#< lie. there's always room for improvement and reaching new heights

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

I imagine barnaby trying to be all cool and flirting with howyd subtly but his smoke gives him away fjsns

he thinks he's smooth smh...

[holden-caulfield]

Hatred, you thought.

↪︎ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

SUMMARY: enemies that get trapped in the same room and have no choice but to work together to get out, inevitably leading the two of them to realize their true feelings for each other to lovers.

WARNINGS: is it angsty? i don't think so, fluffy ending tho

WORD COUNT: 1991

A/N: i'm not really sure what this is, but i used my prompt and this came out... i don't think i ever mention draco but i wrote this with him in mind. also, i don't think they are in school, it's an au of some sort and it's very messy :) it will make sense as you read it tho!!

No way out. An empty room. Just you and him.

Oh, how ironic Fate could be, how insensitive, cruel and ironic.

No way out.

You were stuck, how it happened was still a mystery to you. Such a fool for having let yourself be trapped in there.

An empty room.

No windows, just a door, which was now sealed. The only source of lightning was enough to illuminate both of your faces, his features so sharp in the pale light emanated from the dangling lamp above you.

Just you and him.

It could have been anyone, but it had to be him, of course. He wasn't any happier than you, he despised you just as much as you did, if not more.

But there you were, alone together. Words weren't needed because facial expressions were enough to convey each other's feelings: scowls perfectly disclosed any emotion that passed through your minds. Aversion, loathing, abhorrence, hate.

Such a strong word, you never thought you'd have used it to describe someone, but he was worthy of the title. You hated him, so deeply, so violently, so passionately.

He was much more generous with the use of the word, he hated pretty much everyone who didn't agree with him. But with you. Oh, with you it was different. He made sure you knew he actually hated you. It was not playful banter, it was not temporary animosity. It was pure, unfathomable hatred.

Then why did you find yourself there with him? Fate, once more, came into play.

It has such a weird way of playing, Fate. It can conjoin long lost lovers just as easily as it can unite sworn enemies who would happily have nothing to do with each other. And it takes great pleasure in doing the latter; you couldn't help but imagine the Moirai laughing, deriding you as they spun the inexorable thread that was your own Fate. Insensitive and cruel they were as they got their merciless job done.

"What now?" he asked, but he already knew the answer. He didn't want to admit it, admit he needed your help; neither did you.

But the only alternative was waiting, waiting for the inevitable destiny that would have hit you if you hadn't got out of the room. However, that meant more time to share with him, and neither of you was hoping on it.

"We find a way out, isn't it obvious?" you couldn't refrain the sarcasm dripping from your tone. The even deeper scowl decorating his face was worth it.

"How?" it took a lot out of him to stop himself from snapping at you as he analyzed the only object in the chamber, the door.

"Aren't you the one always preaching about his above-average intellect? Put it to good use, then." you knew snarky remarks wouldn't have helped you to find a way out, but they did help improve your mood, even if only in the slightest.

"No lock. No handle. No hinges. What is your great intellect suggesting?" he threw away that last ounce of restraint he had in him and decided to play your game. A challenge, to entertain you while you endured his vile presence.

"Push it. Break it down."

"Ladies first." you took a running start and collided with the door. It didn't budge.

You tried again, this time he joined you. It didn't budge. Useless attempts.

"Great idea." you could feel the smirk in his voice but you didn't give him the satisfaction and stared at the still-closed door instead.

No way out. An empty room. Just you and him.

When suddenly an illumination: while scrutinizing the room, you looked up and, narrowing your eyes, you noticed a square-shaped line, so thin you couldn't have seen it if you hadn't been so focused.

"Give me a hand, quick!" you let of all the hostilities as an opportunity arose and grasped his shoulder, forcing him to look towards the area your finger pointed to.

He joined his hands and helped you reach what you hoped was a trap door.

"God, i thought you were lighter..."

"And i thought you were stronger but look at us." you stretched your arms to reach it but it was still too high up, "Higher!"

"I can't extend myself, you know?" he said, quite irritated.

"Oh woah, something you can't do? Bewildering..." arms still outstretched, you lifted yourself on your toes. A mistake.

You lost balance and could already taste the blood in your mouth from the inevitable contact with the floor, but it never happened.

Because he caught you. You were shocked and from the look in his eyes, he was too.

"Try not to do other stupid things because i won't be there to catch you again." you quickly lifted yourself from his hold and immediately started to study another way to reach the trap door, your only hope, but in your mind thoughts about what had just happened still roamed freely.

There was no explanation other than the fact that he could not work with an injured person; if you had hurt yourself, you would have been weaker and therefore unable to help him get out. Yes, that was the reason.

"Give me a lift again."

"You can't reach it-"

"Give me a lift. Again." your tone was sterner and he complied, but not before scoffing and rolling his eyes.

You climbed on his hands once more, but it was still too high. You lifted your foot tentatively and placed it on his shoulder.

"Woah, are you trying to kill me up there?!"

You didn't answer, instead using the new added height to reach the ledge. You pushed it open and climbed up, successfully exiting the room you had called prison just moments ago.

"Always."

He smirked disapprovingly, a smile that didn't reach his eyes, and signaled for you to help him out now, so you moved to find something, anything to help him.

It was dark, the only light brightening the new corridor that had just appeared was faint and came from the far end of it.

You crossed the entire hallway, looking for a rope or a box strong enough to support your nemesis when it dawned on you: your nemesis. Why were you even helping him? Sure he had helped you, but that was before you were free.

You had now a choice, he didn't have any. If he did, he wouldn't have been so magnanimous. He surely wouldn't.

You kept on going towards the light, strengthening with every step you took when a rope appeared in your way.

The choice was now concrete. You could help him. Or you couldn't.

"Y/l/n! Found anything?" what to do now? He wouldn't have helped you.

"Took you long enough, huh?"

"I was trying to find something, you ungrateful twat." you sneered as you threw him the rope. He grasped it and began climbing, but you had still time. Time to let the thread go and leave him there. Time to save yourself.

But you didn't, an actual reason still missing in your mind. Too much compassion, too much pity, you thought. But you weren't convinced, you couldn't lie to yourself, there was something else.

He climbed all the way up, you offered your hand to finally hoist him on the ledge. He considered it, he refused it.

"We're not friends, y/l/n."

"Believe me, i know. I was just trying to make sure i hadn't to get you up here all over again. I thought you were lighter, you know?" he glowered at you, but it was not the same as before, as always.

One way out. Just you and him.

You treaded that same corridor you had crossed seconds ago, besides him this time. It was narrow and your bodies tried so hard not to touch but it was close to impossible. Shoulders collided, legs bumped, hands grazed. But eyes refused to meet; hatred, you repeated to yourself.

The light seemed to never arrive even as you quickened your step. You were running, striving to reach that light that you so desperately clang to. But then a sudden stop.

The hand that was once ruthlessly brushing against yours, grasped you. It was rushed, it was vital, it was puzzling. But it held you close to him.

He was your enemy, you needed to distance yourself, but you couldn't find the strength in you to do so. Hatred, you repeated in your head and you pushed him away.

"Watch your step." he said, pointing to a hole in the floor, a square one. You were running in circle.

You felt stupid, to think he had forgotten your rivalry so easily, to think things had changed between you.

"Thanks." it came out of your mouth without thinking. Good manners are hard to forget, you reckoned.

A pause.

"You're welcome." could a situation of forced proximity really change the feelings between two people?

Incredibly thin is the line between love and hate.

You didn't love him. You didn't hate him either. Things were evolving, you didn't know whether it was good or bad, but they were.

"We have to find another way." you thought aloud. He agreed with a simple nod, no remarks. The awkward exchange must have had an effect on him just as much as it did on you, or so you thought.

His eyes were lighter than you had ever seen them, his face seemed tense, but it was not a grimace; that was new. He looked quite entrancing when he wasn't too busy glowering at you, his features looked endearing as they attentively surveyed the area.

Sense of guilt took over because you knew you shouldn't have been thinking about such things, but had he always been so tall and captivating? Had you never noticed that sparkle in his eyes that caused the image of crystals glinting in the sun to appear in your mind? Was he thinking the same?

Undecipherable; intriguing. You wanted to know more, was it possible? You pondered no further and returned your gaze to the corridor, unwillingly.

It was his turn to watch you now because when you turned again you caught him staring.

"What are you looking at?" you couldn't help the defensive tone with which you uttered the sentence, but it didn't bother him.

"You saved me. Why?" he was genuine, he was sincere and this had you even more confused than you already were.

"You did too, it's nothing but a temporary truce."

"Is it?" he whispered without missing a beat and suddenly the walls weren't narrow anymore, no, they were far too wide, he was far too distant. As if reading your mind, he took a step closer.

"Of course it is." were you that sure?

"Are you sure?"

"Of course i am."

"But why did you save me?" what game was he playing? Your mind was not able to form any coherent thought as the man in front of you kept on making questions to which you didn't know the answer. You didn't want to admit the answer.

"It's just a truce, we hate each other-"

"Do we?" his questions were quick, it was much simpler making them than answering them.

"Do we?" you repeated.

"You could have left me there..."

"Do we?" you insisted.

"You didn't have to do that, you could have-"

"Do we hate each other?" you were impatient to hear him say it.

He remained silent but his eyes were speaking, only his mouth didn't allow them.

"Do we hate each other or-"

He cut you off, that same mouth that had suddenly become dumb reached yours. Hatred, you repeated in your head.

You kissed him too, logic leaving your mind, hands entangling in his hair, bodies flush against each other.

Love, you admitted.

Maybe Fate wasn't as cruel as you thought.

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[basicjetsetter]

Part V

♡ Pairing: Peter Parker x Black!FemaleReader

▹ Warnings: Fluffy scenes, anxious moments, cliff-hanger

��� Words: 3.3k

▹ A/N: We are reaching the eye of the storm. Happy reading!

“ ‘Kay, so there’s no way they’re gonna win this game without him turning into the Wolf, right?”

“Finish watching it, Peter.”

Peter musingly shakes his head, mouthful of his fourth slice of pizza. “There’s no way.”

You level a patient smirk at him and point to the television, wordlessly telling him to see for himself.

The screen’s brightness fills your otherwise dark living room, casting shadows along the angles of Peter’s concentrated face. His body is sloped forward, and if he didn’t possess the body control of an enhanced being, he’d fall face-first into your carpet.

Tonight’s movie selection was your choice, and you didn’t want to disappoint. So when Peter said he’d never seen Teen Wolf, you were over the moon. Usually, you’d watch every single second of the classic film, but with Peter sitting cross-legged next to you, his hip pressed against yours as your crossed leg rests on top of his, you spent the entire time covertly peeking at his fascinated expressions.

Well into the third month of your friendship, Peter’s presence in your apartment remains to be an odd sight in a good way. Out of your ordinary. His first time in your apartment came on a day you both chose to escape the sun’s sweltering heat with A/C and ice cream, and like your first conversation in Hal’s, he never made it weird.

It was effortless. Every moment with Peter was like breathing.

If anyone else suggested Friday-night movie nights, you’d have spared no time shutting them down. But your yes to Peter harbored no resistance.

“No way!” An excited smile spreads across Peter’s face as Scott steps to the baseline to take the game-winning free throw shots. “Is he seriously gonna make these?”

You seal your lips, choosing not to spoil the moment, but Peter doesn’t see. His eyes never stray from the screen, and his lips slightly part from the nail-biting suspense. As the last shot falls through the hoop, Peter’s whole jaw drops.

When the end credits roll, he slowly claps. “That was awesome. Like I’ve got some serious chills. How am I going to top that?”

“Eh, you probably won’t,” you reply with a boastful grin. Hidden joy thrums through your body from his excitement. “Might as well call a wrap on movie nights.”

Peter playfully nudges you with his elbow, then checks his watch. “Ah, man, it’s late. I needed to be on patrol half an hour ago.” He’s up in a flash, slipping his shoes on and chewing up the rest of his pizza.

“Do you have to go?” A hint of sadness tinges your words. 

“Yeah, the city would be a mess without me,” he jokes, but you weren’t remiss of his undertone sincerity. “Oh! That reminds me. Some bad guys are out on a robbing spree lately, tailing people at night, so if you work late, can you ask Chris to walk you home? Y’know, just in case I’m not there.”

He does this every time he’s over. Each week, there’s a new thing or group to be leery of, and each time he asks, you immediately nod to erase the gut-sinking concern in his brown eyes.

You rise from the couch and follow Peter to the door. He turns just as he’s about to twist the handle, stalls for a second, then envelopes you into a small, reluctant hug, leaving his arms lax just in case you wanted to pull away. 

Hugging is new, something you’ve only done about five times. The first was an unplanned disaster featuring a hard shove, repeated apologies, and a long, awkward moment of silence. 

You didn’t mean to push him away. It was one of those moments where, even though the urge to reciprocate was there, you couldn’t allow yourself to find comfort in such an innocent gesture. You weren’t ready. He respected that.

You knew your rash reaction bruised Peter more than he let on, but he learned to ease his way into your comfort zone with small touches. An intentional brush of his hand against yours, scooching closer to you on the couch, hi-fives with minimally laced fingers.

It took a while for the second hug-attempt, but you were cautiously prepared when it happened.

This time around, you return the gesture, winding your arms around his middle and setting your chin on his shoulder, resisting the urge to nuzzle your nose against his warm neck. His closeness frazzles you, even more so when he diminishes the gap between you, holding you tighter to his chest before releasing you and clearing his throat.

“Be safe,” you warn softly.

He puffs out his chest. “I have nothing to fear except fear itself.”

“That confident, huh?”

“Comes with the job. You get knocked down enough times, you get pretty confident once you realize you can always get back up.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And yet you still have a fear of heights.”

“Never said I wasn’t afraid of falling. Just that it gets easier getting back up. ‘Sides, most of those petty offenders scare easy. All I gotta do is say I can plant eggs in ‘em.” He shudders at the idea himself.

“Please, Peter,” you implore, a smile sullying your stern frown.

Peter’s grin, always so wholesome and calming, blankets over your nerves. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Well, I think Spider-Man needs someone to worry about him, sometimes. Even if he can get back up. Just… let caution work alongside confidence.”

He heeds your words with a more allayed smile, curtly nodding. “Vigilance. I can do that.”

You’re tempted to wrap him back into your arms to protect him from whatever dangers lie outside of your apartment. Instead, you exchange simple goodnights and shut the door once he reaches the stairwell.

The room and your shirt preserve his crisp evergreen scent long after he’s gone. It lingers as you crawl into bed. An aromatic reminder of his caress and warm skin.

As far as friendships go, you’ve never had one quite like this. The line you drew in the sand moves. Accommodates. Shrinks. Whether he’s aware of it or not, the time you spend cracking jokes with Peter at Hal’s, listening to his adventurous feats, becoming comfortable with his physical proximity, seeing his smile and the way his eyes light up when you smile at something funny or interesting he’s said, you fall just an inch.

He's growing on you. His presence. His laughter. His beaconing smile. His tentative touch. His uncanny ability to endear himself to your foreclosed heart.

It was easier to deny the connection when you didn’t know Peter. But now that you do, every moment you’re with him intensifies what you’ve painstakingly tried to avoid.

You’re falling in love with your Soulmate.

✦ ✧✦ ✧

Once again, it’s the Saturday brunch rush, and once again, Hal’s is up to its neck in bloodthirsty customers. All the booths are packed, as well as the stools. Some of the parties compact a seat meant for two with four people, and the aisle clogs with those who just came to grab a cup of coffee and conversation.

Chris is in his element, swinging from one booth to the next like a controlled tornado collecting orders, while you and Wendy are the unfortunate bunch who have to clean up desecrated tables and feed the greedy.

“If someone asks me what the specials are one more time, I’m going to rip my hair out,” Wendy grouses behind the counter as she puts away five menus.

You grumble back the same sentiments. Menus exist for a reason. And most of these people aren’t new to Hal’s, so the fact that they always have to ask grinds your gears.

11:30 a.m. is your saving grace. If you can hold on until Peter gets here, you’ll be fine.

Chris stops by the bar, pocketing what appears to be a twenty-dollar bill. “Lighten up, ladies. At least you’re off tomorrow.”

Wendy, in her 5’3’’ stature, looks feral. “I want to be off now.”

A rowdy group of high-schoolers sitting in the farthest booth is holding a contest to see who could drink a milkshake the fastest, and the two unlucky contestants shriek like banshees from self-inflicted brain-freeze. All three of you wince.

“We don’t get paid enough for this.”

Hal shouts from the back. “Order up! And stop slackin’ off out there!”

Wendy’s eye twitches as she marches to the back to pick up the orders. You’d have acted the same way if you didn’t have something to look forward to.

“They’re not going to tip me. I just know it,” Chris says to you, despondently looking over at the teens’ table again.

“They’ll come around. No one can resist this moneymaker.” You lightly bump him on the chin to indicate his smile. Heck, his whole chiseled face is a moneymaker, but that exuberant smile sells it all.

Over the last three months, just like your friendship with Peter, your friendship with Chris has improved. Even with Wendy. You aren’t at each other’s throats nearly as much as you used to be. Last week, she complimented your hairstyle, though it was immediately followed up with a snide comment: progress, either way.

Chris laughs. “And here I thought my friendly personality racked up all the tips.”

“It’s a bonus.”

He chuckles again, then blows out a hesitant breath. “So, Y/N…”

“So, Chris…”

“There’s, um, there’s gonna be another music festival in Cunningham Park tonight, and I was wondering if, y’know, you and Peter might want to come and hang?”

You and Peter… As if you were a pair. An item. A couple. To unsuspecting eyes, you knew you and Peter seemed to be just really good friends. Not even Hal questioned why you spent half an hour talking to him every weekday. If he had an inkling of who Peter actually was to you, he’d have confronted you by now.

Chris, on the other hand, kept a sharp eye on you when Peter was around. As meticulous as you were about keeping up pretenses in public, sometimes you’d slip. Your smile would be a tad too bright when Peter walked through the door and took his usual seat. You’d giggle at his jokes too loud. You’d stare into his eyes too long. Signs too blatant for Chris to miss.

You’re just waiting for him to put the last piece in the puzzle.

“I’d… I’d have to ask Peter.” You take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “But, yeah, I’ll go.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Sure. Sounds like it’ll be fun. What time is it?”

Chris lays a hand on your forehead. “Temp seems fine. Pupils aren’t dilated. How many fingers am I holding up?”

You swat his hand down with a laugh. “Shut up.”

“Look, I know you probably don’t want me saying this out loud, but I’m glad you met Peter. We all are.”

“Why?” Evidently, you’re not that great at hiding your feelings as you thought.

Chris leans against the bar top, keeping an eye on the door just in case customers walked in. “Well, for starters, you literally just agreed to hang out with me for the first time since you started working here, which was—what—two years ago. And… you… I don’t know. You’re more open, y’know? Smiling and such.”

“I smiled before,” you say, a little defensive.

“Not like you do now. Before, it was all—,” Chris screws his mouth up. It’s strange. Alienated and wire-tight. The corners of his lips don’t fully come up, and it barely reaches his eyes. You instantly recognize it—the smile you hid behind.

Did you really smile like that? How is it that you never noticed how off-putting it was? If a server ever smiled at you like that, you’d assume they wished you disappeared off the face of the earth. Is that the smile people saw? More importantly, when did you stop putting it on?

“Two more strawberry milkshakes over here!” shouted one of the brain-freeze victims.

Chris hops to it. Always the perfect server. On his way to make the shakes, he says, “7 p.m.”

“I’ll be there.”

You weren’t going to confirm for Peter until he was there to answer for himself, but he doesn’t show. 11:30 a.m. and the rest of your shift flies by without a sight of him, which is strange, but not uncommon. Homework might have him tied up. September is a pretty busy month for schoolwork, and mid-terms are approaching, so he might be buried in assignments.

Worry doesn’t settle in until you’re getting ready for the music festival at 6:30 p.m., and Peter still hasn’t sent so much as a voicemail.

Evening summer sunlight filters in through your open window, the active sounds of Queens’ busy streets and subway station not allowing your room to fall quiet. Nights like this are perfect for outdoor festivals because it’s warm enough to sit in the grass and not bring a jacket.

Rather than enjoy the idea of getting out for the first time in years, your mind remains hooked on Peter.

It’s not like him not to leave a text if he’s caught up in other things. He’d make sure to tell you where he is, how far away. Since the beginning of this friendship, starting with his little notes, Peter’s constant communication wasn’t something you expected. But now that you do, this behavior just doesn’t match what you’re used to.

You pace the floor of your small bedroom, back and forth, wall to wall, abusively chewing your lower lip and turning your phone around in your hand, working up the nerve to call him, summoning up the will to voice your concern if he did answer.

When you do call, you get his voicemail. Trying again, you end up with the same result. Okay. He’s not picking up his phone.

Fear foregrounds your frustration. It bleeds into your words as you leave your fifth message. One after the other, they morph from mild concern to despairing panic. As the sun dips lower and lower on the horizon and the orange sunlight dwindles, so does your desire to go out.

Because… maybe you shouldn’t go. Maybe you should search for Peter. Finding any trace of him at all would be a stretch, and Chris might be upset about you ditching your plans the next time you see him, but you can’t possibly go out knowing something may be horribly wrong with Peter.

No. No, you won’t cancel plans like that. Peter is fine. Of course, he’s fine. He’s Spider-Man. His duties as a hero come first, no matter what. And he wouldn’t want you to stress so much about him.

Wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, he is okay. He’s alive. You feel it.

Somehow, you break the trance of your pacing and convince yourself to grab a cab ride to the park. When you arrive, the festival appears to be at a content standstill. It’s not as crowded as you assumed it would be for a Saturday night. Many of the attendants, ranging from all ages, are sitting on the grass, soaking up the fading rays of the sun while the bands finish up prepping. You’re greeted by the distinctive smell of hotdog vendors intermingled with ripening leaves.

There is nothing truly scenic about Cunningham Park, aside from the interspersed trees and trails. You’d been here a handful of times when you were younger, hanging out with friends during summer break, and one thing you loved about the park back then is how the sun shone through the leaves, casting an ethereal glow on nature.

You’re more appreciative of its beauty without the sun’s effect.

It wasn’t that hard finding Chris. All you had to do was look for the person most likely garnering friends from other groups. He’s on a blanket, seated in the center of the crowd and chatting with a group of three people.

When you’re close enough to be spotted, Chris’s face mouth out into a wide smile.

“You came!” Then his eyes roamed around. “Where’s Peter?”

You try for a carefree grin but let it fall when the effort became too much. “He couldn’t make it. School stuff.”

“Oh, well, that’s fine.” His smile drops fractionally, less joyful and more sympathetic. “I’m really glad you made it. Hey, guys. This is Y/N, my friend from work.”

You wave a little and hope for a genuine smile to grace your lips as they all scoot to make room for you on the blanket.

Chris introduces them all. He points to a buff, curly-haired guy named Dez, who you wouldn’t have guessed would be the type of guy to enjoy small park festivals. He looks like the kind of person who regularly crowd-surfs at huge concerts and somehow always winds up with a VIP pass. The next person is a slender girl named Asha, who has thick black hair knotted into a messy soccer bun and a glowing smile. 

