#after staring indefinitely at this costume

[strawberrygummiess]

goo goo muck.

floyd leech x gender neutral! reader 1.4k words cross posted on ao3 "By the time this year’s Halloween was over, you never wanted to see a piece of candy again—especially no trick-or-treaters. But now you were in a dance hall in a pocket dimension, tired and annoyed, watching the students’ party when all you wanted to do was go back to your room and sleep. Bah, humbug, or whatever the Halloween equivalent was." (sorry for posting this after Halloween)

If there was a competition for being Halloween’s biggest Scrooge, you’d win it.

As a kid, you loved Halloween—the obvious candy collection, of course, but also the costumes, the décor, and the overall joy the season carried. Even now, you would’ve loved Halloween if you weren’t forced to work seven days straight to keep annoying teenagers out of your dorm room.

By the time this year’s Halloween was over, you never wanted to see a piece of candy again—especially no trick-or-treaters. But now you were in a dance hall in a pocket dimension, tired and annoyed, watching the students’ party when all you wanted to do was go back to your room and sleep.

Bah, humbug, or whatever the Halloween equivalent was.

You were glowering in a lone corner, holding a drink in one hand and rubbing your temple with the other. Your head was pounding. Lilia insisted that the music be deafening, and it felt like the ghosts might hold you here indefinitely. And the longer you stayed, the grumpier you got, your scowl getting deeper and deeper. At this point, the pounding of your head synced with the beat of the loud techno.

"Woah, Shrimpy, if you keep frowning, your face’ll get stuck like that.”

You purse your lips and look up at Floyd. On a good day, you can only handle Floyd in small doses. On a bad day, you just wanted him to go away. You liked Floyd, but he was not something you were capable of handling while your head was seconds away from exploding.

“It’ll be perfect for Halloween then, won’t it? A scary face for a scary day.”

You mean it to be dismissive and boring. But you should know better than to assume Floyd will leave you alone so easily. You know Floyd has a bit of fascination with you. At first, you were concerned, especially when- in between cheers of joy- Riddle gave you half-hearted condolences. But Jade had eased your concerns, saying that “you weren’t so interesting to hold his attention for that long” and that he’d eventually grow bored of you (whatever that meant). But that was months ago, and he was still going strong. And Riddle was still happy to revel in your misery.

Floyd grins and joins you along the wall, and you can’t help the sigh that escapes you. You catch the frown on his face and rub your temples again. The music is much too loud.

“What gives Shrimpy? You’re being a big stick-in-the-mud,” Floyd whines, scrunching his body so his face is level with yours. You sigh again and take a sip of your drink. You could lie and say there’s nothing wrong or that you can’t dance, but he’s not stupid. The longer you stretch this out, the worse it’ll be for you.

“My head hurts, and I’m really tired." You start, finally looking at him. His full attention is on you, and it’s slightly unsettling. You’ve always liked how his eye glowed in the dark, but now it was too intense. It was like you were wronging him by denying him his fun, even if it was at your expense. You break eye contact.

“My head feels like it’s going to explode, and this music is not helping.”

You stare at the ground, counting the tiles under your feet while you wait for Floyd to respond. You assume he’ll say something about you being boring or try to get you to ignore your pain to entertain him. But instead, he says nothing. For a long time. So long you have to check if he’s still there.

He’s staring at you when you look again. Face blank, eyes focused. He straightened up back to full height, an imposing figure staring down at you with one glowing eye. He looks terrifying in the dark.

You open your mouth to say something—anything—to save yourself, but Floyd begins to giggle.

“Oh man, I’m DIGGIN’ that look, Little Shrimpy. I gotta make your face contort in fear more often.”

You hadn’t realized you were making a face. Now you hope he can see your irritation.

"Aww, don’t get all clammy on me, Shrimpy,” Floyd whines, moving from his place on the wall to stand in front of you. He raises his hands to cradle your head, and your heart beats wildly in your chest. You can’t tell if you’re scared this time.

“Do you feel the pressure here?” He moves his hands to your temples. “Or here?” He takes his right hand and gently rubs his thumb under your eyebrow.

You use your open eye to look up at him, trying to see if he planned on crushing your skull then and there. But he only gives you a lazy smile, patiently waiting for you to answer him, absentmindedly rubbing your face. It might’ve felt better if it was skin-on-skin contact, but the fabric on the glove was beginning to irritate your skin.

“My temples,” you answer, wincing when he moves his hand. Floyd hadn’t been rubbing the skin that hard or for long. Maybe you could ask Epel to share some moisturizers with you later.

Floyd puts his hands back on your temples. You assume he’s going to rub the sides of them like you were doing earlier, but when you look back up, you feel your heart drop to your stomach.

He looks giddy, with a wild grin on his face and his eyes focused like a hunter. This is the face he makes when he’s given the green light from Azul to “squeeze” some unruly patrons of Mostro Lounge. And now he’s giving you the same look, hands wrapped tightly around your head.

You were going to die.

You can’t bear to look Floyd in the eyes anymore and squeeze them shut. Hopefully, this means when he crushes your skull, your eyes won’t pop out. You’ve always wanted an open-casket funeral. You hear Floyd cackle in glee, and your head throbs again. If anything, you were thankful that you wouldn’t have to deal with your migraine anymore.

Floyd puts pressure on your temples, slowly squeezing your skull. You feel it slowly, the sensation blossoming from where his palms are to the orbital region of your skull. You wait for your head to explode violently, but it never comes. Instead, you realize your headache has subdued significantly, barely feeling the throbbing sensation at all anymore.

Your eyes shoot open, and you look at Floyd shocked. He meets your gaze and begins to giggle again.

“Dude, you’re full of fun expressions. What’d you think I was gonna do?”

“Not that! You looked like you were ready to kill me!” You try to defend yourself, but you look silly, head crushed between Floyd’s hands.

“You’d know if I was gonna squeeze you in the bad way. This is the good squeeze that makes your headaches go away. I do it to Jade all the time." To emphasize his point, he adds more pressure to your temples.

You pout, because he’s right. It is making your headache go away. And because you know you’ll be stuck with Floyd for another month while you are indebted to him. Maybe if you got enough headaches, you could bore him away.

“Well?” Floyd draws the L’s out in a sing-song manner. “Feelin’ any better, Shrimpy?”

You feel a lot better. Your headache isn’t fully gone, but it’s manageable now. Hopefully, the ghosts will declare the party over and release you soon. Floyd’s squeezing can’t fight exhaustion, and now that’s your biggest problem.

You grab Floyd’s hands and move them from your temples, rubbing the top of his hands with your thumbs. You smile appreciatively, genuinely happy to be freed from your migraine.

“Yes, thank you.”

You try to let go of Floyd’s hands, but he moves to interlock them, his wild grin back on his face. He leans down to your level again, his glowing eye narrowing as his smile grows impossibly wide. You initially thought you tamed the beast, but your naiveté left you caught in his trap.

“Good, now we gotta dance. I’m not letting you go ‘til you collapse." He pulls you away from the wall quickly, dragging you to the center of the dance floor and twirling you around until you’re dizzy.

Make it two more months stuck with Floyd.

[deyisacherry]

BEHOLD MY SOLAR'S REFERENCE

My Solar's design:3

He used to wear the clothes that he had in the show, but then in our tsams dimension he started trying other outfits, some were comfortable sure, but hey, he saw himself in this and said "... huh, why not" (my man gets confident sometimes and he's proud of it), he likes how he looks

Shows too much? Uh, maybe, some costumers tend to stare too much, but it doesn't feel creepy, just... nice. And after all, he's just a robot who didn't even wear a shirt before, it's fiiiine

He uses gloves though, he HAS to use them. They're comfy, and...

He has to work wearing them.

Oh, his lasers. Those, yeah.

... They're indefinitely deactivated.

He doesn't use them anymore. He doesn't want to... remember the motives to have them in the first place.

Not retractable rays yet! Whoops. Those are still stuck. Eh, he doesn't mind.

Does he wear anything else? Sure! Sometimes he gets into more comfy outfits, but this is basically what he uses for work all the time. And well, it doesn't look that bad to hangout sometimes, now, does it?

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Rewind, Remix, & Replay Jay & Kim (Bonus) Med 4x6

Read the rest of the series here

This didn’t come out exactly the way I wanted but it will do. NSFW content below! Sorry about the wait. I think writer block is slowly setting in.

Jay had been working on Will’s Bachelor party for weeks. Kim thought it was a good thing considering the friction between the brothers. Jay had been putting a lot of effort into it even though he felt the fact that it was combined with Natalie's bachelorette party and the costume theme was ridiculous. Kim had to agree with the first one- if she ever did end up getting married, she was going out with a bang with all of her girlfriends. The second part however she vehemently disagreed.

She loved Halloween and to dress up. Her attempt to get Jay to do matching costumes had been a complete flop. He was going in a black suit no matter what Kim said. She had decided to pick something dressy to kind of match him. Jessica Rabbit has seemed like the obvious choice and easy to come up with. A red dress with a cut clean up to the hip, red heels and lipstick, and purple arm-length gloves. Jay had stopped and stared when she had entered the venue a low whistle escaping his lips as he eyed her figure appreciatively.

He had come early to finish getting everything ready before all the guests arrived. The party had been in full swing for about an hour now. The place was packed with doctors, nurses, police officers, firefighters, and other friends and family. Everyone was indulging in food, alcohol, and conversation.

Kim was trying to mingle with Natalie after congratulating her on her upcoming wedding. The woman was all smiles but the encounter was awkward. Kim had been trying her best to gain a semblance of friendship with her to no avail. She planned on being with Jay indefinitely. If she and Nat were going to continue spending hockey game nights and holidays together being on friendly terms seemed the best option. That being said the two of them just didn’t seem to click.

Kim downed the last few gulps of her drink to aid the awkwardness she was feeling. “Hey baby,” Kim turned with a start to see Jay. A huge smile took over her face, and she leaned forward for a kiss. Jay pushed back a few tendrils of her hair and pressed another peck to her lips. He slides behind her, his hands wrapped around her waist as they start rocking together to the beat. “Have I told you how incredibly sexy you look in that dress?” The words are whispered against her neck his stubble scraping her skin.

Kim tilted her to give him better access a soft hum of delight leaving her lips. She leans back into him her hands caressing his arms. He kisses her shoulder pulling her tighter back against him. His touch sends a pleasant heat to her lower stomach. Kim feels sexy and the buzz from the alcohol makes her feel bold. She turns in his arms breathing the words against his lips, “You should see what is underneath.”

She slips out of his arms leaving him stunned. Kim only gives him one heated backward glance as she slips around the corner and into the bathroom. Less than a minute passes before Jay joins her. She watches him flip the lock. She sashays slowly over to him stopping only inches from him.

He is on her in an instant. His hand grabs her face and tilts it the way he wants it. His lips are hungry, dominating their kiss. He backs her into the wall and she gasps into his mouth as the chill of the brick hits her skin. His arms cage her in pressing himself tightly against her body. Kim can feel the hardness of his cock rubbing against her with every rock of his hips. Her hands grab at him in a frenzy feeling the muscles of his shoulders bunch as he grabs her thighs and lifts her. She moans wantonly into his mouth as her legs wrap around his waist.

His fingers find her hair tugging on the strands, knowing it drives her wild. Kim throws her head back and he assaults her neck with kisses. They make a path down to her breast flush with where the top of her dress lays. Kim presses down on his shoulders using it as momentum to rock herself more aggressively into him. Curses fall from his lips as his hands palm her ass squeezing it tightly.

Kim pushes the thin straps off of her shoulders allowing her dress to fall bunching at her stomach. Jay wastes no time in finding a nipple, his tongue swirling around the bud. Kim leans back pushing more of her weight against the wall as she arches her back. He leathers attention onto her aching breasts. Kim's eyes are half-lidded watching their forms in the mirror. It’s erotic and she feels a rush of arousal flood her. “Jay,” Her voice is sultry and husky and catches his attention instantly. “I want you to bend me over and fuck me in front of that mirror.”

He groaned, sliding her slowly down his body and back onto her feet. His left hand trailing purposely up her thigh where the slit of her dress reveals creamy pink skin. Kim pulls away from him to go to the counter in front of the mirror. Jay meets her eyes in the mirror as he undoes his belt and jeans as he strides toward her. He doesn’t waste his time removing clothes, he just pushes her dress up and his pants down enough for him to slide inside her. He groans when bare pale skin is revealed to him. No panties. “Are you trying to fucking kill me- but damn you are right- I love what’s underneath-fuck,”

Kim's senses go into overdrive as she arches back into him. Jay was always a tight fit but she is so wet it is an easy slide. She braces her hands on the counter as he starts thrusting roughly inside her. Her gaze drops and she cries out loudly when he shifts just enough the angle changes and hits an unexpectedly sensitive spot inside her. A flood of arousal soaks his cock and her thighs. His hand wraps around her neck squeezing just hard enough to get her attention. “You look at me when I’m fucking you this good.”

The words make her flush from her head to her toes. Her gaze finds his in the mirror again. When his hand starts to release pressure and edge away, she grabs his wrist forcing him to hold her neck tighter. He takes the cue wordless choking her just tight enough to restrict her air. His pace is brutal and they are both rapidly approaching their climaxes. Jay can feel Kim’s core fluttering around his cock. His other hand finds her clit and starts rubbing firm precise circles. Her moans get louder and his grip on her throat tightens. “Quiet or everyone will hear you. Or is that what you want? You want everyone to know how well I fuck you? How good I make you feel? How loud I can make you scream?”

“Jay,” Her cheeks were flushed a beautiful shade of pink, her knuckles white from the grip she had on the counter. Jay could feel her thighs trembling and she was leaning more of her weight against the counter her nipples rubbing against the marble of the countertops.

“That’s it, baby, say my name. Say my name as I make you come all over my cock.” Kim practically screamed his name as she finally came. Her core clenched hard around Jay’s dick as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over her. He continued fucking her through her orgasm and into his own.

He held her tighter as he caught his breath, leaning forward to place a gentle peck on the curve of her neck. Kim turns languishly in his arms leaning back against the counter with her hip. Her hands slide up his chest still fully clothed chest feeling his heartbeat pounding against her palm. Then she steals another slow lazy kiss. Jay fixes her dress, gently pulling the straps back over her shoulders before smoothly the fabric down her sides. He stops at her hips grabbing them and lifting her to sit on the counter.

Kim's hands shoot to his forearms in surprise a giggle echoing in the room. He cups her face using his thumbs to wipe away the red lipstick that had smeared off her lips. Jay leans his forehead against hers. “Kim, I-” His words were lost in a loud knock. Kim smothered another giggle against his throat.

[lesmislettersdaily]

M. Bamatabois’s Inactivity

Volume 1: Fantine; Book 5: The Descent; Chapter 12: M. Bamatabois’s Inactivity

There is in all small towns, and there was at M. sur M. in particular, a class of young men who nibble away an income of fifteen hundred francs with the same air with which their prototypes devour two hundred thousand francs a year in Paris. These are beings of the great neuter species: impotent men, parasites, cyphers, who have a little land, a little folly, a little wit; who would be rustics in a drawing-room, and who think themselves gentlemen in the dram-shop; who say, “My fields, my peasants, my woods”; who hiss actresses at the theatre to prove that they are persons of taste; quarrel with the officers of the garrison to prove that they are men of war; hunt, smoke, yawn, drink, smell of tobacco, play billiards, stare at travellers as they descend from the diligence, live at the café, dine at the inn, have a dog which eats the bones under the table, and a mistress who eats the dishes on the table; who stick at a sou, exaggerate the fashions, admire tragedy, despise women, wear out their old boots, copy London through Paris, and Paris through the medium of Pont-à-Mousson, grow old as dullards, never work, serve no use, and do no great harm.

M. Félix Tholomyès, had he remained in his own province and never beheld Paris, would have been one of these men.

If they were richer, one would say, “They are dandies;” if they were poorer, one would say, “They are idlers.” They are simply men without employment. Among these unemployed there are bores, the bored, dreamers, and some knaves.

