#I’ll have to look at the next chapters and make sure it’s smooth and impactful

[linkbetweenlinksau]

Clones or 3

Pt 1|| pt 2||

First

[omgreally]

I’ve been reading mandos intergalactic taxi service and UGH✨💕 the pining and fluff with the intimacy smut is just chefs kiss your writing style is amazing🤌🏽✨ I’ve been in such a Din mood lately, could your write like a confession drabble where the reader and din are pining for each other and din is dropping hints but the reader is like really not a hint taker lol pretty please with a cherry on top 😭💕 smut or fluff your choice I know you’d write it so well!!

BLESS YOUR HEART @liltangerineart and thank you! Next chapter of Taxi Service should be up tomorrow I hope!

In the meantime I hope you like this? Not a confession as such and more, uh, top!Mando than I intended, but he is bad at dropping hints. I like to think he would be very...straightforward 😎

Din Djarin/F!Reader - E - 1624 words - Oblivious!Reader, Infatuated!Din, frustrated yearning, angst and, of course, smut.

It's getting ridiculous.

He is a Mandalorian, one of the most fabled, the most feared warriors in the galaxy. Rumour and danger follow him as he charts a path through the galaxy that blazes bright, leaving behind myth and legend - people whispering things like 'I heard he killed a whole troop with his hands tied' and 'I heard he was eight feet tall, made of steel'.

He is a Mandalorian, who has never had to rely on anybody but himself - and yet here he is, sweating beneath his cowl whenever you brush too close, trying too hard to inhale the scent of you through his helmet's filters, memorizing the sound of your laugh.

It's like he's a foundling again - uncertain, insecure, nervous. And they’re not butterflies in the pit of his stomach - they’re bullets from an ancient slugthrower weapon, and he can taste metal at the back of his tongue whenever he tries to talk to you.

“Do you have someone, back home?” A clumsy overture, as obvious as it is stupid; Din winces beneath the helm but you don’t seem to notice - you just shake your head and shrug.

“No. Just me. I wouldn’t have left otherwise.” Loyal, he thinks, and the bullets in his stomach sting just that little bit harder.

He tries asking you more about yourself. How you became a bounty hunter. How many weapons you’ve handled. The different kinds of ships you’ve flown. Places you’ve been. But you never give up anything truly personal about yourself - you’re a cypher.

Maybe that’s why the Mandalorian finds himself strangely drawn to you.

He doesn’t know how to navigate this - not really. He has no experience with this kind of thing. It’s always been about the next quarry, the next job, and then it was about the kid, and now…

And now he’s stuck.

He wants to hit something, break something, feel the impact of his fists against flesh and bone. He settles for balling them up whenever you’re around, biting his tongue, and waiting til later to jerk himself off in pathetic, clench-jawed silence in the refresher.

“You slept late,” you point out the next morning as he emerges, stiff in more than one way, from his bunk.

“Couldn’t sleep last night,” he says, and he’s so tired, so frustrated that he adds, gruffly: “Bed was too empty.”

“Probably need more pillows,” you muse as you wander off to the kitchenette. “Cup of caf?”

“Extra strong,” he grunts as he leans a shoulder to the wall, and you’re oblivious to his glower.

“Coming right up.” A minute later, you press a mug into his hand. “I’ll leave you to it. No need to go hide, I’ll go find a bulkhead to look at while you take your helmet off.”

You grin at him, and he stares at you. You’re just about to turn away when he reaches up, and you go still, your smile slackening in shock as he thumbs the release latch under his chin.

The helm’s pneumatic seal hisses as it lifts, just enough so he can get the rim of his mug up and to his lips. He takes a long, slow pull, and while his vision is eclipsed by the rim of the helmet at the moment, he knows you haven’t left.

As he expects, you’re still there - staring at him as he lowers his helm back into place. Your mouth is even slightly open - lips parted - and he watches the dart of your tongue as you wet them before swallowing hard.

“I’m just...I’m just gonna,” you say, abortingly, and start to back away. You jump as your shoulder hits the hatchway. Din watches as you turn, hesitate, then hurry away, your shoulders squared defensively as if you can feel the force of his gaze on your back.

Alone, the taste of caf hot and bitter on his tongue, Din Djarin grins.

After that, he starts to notice. He starts to notice how tense you are when he’s close.

At first he’s not sure - but then, once, he deliberately brushes your waist as he moves past you in the cockpit to take the pilot’s seat, and you’re still standing there, frozen, when he glances back at you. You brush it off, but it happens again when you bump into him coming out of the fresher. When he reaches over your head in the kitchenette to fetch a ration bar from a compartment. When you lean over his shoulder to point out the coordinates to a refueling station. When he catches you yawning, falling asleep in the passenger’s seat.

“I’m going to hit my bunk,” you say, rising to your feet, your arms stretched above your head. Din turns slowly, and he catches the glimpse of a sliver of flesh as your shirt rides up. The words escape him before he’s even conscious of their existence.

“Want some company?”

Dank farrik, he’s been dropping hints and touches for ages - and he knows you’re affected by his presence, he’s sure of it now. They might be closer to butterflies for you, but his bullets are bouncing around in his gut right now.

“What?” you ask, half-laughing - as if it’s all some grand joke. “You gotta stop with the innuendo, Mando. I might get the wrong idea.”

“And if it’s not innuendo?” He’s flicked the ship to auto-pilot - on his feet - looming towards you. You’re caught in the hatchway, unable to step backwards to fall down the ladder, unwilling to turn your back. "If you've got the right idea?"

“What?” you repeat - licking your lips again. Your eyes are flicking back and forth from his visor to his hands. It’s almost like you're expecting a fight.

“I want to fuck you.”

The words are matter-of-fact but delivered in a low baritone, a gravelly rasp that lifts the hairs on the back of your neck. You stop breathing for a second - he can see it - and your leg twitches, just half a step backward - but then you swing it forward again, swaying towards him. Like he has you in his gravitational pull.

It’s all Din needs. He closes the distance between you, his gloved hands closing around your biceps, the leather worn and warm through your shirt.

He says your name, once, in a digital growl that curls your toes in your boots. And then it’s like an explosion - it all happens so quickly; there are hands and clothes everywhere and then on the deck, and in the aftermath you are in the Mandalorian’s arms, naked, your legs around his waist as he presses you up against the bulkhead.

His chestplate hits the deck - his flak jacket lifted above his head when you let him stop touching you long enough. You barely have time to appreciate the feel of his naked hands on your skin, cupping your breasts in his broad, smooth palms, thumbing your nipples all-too-briefly before he’s sliding down the zipper of his flight suit and baring a V of muscled flesh all the way to his groin.

“Mando,” you gasp as he frees his cock, as he maneuvers the throbbing, purpled head to drag through your slit. He finds you open and wet, lips parted for him, and he groans as he nudges against your fluttering hole. He doesn't hesitate.

He pushes in slow, for he’s a lot to take, thick and hard and the stretch is almost too much. You whine, your voice high and tight in your throat, and he soothes you with soft little noises and praise that makes you feel light-headed.

“Shhh, that’s it,” “You’re so fucking tight-” “Made to take my cock, mesh’la" and other words you don’t recognize. Eventually, he’s all the way inside you, his pelvis flush to yours, the scratch of hair at his pubic bone pressing into your mound.

You pant in his arms, eyes squeezed shut, a thin resin of sweat risen on your brow. “Move,” you order through clenched teeth, and finally you open your eyes to meet his visor and demand, “Fuck me, Mando.”

And he does - withdrawing his hips from the welcoming cradle of yours, his cock dragging back through you, and you can feel every ridge and vein before he’s spearing back in, jarring your back against the bulkhead. It’s a shock right through your system, and you can feel adrenaline flooding your veins, your blood pumping faster like you’re fighting for your life. You might as well be, for he does it again, and again, and soon he’s setting a punishing pace that hits against something soft and devastating deep inside you.

Your orgasm hits you like a blow you fail to dodge - winding you, knocking the air from your lungs - and for a moment all that matters is the blinding flash of pleasure through your nerves, the rolling wave that makes your cunt flutter in rippling spasms around the pulsing rod of his cock. He pins your hips with another vicious rut of his hips and then he’s coming, too, releasing into the impossible grip of your body, groaning with every spurt of spend he fills you with.

“Fuck,” Din summarizes, once you both can catch your breath - once your legs start to loosen, jelly-weak as he pulls out gently, lowering your feet back to the ground. He’s suddenly nervous - worried he’s fucked this up, done the wrong thing, lost patience and paid for it with your scorn.

But your smile is brilliant as you beam up at him - your face radiant - flushed and sweaty. You are beautiful.

“Next time, don't waste time dropping hints,” you tell him, and then you reassure him with a laugh, and the wonderful feeling of your arms around his neck.

For a while, he just holds you close. And for a while, the bullets in his stomach are gone.

[mochegato]

I Can’t Fight This Feeling

Chapter 5

Chapter 1     Chapter 4

The Gotham air was clear and crisp and so very still.  Noises from traffic and strays rummaging through trash floated up, filling the otherwise empty air.  The peace was barely broken by the sound of two sets of feet landing on the rooftop.  They stood there awkwardly shuffling next to each other for a few minutes.  Finally something seemed to break and Red Hood removed his helmet, still not making eye contact with his companion.  Nightwing looked at him for a second before following suit and removing his domino mask.  They were far enough up that nobody could see them and if Jason wanted to talk eye to eye, Dick wasn’t going to deny him.

When Jason still hadn’t spoken a few minutes later, Dick took the initiative and spoke first.  “Thanks for helping us today.  I don’t think we could have handled it without you,” he clapped Jason on the back.

“You would have been fine.  You would have figured it out,” Jason shrugged.  “You always do.”

“Not easily.  Not without a lot of pain,” Dick corrected him.

Jason chuckled.  He gave him a skeptical look from the corner of his eye.  “First time I’ve been accused of not being a pain by you guys.”  

Dick laughed and nodded.  “It’s been a while.”  He paused and watched Jason for a few seconds.  “It felt nice… working together again.  I missed this.”

Jason looked out over Gotham.  “Yeah, wasn’t so bad.  Don’t think B was too happy though.”

Dick grimaced at the reminder.  “Bruce, he… you know he doesn’t approve of your tactics.  He isn’t sure how to handle you, what to expect.  And the bat on your chest.  It makes it seem like he approves of your methods.”

Jason nodded.  “Not going to lie.  That was the original intent.  To mess with B as much as possible.  Cause as much pain as I could.  But that’s not why I use it now.  The bat… I use it so the kids don't get scared.  So they know they can trust me.”  He sighed, his eyes flicked over to Dick quickly before returning to the skyline.  “But, I think they’ve started to figure me out.  They know who I am now, so I can change that. I can take it off, use something different.”

Dick shook his head.  “No, you keep it.  I’ll smooth it over with Bruce.”

Jason nodded absently and kept his gaze focused on the city.  He shifted anxiously for a few moments nervously twitching.  Dick eyed him curiously.  He couldn’t remember the last time Jason looked nervous.  Angry? Yes, he’s seen that a lot. Annoyed, most definitely.  He’s even seen surprise and fear.  But he didn’t think he’s seen nervous since before… well, just before.

“You know, haven't killed anyone in a long time, right?” Jason asked quietly.

Dick’s eyes widened in surprise.  He had noticed, but he wasn't sure if it was intentional or a tactic to lull enemies and Bruce, though Dick wasn’t sure if Jason considered them as separate categories, into a false sense of security.  Dick kept his eyes looking out over the city, matching Jason’s gaze.  Jason was starting to open up, just starting to show some vulnerability, and Dick would be damned if he scared him off now.

“I did notice,” he nodded slightly.  “I just didn’t know the reason behind the change.”

Jason looked down again, shifting even more nervously now.  The sounds from the cars below floated up to them, filling the silence between them while Jason collected himself and prepared for the rest of the conversation.  “I'm getting married, Dickie bird.”

Dick gasped.  His head whipped to face him. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could even figure out what he wanted to say, Jason continued.  “And she's good, Dick.  She's really good.  She used to be a hero, but doesn't remember it.  So when you meet her, you  can't say anything.  I’m only telling you so you understand just how good and trustworthy she is and B can never know.”

Dick stared at him, mouth a gape and eyes wide open.  When?  Did Jason say ‘when’?  He had heard that right hadn’t he?  “…too good for me,” Jason continued, ignoring the effect he was having on Dick.  “But she won't let me say that in front of her.  It's almost like she actually believes it, that I deserve her.”  He chuckled ruefully and shook his head at the floor.  He looked up at Dick searchingly, like the lost little boy Dick remembered from his childhood.  

“Can you believe that? Somebody actually believing that.  She's everything we were ever supposed to be, but better.  She’s more compassionate than you.  She’s smarter than Tim.  She’s more creative than Damian.  She’s braver than me.  She’s perfect.

“And you know how when you actually meet someone that you think really highly of and actually spend time with them, you start to realize maybe they're not as amazing as you thought they were?  That they’re just human and they have issues and failures just like the rest of us?”  Dick nodded absently, still focused on Jason saying ‘when he got to meet her.’  

“She's not like that,” Jason continued.  “I met her.  I’ve spent so much time with her.  Hell, I'm living with her now. And the only thing I’ve learned is she’s even more amazing than I originally thought.  She is everything to me.  She makes me want to be better, but never asks me to be because she already thinks I am.  She’s seen me at my worst and she still thinks… she still loves me.” He looked up at Dick with tears shining in his eyes.  “Can you believe that?  Can you believe someone thinks that?”

Dick gave him a small smile and pulled him into a tight hug.  “Yeah, Little Wing.  Yeah, I can.”  His grin grew wider as he replayed the words in his head.  Jason was happy.  He was really happy.  He was loved. His baby brother was getting married. He let out an excited laugh. “You’re getting married.”  He pulled away to look in his eyes.  “Tell me you proposed in an over the top romantic way.  I’d hate to think all those classic, romantic novels were for nothing.”

Jason chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder.  “I did,” he assured him.  He settled down on the edge of the building and patted the space next to him for Dick to join him.  “Lots of flowers and candles and nostalgia.  She cried.”  He clasped his hands together in front of himself and smiled into them.

“You did too, didn’t you,” Dick teased knowingly.

Jason shot him a halfhearted glare but nodded.  “Yeah, yeah I did.”

Dick sat with him for a few minutes just basking in being able to sit next to Jason peacefully for the first time in a long time.  Finally, he looked over at Jason with a curious look.  “So, she’s the reason you stopped killing?  She asked you to stop?”

Jason shook his head then bobbed his head to the side instead.  “Yes and no.  She’s the reason, but she didn’t ask me to stop.  I stopped before she knew what I did exactly.  I stopped before she found out.  I stopped before I disappointed her.”

“Does she know…” he vaguely motioned to Jason’s costume.

“Yeah.  I told her. She knows everything.  She isn’t thrilled about a lot of it… almost any of it, but she never left me.  So… she knows who you guys are too.”  He grinned at the memory.  “She said the butts definitely don’t match.  Batman has padding.”  He pursed his lips in a pretend annoyed face.  “She said Nightwing’s matches though.  She wants to know your workout.”

Dick barked out a laugh loud enough for it to echo down the street.  Jason narrowed his eyes at him and pointed at him warningly.  “Yeah, so keep your ass away from my fiancé.”

Dick laughed louder and threw his arm around Jason’s shoulders and pulled him into a side hug.  “I’ll make sure to only face toward her at all times when we meet.  No turning around.”  He nodded in mock seriousness.

Jason shoved him away playfully and groaned.  “Don’t make me regret this, Dickwad.”

Dick laughed again.  He grinned over at Jason.  He’d missed this.  He’d missed this connection, the banter, the brotherly teasing.  He’d missed Jason.  “So… has she met anyone else?  In the family, I mean.”

Jason gave him a mischievous grin.  “Oh, she’s met all of you, you just didn’t know who she was.”  Dick looked at him questioningly, his mind started racing through all the women they’d met for the first time in the last year. Having had two galas in that time frame and a launch party and quite a few charity events didn’t help narrow down the possibilities.  “She won’t be a new face to you.  But, Alfred knows who she is.  He’s met her. He’s the only one that knows about us. Alfred loves her.”  He grinned again remembering them together.  His eyes lit up at the memory.  “They bake together.  He taught her how to shoot a shotgun.”

Dick barked out another laugh.  “No way! He won’t even teach us.”

Jason smiled pointedly at him.  “Bruce won’t let him.  But, Bruce doesn’t know about her and he doesn’t control what happens outside of his manor.”  After a few minutes he looked down and furrowed his brow in thought.  “She really likes you guys.  I think she and Tim would be good friends if… if I… if it wasn’t for me.  That’s one of the reasons… Family is so important to her and I want to have one with her someday.  So I thought… I thought maybe I should start with the one I already have.”

Dick nodded.  “It sounds like she’s had a big impact on you.”

Jason smiled back and stood up.  “She has. So, dinner?  Tomorrow?”

Dick stood up next to him and gave him another hug.  “Definitely.  Just let me know where and what time.  I’ll be there.”

“And Dick?”  Dick turned back to him questioningly.  “I don’t… I’m not ready for anyone else to know yet.”

Dick nodded in understanding.  “They won’t find out from me.  See you tomorrow, Jaybird.  Can’t wait to meet your fiancé.”

<><><><><> 

“You’re back earlier than you expected,” Marinette noted with a smile as she looked up from her sewing.  “Is that good or bad?  Quiet patrol?”

“Yeah.” Jason answered absently.  He ripped off his helmet and jacket.  He threw them both on the chair as he made his way over to Marinette. She squeaked as he picked her up and placed her in his lap.  He buried his head in her neck.  “Hey, Pixie.”

Marinette immediately dropped her fabric and wrapped her arms around Jason. She slowly stroked his back and gently scratched his head in an attempt to comfort him.  She nuzzled into his hair.  “Hey. Are you okay?  What happened?”

“It was fine.  I’m okay,” he assured her, hugging her a little tighter.  “I just ran into Dick tonight.”

She sucked in a breath and tightened her arms around him.  “Oh?” she tried to force her voice to stay casual despite the way her heart was racing.

“Yeah.”

Marinette waited a few minutes before continuing on.  “And how did that go?”

Jason pulled away from her so he could see her face.  He brushed some hair over her shoulder and settled his arm back around her before he spoke again.  “It went well actually.  He noticed that I changed.  He’s really excited to meet you.”

“Oh? You mentioned me?” she asked carefully. She knew how he felt about sharing any part of his life with is family.  Hell, she knew how he felt about his family in general so if he was sharing about her, it must have gone really, really well.

“Yeah… and I… um… invited him to dinner tomorrow, if that’s okay with you.”

Marinette’s heart stopped for a second.  He invited his brother to dinner.  He invited his brother back into his life.  This was… this was huge.  “I’m okay with it.  How do you feel about it?  Are you okay with him coming here?”

Jason settled his chin on her shoulder.  “I’m nervous… but excited.  I’m looking forward to it... I think.  I just… I don’t want to be a disappointment.”

Marinette pulled away from him just far enough to cup his face gently.  “The only one disappointed in you, is you. And you are far too hard on yourself.  You don’t deserve the way you treat yourself.”

“And B,” he added.

“Fuck Bruce,” she grunted before pausing.  “Not in a sexual way, obviously.”

Jason huffed out a laugh.  “Obviously.”

She stroked his cheeks gently.  “Parents make mistakes.  They have flaws and foibles just like everyone else.  You don’t become a parent and suddenly you’re perfect.  All the same flaws and foibles you had before are still there, just amplified by stress and fear of making a mistake.  But those aren’t yours to take on.  You aren’t responsible for his flaws.”

Jason chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes.  “Foibles, huh?”  He waggled his eyebrows.  “Oh yeah, talk literary analysis to me, baby.  Break down those characters for me.”

Marinette pushed his face away with a groan.  “Nerd.”  He laughed and hugged her closer.  Marinette looked back up at him adoringly and smirked.  “Just focus on the chaos when he finds out it’s me.”

Jason grinned back at her.  “He’s going to be so annoyed.  You’ve been working with them for months and he never knew.”  He chuckled at the thought.  “It’s going to be brilliant.”

Marinette laughed along with him.  “You should make sure to take a picture.”

Jason turned back to look at her.  His smile turned loving.  “You’re brilliant.”

Marinette rolled her eyes.  “Yeah, sure.”

“You are.”  He moved his head closer to hers.  “You’re brilliant” He kissed her forehead.  “…and beautiful.”  He kissed her cheek.  “…and brave.” He kissed her other cheek.  “…and… um… benevolent.”  He kissed her jaw.  “… and…”

She grinned at him and moved her lips until they were just a few centimeters from his.  “Run out of attributes already?”  She looked down at his lips and back up to his eyes.  “Shame.”  She stood up and walked out of the room with a flirty glance over her shoulder.

“Hey!” he called after her.  “I wasn’t done.  That was just the B’s.”  He grinned as he watched her swish her hips as she walked down the hallway.  “Come back here and let me love you, woman!” He jumped over the back of the couch and raced down the hallway after her.

End

Tags:

@jasonette-july-event @jayjayspixiepop @aespades @how-to-function-properly @pawsitivelymiraculous @maribatserver @toodaloo-kangaroo

[hawkinsindiana]

i don’t want you to worry

ALMOST PARADISE: PART THREE - CHAPTER ONE OF ELEVEN (?)

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader

word count: 3.8k

a/n: six months later, here’s part three! i’m not gonna lie to y’all, i have no idea how many chapters there are gonna be or if it’ll get updated regularly, but fuck it. i’ve been sitting on this for a while and figured we could use a bit of levity! thank you for your patience! hope you enjoy! lmao i didn’t feel like making a gif pls forgive me

masterlist

Fog is hovering just above the ground; you can practically feel how thick and wet it is against your skin. The hairs on the back of your neck all stand as a gust of wind flows through the air - the freezing temperature makes you shiver.

The ground is wet, squelching underneath your sneakers as you move forward, still uncertain of where you are; the environment’s been completely coated in the dense fog. When your surroundings finally begin to clear a bit, your heart starts to race in fear once you recognize where you are. 

It’s the junkyard.

“Stay close, yeah?” 

The voice sounds like it’s right inside your ear, but at least he’s here - you’d recognize him anywhere.

Steve’s to your left, bat slung effortlessly over his shoulder, and his presence helps calm your nerves. You won’t have to face this alone. 

You want to thank him before the situation gets any worse, but your mouth won’t cooperate. All you’re able to reply with is a nod. 

Suddenly, the palm of your hand feels heavy with the weight of your weapon; Steve presses on, moving through the space to approach the threat that lurks beyond. A form begins to take shape behind the grey clouds, hunched down on all fours as it stalks towards your position. Your fingers tense as you prepare to fight and adrenaline begins to overtake you, until the silhouette rises onto two legs. It’s not supernatural, it’s human. 

You want to call out to Steve, tell him to fall back because it’s too dangerous but your voice still doesn’t work - you can’t warn him what’s coming. The soles of your shoes dig into the ground as you run to catch up with him, fingers extended out to grab and yank him away. 

But it’s too late. One moment he’s right there in front of you, the next he’s gone, vanished right before your eyes. You blink.

On the ground, Steve’s in the dirt, blood spilling from his face; Billy Hargrove quickly approaches.

And then, it’s just like that night. You’re unable to move, unable to save him as Steve tries to fight back but Billy’s too quick. His crimson colored fists are tearing skin with each impact until the brunette boy on the ground is lifeless, as if all warmth was drained right from him. Billy’s twisted grin never falters as he relishes in your pain, tears streaming down your face until-

You wake with a gasp, body jolting, hands shaking. 

God, it feels so real, like you’re still there; your nose can smell the disgusting metallic scent from the blood, skin still chilled from the temperature, veins still threaded with adrenaline. 

That was only a dream… right?

As soon as that thought is introduced to your worried mind, you throw off the covers before grabbing the nearest hoodie off the bed post. Tugging it over your head, your bare feet skid across the hardwood floor as you rush to the phone in the living room. 

Your fingers are trembling as you press the buttons of the number; you have to know if he’s okay. You have to confirm it was just a dream.

“Fuck, Steve,” You start to mutter to yourself, counting the rings to attempt to steady your breathing, “Come on, pick up, pick up.” 

The longer it takes, the more nervous you become. The darkness that surrounds you starts to close in, and when you squeeze your eyes shut, the image of him bloodied and lying dead in the dirt haunts you. 

“I swear to Christ - Dustin, if that’s you and those bozos again, I’ll come kick your ass myself,” Steve’s voice, tired and very irritated, comes through the speaker.

“Steve! Oh my god-” The back of your throat starts to burn at the feeling of tears welling up; the relief crashes over you in a wave, “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“What? Jesus-” He pauses, his tone softens once he hears it’s you, “Why wouldn’t I be okay? It’s nearly-”

Steve stops again; you reckon it’s to glance at the time.

“Shit, sweetheart it’s nearly two in the morning, what’s goin’ on?”

You sigh, finally realizing that you must’ve awoken him, “Fuck I just-”

The phone is gripped tighter in your hands as you speak, “I really just needed to know that you're okay. It’s stupid, I shouldn’t have called. I’m sorry-“

“No, no it’s okay-”

“But I-”

“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about me,” Steve’s reassurance helps to slow your pounding heart; he’s okay. He’s safe at home. 

There’s nothing to worry about anymore.

You repeat that to yourself multiple times, whispering it to yourself under your breath. At this point, you think that you’d do anything to forget that night. 

Your back slides down the wall as your body grows exhausted from the severe reaction; Steve’s voice continues through the phone, “Did something happen?”

“I had-” You force a deep breath through your lungs, face scrunching in fear at the memory, “I had a really bad dream, Steve.”

Your arm wraps around your knees to pull them into your chest, forehead coming down to meet them and dig into the soft material of your pants, “I woke up and fuck, I was so scared. I was so scared and all I could think to do was call you. And I’m all alone. I’m all by myself tonight and I hate that I can’t be alone anymore. And I haven’t slept through the night in weeks-”

“Weeks? What do you mean weeks? I mean - I knew you weren’t sleeping well right after, but Christ it’s been nearly two months!”

You curse at yourself for rambling, words suddenly escaping your mind as you hesitate to respond. With your silence, Steve huffs; you can imagine the disappointment and worry over his face, “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

You bite down on your lip before answering, only letting up on the pressure when the taste of blood touches your tongue; you’re ashamed of the answer, “I don’t know… I’m sorry, Steve.”

All you feel is guilt in the moments that follow. Something like this… dreams about him dying in front of your eyes isn’t something that should be kept from him. 

“Hey,” Steve’s soft tone reels you back in, “You call me whenever you have to. I’ll always pick up, okay?”

You exhale as you nod, before remembering that he can’t see your reaction through the phone, “Okay, yeah. Thank you.”

“Of course, anytime. Are you okay?” 

You weave the phone cord between your fingers, “I’m better now. Uh, I’ll let you go then.”

“Okay. Try to get some rest, for my sake,” Steve pleads. You twist the cord tighter, “I will.” 

He sighs at your oath, finally able to relax a bit more, “Hey, we don’t have to do anything tonight, if it’s too much. Or if you’re tired… ” 

You hum at his words, head leaning back against the wall. A smile creeps over your lips at his consideration, wishing that you could thank him in person for his words, “No, no let’s do something. It’ll be good for me.” 

He laughs a bit; even with how horrible the quality might be through the receiver, it still makes your stomach flutter with butterflies, “Okay, good. I’ll see you tonight. Get some sleep.”

“I’ll try, Steve.”

After wishing him a good night, you place the phone back onto it’s base. Standing up on wobbly legs, a shaky exhale leaves your lungs when your fingers remove themselves from the smooth plastic. The image of him is still there when you blink.

Fuck - you should’ve told him.

—

Three taps against the window pane startle you awake. Rubbing your eyes as you sit up, you check the time - you were only able to finally fall asleep twenty minutes ago. Anxiety starts to creep over the back of your neck - until you see the culprit. 

“Jesus…” You mutter to yourself. You can’t help the small smile that erupts over your face at the sight of Steve, fingers nervously drumming on the window sill. His expression relaxes a bit once you come over, and you’re already rolling your eyes as you move to pull it open.

“You know that I’m the only one home, right?” 

Steve nods, not following your logic, “Yeah? And?”

“You could’ve just come to the door, Steve.”

The boy in front of you shifts at your words; his retort stutters as he tries to come up with an excuse, “Okay, alright. But you know, I didn’t want to scare you or anything!”

You step back to cross your arms over your chest, “And coming to my window while I sleep seems a whole lot better to you?”

“Alright whatever, Henderson,” He answers quickly, waving off your tone, “Will you just let me in already?”

You gesture for Steve to enter, laughing quietly to yourself as he does. As soon as he’s crawled his way through the opening, you latch and lock the window closed. He huffs, “You have no idea how thrilled I am that your house only has one floor.”

“Did you drive across the neighborhood just to scare me?” You ignore him, pulling the cord on the lamp by your bedside. The light illuminates the worry on his face.

“No, I just-” Steve pauses as he fiddles with his keys, “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said. I had to know you were okay.”

You nod, crossing your arms over your chest once again, “Y-yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Steve’s brow raises at your deflection, “Um, did we not have the same conversation over the phone?”

“We did,” Your answer is laced with a bit of aggression, “You didn’t need to come all the way over here, okay? I’m fine now-”

“But are you?” Steve interrupts. His voice is genuine, soft, and you want to spill everything because he has that look in his eye; you’re not sure you can push him away forever.

“Of course, Steve-”

“Don’t lie to me,” Steve puts more force behind his words - it’s like a demand. He takes a few steps closer, “Please don’t lie to me.”

Hearing Steve plead with you like that makes your heart shatter. It’s killing him to watch you stand before him like this. He’s known you long enough to know when something’s not right, and he’s gotten especially good at reading you over the past few weeks. And by the way your jaw clenches, Steve knows you’re about to crack.

A shaky inhale comes through your lips; you have to tell him something. But how much?

“I just… I don’t want you to worry,” You mutter. Your voice is just above a whisper, although it doesn’t matter; it’s not like there’s anyone home to overhear. You’re scared to admit there’s something wrong. He shouldn’t have to do this for you.

