#you should express that in the movie and not waste an extra hour doing stupid nonsense when you couldve

[robrae-is-forever]

Trigon: Is the main villain of the movie

Robin and Raven: Get the most development together as a couple in an indisputably romantic notion during the Trigon arc in the 03 series

Robin and Raven: Don’t interact for most of the movie

Me:

[secondhand-trash]

Banana Split

Kinktober 2020 — food play

A/N: yes I’m aware that the title and the banner pic doesn’t match I just think it looks cute alright?? and that cream tho oooo

Pairing: Miya Osamu x reader

Description: After having to stay behind for extra hours on your birthday damped your mood, Osamu decided to step in with the sweetness in life to make your day better.

Warning: food play, body worshipping, oral (giving)

Word count: 3318

-

It all started when you stumbled across Not Another Teen movie on your Netflix recommendations while lounging around with your boyfriend one night.

You had heard vaguely about it and mostly seen screenshots of that one scene with the whipped cream still floating around the internet even though it was almost two decades since the movie came out, but you had never thought of actually watching it until now. It was harmless fun, and you two were just trying to find something to serve as background noises while you cuddle anyways. You had your head on Osamu’s shoulder, fiddling with his fingers mindlessly as your mind shifted away from the movie.

Then one and only scene that you could quote from the movie came up, and you perked up temporarily from the comfortable position on Osamu’s chest to see what the hype was about. You snorted when you saw the actor walking out with whipped cream very hintingly located on the body, “God, that is stupid.”

You shifted around, leaning on his arms as you laid down, your attention on the screen weakening now that the one thing that piqued your interest was done and over with. What you didn’t saw was Osamu’s eyes lighting up at the scene, sitting just a little bit straighter as he started scheming in his mind.

His schemes were usually... questionable but for now, you were in blissful ignorance as to what was starting to brew up in his running head.

-

The movie itself was not life changing by any means and you quickly pushed it to the back of your head. You hadn’t thought of the whipped cream scene ever since you absentmindedly laughed about it that one night and it didn’t come up in any of your conversations either. 

Until the night of your birthday came around the corner.

You had tried so hard to arrange a day off but it seemed like the hr department was not in your favour. Not only did you not get a vacation, but you were also told that everyone in your department was to stay behind until all work was cleared. Needless to say, this had severely dampened your mood. 

You kept whining to Osamu throughout the day, lashing your exhaustion out into your texts. Being the one to stand right in front of all the customers, he could not check his phone often and the number of unread messages he saw when he finally got the time to take a breather had him shook. He stared at the walls of emojis and incomprehensible noises converted into words that were on his screen, his phone still buzzing from time to time as he was scrolling down nowhere near the bottom of the chain of texts.

He had had other plans on what to do that day until everything was blown off because you were stuck at the office, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do something to make it end on a bang. He thought long and hard, watching as new messages pop up in the chat every now and then, each one with your frustration dripping off of every word.

There was something he had been tempted to do and the idea slowly resurfaced in his head as he tried to think of something worth doing. He had put it off, thinking that it would probably be too strange to do out of the blue but wouldn’t that make today the perfect time to bring it out? 

He typed out a short message to break off the large block of texts from you, making sure to put a cheeky wink at the end for the sake of atmosphere, before opening his notes app to put canned whip cream into his shopping list for later.

-

Hang in there bbg, I have a surprise for you when you come back;)

The ominous message he sent you before dropping offline completely was what got you through the rest of your day. You had your guesses on what it would be that he was acting all mysterious but nothing came up in your head.

Osamu was full of surprises, you realised that going along with it couldn’t be wrong a long time ago.

You twisted the doorknob to open a small crack at the door only to see that it was complete darkness inside. Anticipation rose in your chest as you pondered what he could possibly be doing inside. Carefully opening the door wider, you reached your hand inside, kicking your shoes off as you fumbled to find the switch at the side of the frame.

You had made many wild guesses but it turned out that none were as wild as what his “surprise” actually was.

You should have seen this coming. How did you not think of this? 

Standing in front of you was Osamu standing right at the hallway, his arms crossed under his chest as a teasing smirk danced on his features. His muscles flexed as he took a step closer to you, his smile widening at your dumbfounded expression. He was very much so naked except for the three pints of whipped cream that were skillfully covering his nipples and groins, the ambiguous shape of the slight tent just enough for you to know that he was definitely bare beneath the white clouds.

“Surprised?” he tilted his head, slowly unfolding his arms and letting them drop to his side. His stomach tightened as he spoke and it took all the self control in your to not stare at the peaks of cream right at the center of his chest.

You gulped, avoiding his eyes that were searching for your skittering gaze.

It took you all your strength to hold back the snort that was stuck at the back of your throat and threatening to let slip at any second.

It was... well, you couldn’t deny that he looked really good, and you would argue that seeing someone else did it on screen had an impact nowhere near the one it gave when you saw it right up close in person by your own man whose physiques were definitely on par to any actor. His hair was a bit messy, a few strands of his hair falling aimlessly on his face and behind were the strong arch of his eyebrows that were quirking up in amusement. The cream did little to cover him up, the swell of his strong chest and the defined dents that trailed along his stomach being out for your eyes to drink in. The sharp v at his hips pointed right down to the pile of cream between his thighs and you were sure that it only took a thin layer for it to look so packed.

You let out a shaky breath, the corner of your lips curling up uncontrollably at his antics.

He was a bit of a dummy whenever anything edible was involved, but you signed up for this, didn’t you? 

Dropping your bag on the floor, you carefully pulled him closer by the arm for a soft peck on his lips. He smiled into the kiss, careful to maintain some distance so the cream wouldn’t stain your clothes.

“Happy birthday,” he winked and you chuckled between kisses, “have fun with your surprise...”

“Oh, I will.”

Your grin spread wider on your face when you trailed your finger down his chest, pushing the bit of cream around and flicking his hardened nipple in the process before bringing it up to your lips. His breath hitched at the stimulation but more so at how you graphically swirled your tongue around your white-coated digit, your eyes now bearing into his as you tormented him.

You were going to have fun with him, alright?

It was rare for him to be the one that had to stand still while you did whatever you want on him and you intended to make the most out of it. Holding onto the side of his waist, you bent down until you were face to face with the stiffened peaks at his chest. You pressed your tongue flat at the center of his breast, licking a long strip up and watch as his chest rose while he tried to control his breaths. 

Sweetness expanded in your mouth when you swiped your tongue over the tip of the dollop of cream, going slow and light on him on purpose as you denied him the feeling of being touched. The slightest bit of saltiness lingered within the sugary taste from his skin. His throat bobbed up and down as you planted kitten licks all over his chest, not shying away from putting on a show to rail him up as you let the white cream melted on the tip of your tongue before slipping it back into your mouth. His skin was looking shiny from the grease, accentuating the twitching muscles underneath as the bits of half-warmed cream slid off his abdomen.

“Don’t move,” you said, your lips ghosting over the other side that was still covered in cream as the pad of your finger hovered over his nipple, rubbing against it softly as you looked up at him with a mischievous smile.

“I’m not moving...” his voice came out as a shaky whine, feeling chills running down his spine at the cold air fanning across his bare skin now that the cream was starting to be lapped up and your breath against his chest with each huff.

“Mhm," you hummed, your fingers tapping at the side of his forearm as you lowered your lips down. You dived in right away this time, your tongue swirling around it and licking up the sweet mixture with a loud slurp. Osamu bit his lips, finding it hard to keep it in when your finger traced the mounds of his abs.

“What an eye candy,” you mused, smacking your lips as you savoured the cream in your mouth. He was a complete mess, his eyes fluttering to shut tight as he looked like he was about to draw blood from his lips with how hard he was biting down. A lovely flush dusted across his cheeks and his stomach clenched with each brush of your digits on his now sensitive skin.

He shuddered at the butterfly kisses you planted along his stomach. “This body is wasted being behind the counter all the time,” you paid attention to each bump and swell of his body, your tongue darting out to swipe against each spot your lips just touched. The sequence of actions repeated until you reached to where his waist started narrowing down into a deliciously contoured v, mumbling praises against his warm skin along the way.

If he was going to be at your service for the day, the least you could do was to worship your present properly.

“Pretty boy...” you left trails of wetness on his skin, reflecting under the light and forming an erotic picture as his muscles flexed with each inhale from his trembling lips.

Having a hard-on while being covered in whipped cream was not a pleasant feeling at all, Osamu made a mental note of that at the back of his head. 

A whimper let slipped from his clenched jaw when you turned your attention to his crotch. His breath hitched at the light chuckle from you as you slowly but firmly started lapping up the cream right under his v line. You knew exactly what you were doing, your hands wandering from his waist to the small of his back before finding leverage on his ass. He let out a slight yelp when you palmed him from behind, feeling the curve under your hands as you gently kneaded his cheeks.

You were dangerously close to where he had been itching ever since your endeavors started but as if you were aware of how much he was struggling to hold himself back, you took an agonisingly slow pace while you cleaned up the area on his pelvis where the cream was blotched around.

The pile of cream did nothing to hide his shape, if anything it definitely made the print all the more obvious. His erection being covered in cream and poking up for attention should have been an amusing sight, but you were far too occupied by how much you wanted to get him in your mouth to even process how comedic this must appear to be. 

He finally snapped when you got on your knees completely and licked a long stripe up the very base of his cock, a loud groan slipping out of his lips as a vibration that hit you right in the core.

“Easy on the eyes and taste sweet too,” you teased, your tongue swiping from the corner of your lips to the other side as you stared at him through your eyelashes, “what a steal...”

You tilted your head, contemplating how you were supposed to take him in without making an utter mess. He looked down at you with a look of pleading, his jaw clenched tightly as his hands curled into fists by his side. You could see the muscles of his thighs flexing, his feet that were planted on the ground looking like he was trying very hard to not shift from side to side as he got antsier and antsier by the second.

Ah, fuck it.

You gripped onto his sides to balance yourself still as you took him in your mouth bit by bit, the cream getting onto your cheeks and leaving a greasy feeling on your skin as your lips couldn’t quite accommodate all of it. Pulling back, you couldn’t care less about the mess it would leave behind as you whipped off the cream around your mouth with the back of your hand before diving back in. Osamu’s head fell back at the feeling of your warm mouth around his cock, your tongue pressed flat on the underside of his shaft and cleaning him up from the stickiness that lingered on his skin. 

His palms hurt from how his nails were digging into the center, the pleasures brought by your touch numbing the back of his neck like jolts of electricity. He wanted to grip your hair and make you go faster badly but this was about you, and he did say that you could have as much fun as you pleased.

You felt your jaw going slack as you bobbed your head, following his cheeks at the feeling of him filling and warming up in your mouth. You held onto the base of his cock, fisting where your lips could not reach as the other went to fondle his balls. The moan he let out when you cupped him was pornographic and heat rushed to your core at the lewd noise, making you pressed your thighs together and egging you to pick up your pace just to see him fall apart. 

His skin felt slippery with the cream that was left and the stickiness transferred to your fingers when you held onto his hips before sinking down all the way, leaving prints of white on his skin with the cream that was on your hands. The soreness in your throat when you gagged around him gave you a high that was unmatched by any sugar rush, the saltiness of the pre leaking from his cock mixing now apparent on your tongue as the sweetness slowly faded away, creating a whole new flavour in your mouth.

“You taste so good, Samu,” your lips ghosted over his tip as you spoke, drool that was pooling up in your mouth from the gag reflex threatening to leak down your chin when you licked his tip much like the way you lapped up the cream on his body earlier. “better than any dessert I can get.”

He did not dare to look down at you, knowing that he would not be able to hold himself back if he saw the look in your eyes when you said that to him with a tone as sweet and pouty as that. A soft whimper trembled off his lips when you wrapped your lips around him again, sucking him off as the sloppy sounds of muffled groans and slurping filled his senses. 

You must be looking so pretty right now, he knew you were.

Curiosity got the better of him and with a brief flick of his gaze down at the flutter of his lids, the wire in his brain snapped and left the dull ache between his legs burning through his system. There was cream all over your chin, the milky substance of the melted drops meeting the trail of drool at the side of your jaw. Your lips were puckered out, coated by the white that reminded him of something much less sweet as they wrapped around his girth. His toes curled at the sight of his cock disappearing deeper into your mouth before you pulled back to gasp your air, jerking him off with a few frantic flicks of your wrist before taking him in again,

But when you looked up at him, your eyes glassy and pupils blown out in lust, he came crashing down.

“Fuck-” his hissed, his muscles clenching as he pulled himself back from snapping his hips forward. You moaned around him when you tasted his cum, the warmth pouring down your throat as you tried to gulp down while he pulsed against your tongue. Your fingers were digging into his thighs, each flex and twitch of his muscles obvious under your touch. You gave a light tap at the side in approval as he grunted, a choked moan ripped from the back of his throat as he thrown his head back.

He was still heaving when you released your lips from his length with a pop, feeling a bit light headed at the sight of the drops of his load that you couldn’t swallow down now rolling down your jaw and you collected it on your fingertips before licking them clean. You were grinning from ear to ear as you stood up, still calming your breaths down but very much so enjoying yourself as you swiped your tongue over your bottom lip with your boyfriend looking on in awe.

You nearly lost your footing when he held your face in both hands and pulled you in for a forceful kiss, his lips smacking against yours messily as he prodded his tongue through at the gap of you gasping in shock. He could taste himself in your mouth, the sugar and sweet scent of milk lingering between your teeth as he greedily savoured it with each opened mouth kiss that you gladly returned.

You did not bother to hide the fact that you were very much so hot and bothered as you pulled back, your hands wandering all over his strong arms as you eyed his naked body up and down. You gave him one more peck on the lips, chuckling when he lingered on you.

“Go wash the grease off,” you purred and you could see his throat bobbed at the tone you used, his hands that were now on your shoulders tightening, “we’re continuing this in bed.”

Letting out a full body laugh when he dashed away, you shook your head as you calmed your laughter down, your gaze still fixed at the direction that he disappeared at. 

To think that you thought your day was ruined just before that, you smiled to yourself as you made way to the bedroom, pulling your shirt off over your head and throwing it into the laundry basket before flopping onto your shared bed while the distant sounds of shower running tickled your eardrums.

If this was the type of celebration you could get then maybe you wouldn’t even need a birthday cake from now on.

[lovelyirony]

"a single thread of gold/tied me to you" for ironhusbands?💛

If there is one thing that James Rhodes cannot stand, it is “love at first sight.” In his professional and personal opinion, there is no such thing. It is simply a concept that Disney invented so they could make cutesy stories about princesses finding their princes immediately and give people hope about love, but in the end it is all about the money. 

“You’re a cynic,” his sister Jeanie tells him over breakfast. She flings a stray Cheerio at him. “You are a cynic and you’re never gonna date someone because they’re going to think you suck.” 

“People are going to date me and realize that I’m a good, realistic choice,” James responds, sticking his tongue out and stealing a drink of her orange juice. “People are going to date you and you’ll be disappointed because you watched too many romantic movies and you let it taint reality.” 

“Loser.” 

“Dork.” 

And then he’s in college. 

Surprisingly, he doesn’t meet Tony Stark for two years despite the fact that every single year, they live in the same building on different floors. He has had to evacuate about twenty different times because Tony cannot stop himself from doing experiments in his room. 

The third year, James is an RA and required to live with one of the residents because of “experimental tendencies.” They don’t elaborate on why he’s stuck with a roommate, what the tendencies are, or who he is. 

“You’ll know,” comes the email from the coordinator, and he has never wanted to curse so badly in an email before, but here he is. 

But he’ll deal with it. Just like how he’s going to deal with everything this year. 

-

He thought he would get the room to himself for a little while before everyone moved in and brought everything and he would check them in. 

But no. 

There’s his roommate, lounging on a bed, and grinning. 

“Simply enlightening to meet you, James. They told me I could come back if I had a trusted roommate.” 

“And they stuck you with me?” 

“Well they were going to stick me with some dude who got the email, and then immediately transferred to Dartmouth. So I think you were the second option.” 

“Great.” 

He hates life, maybe just a little bit. 

Tony wants to do things. Which is fine, but he isn’t really in the mood to have the conversation of the fact that he can do things, but he doesn’t want to do them. He has to focus on being an RA and preparing for the Air Force. 

“Why prepare for that when you could be living?” Tony asks, lounging on Rhodey’s bed. 

Oh yeah, that’s new too. Rhodey. Apparently, “Jim,” “James,” and “Rhodes” were unacceptable nicknames. 

What is acceptable is Rhodey. And of course, the “honey bunches of oats” and “loveliest RA of all time in the history of MIT” and “sugar-puff” and “sweetness overload” 

He’s responding to all of them, by the way. 

Rhodey didn’t think his mental health would get this bad by the beginning. He had actually scheduled it to be around October. 

- 

And then the students come. There are nervous freshmen, the sophomores who don’t say anything as they move in and get settled, and the returning juniors and seniors greet Rhodey and Tony with familiarity and laugh about the posters that Rhodey’s worked hard on. 

“So, we’re having joint-RA’s or something?” Miles asks, throwing his comforter over his bed. 

“No, we’re not,” Rhodey says, hoping his expression is somewhere along the lines of not-showing-emotion. “Tony’s just...” 

“I’m simply too exhausting for Housing to deal with anymore, so I have a babysitter,” Tony says with a wink. “And who better than our lovely Rhodey?” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Sugar-puff?” 

“Still no.” 

Miles snorts. 

“This year should be good. Tony, you gonna pull any fire alarms this year?” 

“Rhodey has expressly banned experiments in the building, unfortunately,” Tony sighs. “It’s like he doesn’t want everyone to bond over having to leave at two in the morning...” 

“Nothing says bonding like hating a rude wake-up call,” Rhodey says, and Tony nods. “We’ll let you get all moved in, Miles. Remember that floor dinner is at six!” 

“You got it!” 

Rhodey gives Tony a look. 

“You know, I can do this on my own.” 

“Aw shutterbug, I’m not gonna let you.” 

“Are you really this intent on following me around?” 

“Well, what if I want to overtake your position next year? What if you tragically get a raging headache and it’s up to me to know what to do? What if your mother kidnaps you and never lets you come here again?” 

“I’m sure the college kids will be fine,” Rhodey stresses. “And I’ll still have access to email and the groupchat, genius.” 

Tony just laughs. 

“Alright, okay. I gotta go get some shit for my new class. The teacher sent out an email stating that the textbook is mandatory, and we have to do book work. This feels like eighth grade all over again.” 

Rhodey snorts. 

“Is it for Professor Casper?” 

“Yeah, did you have him?” 

“Yeah, you don’t need the book. You can find it online for free, and he never collects the book work. It’s a waste of time to get the book.” 

“You’re an angel-and-a-half, love of my life,” Tony says. “And for that, I’ll snag an extra pudding for you at the dining hall.” 

“Is it vanilla or chocolate this time?” 

“Chocolate with cookies in it.” 

“Oh my god, seriously? Already?” 

“Guess they must have had a jump,” Tony teases. “I’ll see you at dinner.” 

- 

Tony has a specific way of getting people to open up and actually talk with others that Rhodey envies. 

If Tony wasn’t so hellbent on convincing the group that if Miles and Kamala create a distraction, they could totally sneak out one of the pictures of the mascot. 

“We are not doing that the first week,” Rhodey says. “Maybe the last.” 

“It’s a beaver,” Tony whines. “Who’s gonna miss it, a Canadian?” 

“It’ll be the floor bonding activity,” Gwen says, finishing off her fifth (maybe sixth) slice of pizza. “Better than talking about your feelings about the campus or whatever.” 

“No.” 

“We’ll convince him soon,” Tony whispers conspiratorially. “Also, who here is a freshman? I have some advice regarding the math classes and which teacher you want...” 

- 

Rhodey does have to admit, that sometimes it’s easier to have Tony around, who is so willing to stay up until the late hours because of some stupid drama or to help Peter at his chemistry homework and also ease his anxiety about leaving his Aunt May all alone. 

Tony isn’t all wild and crazy as stories have led him up to be. 

"I wore out all my crazy freshman year after going to two frat parties and deciding that no one knew anything about how to have fun,” he declared. “I mean, come on. Why have beer pong when you could quiz people about obscure fashion facts?” 

Rhodey snorts. 

“Don’t make that the next game night. Hey, what do you think about having a movie night this Friday? I’m thinking something not scary, we’ve been doing a lot of those.” 

“It is October, what do you mean not scary?” 

“Some of our residents don’t like scary,” Rhodey reminds him. “Honestly, I think we could do with a bit of Halloween fun.” 

“Hocus Pocus? Double Double, Toil and Trouble? If you want to be slightly scared of old women and clown parties, I’d recommend it.” 

“You weren’t scared of clowns beforehand?” 

“Of course not, I wanted what they have; the ability to fit eighteen people in a car.” 

“Couldn’t you just gut the car?” 

“Not the same effect, honey-pie. Not the same effect.” 

Miles and Peter both end up lobbying for Hocus Pocus, with little to no competition other than a promise that the other choice would be shown later on in the semester. 

They’ve shoved all the chairs together and multiple people have brought out their own chairs, and Tony saves a seat for Rhodey under the premise of “Rhodey organized it, he gets a seat.” 

It’s a tough squeeze, and Tony and Rhodey get all tangled up together. 

Tony smells like expensive cologne and coffee, and he grins up at Rhodey and maybe the lights from the TV aren’t bright enough, but for a moment his heart skips a beat. 

Well. Shit. 

When he goes home for Thanksgiving break, Tony seems a bit...sad. 

“What, your mom cook the worst turkey in the world?” he jokes. 

"Sure,” Tony says, eyes unfocused. “Yeah.” 

"Dude, you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Tony says, turning. His smile brightens, eyes crinkling. “Why wouldn’t I be fine, buttercup?” 

Rhodey gives him a look. 

“I’m gonna call you when I get home, okay? You better answer.” 

“I always answer to you,” Tony says, and damn Rhodey’s mind shouldn’t be going where it is. 

Rhodey waves, gets in his car, and thinks about how Tony most likely has a problem on his mind, how he should probably not room with him, and his Aunt Ada’s green beans. 

God, he loves those green beans. 

- 

Tony is alone for Thanksgiving. Jarvis and Ana got an opportunity to visit Aunt Peggy in England, and he knew that they hadn’t seen her in two years. He didn’t want to be selfish, have them stay just for him. 

So, it looked like deli turkey sandwiches were in his future. If there’s still some soda in the fridge, maybe that too. 

He sighs, and turns towards the lab. Dum-E’s not even here, as he didn’t fit in the travel car, so Tony let him loose on the floor to “keep guard” over the dorms and make sure that no one broke in or stole the cords that he knows he accidentally left in the common room. 

The odd thing is, he had almost told Rhodey. Almost let him know that he’d be alone for Thanksgiving, but is that weird? That’s weird, right? To tell people your emotions just...it’s so messy. 

They have to deal with it, you have to deal with the fact that they’re dealing with it, and then other people know that you both are dealing with it and it’s just a whole mess of epic proportions, you know? 

-

Rhodey finds out on Thanksgiving, when they’re doing the parade on the TV and there’s a new snippet on the gossip channel when they go on commercial break. 

Howard and Maria Stark, vacationing off the Mediterranean Coast. 

“It’s reported that Tony Stark has preferred to spend his time in the vacation home,” the news reporter said, her smile wide and placid. 

“Tony’s lucky,” Mama says, wrapping golden yarn around her fingers as she works on another sweater. (A small one, a tiny one. It’s for the new baby in the family for Christmas.) “He tell you about it?” 

“He’s not there,” Rhodey says numbly. 

“He’s not?” Dad says, eyes raised over the newspaper. 

“No.” 

“He didn’t tell you, did he?” Dad asks. 

“No, no he didn’t.” 

“Well then. Next time he’ll come with us.” 

Rhodey nods. 

“Christmas?” 

“Clear it with his parents if they’re not spending time together.” 

“Got it.” 

- 

Rhodey’s Thanksgiving is...nice. He can’t stop thinking about Tony going alone. 

So he calls him. It’s two in the morning, he might be asleep, and Rhodey’s not sure if he got the “eight” in the last four digits right or not. 

“Howard’s out, who is it?” comes a sleep-addled voice. 

“Good thing I’m not looking for Howard, Tones.” 

“Rhodey? Why are you calling me?” Tony asks, and Rhodey can imagine his eyes lighting up and that’s...that’s something. 

“You spent Thanksgiving alone, I wanted to see how you were.” 

“Aw, checking in your residents?” 

“Checking in on you.” 

Tony stills for a moment at the phone. 

Besides Jarvis, no one had ever really checked in on him. 

“Um, I’m fine?” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah. I mean, it sucks to be alone on Thanksgiving, but I don’t really like any of the foods that people usually have, so I’ve been fine. I ordered wraps from my favorite place.” 

“Good to hear, good to hear.” 

There’s a silent pause for a moment, the one where they both try to find something to say. 

“Listen,” Rhodey says. “If you’re ever stuck for a holiday alone, you’re coming with me, okay?” 

“I don’t want to intrude on your family,” Tony says softly. 

“They all wanna meet you. Jeanie says she can kick your ass at ice hockey!” 

“You guys can actually play ice hockey?” 

“With limited degrees of success.” 

“Oh, now that I gotta see some time.”

- 

They come back to college, and Tony is back to his usual antics, greeting everyone who comes through the elevator with a shower of shredded paper. 

“Welcome to Winter Wonderland! Next stop: suffering through finals!” 

“Ugh,” Kamala groans, “stop it. Stop making me think. I have to memorize Byronic poetry. Do you know how boring that is?” 

"Speak for yourself, I have to build a wooden chair,” Riri whines. “Who works with wood these days? It’s so old-fashioned.” 

“Create the most bitching chair alive,” Tony says. “And I’ll help you with the necessary tools. Your professor isn’t expecting much, mainly just that it can support the weight of two people, you’ll be fine. Kam, Byronic poetry is not that bad, you will be good. We will bake cookies.” 

“Can we even bake cookies? I thought our floor got banned from kitchen usage,” Peter says. “Hey Rhodey.” 

“Hey kiddo,” Rhodey says. “First of all, yes we are banned from the kitchen. Second, we’re only banned and get in trouble so long as they know we’re there. And since more than half of us are nocturnal creatures and I am willing to wake up to help, we can bake cookies.” 

There are cheers around the room, and Tony mocks offense. 

“You don’t trust me to help the future youth?” 

“Given that we’re not allowed to rent out any more equipment from the front office? Yes.” 

“You wound me, darling.” 

“Only as much as kitchen equipment goes, sweetheart.” 

Tony grins. 

“Aw, you missed me.” 

“Yeah, I did. Now come on, you gotta help me with a billboard about the movie night this Friday. We thinking a romantic comedy or something mildly terrifying but probably won an award?” 

“Mildly terrifying!” Gwen calls from her dorm. “If we watch two people falling in love I’ll choke! We’ve been doing it all year!” 

“We’ve only watched, like, three rom-coms?” 

Gwen rolls her eyes, as if he’s missed something completely obvious. 

“You don’t get it. I’ll try again later. Hey, are we doing floor dinner tonight?” 

“They’re serving pizza sandwiches, so obviously,” Tony says. “We will feast like kings.” 

- 

Christmas is a festive time for Tony. He loves it, and goes overboard with decorations. Rhodey lets him, because you can’t stop Tony once he loves something (and Rhodey is kind of. Fond of him). 

Pepper comes up from the fifth floor, whistling. 

“Damn, Jim. I knew you would do a good job with decorations, but not this good. Is this...did you buy a miniature village? How was this budgeted?” 

“It wasn’t,” Rhodey says. “Tony’s really into Christmas and the floor convinced him that the theme should be Christmas Village. He’s been crafting identities for each villager instead of studying for any exam. The craft store employees know him by name now.” 

“Well, we all have our vices. You two seem to get along well. Housing is pleased that he hasn’t blown up anything yet.” 

“If they try to serve cheese ravioli again, he might.” 

“That’s a problem for Dining,” Pepper reminds him.  

“Still, it’s abominable. Where did they get them, bottom of the Hudson River?” 

She snorts, adjusting her shirt. 

“Probably, but hey. They still got eaten, even if that one freshman threw them all back up at the entrance.” 

“It was payback, they were vile.” 

Tony waltzes into the lobby, arms filled with glittering tinsel. 

“We are not letting you hang that,” Pepper says, gaping at it all. “Do you know how hard it is to get rid of tinsel?”

“We’ll manage!” Tony says. “Also, are you free at six-thirty?” 

“No, that’s when we’re getting dinner on my floor, what do you need?” 

“Just that little tidbit of knowledge,” Tony says, looking down at his phone. 

A message buzzes from the groupchat, and Rhodey glances at it: 

We are a go for the real Christmas tree. I have the vacuum, and a believable lie. Rhodey’s gonna tell us when the RA on duty is gonna come so we can hide it. 

Rhodey looks at Tony, grinning. He smiles right back. 

“Is there some weird roommate telekinesis I’m missing here?” Pepper asks. 

“Yes,” Rhodey says. “We’re discussing dinner plans.” 

Another text from Harley: 

I’m already picking one out with Peter. I have good taste. When is the ornament-making party? 

Pepper looks at them. 

“You’re planning something that I probably would have to disapprove of. I’ll tell people I got your floor watched tonight.” 

“Pepper, light of my life, my absolute sunshine? You’re the best,” Tony says, grinning. “Rhodey-darling, help me with tinsel?” 

He can’t say no. Simple as that. 

That is how tinsel gets strung throughout his hair as he’s watching Tony climb onto chairs that shouldn’t be climbed on to hang it from everywhere. 

“People deserve to have a good-looking Christmas,” he says. “Besides, I wanna win the decoration contest.” 

Rhodey laughs. 

“Okay, okay. I think we got it in the bag.” 

Later on in the week, Tony can be seen flitting about from room to room with help and jokes to lighten the mood. 

Rhodey has to admit, being an RA with Tony around is...nice. Better than he thought. 

And maybe he has feelings. He’s not going to say anything about it. After all, they’re roommates. He also isn’t allowed to have a relationship with anyone on the floor, regardless of anything. 

It doesn’t mean every RA follows it. God knows Sharon’s snuck down to the fourth floor to see Sam near-about every night, and her residents usually keep it a pretty good secret. 

Still. There’s also everything else to consider, and the fact that he doesn’t even know if Tony likes him like that. 

He doesn’t have to focus on it. 

- 

At least, not until the week of finals when he’s dying and Tony’s made him peppermint hot chocolate and sits on his bed, just about an inch away from his notes for his history class. 

“Do you remember what you told me on the phone?” Tony asks softly. 

“You up to compete against Jeanie for this year’s ice hockey championship?” Rhodey asks, smiling. 

Tension releases from Tony’s shoulders. 

“Only so long as you’ll have me.” 

“Always, genius. Always.” 

- 

After the last resident leaves for the holiday and Rhodey checks in with those who are staying, he and Tony hit the road, dragging suitcases behind them. 

“Are you sure I’m allowed?” Tony asks. “I can always find a hotel along the way...” 

“Mama wants to meet you, I keep telling them a ton about you,” Rhodey says, laughing. “They told me they want to hear your side of the great Glitter Debacle.” 

Tony laughs. 

“You mean the truth?” 

“Uh, I’m sorry, how are you going to convince them that green glitter was needed? And that you could clean it out of carpet?” 

“Determination and grit?” 

Rhodey laughs again as they pull onto the highway. 

- 

After a couple of hours, they make it to Rhodey’s home. His sister comes out, hugs for both. 

“Good to meet you Tony,” Jeanie says. “I’ve heard a lot, and I think we’re going to get along awesomely after I tell you every single embarrassing thing that Jim’s ever done.” 

“Only if I get to share stories too,” Tony teases, grinning. “Aw, they call you Jim?” 

“What do you call him?” Jeanie asks. 

“Jim-Jam, angel-dear, sugar-puff, Rhodey. You know, the usual.” 

Jeanie snorts, taking one of Rhodey’s bags. 

“Calling you the first one from now on.” 

“Tony did you have to let her hear any of those?” Rhodey asks, exasperated in a teasing manner. 

“Of course I did,” Tony sing-songed. “Now after you, I’m sure your mom is waiting to hug the living daylights out of you.” 

- 

It’s not until Rhodey gets all settled in and Tony is downstairs competing with his dad in a round of chess that Jeanie sits on his bed, the intention to annoy. 

But it’s...different. She looks at him. 

“You love him a lot, don’t you?” 

Rhodey stills. 

“You wouldn’t have told him he could come here if you didn’t.” 

“You’re right.” 

“I’m always right,” Jeanie says, flipping braids over her shoulder. “Nice of you to finally realize that I’m the smart one.” 

Rhodey doesn’t say anything as she saunters out of the room. 

He makes the decision not to tell Tony. 

If it goes wrong and if Tony says no, he doesn’t want it to be an awkward family event but more importantly, the most awkward rest of the year ever. He can say it as they’re moving out, and that’s that. 

He tells Jeanie as such. 

“I thought you didn’t believe in love,” she says as they’re preparing the soup for dinner.” 

“I don’t believe in love at first sight,” Rhodey says. “I do believe in love. There’s a difference.” 

There’s a hell of a difference. 

First sight, you don’t know everything. The second, third, fourth, fifth, and so on? Oh you learn so much more, and they become that more important. 

He learns that he doesn’t mind picking up tinsel, so long as Tony is laughing and singing along to all of the worst Christmas songs ever, and maybe. Just maybe he could picture looking at Tony underneath the fairy-lights that they hung in the dorm room for all time. 

Love is terrifyingly exhilarating, even when it isn’t supposed to be. 

Rhodey did not think his heart would race so much as Tony listened to his Mama talk about her wedding china, about the utter disaster that his father was. 

“He forgot his tie,” Mama said, smiling. “Oh my lord, my mother had a cow about that. I thought he looked kind of dashing.” 

Tony’s eyes drift towards the wedding pictures, which are slightly shaky, but everyone had such wide smiles. 

It’s a far cry from the publicity photos from the Stark wedding, Rhodey remembers the solemn expressions, the stuff tuxedos. 

“I love it,” Tony says softly. He looks at Rhodey across the table, setting down the final plate. “Tell me more, Mrs. Rhodes.” 

“Call me Mama, honey, Mrs. Rhodes is for people I don’t like that much. I think you’re gonna be my new favorite.” 

“Even over me?” Jeanie says, grinning as she kisses Dad on the cheek. “I’m your favorite.” 

“You’re my favorite until now,” Mama says. “Don’t think I don’t know that you skipped out on setting the table because Tony was here and graciously offered.” 

“It was nothing,” Tony says. “Just happy to help. Thank you for letting me stay at your home for the holidays.” 

“We’re always lucky to have guests,” Dad says, setting down the main dish. “Now let’s eat.” 

Family dinner is a brand new concept to Tony. He’s had maybe four or five of them, and the majority of which were staged for some holiday shoot or some “celebrating American values” shoot. 

It was awkward, weird, and he didn’t get why. 

Now, he does. Jeanie has been steadily moving mashed potatoes away from Rhodey’s plate, and Mama caught her eye and winked, distracting him with talk about his college major and news about the neighbors. 

Mr. Rhodes watches it all with a careful eye and a lax smile. 

After dinner, they play cards. 

It should be boring, but Jeanie puts on an old record and Rhodey keeps trying to count cards, and Tony didn’t think you could count cards in a game of Spoons. 

“You can’t, he’s just a try-hard,” Jeanie stage-whispers. 

