#don’t mind me I’m just gonna go into this little corner here and spontaneously combust- yeah no dw the explosion wont be too big it’ll only

[bestial4ngel]

UGH !!! The way that their dad referred to it as a game, referred to people as economic units- dehumanizing them by viewing and talking about them as if they’re inanimate drones, and always made it about winning or losing. The way that the kids and everyone in his world/circle is hollow and wooden… they are exactly what he made them to be- pawns. Nothing but disposable and lifeless pawns that are only brought to life by the game player and the game, only useful when on the chessboard, and only useful as a means to gain a win for the player.

[ragingpancake]

How To Woo Your Scientist In 100 Cookies or Less

Rodney has a secret admirer. Prompt fic. See end of fic for prompt. ~1800 words.

The first time it appears is the morning after the ridiculous mission to M5-X847 (more accurately described as ‘Planet of the Bat-Shit Crazy Natives and Their Ridiculous Trading Ceremonies’ in the privacy of Rodney’s own mind and in the not-so-nearly private mess hall whenever anyone else brings it up). It’s left sitting on his desk by his absolute favorite computer on a folded up napkin from the mess hall, taunting him.

He’s still staring at it as if it holds the secrets to recharging a ZPM, the cure for male pattern baldness and the name of the man Carly Simon wrote a song about when John ambles in for his obligatory weekly hour of light switch duty.

“Ooh, cookie,” he says. Rodney smacks his hand away with a squawk of indignation.

“Mine!”

“Well, are you gonna eat it or just stare at it?”

Rodney settles for the latter while John unfairly makes Atlantis and all of her Ancient Tech roll over for him like the complete slut she is. Besides, he argues silently, it wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried to kill him with baked goods. It’s always better to be safe than sorry.

Fifty nine minutes and fifty eight seconds later, John plucks the cookie off of the napkin and pops it into his mouth, crunching loudly and spewing crumbs everywhere.

“What did you do that for?” Rodney bellows.

“Just makin’ sure it was safe and citrus free,” John says with a toothy grin. “Next time, you’ll know. Cya later buddy,” he says and ambles back out of the room without a care in the world.

“Next time? How do you know there will be a next time?” Rodney yells after him. “How do you know?”

—-

There is, oddly enough, a ‘next time’. The next morning when Rodney stumbles into his lab, bleary eyed after a late night watching terrible movies and eating horrifyingly greasy food (thank you, Daedalus) with John, there’s another cookie sitting innocently on his desk, silently begging to be eaten. He’s still worried about the possibility of an assassination attempt but he rationalizes that no one is really going to use precious chocolate chips just to murder him so he lifts it up, sniffs it and then shoves it greedily into his mouth.

Less than hour later, he’s still alive and wishing he had another.

—-

By the fifth cookie, Rodney stops checking for the possibility of citrus-laced baked goods. Clearly, someone finally appreciates his genius and has decided the best way to thank him is to ply him with delicious sweet treats.

For once, Rodney doesn’t complain.

——

“Another one?” John asks, eying the 30th cookie longingly. “How many is that now?”

“I don’t know. I’ve lost count,” Rodney lies.

John just snorts in response.

——

“This is getting out of hand,” Kavanagh gripes. “How come we’re not allowed to eat around the computers, but he never says anything about that damn cookie appearing every morning? Why doesn’t Sh—”

Radek steps on Kavanagh’s foot and Miko’s elbow catches him in the side. Kavanagh squeaks and then miraculously falls silent.

Rodney eyes his scientists suspiciously “Why doesn’t who do what?”

“Nothing,” Radek says. “Is nothing but idiotic mumblings of a jealous man.”

“Jealous. Yeah, right,” Kavanagh snorts under his breath.

Rodney is still not convinced and he spends the rest of the day trying to bully Kavanagh into telling him exactly what’s going on.

Kavanagh is gleeful at the idea of knowing something that Rodney doesn’t.

—

“Hey Rodney?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t you ever wonder who’s sending you cookies?”

Rodney eats the last bite of his cookie and glances over at John. “Not really, no. Don’t really care either, as long as they keep coming.”

“Oh.”

John goes back to touching uncatalogued Ancient tech while Rodney practically has oral sex with the left-over chocolate on his fingers. Rodney’s so caught up in his little delicious world that he doesn’t even notice when the device starts glowing in an ominous way.

“Uh… Rodney.”

Three seconds later, John’s unconscious on the floor and Rodney’s yelling into his headset for a medical team.

——

The next day, there is no cookie.

——

By the third cookieless day, Rodney decides that maybe Atlantis was the secret Cookie Fairy, because whoever it was is clearly pissed off that he almost killed John.

——

“I brought you something,” Rodney announces as soon as he palms the door to John’s room open. It’s the only room, other than his own that he’s ever been able to get into without resorting to screwing around with the crystals. He’s never questioned it, but now he’s grateful that John never had the urge to lock him out.

“Been stockpiling the goods from your Cookie Fairy?” John asks grumpily. Rodney cuts him slack because he knows he still has a killer headache from that damn piece of Ancient Tech.

“No,” Rodney says. “I uh, actually made these for you, and by ‘made these for you’, I really mean I bribed the kitchen staff with an extra ten minutes of hot water in the mornings but um, yeah. I got them. For you.”

John gives him an odd look and Rodney wonders if maybe there’s brain damage that Keller missed on the scans. Wouldn’t be the first time, he thinks bitterly.

“It’s just… you seemed to always be hanging around when I had my cookie and I uh… know that I wasn’t exactly willing to share with you even though I know chocolate chip is your favorite. But that’s not the point. The point… the point is… I screwed up that day. I should have been paying more attention to what you were doing and I wasn’t and I’m sorry and, and, and will you just say something and stop looking at me like that?”

John gives him a slight smile. “Thanks Rodney. You wanna watch a movie?”

For the first time since the cookies stopped coming, Rodney feels like he can breathe again.

——

The next morning, there’s still no cookie, though Rodney really didn’t expect there to be. He doesn’t even really care, because while he acquired the cookies for John the previous evening, he’s the one who ate almost the whole damn plate and if he never sees another chocolate chip cookie again, it’ll be too damn soon.

He has a lot of catching up to do because ever since John got hurt on his watch, he hasn’t exactly been able to concentrate on his work and damn if it hasn’t piled up already.

He powers up his computer and scowls at the stack of papers littering his workspace. Grabbing a handful, he flips through them and then discards them like the complete and utter trash they are. Kavanagh never could finish up the simplest of equations.

He’s just about to log in to the network with the corner of a piece of paper sticking from under his keyboard catches his eye. He frowns and pulls it out. The handwriting is vaguely familiar.

Meet me at the East Pier. 1800 hours. -Cookie Fairy

Rodney doesn’t know whether to be flattered or frightened. He just hopes that whoever the Cookie Fairy is, they’ve forgiven him as easily as John has.

——

The doors to the East Pier slide open with ease and Rodney can’t stop the nervous flutter in the pit of his stomach. The sun is already beginning to set in the Lantean sky, casting a gentle glow over the calm water. Leaning against the railing, there’s a familiar set of slouched shoulders and a crop of dark, messy hair.

“John?”

He turns and gives Rodney a nervous grin. “Hey buddy.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand. What are you… what are you doing here?”

He holds out the plate of chocolate chip cookies. “Uh… surprise?”

For once, the great Rodney McKay is completely speechless.

John clears his throat and shifts nervously from one foot to the next. He sets the plate of cookies down on the railing and rubs at the back of his reddening neck. “So I guess you… Uh, I guess this really isn’t what you were expecting.”

“No,” Rodney says dumbly, because he really wasn’t. Miko? Sure. Simpson? Maybe. But John Sheppard? John fucking Sheppard? Not in a million years. “Why?”

”M5-X847."

“The marriage ceremony? The one where they made you put stupid flowers in your hair and, and, and…”

“That’s the one.”

“But why?” Rodney asks, because he needs to know.

“Because I wanted it to be real,” John blurts out. His ears are absolutely flaming at this point and Rodney’s sure they’re going to spontaneously combust if they get any brighter. “I needed… I needed you to know and I didn’t know how to tell you so I…”

“You baked. For me.”

“Every day.”

“Until you got hurt.”

“Well, yeah. It was kind of difficult when standing long enough to get to the bathroom was a chore. I was… I wanted to tell you that day, but you didn’t… you said you didn’t want to know.”

“I was afraid it was Kavanagh or some other equally terrible person!”

“Why would Kavanagh bake you cookies?”

“I don’t know! If could have been part of some nefarious plan to clog my arteries and send me to an early grave via horrendous heart blockage!”

John just stares at him. “Seriously?”

“Hey, it could happen.”

“Rodney, shut up,” John says and then he’s suddenly there, his lips pressed to Rodney’s.

It’s wonderful and terrifying and so right.

Rodney makes a little noise of surprise against John before he relaxes into his the kiss, reaching up tentatively to card his fingers through his silly hair.

When they break apart, they’re both panting.

“Was that… was that okay?”

“I don’t know,” Rodney says. “I think… purely for research purposes, you understand, I’m going to need you to kiss me again.”

“No problem,” John says and he leans in to kiss Rodney again.

——

By the time they’ve finished kissing, they’re both shivering in the chilly night air. John’s hair is messier than usual and Rodney’s lips are red and swollen.

“Seriously though,” Rodney says, burrowing closer to John’s side as John drops an arm around his shoulders. “Cookies? Really?”

“I figured that at least when it came to you, the old saying was true. The way to your heart is definitely through your stomach.”

“So you thought you could woo me with cookies?”

“It worked though,” John says triumphantly.

Rodney grins. It worked.

“Hey, next time, you think you could do peanut butter?”

“Shut up, Rodney,” John says fondly

“Why don’t you make me?”

“My pleasure.”

Prompt

:One day you come into work and find a cookie mysteriously placed on your desk. Grateful to whoever left this anonymous cookie, you eat it. The next morning you come in and find another cookie. This continues for months until one day a different object is left--and this time there's a note.

[artemisia--hq]

This prompt is from @kittensocute ‘kageyama and hinata are stuck on a ferris wheel ride’

(*ﾟ▽ﾟ)ﾉ

—————————————

When one thinks of amusement parks, games and rides, and generally a fun, happy time instantly comes into mind. This, however is decidedly not fun. This is a nightmare, a weaving of pure fear and terror, and Tobio swears if he ever manages to get out of here alive, he is so going to—

“Aaahh! Ahh! We’re gonna die! We’re gonna die!”

“Stop yelling, dumbass!” Tobio yells. He rubs his face with both of his palms when Hinata still wouldn’t stop screaming like a banshee. “Death is gonna be the least of your concern because I’m gonna kill you first if you don’t! Stop! Yelling!”

“That doesn’t even make any sense!” Hinata cries, “and you’re yelling, too!” He serves Tobio a stink eye, or as stinky as he can possibly muster with his ashen face and trembling lips. Tobio just returns the glare a hundred-fold, and that seems to do the job of shutting the idiot up as he looks away with an obnoxious huff.

But the sudden silence only gives way for Tobio to marinate in regret, recounting every action that had led to the disaster they’re currently in.

It was supposed to be a fun day in the amusement park, and it did start out that way. The first and last time Tobio had been to one was years ago, with Kazuyo-san and Miwa for his tenth birthday. It is one of his most treasured memories that is completely unrelated to volleyball, the only time he had fun without it.

But spending it with his friends (and yes, that includes that bastard Tsukishima, however mortifying that concept is), had been admittedly fun, too. They were all together during the first hour, playing games and getting into every ride they could. But he and Hinata had been pre-occupied with one-upping each other with a shooting game and before they knew it, their friends were out of sight.

It was Hinata’s idea to ride the ferris wheel to look for them. Now they’re stuck in a cramped, glass-covered carriage for fifteen minutes.

“This is why you don’t get to have any dumbass ideas, you dumbass,” Tobio grumbles out loud.

Hinata bristles. “Wh-what?!”

“This is all your fault in the first place.”

The other boy lets out a disbelieving gasp. “You’re the one who said, ‘oh yeah. Good idea,’” he says in mock imitation of Tobio, flattening his hair as he does so.

He’s not wrong, but Tobio can’t give Hinata the satisfaction of being right, either, so he clicks his tongue and looks away.

Silence once again engulfs them.

Tobio gazes through the glass of the carriage to take his mind off of certain things that’s been circling his consciousness like incessant, annoying flies, things that shouldn’t be given permission to reside in his thoughts.

Getting stuck a hundred feet above the ground is bad enough as it is—getting stuck with the worst possible person just makes it a hundred times worse.

Tobio risks a sideway glance out on the corner of his eyes. Hinata has his arms around himself, as if he’s purposely trying to take up as little space as possible. Which is a weird concept to wrap around—as small as Hinata is, his larger than life presence could more than fill up a room, with that beaming smile and loud, cheery voice.

But Hinata is none of that presently. He looks quite pale, wide eyes darting around for every creak and squeak of the ferris wheel carriage, small hands clenching and unclenching the sleeves of his sweater. The most frustrating thing of all: he wouldn’t stop chewing his lower lip, now looking red and swollen and just so ki—

Tobio has to give himself a few mental punches in the head to wrench his attention away from it and to clear his thoughts.

See, this is why he absolutely shouldn’t be alone with this orange-haired gremlin. He gives Tobio horrendous ideas.

“K-Kageyama?”

Tobio’s body temperature drops to subzero. Fuck, was he caught staring? Was he too obvious? He should run—wait, no, fuck, he’s trap, he’s done for—

“Wh-what?” He snaps, anger immediately acting as a reflex.