At that period a dandy was composed of a tall collar, a big cravat, a watch with trinkets, three vests of different colors, worn one on top of the other—the red and blue inside; of a short-waisted olive coat, with a codfish tail, a double row of silver buttons set close to each other and running up to the shoulder; and a pair of trousers of a lighter shade of olive, ornamented on the two seams with an indefinite, but always uneven, number of lines, varying from one to eleven—a limit which was never exceeded. Add to this, high shoes with little irons on the heels, a tall hat with a narrow brim, hair worn in a tuft, an enormous cane, and conversation set off by puns of Potier. Over all, spurs and a moustache. At that epoch moustaches indicated the bourgeois, and spurs the pedestrian.

The provincial dandy wore the longest of spurs and the fiercest of moustaches.

It was the period of the conflict of the republics of South America with the King of Spain, of Bolivar against Morillo. Narrow-brimmed hats were royalist, and were called morillos; liberals wore hats with wide brims, which were called bolivars.

Eight or ten months, then, after that which is related in the preceding pages, towards the first of January, 1823, on a snowy evening, one of these dandies, one of these unemployed, a “right thinker,” for he wore a morillo, and was, moreover, warmly enveloped in one of those large cloaks which completed the fashionable costume in cold weather, was amusing himself by tormenting a creature who was prowling about in a ball-dress, with neck uncovered and flowers in her hair, in front of the officers’ café. This dandy was smoking, for he was decidedly fashionable.

Each time that the woman passed in front of him, he bestowed on her, together with a puff from his cigar, some apostrophe which he considered witty and mirthful, such as, “How ugly you are!—Will you get out of my sight?—You have no teeth!” etc., etc. This gentleman was known as M. Bamatabois. The woman, a melancholy, decorated spectre which went and came through the snow, made him no reply, did not even glance at him, and nevertheless continued her promenade in silence, and with a sombre regularity, which brought her every five minutes within reach of this sarcasm, like the condemned soldier who returns under the rods. The small effect which he produced no doubt piqued the lounger; and taking advantage of a moment when her back was turned, he crept up behind her with the gait of a wolf, and stifling his laugh, bent down, picked up a handful of snow from the pavement, and thrust it abruptly into her back, between her bare shoulders. The woman uttered a roar, whirled round, gave a leap like a panther, and hurled herself upon the man, burying her nails in his face, with the most frightful words which could fall from the guard-room into the gutter. These insults, poured forth in a voice roughened by brandy, did, indeed, proceed in hideous wise from a mouth which lacked its two front teeth. It was Fantine.

At the noise thus produced, the officers ran out in throngs from the café, passers-by collected, and a large and merry circle, hooting and applauding, was formed around this whirlwind composed of two beings, whom there was some difficulty in recognizing as a man and a woman: the man struggling, his hat on the ground; the woman striking out with feet and fists, bareheaded, howling, minus hair and teeth, livid with wrath, horrible.

Suddenly a man of lofty stature emerged vivaciously from the crowd, seized the woman by her satin bodice, which was covered with mud, and said to her, “Follow me!”

The woman raised her head; her furious voice suddenly died away. Her eyes were glassy; she turned pale instead of livid, and she trembled with a quiver of terror. She had recognized Javert.

The dandy took advantage of the incident to make his escape.

[yuzu-all-the-way]

[thecameronchronicles]

Polar Plunge

TW: Semi-public sex. Language. Smut. 

SUMMARY: Seeing you in a new light during a charitable event leads Jonathan to have to act on his desires for you. 

WORD COUNT: 1600

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

Polar Plunge

It was all for charity. 

This was what you told yourself as you stared forward to the freezing water, already lined with mutual patrons prepared to partake in this year's annual polar plunge. The entire cast, all reserved but just as excited for the thrill in knowing it had all been for a good cause, had all been present as you were among the small handful of new faces for the upcoming season. But just as it had been from the second you stepped foot on set, you were welcome with open arms. Just as you had been now. 

"You ready?" JD asked, a pair of nearly fluorescent red and blue trunks drawing your eyes lower than they should have for someone to which you were just friends with. Even if you'd longed for more since the minute you had met him. It was a mutual feeling, but one exercised by fantasy alone to keep from risking a friendship and on set awkwardness if things weren't to be reciprocated. 

"Born ready." You teased, disposing of your top and exposing a surprising figure to him as he had only ever seen you in costume on set, which left little of your skin exposed. But now, you were enough of a sight to stop him in his tracks. If not for the way Rudy roped his arm across his shoulders than he would have remained there indefinitely. All because of a little pink suit cut out enough at each side to tease the skin he'd been taunted within by a total of five seconds and already had him willing to act against his reservations. All he could think about was the soft skin beneath, the way it would chill to his touch, the moans overhead as he descended lower and lower- 

"JD! Come on man!" Chase endorsed as the cast rushed the water, remaining in there for a bit as Jonathan's eyes fixated on you. The effortless aura so easy going and pure has always been enough to invite him close to you. But the way you appeared to him now with a sensuality otherwise concealed, he was obsessed with making himself known to you. Or more specifically, what he could do for you... 

"I think I froze my literal ass off..." Rudy mentioned as he tried the back door of JD's car. The look behind his eyes had been enough for Elaine to pick up the silent hint as she would wrap herself around her boyfriend’s tense arm. 

"Actually, Austin asked me if you would help-" You weren't able to hear the completion of this excuse as you were none the wiser to the sincerity behind his eyes as he remained set behind the steering wheel without even an attempt to move. 

"Hope Austin gets-" You were taken completely off guard by the feeling of his hand to your cheek. Soft lips testing a response would leave a singular kiss that you were quick to return.

“I couldn’t wait any longer…” He confessed with a smirk, “But if you don’t want-” 

It wasn't long until you found yourself pulled onto his lap after pecks grew into passionate kisses. The water from the event had done nothing to counter the heat between you as JD groaned against your lips. 

"I've wanted to do this for so long..." 

"Then do it." You challenged as he shook his head. 

"I think I gonna take my time..." He taunted, his fingers slipping beneath the covering that acted as more of a pancho, where he was able to slide easily beneath. Thumbs rising up your thighs would send them tensing to his touch as you watched him lead his pointer and middle finger to his lips before being apprehended. 

"I'm wet enough, JD..." 

"Not for how hard I wanna take you..." A guided hand to the back of your neck would bring you slightly higher on your knees as he simply set the panties aside, his fingers acting as a source of pleasure as you rode them in slow increments. 

"Fuck!" Your fingers came to a grip in the fabric behind his head while he used the close proximity of your cleavage to remove a section of your suit so he could adore the skin that had teased him. 

"Do you want to go somewhere else more private-" You only rode into him harder as he smirked. 

"Okay then-" He grinned wider, an arm stretched around your back as he guided himself inside of you following a tease that had you pleading in repetition against him. 

"This suit shouldn't be seen by anyone else..." He explained while tearing it to where it was bow unable to be worn. "It does things." 

"I can feel those 'things', fuck JD, it's so good...you're so deep-" You repressed the need to growl as be nodded in a single set of bobs before he interrupted his own kiss with another tease. 

"And it's all for you baby..." A surprise dominance made you gasp as he took a hold to your hips. Every word spoken, sending him thrust hard and slow while you were silenced by the sensations such movements left behind. Indescribable pressure that pulled your mouth slack as his dirty teases made your eyes compress tightly. 

"You. Are. Gonna. Be. So. Sore-" He began his first teases, thrusts never wavering from their intensity as this acted as more of a torment than a continued climb to your satisfaction. 

"But. I'm. Taking. My. Time. All. For. That. Fucking. Suit." He forced the torn fabric from your body until it fell loose between you, a moment of awkward fingers and excess material gave you the upper hand. 

"Then make me sore, JD..." You suddenly retracted from him before climbing into the backseat. His hand was quick to swipe your ass before he joined you, shorts kicked off as you removed his shirt once he joined you. 

"You want all of these people to see you come?" He asked as he motioned to those returning to their own cars as your eyes came a roll at the tease of his cock. When he would commit, you thrust yourself back into him as he groaned. A hand wrapped in your hair, bringing you up against his chest. 

"They might get to hear it. But only I get to see it." He gripped your breasts, your naked body on full display for him, as he took advantage. You never would have known that less than twenty minutes ago you were in tremors from the cold water, and now the warmth built between the two of you eradicated any chill left behind, and brought a new reason for trembling. 

Compensation developed quickly on the endows, giving an opaque covering to the perspire bodies climbing to that mutual high. But with each high came the edging as he prolonged it, a settled touch to your clit acting as an eventual surrender as you cried out for him. 

"You feel so fucking good for me...holy shit!" He slapped your ass. "And I know I feel good for you...clenching me so tightly baby, oh my God!" He clenched his teeth. 

"But I want you to come twice-Once for me. And once for you-"" 

"JD-" 

"I know you can...and I'm not giving you much of a choice here. Not after wearing that suit...letting other guys see you...gotta make sure you don't need anyone else..." He spoke breathlessly as you nodded. 

"So THIS is for you-" He bucked himself into you, nearly painful rushes of his cock made into your tender and abused sex while your eyes came into a roll to the orgasm on the horizon. 

"JD!" 

"Come...don't hold back, baby...I want it all-" Your body obeyed him almost immediately. A series of waves through your lower abdomen and your pulsating core would send him grunting behind you until he withdrew. 

"JD?" You turned to watch his hand running up and down his own cock. Soaked by your release, you offered lustful eyes before taking him behind your kiss. 

"I'm not gonna last long-" You moaned at his confession, marveling at his already established stamina. 

"Look at me while you make me come...I wanna see your face..." You nodded as you replaced your mouth with your hand. 

"Fuck, I could feel you around me again...." He expressed as you set yourself at an angle to take him sideways while he moaned deeply from you. 

"Oh fuck-" He needed you to feel more. Not just the extension of his cock that you took expertly behind your lips, but you. His fingers rounded your ass, a slap making you chuckle, before a finger to your sex returned you to his skill set. 

"Don't come this way." He ordered as a second finger slipped its way beside the first explorer, finding your most insensitive nerves, and nursing them in a tease. 

"Oh Fuck...oh FUCK-" 

"Come for me..." You breathed. 

"Oh I am...I fucking am!" He called in announcement before quickening his fingers inside of you as you threatened him with overstimulation. 

"JD!" 

"Don't come-" 

"But your fingers feel so fucking good-" He suddenly stopped. 

"You're gonna come on my face, baby. THAT is for me." You were taken to where this was possible. Orchestrated onto your back before he set your legs over his shoulders. A rather awkward placement he made work as he made your eyes roll and screw shut with his perfect climb to your high. 

"Please don't tease me, JD...please let me come!" 

"Only if you come hard for me-" 

"Oh shit!" You trembled around him, his fingers eating into your thighs to keep them wider for him. 

"Keep coming-" He growled as your body was pushed to its limits as he marveled your desperations. Rise and fall allowed by his mouth and fingers until you were too blissed to speak or formulate any coherent thought. All you knew was the pleasure he allowed. The plunge of his fingers making you submit to him in every way. All because of a swimsuit and the damn polar plunge…

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @drews1love @phildunphyisadilf

[neoheros]

kuroo’s always found it romantic when you wore his clothes, whether they fit you or not, he’s just never found you anything less than lovely whenever you were in them.

“you’re up early.” you mumble through sleepy yawns, smiling as your husband kisses you good morning the second he sees you awake.

he pulls away, “work - good morning, though.”

you nod, taking in how he was already in his suit and tie. really, he looked ready to leave, and you wonder if he was only waiting for you to wake up before he did.

you yawn, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes, and you ask, “would you drop our laundry at the dry cleaners?”

“i’ve got nothing to wear.” you say, still a bit tired.

kuroo smiles, nodding, “i don’t mind that.”

“you’ve got nothing to wear either.” you match his expression, rolling your eyes playfully at his words.

he nods again, shooting you a look, “you don’t mind that.”

“you’re awful,” you tell him, laughing, feeling an immense warmth in your chest as he pulls you into a kiss again.

slow mornings, honey dipped words, and languid kisses that kuroo hates pulling away from. things you do everyday, yet never fails to send butterflies down his stomach.

he mumbles against your lips, “ask me to stay.”

“work.” you remind him, smiling as he groans.

kuroo looks at you, sitting by the edge of the bed, and his voice is warm. “i’ll come home early.”

“i might not,” you yawn, “busy day at work.”

you sit up, wearing nothing but one of his old t-shirts, and he marvels at the fact that they always looked better on you than they did on him.

kuroo always liked it when you wore his clothes, it reminded him of the little things that embroidered your relationship together.

it reminded him of high school; the excitement of getting handed the captain’s jersey for the first time, and the glory of seeing you wear it the morning after.

it reminded him of halloween; the two of you dressing up in similar costumes (that you didn’t even plan) and being mistaken as a cheesy couple.

it reminded him of graduation; the second button from his school uniform torn off as he bashfully gave it to you as a symbol of his affections.

his clothes on your body — it reminded him that you’re as much as his as he was yours.

it reminded of the romance of certain old clothes.

“is this my last shirt?” he asks you, taking the fabric you wore in between his fingers.

you fall back in bed, “yes - go to the dry cleaners, please.”

“i will.” he tells you, kissing your forehead one last time before he gets up to leave, and he contemplates if missing a day of work would be worth it to spend the lazy morning with you.

you bury your head under the pillows, “go to work, stop staring at me.”

kuroo laughs, walking out the door, and he doublechecks for the handkerchief that he never leaves without.

the handkerchief that you gave him the first time the two of you met, and now he’s sure that if he’s lost it, he might as well lose everything else.

there’s little bits and pieces of you in the clothes he wore, there’s little bits and pieces of you everywhere he went.

little bits and pieces here and there to immortalize the proof of your relationship existing — to immortalize the indefinite amount of romance he’d be willing to give you.

and it reminds him of the romance of certain old clothes.

[mlwritingprompts]

Submitted Prompt: Follow the White Rabbit...

Alix has been sitting on the sidelines, watching new temporary heroes come and go, watching the battle against Hawkmoth as it it is drawn out longer and longer, knowing that she has a role to play but being unable to get her hands on the costume so she can jump on stage and join the story.

For some reason, it seems like Ladybug has just.... Forgotten about her?

-

At first, it just seems like coincidence, that Alix wasn't at the right time or the right place, and it would take too long to give her the Rabbit Miraculous.

Then Alix realizes that even if it took too long to give her the Miraculous.... She could just fix that once she had it. If Alix knew that, then Ladybug definitely knew it too!

So why hasn't Ladybug given Alix her destined role yet?

Another day, another Akuma battle, and this time Alix can't pretend she's just at the wrong place at the right time; she's standing right in front of Ladybug when Ladybug pulls out the Snake Miraculous and runs off to recruit Viperion, after musing aloud "I need someone with the ability to manipulate time...oh, I got it!"

Alix stares after Ladybug, dumbstruck and confused.

The battle ends not 2 minutes after Viperion shows up, and Chat Noir never shows his face.

Alix is confused, she's angry, and she's hurt.

Did something happen, and Ladybug no longer trusts her to wield a Miraculous? A Miraculous she knows she's going to wield?

Alix is determined to find out, but the next time she sees Ladybug during a crisis, when Alix pleads for her Miraculous to help fight the Akuma...

Ladybug just looks at her, blankly and asks "What are you talking about? You've never been a Miraculous wielder."

Except this is more than just forgetfulness.

Because Ladybug eyes momentarily turned a natural brown, looking much more natural with her black hair for just a moment, before her eyes flickered back to their usual, unnatural but familiar, bright blue again.

And Alix stares, realizing she'd seen those... Unnatural blue eyes before, now that she's seen what they're painted over. She instinctively knows that Ladybugs eyes are not naturally blue, even though that's what they've always been.

Haven't they?

Because all it takes is a split second, a brief lapse in control, and Alix knows, deep in her soul, that someone has been manipulating Ladybug from the very start.

She's seen those eyes before.

And that someone is either Fluff itself, or someone abusing its powers.

Alix, wide eyed, shaky, lets Ladybug leave for fight the villain after giving her another confused look, now unnaturally-blue-eyed once more, and then she's gone.

====

(prompt was submitted based on the realization that Alix STILL hasn't received the Rabbit Miraculous, because the show is trying to draw itself out for as long as inhumanely possible via the Status Quo Time Loop, so of course they would never give Alix the Miraculous, noooo that would actually move the plot along incrementally! We can't have tHAT! We gotta drag it out for another three seasons and a feature length movie which is yet another retcon for the sake of the status quo and love square!

