#bro the man has a double chin what model are you looking at

[gainerstories]

Fatter Exchange Student: Chapter 4

This is a community story with each chapter authored by a different writer in the gaining community. This chapter is penned by feederfiction.

Read prior chapters here.

“Okay, how do I look?” asked Sebastian, walking into the living room.

Before him, lazing across the couch was Bleecker, clad only in a pair of gym shorts that looked like they might have been snug 40 pounds ago but were now positively tortured, his thighs looked set to burst out of them at the slightest movement. The past month had been rather fortuitous for the roommates, as their eating competitions became nightly events. Bleecker had added some serious mass to his already soft frame, and it was rare to see him in a shirt these days, especially as they cranked up the heat during the icy winter months. In fact, the only time he wore a shirt was either to class or to practice.

The jock had grown an even thicker belly in the months since Sebastian moved in, and it was now etched with some added stretch marks that most of his apparel failed to conceal. His outdated wardrobe only drew attention to his budding love handles and softer chest. Every small movement would cause the fabric to ride up the curve of his belly and settle around his belly button while displaying his happy trail proudly.

Bleecker looked up upon hearing Sebastian’s question, his mouth full with a meatball sub. He held up a sauce stained finger and chewed while taking in the image of his roommate. Sebastian had certainly not been spared from the thousands of excess calories he had been shoving down his throat daily. Based on the style and fit, the outfit he was wearing had to be something he brought from Greece. It was apparent that Sebastian had still not purchased any new winter clothes and opted for a white linen button up with the sleeves rolled up. This was paired with some vertical striped blue and white swim pants, with boat shoes.

Bleecker thought his roommate looked like a Greek model, but a plus sized one. Sebastian’s belly bulged out against the shirt, creating small holes between the lower few buttons displaying his furry torso. The hem also flared out slightly over his wider muffin top. He had left the top buttons undone in the typical Greek fashion, revealing his hairy chest. But what caught Bleecker’s eye was the way his roommates' dark, erect nipples were so visible against the white fabric.

His thighs looked stuffed inside his pants, and, with a twirl of his finger, Bleecker instructed Sebastian to turn around to show off his thick shelf of an ass. It wobbled as he turned back around, and Sebastian was ready to hear what Bleecker thought. With a mighty swallow, the underdressed jock stood up, his body jiggling, and grinned.

“Bro, you look awesome. Felix has gotta be the luckiest guy on campus to have you for the night. Damn.” Bleecker answered, using his clean hand to fistbump Sebastian.

“Yes, well, as you said it is our third date and so…” Sebastian trailed off, seemingly nervous.

“Seb, don’t worry about anything. I’m gonna head out tonight and hang with some friends at Kappa Tau, and stay at Brandon’s,” he said with a wink. “So you two love birds can enjoy yourselves here. Now, I left lube and condoms in your nightstand and if you guys get hungry, there’s leftover pizza and a fresh tub of ice cream. I remember last time you brought him over you nearly cleaned us out, so I stocked up this time”

“Bleecker, you’re the best friend I could have. I’m so glad I’m here, and that I get to share this with you!” Sebastian said, before heading to the door.

He attempted to put his phone and wallet in his pockets but found that they were flush tight against his thighs, far too tight to squeeze anything into. Deciding to carry them, he walked the short distance to La Barriga, the Mexican restaurant he had agreed to meet Felix at. Felix stood out on the curb, absorbed in his phone as Sebastian approached. Sebastian got a good look at him before Felix was aware of his presence.

A pair of dark jeans rolled up above a pair of Doc Marten’s gave the definite hipster vibe, especially with the faded white band tee he was wearing beneath a leather jacket. Felix was using his belly to support his forearm as he read from his phone, which had pushed a solid two inches of pale flab to ooze out from under the tee. He had trimmed his beard down slightly for their date and with his head bent forward like this, Sebastian could see a ring of fat around his jawline, as his double chin was pressed into prominence. Walking up casually, Sebastian extended an arm around Felix’s lower back and grabbed a cheeky handful of side flesh as he pulled him in for a kiss. Felix was surprised by the younger Greek man’s confidence but leaned in to it, reaching up a hand to flick one of his prominent nipples, eliciting a gasp from Sebastian.

“Now let's get some food and beer in us before we get too excited, yeah?” Felix asked with a smile.

The two gorged themselves on quesadillas, burritos and all manner of Mexican delicacies as they discussed more about history and philosophy. The conversation flowed as easily as the beer did, and several hours later, they found themselves stumbling back to Sebastian’s place. He fumbled around for his keys as Felix kissed his neck from behind, and ran a hand over his bloated middle, bringing up a deep belch that just made them laugh more. Finally making their way inside, Felix shed his jacket and gave a deep sigh as he seemed to exhale and expand, his already bloated potbelly seeming to strain the cotton prison of his shirt.

“Sebastian, you’re the best. I can really be myself with you man.” He said with a relaxed grin.

Sebastian wandered into the kitchen, pulling out the ice cream and setting it on the bench, raising an eyebrow at Felix.

“I am so glad to hear Felix, but I hope you have room for dessert! I have such a sweet tooth” He purred.

“Of course I do! I’ll eat anything if it’s coming from a handsome guy like you” Felix replied, his voice taking on a deeper, sexier growl, as he pushed Sebastian back up against the kitchen counter.

Their bloated bellies mashed together, as they craned their necks forward to allow their lips to meet, the mingling flavours of cheese, grease and beer being swirled around by their tongues. Things were escalating as Felix reached a hand around to grab at Sebastian’s fattened ass, now pressed into the countertop as they heard a loud ripping noise emanate from Sebastian’s rear. His shorts had split right down the crack, stunning them both. There was a pause before they began laughing. Sebastian gradually rubbed Felix’s belly slowly, as the TA made his way to the couch, dropping down with a noticeable droop in the cushion.

Sebastian grabbed the semi melted ice cream and brought it over to his date. He then shuffled out of his pants which were now ruined, leaving him in just his tight black briefs, from which at least an inch of crack was visible. Felix leaned back and held his arms out as Sebastian sat on his lap, their thick thighs rubbing against each other as Sebastian shoveled ice cream into his date’s mouth. Before long, Felix was panting as his stomach bulged with fullness, his beard had dribbles of ice cream running down it and his moustache was smeared with chocolate flavoured dairy. Sebastian leaned in for a kiss and licked it all up smiling.

“Now I get to taste a milk moustache. I like it,” he said, as he continued feeding Felix.

The next morning, Sebastian blinked as the harsh sunlight hit him square in the face. Shielding his face with his hands he looked around himself and stifled a laugh. He and Felix had fallen asleep in their underwear on the couch, with Sebastian laying on Felix’s furry belly as the pudgy TA snored lightly, the corners of his mouth lifted in contentment.

Managing to stand without waking his older lover, Sebastian wandered to the kitchen, yawning and scratching his belly. Despite being stuffed full less than eight hours ago, his stomach was now begging for more food. After several minutes of attempting to quietly make himself a bowl of cereal and a coffee, he felt a pair of arms reach around his hips and rest on his belly at the same time he felt a kiss being planted on his neck.

“Morning handsome” Felix growled in his low morning voice.

“Morning you” replied Sebastian, turning around, his belly bumping in Felix’s, as the two made out, their hands exploring each other’s body and budding curves.

Their brief kiss was interrupted by the sound of keys jingling in the bowl in the hallway. Sebastian pushed Felix away, his face going red as he realised the two were standing in the kitchen in their underwear, at full mast. Bleecker rounded the corner and paused, the unexpected sight making him freeze.

“Bleecker I assume?” Felix asked, casually strolling over and shaking his hand. “Felix”.

“Er yeah, sorry I can go” He said, flinging his thumb over his shoulder in a signal that he was going to leave.

“Or perhaps, he could join us?” Asked Felix, turning to Sebastian and raising an eyebrow.

The exchange student locked eyes with his roommate, and between them was a moment where they knew what the other was going to say.

“Yes.”

To receive early access to Fatter Exchange Student and other exclusive stories check out the Gainer Stories Patreon. 

[smytimagine]

“The Assistant” Part IV: It’s Always Been You

Warnings: swearing, smut, fluff- hints at eating issues

Word Count: 5,311

A/N: Guys I’ve gotten pretty soft on Ethan lately, what is that about?! I started this story with totally different intentions, but that seems to be changing

Sorry this took so long! I was so hesitant to post it!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

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The sun started to set over the horizon as I dug my toes deeper into the sand, pulling them up every so often to watch the sand run off and in between them. Lisa and Cam were walking along the beach taking in the last bit of daylight and Alyana had dragged Grayson away the minute we got here to take pictures of herself for Instagram.

I looked up from my feet and noticed Ethan sitting slightly in front of me, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees letting the sun silhouette his face perfectly. I leaned back on my hands and just admired him for a minute while he stared out at the ocean, seemingly lost in thought. I realized how selfish I was to have spent the last 24 hours agonizing over the loss of someone I never had, all the while this wonderful man was right in front of me the whole time and never wavered. He had always been there for me, since day one. My biggest cheerleader and closest friend. Sure, Grayson was there too, but things seemed like they weren’t going to always be that way with him. I started to realize that I may one day lose Ethan too. Eventually, he will get a girlfriend and I really will be just their assistant.

I reached forward and grabbed his wrist. He broke his stare and glanced back in my direction, his face lighting up when he saw me batting my eyelashes at him. Something I always did before asking him to snuggle.

“Come sit back here, I’m cold” I lied and patted the sand beside me. He knew I wasn’t cold, I had my knees tucked into the hoodie he let me borrow, with the hood pulled up over my head

He laughed and scooted back so he was sitting next to me. He wrapped his arm around me as I leaned against his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his side. We sat there in silence for a few minutes, he had returned his stare to the ocean while I closed my eyes and breathed in his scent, and the feeling of his chest rising and falling with his steady breaths. 

“I don’t ever want to forget this moment E, I don’t want to wake up one day and not have you in my life,” I broke the silence as I spoke barely audibly  

He pulled away slightly and lifted my chin up to look at him, concern written on his face “Why would you say that? Y/N/N I’m not going anywhere” His eyes moving back and forth between mine as he ran his thumb just under my lip

“I don’t know, I can just feel things changing. Things are going to start to change in relationships and I’m not sure where I’ll fit into all of that. Grayson made it pretty clear today that I’m his assistant, not even his friend” I replied, trying my best not to sound weak.

“Well, you are our assistant…” as he started, I moved my eyes away from his as I tried to pull my face away from his grip, I didn’t want to look at him while he agreed with Grayson.

“…but you’re so much more than that. I know you don’t ever give yourself a second thought, but you are so much more than words can express. You’re my best friend. You’re amazing. Anyone who can’t see that is stupid” he continued.

As I looked back at him, our eyes met, he leaned in and touched his forehead to mine. I had a sudden urge to kiss him but I held off. If my relationship with Grayson was strained, I wasn’t about to fuck up the only strong one I have left. 

Closing his eyes he sighed as he continued “He may be my brother, but he is a complete moron for not wanting to be in my place right now,” he softly placed a peck on my forehead. I melted at the feeling as his lips lingered on my skin. I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t bring myself to just cross that line with him. Being with Ethan would be so easy. Sure, we bicker sometimes, but one of us is always crawling back to the other one with puppy eyes shortly after. I guess I was always scared to ruin something so great. I’d rather keep things the way they were now than not have him at all if it went wrong. 

He took my hand and interlaced his fingers with mine, I leaned against his shoulder again as we watched the sun making its last kiss of light over the ocean.

____________

Cam POV

Mom and I had gone for a walk once we got to the beach. Sure we had beaches in New Jersey, but there was something different about California. We never passed up a chance to head to Malibu when the boys asked us to go. 

The sun was just starting to set and we decided to head back towards the group before it got dark.

“Cameron is that Gray and… oh crap, what’s her name again?” Mom asked as she turned to me with a grimaced face

“Clout Chaser Barbie? Yea I think that’s them, I’d say let’s go catch up to them, but I’d really rather not” I replied looking up to where my mom was motioning.

“Yeah, well she isn’t what I would have picked for my son, but we have to play nice for Gray, he deserves our support so he knows we’ll pick him up when this falls apart”

I couldn’t help but laugh. My mom made even the nastiest comments sound sweet. We continued our walk back when I caught a glimpse of something that stopped me in my tracks, Ethan and Y/N snuggled into each other staring out at the ocean. I nudged my mom to stop and look in their direction.

“Look at that, how perfect are they?” Mom said sighing while a smile crept across her face

“Pretty perfect, but they’ll never let it go there. E wants her to be happy, even if it’s not with him.” I shrugged. Everyone knew they were perfect for each other, even if they didn’t realize it yet.

“I think he could make her happy, I think he already does. They’re just both scared of what that could change” She assured herself, leading the way back up the beach.

____________

Grayson POV

Alyana had dragged me over to the pier when we got to the beach, it was golden hour and she wanted me to take some new pictures of her for her Instagram. I have to admit, this wasn’t what I had planned when decided to come here. I wanted to spend time with my mom and sister since I only got to see them once in a while. But, here I am, watching her take her 1,000th selfie, I guess this is my life now. 

Y/N had stayed up on the sand with Ethan. I have no idea what has gotten into them both, but since when does Ethan stay at Y/N’s house when she isn’t feeling well? Sure, we have brought her over soup and smoothies when she has been sick before, but never once have we ever stayed the night. 

I looked around surveying the beach from the pier, trying to figure out where everyone went. I spotted Mom and Cam walking back along the water line. I scanned up the sand and found Y/N and Ethan, faces pressed together. Did they just kiss?! What the actual fuck is happening right now... A sudden sick feeling fell over me

“Hey babe, you okay?” Alyana asked barely breaking eye contact with her screen

“Oh, uh, y-yeah I think so, why?” I managed to stammer out as I rubbed my hand over the back of my neck trying to shake off the bizarre feeling.

“All of a sudden you got really pale” she replied, holding up her phone to take her next photo

“I think I’m just hungry. Maybe we should go see if everyone is ready for dinner?” I lied. 

I mean it wasn’t a total lie, I’m always hungry. But to be honest, I wasn’t sure what I felt. I just witnessed my brother kiss my best friend who is also our assistant, and I hated it. Ethan and Y/N have always been super close, we all have. But he should know better than to cross that line with her. This is going to fuck everything up for us. When they break up she will leave us. Not only will we be out an assistant, but we’ll lose our best friend. 

Here I was with my beautiful girlfriend, who is a model, so surely that was why I felt sick about all of this right? How irresponsible of them. A new feeling of anger replaced the sickness I had just felt as Alyana and I made our way back from the pier.

____________

Y/N POV

The sun had all but completely disappeared over the ocean when everyone had met back up to where Ethan and I were sitting. 

Ethan stood up, brushed himself off, and then held out his hand to help me up. Just as I reached up to grab his hand, Grayson walked in between us, and I fell back onto the sand landing on my butt.

“Oh, sorry,” Grayson glanced over his shoulder, not stopping to help

“Uh, that’s cool Bro, no big deal” Ethan tried to breeze past the moment as he helped me up brushing the sand off of my back.

What the hell was that about? I thought while brushing myself off, unable to ignore the obviousness of the situation. There’s no way he didn’t see Ethan’s hand out

“Where do you guys want to eat?” Lisa asked trying to break the growing  tension

“Gray and I know this great place we take Y/N all the time, we could go there?” Ethan suggested. Everyone nodded in agreement, except Grayson, who had grabbed Alyana’s hand and was practically running up the sand towards his car. 

The rest of us tried to shrug it off and followed up the sand towards Ethan’s Jeep. 

“Hey Gray, we’ll meet you guys there?” Ethan double-checked with Grayson before we got into separate cars.

“Yeah, whatever bro” Grayson grumbled back

I looked over at Ethan to see if he had just heard the same tone I did. He returned my look with slightly furrowed brows and a shrug

Grayson closed the passenger door after letting Alyana in, looked over at the Jeep where Ethan was opening the passenger door for me, groaned and got into his car. l couldn’t help but divert my attention over to the blue Porsche, unsure of what was up with Grayson as I climbed into the passenger seat. 

“Okay does anyone know what the hell that was?!” Cam broke the silence as we drove out of the parking lot. Ethan let out a chuckle as his hand found its usual spot on my thigh, I rested my hand over his as we all shrugged and shook off the moment. If there was anything the four of us were used to, it was Grayson’s mood swings. He should be over it by the time we all arrived at the restaurant. 

____________

When we got to the restaurant we had somehow arrived before Grayson and Alyana, even though we all left at the same time. We were waiting outside when a heated Grayson was hightailing it to the door with a less than happy Alyana behind him. 

“Oh, shit” I whispered to Ethan 

I guess he’s not over it

“I don’t think we even want to know” he replied holding the door for me to enter the restaurant, both of us oblivious to what Grayson was actually upset about. 

I was so happy Ethan chose a place I was so comfortable at. We came here all the time after a long day of work. It wasn’t the fanciest place in the world, but that’s why we loved it so much. 

They sat us in a semi-private room. This was something we were all used to because the twins never got to eat peacefully in public. Sure, they loved their supporters, but they also loved food. Having an uninterrupted dinner was always the preference when we could get it. 

I went to sit down when a chair was pulled out for me. I looked to my left to see Ethan winking with a smirk. I sat down as he pushed it in, then took the seat beside me.

Grayson sat down across from us but did not look in our direction. I had no idea what the heck had gotten into him all of a sudden. Earlier this week we were laughing over avocado toast and now today he’s telling Ethan I’m basically just their assistant, and won’t even look at me.

We each ordered our dinner and were having a great time, laughing and catching up, Ethan Cam and I shooting our straw wrappers at each other while Grayson and Alyana pretty much ignored the rest of the table. 

“Hey Gray, can you pass the rolls?” I asked.

“Do you really need to eat anymore carbs?” she spoke under her breath

The table fell silent. I mean how could it not? She wasn’t exactly whispering. I looked over at her and then back to Grayson, who sat blank-faced at the comment as if he never heard it. I don’t know what I expected. I guess I thought he wouldn’t let anyone speak to his best friend like that, but then I remembered I didn’t know what we were anymore.

“Hey, new girl. Watch your fucking mouth” A voice spoke up from the opposite end of the table. I broke my stare at Grayson to look to my right finding Cam pushing back from the table removing her napkin from her lap as Lisa grabbed her. 

“It’s okay Cam, let it go” I tried to calm her down by flashing her a smile. She knew it was fake, she could always see through my bullshit, but she sat down clenching and relaxing her fists under the table. At least someone was standing up for me

Ethan grabbed the basket of rolls and handed them to me. I took them trying my best to smile in return but placed it down to the other side of me, deciding against them. 

I was never one to turn down food. Whenever the boys and I went out I never hesitated to order a burger and fries and chow down. I worked extremely hard on my physique and felt like I should reward myself once in a while. Never once did I feel low about my appearance until now. 

I stared down at the remainder of my fries and pushed the plate away from me, reaching for my water to satisfy any remaining hunger I had felt. I was lost in my own thoughts staring into my glass when I felt a hand wrap over my thigh. I looked to my left to find Ethan eating with his left hand but grinning about our little secret. I placed my hand on top of his, squeezing lightly. Sometimes I swear he could read my mind.

The rest of dinner was one big awkward silence. Alyana decided she would keep her mouth shut as to not mess with Cam who kept death staring her while stabbing her knife into her left over cheeseburger. I would catch Lisa smiling at Ethan and I every once in a while. It didn’t catch me totally off guard. I knew that Lisa loved how Ethan and I were together. We had both tried to make it pretty clear to her that we were just friends, but I’m not sure she had let that ship sail yet. 

Grayson had spent most of the dinner staring down at his plate or shooting eye daggers at Ethan. I couldn’t figure out what his issue was. I knew he thought it was weird Ethan stayed at my place last night, but usually they never let a disagreement last this long. Is that what he’s still mad about?

I wasn’t even sure Ethan had noticed. When Ethan was eating not much else could hold his attention. The room could be in flames around him and he probably wouldn’t notice. Or maybe, he was so used to Grayson throwing temper tantrums he was just really good at ignoring them. 

____________

After dinner, Ethan had invited me back to the house to hang out and relax with his mom and sister. I felt slightly weird about it because of how this evening had already gone, but I tried to never pass up a chance to hang out with Lisa and Cam since we saw them so infrequently. As we pulled up the driveway and parked, Grayson was pulling up. Alone

I flashed him an innocent smile as he got out of the car, to a stone face in return.

I followed everyone else inside, followed by Grayson who stayed silent and disappeared down the hall once we entered the house.

“Should we go sit by the fire? Try this evening again?” Ethan suggested placing his hand on my lower back to lead us outside.

____________

We had all been sitting around the fire for about an hour, our faces hurting from laughter at stories Lisa was telling of the twins as kids. Ethan and I had snuggled up on the bench under a blanket. Grayson had decided to join us shortly after we got the fire going, I figured for his mom and sister’s company. Grayson might have been hot-headed, but he was a family man. His family always came first. He used to include me in that group, but I’m not so sure now. When he didn’t stick up for me at dinner, I was pretty sure that was all that needed to be said there. 