Hinata flinches, then he sighs, looking down on his feet. “Never mind.”

Something twinges in Tobio’s chest. God, why is he so…taken with this stupid idiot. “What is it?” he asks, cutting down his tone, just a little.

The other boy still has his eyes cast down, squirming. “Uhm…”

“Out with it, dumbass.”

Those round brown eyes squeezes tight as Hinata blurts out, “Canyouholdmyhands?”

Tobio sputters, “Wh-what?”

“Can you hold my hands, please!” Hinata yells, extending both of his hands like an offering.

Okay, either he has completely lost his mind, or Hinata has.

He goes for the more convenient option.

“Are you crazy? No!” He whips his hands behind him, for good measure. “Why would I?”

“Because I’m scared and my hands are cold!” Hinata grouches, and for a second, he has every intent to fight and demand for it, like he always does, but then he deflates and slumps on his side of the carriage. “I-It’s fine. That was weird, anyway. Sorry.” He then proceeds to hug himself again, shrinking within his sweater.

Hinata has never looked so tiny and vulnerable.

Tobio’s mouth starts to open when the carriage suddenly sways and groans on his hinges. Hinata screams and Tobio is already lunging forward even before his mind could even process things, and his hands grabs onto cold, clammy ones, fingers intertwining tightly.

“We’re gonna die! We’re gonna die, Kageyama!”

“Sh-shut up! That was just the wind!”

“I-I don’t want to die, Kageyama!” Hinata wails, tears pricking on the corners of his blown, shaky eyes. “I-I still have to be good in volleyball! I still have to beat you!”

Tobio has never seen Hinata this distressed before, or even this legitimately terrified. He’s always been a scaredy-cat, but never like this. Tobio shuffles closer, gripping their joined hands. “No one’s going to die, so stop screaming.” He gives another reassuring squeeze, and it might be instinct or reflex, but Hinata squeezes back. “I won’t let that happen.”

Hinata sniffs. He blinks his glossy, golden eyes at Tobio “R-really?”

Tobio nods. “Yeah.” He hears some commotion from below and he presses his face on the glass. “Look, they’re doing something about it now.” He turns to face Hinata again. He could go in for a smile, but he figures that would only scare Hinata more than comfort him. “We’ll be out of here in no time, so just…think about something else.”

Hinata shakes his head frantically. “I-I can’t. There’s nothing in here that can distract me!” Then his gaze lands on their entwined hands. “Except, maybe…this.”

“Yeah, well…if that helps,” Tobio murmurs as he stares at their hands, too, before stalwartly looking away. If Hinata finds comfort in that, Tobio, on the contrary, needs a distraction of his own away from it. He settles at looking over the glistening lake dotted with tiny boats shaped like swans and turtles at the distance, but all of his nerve endings seem to concentrate on the point of contact between the, feeling each ridge and bumps of those rough, calloused hands wrapping around his own. Yet, they’re also unbelievably soft, if that makes any sense. Hinata just seems to defy all rules of the universe, from his jumps to the feel of his hands.

They are a bit sweaty, though, which is kind of gross. But Hinata being gross is not an entirely alien concept to Tobio, so whatever.

“Your hands are really warm,” Hinata says suddenly in genuine awe, as if he doesn’t mean to say them out loud.

Tobio’s hands are not the only ones getting warm—he can feel the back of his neck and his ears prickle with heat. “And really big. And your fingers are super long.” Hinata adds.

Tobio is half a mind to withdraw his hand and pocket them into safety, if only to keep them away from scrutinizing large eyes and to save himself from spontaneously combusting. But it does seem to calm Hinata, so it’s a risk he just has to endure.

He faces the other boy—the whole distract himself thing isn’t really working, anyway. “Obviously, dumbass,” he jibes, “I’m bigger than you everywhere.”

Hinata just nods, then he’s silent for a moment, before whispering, “Is this weird for you?”

“What, that I’m bigger?”

“No, stupid,” Hinata says with a roll of his eyes. “I meant, this.” He gestures at their hand, lifting them and letting it drop in the space between their knees.

“It’s only weird if you make it weird,” Tobio says, although he’s not really sure if he’s saying that to Hinata or himself. “You’re the one who asked for it.”

Hinata shrugs. “That’s different. I didn’t think you’d be up for it.” When Tobio doesn’t answer, Hinata sighs. “I-I mean, you normally do this kind of thing with…you know…” he trails, his pale cheeks quickly rising in color, eyes looking anywhere but at Tobio’s face.

“No, I don’t know,” Tobio says.

Amber eyes finally locking with blue ones, Hinata says in the softest voice, “You do this kind of thing with the person you like.”

“I do like you.”

It must be the work of altitude and oxygen and all the science-y stuff Tobio never paid any attention to in class because it’s the only logical explanation why his mouth decides to run off without his brain. He resists the urge to face palm himself hard enough to propel himself into the next dimension.

Hinata, understandably, stares at Tobio like he’s grown an extra head plus a tail. “You—like—what?!” he screeches, face and neck dousing in crimson red, and Tobio figures, he’s faring no better. “Y-you like me?!”

“I-I meant as a-a friend!” Tobio stammers, shouts, whatever. “As a friend and—and teammate! Dumbass!”

“I-I know that! I-It just surprised me!” Hinata shouts back, even as his face burns even deeper, redder than the sun settling behind the mountains.

Then he snickers, quickly turning into a full-on laugh.

“W-what? What’s funny?” Trying to sound demanding is hard when Tobio’s heart is lodged in his throat and with his entire body on fire.

Hinata snorts out a giggle, then he’s smiling at Tobio, radiant and flushed and—

Beautiful.

Here, trapped in a cramped, musty enclosed glass a hundred feet up in the air, Hinata—his rival, his partner, and if it isn’t obvious enough, the guy he’s been crushing on for months, looks achingly beautiful.

“Well, that makes me happy, because I like you, too!” Hinata exclaims.

Tobio has never really understood the expression ‘on cloud nine high,’ but he’s pretty sure this bursting feeling within his chest must be pretty damn close.

Then the beaming smile turns into a teasing smirk. “Even though you’re sometimes mean and violent and calls me dumbass more than my own name.”

And Tobio can’t help it, he smirks right back. “Dumbass.”

Their nonsensical argument of who likes who continues until the ferris wheel starts to turn and move again, continuing even after their feet touch the ground, as they zigzag their way among the crowd in search of their friends.

With Hinata’s hand still clutched over his.

—————————————

Thank you for indulging my request (begging) for a prompt! I have to apologize, though, this is not as good as I’d like to be, but it does help me ease out of my writing slump. I hope you enjoyed it nevertheless! ^o^

You can also read it on ao3 (with minor edits)

[2dmenenthusiast]

Fire's Cool, Revenge is Better

Aizawa x Villain Reader, Dabi x Villain Reader

Listen I know I write for Aizawa a lot but I just love him :( But there's some Dabi in here to add a lil somethin somethin. ALSO I kinda kept this open in case ya'll wanted a part 2? There's no guarantees, but if enough people want it I might consider it

Summary: Meeting Shouta on rooftops was always fun and games until he thinks you're going to set him on fire.

Word count: 2.9K

Warnings/Other Info: Swearing, sexual themes, very small mention of assault, age gap, reader used to be his student but that was years ago and the reader is an adult in this so don't worry lmao, reader is kept gender-neutral, reader's quirk is spontaneous combustion (they can set things on fire just by looking at it)

This fic is intended for adult audiences, so minors DNI

The breeze felt good against your face, eyes gazing at the night sky as you sat on the edge of the roof of some random corporate building you couldn’t remember the name of. You briefly looked down at the street below, watching pedestrians walk along the sidewalk as cars drove by, and you idly swung your feet as you rummaged around in your jacket pocket before pulling out a pack of cigarettes. The sound of traffic at night was always relaxing to you, having lived in the city most of your life. You didn’t know if you’d ever be able to sleep without the distant noise of a car honking. The idea was honestly kind of unsettling, and you thought maybe a part of you liked it because the bustling of the city was comparable to the constant racing of your thoughts.

Letting out a huff, you checked the time on your phone as you placed a cigarette between your lips, looking at the end of it and feeling a slight pressure behind your eyes before it suddenly lit up and you took a drag. He’d be here any minute now, having memorized the schedule for his patrol. You’d been thinking about what you should say to him when you finally saw him but realized there was no point. There was no “preparing” when it came to Shouta Aizawa. You knew whatever you wanted to say would be thrown right out the window when you saw his piercing gaze, so you decided you’d just wing it. Not like that was unusual for you. You’ve been winging it most of your adult life, purely acting on impulse.

You heard a soft rustling behind you, smirking as you knew exactly who it was by how quiet they were. If you hadn’t committed his habits to memory, you probably wouldn’t have heard him. You heard him take a few steps towards you before suddenly stopping, and you let out a soft chuckle as you took another drag from the white stick, blowing the smoke into the air and watching it slowly fade.

“Took you long enough. Almost thought you wouldn’t show,” you said, a playful lilt to your voice as you stood and turned to face the erasure hero.

The city lights illuminated his shocked expression, eyes slightly widened as he took you in before his gaze narrowed.

“Y/n… what are you doing here?” he asked, the low timbre of his voice sending a pleasant feeling up your spine.

You shrugged, that familiar mischievous look in your eyes as you swiveled on the heel of your boot and began to pace. “Oh you know, just thought I’d get some fresh air, get a good look at all the pretty lights.” You paused, eyes hooded and a smirk tugging at your lips as you glanced over at Shouta. “Meet up with a certain hero.”

He audibly sighed, clearly not interested in whatever game you were playing, and you couldn’t help the grin that spread over your face. You didn’t meet up like this often, but when you did, it was always fun getting underneath his skin. It had been almost a year since you saw him last, and you swore he always looked different when you would see him. Maybe it was the circles under his eyes getting darker, or the new scar he acquired between visits, but you knew none of it mattered. This was still Shouta, a man you grew close to during your years at UA. Though, it all seemed like a distant memory now.

“So, how’ve you been, Sho? Still catching bad guys and putting ‘em behind bars and all that?”

“I have half the mind to do the same to you.”

“Oh, we both know you wouldn’t. You like me too much to see me locked up,” you said, taking a few steps closer to him as he stared at you with a pointed look. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to smile when you’re around me. You don’t always have to be so stoic and brooding.”

“What reason do I have to smile when being around you always gives me a headache?” he said, voice void of any emotion as you winced and placed a hand on your chest.

“Ouch, Sho. That actually kinda stung. I thought my presence was quite enjoyable.”

“You need to stop this, y/n.”

You raised an eyebrow, only a foot of distance between you now as you reached forward and lightly tugged at his capture weapon, feeling the fabric between your fingers before he swatted your hand away.

“Stop what? My general villain tomfoolery or annoying you?”

“Both. We both know you’re better than this.”

“Am I?”

You looked at him for a moment before letting out a scoff and taking a step back, shifting your gaze from him as you took one last drag from your cigarette. Throwing it on the ground, you stomped on it with the toe of your boot and turned to move back to the edge of the building, arms crossing over your chest.

“Fuck, hate it when you make me think about all this dumb, sappy shit. Can never let me have my fun, huh?” you huffed, tongue poking the inside of your cheek. “‘You’re better than this,’ fucking christ. If I had a damn dime for every time I heard that I’d be fuckin’ rich.”

You heard him sigh again. “Y/n-”

“Don’t ‘y/n’ me!” you yelled, spinning around as you felt your anger flare up, and your eyes landed on a red-eyed Shouta, his black hair floating in the air.

You both just stood there, gazing at each other until his hair eventually floated back down to his shoulders and his eyes stopped glowing, and you let out a humorless chuckle that eventually turned into a full-blown laugh, clapping as you doubled over.

“Oh, Shouta!” you cheered, arms out at your sides as you backed up towards the edge of the roof. “How glad I am to know that you have so little trust in me. What? Thought that I didn’t have my anger under control?” You took another step, heels peeking over the edge. “Thought I was gonna blow something up?”

“Y/n, don’t,” Shouta said, fists clenched as he stepped towards you.

“Don’t what, Sho? Jump?” You looked over your shoulder down at the street below, knowing that a fall from this height would certainly kill you. “Why not, huh? One less villain for you to deal with, right? One less inconvenience for you.”

“You really think that little of yourself? You think I want this?”

“It’s what everyone else believes. What the media spews out daily without any fucking semblance of the truth. The League… those guys are messed up, but they’re still people. People that society abandoned when they gained some gross fetish for heroes. You’re just their pawn, you know? They don’t give a shit about you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Maybe not,” you shrugged. “Maybe I’m still that naive student in your class, dreaming of being a big-time hero one day just like All Might.”

You moved your foot back, feeling nothing but empty space underneath it as you slowly let yourself fall back, your heart jumping up in your throat and your stomach in your chest. Your other foot was almost off the edge until you felt something wrap around you and you were pulled into a sturdy chest, and you looked up to see Shouta staring intently at you. Something between concern and confusion in his eyes, or maybe a combination of both. The corners of your mouth twitched up into a sad smile, reaching up to lightly trace the scar under the hero’s eye with the tips of your fingers.

“You’re not like them, Sho. You’re so much better. You don’t let the bullshit and lies cloud your judgment. You’re just… you. In all of your cynical and stubborn ways.”