The last person Chris introduces you to is his Soulmate. You knew just by the way he said his name. Resounding. Reverent. Borderline fanatic. His name is Quint, and unlike the others, he wraps you up in a surprising hug. What’s even more surprising is you hugging back.

“Nice to finally meet you.” His voice is richly robust, exactly how you would expect someone with his Adonis-like face to sound. Two gorgeous, outgoing Soulmates just seems unfair.

“Nice to meet you, too.” You can’t help looking from Quint’s face to Chris’s, then back again, and wondering if this is what people see when they see you and Peter—a perfect match. “Chris has told me a lot about you. All great things.”

“He better,” Quint says, jokingly gazing at Chris as a blush flared across Chris’s cheeks. “And he’s told me a lot about you and Peter.”

There it goes again: people pairing you two. It’s hard not to notice how natural that sounds, as though you two were meant to be spoken about as an inseparable whole.

You brush off your startled expression as best you can and ask, “Good things, right?”

He nods, then shares a smile with Chris. “I would’ve liked to meet him.” You roughly translate that to mean, ‘I would’ve liked to meet you both.’ The blush on Chris’s face deepens into an embarrassingly bright shade of red when he catches your eye.

A plucked, low-pitched guitar string echoes out to the crowd and effectively commences the start of the music festival. You must’ve missed the band's introduction because they got right into their music, playing a melancholic pop song that sounded pretty good. You were more interested in the guitar riffs and melodic piano notes than the lyrics, but they’re no doubt about love.

Halfway into their set, your stomach growls, and you remember that you didn’t have anything to eat since you got off work. The whole thing with Peter staved off your hunger. He’s still in the front of your mind, but you’re doing your best to enjoy the night with Chris and his friends.

Standing up, you tell Chris, “I’m gonna get a hotdog.”

He tilts his chin up in acknowledgment, then goes back to swaying his head to the music.

You got up just in time to beat the line. There are only two vendors in the park, and they’d be slammed once the music hits its intermission. The one you’re at resides near the outskirts of the crowd, closest to where you left the group, and two people are in front of you.

You wish Peter were here.

Your hand touches the outline of your phone in your back pocket while you wrestle with the idea of calling him again. Maybe he’ll pick up this time.

You’re just about to unlock your phone when you hear someone calling your name—a girl.

The voice gets closer and more breathless, like they’re running at you full speed ahead and couldn’t reach you fast enough. You turn to the sound just as the body slams into you, yanking you out of line and clutching you to their frame.

“Where the hell have you been?!”

You pull away and stare straight into her face, not trusting your own eyes. “Manda?"

...

Taglist: @alexandria-euphoria​

[i-like-plan-m]

About your LWJ can hear lies AU- I can’t help but wonder how he would react to Nie Huaisang and Jin Guangyao since they are both known for being expert manipulators, especially since it’s hinted at that Nie Huaisang had a lot to do with the WW and MX thing. So I wondered if Huaisang would find a way around LWJ’s lie detecting or if he even knows about it? Also, I can just imagine the PAIN LWJ would be in if he had to talk to Jin Guangyao

Oops, I forgot to link this on tumblr! My bad! This is chapter 3 of the lies au

The trip to Qinghe was familiar by now. 

Years of flight between the sects meant Lan Zhan could make the trip with his eyes closed. He kept them open, because the sight of the Qinghe mountain range always brought a sense of relief that was as sharp as the cold air.  

The sight at the gates was becoming a familiar one, too. Nie Huiyin waited for him with all the patience she was capable of, her constant restless energy directed into a small but impeccably crafted blade that she was sharpening like it had done something to offend her. 

It was just her way, Lan Zhan had learned. Nie Mingjue’s cousin was as brusque as he was, infinitely more cheerful and possibly the loudest person Lan Zhan had ever met in his life. She was also, however, the most refreshingly honest person in all five of the great sects, save for perhaps Nie Mingjue himself. 

“Ah!” She said brightly as he landed before her, stepping gracefully from his sword and sweeping it back into the sheath on his back. “It’s our little Lan Zhan, back again!” 

He refused to acknowledge the blush heating his ears and instead nodded in greeting. His composed response did not deter her from tossing a friendly arm around his shoulders and hauling him through the open gates, past the grinning guards and into the towering grasp of the Unclean Realm walls. 

“How have you been, shidi?” She asked. The Nie Sect, Lan Zhan had quickly discovered, lived up to their imposing reputation of strength and honor. They were also the friendliest people in the world, once they’d decided you were theirs. 

Once Lan Zhan's was unofficially acknowledged as a member of the sect leader’s family-- or at least someone held in high regard by Nie-zongzhu himself, the floodgates had opened. He couldn’t decide whether their open affection was embarrassing or not, but it did fill him with a warmth he was unfamiliar with, one that felt like unconditional acceptance. As though they wanted him here. As though they liked him.

He had never had friends before. 

Well. He wasn’t entirely positive that he had any now. But regardless, the Nie Sect disciples treated him with regard. They smiled when they saw him. They welcomed him in their training exercise despite the differences in their sects’ fighting styles. 

Some, like Nie Huiyin, treated him as though he was a part of their sect. Another of Nie Mingjue’s little brothers to look out for, to keep tabs on like he was incapable of taking care of himself. 

It would be insulting if it hadn’t felt so much like acceptance. 

“I have been progressing,” Lan Zhan reported dutifully. “My control has improved further since my last visit.” He didn’t react to lies like someone had stabbed him in the ear the way he once had. With age came control, and a higher pain tolerance, apparently. 

Nie Huiyin made a sound of exasperation. “You Lans, I swear. I meant how have you been? Done anything fun lately?” She jostled him to punctuate her questions. He was slightly cheered by the fact that she had to reach higher than usual to rest an arm over his shoulders; he’d finally hit his growth spurt this summer and was nearing his brother’s height. 

“I mastered Inquiry,” he offered. 

She squinted at him suspiciously. “Is that what you do for fun?” 

“I enjoy it, yes.” 

“Hm. Acceptable. Though my rock climbing offer still stands if you want real fun. There’s nothing more exhilarating than free-falling from a thousand feet, shidi!” Lan Zhan gave a doubtful noise in response that made her laugh. “We catch ourselves before the bottom and take the rest of the fall on our sabers. And then!”

And then they raced through the most dangerous mountain pass in Qinghe on their sabers, chasing adrenaline with as many death-defying stunts they could manage until the pass ended in a dead-drop of a hundred feet. Most of them followed the waterfall straight into the large lake at the bottom. Most of the Nie disciples were reckless enough to try it at least once.

“Scorpion Alley,” he said, familiar with the sect’s unofficial rite of passage. 

“You got it,” she agreed cheerfully. “We still haven’t gotten you out there, have we?” 

“You will not,” he assured her, and bit back a smile when her laugh echoed across the training grounds. It was so different here than in his sect. There was little composure in Qinghe, no reason to stifle laughter or keep words hushed. 

Composure, he’d learned, was another word for concealment. Disguising one’s truthful feelings to reflect serenity instead. A mask that hid the turmoil beneath for the sake of propriety.

It was a lie all the same. 

“I hear your sect is hosting guest disciples next year,” Nie Huiyin said, steering him towards the main hall. 

“Yes.” He made a halfhearted attempt to sound neutral. He must have failed, because she snorted a laugh as she shoved open the doors of the main hall where Nie Mingjue sat, sorting through a stack of reports with a cranky expression. A slender, unfamiliar man with a dimpled smile stood beside the desk, holding a massive accounting book and waiting patiently for Nie Mingjue to stop muttering under his breath. 

Nie Mingjue looked up as the doors swung open. He brightened almost immediately, standing to welcome Lan Zhan with such genuine delight that Lan Zhan ducked his head, pleased. 

“Welcome back,” he said, clapping a hand on his shoulder and leading him to one of the nearby tables, gesturing for a servant to bring tea. He sat across from Lan Zhan while Nie Huiyin leaned against a column behind him. “How was the trip?”

“Fine,” Lan Zhan said, and tried not to sound petulant. He was almost sixteen, perfectly capable of making the trip from Gusu to Qinghe without trouble. 

“It’s the da-ge instinct, little Lan,” Nie Huiyin said with a laugh, nudging Nie Mingjue with her knee when he scowled up at her. “He can’t help himself.” 

The unfamiliar man hovered in the background as though unsure what to do without Nie MIngjue’s attention. Lan Zhan blinked at him, still unclear on who this newcomer was or how he’d climbed to Nie Mingjue’s side so quickly. Lan Zhan visited often enough that he would have noticed a new person in Nie Mingjue’s inner circle before today, surely. 

Nie Mingjue noticed his distraction and turned to wave the man over. “Ah. Apologies, you two have not met.” The stranger obediently crossed the room and bowed low to Lan Zhan. “This is Lan Wangji, the Second Jade of Lan. And this is Meng Yao, my new deputy.” 

“It is an honor to finally meet you, Lan-er-gongzi.” 

Lan Zhan nodded politely in response and wondered at the faint whisper of a slipped note that accompanied his words. Not quite a lie, but there was something underlying that sounded… off. 

“Da-ge,” Nie Huisang complained, sweeping into the room with a sulking expression. “I already did my saber training today as promised, and Nie Zonghui is trying to make me do more. This is cruel and unjust and-- oh, hi Lan Wangji.” 

“Nie Huaisang,” Lan Zhan murmured. 

“Lan Wangji,” Nie Huiasang said brightly, throwing himself down beside them. “Tell me, doesn’t your clan have a rule or twelve about keeping promises?” 

“A-Sang,” Nie Mingjue said tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Behind him, Meng Yao hid a smile like he’d witnessed many similar discussions like this one. 

Then again, so had Lan Zhan. The Nie’s bickering was as constant as stars in the sky. It had taken some getting used to, but now Lan Zhan let it pass over him as background noise. It was all born from a place of love, and even the small lies (like Nie Huaisang’s mistruth about the duration of his promised saber practice) were easily ignored. 

Meng Yao, though. He was odd. 

Lan Zhan kept his face carefully neutral whenever Meng Yao’s smiles rang false, which was… often. He smiled like he knew it was expected of him, not because he wanted to. Like he was playing a role, either for the sect leader’s benefit or his own. 

It had been a few years since his lessons with Lan Xichen on the reasons why people lie, but most of it was… still hard to understand. So when Meng Yao responded to direction throughout the rest of Lan Zhan’s visit with a demure, “I would be honored, Sect Leader” and it rang discordant every time, Lan Zhan thought it was perhaps time to ask for help. 

Only a few years ago, Lan Zhan had accidentally exposed an advisor in Qinghe who had been bought off by merchants in the city. Every bit of his advice and own influence had been manipulated to support the merchants. 

Of course, when Lan Zhan was in the room and realized the advisor’s input sounded like a drunkard playing a dizi, he’d signaled to Nie Mingjue, who then rooted out the reason for his lies. Lan Zhan was not capable of doing so himself-- he only knew when people lied, never their reason for it. 

Shortly after Nie Mingjue had personally tossed the advisor out of the Unclean Realm’s gates, Lan Zhan had discovered a shadow wandering around on his heels. 

“How’d you know he was lying?” Nie Huaisang asked curiously. He continued when Lan Zhan stood frozen in place, unsure how to respond. “I saw your cue to da-ge. The hand signal?”

“I…” He had no idea what to do. Brush him off? Explain his mother’s gift? Deny it entirely? 

No. That was dishonest. 

He swallowed hard and admitted, “I can hear lies.” 

“Really?” Nie Huaisang’s eyes brightened. “So you knew the advisor was corrupt?” 

“No. Just that he lied.” 

“Hm. Interesting. So just the lie, not the intention?” The ever-present fan fluttered as Nie Huaisang stared thoughtfully at him. He nodded once in agreement. “You hear it?”

Lan Zhan realized he’d been absently following Nie Huaisang’s meandering pace along one of the walls. They were alone, so he reluctantly shared, “It was a gift from my mother, before she died. I hear conversations like music, and lies are…”

“Horrible, mangled sounds?” Nie Huaisang asked dryly. “My music tutors tell me that’s what I sound like when I play, anyway.” 

His face did not show the flicker of humor he felt. “Yes.”

“Is there anything other than the curse that tells you when they lie? Like, if their voice sounds nervous or their breathing is too fast?” 

Lan Zhan paused. He’d never thought of that, of looking past the sound of the curse to identify the physiological aspects of the liars. Why would he? There was irrefutable proof from the curse. 

But not looking further felt… lazy. Like willful ignorance. That he could not abide. 

“I will observe from now on,” he decided. 

“Me too!” Nie Huaisang caught his skeptical side-eye, because he sighed like he alone bore the weight of the universe and said, “I’m just saying, it seems like a useful skill. That advisor got past me, too, you know, and I spend a lot of time listening to their incredibly boring conversations.” 

“Boring conversations about running the sect.” If the disapproval wasn’t clear on his face, it was evident in his tone. 

“Exactly,” Nie Huaisang agreed. “But I learned my lesson, Lan-er-gongzi, all thanks to you! We should practice together, don’t you think? How about just before lunch every day?” 

“That is the time of your saber training,” Lan Zhan, who was not an idiot, said. 

“Is it?” Nie Huaisang asked, blinking innocently at him. “Ah, well, da-ge can’t complain if I’m busy making our favorite guest feel welcome!” 

“We will spar together before lunch,” Lan Zhan decided, ignoring Nie Huaisang’s horrified expression. “And then study during lunch.” 

“No,” Nie Huaisang wailed. “How can I learn to read people if I’ve been pummeled into the dirt by the Second Jade of Lan?”

“I would not,” Lan Zhan said, offended. “You are not capable of a legitimate spar--” 

“No shit!” 

“--so instead I will help with your training.” 

“Somehow this turned out very badly for me,” Nie Huaisang muttered, but he was at the training grounds mostly on time later that day all the same. 

That was two years ago. 

After two years of shared study, they had something that was not quite a friendship. Lan Zhan had never lost the sense of awkwardness around Nie Huaisang-- he was never quite sure how to interact, wasn’t sure what his role was in this relationship. 

Nie Huaisang mostly just complained to him about everything under the sun. But every time Lan Zhan visited, he showed up to the training grounds with an expression of utmost suffering. He only remembered his saber half the time, and he tripped over his own feet often enough Lan Zhan feared for his life, but he showed up. 

So Lan Zhan knew his concerns would be heard if he took them to Nie Huaisang. Maybe he would have more insight into Meng Yao’s oddities-- Nie Huaisang understood people the way Lan Zhan didn’t. He couldn’t hear lies, but he could see them. 

Most of the time, anyway. He’d learned to read faces where Lan Zhan heard the mistruths. It was a training method with guaranteed reliability, and Nie Huaisang’s success had surprised him. Apparently he was highly capable when he actually applied himself. Too bad he didn’t want to. 

Still. He would listen to Lan Zhan, and he would help. That much was certain.

[nappe-plays-the-sims]

The Ideal Sims Game

Had some thoughts and have to put them somewhere.

I’ve thought about what I like about different sims games and reached the conclusion that it would be... Mostly a mix between The Sims 2 and The Sims 3.

Hear me out.

“The Sims 6″ or whatever we should call this hypothetical game, would be generally similar to The Sims 2, with some notable differences

CAS

CAS customization options closer to the The Sims 3 level. Color sliders!

Traits, aspirations, lifetime wants, and personality points. Obviously some traits would be removed since personality points cover some of those (mean, outgoing etc), and plenty of traits should be featured later in expansion packs/DLCs so EA can milk their dear cash cow, but as said, DLCs should not be for gameplay essentials, it should be for gameplay enhancement.

Turn ons and turn offs. Should include things such as personality traits, approximate hair color, work type, work level, clothing, glasses, yadda yadda. The hair color would check based on what’s in close proximity by using hexadecimals, that way sims can also be attracted to custom hair colors such as purple hair.

Age options, because sims shouldn’t have to start at the beginning of the adult stage every time.

Height sliders!

Disabilities. Yes, this would include a Simlish sign language. Disabilities should also be able to overlap, and occur because of events and chance cards.

Worldbuilding

The ability to create your own town like in The Sims 2, but the ability to edit the map itself such as adding/removing roads and more.

No townies or NPCs should spawn unless you approve of it. This means you’d be able to create your own NPCs for the town. Your sims shouldn’t be able to go to the hospital if no one is employed in the Medical career, or call a fireman unless no one is in that career, etc. (unless you have chosen yourself in settings that should be created by the game automatically).

Open world and story progression like in The Sims 3 if the player enables it in settings, university shouldn’t be separate. The university system shouldn’t be as complex as in previous The Sims games, just a school essentially but requires more homework and similar. This experience can be elaborated on in expansion packs and DLCs.

More control over economics and politics in the world. Should taxes exist? You decide. Monarchy? Democracy? Dictatorship? All of this should be something the player can fix. Alternatively include this part in a DLC since it’s very specific.

Gameplay

Wants and fears, affected by traits, aspirations, and personality points. A family sim with commitment issues will still fear marriage. A “Gold Digger” lifetime want family sim will want their relatives to marry rich sims.

Aging settings- let players decide for themselves how many days a sim should be a baby, toddler, child, teen, young adult, adult, and elder. The default days should match number of years IRL, because no one is a teenager until they’re 30.

Jealousy changes. Being in love and being in a relationship needs to be a separate thing, because Don Lothario getting slapped for “cheating” on Nina Caliente with his fiancé makes very little sense. Open relationships should be a possibility, perhaps require certain traits for this to happen?

Sims who hate each other shouldn’t necessarily get into violent fights constantly. Traits and personality points etc. should change how the sims act around the people they dislike.

I love chance cards, keep those in please. If anything, add more of them. Also, if chance card choices go against the sim’s personality, possibly have a small % risk that they will lose that trait or gain/lose certain personality points (with the % increasing per time the sim acts out of character)? And of course, chance cards that give you the ability to gain traits. You could also have extra options arise depending on skills, personality points, traits etc. (For example, a charismatic sim should be able to talk themselves out of a situation, or have a greater % chance of success doing so.)

Pre-made sims

The “alternate universe” idea was cool but poorly executed. Feel free to try again, and do so with the old Sims 2 premades. That way, you can take the storylines everyone thought were so cool and give it a new spin, without ruining current canon.

Stop making their skintones lighter...

By following these we essentially have a mix between The Sims 2 and The Sims 3 base games with a few enhancements.

What can be added in expansion packs and DLCs?

How can you milk the cash cow without taking away essentials from gameplay that make players feel forced to buy everything or they can’t play? Well, ideally everything should just be included in the first game, but we know EA doesn’t operate that way.

The key to “expansion packs” is that functions in it should add more to gameplay but not be a requirement to enjoy the game. To quote someone on the Steam review page who bought African portraits for Crusader Kings II: “I have to pay money to be black.” That’s not how it should work.

Things you can leave out from the OG game and include in Expansion packs or DLCs:

CAS

Various clothes and hairstyles. With the color changing tool there’s a lot of room to change things already. Cut down on the number of hairstyles and outfits so more energy can be focused on improving the gameplay aspects. Cosmetics are always best reserved for DLCs.

Tattoos.

Secondary aspirations. They’re good to have in the game to give your sim more depth, but they are not a neccesity and are thus good to save as optional content.

More aspirations and lifetime wants. Goes together with more careers of course, and pet-related lifetime wants for pets expansion pack etc.

Stuff packs that focus on certain time periods, cultures, and more.

Worldbuilding

Alternate start years. A medieval expansion pack, for example, that allows you to create a medieval world specifically, where technological advances aren’t available etc. You could use “into the future” ideas for this too. You would be able to choose whether technological progression should be flat or improve over time. (Imagine the Legacy Challenge done in this!)

On that note, a “Castaway” type of thing would be cool.

Gameplay

Aspiration rewards. Not essential for a base game.

More careers! Can easily be included in a work expansion pack. With this expansion you could include career rewards, more chance cards for all careers (including chance cards that make you gain/lose traits, personality points). Businesses go here too IMO but knowing greedy EA they’d put it in separate expansion packs.

Expansion packs with chance cards and special events for different life stages. A mid-life crisis? Teenagers going through hormone hell? All that doesn’t need to be in the original game but can be included in expansion packs.

While we’re talking about that, a pregnancy DLC sounds like a mess, but this is an opportunity to add triplets and quadruplets, pregnancy tests (although obviously sim-ified), the ability to lie about the father of the child, paternity tests, and more.

Pets! Not much to add here other than that it’s a perfect opportunity to add a unicorn and, idk, the ability for horses to get jobs if your sim has particular traits that lead to nonsense behavior á la Caligula.

Weather and season holidays.

Vacations, because every sims game needs it.

The Sims 3 Supernatural was incredible with the complexity to each supernatural creature. Something similar again, however, it should also acknowledge hybrids (we know this is possible to some degree, because aliens in The Sims 3 had a hidden “alien DNA percentage” value), and no random assignment of supernaturals. They should be rare unless the player changes it to not be so in settings.

[get-your-fics]

Suburbia - Part Four

Man in Black

Summary: You have the seemingly perfect life, with the perfect house and the perfect husband. But the illusion threatens to be unraveled when you start to have strange but familiar nightmares.

Pairing: Albert Wesker x reader

Series warnings: Smut, dub-con/non-con, breeding kink, sex pollen, blood, violence

PART THREE

“You've been a very bad girl while I was away.”

His heavy boot made a solid thud as he took a step towards you. “Don’t move!” you shouted, pressing yourself against the edge of the desk behind you as much as you could. “Don’t come any closer!”

“Or what? What are you going to do?” he chuckled, but didn’t move. “You wouldn’t want to do anything rash now, dear. You’ll over exert yourself-”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” you cut him off through gritted teeth. “What the fuck is going on?” He didn’t say anything, merely stared at you. You felt like your blood was boiling in your veins. “Answer me!” You slammed your fist down on the desk, your voice bouncing off of the white walls. “I deserve answers!”

“Didn’t you find all your precious answers in those files?” He gestured to the manila folders scattered across the desk. It looked like a hurricane had blown through it. “I have to say, I’m surprised you caught on. But, you always were too smart for your own good.”

“Where are we?” you asked.

“We’re in an underground testing facility. Umbrella ran simulations here in order to sell the T-virus to government agencies worldwide,” he said. “Right now, we’re in a simulation of a suburban neighborhood. I thought it would be effective to replace your memory with artificial memories we concocted and place you here, that it would make you more compliant with the project.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately, the memory erasure had some unforeseen side effects. Hence the nightmares.”

“So you were just going to treat me like a pet?” you spat. “You thought it was okay to keep me locked up in this cage and breed me like a dog? That you could turn me into your little trophy housewife, have me cook and clean for you with the wool pulled over my eyes and get away with it?”

“Cage?” He laughed as if you had meant what you had said to be amusing. “Look around you, (Y/N).” He spun around in a circle, his arms spread wide. “This is hardly a cage. I was going to let you live obliviously in domestic bliss. I was offering you another chance at a good life, the kind of life that’s been extinct since the world ended.”

“You’re the one who ripped that chance away from me, from everyone, in the first place!” You pointed your finger accusingly at him.

“You act like I’m some kind of monster.” He pressed his gloved hand to his chest in mock offense. “Tell me, was I ever mean to you? Did I ever hurt you? Didn’t I always keep you fed and happy and content? Was I ever anything but the nice, dutiful, caring husband to you?”