This prompt is for you fourth wall breakers and meta writers; what's been controlling Marienette to draw out the battle against Hawkmoth indefinitely?

Who stands to gain from this battle lasting years and years?

Who would benefit from Marienette not defeating Hawkmoth in a week because she's actually able to use her intelligence and ingenuity to it's full capacity instead of......never even considering the fact that they can take the fight to Hawkmoth?

Who stands to gain for controlling Marienette's entire life so she doesn't react to anything that would jeopardize the status quo, not only with Hawkmoth, but with her superhero partner who she would have replaced immediately when she became Guardian if she was able to react to him like a normal human girl wo-- oh wait.

We know who would benefit from the status quo being maintained. We know who DOES benefit from the love square being maintained. We know who's been the sole beneficiary since the show began.

Adrien.

And which version of Adrien has unnaturally bright blue eyes? Which version of Adrien had the chance to capture the Rabbit Miraculous?

Oh yes, it's just as horrifying as you think.

[iamtheempress]

A Vegeta x OC Fanfiction (part 2)¤ ¤ ¤

The morning came with silence and silence came with Raditz banging on Calamatta’s pod. 

“Wake up! we need to get our pods to the ship in the upper atmosphere then we start the terraforming process! Got it?” SHe stretches and gives the long haired Saiyan a lazy thumbs up. Confirming she heard him loud and clear. Rubbing her eyes she punched in the coordinates to the ship and off the four pods flew to the ship in the higher atmosphere, slotting their pods into the mothership.

The four took their time to leave 2 by 2 to the planet and scour the planet to completely terraform it, with expertise and precision. Cracking open the planet enough to let the oceans flow forth, for several hours they did this until they returned to the ship. Calamatta entered the ship last and was greeted with a crisp clap to the back from Nappa. “Good job, lil lady!” He bellowed as she rubbed the back of her head. “T-thanks Nappa, now im just worried.” 

Raditz raised his hand and shook his head, “Ahhh calm down, we're going to give him an honest review of you then you will be moved to our quarters, you get your first pay and then you should be good. Settle down.” He brushes past her and makes his way to Frieza’s Hall. Vegeta followed behind, throwing a glance at the female Saiyan as she sat on a chair, he can tell she was nervous by the frequency of her bouncing leg. They didnt like bending to Frieza’s whim, but they werent about to just go against him out right.. And with one more saiyan with them to train and get stronger they could be unstoppable. Its just the matter of pandering to Lord Frieza until then and making sure they dont get killed.

Lord Friezas chambers had only Zarbon blocking their way, the annoying green haired former prince with no shame. Dodoria, the brainless ruffian was nowhere in sight. “Monkeys.. Im assuming its about the release of Friezas little ape?” Zarbon said very condescendingly to the three, very annoyed Saiyans. Vegeta tightened his fist and grit his teeth at the comparison to apes so blatantly to his face.

 “Zarbon thats quite enough. Ive been expecting them.” Friezas voice piped up waving the three Saiyans in. “Y-yes, Lord Frieza.” He obeyed and moved out of their ways. “You are excused Zarbon, your services arent needed this evening.” Frieza rotated fully in his seat and swirled a full goblet of wine within it. 

The three took bended knee to Frieza begrudgingly and raised up at the same time. “Were here to confirm our Terraforming a rousing success.” Frieza smirked and paid attention to Nappa. “Indeed. It was to be a 4 to 5 day excursion and you done it in 2 and a half days? My my, you 4 are persistent!” He chided and pointed to Nappa first. Everyone is fully aware of Frieza’s death beam so Nappa winced. Causing Frieza to visibly inflate like an egomaniac. “Now what is your report about my favorite little monkey, Ms. Calamatta” He sipped his wine and let it hover mid air rotating it and lacing his fingers together and letting his long worm like tail wag lightly. Nappa took one step forward and spoke up, light sweat on his brow as he made eye contact with deadly bright vermillion eyes.

“Calamatta’s first time out with primary race extermination was exquisite. Effective and heartless. If she continues with us you should expect the same, Lord Frieza!” He did a full bow and stepped back for Raditz, The long haired teenage Saiyan cleared his voice and spoke up, starting with an embarrassing voice crack. “She took orders for sequences of events and how to lay waist to entire cities fairly quickly. I'd prefer her with us simply because she has a job to do and she seems to enjoy it.” Frieza slowly nods, eyes closed and speaks softly. “Mhmm. mmhmmm. You two are dismissed. Vegeta�� you stay.” 

Frieza took his goblet and took a sip from it as the Prince narrowed his eyes and approached, puffing up his chest. “What do you think about the pretty little simian? Shes quite interesting… obedient and has grown to be a lovely young woman, shapely i think your repugnant species would call her... You are aware her father appointed her to me when she was a child, I'd assume Vegeta…?” He lets the wine glass levitate again, Vegeta stood with his arms crossed and brow raised. “Yes, Im aware...What is this about.” Frieza clicked his nails about on his seat and smiled softly.

“Her father did not trust his only daughter with the likes of the Kings eldest boy… Not after their fight… so she was appointed as my little monkey butler, a nice little piece of arm candy… if only she wasnt a Saiyan. Anyway… Enough with my little flights of fantasy…” He gestured to the confused Saiyan Prince, his lips lined straight and unmoving. “About Calamatta… How was she.. Your word I take higher then anyone else.” He preened upon saying her name, it was borderline perverted but with a sinister meaning behind it. 

“Shes the missed opportunity id like to get my hands on. A perfect Saiyan through and through. If she werent by your side so often id have taken her by my side YEARS ago, Frieza…” He stated as a matter of factly, Friezas dark little smile returned “How disgustingly romantic... Zarbon! Summon Calamatta for me.” He snaps his fingers and trot like tapping faded down the hallway. Zarbon was waiting outside, like a good little brainless lackey.

Calamatta was tapping on the table she waited at, tail flicking nervously about behind her. She was snapped from her stupor of nervous leg bouncing and hair twirling to Zarbon slapping his hand down firm onto the table. “Calamatta, Lord Frieza is requesting your return asap.” SHe nodded and fixed her hair abit standing up and wrapping her tail around her waist. Shes known Zarbon longer then shes known Dodoria. 

The kinship Zarbon developed for her was astounding, a favorable friendship when she felt immense discomfort in her teens on. It weirds her out and flatters her nonetheless. “Yes, Zarbon.. Right away.” She walks along side Zarbon and even passes Nappa and Raditz on their way back. “Ill have you know for the duration of time that I have known you; you are not like the others… youre charismatic and maybe the most tolerable, of the 4 of you...your  still nothing more than a monkey butler though.” She sneered and returned her gaze fixed forward, down then away. The moment she turned the corner she went wide eyed to see Vegeta. 

She stopped in her tracks and was given a push from Zarbon, Frieza chirped upon her entry. “Welcome back, Calamatta! I have some good news for you…” “Lord Frieza..” She bowed at the waist obediently she stood next to Vegeta and Zarbon once again excused himself.

“I trust that your first day terraforming was a success and that you had a splendid time, did you dear?” Calamatta stood up straight and let her tail unwind from her waist. “Y-Yes! I actually liked it alot!” She chirped and gulped abit, Vegeta scoffed and closed his eyes, only for Frieza to speak. “Oh, well you are not out of the woods yet my dear...no no.. You have one more task to prove to me before i let you do anything with the male populace for you to shake your pretty little tail at.” 

He makes a face and a screen pops up on the window behind him. A massive green, blue and red planet popped up on the screen encircled by 2 rings and 2 moons. “You and Vegeta are to Terraform this planet on your own. I will give you a month to do it because this planet has highly hostile inhabitants.” Vegetas eyes snapped open and stared at the planet then to frieza. “You cant be serious? Why not just send me on my own then i can do it 3 weeks without the likes of a newbie.. No offence Calamatta but its just facts.” He crossed his arms. “Do this the both of you for me in a months worth of time and your pretty little primate will be out of my hands and in yours. Indefinitely. But if not i will be forced to use my own hand… and you dont want that Vegeta..” He grinned widely. His pointer finger extended toward the female Saiyan and she gulped upon seeing the beam charge at the tip of his digit.

Vegeta stepped infront of the female Saiyan and narrowed his eyes, his move was more instinctual than out of emotion. Calamatta never thought the prince would ever put himself in a position like this but here he was, his solid back to her front she peaked over his caped shoulder and looked at the tyrant who tilted his head. "Hehehe.. it seems ive struck a chord in you Vegeta.." "Not at all.. she's done nothing for you to raise that finger at her. I've made the decision and well go…" he clenches his fists, the material of his gloves made a noise. Calamatta could feel the princes frustration from how close he was to her… "to that planet… and well wipe it before the month even finishes.." 

Frieza chuckled, "Good… i know you will fulfill your promise.. Calamatta you stay, dear.. Vegeta…" Calamatta straightened her back  and tightened her tail around her waist. "You are dismissed.. i have a few things to discuss with her." Vegeta turned around and made eye contact with Calamatta, with a pitiful look in his eye.. like he knew she shouldn't be in this situation. "Bye, Vegeta." She said softly, causing the Emperor to briefly narrow his eyes, she kept her head forward. Vegeta said nothing as the door slid shut behind her. Leaving without a word and kind of making her heart sink abit. He grit his teeth and stormed down the hallway to a perplexed Raditz and Nappa.

“Calamatta, come little primate.” Frieza beckoned to her and snapped for one of his little cronies to bring something to him. Folded up in the hands of Dodoria himself. “Hello little Matta, hope you enjoy this little costume change.” She nodded to him and took the body suit and armor. “When would i expect to go to this planet?” SHe tilted her head and held the new suit, noticing theres not much too it, which made her really wary. “Ah ah, first things first alittle bit of information is more useful about the planet then when you and the simian prince will go.” Frieza quips looking at his shiny black claws. “The planets name is To-Rot, it is a giant habitable planet that im sure would be able to line your pockets quite nicely.”

Dodoria crossed his arms and quirked a brow at her, “Lord Frieza told you about the type of inhabitants to that planet right? Its not a walk in the park and I certainly wouldnt go alone... “ Calamatta gulped. “Now now, Dodoria. Do not frighten the girl. Who knows she could be the best of the 4 remaining Saiyans. We will see..” He gets out of his pod like seat and uses his tail to tip her chin up, a small smirk still playing on his lips.

“Run along and change and you may turn in for the evening… you both leave in 20 hours, when we arrive to the nearest solar system. From there you and Vegeta will go To-Rot.” Frieza chuckles to himself. “Fitting name dont you think? Ohohohohohoooo !!” He laughs and Calamatta turns and bows walking back to the saiyan chambers to change.

¤ ¤ ¤

Tags:  @memevember @dragonblobz @gonuclear @msgreenverse @fallen--lilith​ @jimbobslurpnchug​ @dragonballzforlife​ @nikabriefs​ @lilhemmo​ @lizardhipsdontlie​ @hierophantblue​ @supremeleadershitlord​ @thotful-writing​ @chickiedinner​ @anti-jaina @dragonball-hcs-or-sum-shit​

[nobodyfamousposts]

What If...? (Felix Culpa AU) An alternative for Miracle Queen

@felixmonth​

...I’m sorry to do this to you, Felix.

__________________

The bees came out of nowhere.

It was an akuma attack—he knew that much. Felix had been fortunate enough to be inside at the school at the time of the initial wave of magical insects of a non-benign variety. While not fully protected, it was at least insulated enough that he had time to witness the sudden infestation before being overcome by it himself.

They numbered in the millions, overtaking anyone unfortunate enough to be in their path.

No, not just in their path. The bees intentionally seemed to target anyone present, with swarms of them breaking off to chase after anyone trying to get away.

He didn’t know what the bees did to their victims. He saw that anyone who was stung simply just…stood in place. Unmoving.

They weren’t dead, he could tell that much. But they were lifeless. And it was becoming increasingly disturbing seeing the streets and parks outside filled with people simply standing there.

Almost as if they were…waiting for something.

He didn’t want to find out what that something was.

Nor did he have any desire to stick around long enough to experience the effects of the bees’ influence for himself.

Being inside the school had only bought him some time, and certainly wasn’t going to be enough to hold out the akuma or its effects indefinitely—not that it ever did, given how often the school would be targeted.

These things were bees, Felix reasoned. Much similar to the creations of the previous Queen Wasp akuma. If they were anything like those—or even just real bees, then that meant they had to reach their victim to control them.

But what if they couldn’t reach their victim?

It was a gamble. These things were fashioned after bees, but that wasn’t to say they were exactly the same. However, his mind flashed to images of bee keepers he had seen and the gear they would wear to protect themselves from being stung. And it was a beautiful day outside. Warm and sunny enough that few if anyone would be wearing anything that completely covered their bodies.

Which was particularly unfortunate since that meant he had no way of knowing if his hypothesis was true. And it wasn’t like he had access to any full-body coverings to test that theory.

Unless…

His mind racing a mile a minute, he made a dash for the locker rooms. Other people were panicking around him, but he ignored them and remained focused on his goal.

He didn’t have time to make something. And there was no telling how well any manner of coats, jackets, or scarves he could find would protect him. If he could find any in the first place.

However, the fencing team had practice regularly, and many of the members often kept their gear in their lockers. The uniforms were made to protect the wearer and covered the entire body. Perhaps they would serve his purposes here.

He heard screams in the hallways behind them. Distant, but cutting off quickly. And there was an ominous buzzing growing in volume as it approached ever nearer.

He didn’t have time to look through every locker for a fencing uniform that might fit him. Which is why he immediately sought out Adrien’s locker. The other model was slightly shorter than him and not quite as broad. But his uniform would do in a pinch.

Come on, Adrien! He just needed something to cover him!

He sprinted to the locker in question and tried the handle, thanking everything that the school’s locker policy was so lax that they were easily accessible. Salvation so close, he flung open the locker.

And stared.

“Why would he have…”

“Why is there…”

“…just why?”

The distant buzzing sound was getting closer. If he kept waiting around, he would be caught, and it wouldn’t matter anyway. He really didn’t have the time to question it.

He really wanted to, though.

Part of him debated simply hiding in the locker and hoping the insects don’t notice him. But that was foolish. They were small and could easily get inside and find him, and then he’d be stung while inside the locker and even more trapped.

Running would only get him caught.

Was it too late to jump out a window?

Or…he could bite the bullet and accept the mediocre offer presented to him.

He sighed.

“Dammit, Adrien.”

Desperate times means desperate measures.

“It’s for a good cause.” He muttered to himself through gritted teeth as he reached into the locker.

He would be having words with Adrien about this when he saw him next.

“It’s for a good cause.”

WORDS.

__________________

Ladybug was panicking.

They had just managed to defeat the controlled heroes, take down Miracle Queen, and prevent Chloe from grabbing another akuma. But Hawk Moth and Mayura were both still standing strong, and Master Fu was under attack. His barrier wasn’t going to last much longer. Chat was looking to her for direction, but Ladybug didn’t know what to do!

“Lucky Charm!”

Into her hands fell a polka-dotted butterfly net.

“What am I supposed to do with this?!”

Hawk Moth laughed.

“It looks like you’re out of ideas.” He jeered before turning on his captive. “And your precious Guardian is out of time.”

The sentimonster made another attack on the barrier, causing it to crack.

Ladybug looked around in desperation, but couldn’t see anything in reach. She looked back up to Master Fu to no effect. Then she looked at the two villains—Hawk Moth and Mayura. While the supervillain was focused on the Guardian, his assistant was keeping her gaze on the heroes. If she and Chat tried to jump up there themselves…

But…a butterfly net…

There had to be a reason, wasn’t there?

She growled and threw the Lucky Charm at Mayura.

The woman saw this and smoothly shifted just out of the way, allowing the Charm to sail uselessly by her head. She smirked down at the unfortunate heroes.

“Pathetic.”

It certainly was. Especially when the very butterfly net she had just avoided was suddenly brought down over her head.

She let out a cry of surprise before a twist of the net and sudden weight dragged her to the ground and sent her falling to the concrete of the roof, dazed and gasping.