Your hand moved to his stubbled cheek, feeling your eyes begin to well up with tears. He looked so tired, constantly burdened with the responsibility of being a hero and a teacher, dealing with rambunctious kids all day. And there then there was you, that same student that ran away all those years ago, just giving him more trouble than he needed. Maybe it was time to end this little “game” once and for all.

“I suppose I’ve never made things easy for you, have I? Always causing trouble in school… guess that attitude carried into my adult life, huh?”

It almost made you cringe calling yourself an adult in front of him. You half expected him to laugh in your face and remind you that you were just a kid, but he remained silent, gaze softening when he noticed the moisture build up under your eyes, and he removed his capture weapon from around you.

“I… I just wish I could run away sometimes,” you whispered, both hands holding Shouta’s face as a tear rolled down your cheek. “There’s nothing here for me. Though, I don’t think I’d be able to when you’re here.”

Despite how confident you were earlier, you felt like crawling into a hole at that moment. Your confession made you sound like a stupid love-struck teenager, which is the last thing you wanted him to see you as. It didn’t really matter what he was thinking, though. The way he was looking at you already made you feel like he was judging you. You sniffled and pulled away, arms wrapping around yourself as Shouta reached out for you, your name on the tip of his tongue. You shook your head.

“Don’t, just… I know I sound dumb. And I know it was stupid of me to think that…”

You sighed, memories of being in his class flooding your mind. You weren’t always so troubled. You had a few friends you got along with, but other than that you usually remained quiet. That excluded your outbursts, though. Something or someone would set you off, making some off-hand comment about how you didn’t belong in UA, and you would just vibrate with so much rage that something nearby would suddenly burst into flames, and it only made them tease you more.

That was until Shouta took you under his wing. He began teaching you how to control your quirk and use defensive techniques that didn’t involve setting anything on fire. It was the first time in your life that you felt like somebody cared about you. You were on your way to becoming a great hero. That all changed when you saw how corrupt hero society really was. Your mother worked at a pro hero’s agency, working her damndest to put food on the table for your family until there was an incident at her work with her boss, and his pro hero friends covered it all up to protect him. You remember how upset you were, blowing up the tv when you saw his smug face on screen talking to the press. It got so bad you almost destroyed a whole city block. You ran away before the police could find you, packing a bag and promising your mother you’d avenge her before setting off on your own, leaving before you could finish the second half of your third year at UA. Then the League eventually found you and took you in. No, you weren’t interested in destroying heroes like Shigaraki and his crew, but you were determined to expose them. Uncover all of the dirty truths they had all kept hidden away from the media so that they could keep their perfect image and have their fans worship the ground they walk on. It all made you sick, getting so angry and upset that you could practically feel the vomit wanting to crawl up into your throat you would get so nauseous just thinking about it.

Despite your different goals and his hate for pretty much everyone, Dabi and you got along quite well, surprisingly. Maybe it was only because of the similarities of your quirks, but regardless, you were glad to have a companion. While UA taught you how to control your quirk, Dabi helped you unleash it, realize the full potential of your powers, and your face would glow with wonder and exhilaration as you set the world ablaze. You ended up kissing him one night, so full of adrenaline and desperate for some sort of outlet for all of it that you found your lips firmly planted on his, and he was more than okay with it, gripping you tightly against him as he pried your lips open with his eager tongue.

You thought that’d be the end of your little transgression, but you were wrong. On more than one occasion, one of you would end up falling into the other’s bed, and you would be nothing more than a pair of tangled limbs and desperate touches as you both tried to feel something. You didn’t really view each other romantically, simply using each other when you needed a release. But despite that, you thought Dabi was beautiful. He would laugh whenever you told him that, saying you were too fucked out to think properly. But you meant it. Every time. Whenever you’d lay your head on his bare chest and lightly trace the edges of his scars, muttering those simple words into the air, and they would weigh heavy on him. You didn’t know, but he’d think about those words well after you’d retreat to your own room, puffing on a cigarette and trying to banish every and any thought of you. Besides, he knew your heart belonged to someone else.

You looked up at the sky, feeling Shouta’s gaze still on you before meeting his eyes with a smile, but there was no joy behind it. “I suppose you think I’m pretty pathetic, huh?”

“I think you’re troubled, y/n,” Shouta said, taking a step towards you. “I think you need help. Guidance.”

“There is no helping me, Shouta,” you muttered. “I don’t think I can believe in being a hero anymore after what happened.”

“I’m not asking you to. But believe in me. Believe that I want the best for you.”

His words made you pause, swallowing the lump in your throat as you shook your head. “I do believe in you… I just don’t believe in the society you represent.”

Shouta sighed, lips pressed tightly together as he regarded you with an almost unreadable expression, but you knew what that look was. It wasn’t disappointment, but regret.

“It wasn’t your fault, Sho. You were the only one who was ever really there for me, and you were the only person who went looking for me when I ran away. You cared about me. And that’s the only thing I could ever ask for. I know you might think that you failed me, but you helped me. You taught me how to control my abilities,” you paused, letting out a short breath. “but someone taught me how to use them. And until people know the truth… I won’t stop.”

Shouta looked like he wanted to say something when you heard a shout from below, walking towards the edge of the roof and seeing the League waiting for you on the sidewalk. Toga waved excitedly when she saw your face, and you smiled and shook your head before going back over to the older man. You reached forward hesitantly, hand brushing over his chest before bracing yourself against him as you leaned forward and pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth. When you pulled away, you swore you might’ve just given everything up for him at that moment. He looked so vulnerable, so open like you could reach right into his chest and rip his heart out and he wouldn’t care. But with another distant shout of your name, you were snapped out of your reverie and you moved away from him.

“Don’t come looking for me, Sho, and don’t try to stop me either. I don’t wanna hurt you, but if you get in my way, you’ll leave me no choice,” you said, giving the hero one last look as you turned to walk away, but stopped when you heard him call out your name. You glanced back at him, a brow raised in question.

“You’re making a mistake. This won’t change what happened.”

You hummed, slightly nodding as you smiled bitterly. “You’re right. But maybe I can stop it from happening to other people.”

Sparing him one last look, you took a deep breath and jumped from the roof. The ground rushed to meet you as the wind hit your face, and before you could hit the pavement, a pair of arms caught you and gently placed you on the ground. You looked into those electric blue eyes, letting out a small hum as you lightly punched Dabi’s shoulder.

“Thanks, sailor,” you said with a wink, and you playfully bumped your elbow against Shigaraki as you walked between the two men.

“So, how’d it go with lover boy?” Dabi asked, his hands shoved into his pockets, and a bitter taste filled your mouth as you thought about the mentioned hero.

“I don’t think we’ll be seeing him again anytime soon.”

If Dabi saw the way your jaw clenched or the flash of anguish in your eyes, he didn’t say anything, just simply threw an arm around your shoulders and let you stumble into his side. You didn’t know when or if you’d ever see Shouta again. But if you did, you wanted him to give you everything he got.

[mammonshuman92]

- Sapphire -

(Mammon x MC)

| part two | part three |

NOTE: F!MC

It’s here, in the endless sapphire pools, that I could get lost swimming, forever. The sheer power that they hold over me is otherworldly, and to be honest, quite unfair.

“MC! Are you listening?” Satan was looking at you with slight irritation, closing his book. The two of you have been studying for an upcoming test in the common room since you got home from RAD.

You jumped a little, abruptly interrupted from your daydream.

“Hmm? Oh, sorry. I guess I zoned out.” You replied sheepishly. You sat up in your chair, looking at your textbooks trying to regain some kind of memory of what you and Satan had been studying, but it was no use. As of late, there was only ever one thing on your mind. Well, one demon anyway.

“It appears that your mind is elsewhere. Maybe we should take a break and pick it back up after dinner?” he suggested.

You checked the time on your D.D.D., and jumped up from where you sat. Satan looked at you, shocked by your sudden rash behavior.

“Oh, umm.. I can’t tonight, I have a....thing. Tomorrow though?” You rushed around gathering your books and notes into a disorderly pile. Satan looked at you suspiciously. What has gotten into her? He thought.

“Alright. Are you actually going to be present? More than just physically, I mean.”

“Yes, yes. I’m really sorry. Thanks!” You yelled over your shoulder as you ran from the room.

As you rounded the corner of the hallway, you ran right smack into something, sending you and all your books and papers flying. 

Great.

“Oof!” 

That thing you smacked into? Yeah, that was Mammon. You both landed on your butts with a *thud*

“What the Hell are ya runnin’ for?!” He griped, confused as to what had just happened. When he noticed who had run into him and his attitude changed. “MC? What are ya doin'?”

“I’m sorry, Mammon! I didn’t mean to run into you, I’m just in a hurry.” You quickly explained, trying to gather all your papers, again. He grabbed the small bit of papers near him and handed them to you.

“In a hurry for what?” he asked curiously, cocking his head to the side a little.

Shit! He can’t know where I’m going! I need to make an excuse and fast!

“Oh, umm.. I, uh, I-I’m going shopping with Asmo! Yeah.” That should work. He ususally follows you everywhere, especially shopping but once it comes to shopping with you and Asmo? Yeah, he’d rather sit that one out. Although, I’m sure he’ll complain that you’re not hanging out with him anyway.

You quickly grabbed the last bit of papers and took off toward your room without another word to Mammon.

“It’s movie night, ya know?!” He called after you.

“I’m sorry! I’ll make it up to you, I promise!” You yelled hastily, before quickly shutting your door.

“Hmph. Guess I’ll just do movie night by myself then” He pouted, sticking out his bottom lip a little like a small child.

As he turned to go to his room, something caught his eye. 

A piece of paper the two of you had missed. He picked it up and looked it over. 

It’s for sure MC’s handwriting. Is it song lyrics or somethin’?

He shrugged and shoved it into his pocket.

--

“I don’t have time to change, so my RAD uniform will just have to do. I just need to grab my bag, then I can go. Ugh! I’m gonna be late!” You said aloud while darting around your room.

I’m pretty nervous. I’ve never read any of the stuff I write in front of anyone, much less a crowd or people. Maybe I won’t choke since none of the brothers will be there. Could you imagine reading what you wrote in front of HIM?

*Shiver.* No thanks. Pretty sure I would spontaneously combust.

You grab your things and hurriedly rush out of your room. Hopefully I get out of here without being seen. I’m not sure how many lies I can come up with.

As you made your way down the staircase, someone came through the front door.. Dammit! It’s Asmo.

After a quick discussion, you were able to slip away from him.

Checking your D.D.D. for the time, you quickened your pace. “If I hurry I can make it there before the first reading.”

--

Mammon laid sprawled out on the couch in the common room, scrolling through Devilgram. He sighed heavily. “I’m so bored.”

He heard someone talking just outside the doorway.

Is that Asmo?

He went to investigate only to find Asmo walking down the hall with an arm full of shopping bags.

“You guys are back already?” Mammon questioned him. 

“Pardon?” Asmo asked, visibly confused.

“You and MC only left like an hour ago and you’re already back? Are ya sick?”

“Mammon what are going on about? I left to go shopping right after school.”

Huh? She ...lied?

“MC told me she was goin’ shopping with ya and left in a hurry earlier. If she ain’t with you, where’d she go?”

“Maybe she has a date.” Asmo shrugged and headed toward his room. Mammon stood there motionless and shocked like he’d been slapped in the face.

A date? The thought clawed it’s way around his brain. He felt a pang in his chest.

He’s always with her. To and from RAD, after school, through dinner, and until bed. Always together. They’re best friends.

So how did she manage to meet some other demon without him noticing? He started to get antsy and decided to go look for evidence in her room.

He looked everywhere. All over her desk and dresser, he couldn’t find a single shred of information on this mystery demon. Feeling defeated, he flopped across her bed with a groan.

Am I not good enough? I mean, she already spends all her time with me, what’s she need someone else for?

Thoughts of MC being with someone romantically ...intimately, started flooding his mind. He tried to shake it, but they just kept coming. The pain in his chest got worse.

He’s always been fond of her. In the beginning, when she was still new, he acted like it was such a burden to watch over her, but he secretly enjoyed it. There was just something about her. As hard as he tried to fight it, he found himself developing a sweet spot for the human. She’s always so nice and sticks up for him when it comes to his brothers. She always seems happy to see him and is down for whatever crazy money making schemes he can come up with. Before she got here, it had been a long time since he had felt this happy. He’s pretty sure he’s never laughed so much in his entire existence than when he’s with her.

As much as he tries to convince himself that he doesn’t care about the human, he doesn’t want to go back to life without her. Truth is, he cares about her. A lot.

All the thinking was starting to depress him.

He decided to get up and go to his own room and sulk for the rest of the night. Maybe he could stop by Lucifer’s study and sneak off with a bottle of Demonus. 

As he made his way to the door, he noticed something. The little calendar on your desk had a date circled in red. He picked it up to get a closer look. The date circled was today.

“Coffee shop, 6pm”

Boom. Re-con was successful! He found out where your date was!

He put the calendar back on your desk and checked the time. Crap! It’s almost 7.

He bolted from the room. If he had any chance of seeing what kind of punk lesser demon you were on a date with, he needed to hurry.

--

“This has to be it. She only goes to one coffee shop.” Mammon whispered to himself as he tried to peak inside the front window of the establishment. He couldn’t see you anywhere from where he was and decided to go inside and sit at a table in the very back. Maybe she won’t notice me. He thought. 

He scanned the room, but still couldn’t see you anywhere. Maybe she went to the bathroom?

As he kept scanning the room, the lights started to dim and everyone focused their attention to a small stage with a lone microphone at the back of the shop.