You shook your head. “None of that matters. I was living a lie.”

“You can choose to see it that way, if you wish,” he said. “I was doing you a favor, (Y/N). Things for you could’ve been much worse.” He gestured to the computer, the paused video still displayed on its screen. “Well, you’ve seen the footage.”

You glanced at the video over your shoulder before looking back at him. “Was any of it real?” Your mind conjured up memories of coffee dates, of fancy restaurant dinners, of him getting down on one knee and popping the question, of him kissing you on your wedding day as you stared at him. But they were all fake, artificial memories implanted into your brain. They were hazy and lackluster, but all the emotion was still there. And even with all this new information, that didn’t make it just disappear. “Was it all pretend?”

“You mean do I love you?” You stared down at your bare feet. The fact that part of you still hoped this man loved you revolted you to the core. “I have respect for you, (Y/N). Love is trivial in comparison. You are the future - the superior evolution of mankind. You are the only one worthy of carrying my child.” His words made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “With our combined genetics, we could improve upon the human race. Think of the things we could accomplish if we worked together.”

“I will never work with you.” You shook your head. “You just want to create monsters. You destroyed humanity out of greed. You kill people.”

He quirked a brow. “And you don’t?”

“I kill people because I have to,” you argued.

“You kill because it’s in your blood,” he said. “You see the weak and you eradicate them, making way for the exceptional species.”

“You’re sick,” you sneered. “You’re so obsessed with your perverted, demented version of saving the world, you don’t realize you’re ruining it. You don’t care about me or anyone else. You only care about yourself.”

He tutted disapprovingly. “Such harsh words, little bird.”

In an instant, you smacked his cheek with a resounding slap. His face fell to the side, his sunglasses sliding off his nose and breaking on impact with the tile. You could already see a red handprint spreading across his cheek. “Don’t call me that,” you hissed.

He looked back at you, and you gasped. His eyes - they were a bright, violent red. Every other time you had seen them, they were a clear, sky blue. But now, his pupils were black slits in the middle of each eyeball like a snake’s.

“You don’t want to do this, (Y/N),” he threatened. A golden tendril of hair had escaped his perfectly coiffed hairdo and now hung loose down his forehead. “We can forget this ever happened. We can go on living a perfect, normal life, and you can pretend like you’re none the wiser.”

“I would never agree to live in this house with you, Wesker.” You gripped the edge of the desk. You couldn’t trust him. The second you were no longer of use to him, he would throw you away like a worn-out toy.

“Then I will be forced to take you in. We’ll wipe your memory again and start fresh. And this time we’ll make sure to flesh out the details.” His lips curled into a sinister smirk. “Or maybe it’ll be back to the holding cell. Now why don’t you make it as easy as possible for yourself and come willingly?”

You readied yourself. “I’m not going down without a fight.”

He rose to his full height and cracked his knuckles. “Suit yourself.”

You threw a punch at him. He dodged your fist and latched onto your arm. He used your momentum against you and flipped you over his shoulder onto the metal table behind him. You slid off of it and landed on the ground, the wind knocked out of you.

He walked around the table and strode towards you effortlessly. Once he was within reach, you kicked at his kneecaps. He stumbled back, giving you enough time to leap to your feet. You swung at him again. He moved out of the way, but you learned from your mistake and brought your other hand up to connect with his jaw. He recovered quickly and pushed his heavy boot into your stomach.

You were knocked backwards, sending several test tubes crashing to the floor. You picked up a shard of a flask and stabbed it into his neck as he came towards you. He barely batted an eye. He plucked it out as if he was brushing off dust, unfazed by the blood dribbling out of the puncture wound in his neck.

He charged at you again, this time armed with the broken piece of glass. You ducked just in time as he thrust it at you, narrowly avoiding his hit. You retaliated with a blow to his side. He jabbed the glass into your hand as you did so. You let out a blood curdling scream as it sunk through your flesh. You gripped it and ripped it out with a yelp, discarding the fragmented pieces to the floor. You watched as the wound ceased leaking blood and closed itself up all on its own.

Wesker swiped at your ankles, and you dropped to the ground. You cried out as bits of glass scratched at and protruded from your skin. They crunched under his boots as he stopped in front of you. He buried a hand in your hair and dragged you off the floor. He hauled you off of the ground, your toes barely brushing the tile. You wrapped your hands around his in an attempt to lessen the pressure on your scalp and flailed your legs to kick at him desperately.

“Maybe we should have some fun first.” He pressed you back against the wall and slipped his hand under your nightgown. “One last go around for old times sake.”

His hand crept closer towards your clothed core, and you brought your leg up to knee him in the crotch. He let go of you with a grunt. You landed on your feet and regained your balance enough to kick him in the chest. He flew backwards, ending up on the other side of the room. You came at him with fists flying and teeth bared. You landed a few successful punches before he grabbed both your arms and pushed you back.

He wrapped his fingers around your throat and lifted you up. He slammed your back against the wall and tightened his hold on you. He stared at you with pure rage and fury in his glowing, red eyes. He squeezed until gray dots started to form over your vision, and you felt your lungs start to deflate as the oxygen left them.

“Just... do it...” you choked out.

His unwavering stare faltered, and his expression softened. His eyes faded to a warm amber, and the hard, straight line of his mouth twisted into a frown. He loosened his grip on you and slowly set you back down on the ground.

You spat out blood and looked up at him. “You do love me.” You flashed him a lopsided smirk.

He blinked, and his eyes turned red again. “Don’t be foolish,” he scoffed. “You’re more valuable to us alive.”

But something in the way he had looked at you told you otherwise. “Well, the only way you’ll take me in is if you kill me.”

You broke from his grip and roundhouse kicked him in the face. He staggered back, and you approached him again, fists raised. You threw a punch, but he caught your arm, twisting it. “Have you given up yet?” He threw you to the ground. His expression was stone cold and stoic. “We can do this forever, and you’ll never get anywhere.”

You slowly started to push yourself up again, but he stepped his boot-clad foot in the middle of your back, keeping you down. You knew you were both equally matched and could go at this for hours to no avail. But you also knew that he had a weakness you didn’t.

You spotted a green test tube that had rolled under the desk. You reached for it, stretching your arm as much as you possibly could. Your fingertips just barely brushed the glass. Wesker got out a syringe and uncapped it. He bent down so he was at your level as you got the tube within your grasp. Just as he was about to sedate you, you reached behind yourself and injected it into his neck before he could do anything.

He let out an angered growl and backed away from you. The syringe slipped from his grip and clattered to the ground. He grappled for the metal table to steady himself, pressing a hand against where you had injected him. He panted and fell to his knees, his skin turning sallow and pale as his T-virus levels fluctuated.

You rolled onto your back and noticed a handgun duct taped to the bottom of the desk. You tore it off and rose from the ground. You cocked the gun and aimed it at him.

He looked up at you and cracked a grin. “You won’t make it out of here alive. Even if you do, there’s nowhere to go.”

“It’s worth a shot,” you replied, and then you pulled the trigger.

The blast echoed as the gun went off. He looked down as blood seeped out of the bullet hole right where his heart was. He clutched his chest, blood running through the gaps in his fingers, and slumped back against the wall. His ragged breaths grew soft and shallow with each passing second. His arm dropped to his side, and his head lolled as he went silent.

You lowered the gun and stood still. Your heart pounding against your rib cage and your blood rushing in your veins were the only sounds in the now quiet room. You hesitantly padded across the tile towards him. You stopped right in front of him and poked at him with your toe. His body remained limp. His eyes were once again amber, blank and void with nothing behind them as he stared off into space. And this time he wouldn’t be getting up.

You felt something wet hit your cheek and swiped at it. You couldn’t stop the onslaught of tears from coming, and before you knew it, you were full on sobbing. You fell to your knees in front of him and lowered your head, clawing at your chest as if your heart wanted to burst out. You blamed it on the fake memories, that you were designed to react this way, but you knew deep down part of you had wanted to continue to live with him in ignorant bliss.

You wiped away your tears with the back of your hand. Your face was red and splotchy, your eyes bloodshot and swollen from crying. Your nightgown was tattered and practically hung off of your body in shreds. Every bone and muscle in your body ached. You imagined you resembled the way you had appeared in the video, tortured and battle-worn.

Suddenly, there was a sharp prick in your neck. You furrowed your brows as a buzzing filled your ears and something foreign pumped through your veins. The world spun around you, and everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. You teetered forward and collapsed on top of Wesker’s cold, dead corpse. The position you were in allowed you to see behind you, and the last thing you saw were men wearing thick, plated armor and gas masks moving towards you with their guns raised before everything went black.

-

You slowly came to. You were lying on an examination table in a room with beige walls that smelled like bleach. You were wearing a hospital gown and hooked up to some sort of machine with a screen.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you heard a voice whisper to you. You looked up to see a face hovering above you, and when you focused in on it, you recognized it as your husband’s. “You passed out once you got on the table. Don’t worry, the doc says it’s perfectly normal,” he placated you.

You looked down at your body and noticed something off: there was, barely perceivable but visible none the less, the start of a growing bump along your abdomen. You must be about two or three months along. No, in fact, you knew you were - you could remember the day you had told him about the two little lines that had shown up on the test and how he had smiled at you with all the love in the world.

“Congratulations, little bird. It’s a girl.” He placed a protective hand over your stomach. A wide grin spread across his face, bordering on wolfish. “The first of many.”

EPILOGUE

[hexusproductions]

Andromeda

Summary: Q-pid and DJ Subatomic Supernova organise a collaboration on a song. It could be good, if they ever manage to get along for long enough to finish it. Author’s Note: Based on my post about Q’s relationship with other NSR artists, this is my first finished Q-pid story! Also my first finished story for No Straight Roads. If anything it was good practice for writing both him and DJSS.

The idea had sounded good on paper.

I like DJ Subatomic Supernova’s music. I’ve been to several of his concerts – as myself, of course. He does have a bit of a mouth, but it isn’t like he’s all talk. He’s on the NSR panel, after all. So when my manager first brought up the idea of a collaboration, my first thought was; Dinner for two amongst the stars. Oh, how romantic.

I don’t think dinner is in the question, obviously, but I’m sure something along those lines will be incorporated into the music video.

Now I’m standing in the middle of Club Planetarium – vacant, the screens on the circular walls turned off – a mere meter or so away from DJ Subatomic himself. I think, as far as I know with his head lacking a face and all, that he’s looking at me during his conversation. My manager Frank looks nervous, talking to both DJ and Tatiana on speaker-phone. But he can be persuasive when he’s trying to convince someone that something is a good idea.

My attention stays on Supernova. I keep the smile plastered on my face, and make it a little more friendly, just for good measure. Supernova’s shoulders jump – a snort? – and he turns back to Frank and Tatiana.

It’s fine, maybe he isn’t a fan of cheer. That isn’t my fault. It makes a nice contrast.

I return to Earth in time to hear Frank and Tatiana telling DJ what a wonderful idea this is. DJ sighs, defeated, and agrees to ‘stoop down’ to my level. Apparently, he thinks himself higher than an immortal love spirit, but okay.

DJ and Frank turn back to me as Tatiana leaves. Frank gives me a quick look, and I expertly hold back an eye-roll.

“It really is a pleasure to meet you in person. I’m a very big fan.” One hand over my heart, the other extended. Perfect.

“Of course you are.” DJ stands up, pushing himself out of his big chair. I manage to keep the Q-pid greeting pose, but for a moment…wow. He’s, taller than I thought. Oh, wow.

He takes my extended right hand in his left, a brief firm handshake.

“I look forward to working with you.” There’s a softness to my voice, to my smile, but I’ve stayed in character. Of course, I always do. It’s never been difficult for me.

I can feel that gaze again, taking me in with the barest amount of interest. Hands on the hips are too imposing, so I clasp my hands loose behind my back instead. DJ’s head tilts a degree, and he raises a hand to gesture as he speaks.

“Indeed. The infamous being of love, journeying into the depths of the cosmos. It may be quite promising.”

-------------------------

“Q!” Frank bangs on the door, trying the knob again. It’s still locked. I’m not getting up and I am not answering him. Everyone is going to stew for a while, and that’s fine by me.

DJ is so stubborn. I’ve tried everything I can to get along with him, but I can only be called a moron so many times.

I slide further down on the sofa I’m sitting on, arms crossed tightly.

All he’s done so far is shoot down all of my suggestions. The whole point of a collaboration was to meet a middle ground, not release Subatomic’s new song with a gorgeous singing voice in the background. I’m not asking for much, just to be able to put my own touches on the song, my own input. I give him a beautiful scene of Q-pid whisked away into the arms of the stars, falling in love with the universe that he’s been reborn into to experience – and he shuts it down completely! Obviously he doesn’t understand what I was picturing. NSR panel artist or not, there’s no excuse for being so ignorant.

I’m squished into the cushions uncomfortably, but I still refuse to move, even to adjust position. Frank is still knocking on the door.

“You agreed to do this album! You don’t want to disappoint your fans, right?” Frank calls back loudly, clearly talking to more than just me, “I’m so sorry about him, he can get intimidated when he meets other talent.”

I whip my head around, letting out an offended scoff before slapping my hand over my mouth. I glare at the door over my palm. If you are so determined to cover up my frustration, at least come up with a good lie!

There’s a small thud against the surface of the door, and Frank’s voice comes through the wood.

“Q-pid!” He stage-whispers, “You get your wings out here right now! You are finishing this single!”

I remove the hand, but not the glare, though it loses strength as I tap a foot against the floor. Frank is getting impatient, and the angrier he gets, the less willing I am to fight him. I don’t want to be fired. I can’t lose Q-pid.

I slide open the lock, pulling the door open wide enough to stand in full view and look out. Frank is there, hands thrown up in the air. Far behind him is DJ, his own arms crossed in an irritation not shown on his empty snow globe head.

“Now, see? Now can we please get back to work??”

I take a long look at DJ that drags across to Frank. Frank takes a step to the side, sweeping his arms in an ‘after you’ shepherding gesture. For a second, I consider taking advantage of the fact that he insisted I stay in costume for this and flying off. But that earlier fear still lingers, and I take a few sluggish steps forward instead. Frank reaches around and closes the door behind me.

DJ uncrosses his arms, weight moved to one foot. Now that we’re in the same room again, I can see Frank take a breath. He shakes off his anger from, oh, about twelve seconds ago, somehow going back to cheerfully pushy. I’ve done the same in other occasions, so I can’t really judge him for that.

“There. No need to get upset over creative differences, right?” Frank tries, smile crooked.

“Yeah, creative differences.” I echo hollowly. Frank has the same look as when he was talking to Tatiana, sweating bullets. He shuffles over enough to grab my arm, and I make sure to stay where I am, even if I want to pull away.

DJ scoffs at both of us, dripping with smug superiority.

“You both overestimate my investment in this project.”

“Of course. We’re just very eager to work with you! We just want to do our best to live up to your standards.” Frank squeezes my arm and I roll my eyes, feeling his pointed gaze from above his slatted smile. DJ hums, seeming to ponder over Frank’s words.

I glance to the candy heart bracelet around my wrist, my small reminder. I let out a huff – tiny, ‘relieved’, with a noticeable rise and drop of the shoulders – and give DJ a smile.

“I hope you can understand.”

Not being able to read his face is infuriating. It makes the long pause that follows even worse, keeping that ‘simple misunderstanding’ air permafrosted around myself while I wait for his response.

“You are but a fleeting moment in an ever-expanding universe.” DJ turns to fully face me, looking down in the process as he waves an open palm, “Your insistence on behaving as if you are less mediocre than any other being is charmingly misguided.”

The smile on my face brittles, eyes widening the tiniest amount. If my feet weren’t planted on the ground, I would test if DJ can still spin records with a broken finger!

“It’s fine.” I say, each word slow and maybe a tiny bit barbed, “It’s alright if you’re intimidated by me. Are you ready to work together now?”

“If you can cooperate for five minutes, maybe-“

“Okay!” Frank interrupts, loud enough to speak over any further arguing. He puts an arm around my shoulders and an arm on DJ’s shoulder that is quickly shrugged off. DJ starts walking back to our shared space on his own, and Frank pushes me along after him. For the sake of character consistency, I cull my expression into a neutral line.

-------------------------

There. It’s finally finished. Andromeda (Star-Crossed Lovers), by DJ Subatomic Supernova and Q-pid.

I pack away the last of the things I’ve brought with me, taking a quick glance to the time on my phone.

My manager is patting himself on the back. I don’t know why, but maybe he’s relieved that it’s finally over.

It’s taken a week to finally complete the song. In that week, Frank has had to convince at least one of us out of a locked room almost daily. Getting to a middle ground where we’re both happy with the final product has been like walking through glass.

I zip my phone away in a pocket and walk back through Club Planetarium. DJ is standing behind his deck, watching it swivel back around into an armchair. I grunt but give him a tiny smirk, even though he can’t see it.

I do still respect DJ as an artist. And yes, maybe some of his decisions did improve the final result overall. But I’m not going to forget how stubborn and frustrating he really is face-to-face. It is so much worse than the snippets I’d heard before starting this collaboration.

DJ’s head turns and notices me approaching, and he takes a few steps away from his precious podium to meet me. I look him up and down in the brief moment of silence. I’m used to it now, the amount of height he has over me. He isn’t intimidating, he’s just hard to read, that’s all.

“I’ll be out of your hair soon.” I tell him, and shrug as my gaze falls on his equipment, “You managed to make something nice, with my help of course. I believe a thank you might be in order.” DJ repeats his full-body scoff, then points a finger at me.

“Your record company were the ones who begged for my help. All you’ve been done is scramble to improve your already fading grip on your limited existence on this planet.” He pulls his hand away as soon as he finishes speaking. I choke on a laugh and return that accusing tone right back onto him.

“You want your name on this track as much as I do. It isn’t my fault if you pretend that you don’t.” I follow my retort by giving him the caring, tender-hearted Q-pid beam, “Jealousy isn’t a very good colour on you, starlight.”

“Jealousy?” DJ crosses his arms, “Do you have a compulsive need to be wrong, or are you just that dense?”

I splutter, trying to come up with an appropriately scathing retort. Frank walks out from the same room I had just been in, pulling and shrugging on his suit jacket.

“Hey.” He interjects, stepping between us, “When all’s said and done, I think we did a lot of good work here. How about we let bygones be bygones?”

I continue to glare at DJ, arms crossed. Frank clears his throat loudly. When I don’t respond, he jerks his head towards DJ. I shoot him a glance and silently concede, focusing on getting back into character.

“You’re right.” I agree, and then smile like sunshine, “How about we kiss and make up?”

“You had better not.” DJ warns. My smile tightens into a grin. I wave a hand to brush off his response, as if he’s just confused.

“I was only speaking metaphorically.” I say lightly.

“I was not.”

I’m paused for a split second, hand still hanging in the air. I swear, he’s nothing but a brick wall. But Q-pid would laugh, so I laugh.

“Oh you are indeed charming, Mr Supernova, for someone so empty-headed.” The backhanded compliment sounds just as sweet as if I were asking him to marry me. DJ bristles.

“I have had just about enough of you.”

I take a step forward, looking up and meeting him in where I gather his eyes are. I’m trying to goad him into a further response, to have the satisfaction of knowing I’m getting underneath his skin.

Frank’s hand falls on my shoulder.

“Okay. You’re both tired, you’ve both been working hard. How about we call it quits and head on out?”

Yes please, I am begging Frank to let us leave already. The wings attached to my back spread and I start to take off down the path to the exit. It must seem like a drift from their perspectives, but I’m hurrying as fast as I can without looking too eager.

DJ turns his head from me to Frank, who’s still trying to smile and keep the peace. That smile wobbles even more under DJ’s blank stare.

“Yes, hurry off now. I have officially finished with this endeavour.”

“Oh, then we wouldn’t want to inconvenience you any further.” I reply, holding a hand to my chest. Frank seems to ignore our entire back-and-forth, wandering along after me, still looking at DJ with all kinds of colourfully encouraging body language.

“Thank you. This is going to be great, you won’t regret this!” Frank promises, “I’ll be in touch!”

“We should really be going.” I sing-song, flittering above the floor.

“Alright, alright.” Frank agrees, catching up to me. DJ is shaking his head, dropping back into his chair. Raised eyebrows are the only thing that betray my newly cheerful demeanour, a substitute to supress the glower I want to give him. I pull up to hover above Frank’s head. A blown kiss becomes a sweep of the arm and then a wave, all in the same practiced movement.

“It was wonderful to work with you, Supernova. Take care of yourself, okay?”

The screens on the walls all begin to turn on, displaying DJ from all sides as he shifts position to better accommodate his tensed shoulders.

“Goodbye.” He waves a hand dismissively. I can’t believe he still dares to talk to me like that.

“Bye.” It’s a strangled syllable, and I keep flying away until I’m outside and hit with a drop in temperature, the chill pleasant against the material of my jacket. Frank pulls the doors of Club Planetarium shut behind us. There’s already a line of people forming for tonight. Even with some of them beginning to recognise me, I land back on my feet and manage to sigh, wiping imaginary sweat from my forehead. That single had better trend after what I’ve gone through.

[imaginesmai]

Peter Parker-First kisses

Plot: Peter Parker’s and yours first, or five, first kisses.

Warnings: drug use, tiny bit of angst (nothing important), extreme fluff.

The first time he kissed you was in kindergarten. Peter and you had just met, you two being little kids with chubby cheeks and small feet. He was that kind of child who gets along with every other, and you were no exception. Since you were neighbours and your mother was good friends with May, you went to kindergarten together. One day, you were sitting in the play yard when Peter sat beside you, his little hands empty and his cheeks tear stained. He hugged his small knees and hid his face in them, as if he wanted to disappear.

“What’s the matter?” you asked him, your mouth full of sandwich.

“Flash took my lunch” Peter mumbled, his voice shaky. You looked back to see the kid laughing with his ‘friends’, in his mouth the cookies that May had prepared for him with so much love.

You frowned and looked back to Peter, who had his head out of his knees and was looking at the ground. His big brown eyes were full of tears, and you felt angry for your friend. As carefully as a child could cut a sandwich into two halves, you gave Peter part of your sandwich. It was smashed and his part was smaller than yours. Still, Peter’s eyes filled with happiness and pressed his lips against your food-full mouth.

“Ugh, Pete, that was gross!” you stuck out your tongue and pressed a hand to your mouth, wiping it furiously.

“It wasn’t gross!” he showed you a big smile. “Aunt May does that when uncle Ben does something good.”

“I don’t want to do that ever again” you shook your head and scoffed. “If you do it, I’m taking my sandwich back!”

Peter laughed and took a bite of his new food, half of them staining his t-shirt. Needless to say, you did that again.

 -

Your second kiss was a little bit different. Peter and you were starting high school, both of you still friends, as in the first day you met. Only that time, Ned and MJ were also there with you. Chemistry was probably your less favourite class, but it was the one that Peter loved. It was bearable if he was around. That day, he wasn’t in it. He had been missing for two days in a row, not sending you a text or calling you. Aunt May had told you that he was sick and that he was locked in his room, with high fever. So, you decided to pay him a visit.