He had been checking his phone non-stop since he sat down, obviously waiting for Alyana to text him, which it would seem she hadn’t. In between glances to his phone, he would fix his stare at Ethan and me. I couldn’t figure out what he was thinking about. It almost seemed like he was staring through us. I wanted so badly to call him out on his behavior, but what was I supposed to say? 

Grayson had some flings here and there over the last couple of years, but he had never had a girlfriend he considered serious enough to introduce to everyone, so I had no idea if this is just how he was going to be in a relationship. Either way, that had nothing to do with Ethan and me. 

____________

Lisa had headed to bed a while ago, the rest of us thinking about doing the same. 

“Well, I should probably go. If it gets any later I’ll be too tired to even drive” I said pulling the blanket off of my lap and standing up to head back inside. 

“Just stay here” Ethan suggested, eyes fixated on the fire 

I had stayed at the twin’s house many times after a late night, usually crashing on the couch or the guest bed, but I knew they would both be taken with their mom and sister staying there as well

“I wouldn’t have anywhere to sleep, and as much as I love Cam, she snores” I laughed looking over at Cam

“Hey! Fuck you Y/N/N!” she laughed throwing her empty cup at me

“You can stay with me.” He mumbled, breaking his glance to look over in my direction

I looked back at Ethan unsure if I had heard his suggestion correctly

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose” I asked nervously. As close as Ethan and I were, we had never shared a bed. 

“Ethan, don’t be fucking stupid, she doesn’t want to sleep with you” Grayson blurted out. A look of disgust on his face.

“Grayson, don’t you need to go call your girlfriend? Your phone has been awfully quiet since we got home” Ethan pushed back

“Y/N you can either sleep on the other couch next to Cam, or you can have my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch. You’re not sleeping with Ethan. How stupid of an idea is that?” Grayson almost demanded throwing his hands around while he spoke. 

For some reason I felt like I had to obey. Although we were all used to his moods, I found Grayson extremely intimidating, when he raised his voice, I usually listened. 

“I guess I’ll take the couch then Gray... thanks for the offer though” I stammered, surprised he even addressed me directly after avoiding me all day.

He nodded looking smug about his interference.

____________

Grayson and Cam had headed to bed while Ethan and I stayed by the fire a while longer. As much as I loved everyone else, I loved these quiet moments with Ethan even more. 

“Let’s play truth or dare” he spoke after a while of just listening to the fire crackle and the crickets chirping around us

“Really E? It’s just the two of us, how fun can that be?” I laughed taking another sip of my drink

“Oh, it can be really fun” he winked

“Ugh, fine you dork, you go first” I gave in, placing my drink down and waving him off

“Okay Y/N/N, truth or dare” he smirked and wiggled his eyebrows

“Truth”

“Of course you’d pick truth, because you’re afraid of what my dare would be” he threw his head back and chuckled

“Oh just shut up and ask your question” I replied, though he was right. If you ever play a game of truth or dare with the Dolans, always choose truth. Those two can come up with some crazy dares. 

“Okay...” He sat forward leaning on his knees “ You didn’t eat the rolls tonight at dinner because Alyana made you feel bad about yourself” he said, more matter of factually than questioning, already sure of my answer

I have to admit I was caught slightly off guard about his question. I was hoping no one had noticed that I didn’t actually take any when Ethan handed me the basket

“Ummm” I tried to come up with a lie, avoiding his strong eye contact

“Y/N... don’t lie to me” he said sharply. By his tone I could tell he was irritated, maybe not at me directly, but at the memory of dinner.

“Okay, yes I let her get to me. How was I not supposed to when Grayson just sat there with no expression, letting her talk to me like that? I kind of figured if he didn’t say anything he must agree. How is that not supposed to make me feel like shit?” I confessed, leaning my head down avoiding his judgement.

Ethan stood up from where he was sitting across from me and came over to stand in front of me. He knelt down and took my hands in his, pulling my gaze up to meet his eyes

“You are absolutely beautiful. Don’t let some clout chaser make you feel anything other than that. I love watching you eat... not in a creepy way, but you’re confident. We all know you work really hard to stay in shape. I love that you treat yourself. I don’t ever want to go out with you and have you afraid to eat. Okay?” He said calmly trying to reassure me, brushing away a stray hair that had fallen into my eyes

“...okay E” I whispered

“Promise me Y/N/N” he insisted as he furrowed his eyebrows in concern

“Okay E I promise... now please stand up. It’s my turn” I tried to change the subject. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate his sincerity, but I was embarrassed at how I let that stupid girl make me feel at dinner and I’d rather forget it. 

He chuckled standing up to move back to his seat. “Okay, hit me”

“Alright. Ethan, truth or dare” I knew he would pick dare. Dolan’s never turned down a dare. And to be honest, I didn’t have a truth question for him. 

“Obviously dare” he replied

*phew*

“Okay, E....” I looked around the yard trying to figure out what to dare him. “I dare you to jump in the pool. With all your clothes on” I raised an eyebrow looking back at him. 

He shrugged and stood up heading towards the pool. I quickly followed behind. 

“It would have been better if you said naked” he laughed 

I rolled my eyes, I was practically asking for that response

“But I have a request first” he added turning back around

“I’m not sure that’s how this works but what is it?” I asked

“I need a hug. I miss you” he stuck his bottom lip out trying to make me feel bad

I walked towards his open arms “You’re such a dork, how could you miss....AHHHHH” my sentence was cut off as he grabbed me and flung us both into the pool

I gasped for air when I reached the surface of the water, looking around the dark pool for Ethan but didn’t find him

“ETHAN! WHY DID YOU DO THAT! I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!” I yelled seemingly into the abyss as I was quickly dunked back under the water

I swam back up grabbing him in the process, I wasn’t going to let him get away with it this time

“Why did you do that!” I yelled at him laughing, slapping his wet shoulder with my heavily soaked hoodie sleeve

“It was fun!” he laughed splashing me trying to avoid another shot

“Well I don’t have a change of clothes now you ass” I scoffed looking down at my wet clothes

“Oh, because you weren’t going to raid my closet anyway?” He asked smirking, hopping out by the ledge of the pool and reaching back down to help me

“I guess you’re right, but you’re still an ass” I shrugged and reached up to let him help me out. 

____________

He interlaced his wet hand with mine as we slunk as quietly as we could past Cameron through the house. We both knew if Grayson saw us dripping water all over the floor he would kill us, I prayed he would stay in his room. Odds were good he was on the phone talking sweet nothings to his stick figure girlfriend. 

I giggled as Ethan flung me past him through the door way as he closed the door behind me. He took off his sopping wet shirt and then turned around to find me in a staring match with his wet half naked body

“Hey Y/N/N? You okay?” he laughed, bowing his head to try to catch my eyes

I felt my face heat up

“Uh, yeah yeah I’m good.” I tried to look away and get distracted by literally anything else.

Ethan smirked at my embarrassment “Well, I’ll probably hop in the shower, if you want you can shower after me, just pick out whatever you want from the closet while you wait” he kissed my cheek as he walked into the bathroom turning over his shoulder to add “I’m glad I can get you to blush too”

My eyes followed him into the bathroom, since when do I blush at Ethan’s body? Since when do I watch him walk away like I’ve never seen him before?

I sat down on the bed listening to him turn the shower on. Lost in my new found thoughts I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with them

Before I could even think about it I found my feet carrying me to the bathroom door. I jiggled the handle to see if it was unlocked and was happily surprised to find it was. Was he hoping I would come in? 

I opened the door and found Ethan in the shower letting the water run over him. The glass shower walls left little to the imagination. He hadn’t noticed me standing there yet, so I took the moment to really admire the man in front of me as he stood under the water running his hand through his hair. He was literal perfection. 

I walked over to the shower and opened the door, still clothed I moved forward and wrapped my arms under his arms and placed my hands on his chest. He brought his hands up to mine

“I was hoping you’d come” He confessed

“You wanted me to?” I asked, pecking his shoulder blade while I rested my forehead on his back

“Yes” He replied, turning to face me. His eyes stared through mine as water poured over the both of us. He lifted his hand to the side of my face and ran his thumb over my cheek. His eyes raced between mine and my lips. I opened my mouth slightly, sure of what I wanted him to do next, but unsure if he would.

He leaned in and I felt his soft lips touch mine tenderly. I kissed him back as I brought my hand up to the back of his neck pulling him down into me more. Deepening the kiss his tongue begged at my lips for entry, to which I granted, a small moan leaving my throat. He pushed me up against the wall of the shower as he reached for the hem of my sweatshirt and pulled it up over my head throwing it down in a wet heap on the shower floor. 

A moan escaped my lips as he moved his mouth from mine down my neck to my breasts, heaving under his touch. I watched the water bead off of his back as he worked his way down my body leaving soft kisses in his wake. When he reached the hem of my jeans he fumbled with the button, looking up at me for approval. I nodded, leaning my head against the wall as he kissed my hip bones. 

He unbuttoned my jeans and slid his hands down both sides of my hips shimmying my jeans down to the floor, leaving me in a black lacy bra and underwear. 

He stood back up, returning his soft lips to mine “You are so beautiful. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this” he said 

“Show me” I practically begged between kisses.

I reached around and unclasped my bra and let it fall off my arms to the floor. His hands moving to cup my breasts then moving up to pin my arms above my head as he again laid a trail of kisses down from my neck, stopping to nibble and suck gently on each nipple. 

I couldn’t help but pull my now unrestrained hand down to grab into his hair. Pulling his head back slightly to make his eyes meet mine while his bottom lip still pulled against the skin of my stomach, had me aching between my legs for his touch.

He hooked his thumbs through the sides of my panties, grabbing the front between his teeth. As he took his time moving them down he kissed every new inch of exposed skin, lingering when he reached my wet core. 

When my panties finally fell to the floor he stood back up forcefully lifting me by the back of my thighs to wrap my legs around his waist. 

“Are you sure you want to do this” he asked, burying his head into the crook of my neck, sounding needy and desperate

“Yes, please E. I want all of you” I reassured him, digging my nails slightly into the back of his neck while the other hand clung to his back. 

He aligned our bodies and entered me slowly, letting me adjust to his size. I leaned my head back against the wall, eyes rolling into the back of my head, letting a soft moan leave my throat

“Are you okay?” he asked softly

“Yes, God yes. I want you so bad E” I whined trying to push myself onto him to feel him completely. 

When he pushed himself all the way in another moan left my throat, this time joined with his own gutteral grunt. 

I leaned my head forward, meeting his forehead with mine as he quickened his pace moving roughly in and out, stretching me to my limit and then pulling almost all the way out before ramming in again. 

I gripped his shoulders tightly as my moans and screams of his name became uncontrollable. The grunts and moans that came from him only turned me on more. He had always been so gentle with me, this side of him was so sexy. 

“Ethan, I’m gonna... I’m almost there” I managed to squeak out as I neared my peak, my toes curling behind his back  

“Yes baby, do it, cum for me... God you are so beautiful” He spoke between thrusts

As I I hit my peak and rolled my head back against the wall, I dug my nails into Ethan’s shoulders and tightened my core around his cock. While I rode my high he started to quicken his pace even more. I could tell he was almost there because his thrusts became sloppy and his moans became breathy and desperate. 

“I’m on birth control E, I want you to fill me” I whispered in his ear between his moans. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes as he thrusted again, drawing a moan from both of us. 

His body caved as he gently put my feet back on the ground and wrapped his arms around my waist, leaning his head to rest on my shoulder as he stood in front of me. 

“Be with me” he finally spoke

“I am E, I’m right here” I tried reassuring him as I smoothed his wet hair back

“No, Y/N, be with me... be my girl” he lifted his head to meet my eyes, placing a soft kiss on my lips

I took a moment to just watch how the water beaded off of his eyebrow, leading its way down his face to his chest. I brought my hand up to trace the droplet with my finger. When I brought my eyes back to his I nodded.

“Is that a yes?” he asked smiling

“Yes, Ethan. I know you thought it was Grayson. But I realized today at the beach that it’s you. It’s always been you E” 

He lifted me up and spun me around making me giggle before he put me down

“You don’t know how badly I wanted to hear you say that. I promise I will make you happy every day. I want to be the man you deserve” he said placing his forehead to mine, lacing his fingers into my hair at the base of my neck

“You already are Ethan” 

________________

A/N: Guys I am so sorry if this sucked! I’ve been wanting to write this chapter for so long but I suck at smut!

Tag List: @graydolan12​

[miraculouslysam]

The Woes of a Teen Underwear Model

Hi all! Today’s prompt for @adrinetteapril was “Just Friends,” and I couldn’t resist. Have some post-reveal, pre-relationship antics.

“You know, ya probably would have more success with the dudette if you actually went and talked to her instead of just staring like a creep, bro.”

Adrien couldn’t figure out how he had gotten here. It wasn’t too long before that their roles had been reversed, with Nino freaking out about being a “moronosaurus rex” while Adrien had just laughed along and teased him for overthinking it all. And yet, there he was, hiding in the corner and watching Marinette- not just Marinette, but Ladybug- laughing with Alya as they flipped through a magazine.

And it wasn’t just any old magazine. Oh no, Adrien couldn’t be that lucky. No, it just had to be Gabriel’s special swimsuits and undergarments edition. The edition in which Adrien had been the cover model.

It was taking every bit of his self-control not to run over and rip the magazine to shreds. Or to go to the nearest newspaper stand and set fire to it. Either option would be satisfactory.

The knowledge that Marinette was Ladybug still astounded him. When they had revealed themselves a few weeks before, he instantly found himself in shock. Mostly at his own stupidity. He still couldn’t grasp how he was so blind; her looks and tendency to help others stayed the same with and without the mask! Marinette, on the other hand, was cool as a cucumber. She’d taken one glance at him and said, “I should’ve seen this coming.”

They had spent more time together since then, growing closer with each passing day. All the guys teased him in the locker rooms, asking when he was finally going to get the balls to ask her out. He always smiled. “We’re just friends.” It hurt, but he knew where she stood on the matter and was not going to step over the line. He’d already learned that lesson.

But even if they were “just friends,” Adrien absolutely did not want the woman he was in love with laughing at pictures of him one-garment-short of naked. Years of modelling had taught him to be secure with himself… but not that secure.

He was pulled from his musings by a hand waving in front of his face. “Yo, earth to Loverboy. What’s your deal, bro? Just ask her out already so we can all be past this drooling. Alya’s really been pushing for us all to double-date,” Nino said. He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “And believe me, a happier Alya is better for everyone. Especially me.”

Adrien quickly composed himself, then quirked an eyebrow to complete the confident façade. “Oh, is that so? Well, I hate to break it to you, Nino, but Marinette and I are just friends. Maybe you could talk to Rose and Juleka.”

Nino began to speak, but the bell rang, cutting him off. The duo began walking toward their classroom. “I’m just sayin’, dude, Marinette is a catch. I’ve been hearing some stuff about some people wanting to ask her out if you’re not making a move.”

Oh man, did Adrien know. He distinctly remembered pummeling Kagami while they sparred the previous week, when she’d said something to the effect of “if you don’t make a move, I will.” The satisfied smirk she gave him, like the cat that got the cream, had plagued his mind ever since. It didn’t help that she kept texting him taunts at least three times a day either.

“Seriously, I probably still would be chasing her if Ladybug hadn’t thrown me and Alya in that cage that day at the zoo. The girl is smart, nice, and fine. She’s the whole package.” Nino paused, considering. “Oh, but don’t tell Alya I said that. My girl is the best and only one for me.”

The pair fist-bumped, then walked through the door of Ms. Bustier’s class. Alya and Marinette already had taken their seats. The girls looked up for a moment, greeting the boys, then returned to their discussion. He heard laughter from behind him and tensed up. Should he eavesdrop? He knew it was wrong, but they were looking at-

“Hey, Adrien,” Alya’s voice drawled. He heard Marinette groan, then turned to see her thunking her head into her desk. Alya held up the offending magazine and Adrien felt himself cringe. “Marinette has a question for you.”

Marinette groaned again. “Please don’t, Alya. It’s just going to be embarrassing for everyone.”

Adrien swore he saw Alya’s eyes flash, not unlike Kyoya’s in Ouran. And, well, Kyoya had nothing on Alya in terms of being terrifying. “Really? Embarrassing for everyone, you say? I don’t think I’ll be embarrassed, so I’ll just say it for you.” She leaned forward, elbow on the table as she rested her chin on her fist. “Marinette wants to know what the hell was going through your mind when you posed for this photo.”

He glanced at the two-page spread, what the photographer called the star of the photoset. He thought he looked pretty good in it, but judging by that smirk on Alya’s face... He smiled weakly. “I was told to do a smolder. They wanted me to look sexy.”

The smirk grew wider and Alya’s eyes glinted again. Adrien swallowed thickly. “Is that so? Did you find it sexy, Marinette?”

Alya’s head whipped toward her best friend, who appeared to be practicing a new shrinking act. Marinette’s eyes darted around at every other member of their quartet. “Well, no, that isn’t exactly what I said.”

“And what exactly did you say?”

Marinette clearly knew there was no getting out of it. She sighed and sat up straight, shoulders back. She met Adrien’s questioning glance. “Sorry, Adrien, but… you look like you’re trying to pass something. Like bad gas.”

Alya and Nino dissolved into laughter instantly. Adrien’s jaw dropped, face morphing into disbelief. “I’m- you- huh?” Did she really think that? It was like glass shattered in his mind. Though he hadn’t told anyone, he secretly had been envisioning something like an anime scene:

Dramatic music plays in the background. Marinette, clad in a white, flowing dress with her hair free, runs while looking around frantically, magazine in hand. She finally sees him. “Oh, Adrien! I can’t resist any longer. You’re the man of my dreams. You’re handsome and strong and incredible!” She flings herself into his arms. “Please, kiss me!” They passionately embrace while rose petals fall around them and-

His friends’ uproarious laughter snapped him from his reverie. Right. That wouldn’t happen now, apparently.

Marinette looked apologetic for a moment, but then sat up even straighter, emboldened like she suddenly was her spotted alter-ego. Adrien supposed she was picturing cat ears flat against his head. He could practically feel them himself.

“And now you look like you’ve passed it.”

The challenge in her eyes taunted him, the smirk dancing on her lips a silent invitation. The message was clear. Step up or just take it.

Well that simply wouldn’t do.

A cheshire grin overtook his face. Marinette’s eyes grew wide for a split-second before she settled into her game face. “I don’t know that you’re one to talk, Princess. Didn’t you have me go buy constipation tablets for you in London?” He began mocking her voice. “’Oh, Adrien, please do this for me. You’re the only one who can!’”

If looks could kill, Adrien surely would have been pronounced dead on the scene.

He knew it had been a mistake. It was the first thing she cleared up after they revealed themselves, but Alya and Nino didn’t know that. It was a low blow, but fair was fair.

But once again, he had failed to account for Alya’s quick wit. The wicked smile on her face made him gulp and regret saying anything. “Wow, it sounds like you two really are made for each other.”

Was his face on fire? It felt like it. Could a human face physically catch flame? Maybe he could ask Ms. Mendeliev for resources to be studied.

