#Barge into my room or rearrange all my stuff without asking

[chicago-geniza]

Realizing the almost illicit thrill I take in setting boundaries about my space and being a toddler who just learned the word "no" is probably indicative of something about my upbringing lol. "Yes you can come in my house, no you can't open my bedroom door, no I won't give any qualifications or explanations, yes we can hang out in my kitchen, no you can't touch my rare antiquarian books"

Like I need to forcefully assert those boundaries and observe that people respect them before I trust them because I've had overbearing parents and multiple stalkers and an ex-best friend who in a fit of pique almost got me expelled from a language program when she wouldn't take "no" for an answer and followed me and showed up unannounced on campus (which my stalker ex also did, and also nearly got me expelled). I don't like people knowing my address and have them drop me off at an intersection and walk the wrong way until they're gone because I'm insane

[percontaion-points]

TLR chapters 17 & 17

Click here for the rest of the series!

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 17

“Now, now, don’t get testy. If you don’t want me to use your stuff, I’m sure I can just borrow clothes from Maddox and Desiree. They aren’t using them right now anyway. Also, for the record, I didn’t realize you owned T-shirts. Not to mention, this one is decadently soft! So unlike you. I’d expect you to prefer fiber constructed of aluminum cans and old tires. Tough and durable.” She says the end part with a strong Soviet accent, heavy emphasis on the r. Sometimes—okay, all the time—I look at Paige and think, Goddamn it, you’re the funniest person I’ve ever met.

I’m personally still waiting for Paige to actually say something funny. There have been a few funny moments in this, but overall, it’s not any more than in any other novel.

Paige goes at it, rearranging the furniture in the suite. If it’s not nailed down or ten thousand pounds (like the dresser and the bed), chances are it’s found a new home. […] I had a footrest at one point. That’s gone. She came over and stood, looking down at it without saying a word. I eventually got the hint, picked up my feet so they hovered just above it, and like a little rat who’d been lusting after a piece of cheese, she swiped the ottoman away immediately. It’s now stacked on top of an end table, alongside a floor lamp and a few spare pillows. Her rudimentary blockade means that if I want to go to her side of the room and peek out the window, I’ll have to climb over the bed.

She’s spending all of this time and energy, and for what? Go the fuck to sleep, Paige. Nobody fucking cares.

“Shit.” “Shit,” she says, nearly in tandem with me.

Chapter 17 summary: We shift over to Cole’s POV as Paige barges into his room. She explains what happened, but Cole barely caught half of it. He offers to go talk to Paige’s terrible roommate, but she says no. THIS IS NEEDED FOR THE PLOT! She then tells him that he isn’t allowed to talk, and then threatens to use his clothes as a curtain to divide the room. Cole then starts to do actual work on his laptop as Paige uses the room furniture to build a barrier between the two sides of the room. The entire thing is childish, and as I said, baffling. What does she hope to accomplish in doing any of this? Cole notes that she’s chosen the window side, which means that he gets the bathroom… and the thermostat. Which he cranks down to annoy her. Finally, he begins to explain to her what’s been going on with Todd. That he’s trying to do an audit in order to remove Todd from this job. That he’s doing it now, rather than years earlier, because Todd crossed a line in asking Cole to fire Paige. Before she can fully process what this means, the power goes out. They wait for the back-up generator to kick on, but when it doesn’t, they both curse.

Chapter 18

I listen to him start to try to feel his way around the room. His toe gets stubbed on something hard, and he lets out a sharp guttural groan. There’s more fumbling after that, less gentle now that he’s already in pain. No doubt he’s trying to recall from memory how exactly I had everything stacked. There was the chair, end table, pillows, lamp. Lamp! Too late. He bumps it slightly, and it crashes down on my side of the room. The bulb shatters, and I jump back with an embarrassingly high-pitched squeal. “Don’t move!” he shouts. I go stock still. “There’s going to be glass shards everywhere. You took your shoes off when you first came in. I don’t want you cutting your feet.” I pinch my eyes closed as I berate myself for being so ridiculous. Why did I have to make this so hard on us? I essentially created a death trap obstacle course for him to navigate. “I’m sorry.”

Good going, dipshit.

“I need to get a broom and vacuum from the housekeeping closet.”

Need I fucking remind you that there’s no goddamned power to use that vacuum.

There is no way around it, it seems. I want Cole.

Chapter 18 summary: Cole fumbles about in the dark. But since Paige had moved all of the furniture around, he accidentally knocks over a lamp she’d moved. It falls over, and the bulb breaks, and he warns her not to move, because he knows that she took her shoes off. However, his phone is blowing up, so Paige tells him to go put out those fires. She offers to come with him, but he tells her that it would be better if she stayed in the room. She briefly texts Camila, who invites her to the room to tell ghost stories. Paige doesn’t want to deal with whatever questions they might ask, so she says that she turned out fine, and that she’s going to turn her phone off to conserve the battery during the black-out. She briefly texts her parents that she’s okay before she turns it off. Then she tries to get some sleep, but without the AC going, it’s really hot in the room. Her shorts and bra come off, but she still can’t sleep. She eventually gets up and grabs Cole’s shirt, and falls asleep clutching it. He wakes her up hours later, but the power is still out. Paige is embarrassed that she was caught sleeping with his shirt like that, but he only takes it and goes to get a shower. As he’s in there, Paige can’t help but have what she calls “X-rated thoughts”. He comes to bed, of which there is only one. (Because duh.) But now Paige is hyper-focused on his presence in bed with her… and also how hot it is. He eventually gives her back his shirt. She apologises about the Todd issue, and tells him that she believes him. He grabs her hand. And it’s at this point that Paige finally admits that she wants Cole.

[milkybunbuns]

i. why me → brat masterlist → next

w/c: 944

warnings: this series will contain spoilers for season 1

There was no way that Shigaraki had been prepared to come face to face with a child, out of all people who had could’ve knocked on the league’s door, it was some crazy child. Shigaraki frowned angrily, raising five fingers towards the child only for a warm glow to coat the child, acting as some sort of shield.

“Are you fucking kidding me, trying to kill me! All for one sent me!!”, you screeched angrily, clenching your fists and stomping, your choice of language had shocked Shigaraki, yeah it was certainly not normal for a kid your age to know profanities. He sighed, glaring at you with this best threatening face which didn’t faze you at all. You barged into the hide out without a single care in the world, being protected by the same glowevery time Shigaraki tried to use his quirk on you.

“Stop messing around and get out of here, your quirk is so annoying!!”, kicks and punches were thrown your way yet none of them even reached you.

“Shigaraki, who is that child?”, Kurogiri would’ve raised an eyebrow, if only he had one, as he continued wiping glasses using a cloth.

“Some kid from the streets claiming to be sent by master”, he reached his hand up to his neck, scratching angrily.

“I’m not lying! Go call him if you want and if you keep trying to hurt me you’re going to get in trouble!”

“Why don’t we give it a shot and ask master.”

“There’s no way that imbecile could’ve been sent by master!”

“Shigaraki, I advise that you check.”

“Yeah listen to misty guy!”, you rolled out on the couch, rolling around in boredom, “Do you guys do anything fun? Your base is lame.”

Shigaraki was only further provoked, turning around quickly to stretch five fingers towards the child’s face, failing yet again. For some reason his decay didn’t seem to work against the shield and at that moment with a bit of buzzing from the small television, All for one’s face appeared.

“Ah, I see you’ve received my gift.”

“Gift!? Gift!? That child!?”, Shigaraki screeched angrily pointing at the kid who was already recking the bar to the dismay of Kurogiri.

“Patience Tomura, that child goes by the name of Y/n and is quite powerful. Make sure to take care of her, she will become a valuable asset to the league as she grows up, with no memory of her past, you must raise her to gain her trust, use her as a pawn.”

Shigaraki couldn’t believe his ears, so it was true. That kid wasn’t lying! You looked at him smugly, resting on top of the bar where Kurogiri tried desperately to get you off.

“Ughhh why meeee”, Shigaraki groaned, scratching his neck then repeated smashing his head into the bar, “Get me a beer Kurogiri, this is a whole bunch of nonsense.”

“Of course Shigaraki, do keep in mind master’s words.”

“Yessssss ughhhh Kurogiri you’re getting her all the stuff she needs.”

“Right. Come right along this way Miss Y/n”, Kurogiri gestured for you to follow him into one of the many rooms. “You may stay in this room while I bring you some clothes.” You nodded at him and as soon as he left to go shopping, you snuck out of the room, opening each door one by one. Most of the rooms were empty till you stumbled on one while housed Shigaraki. He was on his bed staring at a map of something with plenty of words strewn everywhere including pictures of a smiling yellow haired man which had knives sticking through his face. Shigaraki didn’t notice you enter, which made you angry at the lack of attention. 

“CANNON BALLL!!”, with no time to react, you lunged at him, tackling his face and reaching for the hand on his face which you successfully got a hold of.

“WOOO NEWWW TOYYY!!”, you grinned happily, taking the hand and running down the hallways.

“GET BACK HERE AND GIVE THAT BACK YOU BRAT!”

“NU-UH!”, you stuck your tongue out and pulled your eye down, jumping over various items easily, though you couldn’t really say the same for Shigaraki as he stumbled over various boxes, knocking items over, along with a glass cup which shattered easily. To put it short, the base was pretty much a reck at the moment and after what seemed like forever, Kurogiri came back.

The mist man stood in shock for a moment, everything turned upside down, Shigaraki lying tiredly on top of an upside down couch while you sat on a box not too far away examining the strange hand and attempting to put it on your own face.

“You guys sure had fun”, Kurogiri sighed, rearranging some of the items which had been ruined including his collection of glass cups and wine glasses which were shattered beyond repair.

“Ku-ro-gi-ri!!! Tell that brat to give me back father!! Now!!”, the said man felt like joining some other organisation at this rate, he was becoming a baby sitter.

“Y/n-san, please hand back the hand to Shigaraki”, you looked up from the hand then looked at Shigaraki with a look of disgust.

“Only if he says please”, you huffed, folding your arms over your chest.

“WHAT THE FUCK NO, KUROGIRI DO SOMETHING!!”

Kurogiri made a warp hole right where the hand was allowing the hand to fall into Tomura’s hands, “I am dearly sorry Miss Y/n.” and at that moment you started bawling your eyes out, exploding everything near you. Shigaraki and Kurogiri knew that they would be in for a tough ride but it would hopefully be worth it in the end.

[mommymooze]

Mighty Morfis Power Mage

Yuri X Reader story 

You had followed your friends Merci, Annie and Lorenz to Garreg Mach. You had gotten to know everyone in the Blue lions and Golden Deer pretty well.

Magically you are not as good as Lysithia or Annette but you can hold your own. In sword fighting Felix could take you out in a heartbeat. With a lance you are on par with Sylvan, which is not saying too too much, but you are okay. You had started in the Blue Lions, close to the end of the year you were finally persuaded by Professor Byleth to join the Golden Deer.

 When the war happened, your parents freaked out and took you back to Morfis. You wrote letters to all of your friends, but most didn’t have the time to write back. They had a war going on you know! Claude and Hilda would send a word back here and there, keeping you informed about your fellow Deer.

 But come hell or high water you are determined to make it back for the five year reunion. You kiss the ground when you hit Fodlan territory, meeting up with Hilda and then heading to the monastery. It is thrilling to be fighting again. Being away for five years doesn’t matter much, you are right back in the middle of the fray throwing spells and causing hell.  Coming up on the bandits, you cast your spell, bringing a bow made of pure magical force into existence, complete with magic arrows. Drawing back your bowstring, an arrow is nocked. You aim and release, striking a thief with deadly magical force, killing him instantly. Five years of intense spell development at the Morfis Advanced Magic University pays off. (MAMU, OI!!!)

Hilda grins at you. “I am so glad you are back.”

The two of you move toward Ignatz and Raphael, joining up with them. As the battle goes on, the group gets bigger and bigger until you notice that all of the Golden Deer are reunited. The last of the bandits defeated, a cheer goes up amongst the old gang and everyone is hugging and happy to see each other once again.

“(Y/N)!” Claude yells, getting your attention. His arms are open wide to welcome you with a great big hug. “You are looking awesome. I think you’ve kicked your magic up a notch or two.” He says with a grin.

You run the few steps over to Claude and pull him into a big hug, then you stand back and take a good look. “Pompoms? Cute! You have certainly filled out, you handsome devil.” You smile back at him, giving a fake punch to his chin. You were so excited to see Professor Byleth you almost knocked her over with your enthusiastic hug.

Everyone is chatting and filling in the blanks of the last five years as they reacquaint themselves. Within a week everyone has found a place to stay that works for them, they’ve cleaned up and have the kitchen functioning, and things begin to settle a bit. Nobody has heard from the Ashen Wolves and you feel anxious, not sure if they survived this long or if they’ve abandoned Abyss.

Finding a few minutes to yourself you head up to the second floor and before you know it you find yourself in the library, looking at the books with a new light in your eyes. Some books you had not seen here before have also shown up. Those books hoarded in certain students rooms (Hubert, Linhardt :cough:) have been returned to the shelves. Still not finding everything that you are looking for, you recall there’s one more library to check out.  You gather your courage and decide to finally head over to Abyss. It is quiet here. You don’t see anyone as you silently make to your destination.

The disorganized chaos that is the Shadow Library of Abyss stands before you. Books could be found anywhere on any shelf. They are arranged by ‘first hole found on a shelf stuff book in’ order. Another problem is that the cover may say one subject, and the real contents of the book may be completely different. After a short while you are surrounded by several stacks of books when you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“You’re back, eh?” A low sultry voice comes from the doorway, causing you to leap to your feet knocking over a stack of books next to you.

You run over to the tall man giving him a hug. “I am so happy to see you. How are you? How is everyone?” you ask him as your left hand slides down his arm, fingers reaching around his hand to hold it in yours.

“Everyone is…good.” He says, trying to read the look on your face, deciphering why you won’t look him in the eyes.

You let go of his hand as Balthus barges into the room. The big lug grabs you, holding you tightly against his chest. “Hey cutie! Glad you’re back in town!” you can feel his chest vibrating with every word as he nearly squeezes the life out of you.

“Good. Leggo.” You squeak as he finally loosens his grip so that you can breathe again.

“Finally decided to come back to us eh? What brings you down here?” Balthus asks

“Psychokinetic escutcheon” you casually respond.

“Uh sure.” He says scratching his head. “More of that deep magic stuff, huh.”

“Exactly.” You grin.

“Well, if you have the time, meet up for a couple of drinks. We all need to catchup with each other.“ he grins, scratching the back of his head.

“You got it, big guy.” You smile as Balthus leaves.

“So what have you been doing, friend? It’s been 5 years.” Yuri asks with a really good poker face.

You cast a telekinesis spell that allows you to grab stacks of books to put them back on shelves, clearing a path to walk around. “Right after the war started, my parents freaked out. Took me from here and dragged me back to Morfis. Morfis is nothing but a bunch of lazy and chickenshit mages. Why fight when you can hide is their philosophy. So I was dragged back and hit the studies hard. The only reports we would get in would be how devastating everything was, everything was burning or blown up. Making my parents even more protective of me. I did learn quite a bit. Rearranged some of their defensive spells to work in other ways. Hopefully I will have some surprises for the Empire should they attack. Anyway, took me forever to find a way away from them, get on a boat, back to Fodlan and finally here. “

“So you’ve crossed continents and countries, just to find yourself crawling around down here in Abyss?” Yuri smirks.

“Yeah, why not?” you chuckle. “Everyone here has helped me so much. I feel like I owe all of you my life. I know I owe you, you’ve saved me from my own stupid actions in battle, jumping in without thinking.”

