shouldn’t go around saying things like that!” Maven whispered with fake alarm in her voice. Hilda’s face was confused as her mentor kneeled down to the ground to get on the boy’s level. She looked around, as if making sure no one could hear her, and after noticing this Trevor got closer, curious at the prospect of a secret.

“It is dangerous to speak the way you do. Especially at this time of the year! Do you know which day tomorrow is? The real witches might hear you.”

Apprehensively, he took a step back. “T- the real witches?”

“Oh, yes.” Maven widened her eyes, trying to give herself the appearance of a madwoman. “Has nobody ever told you? No, I suppose they wouldn’t tell this to a child. Trolberg was built upon the grounds in which witches were burnt in ancient times. And every year in All Souls’ Night, they come out for anyone who even vaguely reminds them of their persecutors!”

It was clear that Maven had scared the boy. He was fidgeting nervously and stuttered when he spoke. Her apprentice, on the other hand, was watching her with curious eyes.

“They come… come out? To do what?”

Abruptly, Maven grasped the grids and and pulled her body forward, her face only inches from him.

“TO BURN THEM!”

Trevor began screaming and ran away with fright. Barely containing her laughter, the librarian stood up again and took Hilda’s hand.

“Let’s get out of here before he comes back with an adult and I get sued.”

They ran away to the next block playfully, Hilda’s giggles stopping Maven from regretting wasting her time on some ignorant kid. When they had left the school behind, they returned to their normal pace.

“Is that why you were worried?” The librarian asked, noticing Hilda looked much lighter now. Rubbing her neck, Hilda nodded.

“Yeah. I don’t really mind him calling me a witch. He’s a nasty person, really. I just didn’t want him to give you a hard time. I heard him calling you a witch too one day, you know, and his mother will believe anything he says. I was afraid he’d try and cause you some trouble, is all.”

Touched by Hilda’s worry for her, Maven put a hand on her shoulder affectionately.

“Don’t worry, Hildie, I don’t think there’s anything he can do against me. This sort of person already doesn’t go to the library, anyway.”

Hilda chuckled and smiled up at her.

“Yeah, they probably don’t. Was any of what you said true, by the way? About the witches?”

This time it was Maven who chuckled, thinking about the bunch of nonsense she’d come up with.

“No, I was just trying to scare the boy into being a little less unbearable. The city doesn’t really like us, but there were never witch burnings in this area. Plus, we are the real witches.”

Both relieved to know the city hadn’t, in fact, been built upon witch hunt grounds, and emboldened by Maven’s statement, the girl stood up straighter as she walked. They began trading stories about their days, the librarian listening eagerly as her apprentice told her about her classes and her friends. Eventually, though, when they were close to arriving in Hilda’s home, she restarted on their previous topic.

“I’m glad you came with me.” She said. “I’m not too worried about these creatures you mentioned, but… I did always find humans scarier.”

Looking up at her mentor, Hilda was somewhat surprised to find the utter empathy on her face.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Hilda nodded.

“I do too. Unfortunately I came to find there are humans much scarier than any monster that I have seen. There are monsters who resent witches, of course, since technically we’re humans. But to some humans, we fall in the same category as said monsters. At least magical creatures aren’t too selfishly scared of us to try and see past their prejudices.”

“That’s exactly it!” Hilda exclaimed. When she came to think of it, that was the first time in her life someone seemed to understand that part of her. “There are great humans, obviously. It’s just kind of scary to try to find out which type of human each one is.”

“And yet we keep on trying. That’s how brave we are.”

“Yeah!” As she raised her hand to high five Maven, she noticed that she didn’t seem too used to the gesture. Hilda hadn’t been either, since she grew up in the wilderness and learned about it with David and Frida, but it struck her as odd since the librarian had grown up in the city.

Soon they arrived at the building in which Hilda lived, and she opened the door.

“Do you want to come inside? Mum is home, we could have some tea.”

“Not today, but thank you.” She nodded discreetly, a small gesture that showed that she was indeed grateful for the invitation. When Hilda was stepping into the building, she spoke again.

“If anyone else gives you a hard time… please tell me about it. I don’t want you to suffer because of who you are.” Maven didn’t know what she’d do in case Hilda did tell her in the future about another mean kid. Past experience showed that she wasn’t apt to handle bullying of any sort, heaven knew. But the thought of Hilda being picked on, especially because of something that was in a way Maven’s fault, didn’t sit well with her.

“Don’t worry, Maven.” Bringing her hand to her forehead, Hilda made a signal which Maven thought was probably the Sparrow Scouts salutation. Never having been part of the group, she didn’t know for sure. “This witch won’t burn!”

They smiled one last time at each other and said their goodbyes. The girl closed the door behind her, but Maven spent a few seconds staring at the wood. Now that she was alone, she got an uncomfortable, sick feeling on her belly. It seemed that the encounter with the boy had affected her more than she had thought, and much more than it should have.

“No.” She whispered, even though there was no one around to hear her. “I will make sure you won’t.”

#wow I really went and said: im gonna make the librarian as feral as i possibly can #and i did it #you go you chaotic mess of a witch #wife's halloween countdown #fic: family fights #my fic #hilda librarian fanfic #hilda fanfic #hilda (hilda) fanfic

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persephonescat · 5 years

Text

Birds and Other Supernatural Phenomenons

Okay, so the first two chapters turned out to be a little dry, but I have big hopes for the third one, so... hang on there! Yes, I know the first few paragraphs are flat, I tried to make them better, and I failed miserably.

IMPORTANT: This is an AU, so things are a teeny bit different. The Francoise-Dupont is an eight-year grammar school (those are a thing in Europe, or at least in a few countries. The kids start middle school and go to the same school until high school graduation, so its both a middle school and a high school in one. Foreign languages are usually thaught there on a higher level, so that explains Marinette's and her class' language skills.)

That's it so far, most changes will be written down in the story, but keep an eye on the summaries! ;) (Even though no one reads these.)

This is also posted on my AO3 account, under the same name.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21187025/chapters/50674913

Follow #Birds and Other Supernatural Phenomenons if you don’t want to miss any of the new chapters. ;)

Ch. 1 Next Masterpost AO3

________________

Ch. 2: This Was a Bad Idea

Their plane didn't crash.

That was about the only good thing Marinette could think of.

It all started when she and Adrien were forced to sit next to each other during the flight. It wasn't that bad, but things have been a little... tense between them lately. Even though Marinette forgave him a long time ago, she still felt a sense of betrayal every time she had to fight an akuma alone. She knew it was wrong. She had no right to prevent others from being happy. Especially not her friends, but she couldn't help it.

So they sat next to each other, and the first half-hour was spent with Marinette awkwardly staring out of the window and playing with her braid nervously, while Adrien was pretending to read a book, - very poorly, given that he only turned the page five times in thirty minutes. Marinette was counting it.

What a pleasing situation.

Then, of course, Lila got bored of talking about her experience with planes and started throwing around phrases like 'helping defeat the Joker', 'out-riddling the Riddler' and 'knowing who Red Robin is'.

During the past two years, her lies have gotten smaller. Smarter. More innocent. They were no longer fourteen, they didn't believe anything she said, and she realized that. After Lila swore to ruin Marinette's life, Hawkmoth's attacks got stronger and Marinette got... well, older, probably. Wiser. ( Sadder. ) Sometimes she still called her out on her lies, and on a few blissful occasions, her classmates believed her. She wasn't the only one who got wiser, as it turned out. Adrien started to see the wrong in his ways not long after he told Marinette that Lila was harmless and stood up for her almost every time the Italian girl's lies got too toxic to ignore.

There was some kind of quiet compromise between her classmates. They liked Lila, even if she wasn't always "completely honest" - that was the understatement of the year -, and they all had this "proceed with care but do no harm" attitude towards the girl.

So Marinette was pretty surprised when sitting only two seats behind her, Lila once again started feeding them lies so blatant and stupid that they almost managed to make her laugh. It would've been a long and sarcastic laugh, but a laugh nevertheless.

She turned to Adrien who was looking back at her with an expression somewhere between angry and surprised. They stared at each other for a few seconds before they both started grinning uncontrollably.

Then Nino interrupted Lila by showing the group his newest playlist, and the moment was gone.

The awkward silence was threatening to drown them, but Marinette was familiar with drowning and decided she didn't like it.

"What are you pretending to read?" Adrien's ears turned red at the question but being himself, he tried to play it off cool.

" Armada by Ernest Cline."

She raised a brow, clearly amused by that. "Since when are you into sci-fi?"

"Since it was the first thing I could grab from the bookshelf this morning," he told her with a shrug and closed the book moodily.

Marinette grimaced at him and took a small copy of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes out of her bag. Adrien told her to check it out a long time ago, but given her lack of free time, she's only read two stories so far.

She gave it to him without a word.

"Thanks," he said brightly, and actually started reading this time.