He vaguely heard Marinette sputtering, but class began before he could hear what she had to say.

~~~~~

Class took an eternity to end. Nino had teased him via note through the entire thing, but Adrien was too removed to care. His leg couldn’t seem to stop jiggling the whole time, and his notebook showed that he had learned absolutely nothing.

Unless discovering that Adrien Dupain-Cheng looked better than Marinette Agreste counted. Because the whole page was full of it, written in various fonts and surrounded by hearts.

Oh well. The girl of his dreams had just been laughing at the centerfold photo of him wearing Gabriel briefs. He had no shame left.

He waited until Marinette and Alya got up to leave, then quietly followed them so he could hear what they were saying.

“Alya, you really didn’t have to say that. Adrien didn’t need to know.”

“Oh, come on, girl. You know I didn’t want to hurt him. We were going to find out his feelings either way. Either you were going to acknowledge that you think he’s drop-dead gorgeous, or we were going to see him get pouty because you didn’t think so. You chose not to own up, so we saw Model Boy get upset.”

Adrien felt himself blushing again.

“Alya, he knows he’s drop-dead gorgeous. He’s a model. He probably just got upset because his job is to match the expressions they tell him to.”

Alya laughed. “Girl, if you think he’s just upset over that, you’re more blind than he is. He’s more whipped than topping on an ice cream sundae.”

“You know that isn’t true.”

“If you’re so sure, then why don’t you ask him? Call him up, ask him out on a date. Not just video games. A real date,” Alya countered.

Marinette scoffed. “Come on, Alya. I can’t do that, no matter how much I want to. He only sees me as a friend.”

Adrien tripped, falling headfirst into a trashcan.

“She likes me back?!”

[thewritewolf]

Eating Habits Chapter 2: Moving Day

It’s the big day - Marinette finally moving out of the bakery, and her boyfriend Adrien is there to make it as quick and painless as possible. 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 (Final)

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3.  My ko-fi.

Adrien set the box down in the empty room and dragged the back of his hand across his forehead, keeping the sweat out of his eyes.

“Is that the last of them?” He set his hands on his hips. Marinette had already started unpacking a while ago.

“Hm…” Marinette looked around, caught holding a whisk in her hand as she mentally counted the boxes. “Looks like that’s everything…” She looked him over, a playful smirk on her face. “Why don’t you sit down for a little bit, kitty? You’re no use to me tuckered out.”

“Normally I’d decline, but those three flights of stairs really took it out of me.” Adrien glanced around and realized there wasn’t really anywhere to sit. So he sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning back on his elbows. “You gonna be okay walking that distance everyday?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “While not all of us can afford high-end gym memberships, I get plenty of exercise, kitty. I’m still Ladybug, after all.”

“Speaking of which…” Tikki emerged from one of the boxes, and ducked into another one. She dragged out a startled Plagg who was too busy clutching a wedge of camembert to resist. “C’mon, you stinky sock! Let’s go exploring.” Despite his grumbling, he followed after her as they disappeared into another room.

As Marinette hummed to herself, Adrien let his eyes wander across the room. So far, he hadn’t been that impressed by the building and he couldn’t tell how much of that was his upbringing and how much was just sense. It felt cramped, the space was tiny, the windows were clouded and opened out into the alley - although, admittedly, that might come in handy if she had to leave the building as Ladybug. He’d only seen her landlord briefly, but he already didn’t like the sleazy looking man. While he wanted nothing more than to denounce it and talk Marinette to her senses…

...He decided to bite his tongue. She seemed happy, so maybe the problems weren’t as big as he thought they were. Besides, maybe this was just him being upset that they weren’t moving in together. It wouldn’t be fair of him to nag on her first home outside of home, especially if that was his real motivation.

“I know it’s not much to look at now,” Marinette said, breaking the silence and making Adrien blush in embarrassment.

“Was I that obvious?”

“Mhm. And I get it - it’s a step down from how I was living back at the bakery, but…” She sat down across from him, her knees drawn close to her chest, “...I think, with a little love and a lot of hard work, this place will feel like home before the semester is out.”

“I’ll be more than happy to help out whenever you need it.”

“That’s sweet of you to offer, but you’ve got plenty on your plate as is. I’m not about to ask you to play home makeover with me too. Although,” she said with a wink, “I wouldn’t be opposed if you came over for dinner and some late night fun.”

He scooted closer to her, their faces centimeters apart. “Well, you did say this place could use some love…”

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

He closed his eyes and leaned in, only to be pushed back by the nose.

“...But not right now. You’ve got a lunch with Nino to get to, don’t you?”

Adrien whipped out his phone and cursed. He had ten minutes to beat Nino to the cafe.

He sprang to his feet and took Marinette’s hand to help her up. He planted a kiss on her knuckles. “Until next time, m’lady. Plagg?” He called out as he walked toward the door. “We gotta go!”

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

It was close, but Adrien made it in time. Nino was already waiting for him, as was a cup of coffee done just the way Adrien liked it (extra sugar and cream). Nino glanced up from his phone when Adrien pulled up a seat, a grin spreading across his face as he rose from his slouch.

“Bro! It’s been way too long.” They did their secret handshake from collegé over the table. His grin faded a little. “Sorry we couldn’t show for the anniversary, Adrien. Not a lotta free time these days, ya know?”

“Yeah, I get it. Don’t worry, no one understands the pain of a busy schedule more than me.” Adrien took a sip of his coffee. He was relieved when he felt the heat hit his tongue - he hadn’t left Nino waiting too long after all. “I’ve been meaning to ask - how’s that internship stuff working for Alya?”

“My babe has been working double time to leave a good impression.” Nino chuckled. “Not that she needs to, though. All that work on the Ladyblog over the years really paid off. Having the dopest place for anything miraculous related gave her tons of credibility. And while I bet I’ve lost years from worry after seeing her run into danger so much…”

Adrien chuckled.

“...It really showed how hyped she was for the job. She had her pick of the internships when we got out of school.”

With a glance at the green bracelet on Nino’s wrist, Adrien added, “Well, at least later on, she could more than handle herself, right?”

Nino followed his eyes and smirked. “Yeah, I guess you could say that, whiskers. Still, to everyone watching, it was one crazy blogger doing her damnedest to get the best scoop.” He took a big gulp of his iced coffee. “Helps that she always got the best interviews with the heroes.”

“Hm…” Adrien rested his chin on his hand, his elbow propped up on the table, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I wonder how she managed to cultivate all those contacts…”

“Well, after she got in good with the most important and beautiful hero - Rena Rouge - I bet it was loads easier.”

Narrowing his eyes in mock anger, Adrien growled, “You don’t want to start this argument again, shelly. Clearly, the most important and drop dead gorgeous hero was Ladybug.”

“Look,” Nino said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Let’s just say all four of Paris’s defenders were hot, okay?”

Adrien pretended to consider this for a moment before nodding. “I accept your truce. And speaking of the biggest names in Paris, how’s my main man Nino doing?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say he’s a hot shot in Paris yet, but…” Nino tugged at his hat, his cheeks a little rudder than they were a moment ago. “I’m doing good. Remind me to do something special for Marinette soon. This internship… apprenticeship… thing, I’ve got going with Jagged Stone has been like in the top three best experiences in my life. I owe her a lot for hyping me up to the rock legend himself.”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short! You didn’t get there on Mari’s word alone. If Jagged didn’t love your work, he wouldn’t have taken you on, recommendation or no.”

“Thanks, bro.” Some of the tension left his shoulders and he let out a deep breath. “I needed to hear that. Hanging out with Jagged has been a dream come true, but… it’s hard to believe I’m worthy sometimes.”

Fiddling with his ring, Adrien smiled sadly. “I know what you mean.”

“But hey! Enough about me - what about you, bro? What’s the future got in store for the big cat himself?”

Adrien leaned back, putting an arm over the back of his chair and looking up at the clear blue sky in thought. “Honestly? I don’t know. And I’m kinda in love with not knowing, if that makes sense?”

Understanding lit up in Nino’s eyes. “All that time marching by the beat of someone else’s drum and you finally got all the freedom you could want. I get it, dude. Well,” he conceded with a nod, “as much as someone who has never gone through that can get it.”

They sipped at their coffee in peace for a few quiet moments, the background babble of the cafe filling the empty space.

“So… what’re you gonna do between now and the future?”

“Pick up some modeling gigs every now and again. Try out some odd jobs to see if anything sticks. Do shifts at the bakery. That sort of thing.”

“Nice, bro. It’s not like money is that much of a concern for you.”

“I haven’t even scratched the surface yet, so I’ve got plenty more time to work things out too. Especially if I don’t go overboard with it.”

It had been a shock to the system, finding out that all the money he’d earned while modeling during his school years had only been a fraction of the money he’d actually made. The rest had been in a bank account that Adrien only found out about when he’d turned eighteen. It made for at least some good news at the end of the worst month of his life. Two years later and he’d barely made a dent in it, and even then only because he had moved out of the bakery last year.

Which came after the last break in by overly desperate reporters trying to dig up something on the only free Agreste left. There hadn’t been any incidents since then, but it had shaken him more than he’d let on. The idea of repaying the Dupain-Chengs’ kindness with that invasion of privacy…

“Big cat!”

Adrien snapped out of it and noticed Nino’s hand on his arm. He looked up into his concerned amber eyes. He smiled nervously.

“Sorry, dude. Kinda zoned out for a second.”

Leaning back into his spot, Nino’s concern didn’t fade in the slightest. “You know…”

“Therapy, yeah, you’ve mentioned.”

Nino held his hands up defensively. “I’m just saying. It helped me out a ton, and I don’t have the baggage you’ve got. You should at least give it a try, yeah?”

“Yeah, sure,” Adrien replied noncommittally. He hunched over and clutched his coffee in both hands.

Adrien felt a hand on his shoulder and dragged his gaze from his coffee to Nino’s eyes. “Bro, I know it’s not something you want to hear, but you’ve been through a lot. More than any of us, even before that sucker punch at the end. We’re your friends, but there is only so much we can do for you, especially now that we’re busier than ever.”

“I know.”

“Promise me you’ll at least think about it?”

“I promise,” Adrien lied.

[superhero-boogie]

They can't know. Part 1.

(Okay, this shit is super long and not at all what I planned to be, but you know what? I'm still happy. For those of you who are waiting for the Jason Todd story; I'm working on it. I already finished this one so I might be posting it the other part today.)

Warning; Angst, Hints of anxiety, Cursing. ( I think that's it)

Request; None. ( You can send me.)

You weren’t a superhero like the rest of your family, but that didn’t stop you from hanging at the Batcave, the coolest place on earth, especially from using the gigantic screen of the bat computer to watch movies. Your brother Dick was spending days over to visit you and invited his best friend. You were watching your favorite tv show while Wally West, aka Kid Flash, was somewhere at the Batcave with your older brother.

- Wally? Wally? - Dick snapped his fingers on his face - Wally!

He jumped facing an annoyed Dick.

- W-what?!

- Are you listening? This is important, dude!

- I know, I was! - He said trying to distract Dick from looking behind his back at the direction he was staring; Yours.

- Were you seriously watching tv rather than listening? Really, man?

- I got distracted, sorry! What were we talking again? - Relief ran his body.

Dick scan his face with suspicious before turning to talk to you.

- Y/N?

- Yeah, Dickie? - You said still staring at the Bat-computer.

- Can’t you watch this back at the Manor?

- Sure. - You responded, eyes still on the scene, not moving an inch.

Dick waited a minute until speaking again.

- So?

- Huh? What? - You said making Wally smile at your concentration.

- Will you watch at the Manor? - He asked impatiently.

- Nope. Now shush.

- But you said you could!  

- That I could, not that would! Now shut up, the love of my life is talking. - You said, waving your hand at them, talking about your favorite actor.

Wally put his hand dramatically above his heart.

- But Y/N! I thought I was the love of your life!

- Sure, whatever floats your boat, dude. - You sighed dreamily seeing the actor taking off his shirt. - I thought you were talking about something important?

Dick turned to Wally again with a “see what I have to go through every day” face before continuing his speech.

- So as I was saying before being so rudely ignored, I was thinking about doing a YJ reunion. What do you think?

- Why? Is something wrong? - It confused Wally, he remembered none bad news involving his old team.

- No. Not at all. But I figure that would be nice for the new members to meet the original gang.

- That’s cool, bro. Have you talked with the others yet?

- No, not yet. I’ve been playing with the idea for a while now, so I figure to ask since you were already coming. What do you think?

- That’s a great idea, but you need to check with everyone though.

- I know. I was planning to do it today. Do you think you can stay with Y/N for a while?

- I’m still listening, Dick. And we’re not kids. - You said.

- I know, I know. I’m going now, see you guys later. - He said getting out of the cave.

- Bye! - You and Wally shouted.

He stood there for a minute before going in your direction. He got behind you and put his over your eyes.

- Guess who? - He whispered in your ear making you shiver.

- Ha, Ha, hilarious, Wally. Get off me. - You took his hands off your face.

- It wasn’t what you said last night if I remember well... What did you say? Oh, I remembered now. “Oh, yeah, Wal...” - You turned, putting your hands on his mouth keeping him to mimic you.

- Would you, please, shut the fuck up? This place has cameras, you know? Do you really have a death wish?

- Come on, babe. You know I love you. - He wrapped his arms on your shoulders and rested his chin on the top of your head.

You hugged and kissed him on the corner of his mouth.

- I know, I love you too.

And you did. More than anything. It hurt you couldn’t be with him around your family. You knew that eventually, they would find out or you would have to tell them, but the thought of fighting them about your relationship scared the hell out of you. The whole problem was with your ages. Even if you were eighteen, what you was, Wally was way older than you; he had Dick’s age, and, since little, your family protected you like you were made of glass.

Your father had an affair with your mom before Dick was Robin, and she was a model. When you were six, the police arrested her for being an accomplice of a corrupt Mayer that she was dating and sent you to live with your father. At the time Dick was already thirteen and Robin, but since you were just a baby, you didn’t understand it. Babs was your hero, she spoiled and played with you.

When Jason came, you were twelve and knew about your father’s double life. In the first weeks of his time at the mansion, Jason was quiet and seemed angry all the time, your ages were close so you tried to be his friend, not realizing that a fourteen-year-old boy would rather die than play with dolls. When he died you were fifteen and cried until you couldn’t breathe anymore.

You became sad and angry and wanted to take the joker down yourself and begged to your father to train you to be his next Robin. He said no, not being able to even think about losing you as he did with Jason, so you moved in with Dick for a few months and trained martial arts with him. It was a nice brother-sister bonding moment and gave you the time you need it to calm down and realize you didn’t want to fight crime.

When you came back, you found out that there was a new Robin, Tim Drake. And a new Batgirl, Cassandra Cain. At first, you didn’t know what to think about them. He wasn’t an orphan as Dick or Jason and didn’t live at the mansion with you but he was younger and fun to be around and she was peaceful and quiet so you decided that Jason wouldn’t mind if you took them as siblings. Then Jason came back, and you were extremely confused. All those feeling that came with his death came back with the addition of your anger towards him. How could he not come back for his family? For you?  

When things calmed down, you couldn’t be more happy for having your brother back and cried to sleep holding him. Stephanie was awesome, you finally had a girl around age and could talk about stuff you couldn’t with your brothers. Damian was hard. He knew you were his father biological kid too but didn’t understand why you didn’t want to fight. He more often than not was rude, and you grew very insulted when he treated Alfred poorly. When he moderated his temper, you suspiciously let him enter your heart. And became thrilled about having a baby brother. Duke was happy and cool and you came to care for him too. There were so many of them, so many that you would disappoint for lying and keeping secrets. Not only with you, but Wally was also Dick best friend, and you knew it hurt him as much as did with you. But you loved Wally so much and were not willing to let him go.

- Hey, babe, come back. - Wally kissed your cheek drawing your attention. - What were you thinking?

-About my family. Their reaction when they find us out.

- No wonder you took so long, you guys multiply like bunnies. Don’t worry, babe, we will be fine.

You looked around checking if no one were coming and stand up, wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms on your waist pulled you closer.

- So... Kid Flash, what do you think we get out of here?

- I would love to. - He smiled - What do you think about France?

- Wally, you’re not taking me to Paris on my pajamas.- You got closer, your noses touching each other. - I was thinking something closer like… I don’t know... my bedroom? - You smiled giving a little peck on his lips.

Suddenly your legs didn’t touch the ground anymore and Wally was carrying you in bridal style, making you laugh.

- Well, then why you didn’t say earlier?

XXX

You would kill him, he would have to super-speed his ass to the other side of the planet to run from you. You grunted frustrated grabbing your makeup case; the hickey looked like a neon sign on your neck, not even your hair covering. He was dead.

A knock on the door made your soul leave your body for a few seconds.

- Y/N? Are you in there? - Your baby brother asked

- Yes, Damian. I’ll be out in a few, okay?

- Okay, I will wait in the bedroom.

- Shit. - you whispered trying to cover the bruise in a rush. You did the best you could and hoped your hair would help you.

You got out of the bedroom seeing your brother sitting on your bed with his legs crossed.

- How can I help you on this beautiful day, my baby brother? - You said lying down on the bed.

- I’m not a child, Y/N, much less a baby. But you could do something for me, yes.

You pulled him down on the bed as well and turned to face him, your arm under your head.

- Tell me what.

- Can you ask Grayson to not do the ridiculous reunion on our house? I’ve tried but he won’t listen.

- Why? I’m excited to have the guys over. You’re not?

- No, I’m not looking forward to having a loud and uneducated crowd on our house.

- Oh, come on, Damian. You can’t be serious. - You faced the ceiling. - Think like this; In a few years, the people coming will be your old team. Would you like someone to stop you?

Damian stopped to think for a few moments and got up.

- Well then, I suppose there’s nothing for me to do. Do you want to join me for breakfast?

- I would love, Damian. Just give me a moment to get ready, okay? Go ahead, I’ll catch you in a few secs.

You watched him get out and close the door before running back to the bathroom, to perfect the foundation on your neck.

XXX

By the time you made to the kitchen, Damian was throwing blueberries on Tim’s hair who was too busy staring at his coffee to notice anything.

You hugged him and took the little fruits from his hair getting a nasty look from Damian.

- Hey, Tim. Why are you up so early? Did you came from Steph’s or spend the night at the cave?

-... huh? Oh, Cave.

You glanced at the bags under his eyes and shook your head.

- You know... You won’t be able to stay awake at the YJ reunion if you don’t sleep, right? Why don’t you give this... - You took away his mug- And go upstairs?

- I will, I’m just waiting for something to be ready down at the cave, and I’m going to bed. - Tim tried to reach for his mug back while you took out of his grasp.

- What is so important that’s keeping you awake?  

- I’m doing a backup of the camera recordings at the Batcave so I can have more space in the HD. - Tim rested his head at the table.

- Why you’re doing it? Is something wrong, Drake? - Damian searched for the cereal on the kitchen cabinet.

- Not really, but since Dick’s is throwing a party, I wanted to make sure nothing goes off my eye.

- That’s mean, Timbo. I know we are offensively rich, but no one will rob us. - You teased him. - And since when we’re calling it a “party”?

Tim straightened his back.

- I didn’t mean like that! I was talking about not letting us vulnerable to attacks! I... I didn’t...

- Relax, Timbo. I’m mocking you.

- You’re awful, Y/N, I’m too tired for this. And we both know it’s not really a “reunion”. - He got up and search for the milk in the fridge. - Also, I want to see if the new program I installed last week works.

- What does it do? - You asked taking a sip from his intact coffee.

- It shows the persons that visited the Mansion or the Batcave, but just Wally came so there’s not really too much to see. Did you drink my coffee? -Tim narrowed his eyes.

- ... No? - You stopped to think about what he had said before the question, choking a little - W-wait, You will analyze the records from while Wally was here? Like all of them?! - The scenes of you and Wally making out around the house while you were alone passing through your eyes, the panic making your voice higher.

- ... Yeah? Are you okay? - He asked skeptically.

- You know, Tim. You’re looking so tired, are you sure you have to do this right now? Why don’t you go to sleep? I call you when it’s ready, how about that?

- Yeah, Drake, you’re looking like a zombie.

Tim took his eyes from you and stared at Damian.

- Looks who’s talking, the real zombie.

- Well, at least I’m not a... - You turned their discussion off, trying to figure out what to do. Grabbing your phone from your back pocket, you text Stephanie.

“Hey, Steph. I need a favor.”

Her reply didn’t take long to show.

“Sup, what can I do 4 you?"

“I need you to take Tim out of the Manor. Can’t tell u why.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, just do it, please?”

It didn’t take long until Tim’s phone rang.

- Hey, cutie. You’re... what? - Tim looked around his face growing red. - Uhum... Yep... I’m coming. Bye.

You looked at him questionably.

- I have to go. - Was all he said before leaving.

- That was weird, wasn’t it?

You looked at your little brother doing your best innocent face.

- Completely. - You got up and ran to your bedroom.

[alkhale]

Pretty (Kirishima x Reader )

first of hopefully many ko-fi requests, this was super sweet and indulgent to write, I feel like I needed something salty to swallow it down because of the fluff