Yuri stands with fake shock across his face. “You are an imposter! What have you done with (y/n)? She would never admit to being wrong!”

You laugh at him. “Hey, I can mature a bit you know. Realize I made mistakes, I was reckless. I’m working on being better in the defense category. Being responsible and there for all of my dear friends and loved ones.” You blush.

“I’m happy to have a few minutes with you alone, once Constance catches wind that you are here, I probably won’t see either of you for weeks.” The purple haired man tilts his head, taking in the changes in your appearance since he had last seen you.

“Well, we can talk now for a bit before she finds me, eh?” You snicker, hiding your smile behind your hand.

“Do what you want. I just came here for a good book.” He grabs a book off the shelf and turns to leave.

You look crushed. You’ve missed everyone for so long and fought hard to get here for this? To have him treat you like chump change? You turn away and sit on one of the stacks of books you had piled around you. Unfortunately, your stacking was not as straight as it could be, suddenly you are tumbling over before you know it. You throw your hands above your head waiting for it to smack against the bannister.

Instead you are caught in Yuri’s strong arms and lifted up against his broader than before chest.

“Changed my mind. Now I have something better to take back with me.” Yuri says as he carries you out of the library.

 ****************

This started as a oneshot. Then my daughter saw the title and wants me to write for all of the Mighty Morfis Power Mages/Rangers/Idunno. I am torn. 

BLue: Dimitri Lion

Yellow: Claude, Deer

Red: Edelgard, Eagle

Green: Flayn, Fish

Purple: Yuri Wolf 

It would probably be best to start something new if I go there. 

This story could continue on its own. Who knows.

[quicksilversquared]

Papa Bear

If there's one thing that Tom Dupain will not stand, it's threats against his daughter. So when Mr. Agreste demands that Marinette and Adrien break up or else, Tom isn't about to let that stand. So he makes a call that ends up setting off a chain of events that no one could have expected.

a Chat Blanc rewrite

(links in the reblog)

Mr. Dupain was steaming as Nathalie and her tablet- with Mr. Agreste still on-screen- sauntered out of the bakery, as cool and unaffected as when they had entered, despite the crying girl they had left in their wake.

How dare they tell Marinette that she and Adrien had to break up. How dare Mr. Agreste say that she was negatively impacting his company image. And how dare he threaten Marinette and say that he would pull Adrien out of school and away from his friends- and his girlfriend if Marinette didn't end her relationship with Adrien. That was- that was just cruel.

What, was Adrien not allowed to have a happy relationship just because Mr. Agreste couldn't, because his wife was missing? That was dumb.

Tom would show him a negative effect on company image.

"I- I guess I have to do that, then," Marinette sniffed, wiping her eyes, and Tom pulled himself out of his plans for a street fight, maybe, or going to Madam Chamack and having her run a story on Mr. Agreste's interference, and looked to her daughter. Despite the shock, she was clearly trying to pull herself together. "A-Adrien loves school, and it's not- we weren't dating that long. M-maybe we can try again l-later, if Mr. Agreste changes his mind-"

"We are not bowing to Mr. Agreste's delusional demands," Tom told her, his eyes catching on the camera that was installed in the corner of the bakery and his anger abruptly receding as a plan hit him. The camera was a newer addition, one that Sabine had insisted on after several attacks had taken them out of the bakery, leaving it unstaffed. They hadn't had any problems with thievery, but they didn't want to take that chance. He caught Marinette's shoulder, turning her towards the camera and pointing. "You know, I was a little unconvinced when your mom insisted on getting a camera with audio recording as well because it was far more expensive and I didn't see the use, but I'm glad she did now. We've got evidence of Mr. Agreste's threats."

Marinette sniffed again. "I- what?"

"We won't let this stand, Marinette," Tom told her. "That threat of his, of pulling Adrien out of school if you don't break up with him- that is so out of line. It isn't tolerable, and could very well be an indication of more issues at home."

"I'm sure of it," Sabine finally chimed in. "There's been so many things that Adrien has told us about his home life that- well, some of it just doesn't sit right with me. And this- this is just the cherry on top."

Marinette nodded, jerky and tearful.

Tom patted her shoulder, steering her towards the back. "Why don't you go upstairs and text Adrien about what's going on. Don't break up with him, okay, sweetie? I'll get everything sorted out."

"But- but what if Nathalie is going straight to the school to pull Adrien out?" Marinette asked, clearly anxious. She was picking at her fingernails, a clear indication of how nervous she was. "And Mr. Agreste is just at home waiting to see if I break up with Adrien fast enough? I- Adrien worked so hard to get into school, and his father keeps threatening to take it away."

...so this was a reoccurring threat, then. Mr. Dupain was even less impressed.

"He can't possibly expect you to immediately turn around and break up immediately," Tom said instead. "That's unreasonable. You would need some time to get over the shock. So I think we have a little wriggle room."

"Since when has Mr. Agreste been reasonable?" Marinette asked, which- well, was a very valid point. She clung to his arm. "M-maybe we should break up, and then try again later- we can still be friends, Mr. Agreste didn't ban that."

"If this doesn't work, I would say stage a breakup and then date in secret," Tom told Marinette. "Keep Adrien in the loop, that's most important. Don't break up out of the blue without an explanation, that will just crush him. But I'm confident that I can get something worked out. Mr. Agreste can't be unreasonable and push you kids around like this without consequences, and it's about time he learned that."

Marinette considered that, then nodded and darted inside the bakery. Tom had a quick, hushed conversation with Sabine, and then retreated into a back room to make a call.

If Mr. Agreste thought that having Marinette and Adrien dating was somehow negatively impacting his company's image, then it was time to see how the company's precious image looked after Mr. Agreste got a visit from child protective services.

  The agent that Tom reached was very interested in what he had to say about Mr. Agreste. Apparently several of their agents had wondered what Adrien's home life was like after his mom's disappearance after seeing Mr. Agreste just straight-up vanish from public life, with his few public appearances making them no less concerned. Mr. Agreste was apparently not exactly giving off the image of a stable, reasonable parent, even to the largely uninvested bystander.

"We'll be over for a visit to see your footage," the agent told him. "And to talk to your daughter, as well, to hear what she knows. Threatening a healthy teenaged relationship like that, just to try to control Adrien...well, something tells me that that's just the tip of the iceberg."

"Yes, I thought the same," Tom agreed. "And Marinette said that Mr. Agreste has threatened to pull Adrien out of school for other minor perceived offenses before, and I've certainly heard plenty about the times that Adrien has suddenly not been allowed to go on outings with his friends, even if he had been told that he could go out before."

There was tapping at the other end of the line- the agent entering what Tom had just said in her computer, perhaps, or making note of more questions to ask. "All right. Do you think your daughter would be willing to answer some questions today? I know she must have just had quite a shock what with Mr. Agreste barging in and threatening her, but I'd like to move this case along as quickly as possible, before Mr. Agreste catches wind of what's going on and can start putting pressure on anyone to change their story."

Tom nodded, then remembered that there was no way for the agent to see that. "Of course. I think Marinette can talk today- she's a strong girl. She'll want to help Adrien right away."

"All right. We'll be there in a few minutes."

Tom thanked her and hung up.

"Any news?"

"They're coming right away," Tom told Sabine, following her back into the bakery front. "Threats to isolate kids like Mr. Agreste is doing are taken very seriously. And in Paris right now, they want to make sure that people aren't being abused, because of the threat of akumas."

Sabine let out a breath. "That makes sense. I'm glad they can work fast. Adrien and Marinette have been so happy together, so forcing them to break up, even for a little while..."

Tom nodded, quickly washing his hands before doing the rounds of the shop, rearranging things and making sure that there was enough stock in front. A couple of things needed to be refilled- a quick run to the back took care of those problems easily enough- and by the time everything was just how he wanted it, a pair of child protection agents had arrived.

"Tom Dupain?" the first one asked, sticking out a hand for him to shake. "I'm Sylvia Faye. We just talked on the phone?"

"Hi," Tom said at once. "Yes, I'm Tom, and this is my wife, Sabine. Marinette is upstairs- oh, I probably should have given her a heads-up," he added, wincing. Whoops. He had been so nervous about the agents coming that...well, warning Marinette had kind of slipped his mind. "I'll show you guys up, then give her a minute's warning once we're there."

"Fantastic." Sylvia and her coworker followed him at once, into the back and up the stairs. "Now, we'll be asking Marinette and Adrien as well, but can you think of anyone else who could truthfully vouch for what Adrien's home life is like? We're going to end up having to interview everyone in the household, of course, but we don't want to give Mr. Agreste too much of a heads-up and allow him time to rehearse excuses for everything by approaching someone loyal to him right away."

Tom thought about it. "Well, there would be the teachers at school- they would be able to provide a, ah, less biased view of Adrien and Marinette's relationship than Sabine and I might..."

Sylvia's lips twitched towards a smile. "You mean they wouldn't accidentally refer to Adrien as your future son-in-law."

"...yes." He wasn't good at being put on the spot, that was Tom's only defense. Also, he had once said something similar to Adrien, and it had since become a bit of an inside joke. "And Adrien's other friends- Nino Laffe and Alya Césaire, and then, ah, his friend from fencing- Kagami Tsurugi? I think her mom is friends of a sort with Gabriel, so Kagami has seen Mr. Agreste more often than some of Adrien's other friends. Adrien has private tutors for all sorts of things- piano, Chinese, probably some other stuff that I've forgotten- but I don't know how likely they would be to side with him over Mr. Agreste. And- oh! Adrien's bodyguard. Mr. Agreste's secretary has always felt somewhat off to me, but his bodyguard clearly cares for Adrien."

Sylvia jotted that down. "Fantastic."

"I don't know if he can speak, though," Tom added, remembering all of the times when he had seen Gerald- also known as the Gorilla, which (oddly enough) he didn't seem to mind. "I've never heard him talk. Adrien might be able to tell you more, though."

"Ah, that sounds like a good lead." Sylvia smiled as they reached the landing, and Tom pushed open the door to lead the two of them into their living room. "I take it we should wait here?"

"If you would." Tom gestured to the sofa, then headed up the stairs to Marinette's room. He tapped on the trapdoor, then stuck his head in. "Marinette? I called some people about Mr. Agreste's threats, and they'd like to talk to-" He cut off abruptly as his eyes cleared the floor and spotted Marinette on her chaise lounger, curled up with...Adrien.

Huh. How had Adrien gotten in? Tom had been downstairs in front of the door and in the hallway ever since Mr. Agreste's appearance, with the exception of only a very few short minutes. For Adrien to have somehow managed to slip in during that time...

"Chat Noir saw me trying to slip out and brought me over," Adrien volunteered at once. He cringed. "I- I wasn't planning on making a habit of this, sir, I swear."

Aha. That made sense. "I'll have to thank him the next time I see him, then." Tom climbed fully into the room, crossing over to the two teens and pulling up a chair. "Adrien, after the scene with your father earlier- Marinette has told you about it, right?"

Adrien nodded, exchanging a glance with Marinette. Their fingers were wound together tightly, curled up as though they didn't want to part. "Yeah. That's why I was trying to come over. I- I don't know what's gotten into him! He liked Marinette! She won his design contest, and was great about switching out the feather on the hat so that I wouldn't sneeze on the runway, and has come home with me for lunch before and it was all fine then. And it's not like anything should have changed since she was last over at my house! He's not talked to me about us at all." Adrien snorted, but it sounded sad. "Or at all, really. As usual."

Marinette wriggled closer to him, her legs pressed against his and practically in his lap, and the two of them exchanged a look.

"Yes, well... what he's trying to do- the way that he's trying to manipulate you and Marinette- that's not normal in any way, shape, or form, and it's not okay. I called child protection services."

Adrien's eyes widened. "Oh."

"And they're here right now. They wanted to speak to Marinette, but since you're here as well..." Tom studied Adrien, trying to gauge his response. Considering Adrien's acting training- something that he had told the Dupain-Chengs about over dinner one night- it was hard to tell exactly what the boy was feeling, but he didn't seem nearly as torn about that as Tom might have expected.

Maybe it was because their family had fully embraced him, accepting him as family, too, and so losing his father- well, he wouldn't be losing everything.

"I can do that," Adrien agreed. He paused. "So, ah, one at a time, I'm assuming? Or...?"

Tom glanced towards the open trapdoor. "Well, there are two of them so, ah..."

"May we come up?" Sylvia called. "I heard that Adrien is here?"

Both teens nodded, so Tom called back an affirmation. Moments later, Sylvia and her companion- oh, Tom should have asked for her name, where had his manners gone?- came into the room.

"Hi, Adrien and Marinette," Sylvia said at once, heading over to where Adrien and Marinette were curled up. Tom could see her professional gaze taking in the way they were curled up together and he winced, hoping that she wouldn't decide that Mr. Agreste's sudden, random decision to end his son's relationship might have some merit to it after all because of them getting too serious too fast. "I'm Sylvia Faye, and this is my colleague Alice Durand. We're both agents at France's child protection agency, and we'd like to be able to talk to both of you about your home life, Adrien."

"Together, or..?" Adrien asked, exchanging a look with Marinette.

"Separately, if we could. We don't want one person's answers influencing the other person." She glanced back at Tom. "And we'd like to be able to talk to you and your wife after this, Mr. Dupain. I know you have a business to run, but..."

"This is far more important," Tom assured her at once. "Everything else can wait."

  Sylvia and Alice talked to Adrien and Marinette for quite a while. Alice finished talking to Marinette first, and then came down to talk to Tom. He left the back bakery in the very capable hands of his staff, then sat down in the break room to tell her everything. Every interaction he had had with Mr. Agreste and his staff, what he had heard from Adrien and Marinette, all about Adrien and Marinette's friendship and relationship.

Tom made sure to wrack his memory for everything he had ever heard. Right before they wrapped up, he remembered the story of Marinette's gift to Adrien on his birthday, only a little over a month after meeting him.

"She made this scarf- hours and hours of work, with very fine yarn- for a kid her age, it was expensive, too," Tom told Alice. "And she brought it over to Adrien's house to deliver it. Her name was on the package at one point-" the fact that there may have been some breaking and entering to get Marinette's name on was irrelevant, really- "but Adrien showed up at school with the scarf the next day, under the impression that it was his father who had given the gift to him. Marinette didn't tell him that it was her, because he was so happy about it- apparently Mr. Agreste had just given Adrien a pen for his birthday for several years running prior to that, so a scarf was a huge deal. I still don't think she's told him."

Alice had frozen. "He stole a gift from- good lord." She was shaking her head. "The emotional manipulation that we're seeing here..."

She didn't continue. Tom suspected that she probably wasn't allowed to say much more. Anything that Adrien and Marinette told her was in confidence.

"We're going to talk to a few more people today," Alice told him. "Sylvia is still talking to Adrien, so I'll talk to your wife and then go get one of our other agents to help me do other interviews. If Mr. Agreste or his assistant come by again, let us know right away."

"Of course."

"And if you think of anything more to tell us- well, Sylvia will leave her contact info," Alice told him. "Just shoot us a message."

Tom nodded again, then ducked out to go up front and take over for Sabine so that she could talk to Sylvia. Marinette was up front as well, decorating petits fours for an order they had. She looked a lot better, steadier than she was before but still quiet.

"Do you think that they'll do anything about Mr. Agreste?" Marinette asked Tom after a few minutes, after the few people in the bakery had been served and had left. She had put her piping bag down, and he could see her hands shaking. "I mean, he gives Adrien food, and quality tutors, and a roof over his head, and he hasn't- well, as far as I know, he hasn't hit him."