Marinette gave him the ghost of a smile, then pulled out her sketchbook hesitantly. She hasn't designed a decent piece of clothing in ages. One would've called it a year-long artist's block, but she preferred "idiocy". It was shorter.

She fell asleep like that, with an empty sketchbook on her lap and a pencil in her hand.

***

Their hotel was near the Gotham Academy, which was near Arkham Asylum, which sucked. Seriously, Gotham? Yeah, let's put the kids next to the murderous psychopaths.

Once they arrived, it was already well past nine PM, so they were sent to their rooms to sleep. They had three rooms for the girls, two with four beds and one with two. Luckily, Marinette managed to occupy the double-room all to herself - Mylene, Chloe, Juleka, and Alix got a room together, and Alya, Rose, Lila, and Sabrina got the other-, so it was pretty easy to sneak out after she realized there was no way for her to stay still after sleeping on the plane.

Being inside past ten o'clock felt weird. She missed the patrols and the light breeze on her face while she swang around Paris, the sensation of falling freely from hundreds of meters, the calm of the environment as she made impossible leaps and jumps in a graceful rhythm.

With no better things to do, she pulled a blanket out of the closet and climbed to the roof.

That night, the sky was more blue than black, and the stars were dull from the city's polluted air. She sat there for who-knows-how-long, wrapped in a blanket, looking upwards, listening to the unfamiliar city beneath. Then she heard quiet footsteps behind her back.

Over the years, she learned the difference between the sounds of someone walking casually and someone trying to muffle their steps, just like she usually knew what kind of shoes they wore, their gender, and approximate height too. These were the steps of a thin man, probably young in leatherette boots, trying to sneak up on her and failing miserably. She let him come close and didn't bother to let him know she was aware of his presence.

"What does a young lady like you do here at this time of the day?" he asked in a charming but threatening voice, and Marinette had to suppress a smile at how badly he did it. She knew she should send him away, or go back to her room before he tries something that gets him ended up on the asphalt beneath them, but she was bored, and he seemed like a very entertaining person.

Instead, she answered just tonelessly enough for it to be challenging, but innocently enough to make him question it.

"Stargazing."

The man - more like a boy - stopped just a step behind her back, unsure how to proceed. Then he let out a resigned sigh and sat down next to her, far enough to not be in stabbing range - smart decision.

"No, seriously, it's past midnight and you're sitting on a roof, eighteen stories from the ground, in Gotham," he said, swinging his legs over the edge of the building and looking at her with genuine concern.

Marinette finally looked at him and recognized him almost immediately. He was wearing a black hoodie and a ski mask, with jeans and dark boots.

"Oh, you're the Dark Nomad, right?" She's read about him on the plane, just like she checked out and memorized every hero and villain in Gotham. There were a few.

The Dark Nomad was one of the small, relatively harmless ones. His mother worked in the Asylum - they didn't know who she was exactly, just that she worked there -, he didn't actually do much except for exiguous vandalism, but it was enough to get him on the " List of Gotham's Villains (updated every week) " published by the city's very own newspaper, the Gotham Gazette .

"The one and only," he saluted awkwardly.

"Then you're pretty good with psychology, right?"

He seemed a little taken back by the question.

"Yes, I mean... I guess."

Marinette turned to him with her whole body, sitting cross-legged, looking like someone who is looking forward to a great conversation. This was so much better than she thought.

"What do you think about the phenomenon where the people with higher-than-average IQ have lower-than-average EQ, but if someone has lower-than-average IQ, they most likely have average or lower-than-average EQ?"

Dark Nomad just stared at her for a moment but then decided to roll with it. It really was a good topic.

"Well, it's interesting because... it's not like you have a maximum of quotient points, and you've to live with what you have. It depends on a lot of things, and we still don't even know what half of those things are."

"Exactly! It could mean you need a high IQ to be able to understand and feel emotions healthily, but it's not always necessary, plus the trope of the genius robot-person is way too overused in media. That's not how smart people think!"

"Yeah, and in some cases, the low EQ could be the consequence of loneliness and isolation from a young age because of the differences in one's and the environment's thinking," Dark Nomad said, gesticulating widely.

"And by the way, EQ is pretty hard to express with numbers. If you give a test to someone, they might know what the appropriate responses to a situation are, but they might never actually... do them in practice."

Dark Nomad nodded.

"Have you read Daniel Goleman's books about emotional intelligence? It's pretty dope."

"Not yet, but I'm planning on it."

"By the way... I'm Jeremy," said the boy, sitting closer to her and reaching out for a handshake.

"Marinette," she told him with a genuine smile, accepting his hand.

________________

Comments and coffee are my life-juice, so please, share your thoughts. I'm sorry for any possible mistakes and feel free to point them out.

Ch. 1 Next Masterpost AO3

#damari #damiette #daminette #maribat #damimari #fanfiction #dcu #mcb #Birds and Other Supernatural Phenomenons #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #marinette dupain-cheng #damian wayne #batman #AU #This Was a Bad Idea

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loveissupernatural · 4 years

Photo

“The Man Behind the Mask”

Pt 6

Peter Parker x reader

Warnings: None

Summary: You’ve recently moved to Queens, New York after your father finds a new job with the U.S. government handling alien affairs in the city. You’ve grown up in a small town, and it’s your junior year of high school; culture shock takes a whole new meaning when you’re saved by the famed new web-slinging Avenger - and when you meet a new group of friends at Midtown High that seem to always be hiding something. But things quickly get personal.

Masterlist / Pt 1 – Pt 2 – Pt 3 – Pt 4 – Pt 5

You gave Peter one hell of a farewell after school that day. The buses were lining up to take students home, and you gave Ned a quick hug before turning to Peter with endless emotion in your eyes. You couldn’t put into words how thankful you were to him for his promise to request Spider-Man’s help, but it wasn’t from lack of trying. The burning questions, the ache of the unknown, could finally end for you and your mother – or, at least, the possibility was there.

You gave him a watery smile before wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your cheek against his unscratched one. His arms welcomed you, and soothed your worry like a balm. For the millionth time that day, you whispered, “Thank you, Peter. So much.”

The faint scent of some sort of cologne (or did he just naturally smell like that?) made you melt against him. Your hand barely brushed the chocolate curls at the base of his neck. He had to know how much this meant to you.

You could’ve sworn his arms tightened when your fingers barely touched the nape of his neck, but you tried not to read too much into it. Your heart was heavy enough already with your father’s situation, so you didn’t need to start looking too deeply into Peter’s feelings about you, in case they weren’t reciprocated. You weren’t sure if you could handle it right now if they weren’t.

“Anything you need,” he whispered back, “let me know, okay?”

Peter Parker was a saint.

You regrettably pulled apart from him, frustrated that you had to end the intimate moment. You pushed down the flurry of butterflies that spread from your stomach to your throat at the way he was looking at you. How could someone be so handsome, yet simultaneously look so puppy-like?

You could’ve sworn you heard Ned mutter something along the lines of “whipped”, but you decided that you’d imagined it.

The sunglasses-donning gorilla dropped you off at your apartment that afternoon instead of at the facility. Your mother insisted that you needed to go sleep in your own bed and escape the stale environment of the prison masquerading as a hospital. She’d looked at your sleep-deprived face that morning and refused to let you argue with her – after all, you had school. You only stopped disagreeing when she promised to text you at least twice a day with updates on your father’s condition.

You wanted with every fiber of your being to be by your father’s side, but you couldn’t ignore the joy of the thought of sleeping on a mattress instead of a much too small, lumpy loveseat. Your back couldn’t take it much longer.

When arriving to your apartment, it felt strangely empty with just you. The sparse furniture and cold grey of the granite countertop reminded you how alone you were. Almost two weeks had passed since you and your family had moved in, but with your mugging scare and your father’s “accident”, not much unpacking was done. You threw your backpack half-hazardly on a living room chair and practically power walked to your bedroom. The memory foam mattress was calling your name.

You pulled out your phone and your thumb hovered over your group text with Peter and Ned. You’d exchanged phone numbers with the two at lunch as soon as it was clear that you all were taking part in a government conspiracy theory. It was obvious to you three at this point that you were lifelong friends.

“I’ll talk to Spider-Man tonight,” Peter had told you quietly after lunch, walking you to your next class. “I’m sure he’ll want to help. He’s dealt with alien-related issues before.”

“Of course he has,” you laughed, joy spreading through your entire body like a sunny day. “Peter, I really appreciate this. I – I realize that this is sensitive information… please let him know that I can be trusted.”

Peter gave you a half-smile, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his jeans. A rogue curl fell to his forehead as he looked at his sneakers. “I think he knows.”

You resisted the urge to hug him again. Your face was still cooling down from the hug at lunch.

You looked up to see that you were at your next class already, and you inwardly cursed. Peter’s presence was like a breath of fresh air, and you hated that you were already parting ways, even if it was only for an hour and a half.

