#I'd love to just... stop making the same mistakes over and over again y'know?

[veinsfullofstars]

Okay, so... I didn't realize until doing a bit of research that the Perchance Generator - which a lot of the incorrect quotes I've been reblogging came from - seems to be based in A*I. Which is, y'know... not great to learn (and, to be honest, makes an unfortunate amount of sense in hindsight, seeing as some of those quotes marked as being from the generator definitely came from other verifiable sources. That's 100% on me for not checking sooner). I've since deleted all the reblogs (as well as privated the two pieces of art I made inspired by quotes) and will not be reblogging from that user again in the future. I don't really have a say in the quotes I submitted there, so I guess they'll just have to stay.

Let me be clear, though: I don't want to assume bad faith on their part nor do I want any criticism/hate thrown their way. For all I know, they're just having fun and mean no ill will. I just personally don't want to be associated with or accidentally support anything that uses A*I, especially with just how much it hurts artists and steals content without consent. That's all. Sorry for any trouble or confusion. Let's just move on.

[laertesthelocalstranger]

Laertes waits outside the door to the room, shifting his weight from foot to foot, twisting at their hands and wishing they hadn't burned the loose threads off. They look like a petitioner gathering strength before approaching their sovereign, a little kid afraid to knock on his parent's door. And isn't that what they are?

Fae sighs, pushing through the door and into the room. They're not small anymore. This is their cabin. Their kids are sleeping in their rooms. And her dad isn't waiting on the other side anymore.

Sleep does help him. And the couch isn't very comfortable. They'd tried it, a few times. There's no sense leaving a room completely unoccupied, now that a new arrival has made need for another one. Even Marc's.

The room is dark, but not quite dusty. Laertes visits it too often for that. It's the one place in the house left untouched, the Stranger's influence seeping through the walls, but very little changed or added. Marc didn't have many possessions. Just a few pictures on the wall, some of his kids, a girl who looks uncannily like he used to, a woman fae presumes was his mother.

Laertes had only been in here once before Marc died, when he was looking for the gun. He hadn't noticed that one of the framed pictures was something they'd drawn for him. They'd cried all over again, when they first saw that.

A bench has been pulled up to the wall opposite his old bed, a little shrine put up. Nothing much, he wouldn't have liked anything fancy or complicated. Just a drawing fae'd done, using their own easel and oils, and a few unlit incense sticks. She could swear there's a track worn into the floorboards in front of it, from all the pacing fae's done.

He's burned the picture a few times, in a fit of anger. Had to remake it. Laertes isn't proud of that.

"There's a new one. His name's Luka. I think you would've liked him."

They're talking to empty air. Laertes unstrings their necklace, places it on the bench by their father's face. It makes faer chest feel lighter. It makes him unspeakably lonely.

"...He had a rifle. I wouldn't let him bring it into the house. We've had more than enough of those, haven't we?" They set themself down on the worn ground in front of it, crossing their legs and settling in.

"He didn't want to. He cried when I started burning it by mistake. Did I look that...small, to you?" Fae knows fae did. Because they were. Neither of them ever should have had those weapons. Laertes pinches their fingers and lights the incense.

"You didn't do a very good job, y'know. I'm trying to do better. Cassie started hanging out with Jack. She's working as a post boy in his office. I heard him talk about quitting soon, but I'm glad they're getting along. I used to worry I'd have to stop her from killing him." He chuckles. "God, you would've loved her."

Marc would've snapped her up as a daughter in a second, if he was still himself, the version they like to imagine is listening, somewhere. He always loved fighters.

Laertes forgets, sometimes, that they did know each other. What he did. It's not something he likes to remember. They grip their arms tighter, lapsing into silence.

"Why did you have to do it? Why couldn't you have been good to one of us?"

The favorite son of a monster, of a truly broken man. Their eyes reflect jagged light on dark wood. It's only right he'd break Laertes the same way he'd been broken.

Fae pushes himself to his feet, throwing open the curtains, letting the moonlight stream in for the first time in months. They don't think they'll change this room. Marc's scent hasn't quite faded from it. Maybe that's not such a bad thing.

"You know, I can't decide whether to be sad or angry. I want to be angry. Hell, I am angry. But the love doesn't go away. I thought it would, when I accepted what you were. But it didn't."

That only makes faer angrier. His hands start to heat up. They play with old pieces of copper and metal.

"Why do I still love you? After everything?"

There's no answer. The silence fills up the empty room, like oxygen feeding the flames. She begins to pace again, a trapped animal. It always feels like he's trapped here. Trapped beneath all of their grief, all of their rage, all the closure they never received.

"Fucking- answer! You did it before, why can't you just- is it that hard to face me? Everything you fucked up? Is that all I am anymore?"

Laertes stops themself just short of throwing the half-formed hunk of metal at the drawing. That's something Marc would have done, and the kids are sleeping.

"...I hope wherever you are, you regret what you didn't do. I hope you wish you'd changed." He sits back down, righting the picture. It really does look like Marc. They've gotten better.

"Being your daughter was the worst mistake I ever made. I wish it wasn't still my favorite."

She dons her pendant. Enough talking with the dead. He should save his words for those who can still hear him. And yet...

"The owners of the camp are dead. By the way. I led the attack. I was going to tell you that Luka reminds me of you, but... I remind me of you."

One day, he'll make that a thing to be proud of. One day.

"...Until next time, Dad."

He puts out the incense before the fire can spread, and curls up under a dead man's covers.

[002yb]

Your last ask about the reverse Robin's au was just so interesting . Please, could you tell us more about Tim and Damian in that au. Also, poor baby Jason. Bruce why are you always like that with Damian? 🥺 I just love how both Jason and Tim have this respect for Damian. Oh and what would happen with Dick?

Of course! Thank you for your interest in them. Damian and Tim's relationship in that reverse robin AU is one I'm so happy with, so I'd love to share more. (˵ •̀ ᴗ •́ ˵ ) ✧

Damian + Tim (ft. Superboyfriends)

In that period of time where Tim bounces and Damian is left to mind Jason's becoming of Robin (+ Bruce), he gets a lot of grief from Jon about how Damian went about everything

And Damian is so stubborn about it. Because his feelings might be a bit hurt over Tim abandoning him, but also because in his mind, Damian isn't wrong: Tim is more than Robin; always was.

Jon understanding where Damian was coming from, but insisting there's better ways to go about it

Which Damian refuses to entertain, come off it. Jon does if only for a time; if only because Damian is genuinely sore over how everything fell apart

With time though, Jon dropping in little anecdotes on how Tim is doing at Titans Tower. Because Jon hears about Tim from Kon.

And Damian plays aloof, but he hangs on every word on how Tim's doing, what he's been up to, what amazing feat he's accomplished.

Damian feeling the same pride, but it's tinged by a painful melancholy because he misses the bastard.

With more time and a lot of interference, Damian coming to realize how he should have handled matters. Not that he makes an effort to right them. Damian writes himself off, resigned to reap what he's sown. Not that he was entirely wrong. Jason still proves to be a tremendously capable Robin, it's just...it would be nice for Tim to have been here to be part of it all.

Kon relaying similar stories about Damian to Tim. Who always clicks his tongue and scowls but gives himself away by looking expectantly at Kon whenever he stops talking.

Just two proud boys doing the classic bat brooding and miscommunications. But it's chill because they've got their supers there conspiring to bring them together again.

Because fr Jon and Kon are so over having to schedule around when they sneak over their boyfriends overnight, y'know?

Also idk, just Damian and Tim wanting to reach out but doing the dramatic deleting of a text or dropping their phones to their chests without making a call. Turning away from their phones outright. Good stuff.

These two eventually running into each other on missions that happen to coincide. An initial standoffishness that falls away as they fall back into old habits with each other, only to realize the mistake and get all sulky/broody about it again.

But they do start to talk at some point. It's stilted at first, but soon enough the usual banter returns and it's all quiet shoulder checks and ornery, playful torments.

Damian ultimately eating crow about the whole situation. Tim brushing it off because he knows Damian cares for people in extremes. Not that Damian was right about anything. Just - talk to Tim next time.

Which leads to another step towards proper partnership for these two and it's sweet. ;U;

As for Dick's introduction in this AU... I'm admittedly torn between who seeks him out. It'd be cute if it were Jason reaching out after the tragedy at Haly's, but like... Jason whump opportunity so:

It's Damian who takes Dick under his wing and wants to give him the Robin mantle

Only he's learned from his mistake with Tim, so this time he talks with Jason about it, first.

And the thing is - they were all there to see the tragedy happen. Jason was right there beside Damian as he comforted this inconsolable boy, orphaned by Gotham's turpitude and their family's inability to ever get ahead of it.

So Jason would see in real time as Damian makes this decision and it would be the most devastating thing.

Because months/years later, Jason is still recovering from Ethiopia. He's trying so damn hard, too. He's almost okay, almost ready... but the truth is that he'll never get back to that level he was before he was beaten so terribly. Even if Jason can push himself, there are times his hip still gives out, or his ankle collapses under him. Psychologically he's as sound as the next bat, but physically? Jason can't recover.

Even still, Jason clings to Robin like a lifeline. That's his hope. His connection to Damian and Tim and Bruce; his family.

So to watch as Damian sees Robin's future in someone else is painful. There's nothing Jason can do to stop it, either. Whether Damian asks for his opinion or not, the choice is made.

'He needs this.' Damian would tell him, compassionate and cruel all at once. And Jason would hate him a bit because, 'what about me?'

Just Jason joining the ranks of the middle children with Tim, y'know? ;u;

Something something Jason withdrawing from Damian. A chasm building and all the insecurities and resentment festering. Bargains about how Dick can stay with Bruce, but Jason can be Damian's [Robin].

Jason fighting tooth and nail for his place in the family, but maybe hurting himself because he pushes too hard? Which sparks concern-induced-rage!Damian who snaps at him out of worry, but Jason takes it as a personal attack and it's sadness as they fight and fall out

Meanwhile Dick's out here completely enamored with this boy that tries so hard and fights so viciously and has so much passion. So he follows Jason around and wears him down and soothes the hurt of whatever abandonment/betrayal Jason feels somehow. Something like Dick promising to take care of Robin & Damian until Jason can do it himself. Or wanting to fly beside Jason - two Robins! Ahhhhhh, these two boys finding the essence of Robin in each other and that being their foundation.

[dcwnthercbbithcle]

POPPING OUT OF THE PLOTS PLEASE MEME TO DISCUSS A PLOT I'D LOVE TO DO AT SOME POINT: Doe, but she recognizes your muse from one of her dreams.

The scene doesn't seem familiar at the start; Hollywood deja vu be damned. It's a good day, a damn good day, a croissant from the local bakery kind of day; she's turning the corner, then life freezes, and she feels like she's been struck with a right hook that's detached her from reality & blown her clean out of her body. She feels like she's in the third person, and an awful tingling shoots from her chest down to the tips of her fingers. A face, a face too familiar, she sees it, she recognizes them. The dream, the lead-up, her death; she always dies at the end.

NOW HEAR ME OUT: we could play this precisely as it comes out of the package; Doe and the other muse, we'll call them person B, are in direct opposition. Doe remembers them alright; the cards are dealt, and whether or not she likes it, she's slipped onto the tracks leading up to her end.