thank you all so much for the kind donations and the insane support, for the anon who requested some sweet goodness with the donation, I hope you like it!

Kirishima Eijirou’s always been the kinda guy who’d agree almost anything was pretty.

When Kaminari would point out a girl walking down the streets and instantly calculate his chances with her, he’d laugh and nod with his boyish grin that yeah, she’s pretty cute. When Hagakure would come bounding up to him and talk about how pretty she made her hair look today he’d agree with a bright smile even if he couldn’t see it, Hagakure had a pretty personality so her hair was probably the same. When Mina showed him image after image of models and outfits she thought were pretty, he’d nod and look thoughtful and agree. When Todoroki would stop for a moment and glance up at the newly budding cherry blossoms trees outside and say, more to himself that they were pretty, Kirishima would grin with a wide smile and agree.

It’s true after all. There’s thousands of pretty and cute and beautiful things out there in the world. He’s always been more of the type to notice the more manly things, of course, but they’re out there. It’s more often that he’d agree things are pretty then not pretty--he’s just never had much of a heart for stuff like that anyway.

“Two pineapple pork buns please.”

You look like you’ve been through a bit of hell.

Kirishima Eijiro is frozen.

There’s a cushioned bandage plastered over your left cheek. The top of your right eye is a bit swollen from a cut and another bandaid is covered over the bridge of your nose. Your hair’s done up in a messy sort of bun with strands falling out this way and that. The top collar of your uniform is missing its necktie and your gray blazer is wrapped around your waist instead of over your shoulders despite the growing weather drop with the coming of the winter season.

One of Lunch Rush’s assistants is quick to handle your order, taking your ticket while you wait patiently. He’s not sure what the hell he’s doing, standing there like an idiot in the line right beside yours as he limply holds his own lunch ticket in his hand for a bowl of katsudon. You blow some air through your lips and tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Something seems to rouse you and you turn your eyes his way, pausing for a brief moment.

Kirishima can hardly comprehend what’s happening around him. The ticket is still loose in his grip and Lunch Rush is trying to snatch it from his hands because he’s just a bit out of reach behind the countertop. He’s pretty sure his mouth might’ve fallen open and he’s just been caught openly staring because--

You raise a brow. Something like curious amusement flickers through your eyes--I didn’t know eyes could look so pretty in that shade--but then you frown for a second, touching your bandaged cheek and your eyes look back down and you turn away.

Something seizes his chest, fierce and quick and he only feels like this in the middle of training or a really good spar. Kirishima’s lips part and before he knows what he’s doing he shouts, “Y-Your eyes!”

A sweet, savory scent hits the air. Your tray is presented before you but you’re looking at him curiously and Kirishima eagerly gestures to his own. “They’re, uh, they’re really manly!”

A bout of silence. Confusion colors your face, comically scrunched up and Kaminari who’d been about to say something behind him about all his weird shit is now gaping at him in horror while Sero looks like he’s considering sneaking into the next lunchline over. You make a funny face before seemingly understanding and Kirishima straightens to attention when you face him once more and tap the corner of your eyes.

“It’s just my Quirk.”

You say nothing else. Nada. Nothing. Just shrug and grab your pineapple pork buns and go.

The reaction is slow--and then all at once. His ears flush a dark, deep apple red before his cheeks follow like the ends of his dyed hair. Kaminari is shaking him from behind trying to get him to explain himself for his weird attitude and Sero’s apologizing to the annoyed upperclassmen behind them but all Kirishima can bring himself to think is how stupid and unmanly he was because--

He’d wanted to say your eyes were pretty.

You’re part of the Support course.

It’s Kaminari who does him the favor of finding out. Apparently you’re fairly notorious amidst the batch of Support course first years. You hang out with the girl who’d gone against Iida in the sports festival--Mei Hatsume. Easy to spot because you’ve often got a bandage on your face or hands for some reason or another.

(F/n) (L/n). Even your name is pretty. Kaminari, for all his teasing and joshing is oddly curious and attentive as he helps Kirishima out. When Kirishima had tried to just shrug the whole thing off, Kaminari had shot him a finger gun accompanied with a little zap and said, “You don’t look at someone like that and just forget about it.”

Kirishima isn’t even sure what it is. All he knows is that he’s never seen anyone like you before and never felt this way before and yeah, he’s an aspiring pro hero with a lot on his plate and he knows you must be swamped with your own work and maybe he’ll feel this way looking at something else again but--

He’d be a complete loser if he didn’t even just tell you once, properly.

“I told you, didn’t I? The costume design needs to look like this.” The angry, harsh voice cuts like a knife through the hallway and Kirishima pauses, his grip on the class notebooks tightening as he peeks around the corner. Woah, bullying at a school like this? “You can’t just go and change shit because you feel like it!”

The sound of papers fluttering in the air fill the hallway before they settle onto the ground without much other fuss. There’s two students--upperclassmen from the Heroics department by the looks of it--blocking his view of the third party. Kirishima frowns, tightening his grip and squaring his shoulders. What the hell do they think they’re doing?

“And I told you,” your voice barely hits the other end of the hall but it floods Kirishima’s ears like the first tolls of a bell, “it’s not gonna work.”

He goes rigid, quickly sidestepping a few inches to the left so he can peer around the upperclassmen and sure enough--

Your hair’s in a neater bun today but stubborn strands still stick out. There’s a bit of grease on the corner of your chin and a new bandaid is plastered underneath your right eye. Why are you always getting hurt? Is it them? Accidents? How can I help you? You’re wearing comfortable working clothes, loose, rolled up pants and shirt stained with oil and other smears.

But your eyes are alight. They don’t shift or waver and they pin the two guys down in front of you. Kirishima sees their fists clenched tighter. “Your Quirk isn’t gonna cut it out for the costume. The designs were made by me but the touch-ups were recommended by your homeroom teacher. If you’ve got beef, take it up with him.”

“Don’t think you’re all that just because we need you for something like this,” one upperclassmen fists his hand into your shirt and tugs you forward. Kirishima feels his entire body go taut. “You’re just Support anyway--”

Your eyes narrow and your lips part, but before you can speak, Kirishima doesn’t even know when his feet had already carried him so close to the three of you and--

“Hey, let her go man!” Kirishima reaches forward with one hand, grabbing the back of the upperclassman’s shirt, but the weight in his arms suddenly slumps and he quickly remembers he was carrying the class notebooks. Pounds of paper come sliding from his arms and slam hard into the back of the two upperclassmen, toppling them down to the floor.

Kirishima gapes at the scene, a dribble of sweat trickling down the side of his face because wow, that was not how that was supposed to go. His cheeks flush a bright red and the upperclassmen groan, trying to shrug off the weight on top of them and he can’t help but think man, how uncool, they’re not that heavy.

It’s like a bell.

Kirishima feels his hands drop down to his sides as he stares. The soft sound starts to fill the hallway and then your hands are suddenly wrapped around your middle, lips parted and teeth shining as you laugh and laugh and laugh. His mouth has parted somewhere along the way, unable to speak as he wonders how he was suddenly blessed with the chance to hear this beautiful sound and you subside into stifled snickers before your eyes finally find his and they shine.

“C’mon,” you say quickly, grabbing his hand before he can say otherwise and tugging him along. His feet move before he even realizes and suddenly he’s running behind you, your bun bobbing and shifting and you tip your head back to laugh harder as you race down the hall, ignoring your screeching upperclassmen. “Pick up the pace, hero!”

Something spurs in the back of his mind. Kirishima quickly closes the distance between you two and now you’re running together, panting and laughing breathlessly and he keeps trying to sneak glances of your smiling face because he’s got to say it--

“Y-Your laugh!” Kirishima gets out in between breaths.

Your pretty eyes turn his way and he stutters, stumbling over his feet before he steels himself and snatches an ounce of Bakugou’s confidence and he shouts, “I-It’s, uh, it’s--”

Your watching him closely, curious and inviting and he spits out, “It’s such a manly laugh!”

Bro, what the hell?

Kirishima suddenly wishes he could drop your hand and slam himself into the nearest wall. But before he can consider it for another second, your laugh increases tenfold and then you’re nearly doubled over from running and laughing and you pat your chest, smiling so wide he thinks this is what the sun must look like. Kirishima’s cheeks flush and his hands tighten ever so slightly around yours and you shine, shine, shine.

“It’s my Quirk!”

Your smile’s absolutely beautiful.

It’s the third time he thinks it that he finally gets it right.

Chance encounters, waves in the hall, small chats in-between classes and during passings. He’s guarded them all as closely as he can, ignoring the teasing jeers from his classmates and the gushing advice and eagerness of the girls in his class as well. You work actively with him to help make improvements on his costume since he often needs them with his Quirk. It’s your ideas coupled with Hatsume’s hard work that help shape his new costume.

The thoughts never cease, the feelings continue to grow, and he’s pretty sure that if he doesn’t do something about it soon, Bakugou’s about to blow him to kingdom come from the growing annoyance with all his, “Fucking lovesick shit, do something about it Shitty Hair.”

Kirishima’s been mapping it all out. Mina’s offered mountains of advice and shoujo mangas for reference on how to say it and while Kirishima’s always been a simple guy, he’s got to say it.

But before any plans can be enacted and simulations done, it comes to him and to you as suddenly as a summer rain.

The rain comes down in a light shower. Nowhere on the broadcasts had said anything about it and he’d been currently mulling over asking Yaoyorozu to make him an umbrella just this once so he wouldn’t get wet on his way home. There’s barely any sunlight out with the gathered clouds and it’s when he rounds the corner, making up his mind that he sees you.

Your hair’s down this time. It curves around your shoulders and falls freely. Soft. It looks soft. Ends curl against your cheeks and sweep over your shoulder as you press your forehead to the glass. There’s no bandages on your face this time--you got hurt often with your line of work but you were working on it, apparently, and his recent, flustered warning has given you more reason to be careful.

There’s this look in your eyes. It’s soft and gentle but it devours all at once. You drink in the sight of the falling rain and your smile curves along your lips as though someone had merely swiped their finger through a swatch of sunlight and dragged it across a canvas. He’s never seen you with your hair down before. Never seen you look so serene and happy and beautiful all at once as you watch the rain fall and then he remembers in your hundreds of chats that you like the rain because it reminds you of new things.

“I love new things,” you’d said with a laugh. “It’s why I invent.”

“Don’t tell me you only like me because I’m new,” he’d joked, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing to you but then you’d smiled at him so wide and so soft he thought his heart had burst from his chest.

“Nah,” you’d said with a grin. “I like you because you always make me feel new too.”

Kirishima’s only a few feet from you. The clouds cast a kind of somber shadow but you shine against it like a sliver of moonlight. Your eyes are so, so warm and then they glance up, as if searching. You find him at the end of the hallway and the gaze in your eyes shifts, taking him in as though he were the rain and Kirishima wonders if this is what a time Quirk would feel like because suddenly nothing else is moving but the beat of his heart in his chest.

Your pretty eyes meet his and that pretty smile stretches so wide across your face.

“Hey.”

“You’re beautiful.”

His words hang in the air. His heart thuds wildly against his chest and he thinks of everything Mina has ever told him to do and it all goes flying out the window. You’re stuck there, frozen for a moment as you take in his words with wide, startled eyes. Your hand almost robotically reaches up to touch the side of your face and he knows the next words about to come from your lips so he cuts you off.

“Not your Quirk,” Kirishima says. “Just you.”

A moment.

Slowly, suddenly, your cheeks flush the darkest shade of red he’s ever seen on your visage. Your eyes grow round like saucers and you suddenly stare at him as though he’d pulled the moon from the sky and offered it to you as a gift. Your lips part, words stumbling and stuttering as you cup your cheek and then press the back of your hand to your mouth in embarrassment. Kirishima feels breathless and powerful all at once and then he goes carefully still when your eyes dart to him and then away.

“...you too.” You start softly, turning your head.

Kirishima blinks in clear confusion, drunk off you and this and everything and you swallow, rubbing the back of your head before you meet his eyes.

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful.”

Kirishima can’t help but wonder if that what the sound of his heart flying out of his chest and into your hands sounds like or if it’s just his imagination.

He thinks it’s pretty regardless.

[bastardtravel]

August 11, 2018. Manchester, New Hampshire.

After seven hours on the road, pausing only to explore an Old Ones cult site, storm a terrible castle, and eat distressingly dry corned beef at a Greek diner that still advertised one of their menu items as “Michael Jackson’s favorite grinder”, we were in dire need of respite.

Establishing a forward operating base was our first priority. For my part, I can sleep anywhere. My bonfire days in the Frozen North frequently necessitated pitching a $10 K-Mart tent over gravel, then drinking bottom-shelf whiskey until you didn’t realize you were sleeping in a puddle of rainwater and broken glass. That’s not a knack you lose. It’s like riding a bike. The Girl was always more discerning, and became doubly so after our experience in Phoenix with the inept criminal front halfway house hotel. We agreed that she can veto any of the lodgings I book. Sometimes, late at night, I’ll hold a flashlight under my chin and tell her spoOoOoky stories about hostels in Ireland.

She insisted on the airport Super 8. I was hoping to stay in a quaint deep woods motel called “Unsmiling Jed’s Sleepaway”, attached to sister business “Unsmiling Jed’s Discount Plastic Surgery Silo and Chili Kitchen”.

If I can’t protect it, I don’t deserve to have it. That goes double for life.

A friendly foreign woman checked us in at the Super 8, then proceeded into utter bafflement when I asked for a first aid kid. I chewed myself up pretty good climbing Bancroft’s Castle, and I’d spent the last half hour bleeding into an oily dog blanket to avoid ruining my upholstery. I’m pretty sure that’s how plagues start.

There were no band-aids here, or antiseptics, or possibly medicine as a concept. There was a three gallon tub of hand sanitizer. I thanked her for the offer but gently declined.

We went up to the third floor. The hallways were lined with people sitting on the carpet outside their rooms, shouting and smoking cigarettes. The room itself was clean and the air conditioning worked. All my boxes were checked. The bathroom reeked of weed, which some would interpret as a bonus. I scrubbed my wounds raw in the sink, tucked away the precious cargo of wine and peaches, and set out to investigate downtown Manchester.

Streetlight technology has not yet made its way to Manchester, so we spent twenty minutes missing exits in ocean-floor darkness. It looked worryingly like Wilkes-Barre, which is not where one would choose to vacation, were one sane.

Downtown erupted from nowhere like graphic pop-in on a video game running at its lowest resolution. One second you’re in leatherface country, with nothing breaking the abyssal darkness but the occasional half-broken Jiffy Lube sign. The next, you’re on vibrant neon market strip, replete with hipsters and the homeless.

We knew we had hit downtown proper when we passed by the “craft grilled cheese bistro”.

only programmers will understand!!!! like and reblog if u get it

Since I am an adult man, grilled cheese cannot be dinner. Both “gastropubs” we tried, despite their bitchin Greek mythology names, offered generic terrible burgers and a draft list that consisted of Coors Light.

“I’m so hungry,” the Girl told me. “I’m gonna die.”

“We all will,” I assured her. “Soon.”

Yelp claimed there was a brewery five blocks away. We walked off the only lit street, into absolute, encompassing blackness. It would’ve been spooky if I didn’t always kind of hope some Putty Patrol mook would lunge at me from the dark while I’m far away from home, having told no one where I’m going and left no paper trail.

There were no incidents. No one was murdered in self-defense. No one knows what we did last summer. The Stark Brewing Company was in the basement of a grim looking office complex, and it was vacant save for two other wanderers.

We sat at the bar and ordered a flight and an imperial stout. I was pushing for finding an actual restaurant, but the Girl ordered “Penne with vodka sauce”, which was not the right color, flavor, or texture to be anything but penne bolognese. The Girl didn’t seem to mind. I ate a pulled pork sandwich.

The beers were warm, but I didn’t care. It didn’t matter what the beers were, so long as they were beers. And not Coors Light. The brewery themed all of their beers off of dogs, for some reason, which I believe to be the ideal business model. According to the bartenders, the brewery had been open for 25 years, but hadn’t yet received their big boom. I was outraged. The beers were excellent, and would probably be even better if they weren’t room temperature, and the taps were not only named for specific dogs, but also provided pictures.

To say nothing of the bathroom, which was covered in sharpie beer lore.

The bartender and waitresses swore a lot more than you would normally expect in this context. The Girl maintains they were swearing at us. I disagreed.

“They were swearing <i>with</i> us,” I mansplained.

“We weren’t swearing,” she countered.

“But if we HAD been.”

As I’ve grown larger and more sinuous, I’ve tried to cut back on how often I cuss at strangers. Cultural relativism is the understanding that not everyone grew up among the coalcrackers, and good-natured oaths like “how the hell are you” or using the fuck-word as a conversational placeholder, while subjectively soothing, can set off fight-or-flight in the small, soft, and bourgeoisie.

I try to maintain direct proportionality between my barbarism and my well-heeledness. Neither the wait staff nor the other two customers shared my bond, and the middle-aged guy on my right proceeded to tell me how his hometown of Denver, Colorado is the greatest fuckin’ city in America, next to maybe Southern California. Which is not a city.

We talked about our homes and travels for a while, then I got my pulled pork sandwich and they left. The sandwich was slightly warmer than the beer, which beat the alternative.

An armada of children came into the bar.

“Oh, shit,” the woman tending bar said. They were visibly teenagers, and on the wrong side of it. They had that gangly awkwardness you get around fourteen or fifteen, and if they were trying to play it off, they were woefully bad at it. There were also nearly twenty of them. It looked like a field trip.

People in their twenties don’t travel in packs of more than six. It’s hard to transport a throng, unless you have a party bus, and why do you have a party bus when you’re twenty-eight? You’re twenty-eight and party buses have always been sad. Get a job. Also, it’s hard to get that many adults to agree on something.

It can be done. You can say, “Hey, adults, you want to do some drugs?” And in a sufficiently sized crowd, you’ll manage to pull twenty or so who will follow you to your house or whatever. This is called an “afterparty”. It doesn’t go to bars at 9pm.

Have you felt out the social zeitgeist recently? Look at a random handful of current memes and it’ll be pretty clear that most adults consider socialization to be a required burden, like paying emotional taxes. “Going out” is the price of living in a civilized society. You’re not going to scare up twenty people, then put them in a party bus, then take them to an abandoned bar half a mile outside of where the actual nightlife is.

“Hey, we’re just about to close,” the bartender said.

A reedy blonde in a top that seemed to consist mostly of straps screeched, “But your WEBSITE said you were open til ONE!”

Screeched.

The bar fell silent. Well, more silent. The Girl and I traded looks, her horror for my delight.

“Uhhhhhh,” the bartender said, but with excellent elocution, as though that were the word she had deliberately chosen. “Okay.”

They sat the itinerant mall food court in an enormous corner table, whereupon they requested shots.

The waitress who had sworn at/with us the least came back to the bar and said, “You guys said you were from Pennsylvania, right?”

We nodded.

“Can I see one of your licenses quick?”

She compared mine against the obviously fake ID one of the tweens had given her. After a moment she said, “Yeah, you can see, the font is different. And the picture looks like it’s photoshopped.”

“Yeah, no one’s license picture ever looks this good,” the Girl said, studying the fake ID.

“Except mine,” I added. They ignored me. I didn’t take it personally.

The waitresses disappeared into the back. Five minutes later, the only dude working at the place was gendered into being the bad cop. He sulked over to the teens.

“You guys gotta leave,” he said. “We know your ID’s fake. We’re not trying to get fined. You gotta go.”

For maximum accuracy, imagine this said in Toby’s voice from the Office. Shamefaced, the flash mob of children dispersed.

We paid for our room temperature beers and left the poor, foul-mouthed brewery to close at 9:30 on a Friday. The Girl and I accidentally stalked the battalion of teens through the street, but only because we were all moving back toward the only lights in the city, not unlike moths. They turned a corner and vanished, presumably to find an arcade or laser tag or some sort of large carousel.

The Girl and I followed the sounds of some obnoxious bros announcing, “It’s like a fahkin sketchy ally, dewd”.

It was, in fact, the least sketchy alley I’d ever been in. Cat Alley was the best lit venue in all of New Hampshire. It was clean and well-maintained, and it was covered less in graffiti and more in an outdoor art gallery dedicated to cats.

There were more, but they didn’t all warrant a picture.

Portland Pie Co loomed from the endless darkness like a beacon in the night, hearkening back to those days lost in Maine during the Great Lobster Drought of 2017. We split a bourbon barrel ale which did me in. It was bedtime.

On the way back, toward the end of the main drag, a man made of pure light rode by blasting EZ-Listenin from his Tron bicycle, also made of pure light.

I can’t prove he wasn’t Jesus.

Heartened, we returned to the hotel, where no one was smoking or yelling in the hallway anymore. Excellent.

Next stop, Portsmouth.

Love,

The Bastard

Into the Abyss August 11, 2018. Manchester, New Hampshire. After seven hours on the road, pausing only to explore an Old Ones cult site, storm a terrible castle, and eat distressingly dry corned beef at a Greek diner that still advertised one of their menu items as "Michael Jackson's favorite grinder", we were in dire need of respite.