“Peter?” you asked when you entered his apartment, using the keys May had let you.

Inside, it was dark and silent, but you heard faint cries coming from your best friend’s room. You ran towards there, expecting to see Peter crying because of the pain, because of the fever or because he needed help. You expected a lot of things, yet none of them was seeing him hanging from the ceiling, with his head upside down, while his tears hit the floor under him.

Of course, you screamed. You spent a few seconds screaming, as Peter moved his hands up and down in front of him and tried to talk through the sobs. When you were calmer, you managed to ask him.

“What-How the hell are you doing that?!” you almost screamed. Honestly, you were ready to faint.

“I-I don’t… I don’t k-know Y/N” he let out a sob. “There-There was… a s-spider, and then I-I, this, and n-now I don’t… I don’t k-know how to g-get off!”

Pushing your surprise aside, you stepped slowly until your noses were touching, and awkwardly locked your hand on his back. The idea was to pull until he touched the floor; two scared and panicking teenagers couldn’t really understand that gravity wasn’t on their side, so when he finally fell you ended up in the worst position you had even been.

His body had carried yours to the floor too, and his face was awfully close to your breasts. Stuttering and blushing, you stumbled away from him, and Peter wiped his tears away. Taking a few seconds to calm yourself and that strange thing that had just happened in your stomach, you talked again.

“What is this about?” you asked, sitting on the ground in front of him. “How-H-How did you get…there?”

“Promise me you’re going to listen to me” he took both of your hands between his, and squeezed them. “I’m not- it’s not a lie. But please, promise me you’re going to listen.”

“Yeah, I promise.”

Peter told you how, a week ago, he had visited a strange place with his uncle Ben, and a spider had bitten him. What started as improved senses, then was the ability to stick to walls. He confessed to you that he hadn’t told anyone, and that he was scared. While he talked, tears started to run down his cheeks, and his breathing became irregular.

You knew that Peter had problems with anxiety. He had always been a very nervous boy, and usually didn’t know how to handle his emotions. So, when he raised a hand and placed it against his chest, you started to panic. Either May or Ben were always there when something like that happened, ready to give him his inhaler; but they weren’t there.

“Where is your inhaler?” you looked around and got up. His bed was empty, his drawers were full of clothes and in his desk were a lot of weird books about fluids. Yet his inhaler wasn’t anywhere in sight. “Peter, I can’t help you! Where-Where is your inhaler?!”

When Peter looked up, you couldn’t believe your eyes. His inhaler, along with a lot of random objects, were on the ceiling, trapped by small white webs that reminded you to a spider house. You blinked surprised, finally realising the mess in your best friend’s room. There were test tubes, spoons, jars an vials. All of them filled with the weird white substance.

“Are they-Peter!” you dropped to your knees when you saw his face starting to get blue, his eyes wide and red. His throat didn’t let him get air, and he was drowning in anxiety. You did the only thing you thought about.

Technically, it wasn’t a kiss. It was just you joining your mouths and breathing in his. You had seen it done thousands of times in the films Peter and you liked to see on Friday’s night. Your hands gripped the ends of his hair, and you closed your eyes awkwardly.

It wasn’t beautiful; it was as messy as that room. When you parted, he was breathing again and you were as red as his future suit. His arms were around you in a second, and you hugged him tightly. That night, you slept on his apartment, with the permission of your parents; and you repeated again and again the same sentence.

“I’ve got you, no matter what”

 -

The third kiss was much more sadder, and held much more meaning. It was Tuesday morning and, against what people liked to tell in that kind of situations, the sun was high in the sky and the birds sang. Though no one was happy.

You were standing between Ned and MJ, looking down to the coffin in front of you. There were people crying, talking and some of them were in silence. All mourning the good man that had gone too soon. Excusing yourself softly, you walked towards your parents, who were talking with May. Peter was by her side, his hands hidden in his pockets and his head hung low. He wasn’t crying, but you knew he wanted to. After a sweet hug with May and a short goodbye to your parents, you took your best friend’s hand and started walking.

Peter kept quiet all the way, letting you lead him through the mass of people in the funeral. Once you reached a seclude place, you let go of his hand and looked at him. He had dark bags under his eyes, and since you were shorter than him, you could see his cracked lips and red nose.

“Did you sleep at all?”

The previous day, he had gotten a call from the police saying that Ben had been killed in an unfortunate accident. Your parents had told you that night, and Peter had told you that he wanted to be alone for a while. In that moment, you didn’t know if it had been a good idea.

Peter shrugged, not looking at you.

“Eat something?” you asked again, receiving the same answer. You sighed before talking again. “Did you, uh, went out?”

He knew what you were talking about. ‘Patrolling’, as he liked to call it, was dumb to you, so you had told him that you would talk about it as going out.

“For a bit” his voice was rough, and he had to cough after talking. You were the first person he had talked with.

“And did you get hurt?” you wondered. Peter’s attention was short, and if he was thinking about other things while swinging, he used to hit a wall or the ground. He shook his head before taking a shaky breath, his eyes becoming glossy.

“I miss him already” his bottom lips trembled, and you were glued to your best friend in a second. You wrapped your arms around him and he hid his head on your shoulder. At just fifteen years old, a huge height difference separated you.

“It’s going to be okay” you whispered, hearing the first sob breaking through. “It’s going to be okay, I’m here.”

Peter cried and his body shook, the peace around the trees breaking at his sobs. He soaked your nice and new black blouse you had wore that day and wrinkled it’s back, but you didn’t say a thing. You just gripped his curls tighter and repeated the same sentence again and again.

“I’m with you, no matter what”

Later that day, when everyone had already left the place, you found yourself in the same position. Your feet hurt and you arms were staring to feel tired from being up so much time. May and your parents walked towards you and stopped when you shook your head softly, telling them silently that you would meet them later. Peter needed that.

After what felt like two hours, Peter lifted his head between hiccups. He had his brown eyes swollen and his face was a mess. Still, you felt at odd feeling in your chest. His bottom lip quivered again, and he broke eye contact with you.

“I don’t want to go home” he whispered. “I don’t- May, she will be there… a-and I don’t w-want to face her.”

“That’s alright” you put a hand on his cheek, offering him a side-smile. “We can get something from Mr Delmar and eat in a rooftop. If you promise not to drop me”

Peter let out a sad laugh and nodded shortly, still not meeting your eyes. Another tear rolled down his cheek, and you got on your tip toes to kiss it away.

Because of being shorter than him, you didn’t really get to the tear, yet placed your lips awfully close to him. Actually, and if someone asked him, it was on his lips. You caught the tear with the corner of your mouth, and felt his chapped lips with the rest of it.

Peter’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open, not fully understanding what had happened. He tried to say something, but you were faster and you started making stupid excuses about it. With a furious blush, you hit his chest a few times and screamed at Peter that it had not been you fault, that it had been an accident he needed to forget about. Some hurtful words, as ‘I would never kiss you’ or ‘That was disgusting’, left your mouth; both of you knew that you didn’t mean it. Peter shut you up with a kiss on the cheek and gripped your hand, guiding you to where he had left his backpack with the suit.

The whole way, Peter and you had stupid smiles on your faces and fast beating hearts in your chest.

 -

Your fourth kiss didn’t actually happened, or at least not that the two of you remembered. It was late, Friday night and Flash was having the party of his life. Officially, Peter hadn’t been invited, but you had begged to your boyfriend to let him come; and that if he didn’t, you would cut one of his balls. They were good years, or at least they were for you. You were Flash’s girlfriend, and that had allowed you to give Peter an easier life. No more beatings, no more throwing the books to the ground, and no more ‘Penis Parker on your watch.

Besides, Flash was a good guy deep down. He liked to mock Peter because that was the only way to forget about the absence of his parents. His behaviour with you was sweet, caring and kind. But something was missing. As in every relationship or crush you had, something was missing.

That was probably why you ended up sitting by Peter’s side, not Flash, who had an angry pout on his face since the beginning of the game. You were too drunk to notice, and Peter was too drunk to not flirt with you.

“I think that’s enough drinking” Flash muttered. He had been the one daring Peter to drink, and he was regretting his decision. The boy thought he would leave you alone if he was drunk, but even after a bottle of whisky Peter was stuck with you.

“I think…” you raised your arm in the air, demanding silence. Eleven teenagers, who were sitting in your circle, looked at you with expectant eyes. “…it’s time for spin the bottle!”

Your proposal was met with shouts of approval, and you laughed, throwing your head back. You looked at Peter, who was trying to put the bottle on the ground and keep balance. The guy who was sitting on his left, who was as high as the ceiling, pushed him to the side, and he fell on top of you. Instead of apologising, Peter fell into a fit of laughs that made Flash leave angrily, muttering things under his breath.

“I don’t understand why you date him” Peter’s voice was slurry, it was the first time he had alcohol and his spidey senses were making it worse. He heard people around him starting to spin the bottle, but he could only focus on your eyes.

You squeezed them and smiled brightly at him, and he had to restrain himself from cupping your cheeks.

“He’s a good guy” you shrugged. “Besides, it makes him stay away from you.”

“You don’t-You don’t have to do that for me” Peter frowned, not really understanding your words.

“I do it if I want to do it” you stated; in your mind, those words had much more sense. “I like seeing you happy.”

Peter’s heart skipped a beat, his cheeks turning pink. He looked back to the floor, where a girl named Laura was getting rid of her t-shirt as a part of a dare. Some of the teenagers there cheered for her, others just laughed. Peter decided to stay quiet, flying to his own thoughts.

While Peter got lost in his mind, you kept playing to that stupid game. It was that girl turn, and she flickered the bottle. It moved in circles until, slowly, the blue end faced you.

“Truth or dare, Y/N?” Laura asked, propping on her elbows and making her breasts pop out. You knew the deal, you had heard the ‘truths’. They usually asked about who would you fuck in that group or who was the most attractive person.

You liked to think that you didn’t say truth because Flash wasn’t there and you wouldn’t fuck anyone apart from your boyfriend. But, the problem was that you didn’t know if you would be able to lie with that much alcohol in you system.

“Dare” you said out loud, and received some cheers. Until that moment, only Laura and you had chosen dare.

Laura smirked and called two of the boys over her side, where she whispered something on their ears. While they talked, you put your knees on your chest and looked around. They weren’t a lot of students left, only your group and another twenty, so you decided that it would be your last round. Besides that, Peter looked awfully tired.

“Alright” Laura’s voice startled you, and the boys went back to their places. “Y/N Y/L/N, I dare you to give Peter a shotgun kiss. Of weed.”

Your eyes widened and you gasped, not believing her words. Alcohol was something you had had before, and you knew how to handle it. But drugs, they were a different story. And you didn’t like one bit that the dare included Peter.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” you exclaimed. “Peter-It’s my dare, not his. Why are you putting him in?”

“Y/N-“

“Because we haven’t seen neither of you high!” she laughed. “Come on, is just a small drag.”

“Laura, we are talking about weed.” Peter talked, looking at her with a small frown.

“And? Look, if you don’t want to do it, I can change the dare.”

“Yes! Change it” you smiled.

“Then, Y/N Y/L/N, I dare you to smoke a whole joint by yourself” she looked through her purse until she found what she wanted.  A joint that could be as long as your finger.

“What?!” Peter shouted beside you. “That must be even lethal!”

“Then, do the shotgun kiss” she shrugged. “I don’t care.”

There was no way you were smoking that, and Peter knew it. You had never had drugs, and you didn’t want to end up in the hospital the first time you did. So, you took the joint and lighted it up with some difficulties.

Peter turned his body so that he could face you, and you did the same. Silently, you asked him with your eyes if he was okay with that. If he wasn’t, you were more than ready to take his hand and leave the place. Yet you were both drunk and secretly enjoyed the idea of being close to each other, so he repeated the words you had said to him two times in his life.

“I’m with you, no matter what”

Everyone around you was quiet, and you could hear Peter’s rushed breathing. He was as nervous as you, both of you for the same reason and it was not because of the joint. You gave him a shaky smile before leaning towards him.

Peter Parker had the kind of body-smell that was just nice, and that made you try to sniffle as many time as possible. You had been close to him in many occasions before, yet neither of them got you that nervous. Your eyes travelled from the collar of his t-shirt to his neck, then to his cheeks and finally to his eyes. Had they always been so beautiful, or was it the alcohol?

Breathing through your nose, you took a long drag and put your mouth next to Peter’s. The world seemed to stop.

You felt his breath on your mouth, his eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips. His nose brushed with yours because of the proximity, and he gripped your hand where none of those boys and girls could see them. He ran his tongue across his lips as you finished your drag, putting the joint down. Peter tilted his head a little so that your noses didn’t get in the way, and you opened your mouth when his wet lips touched yours.

A white and dense cloud of smoke travelled between that inexistent space and entered into his mouth, the teenagers cheered when they saw it. But you didn’t hear them. The joint made your head feel on cloud nine, and Peter’s body seemed warmer than ever.

It pained you, but once it was over, you came back to your place. Not knowing if the joint was what caused that strange fuzzy feeling in your chest.

 Your fifth-first kiss was a few years later, the weight of that forgotten touch on the lips hanging from your shoulders since then. The memory of it might had been blurry, but the feeling that rose with it weren’t. For a few months, your relationship was awkward; both of you were stuttering and blushing mess and didn’t know to look at each other to the eye. But you survived that, and Peter became again the little boy who had smashed his mouth to yours in kindergarten, and who had a pair of your favourite bed sheets in his room.

That day you had been there, laying on his bed with your head on your hands and earphones in your ears. A film was playing on his computer while he worked on the webs, wanting to make them stronger and longer. He was so focused on his task that he didn’t notice how a frown made its way to your face. Soft music was playing on the background when you took one of the earbuds and stopped the film.

It made you think.

The princess and the swan was an old movie, a child’s one. You had wanted to remember your childhood and made the bad decision on watching it. Probably, that you were on your period didn’t help the cause.

“Pete?” you called him out.

He was scrunched on his table, books and sheets scattered around it. He had big glasses on his head, and was wearing a wide, old sweater. You almost forgot your question looking at him, at the adorable face you had become accustomed to look at. MJ said it was proper stalking, but you preferred to call it ‘admire’.

“Parker!” you shouted, making him drop the pencil and jump in the chair. Immediately, he turned off the music and looked around, waiting to see May in the door or a curious neighbour on the window. He hadn’t still said to anyone who he really was.

“What? What?” he asked, his eyes finally focusing on you.

“I’ve got a question.”

“Should we appeal the ‘no judgment’ clause of our friendship?”

“Not this time” you chuckled. “It’s a serious one.”

“Okay, shoot” he turned back to his work, thinking it would be another dumb thing. “If it’s about area 51, my answer is still-“

“What do you like about me?”

The room became quiet and Peter slowly turned around, his eyes wide and his mouth hang open. He didn’t expect that question, not at all. Peter Parker had a lot of answers to it, actually, yet he didn’t think he could say out loud any of them.

You were frowning at him, your head tilted to the side. You were wearing his t-shirt from NY,  and a pair of his boxers. An outfit that made his answer a lot more complicated. He sighed and moved the wheeled chair until he was in front of you, his legs crossing.

“What is this coming from?” he looked towards the screen, and rolled his eyes. “I thought we said no Disney films on your period!”

“I know, I know!” you defended yourself. “But I couldn’t help it, it was my favourite movie. And you haven’t answered my question”

“Why do you ask me that?” Peter scratched his chin and pouted slightly.

“Because” you looked to your right. “when Flash and I broke up, you told me I deserved more. When Brad stood me up, you told me the same. When I didn’t get the college I wanted. And when my parents got the divorce!”

“And? It’s-It’s…. something you say. S-Something I said without meaning it” Peter’s words were rushed.

“I know you’re lying, Pete”

When, in the film, Odette asked the prince what he liked about her, he told her she was beautiful; nothing more. You expected Peter to give you the same answer, and you were already angry at him without a reason. That was what usually happened when you spent the night at his house; stupid arguments that solved up with pizza and playing UNO until late night.

Not in a million years would you have expected his answer.

“I like, I like about you that you stand up for yourself. Like, when someone is being unfair, you’re the first one to step up” Peter smiled shyly, blushing; still, he didn’t meet your eyes. “Not a lot of people do that, and certainly not everyone would date an asshat just so that he stop messing with their best friend.”

“Peter” you hit his arm playfully. “Flash was a good kid, just too boring”

Peter rolled his eyes and mumbled an annoyed  ‘whatever’, still not over the fact that you dated him. He coughed softly and fixed his eyes on the floor.

“I-I, you’re… you’re unique. You make me laugh like nobody else, and you have this personality that outshine everyone, in a good way. Funny, outgoing, nerdy and still the most amazing girl someone could dream about” Peter let out a breathy chuckle. “And-And, let’s talk about your face. Like, you have the cutest face! And facial expressions. You, damn, you can make a stone smile.”

Peter kept rambling about how he liked too the way you talked, your perks and a bunch of other things. A faint shadow of pink covered his cheeks all the time, and he messed up with his words sometimes, letting out short apologies. Both of you discovered that Peter Parker could spend hours talking about you and not getting tired.

Suddenly, his meaty hands and chubby cheeks came back to you; Peter kissing you in kindergarten, and you running to your mum that day and telling her you were getting married to the boy in the play yard. His shaky breaths and frightened eyes, and the way he kept thanking you for a month for doing what you did. Peter’s suffering because Ben’s death, your lips on his and he still saying sorry for something he didn’t did. And the boy you thought you loved smoking for the first time weed and getting a huge scolding from Mr Stark just for you.

“… and, besides all of that, I think you’re really pretty” Peter finished just then, finally meeting your eyes. When he saw your shocked face, his smiled dropped. “A pretty friend! What-What did you thought, idiot? I-I…wh-what I like th-the m-most about y-you is that you’re, hm, you’re a r-really good friend.”

Peter finished his sentence with a loud and awkward laugh, as he tried to get away with the wheeling chair. On the other hand, you weren’t willing to let it go. So you gripped the armchair and pulled him closer, until your faces were inches apart.

That time, you were aware of his heart beating in chest, and he was conscious of your ragged breathing. Your noses touched just like that night in the party, and you felt his breath on your mouth.

“I can say a lot of things that I like about you too” you mumbled, moving your eyes between his and his mouth. “I, I think I… well, I just like you. Not as a pretty friend. As, I don’t know, if you want, like a pretty boyfriend?”

Peter’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth, not believing your words. Your hands started to shake nervously against the armchair, and you bit your tongue to avoid any tears falling down.

You didn’t want to loose your friendship with Peter, that was more important than any feeling about him. You had enough with those stolen kisses, so why the fuck do you have to say anything, you fucking nuts. When your eyes started to get glossy and your stomach was turning and tossing like crazy, Peter took the initiative and kissed you.

Slowly, he tangled his fingers into your hair, making you move forwards and kiss him back. Your lips quivered into a happy smile as his moved over yours. It was soft, it was lovely and it was perfect. When you teared apart, neither of you moved from your spot, just stared at each other with stupid smiles.

“I would like you to be my pretty girlfriend too” he muttered against your lips, his own touching them with every word.

“I would like that too” you kissed his lips quickly, as he moved his hands and cupped your cheeks. “But, are you-“

“I’m with you, no matter what”

With that, you shared your second (or sixth) kiss.

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[gwenbrightly]

Of Milk and Cookies chapter 17:

*chanting* Brad chapter Brad chapter Brad chapter

Hi, hello, yes, this is Gwen with a brand new chapter of Of Milk and Cookies! I hope you enjoy!

Lloyd awoke to the all too familiar sensation of having absolutely no idea where he was. Over the past few months, he’d stayed more places than he could count on both hands, and the chaotic travel regime often messed with his head. Of course, it wasn’t very long before the memories of his frantic flight to the Ninjago City Hospital came flooding back to him and the slight panic dissipated. It must have been close to 2 in the morning by the time Kai and the others had managed to get the guest room in the teacher’s wing ready for him the previous night, and then Jay had tried to convince him to stay awake so they could catch up, but his exhaustion ultimately won out. Still, he had to admit that being here with his siblings nearby already felt so much better than being off preparing to meet with another stuffy town leader or dignitary. Why had he ever agreed to that stupid victory tour? The sound of his stomach growling prevented Lloyd from continuing this train of thought. Better find something to eat. He stepped out into the hallway, bracing himself for the chaotic whirlwind of energy that usually accompanied his fellow ninja. However, he was met with silence. Glancing about, he quickly located a note that had been taped to his door.

Lloyd, we decided to let you sleep in. We’ll be down in the cafeteria waiting for you whenever you decide to wake up.

- Kai

“Guess I’ll have to navigate on my own…” Lloyd muttered. The time alone would give him some time to process the fact that this was his first time visiting his old school in its current rendition. Had Nya already been home from the hospital, it would’ve been easier to pretend as though the school hadn’t been the very one his mother had left him at when he was barely more than a toddler. The one that had been the source of so much pain for him before he’d ultimately been kicked out. Hopefully the name change and inclusion of the ninja as teachers had been cause for some improvements, but Lloyd still had plenty of reservations.

He wandered down the hallway, trying to remember exactly where the exit to the teacher’s wing was. After a few wrong turns, he finally ended up at a door that appeared to lead to the courtyard. Lloyd stepped outside. It looked similar to the last time he’d visited, during that disastrous run in with the evil clones, except it was brighter, happier. The students who populated the courtyard were playing nice, relatively non violent games, or visiting quietly with each other. It was surprisingly peaceful. In the distance, he could see the freshly painted sign that marked the entrance. Much more welcoming than before. He turned to the left, heading for the cafeteria, trying not to let too many memories take hold of him as he wandered about. He cringed a little as he passed the tree he’d fallen out of and broken his wrist while trying to hide from Gene and the others. Even his favorite hiding place hadn’t been enough to save him that day. Lloyd shook his head. No use dwelling on the past.

“Um, excuse me,” a small voice piped up from behind him, “but you’re about to step on my hydrangeas.”

The Green Ninja froze and looked down. Sure enough, there was a pot of hydrangeas just waiting to be planted along the edge of the walkway.

“Oh. Sorry! I was just…” he turned to apologize, but his breath caught in his throat when he recognized the small form behind him.

“Brad?!” Lloyd choked out at the same time as Brad exclaimed, “Lloyd?!”

They stared at each other for a moment. Lloyd hadn’t even considered that being here meant he could easily run into one of his old classmates. He had no idea how to respond to this sudden reunion. Sure, they had parted ways amicably last time, but a lot had changed since then. Lloyd had changed, even if it was mostly his appearance.

“I…” he began awkwardly. Brad seemed no better prepared to process this turn of events.

“What are you doing here?” he asked with the delicacy of a cat coughing up a hairball.

“Nya.” Answered Lloyd, whose brain was suddenly only capable of one word responses.

“Oh. Right. Mr. Cole said she was fine and that Mr. Jay was just being a drama queen when he said she might die, but he didn’t mention anything about you…” Brad offered flushing slightly.

“I, uh, got here really late last night.” Lloyd explained. The smaller boy nodded.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

They both just kind of stood there, not saying anything, for what felt like an eternity. Had they really already run out of things to say?

“Do… do you have anywhere you need to be?” Brad asked, finally. Lloyd shrugged.