Maybe Person B has had so much riding up to this point of deception and ultimate murder; maybe Doe isn't the only one with a bulls-eye on her back. Months and potentially years of planning are suddenly thrown clean out of the window on account of a deus-ex-machina type vision no one could account for.

Person B could try to play it cool, *don't be silly*, but one look in Doe's eyes and it's obvious. She knows everything. How? Who knows, but she does. Now they're trapped in a stand-off. Doe only knows through her dreams. She has no concrete evidence, but the slightest slip and it's game over, but just as equally as she knows, they know she knows. It's a stand-off. This could, in turn, escalate; maybe it's now a cat-and-mouse game. Them trying to catch Doe slipping and separating from the safety of packed public places and guarded areas, while she, in turn, is looking for *anything* to be their death sentence and to prevent hers.

Or maybe, despite the implied murder, it can remain a comedy and deceptively light. The obvious tense atmosphere remains, but it could be combined with high jinx and played more for laughs, focusing on mutual gaslighting to try and stop/enable the plans.

Or MAYBE it can be more of a murder-in-slow-motion sort of thread. Doe IS a horror character after all, her character IS defined by her death in many way and alternate take on her end. Be it her finding the strength to confront her killer or trying to run away again, it would still be fascinating to explore either way!

OR OR OR OR we throw the above ideas out the window and take an alternate approach to the prompt at hand! Doe's dreams, while ultimately ending the same way, often involve full scenarios and situations beforehand. Alternate timelines, potential outcomes, alternate versions of her crying out in anguish through time and space.

Sometimes, she just... meets people. In the dream, it's not a first encounter; on some level, she understands the full backstory, even if there are no memories to back it up. Yeah, this person has been my friend since I was five, I found this person while mistaking someone in a crowd, this person gave me a ride. It makes sense in the dream moment; the background is set dressing. But through the course of the dream, she gets to know them, befriend them, like them, before the, y'know. Maybe history won't repeat this time. Seeing them strokes a desire to reconnect. Do you remember me like I remember you? Bonus points if they, in fact, do... or the details of the dream come to start falling into place. But with the friendship renewed, Doe becomes more certain to defy fate, or at least outrun it,

Maybe the memories that come back aren't surrounding death but more of a background. What if the memories that come back are really sweet? What if they're embarrassing? Gobsmackingly horny, Doe is left consumed by embarrassment, trying to explain why she's not able to act normal?

THEY REMEMBER DOE. Oh my god, Doe feels alone in the shared memories, but they aren't. The other person may have similar dreams or tap into Doe, and there's that deep, intimate connection: I remember you.

Doe is overwhelmed by the memory of the dream coming back and crumpling in sheer panic but is comforted by the person she recognized. Maybe a short and sweet thread but potentially becoming more if they decide to try and help her and dig deeper... or perhaps Doe can't recall the full details, and they're the person she should be avoiding. 👀

DOE SEEING YOUR AND HER DEATHS AND TRYING TO GET THEM TO BE SAFE WITH HER AND GET OUT OF DODGE, bonus points if she tries to convince them in increasingly ridiculous ways by recalling specific events in the lead up to the death to convince them while trying to defy the clock and the killer coming after them

I JUST ADSHASGDASD I LOVE THIS POTENTIAL PLOT THREAD, it can go so many different ways

[auncyen]

I beat p3p while attempting to do my exercise today. I say 'attempting' because I usually use a stationary bike but today discovered silly junior cats like to run under the pedals and get their little heads hit so y'know, had to stop that and instead just tried pedaling in the air on my back which no, not really the same. But it was something lol

Now the cat is trying to maim my laptop's power cord again which is a distraction. (I tried getting more litter for this one and I think I made a mistake by not getting the same type of litter as the small amount a neighbor gave to tide me over--don't know if the cat really loves or really hates new type, but it sure did inspire him to dig like crazy and scatter litter everywhere.)

Anyway more on p3p under the cut.

I think p3's real strength is how hard it goes on the theme of confronting one's morality and I think that's why people say it stands out in story against p4/p5, because I wouldn't say the plot's especially complex or deep. (I wouldn't say it's particularly weaker, either, it's just hilarious that I've complained about the Shido and Akechi "as you know" conversation, but revisiting the moonlight bridge conversation between Aigis and Ryoji was like LMFAO AIGIS WHY ARE YOU EXPLAINING THIS TO WHAT YOU CONSIDER A LIFE-THREATENING DANGER.) Like "being true to yourself" and "rebelling against society" might sometimes contradict "appealing to an audience to sell the game" and, well, that's where Atlus' priority ultimately lies. "Finding meaning in the life we have, even though we know it will end" does not and I think that helps a lot.

But also they do a great job of scenery changes over time to show the world gradually being taken over by the Lost and then the cult. (And, in the final days sequence, it's a very nice touch to be able to visit the back alley and see the Velvet Room gone, if sad.)

The most frustrating thing about p3p was starting and immediately realizing cutscenes were gone, though. I kind of wished I'd known beforehand. There are scenes where how they transitioned is kind of a letdown. That along with some letdowns about social links and social link scheduling make me feel like yeah, I'd definitely rec people watch the movies if they can, the game is more like 'if you really want to play it. or really really want s. links" (because yeah the movie is pretty sparse on those).

[bringmebackdude]

I Can't Quit You Baby

(gif not mine)

Pairing: Slash x fem!Reader

Concept: Slash has been hooking up with a rich girl, but this time "no ties" starts to bother him.

Word count: 1,454

A/N: Actually I've been thinking about making a fic out of this one, haven't read or seen one like this with the guys and mixing a rich girl with Slash seems very interesting...(if you have, please let me know, I'm not trying to steal any content by mistake!)

(light smut, fluff)

His agitated body dropped next to hers, both chests going up and down from exhaustion and the heat that filled the considerably small room. Their bodies still felt the shivers of pleasure, there was a comfortable silence during the recovery. (Y/N) sat on the edge of the bed looking for her bra, which she spotted right next to Pandora's tank, his snake, alongside her panties. It was a usual scavenger hunt for her clothes, she and Slash wouldn't care where they left their stuff when lust came between them. He lit a cigarette while watching his companion with a frown, slightly smirking seconds later when he laid eyes on the lightning-struck tattoo she had on her left buttock. "You're leaving already?"

"Wasn't two hours enough for you, big boy?" she chuckled, sliding her legs inside the pink skirt.

"It's just that you usually stay longer...y'know" shrugging and letting the smoke escape from his lips, he sat on the bed. Carefully pushing some of his rebel curls back, so he could give a better look to the girl's half-naked body. "And it isn't two hours if you count the smoke breaks."

"I have stuff to do, and I'm already late," her tone was calm, but she buttoned down her blouse in a rush, shoving her panties in her purse after.

"Daddy invited the president over tonight?" he asked mockingly.

"Ha-ha, very funny," she finished tying her boots and walked towards him, holding his face between her hands "You would love to go to one, wouldn't ya?"

"I'd die for," using his reliable sarcasm, he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"I'll see you soon," always her same goodbye, not forgetting about the quick peck on the lips before taking her belongings and walking out of his room. "Bye, Pandora! Bye, Duff!" Slash heard the main door close, letting out a sigh, all the fun was over sooner than he thought. He was quite happy with the dynamic between him and (Y/N), no need for compromises, just sex whenever they were in need. She was funny, hot, friendly, listened to the same music as he did, and not to mention she was rich. Also, her dad hated Slash, which made the friendship more exciting for both of them. Two lovers of trouble, together, were no good. That's exactly what he wanted, a good fuck and then leave. But somehow, it slightly bothered him that she didn't ask for more. All the girls were looking for something serious with him, why not her?

"She left early, huh?" Duff's head poked out of his door before he made an entrance to the curly's bedroom. He shrugged again, taking a puff on his cigarette "Yeah." "Oh dude, I'm so jealous you can bang that anytime you want. Do you mind if I shoot my shot with her?" "It's not up to me. She's probably out of your league" Slash replied. The guys enjoyed having her around, she wasn't stuck up like other ones, but still, she had a very strong character, which would sometimes cause fights between her and Axl. Of course, she had developed quite the friendship with Duff. The blond giraffe was funny as hell. "If she's a Motley Crue girl, there will be no problem to get her" rested his body against the wall and crossed his arms with a smirk. He knew it was gonna piss the guitarist. "What do you mean?" "Izzy and I ran into her a couple of nights ago after a Motley Crue concert. No big deal." "What were you doing there?" Slash interest grew, he threw the cigarette to the floor and step on it. She goes to see Motley but not us? (Y/N) knew that they were making noise around Los Angeles, he talked endlessly to her about many gigs, still, she never attended one. The unusual feeling of resentment invaded him. He shrugged, making his way out of the room "Chicks are horny as fuck at the end of a rock concert, dude." Duff laughed walking through the hall, knowing the effect that his comment had caused on his friend. As much as Slash would deny it, everyone in the band knew there was something much more than just a friendship going between the two of them. Ever since the night they met her, the proprietorial side of the curly had shown. Besides (Y/N) being rad, she would sometimes arrive at their apartment with boxes of beer when she knew it was their rest day, lent them some clothes, or even offer transportation. Although she would disappear very often and for several days, it was a friendship worth keeping. At this point, the guys were just waiting for them to become something a bit more official, but the two lovers were too proud.

﹆

Her foot stomped on the floor when she tripped on the amp next to the sofa, the dark empty apartment echoed with giggles from the two of them, their mouths refusing to separate. Slash felt the doorknob of his room, quickly opening the door and pulling the girl inside, both wasting no time in starting to take their clothes off. She let her skirt slide down her legs, showing off her pink thong. He, on the other side, was almost naked when he took his pants off, the guy had no problem being commando most of his life. He laid her body delicately on the bed, sliding his mouth towards the female's jaw, where he left traces of saliva from his wet kisses along with a few bites. The rough touch of his blistered fingers running through her body, making her skin crawl as the touch entered between her legs, a smirk appeared in the guitarist's face when he felt how wet she was already, something he never got tired of. A moan escaped from her lips when his mouth positioned on one of her nipples, sucking hard. "Baby" her hands running through his curls, slightly pulling from these, "I need you," she whispered. Needless to say, that unleashed the lust he carried inside.

...

His tanned hand grabbed the delicate one, feeling his fingers locked with hers, a simple but cute thing that Slash usually didn't do. She bit her lip, hiding the smile that the sudden action had provoked on her. "So... Duff told me he saw you at a Motley concert." "Oh yeah, I think it was last weekend or something like that," she shrugged, peering up at him. "I didn't know you liked those types of bands..." trying hard to hide his jealousy, he kept an unworried face. "One of my girlfriends took me with her, and you know I like rock," covering her breasts with the blanket, she reached for a cigarette and took the lighter from the nightstand. "Why?" "Why what?" "Why is this whole interrogation happening, dumbass?" she chuckled, letting the smoke come out right in front of his face. Slash coughed, rolling his eyes before stealing the cigarette from her hand, to which she smiled. "I don't know, it's just that you never come to watch us perform." "So?"