“You-” 

Jeanie laughs, rolling herself out of Rhodey’s grasp as he chases her around the family room. Tony leans back into the couch, and shouts with surprise as Jeanie trips Rhodey into the couch. 

His body twists, and Rhodey’s facing him on the couch and they’re close and with the fire roaring in the fireplace and the Christmas lights outside shining through the windows, it’s almost magic. 

It is magic, but Rhodey is kind of terrified of that. 

Tony breathes in, breathes out. 

“Hello sugar-puff,” he says. 

“Hello genius,” Rhodey says, a smile on his face. 

Oh. 

The night does not get much sleep. 

Tony doesn’t sleep anyway, but Rhodey finds that quite often he can’t sleep without some softly-playing rock in the background, doesn’t matter if it is a highly-questionable AC/DC song. That and Tony softly murmuring about his plans, and it’s like a personalized lullaby. 

Rhodey cannot sleep. Tony’s in the guest room, and he can’t sleep. 

There’s a soft knock on his door. 

Tony’s there in shorts and a t-shirt that’s probably expensive, but he’ll never say if it is or not. 

“Can I...I can’t sleep.” 

“Get in here, Tones. I can’t sleep either.” 

The bed is a tight squeeze, but they make it work. 

Rhodey whispers until he drifts off to sleep about Christmas and school and everything else. 

Tony watches with quiet eyes, interjecting with his own stories occasionally. 

They fall asleep tangled up together, and Rhodey doesn’t mind it one bit, not as he pulls Tony in closer. 

-

Waking up is bittersweet, honestly. Rhodey has Tony in his arms, and that’s...that’s perfect. He thinks this is going to be the best thing that’s ever happened in his lifetime. 

“It’s too early, darling,” Tony groans. The light from outside is already peeking through the blinds, and he has stuffed his head right back into a pillow. 

“Jeanie’ll be here soon to bother us for Christmas breakfast,” Rhodey says. “And unless you want her pouncing on the bed and landing on wrong everything, we better get down there.” 

Tony smiles sleepily, stretching. 

“Thanks for letting me sleep in your room, honey-bunch.” 

“No problem,” Rhodey said. “Missed the constant AC/DC and late-night discussions about robotics.” 

“Not like I did much talking, Mr. Sap,” Tony teased. “Or was it me who mentioned that they had a favorite plate for dinner?” 

“Listen, it’s superior and you did not once interrupt that story to complain. I think I did a great job explaining it.” 

Tony laughs. 

“I’m gonna go get dressed, okay?” 

“Not until after present unwrapping,” Rhodey says. “We stay in pajamas.” 

“I’m cold,” Tony whines. 

Rhodey chucks his sweatshirt at him. 

“Then here you go.” 

Tony’s eyes light up as he shrugs it on, wiggling as he brings it up to his nose. It shouldn’t be that cute. But it is. 

“You are the light of my life.” 

Rhodey laughs, rolling his eyes. 

“Maybe. Now come on.” 

They head downstairs together, and they both get swept up into the speed of things, with Jeanie racing around the house and telling Tony that he got treats too, they just didn’t have a back-up stocking. 

“Hush,” Mr. Rhodes says, handing Tony a carefully wrapped gift. “After breakfast, we’ll go ahead and open it.” 

He smiles, and Rhodey thinks it’s the best thing he’ll ever see. 

- 

Christmas gifts, Rhodey thinks, are his new favorite thing to see Tony interact with. 

It’s painfully obvious that he’s never really had any personal gifts, anything that reminds people of himself. He carefully unwraps the paper, careful not to rip it. 

“You nerd,” Rhodey says, grinning. “Come on, show us what you got.” 

Tony laughs as he opens a box with two coffee mugs from the rest of the family, emblazoned with “Rhodes” on one cup, and the other being a simple red with gold trim. 

“They’re perfect,” he says. “Thank you so much.” 

“You’re feeding his coffee addiction,” Rhodey answers. 

“Like you aren’t doing the same,” Jeanie teases. “You made him his cups of coffee this morning.” 

“That is because I have trained him well,” Tony says, grinning. “Rhodey, here’s my present to you, open it.” 

He’s nervous. 

Both of them are, but Tony especially so. 

He told Rhodey once that he’s not good at shopping for other people. He tends to have the phrase “go big or go home” permanently circling in his mind, and it can lead to...complications. 

(Rhodey remembers the overhaul of his closet for his birthday, complete with a visit from a rather well-known designer.) 

Inside is a beautiful jacket. It’s all patchwork, artfully sewn together with embroidery thread spelling out “James” at the lapel. 

“I commissioned Janet,” Tony says, smiling softly. “She wants you to still walk in her fashion show, by the way. Says you’re a model.” 

Rhodey snorts, shrugging on the jacket. 

“You helped with this, right?” Rhodey says. “I can see it in the gold thread you got on the sleeves.” 

“I may have had some creative input.” 

“I love it,” Rhodey says. “Now here’s mine.” 

Tony breathes, and Rhodey wonders if this gift will be enough. He feels a bit stupid, it doesn’t seem like that great of a gift, in retrospect- 

It’s a puzzle. 

A puzzle of their favorite cafe and restaurant to go to at MIT. It was in a shop window, and Rhodey could tell that Tony would love it. 

On top is a scarf, since Tony gave away his last one to another student in their philosophy class. 

“I love it,” Tony breathes, tackling Rhodey in a hug. “I love it, I love it! We have to do the puzzle after this.” 

Mrs. Rhodes sends her husband a look. 

Yeah, Tony would be around for a long time. 

- 

They set up the puzzle on the floor of Rhodey’s room, clearing away any luggage. It’s silent for a while, Tony moving around the pieces and Rhodey looking for edge pieces. 

They work closely together, side by side. 

Rhodey can’t stop staring. 

He should be able to. He’s stopped himself before, but now? 

Sunlight is coming in through the window, playing around Tony’s fingers as he nimbly picks up puzzle pieces, and this is the eternity that Rhodey wants so badly. If he died right now, he thinks he would choose for Heaven to look like this. 

“You okay?” Tony asks, eyes looking up. He took his contacts out, and now he’s just in his tortoiseshell glasses, the ones that he secretly likes more and Rhodey loves. 

“I’m in love with you,” Rhodey blurts out, because he can’t stop thinking about how beautiful Tony is and how much he loves him. 

He realizes that this could very well be considered a mistake. Because they still have to live together and drive back together and it won’t be the same, and the residents will notice no matter how well they both act--

Tony pops his head right under Rhodey’s chin. 

“Kiss me?” 

That’s all it takes. 

They mess up part of the puzzle, but that’s okay. They find they don’t mind it too much. They can work on it later, when Tony’s done getting Rhodey out of his new jacket and Rhodey works his hands underneath Tony’s sweatshirt. 

-

Mama takes one look at them for dinner and grins. 

“Jeanie, you owe me a night of dish-washing.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Mama!” Rhodey hisses, embarrassed beyond belief. 

Tony just cackles, and elbows Rhodey out of the way so he can get to his chair at the table. 

“Couldn’t have fooled you for a second, could we?” Tony teases. 

“Not at all,” Mama states proudly. 

Rhodey rolls his eyes and squeezes Tony’s hand under the table. All will be well. 

- 

When they both get back to college, none of their residents are surprised, at least not until they have to have a “knocking before entering” policy put in place after one particular late morning. 

[herstarburststories]

Important Milestones (Damian Wayne x reader)

✾ Summary: An intimate look through your and Damian's relationship. Requested! It’s been a hot bit since I wrote for Damian, so I hope this one is good!

↼❈⇁

First meeting

Dick was taking Damian to the circus

Add a long conversation and lots of "Yeah, Dami. I'm sure the animals are treated well-- Actually, animals aren't allowed in legal circus anymore. You don't have to worry."

They were watching the show, and Damian couldn’t believe that Grayson was so excited about clowns

Damian excused himself to get some food

Dick asked him to get a hotdog, but Damian will bring him popcorn #beaveg

Thing is, you and Damian arrived the food trunk at the same time

Which leaded to an argument

Y/N: I got here first!

Damian: You are not on the line!

Y/N: Because you almost ran over me!

You two kept going long enough for a worried Dick to show up

How to trust each other

You know when you've never seen a person before, but once you lay your eyes on them, you start seeing their face in every crowd?

That's basically you and Damian

How come you didn't know the idiot from the circus was also the Wayne guy that studied with you?

How he, with Talia and Batman's observation skills, never noticed you walking around Gotham's School and now he always caught a sight of you?

You and Damian quickly fall into a weird routine:

Glare each other during lunch

Rolls your eyes when the others was talking in class

Annoy each other whenever you had the chance

Jon teased him a lot

Talking about Superboy...

He seemed off in the morning and he hadn't showed up for lunch like he always did

Damian decided to look for his best friend

Surprisingly, he found Jon crying in your arms in the middle of the chemistry laboratory

You just looked at Damian and nodded for him to come in

Y/N: His parents had a big fight. I found him here alone and thought I could help. Since you are here, guess I'll go.

Damian: You can stay. I mean, Jon probably could use your emotional assistance.

Damian still finds you annoying (and so do you), but you helped his friend

He trust you... A bit

Recognize your feelings

Damian came to school one day. He is clearly hurt-- he couldn’t even walk straight

Jon remained quiet. He was there when the week's villain throw Damian against a wall as if he was a bag of potatoes

But you don't know about the Robin detail

Besides, you are sort of a trinity with them now

Therefore, you worry

And you ask

And you worry some more

It's been a few weeks since your friendship started. Damian trusts you, he really does, but not enough to tell you

Let's keep in mind that pretty much like Bruce, Damian isn't the best when it comes to expressing his feelings through anything but violence

So, he acts like an idiot

Y/N: Damian, come on. I'm not stupid enough to believe you’d fall hard enough to get yourself hurt like this. Talk to me.

Damian: Stop pushing your need to fix everything on me, Y/N. You are not my mother. Don't waste your worry on me, I don't need it.

You realized you liked him when you felt way more worried than you usually would

But Damian just noticed his cherish for you when you glared at him with evident hurt in your eyes and left the table

He just wanted you back, making silly jokes with Jon and stealing his fries

Kiss me, idiot

Two days

48 hours + 12 minutes since you two fought

A whole weekend

LISTEN, his life was going perfectly well before you came along

Now it seems like you opened a spot that's exactly your fit and put yourself there

Whenever you aren't around, Damian feels this weird sensation of missing

Jon convinces him into talking to you

As soon as he sees you in school, he does

Apologize becomes another argument (surprise, surprise)

Damian: Why do you care so much?!

Y/N: Because I like you, idiot!

Damian: You, you like me? As in--

Then you kiss him

Because, let's be clear, you'd end up kissing or punching him

Finding out he's Robin

It's the most stupid way possible

Like, for real

Last night, his Robin's duties kept Damian up until 5am

Instead of leaving his clothes inside the Batcave as usual, he just crumbled to his bed

The sun arrived and so did you

School project

While Damian was out to grab some books, you were studying his room

A picture of him and Jon. Some papers with Arabian words. A dog's bed. Robin suit. A sword

Wait, come back

A. Robin. Suit.

Damian Wayne was many things, but cosplayer certainly wasn't on the list

The pieces glued together fast

A rich family would make sense: Batman and Robin's instruments never looked cheap. Four Robins existed among the years, and Damian had 3 brothers. Not to mention that he'd show up with random scratches and never explain what happened. He was good with swords, and the current Robin had been seen with them a lot of times. Besides, Damian Wayne would never wear a costume willingly, much less keep one in his room

He walks inside the room to see you wearing his cape and mask

Y/N: Guess I'm robin' your persona, huh? Wanna tell me something?

Meeting the family

You come from a big family

Good thing because anybody else would be scared if they were in your shoes

MESS, MESS, MESS

Dick is smiling like a crazy all the time, and making dad jokes

Tim is teasing Damian by asking you to blink twice if you need saving

Jason is directly fighting Damian and calling him devil spawn

Bruce is quietly watching everyone with a subtle smile on his lips. He asks you a few questions, and occasionally asks the boys to behave before answering his phone and excusing himself

Babs, Steph and Cassandra come in later

Now the teasing is divided between you and Damian and Steph and Tim

You tease them a lot, blushing Tim is adorable

You are wearing purple boots, and Steph already loves you for that

Dick tells Babara about you being aware of the family secret

She offered to train you for some self-defense

YOU ACCEPTED, DUH. SHE IS THE BATGIRL!!

Cass is more quiet, but very friendly

Alfred was the first batfam member that you'd met, though (also your fav)

You try (key word being try) to help him in the kitchen

Batcow became your best friend, sorry Jon

You met the Titan family as well

Now you had munition to tease Dick as much as he teased you and Damian

Thank you, Kory

Also, Kor is a real life alien princess, how cool is that!?

Beast Boy is the funniest guy -- and now you are pretty sure you became a vegetarian because you can't eat animals after seeing his transformation

Raven reminds you of Cass

Donna is so powerful, and she knows so many languages!

You get along with his two families

Although Damian rolls his eyes a lot during y'all interaction, he is really happy

First kid

You and Damian are in university when it happens

You both know it's a big step

There's no turning back, you two will always be connected

Damian and you are now responsible, parents

Of the cutest bunny!

Yep, you insisted on naming him Robin

The first kid you both adopted together

Get on your knees for me

Damian isn't much of a romantic

You don't really mind

But when he proposes, it's the sweetest thing

You two had ordered some veggie food to celebrate the end of your finals

Finally a break!

Damian was holding you on the couch as you both watched one of your favorite movies when Robin, the bunny showed up

Y/N: Batbunny, just because we have vegan food, it doesn't mean you can get some. Go eat your lettuce.

Damian: Beloved, maybe you should see what he brought for you.

The bunny had a necklace wrapped around him!!

And the said necklace was attached to a ring!!

A FUCKING DIAMOND!?

Extra of love:

You became a vigilant for a bit before deciding how you truly wanted to help people

Besides charity, you became a lawyer specialized in cases of racism and immigration

Your and Damian's wedding was a mix of your culture and his

Comment/Reblog if you liked it, feedback is magic! Wanna see more? Check my Masterlist! How about get tagged on my batboys or just Damian works? Ask me or add yourself to my taglist!

[ambivalentmarvel]

he he for celebratory Reasons (and also because i love The Boys) i decided @sreppub deserved some fluffy, mit-era ironhusbands, so here we are!! enjoy and interact with ali’s content for good health

not quite (puppy love)

The night Tony figures out he’s in love with Rhodey, he’s sixteen, Rhodey’s nineteen, and they’re at the movie theater.

They don’t have any special reason for going, but Tony doesn’t need one with Rhodey. It’s a Friday night, and for the moment, they’re both tired of picking a frat house to party at—their haunt of choice still hasn’t replaced the appliance they stole the last time the two of them got bored there, anyway—so they decide to go to a late-night showing, one of the not-as-recent movies the theater puts on just because, Tony guesses.

A New Hope isn’t that great, even if Tony is a little into the dude who plays Luke and can enjoy looking at him for a few hours, but Rhodey likes the story and the effects.

Tony’s thought about telling him that some of the backgrounds they use are realistic paintings—the director told him as much at some stupid event his dad made him go to—but he likes to let him speculate, sometimes, because Rhodey’s tangents about the things he’s interested in are rare but passionate when they get going.

Tony could listen to Rhodey talk, could watch his eyes glitter and hands gesture in circles like he always does when he gets carried away, for hours, and really, that should’ve clued him in long beforehand.

But it didn’t.

(As Rhodey would say, Tony’s both the smartest person he knows and dumb as a box of rocks. For his part, Tony appreciates the honesty.)

So they have a few beers each at their apartment—just enough to get tipsy, to make the room a little warm, to make their conversations about nothing and everything stretch long, like taffy, into the frosty night—and Tony says they should do something.

Rhodey shakes his head. “Kappa Sigma hasn’t gotten a new—”

“Toaster, I know, but it’s the weekend, and finals week is coming up, and then you’ll be stressed, and I’ll be stressed because you’re stressed, and neither of us will really feel like going out.” Tony takes a swig of his beer. He swindled the twelve-pack out of a douche from his microeconomics class trying to suck up to him, and it’s a Coors—not Tony’s favorite, but it gets the job done. “I don’t want to sit around all night and waste our time before then.”

Rhodey raises a brow consideringly. “Fair.” His eyes slide to Tony, on the other side of the couch from him so that Rhodey can use his lap as a footrest. “What were you thinking?”

And while Tony has ideas, like breaking into the zoo (hence the nickname platypus) or seeing how many packets of candy they can shoplift from the corner store with the sleazy owner (hence the nickname sour patch) again, Rhodey shoots those down, unfortunately.

“I can’t study as well when I’m worried about a court date,” he declines with a sigh of disappointment because, whether Rhodey will readily admit it or not, the shit Tony thinks of, while illegal, is fun.

In the end, Tony can’t come up with anything else, so Rhodey chooses. Ergo, the movies.

They’re both still a little buzzed, and the extra-buttery popcorn—Tony’s request, though Rhodey says the sogginess is gross—they share leaves kernels between their teeth that they pick out shamelessly, alone in the theater and not in the habit of being embarrassed besides.

It’s not the first movie they’ve gone to together, certainly isn’t the last, and it’s not even the best time they’ve had at the theater. However, as they sit, Tony drifting off here and there as he puts the armrest between them up to rest his head on Rhodey’s shoulder, it strikes Tony that there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

The realization alone is enough to make Tony melt into his sweater, more content than he ever imagined possible growing up in a house where he stayed perched on his tiptoes in case he needed to take flight.

Tony stares at Rhodey adoringly in its wake, admiring the bridge of his nose, the slope of his brows, the depth of the eyes beneath them, and then there’s a dumb-one liner in the movie that makes Rhodey laugh. Tony, taking in everything about Rhodey while he remains oblivious, watches his grease-shiny lips split in a grin, and the dim light of the movie makes the expression sparkle with something Tony can’t find a word for but feels down to his toes.

It’s the fizz of champagne, the crackling of a fireplace, and the texture of a favorite blanket all at once, as homey as it is electrifying, and an oozing warmth spreads across the plains of Tony’s cheeks as his lips part in surprise at the intensity of the experience.

Rhodey never looks away from the screen, but though Tony is young, knows that, even if the emotion flooding him means as much as he suspects it does, he has a ways to go before he can do anything about it, he understands he’s never ever felt that way about a friend before.

(About anyone before.)

Rhodey shakes his head in amusement and takes a sip of his coke. “I love this movie,” he mutters, and though he’s said as much a thousand times before, Tony doesn’t mind hearing it again.

“Mhmm,” Tony breathes, unable to summon a more coherent response as he cuddles back into Rhodey’s side—an action that seems much more intimate than it did a second ago—and sends a flushed, grateful prayer up to any entity listening that he got assigned his best friend for a roommate. And if he’s pink in the face until he dozes off twenty minutes later, unable to stop wondering what Rhodey’s lips might feel like against his own, no one except himself knows. Not until much, much later, anyway, when Tony isn’t so little and Rhodey has only gotten more gorgeous with time and both of them beat around the bush for far too long when it comes to a silent, infallible affection they’ve nursed for each other over the better part of a decade.

But until then, Tony is sixteen, Rhodey is nineteen, and when Rhodey laughs, Tony thinks the whole world could hinge on the sound and still stay balanced from the way it fills him up to the brim.

(It always will, even if he has to wait.)

[managedmischiefs]

north//chapter ten

genre: angst

pairing: season ten spencer reid x female oc

warnings: panic attack, talk of maeve and that whole situation, death, mention of drugs and relapse

word count: 9.8k

summary: spencer gets to see another part of amelia’s ugly side and amelia gets more than she bargained for when she steps onto her balcony

also i just wanted to say that the panic attack described in this chapter is based off of my experience with panic attacks. nobody has the same experience, but this is based off mine. also part two, i don’t know how medication for panic attacks really work, what i wrote is literally based off my experience with migraine medication. so if it’s not accurate, then i apologize. i also apologize for taking so long to write this. school was a lot and my mental health sucks. but it’s here now!! enjoy

AMELIA

"Yaz, if you don't stop moving, I'm going to purposely poke your fucking eye out!"

"It's not my fault! Quinn keeps nudging me!"

"No, I'm not!"

I roll my eyes at the two girls in front of me, flicking my wrist to put the final touches on Yaz’s makeup. "You two need to shut up." I then grab Quinn’s shoulders and force her to move against the wall, right next to Yaz. They continue to quietly bicker with each other.

"So," Frankie speaks up from across my studio, lounged back in a bean bag chair, fiddling away with a camera of his own, "Lia, you're coming up on one year with your genius doctor FBI boyfriend, right?"

"Mhm," I hum, too focused on painting my friends' bodies to give a full and coherent answer.

"Do you guys have plans yet? Dinner? Movie? I don't even know what you guys do as dates. In fact, I don't really know much about this guy at all. Are we even sure he exists?" Michael teases, waving around his bottle of beer. Quinn squirms away from my grasp to take a sip of his beer and only comes back when I tug on her hand. 

"No plans yet," I mumble, biting my tongue for a moment as I focus on getting the swirls of blue and yellow just right. If the painting isn’t absolutely perfect then I’ll never be happy with the way the pictures come out. And if I’m not happy with the pictures that come from today then that just means I wasted my time today. "We don't make plans in advance, really. His job doesn't allow for that."

"His job doesn't allow for that?" Dani scoffs. "Stupid excuse. Horrible excuse. Men are trash. How can you be sure that all the time he’s spending ‘at work’ and not with another girl? Or maybe another guy? I don’t know, I don’t judge. Maybe he’s-"

"Dani," I hiss, twisting my head to send her a pointed look, "he's an FBI agent. He hunts down serial killers for a living. He travels for work on a whim and it’s not a big deal. He’s not gay and it’s rude to speculate about someone’s sexuality, especially if you’ve never met them."

"But don't you want him around him more?" Frankie jumps up from his seat and throws his arm around my shoulder, effectively pulling away from my work. He thinks that grabbing me will diffuse the situation, bring some humor, keep me from getting too upset. But it actually does all the opposite and I can feel a ball of heat growing and swelling in my stomach.

I’ve been friends with this bunch since college. We all went to Carnegie Mellon together and even lived in a house together in junior and senior year, but they aren’t always the best of friends. Clearly. They can be quite judgemental and exclusive when it comes to people outside of our friend group. Jenna and I commonly find ourselves sharing looks across rooms when one of our friends says something rude or stupid. They’re not the best, but we’ve been through so much together and they are all I have.

I push Frankie away from me as best as I can. "Do you guys just not like him because he's a federal agent?" The room goes silent and that's enough of an answer for me. I scoff, moving across the room to grab some more paint and squirt it into my palette. I wind up putting too much on my palette and groan, screwing off the top of the paint tube and trying to scoop the extra paint back in. The longer I try, the less gets back inside the tube and the more my frustration starts to grow, the more tears well up in my eyes. "You're complaining about my boyfriend who you've never met just because he works for the FBI. Ridiculous. Unfair."

"We get arrested all the time and all we do is spray paint empty brick walls," Dani protests, and, again, judging by the silence of the others in the room, I know that they have no problems with what Dani is saying. "It's bullshit! We should be able to express ourselves creatively without having to do art in the middle of the night and worry about being thrown in a holding cell."

"First of all; express yourself creatively on a canvas, not on someone’s property. Second; I can promise that you’re not getting arrested by federal agents. You’re getting arrested by cops and my boyfriend is not a cop," I growl at my supposed friends. I don't get angry easily. In fact, I'm a very patient person and I've been told that by many people on many occasions. My first instinct is to never get mad. Anger doesn’t get anyone anywhere. I prefer to have conversations instead of screaming matches and to hear out the other side's argument. But this is different. This is Spencer we’re talking about. I love Spencer more than anything and since meeting him, I know I'd do anything to protect him, even if that means arguing with my friends on his behalf. It’s not fair for them to be making these judgments about him. "You get arrested by Virginia Police so if you wanna hate anyone then hate them. Don't you dare all go hating my boyfriend for no reason. Don't hate him when you've never met him."

I throw my palette onto a table, not caring about paint splatter, and grab my phone, leaving my studio and heading into the fresh air. My heart is pounding against my tightening chest as I lean against the brick wall and slide down to an incredibly uncomfortable crouching position, tucking my head between my knees. The stance almost instantly makes my back ache and my neck sting but I ignore it. Maybe I deserve the pain. My breathing quickly gets more and more shallow and my head goes light. I try to lift my head to bring sunlight into my eyes, but my head seems far too heavy to move. I reach for my phone and it slips right out of my fingers when they tremble too much for me to get a grip on the thin metal. This feeling is helpless, painful, too familiar. I can’t seem to get a grasp on myself and I’m spiraling out of control more and more by the second. Every gasp for breath turns into a sob and every attempt to move my head turns into overwhelming shame when I notice people passing by are staring at me and whispering.

It's almost perfect that my phone starts to buzz on the ground and I manage to open my eyes enough to see that Spencer is calling me. I attempt another deep breath to calm myself down but it doesn't work and it only makes my grip on reality dwindle. It's getting harder to breathe and my eyes are stinging with tears. With every pounding beat of my heart, my chest gets tighter and tighter and tighter until it feels like someone has successfully squeezed my lungs flat. 

The buzzing of my phone should bring me back to reality but it just makes it worse. It’s an annoying, persistent sound that just won’t stop. It won’t stop. It just won’t stop. I want to answer, I need to answer, but I just wish the sound would stop. The way to get it to stop is to answer. Just answer. It’ll stop if you answer. You’ll feel better if you answer. I slam my hand down on the ground and grope the floor until I manage to grab my phone and bring it up to my ear.

"Hi, love," Spencer's chipper voice comes through the receiver, none the wiser to my current situation. He's been away on a case since early yesterday morning, having woken me up while getting dressed, kissing me goodbye, and leaving my apartment to get to the BAU. I would kill to have him here right now. Maybe he could talk me down and reteach me how to breathe. Maybe he could reinflate my lungs and kiss my hands until they stop trembling. 

I try to answer, but nothing coherent comes out. I let out a strangled sob, my fingernails digging into my knee so hard that I worry I might draw blood. My inability to communicate is frustrating and that ball of heat in my stomach rises up to my chest. The trembling overpowers me and I almost drop my phone again. 

"Amelia? What's wrong? Are you okay? Talk to me," Spencer says quickly, and it's only followed by more choked wheezes from me. "You've gotta breathe, okay? Take really deep breaths for me. In through your nose and out from your mouth.”

His instructions seem simple enough to do. Just breathe. That’s all I have to do. It’s simple. Just breathe. I open my mouth to try to speak to him, to tell him what’s happening, even though I’m pretty sure he can tell, but all that comes out is fragments of words and whimpers.

"It’s okay, you’re okay. You don’t need to speak. In through your nose, out from your mouth, remember? Can you try that for me?" I’m not sure how long I’m sitting there for, on the phone, trying to focus on my boyfriends’ voice as he tries to calm me down. It feels like I’m sitting for a few hours, but my tiny grasp on reality lets me know that it’s been ten minutes at the most. I just do what I can to focus on Spencer and what he is telling me to do and how I can calm down. I clench my fists and finally succeed in doing what he tells me to after a while, breathing heavily in through my nose, my chest burning as the heaving comes to a gradual stop. I breathe out and then repeat the process a few times. “There you go. You’re doing so well. I’m right here for you, okay? Take all the time you need.”

He continues to tell me sweet nothings and encourages me to breathe until my breathing has regulated and my head lays slack against my knees. Spencer lets just a few moments of silence go by to let me collect myself before he speaks again. “Are you feeling a little better now?” I gather enough energy, the last of it, to hum a confirmation. "Where are you right now?" Spencer asks next. Even just his voice calms me down. Maybe it's his experience with his job but he sounds so calm right now. Nobody in my life has ever been able to remain so calm during one of my panic attacks, leaving me to cry and heave and occasionally faint in private. But Spencer's voice sounds so soothing and calm and low that just him speaking helps me more than anything. More than any useless, overwhelming, smothering hug ever has. 

"Studio.”

"Okay. You should get home and get some rest. " 

"Mhm.”

"You shouldn't drive. I don't know if you did, but either way, please don't drive. Take the train or call someone to drive you home," Spencer pleads. "I was calling to tell you that we're on our way home. We closed the case and we're leaving in a few minutes for the airport, but don't wait for me. You need to go home and get rest. Panic attacks are really taxing and you need to re-energize. I'll come over when I get back but you need to get home."

"Amelia?" I hear Jenna's voice approaching me but I don't even bother to look up. "Are you okay?" 

I've exhausted my energy on speaking just those few words to Spencer so when Jenna gets close enough to me, I just lift the phone up for her. She crouches down beside me and grabs my phone, wedging it between her shoulder and her ear as she pushes my hair out of my face. I try to lean away from her touch but I can’t get very far. "Who is this? Oh, hi, Spencer. This is Jenna. She's right next to me. I can definitely bring her home. Don't worry, I'll get her home and I'll stay with her until you come around, it's no problem. I'll take her phone and let you know when I get her home. Okay, bye."

I finally lift my head and look at Jenna, watching her tuck my phone into her pocket, giving me this stupid, pitiful smile that I’ve seen far too many times in my life. A half smile that says, it sucks that you’re going through something but I only kind of care. "Mr. Genius says I gotta bring you home and keep you safe until he comes over and I don't feel like ending up in prison, so let's go, babe." I don’t have it in me to correct her to day Doctor Genius instead of Mister Genius. Jenna holds her hands out to help me up.

I bring my shaking hands up to hers and let her pull me to my feet and lead me over to her car, feeling weak and useless as she pulls the seatbelt over my chest. I pout as she dotes over me, humming casually to herself just so she can make this situation not so tense, but it just makes it seem like she doesn’t care. "Okay," Jenna says, hand poised on the passenger side door, "I'm gonna go kick everyone out of your studio and then we'll get going. Sit tight."

///

"Hi, Spencer, I'm Jenna,"

"Hi, Jenna. Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's sleeping on the couch. She didn't even wanna go upstairs to bed so she asked me to put on a record and she just passed out on the couch."

Everything sounds foggy as I wake up what I assume is hours later in an uncomfortable position, curled up on my couch. My head is pounding and my eyes feel puffy and I'm now regretting not forcing myself to get into bed. I would have much rathered waking up with my duvet wrapped around me and my head on Spencer’s pillow. Waking up on this stiff couch with my toes virtually frozen and my head twisted uncomfortably on the armrest isn’t how I wanted to wake up post-panic attack. 

I open my eyes just in time to see Spencer setting his go-bag down beside the coffee table, sending me that same stupid, pitiful smile. "Hi," he whispers, coming to sit on the floor in front of me. He raises his hand to drag his fingertips along my cheekbone and the soft touch makes my eyes flutter closed. I’ve gotten used to being without him when he’s away on cases, and having Spencer with me makes all the separated days easier. I know that the moments like this make up for the times I lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling, because I can’t sleep if his arms around me and if I can’t hear his heartbeat. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Mm," I hum, but it's not much of an answer, not a satisfying one, at the least. 

"It's good that you got some sleep but you gotta have something to eat too. Do you want me to order something?" I nod slowly at his suggestion that I couldn’t care less about. I just want his hands on me. "Okay, I will. Sit tight, I'll be right back."

A whine falls from my lips as I reach my hand out for his, hoping to keep him from leaving. I just need his touch and his love and his affection to feel better. I don’t need sleep or food or anything he could possibly suggest that helps a person relax after a panic attack, based on this study I read. I love his facts but I just want him to hold me and tell me that everything is going to be okay, even if it doesn’t feel like it will. The boiling hot baths I usually take after a panic attack never do the trick. Nothing does the trick like physical affection does.

"Don't go," the words could barely be considered words, especially not after I mumble them through almost closed lips.

"I’m not leaving," Spencer crouches down again and presses a kiss to my forehead, and I’m sure he realizes that a kiss was the wrong move because I just keep trying to pull him closer. “I just wanna order you something to eat, okay? Let me bring you upstairs and get you in bed and then I’ll call for something. Is that okay?”

Spencer is sitting up on his knees before I even try to answer because even though he's posed a question, he doesn't need an answer. He knows how to help me from the studies he reads and he knows what needs to be done and he's relatively stubborn. So despite how my body feels heavy and how I wish I could just melt into the couch cushions with my arms wrapped around my boyfriend, I force myself to sit up. Spencer scoops me up and carries me up the stairs, setting me down in bed and tugging the duvet all the way up to my chin.

Spencer goes a bit overboard with tucking me in, but I don’t mind, as long as his hands are on me. And he is happy with his work, he finally takes off his peacoat and sets it on the edge of the bed. "I'm just gonna go run downstairs and order something and make some tea, okay? Did you take your medication?" He turns away from me and goes towards the stairs, digging his phone out of his pocket.

"Huh?"

Spencer halts himself from walking down the stairs, turning his chin over his shoulder. "Your medication," he turns his body towards me. "You know, for your panic attack?"

I shake my head, eyebrows furrowed so much that it makes my headache worse. "No, no, I don't have any."

My fuzzy brain can't exactly decipher the look on Spencer's face, but he turns his back to me yet again and rushes down the stairs. I let out a hum at his confusing reaction, but it turns into a disappointed whine as he gets further and further away from me. So, still in my post-panic attack state, I reach for Spencer's coat for some sort of comfort.

As I tug on it, something falls out of the pocket. I blindly reach for it and have every intention of tucking it back into the pocket it came from, but the cool metal of the object heightens my senses, as if the object brings me back down to earth. I hold Spencer's jacket to my chest as I lay back down against my pillows, looking down at the metal circle in my hand. There's a triangle on the front- or maybe the back?- with a Roman numeral one on it, with the words unity, service, and recovery around the three sides. I turn it over in my hand and find a compass rose with only north labeled.

"Amelia?" My head pops up when I tune into Spencer's footsteps on the last stair, his phone in his hand and his untied converse in the other. He drops his shoes on the floor and then leans against the wall, his eyes traveling down to the floor instead of on me. I can feel his shame from all the way across the room and how his embarrassment starts to consume him. He instantly shuts himself off from me and it’s so disheartening to see how easy it is for him to do so. 

"It fell out," I hold it out to him, despite our distance. "What did you order?"

Spencer doesn't move as I hold the medallion out to him, but all he does is tuck his hands in his pocket and study the patterns on his socks. "You don't wanna know what it is?"

I drop my hand against the bed and sigh, having used too much energy to keep my arm up for longer than two seconds, nuzzling my cheek against Spencer's jacket and trying to get a whiff of his cologne. If he won’t come to me then I’ll have to get a piece of him in my bed, even if it’s just the scent on his jacket. I need his comfort. "I know what it is, dove."

He takes a long breath and then walks over, taking the medallion out of my hand and shoving it in his pocket. "Pizza. I'm gonna go change and I'll be right back."

I hadn't even realized he had brought his go-bag upstairs at some point, but I only see it when he carries it into the bathroom. He doesn't shut the door all the way and I find myself wondering why. Maybe he doesn't want to completely shut himself away from me because he can tell I need him close. Or maybe because he didn’t want to rebuild his emotional walls around me, and closing the bathroom door would separate us. But I don’t have the time to come to a clear and coherent hypothesis before he has returned.