Steve almost laughs. He runs his free hand through his hair, “It’s like, a year too late for that, you know.” 

You sigh, realizing that he’s absolutely right. Of course he should worry, especially with how vague the conversation over the phone was. Letting him in is something that you’ll have to get used to.

Even though you’d been friends for a while, it was always more about him than you. You always wanted to be there for him, if he ever needed anything, how he was doing. It’s something neither of you understood was happening until your relationship became more; it was no one’s fault. 

All of a sudden, Steve realized just how much you’ve done for him - he’s wanted to return the favor. And this… is all new to you; you’re not used to someone checking in. 

“Oh god, you’re right,” You mumble under your breath. Your hands come up to cover your eyes in shame as you continue, “I’m sorry, Steve. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

Witnessing your sudden change in mood, Steve moves towards you; he sets his keys down on your nightstand as he does. He goes to reach for you, pulling your body into his, “Hey hey, it’s okay, it’s fine.”

He wishes he could come up with something better to say. You’ve always been better with words than him. You’re better at a lot of things than him. But he’s trying - he’s trying to be better to be worthy of you.

Your arms wrap tightly around him once Steve’s pressed against you. He smells like freshly washed cotton, like pulling sheets from the dryer when they’re still warm.

It’s all so overwhelming, it makes you want to cry. You feel like you should, but the familiar burn behind your eyes never comes. Instead, you resume speaking.

“I guess I just…” You trail off, wanting to give him a reason - he deserves one.

Your fist knots the fabric of his tee; Steve’s palm slides up over your back, “I’m just not used to leaning on others for help. I’m trying to get used to it.”

“Sometimes it’s okay,” Steve’s reply is muffled by your hair. He ponders what to add, lips pressed into a firm line as he thinks, “Sometimes you gotta do stuff on your own and sometimes you need somebody else. That’s just how life works.”

Your chest heaves as you sigh at the weight of his words, this moment cements a single fact inside your brain - you won’t plan on hiding anything from him.

Well, except for that one thing. You’re still not ready to admit that to him yet. 

You wish that pulling away didn’t mean losing his warmth; but his gentle eyes meeting yours mimics a feeling like it that fills your chest. 

“You can lean on me, you know,” Steve says, and the smile that was already pulling at your lips widens even farther. And then he nudges you - his mouth curls into that stupid smirk of his, “However you want.”

You crack a laugh, accompanied by a roll of your eyes, “Yes, I know. Sometimes I just need a little reminder."

Suddenly, you remember just how lucky you are to have him. How fortunate you are to have him there to brighten your darkest moments, even if he’s sometimes battling his own demons at the same time. 

“Thank you,” You say, bringing your gaze back to meet Steve’s again. He nods slightly, tone genuine and soft as he answers, “Of course. Anytime.”

The pads of your fingers graze over his cheekbone before tucking a strand of brunette hair behind his ear; Steve shivers a bit at the gentle touch before you meet his lips in a kiss.

He still gets a bit nervous each time, only because this feels so much more different than the others. The level of comfort and security he feels when you’re in the room was never there before he met you. Like really met you.

And you - well, you’re still so overwhelmed that you finally, after all that time, get to be with the one you love - you feel like you could jump out of your skin with joy. You’ve treasured every single moment, because it’s never been lost on you how it all could be taken away in an instant.

The brilliant grin you two share after pulling away shakes it all from your mind. Your fingers move to grip his hands in yours; you just like being able to do it, even if it is in the privacy of your own bedroom.

But then that feeling settles in your stomach, the one that doesn’t go away until morning. The dread that something’s going to happen. Steve can sense your growing anxiety - it’s almost like the air surrounding you changes. Leaving you now, something about that doesn’t sit right with him.

“I’ll uh, stay if you want.”

He mentions the idea quietly because, well, you’re not officially together. But to be fair, he hasn’t asked - but neither have you. Even though your hands are still in his, pressing into his skin, Steve finds it important to ask and make sure you’re on the same page.

You can’t lie - the idea of Steve spending the night makes you a little nervous. Although, knowing that you’re safe with each other might just be the push you need to relax. And with that thought, you’re stepping away from him, “Okay. Yeah, sure.”

The doorknob is so cold against your skin as you exit to grab an extra pillow from the closet in the hallway. The darkness of the living room seems to go on forever; it almost feels like something’s creeping up your neck once your back is turned to it.

After quickly shutting the door once you’re back inside, you turn around to see Steve, perched silently on top of your comforter - his presence warms the entire room, bringing life and love into it.

He hasn’t spent that much time in this space; he’s trying to take everything in, because it’s very reflective of you. There are neat piles of VHS tapes and comics on top of the dresser, a closet dominated with dark colors and sneakers, and some of your well worn denim tossed over the desk chair.

But his eye catches on a stack of photographs on the desk’s surface, and he’s halfway across the room before you can interject. You clutch the pillow a little tighter to your chest as Steve flips through them, laughing at one of you and Dustin from a few years ago at Christmas wearing matching pajamas.

He spins to show it to you, “I’m never gonna let him live this down.”

You approach his side when he finds another one of you as a child, playing with a cake battered spatula in your previous house. Baby curls framed your face, and your eyes were wide with adventure and wonder, “Holy shit, look at you!”

“I don’t know why I remember that day so much,” You mutter.

Steve’s silence pushes you to continue, “It was Mom’s birthday, and my grandparents baked her a cake - double chocolate I think. I wasn’t tall enough to reach but I wanted to help so badly. So they sat me on top of the counter and let me mix everything. They even let me tell her that I made it.”

You laugh quietly before the memory turns cold in your mind, and your wistful smile turns to a slight frown, “I haven’t seen them since we moved here.”

Steve isn’t even looking at the picture anymore. He listened to every word that left your mouth; you don’t speak much about the rest of your family. Instead of trying to probe further, he leans over to press a kiss to your forehead, a gentle and silent reminder of his support.

This feels strange. Opening up to him like that, making yourself that vulnerable - that’s a level of intimacy you haven’t explored quite yet. At least not with him… or anyone really.

Thankfully, it hasn’t seemed to scare him off. If anything, Steve’s more relaxed. He likes knowing how you feel.

Steve flips through the others while you rest your chin on his shoulder, your eyes intently watch his reaction to each one - you think you could stay in this moment forever.

And then he comes across one - an image of you and the kids on Halloween a few years back all dressed like Jedi. He pauses on it, “When do you think we should tell them?”

A sharp inhale comes through your nostrils at his comment; you hadn’t thought about that.

In all your bliss, you had completely forgotten - no one else knows. Not even your brother.

“Oh God, Steve-” You start, removing yourself from him, “I don’t even know how we would do that.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve replies, turning back to meet your gaze, “We just… tell them. It’s not rocket science.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as you answer, clenching the pillow a bit tighter in your grasp, “It’s really not that simple with them, Steve. You know that. And honestly, I still feel like I’m trying to figure out how to do all this.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair, knowing just how messy involving the kids could make your relationship, “I’ve kinda liked it just being about us. You know, we’re together because we wanna be, it’s not for anyone else. And trust me, they’ll have so many opinions-”

“So let’s keep it to ourselves then,” Steve interjects, shrugging his shoulders a bit as he answers, “We’ll tell ‘em when we think it’s right, when we’re sure if this is serious or not.”

You hated keeping your feelings for him a secret. You hated that you were never able to tell him, but this is different. The idea sends a rush of excitement through your veins, you can’t deny it.

He smiles a bit and sets the photos down before continuing, “I know it might be too early to tell, but I feel like this could last, you know.”

You feel blood rise into your cheeks when he looks at you like that - irises filled to the brim with admiration. His hands come up to cup your face as you reply, “Me too.”

Steve leans in to drink a slow kiss from your lips, the kind that leaves you breathless when it’s over.

“Good,” He mutters, earning a small grin from you. Steve takes the pillow out of your grasp, “What do you say we try and get a couple hours of sleep in? I guess Dustin wants to go to the arcade before lunch.”

You laugh, pushing your hair back away from your face as you answer, “I will never be able to get used to that, I’m sorry.”

Steve tosses the pillow onto the empty spot on the mattress while you pull back the comforter. The bed dips as you both settle under the covers; Steve’s arm starts to slide over your waist before stopping abruptly, “Is this okay?”

You clear your throat, “Yeah, yeah that’s fine.”

The darkness washes over the room after you pull the cord to the lamp; it doesn’t feel as scary with Steve lying behind you. His touch stops your mind from wandering as it so often does - it can’t concoct anything to torment you with.

That being said, the sight from the earlier nightmare does appear behind your eyelids when you blink.

“It was about you,” You mutter, “The dream.”

It’s spoken before you can stop yourself. You instantly regret it, due to the lack of a reply that follows.

But then Steve tugs you closer, and you feel like you could melt against him. He tucks his nose right underneath the base of your hairline, deeply inhaling as you relax into him.

“I’m sorry,” He mumbles against your skin; your fingers curl around his as a quiet thank you.

Steve thinks that this is probably what home is supposed to feel like - warm clothes, the scent of your shampoo, a comfortable silence to lull you both to sleep. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more comfortable.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, the pair of you have finally found a bit of peace.

—

taglist: @stevebabey / @mrsukai / @hannarudick / @crazycookiecrumbles / @hellisateenageheather / @alewifex / @l0ve-0f-my-life / @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 / @daddystevee / @thecaptainsgingersnap / @let-the-imaginationflow / @asianravenpuff / @im-a-stranger-thing​ / @mikariell95​ / @pilunb​ / @harringtherin​ / @royalestrellas​ / @ultrunning​ / @buggs177 / @poutfull​ / @yoheyyosup​ / @duchessdaisybat​ / @janieavalos / @sassisaluxury​ / @beththebubbly​ / @i-bitch-you-bitch​ / @captainstilinskis​ / @juliebean247​ / @im-nada / @whatabeautifulsurrender​ / @rexorangecouny​ / @pass-me-jeez-it / @ahoy-scoops-troop / @halefirewarrior​ / @jointhehunt67 / @wallacetdog​ / @ketchuplukehemmo​ / @m-a-r-i-n-t-p / @fangirl485 / @emmegirl827 / @lookalivesunshine-x​ / @elite4cekalyma​ / @marjoherbo​ / @just-my-fandom / @idumpyourgrass​ / @alafolieee​ / @mochminnie​ / @phantomalchemist​ / @dustyblueboo​ / @alonewolfsblog​ / @ggclarissa​ / @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​ / @bippityboppitybabe​ / @readinthegarden12​ / @bakugouishusbando

if you wanna be added to the taglist, just lemme know!

[starshine583]

New Girl on the Block (4)

(Y’all ready to read the next update??? Enjoy part four of this fic and if you’re interested, feel free to check out the mini series connected to this called the Journal Entries. It’s just little journal snippets from the two dorks that I decided to write for fun :D)

Ch.1 / Ch.3 / Ch.5

Chapter 4: Get to Know You

Marinette slipped on her white, non-flour-covered leather jacket and pushed her pigtails back so they wouldn’t be tucked into her outfit. She then smoothed out her pink dress with a smile, admiring the black flowers that she’d stitched along the bottom. This dress had been one of her stress-relieving projects, but it turned out quite well, in her opinion.

Once Papa had finished teaching her friends how to fold the dough, he put their croissants into the fridge to chill them and instructed everyone to go upstairs and wash up. Marinette dutifully took them up to her room where her personal bathroom was and taught them how to use the shower, but when she tried to lead one of them to her parent’s bathroom as well, they insisted that she take a shower there herself. 

“What kind of gentlemen would we be if we forced the ladies to wait on us?” Claude had said light-heartedly, though she could tell he meant it. Allegra’s smirk as she walked in the bathroom to take a shower first was proof of that. 

The notion had warmed Marinette’s heart, coaxing a giggle from her each time she thought about it. It might be hard to see sometimes, but Claude, Allan, and Felix truly were a considerate and chivalrous group of boys. 

Now, She’s finished her shower in her parent’s bathroom and gone back up to her bedroom, where Allegra, Claude, and Allan had been patiently waiting. Allegra was nice and clean again, wearing the long, purple shirt and black leggings that Marinette had given her, and Claude appeared to have just exited the shower, his damp hair sticking to his face and dripping across his borrowed, black and blue “O.K” shirt. Allan was still covered in flour.

Allegra smiled at Marinette from her spot on the chaise as she re-braided her long, golden blonde hair. “Thanks for the extra clothes, Mari! These are amazing.”

“Yeah!” Claude agreed enthusiastically, holding out his with a grin. “This shirt is awesome!”

Marinette glanced down to hide her blush. “I-It’s the least I could do.”

“We still appreciate it.” Allan replied.

“Oh!” Marinette said, suddenly thinking about the fact that Allan was still covered in flour. “Allan, do you want to use Maman’s shower? You don’t have to stand around waiting for Felix.”

That who she assumed was occupying the shower, anyway. The water was still running, and everyone but Felix was present. 

Allan waved a hand. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll be getting a shower soon if Felix would hurry up.”

Marinette chuckled at Allan’s obvious call to Felix, even more so when Felix shouted back from the bathroom, “You’re the one that let me go first!”

“I didn’t know you would take a day and a half!” 

“That’s still your fault then, isn’t it?” Felix shot back.

Allan scoffed and crossed his arms, causing Marinette to offer her parent’s shower again out of guilt. She had been the one to throw flour on him, after all.

“Are you sure you don’t want to-”

The bathroom door swung open, effectively cutting Marinette off, and Felix stepped out with one hand on his hip and the other hand on the towel that was draped across his head. He shot Allan a glare, practically growling the words, “There. I’m out. Are you happy?”

“Delighted.” Allan responded sarcastically.

Marinette might have been concerned about the growing conflict had she not been focused on Felix’s outfit. Or rather, how well it suited him. The black, three-quarter-sleeved shirt that she’d given him, along with the plaid green, button-up shirt she’d provided to go underneath, clung to his waist, revealing his surprisingly slender figure. The dark grey jeans he wore in place of his dress pants didn’t fit the outfit exactly, but they worked well enough, and Marinette eagerly started taking mental notes for future adjustments.

Allan grabbed his clothes and walked into the bathroom, while Felix glared daggers at him until the bathroom door closed. 

“Woah~” Allegra crowed, easily breaking the tension. “You should wear casual outfits more often, Felix. They really suit you.”

Claude smirked. “No kidding. I swear you’ve worn the same suit for the whole two years we’ve known.”

Felix turned his glare to Claude with a scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve worn plenty of suits, each one made differently.”

Allegra snorted. “That wasn’t.. That was not the point, Felix.”

Felix narrowed his eyes, the barest hint of confusion finding its way to his features, and Marinette took that opportunity to speak up.

“How’s the outfit? Does it fit alright?” She asked. Hopefully she can find the original measurements for the outfit if it does fit fine, because Felix was most likely going to become a regular customer. Maybe he wouldn’t hire her for actual commissions, but she might end up making something for him on impulse. (as you do)

Felix caught her eye, his glare slowly fading as he registered her question.

“The fabric is extremely comfortable, and the clothes fit perfectly.” He said after a moment. “You said you made these?”

She nodded. “With my sewing machine. I was thinking of putting a green paw print on the shirt too, but I haven’t gotten around to it.”

Felix hummed, idly pulling his towel from on top of his head to around his shoulders. “I see. Thank you for lending them to me.”

Marinette blinked, suddenly finding herself captivated by the way his hair fell across his face. Still being damp, various strands stuck to his forehead and cheeks, and he reached up to brush them away. This brought her attention to his face, which, for some reason, she hadn’t quite noticed before. The defined jawline, the subtle-yet-there cheek bones, the pointed nose- all of his features were sharp. Even his eyes held a silver tint to them that reminded her of steel. 

These observations dragged her to one, rather important revelation: Felix Culpa was actually a fairly handsome person.

“Marinette?” Felix said, drawing her from her thoughts. “Are you alright?”

A rush of heat swarmed her cheeks, and Marinette straightened. “W-what? I mean yes! Yeah, I’m totally fine, I.. yes.”

“Hey, speaking of clothes!” Claude piped up, graciously saving Marinette from her own awkwardness. “How’s my prince costume going?”

Marinette twirled around in her rolling chair and grabbed for her sketching notebook. A distraction was definitely something she needed right now.

“I’ve got a few different ideas, but you need to come tell which one you like best.” She explained as she flipped open the notebook.

Claude hopped up from the stray chest he’d been sitting on and practically bounced over to her seat. She let him scan each page, smiling when he started humming “Ooh’s” and “Aah’s”.

“I can only pick one?! But they’re all so good!” Claude remarked, almost exasperated.

Marinette chuckled. “Well.. I guess I can make all of them for you, but you at least need to choose which one I start on.”

Claude gasped. “You mean you’re going to make all of these for me?”

“It’s going to take a month or so to get them all done.” She warned. “But-”

Claude scooped her into a bone-crushing hug, briefly reminding her of her father. “Thank you, Mari! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best!”

Marinette laughed and gave him a light pat on the arm. “You’re welcome.”

Her smile widened as Claude eagerly grabbed the notebook and ran back to his designated chest to look through the drawing again. It was nice to see someone who was also enthusiastic about fashion. She’d gotten tired of talking to people who simply didn’t understand the hype of creating unique styles of clothing. 

“You know he’s never going to leave you alone now, right?” Felix commented next to her.

Marinette offered him a glance as she said, “I think I can live with that.”

Felix shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

She smiled at that. Felix may be striking, but that didn’t have to change anything. Lots of people were striking. And lots of people remained friends despite that.

“Oh,” Felix muttered, seeming to remember something, “Where do you want me to put my clothes? They’re still in the bathroom because of Allan, but..”

“Uhm.. I think Maman said she was going to wash them.” Marinette answered. “She wanted to try to get them clean before supper for all of you.”

“Ah, supper.” Claude cut in, heaving a jokingly wistful sigh. “I can’t wait for that. If your mom’s croissants can taste that heavenly, then her full meals must be amazing.”

He sunk against the chest for emphasis, not realizing that there was a gap between the chest and the wall. The sudden weight threw the chest off balance, and it tipped forward, causing Claude to get jerked backwards. He flailed his arms briefly and yelped before crashing to the floor. The front of the chest hit the ground as well, and the impact popped it open, scattering various objects across the floor.

“Oh, Claude!”

“Are you okay?” 

The girls rushed to his side to help him up, but Felix shot him a flat look.

“First the kitchen and now her bedroom.” He said curtly. “Should we tear up the living room next? Or perhaps the dining room has more fragile items?”

Allegra rolled her eyes. “Felix, can you at least try to be sympathetic.”

“I am being sympathetic. Marinette doesn’t have the money to replace things at the drop of a hat like we do. It’s rude to behave so recklessly in her home.”

Marinette glanced up at Felix, not sure whether to find his words sweet or offensive. “Trust me, it’s fine. This chest is old anyway.”

Felix’s frown told her that he didn’t agree on the matter, but before he could argue further, the bathroom door swung open again.

“What happened?” Allan asked, his hair still dripping wet. “I heard the crash. Is anyone hurt?”

“Only my pride.” Claude groaned in response. He was sitting up now and rubbing his head as Allegra switched between scolding and coddling.

Allan sighed with relief. “Oh, good. You can’t hurt something that’s not there.”

“Hey!”

Marinette giggled at the comment. “Allan, how is your outfit? Do I need to make any adjustments?”

Allan glanced down at his clothes. She’d given him a maroon shirt with a blue heartbeat line in the center, a black and blue shirt to go underneath, and a pair of black jeans. He didn’t appear to be wearing the second shirt, though.

“Oh, they fit great.” He said, twisted his torso a bit to get a better feel for the new clothes. “I didn’t have time to put on the second shirt, though. I heard the crash and panicked.”

Marinette offered him a smile. “That’s fine. I can just put it back in the closet.”

Allan nodded and looked down at the mess. “So Claude spilled this chest?”

“Yeah, he was being an idiot.” Allegra remarked as she picked up one of the trinkets. “You know. Nothing new.”

“Wow. can you guys lay off for two seconds?” Claude huffed. He reached forward to pick up one of the objects as well, curiosity overtaking his annoyance. “What is all of this stuff, anyway?”

Marinette glanced at the miscellaneous objects to check- she had several trunks that acted as ‘junk drawers’ -and immediately cringed when she recognized a black hat with rainbow colors stitched along the bottom.

“Oh..” It was Adrien’s gift chest. She’d almost forgotten that she had it. “They’re, um.. They’re just crafts, really.”

“Just crafts?” Claude repeated, holding up a crocheted Ladybug doll. “These are awesome!”

Marinette watched them for a moment. “...do you want them?”

The group looked up in shock, and Marinette quickly added, “Y-You don’t have to take them! I’ve just.. Uh.. they’re like junk? I mean, not junk, but this is my junk chest.. Sort of. I’ve just been meaning to get rid of them. So if you want them, you can have them.” 

Allegra frowned. “Are you sure? It looks like you put a lot of effort into these.”

Marinette nodded. “Positive. Take whatever you want.”

Although hesitant at first, the group continued to look through the gifts, and little by little, they started to take some. A smile came to Marinette’s lips as she watched the pile of Adrien junk dwindle. She had spent a lot of time on making the presents, but there was no way she’d be giving them to Adrien now. So what was the point of keeping them in her room? To serve as a mocking reminder of how blind she had been while loving him? No thanks.

By the time they were done, the chest only had half the gifts it used to, and Marinette quickly decided that she would donate the leftovers once she got the chance. 

“Thanks for the stuff, Mari!” Claude said cheerfully, his hands full of various objects.

Allegra nodded, holding a few things herself. “Yeah, you really do spoil us.”

“Which is saying something, considering we’re rich.” Allan teased, pocketing the two items that he’d decided to snatch. 

Marinette chuckled. “You’re helping me more than I am you.”

She stood up and walked to the bathroom to grab the boys’ old clothes. “I’m gonna bring these down to Maman, but feel free to look around until I get back.”

The group voiced their agreements, and Marinette climbed down the trapdoor ladder with the pile of clothes in hand, feeling like another weight had been lifted off of her shoulders.