[their-destinys-writer]

ML Winter Week Day 3 - Winter Sports

For a little bit of comedy, I have decided to dedicate this one to @perditaalottachocolate-blog, who is always super supportive and awesome, @corgi-likes-chat, whom I think could use the smiles, and to @nanadanonini for making me smile at a time that I really needed it.

H E Double Hockey Sticks

Nino slapped his forehead for the third time. Three times he had had to explain a hockey concept to Marinette. They were going to lose so badly. If only he could’ve chosen his team first. But no, he was stuck with the person who had never played hockey in her entire life.

“This is a puck,” he said, raising the disk-like object. “As long as you get this to the net, we get a point.”

“Okay,” Marinette nodded determinately. Yet, it still didn’t inspire much confidence in Nino, after having to explain so much.

“Nette, you sure you wanna play this?” he asked for the last time.

“If I don’t play, the teams won’t be even,” she reasoned. “I’m not helpless. I’m good at sports.”

“I’m not saying you’re bad,” Nino deadpanned. “I’m saying you’re clueless.”

“Just ‘cause I don’t know the name of the thing, doesn’t mean I can’t play well,” she defended, with a pout.

“Hey!” Adrien called behind them. “Are we playing or what?”

Nino let out a defeated sigh. We’re doomed, he lamented. He’s never gonna let me live this down. Might as well give up already.

It wasn’t like his team was bad. Kim was a dedicated jock. Juleka was a decent player. And him… well, decent too. And that was a problem. Alya was pretty good at the game. Adrien was good in sports. Alix was a kick-ass player. And Ivan was destined to be the goalie.

We’re doomed.

“Everybody remember their position?” he asked. Everyone nodded. “Okay then,” he placed his hockey stick on his shoulder, “let’s kick their butts!” He finished with more confidence than he felt.

The other three yelled a cry of battle, raising their own sticks in the air. Swiftly, they all took their place. As predicted, Ivan was the other team’s goalie. Nino looked at their net, where Juleka was making sure every piece of equipment was well placed. Well, at least she wasn’t scared easily. Hopefully that would work to their advantage.

“Good luck!” Mylène called from the edge of the frozen lake, waving at her boyfriend. Ivan scratched the back of his head with one hand, as he waved back with the other.

“Ready to get your butt handed to you?” Adrien smirked.

“Keep dreaming, bro,” Nino chuckled, placing the puck on the ice between them.

Next to Mylène, Rose blew a whistle, and the game started. For the first half of the game, Nino’s team didn’t have much luck. He had been right about Juleka not being afraid of getting hit by the puck, but she was not as fast as he hoped. Marinette moved well, but ended going off the playing area twice. By accident, of course. And Kim seemed more focused on competing against Alix than any of the other players. And it almost seemed like Adrien had been counting on that, because she tended to be away from their goal.

Slick, Nino thought. After almost an hour of playing, they were four points down. Which was awful because the score was five to nine.

“Time out!” he called as Alya was placing the puck in the middle of the court again. “Team meeting, now!”

Marinette, Juleka and Kim huddled around each other, looking defeated and flushed under all the layers of sweaters and scarfs.

“You guys can’t tell me you’ve given up already?”

“It’s five to nine,” Kim flailed his arms.

“We agreed the first team to reach ten points would win,” Marinette reminded him. “We’re done for.”

“Ditto,” Juleka agreed.

“C’mon, guys,” Nino tried. “We can at least make a few more points before admitting defeat. We can do better.”

“Face it,” Kim sighed. “Adrien has the better team. We got stuck with Marinette.”

“Hey! I resent that,” Marinette pouted.

“Can’t we make just one measly point?” Nino begged.

The other three exchanged questioning looks. Marinette frowned and directed her gaze back at Nino.

“One point?” she asked. Nino nodded. She placed a hand on her chin. “No matter the cost?”

This time, it was the spectacled boy who frowned.

“Why?”

Marinette smirked. “Follow my lead. And send me the puck.”

He looked at the other two, but they simply shrugged, no idea of what Marinette was up to. They skated back to their positions. Nino looked at the pig-tailed girl from the corner of his eye. He was slightly wary about what she had in mind, but he couldn’t exactly doubt her. She was smart, and always knew how to get out of a tight situation.

“I don’t mean to be cold, Nino,” Adrien said with a smug face, “but you know it will take a Christmas miracle for you guys to win.”

The boy scowled at his friend’s cockiness. Give him hell, Marinette.

The whistle resounded again, and Nino quickly hit the puck to the girl’s direction. Marinette lead the black disk towards the opposite net. Alya tried to grab her, but she wasn’t fast enough. The designer slipped right by her best friend, and was now headed directly towards Ivan. But as she got closer, Adrien moved in to block her way.

Go, go, go, go, g—

BAM

Nino gaped, just as several of the others gasped. Just as Adrien had gotten in the way, Marinette tackled him so hard, she sent him flying over her back. Yet, she didn’t seem to notice, because the next second, she scored their sixth point.

“YES!” she screamed. Oblivious to the shock of her friends, she wiggled her butt in a victory dance.

Finally coming out of his stupor, Nino slid to Adrien, who was lying on his back.

“Dude, you okay?” he asked. It was then that he noticed the blond’s eyes were blown wide, also in a state of shock.

“What the hell?” Adrien grunted, still not moving a muscle.

Everyone else came back to their senses and crowded around the model. The last of them being Marinette.

“Oh my gosh, what have I done?!” she shrieked.

“Girl, what have you been eating?” Alya questioned, still baffled.

“That was rad,” Juleka commented.

“Man, I thought we were playing kiddie hockey,” Alix snickered.

“Ha! In your face, Agreste!” Kim bellowed.

“Guys!” Nino called over all the chatter. “Less talking, more helping.”

The group didn’t need to be told twice. Immediately, they helped Adrien get back on his feet. For good measure, Nino placed the blond’s arm over his shoulders.

“Adrien, I am so, so, so sorry,” Marinette apologized. “I went completely overboard. That was totally uncalled for. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine,” the model assured, scratching the back of his head. “Guess I had it coming.”

Nino huffed. “You definitely did, bro. Serves you right for being so smug.”

Adrien winced. “I get a little competitive sometimes.”

“That makes two of us,” Marinette mumbled.

Even though Adrien was fine, the group of friends decided to end the game there. Instead, they pulled off their skates and hung out for another half hour, before going home. As Nino accompanied the blond to his mansion, they engaged in small talk.

“Man, Marinette got you good back there,” he chuckled.

“Yeah,” Adrien sighed, wistfully. “It was awesome.”

Nino arched an eyebrow. “Awesome?”

“If it weren’t for Ladybug, I’d totally fall for her,” Adrien said, seemingly unaware of what he was saying.

Nino couldn’t help but cackle at his friend. Of all the things that could get him interested in Marinette, this was definitely not what he expected. Alya was right: those two idiots were made for each other.

[hari-writes]

Little Louis Dupain-Cheng - Chapter 15

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug Pairings: Adrien/Marinette Summary: In the seven years since Hawk Moth’s defeat, much has changed. Adrien Agreste PhD returns to Paris and is reunited with his friends. Marinette has a degree in Fashion Design, a thriving boutique and a son, six-year-old Louis. Louis is like his mother in many ways, except for green eyes and a familiar smile… Will Adrien do the maths?

Read on A03 ★★★ Buy me a coffee?

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7| Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14

The power of love, always so strong

“Oh, Adrien, you beautiful tropical fish, whose child did you think he was?”

Adrien was strongly regretting his decision to answer the door to his oldest friend. He mistakenly thought she’d take his side in this, but instead, she found it all very amusing.

“Of course Louis is your kid, Adrikins! Was there ever any doubt?!” Chloe laughed.

“Are you kidding?” He objected, “I’ve been away for seven years, when exactly was I meant to figure it out?”

“Have you looked in a mirror lately? I know you’re not a model anymore, but you must check your reflection when you shave, at least?” Chloe said. “You have the same eyes and smile. When Louis is around, I get flashbacks to when we were kids. How could you not see it?”

“So, everyone knows but me?” He asked.

“No. Nobody knows . We just… strongly suspected.”

“Oh, great, so everyone I care about has been speculating on my possible paternity status in my absence. Nice.” Adrien huffed. He knew he was being obstinate but he felt he was entitled right now.

“Yeah… Except for Nino, he must have known all along because he registered the birth.” Chloe mused, “But we all know Marinette and she’s loved you since she met you. Who else would be the father of her child?”

“Why didn’t you say something to me?” He asked

Chloe was unabashed. “We were waiting for Marinette to tell you. Honestly, though, you don’t have to be Max to deduce that you’re clearly the daddy. She calls him ‘mon chatounet’ for crying out loud. He is obviously Chat Noir’s son, look at his hair. So, assuming the recent reports are correct and you weren’t just posing in a leather catsuit for fun all those years, it’s time to accept that you’re not as smart as you like to think, doctor .”

Adrien sat down heavily. He was an idiot.

“What do I do now, Chlo?” He looked at her helplessly, “How do I move past this? I’ve missed out on six years of my son’s life because of Marinette’s secrets. If I hadn’t asked her, who knows if she’d ever have told me the truth.”

“For what it’s worth, Marinette knew you’d call me so she gave me this.” Chloe handed him a memory stick. “You should take a look before you accuse her of robbing you of Louis’ early years.”

Adrien plugged the memory stick into his laptop and a folder opened automatically. It was mostly JPEGs and MP4s. There was one document and Adrien double clicked on it first.

Dear Adrien,

One day, you will know the truth about your child and I hope that you will understand why I couldn’t tell you before now that he existed. I’m sorry. Every selfish part of me wants you to know. I wish you could come back to me, for us to be a family. I know, however, that to tell you would be to interrupt the new life you’ve started for yourself and to stop your healing in its tracks. I want you to come back to me as a new man, ready to be a father, not the broken boy who left us. If you never come back, well, I understand that too.

In lieu of this, I will keep every photograph, every memento, every video I have of Louis growing up so that when you are ready to be a part of it, you will know everything. It’s all dated so you can start from the beginning. I’ve listed the dates here with a description so you know what you’re looking at.

Love always,

Marinette.

P.S. Now that you know, I want nothing more than for you to be a part of Louis’ life. For us to be a family. I won’t pressure you, though. If you want us, we’ll be here for you.

The first image on the list read:

Nov 13th, my first scan. I found out I was expecting the day before and they managed to squeeze an appointment in with the sonographer. I had no idea what to expect, but when I saw my baby for the first time, I fell in love.

He clicked on the corresponding JPEG as saw the ultrasound image of his son at 12 weeks and he understood why Nino seemed so giddy the day Alya had her scan. Tears blurred his vision as he opened image after image and watched Marinette’s belly swell in size as corresponding scan images showed his baby growing.

7th January, My 21 week scan was today and our little boy is growing well. Yes… it’s a boy! I am thinking about the name Louis or Hugo, I like both. Although, isn’t Hugo your middle name? Do you like it too? This is harder than I thought. He’s going to have this name for the rest of his life and I have to choose it alone. ...Sorry, hormones and overwhelm are strong today. Maybe I’ll wait until I meet him, see which one he looks most like?

The cursor paused over the video file titled, The Birth. He had read Marinette’s notes on it and was wondering if he should watch.

25th May, the delivery. I should add an advisory warning here. Alya shot the video and she has no shame. If you’re squeamish, probably don’t watch. I don’t remember much about the birth, but I do recall the midwife shouting at her for getting in between her and the baby at one point… I haven’t watched because I really don’t want to see myself from that angle! Anyway, enter at your own risk.

While he didn’t want to stumble on to something he would never unsee, he desperately wanted to watch. Promising himself he’d fast forward through anything too graphic, he hit the play icon.

“Push! Come on! You can do this! ” Nino’s voice sounded tinny through his laptop speakers.

Marinette had her teeth gritted, chin pushed towards her chest and her face scrunched up with effort. Sweat plastered her fringe to her face. She was beautiful.

“Ok, breathe.” A stern voice, Adrien assumed it was midwife. “You’re doing well. Just one more big push and he’ll be here…  

"…Push! ”

Marinette’s face screwed up with determination again and the camera moved to show Nino, face grey with fear, clutching her hand.

“Come on, Mari! You’ve got this! Push!” He shouted.

Adrien’s stomach lurched as the camera swooped and he was afforded a view of between Marinette’s legs. He was about to fast forward when he heard the midwife again.

“Mademoiselle, please. The baby is crowning, you have to move.”

Adrien chuckled at Alya’s obstinance. Without the Ladyblog, she was clearly channelling her stubborn tenacity into this filming. As the video continued, he watched in amazement as a human head emerged from Marinette. Following more encouragement from Nino and the midwife, the body soon followed. Then, he heard it. Louis cried for the first time. A small, but strong mewl that was the most wonderful sound he’d ever heard. The midwife placed him on Marinette’s chest, draped in a blanket and he saw that his son wasn’t the only one crying. Tears trickled down Marinette’s cheeks as she greeted her baby.

“Hi Louis, I’m your mama. Thank you for coming out to meet me.” She whispered. It was too much for Adrien, he sobbed with emotion.

“Can I?” Nino held out his arms. Adrien saw his best friend’s eyes were watery. Everyone was overcome with joy.

Adrien didn’t pay attention to the rest of the video, he couldn’t see or hear it through his own tears.

»»★««

It was 5am by the time Adrien reached the last item in the folder, Louis’ birthday party, six months ago. He was surrounded by his friends, with Marinette, Chloe, Alya, Nino and his grandparents behind him. Ivan and Kim held him aloft to blow out the candles on his enormous cake. Adrien could make out Alix and a heavily pregnant Mylene on the sidelines. Marinette’s note said the photo was taken by Mme. Couquet.

Louis was loved. Marinette had made sure of that. He wasn’t short of father figures, either. Tom, Nino, Ivan and Kim were are regular presences in his life. She had documented every single part of his life, from first scans to his birth, first step and first word. Every birthday, every Christmas, every special day was photographed and Marinette wrote him a little note to describe why it was important to her.

She loved him and he had been on her mind in every significant moment of their son’s life so far. She did want him to be part of Louis’ life. He understood that she was in a difficult situation and he couldn’t honestly say he knew a better way she could have dealt with it.

He loved her, thought about her every day he was away from her. He loved Louis, too. He was a great kid and Adrien wanted to get to know him better, to have the sort of father-son relationship he missed out on.

He wanted to be a dad to Louis.

He couldn’t get past the feeling of betrayal, though. He’d been back in Paris for over three months now and Marinette still hadn’t told him.

Didn’t he deserve to feel hurt by that?

»»★««

“Dude! You never heard of condoms?!” Nino let himself into Adrien’s flat with his spare key just after 7am.

“Really? You think Gabriel gave me ‘The Talk’ when I was growing up?! We’re all lucky I didn’t stick it in her ear the first time.” Adrien laughed bitterly.

Nino put an archive box on Adrien’s table and wandered into the kitchen to help himself to coffee.

“Make yourself at home, bro,” Adrien said sarcastically.

“I will, thanks.” Nino chuckled. “You want one?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Adrien rubbed his face, he was exhausted but he knew he was too wired to sleep.

Nino tinkered in the kitchen for a few minutes before returning with two mugs of coffee and a plate of buttered toast. He placed it on the table next to the box he’d dumped earlier and sat down.

“If you’re here to persuade me to talk to Marinette, you can save your breath. You’re lucky I’m even talking to you, Judas.” Adrien said.

“Charming.” Nino laughed. “You forget that Mari’s been my friend since école primaire, Adrien. I owed it to her to keep her secret.”

Adrien glared at him. He couldn’t fault that logic, but he wasn’t in a forgiving mood.

“Anyway,” Nino continued, “You know why we kept it from you, I’m not going to apologise for it.”

They ate toast and drank coffee in silence. Adrien was still processing everything, stubbornly refusing to look at Nino’s amused expression. Eventually, Nino put his mug on the table and reached for the box.

“When Chloe told me you were being obstinate, I thought she was exaggerating, but for once, she was being restrained. I figured you needed some help to see the big picture. And if it all goes wrong, at least I’ll have had some practice in dealing with tantrums before our baby comes along.” Nino grinned.

“It’s not funny, Nino. She kept my son from me. She was selfish.” He reasoned.

“Yeah, when I think of Marinette, that’s the first thing I think, too.” Nino rolled his eyes to convey the irony in his statement. “Dude. I mean this in the nicest way possible, but, get over yourself.”

Adrien felt his glower deepen. “You’re meant to be my friend, Nino.”

“I’m being your friend.” Nino’s tone sharpened. “Now, shut up and listen.”

He handed Adrien and glazed tile bearing a pale blue handprint and footprint. The prints were tiny. Adrien ran his finger across them and read the words, ‘Louis, one week old’.

“There’s six of those in here, one for every year of his life. Mari made them for you.” Nino’s voice was muffled by the box.

The next item he found was a small white blanket with hand painted detail on it. It looked like the prototype to Marinette’s Chat Noir pattern. Adrien looked to Nino for an explanation.

“Louis’ first blanket. We wrapped him in it when he was born, after they washed the goo off him. Marinette made it with fabric paints in the week before she gave birth.”

Nino slid the box toward Adrien, gesturing for him to look inside. The box was full of mementoes of Louis’s early years. An envelope with the words, “Louis’s first haircut’ contained a lock of blonde hair and a photograph taken at the barber's. A tissue-lined box revealed his first pair of shoes. Photographs of his first day at école maternelle, his first swimming lesson and his first loaf of bread were mixed in amongst artwork. A painting caught his eye, it was basic, but he could tell that the figures were meant to be Ladybug and Chat Noir. On the back, in Marinette’s handwriting, it said, ‘Louis’ mummy and daddy”.

He looked at Nino, speechless.

“She’s spent the last six years caring for us all, dude. She’s been a mother to Louis and a lifeline to Al, Chloe and me. We wouldn’t have made it without her. Call her what you like, you’re entitled to be angry, but never call her selfish.”

At that, Nino left the flat, leaving Adrien alone with his thoughts.

“Shit” Adrien needed to get outside and clear his head.

He reached for his phone, noticing that Marinette has sent him a text, ten minutes after he stormed out of her shop.

You have every right to be angry. Call me if you want to. M x

That was it. No begging, no missed calls, just one simple message. She was giving him space to process everything. ‘ I won’t pressure you… If you want us, we’ll be here for you.’ She was keeping her word.

He scrolled through his contacts and found the name he was looking for. “Hey, I need to blow off some steam, are you free?”

[fatbottombucky]

Love Has No Height Restrictions

Series Note: This is gonna be a series where Bucky is dating a Tall!Reader and Steve is dating a Small!Reader. Two separate stories but named the same thing. I’ll be updating this when I can, I’m mainly focusing on Bucky x Tall!Reader more but I have a few ideas for Steve x Small!Reader.  Summary: You’re a new Avenger, Natasha’s friend. You’re taller than most people, most men, and that intimidates them usually. Only Bucky takes a shine to you and you don’t know how to act when he becomes shy and nervous around you; thinking he’s intimidated by your height and strength.  Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Swear words and height shaming (? is that a thing) 

Got this idea from my friend and her boyfriend. When asked to be tagged for this you’re asking to be tagged for both Steve AND Bucky stories, please do not request to be tagged for one or the other, as I am tagging for the whole series which includes both their stories. - Rosalee

You had always been a little taller than your friends growing up. As a child it was never mentioned, simply a little growth spurt, to begin with, all your friends would catch up with you, eventually. Then when you hit your teens and puberty settled you had shot up. You were taller than most boys and all of your friends; it was no longer ‘normal’ or a ‘growth spurt’. The high school boys didn’t fancy or like girls taller than them and the girls were always laughing at you. You were lanky and skinny, just bumbling around the school corridors like a ‘sasquatch’ they’d call you.

When you finally left school and going to University you were already on the six-foot mark. You had moved away from your hometown and people seemed more welcoming to you, you didn’t get any boyfriends but you had friends, people that didn’t bully you for being tall. Having a boyfriend was the least of your troubles but you always knew it was because of your height. You stayed away from heels, despite the fact they make your legs look great and you tried not having friends below five-foot-five because smaller people make you look taller. The taller you are the worse you are; so you had grown up to believe.

Men had a difficult time wanting to be with you, especially if you were significantly taller than them. They were brought up to be tougher, taller and manly, with you as a girlfriend it defeats the purpose of all that. Women are meant to be petite, graceful and fragile, and you simply didn’t fit that mould, therefore, you were without love or romance. It shouldn’t bother you but it does.

The problem was you didn’t look like those runway models either, you aren’t skinny, you’re average with a toned stomach and wide waist (your mother would say “good baby-bearing hips”), you also had thick thighs from all the mountain climbing and training you do. You went from lanky to lean, some would say “built like an Amazon Warrior Princess”, not that many men found that attractive.

*

“You gonna stare at that target all day?” You were snapped out of your thoughts by Natasha; you turned and tilted your head down at your fiery haired friend. “What’s up?”

You had met Natasha a few years back when SHIELD was still kicking and you were just part of the Tactical Team for her and Steve Rogers. You became fast friends, which led to now; you being part of the Avengers, your skills and agility proving useful on most missions. You fought differently to Nat; she used precision and graceful, ballet, moves in her fighting style. You opted for brute force; you packed a mean swing and used your strength rather than quickness to fight, almost like Captain America but with a graceful twist to it.

“Nothing,” you tried to lie, “just got a few things on my mind.” You shrugged, it wasn’t the entire truth but it wasn’t a lie either, you could never lie to Nat.

Natasha cocked an eyebrow but smirked. “Bucky has been looking for you, by the way.” She grinned as you looked away from the target, once again, back to her with curiosity. “Wanted to train with you today,” she toyed lightly.