Huh?

A light shined on the stage and a man stepped up to the microphone.

“Thank you all for coming, we have a great turn out tonight. Without any further adieu, let’s get open mic night started!” The crowd applauded and the man walked off stage.

"Open mic night? I didn’t know she liked this kinda stuff.” Mammon said quietly to himself.

Maybe that’s why she’s on a date. He probably noticed all the stuff I didn’t. Mammon sat back in his chair, arms crossed across his chest, pouting. She’d never wanna be with an idiot like me anyway.

--

A couple people read poems, one girl sang, and a few people played instruments. Still no sign of MC.

Maybe she does know a different coffee shop. He started to fidget in his seat, mentally kicking himself. You shoulda told her, ya idiot!

How could he though? He is one of the seven rulers of the underworld. How is he supposed to tell a human that she makes his life so much better? That your laugh is like music and his favorite smell is that of your shampoo? That when you fall asleep next to him on the couch on movie night it’s the best night of his week? 

“Our final act of the night is new to the stage and a little nervous, so go easy on her.” said the emcee. The audience started to applaud as the man walked off stage.

Mammon scooted his chair out and stood to leave. She obviously wasn’t here and he needed a drink.

He was making his way to the door, when he heard it. 

That voice. MC?

He turned to see you standing on the stage, spotlight shining on you. He listened as you spoke.

Is that ...a poem? The words sounded very familiar, like he had heard them very recently. Then it clicked. 

He fished the piece of paper out of his pocket. The poem you were reciting on stage was the same thing written on the paper he found in the hallway.

She wrote this?

He looked up at where you stood on the stage. You hadn’t noticed him so he made his way back to his seat. As he watched you, he started paying attention to the words you were saying. You spoke so softly.

“It’s here, in the endless sapphire pools, that I could get lost swimming, forever. 

Gold flecks, warm like sunshine, adorn the precious gems he dare call an iris.

The sheer power that they hold over me is otherworldly, and to be honest, quite unfair.”

So there really is someone. He thought. There was a stinging feeling in his chest. You don’t talk like that unless love is involved.

“Warm skin, the color of caramel, electricity felt in the slightest of touches.

Hair born of the winter, soft as the Heavens from where it once reigned.

Completely enamored by this creature, I would also happily fall from grace.”

Hair born of winter? Fall from grace? Tan skin?

Wait. That sounds like..

Realization hit him like a truck.

“..It’s about me..” He whispered, barely audible even to himself.

His chest felt like it was going to explode. His stomach so full of butterflies he felt nauseous.

He couldn’t believe it..

| part two |

[livesincerely]

dress you up, dress you down ch. 3 - business casual

aka the Tie Fic. Chapter two here.

Also on Ao3

00000

“Wait, wait, go back,” Katherine says, barely holding back a laugh. “Jack keeps doing what?”

“So, he’ll start getting ready, right?” Davey explains, gesturing with his free hand. “And then, right in the middle, he’ll get distracted or start telling a story or ask me a question, and end up just standing there for ages with his pants half buttoned or his shirt hanging open, like it’s totally fine, no big deal.”

Davey glances left and right to make sure the road is clear, then continues on, Katherine’s hand tucked companionably in the crook of his arm as they walk along.

“It’s driving me crazy, Kath, I am this close to losing my mind,” Davey says, thoroughly caught up in getting this all off his chest. “It’s a miracle I’ve gotten through these last few weeks without throwing myself off the fire escape; no one should be expected to withstand the full force of Jack Kelly first thing in the morning, it’s too much to ask of any one person. And I can’t even just try to avoid looking at him, because if Jack notices he always starts asking me if I’m okay or if anything’s wrong and I can’t say, ‘oh, no, Jack, I’m fine, it’s just that you’re too pretty for this mortal plane and I’m kind of struggling to exist in your presence’ because obviously, so then I have to make something up—“

“You aren’t a good liar,” Katherine comments.

“—And I’m not a good liar!” Davey exclaims. “And I’m definitely not a good liar when Jack is looking at me with his stupid, soft brown, puppy dog eyes and his dumb, messy, adorable hair, or when he says ‘Dave’ in that voice and I just— I cannot express enough how difficult it is to convince Jack that there’s nothing wrong with me when I can barely look him in the face.”

Katherine doesn’t even attempt to stifle her next snort of laughter, the sound bursting out of her.

“It’s not funny, Katherine!” Davey says. “I had to start using Les as a human shield just to get through the morning!”

“No, it’s pretty funny,” Katherine disagrees, shoulders shaking.

Davey huffs out a breath.

“I don’t feel like you’re appreciating the gravity of the situation,” he grumbles.

“Oh, boo hoo, a pretty boy likes to stand around your bedroom half naked, giving you plenty of opportunity to ogle at him uninterrupted,” Katherine says, rolling her eyes at him. “What an incredible hardship you’re facing.”

Davey flushes.

“...I don’t ogle at him,” he mutters.

Katherine raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t!” Davey insists. “I can barely keep from embarrassing myself when I’m doing my best not to look at him—I’d have spontaneously combusted by now, otherwise.”

“Uh huh,” Katherine hums, pinning him with a knowing look. “Right.”

“This is your fault, you know,” Davey continues quickly before Katherine can press any further. “I was perfectly content with my life as it was, but no, you wanted him to have nice work clothes and now I’m the one that has to deal with how painfully good Jack looks in a tie on a regular basis.”

“He’s actually wearing it?” Katherine says, surprised. “Given the stink he put up while we were picking it out, I figured we’d hardly ever see him in it unless one of us made him wear it.”

“Well, I wish I could make him stop wearing it,” Davey grouses. “I swear he does it just to torture me—the damn thing is practically haunting my dreams at this point. I’m pretty sure I could fix him up with one hand behind my back, he wears it so often.”

“Wait,” Katherine starts slowly, her expression caught somewhere between judgement and glee. “Have you been.... tying Jack’s tie for him?”

“He doesn’t know how!” Davey protests, face flushing a touch deeper. “He doesn’t know how and I haven’t had time to teach him yet, so I always have to— Stop laughing!” Davey sputters, swatting at Katherine’s shoulder when she devolves into a flurry of giggles. “It’s nothing, it’s not a big deal.”

He decides not to mention the fact that, whenever he goes to fix Jack’s tie, he swears he can feel the weight of Jack’s gaze like a physical presence—almost thrilling in its intimacy, like the warmth of a hand on his cheek or the feeling of fingers carding gently through his hair—except that whenever he works up the nerve to check, Jack’s always looking somewhere else, casual as can be.

How he can’t tell if it’s actually happening or if it’s a figment of his imagination, the sparking tension that seems to flash and flare between them, how he has no idea what he’d do if he actually caught Jack’s gaze in these moments, but that just wondering about it sends his heart beating a few paces faster.

Even if he wanted to try to explain it, he’s not sure if he could put it all into words.

Thankfully, Katherine doesn’t seem to have picked up on his sudden bout of introspection; she nudges Davey playfully in the ribs.

“Sure it isn’t,” she says, clearly delighting in his embarrassment. “Please, tell me more about how you and Jack have built an entire morning routine together—“

“Oh, look, we’re here,” Davey hurriedly interrupts.

The doors to The World stand as tall and imposing as ever, though the effect is softened somewhat by the flood of workers rushing out of them, heading out into the city for their lunch break.

Davey and Katherine linger on the sidewalk, waiting for Jack to come out and meet them, but he never appears.

“He should be here by now, shouldn’t he?” Davey asks, after a few minutes pass by with no sign of Jack.

“Lunch started ten minutes ago,” Katherine confirms. “If he doesn’t hurry, he’s not going to have time to eat.”

“He probably got caught up in one of his art inspirations,” Davey says with a shrug. “I bet he didn’t even notice the bell ringing.”

“Then let’s go fetch him, shall we?” Katherine says, stepping confidently into the building, tugging Davey along behind her.

Davey’s been to The World several times by now, but he still isn’t all that comfortable being inside the building, always feeling distinctly out of place. Katherine, of course, walks right in like she owns the place, which she sort of does, leading the way through the lobby and up the main staircase until they reach the floor for the Art Department.

They find Jack right where they thought he would be, seated at his desk with a pen in hand, deeply engrossed in his latest series of sketches and totally unaware of the world around him... including the small gaggle of his coworkers standing just off to the side, whispering and giggling amongst themselves as they watch him work.

A small part of Davey’s brain can’t blame them for staring: Jack makes for quite the sight in his dark slacks and matching vest, a crisp white button up tucked underneath. He’s become a bit disheveled in the hours since Davey last saw him—his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his tie loosened slightly, exposing the line of his forearms and a hint of skin at his collar—and he wears it incredibly well, looking far more handsome than he has any right to after half a day’s work.

The rest of his brain, however, stands at attention—a fierce, heated sort of irritation prickling just under his skin. Davey feels himself slow to an uneasy stop, a frown pulling at his features.

He happens to catch the eye of one of them: a young woman who appears to be about his age, with blue eyes and dark, curly hair, stepping out of the crowd as if about to approach Jack at his desk. Davey’s not sure what his expression does in this moment, but when their gazes meet she freezes, her cheeks flushing a touch pink as she ducks her head, and she quickly returns to the safety of the crowd.

“Typical Jack,” Katherine says with a soft shake of her head. She doesn’t seem to have noticed the flock of admirers waiting in the wings. “Okay, let’s grab him and get out of here—“

“I’ve got it,” Davey says abruptly, stepping forward.

Jack doesn’t acknowledge his approach, utterly focused on adding a few precise bits of shading to the cartoon he’s hunched over. His fingers are dotted with ink stains, his hair a little ruffled from where he’s been running his hands through it, and Davey feels himself soften at the sight of him, that sharp edge of annoyance fading as quickly as it appeared.

Mindful of not startling Jack while he has a pen in his hand, Davey carefully calls out, “Jackie?”

Jack glances up, distracted, and then does a double take, his expression quickly turning sheepish.

“Aw, hell, is it lunch already?” Jack asks, setting his pen down.

“At the same time as always,” Davey confirms, leaning against the corner of Jack’s desk. “Figures you’d get so caught up in a project that you ignore your stomach.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack says with a grin, pushing his chair back. “I know, don’t start.”

He stands up and stretches—full bodied, with both arms over his head—giving Davey a long, generous look at just how well everything he’s wearing is tailored to him.

“Where’s Kath?” Jack says, oblivious to the way Davey’s eyes are riveted to the subtle flex of his shoulders and chest as he shakes the stiffness out of his hands. “Is she meetin’ us there or...?”

“No, we walked here together,” Davey says, clearing his throat. “We’re just waiting on you, Jackie, love.”

The endearment slips past his lips of its own accord, far too affectionate and far too honest.

Jack stills, blinking at him in open surprise, clearly catching his mistake. Then his expression shifts, a bright flicker of warmth lighting up his face.

“So, let’s get a move on,” Jack says with a soft smile, blessedly allowing the moment to pass without comment; Davey lets out the breath he’d been holding, relieved. “At this rate, I’m not gonna have any time to eat.”

“And whose fault is that, hmm?” Davey says, trying for something casual, hoping his face isn’t as red as it feels. “What, you didn’t notice everyone else leaving all of the sudden?”

“Shuddup,” Jack says. “You know I don’t mean’ta get distracted. An’, hey, everybody ain’t left yet.”

Jack gestures to where a few of his coworkers are still standing, who try to seem as though they haven’t been watching when they realize Jack is looking at them. Davey’s earlier frown returns with a vengeance.

“See, it ain’t just me,” Jack says.

“I thought we were getting a move on,” Davey says lightly, hooking two fingers under the front of Jack’s vest and tugging slightly to get his attention. Jack’s eyes snap back to his with a speed Davey can only describe as gratifying. “Lunch isn’t going to buy itself.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jack murmurs, allowing himself to be steered back towards the staircase. “Where’re we goin’?”

“It’s Kath’s turn to pick,” Davey says.

“So uptown, somewhere weird and expensive that she won’t let us help pay for,” Jack surmises.

“She promised not to pick anything too strange anymore after last time,” Davey offers, though he’s a bit apprehensive himself. “It won’t be that bad... probably.”

Jack snorts. “It’s the probably that I’m worried about.”

“Buck up, Jackie,” Davey says, curling his hand around Jack’s forearm. “If I have to eat it, you have to eat it.”

“Hey, Jack,” Katherine says once they’re close enough, hitting Davey with another knowing look when Jack steps forward to hug her. Davey bites his lip, gaze falling guiltily to the floor. “Ready to go?”

“You mean, am I ready for your latest poisonin’ attempt?” Jack asks. “Sure, if that’s what’cha wanna call it.”

“I was not poisoning you!” Katherine volleys back. “Those were a delicacy⁠—”

“They was disgustin’, that’s what they was,” Jack replies. “So what’s on the table today, O’ Queen of The World? Sautéed rose petals? A single black bean roasted over an open flame? The left claw of the rare Chesapeake lobster?”

“Why do I even bother?” Katherine dramatically laments, a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “You uncouth swine.”

“You’re the one that dated me.”

“A momentary lapse in judgement, I assure you.”

“Hey!”

As they head back downstairs, Davey can’t help but throw one last parting glance over his shoulder⁠⁠—Jack’s crowd of admirers has mostly dispersed, the various workers going back to their desks to eat or sulk now that there’s no one to gawk at⁠—and surge of satisfaction rushes through him, unbidden, yet undeniable. 