Getting rid of Adrien’s gifts was one more step towards happiness, and she couldn’t wait to keep walking.

~~~~~~

One can tell a lot about a person by their bedroom. How clean they were, whether they were sentimental, which things they found important- a bedroom could quite literally be considered a box in which someone stored their entire personality. That’s why Felix had been anticipating this part of the visit. Someone can be a master manipulator, but their room would always show their true selves. And it only took one look for Felix to know..

Marinette really loved the color pink.

Seriously, she had it everywhere. The walls, the furniture, the carpet- How was she not sick of the color by now? Felix was sick of it, and he’d only been there for about twenty minutes!

Pushing the pink thought aside, he continued poking around her room. Marinette had gone downstairs to pass his clothes off to her mother, so that gave him a bit of time to inspect the space unsupervised. Not that he was planning on doing anything scandalous. It merely gave him the opportunity of observing Marinette’s room on his own terms.

When she told him that her room was up in the attic, he’d been understandably shocked. The attic didn’t sound like a spacious place to sleep, let alone work on homework and other personal things. Seeing it now, though, Felix realized that that wasn’t the case. The attic was actually quite open. There was a desk, a closet, various chests, a bathroom, and she still had a good portion of the room empty. He wondered if that was thanks to the original size of the room or thanks to Marinette’s resourcefulness.

Her cleaning style wasn’t too bad, either. Don’t get him wrong, there were things scattered everywhere, but it was a specific type of scattered, like an organized chaos. He had a feeling that she knew where most of her necessities were. 

Felix moved to her desk, where most of the mess was focused. There were papers, sewing needles, scraps of fabric, and pencils spread across the surface. Her interest in fashion certainly shined through, as most of the papers were filled with various sketches and measurements. He found that admirable. When someone usually speaks of their ‘dream job’, they speak of it as a fantasy, one that they never intend to fully pursue, but Marinette was obviously reaching as high as she could to grasp her goal. She even had a mannequin in her room.

“Marinette’s room is so cool!” Claude exclaimed from the loft up top. “She even has a balcony!”

Felix glanced upwards, briefly setting the papers he’d been studying aside. There’s a balcony upstairs? He didn’t recall seeing a balcony on the way in.

“Claude, you have a balcony.” Allegra reminded him with an amused smile.

“Yeah, but mine only extends from the side of the building.” Claude defended. “This one’s on the roof!”

Ah, so that’s why Felix hadn’t seen it.

Allan frowned. “Really? Isn’t that a little dangerous?”

“It’s got a rail.” 

“Oh, okay. That’s fine then.”

Allegra chuckled as she brushed her hands against the hat on Marinette’s mannequin. “Marinette’s room is pretty neat, though.”

“I think it’s just Marinette who’s cool.” Allan remarked.

Allegra and Claude heartily agreed, and Felix nodded. “Cool” probably wouldn’t be the exact word that he’d use to describe her, but overall, it wasn’t far off.

“Can you believe we’ve only known her for a week?” Claude asked as he climbed down to their level. “It feels like we’ve known her forever already.”

“Yeah, but I think that’s just how she is.” Allegra smiled. “She draws you in and makes you feel like family.”

“Her parents are the same way.” Allan said. “You can really tell where she gets it from.”

“Where who gets what from?” 

Felix, along with the rest of the group, turned to the trapdoor, where Marinette was standing about halfway through. She didn’t have the clothes anymore, but she did have a tray of drinks.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Allegra said dismissively. “What are those?”

Marinette set the tray on the ground long enough to climb through and close the trapdoor as she explained, “Maman and Papa thought you guys might be thirsty, so she sent me up with a bunch of different drinks to choose from.”

“Sweet!” Claude grinned, swiftly walking over in case she needed help. “Do you have Dr. Pepper?”

Marinette smiled and turned the tray to reveal a deep red can of soda. “Yep! I know it’s your favorite.”

“You truly are a blessing.” Claude replied, grabbing the soda off of the tray.

Marinette giggled and brought the tray forward for the rest of them to pick. Allegra chose a pepsi, while Allan snagged a coke, and Felix grabbed the slim cup of coffee that sat to the side.

He took a sip of it, enjoying the warmth of the bitter liquid. It didn’t escape his notice that Marinette had brought up all of their preferred drinks. She even got his coffee right (Black with three sugars). 

Despite how scatter-brained she could be, Marinette still paid attention to details, which was impressive. Felix didn’t know anyone else who could space out during an entire conversation, yet remember the exact type of drink everyone ordered during lunch.

“So what do you guys want to do now? We still have about half an hour before supper is finished.” Marinette asked, setting the tray aside. 

Allan shrugged. “What do you have?”

Marinette thought for a moment. “Well, we have board games, card games, Mecha Strike 3-”

“Mecha Strike 3?” Claude perked up. “Yes, please!”

Marinette laughed. “Is everyone else okay with that?”

“Sounds great.” Allan smiled.

Allegra shrugged. “I’m fine with it.” 

Felix, being satisfied with his inspection for now, sat down on the chaise. “I’ll watch.”

The rest of the group huddled around Marinette’s computer while she turned it on, and after a bit of debating, they decided on ‘winner faces next player’ and started with Allan and Claude. Felix watched the first two games, just long enough to see Marinette cream Allan, before reverting back to his studious ways. He scanned the bedroom again, hoping to catch something new, when his gaze landed on the trunk that Claude had tipped over earlier. With everyone bustling around it, Felix hadn’t gotten a chance to sift through it, but now that they were occupied with Marinette’s game..

Felix shifted in his seat and re-opened the chest. It was only half full, as opposed to its previously overflowing contents, but that didn’t bother him. There were still plenty of things inside, such as shirts, figurines, hats, and other things. He pulled out a jacket and turned it in his hands, admiring the handiwork. The hood, along with the cuffs of the sleeves and zipper were pitch black, but the rest of the jacket was a deep red, save for the black spots that littered it. “Miraculous” was written on the back in cursive as well. Was this supposed to be based off of the Parisian superhero Ladybug? Why would she want to get rid of this? At the very least, she could make a profit by selling it.

What did she use to make this? The material is so soft.. Felix thought as he unzipped the jacket. It was completely black on the inside, save for some tiny, golden lettering near the section wear the pocket would be.

“To: Adrien

From: Marinette”

Felix frowned. How strange. Why would Marinette be giving away things that she made specifically for someone else? He dug through the chest some more, this time looking for names, and what he found was shocking. 

Almost every gift had the name ‘Adrien’ on it somewhere, whether it be a card or stitching or marker. Some gifts didn’t have a name, but at that point, Felix felt it was safe to assume that everything in the chest was supposed to be for this ‘Adrien’ person. 

That begged the question, though: Who was Adrien? And why would she create so many gifts for him just to give them away?

A small card stitched on the ear of a stuffed cat gave him his answer.

“Dear Adrien, 

Happy 19th birthday! It’s officially been five years since we’ve known each other. Isn’t that crazy? Anyway, I just wanted to say happy birthday (even though I’ve already said it) and that I’m really happy we got to meet. Enjoy the cat!

With all my love, Marinette”

Felix glanced up at Marinette, who was blissfully ignorant of his findings as she defeated Claude for the second time at Mecha Strike 3. Did she intend to use all of these as birthday presents? How many gifts were in there? Did she expect this person to have the same interests twenty years from now? He couldn’t decide if this level of planning was due to over-thinking or just plain obsession. Maybe both.

“Hey, Felix!” 

Felix flinched at the sudden call of his name, weirdly feeling as if he’d been caught in the act of some crime. He looked up to see Claude waving a controller at him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to play?” The brunette asked.

“Talk to me when you have chess.” Felix replied shortly, going back to the chest. He had hoped that seeing Marinette’s room would provide more answers to her life, but it only issued more questions. Did she have this amount of gifts for all of her friends or was Adrien special? If he was special, what way would it be? Was he possibly an ex-lover? She dated him for a while, and they had a recent falling out, which was why she was getting rid of the gifts. That would make sense.

“He just wants to talk.”

Her words from last week resurfaced in his mind. The person who chased her that day was the only one she reacted bitterly towards. Was Adrien trying to get back together with her? 

Was he the reason she left her old school in the first place?

My, my Dupain-Cheng. Felix thought. Aren’t you just full of secrets?

Tag List:  @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce

[kuroopaisen]

cause & effect || chapter 4

➵ your work friend, kuroo, has a tiny favour to ask. to say you’re surprised is an understatement. but, for some stupid reason, you agreed to it. 

warnings: f!reader, alcohol

wc: 2.1k

m.list | ch. 3 ↞ ch. 4 ↠ ch. 5

You sip the hot sake with a grimace. It’s not bad per se, just… different.

For a restaurant whose whole gimmick was hot sake, you’re surprised it clashes so much with your meal. But at least it brought you a little warmth.

Kuroo’s having as strange a time as you are. Each sip of his sake is accommodated with a grimace. Somehow, it makes him look a couple years younger.

Your legs are tucked under the futon attached to your table, but admittedly there’s not much room. Kuroo’s legs are far too long and the kotatsu much too cramped.

“Give me some room, would you?” You grin, nudging him with your knee.

“Oh, sorry,” Kuroo chuckles, adjusting himself.

This isn’t the first fake date you’ve been on with Kuroo. Well, they weren’t dates – not technically. The purpose of them was to get to know each other better; something you’d both agreed was important if you were going to pull this whole thing off.

You’d never really thought about it before, but there’s a lot of mundane information shared in relationships. Things you might not think to mention to other people, or even things you haven’t told anyone else. Not that you were saying any of that to each other – you just need to be convincingly close.

You are going to meet his family, after all.

“So,” you sigh, setting your cup on the kotatsu, “you lived with your dad, your grandmother, and your grandfather?”

“Mhm,” he nods.

“And I need to stay on my toes around them?”

“Oh yeah,” Kuroo grins. “Chances are they’ll tease the hell out of you if they get comfortable enough.”

“Great,” you chuckle.

“You’ll be fine,” he smiles. “I’m sure they’ll love you.”

“You sure?”

“Chances are they’ll tell you you’re too good for me.”

“Maybe I am,” you smirk, taking another sip of sake.

Kuroo scoffs. “Brutal!”

You’re not sure if he can tell you’re lying. He’s handsome, clever, and witty enough to be entertaining. You’d feel lucky to have a guy like him look your way.

Oh well, you think as you place your hands in your lap. You’re quite happy to keep that thought to yourself. There’s no good reason to feed a man’s ego.

He stretches his arms above his head, groaning. You swear you can hear his bones cracking.

“You sound like an old man,” you grin.

“Look, it’s not my fault the human body is badly designed.”

“Ah, so it’s not your fault for not looking after it properly, hm?” Perhaps he has a point. But you have to make your own fun these days.

“I’ll have you know I take very good care of my body, thank you very much.”

You’re not sure if he intended it to sound so flirtatious, but you blush anyway.

“Your bones say otherwise,” you muse.

“I won’t stand for this abuse,” he grins, standing up. “You ready?”

You follow suit, scampering after him as he approaches the cashier.

As always, he pays. No matter how hard you try to protest, he just smiles and says he feels bad for taking up your evenings.

You don’t know a casual way to say that you actually enjoy these outings.

Your solution is just buy him fancier coffees in the morning.

Kuroo deals with the transaction in the same smooth and charming way he always does, and you’re sure he’s definitely made an imprint on the dear cashier’s memory.

It’s only late afternoon, but the sky is already darkening. The trees that line the street are speckled with fairy lights, already glowing like candles in the dim twilight.

You gaze at them with a tiny sense of wonder. You’ve heard the theory that people made winter a time of celebration to give them something to pull through the dark and the cold for. Maybe that’s true – but there’s always such beauty to be find during wintertime, even if it feels like the tip of your nose is about to fall out.

Fairy lights in a tree are so small, so inconsequential, and yet so human.

You shake your head. That’s the sake talking.

You turn to Kuroo to say something.

He’s peering at you intently, eyes roaming your face.

You blush, unsure what to make of that look. Is there something on your face? “Everything okay?”

“The lighting’s good here.”

You frowned. “Huh?”

Kuroo fishes his phone out of his pocket, taking a step towards you and hovering an arm above your shoulders.

“You all good to take a photo?” He asks, and it clicks.

“Oh! Right!” You nod, almost a little too fervently. “Sure.”

He smiles, slinging his arm across your shoulders. You lean into him, tilting your face to what you believe to be your best angle.

Sure, these photos are technically ‘fake’, but that doesn’t mean you can’t look your best.

He snaps a couple of photos of the two of you before opening his gallery. The two of you take a moment to observe the handful of images.

The two of you may not really in a relationship, but you’re sure these photos could fool you.

You point at one of them, nodding. “That one looks good.”

Kuroo chuckles, adding it to his favourites. “Thanks.”

He smiles and slips his phone into his pocket as he steps away from you. You miss his warmth more than you should.

“Have they liked the photos?” You ask.

“Loved them,” he grins.

You know Kuroo’s been sending them to his family – with your permission, of course. It’s partly to satiate their desire to intrude on his love life, and also to make it more believable when you finally meet them. You have half a mind to save them to your own phone with how cute they are.

“Oba-chan’s been joking about putting them on the wall.”

You snort. “That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

“She’s desperate,” he grins.

“She must be, if she’s considering omiai.”

Kuroo shrugs. “Ah, she’s just worried about me. She doesn’t want me to be ‘married to my work.’”

“Are you?” You ask, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh, God no.”

You laugh as you dig your hands in your pockets.

“I’ve just got a lot going on,” he explains. “I don’t have the time to date.”

“Really?” You tilt your head at him. “You kind of strike me as the kind of guy who’s content to just go home and play dating sims all night.”

Kuroo reels back, a hand on his chest. “You’re joking.”

“I thought you were single because you had some digital waifu or something.”

Kuroo stares at you with an expression of absolute horror. “What have I done to deserve this?”

“I’m just teasing,” you giggle, hopping down the street. “Okay, so if you’re not cuddling up against a body pillow of a scantily clad anime women during those lonely nights, then what do you do with your spare time?”

Kuroo scoffs, shaking his head as he jogs to catch up with you. “Well, I catch up with my friends a fair bit. Oh, and I’m part of a hobby volleyball club.”

“You play?” You look him up and down. Now that he’s said it, it makes perfect sense.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I take good care of my body,” he grins.

Another glance and you realise – yes, actually, he appears to be taking very good care of his body. Those shoulders look a little broader than you’d first thought.

“Is that why you applied for your job?” You ask. “Personal interest?”

“Mhm,” he nods.

Interesting. “Have you always played?”

“I’ve played for as long as I can remember,” he grins. “Believe it or not, but my high school team actually made it to Nationals. With me as their captain.”

“Wait, really?” You look up at him with wide eyes. Now that was certainly unexpected.

“Sure did.”

“How far did you get?”

Kuroo furrows his brow for a moment. “I think it was something like the top 16?”

“That’s… pretty impressive,” you admit. Your knowledge of sports is perhaps a little lower than might be expected of someone in your position, but you digress. Top 16 in the entire nation is definitely something to be proud of.

“Glad you think so,” he grins.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you pursue it professionally?” From your perspective he certainly has the build for it. And if there’s one thing you’re sure of after working next to him for a while now, it’s that he’s clever. A trait that seems to be surprisingly useful on the court.

“There were some real monsters on the teams we faced,” he says, voice languid as ever. “You know about Hinata Shouyou and Kageyama Tobio, right?”

You nod. Even if your understanding of the sport itself wasn’t particularly advanced, you were well-aware of the top players. That, at least, you’d made an effort to stay up to date with. Also, a lot of them were unfairly attractive – making that task a bit easier to stick to than some of your others.

“We faced them at Nationals,” he glances at you, a new glint in his eye. Maybe it’s nostalgia.

You shiver.

“That genuinely sounds terrifying.”

Kuroo grins. “It was. Oh, and you know Bokuto Koutarou, right?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Well, we were friends in high school,” Kuroo says, as if it’s the most mundane piece of information you could receive. “Our teams often practiced against one another.”

You stare at him, jaw slack. “No way.”

“I have several embarrassing photos of him to prove it,” Kuroo chuckles.

He’s so confident about it that you have no choice but to believe him.

“You have to introduce me to him,” you say, voice a little more desperate than you’d like.

“Why?” Kuroo flashes you a wicked grin. “Got a crush?”

“No,” you roll your eyes, praying your cheeks aren’t turning too red. “He just seems… nice.”

“Nice and… attractive?”

“Shut up!”

“I’m just saying, he’s technically single—”

“Aren’t I supposed to be your fake girlfriend?” You knock him with one of his shoulders to little avail. You stumble back a bit from the impact. He stays completely still.

Kuroo cackles a little louder than usual. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

“Who knew you were so annoying?” You scoff.

“That’s on you,” he smirks. “You’re the one agreed to this.”

“It’s a hell of my own creation,” you mumble.

“Should’ve read the fine print,” Kuroo teases.

You have half a mind to glare at him to keep this going, but a question pushes itself to the forefront of your mind.

“Wait, so…” You press your lips together, frowning. “You didn’t pursue professional volleyball because of people like Bokuto?”

Kuroo tilts his head to the side with a pensive expression. “Sort of,” he shrugs. “I guess I just felt like I didn’t have the same passion for the court that guys like him did.”

“Oh,” you murmur. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I just realised my talents would be better applied elsewhere.”

“So… in marketing?”

He grins, glancing at you. “I just think that volleyball has the power to really connect people.”

You tilt your head at him.

“When I first moved to Tokyo, I wasn’t great at talking to people,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “But, because of volleyball, I found a way to… feel more comfortable opening up to people.”

The thought of Kuroo Tetsurou of all people being shy strikes you for a second. It’s hard to picture – but only for a moment.

“So,” he continues, “I want to make it easier for kids to get into this sort of thing. You never know who it might help.”

You smile to yourself. Once again, he’s being cute. And he doesn’t seem to have any clue.

“What about you?” Kuroo asks. “How’d you end up there?”

“Oh, it was just the first place that took me in,” you shrug.

He snorts. “Really?”

“Yeah. I just sent out my resume to a bunch of places and they got back to me first.”

“Oh, wow,” Kuroo grins.

“Sorry it’s not very romantic,” you blush, glancing at him.

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “It sounds very reasonable.”

“Thanks,” you chuckle.

In all honesty, part of you had expected this whole ‘fake dating’ thing to be a bit of a burden. The thought of pretending to like someone a lot more than you actually do sounds draining.

But it’s not hard to like Kuroo Tetsurou. In fact, you think he’s quite pleasant company. This whole charade shouldn’t be much trouble at all.

You dutifully ignore the thought that, if this were a real date, you’d absolutely ask him if he’d like to go on another.

[emospritelet]

Manifesto - chapter 10

It's been 84 years...

Last time, Sutherland convinced Belle to join in with a Government consultation. Cue snark and UST

[AO3]

-

Belle stared at Sutherland, her pulse thumping at the base of her throat as she met his eyes. He had that tiny smile on his face, his eyes glinting, and she licked her lips nervously.

“I - I didn’t think you’d be here,” she said lamely, and he pushed upright.

“Well, it is my house,” he said. “After a fashion.”

“No, I didn’t mean…” She closed her eyes, swallowed, and opened them again. “I just meant I didn’t think you’d concern yourself with a consultation, that’s all. I - I thought it might be one of your Ministers.”

“Ordinarily I wouldn’t,” he agreed, reaching for the coffee. “But we’ve decided to give this policy more priority, and given that it’s a cross-government initiative, I thought I’d show face.”

“Right,” she said weakly. “Great.”

“Oh, I won’t be here for the whole thing,” he added. “I suspect I’ll leave after lunch. Coffee?”

“Thank you.”

Belle looked around the table, spying pieces of folded card printed with names marking each place. She read over the names, trying to find her own.

“You’re here,” said Sutherland, placing both hands on the back of one of the chairs and pulling it out. “Please. Take a seat.”

For a moment she was frozen in place, but then she lifted her chin, stalking around the table and sitting down. He pushed her chair in, and she murmured her thanks, squeezing her thighs together as he reached over her shoulder and grasped a cup and saucer between thumb and forefinger, slowly pulling it over until it was in front of her. Belle watched the movement of his hand: long, tanned fingers above a perfectly white shirt cuff, and wanted to sigh. Nope. Still fancy him. Dammit!

“I trust your journey here wasn’t too tiring,” he said, crossing to the chair opposite the door and taking a seat.

“It was fine,” she said automatically.

“And the accommodation?” he went on. “I’m sure Anna arranged something suitable.”

“Yes, it’s - uh - lovely.”

He nodded, reaching for his own coffee, and Belle glanced down at the table. There was a folder of documents in front of her, a close-up picture of a smiling multiracial group of people with their arms around each other in front of a gleaming modern building of steel and glass. Shaping a Stronger Society was written in yellow font on a dark blue background. Belle opened the folder to reveal a sheaf of documents, the day’s agenda lying uppermost.

“I’m afraid it’s going to be a long day,” said Sutherland, making her jump. “We’ll do our best to keep you lubricated. There’s plenty more coffee, if you need it.”

Belle automatically took a sip of her own coffee, and was spared the ordeal of making conversation by the door opening to reveal Anna. She was followed by several men and women in suits, and there was a buzz of conversation as introductions were made and seating places indicated. Belle smiled at the man who was directed to sit next to her. He looked a little out of place in his tweed jacket with elbow patches, glasses perched on his nose and red hair curling back from a high forehead. Belle read his nameplate.

“Dr Archibald Hopper,” she said. “Are you an academic?”

“Oh, Archie, please,” he said, with a warm smile. “And yes, I was a practising psychiatrist for many years. More recently I’ve been teaching at Cambridge, so that and research take up most of my time.”

Belle sat up excitedly.

“Oh! I studied at Cambridge,” she said happily. “So of course I have to say there’s no finer university for you to be teaching at.”

“Well, I certainly won’t argue with that,” he said with a smile. “And everyone knows who you are. A modern day freedom fighter for literacy, which is an excellent cause. Miss French, I believe.”

“Belle’s fine,” said Belle, with a grin. “What’s your interest in this?”

“I’ve been studying the psychological impact of poverty and deprivation and its links to poor health and other life chances,” he said earnestly. “I think your interests and mine probably overlap.”

“I should think they probably do,” said Belle. “Although I imagine your credentials are somewhat more impressive than mine.”

“On the contrary,” said Archie. “You have experience in the field, as it were. I’d certainly be interested in hearing your perspective on the literacy programmes you’ve introduced.”

“You heard about that?” she asked, surprised, and he smiled.

“There were a number of pieces in the press after your - ah - meeting with the Prime Minister,” he said. “I understand you’ve created a useful community resource built around literacy for all ages.”

Belle opened her mouth to explain what she was doing, but was cut off by Sutherland clearing his throat.

“Right, well, good morning everyone,” he said, leaning on the table and glancing around at the occupants. “We have a full schedule, and I’m sure you all want to make the most of it, so I won’t be doing the creeping death of introductions around the table, as you’re no doubt relieved to hear. We can save the obligatory networking for the tea breaks.”

There was an appreciative chuckle from the attendees.

“You all have a pack of documents in front of you,” he went on. “This contains information on everyone here, including interests and expertise. I’m pleased to see such a range of talent around this table, and I’m excited to see what we can achieve together. I know you all take the development of this policy as seriously as I do.”

Belle found herself nodding along with the others. Sutherland certainly knew how to command attention.

“The documents also set out some of the initial research provided by the government departments leading on this policy,” he said. “Of course you all have your own experience, and no doubt your own sources to bring to the table. I fully expect this to be a challenging session with a lot of strong opinions being aired, but I’m confident that we can avoid too much bloodshed.”

There was a ripple of laughter, but Sutherland’s eyes lingered on Belle a little longer than the others. She met his gaze steadily, hoping she wouldn’t blush.

“You might well be wondering why I’m here,” he added, looking around. “The Shaping a Stronger Society policy will fulfil several key campaign pledges and lay the groundwork for lasting change. I thought it right that I give it the high profile it deserves, particularly when it cuts across so many Government departments. We need to be presenting a united front on this.”

“I’m sure the fact that it’s election year is a happy coincidence,” remarked a woman with a white-blonde bob over dark roots. Belle read her nameplate: Ella Deville-Waters. Sutherland grinned.

“Well, you know what they say, Ella,” he said. “Politics is eighty percent timing, ten percent luck—”

“And ten percent knowing how to lie with a straight face,” drawled Ella, making everyone chuckle.

“Thought that was at least sixty percent,” muttered Belle, and Archie laughed and managed to turn it into a cough.

“Let’s get started,” said Sutherland, glancing at Belle again. “I know there are a few of you with presentations to give on your own areas of interest, and I’m assured the technology is working, so I’ll hand things over to each of you. Anna, could you help Miss French set up the first presentation?”

Belle blinked rapidly.

“Me?” she said weakly, and Sutherland smiled.

“Gets it out of the way, hmm?”

She supposed it would.

-

Standing up in front of a sea of expectant faces turned towards her, Belle momentarily wanted to run from the room. Once she started speaking and concentrated on her passion for the subject, however, she forgot that she was presenting to a bunch of politicians and academics in Downing Street. The fifteen minutes she had been allotted went by more quickly than she thought possible, and prompted a number of questions that she was able to answer easily. She sat down with a thump next to Archie afterwards, feeling an odd mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration, and he sent her a reassuring smile before turning his attention to the next speaker, Ella Deville-Waters. It turned out that she was Undersecretary for Education, and she spoke eloquently about the importance of early years learning.

There were other presentations, each followed by an opportunity for questions, the final talk being given by Archie. Belle scribbled notes as he spoke, and made a note of the papers he referenced; they sounded like something she would be interested in reading at a later date. When the questions were finished, Sutherland announced that they would break for coffee, and Belle felt herself sigh in relief. She was surprised to see that it was eleven-thirty already; the morning was almost over.

The rest of the day went reasonably well and the group generated some robust discussion; despite Sutherland having said he would be leaving after lunch, he showed no sign of doing so, and took the lead in steering the conversation. There was general agreement on the merits of expanding opportunities for all, and the desired outcome of the policy. Disagreements arose when it came to discussing how to get there. There was a frank exchange of views between Belle, Ella, and the brusque Sir George King, who worked for the Treasury. He seemed to take any suggestion that money would have to be spent as a personal affront. Anna had to step in and smooth things over more than once, and Belle could feel her patience draining away as the day drew towards evening. The draft call for evidence that was produced was the last straw.

“This doesn’t go nearly far enough,” she said bluntly, lifting the paper and dropping it on the table. “The questions skirt around the real issues, and there’s no meat on the bones of this thing. Whatever responses you get won’t address what we’ve been talking about all day. It’s papering over the cracks at best.”

“This is merely a scoping document,” said Sutherland mildly. “And a first draft at that. You can’t expect the policy to be fully-formed at this stage.”

“No, but if this is the direction we’re being nudged in, the whole thing is pointless,” she said. “How can you expect us to even start to make a difference if you refuse to fund it properly?”

Sutherland took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“We’ve been over this, Miss French,” he said, sounding weary. “Budget constraints—”

“Yes we have been over this, and as I’ve said, budget constraints only ever seem to apply to policies that benefit the many over the few,” she said tartly. “Your Government may have managed to sweep the whole Pennine Consortium debacle under the rug a couple of years ago, but I remember the reports about the amount of public money that was being poured into that project, and it turned out to be going into the back pockets of the Home Secretary’s relatives!”

“Paying out according to contractual agreements is normal practice in business, I believe,” he said, in a bored voice. “The matter was investigated and the Home Secretary was cleared of all wrongdoing, as I’m sure you’re aware. ”

“My point is that billions were paid out for defence contracts with no questions being raised about whether they were affordable.”

“Clearly you didn’t watch the Select Committee hearings,” he remarked. His voice was a flat drawl that was doing nothing to stop her rising irritation.

“They were held after the money had been spent, not before, that’s my point!”

“And of course the purchase of tanks is entirely analogous to the development of literacy programmes.”

“I’d argue that the purchase of tanks is of decidedly lower value, actually,” she said.

“Then it’s a good thing you don’t have to make these decisions, isn’t it?”

Anna cleared her throat.

“Perhaps we can get back to the matter at hand?” she suggested. “Ella, what were you saying about school opening hours?”

“Oh, we can talk about that later,” said Ella cheerfully, waving a hand. “I’d much rather listen to this argument.”

“No one’s arguing,” said Sutherland coolly. “Miss French has a passionate nature, it seems.”

“Thanks, that’s not at all patronising,” said Belle, in a dry tone.

“Passion for public service is to be commended,” he said, matching her tone. “I thought I was giving you a compliment.”

“No you didn’t.”

Sutherland fixed her with a dark-eyed stare, his mouth flat. It was strangely arousing, and she could feel her breathing quicken. She told herself it was irritation.

“Your input here is valued, Miss French,” he said, his jaw a little clenched. “But I’d be grateful if you would allow us to guide you through this process, given that you know nothing about the way Government works.”

“No, I don’t,” she agreed, losing the last of her patience. “I don’t know about policy-making and contract negotiation and tendering and public procurement. And likewise I’d say you and most of the people that work for you don’t know what it’s like to worry about where the next meal is coming from.”

“Which is why we’re seeking the input of a wide range of stakeholders such as yourself.” He was trying for a smooth tone, but his eyes were flashing, and she could sense he was getting as annoyed as she.

“If you’re not prepared to listen to us, then it’s all empty gestures, isn’t it?” she protested.

“Wanting your input and allowing you to set the parameters of this thing are two entirely different things,” he said coldly. “I’m sorry if your expectations are out of step with reality.”

“There’s a lot of that going around.”

“Right!” said Anna briskly, slapping the table and making everyone jump. “That seems like a good place to break until tomorrow. It’s been a long day and I’m sure everyone could do with some fresh air.”

“Could do with a stiff drink, I don’t know about the rest of you,” said Ella, and there were appreciative murmurs from the others.

Belle sat back in her seat, listening with half an ear as chairs scraped back and papers were gathered up. Sutherland had already gone, stalking out of the room, and the others were throwing curious glances at her as they pulled on coats and drained cups.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Belle,” said Archie, tucking his folder of papers into a battered brown leather bag. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re right about the scope being too narrow.”

She gave him a grateful look, and a smile, and he ducked his head a little and sauntered out. Belle sighed, toying with the cold cup of tea in front of her as the others began to file out. She felt drained, wrung out. Was this what it was like every day for politicians? She wondered how they coped. Maybe it was why so many seemed to go grey so quickly.

“You settling in for the night?”

Anna’s voice made her look up, and Belle realised they were alone.

“Sorry, I was miles away,” she said. “I feel as though my brain’s been scrambled and stuffed back in my head all wrong.”

“Welcome to Whitehall,” said Anna, in a deadpan tone, and Belle giggled.

“Sorry for letting my temper get the better of me at the end,” she said. “I’m not cut out for politics, it seems.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Anna. “You have the ability to see to the heart of things. He wasn’t joking when he said your input is valued, you know.”