"Hitting isn't the only form of abuse, sweetheart," Tom told her. "Emotional manipulation, at the level that Mr. Agreste does- well, even if Adrien doesn't get removed from his father's care, they're going to keep a close eye on the situation and check in regularly. That by itself might be enough to keep Mr. Agreste in line."

Marinette nodded, but her brow furrowed. "And- and if it doesn't? If he has connections- he's rich, he's friends with the Bourgeois family, who knows who else he knows-"

"And we have connections, too. I'd like to see how that-" Tom hastily reconsidered his word choice, no matter how angry he was he did still have to control himself in front of his daughter- "arrogant man would react if that footage got 'leaked' to Madam Chamack. He might be famous and connected, but public opinion can ruin those people."

Marinette's eyes flashed to him. "You- you'd do that, Papa?"

"Of course." He hoped that it wouldn't come to that, of course, but he had stood by and trusted that the authorities would do the right thing one too many times when it came to bullies at Marinette's school. "We want to keep you and Adrien safe, no matter what it takes. Maybe going on the news would be a little underhanded, but if it's necessary..."

The smile on Marinette's face was more than welcome as Tom watched her turn back to her petit fours, noticeably steadier. He turned his attention back to the store as a new rush of people came in, focusing on them and doing his best to not seem off at all. He didn't run the front of the store as often as Sabine did, but he could still manage well enough. Marinette finished up with the order of petits fours, boxing them up neatly and putting them to the side before cleaning up, clearly trying to focus on that instead of worrying about what was going on upstairs.

Tom was worried. Even more so after Alice finished up talking to Sabine and headed out to go collect another agent and do more interviews, but there had been no signs of Sylvia or Adrien yet.

Maybe it was just- well, Adrien had been in that household for years before they knew him. There were probably more things that he had experienced but never told them. Of course he was going to have more to tell the agent than they did. It was unfortunate that he had to talk about all of his awful experiences all at once, one after the other, without so much as a break, but hopefully it would all end with Adrien being removed from a toxic situation.

They could only hope.

  They got the news before the sun set and Mr. Agreste came looking for his son: Adrien was, at least temporarily, being removed from his father's household.

"We don't like to have kids stay in their homes when there's an ongoing investigation," Sylvia told Tom when she called with the update. "It can result in the parents lashing out at their kids, and that can turn really ugly, particularly since we have Hawkmoth looming over everyone's heads. Ah, about housing for tonight..."

"We do have a guest room," Tom told her. "Which, son-in-law jokes aside, we will insist that Adrien stay there instead of in Marinette's room. They're far too young for that."

"Ah. Fantastic." Sylvia sounded relieved. "Adrien indicated that he would prefer to stay with you guys for the time being. We'll probably look into a different placement long-term once the investigation has wrapped up- from what we've heard and seen today, I'm confident that we will end up charging Gabriel Agreste with emotional abuse and manipulation- but that has nothing to do with your household, I assure you. It's just that we prefer not to place kids with the families of the person they're dating. It can get messy if anything goes wrong."

Tom could understand that. "Right, right, of course."

"After today's interviews, we're looking at Adrien's current bodyguard as a more permanent placement, but again, things can change."

He knew that the man seemed trustworthy. And it was nice that Adrien would be able to stay in Paris and with someone he knew. If Adrien was taken away from his controlling, manipulative father, only to be sent away from Paris and Marinette and all of his other friends, he would be crushed.

"We'll keep you updated," Sylvia promised. "And someone might drop by tomorrow to check up on Adrien's sleeping situation. It's not that we don't trust you, it's just..."

"You have to make sure that kids aren't going from one bad situation into another," Tom finished. "Or staying in a household that's not equipped to handle them, I understand. It's no problem. Ah, will Adrien have a chance to get back to his house to grab his clothes and school things soon? We're willing to buy supplies for him, of course, but I'm sure he'd like some of his own things."

"We can arrange that," Sylvia promised. "Now, ah, we're going to be calling Mr. Agreste and letting him know soon. I would suggest, just based on what we've seen from him, that you lock down your house and business so that he doesn't try to barge in."

Ah, that was a good point. It wouldn't stop any akumas if Mr. Agreste flew into a rage and caught Hawkmoth's attention, probably, but it should deter Mr. Agreste if he decided to storm over. "Will do."

"And again, thank you for calling us," Sylvia finished. "We can only do our work when people act as our eyes and ears for the children of Paris. Have a good evening, Mr. Dupain."

"And to you as well."

Tom flashed a thumbs-up at Sabine as he hung up the phone, and she perked up. "Good news?"

"He's not going home tonight. I get the impression that they're pretty confident that Mr. Agreste will end up losing custody, but of course they're not going to call that for a bit." Tom was feeling quite triumphant as he headed to the front door, double- and triple-checking that it was locked. Then he triggered the security system, locking down their shutters over the windows and the door. Just in case. "They said to make sure that we're locked down, so that Mr. Agreste can't retaliate. So I'm going to do that before I help you clean up if that's all right?"

Sabine nodded, clearly anxious. "Of course. They're calling him soon, then?"

"Right after they called us." Tom ducked into the back hallway, making sure that that door was locked, too, before heading into the bakery. The delivery door had to be checked, as did the emergency exit, and the few windows, just in case.

Maybe he was just being paranoid, but... well, Mr. Agreste didn't seem like the most stable of people, and it was better to be safe than sorry.

By the time the last lock had been checked and double-checked, Sabine had finished up the cleaning and had headed upstairs. Tom set up the alarm system- he would have to put several notes in their room and on the stairs so that they wouldn't be alarmed by it tomorrow morning- and headed upstairs, where Adrien was actually smiling as he helped Marinette get dinner ready, circling around her like she was his sun and he was her earth like he always did.

Honestly, Tom, had been worried that Adrien would be taking this whole investigation harder than he was. Maybe having Marinette there and the support of their entire family was a bigger help than he had anticipated.

No matter the reason, Tom wasn't about to complain.

  It didn't take long for Gabriel Agreste to get declared unfit for parenting. He flew into a rage about it, of course, but the child protection services weren't about to budge.

Perhaps he hadn't abused Adrien physically, but the emotional manipulation and neglect were enough to throw up all of the red flags in the agents' minds. And as if that weren't enough, apparently Gerald had brought up some other concerns he had had about Mr. Agreste's behavior following the disappearance of his wife, suspicious activity that he had never really told anyone about before.

Apparently Gabriel Agreste had never really been investigated for his wife's disappearance, or at least the investigation that he had undergone was short and very much inadequate. Someone at the police station had been paid off, they suspected, and so no attention had been paid to if his story made sense, if it had been verified, if- well, anything, really.

So Mr. Agreste had been called into the police station along with Nathalie- apparently he had had to be told that so, he could not just call in via his tablet or get interviewed in his office at home, and that suggestion had been received none too kindly by the police officers who had been re-assigned the case. While he was out of the house, Adrien and Marinette were going over to get more of Adrien's clothes. Gerald had been able to smuggle a small bag of Adrien's things out earlier, but Adrien had more things that he wanted to pick up, too, and he wanted to have more changes of clothing.

Tom had offered to come along to help, but the two of them had insisted that they would be fine, and anyway the Gorilla was going to be there to pick up the suitcases and bring them over to his house afterwards, since Adrien was staying there now. So Tom let them be and went about his day, throwing himself into the bakery work and making sure that everything was running smoothly. He made sure to ensure that his bakers knew how to run everything without him, because if he got called away again to support Adrien throughout any other legal stuff that needed to be done, it would be better if the bakery could still stay open.

His staff, of course, were well-trained and experienced, knowing exactly where all of the books were kept with the lists of what needed to be made when. Tom beamed in pride, plenty proud of how well they had learned.

They were like a second family, really. Most of the bakers were people he had taken in as interns as the bakery grew, and he had brought them from floundering culinary school graduates to confident bakers and patisserie-makers.

Tom was bringing empty bread baskets back to the back kitchens to clean them out when the side doors banged open, and Adrien and Marinette came flying in. Adrien looked far closer to tears than he ever had before, barely holding himself together. Marinette was pale, practically green, as she clung to Adrien.

What had happened?

"We- we found some stuff," Marinette managed when Tom rushed over, leaving the baskets on the hallway floor. She pressed a fist to her lips, clearly trying to pull herself together. "Since Mr.- Mr. Agreste was out, and Nathalie, too, we explored a little bit, and we found- we found-"

"Mom," Adrien choked out. "I don't know what- what's wrong with her, b-b-but..."

...okay, they needed the police. Right now.

"We'll find out," Tom promised. He placed a gentle hand on each of their shoulders, guiding them upstairs. Some settling tea and a few cozy blankets was definitely in order. They didn't know when Hawkmoth could strike, so it was important to help as quickly as possible.

...but seriously, the police hadn't looked hard enough to find anything suspicious after Mrs. Agreste's disappearance, but Adrien and Marinette were able to find Mrs. Agreste while just exploring? That was- that really painted a really terrible picture of the police, honestly.

(Was Tom surprised? No, not really- disappointed, definitely, but not at all surprised.)

Adrien was shaking as he headed up the stairs, hard enough that he nearly stumbled several times. Marinette was steadier, clearly having had a huge shock as well but seeing Adrien so shaken was helping pull her back from the same sort of breakdown that Adrien seemed to be having.

If they had actually found Mrs. Agreste- well, heaven knew what kind of state she was in. If she had been dead this whole time, there was very little that would have kept her actually looking intact. If she was- what? Sick? In a coma?- then why hadn't Mr. Agreste gone to hospital experts to help?

This whole thing- it was weird.

"Should I text Gerald and ask him if Adrien can stay the night?" Tom asked, aiming the question largely at Marinette. She seemed the most likely to be able to respond, after all. "I know you're not left alone all the time like you were before, Adrien, but if being with Marinette would help..."

Adrien nodded, a jerky little move of his head. Tom mentally patted himself on the back. That was a victory, no matter how small.

"I'm going to put some water on for tea," he told them as they straggled up the last few stairs and headed for the living room door. He paused to head over to the linen closet and pull out a big, fuzzy blanket. "And then you two can snuggle up on the couch while I call the police."

Adrien nodded again, but he didn't look entirely focused. Marinette hugged him tighter, pressing her face into his neck briefly before moving back slightly.

Tom hustled them in, wrapping them up before putting the kettle on and rustling through their packets of tea to find the kind he was thinking of. It was good for helping with shock, and they had stocked up on it after the first akuma attack- after all, while they might have turned almost into background noise at this point, there were some particularly nasty ones that were especially nightmare-inducing, and it was best to be prepared. He had just found the box he was looking for when the sound of feet pattering quickly across the floor and the bathroom door slamming shut caught Tom's attention. He spun around, spotting Marinette sitting alone on the couch, looking startled. Seconds later, the sounds of retching from the bathroom told Tom exactly why Adrien had made such a hasty exit.

"Marinette, what happened?" Tom asked quietly, stepping towards his daughter. Her eyes had been trained on the bathroom door, but snapped to him quickly enough. "I need to know so that I can call the police. What did you find?"

Marinette worried her lip for a second before saying anything. "We- we were just exploring-" Her words trailed off, and she have herself a good shake. "Adrien had asked the Gorilla about what suspicious activity he saw, just out of curiosity. I don't think he told him everything, probably, but he had told Adrien about what he thought was maybe a hidden elevator in Mr. Agreste's office. So we went looking, and the buttons- they were hidden in this painting of his mom. And we experimented a bit, because you could kind of see the spots that had been pressed a lot, and it worked, and brought us to this underground chamber."

...Tom had so many questions. Why they couldn't just wait for the police to investigate definitely topped the list.

"There were buttons that we didn't push, though," Marinette continued with a frown. "Like they were part of a different combination, one that would make the elevator go somewhere else. And the tunnel that we went down- there was a split in it, a track that led up instead of down. He's got to be hiding something else."

Tom blinked, a little taken aback by both the hyper-focused look on Marinette's face and the fact that apparently, despite the (definitely traumatic) experience that she had just gone through with finding Adrien's mom in whatever condition she was in, Marinette had managed to notice, remember, and think about what the worn buttons and the extra tunnel might mean. If he had been in that position- well, Tom was pretty sure that he would have been all but useless to the police because of the shock, especially when he was Marinette's age.

"In the chamber- it had a metal walkway, and water running underneath, and the walls were rock. It was huge, like a church." Marinette's eyes went distant, and Tom wondered if he should maybe be taking notes so that he would know everything to be able to report it. "And there was this little garden at the end, and a- it looked like a glass coffin sort of thing, and there were machines tucked under it- they were beeping, so I think she's still alive, maybe, but if she's been down there over a year..."

Tom cringed. That was...not promising. Not at all- unless.

Unless there was magic involved. And the only way that there might be magic involved was-

Tom pushed the thought away. He wasn't going to think it, not now. They already had enough things to be concerned about, and if magic was involved...well, the police would come to the same conclusion soon enough, and then it would be Ladybug and Chat Noir's concern. Marinette and Adrien didn't need to get even more tangled up in this.

"There were butterfly cocoons, too," Marinette said quietly, and Tom startled. How had she noticed that when there was the practically-dead body (he was assuming, but based on what he had heard it was probably accurate) of her boyfriend's mom in front of her? "Little white cocoons all over the plants. We didn't look closer, because Adrien was about to be sick, but..." She trailed off as Adrien exited the bathroom, looking even more shaky than before. Tom was up at once, half-carrying Adrien back over to the couch and wrapping him up in the blanket with Marinette.

Shock was a hell of a problem to have to deal with. And if Adrien had been even half as observant as Marinette had and come to the same conclusion that Tom had...well, it was a miracle that he had managed to make it back to the bakery at all.

The teapot whistling was a welcome interruption.

Tom watched them out of the corner of his eye as he quickly prepared two cups of tea. Adrien was practically curled up in Marinette's lap, his head tucked under her chin as she ran her fingers through his hair. She was whispering to him, dipping her head down to press a kiss to Adrien's hair. He could make out the occasional word from where he stood, kinda-sorta-definitely eavesdropping.

Kitty seemed to come up pretty often, oddly enough. Maybe it was a pet name- Adrien and Marinette seemed to like using those fairly often. It was a little odd for a pet name, admittedly, but it might be an inside joke or something.

"Tea for you two- careful, it's hot," Tom told them after a couple minutes of steeping. He carried the two cups over, pulling their coffee table closer to Adrien and Marinette so that they could easily reach the cups. "And I'm going to step out and call the police. If you need anything...well, I'm not going far."

Marinette nodded, glancing down at Adrien in her lap. Tom waited for a moment to see if they needed anything, then headed out, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he did. It took a moment for him to pull up the non-emergency number- after all, nothing was on fire- and dial. Someone picked up right away.

"Hello, may I speak to a sergeant?" Tom asked, doing his best not to rush his words. "This is Tom Dupain, and I have some information regarding Emilie Agreste's disappearance...and possibly also Hawkmoth's identity."

  With Mr. Agreste already at the police station, it was easy enough for them to come up with an excuse to separate him and his Miraculous, and Nathalie from the Peacock Miraculous as well. Apparently they told each of them individually that they needed to go to a back room, and would need to remove any jewelry to go through the metal detector. They had both been irritated by the whole thing, Tom had been told- apparently Mr. Agreste had been deeply offended that anyone would even consider that he might do something to his wife- but had been acting outwardly cooperative, which meant that all jewelry came off and into the storage bins. Even the Miraculous.

Somehow Ladybug had heard about the discovery and showed up long enough to reclaim the Miraculous and thank the police for their clever work in getting the Miraculous off without a fight. She had also heard about the discovery of Mrs. Agreste and her condition, and promised to send an expert to the hospital where she had been transferred as soon as possible to see if there was anything that could be done.