“Dave!” Jack calls, he and Katherine having made it most of the way down the staircase in the meantime. “What’re you doin’? C’mon!” 

“Sorry,” Davey says, hurrying after them.

“What, there somethin’ interestin’ goin’ on up there?” Jack asks, raising an eyebrow. “Somethin’ caught your eye?”

“No, Jackie” Davey says simply, not quite able to resist a smile. “Nothing at all.”

00000

Chapter four here

Tags!

@yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside @corbinthecowboy

[duskholland]

omg blurb night!!!!! what do you think about haz spending time with a female costar and maybe some rumours go around and reader gets jealous/upset and just loads loads of angst! (bonus points if it's all pinny and they aren't a couple, but ofc up to you!) 💛

this idea...omg. I got so into it. thank you so much for requesting!

warnings: alcohol consumption

-- continuing blurb night --

You know you have no valid reason to be upset, but as you spy Harrison chatting with his newest co-star across the club, it feels like you’ve been stabbed in the heart.

He’s got his head thrown back as he laughs, the sound muffled out by the banging tunes streaming through the nightclub, but it’s a noise you’re so familiar with that you can hear it rattling through your skull anyway. Harrison seems to lean in closer to her as she pulls out her phone and starts to show him something on the screen, and the sight of him bringing his hand up to rest on her shoulder makes you clench your fingers around your drink.

You might be a little bit in love with your best friend. Just a little bit. And to see him laughing and touching his friend so freely feels like you’ve had the air knocked out of your lungs, and suddenly you’re so jealous you can hardly breathe.

“What’s wrong with you?”

You glance to the side, managing a hard smile as you see your friend Harry there. Concern drifts through his stare as he nudges your shoulder.

“Nothing,” you reply, your voice chipping around the word.

“Liar.” Harry settles beside you, his eyes following the line of your gaze until he sees the offending figures of Harrison and his co-star, huddled up in the corner. “Ahh. I see.”

“What do you mean, you see?” You respond, gulping. You tear your eyes away from the heartbreaking scene playing out across the room to glare at him. When Harry wiggles his eyebrows at you, you scoff and down the rest of your drink.

“I know you think you’re very discreet, Y/N, but I’m not an idiot. And neither is Harrison.”

Your eyes round out with fear as your jaw loosens, a sudden feeling of dread pooling in the pit of your stomach. Harrison doesn’t know, does he? You’ve always been so careful, so intent on keeping your budding feelings under wraps so he didn’t find out and get all... weird about it. Because Harrison is your best friend, above everything else, and you would never do anything to jeopardise your relationship with him.

“What do you mean, neither is Harrison?”

Harry shrugs, his eyes glinting with something you can’t quite trace. “I’m just saying, if the two of you actually talked to one another, maybe you wouldn’t be standing here looking like you’re about to spontaneously combust.”

“I do not look like that,” you bite back. Your eyes shift back to Harrison, and you see he’s now moved a little further away from his co-star. The sight makes you relax. “Did you see the paparazzi shots, though? She was wearing his jacket.” You always used to be the one who got to wear Harrison’s jacket. “You can’t tell me that there isn’t something there.”

Harry just shrugs, and lands a chipper hand over your back. “I won’t pretend I know what his feelings are, but I do suggest that you buck up and just come out with it. And if not, at least try to look like you’re having fun, alright?”

You manage a weak smile. “Fine.”

The hours slip by, wasted away in the shitty West London club with sticky floors. You do everything in your power to avoid bumping into Harrison, which is dumb because he’s your best friend, but it hurts to look at him now. You spend a while fighting with your mind - analysing every single word you’ve said to him over the last month, regretting desperately that you hadn’t told him the second you felt something romantic for him, because now it appears it’s too late, and no matter what Harry says, you’re almost certain that Harrison feels something for his co-star. He’s by her side all night.

It’s not the best coping mechanism, but you decide to down a line of shots and dance the night away. 3am comes and you’re still going strong, despite the rest of the cast slowly peeling off and calling it a night. But you know that all that awaits you at home - in your flat, which you share with Harrison, of course - is loneliness and your thoughts, and you really don’t want to confront those, so more shots is your magical solution.

“Y/N, where have you been all night, I haven’t seen you?”

One moment you’re spinning around with Harry, the next Harrison’s face is drawing into focus. You grin lazily as your eyes take in his sweaty blond curls and his bloodshot eyes, but you frown as you see he’s staring at you with concern embedded over his beautiful, flushed face.

“Eh? I’ve been right here,” you shout out, voice barely cutting across the music. You giggle as someone bumps into your back, and your hands go out to land on Harrison’s shoulders. His fingers move up to hold your waist securely, and you stumble further into his arms. “You’re so warm, Haz, y’know that?” Your face presses into his shoulder as your hands trail along his biceps. “And strong. Have you been going to the gym?”

Harrison laughs heartily, and the sound is like music to your tipsy ears. He hugs you closer, and it makes your heart pang in your chest.

“Thanks, love,” he says, and you can hear the confusion in his voice, but instead you focus on the way he’s gently passing his hands over your back. When he speaks next, it’s directed to Harry, “How much has she had?”

Harry throws out a number that sounds remarkably too high, but you’re too content clinging onto Harrison to really care to correct him.

“Y/N. Hey, look at me.” Harrison’s back, his lips at your ear, and reluctantly you let him pull you out of his shoulder. “We’re gonna go home now, yeah? You’re sloshed.”

“But it’s gonna be cold outside,” you complain, eyebrows furrowing as you stare into his icy blue eyes. His gaze fills with mirth, and you bat at his shoulder. “Don’t laugh at me, Harrison. I’m gonna get cold.”

“Then you can use my jacket.”

Your grin sours immediately. “Ha,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. You step back, Harrison’s touch falling away from you completely. “I thought you’d already given your jacket away.”

His face is the picture of confusion, but Harrison reaches out for you anyway and winds his arm around yours. “It’s checked in the cloakroom?” He says, gently guiding you towards the exit of the club.

“No, no, not that one.” You don’t even know if he can hear you, over the noise of the club, but that thought comforts you. “I’ve seen the photos, Haz. I know you gave your other one away.”

You’re in the cloakroom now, and you’re the only ones milling around. Harrison sits you down on the bench in the middle as he begins to trail through the line of fluffy jackets, his gaze continuously being pulled back to you.

“Those photos are bullshit,” he mutters. “The media see one thing and take it completely out of context.”

“But you let her wear your jacket. That means something.”

“Does it?” Harrison turns his head to you, a small grin widening over his face. “I let you wear my jacket. Hell, Y/N, I let you keep my jackets, and my hoodies. Your wardrobe is full of my shirts. What does that mean, eh?”

Suddenly you become very interested in playing with your fingers. “So… You don’t like her?”

“Not romantically.”

You breathe out a large sigh of relief. “Okay.”

Harrison pulls you up from the bench carefully, and he wraps you up in his oversized jacket. You snuggle into the sleeves, and he stays standing in front of you, his warm hands travelling to your face. You freeze under the touch, your lips parting as you take in the way he’s looking at you so intently it feels like he’s drawing your heart up your throat.

“If you weren’t so hammered right now…” He starts, but he trails off with a sigh, and bites his lower lip.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Harrison moves one of his hands away from your face and tidies up a few strands of your unruly hair. “Let’s go home, okay?”

“What were you going to do?”

He’s looking at you softly, and he tilts his head to the side. “I was going to tell you something. A secret.”

“Tell me now,” you whine. He looks so pensive and reluctant, but beneath that, there’s something like adoration floating around his eyes. With a smile flickering out across your lips, you lean in nearer and add, “I promise I won’t remember in the morning.”

And Harrison sighs, but you know from the way his eyes deflate that you’ve worn him down. He links his hands with yours and says slowly,

“I’m in love with you, Y/N. The only person I want to be with is you.”

And it doesn’t matter that you’re beyond drunk, because you know that there’s no chance you’ll be forgetting those words any time soon.

[madasthesea]

Trope: May Dies

“Hey, Spider-Man,” Tony said, landing heavily on the roof he’d spotted Peter on.

Peter jumped. It was a bad sign he hadn’t heard the thrusters approaching—Tony wondered when the last time he ate was. How well he’d slept curled up in the corner of the rooftop, with what looked like a single blanket to keep him warm in the freezing Chicago wind.

Peter’s eyes were huge as he watched Tony step out of the suit.  

“How did you—you-you weren’t supposed to find me.”

Yeah, Tony knew that. The kid had been so careful as he snuck out of the hospital and onto the top of a greyhound bus. He’d kept his face hidden, he’d stayed in the dark. He hadn’t even gone back to his apartment to get clothes and whatever cash May might have had lying around.

“Why not?” Tony asked, tilting his head as he walked forward. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to shake Peter or hug him.

Peter opened his mouth, then looked away, over his shoulder to his battered backpack. Tony looked at it as well, looked the kid up and down, and decided the conversation could wait.

“You tried the pizza here yet?” Tony asked.

Peter blinked, then shook his head.

“Let’s get some pizza.”

 The pizza restaurant Tony picked was empty, which was why he had chosen it.

“Grab a table, kid,” Tony told Peter, then crossed to the bar, knocking on it until someone poked their head out from the kitchen.

After chatting with the chef and owner for a few minutes—and sliding them a couple hundred dollars as incentive to turned the sign on the door to closed, as least until Tony had left—Tony joined Peter at the corner booth he’d chosen. He understood the instinct to have something at your back, to be able to see every entrance, so he didn’t mention the choice, just slid into the red plastic booth.

Peter just watched him, looking apprehensive.

“Are you hurt, kid?”

Peter shook his head.

“Ok. I’m not even going to ask if you’re hungry, cause I’ve met you.”

Peter forced a half-smile. Tony hadn’t seen the kid this nervous since before the Vulture, more than eight months ago now.

While they were waiting for their food, Tony took the opportunity to get a good look at Peter, in the warm light of the pizza parlor.

He was pale, certainly. His cheeks were a little gaunter than Tony liked, and his hair greasier than Tony was used to seeing. Tony wondered if he’d had the chance to shower since he’d left New York.

The chef brought their food over and Tony let himself fuss a little bit, getting Peter a place and putting his straw in his water for him.

“Don’t eat too fast, you’ll make yourself sick,” he warned, and Peter looked up at him sharply. Tony didn’t know why he was surprised that he had put together that Peter had been living on the streets for the last several days.

Peter ducked his head, slowly eating his way through half the pizza.

Finally, after he put down his fork and knife, Peter cleared his throat.

“Um, thank you, Mr. Stark. Anyway, it was good seeing you and—”

“Peter.”

Peter stilled, closing his eyes.

Tony stirred his water with his straw, sighing.

“Let’s see if I’ve got the story straight,” he finally said, crossing his arms. “You get the call, you rush to the hospital and hear the news. They gave you, what, half an hour with May’s body?”

Peter flinched, sucking in a breath. His eyes were squeezed closed like he was in physical pain. Tony gave him a moment before continuing, his voice softer.

“And then the social services worker came to you and said they needed someone to call, an adult. Or it’d be CPS and a state sponsored grave for May. You panicked and gave them my number, waited until they left, and then you ran, went to the nearest bus station. Put your phone on a bus to D.C., your suit tracker on one to Philly—I got both of those back, by the way—and then came here. Why Chicago?”

Peter gave a one shouldered shrug, picking at a tear in the vinyl gingham tablecloth.

“Who would notice another homeless orphan?” He finally murmured, his voice so quiet Tony almost couldn’t hear him.

Tony clenched his jaw, gave an unhappy hum in response.

“So, what’s next? For you.”

“I got a job,” Peter said, a small gleam of pride in his eyes. Tony felt bad for dousing it, but he needed Peter to understand.

“Like a payroll job or a ‘thanks for helping, here’s ten bucks’ job?”

Peter frowned, his cheeks flushing. “It was fifteen,” he muttered, not looking at him.

Tony rubbed a hand down his face. Fifteen dollars might be enough to feed a single person for a day in a place like Chicago, but not someone with an enhanced metabolism. And who knew when the kid would get another break like that.

“Alright. Our arachnid friend ever gonna make an appearance?”

Peter bit his lip, glancing up at Tony. “I don’t know. There’s a lot of crime to stop, but I... might have to let go of the webs. Too distinct.”

“And when it starts dropping into the negatives, you still gonna be sleeping on that roof?”

Peter ducked his head in humiliation.

“I—I don’t know. I’ll figure it out.”

“Jeez, Parker, I can’t even pretend to be ok with this anymore. If I hear you say one more thing like that I’m going to—I’ll spontaneously combust, I swear. Pete, you don’t have to do this.”

Peter’s jaw clenched and he looked away, out the window.

“What other choice do I have?”

Tony snorted a humorless laugh. “Are you kidding? Me, kid. You called me and I came. I haven’t slept in four freaking days cause I was losing my mind trying to find you, I can’t—I don’t understand. Remotely anything going on in that head of yours.”

Peter sniffed, drew a line in the condensation on his glass.

“I can’t stay in-in Queens. I can’t... I can’t keep the apartment, I can’t afford school. I’m not going into the system, Mr. Stark, I—I refuse.”

“Of course not. You’re coming home with me.”

Peter crumpled his napkin and threw it on the table in a burst of energy that made Tony jump. “I’m not a charity project, Tony!” He snapped.

Tony blinked in shock. “I know you’re—”

“I’m not leaving.”