“Breakfast. Eventually. Why?”

Brad returned his shrug.

“Dunno. Guess I was thinking maybe we could climb the tree. For old times sake?” he suggested, looking surprisingly vulnerable. Lloyd wasn’t entirely sure what the boy was really going for with this idea, but something inside of him desperately wanted to temporarily ignore the call of food. To pretend he was just a normal kid with a normal life, instead of an ageless war hero. And so, he decided that a few minutes hanging from the branches of a tree wouldn’t hurt anything.

“Okay.” Said Lloyd, surprising Brad.

The branches were much easier to reach now that Lloyd was taller. One of the few good things to come from that change, he supposed. He followed Brad up into the canopy of the tree, where the leaves created a delicate wall separating them from the outside world. They each claimed a branch, and sat, staring at each other.

“So. It’s been awhile.” Brad spoke first. Lloyd appreciated his efforts.

“It has,” he agreed.

“You’re way taller now.” Observed Brad. Lloyd had to keep himself from rolling his eyes. He’d resigned himself to the comments about his height a long time ago, but the reminder still stung more than it should have.

“I am.”

“Do you have any idea how weird it is to be the shortest in class now?” Brad asked abruptly.

“You… you’re- you’re the shortest?” Lloyd snorted. It was strange how easily their interaction had spiraled into something more familiar, less awkward.

“Yep,” the dark hair boy bemoaned, “Even Sally’s taller than me now. Mr. Zane says that’ll change when I hit pooburty, but I’m not so sure I believe him.”

“I mean, Zane’s pretty much right about everything, so don’t give up hope yet, I guess?” Lloyd offered, smiling lopsidedly at his mispronunciation of puberty (a word that had been explained to him following the tea incident).

“I won’t.” Brad decided. He plucked a leaf and watched it flutter to the ground below. They fell into another, more comfortable, silence.

“So.” Lloyd said after awhile, trying to strike up another conversation.

“So. I… I should probably thank you. And apologize.” Brad stated, sounding more serious than before. Lloyd frowned and asked, “For what?”.

“Thank you for what you did when you visited last time – showing all of us that we didn’t have to be bad like everyone expected us to,” Brad told him, “and I wanna apologize because you should never have had to put up with everything I’ve done to you. I know it wasn’t- I wasn’t nice to you at all. And that sucks because you were my friend, and friends shouldn’t be so horrible to each other.” He finished, looking sad. Lloyd had never expected to get closure from anyone who had been a part of his experience at Darkley’s, not really. All the hurt and fear had started to dull after so many months away, and he had been fine with that. It was easier to just try to move on and forget. So the apology struck him harder than he would have expected. He brushed a quick hand over his eyes (which were suddenly damper than they should have been) and scrambled to find the right words.

“Oh. I didn’t even know if that would work, but I’m glad it did. Everyone deserves to be shown their inner light. And yeah, it does suck that things were like that, I’m not gonna lie. But it’s not like we were taught any better. It’s a learning curve – that whole being nice to other people thing.”

“I… it’s changed a lot for me. I never… I never thought I’d want to do better. But I do. I wanna be the kind of person you are – to help people and make them happy. And my dad, um, finally got arrested. So I’ll be living with my grandparents after the term is over. They’re really excited to have me. It feels so good to be wanted.” Brad told him, brightening. The boy had rarely mentioned his parents, but Lloyd had always known they weren’t really… present in his life. Or good people. It warmed his heart to see Brad flourishing like this.

“Well, congratulations on your new life, then!” Lloyd said, genuinely happy for his… friend. Yes, they were still friends, deep down. Beneath the regret of past mistakes. Beneath the awkwardness of one of them having grown up a bit more quickly than planned.

“Lloyd? I’m really glad we bumped into each other. I wasn’t sure this was a good idea but… it was.” Brad said with a grin, clearly appreciating Lloyd’s encouragement. They had both needed this conversation.

“Me too, Brad. It’s been… nice.” Lloyd agreed. The others were probably looking for him by now, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. They would, as always, find him eventually with those ninja senses of theirs. And they would, of course, be eager to catch up with him themselves, and he them. For now, however, Lloyd was content to stay here in this tree, an old friend by his side.

[gwenore]

The Demon’s Opera house. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Christine gets her first singing lessons from Erik.

---

Madam Giry’s words was something which Christine carried down as she was lead down to the abyss, her hand cradled in the demon’s.

Still it would not seem like she had told Meg a lie of having a new tutor.

He was true to his word when he said he wanted to teach her, and while Christine had been singing for such a long time already, it had been so long since she had a tutor.

He was… intense… in teaching her and would not hesitate to cut her off to have her start again at the smallest of missteps. Some would have called it ruthless the way he made her sing a certain piece over and over again.

However he was just as careful not to have her strain her voice. Even her warm ups were as scrutinized as her singing. He took care to let her breathe as well as handing her a glass of water if he felt she needed it, even if he took it away just as easily when he deemed she had enough.

And Christine adored it.

She was frustrated at points, almost ready to snap back at him when he once again interrupted her to have her do it again, but… how good it felt when she with his instructions were able to push herself through, feel how the her singing improved. How he coaxed her voice reach heights which she had once thought was just about beyond her reach.

It was passionate in a way she had never felt before, she could feel how this excited him with the heat blazing against her when he circled her. Those red eyes watching her.

“Sing!” his voice rang over hers, the power of his voice challenging hers to rise up and meet it. She had reached the crescendo of the song already feeling that she had reached her limit.

Yet he had brought her beyond those limits again and again this night. Yet she could not deny that her voice was failing. That she would have to stop.

The demon’s eyes widened as he realized that she was giving in.

“SING!”

His voice was a thunderclap which rang of the walls in the chapel and her voice hitched when she felt him grab a hold of her from behind, his chest against her back. His clawed hand was over her stomach, a reminder from where the power behind her voice were to come from.

The other was rested on her chin, forcing her to look straight ahead even as she stretched her neck.

All to fuel the music which he so craved from her…

“NOW SING!”

Following how his hands guided her she took a deep breath her eyes closing to block everything out but the sound of her own voice.

And… she reached it.

That note which had always eluded her… it now rang from her throat and echoed against the stone walls.

Christine let out a shivering gasp as she finally let it go, grasping at the clawed hand still holding around her.

“Yes…” she heard his breathy voice against her ear, his much taller frame leaning down up on her shoulders, as her head leaned back against him.

This heat against her back… oh how easy it was to get lost in it… her eyes closing as her hand tentatively reached up, feeling how her finger graced the smooth marble of his mask. She felt him tense… how his chest rose and fell against her back.

Still she gently proceeded to gently caress along the lines of his mask, knowing not to remove it… not until he was ready to trust her again with what laid beneath.

However… her curiosity could not stay her hand as it moved upwards across the brow of the mask, and then further up past the edge and then…

Her fingers brushed against his skin for the barest movement before it gave way to what felt like a warm smooth rock, with slight striations along it.

Christine knew what it was.

The thing which made his silhouette unable to be mistaken for anything but a demon’s.

The demon himself was frozen as he felt her fingers brush against it. His horn. What marked his nature so different from hers and that he was unable to hide from her unlike his face.

Her touch sent shivers down his spine, Christine feeling how his hands trembled, yet she could not keep her curious fingers from gliding over the ridges. Her touch grew bolder, her palm now pressed against it, surprised that it did not scald her… leaving a mark on her palm to show that she had touched something truly unholy.

He certainly burned hot… but it was not… unpleasant…

In fact it had an allure all its own…

Speaking to the darkness which was in everyone’s hearts… even to someone as innocent as her. Perhaps such darkness are even more addicting to people who has never felt it keenly before. Feeling the allure… the temptation… but having yet to experience the consequences.

Her mind wondered… what if she turned in his grip… to have her face close to his… able to look deep inside those red eyes which always haunted her… and then…

Christine’s thoughts were interrupted as the demon quickly moved away from her, leaving the cold to creep up her back where he had just pressed.

“So ends today’s lesson,” he swallowed not even looking at her to still those trembling hands. He could not watch her as his thoughts has followed hers and moved far beyond. Demons have such carnal natures in the end.

Yet… to have her see how much that was true even for him.

No…

He was not ready to show her that… even though his body burned hotter as if that part of him tried to punish him for turning down temptation.

To not revel in it was so against what he was deep down that he thought that it might make him sick.

For he wanted her. He lusted after her like mortal words could not begin to describe.

His angel.

Her touching him… feeling that hideous abominable creature that he was under her fair hands. Press her under him and…

No.

He would not do that.

He would have her sing for him… have him revel in that beautiful voice.

And he would lust for her… hunger for her… thirst for her until desire broke him.

Because if he took her…

If he gave in…

He feared that desire would burn her.

“You must be hungry… let me go get you something to eat… I won’t be long,” he walked away without even looking back at her he stepped out of the chapel and vanished in the darkness before Christine could call out to him.

---

Standing there in the now silent chapel she proceeded to put her hands around herself, finding that she was imagining the heat of him was still pressed against her. As much as these thoughts scared her… they were impossible to deny.

“Oh…” she whispered. “What will become of me?”

But the abyss gave no answer.

The dinner which the demon had provided was absolutely wonderful, far better than what was ever to get in the opera house… and especially the food that the average employee could afford.

The smells were enough to have her mouth salivate and to be able to indulge to her heart’s content.

In fact… this was something that almost seemed to excite the demon. He observed all the while, even as he ate his own food.

He would ask if she enjoyed it, eyes practically glowing when she confirmed.

“Thank you so very much… it was absolutely delightful,” she said as he poured her another glass of wine.

“I am glad,” the demon said with a low tone as he handed her the glass, feeling how her fingers gently brushing against his skin, which made him wish to keep his arm from trembling.

Christine had to wonder what was to happen next. Staying with a demon… what would that entail? What was his plan for her?

“It must be getting late…” her voice mirrored the uncertainty that she felt. She saw how the demon moved his head slightly as if he saw something that she did not.

“Hmm… yes, it is quite late. You need your sleep after all. Wouldn’t want you to be late tomorrow as well…” he stood up as he held his hand out to her. “Please follow me.”

“Are we going back up to the opera house?” Christine questioned as her hand slipped into his as she got up from the chair.

She could see how his head slowly shook as his head.

“Our deal is that you are going to remain here at night… I will take you up when it is time for rehearsal, but not before,” his eyes showed how much he meant those words, raising her hand up as he looked at her. “You are as chained to this abyss as I am.”

Christine met his eyes, but found… uncertainty. As if he was more scared to let her go than anything.

A slow breath then exiled his lips.

“However… if you are to sleep in that dress you will no doubt become rather… uncomfortable,” he said as he lead her through a small door to a small room which no doubt had been where the priest changed before service. However there hang an assortment of dresses on a clothes’ rack no doubt stolen from the opera house above. Where he had gotten the clothes from however… or the food for that matter… Christine did not know. Perhaps it was for the best that she didn’t…

It was possible that that knowledge was not one that she wanted. There were even a dressing screen which would shield her when at her most vulnerable.

“Please…” he mentioned with his clawed hand towards them, as his own hand slipped out of her. Christine walked over to it, letting her fingers move over the expensive fabrics which shimmered so wonderfully in the low candle light.

It truly would seemed like he wanted her to be in the lap of luxury… as much could be done in an abandoned chapel below Paris at the very least. Which made sense… prudence was a virtue after all and would he not indulge in everything which was vice?

Taking down a nightgown which shimmered with white silk.

“Would you…?” she whispered.

“It would be awfully cold if I were to leave this room…” it was clear he was unwilling to leave the room… even if she could not possibly escape.

“Please…” she asked, meeting his eyes.

He held her gaze a moment longer before his own closed.

“As you wish…” he then gave a low bow to her before he walked out the door, closing it behind him.

What he said was the truth… the little warmth in the room left with him, the chill of the room creeping up Christine’s body.

Walking back the dressing screen Christine counted herself lucky that she was practiced at changing her clothes quickly for scene changes.

However… the night gown was not protecting her from the cold, already feeling how her skin was reacting to the cold air. The candles gave up some heat but that was minuscule compared to the demon.

Her demon stood just outside the door, waiting for her as she came out, already as those red eyes glided over her she felt the warmth flush over her.

“You are shivering…” he whispered as he reached out his hand to rest it on her shoulder. Christine felt how her body was longing for his heat, so she moved closer towards him her hands brushing against the inside of his woolen cloak.

Slowly he brought it around her pressing her against him, which was enough to steal is breath away.

“Let us get you to bed now… you need your rest…” he said firmly as he brought her towards that bed its intricate carvings and black silken sheets.

Christine moved under the sheets.

“I will wake you in good time, my angel… just you sleep,” he murmured softly as he let a soft breath pass his lips extinguishing every light in the chapel… except for what came from those eternally burning eyes.

It was impossible for her see anything but them, but she heard how he moved… elegantly, controlled… across the stone.

He did not go far, but she heard the sound of stone brushing against stone. The mask… he had removed his mask.

Then she heard the sound of heavy fabric being draped over wood. That cloak he wore which just about brushed the floor. Was he undressing?

Of course it was unspeakably immodest to look… even if she was able to see in this dense darkness. But… Christine was aware that he was hiding from her… which with how she had reacted upon seeing his face… it was hard to blame him. Trust… she didn’t think that would come easy for a demon… or someone who had never experienced it before.

Still… she did wonder… as sinful as that wonder might be… what he hid under those heavy dark clothes…

She had seen depictions of demons in church… in paintings. They were always… unnatural… beastly and twisted. Yet… she had never quite been able to look away. It was something about them which drew that buried side of her closer…

Perhaps that was why she had so easily fallen for his song?

Her thoughts went then to the primadonna. How had she felt… being with his father? A true demon who were summoned to build an opera house?

Had she fallen just as easily?

And the outcome which spoke of the nature of their relationship…

Christine had never been with a man of course. She knew little of such things. Certainly there were dancers in the opera house which giggled under their breath when they spoke of such things… not to mentioned why someone so suddenly had to leave because of an… unfortunate accident.

Yet beyond that… Christine knew nothing.

But… she did know that a demon’s nature was carnal. So… with him undressing…

The thought absolutely terrified Christine, making her close her eyes and pretend to be asleep.

She felt him move up on the bed, the feeling of someone else on the bed… Christine’s heart was in her throat, and she was certain that he heard it.

A soft sigh came from behind her and she felt that warm breath on her neck.

“Scared…?” his voice was barely above a whisper yet enveloped her completely.

“I suppose…” she knew that he was aware that she was awake.

“Do not worry Christine… I have no desire to defile you. That is not the reason that I have brought you down here.”

She felt him move a bit closer, but there were still space between them.

“As I have promised… I won’t hurt you. I just want to lie beside you… that is all. I won’t touch you. I promise…”

“It is not like I can deny you that… it is your bed… however… do demons sleep?” she did not dare turn around even though she knew she wouldn’t been able to see him… even though they were oh so close.

“I do not know… but man must…”

She kept forgetting that. He was as much man as he was demon…

“Yes… we must…” she said, letting her eyes close.

Erik knew she was tense still. He wanted to move even closer to her… to press up against her back, feel her body tremble against his own as his tail wrapped around her.

But from where he was laying he could smell her skin… it had almost… an earth like quality to it. He could not explain it. She was tied to this world in a way that he was not…

To see her… bathed by the early morning light of a warm spring day…

Those images conjured up in his mind, even if he knew his very presence would ruin the image that he had should he attempt to make it a reality…

And she was still so scared of him.

He could not blame her. He had not been kind to her. He had tried… but just as often he had failed.

Demons were so clever, to use promises and words to tempt humans and the divine alike… however to prove their words to be true… that was not a demon’s strength, if it was possible at all.

But he wanted to keep his word to her… wanted to know she was safe to fall asleep beside him.

He wanted her to turn and face him… yet he was also paralyzed with fear at the possibility. Now that he didn’t have his mask he might just as well have been naked before her.

A soft melody then came past his lips, it was not structured… nor thought out… simply inspired by his thoughts of her… a gentle and light melody which broke the silence of the room.

Christine blinked. The music was beautiful. Not like she had heard him before. Gentler… calmer…

It was so wonderful to listen to that despite herself she found herself relaxing and between the dark and his voice… slipped into a dream of sunny spring days far away from the coldness of the abyss.

[aidenoconnorx]

-- Hey is that [CHRIS WOOD]? No, that’s just [AIDEN O'CONNOR]. They’re [THIRTY-ONE], and have spent [TWO YEARS] in Dayton. I hear that they’re kind of [PASSIONATE], but also [SECRETIVE]. Did you hear their vices are [ADRENALINE & ADVENTURE]? Can’t wait to see [HE] at the next party! 

warning: mentions of abuse, cigarette burns, neglect, bullying

full name: aiden cian o’connor

nickname: 

age: thirty-one

date of birth: august 15

place of birth: nowhere, ky

zodiac: leo

gender: cis-male

nationality: american

sexual orientation: pansexual

romantic orientation: panromantic

relationship status: single *

PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES.

height:  6”0’

weight: 172 lbs

hair color: brunette

eye color: blue

need glasses/contacts? yes

tattoos: Northstar tattoo on his left shoulder blade and a few smaller ones to cover up cigarette burns. Plans on getting another to conceal the one at the nape of his neck

distinguishing marks: cigarette burns on the nape of his neck, usually hidden by scraggly hair

BACKGROUND INFORMATION.

hometown: nowhere, ky

current residence: dayton, ca

past residences: none but has temporarily stayed in several

living arrangement: apartment 

spoken languages: english

financial status: just came into some money through his career

education level: some high school, dropped out but got his ged

occupation: author || blogger

FAMILIAL INFORMATION.

father: wade meadows. 58. doesn’t know where he is/how he’s doing and doesn’t care.

mother: farrah meadows. 56. that’s more complicated.

siblings: sister ( 23 ) and a younger brother & sister ( twins, 21 )

children: none

pets? a hedgehog named elton

other: liam o’connor. psuedo father, deceased.

PERSONALITY.

positive traits: energetic. outgoing. adventurous. helpful.

negative traits: secretive. rowdy. dramatic. reckless. 

likes: dogs. sunny weather. playing music. comics. trash tv (jerry springer, toddlers & tiaras, etc). drag queens (ru paul’s drag race). jogging in the rain. trying new things. talking to people. reading. volunteering. writing. wandering. kids. whiskey

dislikes: being alone too long. feeling ‘stiff’. awkward silence. being pigeon holed. bigots. blue pens. shaving. the cold. political movies. rooms without windows. shrimp. sweet potatoes. spiders. scratchy fabrics. douche bags. sharing his writing. too much tech ( has a flip phone and a cruddy laptop)

quirks: drums on everything. laughs at his own jokes. easily cold. talks to himself when trying to figure something out. always has change in his or her pocket to give to beggars or homeless. takes stupid bets/dares for small amounts of money. cosplays once or twice a year for charity/children’s ward. takes sleeping pills. good at card tricks.

moral alignment: chaotic good

Aiden’ a very outgoing guy. He’s always looking to meet new people and forge new connections. He was on his own a lot in the beginning of his life and he’s never really liked the feeling, despite what he says, so he makes it a mission to interact with the people around him. He’s easy going, easy to talk to and having been in Dayton about two years or so he’s bound to have plenty of acquaintances. He has several close friends too, but not many that know his whole story. Over the years he’s crafted that ‘I-feel-like-I-have-known-you-forever’ charm without really having to go too deep. One or two really close friends would be great though. 

Aiden's typically positive, even when he’s not, he doesn’t have much of a personal bubble concept, and he isn’t the most tactful. He’s bound to piss some people off. He’s usually pretty oblivious to it, so you have to spell it out for him. And that’s fine.He’ll apologize, if he knows he was wrong, and really, he doesn’t try to offend or bother anyone. Most of the time. He’s old enough to know you can’t get along with everyone. He won’t try to change your mind, but won’t go out of his way to avoid you, either. it’s a waste of time. He does get along with most though. He’s protective, having raised his siblings he’s got that older brother vibe always. He ain’t afraid to get gritty, and he’s pretty equipped when it comes to life skills. Need your plumbing looked at? He’s got you. Need a meal? Got you there too. Car fixed? Bring it.  Hair braided? Hell yeah. He’s a jack of all trades, but his main one is writing. It’s something he keeps close to his vest, but his mentor/father figure got it on an agent’s desk about four years ago and well-- he actually got published. It was a game changer. But he’s still super private about it.

As for love, Aiden has never really been in love. He’s had crushes, yes. Relationships, yes. But he’s never told anyone he’s been ‘in love’ with them. It’s a serious thing to him, it carries immense weight, so he doesn’t plan on saying it unless he’s sure he means it. He’s up for anything else though. One nighters, dates, flings, fwb, whatever with whoever. If you can get past his constant flirting and somewhat obnoxiousness, he can be a really sweet guy. He takes care of who he’s with and he isn’t afraid of exclusivity. He been in more than a few relationships (some good, some bad) back in Kentucky and a maybe one or two since coming to Dayton. It’s a good feeling, but it doesn’t define him.

THE RUN DOWN.

CHILDHOOD; there’s no reason to specify where aiden grew up in Kentucky. you won’t find it on a map and he likes it that way. his childhood isn’t important either. it’s not something he prefers to talk about and if asked he’s very vague about it. he might even lie about it, but the truth is, it wasn’t happy one and the cigarette burns on the nape of his neck and shoulder (these are covered) are proof enough. 

ADOLESCENCE; at eleven, his parents defected to god knows where. it left him, his three siblings, ages three and barely two. he missed three days of school trying to take care of them on what they had. his mother waltz in on the fourth as if nothing happened. it was a teacher of he confided in, one he stayed close to for years after. but defax didn’t exactly care. it was the first of many disappearances. sometimes it was a day, sometimes more. It was something he grew used to and by the time he was in middle school, he had surrendered to the fact he was the parent in this scenario. he had a hard time keeping up in high school. he was missing school to work under the table jobs and when he was at school, fights broke out and after about the fourth one, his teacher was done. they had a big blow out...making aiden realize his pride wasn’t worth it. he buckled down and leaned in to what his teacher was saying. without going into too many details, aiden began to flourish. his sullen and quiet demeanor shifted into the laughter and curiosity he once had. his grades improved and yeah, he was still picked at but the fighting stopped. it was like a page out of a fairy tale for him and he embraced it, wholeheartedly, no questions asked.

TWENTIES; unfortunately he didn’t make it through high school. he had to work, but he had o’connor’s support. he helped him study for his GED on the side and helped him as much as he could with his siblings. Things weren’t amazing, but they were manageable.  They survived and unlike him, his siblings stayed in school. He’d kill’em if they didn’t. He worked his ass off to get them through and in the little time he wasn’t? He wrote. He poured anything and everything he heard, felt, and experienced into journal upon journal. It cathartic mostly, but just as his little sister graduated high school, O’Connor managed to get one on the desk of an agent. How? He refused to say, the next week the agent was on Aiden’s door step, ready to change his life. Four years ago, he was published under a pen name and since then life has been smoother. the cash flow helped his siblings and by the time they were all comfortable in college, Aiden began to travel and live the life he’d always dreamed of.