Peter smiled at you, crinkles forming underneath his chocolate eyes. You had an uncanny feeling that he knew exactly how you were feeling.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” he said gently. His voice was like honey.

“Okay,” you nodded, trying to control your urge to smile like an idiot. He nodded and started backing away, maintaining eye contact with you until he had to turn, nearly knocking into someone again. He put his head down in embarrassment at his repeated clumsiness, but you laughed. It was funny how he knew exactly how to make you feel better without even trying.

You bit your lip and clicked on your group text with your friends, sighing. You decided to start the conversation with a gif of Forrest Gump waving “Hi!”. You needed a little humor in your life right about now.

Ned was the first to answer, replying with his own gif of a chubby toddler waving enthusiastically. You giggled. Peter quickly followed with a gif of Jim Carrey’s face covered in tape, waving demurely. You snorted.

So, I’m not at the hospital tonight, you texted. Mom said that I needed to get out of there for a bit. Can’t disagree with her…

That’s good, Peter replied. Hospitals can be the worst.

You wondered about Peter’s experiences with hospitals, but you decided that was a conversation for another day.

What’re you doing for dinner? Peter suddenly asked, and dots appeared by Ned’s name as he was typing.

I don’t know, figured I’d order take out again, you replied. You honestly hadn’t thought about it.

Mom’s insisting on “family dinner”, Ned replied. She won’t let me out of it. Especially since I skipped last week’s to work on our robotics project.

Bummer, Ned, Peter typed. Y/N? Do you want to come over for dinner? Aunt May says that carbs are the best medicine.

Dude, is she making spaghetti? Ned asked almost immediately. He followed with a gif of a sad-looking puppy.

Yeah lol, Peter replied.

DAMN IT! Ned cried.

You pressed your phone to your chest and took deep breaths, your heart racing. Was Peter inviting you over to meet his family? Surely you were reading too much into this. You were a friend in need and Peter was doing what he did best, comforting you.

Sure! I love Italian, you replied with shaky fingers.

Peter replied at the speed of lightening, like he had it typed out already.

7:00, 20 Ingram Street in Forrest Hills, Queens, he sent. You liked the message.

Should I take the subway? You asked. You’d be lying if you said the thought of riding the subway for your first time alone didn’t scare you. Spider-Man was right about you being a magnet for trouble.

Cab, he answered immediately. May says she’ll pay you back for fare.

You insisted that she didn’t need to, that dinner was certainly payment enough. Peter warned you that she would shove money in your hand anyway.

You launched off of your bed, invigorated by the thought of not only not spending dinner alone, but spending it with Peter. You rifled through your closet and instantly hated everything you had to wear. If you were meeting his Aunt, you had to make a good impression, right? You vaguely wondered about the whereabouts of his parents, but decided that was also a conversation for another time. He’d tell you if he wanted to.

You settled on skinny jeans, black booties, and a vintage tee. The last thing you wanted was to seem like you were trying too hard. You made sure that your hair and makeup was done, though – you didn’t want to look like you weren’t trying at all.

You went downstairs and power walked through the lobby, almost out the spinning doors before registering that the man at the front desk asked if you’d like for him to hail you a cab. You nodded shyly.

You read the cab driver Peter’s address from your phone, pleased when he nodded and made a comment that it wasn’t far. You pushed down the joy at the thought of your proximity, and how easy it would be to visit Peter if you wished. But you were getting ahead of yourself.

Your phone dinged with a jokingly sour text from Ned, telling you two to have fun without him, that he’d be miserably stuck listening to his dad’s ramblings about his newest hobby. He insisted that you call an ambulance if you hadn’t heard from him again by midnight, that he’d died of boredom.

In fifteen short minutes, the cab driver stopped in front of a quaint apartment building. You paid him and gave him a decent tip, appreciating the kind conversation he’d made on the way. He was by far the kindest stranger you’d met outside of Midtown High.

Peter texted you an apartment number shortly before you’d arrived. You looked down at your phone, then up the outside staircase. A little exercise never hurt anyone, right?

Wrong, you decided once you’d reached Peter’s floor. You leaned against the stair railing and took a moment to calm yourself and your racing heart. You weren’t sure if it was nerves making your heart thump, or the fact that you’d just climbed four flights of stairs. You decided that it was both.

You checked your reflection using your phone camera one last time, rubbing off a bit of rogue lipstick that had made its way onto your front teeth. You slipped your phone into your purse and approached the numbered door, taking one more deep breath. You could do this.

You raised your fist to knock, but before you could, you heard what sounded like a struggle and heated whispers behind the door.

“Mayyy,” you heard a voice whine, assuming it was Peter’s. He sounded quite put out.

The door flung open to a beautiful middle-aged woman with a full smile. Her brunette hair was tied up in a messy bun that should’ve looked messier, but was just flattering. She wore circular tortoise-shell glasses and loose-fitting patterned pants that you desperately wanted to borrow. She had an effortless beauty about her, and you found yourself wishing that you would age that gracefully.

“Hiii,” she grinned, and her voice was sweet. “You must be the Y/N that I’m hearing so much about.”

You heard a groan and it was at that moment that you noticed Peter a few feet behind her, running his hands over his face and looking completely and thoroughly humiliated.

She seemed to backtrack at his reaction. “Oh – I mean, not that I’ve heard a lot about you. Because then that would mean Peter talks about you all the time and that – that would be weird, right?” She looked back at him as if for approval, but his face was stoic.

You couldn’t fight your amusement at May’s candor, and reached out your hand. “Hi, yeah, that’s me. You’re Aunt May, right?”

“Just call me May,” she smiled, shaking your hand so enthusiastically that her messy bun was flopping. She stepped back and opened the door further to let you in. You liked her already.

The apartment was smaller than yours, but it was warmer and radiated comfort. You much preferred it to the cold, sterile feel of your home. It had echoes of fond memories and laughter. Your nose was greeted by the delectable smell of cooking spaghetti sauce. And to top it all off, there stood Peter, in jeans and a fitted white t-shirt, trying his hardest to smile at you through the embarrassment still etched in his features.

“I love your apartment,” you told May, looking around. You decided to give Peter a moment to regain himself. “It’s so homey.”

“Why, thank you.” She swatted her hand in an ‘it’s nothing’ matter. “It’s not much but it’s treated us well through the years, huh, Pete?”

“Uh, yeah,” he answered lamely, scratching the back of his neck. The movement caught your eye.

May walked by Peter and lightly punched him in the arm, whispering something along the lines of “chill out”; you couldn’t catch the whole thing.

Peter suddenly cleared his throat, as if trying to gather courage. “Thanks for coming, Y/N.” His smile was starting to seem more like the Peter you knew and less totally humiliated.

“Thanks for inviting me,” you quipped, walking toward him and opening your arms for a hug. He gladly accepted, but you kept the hug short since May was watching. The quickness of it didn’t stop the racing of your heart, though.

“So, I heard from a little birdie named Ned that you were making spaghetti?” you asked, turning toward May who was stirring a pot in the kitchen. She looked over her shoulder at you with raised eyebrows.

“That kid can eat more spaghetti than anyone I’ve ever seen, and that’s saying something,” she said with amusement. “Even more than Ben.” She paused, then kept stirring. “Uncle Ben,” she explained, “my late husband.”

You frowned, Peter’s comment about hospitals coming back to you. “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, it’s fine,” May shrugged, setting down the sauce spoon and turning to another pot that was full of noodles. “It was a few years ago.”

You turned to look at Peter, but he was looking at the floor, an expression on his face that broke your heart. The loss was obviously still fresh for him.

“Is – is it homemade?” you ask quickly, eager to change the subject to anything that would erase that expression from Peter’s face.

“Oh, of course!” May answered cheerily, a smirk on her face that implied gossip was coming. “You can’t move to New York and have Italian food that isn’t homemade – I’d be a disgrace.”

“Too bad spaghetti is the only thing she knows how to cook,” Peter fake-whispered conspiratorially, settling beside you with a playful smirk. You laughed with him, happy that he was out of whatever state of mind he’d been in moments before.

“Hey, I heard that,” May deadpanned, turning off the stove burners and shooting Peter a playful look that feigned offense. You laughed again. You enjoyed Peter and his aunt’s dynamic.

Dinner was lovely, peppered with pleasant conversation. You quickly understood why Ned couldn’t keep his hands away from the stuff. As soon as you took your first bite, you were famished. Lunches of Midtown High’s questionable menu and dinners of the hospital’s goop quickly caught up with you.

“Sorry,” you apologized as soon as you realized how quickly you were eating, patting your mouth with a napkin. You were embarrassed by May’s surprised expression. “I haven’t had a homecooked meal in… well, honestly I can’t remember the last time.”

May’s surprise was replaced by a kind and understanding smile. Peter looked like he couldn’t be happier.