Tony took a breath, tried to reign in his instinct to tell the kid he didn’t have a choice, to order him to obey. He thought briefly of the guardianship papers he’d filled out at the hospital, of the adoption papers his lawyer was already preparing, and wondered what Peter would say about them if he knew.

“Then neither will I,” he said, trying to diffuse the tension, settling back in the booth and holding his arms out. “I’ll just stay here, following you around like a weirdo. Someone will inevitably call the cops and I’ll get arrested for stalking a minor. I’m rich and famous so I’ll get out no problem, but I’ll be forever known as Stark the Stalker.”

Peter snorted, fighting to keep his scowl in place.

“Stalking Stark. That’s me. Is that what you want?”

“No,” Peter murmured. He seemed embarrassed by his outburst.

“Then come back with me,” Tony pleaded. “Not as a charity project, not because I... pity you, or anything, kid, but because the thought of you here, on your own, makes me—I can’t stand it, Peter.” Even saying it out loud made pain shoot down his left arm and he flexed his hand. Peter eyed him uncertainly, as if not sure he could believe him.

“I can’t go back to New York,” Peter whispered, his bottom lip trembling before he steeled himself.

It was progress, however small. Tony seized on it. “Fine, pick a state. Heck, pick a country. Are you a mountain or ocean person?”

“Tony.”

“The point is,” Tony said, reaching across the table and taking Peter’s hand to get his attention, “your room’s all ready, Pete. Or, if you secretly hate me, I’ll get you your own apartment, get groceries delivered, FRIDAY, the works. Anything. Anywhere. Just not this.”

Peter swallowed, staring down at the vinyl tablecloth.

“I don’t hate you.”

Tony pressed his thumb against the inside of Peter’s wrist.

“And I really don’t hate you. You’re one of the few people I really don’t hate, kid,” Tony said quietly, his mouth quirking up on one side. Peter breathed a short laugh, the plastic bench squeaking as he settled back against it.

Tony watched him chew on his lip for a few moments.

“Peter.”

The kid looked up, his expression equal parts hurting and hoping.

“You called me,” Tony reminded him. That was the part Tony really couldn’t understand: if this had been Peter’s intention the whole time, why would he give the hospital Tony’s number—the one person in the world who would, without a doubt, find him. No matter how long it took.

Peter’s bottom lip trembled and he scrunched his nose like that would successfully keep the tears back.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I—I didn’t mean to use you for your money or anything, I just—I knew you would give her a good funeral.”

The air rushed out of Tony’s lungs in a rush and it was a moment before he could take another breath. He hadn’t been expecting that. He’d thought Peter had just panicked and run without really thinking about it.

“Of course,” he said, trying to sound less surprised than he was. He took a breath, then scooted further down the bench so his and Peter’s shoulders were nearly touching.

“May and I had a lot in common, actually,” he continued softly, reaching a hand out and tipping Peter’s chin up with his knuckle. “We both think the world of Peter Parker.”

The first tear spilled over. Tony sighed, brushing it away, and pushed Peter’s bangs off his forehead. Peter watched him with a cautious yearning in his eyes.  

He thought about what he’d longed to hear when his parents died, when Jarvis went a few years later. He’d never really believed in Karma or divine punishment, but in the dark, alcohol tainted hours of the night, he would wonder if it was his fault.

“You don’t deserve this, buddy.”

Peter sucked in a breath like he’d been slapped. Then his face crumpled, a sob too-long forced down ripping from his throat.

HIs instinct was to curl up, hide his face. He crossed his arms on the sticky table top and went to bury his face in them, hiccupping gasps shaking his frame, but Tony intercepted him.

“Uh-uh. That’s what I’m here for, kiddo,” Tony murmured, pulling Peter into his arms and tucking the boy’s face into his neck. He curled his fingers into the short hair at the base of Peter’s neck and closed his eyes, his heart aching as Peter wept.

He let Peter cry himself out, sure that he hadn’t allowed himself to mourn, too focused on trying to survive. The poor kid had been orphaned, again, run away from the city he knew and loved, and was now sleeping on a rooftop in Chicago with fifteen dollars to his name.

As Peter’s tears began to taper off, Tony’s hand smoothing up and down his back, Tony paused his litany of gentle words to whisper, “Will you come back home, Peter?”

“Please,” Peter hiccupped. “Yes, please. Please.”

Tony clutched Peter to him a little tighter. “You don’t have to do these things on your own, buddy. I know you feel alone right now but you aren’t. I’m here. And I will not leave you.”

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asked, his voice nasally from crying. Tony felt him exhale a shaky breath against his throat.

Tony brushed his thumb along the knob of Peter’s spine in acknowledgment.

“I really don’t like Chicago.”

Tony snorted and pulled away, capturing Peter’s face in his hands, stroking his cheekbone.

“Me neither, kid. Let’s go home.”

[dontshootmespence]

A Good Business Transaction

Summary: Desperate for money after getting into trouble, Y/N enters into a ‘business transaction’ of sorts with resident Thrombey asshole, Ransom.

Pairing: Ransom x Reader

Word Count: 2,368

Warning: Gambling problems, paying for sex, p in v, blow jobs and gagging, fingering, squirting, name-calling, biting, creampies, canon divergent. I really went all out on this one. See below.

A/N: You can all blame my horny-for-Chris gf @heycasbutt​ for this.

You have money - not Thrombey money - but you have it. While waiting for Meg to finish with the will reading, you step outside the palatial Thrombey mansion to light up a cigarette, hoping it will quiet your nerves. Unfortunately, you probably have to smoke the entire pack in ten minutes and subsequently die to feel like you aren’t on edge anymore, but hey, that’s life. 

With shaky hands, you tap the lighter and watch the flame ignite, hoping that maybe you’ll spontaneously combust and not have to deal with your looming money problems.

“You know that shit’ll kill ya, right?” 

There goes the cigarette taking the edge off. “Eat shit, Drysdale.” Taking a drag, you let the smoke go into the subtle breeze making its way past the mansion. “What happened with the reading?”

“Family business,” he replies as the corner of his lips turns upward. “You can ask Meg. We’re all fucked.” Something on his face doesn’t read like he’s fucked - like he has something up his sleeve.

Meg’s been your best friend for years, despite you being a few years older, so you were hoping that she might be able to help you with your money issue, but if the whole family is fucked, you assume the entirety of Harlan’s money went to his caretaker Marta. “Well, fuck.”

You put out the half-finished cigarette on the side of the house and pull another one from the pack, quickly lighting it up as you try to wipe away a tear. Last thing you want to be doing is crying in front of Ransom Drysdale. Meg is the only reason you’ve ever met him. He’s sexy as hell but all the looks and money in the world can’t stop Ransom from being the world’s biggest asshole. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, the smallest note of caring entering his voice before he continues with his usual self. “Can’t milk Meg for all the money she’s not getting?”

“Fuck off, Ransom. Meg’s my best friend. I don’t do that kind of shit to people.”

“Everyone does when money’s involved,” he said confidently. “You got money problems?”

“I’m into it with a bookie, alright?”

“How much?”

“Fifty large, and my dad’s basically cut me off because he’s got a new whore he spends all his money on. The child he never wanted from the now dead mother isn’t his priority anymore.”

“What a cocksucker.” Ransom seems genuine for one of the first times in his life. “I can help you out.”

The red ember of the cigarette draws your attention for a moment. You know what he wants. He’s made no secret over the years. “With what money, Drysdale? You just said you’re all fucked.”

“I’ve got my ways.” The glint in his eyes said he was about to fuck his whole family in the ass, including Meg, but you had bookies on your ass and if he was about to come into some money, you needed it. 

You take a step toward him and take another drag. “I don’t what you’re about to do, but you really mean that? You’d keep the bookies from killing me? Because I’m headed six feet under if I don’t pay up by the end of the week.”

“Yea, I’m not completely heartless. My family can eat shit and die, but you-”

“You don’t want me to die when you haven’t had the chance to sleep with me yet.”

“Your words, not mine.”

“When do you expect to come into this money?” Despite Meg being your best friend your need for self-preservation trumps all. You’re about to fuck Meg over and yet you can’t bring yourself to care. 

“Few days. A week tops.”

“How about I give you a hint of what’s to come if you get me out of this?”

A raised eyebrow tells you that you’ve got him on the hook. He could be bullshitting about money, but your gut says he isn’t. “Any good business transaction needs some good faith, right?”

What an asshole. Grabbing him by the coat, you guide him behind the house. With his family losing their minds inside, no one will notice if you indulge Ransom’s dirty mind. You back yourself into the wall and slide down, feeling your hair catch in the roughness of the reddish brick.

“You think about this a lot?” He asks. “You got down on your knees pretty quickly.”

You glare at him through hooded eyes - the ‘eat shit’ implied. As you fumble with his belt, you hear him chuckle. God, you hate him. You pull him free of his boxers and run your tongue along the tip, catching the little drop of pre-cum that sits there. Despite his cocksure attitude, he shivers and slips his hand into your hair. “You gonna suck my cock, little girl?”

“I’m going to gag on your cock, Drysdale. Let you fuck it like it’s my pretty little cunt.”

Groaning, he grasps either side of your head and braces his forearms against the brick wall. “Open.”

You do as he says, sticking your tongue. “Fuck my mouth, Drysdale. And if you come through for me, you’ll get so much more. After I get paid of course.”

“Of course,” he says suredly. 

Reaching out, you grasp his balls with your dominant hand and guide him into your mouth, wrapping your lips around the velvety smooth skin. You moan around him and watch his jaw drop. This is gonna be the best head he’s ever gotten, if only to ensure that he pays up when the time comes. While his family fights somewhere in the distance, you take him over and over again, making a point not to swallow. If Ransom is anything, it’s dirty, nasty and messy.

A trail of spit drops onto your shirt. “Look at me,” he demands. “Stay still. It’s my turn.”

He places a hand behind your head. At first, you think it’s the act of a gentlemen, but then you realize it’s just Ransom ensuring that if he fucks your brains out he won’t actually fuck your brains out against the brick wall. It’ll be hard to get his money if he’s a convicted murderer. Ransom steps closer to the wall and guides his cock into your mouth again, unrelenting when he feels you gag. Your reflex forces him out and you laugh. Against your better judgement you have thought about his cock in your mouth more times than you care to admit. 

Arousal pools between your legs. If it weren’t for the fact that you need money, and the fact that Ransom would 100 percent fuck you senseless and then go back on his promise, you’d be him to fuck you right here, right now. As he thrusts in and out of your mouth, his cock heavy on your tongue, you hollow your cheeks and try to look up at him. You want to watch the cocky bastard lose his damn mind. 

When he sees your unfaltering gaze, he picks up the pace, his cock getting harder and harder with each pass. “I’m going to come down that pretty little throat.”

You swallow him down and grab his ass, anchoring him there as he pulses down your throat. You hate how turned on you are, shaking as you come. His right hand slinks around your neck so he can feel himself in your throat. “Little slut likes getting her throat fucked?”

“I do,” you reply, swallowing the last of his come as you rise to your feet. “Come through for me next week and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

As you walk away, you wipe the remnants of your ‘business transaction’ from your lips, confident that he’ll deliver.

                                                            ----

Meg’s been crying to you all week. Marta had the inheritance for all of a couple of days when she was found to have killed Harlan. She didn’t. You knew it. Something to do with Ransom you’re sure. But with your deadline to your bookies looming, you can’t bring yourself to care. 

As you knock on Ransom’s front door, you glance around, hoping that no one sees you, especially Meg. She knows about your money problems, so if she sees you’re still alive after walking into Ransom’s place she’ll put it together. She’s a smart girl.

“Come in,” he says, swinging the door open unceremoniously. “You got the account you need it routed to?”

“Yea,” you say, handing over the paper.

He says something about routing the money through various accounts so it’s safer, safer for him obviously; he wants to make sure your bookies can’t come after ‘his’ money. “Alright, call your guy and make sure the debt is paid.”

With shaky hands, you dial the number and wait for him to pick up. “Got my payment?”

“Close call, girl. Don’t let it happen again.” The disembodied voice responds. 

“It won’t.” Because you don’t plan on being here much longer than you have to. You’re going to pay your debt to Ransom, because he’s hot so why not, and then you’re planning on stealing what you can from your father and bouncing before he can do anything about it. Shouldn’t be a problem considering he doesn’t pay attention to anyone but his new whore. “Done,” you say, turning toward Ransom. “I appreciate it. I’ll be out of your hair soon. But I am ready to pay my debt if you’re so inclined.”

“You wear the type of lingerie I asked for?”

Unbuttoning your top, you show him a peek of the nude, see-through lace bra you’re wearing. “Panties match, too.”

“Good girl.” There’s a glint in his eyes that makes you weak in the knees. You’ve had plenty of sex in your life, but something about Ransom’s brash demeanor, give no fucks attitude and search for his own pleasure and his alone gets to you in the best way possible. You have no misgivings about your relationship with Ransom. It’s a business transaction. Money for sex. You got your money and you like sex, so why not follow through? “Strip. Leave the lingerie on though. I plan on destroying it.”

His red gaze remains fixed on you as you let the shirt drop to the floor and your jeans pool around your ankles. “Best 50k I’ve ever spent.”

“Bastard.”

“You like it,” he says as he begins to circle you.

Behind you, he pulls off his light blue sweater and throws it who knows where. All you hear is its soft thud on the ground before he spins you around and pushes you back toward the couch. You fall into it and watch him reach for what appears to be condoms. “Don’t,” you say. “I’m on the pill and I was just tested. I want you to come in my tight little cunt.”