Tom was of the opinion that Ladybug was actually superhuman. Like, not just a human with a Miraculous, like Gabriel Agreste had been, but a superhuman with a Miraculous on top. How else had she managed to hear about everything so fast, before things had even gone public? It was incredible.

And of course, with the evidence piling up against him, there was no way that Mr. Agreste was ever going to get custody of Adrien again. Not, of course, that he would be able to, not when he was going to end up behind bars for quite a while.

Whether or not Mrs. Agreste would wake up- and if she would pass the inspection that the child protection agents would no doubt level at her- still remained to be seen. Tom was hoping that she would wake up, for Adrien's sake, and that she was a better parent than his father. Gerald was a good guardian, from what they could see, but of course it would be even better if Adrien had a loving parent, one who would actually treat him right.

Adrien was clearly still reeling, but he seemed to be coming back slowly. Marinette was with him, of course, and Sabine had turned over the counter to Tom for the rest of the afternoon so she could go up and stay with the two of them. Gerald was going to be coming as soon as he had gotten Mrs. Agreste settled and her paperwork at the hospital completed, and then Adrien would have one more person who cared about him to help get him through his shock.

Tom couldn't help but smile, a hint of triumph dancing along the edges of his lips. He hadn't known, of course, that he would be setting in motion a chain of events that would end up taking down Hawkmoth and Mayura when he called the child protection agents- it was a very unexpected outcome- but he couldn't deny that he was maybe just a bit proud of that.

Soon enough, the news would be breaking to the rest of the city, and everyone in Paris would know who Hawkmoth and Mayura had been. The impact on the Gabriel brand would leave the employees reeling, probably- the one thing that Tom felt bad about, but it wasn't his fault, but Mr. Agreste's. If he hadn't turned to supervillainry...

Tom could understand wanting to do anything for his wife, because the thought of losing Sabine- well, it wasn't a thought that he wanted to entertain. But there were boundaries that had to be respected. Grief wasn't a fun thing to go through, but it was healthy to be able to remember those that had been lost but move on anyway, instead of becoming shut off from the world and manipulating others.

No matter what happened, though, with Mrs. Agreste and the fallout from Hawkmoth's reveal, at least Adrien and Marinette would be safe. There would be no threats from parents, no attempts at emotional manipulation, no unstable supervillains trying to target them. They could be happy together, just like any other teenagers. If any other threats came along...well, Tom would do his best to help get them through it.

After all, they had been through quite enough already.

[440mxs-wife]

Out of Reach

Imagine: There's not enough room in the cupboards to put everything on your level, so you must rely on the taller of the two Winchesters to help you out. Little did you know, he was keeping a secret.

Today was baking day, and you had decided to make some baked goods for now, and some to freeze for later. Cookies, muffins and of course, pie. You knew this was going to take all day, so you decided to start early.

You had reached the point in your recipe where it called for cinnamon, so you walked over to the cabinet containing your spices. You were dismayed to see that the cinnamon had been moved to a higher shelf. Not only that, but it was pushed back from the edge, just out of your reach.

At that moment, Sam walked through the back door after his morning run. He saw you struggling to grab the cinnamon with the kitchen tongs, a bemused smile on his lips. "Do you need some help?" he asked with a chuckle.

You let out an exasperated sigh. "Good morning, Sam. Yes, I would like some help, please. Someone decided to rearrange my spices and without telling me. Also, they were moved way out of my reach! How am I supposed to get any cooking done when I can't reach anything? Not my fault I'm shorter than you guys," you muttered.

Sam sauntered up to the counter, plucked the spice from the shelf and dropped into your waiting hands. He leaned down and said softly, "All you have to do is ask, and I'll be happy to help you." His hazel eyes twinkled with amusement as he winked at you, then took a long pull on his bottle of water.

"Th-thank you, Sam," you stammered. After he left the room, you went back to your mixing bowl. You took a deep breath to steady your nerves from being so close to Sam. He was so gorgeous, you couldn't help but be flustered whenever you were around him. He was the more reserved of the two Winchesters, you thought. However, you had a feeling that there was a good deal of raw, passionate energy only barely contained within his 6'4" frame. 

Shaking your head, you returned your focus to making a batch of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. No raisins for these two, you thought. Only the best for my guys, and that means chocolate chips. You opened the bag and dumped in the chocolate chips, stealing a few for yourself first.

The kitchen seemed a little quiet, so you accessed your Classic Rock playlist from the music app on your phone. In that respect, you and Dean were in agreement, but you found you had more in common with Sam. Reading, movies or taking a walk in the woods behind the bunker was more your style.

You started getting into the music as you worked your way down the playlist, singing and dancing as you went. The oven timer sounded, so you put on the oven mitts and took out a tray of cookies. As you pivoted from the oven to the counter, you were surprised when you noticed that Sam was standing in the doorway. "Whoa, Sam! You nearly made me drop this tray of cookies! How long have you been standing there, anyway?" you asked as you put the baking sheet on the counter.

"Only long enough to realize you are truly in the zone when you're in here," he answered, moving towards you. "Also to know you have a beautiful voice and some killer dance moves," he smirked as he leaned in, his breath hot on your ear.

Dammit, how is he doing this to me? you thought. Your heart hammered in your chest from the rumble of his voice so close to your ear. Recovering your sanity, you replied, "You have two choices. You can either scoot out of my kitchen and let me work, or you can stay. But, I guarantee, if you stay, I'm going to put you to work."

"I don't mind some work, as long as I get to partake of one or more of these delicious goodies when we're done," he bargained. "Deal," you said, his large hand engulfing your smaller one in sealing the agreement.

After all the baking was finished, you and Sam cleaned up the dirty dishes in the sink. You left the cookies, muffins and pies on the counter to cool until they could be put in storage. Then you returned the spices to the lowest shelf, so you would be sure to reach them in the future.

"I think we can enjoy some of the fruits of our labor now," you declared. "Sam, would you get out a couple of plates and put a few cookies on them? I'll pour us some milk," you said.

You joined Sam at the kitchen table with the glasses of milk and he brought over the cookies. He broke into one of the cookies and closed his eyes in complete enjoyment. "These are the best cookies I've ever tasted. What makes these so good?" he asked.

"Can't tell you, it's a secret," you grinned conspiratorially.

"Oh, come on, I helped you make these! We hunt monsters side-by-side, trusting each other with our lives, and you can't trust me with the secret of your cookies?" he pouted, pretending to be hurt. "What if I want to make a batch some time?"

"Then you can ask me and I'll be glad to help," you stood up, took your plate to the sink and rinsed your glass. "Thank you for everything today, Sam," you said, touching his shoulder and gently ruffling his hair as you walked by him.

Sam stared after you as you left, not even bothering to fix his hair at first. He chuckled as he thought back on the time you had spent together, baking. He enjoyed the ease with which you two worked together and the variety of treats that resulted from the collaboration.

He thought back to the joke he told you that caused you to throw your head back in laughter. He saw the amusement in your eyes and how you looked happier than he'd ever seen you. It warmed his heart to know that it was he who had made you laugh like that.

Dean walked into the kitchen for some coffee and saw Sam's hair was still messy. "Dude, what happened to your hair?" he chuckled.

"What? Oh, that," he grinned, smoothing out his hair. Sam explained to Dean that the two of you had just finished having some cookies and milk. He said it was your fault that his hair was out of place.

"Aww, Sammy, that's so cute," Dean teased.

"Shut up, Dean. We had fun in here today. I caught her singing and dancing when she was in here by herself. I made her laugh at my jokes, even though I kept messing them up," he trailed off, then scowled. "Besides, you get pie out of the deal, so what do you care?" Sam retorted as he headed for the library.

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

Tonight, you were making chili for dinner. You browned the hamburger and added it to the tomato soup and chili bean mixture already simmering in the pot. You went to your spice cabinet for the chili powder, but you didn't see it right away. You moved some of the other spices around, thinking it was hiding behind one of the other spices, but it wasn't. You looked up, and there it was, on the top shelf again, pushed back just far enough that you couldn't reach it.

Frustrated, you stomped your foot as you tried to figure out how to get to the chili powder. You pulled a chair over to the counter and climbed up onto the seat. You put one knee on the counter, while one foot was still touching the chair's seat. You grabbed the chili powder and was ready to step back down, when your socks slipped and caused you to lose your balance. You would've hit the hard floor in a most unspectacular dismount, had Sam not barged into the kitchen at that exact moment and caught you.

"I knew you'd fall for me eventually, but not like this," he chuckled. "Couldn't reach something again?" he asked.

"The chili powder! It was up top and I couldn't reach it, so I had to use this chair," you explained.

"I told you, honey, if you need something, all you have to do is ask. I'll be glad to help you. Although, I must say you look kinda cute trying to do it yourself though," he winked.

You rolled your eyes at Sam and finished making the chili. You hoped he wouldn't notice the blush on your cheeks as you walked past him, a small smile on your face. Wait, you thought. Did he just call me 'honey'? I mean, I like it, but since when is he calling me that?!? you wondered.

In return for making dinner, Sam and Dean agreed to take care of the dinner dishes. You went into the library with your favorite book and your blanket, then settled into a comfy chair.

As they're finishing the dishes, Sam asked Dean if the coast is clear, meaning are you anywhere near the kitchen. Dean confirmed that you are still in your chair, though he said it looked as if you're dozing off instead of reading. Sam walked over to the spice cabinet and selected a few of your more frequently-used spices. Then he moved them from the bottom to the top shelf, just out of your reach.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked.

"I'm moving the spices," he replied, matter-of-factly. "I figure, this way she'll have to ask for my help again, and I can keep getting closer to her. I really like her, Dean. I mean, really like her, maybe I'm even in love with her. She's so determined to do everything on her own, not ask for help. And she's fun to be with, she's great at research and she doesn't take any of your crap. Which I personally love," he chuckled. "Her smile is contagious and when she laughs, she does it with her whole heart."

"Sounds like chick-flick stuff, man," Dean teased. "So, when and how are you going to tell her all this?" he asked.

"I dunno. I don't think she has any major cooking projects coming up. Ooh! I can move her coffee cup! She's usually in here for coffee about the time I come back from my run, so I can tell her then," Sam declared.

"Good, because if you don't confess to her, and soon, I'm gonna tell her who's responsible for moving her stuff around," Dean warned.

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

You yawned as you shuffled to the kitchen in your pajama pants and T-shirt. You were so looking forward to that first morning cup of coffee to help jump-start your day. While it was brewing, you started putting away the clean dishes from last night's meal.

Sam came in the back door from his usual morning run. Seeing him brought a smile to your face. He returned your smile and added a "good morning" wish to it. You continued to put dishes away as he cooled down from his run with a bottle of water.

The coffee pot beeped to let you know it was done brewing. You reached into the cabinet for your favorite coffee cup, only to see it perched on the top shelf. You turned around with your back to the cabinet and pinched your nose between your thumb and forefinger. You were trying to calm yourself down and not lash out in frustration. Sam noticed your distress and asked if something was wrong.

"I'm beginning to think that someone in this bunker doesn't like me," you said, close to tears.

"Why on earth would you say that?" Sam asked in shock.

"I already know I'm shorter than you and Dean. But that doesn't mean that one of you has to keep pointing it out by putting stuff where I can't get to it! I can't reach my coffee cup," you sniffled.

Sam walked over to where you were standing, put one hand on either side of you and leaned on the counter. His heart nearly broke looking into your eyes and seeing them shimmer with unshed tears. He finally decided to come clean.

"Honey, whoever's doing this to you isn't trying to be mean. He's been moving stuff around on you so you'll ask him to help you and then he can get closer to you. Because he really likes you. As more than a friend," Sam said, brushing your cheek with his knuckles.

You found it difficult to form a coherent thought as he caressed your cheek. "How-how do you kn-know this, Sam?" you stammered.

He took a deep breath before answering you. "I know this, because it's me. I'm the one who's been moving your stuff up high, so you'll ask me for help. And so that I can gather enough courage to do this," he explained as he pressed his lips to yours.

At first, you didn't know what to think, since he had just confessed to causing you so much frustration. A split second later, you suspended all thinking, leaned in and kissed him back.

You pulled back to break the kiss so you could catch your breath. "Whoa. Sam, that was amazing," you breathed.

"If you think that's amazing, here's round two," he growled, capturing your mouth again with more demanding kisses. His tongue quickly slipped past your lips to go one-on-one with yours. His hands roamed up and down your back, settling on your hips to pull you flush against his lean frame. You slid your hands up the length of his torso, resting on his shoulders.

Sam took you into his arms and rested his chin on top of your head. When he spoke, you could tell without looking that he had a bright smile on his face. "You are the most wonderful woman I've ever met. You are an intelligent, vibrant and sexy woman with a killer smile. Just seeing it is the best part of my day. I am so lucky to have you in my life," he murmured.

"You're not the only lucky one, Sam. You are one of the kindest men I've ever met. You're caring, thoughtful, and I dare say you're a bit of a romantic," you grinned. "I don't think anyone has ever worked this hard to get my attention. It was very sweet, and I love you even more for it," you remarked shyly.

Sam tilted your face to gaze into your hazel eyes. "I really didn't like causing you to be so frustrated, my love. But every day that I have you in my arms will remind me that in the end, it was all worth it. I love you, baby," he declared.

[tiggyloo]

3AM

here’s a cute connverse fic I wrote (also up on AO3 and FF.net which are linked in my description)

~~~~

Connie finally convinced her parents to let Steven sleep over at their house

~~~~

Connie had finally convinced her parents to let Steven stay the night, without there being some kind of horrible weather to back it up. She'd said it took hours to convince them, with a myriad of excuses and a heck of a lot of bargaining. But, she did it, and now Steven was with Connie in her room.

He was only allowed in there with her if they kept the door open. He was also allowed to sleep in her room, but he had to sleep on the floor--which he was going to do anyway? But Connie's parents still felt the need to state that as a rule. They were allowed to close the door when they went to sleep, though, so there was that, but only when they went to sleep.

"I still can't believe your parents are actually letting me stay here tonight," Steven mused as he wandered around Connie's room. This was actually the first time he'd ever been in her room, and Connie found his curiosity quite amusing.

"Yeah, I know. Don't expect it to happen again anytime soon, though," she said from her bed. With how much effort she had to put in just to get this, she honestly didn't even want to do this again. Not for a while. It was exhausting.

"So, anyway, what do you wanna do? I don't usually stay up past ten or ten thirty, so we don't really have that long to do anything. But I'd still like to pass the time with something," she said, kicking her legs.

Steven paused in his exploring and thought for a minute. What even was there to do? She didn't have a TV in her room, and she didn't really have much in terms of games--other than board and card games, which wouldn't be too bad. But they'd already played a bunch of those since he'd gotten here. It had been fun, and her parents had actually joined them for a few games, but he wasn't really sure if he wanted to play more of that right now.

He finally thought of something and took out his phone before going over to Connie. He got on the bed beside her and she watched him pull something up on the screen.

"So, I have this game that I play with the Gems sometimes. It's one of those trivia games, but it's like...it's not really the kind of stuff you'd expect? It's got a lot of random and super obscure and funny stuff, and you have to pick the correct option from a few different ones. We're not very good at it, it's just funny to see how right or wrong we are," Steven explained as he navigated the app.

"Huh. That does sound fun," Connie said with a quiet laugh. "I know a lot of random trivia, comes with all the books I've read. I'm not sure if it's to the level of what you've implied here, though."

"Well, I guess we'll have to find out," Steven said as he hit the "play" button.

They played this game for a while, laughing almost hysterically at some of the trivia questions. Connie actually ended up knowing the answers to a decent amount of them, too, which shocked them both. When they finally remembered to check the time it was ten minutes after eleven.