“Well, at least someone likes my food,” she muttered playfully at Peter.

“Oh, c’mon,” he laughed, rolling his eyes.

“So,” May announced after a moment, putting down her fork and wiping her mouth. “Peter says that you’ve met Spider-Man.”

Peter suddenly coughed, choking on his mouthful of pasta.

“You okay, Peter?” you asked, placing a concerned hand on his shoulder. He nodded at you with watering eyes.

“Just w-went down the wrong way,” he said hoarsely, then shot a glare at May that you didn’t understand. You hastily removed your hand from his shoulder.

“I mean,” May said, ignoring Peter’s stare, “he told me what happened on your first night here and all. And then that something happened with your dad. You’ve had a rough go of it, huh?”

You sighed and nodded, swallowing your mouthful of food. “It’s definitely been a whirlwind of drama since I got here, I can’t lie,” you tried to laugh. “But I met Ned and Peter, and they’ve honestly kept me from going crazy. I’ve barely been here any time at all and they’ve supported me like they’ve known me their whole lives.”

Peter watched you, his expression soft. You tried to avoid further eye contact with him, fearing a fiery blush would betray you.

“I’ve got a good one here,” May agreed, squeezing Peter’s arm. He looked down at his plate humbly. A curl fell to his forehead. “Ned and Peter have been best friends since they were kids. And they’re definitely the best kids I’ve ever met.”

“I can agree with you there,” you said, and you didn’t avoid Peter’s gaze this time. Despite the incessant butterflies, you tried to express to him through your eyes how thankful you were to him – for dinner, for going to bat for you with Spider-Man, for his friendship, for everything.

The moment was tender, and you were embarrassed that it took May clearing her throat to knock you out of it.

“You’re welcome here anytime, Y/N, I hope that you know that,” she said, and when you met her eyes, they were knowing. You realized in that moment that she had you pegged – she knew how you felt about Peter, which made you wonder if Peter knew. Were you that obvious? You really wished that you had a better poker face.

“Thank you so much,” you told her, truly thankful.

“I’m always here if you want a homecooked meal,” she added.

“Just the spaghetti though, I’m warning you now,” Peter whispered to you.

She swatted at him. “You know what? I’d appreciate it if you stopped dogging my cooking in front of our guest.” She turned back to you. “Seriously, I don’t like the thought of you holed up in that apartment all by yourself with everything that’s going on. It’s, I don’t know –”

“Lonely?” you finished for her. She nodded.

“Having a support system is the most important thing when dealing with tragedy,” she said, placing a soft hand on Peter’s shoulder. She looked at him with emotion in her eyes. “No one knows that better than Peter and I do.” She squeezed his shoulder and blinked a few times before looking back at you. “So you’re welcome here any time. Really, I mean it.”

You couldn’t put into words how much that meant to you. No wonder Peter was such a giving person, living with a parental figure like May. These people had barely known you for any time at all, and they were opening their home and their hearts to you.

You fought back tears, refusing to cry at Peter’s dinner table. “Thank you,” you managed to say.

May reached out and briefly held your hand. She sniffled, then suddenly clapped, light in her eyes.

“Y/N, did Peter ever tell you about that time he gave himself a wedgie trying to climb over a fence?”

Peter went pale.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We really need to work on our Chemistry project, May,” Peter begged, shooing you out of the kitchen with desperation. May was on her fourth embarrassing childhood story of the night, and poor Peter was about to combust with embarrassment.

You looked at him with amused question, because you were thoroughly enjoying May’s stories. “We have a Chemistry project?” you whispered. Peter was the genius – it was perfectly possible that you’d missed the fact that you two had a project to turn in.

He gave you a pointed look and you suddenly understood why he was trying to get you away from May.

Your mouth formed an ‘O’ and you quickly started nodding. “Uh, yeah, yeah, it’s due next week, and we’re already behind. We – we should really get started. Right, Peter?”

He nodded to his aunt enthusiastically, grabbing his backpack from the floor. “We’re gonna go to my room, okay?”

“Oh,” she deflated, obviously disappointed that story time was over. She put a hand on her hip and shooed you toward the hall. “Go, get started!”

Peter sighed in relief and motioned for you to follow him.

“Hey, and keep the door open!” May called after you two, making Peter furiously blush and run a frustrated hand through his messy hair.

“Duh, May!” he called back, voice cracking. He mouthed an “I’m sorry” to you. You giggled quietly at his pink cheeks.

Peter darted every which way, muttering apologies about the mess, grabbing clothes and papers and shoving them under his bed.

“It’s really no big deal, you should see my room,” you insisted. “It’s a total wreck.”

Peter suddenly grabbed something small and vial-like off of his desk and shoved it into his pocket. He turned to you nervously, and it was obvious that it was something you weren’t meant to notice. You looked at his pocket curiously but decided to shrug it off, respecting his privacy.

“So, tell me about this Chemistry project we’re so desperate to get started on,” you smirked, crossing your arms. Peter coughed out a laugh.

“Sue me for wanting to stop that endless torture,” he breathed. He pulled the chair from his desk and motioned for you to sit, always the gentleman. You obliged. Peter sat on the end of his bed, resting his elbows on his knees. You tried not to look at how wonderfully lean his arms were. For a guy that didn’t play any sports and had a prestigious internship with a famous tech giant, he was surprisingly toned.

Your eyes darted to the ground, hoping against hope that he hadn’t noticed your staring.

“So…” he said slowly, wringing his hands. You decided to look at him, forcing down the blush that was threatening to creep up your neck. “I, uh, talked to him.”

You instantly sat up straighter, watching Peter with rapt attention. “Spider-Man?” you asked hopefully. He nodded, running a hand through his distressed curls. “And? What did he say?”

Peter looked at you cautiously. “He – he told me that he doesn’t think talking to you in person would be a good idea. I mean, since they know it was him who broke in, they’ll probably be looking for him, and since they’re already keeping an eye on you—”

You sighed and nodded in understanding. Spider-Man was right, but you couldn’t help but feel the disappointment in your gut at the thought of not having another early morning visit from the hero.

“He doesn’t want to get caught talking to me,” you finished for him.

“Yeah,” Peter sighed, noticing the disappointment in your tone. “But – but he does want to help, and he, uh, said that he can give you information through me.”

Your eyes lit up, hope returning where it had just vanished. “Really? He said that?”

Peter smiled at your obvious glee, happy to be the cause of it. “Yeah. I, you know, told him how important this was to you. I kind of had to convince him, but he came around.” Peter stretched his arms behind his head proudly, and you couldn’t stop your squeal of excitement.

At Peter’s wide eyes, you quickly quieted down, whispering “sorry!”.

“Haha, yeah, you’re understanding it now!” Peter said loudly, turning his head toward the door. “Good job!” It was evident this was for May’s benefit.

“Oh, man, I owe you one, Peter,” you insisted, your hands cupping your cheeks in sheer disbelief. “I – I don’t know how in the world I’ll repay you..”

Peter had the grace to look humble, but you didn’t miss the slight tint of pink around his ears. “Nah, don’t worry about it. You’ve been covering for me in Chemistry, so…”

You resisted the urge to go hug him again. Honestly, this was such great news that you could kiss him, but the last thing you needed was an excuse to do that, because you’d been wanting to anyway since the moment you’d met.

“Did Spider-Man tell you anything about what was in those files?” you asked quietly, noticing how hot your cheeks had become at the thought of thanking Peter in the way that you wanted to. You tried to change the subject.

“Actually…” Peter rose from his bed and came toward you, kneeling a few inches from you. Your heart fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings at his proximity, unsure of what he was doing. You let out a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding when he reached toward a desk drawer, opening it and gingerly pulling out a thick yellow envelope labeled TOP SECRET in thick red font. “He gave this to me.”

“Wow, he gave you that?” You couldn’t hide the awe in your voice. “He must really trust you.”

Peter was still kneeling with the file, staring thoughtfully at the words of warning on the front. At this distance, you could really see the cut on his cheek more clearly, and you were amazed to see how much it had healed since lunch today. In fact, it was almost gone.

Peter looked up at you, and as his gaze always did, it made your heart rate quicken. “Well, you know, Spider-Man trusts Mr. Stark, and Mr. Stark trusts me, so…”

You smiled at the pride shining in Peter’s eyes. It was obvious that Mr. Stark’s trust meant the absolute world to him.

“Well, good,” you affirmed, holding his gaze. “I think he’d be an idiot not to trust you.”

Peter’s ears turned a darker shade of pink, and the fact that you were the cause gave you a deep sense of satisfaction.

Peter suddenly held the envelope up in front of his face, so that you could clearly read the bright print. Whether it was for dramatic effect, or because he wanted to hide his blush, you couldn’t be sure.

“Ready to go through it?” he asked, tone almost playful.