"So? We are friends, and you've never attended one of our gigs, you just drop us off and we're way better than them," he scoffed irritated. The female looked at him with confusion, not understanding where this was all coming from. "Honey, you never invite me to any of your events, I thought this was only hooking up and hanging every now and then," she replied with furrowed brows. He never seemed to have a problem with that. "Well maybe I want more..." with his arms crossed on his chest, he avoided her fazed stare, the last thing he needed was for her to notice his cheeks blushing. The words slipped out of his mouth. Did he regret saying that? No, he didn't, all this time he had been craving more but his pride was too big to admit it. After a few seconds of letting all this new information sink in, slowly a mocking smile was drawn on her face, sliding in bed to be closer to him,"Why didn't you say anything before?" "Cause I guess I didn't realize it completely until a few days ago...whatever, this is stupid" his slight embarrassment was adorable for her, it was a completely new side of the tough carefree guy she knew. "No, it's not," she stopped him before he could get out of the bed."I think we could work something out," a shy smile was attached to the response that was going to change their path from now and on. "I'd like that" he pulled her closed, wrapping his arms around her waist as another round was waiting for them.

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

(Written for Adrien August... I'm not sorry)

Bad Luck: Frozer

Summary: Adrien struggles to move on from his first crush so he confides in one of his friends. Or is she more than a friend?

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

Chat Noir smiled sadly down at the red rose in his hands. Passion, romance, true love, he recalled in his head.

"Chat?"

Hiding the rose behind his back as he turned around, Chat Noir grinned at the question in Ladybug's eyes. "I have to say that rescuing civilians without a supervillain around is a nice change of pace. Don't you think, My Lady?"

"Not every day you see a hang glider delivery service," she agreed, smiling at the nickname.

Chest suddenly constricting Chat Noir's smile became a touch strained. "Love to stay and chat but this cat's gotta run!" Taking out his baton he extended it, launching himself away.

"Oh! See you la... ter..." Ladybug called to his retreating form.

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

Landing in the empty locker room Adrien detransformed in a flash of green light. Plagg stretching as he came out of the ring.

Eyeing Adrien's downcast features, Plagg pried at his holder. "It's not like you to leave Ladybug so abruptly."

"Yeah..." Adrien absently offered a wedge of Camembert to his floating friend who promptly swallowed it whole. "Guess I just need some time to myself."

"So she turned you down. There's plenty of other kinds of cheese!"

Despite himself Adrien smiled. "You need better metaphors."

Plagg shrugged. "You could always take it literally. You can never have enough cheese!"

Adrien rolled his eyes as he changed into his fencing gear. Plagg wasn't as articulate as he thought but... he wasn't wrong...

These thoughts swirled in Adrien's head as he joined Kagami at practice.

A mistake he paid for when Kagami knocked him off his feet. Standing, Adrien parried as Kagami lunged. She always gave her all in beating her opponent. Scoring a point he smiled and they retook their positions.

But his heart still wasn't into the sparing session and her next lunge drove him off balance. Her foil poking into his chest.

"Predictable," Kagami chastised.

Eyes narrowing, Adrien's more competitive nature surged forward at her words. Heart beating faster, grip tightening on his foil and-

It was gone as soon as it came.

Leaving Adrien vulnerable to Kagami's strike...

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

Adrien stared pensively at his fencing helmet. He knew Ladybug didn't like him the same way he liked her. That wasn't anything new. So why was he-

"What's wrong, Adrien? Usually I like beating you but it's no fun when you make it this easy." Kagami stood in front of him with an unreadable expression.

Adrien gave her a bittersweet smile. "You ever feel like you're stuck, Kagami? Like, no matter how much you try to move forward, nothing will ever, ever change?"

Kagami blinked in surprise as Adrien opened up to her. This wasn't what she was expecting... Sitting next to him Kagami took a moment to collect her thoughts. "Adrien. The biggest mistake a fencer can make isn't choosing the wrong technique. It's choosing the wrong target."

Oh. She liked metaphors too. Well, with his luck to was bound to-

Her hand gently cupped his cheek and turned his head to face her. "So, switch targets."

...Oh. A rose tint colored Adrien's cheeks. Kagami was always beautiful but for some reason... it was especially true just then.

Smiling in encouragement Kagami grabbed her things and walked out of the locker room. Leaving Adrien to his thoughts.

He stared after her for a moment... Launching to his feet Adrien raced after her in a moment of sheer panic and recklessness.

"Kagami!" Adrien practically shouted.

Not having gone far Kagami turned around, puzzled.

Taking a deep breath, heart pounding against his ribs, Adrien let out the thought that propelled him to his feet. "Would you like to go out some time!?"

Kagami's eyes went wide. "Out? As in a date?"

The color on Adrien's cheeks bloomed into scarlet. Suddenly even more self-conscious he rubbed the back of his neck- "Um," -and nodded. His mouth refusing to form words.

Half turning, Kagami gave him a small smile. "I'd like that."

Adrien felt his lips pull into a grin. Heart somersaulting in his chest for some reason.

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

"What should I do, Plagg?" Adrien bemoaned. Head thunking onto his computer desk. "I've never been on a date before!"

"Wasn't this your idea?" Plagg flipped through his favorite cheese magazine. He swore this romance nonsense was the silliest invention humans had ever come up with. "If you ask me it's about time you expanded your palate."

"You're no help," Adrien grumbled. Lifting his head up Adrien swiveled around to look at Plagg. "What if I asked Father or Nathalie for advice?"

"Sure." Plagg stretched lazily. "If ya want them to know about you and sword girl."

Sighing, Adrien discounted that idea. "Oh! We can ask the Gorilla!"

"I don't know," Plagg mused, "doesn't seem like a good idea."

"You just don't like it 'cause he found your Camembert stash that time," Adrien teased, poking Plagg lightly.

"It was perfectly edible! How could he!?"

Chuckling at his antics, Adrien thought about who he could go to for advice...

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

Adrien tried not to hurry ahead of Kagami into the ice rink proper. The chill making his arm hairs stand on end. His breath sharp in his throat. Heart beating with a mix of excitement and nervousness. Asking Marinette had been a great idea!

He turned back to see Alya and Nino slowly catch up. If only she could have made it. But that essay on periwinkle migration sounded important to her... Oh, Chloe's dad was here.

As they put on their skates Adrien glanced at Kagami out of the corner of his eye. Scooting closer to Nino he whispered: "Thanks for coming last minute, Nino."

"Hey, no problem dude! Anything for my bro." Nino's grin was a tad forced and his eyes drifted to something behind Adrien before snapping back.

"I don't know what to do with Kagami."Adrien admitted, leaning in. "Should I... offer to hold her hand?"

"Yes!" Nino snapped his fingers and held up finger guns at Adrien. His eyes flickered away again. "I mean, no! I mean- Why don't you take it slow?"

Adrien turned around to see what Nino was looking at but it was just Alya smiling politely, hands behind her back. Probably waiting patiently for him to finish with her boyfriend.

Straightening, Adrien smiled at her. "Thanks for coming, Alya."

"No big deal! Just a double date, right!" Alya smiled wide in an attempt to draw attention away from her accidental inflection.

"...Right." Adrien politely declined to comment on it.

"Anyway!" Alya grabbed Nino's hand and dragged him off. "We'll let you two get to it!"

Adrien turned back to Kagami, who was tying her skates. Hesitantly, he made his way over and stood beside her.

"Don't be scared," Kagami promised conspiratorially as she looked up, "I won't tell anyone."

"About what?" Adrien asked slowly.

"That you don't know how to tie your laces," she teased, kneeling down to do just that. Once done Kagami smiled at him, grabbed his hand and led him onto the ice.

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

"I can't believe you agreed to this!" Alya stage whispered. Arm locked tightly around Nino's elbow as they skated on the opposite side of the rink.

"Aw, c'mon Als. Y'know I couldn't leave my bro hanging like that!" Nino widened his eyes and tried to sparkle them like Adrien had. "He gave me the look. How could I say no to that?"

"I know..." Alya sighed. The crease between her eyes softening from accusation to guilt. "I just..." Adrien and Kagami caught her eye as they skated hand in hand. "Feel like I'm betraying my girl just by being here."

Nino patted her hand and gave her a soft smile. "I'm sure the dudette will understand." His gaze drifted towards Adrien and Kagami. "Besides... I don't think she'd want to see this."

"Hey, young man! Have you ever thought about signing up for ice skating lessons!?"

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

Kagami turned her head as Alya and Nino skated past them on their lap. "Did you invite them because you were scared of being alone with me?"

"Of course not!" Adrien lied, waving his hand to ward off her words. "It's just... that I asked Nino to help... me."

Her brow creased. "Help you with what?"

"Uh, to perfect my figure skating skills!" Adrien decided.

"But you don't need him for that." Suddenly, Kagami let go of his hand and launched into a short routine of spins and twirls.

Adrien blinked at her presentation before an appreciative smile graced his lips. Kagami has so many talents, Adrien thought as she talked with that man who had been discussing something with Mayor Bourgeois.

Seamlessly, Kagami interlaced their fingers as she took his hand again and pulled him forward with her momentum. Glancing at his smile through the corner of her eye.

"Adrien Agreste, I can see it now!" The skating instructor (that's what he was) was suddenly beside Adrien. "Grace and style model! And professional ice skating champion! If you take lessons with me I'll have you shining like the candles on a birthday cake!"

Skating? Adrien had never thought about it before. "Uh, may-beeee!"

Kagami switched their positions so she was closest to the instructor. "He already does fencing with me," she informed him. And sped up with Adrien in tow.

Adrien stared at the back of Kagami's head. She was very assertive in her desires, bold even. Kagami knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to go for it. He admired that about her, was drawn to it. Kagami would meet any challenge without backing down.

Just like Ladybug.

His fingers slipped from Kagami's grasp as he slowed to a stop. Staring at the floor as his cheeks burned not with embarrassment but shame.

"Adrien? What is it?" Kagami asked as she circled back.

Adrien smiled. "Nothing. I just have to use the restroom real quick." Turning, he let his smile fall as he left the rink.

Plagg poked his head out of his pocket once they were alone. "What's gotten into you, kid?"

Adrien stared at him. "I don't know."

Worry started to prick at Plagg's fur. "Adrien-"

"I don't know what I want, Plagg!" His heart hammered against his chest, pulse rising to his throat. "Kagami knows. Ladybug knows. Chat Noir thought he knew but... but I don't." Adrien wrapped his arms around himself, making himself smaller.

"... Listen, you're young right? Even by human standards? Like a freshly made wheel of Camembert."

Adrien frowned, turning away. "Plagg-"

"Hear me out!" Plagg zipped closer to Adrien's face, keeping in his line of sight. "But freshly made Camembert is terrible! It's got no flavor! No delicious scent! You need to let it age to bring out all the good stuff."

Adrien glanced at Plagg. Seeing his tail twitching in concern even if he wouldn't voice it. Strangely, Adrien understood what he was trying to say.

"All cheeses age differently. There's nothing wrong with taking your time." Plagg finished, not quite satisfied with how it came out.

Adrien smiled at him, reaching out to pet his head. "Thanks, Plagg."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Plagg let himself be petted. Not because he enjoyed it, of course. It just happened to make Adrien feel better.

Suddenly, ice started crawling up the walls. Magic coming from the ice rink. "Oh, no. Guess we have to go save the day," Plagg said, very disappointedly, yes.

Adrien grinned as he brought out the transformation cheese. "Uh-huh."