He's in a tee shirt and plaid pajama pants when he returns, dropping his bag onto the floor and letting out a heavy sigh. I watch him as he walks around the bed to grab his shoes and begins the process of shoving them into his bag, even though he doesn't need to. He knows he doesn’t need to clean his stuff up immediately. But I notice his medallion in his hand, squeezed between his pointer and middle fingers, and it makes me call out to him. His head whips over to me and I realize I have nothing to say. I need him beside me but he clearly has so much going on in his head and in all the time we've been together, I've never seen his medallion. That makes me nervous. Is this why he's acting like this? Is he thinking about getting his hands on a drug that will ruin his life?

I have nothing to say. But Spencer is staring at me, waiting for me to ask whatever question he thinks I’m needing to ask, as I clutch his jacket like my life depends on it, eyes half-closed as I start to struggle to breathe again. I open my mouth but nothing comes out and a tear drips down my cheek.

Spencer moves to kneel on the bed, pulling his jacket out of my hands and replacing the fabric with his body. "Hey, I'm right here, Lia, just breathe. Sit up for me, sweetheart," He places his hands on my waist and helps me sit up, coaxing my head between my knees. He somehow knows exactly what to do, despite not being able to see me during my previous attack. He knows just how softly I need to be touched and what volume to speak at without overwhelming me. "It's okay, it's okay, I'm right here, don't worry. I don’t want you to get worked up again." I manage to nod, and he kisses my forehead as a reward. Spencer just keeps holding me and whispering praises, tucking my head under his chin and rubbing my back with a feather light touch.  “There you go. There’s my girl.”

“I’m okay,” I whisper, but it’s more for myself than for him. 

“Yeah, you are,” he affirms. "Will you talk to me about these attacks and how I can help you?" His sweet voice is so buttery and smooth that I get lost in it, eyes fluttering and almost completely missing his question. I just want him to keep talking, to read me poetry or tell me random facts that I’ll probably never need to know. I just want him to talk, and talk, and talk, and break me away from the prison in my mind. I just want him to distract me.

“Um,” I lean into his touch when he brings his hand into my hair, scratching me behind my ears like a cat. But when I manage to open my eyes and look at him, he’s giving me such a serious look, one that says he means business, and I know that there’s no room for jokes or wit. “I don’t know. I’ve mostly dealt with panic attacks alone. I just let them happen and wait for them to be done.”

Spencer’s eyes widen in surprise but he quickly tries to hide his reaction, clearing his throat as a distraction, but it’s nowhere close to this distraction I had hoped for. “So you don’t know any coping mechanisms or take any medication for panic attacks?” I shake my head no. “Have you ever gone to a doctor or a therapist about this?”

Definitely not the distraction I was hoping for. I reach for the duvet and pull it over my head, deciding to ignore him. I manage to crawl out of Spencer’s lap and curl up on my pillow with my back to him, earning a defeated sigh from my boyfriend beside me. He takes a breath to speak but then the doorbell rings and I can only assume that means that dinner is here. Without a word spoken, Spencer climbs off the bed and goes to answer the door. I hear his chatting quietly with the delivery person before his sock-covered footsteps echo back up the stairs, and he returns with a pizza box.

Spencer just casually suggesting I go to a doctor or a therapist is so obnoxious and annoying and I truly can’t remember a time in our relationship when I was this mad at him. He talks as though a doctor's visit will solve all my problems and if taking a pill will turn me into the healthy, stress-free, mental illness-free girl that I want to be, but never have been, and never will be. I spent my childhood taking care of myself and my brother and I can keep doing that as an adult. I’ve gotten this far in my life, farther than I thought I would, so I’m not going to fix something that isn’t broken. 

Spencer sits at the foot of the bed and sets the pizza box in the middle of the bed, not saying a word as he opens it up and separates the slices. I sit up slowly, rubbing my eyes as I tuck my legs underneath me. I reach for a piece of pizza and lean over the cardboard so I don't get the bed messy. If the bed gets messy and crumby then Spencer won’t be able to sleep tonight, knowing that there’s particles of food all over the duvet. He seems to be on the same train of thought because he refuses to move the piece of pizza in his hand away from the box. If I wasn’t so upset, I’d be telling him how cute he is and finding his cleanliness endearing and suggesting that we eat at the table downstairs instead of my bed. But the tension is so thick that I could cut it with a knife, and I don’t have the energy to ease it. But apparently, Spencer does.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Spencer asks casually, keeping his eyes down as he takes another bite of his pizza. "The way you talk,” he pauses and considers his words very carefully, “you've clearly had panic attacks before."

"It's not a big deal."

"Amelia," the stony, serious tone of his voice makes my head pop up. He looks annoyed, as if he doesn't believe what I'm saying. I haven’t yet learned that lying to a profiler is useless. "You had a panic attack on a public sidewalk and it was so bad that you went nonverbal. Panic attacks happen to a lot of people but they're serious and debilitating and you should get treatment for them."

"Don’t tell me what I should do. I don't need treatment," I answer far too quickly. "I know you have your degree in psychology or whatever but I don’t need to hear it. I’ve taken care of myself for this long and I actually happen to think I’ve done a pretty good job at it, so I don’t need medication or therapy to interfere.”

Realization flashes on Spencer's face and he puts his piece of pizza down, leaning his elbows against his knees. "Seeking out help doesn’t make you weak."

I scoff and roll my eyes into the back of my head, but maybe that's just to avoid eye contact or to repress the tears that burn at my ducts. "That's not what this is about."

"I didn’t mention anything about my degree, Amelia,” Spencer snaps. “And all I’m trying to do is help you. You can go to a therapist and discuss coping mechanisms and figure out why you even have them or go to a doctor and get medication that will regulate attacks and maybe you'll get something to take after you get attacks, it'll be so much-"

"No!" I shout, cutting him off, my hands balled into fists as I struggle to rein in all the nasty things I want so badly to say, but that I know he doesn’t deserve. "I won't! I'm not! I'm fine without it! I've gone my whole fucking life like this and I don't need to be fixed!"

I decide it's the appropriate time to throw a temper tantrum and scramble off the bed, not even bothering to grab a jacket or a blanket or shoes or anything as I stomp down the stairs and throw open the door to the balcony. It's colder than I remember it being and the air instantly seizes up my bones, but I ignore the feeling as I close the door behind me. I lean against the railing and let a few tears silently slip down my cheeks, not bothering to wipe them and instead letting them trail down my neck and dampen the neckline of my crewneck. Fresh air used to always calm me down, but now, being alone on a balcony after fighting with Spencer, the air only feels suffocating.

A few minutes pass before I head the door slide open and Spencer steps out. I expect him to speak right away, to use his profiling skills to defuse the situation, but he doesn't. He drapes a blanket over my shoulders and as frustrated as I am at him and at the world and at myself, the tiny gesture makes me feel better. I'm craving his touch yet again and I wish he would just wrap his arms around me, but yet again, he doesn't. I tug the blanket as tight as I can around my shoulders and imagine it's his arms. His arms that are so close to me but feel like they are miles away.

"I've been a hypocrite." Spencer's voice is quiet, but not in the same way as it was during my attacks. No, before he was quiet for my sake. But now he seems quiet because he can't bear to speak any louder. Like if he hears his own words, he will combust and break down. "I kept something from you too."

I turn around and find that he's sitting down in one of the armchairs, another blanket wrapped around his shoulders. I, yet again, notice that his medallion is in his hand. But he's not trying to hide it, he's staring right down at it.

"Does it have anything to do with your medallion and why it was in your pocket?"

"Partly," he answers, and then looks up at me, pretty brown eyes already glistening with tears. If I wasn’t so upset, if Spencer wasn’t so upset, if the tension hadn’t carried outside, I would have poked his perfect nose and told him how cute he is when the tip of his nose gets red from the cold. My eyes are just focused on the medallion though, being passed between his fingers with expertise and never slipping out. "I'm clean, I promise. I wouldn't risk breaking my sobriety. I have too much to lose now. I've got you, and my job, and my team- my friends, Henry. But, um, yeah, there's something that I didn't tell you and I know that I should."

Partially born from my own selfish need for affection, coupled with Spencer's broken down state, I go and sit on his lap. He happily lets me do so, draping one hand over my thigh, holding the medallion there. I rest my head on his chest and wait for him to feel comfortable enough to start his story. I can feel his heart pounding against his chest and I stare down his hand, tap-tap-tapping on the arm of the chair. His nervousness is just as palpable as the tension.

"So, um, do you remember when we first met? You always like to point out how you're not the profiler here but did you happen to notice how nervous I was?"

"Mm," I hum, racking my brain for the memories of our first few coffee dates. I remember his strained smiles and his stuttered out words. I think back to us spending Christmas together and how, later on, he just blurted out an invitation to be his girlfriend that lacked finesse and confidence. He has always been nervous around me, but I always just thought that he was nervous with new relationships. It never crossed my mind that there was a reason other than anxiety. "Of course. The first day we met, I don't even think you took your bag off, right? I just thought dates made you nervous."

"Well, yeah, that's kinda true," Spencer sighs and when he tilts his head down, his lips brush against my temple. His warm lips bring a shiver down my spine and he holds me tighter against his cold body. "The truth is, about two years before I met you, I had a girlfriend, her name was Maeve. Our relationship wasn't really conventional. We, um,” he pauses and shifts his weight, “she was a geneticist and I saw her when I was having migraines, but then we started dating. We never met each other though."

His constant past tense is alarming. Was.

"We talked on the phone. She had a stalker from before I met her and she wanted to make sure that I didn’t get wrapped up in it. And we had to be safe so we only talked on pay phones. Only on Sunday's and never from the same phone twice. I thought I, um, I thought I loved her and then-" Spencer lets out a breath that sounds defeated, tired, helpless. He drops the medallion into my lap and his hands fly up to cover his face, another shaky breath falling from his lips. “I shouldn’t be telling you this when you're in such a fragile mental state. This is a lot of information and-”

"If you want to tell me then you can. I’m not a fragile little girl, I can take it. But if you don’t think you can then that’s okay too. I don’t need you to show me all the skeletons in your closet because you think you’ve been hypocritical.”

Spencer drops his hands, revealing his quivering lips and wet waterline. I return the medallion to the palm of his hand and close his fingers around it. "I mean,” he lets out the tiniest, saddest chuckle, “I was being hypocritical, being mad at you for keeping information a secret when I was doing the same.”

“Okay, maybe a little,” my slight teasing gets a more genuine laugh out of him, and he drops his forehead to my shoulder to hide it. “But it’s okay. I understand that there’s some things you don’t wanna share immediately.” 

Spencer keeps his head down, his hand in a tight fist around his medallion and the other on my waist, keeping me close. I can practically feel his fear and anxiety and his overwhelming pain through the tips of his fingers digging into my skin, and I want so badly to take it from him. I would gladly shoulder his pain so he doesn’t have to drag it around behind him like a suitcase with a broken wheel. But as badly as I want to, I can’t help him the way I want to and so I just need to comfort him to the best of my ability. 

"She got kidnapped and shot in front of me," he blurts out quickly, the memory obviously too painful to say gracefully. "I realized she was gone so the team investigated and we found Maeve and the unsub brought me inside where she was being held and had me see her for the first time ever and then killed herself and Maeve right in front of me and there was nothing I could do about it."

Sometimes I don't know what to say to Spencer. He sees the worst that society has to offer, and the worst took away the first woman that he loved. I don't always know how to comfort him. Sometimes he just wants to be held and would rather not verbalize his feelings. And although I don’t love it when he decides to not talk things out, cuddling and giving out kisses is easier than arguing with him and trying to get him to talk about things he doesn’t want to. So physical affection is easier. But right now he doesn't seem to want to be held and I don't know how to help him. He didn't want to tell me this but clearly, today hasn't gone how either of us has wanted it to go. I've been spontaneously panicking and he's now confessing that his girlfriend was killed. None of this is right.

It takes him a few minutes to start speaking again, but when he does, his voice is quiet. "I almost relapsed after that," his head finds home on my shoulder again, and his other arm wraps around my waist. He holds me tight against his chest, adjusting the blanket around me to make sure I’m always covered and warm. "When I first got clean, I brought my medallion with me everywhere I went. I couldn't leave the house without it. I brought it with me on cases, to the store, everywhere. Then time passed and I could leave without it, and I was really proud of that. But then Maeve died and suddenly it was like I was right back at square one. I couldn't go anywhere without it. I needed the reminder of all my hard work and dedication or else I would've easily relapsed."

"Is," my voice is shakier than I wanted it to be, "is there something that's making you wanna relapse now?"

"Stalking cases," he answers, and that's not at all the answer I was expecting. I’m not really sure exactly what kind of answer I was expecting, but it wasn’t stalking cases. "They're common and they're not always violent so we don't always investigate but when we do, I hate it. It’s like torture on those cases, just having to relive what happened with her. Hotch doesn't even let me take part in takedowns of stalking cases because we both know I wouldn't be stable if a hostage situation happened. So,” he tucks his head into my neck this time, and I can feel his lips on my skin, leaving light kisses to make up for the heavy topic, “yeah, that’s what I was keeping from you. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, dove. I understand.”

I turn my head away from him and stare out at the city. The sun is setting and the sky is painted a pretty pink and purple, mixed together in a way I wish I could achieve in my work. But the people below pay no mind to it. They speed-walk to whatever their next destination is and keep their noses tucked in their phones, or to wave their hand for a cab and bark out orders and throw money at the person who spends their lives being chauffeurs to rude politicians and businessmen. Nobody cares to look up and admire the beauty around them, beauty that they won’t see some day. They don’t look up at the unnatural colors in the sky or check to see if the clouds have taken the form of a shoe or a candy wrapper. They just walk, and walk, and walk. They don’t care. Nobody ever cares. 

"I'm sorry," I choke out, tears suddenly pouring down my cheeks. I reach for Spencer’s hands, intertwining our fingers but keeping his arms around my waist. I don’t want to be without his comfort and his arms and his warmth. He seems to feel the same because he pulls me even closer somehow, my body completely flush against his. "I love you, Spencer, and you-” I hiccup, “fuck, you didn't deserve any of that."

"You're all I need in this life, Amelia. I didn't think I'd ever fall in love again but now I have you and," I can feel his hands shaking in mine, and although it’s hard to tell if it’s from the cold or from anxiety. "I just love you so much. Please don’t leave me."

"I’m never gonna leave you, Spencer Reid. Ever. I'm not going anywhere," I whisper, but I can't tell who it's a reassurance for. "I love you."

///

SPENCER

///

THE NEXT MORNING

///

No amount of nights turned into mornings at Amelia’s apartment could get me used to being woken up to sun beams in my eyes.

I scrunch up my face as the sunlight flows through the windows and almost blinds me. I roll over and reach towards Amelia's side of the bed, grabbing a fistful of sheets instead of a fistful of her. I let out a disappointed sigh and force my eyes open, popping one lid open to confirm my sad realization that I'm waking up alone. Now I'm understanding how Amelia feels when I have to leave for cases.

I can feel the heat blasting and it makes it bearable for me to exist in only my pair of pajama pants, so I don't bother to put a shirt on. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and check my phone, just to make sure there isn't a spontaneous case on a Saturday, and there thankfully isn't anything yet. So I run a hand through my hair that is probably wild and climb out of bed, making the trek down the occasionally terrifying floating stairs.

I pause on the last step when I peer into the kitchen, the dumbest smile appearing on my face when I locate my girlfriend. She's sitting on the counter in the kitchen with her legs up and crossed at the ankles, dressed in only an oversized white tee shirt and pale blue wool socks. Matching, unfortunately. She's wearing her normal butterfly necklace, I can see from here, but she's missing all of her piercings- nose ring and earrings. Her natural curls are out in full force and are only contained by one of her patterned scarves, wrapped around her head like a headband. She's holding an apple in one hand and she has a book resting in her lap but I can't quite see the spine to read the title. But this is one of the moments I'm thankful for my fancy memory, as Amelia calls it, because she looks so effortlessly stunning and perfect and beautiful that I'm glad I'll remember this moment forever.

I watch her for a moment. She wiggles her toes every few seconds and then takes a loud bite from the apple, flipping the page and darting her eyes across the lines. Effortless. Remarkable. I'm often blown away by her simple beauty. I wonder how she does it without trying. How she renders me speechless. How she makes me feel like a teenager in love. How she makes me feel like a lovesick puppy, galloping around at her feet with stars in my eyes. How she makes me feel like she's completely out of my league. How she makes me feel like I'm the luckiest man in the whole world.

When I decide that I have to get my hands on her, I step off the stairs. She still doesn't notice my presence, I credit that to my bare feet on the hardwood, and she only looks up when a floorboard creaks. She lifts her chin and reveals her stunning dimples, ocean eyes wide for me. "Morning!" she quips, tucking a bookmark into the page and setting her book aside. "Wasn't sure you were ever gonna wake up."

"I don't like waking up alone," I brush my fingertips along her leg as I walk closer, eliciting a shy giggle from Amelia. No matter how many times I touch her, she still gets shy about it. I peer over her legs and my eyebrows raise. "You're reading Rossi's book? What's that about?"

Amelia giggles, picking up the book and inspecting the cover. "It's more of a courtesy, actually. I bought all three books of his the other day and I'm planning on ripping out all the pages to use for a piece of art for my next exhibit. But I figured I'd read them first before I destroy them, you know? He saved my life as a kid so the least I can do is read his books before I destroy them."

"Hmm," it's not really at all the answer I was expecting. I watch her face as she plasters on a shy smile, kicking her feet like an excited child and clutching the book to her chest. I don’t have the heart to ask her any more questions about her decision to rip up Rossi’s books because I don’t want to wipe that smile off her face. "Interesting. Breakfast?"

"Not before you give me a kiss," Amelia's delicate voice balances out the horrors Rossi illustrates in his book as she brings her lips to mine. "If you're cooking, I don't care what you make."

"Sounds like a plan,” and just as I didn’t have the heart to question her art, I don’t have it in me to go further than an inch away from her lips before she decides it’s okay. So that leads to kissing for far too long, the book tumbling out of Amelia’s hands and onto her lap, my hands holding her jaw. Her lips are different in the morning, slightly chapped and not yet bleeding from being chewed relentlessly. But, for some reason, I prefer them like this. And I definitely prefer chapped lips to glossy lips that get all over my face and takes a makeup remover wipe to get rid of. I quickly flip through the last few images of Amelia in my head and notice she hasn’t worn lip gloss in a while. Maybe that’s for the better though. She won’t have to hear me complain and watch me rub at my lips and grimace when my hand gets sticky too.

“Okay, okay,” Amelia giggles, grabbing my hands and pushing them away, “let’s not get carried away. I am hungry.”

“Then why didn’t you make breakfast yourself?” I sass, turning on my heel to start collecting breakfast ingredients and feed my hungry lady. 

“Haha,” she snickers sarcastically, rolling her eyes at me. And a comfortable silence falls over us as I start cooking, occasionally glancing over to watch her thumb through the book. It etches a hopefully permanent smile onto my face.

"I do have a question, though," Amelia fiddles with the corner of a page, curling it between her finger and keeping her eyes down. I hum lazily in response, mixing pancakes batter, far too focused on making sure I get measurements correct to be able to make eye contact with her. "I don't wanna make you uncomfortable but your medallion- well, it," she sighs, obviously not able to find the words for what she wants to say.

It’s not my favorite topic of conversation so early in the morning, but I guess the sooner Amelia asks her questions and gets them out of her system, the sooner we can stop having conversations about my demons. "You can ask whatever you want to.”

"It's not a bad question, I don't think," she responds, and turns so her legs are swinging over the edge of the counter, facing me. "I'm just curious what the compass on the back means. It seems odd to me. I mean, the front says recovery and all but the back has a compass? I've never heard of these medallions having a compass on them."

"The designs differ," despite the relatively tame question, I busy myself by trying to create perfect circles with the batter on the hot skillet. She could've asked me about my experience with drugs and how it feels and she could have unknowingly triggered me, but no. She just wants to know about the compass. I guess that’s better than making me relive relapse or make me remember what a high feels like. "I've obviously been clean for more than a year, so the other medallions I have for other years have different designs on the back. But I always liked the one year medallion the best."

"Will you tell me why?" She presses gently, pulling her knees back up to her chest. I've seen her do this plenty of times, shut herself off from conversations, I mean, and I hate it when she does. On normal days, when she shuts herself off from conversations, I do what I can to put her at ease and get her to open back up. But if anyone should be shutting off from this conversation, it’s me. "You don't have to, if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Getting to one year is really hard," I admit quickly, keeping my eyes off her as I move the pancakes from the skillet to a plate. "So when I finally got to one year and I got the medallion, it was a huge accomplishment for me. And the compass? It’s just a thing that my program preached. North is always regarded as the right way to go, even though that’s not really true in theory, but I never pointed that out. But my program had us pick someone or something to represent north for each person. So that way, if anyone was ever going through withdrawals or cravings, we could think of that thing we chose and it would give us the motivation to get through a hard time. The thing would give us a reason to go north, the right way. Basically, the way to recovery. The way to go back home.”

“And what did you choose?”

“My job,” it’s such an unenthusiastic answer, no light or happiness in my voice. “My job was all I had at the time, but my job being my north never felt right. It was never really motivating. Maybe that’s why it was so hard to get past a year. I had nothing to look forward to.” 

"One more question," Amelia speaks, softer this time. "Can you come here?"

I look up and find that Amelia is resting her chin on her knees, giving me that same cute smile from before. I nod, scooping the last pancake off the skillet and putting it on the pile before walking over, dragging my feet. Amelia drops her legs and holds out her arms, wrapping them around my shoulders the moment I get close enough. I instantly melt into her embrace and tuck my face into her neck, feeling her fingers on the back of my neck, tracing small shapes and letters.

"I know that I didn't know you back then," Amelia whispers, warm breath tickling my skin, "but I'm proud of you. I'm proud that you're strong enough to keep your head up and stay clean. And thank you for trusting me with all this information. I love you so much."

My body is filled with that familiar warmth that I only feel when Amelia is around, and I can't stop the smile that comes to my face. The tears in my eyes dry up quickly at the praise. "Thank you for loving me."

"I always will," she pulls away and slides her hands up to my face, pointer fingertips tracing my jaw and up to my cheekbones. She swipes her finger across my bottom lip and then brings it up to my nose, poking it gently and giggling under her breath. She’s deep in thought, I can tell from the look on her face. "You know,” she smooths down my eyebrows and then her fingers follow my hairline all the way down to my jaw, “I’ll be your north," she suggests. "I know you always tell me that talking to me when you're on cases helps, but I wanna help you with everything, with every aspect of your life. I wanna help you with the ugliest parts of your life, and not just the ugly parts of your job. I'll be your north. I'll be your reason to come home and I'll be- I'll be like your guiding light. I'll be your lighthouse. I'll just," her hands halt on my cheeks and her legs twist around my waist, bringing our bodies flush, "I'll be your north."

My heart is pounding as I smile at her, the tears that had just dried up coming back tenfold. She's smiling her stupidly gorgeous smile but not even making eye contact, just staring down at my lips as she lets her brain settle from all the words she just vomited and as she holds herself back from her obvious impulse to actually kiss me. So I lean forward and peck her lips, untangling our limbs. "I'll be right back," I ignore the sting in my chest at the disappointment clear on her face as I pull completely away from her hold. But I kiss her cheek for reassurance before I disappear back upstairs, grabbing my go-bag.

I return to the kitchen with last year’s Christmas present in my hands and open up to the page I'm searching for, walking up to my girl. Her back is to me, pouring more batter onto the skillet to finish up breakfast. But the moment she puts the bowl of batter back on the counter, I swing my arms over her head and bring the sketchbook in front of her to show her a journal entry.

"I didn't always use it for sketches," I explain as she grabs the book from me, "but I use it. A lot. Read that entry," Amelia goes radio silent as she reads, and I rest my chin on my shoulder to read with her.

Amelia is my north. I always thought that I'd be alone for the rest of my life and I'd never fall in love again. I thought I had been scorned too hard and I'd never recover. But Amelia gives me a reason to want to go home. She gives me a reason to not make that reckless decision that comes to my mind in the field and she gives me a reason to not go out in the middle of the night and go searching for a new dealer. She gives me a reason to live and maybe it's wrong of me to rely so heavily on another person who could leave me just as easily as everyone else in my life has, but I don't care. She gives me a purpose and she's the reason I come home every day.

It's the little things she does that make me love her. I love seeing her face pop up on Garcia's video chats and I love seeing the snacks she leaves in my desk and the notes she leaves for me and how she always makes a point to clean my apartment when she's over. I've never met someone quite like her.

I didn't think I'd ever find a person to personify "north." I always thought that "north" would remain this mysterious entity that I would blindly chase after my entire life and remain following towards a life of recovery, or a life of constant relapse and pain. Or that I would just continue lying to myself and saying that my “north” was my job. But now I know that Amelia is that "north" that will always be by my side. As long as I have her, then I'll never have to chase after a nameless, faceless goal. I'll always have my north right beside me.

Amelia sniffles as she shuts the sketchbook, setting it gently on the counter. "Okay, fuck you for making me cry."

I toss my head back laugh, grabbing her waist to turn her around, taking the job of wiping her tears. "I’m sorry, love, that wasn't my intention."

"That was really sweet, dove," Amelia disregards her tears, throwing her arms around me and pressing her face into my neck. “I’m never gonna leave you, Spence. I want you to believe that. I love you so much. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know,” I clutch her waist in my hands as if that would keep her from leaving, “sometimes, I just feel helpless and unlovable and when I feel like that, I come to you.”

“Good. You’re not unlovable. I am so insanely in love with you and you’re never, ever getting rid of me.”

“Good,” I echo, pressing my lips to her shoulder and trailing kisses up her neck. “You’re-” Amelia’s stomach growling silences me, her cheeks turning pink as she ducks her head away. “Okay, alright, the mushy love fest is over. Eat some breakfast.”

“I’m sorry,” she giggles, turning in my arms to dish out pancakes for us, “I’m just really hungry and I wasn’t gonna make anything until you woke up. But the bottom line is that I love you and I’m always gonna be in your apartment, cleaning shit you don’t want me to and annoying the hell out of you.”

“Yeah, you definitely annoy me when you leave the curtains open and I get blinded in the morning.”

Amelia turns to me with the cutest smile, holding a plate of pancakes out for me. “At least you get to wake up next to me in the morning.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I lean over the plate to give her what seems like the millionth kiss to the morning, “waking up next to you is pretty amazing.”

 TAGLIST

@bxnnywriting​ @babybloodstonebones​ @blameitonthenight21​ @feralreid​ @anepiphany​ @goldenalvez​ @reidscardigan​ @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​ @stxrryspencer​ @m0rcia​ @whollytaciturn​ @thegingerfairchild​ @yasminwashere​ @shrimpyblog​ @blakes-dictionxry​ @anamelessfacelessnerd​ @wonderlandhatter​ @whxt-to-write​ @inkandexchange​ @just-call-me-non​

[ijustwant2write]

Two Sides-Brock Rumlow x Reader

(GIF credit to @rockbumlow​)

Tags: @amirahiddleston @bloodorangemoonlight

Requested by anonymous: 'Hi! Could I please request something with Rumlow? Maybe the reader part of strike but is super shy but it comes across as very aloof and the only reason she’s shy is because she’s nervous around Rumlow?'

Characters: Brock Rumlow x Reader, (there are made up characters in this story too)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

(Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Shyness, bullying, self pressure, loneliness, swearing, fluff, sexual tension

(A/N: I got waaaaayy too into this)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Ready for another day agent (Y/L/N)?" Matt, a fellow agent asked, way too perky for my liking.

"You ask me that every morning." I dryly said as we stepped into the elevator.

"And I always wait for an answer. I still haven't got one yet."

"We're here for work."

Matt sighed.“You know we’re on the same team right? It wouldn’t hurt to engage in some friendly conversation.”

I didn’t reply, hating that I couldn’t think of anything to say back. I knew it came off as rude, I wasn’t stupid. Despite being able to think on my feet during a mission, map out strategic plans when entering new territory, and making snap decisions when fighting enemy, I could never come up with a conversation starter. It had been a struggle since I was young, though I knew who to blame for that. My parents were strict military people, they didn’t believe that a child needed that nurture in their life as long as they had a routine. Hence why I was in the position I was today, part of the S.T.R.I.K.E team for S.H.I.E.L.D, the one member everyone hated.

As soon as we stepped out of the elevator, Matt spotted other agents he knew, instantly catching up to them. I masked the hurt, following far behind towards the briefing room. We had another big mission coming up, one which was vital to us. If we were successful, we could close this case that had been open for over ten years. Everyone greeted each other in the room, some making an effort with me, others completely blanking me. I didn’t take offence. Instead, I took a seat, flicking through the files handed out to us, already knowing it inside out. There was no social life at home (not that there was much of one for a S.H.I.E.L.D agent anyway), but I always refused the celebratory drink after a mission; I couldn’t risk embarrassing myself, not when I had built my way up through the system.

"Sir your asses down," Rumlow walked in, wearing his usual combat gear like the rest of us,"let's get this over with, we all have the same loathing for paper work."

"Except for (Y/L/N)." someone sniggered, though it was ignored.

Rumlow set up the screen in seconds before beginning. I listened to every word that left his mouth, entranced into the way he spoke. He was just so flawless, a sculpture of a man. His handsome features added to his intimidating stature, and he was able to talk his way out of anything. Training beside him hadn't been too bad either. But like everyone else, I hardly spoke to him, feeling the stuttering and awkward conversation building up in my throat.

"Agent (Y/L/N), can you tell us the intel you found on our killer?" Rumlow called me up front, gesturing for me to take over as he leaned against a wall.

I hated how everyone looked at me. Not just because of the pressure, but I knew how much they hated me when I was in this position, having to listen to the bitch of the group instruct them all; and they were going to hate me even more once I told them what I found.

Holding onto the tablet, I swiped through my research, pulling up a picture of a woman's mugshot on the big screen, causing everyone to be confused.

"So when I was looking on the database for any similar records to our killer, I couldn't find any men. I know that everywhere we have been, the security footage has suggested that it is a man, but upon further inspection, it turns out we were wrong."

Matt interrupted me."You're telling me, that all those agents, including us, were wrong?"

My hands gripped onto the tablet, trying to hide my shaking. Don't back down (Y/N).

"Unfortunately yes. But that's not any of our fault. She has led us in this direction to throw us off the scent."

Matt scoffed, glancing around at the others.

"Just look at the kills," I opened multiple tabs, showing her past work,"I've never seen any men murder people like this. And looking through our database backs that up. I know it may set us back, but I've managed to find quite a few leads on the people that she's worked for."

"All of that work, for nothing." one agent huffed."How could she have got away from us?"

"I have never seen this sort of disguise technology before. And she's a woman, it's easier to not be noticed."

"This is the twenty first century you know, "

"And yet when tasked with finding a killer assassin, you all instantly thought it was a man. I wouldn't be presenting this information if I didn't believe in it."

"Alright, sit down agent." Rumlow nodded, and I practically scurried back to my seat.

My heart was pounding, I had been more scared of that than going into any mission. It was no surprise to me when I caught people glaring, rolling their eyes at me or simply frowning. I had proven that our months of work were a waste of time, we would have to revisit so many sites just to get a basic understanding of this woman. The briefing went on for another hour, discussing how we should change our plans, what the best and fastest course of action would be. Once finished, everyone rushed to leave, though I took my time, not wanting to be stuck in an elevator with them all. As I finally stood, gathering up my folder, Rumlow slowly closed the door.

"You've got some big balls there (Y/L/N)." he chuckled, leaning his elbows on top of a chair.

I stuttered like an idiot."Uh-uh, th-thank you sir?"

"Took a lot of nerve to present that new information, your team wasn't very happy."

I said nothing.

"Give me something to work with agent. You only make it hard on yourself." he wasn't harsh with his tone, but I still found it upsetting.

"It's...I-" I couldn't think of anything to say."It's work."

"It's work, right." he rounded the table to stand in front of me."Just don't think it would hurt to bond with them, at the end of the day, they're your allies, not your enemies."

"Yes sir."

We stood there, staring at each other as if it were a stand off. I felt that I had dissapointed him in the only way I could, by not being a team player. I had never put that as my strongest point, I worked a lot better by myself, but unfortunately, my skills were best used in this team. When he leaned away, I took that as a sign that I was dismissed, quickly leaving.

As I left, I could feel my pulse racing, my throat welling up as if I was about to cry. I loved doing this job, but I found it so hard to make friends, or even be casual with colleagues. All those years growing up in silence, and now it was being used against me. I couldn't let Rumlow down.

As the day went on, the team and I tried to gather as much intel as possible, and all was quiet in the room. Some of them overexaggerating their gestures when flipping through files or typing away. It made me feel more and more small, keeping my head down until this day was over.

"Right, lunch break!" someone called out, making me jump.

They all started to leave, and I heard mumbles of asking me to lunch, though that was followed with disagreement. I followed behind as we piled into the elevator, starting to descend.

"(Y/L/N)," Matt said,"you wanna eat with us today?"

I could see everyone's reflections, no one wanted me there. I opened my mouth to say no, but then I had another idea.

"Yes."

Their expressions changed from annoyance to shock, all exchanging glances. Some chuckled, others hollering and whooping that I was finally joining them. I was still hesitant to go with them, trying to keep up with so many conversations as we made our way to the canteen. They did most of the talking, I was a good listener. It was as if I was in a high school movie, hanging with the popular kids, being allowed to sit at their lunch table.

"So what made you change your mind?" Matt asked as we tucked into our food. Everyone else was involved in other conversations.

"Hm?" I sounded, still having food in my house.

"About coming to lunch with us?"

"Um...I need to be a team player."

"Did boss man say something?"

I looked down at my food.

"You don't have to be scared of him, he can't hear you."

"I...I guess so."

"Are you scared of him?" Matt teased.

"I'm not scared so to speak."

He gasped."You're intimidated, and not because he's the boss!"

I ducked my head."Can you not be so loud?"

He lowered his voice."I've seen the way you look at each other. It's very sexual."

My eyes widened."What?! What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Oh, she swears! And don't worry, I won't say anything to the others."

"Oh my god, I swear nothing is happening."

"But you wish it would."

"Matt."

He laughed under his breath, hiding it from the others."Hey, we don't get to see a lot of other people outside of work, it gets to you."

I carried on eating, thankful that my turtleneck was hiding my blush. I could have easily stopped it there, closed myself off again. But I was turning over a new leaf, I had to bond with my team, Rumlow had said so.

"OK, you want to know the real reason I'm quiet all the time?" I mumbled.

"Yes! Especially since that was probably the longest sentence I've heard from you."

"I grew up as an only child with really strict parents. And when I say strict, I think that Director Fury would be more of a doting father than mine was. So I've only known how to live a military lifestyle, which is why I'm here, obviously. And I guess, with people who are in charge, I feel like I can't dissapointed them. That's why I do so much extra work, not because I'm sucking up to Rumlow like you lot say. If I dissapoint, I get punished."

"Punished?"

"It's so stupid I know. But that's all I did for my parents. Work, work, work until they're happy. And we are one of the best teams within this whole organisation, it's only natural that we have to get good results."

"You out way too much pressure on yourself. You could never do anything wrong. I mean, did Rumlow yell at you for throwing away all of our work this morning?"

I ignored his jab."I guess not."

"Exactly. You know what, I'm starting to like you."

As the end of the day, I headed to the changing rooms to get into my gym clothes, ready for an evening workout. I had thought about lunch and how surprisingly well it went. Just as I was removing my jewellery, I heard two other people enter, thinking nothing of it until I heard my name.

"Did you see (Y/N) earlier?" a girl said, I couldn't recognise the voice.

"Yeah, how weird was it to see her with other people?" her friend replied.