You lowered the file from in front of his face and leaned forward in your chair. Your face had never been this close to his before. You could smell that addictive cologne-like scent again, Peter’s scent; a mix of men’s body wash and the slightest hint of sandalwood. He swallowed loudly, and his tongue darted out to lick his lips. Your eyes followed the action.

It took all the strength you could muster not to kiss him right then. Oh, how badly you wanted to. But not now, not when May could walk in any minute and revoke her “our door is always open” policy. Not to mention, you had no idea how Peter felt about you, and the last thing you wanted was to ruin a friendship with someone as wonderful as him.

You settled for giving him a soft smile, one full of adoration. “Let’s do this, Parker.”

Pt 7

Tags: @rivaea @starksparker @its-nikki-bitch

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, DM me!

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nikatyler · 4 years

Note

22 questions for Roxanne , Magnolia and Lantana 😊

This was harder than I thought it would be...I think I’ll have to make a rule or something. I probably won’t answer for the bpr spares anymore because they have zero personality aside from maybe one significant trait, and I honestly don’t even care about them. They age up, I move them out. That’s the curse of big generations lol, after the mess that was the first part of gen 6 of Roses, I kinda gave up on trying to make every spare interesting.

But still, I really appreciate this ask. You didn’t know that I’d give up on them, in fact I didn’t know that either. ♥ I still tried though. You can tell that I didn’t put much effort as it goes on, but...yeah. I tried :D

Full name: Roxanne Clare

Height: 165 cm

Sexual orientation: I imagine straight-ish would be the best way to describe her. Like she’s very straight but maybe not completely, but she personally wouldn’t call herself bi or pan or poly or omni or anything like that.

Where are they from: Starlight Shores

Occupation: She's a writer

Bad habits: Late night snacks. Everything just tastes better after midnight, ugh!

Insecurities: She doesn't really like her thighs.

What makes them proud of themselves: Her writing skills. And the big research on aliens she did.

How would they describe themselves: "A freak for alien conspiracies who will one day get that 'best selling author' title."

Hobbies: Writing, conspiracies, baking (well, trying to bake) and researching suspicious stuff

Dream vacation: Champs Les Sims

Favourite animal: Parrots! The more colorful the better.

Favourite music: Late 00s/early 10s bops

Guilty pleasure: Reading weird fanfiction at 3am (the things this girl has seen…name a strange ship just for fun, she'll probably give you a recommendation)

Pet peeve: This is probably more than just a pet peeve but she can't stand body shaming of any kind. Just stop. (That goes to you especially, Magnolia. 😒 Yeah, her little sister is kinda the worst.)

Favourite subject at school: Simlish

Anything strange about them: Her love for coffee. She probably wouldn't be able to function without it anymore.

Best friend: Limette and Hestia. You haven't seen them yet, or maybe just in a sneak peek, but they're really close.

Partner: Jupiter

One trait they like in others: Curiosity. The desire to keep exploring.

How would you describe their aesthetic: Oof I'm not sure! Her style is very basic, I'd say. Just some denim and a cute comfortable top.

Random fact: Although he was missing from a huge part of her life, Roxanne feels she's closer to her dad than she is to Gwyneth. They just get along better.

The rest is under the cut, that is, if tumblr doesn’t mess up.

Full name: Magnolia Clare

Height: 170 cm

Sexual orientation: She thinks there are far more important things than labels. Girls are hot tho.

Where are they from: I don't remember exactly, but Maggie and Avery were still born in Starlight Shores, right? 😂

Occupation: None for now, but she wants to be the evil empress of Earth…or something.

Bad habits: Not being careful enough while doing her science experiments. Could it get her killed? Yes. Does she care? No.

Insecurities: She makes it seem like she has none, but inside she is a little worried about not being smart enough.

What makes them proud of themselves: She's the mean high school queen. That's a good enough achievement for her now.

How would they describe themselves: "The future queen."

Hobbies: science, robots, watching sci-fi

Dream vacation: Sunlit Tides. It seems like a good place for a secret evil lair.

Favourite animal: She's always loved mice.

Favourite music: Edgy pop music

Guilty pleasure: Pink anything. She can wear pink and still be an evil empress though, don’t get fooled.

Pet peeve: Fake compliments

Favourite subject at school: Chemistry

Anything strange about them: Her desire to be ~evil~

Best friend: What is a friend?

Partner: A what?

One trait they like in others: She doesn't like others. Only if they bow down to her.

How would you describe their aesthetic: She's very elegant.

Random fact: She doesn't really have a personality aside from "I'm evil and want to take over the world"...but you've probably noticed that so here's one more fact: I had a character named Magnolia before. She was really nice. Not like this Magnolia.

Full name: Lantana Clare

Height: 160 cm

Sexual orientation: Pansexual

Where are they from: I'm fairly sure she was already born in Neverglade but who knows, it might have been Starlight Shores too 🤦‍♀️ I remember nothing about this legacy.

Occupation: No clue. When she aged up, I just moved her out 😅

Bad habits: She yells a lot. She gets angry easily.

Insecurities: She didn't like her nose growing up.

What makes them proud of themselves: Her fashion sense is...not bad.

How would they describe themselves: She wouldn’t

Hobbies: She plays...an instrument. But I don’t remember what it was.

Dream vacation: Egypt is nice

Favourite animal: Butterfly

Favourite music: Basic radio pop, maybe some k-pop too

Guilty pleasure: Some could say her music taste, but I try to not shame people for what they listen to.

Pet peeve: Anything Magnolia does automatically becomes Lantana’s pet peeve haha

Favourite subject at school: Probably art. She’s not as talented as her mum, but she still really enjoys it.

Anything strange about them: Not strange in a bad way, but her heterochromia. She loves that her eyes are two colours.

Best friend: Alvin. They planned revenge on their older sister...never got it, but still. They bonded over their hatred for Magnolia :D

Partner: Doesn’t exist. Literally. But I’m not opposed to sharing her with a mutual.

One trait they like in others: Just don’t be evil, she’s dealt with that already

How would you describe their aesthetic: I wouldn’t

Random fact: Ironically, I just made it clear that I can share little to no facts about her, but I think that if Roxy wasn’t the heir, I’d probably go with Lantana, she’s pretty.

Thanks for the ask and sorry I didn’t put much effort in it! 😅

#ts3 #sims 3 #clare bpr extra #roxanne clare #magnolia clare #lantana clare #cloudberry-sims

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miko-and-companyau · 4 years

Text

We Lie in the Black and White

Miko meeting Hades!

Not gonna lie, this may be my favorite story I’ve written for this AU so far. Get ready for some angst (will I ever stop hurt this child? Who knows!)

Once again, not beta-read (I really need to find a beta-reader for these things...)

...

“Is Euri okay?”

The winter had been hard these past few evenings. The snow piled up and the temperatures and food rations went down. Miko had moved in with the loving couple just a couple months prior and things were for once going okay.

Except not fully.

Orpheus’ fingers froze in mid head pat. He was putting Miko to bed, kneeled down next to the child who was sat upwards in his cot, a worried expression evident on his face. The musician sighed, melancholic smile plastered on his lips, “she will be, Miko. I promise.”

…

She had a system, a nightly routine she had to complete before her brain allowed her to relax and unwind. Miko watched as she made her way to the kitchen, in her hand a green notebook with a slightly bent cover. Opening up the cupboards, cabinets, and drawers, green notebook flipped open to the next blank page, she’d count their stock.

He observed how she stacked cans high in the cabinets. Counting and re-stacking. Re-stacking and counting some more. She held on firmly to jars of pickled vegetables and preserved fruits, a gentleness to her touch. They were fragile, valuable glass filled with, in her mind, multicolored gems. She wiped the pads of her fingertips across the polished, handwritten labels. She read them once, twice, three times before putting them back in their place. She’d frantically scribble down numbers and begin the process again, moving on to the next item in her vision.

Once finished with the kitchen, she’d walk with hasty steps to their living room, that in reality, was more a glorified dining room. She’d pull blankets up from old squeaky chairs, folding them over and over, only pausing in short burst to run her hands over the fabric and ponder. Silent in her thoughts. Miko never knew what she was thinking about in those moments, but he also didn’t want to ask.

He studied the way she rearranged the logs of firewood- rotating them to the left, the right, lying then vertically against the dirty brick fireplace, before letting them crash to the ground in disarray. Kicking them back against the wall and leaving them be. Gazing at the dwindling fire, orange glow illuminating her bronze cheeks, she’d quietly tiptoe over to Miko’s cot. Closing his eyes, he listened as she retucked his blanket over his body up just below his chin, and kissed his temple. Ruffling his hair - Miko always imagined a small, tender smile would be on her lips- she’d softly whisper goodnight. With that and one final kiss, it was back to her and Orphy’s room, finally ready to close her eyes for the night.