“You are a little slut.” Happily, he throws the box to the side and drops to his knees in front of the couch, pulling the lace to the side so he can lap at your arousal. “I’m going to make you squirt. Scream my name. I plan on ruining you for every man that comes after me.” 

His tongue slides up and down your slit a few times before he slips two fingers inside. With his other hand, he rips the panties to shreds and discards the material on the floor next to him. You grab his head and silently beg for more - faster, harder - anything. When you clench your legs around his head, he starts to fuck you with his tongue, his hands clasping your thighs like his life depends on it. 

Pulling away, he leaves you wanting as he rough fucks your pussy with his fingers. “Squirt for me, slut.”

Your orgasm crests in an instant and then you’re doing what you haven’t before, crying out his name as you squirt. He laps it up like a man starved as you shake, his fingers still inside you. “You’ll never find another woman like me either, Hugh. Every woman you fuck until the end of time. You’ll wish she were me.”

He says nothing. You use his real name, knowing it’ll anger him, but he’s speechless. You’re right and he hates that. Pushing his pants down, he kicks them off and spreads your thighs with his roughened palms, bearing all his weight on you. 

With no ceremony whatsoever, he plunges into your wet heat, groaning at the fit. “God, your pussy is perfect.” Each slam of his cock makes you cry out, back arching into the couch, nipples taut against the thin, but confining fabric of your bra. Whether he senses your frustration or just wants to see all of you, you don’t know, and you don’t care, because he pushes the lace above your breasts. 

As he pounds into you, he bends down to take one of your nipples between his teeth. “Fill my pussy up Ransom. I want it.” You wrap your legs around his waist and use your heels to push him into you harder and harder. 

His sweat-slick skin meets yours as he bends down to take your mouth in a searing kiss. It’s filled with lust and hatred and leaves your head spinning as another orgasm threatens to turn you to jelly. 

Each groan and growl says he isn’t far from coming himself. He grasps your inner thighs and scratches at the skin, pulling out all the way before pumping back in. When he comes, you cry out, “Ransom!” You rub your clit and arch up, muscles spasming as his cock twitches inside you, hot thick ropes of come pooling inside you. 

“Fuckin hell,” he breathes. “I’ll be thinking about this pussy for a long time.”

You dip your finger into your pussy and feel his come, bringing it to your mouth for a taste. You make a point of not breaking his gaze. Sure you’re leaving, but you want to make a lasting impression on the asshole. “Take a picture, Ransom, it’ll last longer.”

Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he finds his phone and replies, “You know what? I think I will. For posterity’s sake.” He smirks.

Blissed out and filled with come, you smile for the camera. “Eat shit, Drysdale.”

[crystalessenceswrites]

Shadows- Chapter Two

*not my gif* I’m using a Javi one because the vibes match the chapter, sue me

Shadows

A modern monster AU Pairings: Din Djarin x fem!reader Rating: T (at the moment- subject to change) Warnings: Swearing (like a lot, I’m sorry), dark themes, attempted drugging, mentions of drugs and alcohol, canon-typical violence, death of a background character, mention of blood Summary: Crypto- concealed; secret. You have always lived your life in the shadows; after all, you’re one of the creatures who go bump in the night. He has sworn his life to a creed that aims to protect the world from monsters like you.

[Masterlist] [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] Cross-posted to AO3

A/N: yeah I’ve got no chill this week apparently

Chapter Two

A long five weeks pass without any major incidents. There were sightings around town of the mysterious Mandalorian, but everyone went out of their way to stay off his war path. He was busy, sticking his nose in many known crypto communities and businesses. The hunter leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. It was obvious he was getting information for someone, but no one had been able to locate an informant yet. With how accurate his targeting was the assumption was he had another crypto tipping him off, though others were skeptical. Who in the right mind would help a Mandalorian? Everyone was on edge; five weeks was too long for a lone wanderer to stick around and the longer he was in town the higher the risk there would be another run-in. The only upside to it all was that even after all this time he was still alone.

You went about work as close to normal as possible. Zachriel was still in the wind so whatever lead he could have given you was moot for now. There were plenty of other bounties to work, plenty of other criminals and scum to deal with. The jobs went smoothly but you could not help but look over your shoulder every step of the way. It was like you were expecting the Mandalorian to burst through the door again, try to kill you for doing your job. Even after five weeks the paranoia was still there. You were getting rather tired of it. Kira was too. She’d gone on about it all afternoon, saying your stress was stressing her out. Insisted you needed to relax. It had been weeks, you lived and worked in a large city, you did not need to worry about seeing the Mandalorian again. So, with cash in hand from a successful bounty Kira had convinced you to come out for a bit and unwind. Some greasy food and drinks in a mediocre pub was apparently the cure for what ailed you. It had been too long since you’d spent time together outside of work, so you agreed, sliding onto the barstool next to Kira at the waterfront pub.

“See? You don’t spontaneously combust when you take a break,” Kira jokes, bumping shoulders.

Rolling your eyes, you flag down a bartender. “Just like you don’t spontaneously burst into flames when you come into work.”

“Rude. Not everyone is a workaholic like you,” the woman pouts. “Plus, I’ve got a niece to look after. Ally’s shop has been doing well so I get to babysit more.”

“That’s good to hear! I’m always saying I need to stop by more, get some flowers for the house.”

“Ally would love to see you, I’m sure. Kayla too. She misses her other aunties.”

“I miss the little angel too. I’ll have to come by next time you’re watching her.” You adored the little bundle of energy that was Kira’s niece. Going on five years old she was incredibly well behaved and beyond sharp. Kira credited her mixed bloodline, thinking Kayla carried more magic in her blood that her mother. Not that Ally didn’t have a little something, there was no way her success as a florist wasn’t in part due to her fey bloodline.

“You can take her instead-” Kira grins- “little squirt tiring you out might do you some good.”

“Not sure why you think wearing me out would be a good idea-” you pause as the grinning bartender approaches.

“What can I get you lovely ladies?”

You shiver as the man blatantly looks both of you over. Kira rolls her eyes at him before passing along your orders.

“This is why I hate going out.”

Kira makes a gagging face when the pasty man turns his back to you. “I can’t blame you there.”

Sighing you glance out over the growing pub crowd. It was still early in the evening; you were sure the place would fill up soon and you would rather finish up and go home before that happened.

There’s a strange prickle of familiarity as your gaze sweeps over the crowd gathered in the back corner by the pool tables. You look over the group again, picking out a broad-shouldered man with a mop of dark curls and neatly trimmed facial hair.

The universe had it out for you, didn’t it?

Kira picks up on your sudden tension, “what’s wrong?”

Spinning back around to the bar you bury your face in your hands. “Five o’clock. Heavy grey jacket, dark curls and facial hair.”

The blonde fakes a laugh, causally looking out over the crowd, “spotted him.”

“That’s the Mando from Lunar.”

“Well shit.” Kira turns back to you, “do you think he’ll recognize you?”

Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth you nod. “If I can pick him out of a crowd my best guess is, he could do the same to me.” It was not as if you’d been wearing anything to disguise your identity when you’d gone to Lunar.

Kira groans.

“We need to leave. Neither of us are armed enough to deal with a Mandalorian.”

“We’ll attract too much attention,” Kira shakes her head. “Just keep your back turned. We’ll have our drinks and then we can leave.”

You were so screwed.

“It’ll be fine. He won’t attack us in public.”

Kira’s point is not all that reassuring. He’d shot at you feet from a crowded crypto-bar. Didn’t seem all that worried about it then either.

With perfectly awful timing the bartender returns, grin still plastered on his face. He passes you both your drinks with a wink, “enjoy ladies.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, absentmindedly passing him a few dollars in tip.

Swirling the drink in one hand you stare vacantly at the glass, no longer in the mood for alcohol. Kira gags at the retreating mans back again. You can’t help but give a halfhearted chuckle at her antics. She always was one to diffuse tense situations.

Kira goes to take a sip of her drink, a sharp acidic odor reaching you as she raises her glass to her lips. You nearly slam her hand down onto the bar top to stop her.

“What in the actual fuck?” She hisses at you.

Wordlessly you swirl her glass around, look for the source of the smell. The slight tinkling against the glass is barely noticeable above the din of the pub crowd.

The bartender was more than just a sleaze.

“There-” you swirl the glass around for her so she can see the last of the opaque orb dissolving into her drink- “succubus tears.”

Human date rape drugs were bad enough. Crypto drugs were beyond insidious in their effects. Was this what the Mandalorian was here about?

Kira’s lip curls into a snarl, “son of a bitch.”

“I’d heard there was something hanky going on in the neighborhood, but his face isn’t on any of the bounty lists.”

If looks could kill the bartender would be long dead from Kira’s piercing gaze. Not that she wouldn’t actually kill him with her bare hands without so much as a second thought. “I’m sure I’d remember his ugly mug if it was. Drugging patrons’ drinks, fucking monster in a target rich environment.”

.

He had been kicking around the pub for over an hour when Din began to doubt Karga’s information. There had been more than a handful of women who had come and gone at the bar with nothing out of the ordinary occurring. Din wondered if Karga was just trying to get rid of some local competition. The police reports he’d supplied Din with were the only reason he stuck around. Six women had disappeared in the last three weeks, all of them had last been seen at the bar. The bartender on shift was a known narcotics dealer but the police had not been able to pin anything on him. Karga had suggested maybe he was using some sort of drug humans wouldn’t know how to look or test for. It was entirely possible. So, Din kept sipping at his beer, watching the crowd with his back to the wall.

A sudden movement at the far end of the counter caught his eye. The two women who had come in maybe ten or so minutes ago were talking rather hurriedly, leaning in with their gazes fixed on the bartender. Din perked up when the man noticed their stares. He could see the sweat forming on the man’s brow from his vantage point. Had these two caught him in the act?

Eyes glued to the floor the bartender skitters away to the back of the venue, Din moves to follow, only pausing when he notices the two women also rushing after him. The blonde has a piercing gaze that could kill, only confirming his theory. Din’s whole body tenses when he catches the profile of the second woman, the same cold look on her face as when she stared him down, sword in hand.

What was she doing here? What was she doing with his suspect? Again.

Karga had looked into her after the events at Lunar but had come up empty. He didn’t even have a name for the mysterious woman, just a series of security cam photos from outside the club every few months over the past few years. She was obviously doing business with the bar owner but Karga had been right, she left him with more questions than answers.

Din pauses for a moment before following the three into the back. He clears what appears to be a storeroom and the office before coming up on a busted loading dock door.

“You know all we wanted was the night off.”

Din inches through the dark dock, following the voices to the back alley.

“Then walk away, bitch!”

Crouching behind a pillar Din can make out most of the scene. The bartender stands next to a second, knife-wielding man with greasy grey hair. The mystery woman and her friend both have swords drawn and pissed off looks in their eyes.

“Slayers don’t walk away until the bounty’s dead. You should know that,” the blonde taunts.

Slayers? Bounties?

“You two are gonna’ be the dead ones!” the bartender shouts, pulling a handgun out of thin air, and aiming for the pair.

Din allows himself a moment of awe as the women spring into action. They’re well trained and comfortable with the weapons they wield. Swords were not Din’s preferred choice for a gunfight but the two were fast. Inhumanly fast. Although Din had yet to identify what species they were, he knew they were not human.

Despite the inherent disadvantage the blonde woman appeared to be fending off the bartender without too much sweat. His mystery woman on the other hand almost appeared to be toying with the accomplice. She had him cornered and disarmed; the corner of her lips ever so slightly quirked up.

“Last chance to surrender or I’m collecting the bounty on your corpse.”

.

They never surrender but you offer anyways. If you didn’t have to deal with a dead body, you’d gladly take it. The idea was particularly tempting considering you were not exactly prepared to dispose of a body right now.

The man snarls and gnashes his inhuman teeth at you, façade slipping off his visage. You’d take that as a ‘no’ on the surrender.

“I hate imps,” you mutter, lunging at the bounty. A gunshot echoes through the alley as your sword pierces the heart of your bounty.

“Shit!” Kira spits, her blade clattering on the pavement.

“Serves you right, bitch!”

You spin around to find the bartender aiming for Kira’s head, feral grin splitting across his face as she clutches a now-bleeding arm to her chest. No matter how fast you were, you couldn’t get to him before he pulled the trigger. What a great situation you two had unknowingly walked in on.

Every part of you freezes as another shot reverberates in the alley. It takes you a moment to process it wasn’t aimed at Kira.

The bartender stumbles back, hands scrambling to put pressure on the new hole in his leg. You track backwards to find the Mandalorian standing on the loading dock, smoking gun hanging loose in one hand.

“Fuck,” Kira notices him too, clumsily grabbing at her sword with one hand.

Before you can blink, you’re at her side, helping to put pressure on her upper arm. The wound doesn’t look life threatening but that doesn’t mean you want to wait around for blood loss to kick in. You need to get Kira back to the clinic.

“So, what, the Mando is gonna try and kill us now?” At least she’s lucid enough to have an attitude.

“Mando?” The bartender’s eyes go wide, “hell no.” And he was gone, his blood the on the pavement the only indicator he had occupied the space before you’d blinked. Damn handy dark magic.

Kira rolls her eyes, “coward.”

The Mandalorian scoffs, dark gaze still trained on the two of you.

“What?” you snap back. Two run-ins, you were beyond sick of this guy.

“Since when do you go around killing your own kind?” His gaze flickers back to the body behind you like he could not believe you’d skewered a man through the heart moments ago.