THIRTIES; He hopped from place to place, living on the bare minimums to get a full experience. Writing it all down as he jumped outta planes, tried different local food-- just trying new things. By the time he reached Dayton, his agent was begging for something new too. His blogging and the mysteriousness around him as an anonymous author was fading. He needed something new so he settled. He didn’t intend to stay but-- in a thriving place like Dayton, a place without restriction and full of endless sins and passion? How could he not? It’s done wonders for his muse while still feeding his adrenaline fix. What’s not to like?

[s-nebul0sa]

Peanut M&Ms

Read on AO3, or below. Based on this tumblr post.

Ever since Lena realised she could lie about certain things and get away with it, she’s been doing so. Not about important matters. Not when she knows she can’t keep up the lie, or be consistent. Not about something she only wants to lie to certain people about; usually evading answers suffice in that case. But, one thing she has been lying about for over twenty years now.

Lena is not allergic to peanuts.

She just hates the smell of peanut butter and by the time she’s turned five, she’d learned other people didn’t agree with her. Some would even get defensive about it and somehow tried to blame her for not liking the smell. Or they’d try and coax her into trying a bite. She doesn’t even like the taste that much either and soon is sick of people not accepting her dislike at face value.

No, five-year-old Lena quickly realised lying about being allergic to peanuts solves all her problems. Now, she no longer is the weird girl who doesn’t like peanut butter. She’s the poor twenty-six-year-old woman who’s never got to taste peanut butter because she’s allergic.

One small issue...

She loves peanut M&Ms.

Her new lie makes it so she can only them in private. This wasn’t much of a problem when she buried herself in work and basically lived in her office. No one entered without her permission and she’d never attend any event where her self-restrain was tested. Peanut M&Ms aren’t exactly hors d’oeuvres and are thus not served at galas and fundraisers for National City’s elite.

Starting to date Kara Danvers, though, changed her life in more ways than one. She works a little less, since she now has someone to go home to. She has friends; Kara’s friends and family accepted her as their own. She attends movie nights and game nights. And she eats a lot more snacks than she used to, especially in presence of other people.

It’s easy on nights at their place. Kara is the only one who knows about her (white) lie, so she understands and helps Lena in any way possible. They make sure there’s no peanut M&Ms so Lena can’t be tempted. If Lena can’t have peanut M&Ms, she’s not going to serve them to others.

When they have a game or movie night elsewhere, it’s where it suddenly has gotten tricky. There’s never been peanut M&Ms before. Winn was afraid Lena would somehow accidentally ingest one and die. Alex isn’t the biggest fan of them and would rather get other snacks. Nia is probably one of the few women Lena knows who isn’t a big chocolate fan, so she always gets them popcorn and chips and sugary sweets. Brainy doesn’t know about their existence.

Or, rather, didn’t know about their existence. Because right there, within arm’s reach of Lena, is a plastic technicolour bowl filled with peanut M&Ms.

The brightly coated sweets seem to scream at her. Begging her to please eat them.

She finds her gaze drifting to the cursed bowl every several minutes. One moment she’s talking to Nia about the influence of fashion in corporate businesses, the next she’s eyeing those evil candies again.

Winn manages to snatch her as his charades partner — she hasn’t even noticed, too distracted by the M&Ms she’d by now managed to be seated as far away from as possible. Charades is a decent distraction for a while.

Alex talks to her about alien biology and Brainy joins the conversation when they shift to talking about ways do L-Corp to contribute to improved alien healthcare with new technology. All the while, Lena’s eyes keep drifting back to the slowly dwindling pile of colourful balls.

There are about two handfuls left.

One and a half.

One handful.

Twenty pieces.

Fifteen. Three green, two blue, one brown, four orange, two red and three yellow ones.

Alex eats all the green ones. For someone who doesn’t like M&Ms all that much, she sure seems to enjoy them.

Twelve left.

Lena gets distracted by a discussion about what game to play next. Alex argues for something short — it is a weekday and it’s getting pretty late. Winn thinks they should end with something fun and challenging. Lena has to agree with Alex on this. Her alarm will go off in less than six hours. A long game sounds like a very bad idea. Especially because she’ll be forcibly reminded of not getting to eat her favourite snack for the rest of the night by the flashy bowl on the table across from her.

The next time she looks, there’s suddenly only five pieces left. Two orange, one yellow and one brown.

Winn’s hand moves in the direction of the bowl, disappears behind the outer rim and, in the shape of a closed fist, re-emerges and moves to his mouth.

Zero M&Ms left. At least she can no longer be tempted.

Lena drags her eyes away from the bowl, sends Kara a sad smile over the table and focusses on the last game of the night.

Tired but sated, Kara and Lena finally arrive home about an hour later. Lena tugs off her heels and sighs as she placed her bare feet back on the cold wood. Kara kicks off her own shoes and dumps them near the coat rack, close enough for them to not be a tripping hazard but still disorganised in a Kara-like fashion. Lena bends down to neatly place her own shoes, side by side, beneath the coats and puts Kara’s next to them.

They hang their coats on the rack but instead of immediately moving to the bedroom, like Lena expected, Kara stops at the dining table. Her hands disappear inside her pockets.

Lena tries to move passed her. She’s tired. She wants to sleep.

“Wait, I got you something,” Kara says before she can leave the room.

Lena turns around again, facing Kara, and raises an eyebrow. “Love, you know I like surprises but not at midnight when I have an early meeting the next day.”

Instead of answering, Kara simply removes her hands from her pockets and places her closed fists on the table, knuckles up. Her fingers unwrap from whatever she is holding and slowly straighten until her hands are flat and floating above the table.

She quickly removes them and reveals at least two dozen peanut M&Ms.

“I saw you looking at them the whole night so I figured I’d sneak some home for you so you can eat them without blowing your secret.”

Lena doesn’t know if it’s her tiredness, her gratitude, her love for Kara or just no longer having to restrain herself, but she flies across the room and nearly jumps up in Kara’s arms. She’s lucky to have a girlfriend of steel with lightning reflexes because they surely would have tumbled over otherwise. With ease, Kara catches her and holds her up just a few inches from the ground. Exactly enough for their faces to be at the same height and giving Lena easy access to her mouth.

Lena tries to initiate a fierce kiss but Kara keeps her from deepening it after their initial touch. She does hold on close but removes her head back a little so their lips are no longer connected.

“How about you properly thank me like that tomorrow when we have time to finish what you start and we’re both less tired wrecks?” Kara suggests. Lena pouts for a moment but another small coax from Kara in the form of, “Just eat your snacks, babe. Thank me later,” sets her off towards the table.

Nimble fingers take hold of a blue M&M and Lena takes a second to enjoy the feel of it on her skin. It isn’t much and she is soon done relishing the idea of getting to eat them. Finally, she brings that first M&M to her mouth.

She bites into it.

Lena could swear she’s never had a peanut M&M this good. It’s probably because she has been wanting to taste them for hours now. Because of the intense craving she’s had to withstand.

Twenty-seven peanut M&Ms disappear in quick succession. Kara watches on, very amused at her girlfriend eating M&Ms like she hasn’t been fed in a week. Lena can’t think of anything other than how glad she is for Kara. She’ll surely thank her tomorrow. For tonight though, they’ll just change into their PJs, brush their teeth and wash their faces and then cuddle up in bed. Kara’s arms wrapped around Lena and Lena’s around Kara. Their legs intertwined and the blankets wrapping the together in a single burrito.

[evilrubberducke]

Read You Like a Book

A fluff filled IzuMina story about dorks and dates. Not too much to say besides that. I hope you enjoy.

Summary: In the midst of a lovely date, Mina discovers that Izuku might just be paying more attention to her than she ever realized.

Also on AO3!

“Midoriiiiiii, you lied to me!” Mina whined as she took in the building before her.

The Csilla Book Emporium was the largest bookstore she’d ever seen, spanning nearly a block in length and several stories in height, all filled to the brim with books of every sort. Supposedly they had every book under the sun, and if you couldn’t find it on their shelves they would have it sent there in just a few days. Under normal circumstances, Mina would have been happy to spend the afternoon there with Izuku.

It was the sign out front, proudly advertising their “First day of summer textbook/workbook sale!” that gave her pause.

“I didn’t lie!” He protested, though he seemed to be having trouble keeping eye contact with her. “I told you I wanted to take you somewhere fun. This is fun!”

“It’s schoolwork Midori.” she put on her best pout, a technique which had improved dramatically since they had started dating. He was a sucker for a good pout, and if you used puppy dog eyes as well, it was a surefire way to get what you wanted.

“I know, but if we get it done now, we won’t have to worry about it later.” He was holding surprisingly firm under her gaze, only shifting a little bit as he spoke.

She held out for a long moment, but eventually she was the one that cracked first. “Fiiiiine. But I’m holding you to your word. You’re taking me out somewhere fun after this.”

He smiled at that. “Ok. We’ll go anywhere you want.”

She shook her head. “Nuh uh. You don’t get out of it that easy. I came here to be wooed, only to be bait and switched. You’ve got to earn your way back into my good graces, and that starts with coming up with somewhere nice to take me.”

At that, Izuku began to resemble the boy she remembered from their first year at UA. The ball of perpetually frightened energy who couldn’t keep himself from muttering about Heroes every few minutes. She’d almost forgotten how cute he could be when he was off balance like this. These days he seemed like he could take anyone on without even flinching, and the smile he always wore reminded her enough of All Might that she had started to give Todoroki’s crackpot theories some real consideration.

His muttering now a soothing background noise, Mina pulled her boyfriend into the bookstore.

---

The pair had headed straight into the workbook section, competing with several other students for precious space and even more precious deals.

Izuku proved surprisingly adept at claiming space among the crowd. He didn’t really fight for space so much as slip through the gaps between people, pulling Mina along behind him. When she asked he claimed he had learned from watching his mother navigate sales at the grocery store which he would only describe as ‘cut throat’.

She could tell he was taking their task seriously, as he didn’t even notice the amount of attention they were getting from the other patrons. The crowd had quickly clocked the presence of UA students, and from there it was only a quick jump to recognizing UA’s rising power couple.

Mina was a little embarrassed by the whole situation. Some enterprising reporter (read nosey snitch) had snuck into the back halls during their second sports festival. They had caught a picture of her and Izuku cuddling between matches, and ran a story about ‘Love Blooming on the Battlefield’. With her and Izuku both placing in the top five for the festival, people had quickly started to call them a power couple, and comparing them to UA’s previous big three.

It was odd to think that she now possessed  a following. Sure, it was a select following but it was still a strange experience. She’d even had someone come up and ask for her autograph the other day. It really made the fact that she was a hero feel real to her.

At least they were being left alone. There were whispers, and more than a few intrigued looks thrown their way, but no one tried to disturb them. Mina wasn’t sure if it was due to respect for their status, not wanting to miss a workbook they were looking for, or if they were intimidated by Izuku’s intense focus as he hunted for whatever it was he was searching for.

No matter the reason, Mina took the opportunity to browse with Izuku. Much as she was loath to admit it, having the extra books would be useful for their studying, something she knew Izuku would manage to corral her into at some point this summer. Resigned to her fate, she rolled up her sleeves and got to searching.

---

It still amazed her how astute Izuku could be. Every workbook he grabbed was for a subject she was struggling with, or had scored poorly on in their last exam. She hadn't even discussed the exam with him, too disappointed in her own performance. Sure, a C was better than she had been doing at the start of the year, some would even call it a great improvement. It just didn’t feel like one when compared to the rest of the class. With three perfect scores, one by Izuku himself, and several more As, it just left her feeling like she was falling behind with every step.

She’d tried he best, she really had. But in the end the concepts refused to stick in her head no matter how much she studied.

She sighed as she hefted a math workbook up and glared at the cover. It was so frustrating to be praised for her excellent combat skills, only to be lambasted week after week over something she just couldn’t seem to master.

She looked up as Izuku squeezed her hand absentmindedly, while he debated the value of two texts of his own. Even so deep in his own head, his muttering going full bore, a part of him was still making sure she was okay.

It warmed her heart in a way she couldn't even begin to describe. She returned the squeeze and cuddled closer to him. It was hard to be sad with his warmth leaking into her.

---

“I-I’m sorry it’s not much.” Izuku apologized. I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.”

They were in a cafe just off Mustafu’s main shopping street. It was a cozy place, run by a small family who were more concerned with making sure their customers were satisfied than with making a profit. Entering the business felt like stepping into the home of a long lost relative. A few patrons waited in line, and more were seated at tables around the cafe, but it didn’t seem crowded in the slightest.

“It’s perfect Midori.” Mina said.

It really was too. Mina had heard about this place from Uraraka a few weeks ago. Apparently the pink cheeked girl had stumbled across it during one of her patrols with Ryuku. Since then, she had been singing the praises of the cafe, calling it a hidden gem of Mustafu.

Mina was inclined to agree. The menu was smaller than most of the popular cafes that she had been to, but it felt like it was curated rather than limited. Each of them had a cute name, and a small little blurb about how it could help your mood. Ever since she had heard Uraraka mention it, she had wanted to come here.

She just didn’t remember telling Izuku about it.

“But...how did you know I wanted to come here?” She asked, confused.

“You were talking about how you wanted to go here with Uraraka the other day, weren’t you?” It was more of a question than an answer.

She cast her mind back to the conversation in question. They’d been chatting in the common room, taking a break from homework to have a quick snack. Izuku had been there of course, he’d been helping her study since before they had even started officially dating, but she was sure he hadn’t been paying attention. He’d been in one of his muttering fits, focused on creating a new super move.

Now that she thought about it, this wasn’t the first time he’d known something about her without her having to state it. For instance, the time he’d shown up with flowers for her mother’s birthday even though she’d only told Toru about it. Or when he’d switched to buying her cherry sparkling water instead of lemon when she got tired of the flavor.

But it wasn’t for everything. When they were planning a surprise party for Todoroki, Izuku had come close to forgetting about it, despite being there for the planning meeting.

And then it hit her. The thread connecting his random fact acquisition was her. It was like some part of his mind was paying attention to what she was saying, or even just thinking about, despite the other 90% being occupied.

It was only just a theory, but now she wanted to test it.

“Midori, do you know what my favorite movie is?”

The sudden shift in topic seemed to take him by surprise, but he recovered quickly. “Umm, The Princess Bride, right?”

It was absolutely right. She considered it a guilty pleasure, and most definitely hadn’t watched it with anyone from UA. After all, she had a reputation as the dorm’s number one horror buff to maintain.

It was...odd to realize that he knew her so well without even seeming to try. She knew plenty of stuff about her boyfriend of course, but it was different with Izuku. He wore his heart on his sleeve in so many ways. It was easy to tell what he liked, from his favorite hero to his favorite foods. Even his more subtle tastes were obvious when you looked, though not everyone seemed to be able to take the hints. Just a few weeks before, Kirishima had dragged Izuku to a raunchy comedy with the rest of the guys in the class. She wasn’t sure exactly what he saw, but Izuku had looked vaguely traumatized by the experience.

He was easy to please, always happy to help or to listen to her talk, completely able to entertain himself if she left him alone, and an all around sweety. He would be the most low maintenance boyfriend in the world, if it weren’t for his insistence on self sacrifice.

She was pulled from her musings when they reached the front of the line. She had already made her choice when she had first seen the menu, but Izuku had waffled for a while. When he finally chose his drink, it was all she could do to hold back a snort. The woman who took their order seemed surprised, but after looking him over, she nodded once and punched the request in.

The “Little Hero” was clearly meant for children, a chocolaty affair with a generous helping of whipped cream on the top. When Izuku finally laid eyes on his drink, his brow scrunched up in confusion, and Mina finally lost it, cackling softly at her boyfriend’s misstep.

Izuku did his best imitation of a strawberry while he meekly accepted his drink and made a beeline for the table they had picked out and Mina followed him, still recovering from her bout of mirth.

The seats they had managed to get were hidden slightly from the rest of the cafe by a large potted plant. Mina appreciated the bit of privacy that it afforded them. She didn’t really care about being watched, but she did enjoy having a bit more alone time with her boyfriend.

“Enjoying your drink?” She teased as he took a tentative sip. The barista had really gone all out, adding chocolate shavings as well as sprinkles and a stick of cinnamon to the top of what Mina was sure was an unhealthy amount of whipped cream. Her own drink was fairly simple by comparison. An Iced coffee with some cinnamon to give it some extra flavoring, with a small heart drawn in the cream for her, which was a nice little touch.

“It...it’s pretty good.” Izuku said timidly, eyes firmly fixed on the table in front of him.

“Apparently!” She said with a chuckle. When he lifted his head up to look at her, she could see that a bit of whipped cream had lodged itself at the end of his nose. Combined with the confused and slightly embarrassed look on his face, it made for an insanely cute picture. Mina was half tempted to whip out her phone to commemorate the moment, but decided against it.

Instead she reached across the table and deftly wiped the offending spot away. Then on a whim, she took a moment to run her thumb along his cheek.

Izuku relaxed into her touch, his eyes closing as he sighed in contentment.

Mina felt her heart skip a beat. She was sure in that moment that she was the luckiest girl in the world. Izuku was beyond strong, incredibly smart, and so dedicated she was sure he would crawl through hell on bloody hands and knees if it meant saving someone in trouble. And here he was, melting like putty in her hands simply because he enjoyed being around her.

It made her feel truly special.

--

They didn’t get any studying done that day, much to Izuku’s chagrin. Instead, they spent the day wandering Mustafu to see if they could find any other hidden gems like the cafe. It wasn’t a productive day, but it was a pleasant one. A day spent in easy company was just what the pair had needed after the stress of UA. And at the end of the day, they were both perfectly content to fall asleep in the arms of the one person in the world who could read them like a book.

[parabcllums]

⧼    natasha liu bordizzo, genderfluid, they & she & he   /   let ‘em talk by kesha   +   clothes strewn around an otherwise tidy room, with well worn pointe shoes placed with care upon the nearest soft surface. dark hair that’s pulled back into a messy ponytail with a pink scrunchie, lacy bralettes worn beneath warm wool jumpers in pastel colors. the soft, cracking sound of etta james coming through on a floral patterned record player.    ⧽   ━━   let me tell you a thing or two about MORGAN ANTONIA HAROLD STARK. the TWENTY FIVE year old child of ANTHONY STARK & PEPPER POTTS is a TEACHING ASSISTANT & GRAD STUDENT at paragon academy and PRIVATE BALLET INSTRUCTOR in town, and has sometimes been referred to as the FICKLE HEART they’ve always seemed very CONGENIAL & SAGACIOUS, though i’ve heard that they can be pretty PERTINACIOUS & ACERBIC, too. it’s common knowledge that they have the power of GENIUS LEVEL INTELLECT & LATENT EXTREMIS VIRUS ; guess we shouldn’t get on their bad side, huh? redirect HERE for her stat page and HERE to their pinterest board.

there was something SOFT & MOIST about them,                               a dare, a rage, an intolerable tenderness.

SECTION ONE OF FOUR : BIOGRAPHY

morgan antonia harold stark is born on a dewy winter morning, second child of tony stark & pepper potts. they are the connecting sinew of two completely different worlds ; one made of heroism and personal glory, the other of board rooms and professionalism. they spend much of their childhood travelling between all the different places their parents need be, at any one time - but new york is always home.

as for many children, summers are spent enjoying life. morgan gets to be the child that they are, soaking up their sun on the beaches of the exotic places they can afford to visit. summers are FREEDOM, in their books, from all the expectations of the rest of the year. burdens that certainly feel like so, though they try and act as if they don’t.

at home, they are privately educated and expected to excel. this is fine. they’re the child of TONY STARK ; of course there are expectations, and they can take the pressure on their shoulders with grace, they think, so long as they are always able to dance.

it’s an unexpected talent. in day to day, they are clumsy - even as a child, they bumped their head and scratched their knees in an all manner of avoidable accidents. they will never be one to wear heels in fear of toppling, and so, the insistence to be enrolled with a local company after watching a performance of swan lake makes their parents chuckle. they expect morgan to QUIT when they realize they aren’t capable of such delicate movements and graceful twirls, but six months later when they sit in the audience and witness them perform in don quixote, tony is not able to hide the tears that spring to his eyes. 

so begins a lifetime of ballet lessons four times weekly, recitals every other month. they swiftly become one of the company’s most prized students, a prima ballerina in all ways but title. they are known to be clumsy, and they laugh along with those that poke harmless fun - but when they tie on their pointe shoes and step onto a stage, they are something different. something beautiful. something world ending. 

soon enough, they get old enough to see their parents for WHO they are ; and to understand the way in which the world, at large, sees them too. they think of their mother as... powerful and groundbreaking, and almost everyone agrees. they think of their father as brave and strong and heroic, most of all - and they realize, over time, that there are those out there who simply do not see it. morgan thinks her father is the most SELF SACRIFICING man she’ll ever know. they lie awake a lot, when they’re little, worried about if he’ll come home - knowing that if the situation calls for it, he’ll sacrifice his last breath to save them all, and fearing the one time it will be required. tabloids and gossip websites call him things like vapid and selfish, and one day, morgan asks their mother to explain what it means when dad is called a womanizer by the press. pepper does not treat the subject as taboo, instead fixing a soft expression in place - the words she says forming a key part of morgan’s character : your father’s heart is simply a few sizes too big. that’s why he makes such a good hero, now ; because he cares so much. when he was younger, though, people saw him using it in ways they thought were wrong, and they’ll probably never let that go.

much later, they’ll think that they relate a little bit too much to that sentiment. that aside from natural confidence, they might just have inherited that too big heart from their FATHER, too. morgan is electric. growing close to others isn’t difficult when you’re a magnetic force, and morgan is never without company. they value deep connection, the most. they don’t think they could ever fall for someone who didn’t know them blind. but they learn, as they grow, that they enjoy fleeting romance. even if they know they won’t allow it last, it is nice to be entwined in another’s life, for a time. 

SECTION TWO OF FOUR : OVERVIEW

born on february 20th, 1994. second ( and middle ) child of tony stark and pepper potts. 

no real drama, life or parents wise. tony and pepper were very good parents who loved their kids a LOT, so morgan never knew anything but.

suffered bacterial meningitis as a child, resulting in a loss of hearing in their right ear. 

expectations were rampant - from themselves, and from many others in their life. they were, after all, tony stark’s child ; they were meant to be a chip off the block, so to speak. this was all well and good, given that they certainly had the capacity for greatness, but it has left them with something of a perfectionist complex in adult life. they’re one of their company’s most prized jewels, and holds the honor of being the student with the most starring roles under their tutu. their dance talent shocks EVERYBODY who knows them due their undeniable clumsiness in day to day life, but that doesn’t really matter.

they were an early bloomer, so to speak, and this has been a blessing and curse. they’ve always been comfortable with who they are. other people have not.