She knew you had a thing for Bucky, she knew before you even did, of course. Steve brought him in a few months ago, he was a little timid and shy but he eventually opened up, becoming more of a valuable member to the team. You gave him a little space because you didn’t want to intrude on his time or his healing process. Eventually, he started to come to the gym and would usually watch you train before just starting to spar with you.

You had an easy friendship with the man. Only he was a few inches shorter than you, you being six-foot-four and Bucky just hitting the six-foot mark, it was noticeable but he never made a comment on the fact he had to tilt his chin up or the fact your hands are nearly as big as his own.

“Thought he was training with Sam today?” You asked nonchalantly.

Natasha refrained from an eye roll and opted for crossing her arms instead. “He was meant to but decided he wanted to train with you instead,” she huffed, “you going to go?” You looked down at her, her only being five-foot-five.

“I suppose I have to,” you placed the gun down with a light thud and shrugging your leather jacket back on, you glanced at the sly red-head. “What are you planning, Romanoff?” You asked with suspicion.

“Nothing, Y/N, never you mind.” She toothily grinned as you left the shooting range in the Avengers Base.

You finally made it to the gym, already changing into workout clothes; a tank top and some leggings. You see both, Steve and Bucky, over by the weights each equally pushing each other to prove they’re stronger than the other. You chuckled at them before walking over and standing by their heads, resting hands on your hips and looking down.

“What’s the award title ‘Biggest Loser’?” You laughed as Steve chuckled and Bucky jumped at the suddenness of your voice.

You shocked Bucky so much that he lost his grip on the bar he held above his head, his metal hand slipping and the weight coming to drop on his neck, this would be how he died; embarrassing himself in front of you. Before that could happen you grabbed the cool metal bar, holding it up and stopping it from crashing down on his neck. From where he laid he could see your arms tense, your face in full concentration at keeping the almost double his own body weight off of him.

He slid out from underneath the bar, sitting on the bench and panting, he turned just in time to watch you readjust your grip on the metal bar and begin to use it. Dropping the metal bar to your thighs with your arms straight, little tension or strain, before you hoisted it back up to your neck and you puffed out air, you did this five times before setting the bar down with a bright grin.

“Such a show-off,” Steve snickered at you placing his own weights away before sitting up. “Thought you were in the shooting range for the afternoon?” Bucky watched as Steve stands up, he stands two inches shorter than you, crossing his arms the same time as you do; it’s uncanny how you both do that, you both work similarly on the field too.

“Natasha said that Barnes wanted to spar with me, so here I am.” You shrugged as Bucky frowned, you uncrossed your arms at his face, “you did, right?”

Bucky becomes nervous. His cheeks felt hot and so did his neck; you raised your eyebrows as Bucky began to mutter to himself, you glanced at Steve who was trying not to laugh at his best friend. It takes almost a full minute till Bucky actually replies to you.

“Uh-I’m fine,” he mumbles looking away from you and you bite your lip, nodding stiffly. Bucky stands up and walks away to different gym equipment away from you.

Steve sighed. “it’s fine, Steve. I get it; it happens a lot, more than I care to admit.”

“What happens?”

“Men feeling emasculated around me because I’m taller, stronger, than them. I get why Bucky is like that around me, it’s fine. He wants to feel in control and have power now, being around me doesn’t give him that” Steve grimaces at you for a second, you look far too chilled to be saying stuff like that, especially when he knows how Bucky really feels for you.

Steve shakes his head, “it’s not like that with Bucky.” You rolled your eyes and begin to walk away, “honestly, Y/N, Bucky likes you. He just isn’t very good with the whole… feelings and being open about them bit, yet.”

“Sure Steve,” you sarcastically retort. “I’ve been dealing with that type of behaviour since I was twelve, guys becoming twitchy and intimidated by me, like women can’t be tall or stronger than them. Don’t defend Bucky’s actions, it’s fine, he’s the only guy that I’ll let it slide, for now.” You turn swiftly, your H/C hair snapping behind you as you walk out of the gym.

Steve turns to his best friend who was on a treadmill, “Bucky, you’ve got to tell Y/N how you feel.”

“No way, she’ll laugh at me,” the man grumbles and refuses to meet his best friends stern glare. “Besides she doesn’t like me, I’m not exactly dating material, Steve.”

The blond rolls his eyes so hard it almost gives himself a headache. “Trust me; you need to speak with her. She thinks you’re intimidated by her because of the fact she’s taller than you,” Bucky momentarily stops running and almost falls off the machine, his eyebrows furrowed in question. “She’s had to deal with guys- ask her yourself, bro.” Steve snapped before walking off to the punching bags.

Bucky presses the button a few times before the treadmill slows to a stop; he grabs his towel and stalks out of the gym. Heading to your room, the full intention of finding out why you think he’s intimidated by you.

When he finally reaches your room takes a deep breath before knocking. It’s a few seconds before the door opens, you’re still in your gym wear, he can tell because he’s staring at the floor where he can see the Nike white trainers. Slowly he drags his eyes up to meet yours, chin tilting upwards due to standing a little closer to you than he intended. E/C eyes meeting his clear blue ones, only your eyes are glassy, watery almost. A slight redness forming around them, indicating you had been rubbing at them.

“Are you crying?” He asked in disbelief. He had never seen you cry; you often let out any emotion through sparring or training. This was unusual and different, an emotion he hadn’t dealt with before, not with anyone else, at least.

Your eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “What so I can’t cry now?” Your raised voice made Bucky flinch backwards, “What because I’m big and tough I don’t cry? Well, I do. I may walk around here like I’m one of the guys but I’m a girl, Bucky, I have feelings and they get hurt just like everybody else’s around here.” You snapped, quickly wiping away the now angry tears that fell down over your cheeks.

“I didn’t mean it like that- I didn’t- I’m sorry?” He tried and you scoffed at him. “No, not what I meant. I mean, Steve told me that you think I’m intimidated by you because you’re a girl who is tall, I’m not. –“ He stopped when he sees you cross your arms, eyes a blaze as you glared at him, as if he had just offended you in some way.

“Oh, I see,” He frowns at your tone of voice, condescending pitch. “You aren’t intimidated by me because I’m a girl. So, if I was a guy that’s taller than you, you would be intimidated?” He stumbled to find an answer to that question. “You should just go, really. I’m not in the mood to be looked down to- I mean up- whatever.” You slammed your door and slumped against it, tears falling freely now that Bucky couldn’t see you.

(Because this was in my drafts and I can’t add tags, have this till I can figure out a way to get my laptop working again. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience I’ve caused, I really wanted my vamp!Bucky series up but I can’t add the tagging list. This was beta read, unfortunately, this isn’t my edited version because I can’t get on my laptop! - Rosalie)

[daisy-constellations]

Il Me L’a Dit, L’a Juré Pour La Vie - Part Fourteen

Marinette didn’t think inviting Chat Noir in for milk would lead to this.

The heroes were 20 years old, in university, and it was now time to trust each other better than they ever did.

CHAPTER LIST

Rating: Teen/ Mature.

Angst and fluff, and all that good stuff.

Il Me L’a Dit, L’a Juré Pour La Vie - Part Fourteen

Aftermath

Adrien brushed the dark hairs off Marinette’s forehead as he gazed down at her peaceful expression. She was breathing softly by his side, still tucked under his comforter. He could not believe what had just happened. For almost more than half a decade, their lives have been intertwined together, one way or another. Adrien was sure that this was it – that this long awaited relationship would be the end of their painful past and the start of something new. He didn’t need anyone else to make him happy – he had himself and Marinette to bring joy in his life.

His lady had been an incredible lover – the electricity still surged in the air from time to time. They fell asleep after their intimate bond – Adrien waking up first and watching the young girl sleep by his side.

He watched her delicate chest rise and fall under the sheets, her soft collarbones moved with her body. There were a couple red marks along the side of her neck and one on her freckled shoulder.

Marinette stirred and her nose scrunched as she twisted to lean more into his touch. She sighed happily. Adrien felt his heart disintegrate and an enormous grin exploded on his face.

He kissed her head carefully and she groaned, her eyes fluttering opened. “What time is it?” she mumbled, her mind obviously elsewhere.

“10:30 ish,” Adrien said reading the clock that shone at his bedside.

Marinette huffed and rolled into his chest, nuzzling his skin. “I don’t want to leave…”

“Then don’t. Stay with me,” Adrien murmured into her hair. She smelt like sweet bread.

“I can’t. Alya will be worried.”

“Just go home early in the morning.” Adrien held her tighter against him. He did not want her warmth to leave his side. They were finally together – he didn’t want her to go so soon.

Marinette shifted and brought her face up to his and kissed his chin, “You know I can’t do that Chaton.”

“But… Buggaboo…”

Marinette pushed him away at arm’s length, “Okay, no.” They laughed and Adrien pulled her back in by her wrist, smiling down at her.

Marinette had to admit, the bed was incredibly comfortable and toasty, and there lying by her side was her silly blond haired partner  – she didn’t want to leave yet, but for the sake of everything that is waiting for her outside this apartment, she had to leave.

His skin was hot and smooth on hers and she let her fingers trail along his muscular chest, outlining the small crease that formed in the middle. Marinette pressed her lips carefully on the flesh, not wanting to forget this moment.

She pulled away and slipped out of the bed, Adrien hands trailing along her body as she moved away. She recovered her clothes that were scattered around on the floor. Adrien lifted his head and watched the girl from behind as she bent over to pick up her underwear. She slightly glanced over her shoulder, eyeing him as he smirked.

She felt herself blush and slipped on the black fabric. She found her bra and clipped it back on, still facing away from Adrien.

“Tonight was fantastic… by the way…” Adrien finally said in a hush tone.

Marinette nodded, smiling in his direction. His arm was resting behind his head, his hair tousled up in the air, and he grinned back at her. This felt like a movie – it did not feel real.

But it was.

She walked around the bed to his side, his eyes never drifting away from her. She pulled her pants back on and gathered her shirt in her arms before stopping.

Adrien was still lovingly watching her – and she lived for it, but her embarrassment crept up her cheeks and she picked up his boxers on the ground and threw them at him. “Stop staring.” She mumbled.

Adrien chuckled and swung his legs over the side of his bed to slip on the briefs. “You can’t make me. You’re purr-fect.” He walked to her and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and she laughed, trying to pat his arms.

“No, kitten! That was horrible!”

“You always say that, but I know you love them.”

Marinette reached up and scratch his head as he nuzzled the crook her neck. “Don’t go.” He said again.

“I have to but I promise I’ll see you tomorrow. Patrol night?”

Adrien perked up, “Of course.” He pulled away and she slipped her shirt on as she walked to the bathroom.

When she returned back to the room, Adrien was pulling his shirt over his head, and the kwamis flew back into the room, not saying a single word. He helped Marinette pull on her jacket and she kicked on her shoes.

She transformed into Ladybug in front of him, the pink flash of light illuminated the room, and Adrien watched her, proud that she was his.

He opened the door to the little balcony in his room and Marinette as Ladybug hopped up on the railings.

“Wait,” Adrien held her wrist. He walked away into his closet and came back holding a black garment. He handed it to Marinette and she looked at him confused, unfolding it in front of her. It was a turtleneck.

“This is the one I was telling you about. The one I thought you would look good in.” Adrien scratched the back of his neck, his cheeks slightly tinted by the thought of the petite girl wearing his clothes again.

“Thank you,” Marinette smiled holding the fabric close to her chest.

“It, uh… It will also help covering the uh…” Adrien gestured to his neck. Marinette’s hand flew up to hers and she flushed.

“Are they bad?”

“A little bit…”

“Adrien!”

He laughed. She was so cute scrambling down to look at her reflection in the window. She turned around frowning and shoved his shoulder. He caught her hand and smirked. That stupid smile…

“I’ll, uh, text you when I get back this time.” Ladybug said rubbing her arm.

“Okay,” Adrien kissed the top of her head.

Marinette pulled his face down to hers and placed her lips firmly on his, as if to confirm this night – to seal it to make it forever.

She arrived at her apartment building, she dropped into a nearby alley way to transform. When she stepped into her home, the place was dark – Alya’s room door was closed and the lights were shut. She didn’t wait up this time, and why should she?

Marinette got ready for bed and carefully walked into her room, flopping down on her bed. She pulled Adrien’s sweater in her arms and curled herself up with it, smelling the familiar scent of shampoo and leather.

Tikki laid on her pillow by her head, and the two fell asleep.

***

The métro shook from side to side as it zoomed through its underground tunnels. Adrien sat in the seat next to the door and Nino stood in front of him, holding onto the silver pole for balance.  Adrien chuckled as Nino sang the lyrics to his song out, unaware that he was a little too loud.

Nino frowned at his phone before placing one side of his headphone behind his ear, the music faintly pouring out of the speakers. “Man, Alya has been super down. She doesn’t even try to argue with me for anything. It’s weird and I don’t like it.”

“They’re still fighting huh.” Adrien remarked, leaning forward placing his elbows on his knees.

“Who?” Nino asked. The métro slowed down and pulled into a station. “Okay, let’s see how far I can go this time.” The doors rung opened and Nino booked it along the outside of the carts. Adrien smirked, waiting for his friend. The voice called out the closing doors and Nino jumped back in the subway cart. He laughed as he walked back to Adrien from the back of the wagon.

It was a silly game that they did to pass time on their travels and was most definitely Nino’s idea; when the subway stopped, one would run as far as they could along the side of the carts and hurdle back in before the doors closed. Since the subway was one long cart, there was no worrying about being separated. *

“You didn’t make it very far,” Adrien pointed out.

“Yeah, there were people in the way. I didn’t want to kill them,”

“Sure Nino. There’s hardly anyone on the subways right now.”

“Shut up.”

Adrien laughed. When he was with Nino, they did stupid things all the time and he never cared for his reputation as a model when they hung out.

“So wait, who’s fighting?” Nino asked again.

“Marinette and Alya…?” Adrien cocked his head to the side. He was sure Alya would talk to Nino about this.

Nino raised his eyebrow, “What? Still? I thought they were over it.”

Adrien shrugged and chuckled. “Dude, you’ve been with Alya for how many years and you are still so bad at reading women.”

Nino snorted, “Says the one who got hot tips from anime.”

“Hey! Dude!” The blond boy shoved his friend, who snickered pushing him back in his seat.

“I am forever thankful that you told me that hilarious secret.”

“Only because I was drunk. Stupid.”

The double doors slid opened and Nino sprinted down the platform. The doors chimed and closed. Nino took longer to return to their spot. This activity was pointless, but it is something that they found very amusing together. He pushed his headphones down around his neck and kicked Adrien’s leather boot with his white and black Adidas.

“Speaking of women, Alya said she found you on a date with some girl. Thanks for telling me.”

Adrien felt the colour drain from his face, and he slowly looked up at his friend who had his eyes narrowed – he had mastered the same teasing look that Alya would give.

Adrien laughed uncomfortably, trying to shake it off. “Nah, it’s nothing.”

“No. You’re telling me about this girl. You’ve been single since we met. Hell man, I don’t even know if you’ve ever hooked up with a chick.”

Adrien stood up as the train pulled into the new station. He ignored Nino as he took his turn running along the side. He skidded back into the subway and his blond hair flopped back over his head. He panted and disregarded the looks from other passengers.

“Bro, come on please.”

Adrien approached a now seated Nino. “Fine.” He settled in the spot next to the darker boy. “We went out for brunch. She looked great – she wore this nice dress.”

“Alright Adrien!” Nino moved his hand and the two high fived. Nino smiled at his friend, urging him to go on. Adrien hesitated with what else to say.

“Uh, there was an akuma attack, right. Like in the bistro that we were at.” Adrien continued.

“Oh shit, true. I forgot about that. That’s how you ran into Alya.”

Adrien nodded, “Yeah.” He paused and the subway halted again, but neither of them hopped off to play the game. “Uhm, Nino. You’re not going to tell Alya any of this though?”

“And add fire to the flame? No way. Sure, Alya is my girlfriend, but you’re my friend and I have to support you too.”

The two clasped their hands together in a quick agreement. They were constantly very loyal to one another and that’s why they got along so well.

“So, the akuma,” Nino continued the conversation, “Did you face that green lady head on to protect your girl or… were you just being stupid in that footage that Alya recorded?”

“No,” Adrien snorted. If only Nino knew that he kicked these villain’s asses on a regular basis. “I guess I was trying to protect my lady.”

“And to save the city.”

“Oh of course,” They laughed. The voice over the speakers called out their stop, and the duo stood up to stand by the door.

“Modeling just wasn’t good enough for you Agreste – you had to be a hero too.” Nino teased.

Adrien smirked and ran his fingers through his hair, “Nah. Let’s save that for the real superheroes.”

“That’s something you should’ve told yourself before walking through that fog.” The doors chimed opened the boys walked out.

When they emerged out of the station, the sky was cloudy and the pavement was wet. The air was cold as it should be after a downpour, and Adrien buttoned his jacket up. Nino pulled his hood over his cap hat and stuffed his hands in his deep jacket pockets. Nino led the way to his favourite shop, jumping down the curb to cross the street.

“But anyway, you had to show off and protect this girl. What was this amazing girl’s name?”

“Not important.”

Nino stopped in his tracks and Adrien stumbled by his side. “Sorry? Is she famous? She’s totally famous.”

“No, she-,“ Adrien sighed. “Sure.”

Nino jaw dropped, “Bro, no fucking way. Who?!”

Adrien raised his shoulders and turned around to start walking again. Nino lingered behind before running to catch up, “Adrien, you’re crazy.”

“I guess.”

“Well, I’m happy for you man. It kinda sucks that Marinette and Alya are fighting because of this, but this is some good news either way.”

“Thanks man.”

The two young men walked around a slow couple walking, and Nino directed them around a corner onto another street. Adrien held his collar tighter around his neck as a chilling wind blew right through them.

“So, tell me about her.” Nino asked.

Adrien hesitated but he knew that Nino would persist until he gave him some sort of answer. “She’s… she’s great. Things feel like they are finally falling into place. She rushed over from her place that morning and bro, I felt so bad. It seemed like she had run her way over.”

Nino nodded, enjoying himself. He had never seen his friend like this – he was rather secretive when it came to things. He would mention girls that he admired but he never was big on expressing his romantic feelings. Adrien was oddly vulnerable and Nino wanted to tease him, but he sought to find more information on this girl.

“The waitress was kind of rude to her for no reason - she was super sweet the whole time.” Adrien slowly remembered the events despite them only happening recently. He smiled remembering the way she looked up at him from the menu through her long black eyelashes. “She talks a lot too and our conversations are never boring,” Adrien rambled happily. He was ecstatic to talk about his date even just a little. “She’s totally cool too. She helped fighting off the akuma.”

“So, she’s just as crazy as you.” Nino said as they approached their destination. The signs were illuminated with bright vintage neon colours and the protruding vinyl on the side of the building flashed different patterns. Nino pulled the door and held it opened.

“No, she’s just fearless. I felt bad because she was so cold. Her tights were all ripped up. They were Marinette’s favourite too. But God, she still looked incredible.”

“Excuse me?” Nino stayed planted.

“What?” Adrien walked into the store confused. After a moment, he followed him into the heated building.

Nino pulled his hood off and approached Adrien in a small hunch.“ What did you say?”

“That she looked good?”

“No, before that.”

“Honestly, I don’t remember. I was rambling.”

“Yeah no shit. You were on a date with Marinette?”

Adrien felt his heart jump to his chest and all feeling leaving his body. “Uhm, no…”

“Well, that’s what you said dude.”

A slew of swears fell from Adrien’s mouth as he pushed passed Nino and out the door again. He ran his fingers through his hair – he was so damn happy to just talk about the date he let himself slip without realizing.

How could I be so stupid? Adrien thought. He looked both up and down the street, unsure of what to do next.

“Way to go,” Plagg mumbled in his jacket.

“Shut it.” Adrien hissed.

Nino called after him, exiting the store. “Adrien. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t tell anyone. Just forget I said anything.” Adrien turned around to face him. “Please.”

“I guess I could, but this is a pretty big thing.”

“Yeah. I know. We’re still sorting things out.”

“You know this fight between Marinette and Alya…” Nino trailed off.

“I’m aware.” Adrien groaned. “You weren’t supposed to know. No one was supposed to know.”

“That’s impossible. We were eventually going to figure it out.”

“Dude, you gotta promise me you won’t tell Alya.” Adrien grabbed Nino by the shoulders.

Nino frowned. He hesitated – this was a big deal. The whole fight between the two girls was because of this. He sighed, “I won’t. I already told you I wouldn’t before but you have to promise me you guys will sort this shit out.”

Adrien nodded and gave his friend’s shoulders a squeeze, “I will. Thank you.”

“I don’t know how you two finally got together without us knowing,” Nino gestured to Adrien and an imaginary Marinette, “but it’s about damn time.”

Adrien chuckled and the two headed back into the store.

***

Marinette tugged Adrien’s sweater over her head before leaving her room. It was obviously too big for her, but she didn’t care – as long as those dumb marks on her neck were hidden. As well as being able to have Adrien’s smell linger around her – it was in no means something odd for her, it was the most comforting thing as she went about making her lunch. She had a late afternoon class that day.

Alya sat on the couch in their little living area, typing away furiously on the laptop that rested on her crossed legs. She paused to watch Marinette pull food out of the fridge.

“Cute outfit,” she said.