At this, Hawk Moth spun in surprise to see his ally’s fall. And the one who accosted her.

“What?” He gaped in sheer befuddlement at the sight of the intruder. “What are you?!”

Like the terror that crepes in the night.

The one who stood the line between wrong and ripe.

The split between victory and defeat.

Hawk Moth had seen this figure before…but it couldn’t be the same person beneath that mask.

The new hero stood before him in all his apeeling yellow glory.

And gave a rather…lackluster sigh.

“Let’s just get this over with.” He said, twirling the net in his hand before pointing it at the butterfly it was truly meant to capture.

It would certainly be cool.

But…well…it was being done by a guy in a banana suit.

“How can you even move in that thing?!” Hawk Moth demanded.

Felix grinned from within the suit.

“Experience.”

He was a model, after all. He’s had to wear and perform in all sorts of get-ups. He could honestly say he’s been caught wearing worse in the name of “fashion”. It was humiliating, but hardly the most degrading thing he’s done.

After all, if he was going to have to wear a stupid banana costume...

It was sure as hell going to be the costume he was going to beat Hawk Moth in.

[bouwrites]

Even Heroes Have the Right to Dream: Chapter 4

You took for granted all the times I never let you down.

First, Previous, Next. Ao3.

Story under read-more.

“Jon? Can I bother you for a second?”

Jon looks up from his assignment to Marinette. Honestly, it’s a bit of a relief to take a break from it. “Sure.” He says. “What do you need?”

“I’m planning to call Alya, soon. You know who she is, right?”

“Your best friend, right? Through a lot of grade school, I think you said. Is she the one that wants to be a reporter?”

“Yeah. She’s been bugging me to meet you, recently, so I was just wondering if you’d pop in to say hi for a bit.”

Jon smiles. “I get to meet your Paris friends? Cool. I’m down. You calling her now?”

“If you’re not busy.”

He shrugs. “I’ve got some homework, but I need to take a break anyway. I’m good.”

“Awesome!” Marinette chirps, taking out her phone. “Uh, fair warning, though, your parents are sort of her journalism idols, so she might be a little weird.”

Jon laughs. It’s not everyday someone outside Metropolis knows his parents well enough to bother connecting him to them, but the ones that do are all journalists, so Alya knowing makes sense. “And she hasn’t wanted to meet me before now?”

Marinette ducks her head nervously. “I… may have not told her your last name.”

“Pfft. Really, Marinette? Is she pissed with you for keeping that secret from her?”

“Oh, absolutely. In my defense, I didn’t know until almost the end of the semester! You told me your parents are journalists, but I don’t know names like Alya does. And she does talk about Lois Lane a lot, but I didn’t know your mom’s name. I just assumed it’d be Kent. I would have told her sooner if I realized.”

Jon shrugs. “That’s fair. Journalists aren’t really big names unless they’re, like, T.V. anchors. Can’t blame you for not knowing.”

Marinette snorts. “Tell that to Alya. Anyway, I’ll call her. Get ready, and don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She hits the call button, and nearly immediately another girl’s voice is coming from the speakers. “Marinette! Is he there?!”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Yes, Alya, he’s here.” She pushes Jon towards the couch and sits down next to him where they can sit comfortably close enough together for the camera to pick up the both of them. “See? Meet Jon, my roommate.”

“You’re Jonathan Kent!!!” Alya shrieks. She lets out a long string of something in French before taking a deep breath. “Marinette, I cannot believe you! You’ve been living with Jonathan Kent for months and you didn’t tell me?!”

“I didn’t know his parents were the people you’re always going on about! I told you as soon as I did!”

“Mari.” Alya draws out the last vowel in a long whine. “Lois Lane is my hero! How did you forget?!”

“Uh, because her name is Lane? I’ve never met Jon’s parents. I didn’t know his mom’s name. I just knew his is Kent.”

“And how many times have I talked about Clark Kent?!”

Marinette covers her face. “That I just forgot. To be fair, what are the odds that my roommate’s parents are your heroes? It just never occurred to me.”

Alya laughs boisterously. “Good point, girl. I guess I can’t be too mad at you, since you are finally introducing me.”

“Aha. Speaking of.” Jon says. “Nice to meet you. Marinette’s told me a lot about you.”

“Hi! Oh my god. Have you seen my blog?” Alya flinches. “Wait,” she says to herself. “Can I just ask if he’s read my blog?” She shakes her head. “Will you read my blog? If I can get feedback from the Jonathan Kent, I’ll be that much closer to being the best reporter I can be.”

“Alya!” Marinette chastises. “Jon is very busy with University. He doesn’t have time to review your blog for you.”

“It doesn’t have to be right away!” Alya protests. “He can do it when he gets to it!”

Jon clears his throat. “I, uh, also don’t speak French, so…” Alya curses. Jon thinks. It’s in French, but it sounds like a curse. He laughs. “I’m flattered, but I’m not sure I can help you much. I’m not a journalist yet myself, anyway.”

“But you are studying it, aren’t you?” Alya asks.

Jon rubs his neck. “Well… no. I’m still undeclared. To be honest, I’m not really sure what I want to do, yet.” He sighs. “And am quickly running out of time to figure it out.”

He feels Marinette’s comforting touch on his shoulder. “You’ll figure it out.” She says.

“Yeah, maybe.” He shakes his head, looking back to Alya. “Anyway, you have a blog? It’s about the superheroes there, right? Ladybug and Black Cat?”

“Chat Noir.” Marinette corrects him. “Ladybug’s name is in English, Chat Noir’s sounds so weird translated.”

Jon laughs. “What’s weird about Black Cat? I’m pretty sure there’s like, four different cat burglars going by variations of that exact name. At least.”

“Exactly. French, Chat Noir, is a hero. Black Cat is a villain name.”

Jon rolls his eyes. “Fine, fine. Chat Noir. I haven’t heard much on them lately. Not since the big news when they beat their bad guy.”

“They’re still around.” Alya says. “They’re doing more conventional heroism now. Or, at least, Chat Noir is. Ladybug hasn’t been seen for some time.”

Jon frowns. That’s news to him, but then since he’s off-duty he’s fallen out of touch with the most recent hero news. His dad has been respectfully keeping that stuff out of their talks, thankfully. It’s none of his business, anyway. “Huh. Hope she’s okay.”

“We think she is.” Alya says. “Chat won’t give us much, but apparently it was her decision.”

That’s relatable. “Ah. Cool. Good for her.”

Both Marinette and Alya give him strange looks. He shifts awkwardly under their stares. “I hear Superboy is off-duty, though.” Alya says. “Your parents are the number one source for super news. Would you happen to know what happened to him?”

Jon shrugs. “Can’t say. Mom and Dad usually don’t share details of articles with me, so I don’t know any more than they’ve made public.”

“You’re not worried about one of your superheroes just vanishing all of a sudden? The Justice League says he’s just taking leave, but don’t you think it’s a bit odd?” Alya asks. “It’s been months since anyone’s seen him.”

Good. Jon thinks. He laughs, but the sound rings bitter to him. “Why should I be worried? He’s Superboy. I’m sure he’s fine. The same could be said for your Ladybug, and you don’t seem worried.”

“Oh, I’m worried.” Alya says pointedly. Jon isn’t quite sure what the emphasis is for, but… talk about superheroes is normal, superhero business is none of his. Whatever Alya’s hinting at isn’t his concern. Ladybug is probably fine, if Chat Noir says so. “But I know the situation with Ladybug better than I do Superboy.”

“Funny, I’m the other way around. I guess there’s nothing to worry about, after all.”

Alya hums. “Maybe. I hope not.”

Marinette shifts the conversation to a lighter topic, to Jon’s relief, but something inside him stays unsettled. He doesn’t like worrying everyone, but he’s not in charge of the PR. The League is surely just trying to maintain some control over the situation, implying that he’s on some temporary break and not gone indefinitely, or maybe they just… don’t believe that he’s serious about this.

He can… he can buy that. The son of the boy scout in blue giving up heroics? Laughable. A Kryptonian living on Earth like he’s just a guy and not some god among men? Why would he lower himself that way? Because I am just a guy. Jon thinks bitterly.

The League does a lot of good in the world, and Jon respects them for that, but they just don’t understand having power and not wanting to use it. To refrain from using it makes sense to them. To hold back from using all his power is exactly what they want him to do. But they just can’t even imagine not wanting to use power that they have.

To be fair, there was a time that Jon thought the same way. His powers are a part of him, so why shouldn’t he use them? Now, when he finally has some semblance of peace, when he’s living his own life with ordinary people in an ordinary way… going back terrifies him. He’d rather lose his powers entirely than go back to using them to fight all the time.

He still feels guilty that his powers can be used to fight for good. He can, so he has to. That’s what his dad says. But… he doesn’t want to fight again. It doesn’t matter if he’s fighting for good if he’s still fighting. He’s tired, and he wants to live this ordinary life he’s found.

Super-hearing sucks. Jon decides this at God-knows-O’clock in the morning when he wakes up to the distinct and unfortunately familiar sound of glass being cut. By one of Damian’s Goddamned toys.

Damian, you motherf-

His thoughts are interrupted when he tunes in to the sound more and hears ragged, uneven breathing and the pitter-patter of liquid hitting hardwood.

Hell.

Jon throws himself out of bed and floats over the ground to make no noise – the last thing he wants to do is wake up Marinette – to go see what the damage is.

He enters the living room and there, naturally, is Damian. In his hero costume. Bleeding on Jon’s furniture. And there’s a hole in the window. There go our deposits. Sorry, Marinette. “I hate you so much.” Jon hisses.

“I’ll fix the window.” Damian snaps. “Just help me with this.” He’s holding his thigh tightly, trying to keep pressure on two different areas.

“Did you get… shot and stabbed? In the same leg?”

“I do not need your judgement, Kent. I need your supplies.”

Jon sighs and flies over to the bathroom to retrieve the first-aid kit. Luckily, Damian is more than capable of stitching himself back together, because right now Jon is doing his absolute darndest to not crush his friend instead of simply keeping pressure on him. As Damian focuses on the blade wound, Jon keeps pressure on the bullet wound, gritting his teeth all the while.

And while Damian focuses on his bullet wound, Jon gets the lovely job of cleaning up all the blood before Marinette sees it. Goddamnit, Damian.

Damian huffs. “There. Now suit up, I’ll need your assistance to finish this mission with my leg the way it is.”

Jon wrings out the towel he’s absolutely going to have to throw away now into the sink. “No.” He says. “I’m retired. Find someone else.”

Damian scoffs. “You’re clearly not busy. With you there it won’t take long, we simply need to-”

“I said no, Damian!” Jon throws the towel at him. At least Damian has the decency to start cleaning up the rest of his mess himself now that he’s not busy staying alive. “I’m not Superboy anymore. There are plenty of heroes who can help you. Call one of them.”

“Jon. Seriously.” He deadpans. “Stop trying to make this difficult. It will be simple. You’ll be back before sunrise; it won’t be any bother at all. Now come on.”

“What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand? I’m. Not. A. Hero. Anymore. It’s bad enough you’re breaking into my home. I’m not getting dragged onto another stupid mission with you because you can’t understand what off-duty means.”

“What is wrong with you? I came here because I was bleeding out!”

“And now you’re patched up.” Jon bites. “So, bye!”

“You’ve taken a long enough break. While you act like a child, people’s lives could be in danger.” Damian growls. “Stop whining and suit up. I need your help.”

Jon’s gut screams at him. It sinks sharpened fangs into his flesh and tears and rips and revels, because Jon knows Damian is right. People are out there right now who need help. Help he can provide. It is beyond selfish of him to refuse for such childish reasons like he’s tired or stressed or shaking with barely suppressed terror at the very idea of putting the cape back on.

Before Damian shows up in his apartment, Jon doubts he’s a good person. Maybe he was once, maybe he was just acting in some facsimile of one in his dad’s shadow, but now? Now Jon is certain. He’s a failure. A disappointment. A blot, marring that almighty “S” everyone cherishes so dearly. Because even now, even as Damian, who has dragged him out on so many missions before, comes to him crippled and bleeding, asking for his help to save innocents, Jon can’t bring himself to go with his old friend. He begs to, he yearns to, but he can’t. Something cold and pale and stony holds him back and solidifies his… resolve seems too positive a word for it. It isn’t strength at the core of his refusal. It’s fear, pure and simple. “Find someone else.” Jon says. “You’re the one overstaying your welcome. If lives are in danger, you’d save them faster if you called in backup from heroes who are actually working.”

“How can you sit idly-”

Because I’m not the person you think I am. “Because I’m not a hero!” Because I’m not strong enough. “You’re the one ignoring procedure! It’s been made crystal clear that I’m not an active hero, anymore!” Jon fears Damian can see how his tightly clenched fists shake at his side. Damian is certainly too observant to miss such an obvious tell. Pathetic. “Superboy is retired! Don’t assume I’ll drop everything I’ve been doing to run out the moment you decide I should!”

“Jon! Superboy is needed! Will you just ignore the call of duty?”

Don’t ask me that. Please. “I will! That’s not my job anymore!”

“Then why did you help me?”

Jon sputters. Because you’re my friend. Because you could die. Because… I’m selfish and I can’t distance myself enough from you to stop. “Because you were bleeding on my floors. I don’t know what you’re doing, and I don’t care.” This much, at least, is honest. Jon doesn’t necessarily not care at all, but he cares far less than he should. And he does desperately wish to not know. “I’m done with that life. I’m finally starting to feel-”

“I don’t care what kind of tantrum your leave has been about.” Damian says. “You’re needed now, so come on!”

Stop pushing. There’s a tightness in Jon’s chest, restricting his breath, stronger than any chains. If you don’t, I don’t know what… “Are you just incapable of listening?!”

“…Jon? Wha-”

Thunk.

Everything falls into deathly silence as all three people in the room absorb what just happened. Marinette, in her nightgown, sleepy and disoriented from being woken up by the yelling, is standing there in the entranceway, wide alert now, looking between Jon, Damian, the window, Damian’s bandaged leg, the bloody towel on the coffee table, and the batarang firmly rooted in the wall an inch from her head.

Damian just threw a batarang at Marinette. At Marinette.

“Never mind.” Marinette says coldly. Jon’s heart turns to ice at the frigid tone. It doesn’t belong in her voice. “I don’t want to know.” She turns away, like Jon is up at such a dumb hour eating ice cream instead of fighting with a hero standing in front of a man-sized hole in their window.

When Jon hears the click of her door closing, he rounds on Damian. Self-pity, self-loathing, doubt, all of it leave his heart in an instant. All he feels now is anger. Something fiery consumes him and he sees red. “Get the hell out of my home.”

“I-”

“How fucking dare you! You break into my house, demand my help when I’ve already made it clear you shouldn’t call me for that, and you attack my roommate?! Do you realize what you’ve just done?!”

“She has remarkable reflexes.” Damian says.

“Get the hell out of my house!”

Damian clears his throat awkwardly. In a calmer state of mind, Jon will later remember this is a sign of Damian’s embarrassment, but at the moment he doesn’t care to think twice about the gesture. “Yes… of course. You clearly have damage control to do here, with your identity possibly compromised to a civilian. I’ll find someone unoccupied to assist with my mission.”

Jon just gapes at him. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Damian picks up the circle of glass and hangs outside the window for a moment to fix it back in place and seal it before he takes off.

The window looks good as new, but there’s a bloody rag on Jon’s coffee table and… the damage is done. Oh, God. He sighs, picking up the towel again and throwing it in the sink. Now what?

He has no idea how much Marinette heard, if anything, but even just seeing Damian here in his hero costume is dangerous. She’ll wonder how he knows Damian, why Damian came here.

All this, coming to New York, all this work in college, his entire life right now, is to get away from heroism. In one night, Damian breaks in and uproots all of it. Months of building up his life here, and now he’s in the deep end of the hero nonsense again. Great. Just great.

Maybe… maybe it’s salvageable. Maybe it’s okay. Maybe… there’s only one way to find out. He has to start damage control as soon as he can. God, I’m tired.

He spends another few minutes wringing the blood out of the towel. It’s as good as it’s going to get, but he thinks he’ll still probably buy a new one tomorrow. Then, with a heavy sigh, Jon trods over to Marinette’s door.