"I actually started believing those rumours about her being a robot."

They giggled. I heard them shut their lockers, footsteps heading towards me. Quickly opening my locker, I used the door to block my face. Luckily they didn't see me, and I only closed it again when I was completely certain they were gone.

Don't let it get to you, not anymore.

Once the coast was clear, I carried my water bottle and towel into the training centre, heading straight towards the treadmills to warm up, when someone called my name.

"Quickly warm up," Rumlow instructed,"I need someone to spar with."

He was by the punching bags, going back to his workout. I stood there, surprised by the demand in his voice. Realising I was just stood there staring, I slowly turned around to get on the treadmill. Beginning the steady jog, I could feel my palms become sweaty, though not from the exercise. Was this a test? Or was he wanting to remind me who I was, put me in my place?

You haven't done anything to piss him off, idiot.

Not wanting to waste his time, I stopped running, the treadmill slowing down beneath my feet. Making my way towards him, I tried to big myself up in my mind, grow my confidence in a matter of steps; it shattered as soon as Rumlow looked at me.

"Come on then." he jabbed at my arm, stepping onto the sparring mat.

I took a deep gulp, almost tiptoing onto the mat. He had his arms up in a defensive stance, and I copied, bracing myself for impact. As we slowly circled, trying to figure out the others tactic. Some feeling in me surged, and I boldly threw the first punch. He easily blocked it, though I was able to get a jab at the stomach. We both tried hitting each other, achieving some as well as blocking. I got braver with every movement, managing to trip him over, though I followed soon after as he pulled me down with him.

We were rolling all over the place, both struggling to take control. I groaned, using my shouting to make my attacks stronger. But this was tiring, Brock was a great fighter, hence why he was in charge of the team. The day had been so emotionally training, and like an idiot, I was letting it get the better of me.

"Alright," Brock chuckled as I managed to gain control, tapping my arm,"that was a good fight."

I didn't ease off at first, wondering if it was a trick. When he stayed still, I slowly climbed off him, only to be flipped onto my back, Brock smirking over me, with a wild look in his eye that was doing things to me.

"Go to dinner with me." he blurted out.

My eyes widened."W-what?"

"You heard me."

"Uh-uh, sir I-"

"Just one date, that's all I'm asking. And before you say anything about work protocol, I say fuck it."

I could feel his grip loosening on me, and once again, I pushed him so he was the one lying down. However, I wasn't pinning him down the way we had been trained; luckily for me, no one else was in the room, and I was able to straddle him, hands resting on his firm chest.

What the fuck (Y/N), you can't just act out your fanatasties in the gym?!

"Pick me up at seven on Saturday. Surprise me." I confidently said, though I felt that I could faint at any moment.

He bit his lip, that seductive motherfucker."Your attitude has changed in a day."

"Do you like it?"

I hadn't meant to sound sexual, I was genuinely asking.

"So far, so good. Hopefully I'll get to see more of this on Saturday."

I stood up keeping a leg either side of his waist, looking down at him."You're very presumptuous. Don't get too confident just yet sir."

Saying nothing more, I walked back over to my water bottle and towel, purposely bending over as I knew he was still watching. I didn't even glanced over my shoulder as I left. But once I was out of sight, I let out the quick, heavy breaths from my mouth, sounding like I was hyper ventilating. Who was that back there? It certainly wasn't me! Where had that come from and where had that confidence been all my life? But the rush, the thrill of teasing him, that was amazing! Knowing that he wanted me, and that I wanted him, but still denying his advances. I had missed out on this my whole life. All I knew was that on Saturday, I wasn't going to hold back any more.

[andersoncharm]

Part 2-And it's My Whole Heart Deemed and Delivered a Crime- November 12 and 13, 2020. (Thursday and Friday)

Para: And it's My Whole Heart Deemed and Delivered a Crime-Part 2

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Seblaine. 

Blaine: @andersoncharm​

Sebastian: @smythesm​

When: Thursday, November 12, 2020, Friday November 13, 2020

Location: Sebastian’s Apartment- Boston, MA

Notes: With Hunter and Tony's warnings weighing down on them and the clock ticking away their seconds together Sebastian and Blaine struggle to say goodbye as they spend what very well may be their last twenty four hours together. How do you manage just one more day with your soulmate? How do you give one last kiss, one last touch? How do you make love one last time? How do you say goodbye?

Warnings:  This rp includes; Mild smut, mentions of possible main character death, mentions of parental death (Blaine’s Mom), mentions of toxic past relationships, mentions of brief past Klaine. (Under cut for length and content.)

Extra Warnings: (This RP is not Kurt Hummel friendly. You’ve all been warned.)

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine had thrown his whole heart and a little bit of magic into the breakfast he’d made for the two of them, for all he knew, it was the last time he’d get to make one for Sebastian and as mundane as it seemed, he wanted to make sure it was the perfect meal. He’d made the bacon crispy the way his boyfriend liked it, he’d made pancakes from scratch and piled them high with strawberries and whipped cream and real maple syrup. He’d have squeezed real oranges for the orange juice if he could have left to go get some. He didn’t dare step foot out of the apartment though, didn’t dare magic himself to the store or anywhere else for that matter. What if they decided to take away his remaining hours with Sebastian and he never got to properly say goodbye, never got to tell him how much he loved him or kiss him ever again. What if Sebastian’s last memory of Blaine was him popping out of his living room to go get something as silly as oranges? Plain orange juice sufficed and got the job done.

The whole apartment smelled like coffee and a breakfast that would put any diner to shame. Blaine would have been proud of himself under any other circumstance, but this morning, even though the November sun was shining in a too blue sky through orange and red trees, casting a golden tone throughout the day, even though it looked like a painting outside, the inside of the apartment was anything but sunny. Sebastian was just standing there, leaning against the counter in the kitchen, his mug of steaming coffee clutched in his fingers so tightly Blaine could see the red. His boyfriends eyes were wide and he was staring at the floor with his jaw clenched, completely in his own world and Blaine, for the first time ever, wished that Witches had the ability to truly read minds. What was he thinking? Blaine could feel the terrified energy radiating off of him and it made his heart ache with a bone deep sorrow knowing that it was because of him that Sebastian was feeling this way.

Sebastian, on a normal day when Blaine made food like this, would have stolen about five pieces of bacon and would have three cups of coffee down by now. He’d have pressed little kisses to the back of Blaine’s neck as he cooked and would  have at least pretended to help him cook the rest. Today though, Sebastian seemed to be in a state of shock and Blaine didn’t know what to do to get him out of it. He was standing as close to Blaine as he could, like he too was afraid to move away, but his mind was someplace else. Blaine had kept himself as busy as he could for the last hour since Hunter and Tony had walked out of their home and he was terrified that if he stopped moving or going on as if it were a normal day that he’d completely crack in half. He realized that this whole thing, the giant breakfast, was pretending that tomorrow wasn’t going to change them forever, even if he lived. Pretending that the Council and Order weren’t going to put him through hell, or that they might spare him all because he would tell him they were soulmates. Without proof… where did that leave them? 

He knew he was being silly and stupid by pretending it away and that he should be out trying to do something, anything to stop this… but his fear of being taken away from Seb even one minute before his time was overwhelming. Besides he’d promised Hunter and Tony he’d stay put. He knew Hunter was out trying to figure out a way out of this, and he could still feel Tony somewhere just outside keeping an eye on them. Freya was with her. Both of them were determined and fierce and it was a little overwhelming. He wanted so badly to contact his father, tell him to help him. But a little part of him was so afraid that his dad was in on it, that his dad, who would have to head this trial, was secretly glad to be rid of Blaine. The voice in his head, that sounded like his mom scolded him and told him differently. He just had to hope his dad was on his side.

He plated their food and set them out on the little bistro table in the small dining room before wrapping his fingers around Seb’s wrist and guiding him to eat. Sebastian looked up at him, his expression seeming lost as he sat down. The whole room felt like that- lost, not even Ras was begging for bacon and Ras loved bacon almost as much as he loved his papa. Blaine, trying to keep up his charade, reached for his fork and cut himself a bit of pancake. He loved sweets and this was his favorite part, any other day he’d have consumed most of it by now. He found that he couldn’t even lift the fork to his lips and suddenly his whole act felt stupid and how the fuck was he supposed to do this? How as he supposed to spend the next twenty four hours acting like he might not die tomorrow, like they might not fuck Sebastian’s whole brain up just to erase any trace of him out of it. Sebastian wasn’t a normal human, he was the soulmate of a fucking Witch- That didn’t just happen to humans. Something was special about them and gods what would erasing Blaine out of his memory do to Sebastian? He sat his fork down on the plate, the sound loud as a gunshot in the quiet room. He reached out with his hand and for the first time since Hunter and Tony had left he let himself really touch Sebastian and really feel the confusion, anger and sadness that seemed to be consuming his boyfriend. He wanted to tell him that it would be okay again, but all at once it felt like a lie and he couldn’t bring himself to lie right now.

His voice cracked as he tried to speak and he had to stop, close his mouth and swallow before trying again. What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to do this? His whole world was shattering right in front of him and he couldn’t do anything about it. All he had were these last hours and he was lucky to be getting that at all. He took a deep breath, his eyes wide as he scooted his chair over so that his knees were touching the side of Seb’s leg. He leaned forward and pressed his face into Sebastian’s shoulder, just breathing in his morning scent for a moment, his fingers holding tight to his hand.

“I-I know this isn’t how this was supposed to happen. We were supposed to have more time.” He bit his lip, pulling back so he could look up into Sebastian’s worried green eyes. “But, we have a little bit and I want to spend every second making sure you know just how much I loved- how much I love you. I don’t want to go away tomorrow morning not knowing if I’ll get to see you again and worried that I didn’t make you feel all the love I have to give.” His voice cracked a little on the word give and he swallowed hard, determined not to cry yet. He was afraid he'd never stop. “Tell me what you want to do and I’ll make it happen. Anything you want, baby. You want to yell at me for putting us here, then yell at me… You want to cry? We’ll cry together. We can eat, we can watch movies. We can sleep or touch… Anything. I just want you to remember us.”

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian didn’t take one sip of the coffee Blaine had poured him and he couldn’t fucking remember the last time he didn’t drink coffee. He didn’t know what to do with his body or his thoughts. His brain was racing with a thousand thoughts and he felt like he might cry if the air hit his face the wrong way which was unlike him. Suffice it to say, the morning wasn’t going great for him. Seb didn’t know how to comfort Blaine so he just stood in the kitchen and stared at the floor as the thought ‘are you wasting your time?’ raced around all of the other thoughts bouncing around his sad, tired head. 

He poked at the fluffy whipped cream piled high on his pancakes and sighed. The food looked and smelled great but his stomach felt like a pit of acid and he was afraid he might throw up if he ate anything. Sebastian set his fork down and stared at the lavish spread on the small table. Suddenly Blaine touched him and his voice broke through his anxious fog. He reached out and laid his hand on his boyfriend’s thigh. An intrusive thought shot through him, what if he never got to do this again? Never got to something as simple as sit next to Blaine? Never to feel his knees pressed into his thigh or his forehead on his shoulder? Sebastian bit into his bottom lip so hard he thought he might draw blood. He had already picked his cuticles bloody and bit his nails to the nub. 

“Blaine. I…” Sebastian shook his head, his voice cracked from not being used much and his eyes were glassy with tears. He hated crying and he hated feeling this way. “I know that I….can’t spend the whole day acting like this but I’m….I’m sad.” He crinkled his face and swallowed the uncomfortable lump in his throat. “I just want to be near you. I…” Sebastian took a deep, wobbly breath and squeezed the other man’s thigh. “I just want you.” He shrugged his shoulders and looked down at his plate again. Seb wasn’t sure if his words even made much sense. What was there to do in the span of 24 hours? Plenty of things but there was so much that couldn’t happen at the same time. You couldn’t move into a house together or celebrate your new job that you hadn’t gotten yet or travel to Paris again or celebrate all of the holidays and birthdays that might be missed. Hunter and Blaine had told him that his memories could be erased. There wasn’t enough time to relive every moment with Blaine he held dear. They couldn’t stand in an arcade parking lot laughing over a little plastic Eiffel tower or dash through the snow in a horse drawn carriage or fuck in an attic under starlight or get tangled up in Ras’s leash. No fancy French dinner dates or enchanted pomegranates or Wonder Woman themed gifts. All Sebastian could do was make the most out of a day that felt like it was suffocating him. 

 “I don’t want to waste the food but I can’t eat right now. Maybe we could lay down together?” He stood up from the table and held his hand out.

Blaine’s POV:

A jolt of actual pain shot through Blaine’ body as Sebastian’s voice cracked, Blaine could feel it in his bones just as pain as if he’d been slapped across the face. He hated this, hated that he couldn’t fix it. Hated that he’d been born a Witch and that loving Sebastian made him wrong. He’d never hated being a Witch, always loved that he’d gotten such a powerful gift of healing from his mother, and gifts of charms from his father. But, especially his mother’s gifts. He’d always loved knowing he could heal someone's broken heart with a song as they passed by him on the streets, even if the relief only lasted an hour, it always made him feel good knowing he got to make the world a little brighter. But, the archaic laws against Witches and humans being together made him loathe his gifts. It wasn’t as if Blaine was some awful Witch playing with a human's mind, no, he and Sebastian were Fated. That meant something in the Witch community. He could already hear the Councils arguments against how it wasn’t possible.... If only they could just meet Sebastian, if only they could see how much they loved each other. He knew they’d never allow him into their world though. Blaine would have to think of something else. He knew his word wasn’t enough. He knew he’d try anyway.

He swallowed hard as he listened to his boyfriend struggle though his words, each one of them adding another weight to his already heavy heart. The soft and broken way Sebastian said the word sad almost did Blaine in and he found himself clenching his teeth at the unfairness of it all again. He wanted to curse the gods because at the end of the day it was their fault. Was it all just some cruel joke? Find the loneliest Witch and Fate him to someone he’s not allowed to have. Watch him burn? Giggle as the human struggles to grasp a life without his love? And once again Blaine found he’d trade his magic for just one lifetime of freedom with Seb. 

He watched Sebastian and his thoughts seemed to be going a mile a minute. His smooth face scrunched and wrinkled with each new thought that crossed him and Blaine couldn’t take it anymore so he reached out and cupped his hands against Sebastian’s face gently, holding him there so that Seb could see him, so Seb would know that Blaine was here. That he had him and that he’d stay by his side until Hunter took him away. 

“You have me, I’m right here, Seb. I won’t leave your side until they make me…” He trailed off his eyes following Sebastian’s as he looked at the meal. “I can always warm it up later if you’re hungry, we’ll just leave it.” He stood and handed Ras a few pieces of the bacon, the pup looked worried as he reluctantly took the meat from Blaine’s fingers. His brown eyes were large and his energy buzzing anxiety. Normally Ras would have barked with joy at the prospect of three whole pieces of  bacon, now he looked like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to be happy. Blaine gave the gorgeous pup a pat on the head, murmuring to him that it was okay and they’d see him in a little bit before letting Seb lead him back into the bedroom. 

Blaine crawled into the bed next to Sebastian and pulled the covers over them, he pulled the other man to him, his arm tightly over his waist,  their eyes meeting in the weak morning glow. The two of them were still in their pajamas, Hunter had only left a little bit ago and the digital clock next to the bed read 6:23 am. Blaine only twenty two hours left with Sebastian. His stomach dropped at the thought and suddenly he was pissed that he’d spent an hour cooking when he could have just been here, holding Sebastian against him like this. And even has the thought hit him, he knew that it didn’t matter what they did, he would always think it wasn’t good enough. People shouldn’t have to live like this, time shouldn’t be measured like this. They should just be living. Sebastian should be preparing to go out into the workforce, Blaine should be finding his own way in life whether it be at LeFay or on his own helping people in other ways. They should be talking about moving in with each other, maybe getting a house and maybe getting married one day. Maybe Sebastian might even change his mind about children and maybe they'd have one running around calling Seb papa and reaching for them with sticky hands and chasing Ras and Freya around until they fell asleep tangled in Ras’ fur. If only Blaine had been born human. If only Seb had been born a Witch…

He bit his lip and reached out to gently brush a strand of hair from Sebastian’s cheek. “Do you remember the night we met? We had a connection even then, didn’t we?” He licked his lips, his voice a little unsteady even though he tried his hardest to keep it strong. “I knew as soon as I touched your face that I was ruined and that you’d be the reason I smiled for the rest of my life.” He swallowed hard, his throat hurting with the sensation of tears that he refused to let fall, he wanted to be strong for Seb, Seb who was crying already and needed Blaine to be the one that didn’t for once. “Do you remember the first time I told you I loved you? Way too soon and I was so afraid that even with our connection that you’d get scared and run away.” He let out a little laugh at the memory. “You didn’t though. You looked at me with your big green eyes and said you needed time… but you didn’t need time because you knew and you told me not even five minutes later.” He took a deep breath and shook his head.

“We completed each other from the moment we met and that’s why I have to keep being hopeful that I can find a way to show them that we’re not just a couple. I have to have hope that I’ll figure out a way to show them that you’re my Fate and that I’m yours and that by taking me away from you it’s hurting you and we don’t hurt humans.” He licked his lips again, his throat suddenly feeling dry as he gathered Sebastian into his arms even tighter. “And if I-I can’t convince them and I do have to leave you… I want you to know that it was all worth it for me. I’d face a thousand witch fires just to know that I got to be with you. That I got to be loved by you for a little bit. You have been my greatest happiness and my best song, Sebastian. The grandest magic I’ve ever done and I’d go through this whole trial again just to have your company.” He blinked away a few unshed tears, angry with himself as they dripped hot and fast down his face, he tried his best to ignore them. 

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian wrapped his arms around Blaine’s hips under the covers. He could feel the other man’s hands on his own waist, their arms brush against each other. The covers were warm and heavy on his exhausted body and sleepiness tugged at his eyelids but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sleep with the constant barrage of negative thoughts. “We always had a connection,” Seb’s voice was raspy and low. “There’s gotta be a way, right? There has to be something, right?”

He pressed a finger to Blaine’s lips. Sebastian nodded and brushed a few tears away from the other man’s cheeks. He knew how Blaine felt and he agreed but, he couldn’t bring himself to speak like things were final. His mind was already filled with dreadful situations and it felt like tears were stuck on the ridges of his eyes all morning. Sebastian lay with Blaine quietly for a few moments and just listened to him breathe, pressed his ear to his chest to count his heartbeats. “You know that I feel the same way, right? I don’t do magic, obviously but, you’ve been my most exciting accomplishment. You’re the best person I know. I love you.” He was thankful that his face was towards the blankets on Blaine’s chest as a few tears fell slowly. Why was crying so fucking exhausting? Everything inside of Sebastian felt spent. 

“I’m so fucking tired but, I don’t know if I can sleep. Is it selfish to want sleep? Would it be wasting all of our time? I don’t know what to do.”  Sebastian lifted his head and watched his boyfriend’s face. He always loved laying next to the other man in bed. He never thought he would be into cuddling or pillow talk but he loved it with Blaine. Loved sleeping next to him, being cuddled, even enjoyed just laying there talking late at night when they had too much wine and couldn’t stop joking around. He would miss it, couldn’t think of experiencing any of it with anybody else. Nobody would be able to hold him the same way or make him laugh or think like Blaine would. 

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine knew that Sebastian hated hearing him talk about his death, his finger against his lips a reminder that any time he tried to say goodbye or prepare him that Seb would hush it. But it was right here and there was a very real chance that Blaine not get to come back. He wondered for a moment as he let his fingers stroke through the soft hair at the base of Seb’s neck, if he’d walk the streets on Samhain trying to find a way to get a message to his love. What would Sebastian’s life be like without him in it? Would he wander around thinking something was missing from his life and spend the rest of his days trying to figure out what it was? Would he live? Would his broken red string of fate allow him to exist without Blaine? Blaine mostly wanted him to get to live a life, a happy one. But, the selfish part, the part that knew they only belonged to each other knew that it probably wasn’t possible for Sebastian without him. And it made him ache even more to find a way to survive this. To get back to his person.

“I know you do, Seb. I know how hard it is for you to voice things like that too and hearing you say them now is bittersweet. I love getting glimpses of this side of you, but the fact that you’re so freely offering your feelings to me means that you’re scared and I don’t want you to be scared, it hurts and I’d give anything to make you feel good again.” He bit his lip and could feel the hot, damp sensation of tears falling through his shirt and onto his chest where Sebastian was lying his head on his heart. And again he wanted to fucking hex the gods. And that ugly part that lived in all Witches when they felt threatened felt so close to the surface. But Sebastian was in his arms and he was real and he loved Blaine exactly the way he was and Blaine never wanted to do anything to change that opinion. So he reeled it in and pressed a kiss to the top of Seb’s head and moved their bodies so that Sebastian’s back was pressed against his front and Blaine’s lips were pressed against the back of his neck. 

“I love you back, I always will.” He pressed a soft kiss to one of Sebastian's star dusted freckles and then did it again and it was like catching his own star with his lips. “No, it’s not a waste of our time. We’re together and that’s what matters. I think it’s actually a good idea, we can hold each other and be close and maybe when we wake up, we’ll feel a little better and you won’t be in so much shock.” He gathered Sebastian closer, holding his boyfriend as tightly as he could comfortably, his lips close to his ear so he could hear his question. “With your permission I could make sure you get some decent sleep and promise you no nightmares. Yeah?” He pressed another kiss to the shell of Seb’s ear and after a moment of hesitation he could hear Sebastian’s sleepy, raspy voice say the word yes. And as Seb snuggled deeper into his arms, his hands clutching at Blaine’s, he was overcome with how much this meant that Seb trusted him. Blaine had only done this twice for Seb, once without permission on their first night together and since then he’d been afraid to break Seb’s trust. It almost felt like a call back to that night two and a half years ago as Blaine closed his eyes and hummed a soft nameless tune into Seb’s ear, only this time Blaine was holding him close and fighting like hell to stay with him instead of trying to leave him.

Peaceful, healing and calming magic flowed from Blaine’s lips into Seb’s mind with each new note and within minutes Sebastian’s breathing was steady and his chest was rising and falling in rhythm to Blaine’s song and Blaine could feel the pull working on himself. It wasn’t until he heard Ras’ tentative steps into the room and then felt his slow climb into the bed before the pup finally curled into the two of them at the foot of the bed that Blaine let himself fall asleep with his two favorite boys. All that was missing was Freya and she was out there with Tony, keeping them safe.

—-

Blaine woke slowly, his mind moving before his body and while he hadn't forgotten what was happening, he still felt a little better. More relaxed and like he might properly be able to somewhat… enjoy his time left with Seb. His heart still ached and he was still terrified, but Seb was so comforting in his arms and in his dreams they'd grown old together. 

The digital clock on the bedside table read 11:56 am and too many hours had gone by, but Blaine had gotten to hold Sebastian and press him close for those hours and what else could he ask for? He nuzzled his nose into Seb’s neck, kissing the spot and then pressed a kiss to his ear and then his cheek, trying to slowly wake him up. They had a little over sixteen hours left and wanted to make up for things they may not be able to do. All at once he wanted to celebrate everything. Holidays, birthdays, the whole works...

“Wake up, baby.” He mumbled, his hand moving to turn Seb’s face gently towards him so that he could finally press a kiss to his lips, the first one of the day. “We should go have that breakfast, I can redo it so fast and it’ll taste just as good, and then we should pull out the Christmas stuff and decorate. You know how much Ras likes Christmas.” The dog stirred and yipped as if he knew the words. He did indeed like Christmas but that was mostly because of the snow and the free hambones he got. Perhaps Blaine could magic him one, just this once. He let himself smile, just a small one, hoping it would rub off on his sleepy, impossibly sad boyfriend. “What do you say, Seb- Christmas in November? I could even make us your favorite lemon cookies.”

Sebastian’s POV:

“Yeah,” Sebastian rarely let Blaine use his magic on him. He didn’t want to become dependent on it. He figured that if any time was good for magic, it was now. Seb pressed into Blaine and took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His boyfriend began to gently hum and the sound was soothing and warm. It wasn’t just the sound of his voice, though. Seb felt like he had drank chamomile tea or ate a big bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup. Warmth spread over his body as Blaine’s notes drifted over him and suddenly he couldn’t remember anything as he was sleeping deeply and soundly. 

He didn’t dream once. It was just peaceful, undisturbed sleep. Seb hadn’t even noticed Enjolras’s heavy body on his feet (which miraculously were not asleep.) When Blaine woke him, Sebastian didn’t feel groggy or sluggish. Sebastian softly kissed Blaine back and see stretched his back. “I needed that rest. Thank you.” 

The thought of food finally felt okay to him. He knew that he should eat and be alert for the rest of the day. It wasn’t going to do the other man any favors to be sad all day. Sebastian swung his feet over the side of the bed and his feet touched the cold hardwood floor. “That sounds good, B. I could eat.” 

He wasn’t great at decorating or even that interested in it normally but, he always indulged Blaine in decking out the apartment and he was right, Ras always seemed to love to bask underneath the tree and even wore a Santa hat for pictures (sometimes.) It would be a good distraction and would fill up some of the empty hours that lay ahead of them. “You know I’d never say no to lemon cookies. Sure, let’s do it. Coffee first and for real this time.” Seb forced himself to smile and stood up as the dog excitedly leaped from the bed. I’ll miss their relationship. B is so good with Ras. He scratched his head as if to get rid of the intrusive thought and then cleared his throat before the tears returned. He needed to hang onto the thought of watching Blaine work his literal magic on the decorations as the golden pup leaped around the living room. 

Sebastian and Blaine sat at the dining room table and ate a little bit and finally drank their coffee. The food tasted fresh and they talked about the decorations and what movie to play in the background as they dug into the bright red tote Blaine kept the Christmas stuff in. Ras got some more bacon and the two of them decided on a gold and white theme with splashes of red winter berries. “Sounds Classy. My mother will be jealous. You think the council will let me keep the tree up?” The words were out of his mouth with his scathing tone before he could stop himself. “ I’m...sorry. I shouldn’t...that wasn’t cool.” Seb blinked and his cheeks felt red (a rarity.) 

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine could tell that Sebastian’s smiles were still just a little too forced, and it felt like he was holding something back, like he was refusing to grasp everything as it was, and maybe that was his way of coping with everything. He was happy to see that Sebastian seemed to enjoy his food that Blaine had magicked back into freshness. He realized he’d been doing more magic today around the other man than he normally did in a month, but what did he have to lose at this point? Blaine had quickly and efficiently made the meltaways that Seb loved so well up and had set them out to cool as Sebastian drank his third cup of coffee and pawed through the Christmas boxes. It made him smile that Seb was willing to go this far for him. The decorating was mostly for distraction, but Blaine wanted Sebastian to have something of his to look at while he was gone, something they had worked on together. 

As they hung each ornament and Blaine made sure each little magical touch he put on the glistening, lit tree- a glimmer there, a twinkle here, magical berries all around- he couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow. He’d never gotten to go to Paris properly with Sebastian. Never gotten to walk the snowy streets of Paris with his person, never got to shop with Sabine, never got the chance to meet his grand-mère or prove to the stern woman that he was good enough for her grandson. The thought bothered him more than he wanted to admit. All he had was the memory of a squeaky bed and the breathtaking view from the top of a darkened Eiffel Tower at three am while Seb clung tightly to him. It was an incredible memory, but he’d have liked to have experienced the country proper. He took a deep breath and tweaked a few of the branches to appear to glow in certain angles, almost missing the snark coming from Sebastian. He turned to look at his boyfriend and couldn’t help but wonder the same damn thing.

“You don’t need to be sorry, Seb. You might just be in the angry phase of your… grief. I get it, I’ve been there a bit myself in my head.” He sighed and stepped away from the tree and moved around the pile of fluff that was Ras so he could join Seb on the couch. He sat close to him, one of his hands reaching out to link their fingers together. “I… I think that if I get sent away or I, um- die and they take your memory that the tree will stay but my magic will just fade.” He forced himself to look up at Seb, his eyes meeting his as he spoke, unsure and sad. “Or you’ll just forget that it existed at all. My face will fade from photos, and all the magical things I’ve done around here will as well. Your mom and the rest of your family will forget me and Ras might too. Though he’s a companion and our connection is a little different than humans, so maybe he won't? I don’t know… But, things that I’ve done that don’t involve me direction or my magic will stay.” He tried to make himself smile, but he really wanted to fucking sob. The thought of Ras and Sabine and little Luke forgetting about him was hard enough, but now it was just hitting him that he would just fade from every photo Seb had of the two of them.

“The photos I’ve taken of you and of Ras will stay, you just won’t know who took them.” He looked up at the photo of Seb and Ras Blaine had taken hanging on the wall. “My scent might linger? Um, the things I’ve gotten you that have nothing to do with magic will probably stay, well, maybe, I don’t know. I think so though because they’d have no way of knowing I bought it, especially if it’s just some silly thing- Like our Eiffel Tower. A mundane thing to others, but important to us.” 

He abruptly let out a mirthless laugh, much louder than intended and blinked back an onslaught of tears and angry emotion. “This… I am so scared that it will make you lose your mind, Seb. Because we are Fated and this has never happened before. I wish that I’d just disappear completely to make it easier on you. That everything I’ve ever bought or gave you would just go away… I know that sounds harsh, but I’m so scared of what this will do to your head.” Blaine bit into his bottom lip, his fingers tightening on Sebastian’s as if the tighter he held them, the better he’d feel. 

“But, I stand by what I said before… I’m going to find a way back, okay? There’s got to be a way, there’s gotta be something. You’re my Fate and in my world that means something. I have to make them see that  so I can come back to you. And then we’ll laugh about how dramatic we’re being right now. How ridiculously silly…” he realized with a pang that he’d been preparing Seb for a life without him by telling him all of the things he’d be missing from and his free hand went to his heart where he pressed it hard, as if that would still the pain. It didn’t: He forced himself to smile. Wanting to tell Seb it’d be okay, but unable to get the words out.

“Come here... enough of this.” He moved forward and in one motion he was straddling Seb’s lap for closeness, his hands cupping his boyfriends face gently before tilting his head back so he could look down at him for once. “I’ve  just realized that I haven’t kissed you properly today. Let me fix that.” His breath hitched as his lips connected with Seb’s, and he kissed him slow and deep, like he’d never get to do it again. And then Blaine was breathing him in like Seb was air. Like he’d suffocate without him. His fingers slipped upwards to tangle into his hair, his tongue sliding in between Seb’s teeth and exploring as if Sebastian was the sweetest taste it had ever known. 

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian swallowed the lump he suddenly had in his throat and stared at the floor. He took a shuddery breath and squinted hard, trying to keep more tears from falling. Seb let Blaine hold his hand and tried to listen to him speak. He hated the words that were filling the air, they all felt so negative and heavy. There were so many things he probably needed to say but couldn’t figure out how to place them. “This fucking sucks. I don’t like how any of that sounds.” 

He squeezed the other man’s hand back when he felt him tighten his grip. Sebastian wiped the tears on his cheeks away with his free hand. He felt angry with himself for crying. Blaine was the one that was going to get dragged away and might not come back and Seb couldn’t fucking hold it together for an hour without being magically put to sleep? “I need you to come back, B.” 

Seb held on to Blaine’s hips and immediately felt comforted by his weight. “Please.” He tipped his head up towards Blaine and kissed him. Sebastian slipped his hands under his boyfriend’s shirt and reveled in how warm his skin felt.  To be honest, this is exactly how he would love to spend his limited time with Blaine. They had always been an intimate couple, always knew what made the other feel good and had so much unspoken  trust in one another. Sebastian struggled with speaking about the more touchy feely things on his mind but Blaine didn’t need to hear it all. All they needed to do was kiss or touch and the other knew what the other seemed to be thinking. Sebastian nipped at Blaine’s bottom lip and ran his hands up and down his muscular back as if to memorize every tendon and movement. He moved one hand to grip the other man’s thigh. He wrapped his other arm around Blaine’s back and moved so that he was pressed into the couch. Sebastian had Blaine underneath him now, he stopped and watched his face for a moment before he leaned forward to kiss him deeply again. 

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine swallowed hard, Sebastian’s plea for him to come back felt like a punch to the gut and he’d give anything in the world to promise him that he would with one hundred percent certainty. He knew he couldn’t do that but he knew that he had to try and make it happen, he’d exhausted all of his promises to find a way, and now he just knew he had to do it. He tangled his fingers deeper into Sebastian’s hair and kissed him so hard he could barely breath from it. He wanted it though, wanted that closeness and the feeling of their bodies pressed together. He knew Sebastian struggled with words, knew that his much more private boyfriend was much better at showing his love through kisses and sighs and tangled, naked limbs, than with words and it had taken Blaine no time at all to learn his language. They conversed together beautifully and effortlessly.

Blaine leaned into the touches, his back arching into Seb’s fingertips, craving the feeling of them against his skin. His eyes opened in surprised when Sebastian pressed him against the couch cushions and all at once his tough façade flew out the window. He suddenly just needed Sebastian to guide him, show him that it would be okay- at least for a little while. Blaine had spent the last several hours trying his hardest to make Seb feel better, to make sure he was comfortable and safe that he’d forgotten that it was him that might die. He wasn’t sure he was afraid of dying so much as afraid of missing Sebastian in his afterlife. What kind of afterlife would he have without him? He was still terrified of what was to come and Sebastian’s weight on him, his lips on his skin… it was what he needed. His breath hitched again and he clung even tighter to his boyfriends body and he felt safe and at home in his arms. A part of him wanted to just sob and fall apart against his shoulder but he also wanted to Sebastian to take him into the bedroom and fuck him until he forgot about his emending judgement for a bit and he could fall apart in a completely different way.

Blaine could feel Seb against the thin layers of their pajamas, and he knew that he wanted the same thing. He pulled back, his head hitting the arm of the sofa a little harder than he intended. He let out a little laugh so he wouldn’t cry from his emotions being turned up far to high. He reached out and cupped Seb’s face, his fingers tracing down the rest at his neck, his thumb pressing just so at his pulse point.

“I want you to take me to bed…” His words trailed off as the overwhelming urge to cry struck him again, wondering if this would be the last time he got to say that. Would tonight be the last time they got to touch each other? Be inside one another? Would it be the last night he got to hear Seb whisper his name while he squirmed under Blaine? Or would it be the last time Blaine was surprised by how much he enjoyed the rare occasions Seb took the control from him? His breath hitched again and Blaine realized each time it hitched he was a step closer to crying and not stopping. He looked up into Seb’s eyes, feeling vulnerable as he spoke. 

“Please… I need you.”

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian sighed and pressed into Blaine when he felt his fingers on his neck. Even when Seb’s concern was to make Blaine feel good, the other man still did things to turn him on and ensure his pleasure. He had never had a love like B, and would never have one again. 

Seb wanted to make Blaine feel good and taken care of and if he couldn’t speak it, he’d make him feel it. He could see the tears sitting on the rims of the other man’s eyes. Seb knew that there would be tears all night and he was avoiding the unavoidable but he just couldn’t waste his precious time.He leaned forward and gave him another languid kiss before he took his hands and led him to the bedroom. 

He closed the door behind them and slipped his hands under Blaine’s shirt, let his hand rest on his heart for a moment before he lifted his shirt over his head. Seb dropped the shirt on the floor and suddenly they were both tugging at each other’s remaining clothing and Blaine was pressed to the bed. He kissed Blaine everywhere, traced every vein, touched every muscle, tasted every mark and freckle. Sebastian pressed his hips between Blaine’s legs and kissed him so hard and long he didn’t know how much time had passed. He pressed his hand to Blaine’s and wordlessly asked for his magic to coat his fingers. Sebastian leaned in close and whispered “Touch me, too.” 