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

Chat Noir's good humor lasted until he spotted Ladybug on a rooftop. Oh. He didn't... want to see her right now. Reluctantly, he landed beside her. Doing his best to keep the conflicting emotions wrestling in his chest off his face.

"Chat Noir! We need to set up a trap for whoever turned the city into a giant ice rink." Ladybug anchored her yo-yo onto a nearby building, ready to take off.

Say something. Say something! "My feline instincts prefer to track and observe before I attack." Ha! Nailed it! Chat Noir scooted closer to the roof's edge as he scanned the frozen city.

Ladybug gave him a puzzled look. "What? Since when?"

Chat Noir pouted. "Rude."

Shaking her head as she fought back a fond smile Ladybug inched towards him. "We have to work together on this."

His hand rubbed the back of his neck, catching her eye. "I don't know. We don't have to do everything together. If we split up we'll have a better chance of finding him." Chat Noir jumped. "Race you!"

"Chat Noir, be careful!" Ladybug called out as he sped away. "... Okay, so he's acting weird. Not the first time he's acted weird. It'll be fine!" She cast her yo-yo and swung off. I hope.

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

Being by himself helped Adrien order his thoughts. His feelings were all over the place so he focused on doing what he told Ladybug he was gonna do. It was child's play to follow the only imperfection on otherwise smooth ice. Leading him to the Eiffel Tower where the akuma victim was hiding.

Okay. Now I just need to-

Frozer launched himself at Ladybug!

Acting quickly Chat Noir tackled Ladybug out of the way. Grabbing her hand and leading her onto the frozen Seine. Skating away at top speed to put some distance between them and Frozer.

"Thanks, kitty!" Ladybug smiled.

And Adrien smiled back. Confusing questions forgotten for the moment. Then Frozer launched shards of ice; Chat Noir letting go of Ladybug's hand so they could dodge it. Only then realizing that he'd been holding it at all.

"He's too fast!"

She was right. Frozer easily kept pace with them. Leaping into the air to launch more ice shards. Rounding a bend in the river they were out of sight for a second. Taking advantage of it to hide.

"I'm positive the akuma's in his skates," Ladybug stated once Frozer passed them.

"My Cataclysm could destroy them but he'd have to be up in the air... You were right My Lady. We're going to have to set a trap."

"You were right, too. We observed and now we know enough."

Chat Noir smiled. "Seems we're just missing a little push of luck to get the edge on him."

Ladybug nodded. "Lucky Charm!"

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

Adrien raced back to the ice rink. In the end the plan had been pretty straightforward. Ladybug baited Frozer into following her while Chat Noir laid in wait.

Business as usual. Except...

'Are you sure you're okay? You've been off since yesterday.'

'...I'm just figuring some things out. Might take me a while but that's okay... Thanks for worrying about me.'

Being around Ladybug didn't make him feel quite so sad anymore. Chat Noir meant it when he said her friendship was important to him, after all. And... Adrien was happy. That he could be normal around her.

He spotted Alya and Nino discussing something, waving at them as he looked for... There. Kagami was returning her skates. Adrien walked up to her, fidgeting with his ring. "Uh, hey, Kagami. Sorry I ran off like that."

"It is fine. We were interrupted anyway."

Adrien couldn't tell how she meant that but he took a deep breath and forged ahead. "So, I know I'm the one who asked you out and all. But..."

Kagami frowned. "Are you saying you do not wish to date me?"

"No!" Adrien waved both hands emphatically in the negative. "No, no, no! I just... wanted to say that I think we should take it slow."

She raised an eyebrow. "We go any slower and our pace will be glacial."

Adrien was 90 percent sure that was a joke... 80 percent. "W-well if you think it's too much of a challenge..."

Kagami's eyes widened at Adrien's audacity. She poked him in the chest. "Don't flatter yourself, Agreste."

Without thinking, Adrien grabbed her hand and kissed the back of her palm. Kagami's answering blush nowhere near as radiant as Adrien's. Why did I do that!? Who froze for a moment before turning around. "W-wouldn't dream of it... Ryuko."

"Ryuko?" Kagami raised a brow at the nickname.

Adrien's hand went back to rubbing his neck. "I can call you something else if you don't like it."

"No," Kagami decided, a small smile on her lips as she passed Adrien on her way to the exit. "Ryuko will do just fine."

"... So, that's a yes?" Adrien sprinted to catch up.

"Mm, perhaps if you define what you think 'taking it slow' is."

Adrien leapt in front of her and held out his hand. "Let us drive you home?"

Kagami blinked at the offered hand. Slowly reaching out for it. His palm was warm in hers. "Going slow is not too bad. I suppose," she relented.

Adrien beamed. "Oh! Just one last thing!"

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

Kagami entered the Agreste car as Adrien held the door open, sliding in behind her. "You're still doing what other people want."

"No, I just want him to be happy," Adrien countered. Giving the skating instructor free advertising didn't cost him anything. "Besides, how're we supposed to come back if it's a Chloe catered gym?"

"Back?" That sounded promising.

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck and couldn't quite look at her but he smiled. "Since our first date was cut short I was hoping we could try again."

Kagami gazed at Adrien as he fidgeted. "Just the two of us?"

"Y-yup!" Adrien's face burned.

"Good. You're crush on Nino was distracting."

"Wh-what!?" Adrien spluttered.

"... You're crush on Nino? I thought everyone knew. Personally, I prefer Alya but-"

"I don't- That is- I..." Adrien's shoulders slumped. "His eyes are so beautiful, it's like he stares into your soul."

Kagami's hands hovered awkwardly. "I am sorry. I thought you knew."

Adrien buried his face in his hands to muffle his yelling. "I thought I only had the one thing! This is... I don't even know how many things this is!"

Reaching for his hand again, Kagami squeezed it reassuringly. Back straightening as his grip turned out stronger than she expected.

He peeked at her through the splayed fingers covering his red face. Breath speeding up. "I... I don't..."

"You don't have to say anything. I know it is not easy to come to terms with."

Nodding gratefully, Adrien slowly took his hand away from his face. Taking deep breaths.

Kagami relaxed as Adrien did the same. This wasn't what she was expecting. But that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Turns out, Kagami had been aiming at the wrong target too.

Adrien's grip eased as he looked up at Kagami. That was... certainly a lot. But Kagami hadn't turned away from him. Only a handful of people had ever seen him so vulnerable. And two of them preferred to pretend otherwise. But Kagami didn't pretend. And Adrien admired her for it. He smiled, wobbly and honest.

"Thanks... Ryuko."

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

In case it's unclear the two people Adrien's talking about are Gabriel and Nathalie.

*Rewatches Frozer (again) for this fic* ... If my friend fell and they said they didn't feel well I'd check up on them too. IDK why the the fandom- I mean, Plagg, is so hung up on that part.

I have taken liberties with the production of Camembert for this fic. Please, forgive my transgressions cheese enthusiasts.

@adrienaugust

[eryiss]

Summary: Forced to be sociable by his so called friends, Laxus finds himself attending a five week cooking class. An insulting and stupid idea, and one he resents them for doing. He would have thrown it in their faces, if it weren’t for the smug prick teaching the class, with his handsome face, delectable body, and annoyingly enticing way of keeping Laxus on his toes. [Fraxus One Shot]

Notes: Hi. I wrote this on my phone while sitting on the beach, so who knows how it’ll turn out. But it’s got them both being cocky, both being flirty, and both being in love, so what else could you want. Hope you all enjoy it.

Links: FFN, Ao3

Set To Boil

Or: 4 Times Freed taught Laxus a recipe, & 1 time Laxus returned the favour

Week One - Pizza

"Laxus, you need to get out more."

"Laxus, there's no reason for you not to give it a try."

"Laxus, you're an antisocial brat and you need to get out more."

Fuck them all. Fuck Evergreen for her haughty sense of self belief. Fuck Bickslow for having no tact and being and coming up with good points. Fuck Makarov in particular, for being a rude old coot who threatened to change the damn lock. And when Laxus found out which of the interfering bastards had been the one to come up with this stupid idea, then fuck them too.

It was ridiculous. Yes, perhaps Laxus had become somewhat insular as of late. Maybe his friends had been putting in more effort than him as of late, but it was important. He was newly hired in his sports journalism career, and he needed to focus on his writing.

What he did not need was a five week cooking course!

Why the hell did cooking courses even exist anymore? If you wanted to learn to cook, there was this brilliant new invention called a computer. They had hundreds of step by step recipes, none of which required Laxus to trudge through a damn rec-centre at eight at night!

Seriously, fuck them all.

He was late, too. The bus had missed his stop, and as such he was now ten damn minutes late. He was half-tempted to leave the rec-centre before he found his classroom - Ever, Bicks and Makarov wouldn't find out if he didn't use the damn voucher, after all - but then he would have to spend the next five weeks thinking of ways to pass the time every Thursday night. He really needed to move out of Makarov's damn apartment; the old bastard apparently had nothing better to do than to keep tabs on him. Bastard.

He was in front of the classroom door before he knew it, and he faulted. Dammit, why had he agreed to do this? Why couldn't the bus have gotten him there on time? Why was he nervous about this?

No; he was a grown man dammit. Fuck his nerves,

With false confidence, he walked into the classroom. Eight benches, all with sinks, ovens, cooktops, an array of cutlery and equipment, and a basket of ingredients filled the space. Five people stood behind some of the benches, and Laxus somewhat guilty slinked towards the nearest bench, at the back of the classroom.

"Mr Dreyar, I presume," A voice, deliciously smooth with underlying authority, made Laxus pause.

He looked up to see a man standing at the front of the room, behind a larger and more professional looking cooking worktop, and Laxus paused. If you were to encapsulate all of Laxus' ideal qualities in a man, his new teacher was apparently as close a person could come. Tall, obviously with some muscle, tight and sharp facial features, a little pale, and with long hair. He wore a button up shirt that hugged his form, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off a near-indecent amount of his forearms. He was quirking his eyebrow towards Laxus, and he felt ensnared by the expression.

Dammit, of course. Almost every other cooking class in the country would inevitable be taught by a homely housewife or a tedious Ramsay wannabe, but not his. He gets a stud with veiny forearms, high cheekbones, and narrowed eyes that made Laxus shiver.

He couldn't justify it, but Laxus was inclined to blame his grandfather for that.

"There's a bench up here, if you'd like to take it," The teacher said, motioning towards one of the cooking stations at the front of the room. Laxus cringed; even in school, he'd been one of the kids who sat at the back. That wasn't a habit he was ready to lose.

"I'd rather stay here, if it's all the same to you," Laxus mumbled, annoyed at himself for not speaking clearly. There was something about teachers that just… what did you call someone who intimidated you but also kind of excited you at the same time?

God, this was going to be awful.

"And I prefer it if my students arrived to my lessons on time," The teacher smirked a little, and Laxus almost stuttered in search of a reply. "And, as tends to happen with a student who shows up late on the first day, you'll likely act out further. As such, I want you close by so I can keep you on the straight and narrow," He tapped his finger on the surface twice. "This counter, please."

Though only a few steps, the walk to the counter at the front of the room was humiliating, it served to make the asshole teacher appear less hot, if nothing else. Because Laxus definitely did not like a man who knew how to be firm with him.

This was going to be hell, wasn't it?