"Oh! Gosh, we need to get to sleep," Connie gasped, hopping off the bed. "Why didn't my parents say anything? They never let me stay up this late."

"Maybe they didn't want to interrupt us having fun?" Steven suggested. It was a possibility. They definitely couldn't have just forgotten with how loud the two had been.

“Hmm…I guess so? It’s not like they haven’t loosened up over the last few years, so it’s not out of the question. Let's still get to sleep before it gets much later, though."

Steven nodded and they both went and cleaned up for the night.

Once everything was taken care of, Connie closed her door and climbed into bed, while Steven shuffled into his sleeping bag. Connie switched her lights off once Steven was situated and he heard her lie down.

A few minutes went by and he heard Connie start to move again. She was scooting closer and when he opened his eyes he saw her face peeking out over the edge of the bed. He gave her a confused look, then her arm slid over the edge and she made a grabbing motion with her hand. 

Steven let out an amused snort and lifted his arm. Given their positions, holding Connie's hand was a little awkward, but they managed. She scooted a little more so that her arm could hang a bit lower, which made holding onto her somewhat easier at least. She squeezed his hand before adjusting her pillow so that she could comfortably lay her head down.

She closed her eyes to sleep and Steven just gazed up at her for a few minutes, a soft expression on his face. Soon after he started to doze off and then they were both fast asleep.

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

Sometime after, Steven was woken up by a gentle tugging on his sleeve. His eyes blinked open and he squinted up at Connie, who seemed almost wide awake. He rubbed his eyes and turned to look out the window. It was still pitch black outside.

"What time is it?" Steven asked as his head lazily rolled back over to face the girl above him.

"It's like...three in the morning."

He stared at her with half closed eyes.

"…Why did you wake me up at three in the morning?"

"Um..."

Steven could just barely see her face darken with a blush.

"I'm, um...I'm cold and don't have another blanket," she murmured into her pillow. "So, I was wondering if you'd maybe, come up here?"

They looked at each other for a few seconds before Steven slowly sat up with a half-asleep, grumbling moan. He gave a big stretch and scratched the back of his head before unzipping the sleeping bag.

"Hurry uuup," Connie said and he mumbled a "yeah, yeah," before grabbing onto the bed and pulling himself to his feet. He waited for Connie to move over and got under the blankets, then let himself fall onto his side, causing the mattress to squeak, and Connie huffed.

"You're so dramatic."

"Nah, just tired."

She chuckled and came closer, and Steven put his arms around her and pulled her in against his chest.

"You know your parents are going to kill us if they see this," Steven murmured into her hair. She snuggled against him and hummed softly.

"It'll be okay. My parents don't just barge into my room, especially if my door is closed. Don't worry."

She felt his chest rumble in acknowledgement and he kissed the top of her head. She giggled and curled her fingers into his shirt as Steven rubbed her back with his thumb.

A few quiet minutes went by like this before Connie moved again, getting an annoyed groan from Steven. "Connie, go to sleep," he grumbled, gently shoving her face closer against his chest. She held back a laugh and pushed against him to free herself from the fabric of his shirt.

"Can I ask for something first?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Nooo. Go to sleep."

Connie snickered at Steven's whining and nudged herself away from him so that she could move upwards on the bed. She laid her head in front of his and he made a noise, but didn't open his eyes.

His eyebrows knit together a moment later and he scrunched up his nose when she poked it. He still didn't open his eyes, though. Instead, he brought his hand up and blindly put it over Connie's face, then gave a push. She grunted when he did this, but had an amused face when Steven took his hand away.

He had his face hidden in the pillow now and Connie huffed again, turning on to her back and crossing her arms. "Come on, don't make me beg."

Steven mumbled something into the pillow.

"...Huh?"

He turned his head just enough for Connie to see one of his eyes. "I said it's cute when you beg."

Connie gave him a mock offended gasp and she saw him smile.

"Okay, give me a good reason for why I should kiss you."

"Uhh, because you love me?"

"Eeehhh."

She turned and shoved him with her foot, to which he responded with a breathy chuckle.

"You're the worst."

He just shrugged.

"You're really gunna make me beg for this, aren't you?"

"You woke me up at three AM."

She pouted but it was a fair point.

After a moment she crawled over to Steven, got on top of him, and flopped down onto his back. He groaned again as she messed with his hair.

"Come on, please? Just one."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Tired."

"That hasn't stopped you before."

"Mm."

Connie yelped a second later as Steven lifted himself up and flipped over. She squirmed underneath him and managed to move him just enough to get her head out.

"Hey!"

"Shhhh."

She puffed her cheeks and started squirming again.

"You're heavy."

"Yep."

"I hate you."

"Uh-huh."

Connie sighed and gave up on trying to get him off. She kind of deserved this anyway.

Quite some time went by and Connie thought that Steven had actually fallen back to sleep. She pushed against him again but this time tried pushing with her legs as well, and managed to slide him off a few inches more.

"Mmmmnnn."

"Oh, so you are still awake."

"Unfortunately."

He rolled himself off the rest of the way before rearranging himself back under the blanket.

Connie did the same, then sat up and frowned at the boy next to her. "You know, the sooner you give me a kiss, the sooner you can go back to sleep."

He seemed to consider that for a while. Then, with yet another groan, he got up. Connie giggled as he stretched his back like a cat before sitting up.

"You make a good argument."

"So...can I have that kiss then?"

"I guess."

She grinned and crawled over to his waiting arms.

"You're such a nuisance," Steven told her before finally giving her what she wanted.

She smiled into the kiss, which was soft and tired, as she wrapped her arms around Steven's shoulders. She felt him slide an arm down and he started to move, so she broke the kiss to watch him.

Steven carefully lowered himself down onto the bed, guiding Connie along with him. She hovered over him now, gazing down into his sleepy, loving eyes.

He reached up and brushed his fingers along her cheek, then gently pulled her closer. He brought her in for another kiss, and she let herself sink into him as his arms wrapped around her back.

It was well past 3AM now, but Steven didn't seem to care about that anymore. Right now he just cared about the kisses, the feeling of Connie’s skin against his finger tips, and the tickle of her breath on his face whenever they came apart.

Connie had her fingers tangled in his curly hair as they kissed and cooed and made gentle movements against each other for neither knows how long. She reveled Steven's touch, his closeness, and she wasn't about to stop it by looking at the clock.

Steven's hands had started to travel lower and lower now, sliding down her back, until Connie had to cut him off with a quick, "Hey!" which he quietly laughed at.

"I'm just teasing, you know I wouldn't do that."

She rolled her eyes and smiled at him. "I know."

They kissed again, and Steven put a firm hand on her back. He turned, ending the kiss for just a few seconds to carefully place Connie down beneath him.

"I thought you were tired?" Connie said with a smug look on her face. Steven didn't answer, just went in for another kiss. And another, and another.

Connie was full of giggles by the end of all this as Steven pressed little kisses along her neck and jaw line and all over her smiling face. He'd become so much more affectionate toward her over the last several months, which she definitely wasn't going to complain about, because it meant more of this.

Connie felt him trailing kisses back down her neck, along her collarbone, and over to the exposed skin above her chest. She tried to quiet her giggling by covering her mouth when Steven made a shushing sound but that didn't last long because he went back to kissing her face.

She gave him a soft shove and said, "You're going to get us in trouble!"

"You're the one making all the noise," he teased before leaning in to start kissing her again.

Connie, still giggling, held his face back as he tried to get closer, causing him to start laughing as well.

"Shhhh, Steven!"

They both had a hand over the other's mouth, trying to stop themselves from laughing, which was working, but barely. The hands were removed once they'd both finally calmed down—which took about five minutes—and Steven abandoned his position above Connie to lie down beside her.

"Okay, what time is it?" he asked and she sat up a little so that she could see the clock.

"Oh, gosh, it's almost four thirty."

"Ah."

Connie settled back down and turned her head to look at Steven, who was looking right back. For a while this was how they stayed, then Steven lifted himself up again.

"Okay, one more and then we go to sleep," he said and Connie started giggling again.

"Sure. But make it a good one."

"Can do."

Steven bent down and gave her one last kiss. It was long and deep as he weaved his fingers into Connie’s messy hair and she gently pushed herself up against him.

The final separation was slow as Steven picked himself up, left a kiss on Connie's forehead, and returned to her side.

"Was that good enough?" he asked. She snickered and nodded.

"Okay, good, because I'm starting to feel tired again."

Connie smiled and stretched her arms above her head, then held them out for Steven. He smiled and moved closer, nuzzling into her small chest as she put her arms around him. He reached down and grabbed the blanket, pulled it up, then slipped his hand under Connie's shirt to rest his hand on her back, which she stifled a laugh over.

"Good night, Steven. I love you."

"I love you too, Connie. Now don’t wake me up again."

She chuckled and hugged him a little closer. "I won’t."

[lady-divine-writes]

ACITW AU one-shot “Hidden Talents” (Rated PG13)

Summary: After the stress and pressure of wedding planning drives them out of the city, Kurt and Sebastian hide out in Sebastian's old room. Kurt starts cleaning Sebastian's closet while Sebastian flips through old yearbooks, being of no help whatsoever. While weeding through Sebastian's collection of clothes and shoes, Kurt stumbles upon something he'd never thought he'd find in a million years - Sebastian's long lost violin. (4613 words)

Notes: So, we all remember that in ACITW Sebastian plays the violin, that Julian claimed he was really good at it, and could have probably done something with it? Then it just never gets mentioned, not even once by Sebastian's parents, which leads me to believe there's a reason. This one-shot explores that reason, and whether or not Sebastian is really as proficient as his brother claims.

Part of ACITW AU

Read on AO3

“Donate or keep?” Kurt asks, holding up a fitted Marc Jacobs polo, fashionable despite its age. Then again, polo shirts are the standard, and designer never goes out of style. Like a fine wine, it matures, even if the shirt’s owner - sitting cross-legged on his bed, chuckling over photos in an old yearbook - has managed to remain perpetually sixteen.

His sense of humor pinging at a solid age twelve.

“Jeff, you bastard!” Sebastian snorts, flipping off a photo that Kurt can’t see from where he’s standing. Sebastian finds a block of sloppy text at the bottom right corner and runs a fingertip over it. He reads the slanted script, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, gatekeeper of another undignified snort. “Fuck, I miss you, man! See you at the wedding.”

Kurt clears his throat, aggravated by the amount he keeps losing Sebastian’s attention, but he can’t help smiling either. They don’t reminisce about high school often - too many mines left undetonated in those fields. But it’s nice to see Sebastian like this, especially considering the current stress they’re both under - a stress that’s driven them from their penthouse in the city back home to Westerville for the next few weeks.

Unfortunately, retreating to this sanctuary of family and nostalgia has caused that stress to amplify tenfold.

“Sebastian,” Kurt sings when even his most dramatic throat clearing doesn’t do the trick. “Oh, Sebastian. Eyes up here, please.”

Sebastian’s head snaps Kurt’s way, his brow pinched as if he only now remembered that Kurt is in the room with him, and that they have a job to do. “What?”

“Donate,” Kurt repeats in a syrupy tone (more like pine tar as opposed to maple - thicker, darker, more bitter), shaking the navy blue shirt on its hanger for emphasis, “or keep?”

“Keep,” Sebastian decides in an instant, then returns to his yearbook, snickering at another picture on the same page.

“Good,” Kurt murmurs, setting the polo aside. I intend on borrowing that one, he thinks, finding the silver lining since he’s the only one of the two of them taking this task seriously. He rifles through the closet and pulls out another shirt, one less style-savvy than the polo. That’s okay. At this point, it can be deemed retro. Regardless, Kurt has no intention of borrowing it. “How about this one? Donate or keep?”

Sebastian’s eyes flutter up from the page, barely focusing on the shirt before returning to the book in his lap. “Keep.”

Kurt rolls his eyes as he lays this shirt over the polo. He’d really hoped this one would end up in the donate box. If they hold on to it, there’s a chance Sebastian might actually decide to wear it, which puts the burden on Kurt to come up with something for himself that matches (provided they don’t want to run the risk of blinding anyone).

Kurt didn’t fall in love with Sebastian for his taste in clothes, which, to be fair, is decent - long lines; primary colors; simple, clean-cut elegance that pairs well with Kurt’s bolder, more adventurous choices. Sebastian can be quite the fashion plate himself when he has a mind to, one rogue t-shirt notwithstanding.

He lets Kurt style him more times than not so Kurt can’t complain.

Kurt goes back to the closet and selects a pair of shorts he knows don’t fit Sebastian anymore. They’re from Sebastian’s lacrosse days, when his thighs were bulkier, his glutes rounder. Not that Sebastian doesn’t have a gorgeous body now. His fitness regimen is impressive, even by Kurt’s standards. But spending hours on end running up and down a grass field does wonders for the buns and thighs.  

Kurt doesn’t want to banish everything from Sebastian’s Dalton days. Sebastian’s lacrosse uniforms were the first things Kurt slipped into the keep box without asking his say so. But these tan shorts are atrocious! He’s glad that after an hour of this, they’ll finally have a submission to the donate box, which has collected only dust so far along with one lonely copy of Mein Kampf - a relic from senior year AP European History.

“Donate or keep?” Kurt asks, dangling the garment presumptively over the donation box.

Sebastian glances at it, tilting his head and giving the matter a soupcon of thought. “Donate.”

Kurt removes the shorts from their clips with a sigh of relief. Finally! he thinks. Now we’re getting somewhere! But before he has the chance to drop them in, Sebastian recants (without looking up). “No, keep. Keep.”

“What!” Kurt stares at Sebastian, mouth agape. “Why? These don’t even fit you!”

“Are they too big or too small?”

“Too big! Plus, they’re cargo shorts, Sebastian! Cargo shorts!”

“They’ll be good for layering.”

Kurt’s eyes go buggy and wide. Sebastian hasn’t peeked, but he grins knowing what Kurt must look like right now, that vein in his head that throbs when he gets upset ready to burst. “When in the world would you need to layer shorts!?”

“I dunno,” Sebastian mumbles, eyes glued to a new page.  

Kurt growls, slamming the offensive item into the overflowing keep box, which might as well be labeled the Why are we wasting our time here? box. “Are you planning on getting rid of anything?”

“Uh …” Sebastian looks up and around. “Yes. That burrito wrapper over there.” He points to the corner of his desk where the trash from their lunch had been unceremoniously abandoned in favor of this. “That definitely needs to go.”

“Ha ha,” Kurt says, reluctantly cleaning up the mess. He objects to playing maid in his fiance’s old bedroom, but since he’s not currently doing anything of value, he grabs the stiff paper wrapper and crumples it in his hands - no, strangles it, using it as a stand-in for Sebastian’s neck. Sebastian turns to the next page, but looks up when he hears the wrapper succumb to Kurt’s crushing fingers.

“Oh, wait! I don’t think I finished …” Sebastian gestures repeatedly at the wadded wrapper, unable to think of a suitable end to his sentence, his brain sandwiched between curbing Kurt’s annoyance and processing the sentiments on the page without them bringing a tear to his eye. People say that if high school was one of the best times in your life, you were probably a privileged asshole. Well, he was. And it was … mostly. “I may want to hold on to that a little while longer.”

“Why!?”

“Dunno.”

“What the---!?” Kurt slams the balled up wrapper down with an irritated yawp. “Cleaning out your closet was your idea you know!”

“Oh contraire,” Sebastian retorts with maddening superiority. “All I said was that I may want to siphon out a few things while I’m here. You’re the one who came up with the brilliant idea of paring down my things and donating them to charity.”

“And why not? What good does any of this stuff do just sitting here in this closet? It’s not like you’re planning on moving any of it to our place and wearing it!”