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine let himself be led into the bedroom, his hands holding too tightly so Sebastian’s as if he’d disappear if he let go. He wanted to cling to him until his arms hurt and he couldn’t hold on anymore. His fingers pulled and yanked at Seb’s clothing, unhappy until they were all discarded in a heap on the floor and as Seb pressed him to the bed, Blaine could feel his emotions rising, a mix of desire and sorrow and it was an intoxicating mix, he felt like he might explode or collapse. But, looking up into Seb’s eyes, the early evening sun slanting across his face and making him look even more faelike, Blaine knew that if he had to collapse there was no better place than in Seb’s arms as he pressed kisses to his skin, and touched parts of his exposed body expertly. He could hold on a little bit longer.

He wasn’t sure how long Sebastian explored his body, how long he kissed Blaine- so hard his lips would be swollen hours later, but by the time Sebastian stilled and reached out for Blaine’s hand, ready to sick his fingers with Blaine’s magic, the sun was almost gone and Blaine’s body was pleasantly sore with Seb’s fingertips and kisses. He licked his lips and reached out to share his magic with Sebastian, and his cock throbbed as Seb’s magic coated fingers teased just a little at his entrance, his boyfriends touches and kisses had been so soaked with want and Blaine could hardly stand waiting. But, this was all part of their language. The movement, the wait, the build up… The slickness of his magic on Seb’s fingers, pressed against him, he loved it when Seb did this. Someone who had shown real fear of Blaine’s gift was now able to willingly ask him to share it so they could be intimate without boundaries. 

He let his legs fall open further at Seb’s words, the sound of them so close and breathy in his hear, and he wanted nothing more than to pull Sebastian into him all too quickly, but also wanting to feel his fingers, and then wanting to feel that initial slow burn and hiss as his boyfriend sank into him. He reached out, his fingers still slick and wrapped them around Seb’s cock. Working his fingers around and over him to get them both ready. With his free hand he took hold of Seb’s lightly teasing fingers and pressed them towards him, wanting them inside of him so badly he thought he might weep. He felt raw and exposed and desperate.

“Please, please touch me.” His breath hitched again, and he pressed his hips up towards Sebastian, needing him to take care of him. To hold him as he fell apart.  “Fuck me.”

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian let Blaine guide his slick fingers. He pressed two inside of him and watched the other man’s face. He liked what he saw, though he didn’t get this view very often. Blaine was squirming and panting and ready. Sebastian wasn’t in the mood to tease, he just wanted to be as close as possible. He removed his fingers and replaced them with his cock and pressed inside of the other man slowly. Sebastian stilled his hips though instinctually he wanted to keep moving. He wanted to give Blaine a moment. Seb ran his palm down the other man’s thigh to comfort him and ask for permission before he began to move. 

He leaned forward and slipped an arm behind Blaine’s neck to support him and bring them that much closer. Sebastian moved his hips again and again and the two of them were completely in sync. Thankfully he was too wrapped up in the feeling of Blaine’s body and the sound of his moans in his ear to think any of the sad thoughts that had infiltrated his mind all day long. All Sebastian wanted to do was make Blaine feel good, wanted, satisfied, and loved. He pressed his mouth to Blaine’s and kissed him hard, licked his bottom lip and then  kissed him again deeply. Sebastian could feel the stubble of Blaine’s five o’clock shadow scratch against his skin, could feel the other man’s thighs shake as they pressed into his hips. 

Sebastian took a deep breath and snapped his hips into the other man, he pressed his lips to his jaw, his lips, his neck and whispered every compliment and adoring word he could think of into his warm skin. 

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine let himself get lost in the feeling of Sebastian inside of him, the first sting, the slow and steady drag, the speed up-  as the other man pressed into him over and over sending him into a swell of pleasure taking away the dull pain he’d been feeling all day long for a little bit. His fingers scraped at the back of Seb’s neck as he let the other man kiss him so thoroughly and with a sweetness that was backed by a real and primal desire. Each thrust caused his toes to curl a little more and his legs to shake a little harder and it had been so long since he let himself be this open, normally he was in control and he loved it, loved the way Seb looked and felt under and around him, they always moved so perfectly together, this was no exception. He needed it, needed Seb’s strong arms around him, needed him to help him forget. He needed the desperate kisses and the low moans and the repeated I love you, I love you, I love you hummed over and over in his ear like the most beautiful song he’s ever heard. 

And all at once and too fast, or maybe they had been just like this for hours, moving together, kissing and loving each other so thoroughly-, he was coming hard and fast, his voice echoing his waves of pleasure as he rode them out. His legs squeezing around his boyfriend, trying to draw him in, encouraging him to keep going, not to let up just because he was sated, hoping to let his last just a little longer. His words a little whine in the back of his throat.

“K-keep going, baby.”

He held Seb close as he kept going, and he loved the sensation of feeling like jelly and still getting little thrums of pleasure throughout his body as Seb pressed into him.  The only thing between him was his crystal, sliding up a bit with each thrust. He clung so tightly, afraid that if he let go his pain would slam back into him and he’d burst into tears. He didn’t want that, he wanted to feel this moment , wanted to wrap it up and save it for later- like he wanted to do with so many memories with Sebastian. At the thought he might not be able to do that, the sorrow started to climb back up and he could feel the hitch in his chest anyway and he pulled Seb closer and buried his face into his neck, pressing tearful kisses and whispering the echoing words back.

“Gods, I love you…” 

Sebastian’s POV:

It didn’t take Sebastian very long to follow after Blaine. Blaine’s arms were tight around him, his fingers in his hair, his lips on his neck. He lay there for a moment so that he could catch his breath and he could feel the energy shift. Blaine’s whisper felt thick, like his throat was tight. Seb leaned up on his elbows to look down at Blaine and noticed the tears on his cheeks. “B…” Sebastian moved his body so that he was now laying next to the other man. “I love you back.” He pulled him close so that his forehead was against his chest. He rubbed his back and tucked his chin into his hair. Sebastian sighed and suddenly felt like he might cry, too. The whole day had been an emotional roller coaster and exhausting and it finally had caught on to him. His hands trembled as they tried to comfort the other man and suddenly he had tears falling, too. 

Sebastian wasn’t sure what triggered them. Maybe it was Blaine’s own teary eyes or the fact that he had been delaying  truly, freely sobbing all day. It was bound to catch up to him and he felt like he was having a panic attack and wished he had taken his medicine for once. His chest heaved and his skin felt like it was on fire and he knew if he spoke that his voice would embarrass him and would sound like a stranger. Sebastian hated this feeling, hated crying because it threw him into a vicious panicky spiral. Crying, really crying, made him panic which made him embarrassed and cry harder and made his breathing heavy and it was just best to avoid the whole mess altogether. Now here he was, naked and sobbing and he couldn’t pinpoint what had caused the reaction. 

“B….B, you gotta come back.”  He hated how thick his voice sounded, how he could feel phlegm in the back of his throat and the urge to throw up suddenly swam around in the back of his head. 

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine hadn’t meant to trigger Sebastian into tears as well, he hadn’t meant to make him cry the hardest Blaine had ever seen him cry before and the fact made his tears flow harder and faster and it made him cling to Seb tighter. Seb had been doing such a good job at comforting Blaine, the back rub, the kisses and sweet words and now Blaine could feel the panic just coming off of Seb in waves and Blaine was so so sorry for it. The desperate words of his nickname and the soft way he begged him to come back hit him right in the chest. They held onto each other for a long while, sniffles and low sobs permeating the air around them, at one point Ras came into the room, waiting to comfort his parents, but Blaine had to send him away with a little nudge of magic. He’d make it up to him. Or at least he hoped he’d get the chance. 

Finally, after who knew how many minutes Blaine felt like he might have cried himself out, he pulled back just slightly and Seb instinctively pulled him back towards him and his desperation broke Blaine's heart into a million little pieces. He swallowed hard, a new wave of tears he thought had dried threatened to steal him away into a dark place but he couldn’t let it. Not yet. He needed to be strong. He pulled Seb back to his chest and hummed a soft tune into his ear, not one for sleep this time, but one for calm. He wished he had an instrument with him, his calming magic always worked the best with one, but this would have to work. He stroked Seb’s hair and whispered that he’d come back to him, knowing that he shouldn’t do that but also unable to tolerate the heartbreak in his soulmate's voice again. He didn’t want to overwhelm Seb with his magic, so as soon as he felt the other man lighten up just a bit he stopped his magic flow. 

“Hey…” He mumbled, his lips finding Seb’s to place a gentle kiss against his kiss and cry swollen lips. “I’ve got you…” He took a deep breath, and braved a look at the clock on the bedside table and his heart jumped upon seeing that it was already 11:02 pm. They had less than six hours left. Their passion had lasted much longer than it felt and the thought threatened to send him reeling again as the two of them were so effortless… He licked his lips,  and sat up a bit, his hands slipping reluctantly from around Seb’s body to hover by his own neck, nervous over what he was about to do. He’d never, in over eight years, done this before. Without thinking too hard about it, he pulled the string with the crystal his mother had given him all those years ago over his head and placed it securely around Sebastian's neck. He instantly felt naked even though he was already completely bare. His fingers pressed the shiny clear quartz against Seb’s heart and shook his head when Seb started to protest.

“I want you to have this.” He nodded, his hand still pressing the crystal to Seb’s heart. “I know that when- if something happens to me that all of me will be taken away from you so I have no way of protecting you. But, the magic that’s in this crystal is my moms it’s been there since before she died, and she died with honor so it won’t disappear…  and it’s done a good job of keeping me safe, so I think it’ll do that same for you.” His breath hitched again as he took in the visual of Seb wearing his crystal. He didn’t know how he was going to be able to make himself walk out of that door in five in a half hours…

“Please, don’t take it off. I’ll go to trial better knowing you’re holding on to this for me. Knowing that my mom is keeping you safe for me.” He pressed his face into Seb’s chest, his words muffled. “Please, Seb... And when I come home you can give it back to me, yeah?” He pulled his face back, and gave Seb a smile despite the tears caught in his lashes. “She’d have been happy to keep you safe for me.”

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian shook his head and even tried to lean away as Blaine put the necklace over his head. “Baby, I…” It wasn’t that he didn’t like the crystal, he just knew how much it meant to the other. He fidgeted with the cool crystal and smoothed the cord around his neck as Blaine spoke. How many times had this very crystal dragged across his own chest in the heat of the moment? How many times had he watched his boyfriend play with it absentmindedly while reading or watching something? Now it was sitting against his skin and he swore he could already feel a positive thrum vibrate gently against him. Sebastian ran free hand over Blaine’s shoulder and leaned forward for a kiss. Seb took a deep breath and nodded, “I won’t take it off. I’ll wear it for as long as you need me to. I don’t know if I deserve her protection but, I’ll take it.” 

The clock refused to stop ticking and Sebastian decided that time was his one true enemy. He felt like anytime he lifted his head from the pillow or took a breath in between a kiss or a touch, too much time had passed. The two of them spent the next few hours in bed, kissing and touching and tasting and whispering. Blaine pressed Sebastian into the mattress and made him forget about the cruel pull of time for a little while and they held each other as they shivered in the afterglow. 

They took a long, hot shower together until the water ran cold. They let themselves get distracted by each other’s bodies, washed each other’s hair and stood under the water wrapped up until they felt like their pruney fingers may never recover. Sebastian put on Blaine’s LeFay hoodie and breathed in the intoxicating yet comforting scent of the spicy oil he wore. He made sure that the crystal was tucked safely away against his chest since he wasn’t used to wearing jewelry (besides the occasional watch).  Sebastian  sat and watched as his boyfriend got dressed and he refused to look at the clock.  “I don’t think I can eat and I don’t want to sleep. Maybe just...come sit on the couch with me?” 

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine’s body felt pleasantly sore from the night's touches, but also so exhausted by the time the two of them stepped under the heat and steam of the shower. Each stroke of lips over his skin, each massage of fingertips into his scalp, it all reminded him of how very real they were to each other. He tried his best to keep it together as they dried off and Blaine dressed himself in jeans and a red sweater, and let his curls free from any product. He’d much rather be in pajamas and crawling into bed for sleep with his person, but the Fates were testing them and had other plans today. He’d encouraged Seb to put new pajamas on, told him that he’d be so tired he’d fall right to sleep and that comfort mattered right now. 

Blaine looked up at Seb, his boyfriend's eyes wide even though they seemed heavy with exhaustion and he nodded. He made his way to the couch and sat before pulling Sebastian into his arms and held him close against his chest as tightly as he could. They didn’t put the television on, they didn’t really have the time for that, the clock read 4:12 am and if he kept looking at it he’d go crazy. There was a pit in his stomach and he wanted to scream again at the unfairness of it all. But Seb was in his arms and the weight on top of him was comforting and Blaine didn’t want to ruin their final minutes with dramatics. 

“There are some potions in the cupboard where the tea is, some for sleep and some for calming. I don’t know if they’ll be there after the trial is over, but the trial could take days and I know you’ll be restless, please don’t hesitate to take them, okay?” He pressed his cheek to the top of Seb’s head, pulling him even closer. “And don’t forget that Freya will be with you the whole time. You’ll have her and Ras with you the whole time. And if you need anything from anywhere, text Tony. She’s staying out there until it’s done. And I’ve put extra protection spells up around the place… you’ll be safe.” He paused, a guilty thought hitting him. “Gods, I’m sorry you won’t be able to do your work…” He was cut off suddenly by a twinkle in the air and paws hitting the floor. 

All at once Freya was in the room, coming through the balcony like she owned the place and there was soft knocking on the door. So different than what it would be like if Blaine didn’t know he had to go. And it was time… Hunter let himself in and Blaine could see Tony behind him, her eyes red and puffy like maybe she’d witnessed some of their struggles on her patrols that night. Or maybe she was just upset that Blaine was being taken away. Blaine kissed the top of Seb’s head and made himself stand up, he shook Hunter’s hand before Hunter stepped around him and pulled Sebastian into a hug and then Blaine did the same with Tony. She felt small and helpless in his arms even though he knew she was anything but. No real words were exchanged between the four of them and it was probably better that way.  

“Just give me two minutes…” He pleaded when Hunter pulled out the cuffs.

And Ras who usually jumped at the sight of Freya and the chance to lick her pretty little frowning face held back. He must have known something was wrong. Blaine bent down and kissed the top of the pups nose and ruffled his fur. “Take good care of your papa for me, yeah? I’ll be back before you know it.” The dog licked his face a few times before doing his duty and moving to stand next to Seb. Freya moved toward Blaine and at first Blaine was afraid that she’d changed her mind and she was going to come with him even though she was supposed to stay here to guard and keep Sebastian safe, but she looked at him and told him to come home in their special Witch/Familiar language. She pressed her face to his for a moment and then moved to stand on the other side of Seb though Blaine could tell she was fighting against her nature. Familiars were supposed to be with their Witches during trials, but she knew how important this was.

Blaine stood, his eyes settling on Sebastian’s face, his boyfriend looking just as drained as him, but he was still the most beautiful person Blaine had ever seen in his life. He ached to run to him and cling onto him and tell Hunter they could just kill him here, but he knew he needed to plead his case. He stepped up to Seb, one hand cupping his face and turning it to look at him, the other going around his waist to pull him close. Blaine went up on his tip toes for one last kiss, letting his lips linger over his boyfriends for a long moment, knowing that the seconds were ticking and Hunter was already being generous with time. He signed and pulled back, and let his thumb brush over Seb’s lips. His other hand moved to press his mom’s crystal against Seb’s heart again, as if to remind himself that it was there. She was with him too. His breath hitched and he felt like he could collapse at any second and the tears were brimming and threatening, but he kept them in, trying his hardest to keep it together and be strong for Seb. What could he say that hadn’t already been said? He didn’t know so he settled on the simplest. 

“Remember that I love you. And if they make you forget me, try to remember that someone loved you more than anything in the world..”

With that he let his hands drop and turned toward Hunter, holding them out to him so the enchanted restraints could be attached to his wrists. He kept his eyes on Sebastian the whole time, hoping he’d done enough to show how much Seb meant to him. The restraints were already draining him, making him more compliant even though he hadn’t put up a single fight at all. He watched as Hunter and Tony gave a regretful nod to Seb and before he could say much else he was being ushered away from his Sebastian.

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian nuzzled into Blaine’s chest and nodded. He was usually pretty leery about taking potions and abusing the other’s magic but at this point, what was the use? Like B had said, the trial could take days and he was ordered to lay low the entire time. He was thankful Blaine had thought ahead because he was sure he was going to be miserable without Blaine or Hunter around. 

All at once, Freya was in the room and Hunter was there with intimidating looking handcuffs and Tony was red eyed and tired looking. Sebastian couldn’t speak or focus as Hunter pulled him into a long hug. The tears were back and they streamed down his face as his best friend stepped away. 

Sebastian looked down at Blaine and sniffed. He didn’t want this to be goodbye, couldn’t imagine what was next for them, wished he wasn’t too scared to fight every hunter and witch. There were too many feelings and thoughts fighting for control of his mind and all he could do was nod and cry. Seb wanted to say that there was nobody else out there for him, wanted to say that Blaine was the best person he knew and that he had made him so much better. All he could strangle out  was a sad, “I love you back.” Freya nudged his calf with her furry forehead and Ras whined as Hunter clamped the cuffs onto Blaine Sebastian made sure he kept his eyes on Blaine the entire time, even as he was crying and little sad sobs fell from his lips. 

After the three of them left the apartment, he fell to the floor in a crumple. Freya and Ras lay next to him as he sobbed, he had never had a reaction like this before. Sebastian didn’t know how long he had been crying but felt like he would never stop, like some sort of tragic fairytale character. Maybe he would flood Boston and Blaine would get carried away to safety.

 After what could have been mere minutes or torturous hours, his throat was sore, his nose was runny and his entire body shook from exhaustion. At some point, Sebastian had cried himself to sleep with Ras’ head on his hip as Freya purred next to his face, the thrum of the crystal tucked away next to his heart.

/fin.

-To be concluded in part 3 within the next few weeks.

[monstaxperiments]

Monsta X reaction to being jealous of your male friend (pt. 1)..~

Jooheon:

..~ Your bff, Mike has been working his ass off at his new job and finally has a Saturday off. You and Mike have been bffs since high school and even dated a short while but decided it would be best to just be friends. To catch up, he suggests hanging out, but it was also you and your bf Jooheon’s date night, so you decide to spend the day with both of your favorite guys. Jooheon was reluctant to let Mike tag along on your date but knows how close you two have been and he just wants to see you happy. He regrets his decision as soon as Mike walks up the theater steps and sees you practically sprinting to give him a huge hug. A hug that Jooheon felt took a little longer than needed. He says hello and gives Mike the fakest smile he could muster and follows behind the two of you into the theater lobby. Why am I following behind them? I’m y/n’s boyfriend not this guy Jooheon thinks to himself as he not so subtly squeezes in between you and Mike. You and Mike give him an odd look but brushes it off. “Oh, don’t worry about it, I got this,” Mike says as he pulls out his wallet “I feel like the third wheel anyway so I’ll pay for everyone’s ticket. Also just to say thanks Jooheon for letting me tag along. Not a lot of boyfriends would do that.” Mike gives Jooheon a friendly smile. “Yeah no problem.”Jooheon says with that fake smile of his. “Yeah you are third wheel.” Jooheon mumbles under his breathe just as Mike turns away to pay for the tickets. The three of you walk toward the concession stand next. “What do you guys want? I’m buying.” Mike says taking out a wad of cash. Jooheon rolls his eyes so hard he could’ve sworn he saw his brain. “Wow Mike! You’re really getting paid at your new job!” You say in a super impressed tone. A tone that Jooheon couldn’t help but feel inferior to. “Well, you know.” Mike says with a nonchalant shrug “Pretty soon you’ll be hanging out with a rich man” He smiles down at you, nudges you playfully. “Rich men get all the pretty girls.” Mike says this last sentence while looking over his shoulder at Jooheon with a sinister smirk. Jooheon stands there dumbfounded, unable to speak. You make your choices and Mike steps forward to pay for it “No I got it!” Jooheon says while squeezing in between you two again causing Mike to stumble back almost falling to the ground. “Jooheon! Stop being so so rude!” You say. “I’m not being rude, y/n. You’re my girlfriend I should be the one taking care of you.” Jooheon says while smiling at the clerk, handing them the cash. You three finally make it into the movie theater, with you in the middle. Jooheon rolls his eyes as he sees you and Mike chit chatting and giggling and sitting closely while waiting for the movie to start. Now he felt like the third wheel. 

The movie is about 30 minutes in and Jooheon finally felt at peace. You and Mike weren’t talking or giggling about the old days. Jooheon looks over at you to make sure you were enjoying the movie when he sees Mike’s arm over your seat. That sent Jooheon into a rage. “Ok I’ve had enough!” Jooheon yells as he stands up from his seat. A few people shush him and others turn around to see whats going on but Jooheon doesn’t care. He swats Mike arm away from you and gently pulls you up from your seat. “Since you got here you’ve been trying to steal y/n away from me but it stops right now. Don’t ever contact y/n again. And I better not see your face ever again.” He takes your hand and drags you out of the theater. 

Back in the car headed home ~ “I’m sorry y/n. I know you were really excited for that movie. I’ll take you to go see it again another time but I had to get you away from that guy.” He hears a sigh of relief from you. “I’m so glad you did. He was giving off weird vibes all night. And besides seeing you all jealous and possessive like that was a huge turn on.” You smirk at him. “Oh yeah? Well I must look unbelievably sexy right now because that guy really pissed me off.” “Yeah... I’m wondering if I should tell you he tried to grab my butt a few times.” Jooheon almost completely brakes on the highway, earning him a few car honks. “WHAT???” Jooheon is once again dumbfounded and threatens to turn the car around to kick some ass “Jooheon you can’t turn around on a one way street!”

I.M:

..~ “Ahahahahaha I win again y/n.” I.M says while sticking his tongue out at you like a little kid. This is the sixth round in a row you’ve lost to I.M while playing Mortal Kombat 11. You were starting to get annoyed but let him have his little victory. “I’m tired of this game. Can we play something else now?” You ask pouting and batting your eyes. “Sure. What game do you feel like losing next?” I.M chuckles to himself as he looks through the drawer full of games. Just then a notification pops up on the screen. ‘Handsomeguy90 is now online’. “Yay! Jesse is online!” I.M’s shoulder slump at the sound of that name. Jesse. Your bff from college. He currently lives about 10 hours away so I.M rarely had to see him, but he definitely hears his voice way too often. Another notification appears on the screen. ‘Handsomeguy90 is inviting you to play The Sims Online’. That was what you and Jesse liked to play together. An online game of avatars living everyday life and being able to text chat and voice chat with other players. Unfortunately for I.M, you two liked to voice chat. You grab the main controller from I.M’s lap and grab the headset that sat under the coffee table. You accept the invitation. “I guess were done?” I.M drops his hands into his lap with a sad expression. “Hey Jesse!” You say a little too excitedly. “Hey y/n! How are you? You sound so good!” I.M can hear Jesse’s voice through the headset which gave him a headache. He listens as you and Jesse make small talk before starting up the game. In this game you and Jesse’s avatars were married and had two kids with a third on the way. I.M hated when you played this game with Jesse. It made him feel like he wasn’t giving you what your heart truly wanted or you actually really wanted to be with Jesse. He watched with disgust as Jesse’s avatar continuously flirted with your avatar and also listened with disgust as Jesse said whatever his avatar said to your avatar. Things like you’re looking extra sexy today, that dress you’re wearing makes your butt look amazing, I love you so much, we were meant to be together, and so on. I.M couldn’t take it anymore. He got up to get a drink from the kitchen. As he returns he sees another avatar on the screen with the name I.M. The I.M in the game was an ugly old man with horrible traits and was the neighbor of you and Jesse. “What the fuck is that?” I.M asks in an annoyed tone. “Oh, Jesse thought it would be fun to include you in the game as sort of a comedy character. You’re our teched old neighbor who likes to spy on us and leave weird things in our mailbox and stuff like that. Isn’t that funny?” I.M just stares at you for a long moment. “Is he ok?” I.M could hear Jesse through the headset laughing. I.M swiftly lifts the headset from your ears. “Hey!” You exclaim in shock. “Goodbye Jesse.” I.M says into the headset and walks to the console and turns it off. “I.M what the hell?!” You say as you stand to turn it back on but I.M stands in your way. “Y/n I don’t want you playing that game with that guy ever again.” I.M says calmly. “You’re really that upset over a character in a game? It was just a stupid joke for the game.” You say crossing your arms. “I don’t care about the character, I care about the fact that you have this make believe life with a guy who obviously likes you says all this weird flirty stuff in your ear. That’s my job! I’m suppose to say weird flirty stuff in your ear.” You slowly uncross your arms listening to I.M. He was jealous. You felt bad for making him feel this way and being oblivious that you were doing it. You walk towards him and drape your arms around his waist. “I’m sorry baby you’re right only you can say weird flirty things to me.” I.M smiles and drapes his arms around your shoulders. “That’s right babe” he says kissing you on your forehead. 

Hyungwon:

..~ Hyungwon was asked to walk in a fashion show of a luxury brand. He got you a front row seat which made you super nervous. Only the elite sit front row at fashion shows, especially for luxury brands. Since Hyungwon was walking in the show, you two arrived early. While Hyungwon was backstage, you sat at the bar. You were sitting alone for a while until a handsome young man takes the seat next to you. He greets you with a hello and you greet him back. “What’s a pretty model doing here at the bar instead of getting ready backstage?” The man asks you after ordering a drink. You giggle and explain you’re not a model but your boyfriend is modeling in the show. “Oh what a shame to waste such a beautiful face and body to just have you sit in the crowd. How about you sit next to me then?” He says while sipping on his rather expensive looking drink. “I don’t think we can just change seats like that.” You say still a little flattered while sipping on your own drink. He smirks “I don’t think anyone would have a problem with it.” The two of you sit and chat for another hour until the show is about to start. While telling each other about yourselves, you learned that his name was Jason and that he was the son of the designer of the luxury brand and heir to the business. Hyungwon originally had you sitting on the left side at the end of the runway but now that you were sitting with Jason you were sitting on the right side dead in the middle. As you follow Jason you could feel the stares and hear the whispers of the elite around you. You notice the press turning their camera in your direction. You hear Jason chuckle. “They act like they’ve never seen a beautiful woman before. Tell your boyfriend to watch out, they might think we’re a couple y/n.” Jason flashes you a flirty smile. Suddenly the music changes, the outer lights dim, the inner lights start to flashes and swirl around each other, and the emcee comes on stage to start the show. You watch as the gorgeous and handsome models walk up and down the runway in awe. Soon you see a familiar face strutting down the runway. You let out a small shriek of excitement, you see Jason turn to you with curiosity, you smile and point at Hyungwon, “That’s my boyfriend.” Jason nods his head understandingly. You see Hyungwon’s eyes look in the direction of where he originally had you sitting. Oh shit where is she? She couldn’t find her seat? She didn’t get kicked out did she? Questions were racing through Hyungwon’s head and he started to get worried but he had to keep a straight face. Hyungwon gets to the end of the runway, strikes a pose and turns to walk back up the runway, but something catches his eye as he walks a few steps. He sees you waving your hands just at chest level. He was relieved to see you in crowd but he also notices another hand. On your shoulder. Belonging to the guy sitting next to you, smiling at him. In your excitement you hadn’t noticed that Jason’s arm found it’s way around your shoulder. Hyungwon was so shocked, confused, and distracted he almost walked right into the oncoming model going the opposite direction. A few gasps from the crowd were heard as Hyungwon quickly regains his composure and continues to walk backstage. You couldn’t help but feel bad for the sudden change, blaming yourself for distracting Hyungwon. Jason notices your state and comforts you, pulling you closer to him. I can’t believe the nerve of that guy Hyungwon thinks as he prepares for his final outfit. He had met Jason earlier that day and thought he was a decent guy. They bonded a little before the show, sharing things about their personal lives. Hyungwon even told him that his girlfriend was here at the show supporting him and that he felt bad that he had to leave her at the bar. That asshole. He better not let me catch him in the streets. Hyungwon finishes putting on his final outfit and waits behind the curtain for his turn. He peers around the curtain to the audience and sees you and Jason huddled together. Jason is even rubbing the top of your head. That’s my head! Hyungwon is furious. The model that went before Hyungwon is nearing backstage. Now it’s Hyungwon’s turn. He struts his stuff onto the catwalk. You were too busy with Jason to notice it was his turn again, but Jason definitely notices and makes sure you’re attention is on him. Hyungwom reaches the end of the catwalk, poses and turns around to exit. You finally notice. Hyungwon reaches the middle of the catwalk, and stops. Then he stretches out his hand towards you, eyes keeping forward. The whole room seemed to stare and stare out of intrigue, confusion, and everything in between, especially you. Almost in a trance like state you slowly rise to your feet, walk towards the catwalk, take that one step onto the catwalk, and grab Hyungwon’s hand. The camera flashes go off rapidly, a few cheers are heard from the crowd as you and Hyungwon walk hand in hand down the catwalk towards backstage. Just before you two turn the corner to be out of sight of the crowd, Hyungwon slightly turns his head toward Jason and winks. 

[spideesenses]

For I Have Sinned [2] → Peter Parker

pairing: fratboy!peter x reader

warnings: there’s no smut (yet) but the fic is 18+. innocence kink.

prompt: peter came home for the holidays and much to his dismay, you were the new girl next door.

<<one

Day two of Peter being back home resulted in him visiting Ned and MJ, his two closest friends.

Day three was him, exploring town, as if he’d been gone for three years, when in actuality, it was about five months.

Day four, he spent the day with Aunt May, watching movies.

What all of these days had in common? You, but not you. You swarmed his mind like a colony of bees and its honeycomb. Or it could’ve been the other way around with how much bees worshipped their hive. He wanted to see you again.

“Um, so when do you think the Y/L/N’s will be over again?” Peter tried to be sly. But May caught on quickly, squinting her eyes at the college boy.

“Leslie should be getting off work within the hour. After that, we’re going to our yoga class. You should go see what Y/N’s up to though, I’m sure she’d enjoy not being by herself.”

“Maybe I will,” he decided to take May up on her offer. May went to go prep pesto sandwiches; Leslie and May always brought lunches for each other. She made two extras for her growing boy and then she was off. And so was Peter. He found himself at your door, his fist coming into contact with the wood. It didn’t take long for you to answer the door.

“Peter,” you furrowed your eyebrows. “What are you doing here?” you flattened out your plaid skirt. You wore a white collared t-shirt with a grey vest and a tie. You looked like you jumped out of an anime, you probably didn’t even notice it.

“I wanted to see if you were busy.” Peter stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“No, actually I’m not.” you smiled at him, eyes crinkling as you did.

“There’s an ice skating rink just a few blocks away, I’ve been wanting to go for a while. Would you like to come with?” ah, it made sense why he was wearing a hoodie.

“Sure, that sounds fun. Let me grab a jacket,” you left the door slightly open as you ran to your room, yanking out the first jacket you saw. You were throwing it on as you met Peter at the door. “Let’s go!” you were excited.

You two walked, keeping a conversation going with every step. Peter was an interesting boy, he was brilliant, you didn’t understand why he was in a fraternity with a bunch stupid boys who were only interested in partying and girls. Maybe that was a part of him too, but you didn’t understand why he wasted his time.

Once you and Peter made it to the ice rink, Peter paid for admission and rental skates for you both. You thanked him as you told the lady at the desk your shoe size.

“I’m gonna be honest, I have never been ice skating.” you confessed, sitting right beside Peter as you watched him put his skates on.

“That’s okay, I’ll teach you. I’m a fairly great skater, if I do say so myself.” he grinned and went to help you put yours on, kneeling down in front of you as he tucked your feet into the skates. He tied the laces for you as well. You wanted to tell him that you knew how to put on shoes and tie laces, but the moment was too pure to be ruined. Peter extended an arm out to you, in which you happily took.

“You’re cute,” you smiled at him, taking his hand. Thanks for lacing me up.” cute was not a word sorority girls ever used to describe him. He always got ‘hot’, ‘sexy’, ‘fine as hell’. It was enlightening to hear a pretty girl call him something because of his personality.

The second you stepped foot onto the rink, it was chaos. You yelped as your skates slid from under you, plopping to the ground. You pouted as Peter laughed, skating his way back to you. He helped you back up, jeez his arms were built.

Peter kept his hands on your waist, instructing you to take small strides. Ultimately, he was ready to catch you if you fell. Eventually, he got to the point where he felt confident in you to leave you at an arm’s distance.

“You’re gonna be a pro skater in no time,” Peter said, skating right beside you. His hand hovered over you before he pulled away.

“Wait, Peter, don’t let go!” you shouted. Your legs shook in fear of being by yourself, causing you to tumble down. Out of instinct, you reached out to catch yourself... which of course had to be Peter. You yelped as you landed on top of him, Peter landing with a grunt. “Oh shoot,” you frowned, eyeing his slightly pained expression. “I’m so sorry.” you propped yourself up, trying to push yourself off him, but with the slippery surface, you seemed to struggle.

“It’s alright babe,” he chuckled at how cute you were. He grabbed your waist to hold your steady as you got settled on your feet. When you successfully were standing, you used both hands to try and help Peter up. You had to use all of your body weight, making him laugh. “That was fun.”

“No it wasn’t, it was embarrassing,” you frowned.

“Hey,” Peter grabbed your chin, making you look up at him. Your cheeks heated up, fighting against the coldness that was the ice rink. “You did great, give yourself some credit.” he knew what he was doing.

“Peter?” a deep voice spoke. Peter turned and saw his two best friends.

“Oh, hey Ned, what are you doing here?” they did their secret handshake.

“I’m here with Betty. She was really sad today, so I wanted to cheer her up. You?” Ned was a hopeless romantic. He had the right idea in high school, he just needed a chance to grow up.

“I’m here with Y/N,” Peter introduced. You waved, smiling at Peter’s best friend.

“Nice to meet you Ned. Peter’s mentioned you quite a few times,” you smiled at the hawaiian boy.

“So you’re neighbor girl?” Ned smirked at Peter. Peter rolled his eyes, signaling for him to cut it out. “It’s nice to meet you as well, Peter doesn’t shut up about you.”

“Really?” this wasn’t you being cocky. You were shocked. You doubted it because why would Peter be talking about you?

“Ned and I are gonna grab some hot chocolate, do you want one?” he said as him and his friend began skating away. You gave him a nod, smiling widely at him.

“Okay, you’re right, she’s super cute.” Ned commented. “So are you gonna cuff her or what?” Peter thought about it. While his deepest desires were to ruin you, he really did enjoy getting to know you.

“Maybe,” the two took a glance at you. You were clinging to the side of the ice rink, you let go for the slightest second and your legs trembled, like you were a fawn in the woods taking her first step. You hugged onto the railing for dear life. “They’re like super religious. I’m probably the first guy she’s ever had contact with, don’t wanna take advantage.”