At his assigned counter, Laxus felt a little lost. Nestled in the ingredients was a recipie - they were making pizza, apparently - and Laxus slightly found himself floundering. The cooking lessons weren't just to make him more sociable; he had no idea how to cook.

The teacher, who was looking at him from behind his work surface, sighed and approached Laxus. In his hand, he held a chopping board with what appeared to be a large mound of dough. He placed it before Laxus, who drowned down at it.

"Normally I would have taught you how to make dough yourself, but my plan's require the full hour," The teacher said, as if that was an explanation. "Rather than you lagging behind and not getting the whole experience, you should start from the same point everyone else is at. So put yourself to work and start to kneed this. It'll require a few more minutes to get to the right consistency."

Laxus looked down at the dough, grinding his teeth. Kneeding was rubbing it, right? And occasionally you punch it? That didn't sound right.

"Like this," The teacher said, pulling the chopping board towards him. He started to kneed the dough - it wasn't what Laxus thought it was - and the attraction came back with a sudden force. God dammit, why did his sleeves have to hug his biceps like that? That just wasn't fair.

The dough was pushed towards him again, and Laxus rolled up his sleeves and started to emulate what the teacher had done. The teacher didn't leave, and Laxus squirmed a little under, and found himself speaking to fill the silence.

"I ain't gonna learn, y'know," His mouth said before his brain could intercept. "Don't give a shit about cooking."

That a'boy Laxus. Turn up late, fail at a basic thing, and insult the guy's career. Real classy.

"You will." The teacher said, as if it were undeniable.

"I will?" Laxus scoffed.

"You will," The teacher repeated, smirking, "Once you realise what a good home cooked meal taste like, you'll be desperate to learn what else you can do."

"You seem awfully confident about that…" He drifted off; he didn't even know the damn guys name,

"Freed," The teacher supplied. "And I am confident. You'll love cooking by the end of it. I'm sure."

"You talk a big game," Laxus chuckled a little. He almost forgot he was kneeding the dough, but Freed looked down at his hands and grinned a little, which got Laxus to pause. Just because he was kneeding dough it didn't mean he cared; it was basically a workout. That was all, and Freed needed to know that. "If you're that sure, then I'm gonna insist you eat everything I make, no matter how shitty it turns out to be."

"So long as you don't sabotage yourself on purpose, I can agree to that."

Well, Laxus had slightly wanted to make Freed eat combinations of food that tasted like crap, but this could work. Laxus really was that bad of a cook, Freed might not be able to know the difference.

"Deal," Laxus nodded, offering Freed a hand to shake. The chef did so immediately, with a firm squeeze and… oh damn, those veins!

——

Week Two - Curry

Laxus had been right. Even putting in the effort and following the recipie as best he could, he was still a shitty cook. Unless, of course, a curry was meant to be accompanied by a waft of dark, burning smoke when you opened up the oven. Laxus coughed a little as he removed the dish from the oven, placing it on the counter top while shutting the oven door with his foot,

Freed was storming over immediately, flapping at the smoke with a dish towel and immediately turnoff the extractor fan on to suck up the smoke before it reached the detector. He had previously been working with a pink haired bastard, who was snickering at Laxus' failure. Asshole.

"What on earth did you do to it?" Freed demanded, more confused than angry.

"I followed her recipe," Laxus retorted indignantly. "Can't blame me."

"Everyone else has the same recipe and they've managed fine," Freed muttered under his breath. "Explain to me what happened."

Laxus bit down the instinct to tell Freed to choke on something, patronising ass that he was. He had made a deal with Freed the week prior that he would do what he could to make the most of the lessons, and he would enjoy knowing how to make a few meals, so admitting his mistakes was something that he would have to do. Even if it was to a smug, ego-centred teacher who Laxus could definitely take in a fight without breaking a sweat,

Maybe he should suggest some boxing lessons. Laxus had given up pro fighting the year before, but kept it up for fun. If Freed was acting like Laxus was stupid for not knowing the basics of cooking, Laxus would act like Freed was stupid when he didn't understand how to box.

Fantasising about punching Freed in the stomach - which was no doubt toned and sexy as hell - made talking through the process easier. Freed wore a slight frown, apparently not seeing anything wrong with what he had done. Laxus was about to boast that he was right, and that it was Freed's instructions that had gotten the burned pile of mush that filled the room with smoke, but Freed's expression turned to one of understanding when he looked at the oven,

"These work on Celsius, you set it as though you were using Fahrenheit," Freed explained. "You essentially nuked it."

Fuck. God-fucking-dammit!

He could have dealt with it if he was unable to do some cooking thing he'd never had to use before. But this? Misreading a piece of paper and setting the wrong temperature on the damn oven, how the hell had he managed to do that? It was humiliating! He was a grown ass adult, a retired sportsman who was forging a career to be respected. But an oven had made him look like an idiot who couldn't do anything for himself. Fucking brilliant.

With clenched fists, he rested against the workbench and leant on it with closed eyes. This was why he didn't do shit like this; he needed to keep in his lane and do what he was good at. Not cook, not have this weird hate-boner for his teacher. None of this.

"How soon after the class do you need to leave?" Freed asked, cutting through Laxus' spiralling thoughts. He frowned, but answered.

"Don't have any plans after."

"If we start again, we can have you finished ten minutes after class. That way it won't be an act of futility," Freed said, and rolled his damn sleeves up again. Thankfully he was moving around the counter, turning the oven down and fiddling with appliances fast enough to stop Laxus' eyes from lingering. "I can teach you how to spice things to your own tastes, as well. Normally that's next week, but I can advance you for your troubles."

"Advance me?" Laxus frowned. "Kinda need to be good at the basics first."

"You are, everything you said was correct. You made a small mistake that I should have noticed," Freed shrugged, walking to the counter he taught from and taking a box of ingredients to place on Laxus' desk. "I thought you'd learn better left to your own devices, and while I expect that was true, I shouldn't have left you alone. That was my mistake and as such, I'll amend it. We'll make a curry suited towards your tastes."

This was an olive branch, Laxus was sure of it. Freed had apparently noticed Laxus' shift of mood, and took the blame for Laxus' mistake. He was thankful of it, but it was still embarrassing.

Thankfully, a way of saving face had presented itself.

"I don't know if I can believe ya," He said with a small, somewhat forced smirk. "I mean, you don't have a record for keeping promises, do ya?"

"Don't I?"

"You told me you'd eat some of everything I made," Laxus shrugged, looking towards his pot of 'curry' that lay stagnant in the pot. It was grey, somehow. Food shouldn't be grey. "That was a lie."

Freed sighed, but didn't back down. He pulled a dessert spoon from one of the drawers, carefully scooped up some of the ruined mush and brought it towards his lips; damn they were pretty. He openly winced at the smell, swallowing preemptively as it got closer to his mouth. He glanced towards Laxus for a split second, who was watching him with crossed arms expectantly, and let out a resigned sigh. He opened his mouth, took in the spoon, then ate.

First he gagged, then he coughed, then he struggled to swallow. Even though Laxus had worked hard, and a small part of him thought Freed was exaggerating, he laughed at the reaction. Freed was fighting to keep the burned, disgusting food down. Once completely swallowed, he turned to Laxus with a wince.

"Delicious," He lied, trying to hide how thoroughly unhappy he was.

"If that's the case, there's plenty more," Laxus smirked, and Freed actually winced. That, of course, spurred Laxus on further. This was more fun than cooking. "Eat up, I don't mind."

Freed seemed to think for a moment, before standing up straight, rolling his back, and doing something Laxus never would have expected. He pulled out a plate and a ladle, scooped a portion large enough to fill two fully grown adults would struggle to finish no matter what the taste, and placed it on the countertop as if it was something to be proud of.

"A deal," Freed proposed. "I want to teach you one on one for the rest of the session. No distractions, no changing the subject, simply me telling you how to cook. Essentially, until you've cooked something successfully, I want your full attention."

Laxus nearly scoffed, Freed already had that. Instead, he said: "What's my 'delicious' curry got to do with that."

"If you make an attempt to distract me, to get out of lessons in some way, or continue with the mindset that this course is not suited to you, then for the rest of your time learning under me, you'll stay after class and clean everyone's dishes until I'm satisfied with the result."

Laxus winced a little. "And if I don't do any of that."

"I'll eat all of this," He motioned to the plate of ruined food. "And you may watch me do it."

Thinking for a moment, Laxus grinned. "Your funeral," He then glances at the food and winced. "Possibly literally."

Freed waved off the comment, stood beside Laxus with his new range of ingredients, and began explaining the basics of how to get a flavour you desired from your ingredients. On instinct Laxus wanted to taunt the man, suggesting the best way to get a flavour was with a take-out menu, but he managed to stop himself before the words slipped out. Mainly it was to avoid four weeks of dish washing, but also because he hasn't seen Freed like this. He was passionate when he spoke about cooking, and Laxus didn't want to ruin that.

And when Freed's arm slid against Laxus' as they moved, somehow at the same moment Freed looked at him with a genuine smile, Laxus felt shivers roll over him. This was… there were worse ways to spend a Thursday evening.

——

Week Three - Chicken Soup

"Y'know, if you're gonna make such a big deal about-" Laxus cut himself off. Holy shit.

He had been ready to blast into Freed about puntuality. Laxus had gotten to the class on time, only to see that Freed was not there. Eight minutes into the lesson, the door had opened, and Laxus was fully intending to lambast Freed about how much of a big deal it was when Laxus was late, and yet Freed was just as bad. He only stopped when he saw the state Freed was in. Because dammit, the man was drenched to the bone.

What the hell had happened to him? Sure it was raining, but Laxus knew he had a car, and surely the walk from the parking lot to the building hadn't been that bad. He looked like he'd gotten into a fight with a lake and lost.

"Everyone to your work stations please," Freed instructed, removing his coat as he walked to the front of the class. "I apologise for being late, but it shouldn't be too much of an imposition if we all focus."

Laxus was focusing. Focusing on the fact Freed's white shirt was clinging to his chest, showing off strong pecs and the taunting glimpse of a six-pack. It was a temp tight sight, and far too indecent for a classroom setting.

He shook his thoughts away. He needed to focus, because last week's lesson had proved a lot of things. One: Freed was willing to eat a whole plate full of disgusting food to prove a point, which wasn't relevant but Laxus still thought funny to think about him gagging and going green. Two: Freed was actually a damn good teacher, he just apparently hadn't know what Laxus needed from him until the latter half of the class. Three: Laxus actually could cook, if taught well. Because the second curry he'd made was indescribable, and it had tasted just as good when Laxus had cooked it two nights prior.

So, the lessons were actually working, and Laxus decided he was going to fully allow himself to be a student. Groping the teacher with his eyes wasn't going to help that, so Laxus remained quiet and let Freed explain the lesson.

To learn how to flavour things correct, they would all be making a series of different soups throughout the hour. Five basic recipes has been placed on their workspaces, and an entire array of spices, ingredients and flavourings had been scattered through the room. The point of the exercise was to follow the recipes, but also put other ingredients into their soups while doing it so that they can experiment with flavours. It was pretty smart, and Laxus felt like he had an advantage given Freed's impromptu lesson with spices the week before.

Once Freed stopped talking, they began cooking, and Laxus felt oddly confident in himself.