He raps gently on the wood. “Marinette?”

“I don’t want to know, Jon!” Marinette’s icy voice cuts into him. This… isn’t the reaction he expects. Especially with Alya as her best friend, he expects her to be asking him for all the details. He expects it’ll change everything, and he hates that it will, but he certainly doesn’t expect that all the kindness and warmth, all the friendliness and cheer, will vanish just like that.

He knows the batarang must have scared her. He deserves her anger, her confusion, her fear. That, he understands. But this? Cold fury, something deep, something hurt, like betrayal. A wall of ice built between them in an instant. He doesn’t understand, he can’t understand, but it hurts him regardless, to hear her voice that way. To hear the pain in her voice. “Marinette? At least let me explain.”

“I said I don’t want to know!” The door swings open, giving Jon a clear view of Marinette’s clenched jaw and white knuckles and her deadly glare. “I don’t care why he was here. I don’t care how you know him. I don’t want to know. Whatever your business is with heroes, I don’t want anything to do with it. Understand? Leave me out of it.”

She slams the door in his face.

Jon has never heard her sound that way before. It’s frightening, but mostly it makes him feel like his world is falling apart. Months of his life, all the normal he’s managed to find, gone. Just like that. With the slam of a door.

Now what?

Marinette won’t talk to him. Jon fixes the hole in the wall and snaps the batarang that caused it in half with his bare hands. He hides the pieces away in his closet where he doesn’t have to look at them. There’s a new towel in their kitchen. At any glance, the apartment is back to normal.

But Marinette won’t talk to him. She treats him like the plague. She comes home late, going straight to her room when she does. If she sticks around in the morning long enough to make coffee or tea, she makes her own cup and leaves. The few times she’s home for dinner, she cooks just for herself and eats in her room.

Life is… normal. He’s still going to class, he’s still living here in New York, his apartment is back to normal. But it doesn’t feel like normal. It feels like hell. It feels like everything he tried to run away from when he left the hero life behind him is kicking him square in the butt over and over again. Every time Marinette’s gaze sweeps over him and continues like he’s not even there, every quiet, quiet evening in when she’s not in the apartment and he doesn’t know if she’s out getting dinner or working late in the library, or… or anything.

It’s almost like she isn’t even there anymore.

Jon leaves a post-it note in the entranceway, right inside the door, before the hallway turns. It says to take off his shoes. He’s not sure if he’s trying to get her attention somehow or if he just misses her getting on his case about it. It works, though. He replaces his shoes with the indoor ones Marinette got for him early on. She doesn’t comment on it.

He can’t focus anymore. When he sits down to study, he just feels this dread hang over him. When he’s in class he just feels out of place. Like he doesn’t belong. It’s frustrating, and it pisses him off, and that only makes it harder to focus on his work.

He tries. He tries so hard. He’s doing everything he can, but he can’t sit still and let that overhanging pain consume him. He can’t stop to look at his notes, because if he does it’ll catch up with him and he can’t handle that. He feels like he’s always on the move, searching for something to do, something to distract him, but at the same time he can feel himself stagnating and it makes him feel dirty and gross and he hates it and he scrubs himself so thoroughly every day but the filth he feels never goes away.

Even being a hero was better than this. But then he listens for that tell-tale shriek he’s been shutting out for so many months and he’s not sure it’s not coming from him because the thought of flying to the rescue, of punching some thief and getting involved in something that’s none of his business makes him nauseous. It makes his heart race and he can’t breathe, and he aches all over, wondering what’s wrong with him.

A small, sensible part of him says, “You were ten. Of course, you’re messed up, now.”

A more cynical part says, “Damian was younger. He’s not having a panic attack because some lady is getting her purse stolen.”

Surprisingly, it’s that same cynical part of him that helpfully counters itself. “Sure, he’s still a hero, but do you really want to call Damian okay?”

Yeah, that’s fair.

This is all his fault, anyway.

Diligently, like clockwork, he works on the schedule that he built over his first semester. He goes to class, and when he gets home, he writes down all his assignments on the whiteboard over his desk. Marinette’s idea. It’s the only reason he made it through the transition to college from high school.

Now, though, he just stares at the assignments there in black ink and stares and stares and wills himself to do them but doesn’t ever actually move. He hates it so much. He’s never been just unable to do things before, but now the farthest he ever gets is pulling the paper out, then all he can do is stare at it until his mind wanders and he ends up clicking through websites like a tiger pacing it’s cage at the zoo. Always moving, always going back and forth, but never doing anything.

When he gets his midterm scores back, Jon decides he can’t do this anymore. If he keeps going at this rate, he’ll lose what grip he does still have on his grades and he won’t have a choice but to go home and back to… back to Superboy.

He can’t go back to Superboy. Whatever else this reprieve of duty has done to him, he just can’t handle that anymore. He knows what he needs. He had a taste of it. Just a tiny, tiny, prototype of it, but he had it. That normalcy. That feeling like he knows what he’s doing, that he’s okay, and that things will work out. He had it and he lost it. And he doesn’t know how to get it back.

“Mom?”

He hears his mom’s gentle sigh over the phone. That familiar, knowing sigh she does when she knows she’s gearing up for something big. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

Jon explains the situation to her. No details spared. He tells her about Damian showing up, about Marinette seeing him, about her avoiding him and his slipping grades, and about how much going back to being Superboy terrifies him. He tells her how frustrated he is because he had, for just a moment, exactly what he wanted right in his hands and Damian came and knocked it to the floor and shattered it. He tells her how angry he is with Damian. With himself. With how he’s afraid what his dad will think of him if he’s so weak he can’t even save himself, much less be a hero worthy of being the son of Superman. He tells her how alone and stagnant he feels, how evil he feels for turning down Damian in the first place, and he begs her for help.

It’s a long, long, mostly one-sided conversation, punctuated by long periods of nothing but crying, but he tells her everything because he doesn’t have any other route to take.

“Sweetie, if you can’t be Superboy, then you can’t be Superboy.” His mom says. “Your dad and I do feel differently about it, but you remember what he said when you first talked to him about this? Good people help because they can. Honey, you can’t. And that’s okay. Not doing something you can’t do doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you normal.” And now he’s crying again. “He won’t be upset with you if you don’t go back to being a hero. He just wants you to be happy, same as I do. And it takes a lot more strength to admit when we can’t do something than to kill ourselves trying anyway. I’m proud of you. And he is, too.

“And I’m sorry, I don’t know what to tell you about Marinette. If she doesn’t want to be around you, then… there’s not much you can do but keep trying to be happy without her. I know she’s your friend, but… there’s only so much you can do. If she’s really against it, you might have to say goodbye.”

“I don’t want to.” Jon chokes out. “Mom, she’s my normal.”

“You found normal once. You can do it again.”

Jon frantically scrubs at his eyes, trying to stop the tears. “I… S’pose.” The thought doesn’t make him feel better, but it does make sense.

“And I think you should talk to Damian.”

“I don’t want to see him.” Jon growls.

“Jon, he’s your friend, too. You both woke up Marinette. It was wrong of him to ask you to help with his mission, but don’t blame him for what isn’t entirely his fault.”

There’s a spike in Jon’s heart, and it’s twisted because he knows she’s right.

“Don’t lose two friends over this, Jon.”

God, she’s right. Jon has to go talk to him. He doesn’t want to, but… he has to. Knowing Damian, he probably doesn’t fully understand why Jon’s even mad at him, so he has to. To at least give Damian a chance to understand.

Even if a part of him says good riddance, and that he’s better off without Damian always there to drag him back into the world of heroes.

Alfred answers the door of the manor and barely looks him up and down before telling Jon that Damian is in the batcave. Jon trudges past the old butler, following old paths through the manor he’d memorized a lifetime ago.

Damian catches sight of him the moment he enters and nods his acknowledgement. Jon notes that Tim is here, but he can’t bring himself to care.

It feels weird, walking into the batcave in an old flannel and worn-out jeans. It’s weird to not even have his suit underneath. This place feels so deeply entrenched with Jon’s memory of heroism that he feels out of place as he is. Underdressed, in a way.

“You should be talking to your father about returning to duty.” Damian says. “Hiding here won’t help.”

“I’m not returning to duty.” Jon says tiredly. “I’m here to talk to you.”

Damian pauses. He’s not expressive, per se, but Jon knows him too well. He knows Damian is embarrassed about the incident. Perhaps even… guilty? Jon’s too tired to think too much about it. “Ah. Right. Speak, then.”

Jon takes a deep breath to stamp down on the rage that bubbles up at Damian’s dismissive tone. Like he didn’t do anything wrong. Like he didn’t come by uninvited and… “You ruined my life.” Jon says quietly. “Do you understand that?”

Damian frowns at him. “There’s no need to get dramatic. This Marinette girl may have heard a bit too much, but she’s only one person. This can be solved easily.”

Jon groans. “That’s not what I’m talking about!” He pauses to breathe some more. He refuses to cry in the batcave. Especially not in front of Damian. “I’m not Superboy anymore. I’m not a hero anymore. I quit for a reason, Damian. I quit because I wanted… I just wanted one thing. I wanted something that could make me feel… okay. I can’t be Superboy, because I- because I…” More deep breaths. Stay calm. “Because I’m not okay. And I went to New York, to college, because I thought I could find something normal. I thought I could- I could be me and not have to fight all the time. And I did! I was happy! I felt safe, and I felt like I could- like I could- I felt like things would be okay.

“And then you came in. Now Marinette won’t talk to me. I’m all alone and I’m only getting worse, but every time I think about going back to being Superboy I panic because I can’t- I can’t fight like that again. I just… physically… I…” He sighs and focuses on his breathing again. “I thought I could be happy. But now that’s ruined.”

Jon notes that Damian stops looking at him somewhere along the line, but all he hears is Damian’s flippant retort. “You’ll get over her. Just because you love this girl doesn’t mean her not liking you is the end of the world.”

That’s where Jon sees red. He stalks up and grabs Damian by the collar, half-surprised that Damian lets him, but not hesitating to lift Damian into the air. “Don’t talk about her like that! You don’t understand anything! Don’t trivialize this like that! It’s not about love, Damian! I’m not in love with her! She was my normal! She was- She was…” Jon chokes on his own words and drops Damian so he can turn away and focus on keeping his tears from slipping free. “You don’t get it. I don’t know why I came here. I’m just going to- I’m going to go.”

“Wait, Jon.” Jon stops, turning back to look at Damian. Damian sighs, though it comes out as more of a huff. “I’m sorry.” He says. “I… I didn’t know why you quit, and I assumed… I shouldn’t have, and I apologize.”

It’s not much, but it’s an apology. It doesn’t fix anything, but it does make Jon feel just a little less broken. “Thanks.” Jon says quietly. “I’m sorry, too. I was yelling, too. It’s not entirely your fault she woke up.”

Damian just nods stiffly in acknowledgement, still refusing to meet Jon’s eye. “Would you… like help reconciling with Marinette? Perhaps if I-”

“God, no. For Christ’s sake, please don’t even step foot in New York.” Jon says it more biting than he means, but that doesn’t seem to bother Damian much. “Marinette doesn’t want anything to do with heroes. Quite frankly, I don’t disagree. If you come in trying to fix everything, it’ll only get worse.”

“…I understand. If you do need my assistance, I will be available for you.”

Jon stares at him for a while, wondering how he feels about that. He’s still resentful, a bit, but Damian is trying. He’s a far cry from that bratty thirteen-year-old that dragged little ten-year-old Jon around on wacky, life-threatening adventures. Jon supposes he’s pretty different now himself, too.

“Thanks, Damian. I appreciate that.”

-------=-------

Tag List: @moonystars14 @pawsitivelymiraculous @magic-miraculous @vixen-uchiha @buticaaba @bigpicklebananatree @lozzybowe  @moonlightstar64 @amayakans <3

[dotthings]

All right let’s do this. SPN 15.10. “The Heroes Journey.” 

Look, I have now watched Jensen tap-dancing. A whole extended musical number of Jensen Ackles, dancing. WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO NOW, ALL RIGHT I NEED TO GET A GRIP. WRITE SOME META. HERE YOU GO. 

How very Joseph Campbell of you, Dabb. Except the irony here is it’s not Joseph Cambell style hero journey exploration that’s being highlighted here, those big mythic gestures--the call, rejection of the call, acceptance of the call, reckoning with the father and so on. This ep tapped into a different heroic theme that has a lot in common with superhero narratives. It’s not the powers, it’s not the mask, it’s not the really kevlar or mecha suit or the cape that makes a hero a hero. It’s who they are as a person when all that’s stripped away. Who are they without that. This ep gave me some some S6 Buffy vibes, or it symbolically pre-serum Steve Rogers’ed Sam and Dean. 

It showed their courage and determination and refusal to give up even though they no longer has the same literally God-given, chosen ones blessed luck. It’s not that they didn’t know how to lock-pick or throw a punch or dodge a punch or what to do about monsters any more. They are still highly trained, but none of it was working. I think Chuck didn’t just remove the blessed luck, he gave them an extra zap of extra rotten luck just to be a stinker.

But they didn’t give up and this episode yet again makes it clear--Chuck can fiddle with environment around them, even do stuff directly to people, but he can’t make them feel, he can’t give them feelings they don’t have, he can’t control their thoughts. We started the season with Dean’s doubts about what’s real and whether anything he and Sam have been through has meaning, given the reveal of Chuck as puppet master, but Dean throws down here with a battle cry of it wasn’t all Chuck. It was us. The blood, the sweat the tears. 

That’s how this storyline works and the show keeps indicating that’s how it works. They are not without free will. They don’t stop being themselves. They didn’t do everything because of Chuck. They made choices despite the manipulations around them, it was still all them, just trapped in Chuck’s rat maze.

Huh and just an aside maybe Dean really listened to Cas’s speech about that earlier this season, not just to Sam’s, ya think? Considering we’re past the deliberate Cas erasure stage, then we went through the reluctant begrudging actually speaking to each other stage, then we had the pretending not to look at each other yet constantly looking at each other stage, and then we had the ice melting and things are still a mess but the deep freeze is ended. All through that, Dean was thinking about Cas’s words. About how they made their own choices. And “we are.” 

This ep self-referentially deconstructed SPN’s own conceits about Sam and Dean. They’re supposed to be these “sweaty overwhelmed hunters” (Kripke) and supposedly regular guys. And yes that has been a massive part of the appeal to me all along, I was never a big fan of Sam and Dean as Chosen Ones or the only guys who can do this. The point is they’re regular guys who are trained and honed into the warriors they became. But here’s the thing, SPN never really did that. The grit was soft focus, Sam and Dean cloaked in fantasy. Perfect teeth, perfect hair, perfect manicures. We saw some dirt, some blood, but they’re also the highly marketable leads on a CW genre urban fantasy horror tv series. They didn’t get colds, or cavities, nor did Baby ever break down. I know Baby is an amazing car but if we’re going to talk realism...she would break down at least sometimes. Have they even so much as run out of gas and had to walk 10 miles? 

So there has always been this heroic glow around them, an idealization the show itself used, the way they’re filmed and shot. And that’s the thing about many hero narratives...would we really want it another way for some things? Some hero narratives are more genuine gritty. SPN...never was. It occupied a liminal space. It’s gritty...only so far. They’re just regular dudes...not exactly. Not just in the lack of everyday people realism, but their entire story, their whole existence, was revealed in S4/5 as engineered by Heaven. Surely it can’t be a shock the reveal at the end of S14 their whole existence...as engineered by Chuck. SPN already ripped that open, the difference is how far up the power chain the manipulation went. Turns out it went up to the deity CEO not just squabbling angels.  They were Special. Chosen. Destined. Play your roles. The Boy with the Demon Blood. The Righteous Man. I have always been a lot more interested in heroes who aren’t the Chosen Ones (although I am a big Buffy fan). I liked that Sam and Dean were regular guys. Which...they are. With the god luck, without the god luck, they are.

They’re no less themselves, they’re not less Sam and Dean, they didn’t retroactively lose their free will, because of the reveal of Chuck as puppet master. They didn’t stop being Sam and Dean because the god luck was taken away. This ep captured that spirit, through the lens of an off-center, comedic meta episode, but that right there, is Sam and Dean’s spirit.