Belle sighed, running her hands over her face.

“It just - it feels like I’m wasting my time here,” she said. “I know I don’t have much longer before the library has to close, and - and yet I’m down here in London, in what seems like a hopeless uphill battle! Maybe I should just go back to Avonleigh and try to do what little good I can.”

“You may have longer than you think,” said Anna, gathering up some papers. “The Prime Minister approved a scheme for local authorities a few days ago. It offers grants to support providers of breakfast clubs and after-school learning.”

Belle sat up.

“Like the library?” she asked, and Anna shrugged.

“Seems likely, doesn’t it?” she said. “Oh, we’ve made sure that local authorities have to use it for the intended purpose, by the way. The scheme is due to launch next week. I’d keep my eyes peeled to the website, if I were you.”

She put the papers in a leather satchel and took out another folder before slinging the satchel over one shoulder. Belle was smiling, her heart swelling with what felt like hope for the first time in months.

“A reprieve for the library?” she said. “And it was his idea?”

“Like I said.” Anna hitched the satchel on her shoulder. “He does listen. You might not think so, but he does.”

“Listening’s all very well,” said Belle. “It’s the choices that are made that are the issue.”

“There isn’t always a choice,” said Anna firmly. “Or at least, not one a Prime Minister can make.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Difficult decisions have to be made,” she added. “Sometimes hundreds each day. Everything’s urgent, everything has an impact, and he tries his best to make the right call based on the information given by people he trusts. He doesn’t always get it right. No one could.”

“Maybe not, but—”

“He has to balance fifty competing interests with almost every decision he makes,” she went on. “The papers turn on a dime and whoever’s lauded one week gets pilloried the next. Everyone around him is looking to him to lead and half of them are willing him to fail so that they can step into the spotlight. I won’t let that happen if I can help it.”

She picked up the folder of papers, turning on her heel.

“I’ll show you out,” she said over her shoulder. “I expect you’ll want an early night after today. Or a large drink. Or both.”

“You care about him,” said Belle, and Anna stopped dead before slowly turning back to face her.

“Yes,” she said simply. “He’s a good friend. And whether or not you believe it, Miss French, he’s a good man.”

Belle was silent for a moment.

“I haven’t made up my mind on that score,” she said eventually.

“Oh, I didn’t say he wasn’t a stubborn bloody pain in the arse at times,” added Anna. “He’s definitely that.”

Belle couldn’t help giggling.

“Well, bearing all that in mind, and in the interests of cooperation,” she said. “I suppose I really ought to apologise for snapping at him.”

Something in Anna seemed to relax at her words, and she smiled again.

“He’s used to being snapped at,” she said dismissively. “He gets far worse in the Commons, let’s face it. But an apology would probably make him more inclined to listen to you, so I certainly won’t stand in your way.”

Belle nodded agreement, and Anna jerked her head towards the door.

“I was going to take these reports to him before I head off,” she said, holding up the folder. “If you felt like going there now, I’d be happy to tell him you want to have a word.”

Belle hesitated, but nodded, and Anna smiled briefly and headed for the door. The interior of Downing Street was busier than Belle had expected at that time in the evening, aides hurrying with laptops and drinks and phones clasped to their ears. Anna led her down a wide, thickly-carpeted corridor and paused outside a heavy office door, where two Special Branch officers nodded to Anna and eyed Belle suspiciously before stepping aside. Anna rapped smartly on the door, and Belle heard a muffled bid to enter from behind it. She could feel her heart thumping in trepidation, and when the door opened she could see a room with a high ceiling, dark green carpet and a dresser in dark, polished wood where several cut crystal decanters sat, their contents gleaming in shades of amber and ruby. There were two leather armchairs and a couch around a coffee table in the same dark wood. Bookshelves stretched around two walls of the room, and Sutherland was sitting behind a heavy desk opposite the door, scribbling something. His eyes narrowed as they met Belle’s, but Anna walked forward, cutting off his view.

“Brought you those updates on the infrastructure options,” she said breezily, holding up the files. “If you want to go through them later let me know. I thought I’d go and get something to eat.”

“So I know why you’re in my office,” he said evenly, sitting back and putting down his pen. “Not too clear on the presence of Miss French. Unless she thought of something else she wanted to call me.”

“Actually I’m here to apologise,” said Belle, making his brows lift in surprise. “So I’m not about to insult you unless you start something.”

Sutherland’s mouth worked, as though he was trying not to laugh.

“Uh - thank you, Anna,” he said, glancing away. “Yes, go and get some dinner. I think Miss French and I can have a conversation without it coming to blows.”

“Good,” said Anna. “Behave.”

Belle was unsure who that last comment was directed at, but Anna left the room before she could ask, shutting the door behind her with a click. She turned slowly on her toes to face Sutherland, who was leaning back in his chair and tapping his papers with a pen, staring at her.

“Anna told me about the local authority grants for educational services,” she said. “That should help a lot more libraries stay open.”

“That’s the idea,” he said, with a shrug.

“Providing librarians know it’s available, of course,” she added.

“There’ll be an announcement when it’s launched,” he said. “Of course there’s nothing to stop you contacting your peers and explaining the process.”

“I guess not.” She fiddled with a button on her jacket before smoothing her hand against her skirt. “What made you change the policy on local grants?”

“I didn’t,” he said abruptly. “Just provided - clarification around eligibility.”

Belle took a step forward, until she was almost touching the desk.

“Well, that clarification should mean I won’t be closing the library doors this year,” she said. “Lucky for me, hmm?”

“Surprising as it may seem,” he remarked. “I do actually take into account the views of interested parties when making decisions. Where I can.”

“Hmm.” Belle leaned on the desk, pursing her lips. “Well, I’m sorry for yelling at you. I don’t like losing my temper and I try not to if I can help it.”

There was a tiny, amused grin on his face.

“A pity,” he said. “It was rather refreshing.”

“Yeah, well it wasn’t all that satisfying from my perspective,” she said. “Dealing with politicians is making me more cynical than I’d like to be.”

He gave her a twisted little smile.

“Well, that’s no bad thing,” he said. “The moment you start wanting to be cynical it’s probably time to run screaming for the hills.”

“At nine this morning I almost did run screaming,” she admitted, and he chuckled.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” he said. “I enjoyed your presentation. It was delivered with your usual passion, and I think you may have brought some of the others on board.”

“I think Sir George King would rather I’d stayed at home,” she said, and Sutherland shrugged.

“If it was up to him we wouldn’t spend any money at all,” he said. “On the whole, today went rather well, I thought. No physical blows were exchanged, and there was almost no profanity. One of the more sedate policy meetings I’ve attended, truth be told.”

Belle smiled.

“We’re all here for the common good, I suppose,” she said. “Although in some cases I’m not sure how much common good they’re really interested in doing.”

“First rule of policy-making,” he said. “Try not to kill off half your contributors in a fit of righteous anger. Tempting though it is.”

“Hmm.” She was amused. “I don’t remember reading that one in the welcome pack.”

“Unwritten rule,” he corrected, raising a finger. “I think the pack said some bollocks about understanding motivation and managing expectations.”

Belle bit back a grin.

“I guess I’m not cut out for a career in diplomacy,” she said, and he smiled.

“Gets easier the more you do it.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Well, thank goodness you’ll believe one thing that comes out of my mouth.”

It was said in a dry tone, but he was still grinning, and she returned the smile. There was a moment of silence, and he pushed up from the desk, crossing to the dresser.

“I was going to have a drink,” he said. “May I offer you one? There’s whisky, port, brandy… If that’s not to your taste I could easily have something brought in.”

“Uh - okay.” Belle was beginning to feel as though she had stepped into a strange parallel universe, where small town librarians sat and drank with the leaders of nations as a matter of course. “Thank you. I’ll take a brandy.”

“Excellent choice,” he said vaguely, and opened one of the doors of the dresser, taking out two brandy glasses.

Belle watched as he reached for one of the decanters and poured two small measures. His suit pants fitted him very well, skimming his rear as he moved. She shook her head, telling herself to stop ogling the man. Sutherland turned, glasses in hand, and nodded towards the armchairs.

“Take a seat,” he said.

Still feeling as though she was dreaming, Belle took the glass he held out and sat down, crossing her legs and watching as he put down his glass and lowered himself into the seat opposite. She took a sip of her brandy to take her mind off how good he looked, and how much better he might look if he lost the tie and unfastened the first few buttons of that crisp white shirt. The brandy was very good, far better than she was used to, and she licked her lips, enjoying the taste of caramel and spice and the pleasant heat on her tongue. Sutherland took a drink, sucking in his cheeks and setting down his glass on the coffee table. He looked tired.

“Are your work days usually this long?” she asked, and his eyebrows flicked upwards.

“It’s barely six-thirty,” he said. “I still have a few hours left in me.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a work-life balance,” she observed. Sutherland pulled a face.

“Gets a little quieter at recess, but no, I don’t suppose it is,” he said.

“Are you married?” she asked, and Sutherland shook his head.

“Divorced.”

“Oh,” said Belle. “I’m sorry.”

“No no, it’s fine,” he said, sitting back. “It was amicable. We’re still friends.”

“Oh.”

“She’s engaged to a High Court judge now,” he added. “I wish her every happiness.”

“Oh.” For God’s sake, Belle, say something intelligent. “You have kids?”

“A daughter,” he said. “Grown up now. Early twenties.”

“Oh.”

Sutherland took a drink, seeming to savour the taste of brandy on his tongue before swallowing. His gaze was steady, his eyes dark, and she could feel faint stirrings of desire in her lower abdomen. She looked down into her brandy glass, watching the ripples in the amber liquid and telling herself to snap out of her crush.

“What about you?” he asked then, making her look up. “You married? Children?”

“You mean you didn’t have me checked out?” she asked dryly, and he shrugged.

“Maybe you’re good at hiding things,” he said. “Or, as is more likely, Anna told me and I forgot about it.”

Belle bit back a smile.

“Well, hiding a husband and children would be beyond me,” she said. “Luckily I have no need. No family. Well, there’s my dad back in Melbourne, but apart from that I’m on my own.”

“No large, intimidating boyfriend?” he asked. “Or maybe a girlfriend, what do I know?”

“Neither,” she said. “Last relationship was pretty crappy, to be honest. Made me want to take a break for a while.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “I understand.”

“I thought you said you were on good terms with your ex.”

“Well…” He waved a hand. “I vaguely remember what it was like to be young. Aeons ago.”

She scoffed.

“Come on, you’re not that old.”

“Bloody feels like it, sometimes,” he grumbled.

“Well, that’s what comes from running the country,” she said pertly. “It’s why I stick to running a library.”

“No doubt that comes with its own stresses.”

“Only when I’m threatened with closure by arrogant, shortsighted politicians,” she quipped, and he snorted in amusement.

“Well, thank fuck there aren’t many of those around.”

Belle giggled before catching herself, and he was grinning as he leaned further back in his chair. His eyes gleamed when he smiled, and she couldn’t decide whether it was more or less arousing than when he was angry. A dangerous path for your thoughts to take, Belle.

“Did you say your daughter was in her twenties?” she said, trying to steer the conversation onto a safe topic. “Is she at university?”

“No no, she’s finished studying,” he said. “She’s started work in the City. Not in politics, thank God.”

“You wouldn’t want her to go into politics?” she asked, and he wrinkled his nose.

“I don’t think she’d be happy,” he said. “It can be a lonely, painful existence, and you make as many enemies as friends. Probably more, if I’m honest. She has a gentle heart, and I wouldn’t want to see her harden it to survive.”

“It seems a shame that people have to,” said Belle. “I think politicians could stand to be more compassionate, not less.”

Sutherland took another sip of his drink, eyeing her as he licked an amber bead of brandy from his lower lip.

“I’m sure you’re right,” he said. “Alas, we have to deal with the world as it is, not as we might want it to be.”

“So why did you decide it was what you wanted to do?” she asked. “Did you always want to end up running the country?”

“No, I can’t say it was a childhood dream,” he admitted. “I started out as a barrister. The politician wasn’t born until I was in my late thirties.”

“So why politics?” she asked. “I’m guessing it wasn’t for the money.”

Sutherland pulled a wry face, taking another drink.

“I was earning more at the bar, certainly,” he said. “Far better work-life balance, as well.”

“Ego, then?” she suggested, and he grinned.

“That was certainly part of it.”

Belle waited, and he sighed, turning the brandy glass between his hands.

“Would you believe me if I said I thought I could make things better?” he asked.

“My new-found cynicism wouldn’t,” she remarked, and he chuckled.

“To the tragic death of innocence.”

He raised his glass in a mock toast, and Belle grinned, raising her own before sipping her brandy. The drink was almost gone, and she found herself regretting having drunk it so quickly. She would have to leave as soon as it was done, and to her great surprise she was enjoying their conversation.

“Do you think you have?” she asked. “Made things better?”

Sutherland hesitated, turning the glass between his fingers.

“I suppose it’s a work in progress,” he said. “But I’m trying. Perhaps not in the ways you would want me to.”

“I don’t suppose what I think matters,” she said, and he shook his head.

“You might be surprised at what matters to me, Miss French.”

He took another sip of his brandy, his eyes fixed on hers, and she could feel herself shiver. She drained her glass, setting it down on the table with a loud clink.

“Well,” she said, a little breathlessly. “I should go. I feel as though I’ve been wrung dry and turned inside out, and I could really use some sleep before I have to do it all again tomorrow.”

He smiled at that, setting his glass beside hers.

“In that case, I’ll show you out. Anna will expect me to have read those papers by the time she gets back.”

“She seems very committed to her job,” observed Belle, and he grinned.

“Couldn’t do my own without her,” he said. “I need someone to keep me in line.”

“I won’t argue with that,” she remarked, and he chuckled, a deep laugh that made her belly clench.

“I can see why she likes you,” he said, and strode to the door, opening it up and nodding to the Special Branch officers outside. “Good evening, Miss French. It’s a pleasure to be working with you.”

Belle nodded, slipping from the room and heading back along the corridor. A smiling woman with a dark ponytail and a brisk manner showed her out, and she stepped into the street with a sigh of relief. The press pack had gone, and she walked down towards the gates, smiling thanks to the police officer that let her out into the street beyond. It had been a long day, there was another to come, and her crush on the Prime Minister was developing into full-blown lust.

[2manyfandoms2count]

I love you (not) - Chapter 15

It's already September and I can't believe this fic isn't finished yet, I swear May was like. Last week.

Anyway, this chapter is full of soft touches because yes, hope you enjoy!

First | Previous | AO3

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Chapter 15: In which the real pining begins

“Hey Chat, it’s LB, I might be a little late for tonight’s patrol, I’ve been running all day and I still have a couple of things I need to take care of… Could you maybe get some pastries? I’m starving, you’ll forever be my absolute hero (and of course I’ll pay you back, I just can’t swing by a bakery right now). See you in a bit!”

Chat Noir paused as he finished listening to Ladybug’s message, slowly wrapping his head around the fact that she probably wouldn’t be the only one arriving late, despite his best efforts at being early. He looked at her profile picture pensively. His partner had absolutely no idea, but even she was trying to get him to do the right thing, namely: sending him to Marinette.

Well, to a bakery, but he knew very well that he wouldn’t find it in him to bring anything less than the best pastries in Paris to his Lady, especially if it meant getting a grip and owning up to his actions.

Because yes, he was ashamed of admitting it even to himself, but he’d been a coward ever since the fight against Hostzilla. He’d avoided Marinette for almost two weeks (as Chat Noir, obviously, although the past few days had seen his guilt increase so much that he’d struggled to even hold her gaze at school), partly because of last minute additions to his schedule, but mostly because he’d gotten cold feet anytime he’d come remotely close to her building.

It was time this stopped and that he bit the bullet. It wasn’t like Marinette could easily make the first step; even staying up to scrutinise the skyline would have been fruitless: he’d made some convoluted detours on his way home from patrol to avoid a rerun of the fateful night that had brought them into their fake - no, not fake, complicated  relationship.

He’d had enough time to mull it all over, and it was clearly time to do something about the situation.

This tiptoeing around the issue ended tonight.

---

The bells jingled quietly as he pushed the bakery door. The warm backlighting and the sweet smell of rising dough welcomed him and made him relax a little, as did the sight of Marinette tiredly stretching behind the counter. He smiled softly. There really was something about this place that made him feel at ease, safe, even.

Marinette straightened up at the sight of Chat Noir awkwardly shuffling near the entrance of the shop, leaning forwards to take a look at one of the displays, and bit back a smug smile at the thought that her plan to lure him in had worked perfectly. His stomach grumbled and she stifled a giggle. The sound was enough to draw his attention; their gazes met, and both felt their cheeks pinken.

“Hey, Chat,” Marinette said almost breathlessly after what seemed like a thousand years of just staring into each other's eyes. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Even though her tone had been void of any accusation, he scratched the back of his head sheepishly, making her melt slightly. “I’ve been pretty busy lately.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but he still felt bad about leaving her hanging for so long.

“It’s alright, being a superhero is a full time job, after all." She cleared her throat. "How can I help you today?” She winced imperceptibly at her cowardice. They were the only ones in the bakery, it was stupid to ignore the elephant in the room. Still, she grabbed a paper bag and a pair of tongs, and looked at him expectantly.

“Oh, erm, I need pastries. I’m on snack duty for patrol.” He chuckled nervously.

“Ah, well, I can't let our beloved heroes starve, can I? I wouldn’t want the responsibility of another Feast on my hands.” She winked.

"Don't remind me.” Chat shuddered at the memory of the sentimonster’s gooey tongue.

“Is there anything I can get you in particular?” She stifled a giggle at the same image.

“Well, you know me, I can’t leave those chouquettes on your hands, it would be a waste.” He eyed the relevant basket hungrily.

“Are you sure you want all of them? This is... 500g, the equivalent of six portions.”

“And?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“Right, nevermind.” She shook her head, an amused smile spreading to her lips. “Anything else?”

“Hmm, could I have a collection of macarons for Ladybug? Anything but passion fruit, she always gives those to me so I’m not sure she likes them, and since I already have the chouquettes... I think I'm covered.”

Marinette rolled her eyes as she picked the sweet delicacies for herself. Leave it to Chat to believe that her leaving his favourite macarons aside was because she didn’t like them.

“Will that be all?” She cocked her head to the side when she was done packing the box.

“To ring up, yes.” He paused. “But I was actually wondering if you purr-haps had time for a quick chat?”

“With you? Always,” Marinette flashed him a relieved smile as she handed him the pastries and signalled for him to follow her towards the back. She saw he was about to protest, so she added: “If you’re thinking about paying for this, I’m pretty sure my parents would cut me off if they found out I’d sold anything to you or Ladybug, so I'm not risking it. And don’t worry, it’s been a slow night so I don’t have to stay at the counter - we’ll hear if anyone comes in. You said that this was going to be quick, right?”

“I did.” Chat scratched the back of his head nervously as they sat down on the bottom steps of the building’s staircase.

There was a pause as the both of them tried to organise their thoughts and put them into words that would lead to a definite, yet delicate rejection. Marinette smoothed the fabric of her apron as she did, while Chat fiddled with the pastry bag.

“So, the other night, huh?” He awkwardly cleared his throat, wincing at his sudden lack of eloquence. He decided to go for the half-lie route rather than delve straight into their kiss. If he was already this tongue-tied while keeping his thoughts about it at bay, who knew what mentioning it would do. “I couldn’t find you at the hotel after the fight… Were you hit by the akuma?”

Marinette’s head shot up and she squinted at him, calculating her next move. Chat’s hypothesis provided good foundations to build on. Maybe he’d even get to the conclusion she wanted him to reach on his own.

“You can tell me, I promise I won’t be mad.” He smiled softly.

“Fine,” she sighed dramatically. “I overheard Hostzilla say she was looking for me just after you left, and I thought I could placate her a little so I went out in the open. She didn’t even see me, I got knocked out by a fancy table almost just as I came out of the hotel.” She rolled her eyes, hoping her lie was believable enough.

“Meowch.” Chat winced, before gently cupping her chin and tilting it to either side, trying to assess any remaining damage.

“I’m fine though, don’t worry! Ladybug’s cure got me right back on my feet.” She nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then reluctantly pushed Chat’s hand away.

“I knew it wasn’t like you not to show up at some point during the fight.” He smiled triumphantly to himself at the thought that his vigilance during the battle hadn’t been completely uncalled for. He frowned and cleared his throat before continuing. “But it’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about. I’m not entirely sure why you were targeted this time, but I’m just afraid that if we…” He trailed off, suddenly unsure of what to say next. They’d never actually elucidated their relationship status; if they went forward, would they be continuing to date, or just starting? Would Marinette be offended if he used the latter?

“If we… continue on our set course?” Marinette offered.

“Yes, exactly, thank you.” He flashed her a quick smile. “I’m afraid that if we continue on our set course, there might be more opportunities for you to get caught up in fights, especially if word about our relationship gets out. I don’t want to put you in harm’s way, Marinette, I couldn’t bear you getting hurt because of me.”

Marinette was struck by the apparent anguish in her partner’s eyes as he looked at her. She instinctively reached for his hand.

“And I don’t want you to have to worry about me. I… I got my hands on footage of that battle, and I saw how distracted you were. You already have so much on your mind… I wouldn’t want to be a burden and put your safety in peril.”

“You could never be a burden, princess.” He absentmindedly ran his thumb across the back of her hand, but smiled sadly. “But I suppose you’ve reached the same conclusion I did.”

“Taking this relationship further would be a mistake.” She nodded gently.

“I’m sorry, Marinette.”

“Whatever for?” She took a deep breath and smiled bravely. “It’s not your fault. Just… Bad timing, I guess. If a hero-civilian relationship was ever supposed to work.”

“You're probably right.”

Marinette sighed and looked at her watch. “Anyway, you should probably go, Ladybug will wonder what happened to you.”

They both stood up, and walked slowly towards the bakery door. Marinette opened the door for him, but he paused and turned around before he’d crossed the threshold.

“For the record, I really enjoyed being your boyfriend while it lasted.” He felt his heart rate pick up as the words tumbled out of his mouth.

“It was really nice.” She smiled gently. Then, feeling a burst of braveness, she took a couple of steps forwards to stand face to face with him.

She stood on her tiptoes before she could process exactly what she was doing and lose her nerve, tenderly kissed his cheek, and took a step back with a soft, if slightly sad, smile. Chat gasped slightly, his hand flying to his cheek. The point of impact of his… friend ’s lips felt like the epicentre of a wave of warmth, just like it had the last time she’d pulled something of the sort.

“Maybe we can make it work one day.” She looked down and blushed, rocking on the ball of her feet.

“Maybe one day,” he echoed.

He gave her one last, longing look before taking off into the night, afraid he might throw all caution to the wind if he stayed any longer.

[sophlubbwriting]

Shifting to your arms - 03

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: This is a slice-of-life series where you, the reader successfully shifted realities with the goal to spend time with Loki. Nothing too intense.

A/N: I didn’t have that much time to write this week, but I finally finished editing it (an hour to late, hope you don’t mind).

Feel free to shoot me a request and I'll see what I can do!

Taglist: @gingerspicetalks​ @adoreyou976​

Feedback is always appreciated!

Chapter Summary: A nightly meeting with the god of mischief and an intense discussion after a mission briefing where you finally come clean.

Chapter warnings: slight angst, spiders, Loki being Loki

Word count: 1871

One might think your muscles would get used to the way they are strained by the training with Loki, but your muscles decided to be sore and stay sore. Great way to be woken up.

The sun was nowhere to be seen yet, the dim light entering the window however was alluding to its already anticipated arrival.

Turning around in your bed again, your back felt like it was stabbed – which has woken you up and was almost, what had happened yesterday. The god of mischief figured it would be a great idea to show you, how to defend against an attacker who uses knifes and, of course, he never even considered using dummy-knives.

“I would never do so much as to wound you fatally, mortal.” he had assured you and oddly enough, you had believed him. You had to. Everything the god of lies told you sounded true, albeit might be caused by his velvety voice. Somehow, he had been picking up on the effects it had on you. Ever the observer.

As you struggled to stand up, you let out a heavy groan. For as much as you wanted to just sleep it off, you deemed sleeping as impossible. Not with muscles this stiff and not with how much you usually moved while asleep.

With every step you took your thighs stiffened. Stretching might seem like a good idea, but you already knew it would hurt like hell and quite frankly, you didn't have the energy to try it. You've heard somewhere, magnesium would help with sore muscles and as for now, you were more than eager to test your hypothesis.

Usually stuff like that is kept in the kitchen, right?

The oversized T-shirt you wore instead of a regular pyjama reached just above your knees, concealing not only your body shape but being unbelievably comfortable too. Who in their right mind would be awake in these ungodly early morning hours anyway? Changing clothes now was no use.

While the magnesium tablet was dissolving in a glass of water, you saw a box of cocoa powder just waiting on the top shelf above the stove. It towered there, tauntingly, staring down at you because it knew you weren't able to grab it.

A hot cocoa mix. That's what you needed  right now.

Determined, you took a step back and looked at the situation in front of you. There was one rather obvious solution to this:

Climbing.

Your legs were protesting, but you didn't care. You needed that cocoa. Maybe that's the tiredness speaking, but you couldn't live another moment without it. Hot chocolate.

You checked twice that the stove was both turned off and cold, so you wouldn't accidentally burn yourself if you happened to step on it and proceeded to swing a leg on the sideboard. Your shoulders were burning, but you didn't stop as you slowly pushed yourself up. You couldn't let the box win.

Once you managed to balance yourself out and fully straightened up, your eyes were barely below the surface, the box was prominently placed on, but that wasn't an issue. You, unlike the box, had hands, which you would put to use now. Reaching out, you snatched the box and inspected it. After reading all the nifty details from the back of the box, you wondered what the artwork on the front would look like, but you weren't able to look at it.

There was a huge spider, clinging to this side of the box.

Frightened you threw the box away from you and stepped backwards, only to lose your footing on the sideboard. Bracing for impact, you closed your eyes.

But nothing happened.

Confused you slowly opened your eyes back up. There he was, your deus ex machina. His face being mere inches away from your face, the god had hold you in a close embrace to stop you from falling. This in and of itself made it hard enough to keep your composure, but the following conversation only heightened the stakes.

There it was again. That damned voice.

“Oh my, are you falling for me?”

Together with his smirk, this was a deadly combo which short-circuited your brain.

Your thoughts raced faster than you could control them. I have been ever since I first saw you. You wanted to let him know, how you felt.

But you couldn't.

Instead, you opted for a cheeky grin and for the line “you wish”, although in all reality, you were the one wishing. This was torture, being this close to someone you wanted to be even closer with but not being able to be.

What if he would reject you? What if he wouldn't feel comfortable with you being around him any more? What if...

He carefully set you back down on the floor, almost as if he was afraid to break you if he were to drop you too harshly. You were still gazing into each others eyes, lost in the moment and although the spider should have scared you wide awake, this magical moment felt like a dream.

Being lost in his eyes, you stopped taking in anything else but Loki. You didn't notice how soft raindrops were clashing against the windows, you didn't notice how the sun was rising or how bright it had become.

And you most definitely did not notice, how the scary spider was dissolving into green mist.

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

After Tony had laid out your mission, you didn't quite know how to react. You were being sent on a real mission, together with the god of mischief. Just the two of you, only 48 hours left to prepare and your thoughts were racing.

Meanwhile, Loki looked unfazed by the mission, although he shot you a quick look. He knew you were capable of defending yourself and others, but attacking someone else was something different. Whenever you had tried to surprise him with an attack during your training, he had told you how you weren't ready just yet.

You had to think about possible excuses, not to go on this mission. Tell them the truth? You weren't sure how they would handle it. Would they call you an imposter? Imprison you? Besides, a literal god would be fighting right next to you. Everything would be okay.

“You seem rather nervous, my dear. Is everything alright?” The god of chaos averted your attention back to the conversation.

He spoke with the same nonchalant tone he used if someone different than you was within earshot, but if you weren't mistaken, there was a hint of concern hidden behind it this time. Before you could calm him down, the rich kid chimed in.

“Opposed to you, Reindeer Games, our sweet agent here has been on multiple missions similar to this already. It should be smooth sailing, even if you decide to turn on us and abandon both the mission and your partner.”

Oh no.

You saw over to Loki whose smirk was filled with amusement as he was declaring to Tony how he would never betray anyone in his life. He would soon realise something didn't add up. How could you have been on multiple infiltration missions without being able to fight?

At least you didn't have to make an effort and control your thoughts around him any more. Whenever there had been a small thought you weren't able to contain, he didn't seem to notice it, so why try to keep up a facade if no one would even realise it was there?

You left the room while Tony was still trying to threaten Loki out of betraying anyone. Your feet lead you to the gym where you planned on meeting the god of mischief once got bored of talking with Tony and you anticipated it to take five minutes, tops.

After spending some time beating up a punching bag, you heard someone walk in. You didn't have to turn around to know it was him.

“Explain yourself” the voice demanded harshly. He didn't even try to sugar-coat his words, he was disappointed. Probably hurt.

But you couldn't confront him with the truth, could you? You weren't ready, so you feigned innocence.

“What do you mean?”

It was no use. As you turned around and saw him standing there, visibly sad. He knew, although not everything. He knew you lied to him and that was enough to break both his and your hearts.

Loki didn't deserve this.

“You know exactly what I mean.” he looked like he barely kept himself from crying, but his voice was now steady and... cold? Now your heart felt like it was being shattered. “How have you done multiple missions, some of which were solo, despite being barely able to fight? What is the truth, mortal?”

Gone were the pleasantries you were used to, gone were the words 'darling' and 'my dear'.  Now you were just called 'mortal', one of many, easily exchangeable to him. You never thought words this small could hurt this bad.

“You wouldn't believe me.”

That was all you could mutter now, the only thought consuming your mind. He wouldn't believe me. The god of lies however insisted he would believe you, provided you told him the truth. This was your last chance to come clear and you both knew that.

“I-” you started insecurely, looking left and right in hopes of finding the right words to use somewhere in the room.

“I am not...”

Your eyes were slowly filling up with tears. This was harder than expected.

“I'm not... from here.”

In a poor attempt to hide your tears you looked down at the floor, but you were sure he saw them since one or two drops managed to fall from your eyes onto the floor.

“Neither do I”

This simple response made you chuckle, what in turn calmed your nerves. You looked up again and your eyes met his. Maybe he would understand.

“I mean... I am not from this reality.”

Silence. Loki didn't ask any questions, but you were sure he had plenty. Who wouldn't?