About ten minutes into the exercise, Freed made his way to Laxus' workstation. Wordlessly, he picked up a plastic ladle and scooped out a small amount of the soup Laxus had cooking. Laxus watched with only a small amount of anticipation as Freed brought the soup to his lips and swallowed it, and didn't focus on the flipping of his stomach as Freed smiled at him.

"It's very good," he praised, and Laxus did not preen at the words.

"Thanks," He muttered instead. "Any advice?"

Freed smiled a little at the request, placing the ladle in the small sink. "I'd use sea salt from now on, it'll bring out the flavour of the chicken more. But your instincts have served you well, it works very well together."

"Oh, thanks," Laxus mumbled awkwardly, and Freed didn't help by leaning over the table to look at Laxus' recipe, bring their faces far too close. Thank god the heat of the room has fixed the slight transparency of Freed's shirt, because knowing about the body below the clothes was tempting enough with him this close. If he could see the man's body, he might explode.

"You've put everything you've added onto this, haven't you?" Freed asked, tapping the recipe that had Laxus notes covering it. Laxus nodded weakly. "Then, if you can recreate it as it is now,I then it's time to experiment. Pick something at random to add and see what it tastes like. If it's bad, remake what you've already done."

"Anything huh?" Laxus quirked a brow. "You know you have to eat it, right? You wanna give me this much freedom after last week?"

"So long as you choose your ingredients thinking it will taste good, I'll uphold my agreement," Freed shrugged. "Though I must admit, I'd prefer not to spend the night with stomach cramps and a bucket beside my bed again, if avoidable."

Laxus barked out a laugh. "Kinda thought I'd killed ya when you didn't show up on time. What happened?"

"My car's broken down," Freed explained, looking over the herbs Laxus had added. "It took longer to get here than I expected."

"You walked in this?" Laxus glanced towards the heavy rainfall beating down on the windows.

"Indeed," Freed nodded. "Not my smartest decision."

Laxus winced a little at a roll of thunder exploded outside, apparently trying to make sure Freed knew just how stupid his decision had been. Freed didn't seem too bothered by it, though, and instead walked towards the old woman who worked behind Laxus, tasting her version of tomato soup and giving her advice on how to give it an extra kick.

The rest of the lesson continued on like that. Freed would work his way around the room, helping where he could. Laxus experimented on his soup, finding parmasean to be the missing ingredient.

Freed actually licked his damn lips after trying that. Did he know what he was doing to Laxus?

Once the lesson was over, the storm still lighting up the sky, Laxus walked to the door of the rec-centre. Freed was lingering there, wrapped up in a large red coat and clearly not looking forward to his walk home. Laxus understood that; the rain was so hard it probably would hurt to be under it.

"I'll drive ya home," Laxus said, his tone not leaving room to argue.

"What?" Freed asked. "No, that's not-"

"Didn't give you a choice, did I?" Laxus crossed his arms.

"You intend to kidnap me?" Freed joked.

"Yeah," Laxus nodded. "If you walk out in that, you're gonna get sick for no reason other than your own stubbornness. If that happens, the. Eat I can do for you is give you the recipe for this," he patted the container of chicken soup he held, "but I kinda think driving you might make more sense."

Freed considerd before speaking. "I insist on paying for gas, at least."

"Course you will, I ain't a cheap date."

The words came before Laxus could stop himself, and a flush of worry spread through him. Freed simply laughed, murmured a teasing "I expect not," and walked towards the door. He held it open for Laxus to walk through, and with a small grin, Laxus did so, with Freed by his side.

When the rain hit them, Laxus didn't care, and it certainly didn't diminish the silly smile that he hoped Freed couldn't see.

——

Week Four - Meringues

"What are you looking at, Laxus?"

Freed seemed amused as he spoke, and he walked towards Laxus' working area. Laxus had been trying to catch his teacher's eye for around a minute, with probably a stupid little grin on his face. He couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed about being caught out.

The drive home with Freed has been a long one - thirty minutes in the car; how long would it have been if he'd walked! - and they'd talked throughout. Laxus had learned that, until recently, Freed had been a professional chef for the TV show 'Sabertooth Chefs', a cooking competition watched by millions. He was off camera, making the meals that the celebrity judges claimed they had cooked to use as an example for their contestants. Apparently he quit because of a lack of passion.

That, and apparently Rufus Lore - the judge he cooked for - was obnoxious and could barely bake a loaf of bread if left on his own.

Laxus spoke about his own life. How he'd felt obligated to quit his pro-boxing career after a nasty head wound that resulted in his scar. How he was now a freelance writer who did sports analysis for some of the sports magazines and websites. Freed had seemed impressed, and claimed he'd watch out for his work.

They were closer now, and as such Laxus felt comfortable joking with him.

"I've got a question," he said when Freed was close. "You said you'd taste everything I cook, right? Well, for food, tasting something means you're experiencing it, right?"

"I suppose," Freed agreed, though seemed to know he was walking into a trap.

"Well, with meringues, you showed us that trick, right," Laxus smirked. "Where if you've made it correctly, you can turn the bowl over and the mixture won't fall out."

"Yes," Freed was wary now.

"Well, you also said for the best experience," he put emphasis on the word, "then you tip it up over your head. If you've done it right, it stays in the bowl. If you ain't, it covers ya."

"I did say that," Freed muttered.

"Well, if you're gonna experience everything I make, surely you should do it." He smirked; and pushed the bowel of mixture towards him.

Freed looked down, resignedly.

Then he perked up and reached into his pocket, pulling out a coin. He flipped it with flair and caught it, covering it before either of them could see the result.

"Heads or tails?" He requested, and Laxus chuckled.

"Heads."

Freed removed his hand, and Laxus let out a cry of triumph. He nudged the bowel towards Freed, grinning wide and ridiculous as Freed openly sighed. Laxus crossed his arms to hurry the man up, and it seemed to work.

With quick, resigned movements, Freed lifted the bowel. The thick white mixture jiggled slightly, and Freed turned it upside down above his head before he could stop himself.

And… it stayed in place.

For a moment, Freed seemed to be wincing in anticipation, before a look of triumph flooded onto his face. He turned the bowel back over and placed it on the counter.

"Kinda anticlimactic," Laxus said, picking up a spoon.

"But it means you did it correctly," Freed smiled. "You can take solace in that."

"Guess so," Laxus nodded. "Or I could do this."

With neither showmanship nor hesitation, Laxus used the spoon so scoop a dollop of the mixture up and flicked it towards Freed's face. For a moment, all Freed could do was blink, and Laxus burst into stifled laughter.

It had splattered over his lips, nose, and left cheek. Equal parts ridiculous and oddly attractive.

"Mister Dreyar," Freed spoke calmly, but he was trying to hide a smile. "I will be seeing you after class."

He turned away. Laxus snickered.

Although it was tempting to be a dick for the rest of the lesson, Laxus behaved himself. This was the only lesson that they did on desserts, and Laxus wanted to learn. That, and he felt Freed wasn't going to take his little prank lying down, so he probably shouldn't piss him off further.

When everyone else was gone, and Laxus was left alone with Freed, there was a moment of quiet. He motioned for Laxus to approach the desk. Laxus did so.

He was hit in the face by a spurt of ketchup.

It continued, splattering across his face. He gasped, and Freed apparently aimed for his mouth at the moment. It was a stupid moment, not helped by the noise the bottle was making, and eventually the spray died out.

Neither man spoke for a moment.

They both started laughing at the same time, and Freed handed Laxus a napkin to clean himself with.

"You're an asshole, you know that right?" Laxus said with mirth in his voice. "You still got the balls to want a ride from me again?"

"Is the offer still available?" Freed chuckled.

"Sure, just as long as you don't mind me getting some glue and those decorative feather things from a store on the way back," Laxus smirked. "There's a smug asshole who needs to be tarred and fathered."

"Perhaps I'll get the bus," Freed grinned, then frowned a little. Perhaps without thinking, he reached up and stroked Laxus' cheek to rid it of a remaking fleck of sauce.

They both halted, frozen for a moment, and Laxus' mind was set alight. In that moment he knew one thing for sure; he couldn't let Freed go.

——

Week Five - Solyanka

"That will be all for our time together," Freed said, standing at the front of the class. "I hope you all enjoyed your time together, and that you've all learned something. At the risk of promoting myself, I have other courses available that last longer and offer more flexibility with what you'll cook, if you want to further your culinary pursuits. If not, then it was a pleasure working with you all, and I wish you well in your endeavours."

It was weird seeing Freed using his teaching voice; the things he said weren't Freed-like. It was kind of funny.

Laxus hung back when the rest of the class funnelled out. Some of them spoke to Freed before leaving, orbits just left, but Laxus decided to hang back and wait. As he did, he pulled out a small plastic tub from a bag he'd brought with him, waiting for Freed to take note. Once everyone was gone, Freed saw him still standing at the end of his cooking surface.

"Laxus," He said, and he seemed pleased Laxus was still there. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, just wasn't ready to leave yet," Laxus passed it off as a joke, but the stopped himself. "I, Erm, well, there's this recipe my family's been making for years. Generations, actually. Just wanted to know what you think."

"You want me to critique a family recipe?" Freed frowned.

No. No he didn't. He wanted to share something with Freed that was important to Freed. It was ridiculous to think, but this old Russian dish was something he had loved for his life, and he wanted Freed to love it too. It seemed stupid now he was thinking about it, but they only really had food in common right now, and Laxus felt like it was his turn to add something to the conversation.

"It's called Solyanka," Laxus said instead of answering the question. "It's a soup. For sausages, olives, cabbage. A lot of things, really."

Laxus didn't say anything else, and picked out a pot from the cupboards to place on the stove. He emptied the contents of the container into the pot and stated to bear it up.

"It tastes better when it's not been reheated but-"

"It smells beautiful," Freed said, cutting through Laxus' backtracking. "And I'm sure it will taste just as good."

"Thanks," Laxus mumbled a little.

As they waited for the soup to heat, there was a comfortable quiet between them both. Freed seemed engrossed in the cooking - the growing scent, the occasional stirring - and it gave Laxus the chance to watch him. He had known Freed was hot from the moment he'd seen him, but he was also fucking beautiful. His hair was pulled out and flowing over his shoulders, and his expression was calm and relaxed.

Laxus was glad he had done this, suddenly. He would have regretted it. This couldn't be the end of his relationship with Freed; it just couldn't.

He went to speak, but Freed went first.

"I think it's time to take it off the heat," He said gently, as if wanting to avoid offending Laxus by telling him how to cook his meal. Laxus quickly removed the pot from the heat.

With now familiar movements, Laxus pulled out two bowls and poured them both a portion. Laxus sat on one of the stools, waiting a little nervously as he saw Freed spoon some of the soup up and take it into his mouth.

"Wow," Freed whispered. "It's incredible."

Pride bloomed inside Laxus, and he didn't tamper it down. This piece of Laxus had pleased Freed. It had made Freed smile such a brilliant smile that it was like a shot to the heart. He was speechless, and Freed spoke again.

"You're incredible, Laxus," he said with equal sincerity.

"What?" Laxus frowned slightly.

"You're incredible, Laxus," Freed repeated, smiling now. "You've made these five weeks remarkably fun for me, and I'm sad to see you go."

"I'm sad to be going," Laxus mumbled, unused to speaking honestly about these kinds of things. "These have been… the best part of my week."