Isn’t it interesting, the ringmaster came up with a marketing hook for Sam and Dean in the fight cage, “The two of you against the world,” when what actually ends up happening is Sam and Dean go all out to save themselves, but it doesn’t actually work, and their friend Garth saves them. Because along with the whole thing about it not being the mask or the costume or the powers that define superheroes, there’s the thing about how heroes need their friends, sometimes they need an assist. 

Sam and Dean, alone against the world...ok in some respects, SPN works within that trope, the mythic appeal of that dynamic, part of the hazy glow of fantasy that surrounds these characters, but what have we seen on SPN time and again, and again, and now again in its final season, where it’s a theme shown even louder and it’s been pretty loud for a while.  

I can't do this alone Yes you can. Yeah, well, I don't want to.

Think that was just the brothers, off into infinity, no, while that’s a great Sam and Dean moment, that was just the opening notes of this song, it began there with them and kept expanding to include them and their friends and their family. It was all there right from the start. First it was John, not just Sam and Dean. Then it was Bobby, not just Sam and Dean. Then it was Sam, Dean, Bobby, and the Harvelles. Then it was Sam, Dean, the Harvelles, and Cas. Then Team Free Will. Charlie. Garth. Jack. Eileen. Or the Wayward Sisters who, like Garth, saved Sam and Dean because even heroes aren’t 100% perfection who can always save themselves, sometimes they do in fact need some help.

Here’s something else the ep showed us. While Sam and Dean have done all they did with this extra god chosen good luck, all the other hunters took the risks and did a dirty, terrifying, exhausting endless job without being blessed the same way by Chuck. Chuck didn’t care about them, not like he does about Sam and Dean. They are brave and needed and necessary too. Oh I see you, SPN. I see you.

Dean’s utterly sappy soft look watching Garth dance with his wife, continuing on that theme of that longing for...something, someone.

Can’t go wrong with Sam and Dean and babies. Big Sam holding his namesake baby Sammy. MY HEART.

Dean holding baby Cas with Cas’s namesake being a supernatural creature with an intense stare was cute.

Baby breaking down just feels so...emblematic. Because I agree that a show that runs this long will have trouble sustaining itself indefinitely and will decline, it’s an inevitable tv thing. I don’t agree it’s in decline right now or that the quality has sunk. In fact S15 is reminding me repeatedly why I love it so much to the begin with. It’s calling me back in. I wouldn’t be seeing this through to the very end if the story wasn’t pleasing me and it is not only satisfactory, it’s startling me how much it resonates for me now, speaking as someone who’s had some highs and lows with engagement with the show and has criticized it and gotten frustrated, tried to quit, did quit, came back, several times. 

This season is also reminding me how deeply I love Sam and Dean and their sibling bond, after some seasons that alienated me from that bond for various reasons, but S15 is...it’s me bursting into tears at random moments because of a Sam and Dean Thought.  It’s like that. What even is this. I don’t know I just hope it continues.

[rainbow-scarab]

It’s fanfiction time!!

A mini crossover between @kuttiesstuff​‘s Human Candy AU and LanternDay AU (but mostly LanternDay).

I found out about LD Sans's story a few days ago looking through Kuttie's art tag (I had seen him in the Twitchy Timeloop comic but didn't really know what he was about). Aaaaaaaaand somehow a fanfiction happened XD

I've taken some liberties with the AUs, especially since there's only so much revealed about LanternDay (as well as some things I didn't notice went against canon until it was too late WHOOPS), but I hope it's fun anyway. ...Pretend everyone speaks German lol I don't want to butcher it with my attempts

(Also....this is the first fanfic I've actually completed since like....2009 o__o;;; I'm not much of a writer. But I still enjoyed myself c: )

Title: Tastes Like Home

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

Chance wasn't used to the stares he was getting from monsterkind on his long trip back to Snowdin from the surface. In fact, he wasn't used to any part of the journey--that's what teleporting was for! But today that wasn't an option. Not for a human.

Of course, he had been human all along! But now it was visible to the outside world (even if no one recognized him anymore as "Sans"). Ever since he found that one universe with its unique candy... Well, it had only been a day, but already it was a new chapter in his life--he just knew it! He'd finally be able to go home, whole, in his body... The universe had promised him.

When it would happen, he didn't know. But in the meantime, he explored the surface. This time, where other humans could recognize him as such, and he could fit in! Malls, movies, food........he could be just another human teenager.

But human teens had to sleep eventually, so it was back to his house in Snowdin. A big grin spread across his face as he walked. He couldn't wait to tell Papyrus about his day.

---

Papyrus pounded the bread dough with all his might. And again, and again. It made an odd crunch each time.

It had been two days since Sans came home from another universe, ate some strange magic food, turned into a human, and ran off excited! Leaving the Great Papyrus behind!!

He punched the dough so hard it flew off the counter, joining half a dozen others on the floor. He sighed and started on another. At least one loaf of his surely soon-to-be-famous spaghetti noodle bread had made it to the oven.

Sans had seemed so happy in this human form. But there was no reason he had to go off by himself. He would have gone with him, if he even knew he was going somewhere! It frustrated Papyrus to no end. But most of all, he was worried. Worried at how long Sans had been gone. Worried that he was alone as a squishy human. And worried that....

That...........

Papyrus didn't want to think about it, and he threw himself back into breadmaking. Grillby was out there looking for him anyway. Sans would come home one way or another.

Then came the sound of the front door.

"SANS!?"

---

The moment he opened the door, Chance was swooped up in a huge hug. "papyrus!" He smiled and wrapped his own arms around the taller brother. Before he could get out any more words, Papyrus spoke up at his typical volume.

"SANS!" Papyrus, stern, put him down quickly (but gently) in favor of putting his hands on his hips, and stomped his foot down. "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?? WHY HAVEN'T YOU BEEN ANSWERING YOUR PHONE?"

"oh, uh..." He should have expected to be taken to task for something like this. "sorry paps, phone ran out of power. i didn't think too much of it since it was only a day--"

"TWO DAYS!"

His good mood was slowly deflating. Had he really lost track of time that badly? No wonder he was so tired. "sorry. i guess i got too excited at the thought of going home."

"H....home?" He realized his mistake immediately. Papyrus's shoulders sagged, and his face looked less angry than....scared.

"i, um, papyrus..." His mind struggled against the twinge of pain in his heart. Of course he'd be going home! That was how it always was gonna be. Papyrus knew of his origins too, so...so....why was this so hard!? Not being able to bear the look on Papyrus's face, he looked to the side. Leaving him staring at the house he'd lived in for so many years now. But...not for much longer, right? He'd have to say goodbye to it.

"Sans?" Papyrus was waiting on him. Looking back at his little brother just made his heart hurt more. For years, he hadn't wanted to think about it, but with the promise of going home closer now than it ever had been, the fact was unavoidable, standing in front of him. If he wanted to go home, he'd have to leave Papyrus behind too.

Tears welled up in his eyes and he shot forward to hug his brother. "don't worry about it, paps..."

Papyrus returned the hug. "I'm going to worry about it if you......" There was a strange pause. "Sans, your body!"

"...huh?"

"YOU'RE BACK TO NORMAL!"

A quick glance at his hands confirmed it. Skeletal, again. Back into the strange magic costume he'd been trapped in for years. "....oh."

He pressed back into his brother, tears flowing in earnest. Somehow this wasn't a shock to him. It made sense. Despite everything, he was too attached to this place and the people who came with it. In this moment, being here, as Papyrus's brother, even in monster form, was more important than going home. That was what what his heart told him. But it still hurt.

---

Papyrus held Sans until he calmed down. There was a lot he didn't understand. Sans's mood had changed so quickly. Was it related to where he went? Did it have to do with being human? Was it all those "mood swings" teens were known for? He didn't know. He was still worried about what Sans said, about going "home"...but it could wait for now.

Sans's breathing finally evened out. "you're the best, paps."

"NYEH??" That brought a smile to his face, and some of his usual attitude. "Well...OF COURSE! I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS."

A loud beep sounded from the kitchen. "...MY BREAD!"

---

The brothers sat on the couch with a plate in front of them, as Papyrus put on the finishing touches. Bread, full of spaghetti noodles, marinara sauce on top, and a sprinkling of herbs.

"MY CREATION IS COMPLETE!" Papyrus sprang to his feet for dramatic effect. "THE FIRST SPAGHETTI BREAD!" He cut off a slice and held it out for Sans, looking at him expectantly.

Sans took and bit into the slice, bits of dry crunchy noodle crumbling out of it. The bread's contents scraped against the inside of his mouth, and he found out the hard way an entire bay leaf made it into the bite as well. "it sure has a lot of texture, paps."

This pleased Papyrus. "NYEH HEH! BUT OF COURSE! TEXTURE IS ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT COMPONENTS OF A DISH."

"yeah you always know what a dish kneads." He took another bite.

"OH MY GOD SANS. DON'T START."

"what? my puns are the yeast of our problems." Another bite.

"SANS!!"

"just roll with it paps." Crumbs and sauce were getting everywhere.

"SANS! NO MORE...HALF-BAKED PUNS OUT OF YOU! NYEH!"

Sans burst out laughing, and kept laughing, until tears streamed down his face. He kept grabbing more bread, and shoving it in his face as best he could through the laughter and tears. Papyrus had to wonder again if he was okay.

Was he okay? Sans really wasn't sure. He so desperately wanted to go home, but it just wasn't happening. He felt like he was given an amazing opportunity, and he missed his chance. He couldn't prove to the universe that he wanted it enough, and so not only could he not go home, he couldn't live life as a human either.

All he could do was laugh, cry, and eat more and more of this bread. It hurt. But somewhere inside him, he didn't want to admit, he couldn't help thinking maybe this was what home was like. A home anyway. The taste of the bread...the old couch...a little brother. And, maybe home hurt sometimes. A reminder that he couldn't have everything to make him whole. Torn between his origins and his current life.

At least this life came with a cool brother.

He curled up against Papyrus, still slowly attempting to munch on bread, and drifted off to much needed sleep.

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

The end!

.....Papyrus eventually remembers to call Grillby to tell him Sans is back.

I didn't know how much canonically Papyrus knew about Chance's past as a human, and how Chance expected to go "home" someday. I just kinda made him know here....and be low-key anxious that someday his brother would leave D:

I might have seen too late that Papyrus doesn't make his own bread, but.....it's spaghetti bread??? XD Which I found out after writing IS A REAL DISH!? ...WHY XD I thought for sure I was making it up but no...real life beat me to it. But at least the version in this fic is a true Papyrus original 😉 Also going under the assumption here that these skeletons can taste cuz...why would they love bread so much otherwise?? Well, doesn’t matter so much in the actual fic anyway.

I had Chance stay human for so long, longer than in the Human Candy comic, cuz of the magic that makes up the candy. Using hypnotism to trick the soul into thinking its human. Chance already believed he was human so strongly it enhanced the effect.

In fact I wonder if it could possibly work so well he could be in that form for weeks, or indefinitely, so strong is his conviction. But, well.... Some things are more important to him. (Yeah, this picture was a big inspiration for the direction the fic took).

Because the candy would have naturally run out well before he actually turned back, this wavering in his conviction was enough to end its effects. So...while Sans wasn't correct in thinking the universe had something to do with it, he was a little correct in that his mindset had an effect.

[louisironson]

“Yeah, yeah, I hear what you’re saying, but I kind of like being the only woman. ‘Cause it makes me feel special.”

Dee learned very quickly into her childhood that her mother was never going to be nice to her. The most explanation that she ever got was a dismissive “broads are all catty like that” from her father, so every time a girl at school tried to make friends with her, Dee would brush them off, maybe yell and snap at them, so she didn’t have a lot of friends, even before her scoliosis got bad, and the popular girls think she’s a dork anyway because she‘s on the math team. Really, she mostly just has Dennis.

By high school, Dee regrets it. The popular kids are making her life hell, and what she needs most is a friend who gets her, who understands, not like Dennis’s friends, who, from stupid Tim Murphy to Ronnie and Dirtgrub, mock her for anything she happens to do. Once she has to start wearing her back brace, she quits the math team, because giving the popular kids too much material would be a mistake. She has to balance it out somehow.

But still, there aren’t even any girls who want to talk to her without calling her Aluminum Monster, and if she’s going to be friends with another girl, she needs to keep her distance anyway, because there’s always a chance she’ll turn out to be a two-faced bitch. Finally, Dee settles for Fatty Magoo, the only girl lower than her on the social totem pole.

As it turns out, Ingrid isn’t too bad. It’s nice for Dee to have another girl to talk to, especially when Dennis is out of the house. Not too much talking, though; can’t get too vulnerable. But Dee’s able to get closer to Ingrid than she’s gotten with pretty much anyone besides her own brother.

They’re sharing a bottle of Frank and Barbara’s good wine in Dee’s bedroom one night, as Dennis and their parents are out god knows where, when Dee is leaning against Ingrid’s shoulder, laughing, a little tipsy despite the Reynolds tolerance, and somehow their lips find their way to press together and they sit there kissing softly for a little while. At that point Dee’s between boyfriends, and she can’t help but notice that Ingrid’s kissing is a lot kinder than Derek’s or Joey’s or whoever-else-the-fuck. She’s wine-drunk, sure, but, unlike a lot of kisses she’s had before, she’s thinks she’d maybe even like it sober. And that’s fucking terrifying.

She had let herself get too attached. Could Ingrid turn out to be a two-faced bitch, too? Dee had gotten close to talking about her feelings. What if Ingrid wanted social capital, and she could get it in exchange for secrets about the other loser girl? Would she do it?

Dee starts to hang out with Ingrid less and less. It’s not like she has any other friends to fall back on, though, so she reluctantly slinks back to hanging out with Dennis, which isn’t the best, because if even Dirtgrub, a known disgusting weird kid, laughs along when Dennis says she’s disgusting and weird, then she’s close to rock bottom. But it’s familiar, at least. It’s safe. And they start to fall into their own weird little rhythm.

Dee stays close with Dennis’s dumb high school friends for way longer than she expects. She kind of figured that once she graduated from Penn, she’d use her new Penn connections to get out of Philly, maybe to Los Angeles, where her acting career could thrive. But when the graduation thing didn’t happen, thanks to her stupid roommate and the psychiatric stuff, she falls back into old routine and when Dennis and Mac and Charlie buy a bar, she annoys them into giving her a job as a bartender, because do they really want to go through interviews and hire anyone else? So years and years pass, and Dee hasn’t really... gone anywhere.

It’s not like she doesn’t try to make any new friends, because as much as her instincts tell her to run, she’s pretty sick of of hanging out with stupid guys all the time, especially after her (not-)dad comes back. There’s Artemis from her acting class, but after the acting class finishes, they don’t exactly hang out. Sure, Dee has her number, and she’s around, but mostly she just roams.

Then there’s that coffee shop waitress Charlie’s obsessed with. Dee mostly latches on to her because she’s aware of Dee’s presence. It’s almost like they have something, but not. Maybe it’s just because she’s Dennis’s sister. Dee doesn’t know. There’s one Halloween party at the bar when the waitress stumbles into the women’s bathroom while Dee is trying to look good in the peacock costume she made the one lady switch with her for. The Waitress is drunkenly ranting about her terrible night, and how she saw Charlie trying to get with a girl who he seemed to think was her, but didn’t even look like her, and how she doesn’t know why she even still tries to impress Dennis, but then she sees Dee staring at her and she just starts bawling. Dee doesn’t get what set her off, but she wraps her arms around the Waitress and makes sure she doesn’t get vomit on her costume.

(About a week later, Dee has a dream where the two of them hook up. It’s out of the blue enough that she brushes it off.)

So life goes on. The Gang does scheme after scheme, and Dee never really gets a steady boyfriend, because even though there’s guys all around her, she’s related to half of them, and besides, something’s missing; guys never like her anyway if they can’t fuck her. And for all the crazy shit going on in their lives, things for the Gang mostly stay consistent.

That is, until some chick named Mandy comes by with what’s apparently Dennis’s son and before she knows it her brother is gone for North Dakota indefinitely with barely so much as a goodbye. And it’s weird, because Dennis was basically her first friend, but, after her mom, he was also her second enemy. Either way, the Gang is down to four people, something it hasn’t been since before Frank showed back up in their lives. It’s mostly just weird and empty.