Marinette whipped around, her friend speaking to her for the first time that day. “Thanks.” She smoothed out the garment on her belly, and bit her lip. Her friend nodded in return before returning to her typing.

Marinette bit her lip. Alya was really upset, and she wasn’t sure how to fix this.

[fashiontrendin-blog]

The Best-Dressed Men Of The Year 2017

http://fashion-trendin.com/the-best-dressed-men-of-the-year-2017/

The Best-Dressed Men Of The Year 2017

It wasn’t that long ago that lists attempting to rank men by how they dressed were weary, predictable things. Menswear was about rules – the spoils went to whomever adhered to them best. They’d be half Hollywooders whose stylists knew how a dinner suit should fit, a couple of musicians in leather jackets and a rapper or two.

Then everything blew up. The Rules, rehashed in new ways every decade, collapsed in on themselves. The result, over the past couple of years, was a fashion supernova. Up was down, casual became smart, and hip-hop rose both in the charts and on red carpets.

The men on this list don’t share a single look. But they embody the same approach, one that is thoroughly modern: “I wear what I think looks good, whether you agree or not.” These are the guys who, in 2017, reminded us why we love style. Who showed us new ways to dress and who defined the most exciting era in menswear for more than a century.

Quick Jump: 50-41 | 40-31 | 30-21 | 20-11 | 10-1

50. Roger Moore

There’s been plenty of bad news in 2017, but for fans of well-dressed men of a certain age there was more – Roger Moore sadly left the building. We’ll remember him through slightly teary eyes as the man who made the white dinner jacket look the best it (probably) ever has while bringing achingly cool outfits to the wardrobe of the world’s most famous spy. This Bond’s style is still one tough act to follow: Sir Rog, you’ve undoubtedly left the world a little bit less stylish.

“It’s easy to confuse the style of the late Roger Moore with his spell as James Bond – the flares and fat knots, the safari suits… Off-screen Moore was both more classical and more elegant in his dress. He was more Bond than Bond, as self-deprecating and good-humoured in person as his on-screen personae.” – Josh Sims, author, Icons of Men’s Style

49. Matt Bomer

With the kind of jawline more commonly found in comic books, one of the latest actors off America’s leading man production line has a bit of a headstart when it comes to looking good. But he also does a fine line in everything that comes below. His style is classic, but with a (wearable) twist, often elevating simple tailoring beyond the typical nine-to-five clobber. The White Collar star has also made the wise career choice to always look at least a million dollars in a dinner suit.

“Matt Bomer knows exactly how to play with layering, adding a waistcoat or knitwear under a cropped leather jacket or a woollen winter overcoat.” – Danny Ching, senior designer, Hardy Amies

48. Jonah Hill

His transformation from token funny fat kid to Academy Award-nominated actor is impressive enough on its own. But in 2017, Jonah Hill decided to add another switch-up into the mix, this time with his appearance. Alongside a new slimmed-down physique, the War Dogs star developed his own, unique laid-back aesthetic, merging skate brands such as Dime, Palace and Richardson with high-end statement pieces from likes of Saint Laurent and Gucci. All of this adds up to one of this year’s most effortlessly cool entries – we can’t wait to see what he does in 2018.

“Hill has long known how to look good in a tux. This year, he also left the stoner vibe behind and adopted a smarter and more contemporary take on smart-casual.” – Luke Sampson, associate editor, FashionBeans

47. Tom Hiddleston

Let’s address the elephant in the room. Yes, the man who sported that infamous ‘I Love T. S.’ vest in 2016 has made our list of the best-dressed men. Everyone makes mistakes, and thankfully for Tom Hiddleston, this year has been devoid of any skin-crawling cringe statements. Instead, he’s been doing what he does best: sharp suits that go heavy on pattern and occasionally get colourful. A case for finding what works for your style and rinsing the hell out of it.

“Not many people wear a slim-fit suit better than Hiddleston. If you’re ever unsure about proportions when it comes to tailoring, just do what he does.” – Ian Taylor, editor-in-chief, FashionBeans

46. Nick Jonas

It’s not impossible to remember a time when the Jonas brothers were peak lame. But have a gander at Nick Jonas now. Gone is the mega-mopped Disney boyband-droid and in his place stands an actual human, and a well-dressed one at that. Not averse to a patterned suit and with a collection of bombers that regularly turn us green-eyed, Jonas has developed into a connoisseur of cool that we admire, sartorially speaking at least.

“The Jonas look is one of two things, usually: a never-dull mix of streetwear, or statement tailoring done without looking like he’s peacocking. Hard to fault.” – Luke Todd, deputy editor, FashionBeans

45. Rami Malek

Despite a birth certificate that confirms his 36 years on earth, Rami Malek has quite clearly struck the same Dorian Gray arrangement that’s kept Pharrell suspended in time. Which is good news for his wardrobe, as it means he can brush off concerns of age appropriateness and carry on chucking on whatever he likes the look of: statement outerwear, bold print shirts, colourful tailoring and even a moustache and vest for his upcoming turn in the Freddie Mercury biopic.

“Aside from an enviable collection of bomber jackets, what we really like about Rami Malek’s style is that he never goes boring on the red carpet, whether he’s combining a leather jacket with tailoring or picking out a suit most guys wouldn’t have the brass to try.” – Jamie Millar, men’s style writer

44. Mahershala Ali

How do you end a year that started with picking up an Oscar and a stint as a Calvin Klein model? Land yourself a place on our best-dressed list, that’s how. Masherala Ali made the cut thanks to his unrivalled ability to endlessly pull off new looks. We’ve had Masherala Ali in a dinner suit, Masherala Ali in double denim, and Masherala Ali in layered camel. It all worked.

“He was only in Moonlight for all of 10 minutes and stole the show – such is the power of Mahershala Ali, an ascendant Hollywood actor, whose style is known for lifting staple looks with flashes of statement here and there. Look up his tartan-panelled chore jacket for proof.” – Murray Clark, assistant editor, FashionBeans

43. Andrew Garfield

Andrew Garfield’s single-handedly flying the flag for lanky, proudly geeky guys in Hollywood – and we’re all for it. The sartorial struggle that comes with being tall, but not especially wide, is real, but the former Spiderman nails it by making sure the cut of his clothes follow his form rather than swamp or cling to him. At his best in a never-ending tailoring rotation, Garfield plays with pattern, colour and separates for a modern take on fifties formalwear.

“It could be easy for someone with baby-faced charm and big floppy hair like Andrew to get stuck in perennial youthful style on the skinny suit merry-go-round. But like his acting, Andrew has embraced an elegant maturity with his look.” – Sarah Ann Murray, fashion editor and stylist

42. Waris Ahluwalia

It’s hard to say exactly what Waris Ahluwalia’s full-time occupation is. So to make life easy, we’re just going to swerve his CV and move on to his wardrobe. Purportedly a massive hater of being put in a (figurative) dressing-up box, Ahluwalia’s style works so well because it takes influences from all corners of menswear and throws them together in one impeccably judged sartorial mish-mash. Respecting the wishes of the man himself, we’re not going to attempt to define his look, we’ll just simply sit back and admire.

“Waris has a great style, often mixing tailoring with unexpected twists and accessories. He wore our quilted waistcoat over a suit and under a trench coat to add a more casual layer. He has fun with his style, which comes across when you speak to him.” – Delphine Ninous, creative director, Belstaff

41. Jake Gyllenhaal

Ill-advised hipster beard phase aside, it’s fair to say that Jake Gyllenhaal has been pretty steadfast as one of Hollywood’s premier male dressers. The Nocturnal Animals actor has since ditched the aforementioned bushy chin wig for an impeccably groomed, short, boxed beard, but his wardrobe has needed no such update. Throughout 2017, you were just as likely to see Gyllenhaal at New York Fashion Week in a slouchy grey crew neck and jeans, as you were to spot him on the red carpet in a well-fitted suit. It’s this versatility that sees him cementing his place among this year’s best-dressed men.

“Gyllenhaal sticks to tailored silhouettes and safe colour palettes (as most of us do). It’s uncomplicated, but that gives his look an effortlessness that’s hard to manufacture.” Ian Taylor, editor-in-chief, FashionBeans

40. Cillian Murphy

It speaks volumes about Cillian Murphy’s on-screen style that a man can now confidently stride into any barbers and bark “Peaky Blinders, mate”, and walk out 45 minutes later with the exact haircut he had in mind. But it’s not just as Brummy tough-nut Tommy Shelby that this Irish actor deserves praise. Off screen, his wardrobe manages to be simultaneously eclectic and low-key. An everyman-type vibe, carried off with an achingly cool nonchalance that puts him among the best dressers in Hollywood. We’re not sure what’s sharper: his wardrobe, or his cheekbones.

“Outside of Peaky Blinders, his inimitably laid-back approach to formal dressing gives him a cool everyman aesthetic that’s much harder to pull off convincingly than he makes it look.” – Moss Bros, men’s design team

39. Oliver Proudlock

Oliver Proudlock may have come to public prominence through Made in Chelsea (AKA the poshest reality TV show ever created), but in a world of non-ironic shooting garb and tweed fails, Proudlock is the dissenting dresser whose get-ups are often more East London than South-West. Anything that men are typically afraid to wear, Proudlock will put on. Bold prints, layer after layer, head-to-toe streetwear? That’s a regular day for this TV personality, who is also the brains behind the brilliant Serge DeNimes brand. If you can think of it and it isn’t boring, Proudlock has probably worn it, and it probably worked.

“Always an envelope pusher in the style department, Proudlock consistently flouts what most people expect from the Made In Chelsea brigade, mashing up streetwear, hip-hop and rock ‘n’ roll for a look that is entirely his own.” – Luke Todd, deputy editor, FashionBeans

38. Anthony Joshua

For anyone out there who’s intimately familiar with the squat rack, Anthony Joshua is a consummate lesson in what to wear when you’re all muscle. On the red carpet, he leans towards a straight cut, rather than anything aggressively slim, so that he can actually sit down inside. He understands the power of wearing a slightly longer jacket to balance out his iron paradise upper half and pleated trousers to make light work of his heavyweight quads. Because even when you’re big, it’s the little details that count.

“Anthony Joshua oozes style and charisma. He looks slick in tailoring and makes a white T-shirt look the business.” – Alex Longmore, celebrity stylist

37. Alexander Skarsgård

Alexander Skarsgård is a six-foot-something Swede with a face that looks like it’s been painstakingly carved from marble, so dressing well is probably a bit of a hobby for him rather than a necessity. That said, 2017 has been another stellar year in the wardrobe of this War On Everyone actor, who casually flips between classic Hollywood tailoring and annoyingly good thrown-on airport outfits. It’s not just his choice of clobber that gets an enthusiastic thumbs up from us either, his moustachioed mug at the Emmys almost convinced us to reconsider everything we thought we knew about appropriate and inappropriate facial decoration.

“Vertically unchallenged? Alexander Skarsgård shows men how to do tall, handsome and dressy. Especially in a suit.” – Marcus Jaye, blogger, The Chic Geek

36. Jon Kortajarena

Just when you thought you couldn’t get any more green-eyed about Jon Kortajarena, a man seemingly designed to point out everyone else’s physical shortcomings, it turns out he’s also an affable guy with zero problems in wardrobe the department. Bitter, us? Kortajarena’s style works because he has a clear understanding of the situation he’s dressing for. He does velvet dinner suits IRL just as well as in those Tom Ford ads, and brings the right level of unbuttoned aloofness to what he wears on the weekend. We hope his breath smells.

“Jon Kortajarena is a prime example of man who really works his best – and most prominent – feature, even though it’s not the kind of feature every man would want to work. He’s blessed by natural good looks, but like fellow model Cara Delevigne it’s his thick, attention-seeking, slightly unruly eyebrows he’s known for.” – Lee Kynaston, grooming editor, FashionBeans

35. Mark Ronson

It’s a universally acknowledged fact that there’s no colour on the Pantone chart that isn’t hung up in Mark Ronson’s wardrobe. We’re glad of it though, a few good turns in a black dinner suit will only get you so far. Ronson’s not just a headliner in jazzy suits, mind, he’s unbeatable at knowing what works well with them. T-shirts, printed shirts, shoes lifted straight off the set of Bugsy Malone; if nothing else, he made 2017 a much less of a sartorial snoozefest.

“This guy dresses himself as well as he produces music. You can tell if someone is an original or just a charlatan. Mark has always looked good and unique. The way he mixes all styles is a bit of an insight into his own personality, I think.” – Sebastian Dollinger, creative director, Eton Shirts

34. Tinie Tempah

There are a few lucky men in the world who can pretty much chuck on whatever they want and still look maddeningly good. Case in point: Tinie Tempah. Whether clad in loud, clashing prints, streetwear or draped in gold chains, Tinie makes our wardrobes feel woefully conservative pretty much every time we clap eyes on him. Maybe don’t try this at home, just admire from a distance.

“Not one to shy away from a statement suit, Tinie Tempah gets our vote for championing brave choices. He’s willing to take risks with colour and texture, yet he manages to make the sometimes-tricky balance between bold and tasteful look easy.” – Moss Bros, men’s design team

33. Jeff Bridges

While 90 per cent of the male population go grey and immediately descend into a bootcut-jeaned, ill-fitting blazered malaise, the remaining 10 per cent (of which Jeff Bridges is most certainly a part of) age like a fine bottle of something expensive, earning themselves the later life-affirming ‘silver fox’ moniker. Bridges may be knocking on 70’s door, but geriatric clichés don’t form any part of his style lexicon. A diet of well-cut suits make up the bulk his wardrobe, each finished with a how’d-you-make-it-perfect tie and beard that almost makes us wish we could speed up time.

“Jeff Bridges has that uncanny ability not only to embrace age, but to remind us all that it can look pretty damn cool too. He seems to don a tuxedo or three-piece suit with an effortless bohemian charm, though look closely and you’ll notice his suits always fit perfectly.” – Sarah Ann Murray, fashion editor and stylist

32. Aziz Ansari

Comedian and Master of None actor Aziz Ansari doesn’t need a souped-up wardrobe to help his pulling potential: women love funny men, but that hasn’t stopped him crafting a personal style that marks him out as a master of, well, most things menswear. As a regular on the awards circuit, we’ve seen him pull off stunting suits time and again. And when it comes to pounding the mean streets of New York, he’s got a killer chino and bomber jacket rotation.

“Comedians aren’t known for their great style but Aziz Ansari has bucked the trend: think razor-sharp tailoring, the odd pop of colour and probably a one-liner to top it off.” – Murray Clark, assistant editor, FashionBeans

31. Ansel Elgort

This was the year Ansel Elgort began to earn his seat at Hollywood’s top table, swapping sickly sweet teen films for meaty, bona fide acting roles (particularly a star-making turn in the very stylish Baby Driver). Right on cue, his wardrobe also stepped into leading man territory, proving on more than one occasion that Elgort knows how to shake up a suit for the red carpet, but is equally adept and making a getaway in a preppy bomber jacket and a pair of work boots.

“Elgort is the new crown prince of Hollywood and his style fits the role perfectly: colourful Americana, laid-back varsity jackets and, when he needs to, exemplary tailoring.” – Jamie Millar, men’s style writer

30. Eric Rutherford

Eric Rutherford looks good in a suit. He also looks good in dad jeans, a woolly jumper and a nice shirt. Which is deeply unfair, because, for most men in their 40s, that’s an outfit which implies they’ve given up, rather than the kind of thing you wear to Fashion Week. But then, that’s the genius of his style; it’s unfussy, unpretentious, but nails the basics – fit, fabrications, form – so it always speaks louder than the sum of its parts. The fact he’s also got cheekbones that could cut diamonds is just a bonus.

“Eric Rutherford has that classic effortless style which fits into any era. His light tailoring during July’s menswear collections in New York was outstanding.” – Jonathan Daniel Pryce, menswear photographer

29. Conor McGregor

There are two things Irish MMA powerhouse Conor McGregor is best known for: laying the smackdown inside the octagon, and rocking knock-out ostentatious outfits outside of it. The Notorious one is all IDGAF attitude, and that comes through tenfold in his unapologetically flamboyant get-ups, which can’t be referenced without mentioning his custom ‘Fuck You’ pinstripe suit. While there are few (if any) men who could pull it off, Conor does so because of his unfaltering, balls-out self-assurance. Proof, if ever it were needed, that true style is all about confidence.

“Yes, he’s brash and not everyone could get away with what he wears, but “Fuck You” tailoring gets a thumbs up for sheer audacity.” – Marcus Jaye, blogger, The Chic Geek

28. Pharrell Williams

Unlike most other men on this list, Pharrell is not an example of how you should dress. No one else on earth can pull off primary colours, coruscating patterns, distressing and jewellery, all in one outfit. But he does epitomise how you should think about style: that clothes can be fun; they should express your personality rather than that of the brand which made them; and with enough confidence, rules aren’t so rigid after all. Okay, so that doesn’t necessarily mean you should immediately experiment with oversized headwear. But maybe, make 2018 the year you take a few more risks. If it makes you as ‘Happy’ as Pharrell, it’s worth it.

“Pharrell is always setting trends, and looks effortlessly cool no matter the occasion. He never hides from colour, takes risks and has produced some bold, crazy, iconic collaborations to date.” – James Wright, menswear designer, Nicce

27. Matt Smith

Any man can, within reason, look good. And it doesn’t take Leto-levels of eccentricity to get there. That Matt Smith wins most red carpets by sticking to what he does best is a testament to the same ineffable sense of taste that’s seen him reach the A-list by eschewing blockbusters for TV roles. That’s courtesy of an actorly self-confidence that shines through in what he wears off-screen; understated, elegant and never shouting for attention. But always getting it.

“Matt Smith is one of Britain’s best dressers thanks to his ability to seamlessly transition from heritage-inflected looks to grungier get-ups in a way that feels totally authentic and impossible to impersonate.” – Luke Sampson, associate editor, FashionBeans

26. Riz Ahmed

If there’s a red carpet rolled out and Riz Ahmed’s scheduled to walk on it, we’d put big money on him making best-dressed lists the following day. The Rogue One actor is one of those guys who has the ideal frame for wearing tailoring, which we suspect helps a lot when he’s constantly pulling off suits that aren’t painfully boring. If patterned tailoring and air ties sound a bit dodgy on paper, then have a quick Google of Ahmed during awards season. It can be done, and very well at that.

“The guy’s just impossibly cool and that shines through in his style – check any red carpet and he’ll be off to the side somewhere, in a petrol-blue suit, or micro-florals. He’ll be the best-dressed guy but he doesn’t even seem to care. And that’s what true style is all about.” – Tom Banham, men’s style writer

25. Dave Franco

We’ve given up keeping track of the latest bizarre thing James Franco has said or done this year. Instead, we’ve been keeping our beady eyes fixed firmly on his younger brother, Dave, and his definitely-not-bizarre wardrobe. A polar opposite of Jared Leto or Lewis Hamilton, Franco Jr is consistent in letting classic staples like the polo shirt do the talking, all the while adding an of-the-moment edge by championing style moves such as the shirt tuck and seasonally-appropriate mankle. James, you can keep your hand-me-downs.

“He does some winning throwbacks to fifties menswear, but Dave Franco also reminds us that monochrome outfits pretty much never let you down.” – Murray Clark, assistant editor, FashionBeans

24. Johannes Huebl

Johannes Huebl is fortunate to be adept at looking good, because anything below par is going to make him feel like average Joe next to wife Olivia Palermo. The 39-year-old model’s style won’t win any awards for shut-the-front-door originality, but that’s no bad thing. He consistently demonstrates that blazers don’t just make sense for fancy awards dos, they work just as well with a denim shirt and white chinos in summer. In truth, if more men had the ability to make tailoring feel so effortless, we doubt they’d want to switch it up either.

“The German model looks good in everything, but he’s particularly good at tailored separates. If you want to mix up your blazers and trousers, type his name into Google images for a two-second masterclass.” – Ian Taylor, editor-in-chief, FashionBeans

23. Stanley Tucci

Look at Stanley Tucci and you’ll wonder why we all don’t wear a suit all the time. He is among a handful of Hollywood players – including Savile Row-obsessed Paul Feig – who don’t just break out the tailoring when a red carpet event requires him to. It’s a simple thing, but he understands that fit doesn’t just mean fitted; Tucci switches between loose and light in Cannes to heftier British jackets, all roped shoulders and chest padding, like other guys change their shirts. He always looks like a man who slipped on a suit because he couldn’t imagine wearing anything else. Which is why even at his most trussed up, Tucci always appears to be having fun.

“No one wears a suit like Stanley Tucci. The key is in the fit and attention to detail, he is always impeccably turned out.” – Nick Tahir, head of menswear, River Island

22. Frank Ocean

While most of the internet spent 2017 (still) swooning over Frank Ocean’s 2016 album, Blonde, we were more interested in the noise his wardrobe was making. And boy, did we get noise. There was pink then blue hair (shockingly, both worked), an endless supply of I-wore-it-first slogan T-shirts, not to mention the masses of straight-leg designer denim. Naturally, all of it was greedily lapped up by Tumblr. Our new year’s resolution for 2018? Be at least a tenth as cool as Frank.

“Frank’s laid-back and effortless approach to personal style is a big thumbs up in my books. Casual yet refined with a bold statement hair colour proves that it’s not what you’re wearing but how you wear it.” – Joel Mcloughlin, blogger, @Gallucks

21. Armie Hammer

Thanks to an Oscar buzz-worthy turn in Call Me By your Name, this was the year that Armie Hammer properly hit the big time. And when it came to the rags on his back, the 31-year-old proved he’s equally worthy of praise. Perfectly-cut tailoring? He does that. Natty knitwear and pulse-quickening overcoats? He does those, too. Put-together summer style that doesn’t look at all sweaty? Well, well, well, we’ve got ourselves a style hat-trick. Better start writing that acceptance speech.

“Armie has understood what many tend to forget. By keeping it simple and classic he always looks sharp. I am pretty sure that most pictures of Mr Hammer will age well and people won’t look at them 20 years from now and think ‘what the hell was he wearing?’. Classic stuff not only makes you look good but ages even better.” – Sebastian Dollinger, creative director, Eton Shirts

20. Jared Leto