"Mine too," Freed admitted, and the words sent lighting throughout him.

There had been a small part of Laxus that had thought it had been in his head. He felt like he and Freed had been steadily growing closer and closer, in a way that couldn't exactly be called platonic. It felt like this was the moment where a choice had to be made. Laxus could either hide from his feelings, as he had often done in his life, or he could take the dive. Just like he'd done when he had quit his job. Just like he'd done when he'd come to the class in the first place. Just like he should have been doing all his life.

Freed was going to speak, but the urge to act overtook Laxus and he moved before it could dwindle. He launched himself toward, took Freed by the back of the neck, and kissed him.

It wasn't perfect, but the imperfection made it better.

The feeling of the desk jutting into his hip might have been a bother, but it was nothing compared the the brilliance of soft lips moving against his own.

The lingering spice on Freed's tongue could have been a distraction, but it only added to the searing sensation flying through him.

The scent of Laxus' Solyanka might have drawn focus, but instead it nudged with Freed's cologne and created a beautiful feeling of mingled familiarity and uniqueness.

This was the type of kiss that was unforgettable.

Freed's hand was grazing the back of Laxus' neck, scratching at the usually untouched skin in a way Laxus was tempted to put at. He smiled a dopey smile, leaning further into the kiss.

When they pulled apart, breathless and smiling, they couldn't look away from each other.

"Don't know how this works with a chef," Laxus began in a whisper. "Don't wanna offend your sense of pride, but d'you maybe wanna get a bite to eat some place?"

For a stagnant second, that felt like an eternity to Laxus, Freed didn't say anything.

"I'd love that," Freed nodded a little, though his head still rested against Laxus'. "So long as you don't mind me critiquing everything?"

The joke was trumped by the honesty in his voice. Freed really wanted it!

"I can deal with that."

They shared a quiet, private smile. One that promised excitement, passion, and if Laxus allowed himself to be optimistic, perhaps a future as well.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 19

First time reader click here

Summary+TWs: We're talking serious feelings here, okay? Reader, you're literally emotionally illiterate. You also have PTSD, which is finally addressed - kinda. Bruce does his best. And he also knows how to kiss... But y'all know that if you read my ramblings about lucid dreaming/shifting/whatever... Chile-, anyways...

My phone kept buzzing and I ignored it until Bruce declared it was time to take a break and review the results. Whilst the man was typing up the data on a nearby StarkPad, I fought the sudden influx of messages that I received from haters and supporters alike after Tony decided on tweeting a reply that could be interpreted in an alarming variety of ways. It was a smart move, I'll admit, but a fucking bother for me nonetheless.

Disabling my DMs and dealing with a follower increase in the thousands wasn't hard; I didn't consider myself a problematic asshole and didn't need to be afraid of "exposure". The parties I went to - I doubted there was any blackmail material in there and the few nudes I'd sent over the years were always face-less. As a gen Z, I knew my internet safety.

The trolls didn't bother me either. It was more sad than annoying, people shitting on others for clout. Iron Man stans were witty, at least, if jealous. I must admit I've never considered the influx of popularity I would experience should I publicly out myself as a friend of Tony's. Girlfriend? Intern? Science child? Whatever cover story he was going to feed the press worked for me, as long as I still got the hugs, the kisses, the dick and the attention.

"Tony..." Bruce groaned, evidently done with the data processing, had to have opened his social media to see his own skyrocketing popularity.

"Yeah, our Tony is being a Tony again," I chuckled, having reset my social media settings so my phone wouldn't constantly beep, vibrate and bother me. School was going to be fun.

Bruce shook his head, fond, coming over to my side of the lab after removing his own hazmat suit. His eyes shiny with newfound knowledge and hair turned adorably fluffy in the confines of the head covering. He was smiling softly. "Food?"

"Sure."

We chewed our sandwiches in silence for a moment, each of us lost in our thoughts.

"I still can't believe Tony told everyone on Twitter you're his girlfriend, usually he keeps this stuff private or schedules a fancy press conference," Bruce's tone was thoughtful.

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that what it was? Seemed ambiguous to me..." I trailed off, confused.

"He worded it like that on purpose, I mean, you're still in high school," The scientist was confident in his words. "But I know Tony. I'm a hundred percent sure that he meant exactly that. Aren't you?"

Shock flooded me. Suddenly, I understood I completely misread the situation. "Um, no? I thought we were, y'know, just fucking. We never defined our relationship and we're definitely not exclusive." I said, chewing on my lip. "You make a valid argument, I'm a high school student and he's a grown ass man that does grown man stuff. Putting aside the fact that he could have anybody in the world so why would he choose me?" I was rambling, thinking out loud. Discussing my feelings has never my strong forte. "It would be stupid to impose monogamy on such a complex man like Tony. Downright idiotic to expect a genius to confine to social norms just because it suits others." I finished with a wave of my hand. Another bubble of thought that had festered within me for the longest time. I felt relieved, finally voicing it out loud. A weight had been lifted off my shoulders, a weight I wasn't previously consciously aware of.

Bruce was watching me intently, with an unreadable expression that held the tiniest bit of awe, admiration perhaps. The silence that followed was unnerving. I fidgeted with my hands, not really knowing where to put them or where to look.

"You know," He took off his glasses, fiddling them in his hands. "I'm not going to sugar coat it. For the longest time, I thought you were going to inadvertently hurt him when you get bored with whatever you've got going on. I respect you, don't misunderstand me, but you are young. Now, I've changed my mind. You've changed my mind," He punctuated his statement with his hand on mine, grasping it. "I think you managed to understand him in a way most people can't. Or don't want to. Understand and accept him in a way that some of us can't even after years of working and living side by side with him." Bruce's gentle fingers skimmed along the top of my palm.

"I don't always understand Tony but I do accept him," I agreed. "Because Tony is a great man."

"I think you're in love with him," Bruce said, absolutely having ignored my previous statement. Just like that, point blank, he pushed to the surface the very feelings I got so good at ignoring. There was no rest for me in this place.

My heart fluttered, picking up the pace. I kept my mouth shut, not trusting it whatsoever. My thoughts became akin to panicked hares, jumping and zigzagging aimlessly in my skull. I didn't see the point in defending myself because the scientist had pointed out the obvious.

Bruce looked at me, softly, warmly. "And don't think we haven't noticed the rise in team morale. The improvement not only in communication, but on the battlefield, too. It's easier to entrust your back to someone with whom you've shared a laugh and a drink the previous night. You're the glue that keeps us together."

Something warm and wet was on my cheeks. I stared at our clasped hands, his words echoing in my head over and over and over. The moment I realized I was crying, I willed myself to stop and failed spectacularly - only more salty fluid streamed down, some of it getting in my nose, on my lips. The sleepless nights were making me unstable.

It took a single sniffle for Bruce to pick me up and wrap up in his kind embrace. I didn't resist, tucking my face into the crook of his neck, holding onto the back of his lab coat, inhaling the smell of his skin and chemicals. It was familiar, calming. Minutes ticked by with me slowly leaking the tension out of my body.

"He loves you, too, maybe he just doesn't realize it yet." Bruce whispered into my hair. "I've never seen Tony so happy, even with Pepper. You are special and you are loved."

There was something unsaid, I felt it. It hung in the ear, it burned the tips of my ears, stood sharp on the tip of my tongue. "I love you too, Bwucie-bear," I whispered into the space between his ear and his jaw. His arms tightened around me.

The man placed several chaste kisses in my hair, running a palm over my back. In moments like these, the crush for him, the very crush that got out of control, blossomed fully into a deep sense of respect and admiration. He made me feel safe. He said all the right words at the right time.

Drowsiness overtook me. As usual, any worries and anxieties I had evaporated, once Banner had his arms around me, shielding me from the world. I didn't forbid myself this time: delicately, my hand slipped through the man's soft messy curls, eliciting a contented sigh.

"You haven't been sleeping well," He more stated than asked.

I had no choice but to nod. "Clint keeps dying in my dreams. Or even worse, he doesn't, he just suffers, endlessly, painfully." I admitted.

Bruce flinched under me, tensing. My face was in between his hands in a second, the scientist sternly looking into my eyes. "Why didn't you say anything? All of us assumed you were okay after what happened." He looked - angry. Not Hulk-out pissed but Bruce-pissed, which equalled a kicked-puppy look seasoned with a great pinch of disappointment.

"I am okay." I lied, shamelessly. "It's getting better. That's why I want to have a party - relax a little, dance, socialize. I don't think Tony would let me go on my own so I figured I can convince him to throw one here." I looked away. It was better for everyone if I dealt with my own problems - they were superheroes, not babysitters.

Bruce frowned. "Why wouldn't Tony let you go?"

"Because of that one time I snorted coke," I rolled my eyes at Bruce's naiveté, leaving the less obvious parts unsaid. Tony knew exactly what I was going to do once I got free reign, he considered it destructive and told me so himself. Admittedly, he had a point but still... I wished I'd been given a choice.

"I'll talk to him," Bruce nodded firmly. "That's not acceptable. He can't forbid you from making mistakes and learning from them."

He was met with my shrug. No excitement came from me regarding this particular turn of conversation. I was drained, limbs like jello, thoughts sluggish. My face was drooping.

"Let's get you to bed," Banner stood up with me wrapped around him. "You need a nap."

"No," I protested. If I went to sleep now, only Satan knew at what ungodly hour I would wake up.

"Yes, Princess," Bruce smirked. I wiggled uncomfortably - when he went all caretaker like, my ovaries wreaked havoc on my body and brain. My thoughts weren't appropriate if Bruce wanted me to see him as a father figure. The signals he was sending were mixed. People around me did that a lot and I wasn't sure how to act so I usually just went with the flow. I decided to do the very same thing in that particular moment.

Curiosity sparked within me, tightly interwoven with the deep longing that settled below my collarbones whenever Tony or one of the others wasn't sitting next to me or talking my ear off. I've almost forgotten how it was to be alone with my thoughts. The maze of my very own self was becoming unfamiliar territory. Alarming.

I allowed Bruce to help me shed my shoes and outer layer of clothing, shivering in the coolness of my room. Despite being a frequent visitor, I still had a 'guest' room in the tower - I mostly stayed at Tony's or Wanda's anyways. During our sleepovers neither me nor the witch minded sharing her enormous bed, to be fair, we could have fit at least two more people in it besides us. Tony took care of his own - all the tower's residents had their apartments furnished with the best stuff.

"Sleep now, Princess," Bruce chastised, tucking a blanket around me, having noticed an earbud in my ear and my smartphone in my hand. I had hoped to kill some time online, damn well knowing sleep wouldn't come easy.

"I don't think I can fall asleep, Bruce," I admitted, looking away. There was just so much going on. My brain wouldn't shut up and if I couldn't drown out the cacophony by being productive, I'd troll the internet, as usual.

Banner sighed, coming to sit next to me, leaning against the headboard. Gently running his fingers through my hair, brushing the outside of his palm against my cheek. "How do you usually deal with this?"

Involuntarily, my eyelashes fluttered. "Tony does most of the work," I admitted coyly. The engineer had a whole arsenal of tricks up his sleeve - sexy and exhausting tricks.

"I see," Bruce muttered, thoughtfully.