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” Ned was impressed with this new behavior- er, old behavior considering high school Peter would never treat a girl how he did in college. “You whipped or what?” Ned paid for three hot chocolates. Peter couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“I’m not whipped. I have morals, okay? I’m okay with playing this game with anyone else because at least they know what they’re getting into. She’s... she’s naive. She’d never expect it; she trusts me.” Peter sighed. And it was the truth. He couldn’t play your heart. Maybe he felt tempted to corrupt you a little, but he’d never intentionally break your heart — even with his fratboy mindset.

The two boys returned to the ladies, who’d found each other by recognizing who they were with. Betty was helping you out, letting you hold her hand. She was smiling bigger than Ned had seen her all day.

“Hi baby,” Betty kissed Ned’s cheek as she handed you off to Peter, who was holding your hot chocolate. The second you touched Peter’s arm, you clung onto it, hugging it tightly to your chest. “It was nice meeting you Y/N.” Betty waved. You returned a wide smile.

“And you as well. Thank you for helping me out.” you said so graciously.

“Did you have fun?” Peter asked. You were seated at the bench you were previously in. Again, he was knelt down in front of you, unlacing your skates as you sipping at the hot chocolate. You nodded your head vigorously.

“Lots, I still have some work to do, but at least I know what to expect next time.” next time. Peter grinned to himself. “Thank you, for inviting me out.”

“Anytime Y/N. If there’s anything you wanna do in New York, just let me know and I’ll take you.”

“I’ll keep you to that.”

Although you had a hot chocolate to keep you warm, the lack of sleeves on your arms caused you to shiver. Peter being the gentleman he was, pulled off his hoodie. You two traded, you gave him your hot chocolate as he stuffed his hoodie over your head. It smelt just like how you imagined he’d smell like. Spearmint toothpaste and lightly of expensive cologne. It was still warm from his body and your heart fluttered. The hoodie was enormous on you, considering it was slightly big for Peter. It was long enough to swim over your skirt, you could wear it as a dress. You looked good in his clothes.

Peter at least had another set of sleeves under his hoodie. He wore a thick long-sleeved shirt under his NASA t-shirt. He did keep your hot chocolate though, taking small swigs from it every now and then.

“I liked your friends, they seemed really nice.” you mumbled as you walked beside him.

“They really are. They’re funny too. Just wait till you meet MJ, I think you’d like her too.”

“You’ll have to introduce me to her too.” he found your enthusiasm adorable. You trusted everyone.

“Aunt May made pesto sandwiches, would you like to come in?” you knew May and your mother were still at yoga together, so it’d be just him and you. The thought made you nervous; but you liked spending time with him, so how could you refuse?

“Yeah, I’d love to.” Peter let you in first. He really got to see how you looked in his clothes. You looked irresistible. He questioned if it’d be okay to scoop you up in his arms and tell you how cute you were, but he knew the answer to that.

“I don’t think I asked you this, but what are you majoring in?” you took a bite of the pesto sandwich. It was vegetarian, slices of red and yellow bell peppers, cucumbers, and carrots could be made out with the light layer of pesto sauce.

“Engineering as a first major, I like building and designing things. When I was in high school, I had an internship for Tony Stark. He actually wrote a letter of recommendation for me to go to MIT. They accepted me, but I didn’t want to be too far from home, I get homesick easily.”

“I’m sure you’re great at designing, I mean, to have an internship with Tony Stark means he saw something in you. You got accepted into MIT? And turned them down for family?” see, he knew you could read in between the lines. It wasn’t that he just got homesick. It was the same business with Columbia. He wanted to protect May. So, a twenty minute drive trumped a four hour one.

“What about you? Are you going to school?” you frowned.

“As much as I’d love to get an education, mom says my job is to stay home and take care of my future children.” you shrugged. You disagreed with it a lot, it took away your freedom to do whatever you wanted. But you didn’t blame her, she grew up in a time and place where that was the norm for women.

“What would you like to major in? If you had the chance?” Peter asked you.

“Psychology. Uh, I take mental health quite seriously. I want to help people, who maybe don’t have an understanding on what’s happening in their head, or people who are confused by it? I dunno, I just wanna help people out.” he smiled at your answer. “You’re moving back in right?”

“Yeah, hopefully.”

“Good,” you nodded with a curt smile. “I’m glad I’ll be seeing more of you.”

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

for a kiribaku prompt idea: bakugo cooking a meal for kirishima as an apology after a fight?

Sorry for the long wait! This was so much fun to write (partially because it was a fun excuse to curse so much)! Also on ao3!

This is such fucking bullshit, Bakugo cursed to himself, flinging his headphones aside in favor of flopping down on his bed with an exaggerated huff. Grunting, he folded his arms over his chest and glared up at the ceiling, refusing to feel bad.

Why the hell should he? It wasn't his fucking fault other people were so obsessed with their stupid fucking feelings. They needed to pull their heads out of their asses and join the real world. Right?

He and Kirishima had gotten into a fight. While that wouldn't typically be any cause for concern — they were sparring partners, after all — this time their fight hadn't been physical. It hadn't been part of a training exercise or their extracurricular battle practice, hadn't been for their new internships.

No, it had been a purely verbal fight. A full-blown, knock-down drag-out between two boyfriends. And it had fucking sucked.

They had just been hanging out with each other after class as per the new tradition they had established once they had started dating, sprawled out on Bakugo's floor together with their backs propped up against his bed. They had long since finished their homework at Bakugo's insistence and had moved on to watching old reruns of All Might movies; the ones with cheesy dialogue and horrible CGI.

During a lull in the action on screen, in which the actor playing All Might was flirting with the movie's love interest, Kirishima had reached over to lay his hand Bakugo's. Bakugo had glanced at Kirishima out of the corner of his eye, wondering what the hell he was up to.

As the action picked back up, Bakugo had continued watching the movie, not bothering to waste his breath on Kirishima's weird desire to be so tactile all the fucking time. That is, until Kirishima had tried intertwining their fingers while resting his head on Bakugo's shoulder.

Bakugo had immediately snapped at him, yanking his hand out of reach for good measure. Kirishima had been taken aback, gaping at Bakugo and demanding to know what the hell his problem was.

Rather than explain himself, Bakugo had resorted to his usual reaction upon being questioned. He had launched into a tirade full of profanity and expletive-loaded insults, telling Kirishima to stop being so fucking clingy and just fuck off for once.

Okay, admittedly, he may have overreacted. But he wasn't good with touch, he never had been.

His mom had never been very physically affectionate, even when he was a little kid. Her preferred method of expressing affection was slugging him on the arm or pinching his cheeks.

His dad, on the other hand, was more like Kirishima. He was a toucher. He was a fan of big bear hugs and cuddling and random little touches like ruffling Bakugo's hair or holding his wife's hand as they watched their soap operas.

But even with his dad's tendency towards physical affection, Bakugo had never been able to receive much of it. With their Quirks capable of interacting in potentially hazardous ways, Bakugo's dad had always been wary of too much contact.

Somehow that had managed to result in a grumpy sixteen year old who was constantly toeing the line between being staunchly averse to touch and absolutely craving it. So when Kirishima touched him so casually, like it was so natural, his confused reactions resulted in a time bomb of frustration and irritability.

A time bomb that honed in on Kirishima as its victim.

Usually ridiculously patient with Bakugo's foul moods, Kirishima had stood and stormed out of the room to return to own right next door. The resounding slam of both doors in quick succession had echoed throughout the floor with an air of finality that left Bakugo even more frustrated.

But Bakugo refused to feel bad about it. Even if Kirishima had looked like a kicked puppy the moment Bakugo had pulled his hand away. Even if he had been the one to put that horrible look on his face.

Alright, so maybe Bakugo felt a little bad about it. Just a little bit.

After all, it wasn't like Kirishima had done anything wrong. All he had done was try to hold Bakugo's hand; it wasn't his fault Bakugo was a touch-averse garbage fire.

Bouncing between feeling totally justified in his reaction and feeling like a complete and utter piece of shit, Bakugo had spent the following three hours trying to keep himself distracted. He had gone from finishing the All Might movie to playing his favorite violent video games to doing some pushups to listening to the loudest, angriest music he could find on Spotify.

But without fail, his thoughts kept wandering back to Kirishima and dejected look on his face when Bakugo had snapped at him. He was probably in his own room right now, replaying everything in his head and finding new ways to blame himself for Bakugo's shitty attitude.

Shit, Bakugo had really fucked up, hadn't he? Why the hell couldn't he be a normal fucking boyfriend? One who didn't get upset over the dumbest shit and go off on diatribes at the drop of a hat?

"Fuck," Bakugo breathed, abruptly sitting up. He really needed to make this better.

But he wasn't good at this kind of stuff. He didn't know how to resolve arguments, he only knew how to start them. And he'd never bothered to actually make up with anyone after a fight. He had no idea how.

Yet Bakugo was nothing if not determined to a fault. He was going to figure out how to make this better even if it killed him.

Leaving his room, he made a beeline to the elevator, jabbing the ground floor button with more force than strictly necessary. The elevator ride seemed longer than usual without Kirishima chattering away in his ear the way he did when they were on their way to class or were returning from training.

Bakugo was relieved to find the common room almost entirely deserted. Only Headphones and Bird Brain were downstairs, sitting on one of the couches together with their faces buried in their phones, doing their weekly exchange of music recommendations.

While any other day, Bakugo might have joined them (their taste in music wasn't totally awful), tonight he was a man on a mission. He would have preferred it if the common room was completely empty but at least those two extras were somewhat bearable. And they were both quiet, another point in their favor.

Not bothering to acknowledge the others in the room, he headed straight to the kitchen where he started amassing the necessary ingredients and cooking utensils. He quickly set to work with single-minded focus, trying to tamp down the niggling hint of embarrassment that haunted his every move.

He dutifully made a pot of dashi stock before chopping carrots, onions, and potatoes. Setting the vegetables aside, he thinly sliced some beef and rinsed some shirataki noodles.

While boiling the noodles, he sautéed the onions and the sliced beef and mixed mirin, soy sauce, sake, and sugar in a bowl set off to the side. Once the meat was browned, he added the carrots, noodles, and potatoes to the pot along with the dashi stock and mixed seasonings.

After skimming the scum and fat off the top of the stew, he placed the otoshibuta on top and took a deep breath. With nothing else for him to do, he hoisted himself up on the counter to wait for it to stew.

He really hoped Kirishima liked this. He didn't know what else he could possibly do if he didn't. Cooking was one of the only constructive things he could actually do without making a mess of things.

His dad always cooked for his mom after a fight, even if the fights were almost never his fault, and his mom always seemed to appreciate it. Bakugo hoped that the same would be true for Kirishima. Otherwise, he was out of luck.

Playing around on his phone, he kept an eye on the time, not wanting to overcook their dinner. He couldn't afford to fuck this up.

Fifteen minutes later, he was in the middle of spooning the nikujaga into two bowls, planning to take them upstairs to Kirishima's room, when he heard footsteps on the stairs. He paused, turning to look over his shoulder in time to see Kirishima walk into the kitchen.

"Oh. Hey," Kirishima greeted awkwardly, briefly meeting Bakugo's eyes before looking down at his bare feet. He was in the same clothes as earlier; a pair of baggy gray sweatpants and an oversized Fat Gum hoodie.

Hands buried in his pockets, he started shuffling over to the pantry, actively avoiding looking at Bakugo. But before he could reach for his stash of specially imported protein bars, Bakugo softly called, "Oi, Kirishima."

Kirishima turned to him, eyes big and questioning and so cautious they made Bakugo's heart break all over again. Clearing his throat while lifting a steaming bowl and a pair of chopsticks, Bakugo lamely explained, "I made dinner."

Kirishima accepted the bowl and chopsticks with a silent nod, carrying both over to the breakfast bar where he sat down and began eating. Setting the pots and pans he had cooked with in the sink to soak overnight, Bakugo grabbed his own bowl and joined Kirishima at the breakfast bar.

They ate in silence for several long, awkward minutes before Bakugo abruptly sighed and set his chopsticks aside. He turned to Kirishima, taking a deep breath to steel himself before he chickened out like some fucking nerd.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" He blurted, feeling like an even bigger jackass than he already had before. Kirishima turned to him in surprise, a few noodles still poking out of his mouth.

"Fuck, that's not what I meant," Bakugo swore, running a hand over his face. Why were words so difficult to fucking use? What the fuck, they were just words. "I mean, I am sorry. I just... I'm not good at this but I don't wanna use that as an excuse because you deserve an explanation."

Kirishima nodded patiently, slurping up his noodles and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. With Kirishima silently encouraging him to go on, Bakugo paused to catch his breath, trying to formulate his thoughts into something at least somewhat coherent.

"I was being an asshole," he confessed, shakily meeting Kirishima's eyes. "I overreacted and I took it out on you and you didn't — you don't — deserve that. I'm sorry. I-I wanna get better at this communicating thing, I do. I'll get better, I swear."

Kirishima nodded again, waiting a few moments in case Bakugo had more to say. He didn't.

"Thank you," Kirishima said softly, keeping his voice calm and quiet. "For apologizing. Oh, and for making dinner. I totally forgot to eat earlier."

Bakugo let himself smile a bit at that, eyes riveted to Kirishima's own small grin. Licking his lips, Kirishima went on, "I know you have trouble with words and stuff, I get it. But you can't keep shutting me out, okay? If something's bothering you, you need to tell me. Even if it's just you saying 'hey, this thing is pissing me off'."

"I will," Bakugo eagerly answered, nodding vigorously. Impulsively reaching out to hold Kirishima's hand, he squeezed his boyfriend's fingers, like he could convey everything through touch, and swore, "I'll get better, I promise."

"You don't have to promise me that, Bakugo," Kirishima assured him, lips curling up in a fond smile. He squeezed Bakugo's fingers right back, tacking on, "I just need you to try."

"Alright, I'll try," Bakugo agreed, nodding again. Running his thumb over Kirishima's knuckle, he quietly asked, "We're okay, right?"

"Yeah, man," Kirishima confirmed, leaning in to peck Bakugo on the lips. Smiling broadly, he reiterated, "We're okay."

Cheeks filling with heat over the simple display of affection, Bakugo swiftly turned back to dinner, mumbling, "You should eat before it gets cold."

"Sure thing, dude," Kirishima laughed, digging back into his own serving of nikujaga. It was a bit awkward since they were still holding hands but neither one of them minded.

Behind them, watching things unfold from their place on the couch, Jiro and Tokoyami shared a soft smile of their own. Tucking their phones into their pockets, they quietly slipped out of the room to give their friends some well-deserved privacy.

[scabopolis]

pre-series au: logan x veronica - you just sway

This was supposed to be a 5-times fic (5-times Veronica asks Logan to dance and 1-time he asks her) but your girl is wordy and can’t write anything without trying to get too cute, so this turned into a pre-series little ficlet (that has more I’ve written so might get finished and posted to AO3). I’ve never ready a 10,000 word 5-times fic and genre bending moves are not within my capacity at the moment.

Written on my bus commute to work and edited hastily. 

This is a pre-series choose your own adventure type situation. Want it to be canon compliant? Go for it! Want it to spin off into a whole world of imagination? That works, too. 

Be kind. Rewind. Er, reblog?

pre-series au: logan x veronica - you just sway

So, you just sway back and forth?

For the past hour, Veronica’s been watching as the girls and boys in her seventh grade class step into their first slow dancing foray with trepidation. And here she stands, off to the side drinking fruit punch and munching on generic Oreos puzzled by the enterprise. It doesn’t come off as romantic as the movies make it look. Frankly her classmates don’t really seem to be enjoying themselves.

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting.

Okay, that’s not true.

She’s been to a few gatherings at Lilly’s house (a term she coined to sell them to her dad who believes she is far too young for parties) and they led Veronica to expect the night to be a veritable bump and grind fest. But instead when Low came on all the girls clumped together, giggling at their poor attempts at dropping it low, and the boys hung off to the side looking bored by it all. Lilly isn’t even here, deciding the fête wasn’t worth her time. Duncan is there as his dad informed him it was his duty as seventh grade vice president to be there for his constituents. (Lilly eye-rolled handily at this and Veronica couldn’t tell if Mr. Kane was joking or not.)

As Veronica contemplates dunking her bargain basement Oreo into the fruit punch (would it be like a crunch chocolate covered strawberry situation?) someone pushes her from behind. She thinks it must be an accident until it happens again and continues until she’s standing in the center of the dance floor. She whips her head around, determined to give the personal space bubble violator a very intense lecture, and is met with the smiling face of Meg Manning. Sweet Meg. Sweet Meg who looks so proud of herself. Sweet Meg who looks, dare it be, a little mischievous?

“What are you –“

“I’ll take those, thank you.” And Meg does. Takes the remaining stack of cookies and the cup of punch away from Veronica. “Your wallflower days are numbered.” 

“I was enjoying those.” She’s not sure if she’s defending the cookies or her decision to be a wallflower. Maybe both.

“No you weren’t. And even if you were consider this an opportunity to enjoy something else.”

“Like what?”

“We’re at a dance, Veronica.”

She walks away with those words, and Veronica watches as Meg munches on one of her cookies. But maybe she has a point. Veronica did take extra time to iron her dress for the party. And spent her weekly allowance on a new lip gloss. Dancing is, when she thinks about it, the most logical thing to do. She doesn’t want to waste good lip gloss. Her resolve fades, however, as she approaches a group of friends from her earth science class and the song changes to something slower. Another slow song. God, what is with this DJ? She did not come here to slow dance.

Except when Veronica turns around she sees Meg looking at her. All big eyes and hopeful. She doesn’t have to say the words “I’m rooting for you” but Veronica knows she is. Fine. She’ll consider it an anthropological exercise. She couldn’t figure out the appeal of the whole slow dancing thing by watching, so maybe doing it herself will provide some heretofore missing insight.

Now the decision on who to dance with.

Veronica’s first choice is Duncan. She’s been hanging with Lilly almost every day after school, and Duncan always smiles at her in this way that makes her insides feel a little warm. But Duncan is currently dancing with Susan Knight, a friend from student council, so there goes that option. Casey Gant is always nice to her but in a way that makes her feel she’s being made fun of. Plus she knows he and Sean have been sipping something from a flask all night and she’s too familiar with the scent of bootleg vodka to find that appealing. Which leaves her with very few options.

There’s a tap on her shoulder and she breathes out a sigh of relief, certain it’s Meg taking pity on her. But of course she is just not that lucky.

Logan. Of course.

She likes Logan. She thinks. Well, he’s kind of dating her best-friend (Lilly laughs at her whenever she asks if the two of them are going out) so she kinda has to like him. It’s just –

Well, it’s just --

It’s just a bunch of little things. Like, he has this habit, usually when she just finished swimming and she’s in the Kanes’ kitchen making a snack, of catching her off guard. It makes him laugh to see her jump and he doesn’t ever flinch when she socks him in the shoulder in response. She also can’t tell if he thinks she’s stupid, or if he just thinks he’s better than her. Her middle school survival tool is sarcasm she cuts with a smile. People don’t understand it usually and she moves through the halls unscathed. But then there’s Logan. For every biting piece of commentary she offers, he has at least two more at the ready. It’s incredibly annoying. Can’t he just let her have the last word for once?

He’s looking down at her with his usual faintly mocking expression and she really wants to knock him down. Comment on the fact that he has way too much hair gel in his hair. But he also looks sort of nice. Most of the other boys are wearing ties and jackets but Logan is only wearing well-fitting navy slacks and a white button down shirt. Somehow he looks more put together than anyone else. Must be really expensive fabric or something. So she ignores the voice telling her to say the first mean thing that comes to mind. She also ignores the second (So, did the bottle of CK One break, or did you bathe in it?) and takes a step back.

“What do you want, Logan?”

“You have a problem.”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Oh, yes you do. Looks to me like the founder and sole member of the spirit committee insists you dance, but here you are with nary a dance partner to your name.”

“Thank you for the synopsis. I would be so lost without you.”

Logan ignores her. No, that’s not true. She used to think that Logan ignored her, but it’s just this thing he does. Where he pretends not to and then, bam, you’re talking to Duncan about why mushrooms should never be in lasagna and Logan throws in a, “it’s a texture thing, right” and you realize he listens to everything. That’s another one of Logan’s annoying things.

So, Logan doesn’t ignore her. But he does put his hands in his pockets, roll back and forth on his heels, and then duck down a little so he can conspiratorially whisper, “I know someone who could help you with that.”

“Really?”

“Mm,” he hums. “It’s just this guy has very low self-esteem. Hollywood brat, you know. Consistently needs validation.”

Veronica snorts at that. Because Logan is so many things but someone with low self-esteem is not one of them.

“What do you suggest, then?” she asks.

“Well, fragile ego that he has, I think he just wants to be wanted, you know?”

“So Hollywood.”

“All it would take, I think, is for someone to ask. A simple, ‘Dear Logan’” – he pauses, an imperious hand waved in her direction – “we’ll call this poor soul Logan for ease, ‘Dear Logan, please help me in my current state of social misery and dance with me? Please?’”

She carefully considers her options. While not usually one to take the path of least resistance, she opts for it this time. “Logan, will you dance with me?” She puts out her hand.

Logan looks like he’s about to take it and then frowns. “You didn’t say please.”

“Oh god,” she groans, taking his hand. “Shut up.”

[promptistrashqueen]

A Royal Commission 19

Short (I’m sorry) but sweet The rest is HERE

@fleetstreetfatality

The wind is stronger now, the waves on the lake large and the water gone dark, like the sky overhead. There’s no rain yet, but Prompto can practically taste the electricity in the air and he sighs, hoping it’s just because it’s so early that everything seems so bleak out.

Cor doesn’t waste time, just greets Prompto with a nod and steps off the porch, leaving Prompto to glance back inside where the living room is still disorganized from the night before. He rolls his shoulders and follows the marshall.

“I want you to try to summon your weapon.”

Prompto blinks and then smiles a little, “I can’t summon things.”

Cor just stares at him for a beat and then turns back toward the house, “Stay here.”

Prompto shifts, uncomfortable, but does as he’s told. The morning air is chilled enough that he jogs in place a bit to stay warm in the breeze coming off the lake, even still it’s lovely and he feels a pang of sadness that they have to leave tomorrow. He wonders, in the moment alone, if Noctis and the others ever wish that this was their life instead, here in the house by the lake, fishing and just being normal. He knows that they’re all proficient hunters and he’s sure they could do so many other things, if birth had been kinder.

Prompto starts to realize that maybe his common status is a blessing, even with the shadow of his past growing longer with each passing year. He’s pulled from the dark thoughts by the telltale sound of Noctis grumbling.

He turns with a grin tugging at his lips in time to see Cor half-pulling the Prince, still in his PJ’s with hair a mess, across the yard.

“You brought it on yourself. You gave Prompto a weapon and brought him close to you and didn’t think to give him access to the armiger. Maybe think ahead next time and I’ll let you sleep.”

“You said people hadtabetrained.” Noctis yawns the last bit, mushing the words.

Cor just looks unimpressed and Prompto pats his shoulder, “Buddy, you’re not awake enough to argue, just do your thing and go back to bed.”

Noctis makes a noise that Prompto takes as agreement because the next moment he’s got an armful of Prince and Noctis is kissing him sloppily, making soft noises and Prompto’s blushing a bit because Cor is right there. Before he can be too mortified Noctis pulls back and speaks something softly in old Lucian and then kisses him again and there’s power, a fissure in the air that Prompto knows is all Noctis and then it’s in him too, running under his skin. A livewire of power laces into his bones and they part. He looks down and finds the blue energy wrapping around them both before it sinks into Prompto’s skin and Noctis gives him a smug sleepy smile and stumbles away with a half assed wave to Cor.

“Tell Gladio an extra hour of training with you for the week after that display.”

The Prince just gives Cor the finger.

“I’m guessing he didn’t kiss everybody else then?” Prompto says it more to ease his own embarrassment than anything else and Cor just shakes his head.

“Drama Queen.” They both say and Cor’s eyes sparkle a moment, leaving Prompto to wonder what kind of mischief might be held back by the Marshal’s seriousness.

“Now then. Summon your weapon.”

Prompto’s brows draw together and he hold out his hand, fingers flexing. He feels stupid when nothing happens and is immediately reminded of the scene in the first Spider-Man when Peter makes a fool of himself trying to figure out the web. The difference is plain, one of them has an audience. Cor’s expression doesn’t change though and Prompto shakes himself.

He tries to focus on the magic in him now and goes with what feels right, tugging his hand back as he pulls on the energy. He feels something in his grasp and excitedly moves to aim only to realize….

“Uh...ebony?”

Cor raises an eyebrow at the can of coffee Ignis has a taste for held in Prompto’s grasp and the blonde blushes brightly shaking his hand and sending it away, reaching again and being careful to feel out something that when he touches on it feels his mouth with the taste of hot metal.

This time the motion is rewarded and he holds the pistol Noct gave to him when Ardyn came, it’s beautiful and idly he thinks he should add it to his tattoos as he flicks off the safety and takes aim at the target Cor set up the day before.

He squeezes off a shot and the glass bottle erupts, making him crow triumphantly. Cor smiles at him wanly and then he’s summoning a sword.

“Hitting targets is good, helps keep your eye sharp but when you’re shooting to protect yourself it’s harder. I’m going to attack you in a moment, first load these.” he tosses Prompto rubber shots, “and do me a favor, don’t aim for the head.”

Prompto flops on the couch beside Noctis, burying his head in his boyfriends shoulder, “I’m a bruise. A very tender bruise.”

Noctis just snorts and pushes at him until they’re settled against each other comfortably, “I peeked out earlier, you got a few good hits on Cor.”

“Tell it to my bones.” Prompto mumbles into Noctis’ shirt even as Iris bounces on the couch beside him, making him groan as it shifts him around. Cor had only hit him with the flat of his blade but that had been enough and his arms and legs throbbed, a nasty purple likely hiding just under his ribs too.

“Uh-oh, sorry Prompto! It’s too dreary out to go outside, should we watch a movie?” Iris’ cheer wasn’t dampened by the two bleary boys and Prompto offers a quick thumbs up as Noctis answers, “You pick.”

The memo must get around because a few minutes later everyone is seated around the living room, Regis and Clarus taking the armchairs as Ignis and Gladio seat themselves on the floor and Cor sits on the footstool, leaving the other three on the couch. Ignis passes out bowls of fresh popcorn as Iris presses play and the rain that starts is a nice background to the film. It’s an animated story of a girls adventure, a story of growing up and being yourself in a charming style.

Prompto sniffles a little at the end and Noctis gives his hand a squeeze where their fingers are tangled, looking around Prompto see’s that he’s not the only one affected as several others are heavily glassy eyed and Ignis surreptitiously wipes at his eyes.

As the credits roll and the room is deathly quiet so he clears his throat, “Hey! Let’s watch Emperors New Groove!”

There’s an enthusiastic agreement and Regis, his voice grating and high yells, “Pull the Lever Kronk!”

It makes him feel less heavy as everyone seems to warm to the idea and Ignis gets up to make more popcorn.

“I told Gladdy he should be Kronk for Halloween.” Iris pokes her big brother with her toe and Prompto laughs as Noctis rolls his eyes, snuggling into Prompto’s side more.

“Only if Ignis is Yzma.”

The dignified choking noise from the kitchen answers that suggestion.

The last night at the cabin is bittersweet, they roast s’mores over a flame that Regis produces and controls in a bowl. Prompto laughs as Noctis makes a mess of himself and even Ignis has marshmallow smeared over his cheek.

Regis takes great joy in smashing a warm piece of marshmallow into Clarus’ face when the shield tries to talk about the meeting the next day and they take turns trying to catch pieces of graham crackers that Gladio tosses in their mouths.

“I must say Prompto, it’s been lovely having you along. I hope that you’ll be with us again for next years outing.”

Prompto turns to look at Regis as a piece of cracker pelts his cheek, blushing, “I hope that I will too sir. It’s nice to be together like this, like a family. It’s not something I’m used to and uh, it’s really great that you’ve got this sort of thing, especially with Insomnia and Lucis and uh...everything.”

He doesn’t know if he can actually blush anymore than he already is but Regis is smiling at him warmly and Noctis leans into his side and a glance shows Clarus and Cor both looking warmer.

“You are right in thinking it’s a hard thing to have, when we are men overwhelmed too often by our duties. I believe our children have had a great deal of influence in this and I am proud of them.” Regis pauses and looks around the table as Clarus adds, “not as successors, or rather, not only as successors, but simply as our family. I too am very proud of you all for remembering the things that are important outside of your duty to the crown.”

The table is silent for a moment and then there are grins and Gladio snorts, “You know that might’ve been more weighty if there wasn’t still marshmallow on your nose.”

Prompto decides, right then, that he never wants to go back to being alone.

[real-fakedoors]

under leaves so green - CHPT 12 - Miraculous Ladybug

After the Dupain-Cheng family purchases a flower shop around the block from the Agreste mansion, Chat Noir frequents the spot in search of company from the manager-but-not-really Marinette. Beneath the mask, Adrien starts to struggle with how cute she looks in that green apron. (AKA: the not-really flower shop AU where basically everything is the same, but Marinette is extra stressed by her job and Adrien tries to be supportive)

Cross-posted on AO3 and FF.net

Chapter 12: A Needlepoint Peony

In which, Adrien stresses out, Marinette makes a confession, everyone is embarrassed, Tikki disappears, and Plagg fixes his whiskers.

Adrien felt, admittedly, a little bit strange.

Standing in his room with each corner dusted, polished, and achingly quiet, the place begged for the stasis to be broken. Not a sound stirred - not even the guttural gnashing of a kwami inhaling camembert, yet beyond his door there was an unusual bustle of activity.

Generally speaking, Adrien preferred for his room to have a bit of a lived in look; everything felt a little less hollow and empty if he asked the attendants to keep his bed a little unmade, or if he didn’t hang up a towel after a shower just so. Right now, though, he was the one actively scanning every surface for signs of disorder, ready to right any wrong.

He couldn’t recall any girls ever being in his room before, save Ladybug once or twice, but that had been during akuma attacks so it’s not like she had been admiring his DVD collection or cuddling with him on the couch.

At the very least, Adrien could say with certainty he’d never had his girlfriend over to the house, ever. He was only coming up on 24-hours of having a girlfriend, period.

So waiting, knowing Marinette was coming... it felt strange, definitely.

But it wasn’t bad.

“Are you ready yet?” Plagg called eventually, hovering down from the bookshelves and sporting a predictable scowl.

Adrien watched as the little kwami combed through his whiskers, and one of his tiny ears kept twitching. The behavior seemed conspicuous, considering Adrien had just been doing very much the same sort of grooming before getting dressed in fresh clothes.

“Wait a minute…”  The blond narrowed his eyes, and Plagg froze. “Are you... fancying up for Marinette?”

“Pff. No.” The kwami rolled his eyes and turned away, only making Adrien more suspicious. “That’s stupid, kid. It’s not like your girlfriend is coming to see me. Cat’s gotta look good for his own sake, thank you.”

Adrien hummed skeptically, but decided to return to the task at hand. The ebony nuisance in his life had been increasingly excited every time they went to see Marinette, and it was starting to seem rather conspicuous. Maybe it was just the tempting offers of cheese bread and croissants?.

Bouncing around his room, the tap of Adrien’s hard-bottomed shoes rang off each wall. He took time to inspect every surface, adjust and readjust the arrangement of things he had on his desk, and repositioned his desk chair to be perfectly squared up to the monitor.

Really, it was all perfect, so seeking mistakes was a wasted effort. It was just a deliberate use of time that distracted him while waiting for Marinette to arrive. Part of him wishes he thought to offer to pick her up, but the opportunity was gone.

So now… waiting.

Glancing at the wardrobe, Adrien pressed his lips together and approached the full-length mirror. In the Agreste home, formal was normal, and vice versa. He never really knew that wearing “day clothes” until the moment before he went to bed was unusual until he started visiting Nino’s, Alya’s and Marinette’s houses. There, he was free to walk around on plush carpets with or, when he felt especially daring, without socks; the concept seemed so foreign to him in the beginning.

That being said, his attire didn’t bother him - a soft, simple white shirt and a slate-colored overshirt, paired with a plain pair of navy slacks. He selected one of his pairs of well-worn dark shoes, deciding against any that seemed too dressy or that would need breaking in.

Comfort was a must.

He had plenty of support for their first date. Between the help of Alya, Nino and the others in pulling off the Attack of the Loam, his father’s surprising approval of Marinette, Chloe’s reluctant agreement to be nice, and knowing he was going to have several hours of resigned privacy with her had all worked wonders in boosting his confidence.

And, of course, there was the small encouragement he’d gotten from Marinette herself, considering she had confided in Chat Noir that she had some romantic interest in his civilian form. To use his superhero side to gain an advantage in pursuing her seemed a little unfair, like using a stimulant in a sporting event, but he couldn’t say he regretted it. One touch of their lips together had been enough to dash any harboring guilt.

And, all-in-all, the date had gone better than he could have hoped. Adrien couldn’t keep his enthusiasm contained, and when she agreed so promptly to go out with him again, he seriously considered cheering.

Yes, you absolute dork. We can go out again, anytime.

Her words undermined his typical faculties and reduced him to a twisted bunch of nerves. The mess that fell from his mouth came more in the way of reactionary instinct than rational thought, blurting his desire to have her as his girlfriend. Adrien hadn’t intended to ask her to be in a relationship so soon, but miraculously, she agreed.

Did she think he seemed adorably inexperienced, or like a anxious mess? Had he asked her too soon? It had only been one date, though they’d spent hours and hours together in the past week alone; that’s to say nothing of the past three years. How long do people in relationships usually ‘date’ before they were considered ‘dating?’ Why hadn’t he thought to ask Nino for tips on the quintessential final element to any date, the “walk her to the front door” moment? Why wasn’t there a manual for this? Had he seemed too eager? She didn’t feel pressured to agree, right?

Alas, there was no guidebook, no easy instruction kit. He couldn’t pick up “101 Ways to Ease Through Awkward Social Interactions” at the library, and there was no magical deity of romance or young love to pray to that might appear to him in a vision from the sky to answer his questions and grant him sage wisdom on new love or family dysfunction. The closest thing he had to that was a turephilic kwami, who was, at present, floating crossed-legged near his desk with an expression of irritation.

The jittery, fierce happiness that spurred Adrien on yesterday since been replaced by titular worries of the evening ahead.

First of all, they weren’t going to be alone, and he had only a few hours to prepare.

They were having dinner with his father.

He, his father, and his girlfriend, sitting around the dining table together.

The most uncomfortable iteration of the Last Supper came to mind, but he quickly shook away the inane thought.

Second was the prospect of dinner it self. Adrien hardly ever ate with company, let alone the aberrant match that was Marinette’s soft-spoken kindness and his Father’s critical, cutting commentary. What should they talk about? He could only hope the two would find enough common ground in fabrics and fashion to carry them through the evening.

Unwittingly, Adrien had begun to pace his room, the metronomic clap of shoes on tile providing a backbeat to his mounting anxiety. Plagg said something and the blond glanced up, but Adrien didn’t quite catch it.

When their gazes met, a random train of thought popped into his head. The kinds of question you never think of until you’re living through the moment. “Did you want to come in my pocket down to dinner?”

Raising a brow, Plagg tilted his head. “Why would I do that?”

“Er… you usually do? Most of the time it’s just you and me, though.”

“Oh.” Plagg tapped a black paw to his whiskers. “I guess I do, don’t I? Uhh…nah. You got this.”

“Something is up with you,” Adrien squinted his eyes at the black cat, who merely pointed his chin and looked away.

Adrien waged a finger at him. “Whatever you’re hiding, I’ll find out eventually!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” his kwami insisted, flying away.