“True, but if I get rid of it, what would my mother have in her later years to rummage through sentimentally, hold to her cheek and sigh when she misses me?”

Kurt shakes his head slowly, unamused on Charlotte’s behalf. “That’s just … horrible. Like the plot of a bad Hallmark Christmas movie.”

“There are good Hallmark Christmas movies? I sure as hell never seen one.”

“Hmph. And you say I watch too many cheesy chick flicks.”

“You do, but that’s entirely beside the point.”

“You’ve got tons of clothes here you don’t use,” Kurt presses with renewed vigor. “It wouldn’t hurt to get rid of some of it, make someone else’s day brighter by giving them the opportunity to purchase name brands for a bargain. I know that always cheers me up.”

“Weren’t you the one telling me that as much as you love Marie Kondo, closet purging is overwhelming the charity industry, and that most of the stuff we donate ends up on barges traveling the world, bouncing from port to port until they inevitably sink into the sea and devastate the aquatic ecosystem?”

“Yes, but at the time you were trying to get me to trim down my Jimmy Choo collection.”

“Because no one in their right mind needs eighty-six pairs of the same patent leather loafer, Kurt!”

Kurt tuts sharply. “It’s like you don’t even know me.”

“I do know you! That’s how I knew that if I came out against your plan, you’d get loud and yell-y! That’s what I was trying to avoid! I only went along with it because …“ Sebastian’s sentence cuts off when he clamps his jaw shut with a clack that shoots straight up Kurt’s spine. If Sebastian’s tongue had been anywhere near his teeth, part of it would have been chomped clean off.

“Because what?” Kurt asks, sore at being accused of acting ‘yell-y’ - a stone’s throw too close to ‘groomzilla’, which they’ve both accused one another of too many times in the last three months to count.

Sebastian sighs, rearranges his legs on the bed so that they’re spread and not twisted like a pretzel. “Asking you up here was an excuse to get you alone for five frickin’ minutes. We’ve been swamped since the second we got here! We left the city to escape your friends and my friends and the wedding planner’s incessant phone calls. But my mom and Olivia took over where everyone else left off.”

“They’re just excited for us,” Kurt says soothingly, not admitting yet that he knows exactly how Sebastian feels.

“I realize that. And I’m glad they’re excited but …” Sebastian thumbs the edges of the pages he has yet to read, watches them fall beneath his hand one by one “… who knew that deciding to get married would mean never getting a moment’s peace?”

“I guess they figure we’ll get enough of that after we’re married.”

“Then they don’t know us very well, do they?” Sebastian scoffs, venom lacing his words, so palpable it gives Kurt a rash.

Ever since Kurt moved up the ranks from Flying Monkey in the cast of Wicked to the more coveted role of Fiyero, he’s been in higher demand, and thus, less available. Even to Sebastian.

Kurt has dreamed of planning his own wedding for years. He’d started an idea book along the way, cutting out photographs from bridal magazines and gluing them into the pages, creating palettes and themes depending on current trends, potential venues, and time of year. But with both Kurt’s and Sebastian’s schedules so hectic, they had to weigh the importance of Kurt planning their wedding against the probability of them marrying before the turn of the century.

Getting married won, but only by a slim margin.

They hired the best wedding planner in the city, recommended by everyone in their tax bracket, whose artistic vision matched Kurt’s nearly beat by beat (according to the pictures on her website of ceremonies she’d helped bring to fruition). To Sebastian’s naive mind, that meant they would leave everything in her capable hands while they went on with their lives, drop in for the occasional consultation to check that the roses she chose suit Kurt’s vision or that the place settings have the right number of candles in them.

But Kurt literally hated everything their planner came up with.

So they’ve had to be present for every second of their wedding’s creation to ensure they’ll get the chance to celebrate the way they want.

They’re paying someone else thousands of dollars for Kurt to plan their wedding anyway.

The irony is staggering.

To that end, they’re having two weddings - one for their New York friends and associates, and a second intimate ceremony for their Ohio family.

Sebastian knew from go that Kurt’s pack of female friends from high school would descend upon them and monopolize Kurt’s time with the obligatory brunches and showers, which was understandable and therefore forgivable. What Sebastian didn’t factor in was the amount in which the theater company would use Kurt’s engagement as a PR instrument, slipping it into every interview, at every opportunity how one of their leading male cast members is months away from wedding his wealthy boyfriend, playing the whole thing up as some sort of fairy tale (with the term ‘fairy’ vaguely but constantly applied).

Broadway’s full of gays, remember! And this one’s gettin’ hitched!

Sebastian thought the whole thing vulgar but he didn’t sweat it … not until the side-effects of that exploitation began to bleed in to their every day lives.

Namely the celebrity.

Sebastian is accustomed to having eyes on him. He’s a handsome man and he knows it. He’s used his charm and his checkbook to open doors that weren’t already propped for his arrival his entire life. What he wasn’t used to was the sheer amount of eyes that would follow him everywhere. Letters addressed to Kurt showed up at his office. Paparazzi camped out on their doorstep. Admirers stopped him on the street to ask him every manner of question.

And Kurt’s fans knew no shame.

An unsolicited tide of attention chased them back home, along with an utter lack of privacy because everybody knows.

Everybody.

Even out here in backwater Ohio.

Checkers at the supermarket, cashiers at Target, the guy filling up the tanks at the gas station down the block, pretty much every single person they’ve come in contact with has congratulated them on their wedding.

How people found out Kurt and Sebastian had gone to Ohio, Sebastian has no idea. They left in the middle of the night and drove so they wouldn’t have to fuss with tickets. No one needed to be informed because time off for both of them had been arranged ahead of time. But someone found out they’d left early, and that person told because they’ve received everything from gift baskets to magnums of champagne at both the Smythe estate and Kurt’s father’s home.

The (now mildly - because that’s considered progress) homophobic country club that refused to let Kurt and Sebastian take dance lessons as a couple had the nerve to call and congratulate Greg and Charlotte on their son’s upcoming nuptials, offering them use of their main ballroom for the wedding, the reception, any accompanying shindigs they had planned - the same ballroom that hosted both Presidents Reagan and Carter during their administrations (they mentioned more than twice).

Olivia happened to be at the house the day they called, so Charlotte gave her the honor of the telling them where they could shove their offer.

It made Olivia’s day.

“If you’d told me from the beginning that you wanted to get me alone,” Kurt says, arching a suggestive eyebrow, “we’d be on your bed making out instead of doing mindless busywork on opposite ends of the room.”

“Ooo. Sounds like a plan,” Sebastian says, throwing Kurt a wink … then goes back to his yearbook, finger raised in a pause gesture. “Just … give me … one second.”

Kurt crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. “Wow. That’s just … that’s just … wow. Thanks a lump.” Ego bruised, he turns back to the closet. He pushes the clothes aside, giving up on that front for a while, and tackles the floor. He smirks when he sees Sebastian’s shoes, stored in their boxes, lined up in rows and stacked three deep. If he knows his fiance, the majority of them are boat shoes, each in the exact same style but different colors.

Make fun of me for my eighty-six pairs of loafers, will you?

He reaches for the topmost box but gets distracted when his hand brushes something hard and canvas leaning against the wall. Kurt steps aside to let more light in since the object blends in with the shadows. Kurt gets a good look at it, realizes what it is, and his heart stutters in his chest.

“Oh my …” He grabs hold of the handle and tugs it out gently. “So here it is. The fabled violin.”

That succeeds in getting Sebastian’s attention. His eyes light up when he sees Kurt approach carrying the case in his arms. Kurt hands the violin case over and Sebastian takes it, bringing it to him like a sacred artifact from his own past - one he thought he’d never lay eyes on again.

“It’s been forever,” Sebastian gasps. “I forgot I put it in this closet. I thought my mother had it.”

“Why did you give it up?” Kurt asks, watching Sebastian open the case to reveal the sublime instrument, wood polished and gleaming, appearing deceptively brand new with the exception of a few tells that speak to how much Sebastian played it - light-colored wear on the fretboard, a cloudiness to the finish on the chin rest, scratches here and there on the veneer.

“It’s just one of those things that faded from my life, stopped bringing me joy … about the same time everything else did.”

“Do you think you’d ever play it again?”

“Possibly.” Sebastian removes the violin from its case and holds it lengthwise in front of his eyes, examining it from end to end. “I mean, it’s been a dog’s age. I’m not sure I’d be any good at it.”

“Any chance it’s like riding a bike and you never forget?”

“Only one way to find out.” Sebastian plucks the strings in succession and smiles. It doesn’t sound too far off pitch to Kurt. Sebastian adjusts the strings, checking them against one another to make sure they’re in tune. Then he removes the bow from its resting place and tightens it. “Don’t rag on me too hard if I completely suck at this.”

“I won’t,” Kurt says. “I promise. I’ll just, you know, bring it up subtly at special occasions and bank holidays, maybe find a way to fit it into my toast at the wedding.”

“I’m holding you to that.” Sebastian rosins up his bow. He fits the violin underneath his chin. From the second it touches his skin, his attitude changes. He simultaneously tenses and relaxes, reminiscent of the way he behaved during their first sushi date, when he dropped eel and flecked soy sauce all over Kurt’s clothes. Kurt refrains from laughing at the memory. He doesn’t want Sebastian to think he’s laughing at him. But he can’t help smiling. Yes, their past is riddled with landmines, but the memories hidden in the flat, stable ground between never cease to make him glad.

Glad that he and Sebastian got together in the end.

Sebastian runs the bow experimentally over the strings, the sound it produces warm and rich, like hot Godiva cocoa on a cold, rainy day. Sebastian leans into that tone as he runs through scales, drawing end notes out a full four beats before launching into the next set. The quickness in which he picks it up takes Kurt’s breath away.

If Kurt was thinking of making fun of Sebastian for anything, he surely isn’t now.

“Why don’t we start with a classic, hmm?” Sebastian suggests, cheeks starting to pink from the look of open and unabashed awe on Kurt’s face.

“Where do you want to start? Bach? Beethoven?”

“I think …” Sebastian sits up taller, corrects his posture “… Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

“Are you sure?” Kurt teases, but with less snark than usual. “I wouldn’t want you to set yourself up to fail or anything.”

“It’s good to go back to the basics. Limber up the old chops, so to speak.”

“Are they still chops if you’re talking about your fingers?”

“Don’t know,” Sebastian says with a shrug. “I didn’t invent it.”

Kurt settles in comfortably on the bed as he waits for Sebastian to pull something mid-range from his bag of tricks, like Minuet in G, a piece that millions of children have hammered out on innocent instruments since learning the recorder in middle school became mandatory. But true to his word, Sebastian starts with Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, picking the notes on the strings with his forefinger. But one verse in, he puts the bow to the strings, and starts a whole other story.

Kurt had expected Sebastian to be rusty, suffer a few false starts before he got into the swing of things. Scales are one thing. They follow a predictable pattern. It’s fairly simple to keep them smooth. But Sebastian sounds like he put his violin down for the last time yesterday. Kurt almost stops him to accuse him of having a secret violin hidden somewhere that he’s been practicing on this entire time, probably at his office where Kurt wouldn’t see. He considers pulling out his phone and texting Sebastian’s secretary, interrogating her to see if she’ll spill about any mid-afternoon practice sessions when the partners were out at lunch.

Though, in this particular instance, Kurt doesn’t know if Sebastian is more likely to hide his tremendous talent or rub it in his face.

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star ends and Sebastian melds it into a classical melody, one Kurt can’t name off-hand though he knows he’s heard it before. It’s slow, romantic - the kind of piece a director would use to cap off the credits on a bittersweet rom-com, one where the tragic heroine, diagnosed with a withering variety of late-stage cancer, dies after the love of her life proposes.

It’s sad.

So incredibly sad.

That sadness lingers in the air after the notes dissolve, becomes stronger, more powerful with every sway of Sebastian’s body. He’d closed his eyelids when this piece started and he’s fallen into the sadness, let it envelope him.

It’s become a part of him. Maybe it’s always been a part of him and he’s just now letting it out for Kurt to see.

Or he never intended on Kurt seeing it, and this is simply an accident.

Whatever it is, Sebastian finally notices it because he switches, keeps the same key but changes the song, seamlessly transforming into something more contemporary, slightly more upbeat.

Kurt’s heart stops when he realizes the song Sebastian is playing is from Wicked. Not only that, it’s a song Kurt sings as Fiyero.

As Long as You’re Mine.

Sebastian has never, to Kurt’s knowledge, played that song on the violin or any instrument, has never sung that song himself, hasn’t seen the sheet music. He’s heard Kurt sing it over and over, practicing it in their bathroom until the tile could sing it back to him. But now he’s playing it on an instrument he hasn’t picked up in decades.

Kurt swallows hard, heart swollen with pride but his chest hollow with jealousy.

That’s talent. True talent.

Even Blaine might not be that talented.

Kurt would kill for that kind of talent.

Years they’ve been together, they’re about to get married, and Kurt thought he knew everything there is to know about this man. But Sebastian is still such an enigma. What is Kurt going to learn in another ten years? After twenty?

On the one hand, it’s daunting the way these secrets pop up out of nowhere.

But more than that, Kurt is excited to find out.

Sebastian plays through the first verse again when the song ends, a twinkle in his eyes trying to coax Kurt into singing it while he plays. Sebastian plays with such emotion that, even though Kurt would love to duet with him, he can’t bring himself to - too transfixed to make his mouth move, or even hum the tune. But he hears the words in his head, hears their meaning ring in his ears. He’s never paid too much attention to the words outside of what they mean in the musical. Now he’s hearing them, understanding them, for a different reason all together:

Kiss me too fiercely Hold me too tight I need help believing You're with me tonight My wildest dreamings Could not foresee Lying beside you With you wanting me

Sebastian ends not on a note of completion, but open-ended, with the promise of more.

Longing for more.

“Julian was right,” Kurt says, clearing his heart from his throat.

“He’ll be ecstatic to hear that,” Sebastian teases, casually shelving the emotions his violin brought to the surface.

“You do play beautifully. You should have gone to NYADA.”

“That’s … that’s very kind of you, babe,” Sebastian says, flashing a rare shy smile, knowing how great a compliment that is coming from Kurt, how much NYADA has meant to him. “But being good at the violin and being a musician are two completely different things. And I’m not a musician. Or a performer. Not like you. I enjoy it … I definitely enjoy that you enjoy it … but it’s not in my blood. I mean, obviously, seeing as I could put this violin down for so long and not even think about it, hmm?”

Kurt wonders about that after Sebastian says it. It’s easy to believe considering Kurt found out about Sebastian’s playing not from Sebastian but from Julian (the night he devised a plan to break the two of them out of dance lessons no less). Other than that, he can’t remember for the life of him either brother bringing it up again. Even Charlotte, who praises in excess everything her children have accomplished, has never brought it up, not even to say that she misses it. The way Sebastian holds the violin to his chest reminds Kurt of the way Blaine held his favorite guitar - as if it, and not Kurt, were his soulmate. As with so many things in Sebastian’s past, Kurt suspects there’s a bigger story surrounding this violin and why he stopped playing it than he’s putting on.

It had faded from his life, he’d said. Stop bringing him joy about the same time everything else did.

The same time things went south with Julian and Sebastian moved away, which would explain why it seems to have been erased from family history.

“So what do you think? Donate?” Sebastian asks with a surreptitious sniffle. He doesn’t let go of the violin, doesn’t return it to its case. On the contrary, he seems to hug it tighter. “Maybe to one of those inner city performing arts programs you love to volunteer for so much?”

“No! Keep! A definite keep!” Kurt gushes. “Maybe you can put it down and never play it again, but now that I’ve heard you, I don’t think I can exist without your playing in my life!”