I opened my eyes to see him looking down at me with a look I haven't seen before. The usual mildly absent, slightly anxious face he wore was replaced by something I could only describe as hurt envy, like a kid looking at their schoolmate who had all the newest, coolest toys. I used to be on the receiving end of that look far too often and I hated it.

I hid my face against his leg, rubbing my cheek on the raspy corduroy fabric of his pants. "Got any good ideas of your own?" I wondered lowly, thinking about what in the world possessed Bruce to wear corduroy trousers on a semi-casual day, in the twenty-first century.

"Only bad ideas," He replied in a matching low tone. His soft fingertips relocated to my nape, goosebumps rising down my back.

"Humour me," I grinned against his leg.

Bruce was quiet for a moment, the sound of his thinking screaming louder than any words could have done. Knowing the scientist so closely, I found out he was full of surprises - bolder than he appeared outwardly and competitive to a boot. He thought he had a lot to prove to himself and by extension, to others. The unknown, the mystery dangling in front of my nose was exhilarating, trepidation addictive. It took me away from the chaos in my mind.

A gentle grasp on my chin had me turning to look upwards, Bruce's face flushed and focused on my own, open and trusting. He needed to see the obvious, that I trusted him to take care of me. He pulled and I followed, sitting up on my elbows, coming up to his shoulder level, our faces inches apart, enveloped in the unique, intense scent of his herbal tea. It was a tart, strong smell and it suited his quiet but passionate character.

Once, twice, I caught my eyes sliding to his plump lips. They looked far too appealing in this position. I usually strategically stayed away from positions so compromising, fearing the very thing that I'd already let happen, however this time the atmosphere was different. We stood on ambiguous grounds, waiting for Bruce to make a decision.

The man wasn't stupid, he saw the way I looked at him. The nightmares and inability to take a break from life put a significant dent in my resolve to keep a distance between us, romantically - I could have settled even for a pity kiss, a pity fuck. Anything to put my brain on pause.

His lips were softer than I had imagined. Skilled, too, he easily steered the kiss into the shallow waters of our combined longing.

With Tony, it was like an avalanche. Tony ran hot like Peterbilt engines, hard and fast, almost angry in his race for satisfaction. Tony was a man that was used to getting whatever he wanted and it became plainly obvious when we fucked.

Bruce was the opposite. He savoured the kiss, losing himself in a way that could almost be described as delicate. Bruce was humming, softly, as we tasted each other, holding the left side of my face with careful fingertips. Almost as if he was afraid to break me. The feel of his skin on mine was soothing in a way that made me sigh and relax even further.

"Wanna make you feel good." His voice had dropped, gone husky, but his breathing held even. He must know all about self-control.

"Yeah," I was ready to agree with whatever the fuck he was offering. My eyelids remained shut.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie

PS. Letsby, please don't combust. The underwear is coming off in the next chapter. 😶

[yeet-me-into-oblivion-please]

Well, Supernatural is actually ending and I don't know what I'll do

[ Brevity is not a strong suit of mine since I've included personal details but there's stuff I feel everyone in the SPN family needs to read]

You might be expecting another post about how Supernatural saved someone's life and how devastated they will be when it ends because they've watched it for so long as well as how the actors have impacted their lives. This is probably one of those but please hear me out.

Supernatural premiered in 2005 and I was in preparatory class (aged 5 years and was before I began 1st grade). I heard of it because my aunt would watch it time to time so I'd also tried to get some peeks myself but I wasn't allowed to because it was "too scary".

Then our local cable began to show seasons 1-5 and that was when everyone in class started watching and quoting it. This was in 6th grade and I was frustrated because I knew about it before most of them yet they acted like it was a new show. I had a fair idea about the story but once I began watching it, I fell in love with it and loved it like a part of my soul.

Yes, Jensen Ackles was my first crush but I still thought (and do think) that both he and Jared are super hot. So I was sucked into this vortex, this Neverland which I never thought I would end.

I joined Tumblr for this show in 2013 because I saw the jokes about there being a Supernatural gif everywhere and wanted to be a part of the fandom/community. This was also the year I actually became interested what other fans felt though I never used this site properly until 2016 I would read the IMDb discussion boards because I hated scurrying through Destiel-infested posts.

(Fun fact:I wasn't using any social media of my own but on my mother's Facebook I liked a Supernatural fan page asking people's opinions on Destiel. This is was around the time season 8 was just finishing or had already finished so I read the comments--- people talked about Dean and Castiel being gay and didn't approve of it as there was this one girl who was conservative and didn't believe in homosexuality while others went on how Dean was always a ladies man which I agreed with. Not that I commented but I thought there was something I missed and I thought Castiel used Dean as a vessel, thus Destiel.)

But I digress. I was in deep by the time season 9 premiered and majority of the people I knew stopped watching the show except for this girl who bullied me throughout preschool who put up this update that Dean had become a demon. I doubt she watches the show now but it was hard seeing her put pictures of "I heart Dean Winchester" and pictures of Jensen when my mom asked me why I don't do the same.

Supernatural, I feel, has become that embarrassing thing you are into in middle school but suddenly drop when you're older, looking back and thinking, "Yeesh, I can't believe I used to watch this show."

I'll be a grown woman at 30 or 40 and probably eventually in my 70s and 80s but I will still look back fondly, the good, the bad and the ugly because I have like many teenagers have undergone many changes (friends, family, emotions, hobbies etc) but Supernatural has always been this constant in my life.

Because let me tell you, I'm seeing these posts saying stuff like how people are glad that it's finally over with its "bullshit" and that's it's dying. That is extremely disrespectful and insensitive to those people who literally live for it, who have invested time and money into it: gif makers, artists, meta writers (I may not agree with you guys but even you count). They don't know what to do once the show ends because it has helped them in ways others will never ever be able to fathom.

I saw the video put up by the guys. I saw and I could tell that Jared, Jensen and Misha had probably cried their guts out before the announcement because their eyes were red and puffy. Jared was controlling himself by talking less as Jensen was clearly on the verge as well but yes they said that they should save the angst for next year.

I love the guys; I love Jared being a goofball and Jensen being equally goofy as well and I'll say this too, I used to enjoy some of Misha's crass jokes (not the highlight ) as well which was why I looked forward to the gag reel every summer (because of J2) because it was cathartic after a traumatic season finale. I love the witty banter and the pranks the cast would do and I will miss it tremendously.

I have some issues with my aunt but everything would be okay when we would fawn over the guys and bingewatch the entire season the summer after it finished airing. We'd quote quotes back and forth and even spiritually killed ourselves watching short clips of "Sammy, close your eyes", "I'm proud of us" etc. Hell, she even promised me that when we go visit my uncle in the States we'd attend a con together.

If, and whenever we do go, it'll be different because the show won't be on air anymore and I know for a fact that I won't feel the anticipation of an episode.

So don't say disrespectful and callous things like "fucking finally". You can dislike the cast/plotline/show but don't ridicule and mock those who invested in the show,some of you are most probably speculating and have barely seen it.

I'm not some dumb, blind fan. I can see some stupid mistakes and don't always eat up what the writers show. For example, everyone must have figured that I dislike Destiel because it's based on groundless assumptions. I thought the Bloodlines was a crap idea that had nothing to do with the main plot and knew it was destined to fail.

As for Wayward Daughters/Sisters or whatever the fuck it was supposed to be called, I was not looking forward to it at all because it was one of those "forced diversity" shows, y'know gender bent stuff.

I felt that they were bastardising everything that Supernatural has and will (always) stand for because some people had a hair up their backsides. Yeah, I loathed Claire and that Kaia mourning thing was bullshit. Thank goodness I was sick that day and couldn't keep my eyes open for that episode.

If we were told that there would be a Men of Letters(with Henry Winchester) or even a Bobby-Rufus spinoff I would be okay with that but for now since the show will finish next year let's the wounds heal first, shall we?

I hope that Jared and Jensen get some offers once the show is done and I will pay good money to see movies, TV shows of them etc but for now I will keep quiet since I hope we get an ending we (and the boys) deserve.

Yes, the writer situation scares me and I think they should call Eric Kripke for a last hurrah. I mean, it is his baby and he should get to have a say in the series finale as well as J2.

Will one of the brothers die and the other will live (I'm worried we'll get a reverse Swan Song)? Will they both die leaving Cas behind and Jack as some sort legacy who trains future hunters? That would be a possibility since the sheriff in 14.16 asked the Winchesters why they don't tell people about monsters. What happens to Baby?

I seriously doubt the ending will be happy(maybe not 100%) but the best thing would be if they go driving with Baby into the sunset...

Dean at the steering wheel with Sam riding shotgun, where they should be ---- where they will always be, home. Dean plays his "mullet rock" as Sam would playfully mock his brother's musical choices. No chick flick moments. Just the Winchesters.

The boys need to lay their weary heads to rest, so they can cry no more. Because they are the legendary Winchesters, the hunters who saved the world countless times unbeknownst to many. I don't think their work will ever be done but there will be peace when they are done and how they will reach that point we'll never know till 2020.

Everyone will hear "Carry on wayward son" for the last time ever in Supernatural over a painful montage of "Dad's gone on a hunting trip and he hasn't been home in a few days" and "Saving people, hunting things, the family business". Now who in this fandom wouldn't be wracked with pain?

This is the show we all joked about that made a deal with the devil to never go off air but I did expect this a long time ago. Only thing was that I didn't know how I'd treat the news. I was that person who would go, "pfft, of course Supernatural would get renewed". Then again, this was the show that an ending was imminent and the whole season 4 debacle about Misha and the angel storyline saving the show blah blah blah.

So next year, everyone will flock to see the finale and epic conclusion to the Winchester saga whether they stopped at season 5,6,7 or 10,12. Diss it all you want for the shit show it may have become but wherever you left off, you may still want to know what happens to Sam and Dean Winchester in the end.

Once Supernatural ends, I'll turn 20 next summer and I would like to think of it being poetic that I end my adolescence with a show I have loved when I brave the cold, ruthless world of adulthood. I'm a picky person and can't say what's my favorite xyz is but you know what I'll say about my favorite TV show.

We will have completed 327 episodes which is the highest for a scifi TV show so I do hope the boys get some sort of recognition. It was us crazy bitches and jerks that gave the show the mileage and it was us that gave Jared and Jensen faith that they could carry on so for the remainder of season 14 and for 15,support these guys. Support these annoyingly sexy and ridiculously hilarious dudes for this show. I'm sure Jared and Jensen love the show like it's their kid practically but I wish everyone would just shut up, tinhatters, bronlies, stans, destihellers because we are all fans of the one show so let's ease the time we have left.

But seriously imagine Sam and Dean on a desert highway, the orange and yellow rays of the setting sun make Baby shine in all her splendor which makes Dean swell with pride. He starts the engine with a low rumble and they're off. They might to California to feel the sand beneath their feet or to Disneyland. They're living the "apple pie life" and this is their personal heaven : with each other.

I wouldn't mind this playing in the background if the ending is the inevitable and unspeakable you know what :

It's wishful thinking, since I wish they'd actually play some Zeppelin instead of song titles being used as episode titles but I wish they could use some Queen or Guns n Roses and stuff before 1979 because everything sucked ass afterwards according to Dean.

I want the classic rock resurgence in the show as well but I know they'll end up using the cash elsewhere. I wouldn't mind a body swap episode but if wishes were horses, right?