“Adrien?” A voice beckoned not a moment later, in time with three rapt knocks.

He did a final check of himself in the mirror, took a deep breath, and walked towards the door.

“Yes, Nathalie?” He answered politely, already knowing what she was going to say. Marinette was here, probably looking so lovely he’d forget how to speak. She could show up in her dirty work jeans and he still would swallow his tongue.

Just gotta relax.

It’s only dinner.

When he opened the door, he was greeted by his father’s assistant’s typically perfected posture and a small smile, but bowed besider her was head of black hair, half-pinned back to keep the tresses from her face.

“Mme. Dupain-Cheng is here,” stated the lean woman, stepping aside to present his guest. Every ounce of confidence he had as Chat Noir evaporated into a dizzying headrush when she peeked up from beneath long lashes, looking as flushed and as he was nervous. How do people on television or in Disney movies sweep girls off their feet so easily? Adrien could barely manage not to stare.

“W-welcome,” he cleared his throat, trying to focus on the woman between them who was scrolling through her tablet absently. “Thank you, Nathalie.”

“Yes. The chefs are saying dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes, so come down soon.”

At that, she promptly turned and left them alone, her heels receding in the otherwise clipped silence.

Marinette looked more beautiful than he could have imagined - she was more than that, her whole appearance was scenic. A mid-length skirt skimmed her calves, pleated and pastel pink, making her look more sophisticated than her usual capris or work jeans; her torso was wrapped in a seamless array of breathable cotton, accented at the seams with white lace that complemented her porcelain skin like a subtly harmony to his favorite song. The top floated over her skin and stopped just as the skirt reached her waist, extending up and hugging her collarbone snugly. The neckline kept close to her neck, exposing most of her shoulders, though his attention was drawn mostly towards the careful embroidery in the center of the bodice. A sprig of hand-woven flowers, dyed in tones of subdued greens and gradiants of pink, comprised in needlepoint, brought the ensemble together.

Where she looked hauntingly alluring yesterday night in cuts of crimson and black and white stripes, today she seemed dreamy and pastoral.

“Is it… too much?” Marinette glanced up, brushing her skirt and picking at invisible loose strings. Blue eyes dodged away from his when Adrien met her gaze.

A little more quietly, she added,  “I didn’t know how… fancy to get. Sorry.”

“S-Sorry?” Adrien swallowed hard on his throat. He extended a hand, a careful and shaky invitation to step forward. She cracked a tiny smile and accepted.

The blond was already smiling, apparently, because his cheeks were starting to hurt. “How could you apologize? You look so… so pretty, Marinette. Did you embroider that yourself? It’s really amazing.”

Cheeks matching her skirt, she giggled and entered his room, eyes scanning the tall ceilings and giving him the chance to breathe. “T-Thank you! And, yes, I did. You look really nice, too.”

His heart swelled at the compliment, though he tried vehemently to seem casual.

“Thanks, just some of my Dad’s clothes. I mean - not my Dad’s clothes, but Gabriel brand.”

Marinette wandered over to the arcade machines, but paused to tilt her head in his direction. She wore a confused smirk.

“I… just tried to imagine you wearing your Dad’s… suit. The one he always wears.”

Adrien snorted, brightened by softness of her voice when she laughed. Somehow, it both filled him with happiness and anxiety, but it was enough to give him some foothold of confidence. “Ascots aren’t exactly my thing, I’m afraid.” He moved beside her and gestured to the classic systems. “I know you like Mecha Strike, but what’s your take on the current ‘retro craze’?”

“They’re great, of course. Though I’m not nearly as skilled as dodging barrels and saving princesses as I am at whooping giant robot butt.” Marinette said, poking one of her cheeks with a finger.

“I’d ask if you wanna play, but dinner’s soon and these are designed for one-player.” He rubbed his chin. “We could play some video games after dinner? I’ve got… uh, a lot.”

“Oh?” She seemed curious, so he gestured for her follow. They promptly ascended his twisted staircase and he brought her around to the bookshelf beside his rock-climbing wall. Divided by console and sorted alphabetically, he waved a hand at the hundreds of games he’d accumulated over the years.

“Holy brioche…” Marinette muttered, craning her neck to take it all in. Beside her, Adrien permitted himself to feel just a tiny bit proud of his collection, glancing at her wide-eyed wonder.

“The systems are downstairs in one of my closets, so, you know, we can pick out a few and play them after dinner. Whatever sounds good.”

Mutely, she nodded her head and moved to the ladder and squinted up at a certain section. Adrien followed her gaze.

“Nintendo 64? I don’t know why, but I took you for a Playstation girl.”

Already a few steps up, she murmured. “Actually, I mostly played computer games. I didn’t get to play Nintendo much growing up, I’ve tried a bunch of emulators, but they’re always a little sketchy… It would be so cool to play some of the originals. Like… Mario Party! Yes. You have it!”

“Pff, of course,” he said, amused by her enthusiasm. “I have them all, sort of out of habit really. I almost never played those.” Marinette snatched the cartridge from the shelf, handing it down to him. Adrien started a pile on the corner of an eye-level shelf for games to bring down later.

Humming as she selected a few more games, he mused to himself. “You know, growing up with just Chloe to play with, we didn’t spend a lot of time on video games.” He paused when Marinette laughed.

“Yeah, I know - you must be very surprised to learn that Chloe wasn’t a gamer.”

“I can hardly contain my shock.” She chirped back sarcastically, scanning the shelves. Adrien was about level with her calves, and tried not to focus on the bit of skin her skirt left exposed down to her honey-colored ballet flats.

He said the first thing he could think of to distract himself. “But - y-yeah. I mostly played single-player games, campaigns or adventure mode or whatever. Sometimes I would play games with my Mom. She liked them, or at least, pretended to since I did. She could even get Father to play them with us occasionally - but a lot of Nintendo’s stuff is designed with groups in mind.”

Marinette responded thoughtfully. “Hmm… I suppose it’s not much of a Mario party if it’s just… Mario.”

Biting his lip, Adrien knew this was uncharted conversational territory. Without compass or guide, he didn’t really know where to go when it came to talking about his parents.

Marinette, thankfully, took the task of navigation upon herself. “What character did you like to play as? In Mario Party, I mean.”

His brow arched, her hands still fluttering over the cartridges at her level.

“Hmm… that’s a good question. I always liked green, so mostly Yoshi, or sometimes Luigi.”

“Good,” she responded, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “I wanted to be Princess Peach, and I was prepared to fight you if I had to.”

Wearing a grin, he raised his hands in defense. “She’s all yours, Princess!”

Marinette stopped her searching, and Adrien’s eyes went wide.

Ooh. No, no, no.

His Chat side peeked out by accident, and Adrien blushed and stuttered to make up his mistake. “P-P-Princess… Peach! Yes. She, Princess Peach, is all yours. She was my Mom’s favorite too.”

Marinette’s brow had furrowed momentarily, but she seemed convinced by his explanation, and Adrien exhaled a small amount of panic.

“Okay, I think I’ve looked enough,” she said, starting back down the ladder. A shoe clattered to the ground in her descent, followed by a shrill squeak and a much louder clatter of skin and arms smacking into each other.

Marinette missed a step when her shoe came off, slipping back and crashing right into Adrien; cat-like reflexes can only get one so far with a girl as clumsy as Marinette.

By some small miracle, he didn’t get thrown over the railing, though his current posture was plenty uncomfortable. Leaning back over the glass ledge, the edge of the bannister pressed painfully up against his spine, Marinette’s body weight was basically crushing him further into it. The best he could do in the way of catching her was keep her head from smacking back into the railing or collapsing straight onto the floor. Her now slightly-tousled hair and exposed upper-back from the cut of her bodice were pressed up against him and she had half-bent and gripped her hands on his thighs in support to keep from hitting the floor.

Her perfume greeted him, rising from her silky smooth hair and bare shoulders. From this angle, he could basically feel every inch of her body pressed up against him, and he was aware of it in - ahem -  more ways than one.

Chuckling weakly, Adrien forced himself to put a safe, chaste distance between them. It was more difficult than it should have been, rather enjoying the way her hair tickled his chin as she scrambled to standing. It was easy to admire the smooth skin of her collarbone, or to appreciate the warmth that radiated from her body. It was like the world’s best, most beautiful blanket.

“Ooookay, up you go,” he said, supporting her from beneath her elbows and resting a delicate hand on her back. Her skin turned prickly under his touch, and it was stupidly thrilling.

You haven’t even made it to dinner yet and you can’t keep it together.

Exhaling slowly, Adrien affixed his face into a mask of sympathy and concern. “Mari? Are you okay? Are you hurt at all?”

She blinked several times, looking at her own hands numbly, and he started to fear maybe she had hit her head when she broke out into a smile. Wide, glittering, and plenty embarrassed.

“No - no I’m fine. Thank you, Adrien. I’m sorry I fell on you.”

“Better me than the floor,” he said, chuckling and sighing in relief. She joined him for a spirited giggle, both laughing until they were breathless and dizzy. Maybe that was just the intoxicating effect of being with her, though - Adrien almost always felt light-of-head around her anymore.

By the time they were both properly righted - skin tinted pink from the euphoric giggles that swept up both of them - and standing on their own, Adrien retrieved the stack of games Marinette had selected and led the way back to his ground floor.

“Okay, just the Nintendo 64 for tonight?” He noted the very distinct shape of all of the games, and she nodded.

“If… if that’s okay. I, um,” she fumbled with her thumbs, and Adrien thought it was adorable. “I figured we could… play different systems another time. You know, since we’re, um, together now…?”

She peeked at him, and Adrien positively beamed, walking across the coffee table and wrapping his fingers in her own.

“I’d love that. We’ll play our way through all of them.”

Eyes sparkling, a blue more vivid than any sea, she looked like the human iteration of the most tranquil night across France. Soft skin, a gentle smile, an exuberant mood, and dark, rich hair like a painted, starless sky.

Slowly, Adrien focused on his composure, inhaling through his mouth and letting out the air through his nostrils. “Ahh… right, so just to warn you - my Dad can sometimes be… um, abrasive. He’s sort of polite to the extreme, but if he says anything that hurts or offends you, don’t be afraid to say something - even if it’s just a signal to me or something. The last thing I want is for you to be uncomfortable.”

Marinette nodded a few times and scurried behind him out of his room, Adrien catching the eye of a jerkish kwami across the room as he closed the door. Plagg was sticking his face out of the camembert cabinet, puckering his lips and making his whiskers dance in the mocking display.

When he turned back to his - his girlfriend (it was still impossible to believe) - she was wearing a cute smirk and had a hand at her hip.

Marinette’s voice was low. “I did survive over an hour on Sunday with just me and him, or did you forget?”

“I didn’t, not exactly,” he grinned and led them down the stairs. “I’m just still not convinced it happened. A very thorough prank, perhaps.”

She snickered and rolled her eyes, the way she always does, and he loved it.

“I can barely walk in a straight line - you seriously think I could cook something like that up?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured as they approached the dining room, peeking his head in. His father was sitting at the head of the table, speaking quietly with the chef. The food in the room smelled heavenly, and oddly out of place. “You continue to surprise me, Mari.”

She pinked slightly, and Adrien pulled her into the room with a smile on his face. His Father stood up when he noticed them, and the chef gave a hasty farewell.

“Father,” Adrien said, palm feeling a little sweaty against Marinette’s. She untangled their fingers to take a bold step forward, positively radiant while she did so.

“Bonsoir, Monsieur Agreste,” Marinette greeted brightly, bowing her head politely. Adrien studied his father’s expression, hardly believing the small smile he saw there. “Thank you so much for allowing me over for dinner tonight. It’s an honor, sir.”

Posture rigid and hands folded behind his back, his father stepped away from the table slightly to greet them. “That is a kind of you to say, Mme. Dupain-Cheng. Or, would you prefer just Marinette?”

Adrien respected how composed she managed to be before Father, especially when his attention flickered down; her hands were shaking.

“Marinette is perfect, sir. Thank you.”

Feeling his heart squeeze slightly, Adrien couldn’t pass the chance to half-tease, half-compliment her. He sidled up beside her again, wrapping a careful arm around her waist and met her startled stare with a cheeky smirk.

“Marinette is perfect. You’re definitely onto something there.”

She turned the color of her Banks’ roses and ducked her head, and Adrien’s attention returned to his father. Aside from a raised brow, his expression appeared only amused.

This is so weird. Adrien thought, wrinkling his nose. But good.

“Well, if you are ready to eat…” His father gestured for them to sit, and Adrien almost turned back to the other end of the table for his usual spot. Marinette was too quick, though, and she started to sit down two seats from his father. The middle spot was clearly intended for him.

Settling into the chair, Adrien pursed his lips and looked down at their plates. Everything was, of course, perfect. The table had been perfectly prepared for a classic four-course meal, and it almost made him want to roll his eyes - he’d have to remember to mention to Marinette this was not a typical dining experience at the Agreste house.

It was sort of sweet, though, as he examined the varieties laid out for the first course. Each serving was small, from the Tapenade Noir a la Figue and Pissaladiers to the Brandade de Morue au Gratin. The fact that his father had gone through the trouble to entertain Marinette - to make such a gesture of meeting his girlfriend, formally? It brought an appreciative smile to his lips.

Scratching his cheek, Adrien popped a tart in his mouth and thought about something to talk about.

“So… did Marinette mention to you that she makes clothes?” He asked his father, and he could see Marinette fidget in his periphery. She hastily shoved some of the potatoes in her mouth.

Raising both brows, his father looked at Marinette and then back to Adrien. “Well, no, not exactly. Though I figured as much - she was most helpful the other day with a design of mine.”

“Oh yeah?” Adrien turned to Marinette, whose gaze flickered up to him helplessly. She looked so cute when she was embarrassed, he found her hand under the table and squeezed it in reassurance.

“She made the outfit she’s wearing right now. Isn’t is incredible?” He grinned at her, at least having enough mercy to blush.

“Adrien!” She hissed, turning even redder. “It’s - it’s not much, really. Just something I threw together, heh, since I work with flowers all day. Not really original. Nope. I’m sure you get inspiration from much more interesting things.”

His father smirked and ate quietly, watching them carry on like he wasn’t even there.

“Don’t be modest, Mari. You’re really talented.”

“I… I just dabble! That’s all. R-really.”

“Let’s be honest,” Adrien said, turning slightly to better face her. She was pouting, cheeks stuffed with figs and bread. “Do you just dabble in anything? You’re basically an expert in flowers, baking, and fashion, and you could ruin just about anyone’s self-confidence playing Mecha Strike.”

“Adriennn...” She covered her face with her hands, voice squeaky. All he could do was laugh, feeling a little guilty for flustering her, but he couldn’t help gushing about her.

“How did you get interested in fashion, Marinette?” His father cut in, and Adrien practically flew back in his chair. He had almost forgotten his Dad was beside him.

She lowered her hands, still red as a tomato, and reached for her cup of water.

“I… um… I’m not sure, actually. I’ve always liked drawing and designing,” she began slowly, and Adrien used the chance to catch up on his appetizers.

“When I started to pay more attention to how other people dressed, I sort of just… decided to teach myself to sew. I didn’t like the way other clothes fit me. I’m sort of on the short side, like my mother, so anything that fit me looked too childish while everyone else started to grow, I guess, and anything I liked was too big.” She hummed momentarily, chewing a tart. “So I decided to make things I knew I would be comfortable in, and reflected me best.”

“That’s very utilitarian of you,” his father commented. Marinette blinked, apparently unsure if that was a compliment or not.

Adrien decided then to jump in. “What’s your favorite thing to design?”

They both answered, which surprised him.

“Dresses.”

A pause, and the chef came out to switch their course for the main course. Adrien hardly paid attention while the plates changed, too interesting in the curious turn in conversation.

“And why is that, Marinette?”

“Uhh…” she cleared her throat. “Well… I’m not sure, actually. Probably because they’re the hardest to design; it’s extra rewarding when you get it right.”

“Hmm. I find menswear more challenging, personally,” his father mused, rubbing his chin. “But I do see your point. To me, a gown is a perfect canvas - the rules are only that it must be a single item to be worn, but otherwise, there are no limitations.”

“It’s the definitely the thing I have to try the hardest to be creative with,” Marinette replied with a furrowed brow, nodding. “The fact that it’s so flexible is what I find challenging about it.”

They both ruminated on that while stopping to eat some of their meal, and Adrien felt much more relaxed for how easily the conversation was flowing. Of course, Marinette was so sweet - it was hard to resist a charming, intellectual conversation with her, but it was still bizarre to see it have an effect on his characteristically stoic father.

Adrien caught her eye as she dabbed her lips with a napkin, so he decided to shoot her a wink. Marinette scrunched her nose up in response, her wordless disapproval downright adorable.

“So, if I am remembering correctly,” his father said after a pause. “You both met in Mme. Bustier’s class, at Francios Du-Pont Academy?”

“Yes,” Adrien said, tilting his head. “Although we sort of got off on the wrong foot.”

His father seemed surprised. “Oh, and how’s that?”

Adrien deferred to Marinette to answer. “Well…”

She got his meaning, chewing her food and swallowing. “Yeah, it was kind of my fault. I thought, because he was friends with Chloe, he was trying to pull a prank on me. So I sort of gave him the cold shoulder, but I realized I was being unfair to him.” Scowling, she glanced over to the blond. “I still am sorry about that, by the way.”

“Don’t be,” Adrien shook his head. “I could see why Chloe’s association might have not painted me in the best of light.”

Marinette smiled kindly, the gesture reaching her eyes.

“Well, I am glad to hear you reconsidered your assessment of my son. He was very nervous when he expressed interest in taking you out for a date.”

Almost kicking the table, Adrien turned an impressive shade of scarlet. “F-Father! Please.”

Marinette giggled at his distress, hiding a wide smile behind her fingers.

Despite his plea, his father didn’t hold back. Instead, he tucked both hands under his chin and leaned back slightly in his chair.

“Now son,” his father said, chuckling. “There are a few crucial things I am responsible for as a father. Embarrassing you in front of your girlfriend is one of them. I’ve had stories saved in my back-pocket for years.”

Practically bouncing in her seat, Marinette’s hair danced around her shoulders. “Oh, I’d love to hear a story!”

“Noooooo…” Adrien groaned, and now he was the one to cover his face with his hands. “Why did I agree to this?”

Slyly, Marinette took one of his hands and patted it gently. “There, there. It’s only fair after all of the puns I’ve suffered because of you.”

The remainder of the meal passed with more cheer than Adrien could have imagined, Marinette being positively tickled by his chagrin. Several of the stories recounted his mother, a few of which Adrien had forgotten himself. A small part of him was feeling grumpy for being the butt of the joke, but the overall mood was too infectious, and to see his father smirk and laugh occasionally was a refreshing change. Adrien, resigned to his fate, let himself enjoy the food and tease along until dessert was served.

Marinette sighed after a particularly airy wave of laughter. “Aww, so you and Chloe would play dress up?”

She put her hand on his shoulder and rested her chin there, pseudo-pitying him.

Adrien pointed his own chin forward while their plates were taken away so dessert could be brought out, fighting to hide a smile. She looked so pretty, perched on his arm like that.

“Yes, as a matter-of-fact. I mentioned Chloe didn’t like video games, and growing up in a literal fashion house granted a great opportunity for fun when it comes to clothes. Mother would encourage it, if I recall?” He partially asked the question to his father, who sighed and nodded, looking absently at the chandelier.

“Oh yes. If your mother wasn’t modeling the clothes, she was putting them on you. Large boas, daring furs, expensive heels - anything and everything you wanted to put on, she would let you pick it out and model it on the runway in my office.”

Marinette bit her tongue and tried not to laugh, though it was in vain, and he felt himself redden slightly. Trying to brush off the embarrassment, Adrien remarked, “Well, I suppose I can make anything look good.”

“Definitely,” she replied with a dreamy smile, leaning probably a little closer than was appropriate with his father present, and they broke apart when the chef re-emerged from the kitchen.

“Well,” he announced, clapping his hands. “We had only planned for the Crème brûlée, but since Mme. Dupain-Cheng was so kind to bring Pain au chocolat, the kitchen is pleased to serve both this evening.”

“Thank you, that will be all,” his father replied briskly, and the man bowed and brought out the two choices. Each looked picturesque, like the sort of desserts one might see on a classic French cookbook, and Adrien was glad to have eaten light on the earlier courses.

“I didn’t know you brought anything,” Adrien directed the comment to Marinette as he snatched up the Pain au chocolat almost the moment it was presented on a humble gray platter. It seemed out of place from the rest of the meal’s china, so he assumed it belonged to the bakery.

“Maman and Papa insisted,” she replied shyly, tapping the top of her Crème brûlée with a spoon. It granted her a very hard, satisfying knock in return before cracking. “And really, it’s the least I could do. I didn’t expect such a meal. Thank you, Monsieur Agreste, Adrien.”

Trembling fingers patted around the edge of his chair, clamping down when they found his hand. Adrien rubbed the back of her knuckles with his thumb.

“It’s a pleasure having you, Marinette.” His father answered.

“Oh, this is so good,” Adrien spoke with his mouth halfway full, and two sets of eyes rolled at him.

“Manners, son.”

Hastily chewing, he managed a sheepish grin towards his father. “If you try the Pain au chocolat, you’d know it defies etiquette.” He cleared his throat. “But Father is right - I’m glad you agreed to come over, Mari. This has been so nice.”

Even though she ducked her head, hair partially obscuring the soft features of her face, he could still see the rosy hue that colored her cheeks. She was too beautiful to bare, and his grip on her hand tightened only slightly - a protective, loving sort of grasp.

You’re mine.

All mine.

She squeezed back.

His father had selected one of the Dupain-Cheng treats, and Adrien pursed his lips suspiciously. He had half a mind to point his finger and ask what this man had done with his real father.

After a slow, thoughtful bite, the man impersonating his father offered his compliments. “Your parents make an excellence Pain au chocolat, Marinette. Please give them our thanks.”

“I’ll be sure to pass it along the kind words,” Marinette offered warmly, practically buzzing in her seat as she savored the carefully prepared burnt cream. “They are always so touched to hear things like that.”

“Of course.”

Adrien ate another of the Dupain-Cheng desserts, preferring the light fluffy dough to a rich cream, and Marinette sighed happily when she sat back in her chair.

Releasing a low exhale of his own, Adrien’s father stood, indicating dinner officially over. “So, are you doing anything else this evening, or should we have a car come around to take you home?”

“We were going to play some video games,” Adrien offered, and Marinette nodded. “If… if that’s alright.”

“I don’t see why not,” he commented, leading them into the foyer. Marinette politely excused herself, seeking the bathroom, so he was left alone with his father in the hallway.

“Just be sure to have her returned home in time for her curfew.”

“That’s 10:30.” The blond glanced at his watch out of habit. It was just passed eight in the evening.

“I can let Nathalie know that you’ll need the car by 10:15.”

Before Adrien could thank his father, the man grimaced.

“Adrien?” His voice was off, and he studied the stairs like they insulted his designs. “She is a… very sweet girl. I’m, er, happy for you.”

Suddenly, Adrien found his thumbs very interesting, but managed a respectful response. “... I’m glad you think so. She’s really special to me, so… thanks for taking the time to meet her.”

“Your mother would have really liked her, I think.” The man added wistfully, and Adrien’s thought he sounded strained. He wasn’t exactly surprised; they had talked about her a lot tonight, probably more than they had since she disappeared.

Adrien bit his lip, hiding a grin. “You think so?”

His father’s response was decisive. “I know so.”

For what felt like the first time, the two men met eyes and shared a real, knowing smile. It was heavy, and appreciative, and tired. It was filled by absence and regret, unasked questions with untenable answers. Tonight, though, the tension felt a little less like shackles and a little more like hope. Like forgiveness, and apologies, and a handshake or a hug. It was just a look, but it felt like more than that.

A beat later, a lively pair of blue eyes re-emerged from a hallway, carried by the sound of her soft-bottomed shoes tapping against stone marble. Adrien’s father turned promptly towards her as she peered around the doorway, and his voice returned to its usual even tone.

“I have some work to return to, so I’m afraid I won’t see you out this evening. Nathalie and Adrien will see that you get home safely. Do take care, my dear.”

Stuttering, she bowed. “Y-yes, of course. Thank you! It was a pleasure. An honor, really, sir.”

Adrien wore a bemused smile as the two interacted, thinking he could get used to this side of his father, and certain he would never tire of Marinette’s blush when she flustered.

Again, his father glanced in his direction, holding his gaze for only a moment. He nodded towards his son and receded quickly into his office.

“Phew,” Adrien exhaled, not realizing he had been holding his breath until Marinette was in front of him. He should have taken a larger inhale, because the way she peered up at him took the air right back out of him.

“Ready to lose?” She smirked, and Adrien raised a brow.

“It seems it’s time to get the Party started?”

She deflated. “Take me home.”

“Mari!” He laughed, but she maintained a straight face, marching up the stairs towards his room. Adrien felt his stomach flutter as she walked away, the back of her blouse cut to expose a large part of her back. Gulping, he trailed after her, feeling a thrilling sense of nerves when she smiled smartly down at him.

 --

 “Agh,” Marinette muttered, her tongue sticking out in frustration as the results rolled in.

She hates losing. She really, really hates losing.

Especially to someone like Adrien, or Chat Noir, or Nino -- those that she could think of offhandedly. The kind of people who rubbed it in her face that she lost. The kind of people who got freakin’ smug when she lost. Oh, boy, did she hate that.

So during the closing ceremony, it was that much more thrilling when Toad announced that she, in fact, had won. Princess Peach managed to win by a slim margin of exactly three more coins than Yoshi. There was no way of keeping score of the bonus Stars until the end, and they had tied in everything else that was measurable. It was sort of incredible how evenly matched they were, flat out bulldozing the computer players in the process (to be fair, they left their difficulty on easy since she had never played and it had been so long since Adrien had either).

“Oh. Oh!” She had already put down her controller in defeat, which was probably for the best, because she leapt up from the couch with such force she probably would have ripped the Nintendo from the T.V.

Adrien groaned and leaned into the arm-rest of the couch. “Damn you. Hooooowwwwwwww?”

Marinette couldn’t help her excitement, always relishing victory (it was a quality you almost had to have being a superhero), but she at least kept the gloating to a minimum.

She sat back down and took one of his hands in her own, pressing her lips to it softly. “I’m sorry, Adrien. If it’s any consolation, I really thought you won.”

Peeking at her, though his face was still mostly in the sympathetic comfort of the couch cushion, he responded, “I’m not consoled.”

“What can I do?” She teased, still holding his hand; normally she’d be way too bashful to dare something so bold, but she was too overcome with the waves of triumph to bother.

“I feel like I need a win, or I’ll never get out of my mood.”

Pursing her lips, she smiled devilishly and turned his hand over, closing his fingers into a fist.

“Thumb war?” She challenged.

Smiling, Adrien chuckled and sat up, locking their hands together. “Thumb war.”

They both adjusted slightly on the couch, Marinette having kicked off her shoes over an hour ago. Adrien had joined her, wiggling his toes through dark socks, looking adorably foolish.

Positioning her skirt in front of her knees and crossing her legs carefully, Marinette watched as Adrien crossed his left leg over his right to better face her. They sat so close their knees touched, but Marinette refused to let herself be distracted.

“Ready?” He smirked.

“Ready. But I’m not just going to let you win. You have to earn it.”

In unison, while trying not to laugh, they started their tiny wrestling match.

“One, two, three, four…”

“I declare a thumb war!”

Adrien had a clear advantage, she soon learned, and began to regret her suggestion. While her thumb was thinner, it was also shorter, so it was harder to gain leverage against the back of his thumb. She almost had him at one point, but he faked her out and quickly captured her beneath him.

Marinette knew she wouldn’t be able to win, and in fairness, she should have been okay with that. Adrien said he wanted to beat her, but that’s simply not how she operates. After all, she’s Ladybug - it’s not like she could just… give up! Surely Paris would forgive her if she cheated just a little to win, right?

She shot out her other hand and brought it to the side of his abdomen, scratching and tickling him with her nails. Adrien began to laugh immediately, and tried to swat her hand away, but she used his distraction to her advantage and quickly claimed her victory.

“Hah!” She leaned back, laughing as the confusion and subsequent realization washed over him. Adrien scowled, one hand still touched his ribs where she tickled him.

“Oh, Mari, I wish you hadn’t done that.” His voice was deadly serious, and Marinette raised both brows.

Playing innocent, she cupped her hands together and pressed them to her cheek. “Oh, and why’s that?”

“Because it is now my right to tickle you.”

Before she could so much as breathe a word of protest, Adrien launched himself at her and his hands tasered her rib cage, though the startling sensation of his touch did even worse damage to her heart. Marinette was pretty sure she’d need to invest in a pacemaker to fix the steady arrhythmia that had her blood working overtime, pumping erratically, nonstop, since Sunday.

She tried to kick and squirm and tickle him back, but the effort was futile. The thumb war should have told her this was going to be a bad idea, because much like their hands, he was simply bigger than she was - maybe not stronger, (although, her hyperventilating lungs argued, he does have some pretty amazing muscles) but size definitely mattered in a tickle fight.

“S-Stop!” She said through a flurry of laughter, her face twisted up to a smile with cheeks so red she probably could have passed for Ladybug if she had worn something more form fitting.

“I’m afraid you lost the right when you cheated, Mari,” he said through his own laughter, unable to keep the giddy grin off his own face.

“Nooooo!” She squealed, hands frantically batting his away. “I’mSorryI’mSorryI’mSorry!”

Adrien sighed contently, wearing a smile that radiated with victory. “That’s better.”

Her lungs ached from the waves of giggles, and he was in much the same state, but instead of catching her breath she felt the last of her spirit leave her body.

Adrien was on top of her.

On his couch.

In his room.

She flustered to get up, and Adrien apparently caught on to their compromising position and almost fell back off the couch in his attempt to release her.

“Sorry,” he said, scratching his neck nervously. “I got a little carried away.”

She sighed and closed her eyes, covering her heart with a hand in a conscious effort to slow the frantic beating.

“Don’t be…” she mumbled, taking in another deep breath. “I probably deserved that.”

Her eyes fluttered open when she heard Adrien shift slightly on the couch, and he turned to look at her with sincere, sparkling eyes.

“Did I tell you that you looked really beautiful in that outfit? I probably did, but it’s worth saying again.”

Marinette covered a cheek with a hand, suddenly timid. With Adrien, it was like a pendulum between her shyness and her self-confidence; she wasn’t insecure because she thought poorly of herself, but rather, she felt humbled by the attention he gave her.

“Thanks. That… means a lot. It’s supposed to be a peony, but it ended up looking more like a rose.” She glanced down, tracing a line down the needlework she had worked a long time on, sort of frustrated with the end result. It had been a project she created during the winter months, a daydream of what Summer could bring. Marinette had never imagined it could be this good.

When she managed a glance up at him, he was impossibly close. Their noses almost touched, but he kept his eyes on hers.

A whisper. “It’s lovely, Mari. Really suits you.”

Marinette felt a timorous smile spread on her face, and she nodded, not sure what else to say.

She turned her face to his, this time letting their noses touch. His warmth was practically spreading through to her, his cheeks ablaze with a lustful color. In truth, Marinette had to imagine her’s looked much the same, and her flush only deepened when she tasted a tiny inhale of his cologne.

Hesitant, Marinette fluttered her eyes closed and leaned forward, seeking the soft reprieve of a kiss. She wanted to be the one to initiate it this time, wishing she had the sort of brash confidence he had the times before, but to her it still felt so new that there was still need of an invitation. A silent request, a nervous but passionate interest, to be reciprocated by him.

Adrien released a tiny sigh, a sound of pure happiness, and it spurred her to erase the distance and seek his lips with a confused mix of delicacy and urgency. When she found them, they were forgiving and the sensation of honey running over her mouth clouded her mind. She tried to keep a focus, count off the ingredients to her favorite cookie recipe, picture her disheveled clipboard at the shop, remind herself of the thrill of capturing an akuma, but the pressure of him so close zapped it all from her memory. It was just him, and his taste, and the wonderful smell of him flooding her senses.

A small part of Marinette’s mind wanted to deepen the kiss - okay, maybe more than a small part. A very loud, very clear part of her brain was demanding to understand his tongue by way of interrogation, to push herself against his impossibly toned torso, to indulge in every fantasy she’d dreamed up over the past three years. Pining was hard, and now that she’d taken the first step into the swirling emerald pool, it was like trying to force the rain to stop during a thunderstorm, or to resist the sunrise at dawn.

She deserved this, right?

She waited long enough, and some forces of nature simply cannot be stopped.

A languid, almost inaudible gasp fell from him when Marinette swiped her tongue against his lower lip, and the sensation of their breathing mingling together made her hairs stand on end.

Who needed food? Marinette would gladly sustain herself on nothing but his lips for the rest of her life if given the choice.

Adrien brushed some of the hair from her shoulder, moving his hand to her jawline, holding her carefully while she explored his neck with her fingers, crawling her hands up to his hair and digging into the soft blond waves. While the wanton sensation was intense, Marinette lavished every moment, even the most subtle ones. A tiny dance of his lashes across her cheek, the clumsy, inexperienced knocking of their teeth, the soft brush of fabric each time they moved on the couch. She would never forget the quiet hilarity of the Mario Party victory music playing in the background as Princess Peach was showered with confetti.

After perhaps a full minute, Adrien finally pulled away, and Marinette nearly groaned in protest but managed to punch down the urge. This was only their second date and she was hardly able to control herself, so with a quick internal beratement, the girl found her forgotten strength of will tossed aside with her shoes.

“Um,” she said after they stared at each other for several seconds, quietly gasping for breath as her heart thumped madly against his ribcage. Her skin felt hot and sensitive from the suddenly intimate moment. “I… er, you want to keep playing?”

“Hmm?” Adrien replied, blinking a few times and following her gaze to the television. “Oh. Right. Uh… let’s see what time it is…”

The blond reached for his cell phone and laughed abruptly, so Marinette leaned over curiously. She could see Alya’s name on the screen, and it was about to turn 10.

“It’s later than I thought,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Oh, my phone has been in my bag all night…” She murmured as he flicked through the messages, adjusting the screen so Marinette could read along with him in the group chat.

 Nino (7:31 PM):

Now remember kids, your mother and I are trusting you to spend the evening responsibly. Don’t do anything Father Nino wouldn’t do!

 Alya (7:33 PM):

That’s not really setting a great precedent, considering…. You know what? Nvm.

 Laughing, Marinette covered her face with a hand. “Oh my god, they’re the worst.”

“They really are,” Adrien agreed, continuing to scroll.

 Nino (7:40 PM):

Okay but really now I’m having second thoughts. Double-dates would be nice and all, but what about bro time? Who is going to keep me company while I play pokemon go???

 Alya (7:42 PM):

because people actually still play that. Keep up with the times why don’t cha.

 Nino (7:43 PM):

For your information, Adrien does - tell her, dude!

 “It’s true,” he nodded gravely. “Although not as much compared to when it first came out. Nino keeps me going when he finds a good catch somewhere in town.”

“God, you’re lame,” Marinette commented. He laughed and continued to read.

 Alya (7:56 PM):

Looks like your “bro” has vanished into the arms of a sexy young female. Sorry babe.

 Flushing, Marinette shielded her eyes.  “Oh my god, I can’t stand her sometimes!”

Adrien nudged her with his hip on the couch. “I can’t say she’s wrong…”

“Adrien!” She squeaked, blushing even harder.