SECTION THREE OF FOUR : HEADCANONS

morgan loves love, but perhaps is not as built for it as they would like. they get a certain thrill from flirtation and they enjoy being with people. it isn’t a crime, they think, to date often and never truly commit. there have, of course, been those who have treated it as such. they’re not a stranger to slurs, and they know that there are certain rumors ( some of which there’s truth to ) spread of them, routinely. but no one raised in tony and pepper’s home has much SHAME attached to who they are.

they had just turned four when they were struck down with bacterial meningitis. their mother thought that it was nothing but a summer flu, but when their fever began to reach unheard of heights, the PANIC set in. the doctor who saw to them insisted they be brought to the nearest emergency room immediately, and they didn’t see the outside of that hospital again until two weeks had passed. they survived UNSCATHED, at least - in a sense. single sided deafness in her right ear, specifically. her parents were told that they were incredibly lucky that they were even alive, and that they should be grateful for such a small price. they didn’t feel the way they were told they should, but they certainly passed on the sentiment to their child when they grew and wondered why they were not quite the same to the other kids they knew. her parents learned asl and they learned enough to make their life that little bit easier. it was by no means easy - the learning or the life that followed - but they ereyoung and adaptable, and it served as a harsh reminder that sometimes, the world will take. in their mid teens, they underwent the surgery to implant a transcranial cros - a bone anchored hearing aid, to you and i, that provided a MARKED improvement.

they’ve never actually had a relationship ( by name ), completely by design. they’ve never DATED. morgan enjoys flings, they enjoy flirtation, they love sex - but they won’t put themselves in a position to disappoint someone when they can’t be what they want them to be. they’re open with anyone they find herself involved with. no strings attached, non exclusive, it’s never going to go anywhere. anyone who doesn’t listen, anyone who ends up hurt because they believe they’ll change her mind…. that’s on them.

they can be quite… vain, to put it mildly. you have to keep in mind that morgan is someone who has been set up from a young age as… a real beauty. their looks have been valued, even if they have not been. they’re aware that they’re conventionally attractive, and they’re aware that it makes their life easier in a lot of ways. it does not, however, help them to be taken more seriously in life.

their grade point average is in the top tenth percentile, a standing they’ve maintained for years. not only are they BEAUTY, but they’re also quite literally brains.

they’re all shorts and bralettes beneath soft knit sweaters. they smell of lavender and cedar, exclusively. they’re ONLY comfortable when they’re wearing their pointe shoes.

SECTION FOUR OF FOUR : WANTED CONNECTIONS 

MORGAN STARK, our NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO fc is looking for her FORMER LOVERS TO FRIENDS / NO LIMIT connection who looks like JUSTICE SMITH, KATHRYN NEWTON / UP TO PLAYER and who are 23+. you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. ( she learned from experience that she should never mix friendship with romance, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t become good friends with people who started off as flings. she has a reputation for going through those quite quickly, but i find it VERY hard to imagine a world in which she hasn’t discovered a person or persons who was simply… interesting, to her. someone she grew attached to, allowing them become confidant and friend over time, even if she would never attempt relations with them again because of it. )

MORGAN STARK, our NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO fc is looking for her RIDE OR DIE connection who looks like ANYA TAYLOR JOY, CHELLA MAN / UP TO PLAYER and who is 23+. you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. ( the one person who simply… accepts morgan as is, the way a ride or die is always meant to. if morgan is in love with anyone in her life, it’s THEM. they know her in and out - including her first name, a secret she is otherwise taking to the grave. they know her hopes. her fears. her dreams. she knows THEIRS. there is no judgement, and instead, respect. probably are willing to throw down for her at a moments notice, and she’s more than willing to do the same for them. it’s VERY likely that they’re male / nb, as i imagine she’s never had too many positive relationships with women. )

MORGAN STARK, our NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO fc is looking for her #SQUAD / UP TO FIVE connection who looks like TATI GABRIELLE, ROSS BUTLER / UP TO PLAYER and who are 23+. you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. ( together, they form a no judgement zone… mostly. these would be people who are classed as ‘best friends’, but are not exactly on the same level as morgan’s ride or die. they study together, they hang out after classes, they eat lunch together, they have a text thread that has some dumb name on top. they’re probably all fundamentally different people ( morgan would fulfill either the archetpe of the one obsessed with fitness or the one with all the wild sex stories ), but they get along well enough in spite of it. )

MORGAN STARK, our NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO fc is looking for her UNEXPECTED FRIENDS / NO LIMIT connection who looks like ASA BUTTERFIELD, BILLIE LOURD / UP TO PLAYER and who are 23+. you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. ( there are multiple ways this could come to be! they could be people who are simply just… the chalk to morgan’s cheese, or they COULD be a villain kid who she’s befriended over the past while! either way, people don’t exactly see the reasoning behind their bond, and morgan wholly believes that it isn’t important that they do. )

MORGAN STARK, our NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO fc is looking for her FATHER / TONY STARK connection who looks like ANY CHINESE FC and who is DAD AGED. you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. ( morgan’s… a lot more like tony than anyone ever would have liked. bring their favorite [ sorry pepper ] parent! )

MORGAN STARK, our NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO fc is looking for her MOTHER / PEPPER POTTS connection who looks like ANY WHITE FC and who is MOM AGED. you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. ( bring the love of my life ! thanks )

MORGAN STARK, our NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO fc is looking for her FULL SIBLINGS / ONE OLDER, ONE YOUNGER connection who look like JORDAN CONNOR, REMI HII, PHILIPPA SOO, OLIVIA MUNN / UP TO PLAYER and who are YOUNGER THAN 25 / OLDER THAN 25. you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. ( i like to think the stark kids are… pretty tight, but i’m not WILDLY attached to the idea ! i’m sure they have their differences and whatnot, so they very well might not get along at all ! they could also be adopted !)

MORGAN STARK, our NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO fc is looking for her HALF SIBLING / VIA TONY ( AT LEAST ONE ) connection who look like HAYDEN SZETO, AWKWAFINA, SONG WEILONG, HARRY SHUM JR  / UP TO PLAYER and who are OLDER THAN 25, PREFERABLY ( THOUGH COULD BE YOUNGER ). you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. ( i just kinda feel… tony could have more kids not necessarily with pepper, and think that could be a fun dynamic to play out. did they grow up together? did they know about one another always, or just find out? what’s their actual sibling dynamic? )

MORGAN STARK, our NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO fc is looking for her FLINGS ( EX, CURRENT, FUTURE ) / NO LIMIT connection who looks like LUCIEN LAVISCOUNT, LUCY BOYNTON / UP TO PLAYER and who are 23+. you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. ( morgan very strictly does not date - she never has, and she also never does the whole … “friends with benefits” thing. she enjoys flirtation, and her dalliances with others are usually fleeting. it is always made obvious they are not exclusive, and she always makes a point of informing them they won’t go any farther. whether people have always believed her or not is entirely up for discussion, and i think there are some really interesting dynamics waiting to be created ! )

MORGAN STARK, our NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO fc is looking for her HEARTBREAKER connection who looks like LAKEITH STANFIELD, JANEL PARRISH / UP TO PLAYER and who is 23+. you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. ( she has never explicitly dated anybody, but this would be a connect for the one person she had almost considered doing so with. for whatever reason - on their shoulders ( perhaps they moved on, perhaps they gave up on her, perhaps they simply weren’t interested ) or her own ( she never made a move, she made herself cut it off ) - it didn’t work out, but her heart may always ache when she thinks of it. )

MORGAN STARK, our NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO fc is looking for her HEARTBROKEN connection who looks like LAKEITH STANFIELD, JANEL PARRISH / UP TO PLAYER and who is 23+. you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. (  all of the rules she has for herself, and she FUCKED UP. morgan never lets herself lead anybody on, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t get… comfortable, around her. that they don’t start opening themselves up to her - moreso than they do anyone else. usually, she’s good at spotting the red flags and running before it’s too late. the problem is that this time, she DIDN’T. she HURT them. and while she’s proud to say she doesn’t do messy exes ( hard to, when you don’t date )… they sure do feel like one. )

MORGAN STARK, our NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO fc is looking for a PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN DICKS IN THE PAST / ANY AMOUNT connection who look like GAGE GOLIGHTLY, ALEX FITZALAN / UP TO PLAYER and who is 23+. you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. ( would never request it be a current connect, solely because i believe in growth ! this could be very simply someone she doesn’t get along with for a whole host of reasons, but it could also be anyone who in the past - before we all, collectively knew better - joined in on the name / slur calling that has plagued morgan her whole life. vehement dislike until the day she dies is possible, but so is forgiveness. we were all dumb once! )

MORGAN STARK, our NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO fc is looking for her BALLET STUDENTS / ANY AMOUNT connection who look like SYDNEY SWEENEY, JORDAN CONNOR / UP TO PLAYER and who are ANY AGE. you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. ( morgan makes a living by instructing others in dance, and i think it’d be a mostly cute connect for her to have a student or two rocking around the place ! she’s destined for prima ballerina greatness, so learning from her now is, dare i say - HOT. )

MORGAN STARK, our NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO fc is looking for her FELLOW DANCERS / ANY AMOUNT connection who look like ALEXA DEMIE, DREW RAY TANNER / UP TO PLAYER and who are ANY AGE. you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. ( either in the same company, or not. they could practice together and support one another, or they could be HORRIBLY competitive, attempting to outdo one another at every turn. i’ve never seen black swan, but i feel as if that’s something i should reference here. )

MORGAN STARK, our NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO fc is looking for her SORORITY ROOMMATE connection who looks like PARK SOOYOUNG, AISHA DEE / UP TO PLAYER and who is ANY AGE. you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. ( they can either hate her or love her, but i would love the latter the most! i have a vague headcanon that morgan rushed kappa kappa delta because of feeling as if she would never be accepted among the more elite sorority, and because of having a vague hope that she would find more female friends within the more down to earth house. morgan is a VERY neat girl, unless she’s running late or just in from a lesson. she’s also the sort to always have a tub of face mask and a pair of wooly socks to spare. they could be very wholesome !  )

MORGAN STARK, our NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO fc is looking for her FORMER LOVERS TO ENEMIES connection who look like ALBERTO ROSENDE, AMBER MIDTHUNDER / UP TO PLAYER and who are ANY AGE. you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. (  this is the flip side to the ‘former lovers to friends’ connect, that i’m sure she’s experienced - people she was with for any amount of time, who she now has an unfortunately negative relationship with. )

MORGAN STARK, our NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO fc is looking for her ASL STUDENTS connection who look like UP TO PLAYER and who are ANY AGE. you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. ( let her teach them sign language ! )

MORGAN STARK, our NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO fc is looking for her FELLOW DEAF STUDENTS connection who look like UP TO PLAYER and who are ANY AGE. you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. ( unite ! )

MORGAN STARK, our NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO fc is looking for her STUDY BUDDIES connection who look like UP TO PLAYER and who are ANY AGE. you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. ( gotta get that bread ! )

[enixamyram]

Curious Archer Christmas Chapter 2

  “It's really getting cold.” Robin noted, shivering and tightening the hold she had where she and Alice had looped their arms around one another. “Won't be long before it starts snowing.”

  “A white Christmas! Isn't that what's in all those Christmas stories?” Alice laughed, curling against her side as best as she could. It really was getting cold and she could see her own icy breath frosting in front of her every time she spoke.

  “Most of 'em.” Robin admitted. “Personally I'd rather a hot sunny beach side Christmas!”

  “Maybe next year.” Alice laughed.

  “It's a date.” Robin kissed her cheek.

  Alice grinned and raised an eyebrow at her. “I didn't know you hated snow, though. You always said you missed it in the Enchanted Forest.”

  “Oh I don't hate snow. I love it! And I did miss it a lot when we never had it, but as much as I love the snow, I still hate the cold!” Robin laughed, shivering as if to prove her point. “It's like; I'm fine with the cold so long as we get some snow out of it. But the dry cold or rainy cold is just lousy. There's nothing good about it, if you ask me.”

  “I don't know about that.” Alice said, resting her head on Robin's shoulder. They were quite close in height, so it was a little awkward, doing it while still walking, but somehow Alice managed it in a way that made it look easy. “Cuddling's a pretty fun winter sport.”

  “Okay, you got me there.” Robin grinned, leaning her head against Alice's in return.

  They kept walking through the brisk late morning dew, down the quiet streets of Storybrooke’s town as quickly as they could manage while holding onto one another and tightly bundled in warm layers. It really was a chilly morning and they were both looking forward to tucking themselves back inside, but only after they had made a quick trip to see Zelena.

  Yesterday afternoon, they had received a call from Robin's mother, asking if they wanted to take some of the families old Christmas decorations for their own house. She and Chad had recently bought a new set with them from their old home, but they knew how sentimental Robin could be over these things and thought she might like a few of her childhood ones before they were all thrown out. And she was right. Not only was Robin unwilling to let so many old memories be simply tossed aside, but between their minimum wage jobs, Alice and Robin could barely afford their rent and other basic necessities, let alone a whole new set of Christmas decorations. And this wasn’t even including all the present they still needed to buy everyone. So it was a big relief to be offered everything for free. And Alice was also looking forward to seeing what kind of things Robin grew up with as a child on Christmas.

  As they finally approached the house sitting at the end of one of Storybrooke’s original streets, the picked up speed slightly, never breaking the hold they had on one another’s arms as they did. Even with all their tops, jumpers, jackets and coats that they had pulled on themselves before leaving the house, the two were quickly becoming very blue from the cold air hanging around and noticeably shivered against each other. They were both eager to grab the decorations and get home to their warm waiting house as soon as possible.

  “Mum!” Robin called as they approached the door, knocking hard on the surface before they’d even come to a complete stop. She had a key but was far too cold to waste the time fishing it out of her pocket. “We're here!”

  A few seconds later, the door swung open, revealing the Wicked Witch of the West herself. Zelena was positively glowing, and had been ever since they returned to the United Realms together. But that wasn't surprising. When Zelena had joined the others, she was forced to make a decision and tell Chad the whole truth – all of it – about who she really was. She had confessed and proven her story to him with magic, and was then immediately shunned while he worked through his shock. Zelena had been depressed during the build up to returning home, and had cried often, waiting for him to return to her. At one point, it seemed like he never would and Zelena’s heart ache grew so intense, all her family became seriously worried for her.

  But of course, Chad did come back. He returned to her at the last possible second, declaring that the last few weeks were painful for him but he truly loved Kelly, whether she was Zelena or whatever other name she went under, and he would do anything to make their relationship work. Even if it meant accepting a crazy world of magic and leaving his life in San Francisco behind for a whole new land across the country. It was a romantic spectacle and everyone was relieved when Zelena burst into fresh tears, knowing these were ones of joy.

  Some people were worried he might change his mind once he saw the full world he had agreed to be part of, or when he began missing the old friends and family he was now forced to lie to and see only on the holidays he could travel back to San Francisco. Regina in particular kept an eye on him, as if daring Chad to leave and break her sisters heart. But in the end he surprised everyone, Zelena included. It took some time, but bit by bit, he grew more comfortable with this new life and with the woman he really married. And soon they were almost like a normal couple again, even if, after all this time, Chad was still adjusting to certain aspects of the United Realms.

  “Robin, what took you?!” Zelena laughed, stepping over the threshold and grabbing them. “It's freezing! Get inside, quickly!” She shivered dramatically. “Brrr!”

  “We weren't that long.” Robin grinned. “Be easier if you just poofed us here, you know.”

  “Yeah well, Chad's still a little uncomfortable about me using magic,” Zelena admitted shyly.

  “Oh, I thought he was doing better.” Robin mumbled, glancing around the hallway for the man in question.

  “He is!” Zelena said quickly. “It's just gonna take time before I can fly home on a broomstick again, that’s all.”

  Robin and Alice smiled at her as they wandered down the hall and into the living room, listening to Zelena talk about how her driving was improving at least. They had just stepped into the doorway where they promptly froze on the spot. “Holy hell mum!”

  The whole living room – usually so clean and well kept – was stuffed with an endless arrange of boxes lying side by side and piled atop of one another, filling up any spare the original furniture didn’t. The boxes varied from colours of plain brown, to dark red, to old faded black boxes with shoe and clothes still clinging logos onto them. One even had a picture of an old PC on that Robin remembered her mother buying for her when she started high school, now empty and full of brightly coloured tinsel and tree decorations instead. And that wasn't even including the decorations that seemingly didn't fit inside the boxes and had so been left lying on top of everything else.

  “I thought you said you had a couple of boxes?!” Robin shouted, gaping at everything lying in front of them.

  “Um, I don't think we're going to be able to carry all these by ourselves.” Alice noted.

  “Seriously! I thought you said you had a couple! Like you were actually keeping some for yourself. Why are you getting rid of all of it?” Robin yelped.

  “Well we are keeping the rest.” Zelena shrugged.

  “What rest?!”

  Zelena shrugged again. “A couple of lights.”

  Robin rolled he eyes and shook her head. “Mum... You're something else. How are we supposed to get all this stuff back home? We'll have to make several trips back and forth at least.”

  “Well...” Alice held up a hand. “I could always get us all home.”

  There was a pause. Then: “That's my girl!” Robin beamed. “Why didn’t do we that in the first place?”

  Alice smiled at her but the smile dimmed when she saw Zelena chewing on the inside of her lip, suddenly looking very anxious about the idea. “I mean, we don't have to. We can just carry it like normal.”

  “Oh come on!” Robin protested.

  “No, no you do your thing, Alice.” Zelena said. “I don't want to use magic with Chad but it's not fair to stop others from using theirs. Just... Let me keep him busy so he doesn't accidentally come into it halfway. Okay?”

  “Thanks, mum.” Robin grinned, reaching over to hug her tightly once more. “You're the best!”

  “Yeah, I know.” Zelena said, her smile returning now as some tension left her shoulders. She turned quickly and hugged Alice too. “Come round sometime before Christmas, okay? We can have a big lunch, all four of us.”

  “Will do!”

  With that, Zelena turned and hurried into Chad's study to keep him distracted while Alice turned to the rest of the boxes waiting for her. She rubbed her hands together and took a slow breath in and out. She wasn't very much used to random acts of magic these days. Alice had never been crazy about using it for every little thing despite Robin’s encouragement. And when she did, her magic was mostly used for helping the gardens grow and taking care of the local animals that wandered by... All in all, she was just worried about being a little rusty in regards to transportation magic.

  As if sensing her hesitation, Robin reached over and placed her hand over the top of Alice's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze and leaning close until Alice could feel her breath on the back of her neck. It was a pleasant feeling and gave Alice all the confidence she needed to go ahead with the spell.

  Closing her hands into temporary fists, Alice forced herself to relax and focused on the warm magic she always felt rolling inside of her. She reached out her hands, unclenching her fists at the same time, and waved towards the multiple boxes lining the walls and filling the floor. Barely a moment later, the whole room was filled with a cloud of white smoke that had an soft yellow shine to parts of it. The smoke stretching out from one corner to the next and coating every box and package. It lasted for just a short second and faded just as quickly as it appeared, the smoke vanishing in a dramatic sweep of sudden wind and taking almost everything along with it.

  “Uh, Alice?”

  Breathing hard from nerves more than effort, Alice glanced up and saw Robin pointing to the now clear and spotless room. Alice looked around but it took her another minute of scanning the area before she finally realised that her magic seemed to have taken all the sofas and chairs along with the boxes.

  “Woops.” Alice blushed.

  “Can you, uh, bring it back?” Robin said, barely managing to hold in her giggles. “I think Chad might notice that much furniture missing.”

  “Yeah, one second!” Alice said, quickly searching for the magic she had used and tracing it in her mind back to where everything was now waiting for them at home. It was an odd feeling, but despite not using her powers for this type of magic often, Alice found it easy none the less.

  A few seconds later, everything had appeared once more in a similar swirl of white and gold smoke. Only it all may have been a little off centre and the girls quickly took some time to push everything around to where it had been originally, working off their memories as best as they could.

  “Okay, that's as good as it gets. Let's go before Chad asks how we did it all so fast.” Robin said, pulling Alice back to the door. “We're off, mum! Thanks again!”

  “You sure you got everything?” Zelena's voice came from the upstairs hallway.

  “Yup! Catch up later!” Robin said, stepping outside and pulling Alice behind her, letting the door slam shut on its own. She’d barely taken a step passed the porch and yet was already shivering once more. “Let's get home. Quickly!”

  Alice pulled on her arm and stopped her from going any further. “How quickly do you want to?” Alice asked, grinning shyly.

  Robin blinked before jumping to stand back beside her, sliding her arms around Alice's hips. “Do it!” She said excitedly.

  “Shall I wiggle my nose first?” Alice teased.

  “I dare ya!” Robin laughed.

  A few playful seconds of inside jokes later, Alice had magicked the two of them back home where all the decorations were waiting for them... Even if it was waiting for them in a ridiculous mess from having fallen over everything else in its way upon arrival.

C*H*R*I*S*T*M*A*S

  “Okay, that's the last of it!” Alice said happily.

  The two of them had spent the better part of their day, clearing up the mess Alice had accidentally made during her transportation, fixing everything back to how it should be and lining all their new decoration boxes up against the wall on the far side by the window. It still made everything look very untidy, but at least it was an organized untidy.

  “So, you ready for lunch?” Robin asked, stretching her arms and pressing her hands against her spine until she heard a satisfying click.

  “Yes!” Alice beamed. “We'll eat and then start decorating!”

  Robin laughed as she stepped into the kitchen. “Not so fast, Tower Girl. We don't decorate until twelve days before Christmas. Then take it all down twelve days after.”

  “What? Why?” Alice frowned.

  “It's a tradition.” Robin shrugged, like that explained it all.

  “Why?” Alice pressed.

  Robin paused and glanced back over her shoulder at her. “Uh, well... I'm not really sure. But it just is! It's a tradition and we just kind of do it that way now.”

  Alice began pouting. It seemed pretty silly to her. Why wait so long to do a tradition that they couldn't even remember why they did it for? And they had so many lovely things to put up and admire for as long as possible so why bother putting it off?

  But Robin knew more about Christmas than Alice did, and she hadn't steered her wrong yet. When it came down to it, Alice did trust Robin... She was just also very impatient.

  Inside the kitchen, while Robin began to root around for something to make a lunch out of, Alice hovered by the doorway and looked longingly towards the boxes piled up, some still not quite closed to hide the beautiful things tucked away inside. She had been so excited when they had gotten the offer to go pick them up and now she couldn't do anything with any of it. It was like taking a kid shopping and letting them pick up their birthday present right there and then but refusing to let them actually play with it until their actual birthday in a couple weeks. It was needless torture!

  “Damn, the breads no good.” Robin sighed, standing and tossing the last two slices of molding bread into the bin. She looked back at Alice and grinned. “Fancy going out to eat today?”

  “Hmm,” Alice hummed. “Not especially. Why don't we have some popcorn instead? I’m sure we have a bag leftover somewhere.”

  “Yeah, but I fancy a proper sandwich.” Robin said, already walking for the door where her coat hung on the wall at the side. “If you don't want to come, I can pick you up something from Granny's?”

  “Marmalade sandwich!” Alice said immediately.

  “Of course,” Robin laughed, doing up the buttons and double checking she still had her purse and keys in the pockets. “I'll be back as quick as I can.”

  “Say hi to Granny and Ruby for me!” Alice said cheerfully.

  Robin paused in the open doorway to groan loudly, remembering her last run in with the pair of diner owning werewolves. Even as half human, they reacted to the young female archer the way all animals seemed to; by being on edge and even growling if she happened to surprise them at the wrong time. She didn't go out of her way to avoid them and they didn’t hate each other per say, but she certainly didn't cry when they happened to miss one another. Unfortunately, Granny's cooking was just too good to give up on so Robin was going to have to suck it up and see the half mutts every once in a while.