If you’re of the opinion that real style is only achievable by not giving a single, solitary shit what anyone thinks, then count Jared Leto as your spirit animal. The actor-slash-musician-slash-walking-Gucci-billboard may often look like he’s been flung by a trebuchet into Iris Apfel’s walk-in wardrobe, but do you know what? He radiates confidence, he owns it, and that, friends, is what it’s all about. You do you, Leto, because we certainly haven’t got the balls to.

“Jared Leto is a Marmite dresser, but his bold choices are a welcome distraction from the sea of samey suits come awards season. He’s incorporated pretty much every style influence you can think of into his wardrobe this year.” – Luke Sampson, associate editor, FashionBeans

19. Luke Evans

It seemed like poetic justice that Luke Evans spent time in a silly wig and frilly shirt on screen for Beauty And The Beast because, according to our calculations, it was the only time he didn’t nail an outfit in 2017. Evans is a master of wearing clothes that complement rather than cut off circulation to his gym-familiar frame. A fan of straight jeans, non-skinny tailoring and with access to a collection of leather jackets worth splurging on, his style is obviously impressive but emits no sign of caring too much.

“Luke Evans has always looked stylish. Always dressed impeccably and suited to the event or occasion. Him and his stylist are obviously a great pairing.” – Oliver Spencer, menswear designer

18. Virgil Abloh

As a long time creative director to Kanye West, Virgil Abloh is unsurprisingly well versed on what’s cool and what’s not. Fortunately, the man behind insanely hip high-end streetwear brand Off-White has all the swag of his collaborator, but none of his insane ego. In fact, what’s made Abloh’s wardrobe so appealing this year is its lack of bravado, with stealth luxe sportswear, artful grunge and all-black-everything forming the backbone of his signature looks. One thing’s for sure, there’s nothing off about anything we see here.

“Our #1 is Virgil Abloh. Right at the tip of the new wave of creatives. Pulling fashion and culture together and throwing it forward. Designs everything. Wears Levi’s.” – Jonathan Cheung, head of design, Levi’s

17. Charlie Casely-Hayford

The Casely-Hayford clan fight the good fight to keep suits a wardrobe essential, even in a world of work-friendly joggers. Charlie, the father-and-son fashion house’s younger arm, wages that war on the front line, with a tailoring-heavy look that marries Savile Row with the electricity of East London. Of course, it helps that he’s a six-foot-something part-time model and that dad Joe (OBE) is a one-time British Designer of the Year. But what Charlie does unaided is make clothes look fun and easy, things to play with rather than take too seriously. Which is about the best advert for his label – and British fashion more widely – anyone could offer.

“Charlie is renowned for his commitment to excellence and quality, which is anchored by his well-tailored and modern gentleman approach to style.” – Rachel Morgans, buying director, Topman

16. Tom Ford

Even Action Man doesn’t wear a uniform as well as Tom Ford. Of course, it helps that the designer’s standard-issue involves a perfectly-cut black suit and tieless white shirt, rather than combat trousers (although they do share inch-perfect facial hair). It’s unsurprising that Tom Ford appears on these lists every year, without fail; he wears the same thing every year, after all. But the thing that always gets him over the bar is his willingness to tweak the standard black two-piece on the red carpet; a crushed, burgundy dinner suit, say – nothing more crazy than that. Less is more, after all.

“Few things are likely to link Tom Ford and Mark Zuckerberg, least of all their wardrobes. But both have discovered the power of picking a uniform that works for them and, in this case, doing it very, very well.” – Luke Todd, deputy editor, FashionBeans

15. Stormzy

Man try say he dresses better than Stormzy? Tell my man shut up. The Croydon grime superstar burst onto the scene in a red, Run DMC-reminiscent tracksuit back in 2015, but since then his wardrobe has undergone some serious refinement. It turns out Michael Omari’s lofty six-foot-four-inch frame was built to carry a suit of the tailored variety, too. The 24-year-old, platinum-selling artist looked anything but stuffy in his Burberry two-piece at this year’s Brit Awards, but his off-duty lean is still enough to leave even the most hardened of streetwear dons with a tear of joy in their eye.

“It’s hard to talk about style in 2017 without mentioning Stormzy. In addition to the Adidas tracksuits he’s sported most of his early career, his look has matured, leaning towards more clean-cut and simple pieces.” – George Nicholson, deputy editor, The Idle Man

14. David Gandy

At FashionBeans Towers, we sometimes amuse ourselves by imagining clothing combinations in which David Gandy might not look good. It is a tough game. Voluminous cargo shorts? Deep V-necks? Crocs? He could nail them all with elan. Which is why he shouldn’t necessarily be a great fashion icon – when someone looks that good all the time, how can you tell whether it’s the clothes or the man? Lucky, then, that his go-to is impeccable tailoring, which tends to make even the most dadbodded amongst us punch a class or two above our weight. More so than very white, very tight swimming trunks, at least.

“David Gandy has set the benchmark for men’s style over the last decade and to call him a modern-day fashion icon wouldn’t be an exaggeration. The man is as perfectly presented in person as his is in photographs. He is the very epitome of the modern British gentleman: stylish, charming and elegant.” – James Doidge, head of menswear design, Marks & Spencer

13. Ryan Reynolds

Things that Ryan Reynolds has not done since he turned 40: discovered a love of sensible cardigans; worn a baseball cap with the logo of a car he does not own; explored the ‘bootcut’ section of the denim aisle. Things he has done: realised that suits can be fun, come they in windowpane or camel; worn the Henley collar in ways that will make you want to cheat on your crew necks; stay in the kind of shape that makes looking good that little bit easier. That’s your big 4-0 birthday wish list sorted.

“Ryan also does the custom motorbike owner look, and does it well. His wardrobe boasts a number of quality leathers and suede jackets (that I wish I could afford), which he pairs with straight-leg jeans and some fresh sneakers so he never appears like he’s a moto try-hard.” – Chris Gove, creative director, Percival

12. Zayn Malik

Pity poor Niall Horan, the forgotten ex-Directioner – his transformation from tween heartthrob to wannabe singer-songwriter is being obscured by the megawatt fashion-off between Zayn Malik and Harry Styles. For every one of Styles’s navel-slashed silk shirts, Malik has a black velvet jacket from his collection for Versace Versus, and a new transformative hair do. He answers Harry’s red-suited Vanity Fair cover with Vogue, cuddled up with his Victoria’s Secret Angel other half, in his-and-hers Gucci. As far as their competition goes, it’s still too close to call, but we’ll continue enjoying watching it play out.

“Zayn Malik has evolved into a stylish dresser ever since going solo. He has a sharp eye for emerging trends and is never afraid to experiment. He wears some of the best brands out there, nailing the tailored fit just right.” – James Wright, menswear designer, Nicce

11. Eddie Redmayne

Much like the gentle charm of the man himself, Eddie Redmayne’s wardrobe is wholly appealing without being in-your-face in any way. Throughout 2017, he has drawn heavily on heritage design; not in a cringe-inducing Jacob Rees-Mogg kind of way, more in a “why didn’t I think of wearing it like that” way. If he’s in a herringbone blazer, it’s paired with a T-shirt; if he’s wearing a cardigan, it’ll go on underneath a suit and be finished with sneakers. One-part familiar, one-part fresh, Redmayne’s style is all-parts class.

“Eddie Redmayne encompasses smart dressing for both on- and off-duty. His suits are always the right cut, style and a perfect fit, meaning they work well whether layered with a knit, classic Oxford shirt, or dressed down with a pair of smart white leather trainers. We also admire that he isn’t afraid to take risks. Taking classic British style and injecting it with personality.” – Danny Ching, senior designer, Hardy Amies

10. Ryan Gosling

On the press tour for Blade Runner 2049, Ryan Gosling debuted a hitherto secret collection of V-neck sweaters, the kind of thing that gets boys beaten up in school. We knew the Gos was a man of many talents – not least making musicals actually bearable – but this seemed optimistic even for a living meme. And yet here we are, with V-necks undeniably a ‘thing’. This in a year that also included wearing a ruffled shirt to the Oscars, making brown suits feel exciting (even when worn with, unbelievably, V-necked knitwear) and starring in a sequel that might just be better than one of the greatest movies ever made. Well done, Ryan. Well done.

“The appeal to Ryan Gosling is that he doesn’t fear to be daring with his style. He symbolises the modern man but nods to past trends that keep him looking unique.” – Thom Whiddett & Luke Sweeney, tailors, Thom Sweeney

9. David Beckham

A best-dressed and front-row stalwart, this year Becks stepped the other side of the runway. His investment in British heritage brand Kent & Curwen – a business that invented the cricket jumper, no less – turned a long-shuttered label into one of the most exciting new names at London Fashion Week Men’s. The 42-year-old has become a walking billboard for the brand, proof that in ice cream-striped rowing blazers, military great coats and, of course, those V-neck jumpers, he can tap century-old heritage and yet feel thrillingly modern.

“David Beckham made it okay to care about our appearance again, after at least a century of increasingly drab male attire. A true British legend in style that has a rare knack for pulling off a three-piece suit or a hoody and baseball cap with equal aplomb.” – Nick Tahir, head of menswear, River Island

8. Skepta

Skepta may once have shut down fashion week in a black tracksuit, but these days he’s a front-row regular at the likes of Burberry, where he sports rather smarter garms. Along with BFF and honorary Boy Better Know member Drake, Joseph Adenuga upends expectations about what rappers should look like. He does high fashion happily – barely minutes after Christopher Bailey had taken his bow, Skepta had nabbed the show’s standout black overcoat – but also champions underground talent like Nasir Mazhar and Cottweiler. Not content with just playing dress up, this year he also launched his own line, Mains, at Selfridges. The starring piece? A black tracksuit, of course.

“Skepta brings the same energy from his music to his clothing. He’s conscious of what works for him and stays within that field, but still manages to have fun. Black seems to be his base colour, and he then builds a look around that in a completely modern way. Plus, the round frames seem to have almost become his signature, and it’s the small details that elevate his look.” – Charlie Casely-Hayford, menswear designer

7. Alexandre Mattiussi

We’re pretty sure Alexandre Mattiussi, the founder of young Parisian brand Ami, is the human embodiment of what would happen if you crossed what men actually want to wear with epic taste and an unwavering appreciation of cut and quality. A poster boy for the kind of pared-back wardrobe we’re always harping on about, Mattiussi should be a hero to any man who likes his style simple yet effective. Think navy chinos, classic sweatshirts and athleisure trainers, then chuck in a bit of denim and camel and you’ve got the Mattiussi method.

“Ami, as a label, feels like an extension of its founder. Which is why it’s one of the best menswear brands out there. Everything feels authentic, free and easy, even while it pushes boundaries. Both it and the man behind it do newness without it feeling like any effort. It’s just, well, Parisian. But the kind of Parisian style that doesn’t come accessorised with an attitude.” – Tom Banham, men’s style writer

6. John Legend

John Legend has often played second fiddle to wife Chrissy Teigen in the dream dinner party guest stakes this year, thanks to the latter’s Internet-winning brand of humour. That said, style-wise, there’s no doubt that Legend is just as his name suggests. The sartorial antithesis to Lady Gaga, everything he wears looks easy, unforced and completely natural. His line-up draws heavily on patterned shirts, bomber jackets and coloured tailoring, but his ability to keep things on the right side of discreet means that he hits the middle ground between interesting and age-appropriate every single time.

“John Legend has worn the Oliver Spencer brand a few times this year and has made my clothes look fantastic on all occasions. It’s always about what the wearer can do for the design to make it stylish. Oh and he’s a huge musical talent.” – Oliver Spencer, menswear designer

5. Oliver Cheshire

Oliver Cheshire appears in our style roundups so regularly that we’ve given up stamping his loyalty card. You’d be forgiven for thinking it’s easy to look good with those genetics, but many a male model dresses well on the runway, and like a sack of spuds off it. Cheshire, however, has an eye for an occasion and a sixth sense for how to tweak what’s expected. On red carpets, his suit is always classic, but never run-of-the-mill. As befits a man who lives in planes, his airport style turns comfort dressing into something that would work at Fashion Week. And he does Mr Ripley-influenced Riviera style better than Dickie Greenleaf himself.

“Oliver has a brilliant eye for creating a stylish but fun outfit, and that’s important. There’s always one element of his outfit that looks fresh, and stands out.” – James Doidge, head of menswear design, Marks & Spencer

4. Jeff Goldblum

His highest-grossing film may have been 1993’s Jurassic Park, but when it comes to style that’s sharper than a velociraptor’s gnashers, Jeff Goldblum is no dinosaur. The softly-spoken 65-year old is known for his award-winning performances in some of Tinseltown’s biggest blockbusters, but in menswear circles, he’s nothing short of a bona fide style god. His expert melding of slim-cut, monochrome outfits with the odd statement piece thrown in hasn’t gone unnoticed. Which is why when it comes to skirting the line between fashion and age-appropriate dressing, Jeff is an oldie but a goldie.

“The secret of Goldblum’s success in style is down to two things: consistency – he’s found his simple, dark, casual look and sticks with it; and ease – he always looks relaxed in what he wears. He’s not a flashy dresser at any level.” – Josh Sims, author of Icons of Men’s Style

3. A$AP Rocky

The A$AP Mob boss once rhymed “Oliver Peoples” with “Ann Demeulemeester”, but his dress sense bests his consonance. Last year he became the first black male to front a Dior Homme campaign; this year, he fused streetwear and couture in ways much imitated but never bettered. In the process, he pulled hip-hop even further from big chains and bigger logos into something that hungrily samples high and low fashion culture. Harry Styles embodies what proper rock stars used to look like. A$AP Rocky is a glimpse at what they could become.

“A$AP Rocky’s style has continued to improve on his signature aesthetic. He’s aware of his body shape, exploring a variety of fits and has really come on with bold patterns and colours (coinciding with the Gucci boom of 2017). He can transition and blur the lines between casual streetwear and high fashion.” – Alexander McCalla, stylist, Thread

2. Harry Styles

The one-time boybander shrugged off his old skin completely this year, with an album of Prince-referencing pop that was nothing like anything he’d made before. It was also the year he became fashion royalty. The Styles style consists of equal parts sex appeal and self-confidence; he looks like he’s just rolled out of bed (one in which he’s certainly not slept) and pulled on whatever was to hand, whether that’s Saint Laurent skinnies or a dragon-embroidered Gucci suit. Making him the closest thing we’ve got to a genuine rock star.

“Harry is one of the few celebrities who works with a stylist and looks like he actually loves what he’s wearing. There’s something very genuine about his style. I believe he’s into what he’s got on, which is rather refreshing.” – Simon Chilvers, men’s style director, MatchesFashion

1. Donald Glover

For us, the mark of truly commendable style isn’t necessarily consistency. What separates the bloody great from the fucking fantastic is an ability to not just nail a particular niche, but to jump from one menswear genre to another without breaking stride. And it’s this genre-hopping that the artist formerly known as Childish Gambino has done better than anyone else in 2017.

Perhaps it’s not surprising from the singer/rapper/actor/writer/comedian. Donald Glover has form when it comes to effortlessly switching codes. On stage, his look mixes Jimi Hendrix, the Beach Boys and old-school hip-hop. On the red carpet he flits between elegance and flamboyance. Over the past 12 months, we’ve seen him do trends without looking try-hard (he’s particularly good in corduroy, printed shirts and the rest of the seventies look), but he also suits the classics.

Perhaps at his sharpest in dressed-down tailoring, Glover doesn’t much like a tie, but he will play with pattern, texture and tonal colours. He’s a fan of the sockless look, too. And when the dress code calls for a dinner jacket, he doesn’t play by the usual penguin suit rules. At this year’s Emmys, he stepped out in Prince-worthy purple. At the Golden Globes, the dinner jacket was Gucci – brown and velvet. Fitting for a rogue who’ll step into Lando Calrissian’s shoes in 2018.

The big take-home-and-wear-it lesson from Glover is this: at a time when the rules of menswear are splintered, there’s nothing wrong with being a chameleon. Not when it looks this good.

[thewritewolf]

Adrien AUG-Reste Day 12: Tattoo

Adrien hangs out with The Boys.

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@adrienaugust

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

There wasn’t a lot of time left. They promised that they’d wait for him, but that was half an hour ago. Adrien knew that they wanted to start walking through the fair as soon as possible, and he also knew that it wasn’t that uncommon for him to have to bail on them at the last minute. They had every right in the world to expect this to be just another one of those times.

But it wasn’t. Sure, his father had tried to make it one of those times, but Adrien was sick of it. Just for today, Adrien was going to do what he wanted to do.

His mood lifted when he saw the four of them standing around on the bridge. Ivan and Nathaniel were looking over Nathaniel’s sketchbook, and Nino was listening to his music with his earphones around his neck. Only Kim seemed the least bit upset, but that was probably more because Kim didn’t like to be still for very long no matter what he was doing. It looked like not everybody could make it, which brought a small frown to his face.

“Hey, guys,” Adrien said, out of breath.

“Sup, dude! What took so long? You almost look like you had to run all the way here!” Nino chuckled, but stopped when Adrien shot him a nervous smile. “No way, dude! Did you seriously sneak out?”

“Well, I wasn’t about to miss a day with you guys, right? I’m tired of letting my father make last minute changes to my schedule.”

“Nice, dude,” Nino replied as he held up his fist. Adrien bumped it gratefully. “Sticking it to the old man is always something I can approve of.”

While Adrien snickered, Ivan chimed in. “Well, it’s great that you could show. Been a while since we’ve all gotten to hang out.” He waved them on as he started to trudge through the crowd. “Now come on, I heard there’s a Zombie Skull Crushers merch tent set up.”

As they followed in Ivan’s wake, Adrien noticed that Nathaniel seemed to be watching him carefully. “Something the matter, Nath?”

“So, uh, your dad has been pretty rough on you lately?”

Adrien blinked at the question before letting his shoulders sag. “Yeah, he’s kinda controlling most of the time, but he’s been especially tough these last couple months. I love him and all but… it’s really frustrating.”

“Frustrating enough for mister goody two shoes himself to break out of his prison house,” Kim interjected with a grin. “How’d you even pull that off, anyway? Your room isn’t exactly close to the ground.”

“I’ve got plenty of experience rock climbing, and slipping out the window isn’t that hard in comparison.” Granted, most of his climbing experience these days was done in the heat of battle or in chasing Ladybug during patrol, but the indoor rock wall was a good excuse.

Nino threw an arm around Adrien, pride in his voice, “My bro is a dude of many talents. And weird habits. You’ve heard of laughing in the face of danger? Well, Adrien showers in the face of danger.” He grinned. “He’s just badass like that.”

Everyone laughed while Adrien just groaned. “That was one time, dude! It’s not like- I don’t jump in the shower every time I hear there is an akuma attack!”

“Well, maybe you do.” Kim tapped at his chin. “Come to think of it, I’ve never seen you during an akuma attack…”

“So, Nath, why were you asking about my dad?” Adrien was quick to change the subject, much to Nathaniel’s surprise.

“Oh! Um, I was just thinking that if this is the start of a teenage rebellion thing, we could go all the way with that.”

Adrien tilted his head at him. “And that means…?”

“I know someone who is running a temporary tattoo booth at the fair. We could get you something that’ll last a few days.”

“I don’t know…”

“Dude!” Nino’s hand was on his shoulder. “We could get matching tats! It’d be great!” His grin proved infectious and soon Adrien was getting excited too. “What are you thinking? Something badass, right?”

With his modeling career, he’d never even considered tattoos. So he asked himself what would be the one thing he’d want inked onto his skin forever (ignoring the fact that this was temporary)?

“Ladybug!”

The other chuckled while Nino rolled his eyes at him. “Okay, dude, fine. But I’m not letting you get her face on you. That’d be weird unless you two were dating.” He smirked and nudged Adrien’s shoulder. “You’re not holding anything back from me, right?”

“Nino, would I ever keep a secret like that from you?” Adrien lied through his teeth. He might not be dating Ladybug, but he’d definitely kept certain bigger things a secret from him.

“Nah, prolly not.”

“Well, you can’t do her face, but what about an actual ladybug?” Nathaniel pulled out his sketchbook. “You could do that and have some text that says ‘pound it’ underneath.” He began drawing furiously.

Nino’s eyes lit up. “And if we have it on our wrists, then it would be double cool!” He gently punched Nathaniel’s shoulder. “Nice thinking, dude.”

They made a couple stops before the tattoo booth. Ivan got a new Zombie Skull Crushers t-shirt and a few pins. Kim snagged a pair of running shoes. Adrien got a gift for Nathaniel.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” Nathaniel mumbled, clutching his new set of markers as they headed towards their final stop.

“And you didn’t have to draw up tattoos for me and Nino.” Adrien smiled. “It was the least I could do!”

Nathaniel didn’t have a chance to respond as Nino snagged Adrien’s arm and dragged him up to the front with him. “Let’s get this rebellion started, bro!”

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

Marinette was sitting in her room, working at her sewing machine when her phone went off. She recognized the chime as the noise her instagram notifications made and reached for her phone. The only tag she was following was Adrien’s, so her expectations were already high as she checked what he’d been posting about now. Since Alya had mentioned that the boys were going out today, she expected one of two things - either he was at home lamenting that he couldn’t go, or he was out and happy with his friends.

Desperately hoping it was the latter, she opened the picture.

It was Adrien and Nino standing side by side smiling mischievously. They were holding their hands up near their heads with their wrists facing the camera, which was zoomed close to them. Her heart leapt to her throat when she saw that while Nino had a lime green cat’s paw on his wrist, Adrien had a ladybug tattooed in the same spot. Under both their tattoos, they had a text scroll that read ‘Pound it’.

Falling onto her chaise, she held the phone close to her chest and squealed as she rolled back and forth. It was a beautiful day and Adrien was wearing a tribute to her alter ego on his skin.

Does it get any better than that?