 Nino (8:01 PM):

Why must I suffer for you to be happy?

 Alya (8:02 PM):

Are you talking to me or Adrien?

 Nino (8:02 PM):

I’m actually talking to Nette, TYVM. gosh not everything is about you

 Alya (8:04 PM):

k

 Nino (8:06 PM):

I’VE MADE A TERRIBLE MISTAKE

 Absently, Marinette’s hand went to her throat while they continued to read through Nino’s angst, tracing the places he had touched her like they had been licked by flames. Much the same, the tips of her fingers burned, thinking of how warm and soft he felt in her grasp had been. She risked a glance at him while he penned a response, wondering what he would do if she repeated the action, or if he felt the same tingle beneath his skin when she touched him.

“Poor Nino,” he frowned. “You might want to back me up on this to appease the both of them.”

Brows raised, that dark-hair girl stood and sought her phone in her purse, set down on Adrien’s desk, but froze.

Tikki was gone.

“Mmp!” Marinette squeaked, digging around frantically. “Oh no, oh no, oh no,” she pulled out everything, horrified at the thought of her kwami disappearing. What if something terrible happened? This wasn’t like the shop or her room, where her red companion could hide but reappear easily. This was Adrien’s house, and who knows where she could be.

“Marinette? What’s going on?” A blond head of hair stood, looking concerned. “Did you lose your phone?”

“What?” She shook her head, forgetting herself. “Oh - oh! N-no… hah. No no… Just… thought I did. It’s here. I’m sure glad I didn’t lose it though!” Marinette was almost shouting, and she cringed.

Adrien moved closer, looking at her carefully. “Are you sure you’re okay? The car isn’t going to be ready until 10:15, but if you’d like to go home early...”

“No! I- I mean, n-no. I think, um, the food isn’t settling in my stomach well. Excuse me…” She averted his eyes, scurrying off to the bathroom with a very real pit in her stomach. If her kwami had been near enough, she only prayed that she’d be followed into the bathroom by a flash of red.

Inadvertently, she stepped through the door and caught sight of her appearance, and she was a little surprised. Her skirt and blouse had remained neat and pressed, but the half-pinned back locks that framed her face were a lost cause. The tickle war had done her in, and she quickly began to unpin her hair, trying to keep herself from shouting for Tikki at the top of her lungs.

By the time she completed taking her hair down and brushing it out with her fingers, Marinette nearly shrieked when her kwami appeared through the ceiling.

“G-g-ah…” Again, the girl clutched her heart, too overcome with relief to bother with much else than a swift hug of her kwami against her cheek.

Quietly, Marinette whispered, “Oh my god, Tikki. Don’t scare me like that! Where were you?!”

“Oh, you know… around?” A red face scrunched up at her, and Marinette felt her lips grow thinner.

“Around? Just around in Adrien’s house? What if someone saw you!? What if I left and you weren’t back!”

“Shh, Marinette, it’s okay.” Tikki looked apologetic, and touched a paw to her lips as her voice began to grow in volume. “Take a deep breath, and I promise, you don’t need to worry. I… thought I saw a little pest, but it turned out to be nothing. I was only gone a moment, and an inopportune one at that. I’m very sorry.”

Unprecedented tears started to well in her eyes, but she gave Tikki another loving squeeze against her cheek. “I’m… I’m just glad you’re okay. I got really freaked out!”

“Don’t worry! It’s all fine now. Just go ahead and finish your date. If you can distract Adrien, I’ll fly back to your purse immediately. Okay?”

Gulping down courage she didn’t have, Marinette nodded once. “Okay.”

With a quick light tap-tap against both of her cheeks, shaking the nerves from her bones, Marinette grasped the handle and re-entered Adrien’s room.

It took her a moment to spot him, a ninety-degree angle from the bathroom, standing in the corner at the windowsill, and he turned at the sound of the door opening.

“Hey, are you feeling better?” Adrien said with a small, concerned smile. Marinette nodded shyly and approached when he gestured for her to come nearer.

“Oh!” She breathed when he stepped aside slightly. “The hydrangeas. They look beautiful.”

And so they did. Smoky darkness framed them from the evening beyond, the moon providing a perfect soft source of illumination to their amaranthine petals. This pair in particular had been some of her favorites of all the ones she grew, loving how full and round the bulbs had come with the spring yield. In full bloom, she couldn’t have imagined a better choice to represent her feelings for him.

“Yes. Beautiful.”

The tone he used struck her as odd, and when Marinette looked over at him, her knees nearly gave way. Intense and curious, Adrien’s gaze studied her with an admiring sort of security.

The pop of green seemed deeply happy, while stirring with the mystery and mischief of his goofy and kind-hearted side, and it filled her with an ache of love so intense she felt the words of sweet confession start to form on her tongue. Thankfully, there was no air in her lungs to support to syllables, so they died as they inched up her vocal chords.

Three years of unrequited, or, at least, misunderstood feelings, clamped down hard on her heart bitterly, and yet, Marinette knew she would do it again. Every lifetime, if she had to. Again and again. She would have waited forever for him to look at her like that, and three years had been long, and slow, but in the gentle curve that tempered his eyes when he smiled at her, because of her, she knew it had made each second worth it.

He broke her stupor, gesturing below her chin. “Why did you choose the peony?”

“The… peony…? Oh. Right.” She traced the outline of the flower, feeling a tint of pink stain her cheeks. “I actually picked it… well because of you. I made it in the winter, but I-I’ve… I really liked you, Adrien. For a long time. Years. Since the day you gave me that umbrella, actually.” Marinette squeezed an arm across her chest, unable to stop the sudden avowal from spilling off her tongue. “Peonies are supposed to be a mark of good luck, and when I made this, I hoped one day… well, maybe we’d be here. Together? I guess it worked?” She chuckled from embarrassment, averting her eyes.

Adrien didn’t say anything, and she grew increasingly nervous. “T-there’s legends and stuff! Some people say it’s from a Greek legend about medicine, and another about a nymph… both end with someone getting turned into a peony though, to protect them and to embody their spirits. And, nowadays, you know, a bush of peonies that thrives is supposed to be a sign of good fortune! And - and, um, i-if your peonies wither and don’t survive through summer, it’s a sign of bad tidings. Unlucky. Unlucky.”

Too bad it’s impossible to throttle yourself, Marinette thought as her brain continued to fill an anxious silence with even more anxious words. She shouldn’t have admitted how long she wanted this - it made her seem desperate, didn’t it? A clingy, useless thing, like ivy, latching to life and refusing to let go.

“Annnnnd, you know, I figured since I sew, I could make my own peony. Avoid the risk of growing them. One that would never wither. A chance for luck. ‘A Needlepoint Peony’, get it? If it’s big and bold, and never fades, it could let me be happy, right? Even though I’m not superstitious - how stupid! What am I saying? What was the question?”

Marinette forcibly covered her mouth with a hand, trying to stop the verbal flood.

Brow furrowed, the blond simply stared at her in mute silence. What was he thinking? That was too much. This was all too much, wasn’t it?

Marinette shivered when he touched her cheek.

“Marinette... ” He started to speak, but she thought a flicker of frustration colored his tone. Instead, Adrien pulled her closer and ghosted his lips over hers - the gesture was much more delicate this time. A bee buzzing over a flower, the rush of feeling was almost enough to make her cry at how long she’d wanted this, how happy she was to be here, to show him and shower him in the love she had to give. Instead, their lips pulled apart, and sweet emotion tickled her throat with the taste of sunshine and spearmint.

“I’m sorry you waited so long. I’m - I’m so glad you did. But I don’t think it’s the peony; it’s just you.” He laughed a bit at her dazed expression, squishing their foreheads together. “It’s you. Lucky. Pretty. Smart. I’m just stupid for not noticing sooner.”

Leaning away, Adrien stood up slightly and pressed a gentle kiss into her forehead.

“Thank you for giving me a chance.”

A rapt knocking broke them out of the moment, and Nathalie spoke through the door. “Adrien. The car is prepared for Marinette.”

The pair blinked a few times, words processing a little slower as reality returned from their private moment. After a slow breath, Adrien smiled.

“Let’s get you home.”

Marinette could only nod and let herself be led from his house, grabbing her purse and floating down the stairs. She was unable to do more than share a few warm glances with him when they sat down in the car.

Marinette felt so happy that it actually hurt when the door shut, like finishing the chapter of a great story; why did it have to end? Anything she could do to savor the last moments before they said good night were worth it, and when they settled in the backseat, she eagerly took his hand.

“We should do something this weekend.” She stated, failing to sound casual with the pitchy tone of her voice. Adrien didn’t seem to mind.

“I’d love that - oh! That reminds me!” He blinked a few times, little green twinkles in the dark interior as they rolled past darkened Parisian streets. “I actually - well, it’s a long story. Basically, I got my schedule messed up, and I realized I can go the reception on Saturday. The one for the museums, for Le Nuit. Go with me, please?”

Marinette balked, staring at him. Was he serious?

“...What? But, we’d… well, you know,” she cleared her throat, aware of the two adults occupying the front seat. “People would see us together. Are you sure? Maybe you should talk to your Dad… And isn’t at Le Grande Paris? Chloe’s not exactly my ‘BFF,’ you know.”

The blond leaned over the center console, voice low. The whisper in her ear sent a current of electricity down her spine. “I’ll talk to my Dad if it’ll make you feel better, but I want to go out with you. I want people to know. I want everyone to know.” Drawing back, Marinette released a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

He repeated his earlier invitation. “Please, go with me?”

“I- O-of course. Of course I’ll go.” She beamed, wondering when her alarm for school was going to wake her from this amazing dream; there’s no way it was real. Any minute now, she guessed.

The minutes passed, and no alarm interrupted them. They pulled up to the bakery, and Marinette scoffed irritably. Her parents were framed in the doorway, waving at them in the car.

“The welcoming committee is here this time,” she pointed out, and Adrien laughed as he sprang from the car, racing to get her door.

As she rolled her eyes, he quipped, “Rye is that a problem?

Marinette decided to ignore that. “Thank you, Madam Sancoeur. And, um, Monsieur... Driver.”

“Bonsoir, Marinette,” Nathalie answered as Adrien shut the door.

Marinette tried to seem perfectly grumpy as they approached, which wasn’t entirely difficult when Adrien made another joke, urging her to “crumb on.”

“Hi, Maman, Papa,” Marinette said as she pushed open the door to the bakery, and the Dupain-Cheng’s stood with bouncing heels and excited smiles, spotting Adrien’s hand on her lower back.

“Good evening, Madam Cheng, Monsieur Dupain,” Adrien greeted formally, bowing slightly. The movement was interrupted when her father captured them both in a hug, strong enough to lift them both from the ground. Maman barely managed to not get caught in the flurry.

“There’s my girl! And so happy to see you, son,” her father beamed at Adrien when they both were returned to solid ground.

Her mother grasped her husband’s arm, leaning into him dreamily. “Look at the happy couple! You both look so cute together. And about time, too!”

Red crept Marinette’s neck, burying her freckles in a fury of distress. “Maman! Stop it!”

Adrien chuckled and smirked and her chagrin, and she thought about forcing him out the door.

“I can’t stand you - all of you!” Marinette groaned, putting her face in her hands.

“Now now, sweetie,” her father consoled her with a less crushing embrace. “Your mother and I are just excited for you and Adrien. All we wanted for you is a sweet, nice gentleman, and you found him. Can you blame us?”

Clearing his throat, Adrien sounded a little off. “W-well, thank you, Monsieur Dupain. That’s such a nice thing to say. I’m really happy you’re so accepting of me.”

Marinette peeked at the boy from comforting spot against her Papa’s chest, eyeing her mother suspiciously as the woman took his hand and patted it with her other. “You’re a sweet boy, and we trust you. Please, come over anytime for dinner or to a… what do the kids say, ‘Netflix binge?’ That.”

Marinette considered drowning herself with the gardening hose tomorrow when she got to work.

“Maman, you can’t say things like that! There’s a-a-a connotation to that, and it’s inappropriate! Adrien, I’m so sorry!”

The woman was unphased, merely shrugging. “Adrien, thank you for making sure Marinette got home safely. You take care, and if you ever want to stop in, we’re always happy to have you.”

“Our little girl’s first boyfriend!” Her father sighed, squeezing a struggling Marinette into him. His large stomach was making it impossible to breathe, and when she finally resurfaced, some of her hair got squashed into her mouth.

“Pff -” she said, spitting it out and untangling herself from her parents, pushing them towards the back of the store.

“Okay, thanks, bye!”

Marinette could barely look him in the eye. “I am so sorry about that. Please ignore them.”

“It’s okay,” Adrien reassured her, walking across the store to meet her. She peeked up at him and he was smiling, his halo of blonde hair almost making him look angelic. “I thought it was sweet. Your parents are always so nice.”

“Nice is one word for it…” she grumbled, crossing her arms.

Adrien laughed and shook his head, wrapping the petulant girl in his arms. “I had a great time tonight,” he whispered.

Marinette gulped, and dropped her arms from their childish pouting position. She wrapped them around his middle, nuzzling softly into his shoulder.

“I did, too…” biting her lip, she confessed a burning question. “We’ll see each other Saturday, but… maybe we could try sooner? I-I really like spending time with you.”

Pulling apart, his features lit up, brilliant and pure. “Absolutely. I’ll figure out my schedule and we can do something. Even if it’s just spending time at the flower shop - I guess I’m not such a bad employee after all!”

“Don’t get too big for your loafers, Buster Brown,” Marinette warned, putting a hand at her hip. Instead of a silly response, Adrien peeled with sudden laughter.

“That was a fantastic pun, Mari. Well done.”

Squinting, she had to process his meaning.

Don’t get too big for your loaf-ers, Buster Brown.

Rubbing her temples, Marinette’s voice was sour. “This is how I die. A slow, subtle descent to madness.”

Adrien kissed her forehead once again and the bitterness fell right off of her.

Quick and sweet, his presence was so close, everywhere in her senses, and he murmured to her softly. “Good night, Mari. I’ll see you soon.”

“I- o-okay. T-thanks again for... tonight. For everything.” She stuttered through a response, feeling like the wind had just been knocked out of her. Adrien swiftly disappeared into the night, and Marinette, thoroughly dazed, listened to the bell at the door, his dismissal, fade away into a quiet peace.

   Bonus Scene:

 “This way, come on,” Plagg phased through the ceiling wall, and Tikki was about ready to throttle him.

She shot a quick whisper at him when she caught up, breathing in the scent of fresh air.

“Where are we going, Plagg?”

They had been floating around all evening, mostly in the upper corners of Adrien’s room, and Plagg seemed not at all himself. The kwami’s tail twitched occasionally, he smiled too frequently, and Tikki suspected he was up to something.

“Almost there. Just be patient – geez. Drama queen.”

Inhaling sharply, Tikki’s antenna twitched. “What did you just say to me?”

“N-Nothing! Nothing at all!” Plagg’s eyes went wide and he phased through yet another wall, much to her dismay. They had only gone up a floor and through one room, but she hadn’t been able to warn Marinette of her departure, and that made her nervous.

“We had all night – why would you wait until the last fifteen minutes before Marinette has to go home to… Plagg, are you even listening to me?”

The kwami’s ear’s twitched a few feet in front of her, and he turned midair. Tikki quietly noted their surroundings; it seemed like an old music room, and the air was musty with dust. Dark particles flew around them, oddly pretty under the streaming light of the lunar light from the tall windows. It was like floating in an ocean of dark stars, and the look of apology Plagg gave her made her blush.

“I-I’m sorry, Tikki. I had a surprise for you, but I kept getting nervous and backing out of it! But, ugh, I hate this stupid emotional crap. We’ll make it quick, just, cm’here…” He grumbled the last part over his shoulder. Taken aback, Tikki blinked and sneezed at some dust, but sped across the room to catch up with him.

Plagg sat on a rather modest-looking box in the corner of the room, set squarely in the center of an extravagant dresser. The dark wood reflected some white-blue illumination from the windows, and it cast the black cat in an oddly somber light.

Gentler than before, Tikki lowered herself next to him. “What is this place?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” he answered slowly, rubbing a paw along the box. “I think it was important to Adrien’s mom, cause her name is written all over this stuff. Pianos and violins and junk, though it’s all terribly out of tune.”

“Like you’d know how to carry a tune,” she nudged him. “I’ve heard your singing.”

“I happen to be a fantastic singer, thank you,” he grinned. “Ask Adrien. I sang him a ballad about camembert once, and even he said it was fantastic.”

The red kwami giggled, “Suuuuure.”

They sat for a moment in silence, and Tikki admired the room. It was probably the size of Adrien’s ground-floor, wide with tall ceilings. Most of the services were covered in sheets, probably to keep the dust off, and it made her a little sad to think about.

Abruptly, she sneezed with the swishing of Plagg’s tail kicking up some of the dust.

“It’s pretty in here,” she remarked as she shook the dust from her head. “But it’s sort of making me feel sick. Should we go back?”

A tiny tint of green peeked up through his whiskers, and Tikki blinked. “What?”

“There’s one more thing – okay? Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t,” she answered honestly, a little amused by his behavior.

He took a deep breath and floated up, gesturing for her to follow. Plagg then carefully creaked open the lid of the box, and a gentle little music began to play. Perhaps a piano, crisp little notes of a sweet melody rang out in the silent room, and a ballerina danced inside the box.

“A music box?” Tikki questioned, scowling down at the display in confusion. When she looked up, Plagg was smoothing out his whiskers, and he cleared his throat.

“Sure, whatever. It plays, and I can’t figure out anything else in this room. So are you going to dance with me, or not?”

Scarlet rushed to her already crimson cheeks, and Tikki’s blue eyes grew even wider. “Dance?”

“Dance.” He repeated, floating up to her and taking her paws in his. His over-confident voice deceived his drawn brow, the frown of his lips.

The best she could do was smile warmly and resist the urge to sneeze, floating a bit closer.

It wasn’t like the sort of tangos or slow dances humans entertained, complicated by steps and disproportionate bodies. They just held hands, paw to paw, and twirled in the dusty sea, dark twinkles sparkling around them in a soft light of night.

The balance had never been so secure.

[hollandorks]

The Montreal Problem

Chapter 1

Summary: The reader has big plans to spend a month in Montreal with her boyfriend. The problem? He breaks up with her just as her flight is leaving. Now she’s going to be stuck in an unfamiliar city for a month with no place to stay. That is, until an unexpected hero offers her a solution. 

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Epilogue 1 Epilogue 2 The London Problem

Word count: 1984

Author’s Note: So this is my first official piece of writing on this account! This will be a series that has an undefined number of parts (at least 5, maybe more). I have the first 3 or so of these parts written, including what’s below. I also haven’t decided if this will be Harrison x reader or Tom x reader, which is why I didn’t include that information up here. And the reader is around their age, at 19-20. So, yeah. Here it is! Hope you enjoy it, because I’m having a blast writing it so far! 

Y/N–Your Name

B/F/N–Boyfriend’s Name

Montreal. You could hardly stand it. You were going to Montreal and finally, finally getting to see your boyfriend of the past year and a half. It had been about six months since you two had seen each other in person; his job transferred him to a branch in Montreal for a year as a prerequisite for being promoted in his (and your) hometown. You two had met in college, but he graduated a year ahead of you. That’s why you were just now headed to Montreal to visit; you had taken the summer to finish your degree so you could graduate earlier in order to be with him.

As you boarded the plane, you felt like you were practically glowing with happiness. Nothing could bring your mood down. In a few short hours, you would be in your boyfriend’s arms. As a special treat, since you were staying for free at his company-owned apartment, you splurged on extra-nice seats on your plane trips to and from Montreal. You would no longer be squished in the very back of the plane like everyone else. It wasn’t first class, of course, only business, but it was the fanciest you had ever flown. 

You stowed your carry-on backpack in the overhead feeling like you were already in the clouds. Your phone buzzed in your back pocket, but you ignored it for the moment as you settled into the cushy seat. The plane was filling up fast, time speeding along as you got closer and closer to being back with your boyfriend. Your phone buzzed yet again, and then a third time. You seated yourself, shoving your extra-large purse underneath your feet, and buckled yourself in. A younger man, around your age, showed up to stow his things, his eyes a brilliant, piercing blue. He shot you a polite smile before disappearing towards the front of the plane.

You paid him no mind and finally looked at your phone. The texts were from your boyfriend. With a smile, you unlocked your phone, thumbs poised to send an excited text about being ready to take off, with plenty of plane and heart emojis to spare.

But the texts were not what you expected.

Hey, I know your flight is tomorrow, but I think we need to talk.

I’m sorry. I don’t think you should come to Montreal. If there’s a fee for last minute cancellations, I’ll pay it.

Call me when you can. I’m sorry.

You stared at your phone, stunned. It felt like the earth was dropping away from you and the plane hadn’t even moved. You didn’t notice as the boy in the seat next to you settled in with a dramatic sigh. You didn’t notice him flipping off someone in either business or first class. You didn’t notice, either, as the plane slowly started moving.

You called your boyfriend with a sick feeling in your stomach.

“Y/N,” his familiar voice said, sounding relieved. “Listen, I–”

“I’m on the flight right now, B/F/N,” you said softly, voice shaking. Your whole body was shaking. Something sharp twisted in your chest. Your stomach felt oily. You were going to be sick.

“What–I thought–Shit.”

“I’m coming to Montreal,” you said, emphasizing the words. “We can just talk about this, I know it’s been six months, but–”

“Y/N,” he interrupted. “Please. I don’t think this is working. It wasn’t working even before I moved. I know that. I’m sorry–I tried to catch you before your flight, I got the dates mixed up.”

A tear leaked out of one of your eyes. “I’m–the plane’s about to take off, I have nowhere to stay, please, we can–”

“I’m sorry, we can’t. We just…I can’t.”

“Miss,” a polite female voice interrupted. You looked up. You tried to discreetly wipe away any trace of tears. It was a stewardess, her polite smile frozen impatiently on her face. The boy next to you was trying very hard to look like he wasn’t there, like he wasn’t listening to your boyfriend break up with you while you were on your way to see him. “Please turn your cell phone on airplane mode. We are about to take off.”

In answer, the lights in the cabin were dimmed and the pilot’s voice came over the intercom telling the crew to prepare to take off.

“I gotta go, B/F/N. Please. Just think about this.”

“I have thought about it. I’m sorry.” He hung up before you could say anything else.

The stewardess waited beside your row until you shoved your phone into the seat pocket in front of you. Only then did she move on.

You leaned back in your seat. You pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes to try and hold back the tears. Seconds later, your stomach felt like it dropped out from underneath you as the plane lifted from the ground.

You curled away from the boy next to you, toward the window. You let a few tears and shaky breaths escape.

This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Sure, you could change your flight to the next flight home, but you were going all the way to Montreal for nothing. Your relationship didn’t exist anymore. All of your plans for the next month were nothing but smoke before you.

A horrifying thought crashed through you.

Frantically, you dug through your purse. Your fingers found your creased boarding pass.

There, in small, capitalized letters along the bottom, were the words THIS TICKET IS NONREFUNDABLE.

“No,” you cried in a whisper. You crumpled the paper into your fist and stuck your head between your knees. 

You couldn’t change your flight. You would have to purchase another ticket…which you couldn’t do, because you had spent all of your money on the stupid seat upgrade that was barely any different than the regular seats.

You sat up and thumped your head against your seat a little harder than intended.

“Um…” said the boy next to you. “Are you alright?”

You barely noticed that he had an accent. You shook your head, pressing your lips together. If you opened your mouth at all, you know you would begin to cry and possibly not stop for the rest of the flight.

“Is there…anything I can do?” he asked again a little helplessly. You shook your head again. “Alright, well…let me know, love.”

For some reason it was the “love” that did you in. With a little hiccup, the tears began pouring. You hid your face in your hands, mortified that this was happening to you, but unable to stop it. You cried until the stewardesses came around with drinks and snacks and then cried some more after the stranger next to you gently ordered you a water.

It took you what felt like hours to calm down. You discreetly grabbed your phone to look at the time and your own reflection as the boy next to you idly scrolled through the movie options on the screen in front of him.

You looked like a mess, but there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

“Thank you,” you croaked, indicating the water that you finally took a sip of.

“Anytime, love,” he said with a quick half-smile. He watched you almost warily, probably wondering if you would be bursting into tears a second time. “Everything alright?”

“No,” you said with a shrug like, Hey, it happens, it’s cool.

His bright blue eyes were kind. You noticed for the first time that he was…well, really good-looking. “Mind if I ask what happened?”

You knew he had heard your phone conversation. There was no way he hadn’t. But you thought it was polite of him to pretend he hadn’t and to have you clarify. You shrugged again. “I’m…I was supposed to be going to Montreal to visit my boyfriend. He’s working there for a year so he can get a promotion back home. He’s been there six months and…” You cleared your throat to hide the quaver in your voice. “He thought my flight was tomorrow and…called to break up with me. Except my flight’s today.”

The boy winced. “Ouch,” he said sympathetically.

You nodded. “That’s not the worst part. I–I’m stuck in Montreal for the month. My tickets are non-refundable and I spent all my money on this stupid seat upgrade because I was supposed to be staying with him for free and–and now I don’t have the money to get back home. And I have nowhere to stay.”

The boy’s expression shifted into something worse than sympathy. Pity. You looked away.

“That’s…wow.” He said nothing else for a long few minutes. You snuck a look at him from the corner of your eye. He seemed to be deep in thought. You could practically hear the gears turning in his mind.

“Don’t worry about me,” you said flippantly. “I’ll call my boyf–my ex when we land and I’ll tell him to get me a hotel room or change my ticket or something. Or…” You swallowed hard. Your only other option was worse than asking your now-ex for help. “Or I can call my parents.” You nodded once to steel yourself.

You already knew how that conversation would pan out. They would be really reluctant to help, if they did at all. They would chastise you for wasting money on silly seat upgrades. Then they would lecture you on your relationship with B/F/N, which they had never exactly approved of. They would make it all seem like one big I told you so. And that, to you, was worse than a month of being homeless in an unfamiliar city.

The boy seemed not to have heard. “I’ll…be right back, yeah?” He quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and scrambled from his seat. He took two strides forward to the front of the plane before whirling back to face you. “I’m Harrison, by the way,” he said, sticking out his hand for you to shake. He was leaning over the seat in front of his. You stared at his hand long enough for the person in the occupied seat to clear their throat.

“Uh, I’m Y/N,” you finally said. You grasped his warm hand with yours and shook once. He flashed a brilliant smile and disappeared.

You knew he was just getting away from the crazy crying girl who’d just been broken up with and abandoned. You sighed and settled back into your seat. You flipped through the movies, looking for something new or action-y to take your mind off of your hopeless situation for a while. You glanced through the selection of movies, most of them ones you had already seen. You paused on the new Spider-Man movie. You hadn’t seen a lot of the newer releases since you’d been cramming in classes in order to graduate.

You let out a tiny groan of frustration.

All that work to graduate early for him, and he broke up with you. You should be in your senior year right now, enjoying yourself, taking easier classes to finish out your last few requirements. You should be doing things you had never done on campus before, like going to the Homecoming game or watching the sunset from the roof of the science building.

But now you were trapped, heading towards a destination that had lost all of its magic.

Harrison returned a little while later. Your screen still had Spider-Man pulled up, but you hadn’t actually selected it. You were too tired for a movie.

Harrison flopped into the seat. His smile was big. It grew when he glanced at your screen. He let out a wry laugh.

“What? Don’t like Spider-Man?” you asked drily.

“No, no, that’s not it at all,” he said. He swallowed his laugh.

He leaned towards you. “Listen, Y/N, I think I have the solution to your Montreal problem.”

“What does that mean?” You raised a skeptical eyebrow.

His gaze turned intense. “It may sound crazy but….I have a place you can stay. For free. For the whole month.”

Tag-list (?) 

@beardedsteveslut (thanks for being the first!) 

[crappywords]

Celestial Love idk

So here’s a thing I had for the longest time and I don’t really like it but I hope someone does! It’s about a celestial god like creature cursed to live amongst us. 

He sat down slowly, placing his journal on the seat next to him. He sighed, cursing his ever-kindling candle of life.

He wished his luck was like the other celestials, placing him not here, in this grim self-destructive world.He wanted to be a part of a prosperous civilization, he deserved it, he knew he did, but his father did not grant wishes to those like himself.

"Class, I hope you did a bit of backup reading like I told you to because this will be difficult to understand."

He cursed. His hair was all over the place as he rummaged through his satchel to search for his book. What was he doing yesterday that was so important, it made him forget his philosophy reading assignment? He could not get drunk and he did not have any friends. The lord forbid that ever happens. It was not like he wanted any "friends" anyways. He was alone yes, but he was not lonely, another person in his life would be a burden and a weakness. He was well aware of the phylosophies of mankind, he knows each and every single one by heart, but he was quite forgetful you see, for his father was not one to make life easier of the likes of him.

He forgets a alot. Unlike his other fellow celstials, who seem to be all-knowing.

He knew more than all of them did. Far more.

He was quiet forgetful.

Perhaps his father does not like him.

He groaned internally and stared at the person in front of him, surely he must know something. This boy looks well-dressed and even wears spectacles.

That is a sign of intellegence in this race, is it not? He thought as he focused to look inside the boy's head.

That bastard dragged me down with him, why the hell am I so stupid? I should've stayed and read what was assigned to us but no- god forbid you do something on time. Edward Cross you are a dumb fuck and you will not pass. All I wanted was one stupid beer, one. Ah fuck it, I'll ask if he'll give me extra credit work later. I just-

Why did I assume you know anything? Thought the celestial.

The boy jerked and let out a yell. Heads turned, eager for a distraction from the terribly agonizing lecture.

"Mr. Cross, do you have anything to share?" Asked Professor Denson. "I assume you yelled out because you have an answer to my question?"

"I am sorry sir, and uh... no, I can't answer the question, I'm sorry..." he trailed off before looking down.

Stupid waste of life. A literal excuse for idiocy to exist on this planet. Thought the celestial. And I remember a time where your civilization asked and begged for immortaily. He scoffed. Now imagine if I granted that to the likes of your ancestors, ca-ta-stro-phe.

"Don't waste my time then boy." The professor turned to the rest of the class and the attention was turned back to him.

The celestial turned away to look at the professor and tried to rummage in his brain, he smirked to himself, obtaining what he needed. He knew he was forgetful so he skimmed through his journal for an empty page and started scribbling down all the information he obtained.

By the end of the class, the he had the questions to next week's exam. Now all he had to do was answer those questions and spend the rest of his day at his room, alone, marvelling at the small entertainment miracle of a light box, his laptop.

As he slowly walked down the stairs of the lecture hall, something- or rather someone- caught his attention. It was that boy, Cross, humming and walking at snail speed. He did not like it when they did that, hum, sing, try to forget sorrow by making animal like sounds. Music they called it.

The celestial smirked and focused on the back of the boy's head, fastening his pace to get closer. He was going to mess around with this little animal.

Boo.

The boy gasped, his feet gave in and he tripped. The celestial chuckled, and with a swift move, grabbed the boy's shirt.

"Careful." He said, letting go of the boy's shirt once he felt like the latter's balance was regained.

The boy looked at him, his face was still in shock. The celestial almost felt sorry for the sad excuse of a creation.

"Th-Thanks." He muttered, avoiding his gaze almost instantly. "Well that makes my shitty day even shittier." He muttered slowly , expressing greatly his hate to whatever was happening to him.

"I am Edward." He stopped to meet the taller man's eyes, but for some reason he couldn't look into them directly.

"My name is Valiant."

"Cool."

"Cool indeed."

Edward watched Valiant walk away. Weird. Something jolted his brain suddenly and he remembered the fraternity. Shit. Shit. The hazing. Why do they host weekly hazings? He sprinted, reminding himself of why he was doing this.

Legacy.

............

The celestial sighed as he stepped out of the classroom, finally. That little homo sapien was fun to mess around with and he was going to make sure he repeats today's little mischeif next class.

He started picking up his slow pace, eager to get to his room and wither away in front of the light box.

Something caught his eye, the coffee place. He has never liked coffee, in fact he has found it to be one of the most atrocious human discoveries. So bitter, he felt his stomach twist at the thought of that demonic liquid.

Evil celestial liquids are much more delightful, comparing this to their drinks would make them very angry. And that was not something he wanted to do.

He suddenly felt his brain jolt and a memory trigged, he remembered why coffee was not very appealing to him. Lord of the skies above, why do my past lives haunt me like this? I must go on and pretend that it did not matter, I will not let them get in my head.

He pushed the door and went into the coffee shop anyways, trying not to gag at the smell. He wanted human junk food and human junk food was what he was going to get. Human junk food was comforting. He stood in front of the shelves and his eyes lit up at the sight of the attractive packages.

"You shall come with me." He whispered softly grabbing seven bags of gummy bears before continuing to stare at the rest of the merchandise with an awe. His eyes trailed over to the crisps.

The sight of the packages made him smile.

The tall celestial dropped the packets he had on the cashier desk, and heard a soft gasp coming from the woman. He looked at her and like most of them, they avoided his gaze for reasons only he knew of.

"That would be seventy eight dollars sir."

He paid for the food, shoving all of it into his satchel.

All set. He smiled to himself.

He had a date you see, with a certain light box.

*

*

*

He liked to listen to the mortals' thoughts. It was fun. His inhibition would always be directed towards those movie or show fanatics he would overhear in the corridors. They always gave him a name to something new he should watch. He sometimes wished he could talk to them, but friends were nothing but a burden. He could not bring this pain upon himself. He knew his father is watching him, he knew that his father did not want him to feel joy.

He had one before, a friend. This friend meant everything to him, his friend was so gullible and naïve, so innocent. Long ago, the celestial loved nothing more. His friend was important to him and he resulted in his own love's murder. He was the cause of his friend's pain and suffering. That was when he decided.

No more.

No more pain for those who did not deserve it.

He was responsible for all what all these mortals were going through. He decided that he will no longer seek comfort between their kind, for his comfort will bring nothing more that suffering upon them.

He planned on avoiding relationships for the rest of this Earth's life.

Sighing, he grabbed his food and turned the light box on. It was a smart light box. He pressed the a small button, and chose "Netflix". The girl he overheard yesterday spoke about something called "Anne".

"Ah, there it is. Anne of green gables. What is this? When did they start celebrating the orange heads?"

I thought they hated the orange heads. How peculiar. These mortals change their standards so often, I need to keep up. I've always found orange heads beautiful.

The celestial started laughing as soon as he remembered how awful his perception of time was. He felt something poke at his heart when he thought about time. Time. He acted like time did not matter to him, but it did. The immortal one just wanted to not remember- he wanted to forget how fast time flies by. To pretend it did not exist.

And that's what he did the next 10 hours, he sat still, consuming one sweet thing after the next. The orange head turned out to be quite the charming character. He stared at the light box as the last episode ended.

THAT WAS IT? WHERE IS THE REST OF THIS? HOW STUPID CAN LITTLE ANNE BE? SHE LET A THIEF INTO HER HOUSE. AWFUL. AWFUL MORTALS.

He huffed and stood up, he needed a walk after this trash ending.

It was eleven, he sighed tying his hair back and puffing out the air in an aggravated way. He kneeled down to pick up his shoes, slightly losing balance. He put them on and slammed the door on his way out.

He steadied himself as he walked down the stairs, trying to shut away his brain.

This was going to be a long night. A long, long, night. He hoped the night would not be inviting strangers, innocent strangers, to speak to him, but he was wrong, oh so wrong.