Fidgeting around with the seams of your shirt, you decided to elaborate a little bit more. “It is... kind of a long story which I feel like I couldn't explain properly, but I managed to shift realities so I can be here.” A heavy weight was dropped from your shoulders as you proceeded to tell him about how life was in your reality and, most importantly, how the Avengers are non-existent.

The last part caught Loki's attention and he thought for a few seconds about it. “So, am I just a mere work of fiction, too?”

You hesitated with your answer and he noticed. Of course he did.

“In... in my reality, yes, but in this reality you are very real.” You gave him an encouraging smile and he nodded understandingly.

“I think therefore I am. So, my dear, why did you... shift realities?”

His prying eyes saw right through you, it was almost as if he already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear you admit it.

“I did it so I could see you, Loki.”

[shintorikhazumi]

Two is company, Three's a Crowd, but Four is the Death of Diana Cavendish (4): Dumb and Dumbass

A/N: Sorry for not writing enough recently. Been burnt out and have some terrible writer’s block. Hope I can write quite a bit these next two weeks before classes start up again. Had my finals recently and just... ugh.

Sorry for the not-so-good chapter.

Right. Tagging people. Uh @komatsuna-yuki @dianacavendishisgay @tanuki-pyon. Thank you for supporting my madness.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

Two is company, Three's a Crowd, but Four is the Death of Diana Cavendish (4): Dumb and Dumbass

"This is dumb."

"It is not! Right, Barbara?"

"This is dumb."

Diana switched her exasperated gaze between the pair who had their arms crossed, vehemently against her "step one" of  the plan: Proper Courtship for Miss Kagari Atsuko.

There was absolutely NO way they were doing that.

Hannah ran a hand through her curled locks, freeing it from her signature yellow bow as they got ready for bed. She tried to ignore Diana's pleading eyes, but ultimately could not. She took one look at Diana's helpless face and sighed, walking forward to pinch her nose and plant a kiss on her forehead.

Really, courtship wasn't the issue in and of itself. It was Diana's view of courtship. There were just too many things to be said about it.

Starting from the issue of daily sending a truckload of roses to Akko every morning.

Literally.

She lived in a DORMITORY for crying out loud!

How was she supposed to receive them, much less keep them around??

It wasn't as though she had the luxury of living in a flat a little too big for just its occupants- just like their own right now. Hannah sighed, giving Diana a look. She received an indignant one in return.

Physical constraints aside, how would Akko feel receiving such an overwhelming gift? She already exploded in embarrassment from the simplest of flirtations. Who knew what her reaction would be to such a grandiose gesture of affection?

Hannah concluded it would be best to keep it simple, walk it slow. Ease into the already shocking situation they'd kiiindd of threw her in.

Okay, but Hannah didn't desire anything too slow either. Just right. Enough that Akko wouldn't spontaneously combust beyond recovery.

Holding out a pointer finger, with the other arm crossed about her waist, Hannah warned, "I swear, if I see even one petal, we're not talking to you tomorrow. And we're taking Atsuko with us too".

"One petal?!" Diana gawked at her with such pure incredulity, Hannah wondered if she was really all that shocked.

The look on her face almost made Hannah reconsider. Almost. She thought about it again, pausing and tapping her cheek in contemplation.

"Okay."

Diana's face lit up in hope.

"Maybe I'll allow two."

Nope.

//

"Morning, Atsuko~."

Akko jumped in her seat as she felt cool arms snake around her neck from behind, a soft weight pressing against her back. The scent of honeysuckle permeated her sense of smell. It was fruity and warm; like hints of honey and ripe citrus on a summer's day. For some reason, it made her calm immediately.

Turning around, Akko tried to return the greeting. "M-Miss Engl-" A finger quickly hushed her lips, Hannah's coy smile settling in while Akko's heart became unsettled. She didn't think it was in a bad way.

"Hannah. Call me Hannah."

"Mi-"

Akko would have tried to gently deny that request, not being one to so quickly drop formalities as was her upbringing before coming to England. However, there was just something in Mis- Hannah's eyes that compelled her to not even try to fight against the command.

"Y-you can call me Akko then,, .I-if you want! Only... if you want... it's... it's what my friends call me...""  Akko mumbled in reply, voice growing smaller and smaller as she shyly pried her eyes away from the magnetic hazels that were so keen on pulling her in.

She had missed the way her companion grinned, leaning in closer to her, arms tightening about her. "Adorable." Hannah playfully whispered into Akko's ear, the tips reddening brightly.

'Save me.'

"Oh, but we don't want to be just 'friends'." Barbara suddenly popped up, positioning herself right in Akko's line of vision, propping her elbows on her desk, face nestling in her hands comfortably as she smirked at Akko with a little wink. "But you already know that."

She watched as Hannah and Barbara shared a quick, sweet kiss as a good morning greeting. Eyes glinting as they caught Akko watching them.

"Oh? Do you want a nice "hello~" as well, Akko? I wouldn't mind~." Barbara grinned, fingers tilting Akko's chin up already, eyes flickering between Akko's own and her lips.

Akko felt her face burn that extra bit more. She wasn't going to make it through class like this if they kept teasing her so early in the morning.

Barbara was beginning to lean closer and closer as Hannah simply watched from behind Akko, inadvertently keeping her in place due to their positions.

Akko swallowed nervously. Sure, she did not necessarily have any qualms against kissing someone as pretty as Barbara. Even Hannah maybe, but at the very least, she wanted to have her fi-first kiss with...

"Girls."

Diana's arrival shook Akko out of a trance she had unknowingly been placed under. She had somehow expected, at the back of her mind, for Diana to arrive soon as the trio was rarely apart except for when they had separate classes.

Akko felt her heart do a little flip in her ribcage, breath stilling in her lungs at the refreshing sight of Diana in a ponytail, a pale nape and a slender neck exposed for the world to see. A bead of sweat rolled down the smooth expanse. Had it been hot outside? Maybe. For some reason, Akko just wanted to lean into the crook of Diana's neck and maybe-

Diana's cough told her she'd been staring an uncomfortable while. Akko flinched, her hand instinctively reached up to touch her bangs, smoothing out each strand of hair nervously in attempts to redirect her thoughts- wherever they were heading.

This was neither the time nor place to be having such... inappropriate musings.

"Aww~ Diana's so lucky to be the favorite girlfriend~." Barbara said with a pout as she observed the awkward two, pulling away from her initial position on the desk and walking around to take a seat next to Akko instead, leaning her head on the girl's shoulder.

"Right?" Hannah sighed, finally releasing Akko as she went to sit next to Barbara. "We put in all this effort to fluster our dear Akko, but Diana just has to breathe and she has her heart and her soul. Oh Barbara~ whatever shall we do?" She sniffled, wiping away a non-existent tear with her index finger.

Akko stared at the pair, mind short-circuiting at a particular word.

Diana was silent as well.

Hannah and Barbara exchanged a confused look at the lack of reaction, as well as Diana's frozen state.

"Um... did we perhaps say something wrong?" Hannah began nervously, not wanting to possibly offend Akko or hurt her like they could have the last time.

Barbara bit her lip, equally anxious. "If so, then-"

"G-girlfriend?!" Diana and Akko had burst simultaneously, earning looks from the few early students around them.

Akko bowed in silent apology as she turned back to her companions.

"W-what do you... what are you...?"

"Huh?" Hannah and Barbara tilted their heads in confusion.

"Eh?"

"What?"

"G-Girlfriend...?" Diana repeated, vision swirling as her face reddened.

"Aahhh..." Hannah and Barbara got the message, nodding... before doing a double-take. "Wait, we're not? Girlfriends?"

//-//

Akko slammed her head onto her locker door right after shutting it. She shuffled her subject materials for the next class in her hands, trying to check if she missed bringing anything, sighing heavily all the while.

She was lucky her second class was away from everyone else's. That gave her some breathing room to recollect herself.

Hannah and Barbara were way* too skilled at riling her up. She had no idea how to deal with them. She was sure she wouldn't get used to their antics anytime soon. The whole situation with them spun her wheels around so well, it was actually tiring her out.

Then there was the matter of being g-girlfriends, and Diana.

Diana...

"Diana..." Akko's head banged against her metal door again with a clang, a few passing students casting her worried gazes. "What the hell..."

When was it, she wondered, that she had first taken notice of the incredibly gorgeous biology major. Diana with her clear blue eyes like the oceans and the sky at the peak of a beautiful summer; her hair that flowed down to her waist in flourishing curls; Diana and her sharp and classy style; Diana and her shapely body- Akko hit her head once more against the locker, groaning against the cool metal.

"What the hell am I thinking about?" She muttered, pushing herself away from her locker to get ready to head off to the next class. Maybe she should just keep her mind off of it for now, focus on what was in front of her, and deal with it later. When her head cooled down.

Yes. That was the perfect plan.

Before she could leave, however, a hand slapped against either side of her head, a the impact causing a ringing sound in her ears that only added to her headache. Her eyes that she had unconsciously shut fluttered open, widening at the sight that greeted her.

Oh, this was just great.

"Oh, I don't know, Kagari. What *were you thinking about? Hmm?" That familiar snarky tone of voice bit at her, a hand resting on her shoulder before pressing her into the hard metal.

"Chloe..." Her weak response coupled with a glare only made the perpetrator grin happily.

"Atsuko~ our cute little lackey." Short-haired and short-tempered towards Akko was Avery trailing behind the Frenchwoman- the actual lackey, Akko thought.

"Geh- Avery..."

"Glad you're happy to see us." She rolled her eyes, popping her bubblegum as she picked up a paper Akko had dropped in her surprise, flipping through its contents, bored. "Our lackey seems to have been doing good in school lately. Doing her homework and all. Guess you could do ours too?" She smiled that sickly sweet way that Akko loathed.

Akko's breath hitched when she made a little tear on the sheet just to spite her. Finnelan was surely going to chew her out again for a reason she couldn't explain.

Akko grit her teeth, truly wanting to retaliate physically, but then remembered that they weren't in high school anymore. These girls had no real power over her. Not then, not now. She needed to just ignore it and walk away. Really. Years and years of this, and they never got sick of it? Why did the universe allow them to apply to the same university anyway? Not that it mattered anymore.

Resigning herself to a -hopefully- more peaceful exit, Akko sighed, attempting to move Chloe's hand away with only enough force not to trigger her more. "I'm not your lackey." She said, kneeling to the ground to grab her other scattered materials.

"Aww, you're not?" Chloe whined, watching Akko like a hawk.

"I'm not." Akko replied, standing up and throwing them a blank look. "I have to go. See you."

"Leaving so soon?" Some girl she didn't know called after her, sneer evident in her tone. "Not gonna entertain us for a little longer?"

"Obviously." Akko responded, not looking back. She just needed to get the hell away as fast as possible and avoid any further interaction with them.

"Oh, then you wouldn't mind if we told the entire school about how you're always off to a strip club."

Akko halted in her steps, turning around to stare hatefully at the evil grin Chloe sported after knowing she got her way once more.

"Always, as in everyday?" Avery added, leading the group forward to surround Akko once more as other students avoided the potential mess in the hallway.

"What has that got to do with anything?" Akko grit her teeth, fists clenching "And I already told you... it's not what it looks like."

"Then why are you so scared, hmm? About word getting out?" Chloe tipped Akko's head up with her index finger, making her look directly into her eyes. "You know how they say that if you have nothing to hide, then there's nothing to be afraid of."

"That's-"

Akko swallowed the lump in her throat, searching her mind for a comeback to that without revealing too much about herself and giving these bullies more information to harass her with.

She had nothing.

They didn't like that she was quiet and had nothing to say.

She heard Chloe sigh before Akko's cheeks were squeezed together in her hands, nails digging into the flesh slightly. "Also, what was it? Your friend, uh... Lois or something."

"Lotte..." Akko corrected, barely managing the word out; she hoped they weren't planning on doing anything to her sweet friend. She could handle their insults, their disgusting behavior, and their petty tricks on her, but she couldn't stand it if her friends got hurt in her place instead.

"Whatever. Her." Akko slapped Chloe's hand away, earning her a pleased smile and a pat on the cheek. "There's the little tiger we love." She giggled, a glint in her eye.

Akko gripped her books in her hand, trying her best not to throw her fists right at them. The last time she had let her temper go, she was wrongly suspended anyway. She'd rather not have to live through the same sucky school experience again.

"So,"  Chloe continued. "you wouldn't want the entire school to read her disgusting work, right? Fanfiction? I can't remember it all that well. Couldn't stand to read that shit for more than five seconds." She made a gagging motion, tongue stuck out at Akko.

"Lotte... Lotte is amazing at writing..." She whispered, hoping they actually didn't hear those words. "Don't touch Lotte." She managed to say loud enough, raising her head to gaze upon them with a warning. It only seemed to fly over their heads as they all sashayed away from Akko, feeling like they'd won.

"Anyway, we'll keep your secrets for another day, Kagari." Chloe waved over her shoulder. "In exchange for our, ehem, considerate service, we expect cutlet sandwiches on each of our desks. Noon. Sharp." She commanded.

Akko, immediately recalling her class schedule for the day, wanted to protest. "But my class doesn't get out until-"

"Is that a no I'm hearing?" The group paused in their steps, all pinning Akko down with their looks of contempt, daring her to say anything besides their desired response.

Her fists trembled, knuckles as white as her torn assignment paper. She felt the quiver in her lip and the tension in her frame as she held back from screaming bloody murder.

"... I'll get you your damned sandwiches."

//-//-//

"Akko! What took you so long!" Akko's friend, Lotte, worriedly asked. "Finnelan usually comes in really early. You could have been in some major trouble!"

"Maybe she just got lost in the cafeteria again? Among all the donuts and pastries." Sucy drily replied, not looking up from her textbook.

Akko kept staring at her torn paper in dismay, pondering if she should risk it and start rewriting a new one, hopefully finishing before the professor arrived.

The lack of response only fed Lotte's concern even more. She squeezed Akko's shoulder to catch her attention and noticed her friend flinch.

"Akko?"

"H-huh? Oh! What? So-sorry. I was... I dropped my phone in the toilet, haha." Akko said, not looking at her friend at all as she dug around her bag for a pen and hoping for a clean sheet of paper as well.

"Wait, what? Is your phone okay?" Lotte asked, skeptically watching her friend's frantic movements.

"Yeah, yeah." Akko replied half-heartedly.

Lotte frowned, feeling that Akko was still hiding something. "What happened to your assignment?" She questioned, noticing the crumpled and torn edge. A thought came to her mind. "Was it them?" She asked in a quieter voice. "What did they say? Did they hurt you?" Lotte scanned over Akko's features, pupils shaking. They settled on her face and Lotte's frown deepened. "You're cheek..." She reached out, trying to touch it.

"Huh? N-no? It was... the school... cat...?" Akko tried lamely, moving away from Lotte. She instantly felt bad about it as Lotte sported a hurt expression in response to her actions.

"Akko..."

Akko finally faced Lotte, guilt on her features. She was never really good at masking her feelings from her friend. She could never lie to her. They both knew that.

"What was it about this time?"

Akko bit her lip. Despite how close they had gotten over the years as friends, Akko hadn't revealed too much to them about her background. She wasn't sure she was ready to either. Not anytime soon. She also couldn't find the heart to let Lotte know that part of it was about her.

"Just that I'm a dumbass, and the other typical stuff, y'know? Appearances and that kinda thing." She lied.

"Hmmm..." Lotte was clearly not convinced, but she let it go, knowing Akko wouldn't budge on things like this. She instead decided to  settle down in her seat next to Akko.

Akko knew Lotte wouldn't pry anymore. She was both thankful and sorry for having to do this to her friend, but she really couldn't help it.

Akko sighed, clicking her pen open.

"Want me to poison their lunch today?" Sucy piped up, flashing Akko a vial from her bag.

As much as Akko wanted to say yes, she knew it could only make things worse and reluctantly declined. "Maybe in my dreams." She smiled at her friends weakly, finally turning to her fresh sheet of paper to begin copying her assignment.

She missed the shine in Sucy's eye and the grin that was starting to grow on her face. Akko only looked up in terror as she heard the words that spilled from Sucy's mouth, hoping she wouldn't go through with any funny business.

"That can be arranged."

Akko felt a shiver run up her spine, whipping her head back to her paper to avoid that scary expression.

"Let's just... not."

"Tch. You're no fun."

Maybe she really wasn't.

A/N: I would have made this longer and added one more scene, but my brain cells can’t. Sorry haha. ;-; Really sorry. 

~Shintori Khazumi

[thran-duils]

From All Sides (P.4)

Title: From All Sides (Part Four) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Pirate Tony. Tony is obsessed with a certain barmaid at port and showers her with gifts to try to bring her to his bed. She is resistant to his advances, her eyes elsewhere, specifically on her coworker, the cook. Although, that love is unrequited and always will be. The reader is forced into close quarters with Tony unexpectedly and sailing the sea, she slowly bends to his will. And he plans to give her all the affection he can to make sure she stays. Words: 2,420 Warnings (for the whole fic): Eventual smut, violence, angst, possessive behavior Warnings (for this chapter): Tony displays some homophobia

Part Three || Part Five || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

He was right, your head hurt the next morning. He tried to shake you awake and you whined, pulling the blanket over your head. Tony chuckled which only served to make you more upset about feeling sick.

Tony laid a soft kiss on your temple through the blanket, and said, “I’ll leave you be then, love. I will make sure some water is sent in. And some bread. Don’t leave the quarters without me. I don’t want you getting snatched up. Without me, you’ll look like fair game.”

You grumbled in response, and he gave you another kiss through the blanket before crawling out of bed.

<><><>

Walking down the dock towards the stairs to go up into the kitchens, Tony was greeted with Bucky and Steve sitting. He altered course and came out onto the overlook with them. Steve held out a piece of bread and Tony waved him off.

“I was heading in to get myself breakfast. And Y/N some bread.”

“So, she’s not feeling great?” Bucky questioned, taking a swig of water from his mug.

“No.”

“And did you…” Steve asked expectantly, trailing off. His raised brows indicated exactly what he was asking.

Tony sighed and shrugged, “Persistence pays off.”

“Jesus Christ, finally. Now you can stop whining about her going to bed alone,” Steve muttered, taking a big bite of his potatoes. “Even if it was only for a night that she obliged you.”

“Watch it,” Tony muttered, and Steve merely shrugged in response.

“She’s finnicky.”

“Not anymore,” Tony responded.

Bucky rose his brows, “At least you hope so.”

“I’ll make sure of it. She’s going to stay on the ship with me.” Steve and Bucky exchanged a look and Tony demanded, “What?”

“The men may not like that…” Bucky pointed out.

Tony waved them off, “They’ll get used to it. She’ll be a sight for sore eyes. Not that any of them will be allowed to touch her but I won’t toss anyone overboard for merely looking at her. In fact, I’ll be happy she is being admired and knowing she is mine.”

“Unless she gets back home and finds that guy,” Bucky commented, and Steve shot him a pissed off look at the mention of him. Bucky noticed both Tony and Steve glaring at him and he demanded, “What? You know it’s true! He was pining! And—”

“And what?” Tony snapped.

Bucky seemed to lose a little bit of steam seeing how adversarial Tony was. “Well, he seemed persistent.”

Grinding his teeth, Tony stepped closer, and he said, “That’s not a problem anymore.” Bucky furrowed his brow and Tony said in explanation as he pulled out his pipe, “Boy isn’t among the living anymore.

Realization washed across Bucky’s face.

“Why did you kill him?” Bucky asked, incredulous.

“I didn’t want him alive,” Tony responded simply, striking up his match.

“That’s fair,” Steve said.

“How is that fair?” Bucky snapped. “What if Y/N finds out? Or Peter for that matter? They were friends!”

“They won’t? Who is going to tell them? Dead men tell no tales,” Tony responded, lighting up his pipe.

“You didn’t have to shoot him,” Bucky muttered.

“Who says I shot him?” Tony asked, cocking an eyebrow and Bucky merely narrowed his eyes unimpressed. Tony smirked around his pipe before inhaling deeply. He blew the smoke rings out and shrugged. “I see smooth sailing in front of me because of that gunshot.”

<><><>

The ship stayed docked and you only left the room on the island to go grab food in the evening. You barely kept the stew down and Tony rubbed your back. You scowled at him, and he only smirked before going back to his own bowl. That night, he left you alone, letting you rest.

The next morning you woke up to him holding you close underneath the blankets. He felt you stir and he burrowed his mouth to your neck, kissing you gently. You smiled as you stretched before pressing back on him. He took the invitation and ground himself into your ass.

“If you’re going to do something, do it. Don’t tease,” you murmured, turning your head to meet his eyes. A salacious grin came over his face.

Tony lifted your leg and entered swiftly, leaving the two of you breathless and dozing off to sleep again for the second time.

Later in the day, you woke up and found the bed empty. You sat up, the blanket falling to your waist as you searched the room groggily. He was not there. You got yourself ready quickly and left the room, despite his warning yesterday not to.

Thankfully, you found Bucky before anyone else and he intercepted you.

“He’s fishing.”

“Fishing?” you asked disbelieving.

Bucky nodded, “He enjoys it. Plus, it helps feed the island.”

“Anything to keep his feet off the land,” you commented in a sigh, as your eyes were drawn out towards the water.

Bucky gave your shoulder a squeeze and said, “You’ll like it later when you get some bass to eat later, yeah? I’m sure he’ll bring one specifically for you.”

<><><>

You accepted Tony’s offer for a dinner on the beach. As Bucky predicted, Tony had brought a fish specifically back for you and he was roasting it over the firepit on the sand. He had brought a bottle with him, and you having recovered, you were indulging again. The fish was good and filled you up along with the vegetables he had used in the pan as well.

Sitting on the log, you stared into the fire. Tony passed you the bottle and you took a long swig.

“I believe I was promised earrings if I came to your cabin,” you commented lightly.

Tony laughed at that and said, “I know where they are.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, they’re locked away. I was saving them.”

“For?” you pressed, passing the bottle back to him.

He shrugged, “Like I told you. You had to come to my cabin to get them.”

“Well, I have done that. Were there strings attached that you did not inform me of? I still have the necklace on!” you asked, smiling. You showed him, pulling it out from your dress. You knew he had seen it. Of course he had. He had taken you in his bed with it twice now, the one thing you had not taken off to lay with him.

Tony shrugged again. “Stay. And I’ll give them to you on our wedding day.”

You laughed but then saw he was looking at you offended. Oh. He was serious.

Brushing the intensity of the moment off, you exhaled deeply, dramatically. “Well, when we see fit to settle down, I suppose I’ll get them.”

Tony said nothing and you hated the uncomfortable silence. You cleared your throat and scooted closer, getting his attention.

“We should go back. Back to my home. So… I can see.”

Tony was unconvinced from the mention of it. Shaking his head, he said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I can handle it. Whatever happened.”

“I don’t think it is wise.”

“It matters not what it wise. It’s what I want.”

Tony was adamant, “No.”

You scooted away from him, and he noticed that. His eyes followed your movement and saw your hands planted firmly as you glowered at him. Good. He could see how serious you were about this.

“So, you’re refusing to take me back?”

“You escaped there. You were held down there,” Tony argued. “You don’t… need to go back.”

You straightened up and asked, “’Escaped’? I liked it there!”

Tony was accusative now, aggressive. “Do you want to go back for him?”

“Who?”

“Adam.”

You stared him down, matching his fiery gaze.

“That’s what your afraid of? Competition?” Disgust washed across his features and you pressed on before he could interrupt. “No, Tony. It’s not for him.”

“Then what for?”

It was either the liquid courage or wanting to be honest, or possibly a combination of both, but you were honest. “Eloise.”

It felt good to proclaim she was worth something. Even to someone as jealous of your affection like him. With him, the impact would be different. You hoped. If you proclaimed your love for Eloise to him, it was safer than anyone else. And he understood desire. Hell, he had been trying for you for so long. To return to port just for one person, he had to understand that.

But immediately you saw it had been lost on him and now you were to be floundering until you explicitly explained it.

“You’re worried she got taken?” Tony asked, trying to understand. That only made it clear he was clueless about your unrequited love.

Tears stung your eyes, and you squeezed your hands between your thighs. The waves crashed, filling the space between before you inhaled sharply and said, “I mean, yes. That is a very big concern. She could have been harmed. Taken… raped.” You met his gaze, and he was waiting, like he sensed you needed to say more. And you did. You swallowed and whispered, “I loved her. So much. And I knew she was never going to love me back. But it was okay pretending.”

Tony looked like he had been slapped. And that is when you realized you had made a mistake in confessing this to him. He would not be understanding like you hoped he would have been. Why did you think that?

Still you tried to play it off, using emotion.

You shrugged in return, bringing a hand up to wipe at your eyes. “It was at home at port. We worked together. We were close… I dreaded the day some man would come steal her away.”

Still Tony said nothing, and you turned your eyes to him. He was staring at you with such intensity, frozen in the moment. But only for so long.

“So, she was the reason,” Tony finally said. You furrowed your brow at his tone. He took another swig of his rum. He suddenly gave a scornful laugh, shaking his head. “The whole time, I thought it was all those men chasing after you. That you liked playing games—” Your mouth fell open at that remark in shock. “—And keeping your options open. But you already had your heart set. On a woman, no less.”

You shifted and said desperately, “I did not think you would judge—"

Tony cut in swiftly, roughly. His tone could cut glass.

“And on someone who would never appease you or return the affection. You set yourself to doom. And for what? So, both of us could suffer?”

You realized he was making this about him and his feelings. And that ignited anger quickly. “Tony, that’s not fair!”

“I never stood a chance if you were already dead set on staying sorrowful forever.” He scoffed, standing up, your eyes following him. He stared down at you, stumbling a little in his movement as he threw an arm out. “Looks like we had both anchored ourselves to misery and unfortunately for me, it was unknowingly because you returned my flirtations constantly. Dragged me along.” He pointed at you and sneered, “You’re selfish!”

You stood up with him and you said forcibly, “I am not! Yes, I flirted back because I do like you! But do you think I wanted to hang my hat on someone who was notorious for sleeping around?” Tony gave you an incredulous look, but you pressed on. “And for someone who spent most of his time at sea? What? You just wanted me to wait around for you whenever you thought it appropriate to grace me with your presence?”

Tony stepped closer, a finger in your face. “If you would have given yourself to me, I would have brought you aboard or made home—”

You interrupted with a shrill laugh and his jaw set in offense. “You? Make home? Don’t make me laugh.”

“For you? Yes! I would have!”

“Will you now?” you asked, still lightly laughing.

Tony was serious when he said, “If you would only ask it.”

You shrugged sheepishly. “I will not.” He scoffed and began to turn away, but you raised your voice, catching his attention again. “Because as heartfelt as you feel right now – and it may be genuine – you would get bored. You’re married to the sea. You would never be married to me.” You gestured between the two of you. “You and I are meant for the bed and that’s it. There won’t be long term affection. At least on your end.”

“So, I’m the problem?” Tony snapped. You nodded and he bit his cheeks, turning away from you. He used his arm holding the bottle to wipe at his mouth, staring out at the ocean. You swayed on the spot, feeling the alcohol running through your veins. When he turned around again, he almost lost his footing in the sand and you moved to steady him, but he waved you off, stopping you in your tracks. “You never even gave me a chance to prove myself, Y/N! I’m so glad you’re such an expert on what you think you know about me when you never cared to even ask! I would kill you for! I did kill for you! Or have you forgotten that? Or do you just not care?”

He got even closer, and his breath was hot. “I would kill hundreds of men to keep you safe. Just to make sure you were there for me at the end of that bloody trail! And you’re so fucking ungrateful about it! I should just leave you here. Let you simmer on that! Be passed around between the pirates coming through! Cause you obviously don’t give a shit about who you open your legs to! Might as well get paid for it! And at least I’ll still know where to find you. I’ll have coin ready!” He leaned in close and hissed, “If you won’t have me fully, then I’ll just keep you at another port to visit just like before!”

You gasped, hurt, as he turned away from you. He left as quickly as he could, trudging through the sand until he found the rocks again.

“Drew me in and drowned me! Temptress! This whole damn time! And here I thought sirens were only on the sea!” he shouted over his shoulder.

All that was left was the sound of waves as you watched him go up the path.

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney  @biiskuitx @buttercupfangirl

[alwaysmychoices]

The Memorial

Synopsis: On the day of Danny and Bobby’s funeral, Charlie slowly (and unwillingly) begins to feel the impact of her trauma, and Ethan tries to protect her from her own pain.

Chapter 20 of the “with and without” series

Previous Series: “a weekend with dr. ramsey”

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x MC (Charlotte “Charlie” Greene)

Words: 5.8k

Rating: T (language)

tw: disassociation, trauma, emotional distress negative self-talk

disclaimer: I used my experiences as inspiration for Charlie’s emotional state. I am not a trained mental health professional and apologize if I misrepresent anything in this chapter.

That morning, Ethan had no choice but to discharge Charlie from the hospital.

There was no reason to keep her, even after an unusually thorough final exam. Her vitals were normal, and she hadn’t exhibited any concerning side effects from her treatment in days.

Charlotte Greene had survived. She was in the clear now.

For the first few days, Ethan didn’t let himself dream of such a thing. He didn’t want to be disappointed if she took a turn, and he didn’t want to blind himself in his diagnosis and treatment of her. It was only in the last 48 hours that her discharge had become a real and impending event. Truthfully, he could have released her yesterday. The only reason he didn’t was that she experienced a few headaches he wanted to keep an eye on.

But it wasn’t the headaches, not really.

Ethan kept her in the hospital because, deep down, he doubted she was ready to leave.

Charlie seemed fine – sometimes, on a good day, even normal. But there was a haunting in her gaze, a lingering ghost in every movement. Something unresolved and untouched hid in every interaction.

The truth was that they neglected her psychological healing, placing all of their emphasis on her physical improvement. Each of her loved ones denied this to themselves, of course. They showered her with support and affection, and when she had those moments where she seemed lost in something, they stayed with her until she found her way back.

But they hadn’t touched the root of it.

They hadn’t had the courage, nor the stamina.

They didn’t know if they avoided it for themselves or for her. The free days – the one where she wasn’t thinking about her tragedy – were the best. She was a model victim, full of energy and strength. She made jokes from the confines of her hospital bed and offered warm smiles to comfort her loved ones.

Her parents left Boston confident that their daughter would make it through. Even when her father harbored doubts, he looked to Ethan to protect her.

But Ethan knew.

Somewhere, deep down, he knew.

He observed as if surveying her for cracks in the façade.

Even now, as Charlie collected her things from the hospital room in preparation to leave, he studied her. She seemed happy. She felt happy, but Ethan wasn’t sure if she was.

“You’re pouting,” Charlie commented playfully as she picked up her jeans and started to shimmy into them. Sienna had been kind enough to bring her a fresh set of clothes from the apartment so that Charlie didn’t have to leave in the scrubs she wore when disaster struck. Sienna had been more than happy to do it. It gave her a sense of power, that she could do something for Charlie after feeling powerless during her suffering.

“I don’t pout,” Ethan murmured, taking a seat in the free chair. He was, of course, still pouting.

“Well, I’m happy,” Charlie commented as she continued dressing, “I’m finally free, and I’m counting down the hours until I can finally take a shower in my own shower. I never thought I would miss water pressure this much.”

Charlie had a whole list like this – full of tiny luxuries and familiar habits that she missed. Some of them she already had plans to satisfy, like the shower and her coffee maker. Some were more abstract, like dinners with her friends and hearing Sienna hum during their morning routine. There was one she wouldn’t take a “no” on, which was that she intended to spend the night in Ethan’s bed no matter what happened today.