“But I thought you said I was keeping too much stuff.”

“Meh,” Kurt dismisses with a wave, done with the whole concept of cleaning Sebastian’s closet anyhow. “What’s too much stuff when you can fit half of Central Park in your penthouse? Plus, I have to think of your mother, right? Wasting away in this run-down, rickety shack with nothing at all to remind her of her youngest son? Especially not the thousands of photos and videos she’s taken over the years.”

Sebastian looks at Kurt through long eyelashes, a wicked streak creeping into his smile, turning it into a full-fledged smirk. “I guess we could always switch out some of my old lacrosse uniforms for it.”

“What?” Kurt sits up straight, the color draining from his face. He knew Sebastian would find out about that eventually (on their honeymoon, if not sooner), but he didn’t think he’d caught him when he did it. “No! No, no, no reason to do that. Who says I even … uh … weren’t we going to make out?”

[flamboyant-king]

Hello, have the scripts for comics I wanted to make when I first started using Lewn, got L!Azura, Taku got brave bow+, and Joji ‘retired.’ But, you know, my hands can only draw so much.

So this is context for comics and relations at the moment, in case yall are lost since I didn’t DRAW THESE.

--Jeorge meets Lewyn--

(Game context: During a grand conquest, my units were dying left and right because of poor placement. Lewyn was trapped behind a wall so he would only defeat the units that spawned right in front of it. Jeorge got closest to the fortress, but he couldn’t kill the Corrin standing there in one hit. So I used his turn to break down the wall and Lewyn hath been released.)

Jeorge: [running towards the fort] Where the Hel is everyone.

[aims at Corrin]

Jeorge: Damn. [Stops in front of a wall] Her defense is too high.

[melody playing from behind the wall]

Jeorge: ...Lewyn?

Lewyn: How are you, Jeorge?

Jeorge: Have you been hiding there this whole time?

Lewyn: I can’t believe you think that lowly of me.

Lewyn: The area you’re standing in is empty because of me.

Jeorge: [patting the wall] Well, I need more than one area cleared by you.

[one brick pushed out and the wall crumbles]

Lewyn: Now, why did you go and do that...

Jeorge: [pointing behind to Corrin] Get rid of her, please. 

Lewyn: Only because you asked so nicely~

[meanwhile]

--New Bow--

(Game context: I gave Taku brave bow because... Idk seemed like a good idea. he’s like not fast at all but I was giving him a lot of bows)

Gordin: KOUHAI! TAKUMI KOUHAI!

Takumi: I told you not to call me that.

Gordin: Then what do I call you?

Takumi: MY NAME.

Gordin: Okay! I have gift for you, from senpai to Takumi!

Takumi: Brave bow?

Gordin: You said that you’re fighting for two. That means twice as many arrows!

Takumi: Oh...thanks. I’ve never really used this before.

Gordin: [GASP] THAT MEANS I HAVE TO TEACH YOU!

Takumi: No, you do--

Gordin: I AM YOUR SENSEI, YOU ARE MY STUDENT! 

Takumi: He’s not listening...

--New Training--

Gordin: [pacing about] This is all so sudden. From senpai to sensei in a blink of an eye. 

[turns around]

Gordin: Since you know all the things Mr. Jeorge has taught me, that means I have to teach you my own methods!

Takumi: Yippee?

Gordin: [rubbing chin] The leaf thing is outdated. That means I must make a new curriculum.

Gordin: Shoot through here. [okay hand]

Takumi: What?

Gordin: It’s just like a target except with the risk of injury.

Takumi: I’m not doing that.

Gordin: Do you have confidence in your aim!

Takumi: I do but the risks are to--

Gordin: DO IT!

[shoots arrow right into gordin’s palm]

Gordin: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Takumi: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[Gordin and Takumi screaming in the background]

Niles: [behind a tree] Ah, so Jeorge was actually a babysitter...

--The Real Doubler--

Lucius: What are you two doing? You’re lucky Leon came and got me!

Leon: If I didn’t get you, Niles would have just let them stand there screaming for hours.

Niles: And I would be laughing for all those hours.

Gordin: [sobbing] I’m sorry Takumi, I’m a terrible teacher. How can I teach without my good hand!?

Takumi: Eh...you were just excited to help me. I really appreciate you giving me your bow. Maybe we can train together when you’re all better.

Takumi: As equals, not student and...sensei.

Gordin: That sounds nice. But if I can’t teach you won’t be able to shoot double the arrows.

Kravice: [offscreen] That’s where you’re wrong!

Kravice: [on Legendary Azura’s ride] Sup guys, guess who finally learned the importance of dancers!

[a day, maybe, later]

--Aether Keep Rearrangement--

(Game context: Aether Keep editing is fun, just nothing but traps.)

Lewyn: Hello, Jeorge, enjoying your “break?”

Jeorge: Barely. I still hold the job as representative, so I still have to deliver messages to other realms, assist in gauntlets, and defend this place from invaders.

Lewyn: At least it’s cozy up here. [counting on his fingers] Got an inn, a park, places to shop, hot springs, and a library. What’s really missing is somewhere to eat.

Jeorge: It’s far from relaxing. The set up of this place changes constantly. Not to mention the traps.

Lewyn: What tra-- [Lewyn promptly falling through a trap door]

Jeorge: Lewyn!

--

Lewyn: [freaking out] WHY IS THAT THERE!? WHY IS THAT JUST THERE!?

Jeorge: Blame Kravice. He says it’s ‘fun.’

Kravice: [offscreen] I actually said ‘funny.’ 

Kravice: [on Azura’s ride] I get a lot of great snap shots with all my set ups.

Kravice: [turning around the tacticians tablet revealing a photo of Lewyn on top of Jeorge] Who do you think would benefit more from this? Anna or Nina?

Lewyn & Jeorge: >:^\

[A week or so later]

--Quadrupler--

[four arrows in the target]

Gordin: And in one swift motion you’ve shot 4 arrows into your foe’s back!

Takumi: I honestly thought my hands would be too small to hold all the arrows.

Gordin: If I can do it, so can you! [jazz hands]

Kravice: [offscreen] Taku!

Kravice: [Azura safely lands her horsey] I need you to come with me!

Takumi: You...need me for something?

Kravice: I’m gonna nab me another Michalis, so I need some fliers

Takumi: But we learned last time that arrows have no effect on him.

Kravice: [sparkle] That’s why we have Azura.

--XD--

[in the skies]

Ryoma: Takumi, you’ll have to take care of Michalis.

Takumi: But why? You’re more suited for this.

Ryoma: Look around you, Takumi, this is the only viable option.

[cuts to Michalis covered in arrows with hp bar at exactly half] 

Takumi: Even with Azura’s boost and all these arrows, I barely got him to half HP

Azura: <:^) Cheer up, okay. [gives taku another turn]

Takumi: [zoom in on stats] :0

Takumi: [turns to azura] XD

Azura: ....Okay, maybe tone it down a bit. [that finger pinch thing]

(game context: I have a video of a damaged taku getting danced by azura and it’s just exactly this)

--New Rep--

[Krav barging through the front doors, triumphant]

Kravice: Oh baby! I can’t believe my strategy actually worked! Good job out there, Taku!

Takumi: I...I gotta go! [runs away, redfaced]

Kravice: Compliments really do drive him crazy...

Alfonse: Kravice, I have urgent news.

Kravice: Okay? What is it.

Alfonse: Jeorge is stepping down as our representative.

Kravice: WHAT! BUT WHY!

Alfonse: He said...he’s tired of you.

Kravice: ...ouch...

Alfonse: We need a new representative. Someone who can bring up morale and encompasses the spirit of our castle!

--Camus’s Tit--

Kravice: [pacing the tactic’s room] I started learning to strategize for him and now he’s bailing like that!

Alfonse: I don’t think your tactics are the only reason. 

Kravice: I’ve done nothing but give him the worlds!

Alfonse: Well you’ve also killed him over two hundred times and fatally injured him twice that much

Kravice: But that’s less frequent now that I’m strategizing!

Alfonse: To be honest, Jeorge tolerated you much longer than I could’ve under your orders.

Kravice: What are you trying to say, Al.

Alfonse: You are...you...should really consider finding a new representative.

Kravice: Fucking! Camus’s Tit!

(context: That was my ingame name for a bit pshs)

--

[nowaki’s castle]

Nowaki: Hello--

Camus: [one(1) boob exposed] I have come with greetings from afar.

Nowaki: [slowly closes door]

--

(watching from afar)

Alfonse: I don’t think--

Kravice: Why do you take things so literally! 

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

I didn’t write a script for these next parts but here’s what was gonna happen:

Sentimental stuff, Jeorge passes the torch of representative to Taku, Krav approves, big ol ModFam moment and Party.

Month or so later, Jeorge starts getting bored just relaxing in the Aether keep and wants to travel still. He finds out he’s going to be in a gauntlet, and since Taku is representative at the moment, he’s the one to assist Jeorge in the gauntlet. You all know what happened with the gauntlet. <3

Jeorge comes back out of retirement but only for guantlets and just scouting worlds. He has an attachment to gauntlets pssh. Taku vows to protect him from getting hurt. They agree to be equals and protect each other when Jeorge decides to join battle.

For now, Jeorge chills in the Aether Keep with the Reserves (Lucius, BK, Lewn, L!Azura, etc) aka: units I use when I have to because they’re actually kind of built. Although, I’m using Lewn more and more because of his stupid infinite.

That’s how the plot/timeline is going so far. I have so much story to tell but agh my hands, but I hope these scripts are good enough context for why character focus and groupings are shifting and stuff.

[xantchaslegacy]

MtG Month of the Ship Day 18 - Secret Admirer

(In light of events today, I think we all need some light gatewatch content)

 At first, Chandra thought the flowers were part of the room service on Ravnica.

 It made sense, she reasoned, that someone as supposedly important as Jace was would have a discreet staff that tended to the place. It had seemed a bit odd that they would leave flowers on her nightstand and not clean up the rest of the room, but she’d been too busy to give it much thought.

 Then came the note.

 Chandra awoke one mid-afternoon to find a small pot of bamboo by her bed, with a scrap of paper underneath it. Most of the writing had been scratched out, including the name, but whoever had brought the plant had left a small heart in the corner of the note.

 She skipped breakfast and ran straight to the rooftop, where Nissa was meditating.

“Nissa, Nissa!” She plopped down next to the elf excitedly, holding out the bamboo. “Did you get a note with your plant this morning? I think one of the staff left me something.”

 Nissa’s eyes blinked open. She looked startled.

 Chandra smacked herself mentally. Nice going, hothead. Couldn’t wait for her to finish before you barged in on her.

 “Oh, th-that?  Couldn’t have…what sort of plant is that? Haha…sugarcane? Why would I give you sugarcane?” Nissa scrambled to her feet, and nearly tripped over Chandra as she stood. “Wait…that’s…not what you asked.”

 “Oh, no that’s alright…I…uh…sorry for interrupting your meditation.” Chandra was barely taking in what Nissa said, she was so flustered. “I got excited and a bit careless and you know so much about plant…stuff…Um…what were you saying?”

 “I…” Nissa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “The only plants I have in my room are my own that I’ve been growing.” Her ears were still twitching. Chandra felt another pang of guilt for interrupting her.

 “Oh, okay.” Chandra rubbed her chin, trying and failing to think while Nissa stared at her with those wonderful, soft green eyes-

 “Wait…is this one of yours?” Chandra felt her heart do a small jump. “You didn’t…is this from you?”

 “What?” Nissa’s ears started twitching even more rapidly. “I’ve been up here meditating. Besides, you…you keep your door locked, right? How would I get in?”

 “Oh, uh…that’s fair.” Chandra’s felt her face fall, and forced a smile back on it. Be a good friend, darn it!

 “A-a thief!” Nissa exclaimed. “Someone must have taken some of my plants? Yes, that sounds…plausible.”

 Chandra frowned. It wasn’t like Nissa to get so flustered. Maybe…

 “I’ll get to the bottom of this!” Chandra slapped a hand against her breastplate. “Don’t worry, Nissa. Detective Chandra is on the case!”

 “Chandra! W-wait!”

 But Chandra had already turned and hurried back in the direction of her room. To look for clues. Definitely not to just hide her face after making such an outrageous statement.

 ***

 The next day Chandra set an early-morning alarm to catch the flower-thief in the act. By the time it roused her however, someone had already placed a tall sunflower by her bedside. There was no note this time, but there was a small heart traced into the dirt.

 “Hmmm...” Chandra poked the large clay pot the flower was placed in, and examined it closely with a cracked magnifying glass she had taken from Innistrad. “Looks heavy…it would take a comically beefy pair of arms to move this…”

 She found Gideon in the kitchen, laboring over a sizzling pan of eggs, bacon, and tomatoes. He greeted her with a smile.

 “Morning Chandra. Hungry?”

 “I’ll ask the questions around here, buddy.” Chandra grabbed a piece of bacon from the pan and chomped down on it. “Where were you all morning?”

 “Um…”

 “What do you know about the flowers that have been showing up in my room?”

 “I…didn’t know you had flowers in your room. Is everything alright?”

 Gids looked genuinely concerned, so Chandra tried the nice-consulate approach.

 “Look, it’s fine if you were leaving flowers in my room. I’m flattered, but please don’t take them from Nissa without telling her.”

 “I-I’m not! Honest.” Gideon put both hands up. “I would never take Nissa’s flowers without asking! She’d probably twist my arm off.”

 “Hmm, true.” Chandra jumped up on the counter and ate more of Gideon’s food, pensively. “She is pretty strong…” She patted Gideon on the shoulder with the magnifying glass. “Sorry about that Gids. You know how it is, tracking down criminals and bringing them to justice.”

 He laughed. “Do you need any help tracking down your flower-thief?”

 “Hmmm, some fuel would be good. All this detective stuff is hungry work.” She grabbed a handful of tomatoes and scampered out of the kitchen. “Thanks Gids!”

 ** ** **

 Chandra woke up the next morning to find a braid of forget-me-nots lying atop her goggles. These she tucked behind her ear before heading out to the dining hall for breakfast. Maybe she could catch Jace before he had to start working. Maybe the team telepath had picked up some brainwaves on who might be leaving gifts. She found him wandering the side hallways, his nose buried in a book.

 "Heya Jace, I wanted to ask...wait..."

 Jace looked up from the book in his hand and raised an eyebrow at Chandra. "What is it? Everything alright?"

 "You...you're not Jace."

 “Uh, what? Of course I am.” Jace closed the book and spread his arms. “I’ve got this cloak and everything.”

 “Jace always has a nerve pounding in his temple when he talks to me. Because my thoughts are ‘too loud’ or something like that. You look totally calm.”

 Not-Jace sighed, and his features ripples like a heat distortion. His cloak became darker, and his face seemed to shrink into his hood, until Chandra could just see a wrinkled mouth and white hair.

 “Congratulations, you might be the first human to see through my disguise in centuries. I am Lazav, guildmaster of-”

 “Was it you sneaking around and leaving flowers in my room?”

 “I…what?”

 “You’re clearly some kind of…demure spy?”

 “Dimir.”

 “Whatever. Have you been leaving flowers in my room?”

 “No, I…I had a meeting scheduled with the guildpact and I wanted to spook him. It…sounds like you have a secret admirer.”

 “Yeah, that’s what I was hoping at first.” Chandra shrugged and strode past the shapeshifter. “Jace will be late for your meeting!” she called back. “Lavinia always has to drag him away from breakfast!”

 She found Jace in the dining room a minute later, huddled over a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper.

 “Heya Jace.” She plopped down across from him and took one of his slices of toast. “You hear thoughts, right?”

 “Uh, as far as I know.”