  “I'll be back,” Robin repeated, heading out and letting the door swing shut behind her.

  Alice watched her go in silence before sighing and wandering back into the living room, stepping over to the boxes and peering over them and out the window to watch Robin walk onto the street. She let her hands drift over and rest on top of the closest box for support, waiting until Robin had completely vanished from sight before she looked down at them. There really was so much more than they were expecting. She and Robin hadn't thought they would have enough to fill the main room, but now it looked like they would have enough to do the whole first floor of the house. Alice felt giddy with the thoughts- the ideas of the house they could make, now they had the tools to do so. It would be the most magical thing and Alice wouldn't even need to use actual magic to make it happen!

  Now she just needed to wait for the right time for it to happen, which apparently wouldn't be for another week! How anyone could honestly wait that long, Alice had no idea. And she still didn't see the point in it. It would take them so long to put them all up in the first place, and they'd only be around for a short time before they had to take them all back down again. It just seemed like such a waste. Like Halloween. Why bother having so many wonderful decorations up for a single night just to pack them away again for a whole year? Why couldn't they put them all up early and really celebrate the holiday all month long?

  But there were a lot of things Alice didn't understand about normal life in Storybrooke yet, and she had long since accepted that. She was just going to have to wait and play by Robin's silly rules like she always did.

  With another deep breath, Alice turned away from the decorations and glanced around the room. She and Robin were pretty good for keeping their home clean – Alice loved this building that she now shared with her love, so much that she wanted to take care of it and Robin seemed to pick up on that as well, doing what she could to help. But they weren't perfect and if they couldn't put the decorations up now, then Alice could at least get them ready for when they could.

  So with that in mind, Alice drifted back into the hallway closest, collecting a series of sprays and polish as well as some old rags to have a big official clean up. She started by dusting all the shelves and counter tops, shuffling all the little things temporarily out of her way before placing them back again and moving on to the next. Once that was done, she pulled out the larger pieces of furniture and grabbed the vacuum, running it over all the carpets, floor boards and tiles of the entire house until it was as clean as she could possibly get it. Then she returned and cleaned down all the windows and doors and mirrors, just for something to do.

  The whole process was meant to keep her busy until Robin came home, but there wasn't that much to clean in the first place. And on top of that, Alice was – accidentally – quite a fast working cleaning and once she got going, she sometimes lost herself in her work and finished much faster than other people might. Which meant she still had plenty of time to waste before Robin got back with their lunch... Might as well squeeze in a quick shower before eating.

  As she turned away from the living room, Alice accidentally dropped one of the polish bottles on top of one of the boxes closest to the door. It only dented the lid slightly but it was enough for a shiny gold piece to peek through and catch Alice's attention. She left the polish bottle on the floor and instead, pulled back the lid on the box, exposing the decoration inside. It was a Santa doll ornament, but with a golden coat rather than a red one, positioned like he was sitting on something invisible and holding an odd French horn in his grip. And Alice had no idea if it was random or part of the many more secret traditions she had yet to learn.

  Crouching beside the box, Alice placed the cleaning supplies in her arms on the floor and reached into the box, carefully pulling the golden Santa out and holding it in front of her. It was the most ridiculous thing she had ever seen, and yet Alice was indescribably amused by it all the same! Whether it was the bright colours or the cheerful smile on the old face, or the tiny detail such as the little round glasses he wore, Alice found herself grinning at the thing, wondering where it would sit the nicest in their house once they were ready to put it up.

  Climbing back onto her feet, Alice wandered towards the windowsill, holding the golden Santa up by the edge to see how he'd look. She remembered Robin saying something about everything having a perfect place, and you just needed to take the time to find it. So Alice spent a few minutes at each location, wandering around the living room before she ended back in the hallway, setting the golden Santa on the shelf by the staircase where they normally kept trinkets from their travels.

  There. That was the perfect place!

  Alice paused, glancing back through the open doorway where she could see where the open box still sat. There really wasn't much point putting Gold Santa back now that he had a place on the shelf. He might as well stay where he was for now.

  Turning back into the living room, Alice wandered over to pick up to cleaning supplies and close the box back up but stopped short just as she began to crouch down. Something else caught her eye. Only this time it was a flash of silver.

  Without hesitating about it, Alice once again forgot the cleaning supplies and turned back to the box. Reaching into it once more, this time Alice pulled out a second Santa that was very similarly designed to the first one. She held it up in front of her like the last one, staring at it curiously and looking it up and down. It really was very similar to the Gold Santa now sitting on the hallway shelf, but instead of gold clothing, his was silver and he wasn't sitting down with a leg crossed, but rather standing upright on his two chubby legs. And the instrument that he held in his hands wasn't a small trumpet, but rather, quite a large old fashion accordion.

  Once again, Alice was fascinated with how nonsensical it was!

  “Well...” She mused quietly. “You look like you're a pair... And it wouldn't be fair to unpack one of you and not the other...”

  She doubt Robin would mind if she unpacked just these two.

C*H*R*I*S*T*M*A*S

  Getting food from Granny's had taken much longer than Robin had originally thought. It didn't help that everyone she ran into wanted to stop for a chat, including her aunt Regina who was eager to find out what to get her niece for a present this year. By the time she reached the old diner, the lunch rush was at its busiest and Robin was forced to hang around for a stretch of time before Red could finally take her order. She did it with only a slight upturned nose and – to her credit – seemed to want to get Robin out of there as quickly as Robin wanted to leave, leading the young waitress to rush around to make the sandwiches. She even threw in a couple chocolate cookies for Alice, whom she ironically had a soft spot for. But even with Red's rush, it still took Robin far too long to get her food and get out. And then, as if the universe was having a laugh at her expense, she ended up running into Mulan and Dorothy, one of whom she deeply admired, and one of whom she wished she could shove into another cyclone. Mulan barely managed to pry the two of them apart as an argument built up and when Robin stalked away in a huff, she realised it had been a couple of hours since he had left Alice alone!

  Doing her best to rush home without destroying the carefully wrapped sandwiches in the carrier bag hanging off her arm, Robin was no longer feeling the cold breeze as something irritating by the time she reached her street. Instead it was a comforting relief against her hot sweaty skin. As she closed the distance to her house, she paused on the corner road, checking the bag to make sure it really was all okay inside. It seemed only one of the cookies had broken in her haste, but Robin would happily have that one for herself. Otherwise it was all good.

  With a deep slow breath to calm her racing heart rate down, Robin stood back up straight and continued home, slowing her pace to a steady walk now she was close. As fun as walks through Storybrooke were, Robin had officially had enough of them for today. She was looking forward to kicking her feet up for the rest of the day inside her warm home with her wife by her side. Maybe she and Alice could put on a couple Christmas-...

  Robin's thoughts trailed off as she caught sight of the house.

  Robin wasn't oddly caught between being a little annoyed and a little amused. But mostly she was just stunned. Because, yes, she had been gone for a couple of hours but there was no way what she was staring at was just a couple hours work. She had to have used magic. Or have gotten help from other people. Or something!

  The front of the house had a layer of lights hanging down from the roof of multiple colours like a waterfall, as well as matching lights circling around the front door and bottom two windows. Robin squinted slightly and realised there was a familiar door chime that was hung on the wall where the bird feeder normally was (the bird feeder had been moved to a branch of a tree stretching over from one of the neighbouring houses) and it seemed that Alice had take the fake snow bottles and sprayed it along the edge of the house and over all the window sills. On top of that, the second floor windows had happy elf stickers showing through the glass and there were three plastic reindeer ornaments lining the roof with a child sized Santa holding onto the chimney in front of them. And then there was the front garden, which had a pair of miniature Christmas trees beside the path with leafs that slowly turned every colour other than their natural green – okay, that definitely had some kind of magic involved.

  Robin slowly drift through onto the front garden and glanced around to find a series of plastic woodland creatures in winter clothing waiting for her. Zelena used to line them along the staircase, but now they were lining either side of the front path leading to the front door instead. They were directed to face towards the front door as well, as if guiding visitors inside, and each of them had an additional star sticker placed on one of their cheeks. Without a doubt, it was one of the simplest, yet cutest things Robin had ever seen.

  “Robin!”

  She looked up sharply, just in time to see Alice scrambling out from behind one of the reindeer, leaning over the edge of the roof and panting heavily. She sounded completely tired, but looked as fresh as ever and didn't hesitate to swing her body round and jump off the roof. Robin felt a single flash of panic, which proved to be needless as Alice floated gently down to the ground like a feather, coming to a peaceful stop in front of her.

  “I...” She paused, glancing around towards the constant colour changing trees. “I kind of... Got a head start on the decorating.”

  “I can see that.” Robin nodded, feeling her lips twitching and fighting the urge to smile. Guess being amused outweighed her slight annoyance at missing the chance to help her. “Is it just the outside or is there a Wonderland inside as well?” Alice raised an eyebrow at the Wonderland expression – there were only so many of them she could let slide. “Sorry.”

  Alice brushed it off and put her hands guiltily behind her back. “I may have... Touched up a bit while you were gone.”

  “I figured.” Robin snorted. “Come on. Let's see just how much you got up to.”

  “You're not upset?” Alice asked nervously, leading Robin inside but watching her face closely for sign of irritation.

  Before she could answer, Robin stepped inside the house and was floored and not just by the warmth hitting her dead on.

  Robin was sure they hadn’t had this many decorations at her old house when they picked them up and was genuinely confused as to where some of it had come from. Almost every shelf had a different snow covered building or snowman or Santa sitting atop if, and there was tinsel in greens, purples and blues lining the rail of the stairs and draped around almost every doorway. The one thing Robin did recognise was the animatronic snowmen, Santa's and reindeer – all wearing skies – set up in the hallway and ready to be switched on just as soon as they were given some fresh batteries. Each of them was a different outer design but once they were up and running, they would immediately sing their matching recorded Christmas songs.

  When they wandered into the living room, Robin saw a series of familiar snow globes lining over the top of the fireplace. All of them were depicting a famous place from the Enchanted Forest – presents that her aunt had given her Robin and her mother over the years. There were also half a dozen pictures that had been taken down and replaced with art works of various make Christmas scenes, and ceiling decorations had been hung with obvious care and attention. There were some that dangled in streams, others that were shaped like snowflakes, and some that were twisted into cute little curls of randomness, each of them coming in every colour from purple, blue, green, gold, silver, red and white.

  In the end, it seemed that only three boxes had been left unpacked. Instead they had been pushed into a corner that looked oddly bare compared to the rest of the room. It didn't take Robin much time to guess that they were for the Christmas tree they didn't yet have. Otherwise everything else they had gotten from Zelena (and so many things that Robin still didn't recognise) was unpacked and set up perfectly in place.

  “This is... Amazing!” Robin laughed, turning slowly. “Where did you even get half this stuff? It can't all be from mum’s house.”

  “Well, I did get a little into it and I found some stuff that looked cute but could have been nicer if it had been in a different position or a different colour. But I didn't want to alter any of your stuff so I just used some magic to transfer some things we already owned into them instead.” Alice explained. “It saves us packing it out of the way and we can turn it all back once the holiday's over and done with.”

  “That's awesome!” Robin gasped, dropping the food carelessly on the nearest chair. “So like, the front trees?”

  “Yeah they were fun to make.” Alice grinned.

  “This is really something, Alice.” Robin breathed, still turning to take it all in. “How did you even manage it all on your own? Magic again?”

  “I may have used a little magic to speed up the process.” Alice continued. “I got kind of excited about the whole thing and couldn’t wait to get it done.”

  “Just a little?” Robin laughed, pulling Alice into her arms and kissing her. When she pulled back, they kept their arms firmly around one another, leaning into each other for support and grinning stupidly. “Guess we need to think about getting a tree then, huh?”

  “Oh, I've already spoken to Henry about that. He said he knows someone and Lucy's gonna show me where to find one tomorrow.” Alice said cheerfully.

  Robin blinked in surprise and let out another laugh. “Alice, I freaking love you!”

[whisker-biscuit]

Harley Quinn is Not A Good Role Model: Chapter 18

Rated T-M for language and graphic descriptions of violence

Pairing: Dr. Flug/Black Hat

Summary: Dr. Flug Slys is a successful psychiatrist working at one of the world’s most respected mental institutes for the criminally insane. But this new patient is unlike anything he’s ever encountered. Flug is determined to help him, nonetheless.

Black Hat has other ideas.

Chapter 18: It’s Only Week 2

I had a plan.

It was an excellent plan – one might even look at it and proclaim it as impeccable, or foolproof. Most certainly one deserving the knowledge of belonging to Black Hat.

But, indubitably, I could not have accounted for the sheer fickleness of one Doctor Flug Slys. Oh I attempted to do so, for sure. I was expecting nothing less from the current object of my curiosity, or else he wouldn’t have lived this long.

Perhaps it is just this particular human, or perhaps it is the fickleness of humans in general that continues to baffle me. Either way, I would not lament so much without explaining, in detail, exactly what caused the lamenting. That’s just rude.

It started, in an increasingly disturbing pattern, with our scheduled time together. Wednesdays are always a fascinating aspect of time – they often guarantee a ‘good’ or ‘bad’ rest of the week. If Monday’s breach of personal space was any indication, I might have had more sense to be prepared for the worst.

Flug was unusually chipper this morning, which I suppose should have been my first indication. Of course I had to make it my business, which...was admittedly something I should not have done in hindsight.

“You’re perkier than usual, Doctor.”

I watched with half-lidded eyes and a half-lidded smile as Flug reacted in his more predictable, nervous manner. His hands toyed with his headwear - a truly irritating quirk if I ever saw one.

“Oh, am I? I’ll t-try to curb back on that.” The human straightened, then slouched in obvious retraction. The idea that he was using body language to try to keep me comfortable, in light of the event two days before, was both laughable and insulting.

“No, no please, continue displaying your distasteful emotions for all of the world to see. It really isn’t a bother.” I would have propped my chin along my claws if only my attire could permit it. “I only ask that you share what has you in such a tizzy.”

Flug looked conflicted, and I smiled a little wider.

“Don’t be afraid, Doctor. You certainly weren’t when you disregarded protocol and my personal space on Monday.”

Instead of the flinch or fidget I was expecting then, my doctor gave a groan and put his face in one hand. “Noooo, not you too...why is everyone getting in my grill about this?”

“Getting...in your grill?” Never in my long years had I heard this phrase. I could only imagine the three seconds of horrifying confusion on my face. I was forced to compose myself quickly when Flug saw that as a prompt to persist his grumbling.

 “Yes! First security, then that bast – er,” his goggles flicked upwards to the camera, “some coworkers, and now suddenly you’re grousing at me when you were acting fine with it! What am I supposed to do, not take your word at face value anymore?!”

He threw his hands up briefly and then went back to mumbling and pulling at his coat. This session was quickly spiraling out of orbit, and not in the way I had intended at all. As a self-proclaimed master of improv, however, I adapted to it and took advantage of my dear doctor’s peculiar mood swings.

“Why Flug, why would you say such a thing? My word is worth more than anything in this pathetic excuse of an institute. I was merely reminding you of your brashness; your ‘brass balls’, if you will. I never stated I had disliked it.”

The human stopped fretting long enough to give me a stare of both suspicion and some vague thing resembling hope. I saw an opening and I took it.

“Actually, I felt a real connection between the two of us last time. Perhaps we could...continue where we left off?”

To accentuate my supposed sincerity in the offer, I sat down carefully with my back pressed lightly against the cell’s mattress. Flug blinked dumbly at the gesture before realizing himself. He edged closer to the center of the room, with his security chaperone shadowing right behind. My face curled in on itself as when a putrid smell is sensed.

“Doctor, I understand your dedication to personal safety, but I’d appreciate not having that trained baboon looming over us like he’s obviously planning to do.”

The psychiatrist grew more suspicious, as was expected. I gave my most honest, open reaction. Which is to say, I became a blank slate. We watched each other in clear challenge until he sighed in defeat and turned to his guard, who frowned but complied by retreating to one side of the room.

“There. That – does that work?” Flug pointed to a spot on the floor roughly half a meter in front of me. At my nod, he sat down very slowly without averting his gaze away. I smiled.

“Very nicely, Dr. Slys.”

“Okay, okay. Good. So uh, by picking up where we left off, do you mean, uh. We were on...music theory last, right? How’s that sound?”

Now was the time to put the first significant part of my plan into action. I pretended to consider his request, allowing my eyes to drift unfocused to some far point in the room. Then, to keep up the pretense of having an unexpected epiphany, I snapped full attention back to my doctor, faux concern in my lifted eyebrows.

“Oh, but Doctor, shouldn’t we start the way we did two days ago? It would only be proper.”

“I – proper? What?” The human was flummoxed, just as I had intended.

“Why, that lovely invasion of personal space! Surely we can’t have a civil conversation without first initiating a little foreplay.”

“Foreplay?!”

“Oh bother, it seems I failed to tell you what happened last session. What you did my dear Slys, by touching my shoulder in that way, was – in crude human terms I suppose the word is flirt. And you caught me so off guard with that gesture that how else could I have responded? I needed to know you better before I made a decision. Even my German teasing was a testing of the waters, so to speak.”

This was all a fabrication, of course. I have no such courting rituals – in fact none at all, being what I am – but the lie was completely worth the unadulterated shock in every inch of Flug’s body. I let him squirm slack-jawed in that for a moment as I glanced to the unfortunate third party in the room, who was paying the least amount of attention one could give while still being present.

My doctor made a whine high in his throat, and I knew – no, I assumed I had won this round.

“So I think it’s only fair, Dr. Slys, that if you want to continue where we left off, it should start in the same manner as before. And to reach the height of that fairness, I believe I should be the one initiating it. What do you say to that?”

I won’t deny it; I had a few ulterior motives in this play. If Flug refused, we would go back to our comfortable balance of prey and predator under guise of doctor and patient respectively, without a need for further attempts by this human to ‘get to know me better’. If he agreed, I could –

“Ah, okay.” The compliance came with no small amount of hesitance and regret in the psychiatrist’s voice. But it was there all the same. I pulled back my lips, stretched them into almost nothing, and gave full display of my splintered teeth.

“Excellent.”

I moved forward along the flooring. Flug did not flinch away. I came up until our knees were touching. Still he kept his nerve. I played my ace.

“Now that we’re here, I’ve realized I’m at a bit of a disadvantage. You have full use of your arms and I do not. Now,” I cut him off before he could spout some policy nonsense. “Now I’m quite aware about safety and related drivel, you don’t have to spell it out. But I’d really enjoy something I can provide myself, yes?”

I received only a tentative nod in response. If I could only read his mind right now.

“I have a proposition then, Doctor. Let me lay my head against your chest and listen to your heartbeat.”

That was a reaction I would never regret, regardless of bungled plans. Flug jerked like I had placed physical blows to his head, his hands broke the pencil he held in two places, and a sheen of sweat was impossibly visible along his paper bag where his forehead sat hidden. I waited.

“I, you, that’s not-!” The doctor bounced from one sentence starter to the next like a child jumping on a fluffy bed. He blustered in his words for a few moments more, flailing most comically.

“Well, Flug? Deal or no deal?” My smile had not even twitched.

Something steely entered my human’s visage and reminded me of the reason I was so intrigued by him. He straightened his body into his best impression of a wooden plank and set his jaw with an audible click. There was one moment where he took a deep, filling breath. Then he looked me right in the eye.

“Yes. Okay.”

I saw his posturing for what it was and wasted no time. My legs sprung me to him in the blink of an eye, the side of my head hit the left side of his chest in an instant, and my hat fit very well curved over his shoulder. The air left his body in a puff of a whimper.

“Does this make you uncomfortable, Flug? Because I’m having a wonderful time. In fact, I believe this is the best course of action for my rehabilitation.” I physically felt the tremble from my doctor and relished in it. “I think we’re making true progress, I really do.”

Ah, the human heartbeat. Possibly the most wonderful object to ever come from its meatsack container, it is a symphony of refinement and splendor. Whether caught in the slow throes of death or racing to a heart attack, I have always enjoyed immensely the thrill of finding its pulse before its human has left this plane of life. But now, oh now, I could savor it in all its enticing melody as Flug flushed in embarrassment and terror against me.

His organ was a delight, rapid and faint and – there was a flutter, a skip in rhythm! I felt myself salivate unbounded at the sensation. Spittle dripped and splashed to the floor between his crossed legs, interrupting the beautiful beating as it hissed and melted into the padding. My doctor squeaked at the sight of it. I huddled closer against him.

“Not one word about that little detail,” I whispered into his ribcage, mindful not to let my saliva touch his clothes. “We’re doing so well together, Flug. I don’t want a minor thing like acid spit to force you away from me.”

“Acid...spit…?” It was impressive he could form the question, incoherent as he seemed to be.

“Shh, shh. Not strong enough to get through the walls or even these restraints, don’t you worry, but in such an uptight facility like this one, who’s to say what asinine things a paranoid coworker would do. I’d rather not lose my favorite doctor, you understand.”

“I’m your...what?” Flug sounded like he was having trouble filtering oxygen to his brain. You couldn’t guess it from the way his heart was pounding so poignantly.

“My favorite doctor, Doctor. Really, listening comprehension should be a strong suit of a psychiatrist.”

The human began making noises akin to a basset hound, with English words interspersed enough that I could make out things like “favorite” and “what” and “god help me”. Emboldened, I went further.

“Why Flug, don’t you enjoy getting closer to your patients? Isn’t that what you strive for? Knowing them on a more...personal level?” I felt his heart rate shoot into dangerous territory and responded in kind by turning my head and scraping my teeth against his chest.

My plan, if you had not guessed it by now, was to either fluster or freak out my dear doctor to the point that he would never again attempt such a stupid stunt as to physically touch me. Up until this moment, I had been very confident in my ability to do both at once. What I had expected by doing what I did was...well. It was nothing near what happened next.

Flug’s hitch of breath was not unusual; it was a common result of being startled or upset. But as my bared teeth pressed through clothing to human flesh, he shifted in his seat and let out a ‘hmmm’ sound between pursed lips. Believing he was simply trying to feign indifference, I opened my mouth and nipped lightly at his coat; a reminder to this human that he was skirting death by my judgement.

“H-Hang on, wait,” he pleaded quietly. I mistook it for discomfort and pulled at a button in response.

It was discomfort, yes, but of an entirely different kind. Because when I looked up to see the effect my actions had, I saw shaking, nervous wide eyes trying desperately to tell me to stop with expression alone. It made me grin, button still held between two canines.

His hands came up, most likely to ward me away, but the instant the gloves touched my shoulders I heard, felt the worst indignity bubble up through my throat, past the accursed button and vibrating right against my doctor’s heart.

I purred.

Flug’s hands flew off me in an instant, and one sickening look upwards into a disbelieving face showed me more than I wanted to know.

He had heard it.

So I'm probably gonna post just one chapter at the beginning of each month until sometime mid September, cause life has been busy. In the meantime, enjoy this accidental screw-up by Black Hat, ehehehe. For those of you here for the slow burn, don't worry. It's an accident, could happen to anyone, now they have to deal with it. Yay!

Well I'm tired so I'm gonna check out. But I hope you all enjoy!