Right now, the world was full of possibilities, and after so long, she could finally reach for them again.

Ethan felt guilty for what he would say next, but he was also confident it had to be said.

“Will you be attending the memorial today?”

He watched the crack in her sunny day take shape and splinter her soft smile.

Charlie froze, and a cold, cold realization washed over her. It froze everything it touched until it reached her bones. Nothing was safe from its icy grasp.

It was a warm room, Charlie knew it was. And so, she pretended she wasn’t cold, even if her teeth felt like chattering.

“Is that today?”

Charlie knew it was today, but she asked just to be sure.

“Yes, at 3:30 pm.”

Charlie nodded, instinctively rubbing her arm as she tried to channel the warmth and happiness she felt only moments ago. It was coming back – so very, very slowly.

“You don’t have to go, you know,” Ethan ventured carefully.

As he expected, Charlie’s eyes shot to him with an expression that could only be described as surprise and disgust. She had to go. Those men died for her!

They…

They died for her.

Charlie felt knocked back, and afraid Ethan would see it, she shook her head and turned her gaze to her jeans as she buttoned the top.

“I have to go, Ethan.”

“No, you don’t.”

They’d had this conversation last night, and even if Ethan knew he would lose, it felt imperative to try.

“Ethan.”

“Rafael Aveiro isn’t going.”

“Because he wasn’t medically cleared to go. That’s not the same.”

“Everyone would understand, Charlie.”

“I wouldn’t understand, Ethan,” Charlie insisted, “I have to go, for me.”

Ethan knew this was a terrible idea. He wasn’t sure why or specifically what would happen, but he knew Charlotte Greene should never step foot inside that memorial.

But there wasn’t much he could do. He knew Charlie very well, and if she intended to go, there was nothing he could do to stop her. Even if he demanded she avoid it and threw up barriers, she would overcome each obstacle with a vengeance. She was a stubborn woman with conviction, a damning combination.

All he could really do was make sure she didn’t do it alone.

“Alright,” Ethan conceded, earning a look of shock from his girlfriend, “Go home. Get some rest. I’ll come by to pick you up.”

Charlie squirmed, surprised by how easily he’d given up the fight. It gave her a moment of pause, and at that moment, she wondered if she was making the right decision. But then the thought faded, and her certainty returned.

She owed it to Bobby and Danny…

“Do you want a ride home?” Ethan offered, still a bit nervous about letting her out of his sight today, “I have time to take you, if you want.”

He’s scared, she realized quietly.

It was startling to see, though the sight was not unfamiliar.

Seeing fear now felt wrong. This was their happy ending, wasn’t it?

Charlie crossed the room to reach her boyfriend, who watched her in silence. When she studied him, she noted the exhaustion and the concern etched into his handsome face. Between his eyebrows, a firm wrinkle of unease sat. She gently smoothed it with her thumb and hoped that was enough to settle it. Ethan recognized her attempt at assurance and comfort, but he didn’t feel like he deserved them.

He was supposed to take care of her, not the other way around.

But really, they needed it equally.

They were two shattered people fumbling to put themselves back together.

“I’ve missed walking,” Charlie politely refused his offer. Ethan wasn’t terribly surprised she did.

“You have my number if you need me,” Ethan reminded her, and something warm settled in her heart, a break from the bone-chilling sadness.

She loved him so, so much.

“I’ll be fine, Ethan,” Charlie said with the upmost confidence.

Ethan raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I will be!” Charlie insisted.

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Ethan declined to confirm her assertion. He couldn’t in good conscience assure her when he didn’t believe her.

Charlie wished he would anyway.

She made a show of rolling her eyes like she was amused with his overconcern. Ethan wasn’t impressed with the display.

It didn’t take long for Charlie to finish dressing and collect her things. When she was done, there was nothing left to keep her in this hospital.

They hesitated at the door and watched one another to see who would make the first move to leave.

Instead, Ethan kissed Charlie softly, whispering, “Goodbye, Charlie.”

She smiled into his lips, “I can’t wait to kiss you somewhere outside of this hospital.”

Ethan grinned. He felt a profound sense of relief that she would make it out of this building. His wonderful Charlie could do anything with this independence. She would continue to exist, even out of his line of sight. She was no longer a fixture in this hospital, nor a victim to gawk at during rounds.

She was free.

They were both free.

Ethan wasn’t sure what came over him. It could only be explained as an instinct to run. He was sure they had to. He was convinced that they were up against a tragic, impending disaster and that they needed to leave while they still had time.

“Why don’t we run away?” Ethan asked.

“What?” Charlie laughed, but the severity of his expression made her smile falter.

“I’m serious. Let’s run away, right now.”

“You’re at work,” Charlie cautioned with confusion.

“So? I doubt anyone would begrudge our departure after everything we’ve been through,” Ethan decided, “We’ll just go somewhere – anywhere you want – and come back whenever the hell we want to.”

Ethan wanted Charlie to say yes more than he’d wanted anything. He wanted this more than he wanted her to say yes to his offer at a relationship all those months ago. Really, he didn’t just want it. He needed it. It felt like the only way to quell his growing anxiety and avoid pain and tragedy. It was the only way to protect her.

But Charlie wasn’t the kind to run away.

She was the kind to try, even if it broke her.

It was one of the reasons Ethan loved her, but it was also one of the reasons she scared the hell out of him.

Placing a comforting hand on his cheek, Charlie kissed her nervous boyfriend softly and told him, “I’ll see you in a few hours, okay?”

She never gave an explicit answer to his offer, but her aversion was answer enough to disappoint Ethan.

“Okay,” Ethan conceded weakly, kissing her forehead one last time.

When she walked away, Ethan wondered if he was worrying all for nothing.

She looked strong. She looked healthy. She even looked happy.

But something told him that she wasn’t, and against his best wishes, he trusted it.

Charlie left Edenbrook to a relieved fanfare. Everyone wished her well and showered her in comfort and adoration. A few of the nurses who had stayed with her this week took turns giving her goodbye hugs. When they held her, a quiet thought wondered if they just wished they could hug Danny. A pair of rowdy interns cheered when she walked by, but Zaid silenced them with a glare. Sienna paused her rounds just to give Charlie a big, tight hug.

It was a powerful and cheerful time.

But then she was at the front door of Edenbrook, and Charlie hesitated.

She felt almost contained to Edenbrook, like something would break if she exited.

It was an irrational fear, of course. That’s what she told herself when she finally made that first step on the sidewalk.

They never made it out.

Charlie felt the air get knocked out of her chest at the mere thought.

But that was ridiculous. It was a thought – and an intrusive one at that.

She wouldn’t let it stop her.

What makes you so deserving to get out?

Charlie gritted her teeth and fought the thoughts as she took another step.

They didn’t stop, though. At every block, there was something new – some horrific image in her mind, some intrusive thought, or some terrible memory.

She heard it in the voices of strangers on the street, but every time she looked over at them, they hadn’t really said a thing. They observed her wild, scared expression with a sense of concern and avoidance. More than one stranger took a few steps away when she looked at them.

They weren’t talking to her. Charlie knew that.

Still… little snippets of their conversations twisted into dark, terrible words.

“They deserved life more, you bitch.”

“You only lived because you’re a coward.”

“Would you have even saved them, if you could? Or are you too selfish?”

Even the beep of a cell phone brought her back to the horrible, irregular beep of Raf’s heartbeat monitor that night.

It followed her.

It was everywhere.

The anxiety started in her chest, but it spread through her body like an infection.

Like the infection that should have killed her.

Charlie fought it. She rebelled against the thoughts and battled the improbability of the dreadful words. She went in and out of panic in a series of disorienting flashes.

She didn’t always know where she was.

Once, she looked around the group surrounding her as they walked the crosswalk, and she wondered how she got here. Where had she been? Where was she going?

Then, it came back. She remembered again, and she pretended she never forgot.

Somehow, she made it home.

She was relieved to see her building. Quietly, she recognized that it was a miracle she navigated so well when her grip on reality felt fragile. But she pretended that nothing was wrong. Of course, she got home. She was normal, after all. Those were just bad thoughts and bad moments. It didn’t have to mean anything.

Then she realized she was just staring at her building.

She made no moves to go inside. She didn’t even fish her keys out of her purse.

Something in there was a threat, and she couldn’t go home yet.

She started walking away with no real plan. First, she thought she would just stop at a nearby coffee shop, drink an espresso, and then go back to normal. But she walked past the coffee shop and kept walking. She wasn’t sure where she was going.

A mile later, she finally decided.

Half an hour later, Charlie knocked at Rafael’s front door. Within seconds, Rafael’s grandmother opened the door with overwhelming exuberance. Charlie hardly had a moment to process Juliana at all before she was pulled into a big, tight hug.

The affection, if just for the moment, knocked Charlie out of her fog.

Juliana ushered Charlie inside with offers of drinks and snacks.

“Oh, thank you, but this is all too much,” Charlie insisted.

“Nonsense!” Juliana exclaimed, pushing a plate in Charlie’s direction, “You saved my beautiful boy. Nothing is too much for you!”

“Your beautiful boy saved me,” Charlie asserted with a bit of guilt. She wasn’t a hero. She didn’t deserve all of this.

A gentle creak of a door alerted Charlie to Rafael’s presence, and he sheepishly corrected, “We saved each other.”

When Charlie looked in his direction to greet him, Rafael knew.

Something was wrong.

He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something in her eyes was amiss, even pained.

Charlie finally caved and accepted a dessert. Juliana, however, wasn’t satisfied and began packing her a tin of goodies to take home.

While she was a few feet away, Rafael took a few tentative steps towards his friend.

“How are you?” Charlie asked when he was close enough.

Rafael shrugged, “I can make it up the stairs without wheezing, which is an improvement.”

Charlie nodded slowly, “And Sora?”

“Definitely over,” Rafael confirmed, “But I think it’s for the best. You and Ethan?”

Charlie thought back to their night in quarantine, when Rafael implored her to tell Ethan how she felt. She was happy to have taken his advice.

“I told him I loved him. He told me he loved me, too. Naturally, I cried,” Charlie smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “I don’t think he believed me until the next day, though. Something about deathbed confessions not being as meaningful.”

“At least it worked out for one of us,” Rafael smiled playfully.

He was watching Charlie, though. She realized it during a pause in their conversation. She felt studied, and she wondered what he saw.

Whatever he interpreted couldn’t have been good because, after a beat, he asked her to join him on his walk. Just as Ethan had hours before, Rafael regarded Charlie with concern.

Charlie accepted.

They navigated Rafael’s neighborhood largely in silence. The silence invited the fog back, and by the time they reached the park, Charlie felt like she was fighting against wet sand to keep moving. She was almost as exhausted as Rafael as they collapsed into a nearby bench.

Charlie felt like Rafael was the only person in the world who might understand what she couldn’t yet put a name to. But given the opportunity, she was too afraid to ask. If she asked, it would be real, and she wasn’t ready for it to be real.

“I never asked how you were,” Rafael said pointedly.

“Are you asking now?” Charlie asked, looking ahead at the park instead of her friend.

“I am.”

Charlie thought for a moment – maybe too long of a moment, really.

“My reports say I’m perfectly healthy,” Charlie finally answered.

“That’s wasn’t quite what I asked,” Rafael seemed amused like he had expected her to evade him.

Charlie rolled her eyes at his smirk, but it was a show. She just wanted to seem amused, too.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.

He gave her time, allowing the silence to stretch until she finally had the strength.

“Does it stay like this?”

Rafael raised an eyebrow in silent question, and she let the façade slip just enough for him to know what she meant.

Charlie wanted Rafael to tell her that, while he felt what she feels now, it eased over time. Being home helped him become whole again. The thoughts and the panic would subside if she just waited.

But Rafael told her the truth instead.

“Yes,” he admitted, “I feel it every second. Sometimes, I feel like it’s harder at home. I wake up at home with my family and my life. And they… they don’t.”

His words crushed Charlie, and she sank further into the bench.

“Do you feel like it’s everywhere?” her voice was so soft, so scared that it shook Rafael to his core, “Like… if you’re just walking down the street, do you feel like you hear the bad thoughts? The ones that remind you of what happened.”

Rafael looked terrified.

He was, he realized belatedly.

Not just for himself and his trauma but for her and hers.

“Sometimes,” Rafael confirmed, “I feel it mostly in the pain… When my body aches and fails to do easy things, I’m so angry and then… Then, I remember why and what happened – and that Bobby and Danny only felt the pain in the end.”

Charlie grimaced, and she held onto the bench until her fingers turned white, fighting the wave of pain that followed the mental image. She looked pale and on the verge of collapse when she finally opened her eyes again.

“Don’t go today,” Rafael warned.

“I have to,” Charlie swallowed, “I couldn’t save them… I might as well honor them.”

Rafael didn’t have much of a counterargument, so he didn’t give one. He understood. In a lot of ways, he felt the same about the memorial. He, unlike Charlie, had been saved by his precarious health. He didn’t have to make that choice. He was relieved, even if he felt a twinge of cowardice for not even trying to go.

When Rafael didn’t try to stop her, their conversation fell into a lull.

The silence was nice.

Neither of them expected anything from the other.

They didn’t have to pretend to be okay…

Maybe they should have stayed.

But they didn’t.

Charlie, looking at her watch, realized she was running out of time. When she told Rafael that she had to go, she looked normal again – strong, even. Like she was clothed in armor. Like, maybe, if you squinted, you didn’t have to worry about her.

Rafael wished her well, and she started to leave.

“Wait, Charlie,” Rafael called out before she got too far away.

Charlie stopped, turning to him with an expectant expression.

“Thank you for making it out of that room.”

Her heart stopped, and her eyes watered.

They were supposed to be dead, and her heart burst with how happy she was that he was alive.

“Thank you for making it out, too,” Charlie was sure she had never meant a thank you as strongly as she meant that one.

He smiled softly, and then she left.

This time, when she reached her apartment, she had the courage to step inside.

It was… eerily the same.

Like this apartment was magically immune to all of the pain and trauma.

Something echoed in the halls, something she couldn’t yet touch.

The thoughts were distant though, but… so was everything else.

Charlie tried to put her life back together. She unpacked her things, cleaned her room, and started a pot of coffee. The entire time, she struggled to keep moving. She kept finding little moments of lost time. Alone, they were strange, but together, they were terrifying.

She knew her surroundings, yet something about them felt strange. She knew where she was, what she was doing, and what she was supposed to do next. But the haze…

It surrounded her.

It was everywhere but somehow out of sight.

She never saw it coming, but when she snapped out of it, she realized it had enveloped her.

She was empty, but the thoughts were finally quiet.

She felt nothing, but at least she didn’t feel the torture.

Charlie kept going because Charlie was the kind to always keep going.

When she turned on the shower, she was fighting to stay here, to stay aware. She wanted to stay.

The water was hot, obscenely so. The shock to her system burned more than just her skin. Her mind felt like it was ablaze, and finally, Charlie felt herself again. She didn’t know how much she missed her awareness until it was back. She turned the water hotter to keep feeling it.

Then…

She was back in the hospital – in the burning hot shower after she was released from quarantine. She was alone washing off the sweat and grime of that hospital room. She used shower products that weren’t hers, that didn’t smell or feel like her. She was alive. But who else was?

She was a lone survivor. She was the final girl. She was the lucky one.

Charlie screamed.

No. No, Charlie really screamed.

She was back in her apartment, and she was screaming.

She caught her breath, reaching for slippery tiles to find her balance.

She slid. Or maybe she sat down.

But she was on the shower floor, knees pulled to her chest as she begged for fresh air.

She sat on that shower floor, hoping for a miracle. She put faith in everything.

In the water, that it would wash away her pain.

In the air, that it would allow her to exhale her guilt.

In her body, that it would remember how to stand again.

But gasping through the water, she just felt like she was drowning.

Then…

When it was too much, when it was all too much, it stopped.

Like a warm, protective hug, her brain shielded her.

And then it was over.

What felt like seconds later, there were loud knocks at her front door. They were jarring and set her free from wherever she had been.

Charlie looked around frantically, trying to remember where she was.

The shower was still running, through the water was less hot now.

Everything looked the same, but…

But the sun was lower.

Charlie scrambled for a towel and turned off the shower. She fumbled for her phone on the counter, and her heart sank.

An hour.

She had lost an hour.

The knocking started again, and Charlie didn’t have the time to process what her lost hour meant. Still trying to get her bearings right, Charlie went to the front door and swung it open to find out who the fuck was so insistent about getting inside.

It was… Ethan.

And he was dressed in a suit.

Why was he-?

The memorial.

Ethan watched as her eyes widened in understanding and then panic.

He didn’t know what to think or how to interpret her apparent confusion. She was soaking wet still, as if she had just gotten out of the shower, and her skin was bright red, like it had been burned by the water. She looked…

Confused.

And scared.

Ethan immediately knew that something was wrong.

“Charlie, are you okay?” he broached carefully, taking a step toward her. He wanted to hold her, but she looked fragile…

“Yeah, I just, um… I was just…” Charlie stammered, “What time is it?”

“Three,” Ethan answered.

“What?” Charlie felt a wave of nausea. The memorial was at 3:30.

Ethan surveyed her again, taking in every clue like she was a mystery to be solved.

The wet hair. The confusion. The panic. The inability to explain.

What was it?

How did he help her?

“Charlie, why don’t you know what time it is?” Ethan asked cautiously, placing his hands carefully on either shoulder. She was hot to the touch.

“I, um, I was just in the shower,” Charlie answered. She felt like her mind was sludge, and words were nearly impossible to string together, “I must have zoned out and lost track of time.”

“For how long, Charlotte?”

Charlie dropped her eye contact and shrugged.

He leaned closer, pushing her soaking wet curls out of her face, “Rookie, please. How long?”

Her green eyes were full of fear as she finally admitted, “An hour.”

Ethan’s chest tightened, and he let out a horrified, terrified huff of breath. Instinctively, he pulled her in, tucking her safely in his chest where he knew she was okay.

She told herself she didn’t know why he was doing this. It just a little bit of time – only a little scary. More confusing than anything.

But she fell into his arms like she needed it because she did.

Ethan didn’t care that she got his suit wet.

He only cared that he had her.

“We’re not going today, Charlie,” Ethan decided authoritatively, “We’re not.”

“Ethan!”

“You’re not,” Ethan said more firmly.

“I have to be there!”

“No, no, you don’t,” Ethan pulled away just enough to look at her so she would know how intensely he meant this, “You do not need to go, Charlie. You need to make it through today. I’m not letting you do this to yourself just because you feel some obligation. Charlotte Greene, you owe your survival to no one.”

He knew she didn’t believe him by the way she averted her eyes.

“I have to go,” she insisted forcefully.

“No,” Ethan shook his head, reaching for her hand determinedly, “Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

He started to pull her to her bedroom, but she remained firm.

“Please, Ethan,” she pleaded.

Ethan felt a moment of pause.

The way she looked at him… like she needed this, like she needed him to let her have this.

His heart broke.

His beautiful, wonderful Charlie was in so much pain.

And he caved.

He caved because he wanted to make it go away so, so badly that he was willing to make a thousand mistakes.

He grimaced but consented, “Fine. But we still need to get you dressed.”

Getting dressed, like everything else, was hard.

Charlie struggled against her mental fog, and as a result, she moved slowly. She was frustrated as she tried to push through her shortened routine. Even just putting her hair into a braid felt like a monumental task, and she cursed under her breath.

Why couldn’t she just be okay?!

Ethan stepped in before she could get too irritated. He helped her finish the braid and secured it behind her back. He found her dress hanging on the door and helped her step into it. He hesitated after he finished with the zipper, wondering once more if he should stop her before it was too late.

“I’ll be okay,” Charlie whispered, watching his hesitation in the mirror.

Ethan didn’t believe her.

Instead, he kissed the side of her head and whispered, “I love you, Charlie.”

She smiled – a real one. A tired one, but a real one.

Ethan found her shoes on the bed, and he held her hand for stability as she stepped into her high heels.

Then, she was ready…

And he had to take her.

Ethan didn’t leave her side, not for a single second. Not when they parked at the cemetery and were surrounded by friends and coworkers. Not when people tried to call him over to give their condolences. Not when Charlie’s friends surrounded and showered her in support.

Especially not when Danny and Bobby’s families greeted her and thanked her for all she did to try to save them. Not after, when they stepped away, Charlie collapsed into his side, tears running down her face.

He never left her.

Ethan held her hand the entire time. He didn’t give a shit who saw or what they said.

It was a relief when the service began, and everyone stopped crowding her. They stood in the back, where no one cared when Ethan put his arm around Charlie’s waist to hold her up. It was a lovely service – lighthearted but reverent. There were heartwarming stories and cheerful anecdotes. Bright, shining moments of joy were followed by waves of grief and anger.

When the families stepped up to the podium and began to speak, Charlie absently whispered to Ethan, “I think I’m supposed to speak…”

Ethan thought that was a terrible idea.

But out of respect for her grieving process, he asked, “Do you want to?”

Charlie considered it.

In her pocket, she had a piece of paper where she’d scribbled thoughts last night. It was full of platitudes and grief, even an admission that she couldn’t save them.

She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t say any of it.

She couldn’t even hear it.

“I think I want to go home,” she replied.

Ethan nodded thoughtfully, squeezing her waist reassuringly, “Okay. I’ll tell Naveen, and then we’ll go.”

Charlie nodded weakly and missed his warmth the second he stepped away. A minute later, Ethan returned to guide her back to the parking lot. They slipped away quietly. Only a few people noticed, and they were respectful enough to not say a word.

In the car, Ethan held her hand.

The fog was back and even stronger.

Charlie was silent. At times, she felt like the only thing keeping her connected to reality was Ethan holding her hand.

Ethan took her back to his apartment, where he knew she would be safe and free from well-meaning mourners and friends. He held her in the elevator and regretted letting her go to unlock his front door. Ethan had never been more relieved by Jenner’s love than when he saw Jenner shower his girlfriend with affection, allowing her to crack a small smile.

Ethan left Charlie and Jenner in the living room to change out of his wet jacket.

Alone for the first time since he found Charlie, he drowned in awareness. His Charlie…

He almost cried. He wanted to cry. He wanted to release this. He wanted to go back to the hospital, where he and Charlie slept quietly and smiled from across rooms.

He didn’t want to grieve.

Neither did she.

He had to protect her. He had to save her. And he didn’t know how.

Ethan sat on the corner of his bed, waiting for an epiphany.

Instead, he found Charlie standing in the doorway.

“Are you okay?” Charlie asked quietly.

Ethan shook his head resolutely, “No. Are you?”

Charlie let out a deep, deep breath.

“Not at all.”

Ethan laughed at the honesty. She had been lying to him all day, and hearing the truth was nearly funny when it was so glaringly obvious.

“You should have made me run away with you,” Charlie grumbled, kicking off her shoes as she walked into his room. She fell into his bed like it was the only place she felt safe.

But really, did she even feel safe there?

Ethan placed a comforting hand on her back and drew a soothing pattern with his fingertips,  “We still can.”

Charlie sighed, her eyes closing just a little, “Right now, I just want to stay in this bed.”

“You always liked my bed,” Ethan observed, kissing the top of her head. He kicked off his shoes and then fell back into bed beside her, turning his body to face her.

“It’s because you’re usually in it,” Charlie mused.

Her eyes were closed with Ethan decided to wrap his arms around her, tucking her head safely in his chest. She fit in his arms like he was designed to hold her…

When she looked up at him again, there was something raw hidden in the green of her iris.

“I almost lost you,” she said it like it was a revelation, one she hadn’t let herself think of since that night.

“I think it’s more accurate to say I almost lost you,” Ethan suggested.

“I’m serious, Ethan.”

“So am I.”

Charlie hadn’t allowed those kinds of thoughts or memories to permeate her life. She hadn’t wanted to be sad, but…

They happened.

They were real.

They followed her anyway.

“I woke up, and you weren’t there,” Charlie said, more to herself than to Ethan, “I was relieved. I missed you, but… I didn’t…”

Something was stabbing her.

Something inside. Something sharp and terrible and scary and it was here.

“I didn’t want you to watch me die,” she said in one breath, just to get it the fuck out of her.

She needed it out. She needed all of it out. It was trapped. It was torturing her. It was going to kill her.

She couldn’t breathe.

Or maybe she could…

She panted, trying to just fucking decide.

The fog was gone. The haze left.

And she was there, and she felt it. She felt all of it.

Nothing came to save her from the feeling.

She wanted to scream again, but it came out as a mighty, aching cry. She devolved into uncontrollable, body-shaking sobs.

The cracks in her perfect, sunny day splintered and shattered the illusion. There was nothing to hold on to now… It was just rain.

No, she was wrong.

There was one thing to hold on to.

And she held onto him just as tightly as he held on to her.

Ethan wasn’t going to let go, so Charlie let herself fall.

That didn’t go where I thought it was going to go, but wow... this may be the saddest chapter I’ve ever written. 

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[brinconvenient]

Green Egg and Fam

You know what? I'm just gonna go ahead and do this...

So a few years back, I was talking to another trans woman who is very familiar with the DC Universe and we were trying to figure out who is Actually An Egg, and after a few suggestions back and forth, I galaxy-brained the answer. She heartily agreed and we talked about it a bit: 1. Artsy 2. Serial Monogamist who is a Relationship Disaster (Big "Do I want to Be With Her, or Be Her?" energy) 3. Becomes best friends with every ex-girlfriend 4. Noted Respecter of Women in Very Terrible and Awkward Ways 5. Chronically allergic to self-reflection and introspection, but also addicted to it in much the same way lactose intolerant people talk about how they can't give up cheese. 6. Just a complete and Utter Messy Agent of Chaos. 7. All too willing to adopt Other People's Expectations and internalize them as a Sacred Duty. 8. Just constantly Marked By Tragedy - both external and self-created.

It's Kyle Rayner, kids.

Torchbearer,

Honor Lantern,

Erstwhile Ion/avatar of the power of will

Kyle "I will be the Last of the Green Lanterns and yet keep trying to ressurect this entire Corps of Space Cops that I didn't even know existed until some Blue Dude showed up to give me jewelry and I guess marry me into the Corps? Because I guess that's just my job now and that will become my whole personality" Rayner.

After the conversation, this - the only fanfic I have literally ever written popped out of my head fully formed. It's intended to really be Chapter 1 of Several which are basically conversations between Kyle and one Ex-Girlfriend per chapter as Kyle finally accepts herself and transitions.

Eventually she reveals that the name "Ion" comes from her real name "ImOgeN" because she read Nevada and Was Impacted and she's just that extra.

But, honestly, despite getting started on the Alex chapter ages ago, I never have drawn the energy to go back and finish and/or write more, so I'm just gonna share the first chapter of what I am calling:

"Green Egg and Fam"

Putting the actual content behind the Read More because I've already rambled too long.

“It’s just exhausting, you know? Every few years it seems like I have to pick up the pieces of my life, my memory, my self and figure out who the hell I am! Every time I get a handle on things, someone or something comes along and shakes up the snow globe,y’know? I’ve tried to talk to Diana about it and, like, she’s compassionate and cares and offers sympathy, but most of the time, my whole relationship with her is just one more flake in the globe and I never know who we’re going to be to each other. Somehow, though, you’re always my favorite ex-boyfriend. It’s weird, right?”

Kyle patted Donna’s arm reassuringly. He glanced from Donna’s face to the view over Lake Michigan. There was no more beautiful view of the lakeshore than the roof of the John Hancock Building. He could just about make out the lights of the small shore towns across the lake in Michigan, and he could see the industrial Indiana towns along the round tip of the lake.

“I’m not positive I like that descriptor of our relationship, but I am happy to be some kind of constant for you,” he said with a rueful smile. “Donna, you are one of my dearest friends and I always want to be here for you. I know you didn’t need my help with Dr. Psycho here, but I’m glad I was Earthside to help you out anyway.”

They’d taken the diminutive psychic menace to the Chicago Special Crimes Unit, who had training and facilities for telepaths and telekinetics. They found this perch when Donna said she just needed a little bit to settle down before heading back to the Titans Tower in New York.

“No, I had him just about handled - a Lasso of Persuasion is pretty useful, after all - but I’m glad you swung through, all the same,” Donna said. “I’m glad to have a friend here. Psycho was really messing with my head this time. He kept dredging through my memory, pulling out bits and pieces of lives lived and people lost. He made me relive the loss of Terry and Robert and Jenny, over and over, replayed the tortures of Dark Angel, dragged me through that whole mess with the Titans of Myth, and I’m actually not sure which of any of those actually happened in this reality anymore.”

Donna’s breath was getting ragged and tears were falling down her face, twinkling in the moonlight.

“You told me about Terry and the kids when we were dating, so since I still remember them, they must still have existed and they still loved you and you still got to love them. I’m a little fuzzy on the Titans of Myth, so I can’t be sure about that stuff. But you’re here now and that’s what’s important right now. Just take a sec to enjoy this moment, this view, this night and see how you feel, ok?” he said.

They sat in the quiet, next to each other, watching the waves reflect and distort the moonbeams. Donna’s breathing calmed down and she straightened her back, half a head taller than Kyle even while sitting.

“Thank you, Kyle. I’ll be ok now, I think. I appreciate you listening. You have a good heart. If you’d only learn to actually fight without that ring, you’d make a pretty decent Amazon. Well … if you weren’t a man, of course.”

Kyle coughed and thanked the stars that Donna couldn’t see him blush. Suddenly Kyle felt like there was lava beneath his skin and he couldn’t sit comfortably.

He didn’t want Donna to catch on, so he stifled his squirming and whipped up a quick construct of a miniature green Kyle in an Amazonian uniform, breastplate, Spartan skirt and calf boots. For added effect he made sure to widen his shoulders and used Hal Jordan as a reference for a jaw far more square than Kyle’s real life chin.

“I’m not sure I can pull off the uniform. Guess I’ll stick with green and black for now. Ha!” he said. He hoped it didn't sound as forced as it felt.

“Oh I don’t know. You’ve got great legs, Kyle! Maybe you should start wearing shorts when in uniform. Besides, you had those over-the-knee boots for the longest time. I think you’d be just fine!” Donna said, laughing.

“Give me a hug, Dick just texted me to meet him in Blüdhaven. Take care and fly safe back to Oa!” she said.

After a quick, warm embrace, she turned eastward and flew off over the lake. Kyle watched her fly out of sight. He looked down and saw little Amazon Kyle, slowly spinning in the air. He drew the construct up to eye level and returned the shoulders and jaw back to his more slender and softer reality. It didn’t look that bad actually.

He’d been trying to make Donna smile, and deflect from … something before, so he exaggerated those features to highlight the incongruence, but he didn’t hate this more realistic image.

He continue to finesse the construct’s features. Like most artists, he never really considered a piece finished, he just stopped working on it. He smoothed the musculature, narrowed the shoulders a little further, pulled the hips out just a bit more, and left the waist alone. The ersatz Kyle’s face got softer still, the brow less pronounced, the nose narrower, the chin just a bit more rounded. He watched the chest muscles soften and breasts form to fill out the breastplate better.

Finally, he lengthened the construct’s hair to shoulder length, adding some wave and curls like Donna’s somehow-always-perfect hair.

And there she was. The woman who’d been haunting Kyle’s dreams as long as he could remember. Slowly spinning in the air was a woman who could easily have been Kyle’s sister, wearing Amazonian garb (or at least what he remembered from seeing Donna’s while they were dating so many years ago).