Enter a girl named Cindy. And Cindy is unlike any other friend Dee has met before. She’s gorgeous and she’s cunning but instead of being the kind of two-faced bitch who would tell the whole grade that Dee had made out with Rickety Cricket when she didn’t, she’s the kind of two-faced bitch who’ll trick bartenders into getting them both free drinks. Cindy is smart as a whip and, most importantly, she gets Dee.

Cindy thinks Dee is smart, too. Cindy calls Dee a pretty blonde, and Cindy rests her impeccably-manicured hand on Dee’s waist when the two of them are standing next to each other, and suddenly Dee remembers why she doesn’t have female friends because her heart is starting to beat faster and faster, and her gag reflex is rising in her throat, and it’s all she can do to not gag disgustingly because she doesn’t want Cindy to pull away.

They’re working on a scheme in Dee’s apartment late one night after Mac, Frank and Charlie have all gone home. In order for the scheme to work, they’re going to need to crunch a lot of numbers very quickly, and that, Cindy says, is where Dee comes in.

Dee is almost confused for a second. Why her? Cindy rolls her eyes, and tells Dee that it’s not a secret that she’s really quick with this stuff. Cindy says it’s really impressive what math Dee can do. Cindy thinks it’s impressive. And before she can stop herself, Dee’s leaning across the table and planting her lips on Cindy’s.

It takes a second for Dee to pull back, but when she does, Cindy is gawking at her. And Dee’s heart sinks, because she fucked it up, Cindy hates her, so she laughs and blames it on the beer she’s drinking, because all girls kiss other girls when they’re drunk.

Cindy smirks, takes a deep swig of her own vodka, and says, “You could have just asked” and tucks Dee’s hair behind her ear before leaning in for another kiss.

One kiss leads to deeper kisses. To the two of them making out on the couch. To the two of them feeling each other up in Dee’s bed. But as Cindy’s hand creeps over the edge of Dee’s waistband, Dee freezes up. Too attached. Too attached. She’s drunk, sure. But she’s sober enough to know that she really, really wants this. And that’s fucking terrifying. She pries Cindy’s hands off of her body and tells her to go home. She does, but not before giving Dee one last deep kiss goodbye.

But when Dee wakes up alone in her bed the next morning, still in jeans and a t-shirt, there’s still smudges of a distinctive deep plum lipstick on her lips, her face, her neck. Even as she scrubs last night’s makeup away, there’s still a slight purple stain that’s not coming off. She can taste last night’s beer on her tongue. She can taste Cindy’s vodka on her tongue, too.

Dee tells herself that what’s happening is that she’s just jealous of Cindy, and three days later, she realizes that it’s actually true. When Dee was just around Dennis and Mac and Charlie and Frank, she could at least say that she was above a lot of their nonsense, that she was above them. But with Cindy? Cindy makes it impossible for Dee to just brush off the rest of the Gang as stupid guys. Cindy forces Dee to take a long, hard look at herself, and she doesn’t like it. What does Cindy see in her?

Before Dennis left, she knew where she stood. She knew that she was above the rest of them. But Cindy makes her want to be better to live up to what Cindy sees in her. Cindy makes Dee realize how impossible and futile being “better” is for a fuck-up like Dee.

Then Dennis comes back, and that’s her chance. None of the rest of the Gang wants Cindy around anymore, because they want things to go back to normal too. Dee is happy to be insulted by Dennis every day if it means that she doesn’t have to worry about how good of a person she is.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear what you’re saying, but I kind of like being the only woman. ‘Cause it makes me feel superior

‘Cause it makes me feel safe

‘Cause it makes me not have to challenge myself

‘Cause it makes me fucking terrified how much I’d be challenging myself if I wanted to be good enough for you

‘Cause it makes me feel special.”

[euphoricethan]

Bear - G.D

Summary: as fall is quickly approaching, Grayson decides he wants to take his girl camping —without Ethan’s complaining— one last time before the new season sets in.

Word count: 1.9k

“Is that the last of it?” Y/n asked, standing in the back of Ethan’s costume Jeep.

“Yep. I think so.” Grayson took a quick glance at the supplies before slamming shut the Jeeps trunk doors and smiling at Y/n.

With a head nod and a sly smirk placed on his lips to hers, they were ready to spend what seemed to be the first and last night of peace-fullness until next year.

“I can’t believe he’s letting you take his car, y’know, since he’s not going.” Her seatbelt clicked shut, as did his.

He sighed. “Yeah. But he’ll get over it.”

“He’ll probably jerk off all night if I’m being honest.” she mumbled under her breath as she pulled up the directions on her phone.

Ironically, Ethan had been trying to get some action since they told him yesterday. It was late, around eleven, and he couldn’t have been more oddly thrilled for them to be gone.

“You aren’t mad or anything? Just a few days ago you were mad we went to the beach when you were sick,” Grayson was sprawled out on the couch, Y/n tucked in the corner on her phone looking for camp sights near LA.

“Nah. What time are you guys leaving?”

“Uh, I dunno. Like, one?” he glared over at Y/n, who was lost in yelp reviews.

“Y’all should go earlier... just so you don’t catch traffic or anything. Would hate to get stuck on the highway for like two hours.”

Grayson’s brows quirked up, reading right through his twin brother. “Yeah, sure, I guess.” he then finished off his last spoon-full of dairy free ice cream and called for Y/n.

“Night E.” she said softly, not taking her eyes off the bright screen that she was so lost in.

“Night.”

After he heard his brothers door close, he had imagined himself doing it all over. Where ever he wanted.

“You know, last night, when we were at together?” he asked her, turning the corner to get onto the highway.

“Hm?”

“I knew he was lying and trying to get us out of the house earlier just so he could beat his meat.”

Y/n turned quickly over to him, cupping her thigh. “Wait are you serious? I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

“I’m being dead serious, you do realize we can read each other pretty well right? We shared a womb. And y’know, not to be rude babe, but...”

Y/n cocked her brows upright. “But what? I wanna know.”

“It’s no big deal, it’s just... you aren’t the best at picking up signals and stuff. Like, that one time this kid was hitting on you when we were out looking for props; you had no idea until he asked if we were related.”

“He was being nice! Can I not be nice to other people!?”

“Y/n he asked if we were related.”

“Maybe he was just curious! Ever think about that?”

“Whatever you say,” he glanced over at her, chuckling at the sight of her dark red cheeks that he had caused.

Once they were on the highway, all the minor tension between them had flown out the rolled down windows and trapped inside the speakers that blasted Kid Cudi.

“And every time, the moon shines I become alive! Yeah!” Grayson sang, dancing in the drivers seat while he tapped hard on the steering wheel and bopped his head to the beat.

Y/n couldn’t help but let the biggest smile she’s ever seen on herself while watching her boyfriend sing to his favorite artist, with his favorite girl, on their way to do his favorite thing.

Grayson felt his “solo” approaching, taking a deep breath in waiting for the long string of na na na’s to pass.

“I watch the sun collapse, and took up in the clizoud! I am the lone wolf, go where I wanna, let the moon shine be the guide to the lizight! Even when I stray away the light never left me, uh! I learn to follow my instinct, Blinded by the light, Rather that than the evil. Feelin' out of place in a room full of people Try and be the same but you know you're not a sequel!” he screamed at the absolute top of his lungs, gasping for air.

She smiled even wider, now watching him reach over her legs for the glove compartment where he kept an emergency inhaler, taking a big puff of it.

There is never a dull moment. She though as Gray had caught onto her giddy stare.

“And what are you looking at?” he asked, highly and most definitely already knowing the answer.

Y/n shook her head, still giving him that smile he loved.

He only smirked, taking one of his hands off the wheel in order to gently place it onto her thigh and give a reassuring squeeze.

Hours have passed, and what have Y/n and Grayson been doing? Maybe the typical cliché couple things that those couples do? Like go on hikes, take pictures together, maybe even go rock climbing? No, that isn’t what they are doing. In fact, that is the complete opposite of what was happening at ten pm at night around a campfire.

Y/n, who had about five jumbo marsh-mellows in her mouth, was trying desperately to try and catch Grayson -- who was trying to escape Y/n’s sticky marsh-mellow-ie fingers-- as fast as he could without falling off the edge of a steep hill that lead to the road or into the pit of fire.

“Why are you like this?! Can’t we just have a normal date without you trying to injure me!” he called out, only making Y/n laugh harder while pumping her legs faster just to get to him.

Her giggles were muffled since she had managed to shove five jumbo marsh-mellows in her mouth and struggling to get her now grimey hands on her boyfriends clean face.

“C’mere!” she couldn’t help but laugh, causing one of the mellows to pop out from her lips and onto the brown dirt surrounding them.

“Ew!”

The dirtiness of the mellow was funny to her, causing her to pick up the pine-prickled dirty marsh-mellow and toss it straight at his face.

“Ugh! Y/N!” 

He was raging, but never at anything she did. Because even though she threw something completely disgusting at him, he could not help but notice how adorable she looked with her hair down and puffed out cheeks.

She was ready to run, but somehow ended up his big ol’ arms she was so familiar with.

“S’cuse me sir,” Y/n’s cheeks were puffed more than ever, and Grayson had to remind himself over and over again he was too young to get married.

“Spit them out.” he demanded, but made sure he didn’t sound like he was angry at her.

She listened, only because she had made him sufficiently mad to say the least. And one by one, she popped a mellow out until her red hot cheeks had calmed down from being inflamed.

“Now, you my love, are going to not try and get nasty food on my face and we are both going to make the last night of summer good; without Ethan or you acting like an animal. ‘K?”

Y/n was in shock still, getting lost in the golden flecks that blended in the fire that reflected in them easily. “Mhm,” she muttered without thinking.

Soon, they were sharing a lawn chair, --and Y/n was “sharing” Grayson’s big ol’ Kid Cudi sweatshirt that had the printing SWIM IN THE LIGHT on the front-- admiring the fire that was keeping the two warm from the cold wind that was blaring past them.

“See, when you’re calm, you are much easier to do things with.” Grayson whispered into her ear.

And even though it wasn’t exactly a compliment, she got the chills that ran down her spin with just the sound of his voice and the lingering presence of his skin on hers.

“You are lucky you’re stronger than me, because I would totally throw you off this cliff and make sure that nobody would find out that is was your innocent girlfriend that did it.”

He cocked his head back, probably -- if not indefinitely-- surprised at what she had said. 

“Well now I’m scared,” he admitted, unrealing his arms from around her.

“Good, you should be.”

She was thankful that she had her back towards him, because then she couldn’t see the huge smile that broke onto her face after seeing how red his ears and cheeks got.

It would totally give away the fact that she is the softest person Grayson has ever met and would never hurt a fly.

She then rested her head into the crook of his neck while he gave her waist a soft squeeze just to remind her that she was his. Then, tears threatened to shed from her cheeks, but she kept herself calm and managed to sniffle and blink them away.

“You okay bear?” he asked, trying to look at her face that she was hiding from him.

“Yeah, I’m good. Allergies.”

Even if she had told him why she was crying, she wouldn’t know what to say. Because in all honesty, she’s never cried from happiness before. At least not because a boy took her camping with the middle name, Bailey.

He sighed slowly, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over her head to transform her into a cone head.

Both of them sat in silence, accompanied by the crickets that were giving them a performance in the distance and the trickles of rain that had started to surround them.

“Was it supposed to rain? I thought you said the weather would be good?”

Y/n was spaced out, staring blankly up at the trees that made her feel like an ant.

“Y/n?” he asked.

“Hm,”

“You know it’s raining, right?”

She looked down from the atmosphere, finally understanding what exactly he was saying. “Oh.”

Grayson was never the greatest with his patience, but his girl was different. He never snapped at her or yelled, only because he thought of her as such a delicate angel and he didn’t want to be the cause of a broken wing.

“Hey, bear, we should get inside before we get hypothermia.”

Y/n nodded, captivated by his words and the softness of his touch under the sweatshirt and on her bare warm skin.

She felt as if she were floating in her skin when it came to his touch. He was so beautiful and just being around him the majority of the time, seeing the soft side of him most people didn’t get to see, was so mind-boggling to her that she herself couldn’t fully comprehend the fact that she had him. And of all people, he picked her. 

“Y’know, I knew it was gonna rain but I didn’t wanna tell you because I knew how excited you were to finally get out of the house without Ethan.” she whispered when they got into the tent.

“Bear, you could have told me, it’s not like I’d be mad or anything.”

“Well, I know, but you were so excited.”

He gave her a closed-mouth smile, pulling her in to give her a soft forehead kiss and having her rest atop of his chest. 

My sweet girl. He thought, seconds before he drifted off to a calming sleep with his indeed sweet girl in his arms, listening to the rain trickle on the top of the tent.

[alj4890]

Love Prompt

(Thomas x Amanda) in a continuation of their reconciliation after a break up as requested by @krsnlove

(Thomas Hunt x oc*Amanda) A Choices: Red Carpet Diaries Fan Fiction

A/N Okay, clearly I have been on a Mad Men binge, which explains the many Jon Hamm/Don Draper gifs recently. *clears throat* After being tempted with my bff's questions and suggestions, this second part came about. Breakups aren't the easiest thing to get over, even with a heartfelt reconciliation. Often it is harder on the ones that care about the two individuals that decide to try once again....

Part 1

Masterlist

@lxaah11 @alleksa16 @penguininapinktuxedo @blackcoffee85 @stopforamoment @krsnlove   @annekebbphotography @cora-nova @bella-ca  @hopelessromantic1352 . @sunflowergirl05 @desiree-0816 @greywitchyshots @lilyofchoices @emceesynonymroll @dr-nancy-house @aworldoffandoms @pixieferry @lolablackwrites @i-bloody-love-drake-walker

Once Again, Please. Part 2

Los Angeles California...

"Have you heard from Thomas?" Addison asked.

"No. I only received a text from him that he wasn't returning to the office after lunch Thursday." Holly handed her phone to Shannon. The three friends were sitting together at an outdoor cafe.

"Did he come to work Friday?" Addison asked, worried that seeing Amanda might have sent him into a depression.

"No. He sent a text that he would be working indefinitely from home." Holly replied.

Shannon frowned at Holly's phone. "This doesn't make sense. Thomas hates to text yet that is all he has done the past few days."

"Maybe he can't talk about how heartbroken he is." Addison mumbled.

"We should go over to his house and check on him." Shannon decided.

"We can't just ambush him." Holly argued. "We have to have a reason for stopping by."

"I found some new material to make the night club singer's costume. I could say I wanted his opinion." Addison offered.

"Perfect!" Shannon exclaimed. "He hates reviewing things through pictures sent over the phone so we will all go over and see how he is."

_______________

Thomas Hunt's home...

Amanda wrapped her arms around Thomas's neck as he pulled her closer. The water in the pool did little to cool their heated skin. Her breath caught when he moved one of her swimsuit straps to continue kissing along her shoulder and neck.

He paused and whispered how much he loved her before capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. She felt her body respond to every touch and tried to remain upright. "Thomas, I love--did you hear something?"

He frowned and looked over his shoulder. "Whatever it was, I don't hear it now." His irritation at a possible interruption disappeared when she finished saying how much she loved him. His hands moved over her body as their lips met again.

"His cars are in the garage. He must be out here some--" the three ladies halted and stared with mouths open at catching Amanda and Thomas kissing in his pool.

The couple broke apart and looked up at them. Thomas snapped out of his surprise first. "What are you doing in my home?"

"We...I...needed an opinion on this material for the nightclub scene." Addison quickly held a swatch up.

Amanda blushed at their attention going from Thomas to her. She cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows when he looked over at her. He sighed and pulled her close to him. "In regards to the actual reason for being here, which I assume is to check up on me since I did not return to work, Amanda and I are back together."

"That's wonderful!" Shannon exclaimed.

"I knew it! I knew that's why you were texting!" Addison squealed.

"Oh thank goodness. I was not looking forward to working with a mopey Thomas Hunt." Holly plopped down on a lounge chair.

Thomas glared at her before turning his attention to Amanda's visible happiness as she answered the questions posed to her. He couldn't help but smile when she wrapped her arms around his waist.