Every night was the same thing- count, stack, fold, kick, kiss, goodnight. Miko had it memorized by heart. He wondered if Orphy had known of Euri’s special habit, but he had a strong suspicion he did. Miko knew from quiet whispers that Euri came from a bad background, filled with trouble and grief. He could see it in her eyes, in the way she thought and carried herself- she was like him.

Miko hated seeing her like that. The woman that saved him, fed him, fought for him, loved him- so scared and stressed to the point of paranoia over the impending thought of being without food or warmth. It broke his heart.

He wanted to help her.

He tried once before, asking her in the dead of night with only the sound of the crackling fire and creaking floorboards if there was something he could do. “Need help Euri? I can count to seventeen. And write tally marks.”

“No, no Miko,” she brushed him off with a wave of her hand. “I can handle this. I’m sorry if I woke you.” Miko watched as her eyes glazed over and her smile became more forced and heavy. Caught like a child with their hands in the cookie jar, her nervous compulsion now out in the open. A distant look full of shame and uneasiness battled with her calm exterior. Miko never asked to her face to help again.

But he couldn’t leave her. He had to help, needed to.

So he started small, subtly. He took less and less food at dinner time, walked into the forest while Euri and Orphy were both at work or sleeping and picked up small sticks and broken tree limbs then dragged them back inside their home. He scavenged for food around the town, looking high and low and everywhere in between. Some people took pity on him, thinking he was alone, graciously gifting him spare inklings of fruits, pieces of bread and meal scraps. They were the nice ones. Others chased him off, recognizing him from when he used to steal off their carts. Without fanfare or warning, he’d place his goods on the cupboard shelves and close them tight. And with a smile, he’d quietly listen to the scratch of Euri’s pen each night as she took count each night, the number growing without her knowledge to how.

He was proud of work, he was making his dues. Or so he thought.

In the dead of winter, the temperatures dipped further and further. Noses dripped, tears spilled from bleary, wind slapped eyes and skin dried and cracked in the frigid weather. Dark gray clouds constantly covered the silver dyed sky, the night seemed to creep up earlier and earlier as the days went by. A blizzard was rumored to pay the upside a visit, which sent the town, and especially Eurydice and Orpheus, into a frenzy.

“You think he’s fighting with the misses again?”

“I’m sure he and Lady Persephone are fine. If anything, it’s most likely a small disagreement. It’ll pass in no time.”

They talked in the late hours of the night, not wanting to address their concerns in front of the young child in their possession. Miko listened with keen ears to the hushed whispers of the young couple who sat in the dining table chairs near the fireplace. His body was turned away, playing asleep once more, unable to see their faces. But he could perfectly hear their voices- urgency and fear pooling together with trace amounts of bleeding hope.

“We won’t have enough firewood.”

“Have faith ‘Rydice, my love. We’ve made it through much worse. We’ll get through this storm together.”

“I’m trying, I just,” Miko heard a sigh, body tensing as he waited with bated breath. “I didn’t think I would be counting another person when I started prepping food and fire for the fall and winter. I’m scared we might not make it.”

Miko tuned out the rest of the conversation, barely registering the press of warm chapped lips against his cheek and temple. In the endless hours of silence his brain replayed Euri’s words over and over in his brain, “counting for another person,” “I’m scared we might not make it.” “We won’t have enough.”

Won’t have enough. They won’t have enough. And it was his fault. They would run out of supplies and it would be his fault. They would freeze or starve and it would be all his fault. All his fault.

Hot tears streamed down the boy's scarred cheeks. He pressed his hands firmly against his mouth so no sound spill could out into the air and alert the couple. He breathed and let his tears fall.

Pairs of footsteps, one more gentle and subdued from practice than the other, made their way back into their bedroom. As the door shut, Miko wordless made a vow to whatever god would be listening: He wouldn’t let his family suffer because of him.

There had to be something he was able to do. Time ticked by, the midnight sky turned from a gray-blue to a light, indescribable hue. A stroke of genius struck the boy where he laid.

Mutedly, Miko crawled out from under his sheets, the cold of the floor chilled his toes. He reached for his hoodie and pants, slipping them on as well as a thick pair of socks, and a matching set of wool mittens and a cap Euri and Orphy bought him at the market. He tiptoed across the room, careful to avoid the loudest boards on the ground. He grabbed his pair of sneakers that were next to the front door and pulled them over his feet. They were old and tarnished but for now, they would do. With a measured pull, he opened the door, a burst of chilly air briskly rushing in to whip against his face, and slipped outside.

Instantly, the cold nipped at his skin. Stepping out and making his way down the covered path, Miko exhaled and watched as the puff of air visibly disappeared around him.

As Miko walked down into the forest, he took in the sight around him. The world was covered in white, fat icicles dangled languidly from skinny branches on trees, their weight bending the branches in an unnatural curve. The dull crunch of packed snow crushed under his shoes, the sound ever-pleasing. It was a serene experience, just him and the sound of crunching snow, the distant caw of morning birds and the light shine of the sun behind the clouds, desperate to be seen even just the tiniest bit.

Miko reached the entrance to the forest in a matter of minutes. The snow was beginning to fall from the clouds again. Light and pretty in the morning glow. After a good chunk of time searching for an open clearing, he found an ample area next to a remote cliffside. In no time, being wary of the steep descent next to him, Miko began scrounging around for broken sticks buried under the piles of snow. He picked up a rhythm, brushing away snow with his hands and feet, tossing wet sticks, thick or thin, into a pile behind him. Miko didn’t know how much time had passed, his once meager pile now home to dozens of spare pieces of wood.

The snow was really coming down now, a fat flurry of flakes landing in his hair and on his clothes, accumulating into inches on top of inches on the frozen ground. “Good enough,” Miko said to no one but himself. He started to gather his work into his hands. The wind began to pick up as the snow fell harder and harder, making it nearly impossible to walk or even see. With slow, cautious steps, he slid his feet through the snow. His toes and fingers numb and vibrating.

He attempted to march forward but stumbled backward due to the onslaught of wind and icy snow that bit and howled at his face like a rabid dog. Unable to see, he aimlessly trudged around until he felt his foot slip from under him, the ground uneven and dipping. Losing his balance, Miko fell back and tumbling down the snowy hill.

As he rolled, he felt the endless jabs of sticks and pointed rocks poke and cut his skin, air escaped his lungs. Snow and debris flew around him as he beat against the frozen ground. The sound of pained wails, snapping wood and slapping smacks against snowy hill filled the air, until he finally reached the bottom of the hill, slamming hard right into a tree.

Miko couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Everything hurt- his head throbbed, stomach groaned and legs felt like jelly. His clothes were soaked and torn and one of his shoes had been ripped off from the fall.

He needed to get up...but he just couldn’t.

The snow fell around him, it looked so pretty. Miko’s vision grew white as he stared up to the sky. The sky, the snow, everything was white.

…

Hades didn’t know why he was out there. Well, that was a lie. He knew why he was up top- him wanting to spend more time with his wife. A sweet gesture of love, that quickly morphed into a bitter argument. Her storming off and him riding on the first train to the upside.

It started off so innocently, so how did he end up here?

As he walked through the storm, passing through the forest trees, he stewed in his brain. The cold didn’t bother him, never did. It gave him a distraction from his burning heart and raging head.

He pushed on through the path, stomping down the familiar trail. Then he saw him- a young boy sprawled out, partially covered in a light dusting of snow. His foot, shoeless and sticking out. He wasn’t moving.

Hades examined the scene in front of him- the child lying at the base of the hill, broken sticks tossed about, shoe missing, small puddles of red that stood out against the white. He took note at the trail of body-shaped prints that went down the side of the hill and easily put two and two together.

Hades stepped closer to the body, no bones appeared to be broken or missing. He was most likely dead by this point. Another soul for the ever-expanding underworld. He wouldn’t be much help in Hadestown. Hades frowned the pit in his stomach gnawing at the thought of the tiny child fending for himself alone in the sweltering crowds of the underground.

Suddenly, the boy groaned, startling the god of the dead. “Eu-Euri? Or...phy...” Euri? Orphy… He wasn’t expecting the near-frozen child to be awake and most definitely not coherent. What did he mean by Euri and Or…

No. I couldn’t be.

With a deep sigh, Hades scooped the boy up into his arms, tucking his shivering body under his coat. His skin was as cold as ice, face bruised and forehead covered in semi-dried blood. Hades wiped at the bits of icy blood that dripped down the sides of the child’s face. “Mista Hermes?”

“No child, I’m not. Now quiet.” Hades turned and began his trek back into town, the wind slowing down in his speed.

Miko couldn't focus, everything still hazy. He had felt himself get picked up and knew that someone was carrying him somewhere. He threw a name out into the air, a complete shot in the dark. “Hades?”

The man said nothing. The silence all the confirmation Miko needed. “I...dead?”