He didn’t know how much time had passed since he started fiddling with the image, and he didn’t know how long he’d spent staring at the final form. Sister. Yeah, right.

With an angry wave he flashed his hand through the construct, dissolving and dispersing the light particles that he’d given form. He hastily looked around the roof to make sure no one had seen him or, specifically, seen the construct. The burning sensation of shame returned instantly and he immediately flew into the sky until the buildings looked like so many light-speckled building blocks.

He took himself through a calming exercise he learned from Kilowog to help him center himself and sling his ring “like he wasn’t a complete Poozer and deserved to wear it.” Kilowog had no appreciation for just how hard it was for other people to feel calm when he was around. Still, Kyle found it helped when the pink giant wasn’t breathing down his neck.

“My will is strong enough to carry the torch for the entire Green Lantern Corps, I can stop these feelings. I can make all of these thoughts go away. I can stop this. I’ve got too much responsibility to keep indulging this … this nonsense” he thought, trying to ignore the sting of the tears fighting their way free to fall down his face, ignore the pain in his heart.

“I don’t want to lose my friends - what would Donna say? Would she think I was a pervert, or making fun of her somehow? I definitely don’t want to lose Hal’s and the guys’ respect. I don’t want to lose my whole life just because I’m some kind of freak. Get it together, Rayner. No one else is feeling sorry for themselves because they don’t fit in.”

He pulled a hand down his face and pointed his right fist with it’s gaudy, shining green ring on the middle finger toward the Milky Way and flew into space. He hoped the cold solitude of the transluminal conduits would help him regain his composure before he faced Guy, Hal, John and Kilowog for the Honor Lantern meeting. For the millionth time, he wished he could just be more like them, have just a sliver of their easy and effortless masculinity. They made it look so simple.

“Bet they don’t spend half their life trying to figure out what is wrong with them,” he thought. He tried so hard not to envy them, but it was really hard sometimes.

Especially nights like tonight where his resolve had failed him yet again and he gave in to his most hidden thoughts. He entered the transluminal conduit between Saturn and Jupiter and closed his eyes.

He traveled faster than light, but it still took time to reach Oa, so he tried to sleep and hoped that his dreams wouldn’t betray him again.

[the-sympathetic-villain]

The Stowaway’s Heart - Chapter 5

AO3 | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description:  Virgil is rescued by selkies after being abandoned at sea and brought back to their pod to recover. Virgil’s poor, gay heart may just explode from how attractive they all are.

Word Count: 4615

Chapter Warnings:  Play fighting, Sexual Tension/Innuendo (Mostly just heavy handed flirting), Overstimulation, Anxiety, Embarrassment, Swearing (Let me know if I need to add anything!)

-

     Virgil curled comfortably into himself as he gently woke from his long sleep. He couldn’t remember the last time he'd slept so peacefully. Gently stretching his arm out, he hummed with pleasure at the soft blankets beneath him. He ran his finger across the silky, smooth fabric enjoying the way his hand glided across the top of the bed.

    Maybe, I'll even lighten the dark circles under my eyes.

    Virgil snorted to himself.

    Unlikely.

    One good night’s sleep wasn't likely to make a dent in his years of sleep deprivation, but one could hope it may lighten it's affect. He gently rolled forward on to his stomach, stretching hi arm out over the edge of the bed. His mind drifted as sleep pulled at his body. Exhaustion threatened to claim him once more when he felt an arm wrap tighter around his waist.

    Wait.

    Adrenaline jolted him awake and his eyes shot open. He forced himself to move slowly, carefully tilting his head to look over his shoulder. The sight of Logan’s golden, brown hair buried in his shoulder eased his escalating anxiety. His relief was short-lived as confusion settled over him. Brow furrowed, he stared back at Logan trying to remember how he'd come to be here only to up blank. His gaze drifted down, locking on to the pelt draped over Logan's shoulders. The soft fur covered most of Logan’s upper body and the edges extended over Virgil’s side, draped over where Logan’s arm wrapped tightly around his waist.

    That’s why I slept so well.

    He tried to swallow down his guilt,  but it seemed to wedge in his throat. The memories of the evening before came rushing back. Images of Logan’s terrified expression flashed through his mind as regret burned the images into his mind Sucking in a deep breath, he squirmed in in Logan’s arms, trying to wedge himself out of Logan’s tight grip.

    I can’t do this.

    I can't hurt him—

    “What are you doing?”

     His panicked thoughts were quickly interrupted by Logan's tired voice behind him. Virgil gasped in surprise at Logan's voice. His melodic voice was deeper than usual as he woke from slumber. The sultry sound sent shivers up the back of his neck and he barely managed to mutter a response.

    “Escaping.”

    Silence hung between them for a moment as Virgil continued to squirm in Logan’s grip. After a long moment, Logan’s lazy voice came again. “And where, pray-tell, do you plan to escape to?”

    “The ground seems like the place to be right now.”

    “Why is that, love?”

    Virgil gritted his teeth and his chest ached with emptiness. “Because—because I can't hurt you there.”

    “Ah,” The soft exclamation gave Virgil pause. He heard sadness in Logan’s voice and guilt welled in his chest. “So, dear one. Your hypothesis is that by getting to the ground, you will avoid hurting me?”

    “Yes.” Logan shifted next too him and Virgil felt the edges of his pelt brush against the skin on his arms. “I can't do that again—”

    “And you’re sure this hypothesis is the one you wish to test?”

    “Yes.”

    “Very well, Virgil.”

    Virgil squeaked as Logan lifted his arm from Virgil’s waist and the momentum of his squirming sent him tumbling forward over the edge of the bed. He landed with a groan on the stone floor below.

    “What the h—”

    “I think your theory is null, love.” Logan leaned over the edge of the bed with a smug smile. “Besides being slightly more entertained, I do not feel any different than before.”

   Virgil groaned as he sat up, scowling at his supposed soulmate. “You’re a jerk, Logan.”

    “Perhaps,” Logan crossed his arms on the edge of the bed, leaning his chin down on top of his arms with a sickeningly innocent smile. “but I think that makes us even.”

    Virgil looked up at him with a confused expression. “Even?”

    “You feel guilty for grabbing my pelt without express permission,” Logan chuckled smugly. “and I dropped you off the side of the bed. I believe that to be fair recompense for your trespasses,   Virgil.”

    Virgil straightened nervously, hanging his head. “I think what I did was worse, Lo.”

    “What you did was purely accidental and you quickly rectified your mistake.” Logan’s eye flashed devilishly down at him. “What I did was intentional and I have no intention of apologizing, therefore my actions are at least equally reprehensible, if not more so than yours.”

    Cocky bastard.

    Virgil raised an eyebrow at him. “Is this your way of trying to make me feel better?”

    “Is it working?”

    “Unfortunately.” Virgil smirked up at him from the ground, before softening his tone. “You’re really not upset about what happened?”

    “Not in the slightest, love.” Logan smiled down at him from the bed. “Now, will you please join me up here again?”

    “Most men at least offer to buy me dinner before asking me to jump into bed with them.” Virgil glanced up at him with a challenge in his eyes.

   The smile that spread across Logan’s face sent chills down up his spine. He nearly squealed as Logan leaped gracefully off the bed a strutted towards  him. He scrambled back a few feet before his hand slipped and he landed on his back.

    Fuck.

    Logan's grin widened as he slowed his approach. Virgil gulped as Logan kneeled next to him. Before Virgil could even process what happening, Logan leaned a hand on each of his elbows, effectively pinning him to the ground. Virgil squirmed uselessly against Logan's weight, freezing as he leaned over him. Logan breathed on his neck with a teasing whisper.

    “Oh, honey,” Logan chuckled as Virgil’s breath became ragged beneath him. “You are going to have to work much harder than that if you want to fluster me.”

    “You motherf—” Virgil growled as Logan pulled away.

    “Now, now, Virgil.” Logan chided, biting his lip as he teasingly raised an eyebrow at him. “You'll have to learn to watch that mouth, if you want to stay. I won't have you teaching Patton any new swear words.”

    “S-stay?” Virgil pushed himself upright.

    “That is what you want.” Logan extended a hand down to him. “Right, Virgil?”

    Virgil looked up at him in confusion.  “But Roman saw me take your pelt—”

    “He also saw you give it back, love,” Logan held his hand out expectedly until Virgil finally reached up and Logan grasped him. He pulled Virgil to his feet in one swift motion. “He has agreed to allow you a place here, Virgil.”

    Virgil eyed him tentatively before giving in to Logan’s persuasiveness. “What do I have to do?”

    Logan’s usually icy gaze burned with determination. “You simply have to be willing to learn about our way of life and be capable of coming into contact with our pelts without being overwhelmed.”

    “Logan—” Virgil eyes widened at the suggestion and he shrunk back, leaning back against the wall. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

    “No one is getting hurt, love,” Logan frowned as Virgil hung his head, avoiding eye contact. He stepped toward Virgil with a serious stare. “including you.”

    “I know—” Virgil blushed, looking nervous.

    “Virgil, look at me.”

    Virgil blinked slowly. His muscles ached with tension as he hesitantly looked up at Logan. He paused, stunned by the soft concern in Logan’s eyes.

    “I am sorry about the fear and guilt I caused you. My actions were negligent and you suffered as direct result of them.” Virgil opened his mouth to protest, but Logan quickly held up a finger to silence him. Once Virgil settled back, Logan smiled gently down at him. “I knew the temptation of what I was holding so close to you, Virgil. I scared you far more than you scared me and for that, I apologize.”

    Virgil stared up at him, mouth agape as he struggled to find his words. “I don't know, Logan.”

    “Virgil, come here.” Logan gently guided him back to the bed and dragged Virgil down to sit with him. He pulled his pelt from off his shoulders, hushing Virgil as he squirmed uncomfortably in front of him. “Do not stress, dear one. I do not expect you to touch it until you are comfortable doing so. You set the pace for what happens. Okay?”

    Virgil hesitated for a moment before reluctantly nodding.

    Logan smiled as Virgil seemed to relax slightly, staring down at the spotted fur in his hands. “Contrary to most human's knowledge, a selkie’s pelt is much more than a tool for us to be able to change forms at will. My pelt is a part of me as much my body or my mind.”

    Virgil nodded along nervously. His hands instinctively clenched around the fabric of his pants to keep them from wandering.

    “Part of my soul resides in my pelt, Virgil.” Logan sighed tiredly. “Without it, I am incomplete. When it has been taken by force, I was hardly present in my own body.”

    “Isn't that more of a reason for me not to touch it?” Virgil’s voice was breathless with defeat as he turned his head up to look at Logan.

    “No,” Virgil’s whisper had caught Logan off guard, but he kept his expression firm. “I trust you, love, and that makes all the difference.”

    Virgil stared at him blankly. “How?”

     “My emotions have a huge impact on how the pelt calls to me.” Logan frowned, biting his lip. “Earlier, when you picked up my pelt, I panicked.”

    “I'm sorry—”

    “Your apology has already been accepted,” Logan smiled weakly at him. “and it is not your fault my reaction was so strong. I have—I have had my pelt stolen before, Virgil, and simply the idea of it happening again triggered an unfortunate response.”

    Virgil’s heart broke as he watched Logan shift anxiously in front of him. He slowly unclenched his fist and reached a hand out to rest on Logan’s leg, careful not to even brush the pelt in Logan’s hands. His heart fluttered warmly as Logan smiled at him appreciatively.

    “I am sure I will share more of the details with you at some point,” Logan paused, looking up at Virgil. “I was scared and my pelt could sense that I had not given it to you willingly, so it called to me. My willpower had begun to drain away and I would have had no choice but to have followed your orders should you have given one.”

    “I wouldn't have—” Virgil’s hand instinctively tensed on Logan’s leg.

    “I know, Virgil.” Logan smiled at him. “You see, a selkie’s pelt is sensitive to intention, even more so to yours because our souls share a connection. You told me to take my pelt from you—”

    “I—” Virgil sucked in a breath and pulled his hand back like he'd been slapped. His voice was broken as he managed a small whisper. “I did give you an order—"

    “No, love. You never ordered me to do anything.” Virgil tried to move away, but Logan quickly set aside his pelt and gently grabbed Virgil’s wrist. Virgil froze, clenching his eyes shut with guilt. “Virgil, the second those words left your mouth, the trance was broken and it should not have been.”

    Virgil paused, staring down at Logan’s hand around his wrist.

    “My trance should not have broken until my pelt was back in my hands,” Logan leaned forward, gently using a curled finger lift Virgil’s chin up to look at him. “but even in your panic, you couldn’t muster the intent to force me to relieve your fear.”

    “I—” Virgil started to pull back, but Logan moved his hand to his cheek and Virgil stopped in his tracks.

    “Virgil, I trust you.”

    Virgil turned a hesitant look up at Logan and his eyes darkened with guilt. “I don't want to take the risk of hurting you, Lo.”

    Logan’s smile softened and he let his hand slip from Virgil’s wrist to his hand. “Would you take the risk to make my life better?”

    “What?”

    Logan smiled. “I want to show you my home and I want you to meet the other members of my pod. I cannot truly share my life with you if you are confined here, love.”

    Virgil looked up and down at him with reluctance in his eyes before sighing dramatically. “Tell me what to do.”

    Smiling patiently, Logan dropped his hand and reached his pelt, sliding it over his lap. “Hold out your hands, Virgil."

    Virgil eyed him nervously for a moment before extending his hands out in front of him. The dirt on his fingers made him cringe in embarrassment but Logan seemed unaware as he lifted the pelt to hand it over to him.

    Logan held the fur gently above Virgil’s hands with an excited grin. “My pelt is a living part of me and shares the soul connection I have with you. I should warn you that while this should not be overwhelming like last time, but it still may be intense for you.”

    Virgil nodded nervously, closing his eyes as the pelt was lowered into his hands. He flinched as the soft fur came into contact with his hands, shooting pulses radiating through his body like lightning in the sky. He gasped, feeling a sense of comfort wash over him. Logan grasped his hands underneath the pelt, grounding him.

    Suddenly, his mind felt clearer than it had in years. Nervousness gave way to peace as the effects of years of hypervigilance melted away. He glanced up at Logan only to see him staring at him an intensity he finally felt he could match. An uncharacteristic confidence flared in his stomach and he suddenly leaned forward, dropping his hands from the pelt.

     He leaned forward, his lips stifled the surprised squeak that escaped Logan’s mouth as he toppled backwards. The corner of his lips twitched into a smile as he pinned Logan’s shoulders down to the bed. As his initial shock faded, Logan's tension ease his soft lips kissed him back. After a moment, he gently pulled back.

    Virgil smirked down at him. “You're not so hard to fluster.”

    Logan seemed to ponder for a moment before sighing with exaggerated disinterest. His eyes gleamed playfully. “Not so bad, love, but do not think you have bested me. You are still playing out of your league.”

    “What?!” Virgil stared down at him with shock in his eyes. “You’re still blushing. You don't get to claim the upper hand here.”

    “Would you be willing to make a wager on that?”

    Irritation burned in Virgil’s stomach as he stared down at Logan's relaxed smile. Riding the wave of confidence from Logan’s pelt, he smirked down at the egotistical selkie. “What kind of bet are we talking?”

    “If I cannot turn the tables on you by the time you count to thirty, I will concede to your claim of having the upper hand and admit your superiority.”

    Virgil looked down at him suspiciously. “And if I lose?”

    “Seeing you turn red and flustered is prize enough for me.”

    “You’re a cocky bastard.”

    “Do we have a deal?”

    Virgil flexed his fingers on Logan’s shoulders. “Do I have to let you up?”

    Infuriatingly, Logan closed his eyes and shrugged. “I think it will be more satisfying if you do not release me, but it is up to you.”

    Virgil stared down at him suspiciously for a long time. “Fine, deal.”

    Logan was silent for a moment and Virgil’s skin crawled with anticipation as Logan didn’t even open his eyes. His grip slackened as he watched Logan nervously.

    “When does your time start?”

    “I have twenty-one seconds left.”

    Virgil’s muscles tensed in confusion.  “You’re not doing anything.”

    “I do not require the full thirty seconds.” Logan smiled smugly.

    “What are you—” Adrenaline shot through Virgil’s body as an evil smile curled on Logan’s lips. He tensed, nearly drawing back before a few calm words slipped from Logan’s mouth.

    “Remus, dear. I am so glad you could join us.”

    Virgil smiled. “Nice try, but I'm not falling for th—"

    “Oh, Lolo. If you were going to put on a show, you could have at least given me a better view.”

    Virgil’s blood froze. 

    Fuck.

    He spun around off of Logan, cheeks burning as his eyes locked on the man leaning against the bars across the room. The short man twirled his dark mustache staring at him with a dangerous smile. Virgil gulped,   scooting back.

    Fuck me.

    The man was dripping wet, wearing  nothing but a pair of trousers and a dark brown pelt around his shoulders. His body was tan and Virgil could see his toned muscles from all the way from all the way across the room. Virgil pulled the hood of his cloak over his head to hide the shame on his cheeks. Logan curled upright, turning to face Virgil. He reached a hand to Virgil’s cheek. The coolness of his fingertips sent shivers down his body and he whimpered.

     “I think I won, love,”  Logan smiled gently. “Do you still want to meet him?”

    Virgil looked up at him, hands unclenching from his hood. “It's a little late to back out now.”

   “You always have a choice, Virgil.” Logan whispered. “I failed to give you proper notice. There is no shame in not being ready.”

    “Notice would have been nice.”

    “I intended to warn you, but I did not anticipate him arriving so soon.” Logan’s thumb brushed lightly across his cheek.

    “Awww, Logan,” Remus drawled dramatically. “You called for me. Open the door.”

    “I may have called for you, but I expected you to have the common sense to dress yourself before coming.” Virgil watched as Logan rolled his eyes with a smirk. “As far as I am concerned, you deserve to wait.”

    “You could have been in danger, Lolo.” Remus whined pitifully.

    Virgil curiously leaned around Logan’s shoulder to catch a glance at the man lazily pouting at them between the  metal bars. He shrunk back as the man wiggled  his eyebrows suggestively at him. His heart pounded in his chest and he forced himself to take deep breaths.

    Logan seemed unfazed. “Your feigned innocence falls flat, Re. You did this on purpose.”

   Remus giggled. “I wanted to make an authentic impression.”

    Logan rolled his eyes before turning back to Virgil’s nervous expression. “I will send him away, Virgil. This can wait until your ready.”

    Remus groaned dramatically as Logan turned to move towards the wall of bars.

    “Logan…” Virgil whispered quietly. “It's okay.”

    Logan turned back with a quizzical glance. “What do you mean, Virgil?”

    “You can let him in, Lo.” Virgil smiled nervously. “I want to meet him.”

    “You are sure?” Logan asked patiently. “There is no pressure to do this today.”

    “I'm sure, Logan.”

    Logan glanced over a Remus, noticing the smugly satisfied grin on his face and turned a devilish smile back to Virgil. “Still, I quite enjoy the thought of making him wait.”

    “Lolo…” Remus whined dramatically.

    Virgil chuckled, matching Logan’s evil grin. “Well, I wouldn’t dream of ruining your fun.”

    “Good.” Logan made to move back to the bed, before Remus’ groan interrupted him.

    “Oh, come on,” Remus cooed from the bars. “Don't tease me.”

    Plopping down on the bed, Logan  sprawled himself out comfortably, laying his head in Virgil’s lap. “You attempted to fluster our poor guest. You asked for this, Re.”

    “You're being a bit hypocritical. Aren't you, Lolo?” Remus called over, his voice taking on an edge of sarcasm. “From what you've told me, you've done nothing but tease your ‘poor guest'.”

    Virgil had to stop himself from giggling at the strange selkie's sarcastic air quotes, but he quickly looked away as he locked eyes with the Remus, who was now raising an eyebrow and smiling at him.

    Logan didn't even open his eyes as he smirked. “You forget one thing, Re.”

    “And what is that, Lolo?”

    “I do what I want,” Logan dragged out the words, savoring the moment. “And no one can stop me.”

     “Is that so?” Virgil looked up to see Remus was apparently unfazed by Logan's snark.

     “Undoubtedly.”

     “You know, Lolo. This was meant to be a different type of surprise, but Jan taught me a new trick.”

     Logan tensed in his lap as Remus fell silent and Virgil looked down to see suspicion in his eyes. “What kind of trick, Re?”

     Remus giggled and Virgil looked up at the sound of metal creaking. He looked up just in time to see the door swing open. “I can pick locks now, Lolo.”

    Virgil flinched back as Logan rolled off his lap and only managed to catch a blur of skin as Remus rushed past him. He scrambled off the bed just in time not to get out of the way as Logan tried to evade Remus' grip.

    Logan groaned as he protested. “You are soaking wet, Re.”

    Remus giggled. “Well, you should have thought of that before you decided to be a jerk.”

    “Virgil has to sleep here. You are aware of that, right?”

    “I'm sure you’ll find a way of keeping him warm.”

    Virgil nearly gasped out loud as they tumbled off the bed and onto the floor, but even that they seemed to do gracefully. He stared in awe at the men wrestling in front of him. Finally, Logan seemed to get a grip on Remus, holding him in a loose headlock as he pulled him to his feet.

    “Now, cease.” Logan muttered. “Lest you make your bad first impression worse.”

    “Oh, don’t worry about that. He's enjoying watching.” Remus wiggled his eyebrows at Virgil knowingly. “Just look at the way he’s blushing.”

    Virgil's heart felt like it stopped as  Logan turned his gaze to him. Instinctively, he shrunk back even deeper into cloak, his cheeks burning.

    Logan rolled his eyes, keeping his voice neutral even as he barely bothered to conceal the smirk on his lips. “Regardless, are you ready to behave yourself?”

    “Never.” Remus giggled.

    “Fine, we will be leaving then.” Logan said matter-of-factly before dragging Remus towards the door.

    “Wait—” Remus babbled, squirming in Logan’s grip. “Wait—You win. Let me go, Lolo.”

    “Are you going to be reasonable, if I let you go?”

    “I'll be as amicable as a newborn baby—”

    “Newborns are not—”

    “Lolo, just let me go. I'll be good.” Remus squirmed more vehemently.

    “Fine—” Logan rolled his eyes, releasing his grip on Remus.

    Free of Logan’s grip, Remus lunged forward at Virgil,  who startled back into the wall behind him. Logan rushed to grab him, nearly crashing into Remus as he abruptly stopped in front of Virgil.

    Virgil nervously pressed his back into wall as Remus bowed dramatically in front of him. With a playful smirk, he extended a hand out to Virgil. “The name is Remus.”

    Virgil anxiously looked between Remus and Logan who had straightened  up behind him. He hesitantly reached out to take Remus' hand. “Virgil—"

    “But first—”  Remus yanked his hand away before Virgil could grab his hand.

    Virgil glanced up at him and froze. A shiver crept up Virgil’s spine as all warmness disappeared from Remus' face and he sneered dangerously as he leaned in close to Virgil’s face.

    “Let's be clear about something,” Remus’ melodic voice echoed hauntingly and Virgil's skin crawled with the urge to get further away. “If you hurt him, I will disembowel you and scatter all of your organs in the bay for the sharks to feed on. Got it?”

    “Re—” Logan rested his forehead in his palm, shaking his head in exasperation.

    Virgil turned his head from Logan, looking down at Remus with a serious expression. “I won't hurt him.”

    “Good.” A smile twitched at the corner of Remus' and he laughed. He extended his hand out to Virgil once more as his dark demeanor disappeared, replaced by a genuine smile. “Welcome to the family, Virgil.”

    Fuck, he's pretty.

    Virgil forced himself not to stare as his damp, curls bounced along with his animated movements. His breath caught at the sight of his piercing emerald-green eyes and he couldn’t help but follow the water droplets as they trailed down Remus' body—

    Fucking. Focus. Virgil.

    You have a soulmate now.

    “Th-thanks.” Virgil reached a hand out to Remus. Remus clasped his hand and he gasped. A jolt of tingling shot up his arm and his knees went weak. Remus dropped his hand and he leaned back against the wall, shaking.

    Fuck.

    Shit.

    What the fuck.

    “Well, I didn't see that coming.”

    Virgil looked up at Remus' shocked voice. Virgil’s breath was rapid and uneven, but Remus just stared at him in confusion.

    Logan stepped forward curiously, looking between them with wide eyes. “Re?”

    Remus moved towards Logan, still staring intently at Virgil like he'd suddenly grown two heads. For the first time since they'd met, Remus seemed speechless.

    Anxious with anticipation, Logan wrapped a hand around Remus' waist. “Remus, is he—”

    “Yeah, he is.” Remus cut him off, sounding breathless.

    Both of them turned to look at Virgil, who was now shaking with disbelief.

    I don't have one soulmate.

    I have two.

    “Virgil?”

    Virgil looked up at Logan’s voice, barely registering his name. His vision blurred as he tried to focus on Logan and Remus. His balance seemed to fail and he stumbled. The ground seemed to suddenly move closer but strong hands caught him before he made impact. He groaned as he was curled up and lifted away, breath stalling in his lungs.

    Virgil finally sucked in breath as he was lowered onto to bed. Arms were still wrapped around him as he clumsily wiped away the tears trailing down his face. “I'm sorry—”

    “Love, never apologize for having feelings.”

    Logan’s voice in his ear relaxed him slightly. The cool touch of the hands around him grounded him and he felt himself calming as he listened to the breathing next to him. He flinched as a hand brushed his own, his skin tingling intensely. The hand pulled back and Virgil opened his eyes, blearily looking up at Remus' guilty expression.

    “I'm sorry—”

    Virgil shook his head, blindly reaching for Remus' hand. Once he managed to feel Remus' hand, he clasped it, holding on tightly, despite the intense feeling. He felt Remus relax as Virgil held his hand. After a moment, he  leaned comfortably into Virgil’s side. The intense tingling abated as they curled up on the bed together. Virgil's heart swelled with gratitude as his new soulmates rested on each side of him.

    “Are you okay now, love?”

    Virgil smiled, looking up at Logan. “Never better, Lo.”

    Logan stared down at him adoringly. “I guess there is little room for doubt that you belong here now.”

    “He's staying, even if I have to fight Roman myself.” Remus nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

    “I hardly think that will be necessary,  Remus.” Logan sighed with a smile.

    “Fine, I'll fight Roman for fun then.” Virgil cooed as Remus’ voice resonated against his shoulder. He closed his eyes, settling in comfortably.

    “Rest now, dear one.” Logan purred, breathing into Virgil’s hair. “When you wake, Remus and I will help you grow accustomed to holding our pelts. Once you can handle that, the world is our for the taking.”

    “And we'll take it all.” Remus whispered.

    Virgil curled comfortably into their arms, nearly drifting to sleep instantly.  He gently felt their hands in his as he sunk down between the two selkies. “Whatever you want, as long as I get to stay with you.”

    “Forever, love.”

-

The Stowaway’s Heart Taglist:

@alias290 @lonelyanxiousbean @somehow-i-got-an-account @kieraelieson @evoodo123 @dndnerd1609 @lovesupernova25 @minninugget @ace-in-a-shopping-cart @trainwreckwithlimbs @i-apparently-exist @rachetssearch @twilight-trix @evelyn-nova @sluggerbot-2-5 @chronicallynervouschild @arsenicdragon @so-what-if-im-crazy @somehow-i-got-an-account @slutty-cinammon-roll @inferiorfilth @justanotherhumanstuff

[akvtsuki-ari]

Sweetheart (Ch.1)

Warnings: Mentions of BDSM and bunch of other kinks but nothing sexual in this chapter lol. Sub!Spencer and Femdom!Reader 

Length: 5.3k 

Authors Note: this is hands down the most self-indulgent shit ive ever wrote but do i care? the answer is no dsjk  but this that series i had planned where the reader introduces spencer to proper BDSM and all that. hoping to make this fic kinda informative also lol. also im uploading this fic on ao3 as well. also no tags for this fic bc its really specific and ill probably be writing for it for a while! sorry about that

Plot Summary: Spencer Reid just wanted to be.., well, you know. He doesn’t expect to find much when he signs up for a BDSM dating website but somehow he manages you and he couldn’t be more delighted

Spencer Reid was certainly a lot of things. He was a lover of the arts, someone who had a particular affinity for 15th-century literature, a magician at best, a theater nerd at worst, and a teacher when life called for it. He loves the world even when it's really dark and he loves sleeping in even more. He loves his friends and they love him too - even when they pretend that his random facts annoy them. Spencer Reid was a friend, an FBI agent, a genius with an IQ of 187, and a son to a mother he loves wholly. He was a lot of things and for the most part - he knew a lot about what he really loved to do. He supposed that it's been like that his whole life.

It's not everyday that he discovers something new about himself. About everything else? Always. He loves to learn, but about himself? There's never all that much on the frontier.

It's hard to say, because of that, when Spencer discovered he was a sub. It's difficult to pinpoint a specific time and place, or even how the pieces got put together. He just remembers how it felt when it hit him, like a freight train going 100 miles an hour into a concrete wall. Or a plane crashing onto an island. Or like a fly hitting the glass panes of a delivery truck. He remembers the feeling when he was deftly reminded of this fact. Spencer Reid was a sub - through and through and he wasn't really sure what to make of it.

Surprisingly to most of his direct peers, Spencer wasn't a virgin. He'd had sex with 2 people who he'd been kinda friends with at some point, but it always got a little weird after that. The second time though, the girl ended up choking him a little bit when she got off and Spencer thought he had died. Not in a bad way, more in a "I'm so turned on by this I feel like I've genuinely gone to heaven," sort of way. He didn't think it was possible for a sexual encounter to make him feel like that but it did. It didn't stop after that either, which was the most agitating part. 

Spencer doesn't consider himself a sexual person. Sex is about intimacy and companionship, and hopefully love when he finds that someday. Sex isn't necessarily about pleasure but that wasn't an easy lesson to learn.

Spencer just wanted to understand - so like any great genius he participated in thought experiments. It's normally a female superhero/supervillain that crosses his mind (he has an affinity for Poison Ivy), and he just kinda imagines what it would be like if they did what she did. The choking turned him on, but it wasn't enough. Through that, he figures out that he had more than a choking kink and that he was more than a little interested in a partner having complete access to him. He thought about it for weeks and the getting off was working for him but he couldn't get the fantasy out of his head. He wanted more - he wanted someone to fulfill his wishes.

It was too much for him to ignore. Those months of being able to hold off through masturbating are over and he's just sorta itching. Aching to act on those impulses with another person who can give him what he needs, and he doesn't want it to be transactional. Maybe it's too ideal to want a partner out of such an endeavor but was it so wrong? To want real affection and romance from someone who could also overpower him wasn't a crime and he'd be damned if he pretended to want any less. Spencer was just searching, even if it was rather desperately. 

So, when Spencer finds himself on a BDSM dating site and he feels like his life is in shambles, he can only blame himself. It's not something he'd normally do but he's getting a little more than relentless about it but he also just wants to see what's out there. He's so out of it was it happens, it felt like he was being possessed as he made a fake email and wrote out his account information. Definitely blaming it on possession, he thinks. 

It's too late to go back, as he scrolls through tons of profiles of rather intense looking people. He's not surprised, this is where people go to express themselves. They're entitled to that, it just sucks since he's just not ready for such levels of intensity. He wonders if he's in too deep yet, but he figures he'd hit that mark a long time ago and keeps scrolling through profiles. There wasn't much to go off of, many people not choosing to use photos for the sake of anonymity, which was good for Spencer. He clicks onto his own profile, reading his own bio carefully.

USERNAME: DOC187 

SUB/ SWITCH / DOM 

M / F / O

FETISHES: N/A

BIO: Interest in a dominant female companion. Completely inexperienced.

Spencer feels ridiculous, but he doubts anyone would even message him. He doesn't have much on his profile and he keeps things short for that purpose. He wanted to stay as low to the ground as possible - more curious to explore what was going in the world than to find anything legitimate. He scrolls through hundreds of profiles, mostly of people who were BDSM vets looking for new connections or fun. Some people catch his eye but they don't match his interests so he doesn't bother.

Except, one profile. The bio was beyond interesting to Spencer.

USERNAME: MISS—LILAC

SUB / SWITCH / DOM 

M / F / O 

FETISHES: Sadomasochist, Degradation, Humiliation, Pegging, Overstimulation, Edging, Crossdressing, Exhibitionism, Mutual Masturbation, Dacryphilia, Shibari/Gags/Bondage, Wax Play, Impact Play, Breath Play, General Sensation Play, Discipline, Collaring, Begging. Willing to try most things. 

BIO: Interested in submissive males of any experience level. Helps if you're interesting and like to read and watch indie films. Looking for genuine connection and plenty of good banter. Curly hair is nice too. lol.

Before Spencer can think about it for too long his mouse clicks over that stupid little message button next to your profile. Spencer shakes his head at his own existence as he types you a message. Says you're online right now, but Spencer's sure he won't get a response for a while.

DOC187: Seems I fit who you're interested in. I even have the curly hair.