 “Cool, cool. Has anyone been thinking about stealing Nissa’s flowers recently? Or putting them in my room?”

 Jace looked up, blank-faced. “Nissa’s flowers have been showing up in your room?”

 “Yeah, every morning.”

 He chuckled and looked back down at the paper. “Sounds like you have a secret admirer.”

 “Why does everyone think that?”

 “It’s what admirers do. Lili leaves little dolls made out of bone on my desk if I don’t come visit her often enough, and Ral leaves notes burned into my desks when I miss his appointments.”

 Chandra cocked her head. “Those sound like…different situations. Plus, you know who they are.”

 “Mmm, it helps to read minds.” Jace tapped his head. “Plus, with a secret admirer, you usually already know who she is.” He looked up suddenly. “I mean, you know who they are.”

 “You do know who it is, don’t you?” Chandra stood up, brandishing her magnifying glass at Jace. “Fine, keep your secrets. I’m on a hot streak of deductions, and I only have one more person to interview!”

 “Uh, wait, I don’t think it’s who you think it-”

 “GUILDPACT!!!”

 Jace cut off quickly and scurried out of the chamber. Lavinia came stomping in a moment later.

 “Where did he go?”

 Chandra shrugged. “Sorry arrester. I’m a detective, but I’m no snitch.” Then she scurried away with the last of the toast as Lavinia cursed the heavens and every planeswalker beneath it.

 ** ** **

   The next morning there was a trio of bright-colored ditch lilies in a delicate wooden vase. Chandra admired them from her bed for a while before getting dressed and seeking out the least likely culprit from within the Gatewatch.

 "Are you...are you asking me who has been putting flowers in your room?” Liliana set down her glass of wine and sat up from the balcony chair where she had been sunning herself, for some reason in full view of the window to Jace’s study. She had not tanned, even a little. “Are you seriously asking me that question?"

 "Uh, yeah...I'd like to figure it out. Maybe thank them."

 Liliana raised an eyebrow. "It...It's definitely Nissa. You know that, right? It's 100% definitely Nissa."

 Chandra shook her head. "I thought of that already, but she said it wasn't her."

 “She….lied?”

 “Nissa wouldn’t do that. Why would she lie about something like flowers?”

 Liliana sighed and swung her legs over the side of the reclining chair. “You and I are very different people, aren’t we dear?” She patted Chandra’s head and started inside.

 “Wait, where are you going? I need your help figuring this out!”

 “You really don’t.” Liliana tapped her chin. “Why don’t you wait for a moment when Nissa isn’t trying to center herself and ask her if she can track where the flowers came from with her…leyline tricks. If you’ve got a plant-based mystery, go find a plant expert.”

 “I guess, but I don’t want to go back to her empty-handed.”

 “Oh, I think she’ll be happy enough to see you no matter what you’re doing with your hands.” Lili gave her a strange smirk and a wink. “Now, Jace just stepped out for lunch. Want to help me rearrange his bookshelves?”

 Chandra bit her lip. She really did want to mess with Jace’s stuff, but…

 “I should go see Nissa.”

 “Yes, you should.” Liliana waved and started up the staircase to Jace’s study. “I’ll turn a volume upside-down for you.”

  ** * *

  She found Nissa on the roof, surrounded by a small army of tulips. Some were in beds Nissa had constructed along the edge of the roof, others were in small clay bowls that the elf was carting back and forth, trying to arrange artfully.

 Chandra waved hello. Nissa replied with a nod and a soft smile. There was a single bench not currently covered in vegetation, so Chandra plopped down on it cross-legged and watched enjoyed Nissa’s garden in silence for a while, while a firestorm of uncertainty raged inside her.

 How do I ask? She already said it wasn’t her so what if she gets angry or annoyed that I asked again? What if she isn’t my secret admirer? What if she is my secret admirer?

 “Chandra?” Nissa was watching her from a few feet away, looking concerned.

 “Did you leave the flowers, Nissa?” Chandra blurted, cursing herself internally “I mean, I definitely wouldn’t mind if you did, I guess I would sort of like it? You know, because flowers are so pretty and they smell really nice and you like being around them all the time. Uh, I mean…you don’t have to tell me, but I…I’d really like to know.” Chandra looked at her feet. “It would make me happy to know they came from you...”

 Nissa didn’t say anything for a long while. Chandra watched her out of the corner of her eye, just standing by the flowers, the slow city wind blowing that beautiful braid of hers just off her neck…

 She walked over and sat down next to Chandra. The tulip in her hand was the loveliest Chandra had ever seen. Deep green tinged with blue.

 “I’m not saying I left the plants for certain. But…if I did leave someone flowers, well…” The rosy glow of the elf’s cheeks matched the flower in her hands. “Well, that person would have to be very important to me” She looked Chandra in the eye. “As important as you are to me, at the very least.”

 Chandra ran a finger gently down the stalk of the tulip. “I understand…I think.” She brushed the top of the flower, and the soft, silky petals tickled her fingertip.

 Nissa nodded rapidly, also looking determinedly at the flower.

 They sat not speaking, though not in silence. You really couldn’t get away from the sounds of the city, even in a place as private as Jace’s home. For someone who needed the quiet as much as Nissa did, it must have been frustrating.

 “Nissa…How would you like…what if we went to one of the Selesnya gardens? Sometime this week? Somewhere quiet where we can walk around, and I can chase off any of the cultists who try to bother us?”

 Nissa nodded again, slower this time. “That…would be wonderful.” She lay her fingers over top of Chandra’s hand, guiding her back up to the flower. “I can show you some of the variations they have here and…and maybe give you some to take to your room?”

 Chandra tried to think of something cool to say, but with Nissa’s hand on hers, and a date (was it a date????) hanging in the air, she could only manage a small muffled grunt that she hoped sounded like a ‘yes.’

   The above is unofficial Fan Content permitted under the Fan Content Policy. Not approved/endorsed by Wizards. Portions of the materials used are property of Wizards of the Coast. ©Wizards of the Coast LLC.

[fanfickittycat]

The Price

TITLE: The Price CHAPTER NUMBER/ONE SHOT: Chapter 7 AUTHOR: fanfickittycat CHARACTERS/PAIRING: Roman Godfrey x OC GENRE: Romance, Smut FIC SUMMARY: Ginger makes a deal with popular bad boy Roman, if he helps her up the social ladder by pretending to be her boyfriend then she’ll be his dog in return RATING: M AUTHORS NOTES/WARNINGS: sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind

Time seemed to be moving slower than usual and it was making me antsy. The lethargic ticking of the clock at the front of the classroom seemed to mock me, making me feel more restless than usual. I could see that the substitute teacher was getting irritated by the way I held the pen between my thumb and index finger, shaking the biro from side to side as my leg shook in accompaniment. I had tried to ignore the feeling throughout the week; the sense of loss and confusion that made my stomach turn if I concentrated on it too hard. It had been exactly one week of no Roman, and though I was still annoyed with the way he spoke to me I was starting to miss him a little. His stupid smirk, and the way he’d make his way through a pack of cigarettes like it was candy. His complete lack of awareness of the normal world, and the inside jokes we’d share was missing from my life. Sometimes when I thought back to our first kiss my lips hardly remembered what it had felt like, as though it hadn’t happened. Even my dreams seemed to be plagued with Roman, whether it be a happy or angry version of him, and I’d wake up with the dying sensation of his phantom touch leaving me as I tried to differentiate between dream and reality. I realised later that day as I sat with my new friends that I missed Roman’s presence, but also his friendship. Our relationship was difficult to define but it was there, only barely being held together by the tenderness I still had for him. I couldn’t stop it and I felt as though I were fighting a losing battle.

I had started to wander around his favourite haunts, hoping to catch him but he was never there. I had even used my new found popularity to scour the latest parties but was left disappointed, with my feet sore from the heels, and an untouched cup of warm beer in my hand. It felt like I was simultaneously at my best and worst, and all I wanted was to talk to Roman again but it had been two weeks since he had been in class and I was starting to get worried. I was about to believe my conspiracy theory that Roman had fled the country when I overheard a teacher talking to Peter about delivering Roman’s missed homework and notes. In typical Peter fashion, he had taken the stack of papers and dumped them gracelessly to one side of his locker as he fiddled with an exchange of his own possessions. He smiled politely when he saw me, and I wondered if Roman had said anything to him about me.

“Hi” it felt weird to say, especially because my mind raced to find an opening to a conversation “nice jacket.”

Peter glanced down at his everyday brown jacket “um, thanks.” A tense silence followed and I opened my mouth, hoping something normal would come out.

“How are you?” I asked, hugging my book against my chest tighter as the nerves started to get to me.

“I’m okay. You?”

“I’m okay too.” I bit my lip and Peter looked away to his locker.

“He’s sick” he finally said “caught the flu. I’m meant to be delivering these to him” he patted the stack “but something tells me that maybe you’d like to instead.” He held out the pile to me and I reached out, and then hesitated briefly.

“Well I mean I’m going to be in the neighbourhood so” I cleared my throat “I guess I could help out, like, if you’re okay with that.” I took the collection of unwanted work from him, shifting my weight from one foot to the other as I struggled to express the relief I felt.

“He’s been a grumpy son of a bitch for the past two weeks, I think a visit from you might cheer him up.”

“Really? Did he say that?”

Peter shrugged “I can just tell. Go easy on him though, he’s never really had to deal with relationships before so he’s pretty bad at them. I blame the parents.”

“I’ll ask him to lie down and tell me about his mother when I see him.”

“Make sure to wear comfortable clothes when you do, that’s a whole Pandora’s box worth of pent up feelings” Peter joked but his smile softened “he misses you.”

“I miss him too” I admitted, feeling strangely free when I said it out loud.

I let the feeling give me the courage to navigate my way to Roman’s house, which was more daunting looking than I had ever previously imagined. The dead leaves tumbling past my ankles didn’t make me feel much better, but I pushed myself to knock at his door whilst my hands shook. I reminded myself to breathe, straightening my back and pressing my freshly re-glossed lips together. It was quiet and I wondered if I should knock again, but the sound of the lock clicking made me jump and draw my hand back.

“What’re you doing here Ginger?” Roman stood in front of me, a frown on his pale face that should have been severe but wasn’t. His cheeks were flushed, and his nose red as he dabbed at it with a scrunched up tissue in his hand. His hair, which was usually immaculately slicked back was free of any constraint, and it flopped towards the front softly. Gone were the formal shirts and leather gloves, he instead donned a pair of blue striped, cotton pyjamas. He looked younger and less intimidating than ever before, and it made my heart somersault in my chest.

“I brought you your homework and stuff” I said, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him.

“Keep it” he muttered “not like I do that crap anyway.” He sniffed, trying to hide how obvious his illness was.

“Where’s your mom?”

“Some business trip.”

“So you’re here all alone?” I asked, feeling an instant stab of sadness at the thought of Roman alone in his big house.

He scowled “I’m not a kid, I can take care of myself” he insisted, though he looked more vulnerable than I had ever seen him before. I was still upset with what had transpired between us last time but I was seeing what Peter meant, Roman didn’t know how relationships of any kind functioned. This was uncharted territory for him; something which needed him to be open with his emotions without fear of being hurt. He didn’t know what to do.

“Roman, can we ta-” but before I could be honest about how I felt he had slammed the door shut and left me speechless and more bruised than I was. I turned away, not sure how I was meant to get him to listen to me. The cold was getting worse, and the rejection threatened to make my heart freeze too. I walked away in a daze, only to come back an hour and a half later brimming with tenacity.

“You again” Roman said when he opened the door, and I barged my way past him into his house much to his surprise.

“Where’s your room?”

“You can’t come in here!” He said, his face revealing just how astounded he was.

“I don’t care” I said, more argumentatively than I had planned to sound “tell me where your room is.”

“You’re trespassing private property!”

“I’m going to assume it’s upstairs” I said, ignoring his empty threat and walking up the grand staircase. It didn’t take long to hear his own footsteps following mine eagerly, as he continued to complain about this being a ‘criminal activity’ and saying that ‘I had lost it’.

“Right or left?” I asked when we got up to the first floor.

“I’m not telling you.”

I shrugged and turned left down the hallway only to be stopped.

“It’s right” he mumbled, conceding defeat bitterly as I changed direction to accompany him at his heels.

His room was cleaner than I thought it would be, with only his bed sheets ruffled from where he had tossed the covers aside. The room itself seemed devoid of any personality, and only a small collection of items were strewn throughout the room. I set down his neglected homework on the desk, and started to take out the things I had both earlier from the paper bag. Roman stood behind me, watching suspiciously as I took out a medley of medicines, teas, juice, chicken noodle soup mix, and two boxes of tissues that had been on offer.

“What is this?”

“They’re things to make you feel better” I said “now get into bed.” He looked vaguely annoyed but turned to get in anyway. He made a sound of discontent when I started fluffing his pillows and tucking him in, but I slapped his hand away and kept rearranging the sheets until I was satisfied.

“Have you eaten anything?”

“What do you care?”

“Guess I’ll take that as a no. I’m going to go make you some soup.” I turned to leave but Roman caught my sleeve, prompting me to turn back.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care about you” I said, breaking eye contact with him as I nervously looked instead at his grip on my sleeve “and dogs are always loyal to their owners.” Roman seemed perplexed for a moment and then let go of me.

“Don’t keep me waiting then, dog.” He tried to sound dominant but his voice was still stuffy and he sounded comical more than anything.

He complained indignantly when I tried to feed him, but soon let me spoon the broth and noodles into his mouth though he still kept the expression of a surly house cat, or a sulking child. He was mildly irritated when I pushed the glass of watered down juice to his mouth every few minutes, batting me away and grumbling that he didn’t need so much liquid. He even objected to taking medicine, and his face screwed up at the taste of the syrup and was quickly followed by a list of curses. His sleeping was sporadic, and I had taken to a chair I had pulled to his bedside where I would do my own homework whilst he rested.

“You’re still here” he croaked, a few hours later, sounding not so much accusatory as factual. He wasn’t very happy when I brought out the tub of Vapor Rub, but quickly stopped whining when I rubbed the gel in slow circles on his chest. He watched me drowsily as I screwed the lid back on, and exchanged it for the near empty glass on his bedside table. He now sipped without complaint.

“How’re you feeling now?” I asked, to a now mollified Roman who practically purred when I stroked my hand over his hair.

“Better” he said “and sleepy.”

“Close your eyes, you need all the rest you can get.”

“But you’ll go” he said worryingly, rubbing his eyes with his knuckle.

“I’m not going anywhere Roman” I said, but he still looked troubled.

“Come here” he said patting the space in bed next to him, and I raised an eyebrow only for him to repeat the action. I put down my book, and slid in next to him, feeling his body pressed against mine. Even though I had taken his temperature earlier and confirmed that he had no fever, his body was still considerably warmer than mine. I shifted to face him and he watched me silently for several minutes before speaking.

“Doesn’t your boyfriend mind that you’re here?”

“He didn’t like it at first but now that he’s let me lie next to him I think he might be okay with it.”

Roman huffed “you should break up with him, he sounds like he’s not capable of being in a relationship.”

“He’s just not used to be being cared for, but” my tone changed as I continued “if he’s going to let his insecurities get the better of him then he can’t shut me out.”

He averted his gaze “well stop talking to that guy then.”

“Roman.”

“Okay fine” he relinquished “but I’m still going to hate him.”

“That’s not much better.”

“It’s my final deal” he said “now close your eyes dog, all this emotional stuff is making me feel nauseated.”

“Ha ha” I said humorlessly and I leaned over to peck a kiss on his pink cheek. He reached out and pulled me closer, and I finally closed my eyes and let Roman’s breathing lull me to sleep.