“Not yet,” the voice boomed, pushing a stray branch back with his one free hand. It’s quiet between them for another minute until Miko spoke up once more.

“You okay?” Hades stumbled, feet slipping in the snow. Stupid, insolent child, Hades thought to himself. Why was this boy asking him if he was okay? He was the one lying half-dead outside in the middle of a blizzard. As Hades gathered his bearings with a grunt, the boy began to speak again. “Euri and Orphy...scared you, fighting with...Per, sep...penny.”

“Hush child,” Hades softly commanded, “save your strength.”

“‘Kay,” Miko weakly whispered, burrowing closer into the god’s chest and fitted suit. No more words were shared as the continued into the storm, footprints disappearing as quickly as the appeared. The outlines of their figures vanishing into the trees and white.

…

“Where could he have gone?”

“I don’t know! He was here sleeping when we went to bed!”

Orpheus and Eurydice were pacing around the house, searching every square inch of the residence. Miko had vanished and the two were panicking.

“Orpheus, there’s a blizzard going on! What if he’s out there? Lost. And alone,” Eurydice rambled on feverishly, hands frantically pulling at her wild hair. Her thoughts ran wild in wary circles, her doubts creeping in past her guard like an unwelcome house guest. The wind spoke nasty whispers in the dark corners of her mind.

You lost your boy to the storm.

He’s dead and gone.

Nothing’s left for you to do but mourn.

Orpheus could sense his wife’s downward spiral, “stay calm ‘Rydice-”

“I can’t stay calm! Our kid is missing and he may be out in a snowstorm all alone and I just,” Eurydice fell to her knees, not caring about the bruises her heavy fall most definitely caused. “I don’t know what to do.” She was at a loss. They both were.

“I’ve been out in a storm like that before,” she added quietly her eyes glued to the floor, not fully talking to Orpheus. “I never want anyone to left out there like that. Especially not him.”

The air between the two froze over, and it wasn’t because of the storm going on outside. They never talked and Hadestown- the trip down, their time there, the way back, or even the storm that caused it all. Despite it being years ago, it still felt too fresh to touch, pulsing and bruised.

Orpheus joined his wife on the ground, pulling her into a snug hug, her head falling into the crook of his neck. Fresh, salty tears burning his exposed skin. “We’ll find him. I swear we will.”

They sit there close together, tears flowing from their eyes. Both restless but neither moving away.

“I’ll go get Mister Hermes,” Orpheus broke out into the quiet, “he’ll probably know what to do. You can look around the area of the house.”

“No, I’ll go get Hermes,” Eurydice said, pulling back from her husband's embrace. “I’m faster and I can search in some areas he could be at.”

Orpheus nodded, okay with the change of plans. The two got up and hastily put some clothes on. Eurydice rushed out the door in the direction of the bar while Orpheus was still pulling his thick pants over his legs. As he struggled to get his boots on and laced, a harsh knock was heard at the door. It was way too soon to be his wife and Hermes. Miko!

Orpheus forgot about the boots and rushed to the door. He swung the door open, nearly pulling it off his hinges, “Miko!”

Orpheus froze. There at his door, was someone he’d thought he’d never see again while still alive and breathing. The king of the underworld himself, “Mister Hades.”

Orpheus was too busy with his eyes locked to the king's face, that he failed to notice the shoeless foot that protruded from the bottom of his overcoat. “Boy.”

“Wh-why? Why are you,” Orpheus sputtered, unable to form a complete sentence in his shock.

Hades didn’t signify his stuttering with a response, instead choosing to pull back the coat to reveal the shivering child.

“Oh gods, Miko!” Orpheus reached out to nab the boy from the god’s hands. The boy was shaking like a leaf, clothes sopping wet and ripped in some areas, bleeding cuts and bruises lined his face, legs, and arms. And one of his shoes was completely missing. The poet rushed further inside to start a fire, wrapping the child in a spare blanket. As his fingers fiddled with the matchbox, Orpheus tried to figure out what to do next. He needed to find the first aid kit, and then get the boy a change of clothes. Maybe he should draw a warm bath? Or start prepping some soup and tea? Or maybe-

“Boy.” Orpheus jumped, mind still reeling. “Finish starting the fire, then draw a bath to warm his body temperature up. I’ll grab a medicine kit.”

Orpheus nodded, awkwardly picking up in speed as his brain slowly comprehended what was being instructed to him. “R-right. Okay.”

The two didn’t move. Hades grew impatient, “the kit boy. Where is it?”

“O-oh! It’s right below the sink in the bathroom. Just over there,” Orpheus pointed down the unlit hall in the direction of the sole bathroom in the house, finally getting his hands to cooperate and a match to ignite.

Hades walked into the tiny washroom and looked under the sink, dried chips of painted wood peeling off the sides. Just as Orpheus said, there was a white box with a large red cross printed on the cover, the words FIRST AID KIT in big bold letters right underneath. When Hades arrived back into the living room, the fire was burning away in the pit, the temperature in the house already rising.

“I’m gonna draw Miko a bath,” Orpheus scrambled, hands holding a pair of cotton shorts, a ratty tee that was most definitely too large for the shivering child still half-asleep near the fireplace. “Will you clean him up a bit? I left a towel on the table.” Before Hades could respond, Orpheus was already gone, leaving him alone with the medical supplies and the quiet boy. If it weren’t for the small twitches and occasional sniffles and sneezes, Hades would’ve thought he was a statue.

The sound of rushing water from the nearby bathroom snapped the god out of his thoughts. With lackadaisical yet gentle movements, he worked on the child, wiping away smeared streaks of blood and dirt from his face, hands and any other exposed area. Digging in the box, Hades found what he was looking for: a see-through bottle of clear rubbing alcohol. He lightly pressed a cloth dosed in the clear liquid to the tender blistering wounds, causing the boy to jump and wince at the stinging feeling that bubbled in his open cuts.

“Owwie…” Miko squirmed, desperately attempting to inch away from the god and the burning contents of the bottle in his hands.

Hades cocked an eyebrow, an unamused frown dancing on his lips, “you wish for your injuries to become infected?” Miko shrunk into his seat, shaking his head. His eyes glued to the orange embers that popped in the hearth. “Then sit still,” Hades answered sternly, focusing back at his task at hand, “the pain will subside soon.”

The continue on in silence. No words needed to be said. Just the sound of the occasional quiet winces, the popping of the fire burning away and the distant sound of water running into their old, tiny tub. Suddenly, as Hades was finishing up with cleaning up the boy’s cuts, a large crash of the front door being slammed open rang out into the home. The sound of furious footsteps approaching brought Miko and Hades’ eyes over to the direction of the entryway.

They heard her voice before the saw her body, “Orpheus! I told Hermes and he said he’d be right over, he’d just have to shut the bar down first.” The young woman of the house, covered in a dusting of powdery-white snow, rushed into the living area, her face frightened and erratic. She whipped her head around the room. Instead of being greeted by the familiar frame of her husband, she was met with a sight that shocked her eyes: Hades and Miko. The latter, covered in puffy cuts and bruised skin, being treated by the god who was fiddling with a first aid kit.

“Miko…” Eurydice said slowly as if he was merely a mirage that would disappear if she spoke too quickly.

“Euri,” he said softly, eyes and body desperate to be closer to the woman.

She gasped, cupping her hands over her quivering mouth. While relief flooded her bones, there was a tenseness she just couldn’t ease. She’d never thought she’d be this close the god of the dead again. Not ever since the Hadestown experience. Yet, here he was, in her and her family’s home crouched down in her front of her adopted son. “Miko!” She cried rushing over the boy in a frenzy.

“His injuries are mostly treated at this point- nothing too extensive, just cuts and a few bad bruises. Maybe even a concussion, but I highly doubt that.

Eurydice scooped the child up from his seat and held him in her arms. She pulled him close to her chest, twisted her body so her side not holding Miko was facing Hades, trying to keep Miko as far away from the god as possible. “Don’t touch him!”

“Eu-euri?” Miko whispered concerned, voice raspy and coarse as if he’d gargled a bucket of nails. His head laid against the base of her neck, coughing harshly into her chilled skin.

Eurydice gently pats the boy’s back in an unintentional one-two rhythm. She locked eyes with the god standing near the fireplace, “why are you here?” her voice stiff and sharp as steel. Hades paid no mind to the edge in her voice or the suffocating tension plaguing the air, instead, continuing his efforts to pack up the medical supplies back into the first aid bag. Shifting a bottle, pushing back a box of bandages, removing pearl-colored tape and putting it back in. As the seconds ticked by, Eurydice burned hotter and hotter. Her anger and frustration melting in a scalding pool ready to boil over at any time. “Hades-”

“Your Poet is running him a bath,” the god pointed over to the hall where the musician had disappeared down, minutes ago. “Don’t know what’s holding him up so long.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Eurydice huffed, her patience a thin line of wire, itty bitty strands pulling and snapping one by one. “Why are you here, in our home? Why is my child hurt?”