Spencer chews on his nails anxiously before he sighs at himself. He has no clue what's gotten into him belle before he can think he sees your 3-dotted bubble pop up. He feels his body wracked with nerves.

MISS—LILAC: I'm guessing you like to read and watch indie films too?

Spencer smiles. You seem interesting and the fact that the two of you were just talking normal was making Spencer happy.

DOC187: Indeed. I'm a sucker for 15-century literature and anything in Russian and foreign language. You?

MISS—LILAC: 15th century huh? I'll assume Chaucer. And Russian? You're interesting, doc. I'm more modern and English, hope you're not deterred.

Spencer smiles, surprised that you recognize an author as niche as Chaucer. He shakes his head at your commentary. He almost forgets that both of you are on a BDSM dating site and the irony doesn't escape him.

DOC187: Deterred? Never. I think you're rather interesting too, Miss Lilac.

MISS—LILAC: Ever the gentleman doc. I'm hoping you won't run away if I ask you more personal questions.

Spencer swallows. He types back quickly.

DOC187: What kinds of questions?

MISS—LILAC: If it's okay, you're real name and what you do. My names Y/N, and I'm a florist. I live in DC and I love romance novels.

Spencer smiles. He appreciates you laying down the path for him, knowing the stakes.

DOC187: My names Spencer and I work for the FBI. I also live in DC, and I love magic.

MISS—LILAC: Magic? I'd love for you to show me sometime.

Spencer swallows. Part of him feels like it's a stupid idea to ask you out so early but if you asked, he'd likely say yes. He decides to wait it out.

DOC187: I'd be more than happy to show you.

MISS—LILAC: I suppose you could send me a video but that's not the same as seeing the magic in real life, now is it?

Spencer is smiling like an idiot at this point. He shakes his head a little, jittery.

DOC187: Infinitely better live, I would say.

MISS—LILAC: Seems like I've found an excuse to ask you on a date then. Saturday's work for me but I'm sure it depends on you, FBI man. Before that, I'm gonna drop my number and I'll be expecting your call. (XXX-XXX-XXXX)

Spencer giggles. It's a little out of range for things he's used to doing, giggling aloud for someone else is certainly new. Spencer picks up his phone and dials away, anxious to call you but excited nonetheless. He heard you pick up the phone and his heart catches in his throat.

"Hello?," Your voice is smooth, and a little bit lower than he was expecting. It sounds pretty.

"Hello, Y/N," Spencer says back. He heard you laugh on the other side and can't help the way his heart flutters.

"Lovely to talk to you doc,"

"Still Doc? Not Spencer?" Spencer questions. You smile on the other side of the line.

"Doc seems to fit you. But, for the sake of formality, hello Spencer,"

"I like Doc too, but it feels like I should have a nickname for you as well. Only seems fair," Spencer says laughing quietly.

"If it's your prerogative you can call me Miss Lilac, or just Miss but..." you trail off for a minute. Spencer squints.

"Miss is a title, you know? Doesn't seem fair for you to call me that when I haven't earned it from you yet. I'm sure we'll get there but for now you can just call me Y/N," you say softly. Spencer blushes bright red, his voice betraying him as he speaks.

"O-Oh, well um - where does the name Lilac come from? Normally people go with their names when it comes to stuff like that," Spencer says shyly. He heard you laugh on the other side of the phone and blushes again, grateful you can't see him.

"I love the language of flowers and flowers themselves. It's a way to speak that not many people know - but I like the meaning and look of lilacs. White lilacs represent purity, so that was a bit of irony, but light purple lilacs mean first love," you say carefully.

"First love?," Spencer asks. You bite your lip for a moment.

"I joke that BDSM is my first love since it's such a big part of my life. Not as big as some but not small for certain. It gave me much needed confidence so I joke that it was my first," You say lightly. You hear Spencer giggle on the other side and you smile.

"What about your username? Any significance to DOC187 that I should know of?," you readjust your seat on your couch as you talk. Spencer grows a bit embarrassed.

"I normally introduce myself as Doctor Spencer Reid for work, not a medical doctor but I have three PhD's," Spencer admits. You raise your brows but hear the hesitation in his voice.

"Very, very impressive doc. What about the 187? It could be a plain ol' number but my guess would be otherwise,"

"That's my IQ, actually. I don't think intelligence can be boiled down and quantified like that but I couldn't think of anything else," Spencer explains.

"So you're a certified genius with 3 PhD's? To say I'm impressed is an understatement. Anything else impressive you'd like to tell me before I totally pick your brains," you say a little shocked.

"You wanna pick my brains?," Spencer asks. You wanna laugh at the irony of such a silly question from such an intelligent man but you refrain.

"Who wouldn't?," you say incredulously. Spencer smiles shyly.

"The only other thing is that I can read 20,000 words per minute," Spencer says trying to deflect. Your jaw dropped before but it manages to unhinge a little further.

"There's a lot to get to know about you Doctor Reid,"

"I'm sure it's the same for you," Spencer replies.

"Guess we'll have to find out won't we?," you say smiling.

Damn, Spencer got lucky. Hopefully he'd get to find out soon

_____

"Reid, are you listening?," Derek's voice snaps Spencer out of his entranced state. His smiling expression snaps up to look at Derek who looks a little exasperated.

"Sorry, what was that?," Spencer asks back. Derek puts down the case file they were working on. They had just finished a case and needed to complete some paperwork before submitting it for review and to be used in court. The job was given to him and Morgan and Spencer was evidently distracted.

"Alright, kid - what is up with you? All case you've been checking your phone non-stop and spacing out, all smiles and giggles. C'mon now kid, seriously. You got a little lady at home waiting for you or is there something else I don't know about?," Derek interrogates. Spencer doesn't really know what to make of it, though it's not really in his interest to hide you, it hasn't really come up with anyone on the team yet so it was proving difficult to decide what to do. The smile on his face manages to appear again as he starts to think about you, the tips of his ears red.

"Reid," Morgan says again, with a small look of irritation.

"Her names Y/N," Spencer blurts out faster than he can't think. Derek gives him a huge grin, holding his hand out to dap Spencer up. Spencer just looks at it confused for a second before getting the memo.

"'My man," Derek says chuckling. Before Spencer can continue Prentiss, JJ, and Garcia walk in. Hotch is the only one missing, and Spencer's a little grateful.

"What are we celebrating in here you guys?," Prentiss asks first. Spencer goes to say something to move away from his sudden confession but Derek is quick to cut him off.

"Our boy genius over here got him a little lady," Derek announces. The whole team erupts in questions and Spencer wants to bury himself.

"Congratulations, Spencer!! How long have you two been dating?," Prentiss asks.

"You guys are so dramatic. It's only been two months but no first date because well..." Spencer trails off. JJ just nods her head.

"Duty calls, I'm guessing" JJ finishes. Spencer nods deflated hearing Emily draw a breath between her teeth.

"That's tough, Spence,"

Just as Spencer goes to give a response back he gets a text from you that makes his day a little better. It's a selfie of you at work, a picture your employee must've taken of you in a room full of new flower deliveries. You're giving Spencer a toothy grin as you hold a bunch of gardenias in your hand.

Y/N 🌸: *image attachment* 

Gardenias// You're lovely + Secret Love <33

Spencer cannot control the way his whole face bunches up in a smile, as if there's no one else in the room with him. Everyone just looks at him surprised, Garcia giving him a side-eye.

"How can you guys trust this stranger? We don't even know who she is! I haven't even run any background checks on her," Garcia complains. Prentiss nudges her side.

"I don't know if it matters - look at how hard he's smiling over there," Prentiss says. Garcia reluctantly looks and can't help but sigh.

"Okay well he seems really happy but still! We don't even know her," she pouts.

"I'm sure we'll meet her soon," JJ snickers at Spencer's lovestruck expression. Derek leans over Spencer's shoulder and raises his brows.

"Is that her, kid?," Derek asks. Spencer nods, simply staring at the picture you sent. Derek whistles when he sees you - you're genuinely stunning and he's surprised to say the least.

"Hot mama, pretty boy - how'd you manage that?," Derek asks, dumbfounded. Emily rolls her eyes.

"C'mon Derek, I'm sure - oh wow," Emily leans over Spencer's shoulder to see you and is met with the same reaction. JJ and Garcia are quick to follow thereafter, both looking equally as surprised.

"She's..." JJ trails off. The rest of the team just nods as Spencer grins ear to ear.

Spencer 🐻: Beautiful, as always.

Spencer ignores the rest of the team as they look at each other in disbelief.

Y/N🌸: Me or the flowers, Doc?

Spencer🐻: Both, but mostly you.

"Wow, Spencer you're really -" Prentiss starts

"You're whipped, kid. I mean seriously whipped," Derek finishes, nodding in agreement. JJ can't help but smile, giving Spencer a small pat on the back.

"She seems lovely, Spencer. How'd you two meet?," JJ says. Garcia stands around looking rather suspicious. A blush creeps onto Spencer's neck as he's reminded of how you two met.

"Online," Spencer says shortly. No one decides to question it, and Spencer thanks every god he can think of.

"Have you two FaceTimed yet? How can we know she's not, I don't know - catfishing you? Or scamming you in some other cyber criminal way?," Garcia sounds distressed. Spencer gives a small smile.

"We fall asleep over FaceTime every night," Spencer admits. Penelope's expression falls, and Prentiss gives a smile.

"That is disgustingly cute," JJ says laughing.

"Okay, well - I'm still running a background check on her," Garcia says stubbornly "But, I'm happy for you,"

"Thanks Garcia," Spencer mumbles out as he texts you again.

Y/N🌸: I wanna see you, love

Spencer blushes red as he reads your message. The word love makes his whole face hot.

Spencer🐻: I can't take a selfie for my life

Y/N🌸: You're with your team aren't you? Get them to take a picture of you.

Spencer wants to fold away, not ever really being the picture type, but how could he ever deny you.

Spencer🐻: How could I ever say no to you?

"Hey guys, can one of you take a picture of me for Y/N?" Spencer asks embarrassingly red. The whole team sends him a look of surprise.

"I'll take it Spence, try not to look as uncomfortable as you do right now," JJ says. The whole team refrains from laughing as Spencer gives an awkward smile. He thanks JJ who hands him back his phone before texting you again.

Spencer🐻: *image attachment* You owe me one

Y/N🌸: you're stunning as always. hadn't seen you in so long I almost forgot what you looked like.

Spencer🐻: stunnings an interesting choice of words.

Y/N🌸: I said what I said, doc. 

Spencer can't help but do a little giggle, that causes the whole team to give him a look. Morgan just shakes his head, shrugging. Emily, JJ, and Garcia just look at each other before the room draws into a subtle but comfortable silence as Spencer just smiles, totally unaware of how whipped he happened to look. He didn’t seem to mind either way. 

___

"How was work?," Spencer asks over the phone, kicking his shoes off as he looks into his fridge for something to eat. He hears you sigh on the other side of the line.

"Busy today - wedding season is coming up so tons of calls for centerpiece designs and costs. It's going well though, business couldn't be better," you say, clearly tired yet content. Spencer gives a small smile and feels relieved that things are going okay for you.

"That's really good. I'm glad you're feeling alright," Spencer replies. You ease into the couch as you talk to Spencer, relaxing by the second. 

"What about you, FBI man? You have an okay day?," Your voice is full of a gentle concern that Spencer appreciates.

"Yeah, just paperwork and JJ said that we shouldn't have any upcoming cases this week to be worried about so I have the weekend off," Spencer says without thought.

"Have any special plans for the weekend?," you say cheekily. Spencer, still not having caught on, shakes his head for a second.

"No, why?,"

"Hm... well - would you like to go on a date with me then Doctor Reid?," You ask, giggling. Spencer's eyes widen in realization as he facepalms for a moment.

"Wow, I didn't even think... yes - yes I would love to go on a date with you Y/N," Spencer says laughing at his own misfortune. You shake your head instinctively, but the growing smile and even further growing adoration makes it hard to sit still.

"Hey, Spencer," you say, butterflies filling your stomach.

"Yeah?"

"I really like you,"

____

Saturday comes quicker than Spencer can really understand. You told him not to worry about what the days plans would be but he can't help it. Anxiously awaiting you in front of the cafe that the two of you were supposed to meet at, in a part of town Spencer hasn't really seen before. You said that you'd lead the way and the irony isn't lost on him.

"Spencer?," Your voice is small, as you call out to what you think is Spencer Reid. Of course, you'd seen him before but to see him in person like this was still so unfamiliar. His head shoots up, eyes searching for you. He's delighted to have found you, certainly that was true as he walks towards you. Your arms envelop him in a friendly hug and he can't help but find himself sinking into. You smelled sweet, like fruit and flowers (which makes sense, the more he thinks about it)

"Lovely to finally meet you, Y/N,"

"Same goes for you, doc. Would you like to be informed of our plans for the day, or do you prefer the element of surprise?,"  You ask smiling. Spencer laughs at your question.

"Details would be appreciated, but I get the feeling you're not gonna give me those."

"You're right! It's a trick question, since it's a surprise. But, promise it'll be good,"

"I'll take your word for it then," Spencer says with a small smile. You hold your hand out for Spencer which he accepts, locking his hands with yours. The affection makes him feel full of warmth, as you lead him away for the day you had planned for the both of you.

___

Spencer underestimated how well you knew him. He really, really did. It's hard to explain since Spencers been on a date before but this was so profoundly different. He's a little touched, but beyond that he's just.. surprised? Every date he'd been on before this, he'd have to play the gentleman but it never seemed like the other person was interested in just him. It was always casual small-talk over dinner, or a mid-day coffee date or something else that just felt mundane but this was beyond Spencer's imagination.

The first place you took him was a bookstore - which was in Spencers mind already a winner for best date he'd ever been on. You walked inside with him and told him he had to pick up a book for you and you had to pick up a book for him and to say his heart absolutely fluttered would be an understatement. He picked up up a copy of "The Screwtape Tales," by C.S. Lewis for you, and you gave him a copy of Shel Silverstein's "Where The Sidewalk Ends." For you, you got a glimpse to see what Spencer's sense of humor was and you gave Spencer a piece of your childhood. Both equal but opposite forms of intimacy. The only thing was Spencer had to wait to read his book because it's relatively shorter than yours and he reads 20,000 words per minute.

The next place you took Spencer was an indoor butterfly garden. Does he have to explain why that's a good date? He heard you talk about all the scientific names for the different flowers and why they attract butterflies and he wasn't sure he could crush any harder on you if he tried. A particular moment sticks out to him on which a butterfly landed on your shoulders and just stayed there like it didn't want to leave. Spencer's eyes were fixated on it the whole time - and he had never wanted to be a butterfly in his life before but he figures there's a first time for everything.

The last place, where the both of you were at now was just a small coffee shop, locally owned and supported by the community here. You told Spencer that when you started up your shop, you'd come in here to work on big orders before you'd expanded enough to have employees. Spencer admires your work ethic, much more than he could ever anticipate as he sits down at a small booth, totally covering the both of you as you return to the table with a little plate of banana bread and two iced coffees. Spencer pouts as he looks up at you, watching you flash him a grin.

"I could've helped you carry this over," Spencer complains gently. You roll your eyes.

"Maybe next time doc," you say softly. You hold back your commentary often on the date, and Spencer pretends not to notice for your sake but he'd be lying if he said he didn't wanna know. You always had something sly to say but you'd kept it from him so many times now he figures it's better if he didn't ask.

Spencer looks at you as you push a plate of banana bread towards him. He looks at you with curious eyes before reading your clearly excited face and laughs. He picks up a piece and examines it, before taking a bite. If it tasted as good as it smelled then he would be more than obliged.

The involuntary moan that escapes Spencer's throat makes you choke with laughter. Shit, you weren't kidding when you said this was the best banana bread in the city. Spencer just looks up at you like he's about to cry with joy as you double over in giggles.

"I know," You say softly, taking a bite yourself eyes filling with joy "I ordered some more for us to take home - you're welcome," you say with confidence. Spencer smiles because that is genuinely thoughtful, but it was more endearing to see you pretend it wasn't. He just shakes his head, a blush arising to his face as he looks at you. You're staring at him with intent. He quirks his brow at you in question.

"I had a good time today, Spencer" You say warmly. You only called him Spencer when you were saying something affectionate and a bit serious. He gives you a toothy smile.

"I haven't been on very many dates, but this was easily the best one I'd ever been on," Spencer says honestly. You grin ear to ear, hands carefully holding Spencer across the table, running your thumb over his knuckles for a few seconds. You couldn't say for sure whether it was too soon to ask him to be your boyfriend, but you'd be damned if you said it didn't cross your mind.

Spencer was mind-numbingly unaware of what good boyfriend material he was, but beyond that - what good submissive boyfriend material he was. It was driving you nuts, but you knew this was all new for him and you didn't wanna freak him out. Even when guys say they're interested in being submissive, they're still often times uncomfortable with you being fully dominant. Dominant in public and in bed, if you will. You wanted to pay for dates, and buy him flowers, and make him feel special too - at least on the occasion. That role came naturally to you, that let me make you feel owned type affection that only a dominant person can give. It scared men off - out of relationships, and you totally got why - but you liked Spencer too much as a person to risk iit.

Spencer holds your hands together, gathering your attention. You looked at him spaced out and he gives you a look of concern.

"You okay?," Spencer asks. You nod, chewing your lip in debate of whether or not you should express your concerns. Spencer just tugs on your hand and looks at you intently.

You sigh, looking at Spencer softly.

"I'm okay I just really like you," you say a little exasperated. Spencer laughs but is filled with relief.

"I'm glad to hear that. What else is on your mind?,"

"I really like you - like in an, I want you to officially by my boyfriend way and I hope it's not too soon but I'm just, worried I guess," you say nervously. Spencer can't help the way his heart beats in his chest when he hears you say boyfriend. God did he want to be your boyfriend.

"What're you worried about?,"

"I'm worried about freaking you out. I can be a lot since I'm... you know?," You say nervously. Spencer looks at you  to continue.

"I'm more than just dominant in bed, and for a lot of guys it's not their thing and that's their right but I like you so much. I really don't want that to happen if I ask you out now and you realize that it's not for you," you say in clear upset.

Spencer looks at you in disbelief. You were worried that he was gonna freak out over that? That you were too dominant for him? It feels like such a silly concern but the expression on your face tells him you're speaking from experience.

"I mean, it's all kinda new to me but, well - I do like how you treat me? It's a nice change, I can't imagine myself getting tired of it, or of you. I really like you too," Spencer tried his best to reassure you without totally embarrassing you. You smiles at Spencer but your face is still full of doubt.

"If that ever changes, I'll tell you but I'd really like to call you my girlfriend," Spencer finishes. You can't help the warmth that spreads in your stomach at the offer. You just nod, looking up at him. You stand and walk to Spencer's side of the booth, sliding in next to him, leaning your head into his shoulder for a few while seconds. You sit back up, and Spencer turns to you.

"Hey, doc," you say softly. Spencer hums in acknowledgement.

"Can I kiss you?," you ask softly. Spencer chews his lip and nods, looking down at your lip. You're wearing lipgloss and it makes them look pretty - you are so pretty to Spencer.

Kisses are their own language, Spencer figures. The way someone kisses you can tell you a lot about who they are - so, when you put your hands on the side of Spencer's face, pulling him closer to you with such care and adoration - Spencer can feel what you were referencing earlier. The word Miss rings out in his mind, the way you pay attention to him with your hands. He feels your lips press against his, slowly gliding your fingers in his hair, thumb brushing agains the side of his cheek. Your other hand rested on his inner thigh and he has to think about anything other than that not to get hard. Spencer didn't get how much he'd been thinking about touching you until you'd do with no hesitation and he lets out a small whine. You pull back and Spencer has to catch his breath.

His lashes blink up at you and you're absolutely beaming.

"You're cute baby,"

Baby? Spencer wants to cover his face when you say it. You kiss him again and he can't help but feel flush.

You were Spencer's girlfriend and then some and he couldn't be more happy.

[srhlsx]

masterlist | chapter 1 | CHAPTER 2 | chapter 3

warnings: none?

“Is the weather in Kanto much different from here, your highness?”

“Honestly Mae, I’ve never set foot in Kanto.” You turned away from the racks of hanging clothing in your closet to hand over another dress to the girl standing near you. She was only a few years younger than you, having just started her job as one of your maids a few weeks ago. She grabbed the dress from you and neatly packed it away with the other clothes you had picked out. “I think I’ll pack a little bit of everything, just to be sure.”

“A wise choice,” She nodded. You had to roll your eyes at her formality. No matter how many times you told her she didn’t have to talk to you so stiffly, she couldn’t get past it. “Your mother mentioned we’d be sending the rest of your things later.”

“Mhmm, what should I wear for my arrival?” You stepped back to get a better look across the clothing you hadn’t yet packed. Your hands rested at your hips as you mulled over the possibilities, the young maid stepping up to stand next to you and look around as well.

“Your new king’s colors are red and black, maybe something of those colors.”

You jumped, slightly startled at the new voice that came from the doorway separating your bedroom from your closet. Both you and Mae turned around quickly to see the bright eyes and sharp expression of Hoshiumi watching you.

“Doesn’t really match my aesthetic though,” You smirked at him before turning back to the array of light colored clothes you owned, “Maybe I’ll just wear white to scare the poor boy who has to marry me.”

Looking over at Mae, who had significantly shrunken in on herself with the arrival of Hoshiumi in his full soldier uniform, you nodded towards the door to signal to her that it was okay for her to leave. She scurried away, grabbing the bag of clothing that was finished packing and bowing quickly at both of you before disappearing.

“She’s quite meek,” Hoshiumi observed, turning to look at you after watching your maid leave.

“She’ll grow into it,” You mumbled. You distracted yourself with folding another piece of clothing into the open bag that was left. A thick air hung in the space you stood in, a sadness that had consumed you since news of your departure had been made known.

Your wedding was in one week and you were departing for Kanto and its capital city of Tokyo that evening. Things between you and your guard had been tense ever since you told him what your father’s plan for you was. He was quiet about it, silently stewing over the fact that you were being forced into the whole thing. You reminded him it was your duty and you could handle yourself, but he still had a sharp look in his eyes whenever it was brought up.

“Keep looking at me like that and I might start thinking you’re going to miss me, Kōrai.” You smiled up at him, quirking your eyebrow in a teasing manner.

He let out a bitter sounding chuckle, shaking his head and stepping into the room towards you. “Hardly,” he started. “The kitchen workers and I are throwing a celebration the minute you’re gone.”

You snorted a breath of air through your nose, turning back to your folding although now you weren’t doing a very neat job of it. “Yeah well…” You mumbled, the sad thought that you were actually leaving your home starting to hit you. You turned to Hoshiumi and gave him a thin, closed-lip smile, the action not meeting your eyes as you leaned against the table your bag rested on. “I’m sorry you won’t get to become a king.”

“(Y/n),” He stepped closer to you, reaching a hand up to caress your cheek gently. “You know that is never what it’s been about.”

“I-” Your voice was cut off when his hand that had been on your cheek drifted to the back of your head and pulled you forward towards him. Your eyes closed as Hoshiumi’s lips pressed to yours in a deep kiss. He didn’t try anything else, content with keeping you pressed against him for as long as you would allow. It wasn’t the first time the two of you had kissed by any means, but the way he held onto you made it clear he wanted the last time to be memorable. After a few moments you lifted your hands to push on his chest and create a little bit of distance between the two of you. “Kōrai, I-”

“You will always be my queen, (Y/n).” He said, his eyes held a sad but hard expression as they shifted their gaze to something over your head - anything to not look directly at you. “I’m leaving tomorrow, for Chugoku.”

“Leaving?” You questioned, finally snapping out of the haze that had gathered in your head. “I thought you were going to be here in charge of the guard? Who will-”

“Your brother has called for me, he offered me a position in his King’s Guard when he is crowned next year.” Hoshiumi stepped away from you, fixing pieces of his uniform that didn’t need fixing but served as a good distraction. Your silence made him look up at you after a few seconds, “Gao will take over here and you’ll be provided a new guard when you get to Tokyo. His majesty’s guard is known to be above and beyond in skill, I find comfort in knowing you’ll be taken care of.”

You nodded along with his words, turning back to folding your clothes. You had accepted your fate, but the sadness was still there and you let it show when you threw a piece of clothing into the bag a little more aggressively than what was needed. “This fuckin’ blows,” You said, Hoshiumi chuckling at your choice of vulgar words.

“If anyone can survive this, it’s you princess.” Hoshiumi laughed at the over-dramatic pout that had adorned your features, pulling you into a comforting hug and resting his chin on top of your head. “Just watch your temper.”

Wrapping your arms around your old friend you squeezed him extra tight, allowing yourself a little bit more time for sadness before you had to leave your home.

-

As the car pulled onto the road that led to your future home, you had to admit you were impressed. Even being in the middle of a large city, Castle Nekoma was on a plot of land that stretched far and wide with a lush lawn of green grass and scattered trees. A river snaked its way parallel to the road and eventually curved to surround the castle on two sides.

The castle itself was built entirely of gray stones, the tall towers and smooth arches that made up the structure of it were beautifully crafted and reminded you much of your own home. You’d been to many castles around Japan and even within your own kingdom, but having never set foot in Kanto you weren’t sure what you’d find for the king’s living arrangements. The royal family was known for their power and wealth so it was no surprise their castle was a sight to behold.

“Your highness?” You were pulled out of your thoughts with the stopping of the SUV, the driver looking at you through the rear-view mirror and his darkly tinted sunglasses. “We’ve arrived.”

You nodded your head and sat up a little straighter as the door next to you was opened by a middle aged man in a black suit. Taking the hand he held out for you, you stepped out onto the stone pathway leading up to the castle before you. Waiting a few feet away at the top of a set of steps was an older couple you instantly recognized as the current King, Yasufumi Nekomata, and his wife. They stood with modest smiles on their faces as you climbed the steps, your heels clacking against the stones the only sound while servants and soldiers watched. 

“Your majesty,” You put on your best smile and bowed deeply towards the old man, lifting up after a moment and repeating the greeting towards his wife. “Thank you for receiving me.”

“We are glad to have you Princess,” Nekomata said, his narrow eyes crinkling even smaller as he smiled at you. “I do apologize our son will not be joining us.”

“I understand the prince has his priorities,” You nodded politely, the smile on your face did not reach your eyes and you didn’t mean for it to. You had your suspicions that the prince would not greet you, not out of disrespect but because he had not had the mind for it. He prioritized his training, royal duties, over greeting some foreign princess he was going to marry regardless. 

You would not let this small bump impact you, but you would hold it against him. 

“Come,” Nekomata waved a hand at the servants unloading your things behind you from the car and then turned to walk into the castle, holding out an arm for his wife to grab. “Let’s give you a brief tour and then show you to your living space, I’m sure you’re wary from traveling.”

You didn’t get the full tour, really only getting shown around the wing of the castle where the living quarters were located, but it didn’t matter much as your feet were hurting and the sun signaled it was getting close to time for dinner to be served. 

A servant opened the door to a large and ornate living space, and you had to stop yourself from actually gawking at the arrangements. You knew the royal family of Tokyo was wealthy, but this was extravagant.

You took a few steps in, turning around to take it all in as the queen followed after you with a pretty girl with long blonde hair wearing a dark uniform trailing after her. “This will be your living space, I do hope it’s comparable to what you are used to.”

“Yes, your majesty.” You breathed out, taking a closer look at some of the more personal details around the room - like small trinkets on the nightstands, a tossed shirt, or a casual spear resting in the corner. Confused, you turned to her to complete your thoughts. “Um, this is very satisfactory.”

“Ah, I see Tetsurō didn’t quite clean up everything like I asked.” She chuckled, motioning towards the items you had been pointedly looking at. At your confused look she continued to explain, “These are the prince’s living quarters. Since you will be married soon we assumed it would be easiest to have you move in here now - to make the transition easier and not have you move too often.”

Pursing your lips together, you tried not to be too obvious in your hesitation over the arrangements. The queen was smiling at you, eyes closed although you got the sense she was waiting for you to protest, to challenge her. You nodded in understanding, “I appreciate you accommodating so much for me.”

“Well, dear, you will be family in a few days. We take care of each other here.” She placed a delicate, manicured hand on your cheek - her touch was light, but you felt the weight of power off it anyways. “Alisa will be your attendant, let her know if there is anything you need.”

You smiled at the girl who was waiting by the door, she bowed and smiled brightly back at you. “It is lovely to meet you, your highness.” She greeted, hands clasped in front of her tightly. “I look forward to serving you.”

As the queen said her goodbyes, you let Alisa know that you’d like to take your dinner in your room for that night, citing fatigue as your reasoning. Nodding fervently, she excused herself and went to gather up the meal for you.

Now alone, you took the opportunity to explore the living space you found yourself in. Unlike yours back home, this space was one large room. The head of the bed was against the far wall, the surrounding curtains pulled back and tied against the four posts at each corner, and an overwhelming number of dark colored pillows decorating the surface. The more you looked around you noted how seriously they took their royal colors here, everything was a dark shade of red, accented in gold, or completely black.

A closed door led to what you assumed was the bathroom and closet, but you’d explore that later. What was calling out to you most was a set of double doors, already open and leading to a balcony that looked over the large courtyard of the castle. You made your way outside, the air already starting to cool off with the setting of the sun. Walking to the ledge and leaning your weight on your elbows with your arms crossed over each other casually you could see the expanse of the courtyard.

More importantly, you saw a group of what looked like soldiers sparring with each other. You were getting married in a few days, but you were also a woman in her early twenties - it wouldn’t hurt anyone to admire what was in front of you. Leaning forward a little more comfortably, you watched the men who looked around your age, grunting and tousling against each other.

“What’s wrong, Bokuto? Giving up so easily?” Kuroo stood up from his fighting stance, leaning his weight against the blunt training staff he was holding. He shot a smirk at his friend, the teasing glint in his eyes brighter than ever in the light of the setting sun.

“Your bride has arrived,” Bokuto nodded behind Kuroo in the direction that had caught his attention. 

Kuroo stood straight and turned around, lazily following Bokuto’s gaze up to the third floor balcony that was attached to his own living quarters. Bokuto had been right, leaning against the ledge stood a beautiful creature, hair carried by the wind, gaze most definitely on the group of sparring men - on him. Wearing a pale pink dress immediately told the group you were not from around there, although yours was a face not easily forgotten anyways.

“Damn,” Bokuto chuckled. “They sure make ‘em right in Chubu. I heard she’s a real piece of work.”

“Yes, she is King Hirugami’s only daughter.” Kuroo said, sweeping his staff towards Bokuto and catching him off guard, making him stumble when his legs were nearly taken out from beneath him. “Now stop staring and fight me.”

“Yes, your highness.” Bokuto sneered at the prince, walking back into the training space they had previously been in.

Your eyes watched as the two who had been staring at you moved back to practice together some more, and you kept watching as they began moving against one another with calculated and deliberate strikes.

-

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