After a few minutes of conversation, the three friends noticed the longing looks between the couple and decided to leave. With their happiness at seeing the two back together said once more, they left.

Two weeks later in Cordonia...

"I HATE THEM TOGETHER!" Olivia stormed into Liam's study with Drake and Maxwell following closely behind her.

Hana and Riley looked up in surprise. Liam dropped his paper while his brow furrowed. "Hate who together?" He asked.

"Thomas Hunt convinced Amanda to give him a second chance!" Olivia spat the words out like they were of the worst curse words ever spoken.

Hana clasped her hands together. "Oh how sweet! I knew he had to have loved her like she does him."

"I don't know. We all saw how hurt she was when they broke up." Maxwell's blue eyes clouded with worry. "Can he be trusted to do things right this time?"

"See! Maxwell gets it!" Olivia addressed the room. "He used trickery to get her back!"

"What?" Liam rose up, his anger beginning to boil.

Riley placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "What do you mean?"

Drake rolled his eyes at the unnecessary drama. "The secret meeting was with Thomas. Her agent never told her who it was that would discuss the screenplay."

"He had to have set this up, the snake!" Olivia exclaimed. "Demand she come back home!" She ordered Liam.

His frown eased somewhat. "Maybe Thomas realized he made a mistake."

"You are too sweet, Liam." Olivia muttered. "You see the good in everyone whether they deserve it or not. Now is not the time! Make her come home and get away from him. I refuse to see her heart crushed again."

Maxwell nodded in agreement. "Do it, Liam. Amanda always listens to you. Come up with something that demands her attention."

"I'm not going to lie to her!" Liam narrowed his eyes at them. "I--"

"The Children's Hospital!" Maxwell exclaimed.

Olivia slowly smiled at him. "I am impressed Maxwell. That is the perfect thing to make her come back. Liam, tell her it is time for another fundraiser."

Liam griamced. "I will do so, only because it is true." He checked the time and decided he would do so tomorrow.

"That gives me time to get the man here who I think would be perfect for her." Olivia's smirk held a hint of triumph.

_________________

The next evening in California...

Thomas pressed Amanda against the door to her suite as their kiss began to get out of control. "I hate saying goodnight and walking away." He whispered against her skin. "The long drive home." His lips brushed behind her ear. "The empty house." He gently sucked on her neck. "The lonely bed."

Amanda closed her eyes and tried to calm her racing heart. She moaned softly when his lips returned to hers. Her hands pulled him completely flush to her as she returned his kiss. "I--" she looked over where her phone was vibrating. She slipped away and quickly answered.

Thomas walked over to her when he noticed her brow pucker with worry.

"Of course. It's my charity. I will take care of everything. See you soon." She ended the call and pushed her hair out of her face. "That was Liam. I need to return home."

He frowned and tilted her face up. "Nothing's wrong, is there?"

"A budget discrepancy was found in our children's hospital. If research is to continue without pause, then there needs to be a fund raiser held as soon as possible." She hugged him and pressed a kiss to his lips. "Hopefully, I will be back in California soon."

"I could come with you, if you wish." He offered. Thomas held her close. "I would be more than happy to be your date for the event and help with whatever you need."

"Really?" Her smile made his own form.

"Yes." He softly kissed her. "I told you how I feel about you. I'm not going to remain behind if you need or want me there." His lips captured hers again. "It could also be our way of announcing our being together before the press."

Her eyes widened. "You want to tell the press? You used to hate dealing with them."

"I still do." He replied. "But I love you and I want them to see how important you are to me."

"Thomas." Amanda her arms tightened around his waist. "How do you always know what to say?"

He gently caressed her cheek. "With you, the words come easily."

_____________

A few weeks later in St Orella, Cordonia...

"Why didn't you call me? I would have helped with all this." Olivia waved her hand towards the crowd.

"And pull you away from a certain grumpy commoner? I think not." Amanda teased. "Besides, Thomas has been here helping me whenever I needed an opinion."

"He has?" Olivia asked, her voice laced with doubt. "And how is dear Mr. Hunt?"

"Very well, thank you."

Olivia spun around when she heard him answer.

"Good evening." He nodded his head to her as he placed an arm around Amanda's waist. "How have you been?"

Olivia grit her teeth. "Fine." Her narrowed eyes zeroed in on their blatant happiness. "May I have a word with you?" She asked Amanda. "In private."

"Of course." Amanda excused herself, her smile glowing when he pressed a tender kiss to her cheek, and followed the red head into her study.

Olivia placed her hands on her hips when the door was shut. "How long has he been here?"

"Who?" Amanda asked. "Thomas? We came home together." Her friend's irritation finally registered. "Liv, I told you. Thomas and I have worked everything out. We want to be together."

"But can he be trusted?" Olivia persisted. "I know you said it was a mutual breakup, yet you were the one heartbroken. I don't want to see you be even more hurt when things don't work out again."

Amanda sighed and sat down on the arm of the sofa. "I know. I'm sorry if I drove you all crazy with my moping. I love him, Olivia. He loves me. We aren't going to let the past ruin this second chance. We learned from our mistakes and--"

"So he says." Olivia stressed each word. "Forgive me for not jumping for joy over his worming his way back into your life." When she noticed the familiar stubborn glint in Amanda's eyes, she groaned and folded her arms. "I'm sorry for wanting one of my closest friends to only have the best."

A laugh escaped Amanda's lips. "You are forgiven." She said.

Olivia glared at her before her smirk reappeared. "Now that that's over with," she linked her arm with Amanda's, "let's see how much money we can drain from these people."

Thomas had been talking to Hana and Rashad when Amanda paused in the entrance of the ballroom. He excused himself and walked over to her. He noticed a familiar face also making his way over. The exceptionally attractive man stopped before the two duchesses and kissed Amanda's hand.

"Lady Olivia was worried you would not have an escort. I knew I couldn't allow that to happen and came not only to offer my services but also my checkbook." Alasdair Morgan held onto her hand as he spoke.

Thomas eyed the multimillionaire business mogul warily. He knew that with Olivia's loyalty there would be some bitterness with his past actions. He had not considered though that she would resort in finding a man that could so easily take his place.

Amanda smiled warmly at the new guest and managed to remove her hand. "That is very kind of you." Her gaze landed on Thomas and softened. "Your checkbook I will greatly take advantage of. As for your escort, I already have a date for the evening."

Thomas shook the rival's hand and felt a burst of smug satisfaction come over him when Amanda moved to his side and took his arm. She then smoothly excused them to greet some late arriving guests.

"Seems I wasn't needed after all." Alasdair said.

"On the contrary," Olivia replied. "You are needed more than ever." A sly smile formed on her lips. "Here is what you should do next."

_______________

Thomas stood beside Amanda as she watched her guests dance. The checks had been collected earlier and were being tallied by her man of business. "I hope we met our needed goal." She whispered.

He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer to his body. His hand caressed her skin revealed by the open back of her dress. She rested her head against his shoulder and allowed his touch to comfort her.

Thomas spoke against her temple. "I've yet to give my donation. I will do what I can to make up the difference if one is needed. If none is, then my donation will hopefully be an added bonus."

His generous nature when it came to her touched her heart. She lifted her head and kissed him. He was stunned at first at her doing so in front of everyone and then sank into her embrace. Her tender kiss quickly turned ravenous as he turned toward her. Her hands slipped inside his tuxeudo jacket and ran over the muscles of his back. His lips took over the kiss while keeping her close.

A throat cleared beside them "Not to interrupt..."

They broke apart and realized they were still in the ballroom. Amanda's cheeks flared with color at having been so easily swept away with passion. She brushed the loose strands of hair back behind her ear. "Yes, Mr. Morgan? How may I be of service?"

He held his check up. "I'm afraid this is late, but I had hoped to add it to the others."

She nodded. "I can take it to Sir Francis." She reached for it and quirked an eyebrow when he pulled it out of reach.

His handsome face held mischief. "I heard that you have a variety of first additions in your study. Is there a chance my check could sway you into giving me a tour?"

She chuckled. "I suppose that depends on how much you donated." Her eyes widened when she saw the amount. "Mr. Morgan! This is incredibly generous. I don't have adequate words to express my gratitude."

He smiled and shrugged bashfully. "It is a worthy cause." He ignored the suspicion radiating off of Thomas. "Does it warrant a tour?"

"How could I refuse?" She squeezed Thomas's hand. "If you will excuse me."

He reluctantly let her go. He observed how perfect Amanda looked on Alasdair's arm. Her laughter floated back to him at whatever the man said. Thomas turned his attention back to the ballroom and noticed Olivia watching him. Her smile was evil as she lifted her glass in a smug, silent toast.

He realized why Alasdair was here. It seemed that Amanda's friends were not thrilled with her taking him back. Thomas shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped outside. He needed air while he contemplated how he should react to this.

__________________

"My great-great-great grandfather loved to read." Amanda explained. "He also loved history. He wrote in his journal that his goal in life was to begin a library that could one day rival the ancient one destroyed in Alexandria."

Alasdair nodded in appreciation. He leaned closer to the shelves as he silently read some of the first edition titles. "Incredible."

She smiled and led him up to the third story. She waved toward some books in protective glass cases. He examined a few that were hand written by monks. "Your ancestor's collection is extraordinary."

"It is one of my favorite contributions a relative made to the duchy." She began to descend the stairs to return to the party when he stopped her.

"May I ask you something before we join the others?" He asked.

"Of course." She replied.

Alasdair stepped down the steps until he was eye level with her. "Would you have dinner with me one night before I return to London?"

Amanda looked away. "That is very kind of you, but I am unable to do so." Her smile was apologetic. "I am in a serious relationship with Thomas."

Alasdair seemed to not be too surprised. "That must have happened recently. I recall reading an interview not too long ago about his plans to remain...what was the word he used...untethered."

Amanda hesistated. "I...things have changed within the last month."

The handsome businessman leaned closer to her. "It takes a lot of understanding and forgiveness for relationships to work the second time around." He placed his hand over hers that rested on the banister. "Sometimes it ends up that you are having to work even harder than before to hold onto something that isn't worth the effort."

A throat cleared close by.

Amanda and Alasdair saw Thomas casually leaning against the banister. The business man thanked the duchess for the tour and asked her to save a dance for him. He nodded to Thomas and left them alone.

Thomas watched him leave before approaching Amanda. He had heard enough to understand the game the man was playing. He stopped on the steps below hers and felt a deep, settling happiness within when she automatically moved into his arms with little urging on his part.

He placed a soft kiss on her lips. She took his arm and left the library. "Another hour or so and I will be free of my hostess duties."

"Is there anything you need me to do?"

She kissed his cheek. "I can't think of anything." She stopped him before they came to the ballroom. "In case I didn't tell you, I am very happy you came back to Cordonia with me."

Thomas wrapped his arms around her. "Good, because I meant what I said before. I am in this for the long haul, Amanda. There is no end game. The only result of us being back together I will accept is the two of us standing before an altar." His dark eyes searched hers for understanding.

She met his steady gaze with one of her own. "That is all I will accept too."

He relaxed his stance and placed a heated kiss on her lips.

______________

"So the snake interrupted your time with her?" Olivia glared at Thomas. He was across the room chuckling with Liam over some story or another.

Alasdair shrugged. "I asked her to dinner and she turned me down. I think I planted a few seeds of doubt in her mind. I need time to cultivate them."

Olivia rolled her eyes. She hated idioms. She also wasn't too fond of those who used them. "Why don't you go plant your seeds in his ear." She gestured toward the one she wanted thrown out of their lives.

He nodded and went to do her bidding. She sipped her champagne and smiled when Amanda came up. "How much did you bring in."

Amanda's eyes were bright with excitement. "We nearly tripled our goal! Your Mr. Morgan's generosity along with Thomas's pushed us on over. We might be able to add that new wing we discussed a few months ago."

Olivia's nose wrinkled at Thomas once again being a hero. "Well done." She looked over at the bar and noticed Alasdair had managed to get Thomas by himself. "Very well done." She murmured.

____________

Thomas leaned against the bar while listening to Alasdair try and convince him he didn't want to be tied down to any woman. He took a sip of his scotch and remained silent as the fool continued to show his hand at this ridiculous game Olivia was playing.

"You work with the most beautiful women in the world." Alasdair pointed out. "You are old enough to know that time is fleeting yet young enough to enjoy the fruits of your labor." He took a gulp of his whiskey sour. "Why a man in your position would want to be in a committed relationship is beyond my comprehension."

Thomas set his glass down. "I imagine a great many things are beyond your understanding."

Alasdair narrowed his eyes. "I didn't mean to insult you. I am curious as to why a man such as yourself would choose not only to get back with his ex, but with one who lives so far away." He chuckled as he motioned to the bartender for a refill. "Seems crazy to me."

"I suppose it would if one didn't know the details." Thomas countered. "Being a successful businessman, you should be the first to understand that concept. The devil is always in the details."

Alasdair slowly nodded. "So humor me. What details caused this to come about?"

Thomas leveled his steely gaze on him as his words held a hint of a deeper than suspected anger "Though it is none of your business, I happened to realize that I am in love with Amanda. Being surrounded by the so called beautiful women of the world helped me see that none could hold a candle to her. She is the only one I think of when contemplating my future."

He straightened his cuffs and leaned closer to the man, his anger coming fully to the surface. "Knowing how important she is to me, I would stop trying to interfere with us if I were you. I am a man that learned a hard lesson and will not hesitate from fighting for her. I won't lose her again." He walked away from him without another glance.

____________

"I don't think we should have done this." Maxwell muttered. "If Amanda finds out we--"

"Don't turn coward on me now." Olivia hissed.

"Liv, maybe he has ch--" Maxwell's eyes widened when Thomas approached them.

He looked like a man enjoying the party, save for the murderous look in his eyes. He managed to keep his voice down as he spoke.

"I know what you are doing and it is time I made something clear. Your childish games are going to end tonight." Thomas began.

Olivia narrowed her eyes. "Why you--"

He cut her off. "Amanda and I are both adults that made a decision regarding our lives. I understand that you only want what is best for her and your loyalty is to be commended." His gaze turned hard. "But if you persist in trying to sabotage her happiness, I will not idly stand by."

Olivia arched an eyebrow. "And by her happiness, you mean yourself?" She snorted in disgust. "Your ego knows no bounds."

"I am what she wants." He said softly. "I am going to do everything within my power to remain what she wants."

Maxwell studied him quietly. "Meaning?"

Thomas glared at him. "Meaning you two better get used to seeing me around. I'm not going anywhere. I love her and intend on spending the rest of my life with her." His voice held a note of barely restrained rage. "Understand?"

Maxwell slowly smiled. "Sounds good to me. Liv?"

She narrowed her eyes to mere slits. "If I remotely see her frown because of you...don't be surprised to wake up to body parts missing. Understand?"

Thomas's lips curved in approval. "I do and I expect nothing less."

Olivia held his gaze a second heart beat before nodding in acquiesce. She jumped in surprise when Amanda appeared beside her.

"The ball is about to end." Amanda announced while slipping an arm around her friend's waist. She squeezed Olivia in a side hug. "I think we have more than earned a respite from all the hard work." She smiled at the three. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Olivia eyed her before returning her hug. "I agree." She took Maxwell's arm. "Come on, Beaumont. Let's see where Drake disappeared to."

Maxwell grinned in relief and said goodnight to Thomas and Amanda.

The couple watched them swoop in on Drake and drag him with them as they searched for the others. Thomas laced his fingers with Amanda's, smiling when she tugged him along with her. Having him by her side as she bid goodnight to her guests sent the message to all that he was no mere date.

Once everyone had left, she took him upstairs. He paused outside his bedroom door and pulled her close for a kiss. She giggled when he teased her in between kisses for shrinking when she stepped out of her shoes. She bent down to retrieve them before taking his hand.

His eyebrows lifted in question when she led him to her bedroom door. Her cheeks were slightly pink as she met his eyes.

"Amanda? What--"

"I love you." She said simply. "You're what I want, what I have always wanted."

Thomas cupped her face between his palms and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. "I love you more than anything. Anyone."

She smiled and opened the door. They walked inside together and quietly closed the door.