“If you would stop acting like an impudent child and let me explain my reasoning maybe you would get your answer,” Hades growled lowly, eyes and face squinting and scrunching at the young woman’s tone.

“I won’t let you take him,” Eurydice said fiercely. It burned, everything burned- her words, the heat, the ever-growing tension, her uneasy nerves. “I won’t you take Miko down there.”

“Is that what you think is happening?” Hades asked gruffly, his voice rising, echoing off the walls. He stepped closer causing Eurydice to step back. They continue their dance; every inch forward led to another two back. “You think I came here to collect him and ship him out to the mines?”

“Don’t act so surprised, that’s what you do, isn’t it?” Eurydice countered back just as forceful. Her brown irises, fiery hot and staring right into the god’s. “You promise them the things they crave, and since they’re desperate and naive, we fall for it.” Eurydice’s chest rose and fell at an accelerated pace, eyes wild and dazed- a wounded animal looking for a clearing to charge through. She didn’t realize she started to include her in her phrasing.

“I wake up and find my kid gone in the middle of a winter blizzard and come back to see you here and him half dead! So, I’m sorry if I’m jumping to conclusions.”

Just then, Orpheus came stumbling back into the living area, “alright, the bathwater is read...Eurydice?” He pushed forward, barely noticing the heavy tenseness permeating the space. “What’s going on?”

“Why is he in our house?” Eurydice pressed, turning her body fully away from the suited man. Confusion and desperation dripping from every word as she marched closer to her husband's side.

“Boy, tell your girl that she’s got everything wrong,” Hades commanded, passing the medical kit roughly into Orpheus’ hands. He brushed down the crumpled wrinkles in his suit and fixed his tie, standing straight and imposing. He was a God after all.

“Mister Hades found Miko ‘Rydice,” the poet said softly, hazel pools meeting his wife’s blazing brown. He reached out with his one open hand and placed it on Eurydice’s shoulder, the fabric soaked from the wet snow. “He brought him home.”

Eurydice felt as she had been struck in the back by a pipe. Her body feeling hot yet cold all at once. “Is, is that...true?”

“It’s true…” The three adults jumped at the extra voice and glanced down at the child Eurydice tucked to her chest. His teal eyes cloudy, struggling to stay open and alert. “I saw you,” he spoke up again. “In the kitchen every night. And the fireplace, counting wood. You look so sad,” he trailed off. Streams of tears fell from his shimmering sockets, “you and Orphy were scared we’d run out. Sad and scared. My fault..had to find more and then…”

Miko coughed, body jerking from the hacks. He closed his eyes, “I sorry, Euri. I wanna make you happy again. I so sorry.” Miko felt hot drops of water fall on his skin. He peeled open his eyes once more to see Eurydice struggling to hold back her sobs. Her face scrunched, bottom lip bloody red and caught in between her teeth. “Euri?”

“I’m sorry.” Miko was at a loss. “I’m so sorry, Miko. This wasn’t your fault, I-” She wrapped the boy even tighter in her arms as if he would evaporate into thin air if she lessened her grip. She wouldn’t let the tears fall. “I’m so sorry.”

“I found him buried under a coat of falling snow at the bottom of a remote cliff. There were splotches of blood and tree limbs scattered all around, must’ve fallen from the top,” Hades cut in, crossing his arms in unamused disdain. “I thought he was dead.”

Eurydice’s shoulders sagged, from relief, her boy wouldn’t be taken from her. From guilt and sadness that she’d jumped so quickly to a rash and horrid conclusion. Her heart struggled to slow, each labored breathe seemingly getting stuck in her throat. Her brain fought tooth and nail to process everything that was happening, every word being spoken, every action occurring around her. Hades, Miko, he...he brought Miko home? She raised her head to address the god she had just minutes ago called out for attempting to steal her child away, “I, I’m-”

Miko let out a small sneeze, his nose a bright red bulb, beads of sweat beating down his forehead. “Get him to the bath,” Hades nodded at the shivering boy cradled in Eurydice’s arms. “The earlier you try and break that fever, the better.”

“But-”

Hades raised his hand, silencing the woman’s attempt at a rebuttal, “all’s forgiven and forgotten, Songbird.”

Eurydice opened her mouth once more, words like little spiders tingled on her tongue, desperately aching to crawl out. But nothing escaped. So, she silently nodded and walked away, taking a few steps but stopping before disappearing behind the corner into the dark. “I’m sorry, for what I said,” she said softly, genuine. “Thank you, for what you did. And for bringing him home.” Then they were gone, the sound of the bathroom door opening then snapping shut filling the two men’s ears.

Snow fell outside the window, gentle and light. The clouds parting and rays of bright beaming light came down, reflecting off the white snowbanks. “Storms broke,” Hades said out loud, not directly addressing the poet standing a few feet away from him. “I’ll be taking my leave.”

“O-oh, okay,” Orpheus sputtered, setting the first aid kit he was still carrying, down on the old wooden table.

Hades, with perfect strides, marched over to the family’s front door. With a twist and pull, he yanked open the door, a stream of light blaring into the house, climbing the walls and silhouetting both of their bodies. “Boy.”

“Yes, Mister Hades, sir?”

“I better not find any more loved ones of yours out in any more storms. Next time, I won’t be as gracious,” He peered over to Orpheus, face stiff and eyes hard, “do I make myself clear?”

Orpheus lowered his head and nodded, “yes.”

“Okay.” Hades took four steps out the door, boots leaving a perfect trail of prints in the ground. He paused, back still facing the young man’s, “soup with lots of garlic.”

Orpheus raised his head, tilting it slightly, “what?”

“It’ll help with the cold.” Without any further explanation, he took off into the wave of white, all that’s left of his being is his trail of prints.

…

“Well brother, you’re looking good. Redecorate the office area since I’ve last been here?”

“What can I help you with, Hermes?” the god of the underworld sighed, not looking up from his stacks of unfinished paperwork.

The office space was wide and virtually empty of any personal, sentimental items. Dark, embellished curtains were drawn over the titanic window in the middle of the left wall, the view of what was left of the expansive mines and factory tucked away. Every object on his matching bookshelves and paper on his desk was neatly stacked and pristinely placed. The ‘redecorating’ Hermes mentioned was the replacement of the portrait that hung above the desk. The painted portrait of Hades, that once loomed over the office with a hefty, intense stare, had been switched. The King was no longer alone. A new painting, Hades and Persephone, side by side with no space in between, hung in its place instead. The green of her dress and the colorful flowers weaved into her hair added a nice hint of light to the room.

Hermes chuckled and closed the office door. “No time for small talk, I see.”

“I have important business to attend to.”

Hermes shrugged, “I’ll only be here a moment. Just have an important message to deliver you, then I’ll be on my way.”

Hades put down his pen and raised an eyebrow, “what is it?”

“From someone on the upside who made me promise to give this to you as soon as possible.” In his midst, Hermes held an envelope. He passed it over to Hades waiting hand- it was off-white in color and partially crinkled in some areas. There was no evident address or stamp to be found, no clue for the god to piece together the mysterious sender. Hades squinted but the messenger god just winked and headed to the door. “Well, I’ll be taking my leave. Got business myself I need to take care of back up top.” With a flash, he was gone leaving Hades to his lonesome.

With a careful slide of his letter opener, he tore into the envelope’s flesh and pull out its sole contents: a folded piece of paper.

Pulling back each fold, Hades glanced down at the paper- a drawing. More specifically, a drawing of him, holding the Poet and Songbird’s boy in his arms. The backdrop of falling snow surrounded them. At the bottom of the paper in what could graciously be called handwriting or less nicely chicken scratch was a short message: Thank U Mista Hades! Miko! punctuated with a small red heart. Some letters backward and barely legible.

It was a crude thing, obviously done by a child’s hand. Scribbles outside of lines, unrealistic color choices and proportions, he was smiling in it for gods sake!

“Mr. Hades, sir,” a hesitant soul wandered into his office, poking their head through the minuscule crack. “Your wife is calling for you.”

“Give me one moment, I must attend to something important first.”

The worker nodded and backed out the door, shutting it as they went. Hades turned back to the drawing that laid stagnant on his desk. He pulled open a drawer and scrounge around searching for a certain item. There! He pulled out a roll of tape and ripped off a long piece. Then two. Done.

He stepped back from his handy work and silently marveled. There, on the wall, a messy picture of the God of the underworld holding a small child in the falling snow, a cheeky grin painted on his face. Hades’ mouth morphed into an uncharacteristic smile, tiny but still present. He spun on his heels and walked out the door, turning the lights off as he went. The faces of him, his wife and the small child he’d slowly come to appreciate, watching over him as he shut the door.

...

#hadestown #miko and company #miko and company au #orphydice

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