“First off, don’t lump us in with criminal’s-” you sneer- “two, it’s our job.”

You wish you could savor the look of pure confusion that passes over his features, but you are too tuned in to the way his grip tightens around his gun.

“You hunters think just because you know we exist, you know everything,” Kira snickers.

Shaking your head, you try to put yourself in between Kira and the armed man who had no qualms with shooting cryptos. This was not the time for Kira’s abrasive personality. “We’re not your enemy, Mandalorian. Slayers and hunter have essentially the same goal.” That was a bit of stretch but you couldn’t care less. The blood running down Kira’s arm was your first priority.

Kira scoffs, “nah, (Y/N), they kill indiscriminately- they’re the enemy.”

Mando quirks an eyebrow but does not make any move to shoot or approach.

“Kira, enough. We aren’t allowed to kill humas. That’s that.”

She rolls her eyes, “he’s tried to kill you twice. I think that counts.”

“He’s not trying to kill me right now-” you glance back at him- “right?”

The Mandalorian shrugs but slides his gun back into the waistband of his jeans. Maybe this day wasn’t completely hopeless after all.

[delectablycoolscientist]

False Vyper’s amazing texting storyline, the pool part

The False Vyper has this incredible LadyNoir texting comic on her IG and the most recent one was so adorable and emotional, I had to write the scene in my head out.

The Pool

“Girl, are you ok?”

Marinette was brought out of her reverie by Alya unceremoniously dropping onto the bench beside to her.

“I- I’m fine! I’m great! Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

“Uh, because Adrien frickin’ Agreste asked you to hand him a towel while dressed in nothing but the swim trunks from the latest Gabriel line and you just handed it to him without even looking up?”

She did?

Marinette glanced around, spotting the man in question climbing up on the diving board, and yeah, she could see Alya’s point. Adrien was hot to the point of spontaneous combustion, and Marinette hadn’t even noticed.

She turned back to her best friend.

“I’ve just… had a lot on my mind.”

Alya softened.

“I know, babe. I’ve seen it in your face for weeks. I wish you would talk to me about whatever’s going on with you.”

Marinette fought back the tears that threatened to form in her eyes.

“Hey! Hey girl, none of that! I didn’t mean to make you cry!”

Alya wrapped her arms around her, and Marinette took a deep steadying breath, feeling secure in her best friend’s embrace.

“Thanks, Alya,” she whispered. “I promise, if there were something you could do, I would tell you about it, but…”

“Ok, sweetie. I trust you. But you tell me if I can help. You know I just want you to be happy.”

“Thanks,” she said again, sitting back up and wiping her eyes. “I really appreciate it.”

“You gonna be ok?”

“Yeah. Thanks. I’m just… I’m gonna… I don’t know. But thanks.”

“Want me to stay?”

“No, go have fun with Nino. I’ll get myself together and come in a few minutes.”

“Don’t be too long or I’m coming back for you.”

“Yes ma’am. I’ll be there soon.”

As Alya took off for the pool, Marinette sighed. Here she was on this long-awaited day out with her friends, and all she could do was moon about in the corner. Wrestling with her feelings versus her responsibilities was getting seriously old.

“Alya just wants me to be happy. I just want to be happy. Why can’t I just be happy?”

“Oh Marinette,” Tikki’s sweet voice piped up from her backpack on the table. “You can be happy, if you choose it.”

“But what about all the dangers?! None of that has gone away!”

“And they won’t. But you really can’t keep running yourself around like this, Marinette. It’s not fair to yourself, or to Chat.”

“I just… I want to be happy!”

Marinette sat up, squaring her shoulders. She took several calming breaths, trying to shut out the people around her.

She reached past Tikki for her phone, turned her back on the friends that were still at the water, and pulled up the messaging app with trembling fingers.

“Ok. Here goes nothing.”

-       LB: Okay, I have an answer

She pushed send before she could change her mind again, and dropped her phone to her lap, willing her heart to calm down. He probably wouldn’t see the text right away anyway; it was a beautiful day, he was almost certain to be busy.

She jumped a mile and fumbled her phone when it buzzed in her hands.

-       Silly Kitty: Ok wow, okay, we’re doing this now

-       Silly Kitty: Okokok I can do this

Oh God he was freaking out. I mean, she was freaking out too, but she hadn’t meant to cause a spiral in HIM.

Before she could reply, he’d texted again.

-       Silly Kitty: Is this like, going to be a really bad answer and that’s why you’re texting me instead of waiting for the next time we see each other?

She wrote back quickly, trying to put him at ease. But she supposed he did deserve an explanation as to why she was doing this over text.

-       LB: I’m texting you because I can’t stop thinking about it

(And it’s affecting my every-day life, she didn’t say)

-       Silly Kitty: Oh… What we talked about yesterday or… the kiss?

Marinette’s face flushed in a way that had nothing to do with the sun.

-       LB: …both

-       Silly Kitty: Oh

She put her phone down and took another deep breath. Ok, she could do this.

~~~

Adrien watched Alya walk away from Marinette with some concern. If Alya hadn’t been able to get Marinette to join them, something must be really wrong. She probably wouldn’t want to talk to him about it if she wasn’t talking to Alya, but he could still be supportive. He hauled himself out of the pool and made his way towards their group’s table, intent on just giving her a friendly greeting, to make sure she felt included, but as he approached, he heard his phone buzz in his bag.

Sighing, he pulled his gaze from the swoop of Marinette’s ponytail. Hoping desperately that it wasn’t Natalie about to tell him his father had scheduled a last-minute shoot that would ruin his day, he dried his hands with his towel and pulled out the device.

His whole demeanor immediately brightened seeing the app in his notifications, but then sunk as anxiety pooled in his gut, recalling the precarious state of their relationship. He sat down before opening it.

-       My Lady: Okay, I have an answer

Oh God. It was happening. His life as he knew it was about to end right here at the pool. He tried to answer, but couldn’t stop himself from rambling into his keyboard.

Bless her, she tried to calm him down. But…

-       My Lady: I can’t stop thinking about it

-       My Lady: … both

Oh. That was the only thing he could come up with. Oh. Really eloquent, Adrien. But what did this MEAN? He stared at his phone desperately, willing it to chime again. After a moment, her three little dots popped up on the bottom of the screen.

-       My Lady: I actually… I’ve realized that I’ve been thinking about us a lot recently… even before I kissed you

The dots came back. Adrien sucked in a breath through his teeth.

-       My Lady: And I’ve already told you why this is such a bad idea and all the risks we’re taking if we do this but…

His heart went on a rollercoaster ride down to his stomach as he read the first part of the sentence, then swooped back up and lodged in his throat on that little ‘but…’ at the end. He gripped his phone so hard that it hurt.

-       My Lady: I really like you, Chat. I want to see if us being in a relationship will actually work

Adrien choked as the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding forced its way past the obstruction in his throat. He tried to swallow it back, with limited success, as his emotions bubbled up from his stomach.

There it was. The words he’d waiting years to hear. Read. Whatever. It somehow didn’t seem possible.

-       CN: Wait really?? Are you being serious right now? Are you sure?

-       CN: This isn’t a joke is it? I’ll actually cry

-       My Lady: Lol no, this isn’t a joke

Of course it wasn’t. Ladybug wasn’t cruel like that. She was kindness and softness and LOVE and she wanted to be with HIM. He blinked rapidly as tears pricked the corners of his eyes, chuffing a watery laugh.

-       CN: Ok never mind, I’m still crying

-       My Lady: Pffft you’re such a dork

Of course, she thought he was joking about crying. She didn’t seem to realize how much this meant to him. He would have to show her. Yes, he was a dork, but he didn’t give a damn how stupid he looked because LADYBUG wanted to give a RELATIONSHIP with HIM a chance! Adrien clapped a hand to his mouth to keep from actually crying out loud as he continued to stare at the beautiful words on his screen.

“I really like you, Chat. I want to see if us being in a relationship will actually work.”

The tears were coming back.

“Dude, are you OKAY?”

Adrien looked up to see Nino giving him a bemused, vaguely concerned look. He hastily turned his phone over.

“Yeah! Yeah I’m fine!”

“Are you CRYING?”

Adrien gave him a watery smile.

“I just got some REALLY good news, and I’m a little emotional about it.”

“Aww, bro! That’s awesome! What is it?”

Nino dropped onto the bench and put his arm around Adrien’s shoulder in a side hug. Adrien bumped his shoulder affectionately.

“I can’t say yet. I promise, as soon as I can, you’ll be the first to know.” Adrien wiped the moisture from his eyes.

“I’d better be. If it’s got you going like that, it must be really special.”

Adrien smiled, letting his gaze go distant over the pool, wondering where his Lady was right now, and if she was as happy as he was.

“It is,” he whispered.

She is, he thought.

[lilfellasblog]

Panic! at the Analogical

Summary: This is in response to the following ask: “ idk about you, but too often i see virgil be the meek one, the shy one, the one reluctant to be in any relationship out of fear. but like, here's a concept... Virgil's anxiety making him do something out of impulse out of fear of not getting another chance to do it. Like... kissing Logan right on the lips during a Moment(tm) for example.”

I hope this is what you’re looking for!!

A/N: If you liked this, please reblog. It is the only way to help this writing reach a wider audience.

TW: mild panic, mild negative thinking, mentions of car crashes and deaths from car crashes, a character lists off several ways to die, kissing, allusions to making out and sex. Let me know if I missed any!!!

AO3 here!

Fic Masterlist here!

“Salutations, Roman, Patton. Good morning Virgil.”

Virgil jumped and almost choked on his coffee. He turned his head towards where Logan had sat down with his own coffee at the table. The Sides were getting together for breakfast, and Logan had his tablet, ready for their morning rundown of the day’s schedule.

“Mornin’ Logan,” he mumbled, not making eye contact, his cheeks burning.

Virgil made the coffee, Patton had made a quiche with pancakes and bacon as side dishes, and Roman “helping” by shamelessly flirting with Patton. The two had gotten together three months ago and had been sickeningly sweet with each other ever since. Virgil teased them for it and pretended to be nauseated by the displays, but in reality he was happy for them. They were great for each other.

Logan finished before the other Sides, surprising no one. Somehow, he always beat out the other Sides, even Roman during steak night! Roman had pouted until Patton had placed little kisses all over his face.

The logical Side washed his hands and placed his dishes in the sink, pulled out his tablet, and adjusted his glasses.

How does Logan make adjusting his glasses so fucking sexy? I’m too gay to exist, oh my god I need help.

Logan cleared his throat, and Virgil was about to discorporate, he was sure of it.

“Alright, Thomas has a rather busy day up until 5:30 PM, when he will make dinner and relax for the evening. Immediately after breakfast, he will need to drive to the office for a remote business meeting with Marvel to discuss screenwriting." Virgil nodded towards Logan to acknowledge him, knowing Thomas would have to be alert to drive.

Oh god, 40,000 people die in car accidents every year in America, what if Thomas dies in a car accident on his way to the office? What if he doesn’t get the deal with Marvel? What if he never gets to see his friends and family again?! What if he dies before I can ask Logan out?! What if- wait, what?

Virgil shook himself and focused on his breathing exercises. It’s okay, it’s okay. Thomas is a good driver. It’ll be okay, I’m okay-

“Virgil? Are you alright?”

Virgil met Logan’s concerned gaze. His deep, espresso eyes were focused on him, but they weren’t as hard and intense as usual. They were gentle, warm, rich, captivating…

I’m not okay.

“Yeah L, sorry. Just started thinking about car accidents and stuff. Sorry, I’m good.”

“If you’re sure,” Logan said slowly, gaze never wavering, soft but penetrating.

Virgil smiled shakily at him. “I am. I’ll be fine.”

Logan gave him a quick nod, dropping the conversation. “Alright. As I was saying, after the meeting…”

Logan proceeded to go through the entire day, each of the Sides jumping in and either asking questions or giving more information. Dark, anxious thoughts continued to plague Virgil, his heart rate increasing and his hands shaking slightly.

In a second, we could just be… gone. Like that. With our opportunities gone, we wouldn’t be able to do anything else, experience anything new...

“And finally, like I said, Thomas should have time for a relaxing evening, so we should be able to relax as well.”

“What are you doing?!” Virgil blurted out in a panic.

The only indication Logan gave of being surprised was a twitch of his eyebrows. “I’m going over Thomas’ schedule for today.”

Virgil bit his lip and looked down, his face on fire. Maybe this is how spontaneous human combustion works. But we’re Sides, would it even work like that? Wait, shit, talking to Logan, focus.

“I mean, this evening. What are you doing this evening?”

“Ah. I was intending on re-reading a few astronomy textbooks, but I would be amenable to spending the evening in your presence if you so desire.”

Oh. Oh shit. He said he wanted to hang out with me. What do I do? Fuckfuckfuckfuck what do I do what do I do what do I do…

“Dope!” Virgil finger-gunned at Logan and immediately wanted to melt into a puddle and cease to exist.

Logan huffed out a laugh and sent Virgil a rare half-smile. While Virgil waited for the static to fade from his ears, Logan wrapped up the rest of the daily review and the others finished breakfast, Virgil having heard nothing after he ruined any chance he had with Logan.

“Oh, and Virgil?”

Virgil looked up at Logan, eyes wide.

Logan smiled softly. “I’m looking forward to tonight,” he said before he walked out of the kitchen.

Virgil felt like he was floating. Was that flirting? Was Logan flirting with me? Was I flirting with Logan? Oh SHIT, is this a date?!

Virgil sank out to his room and flopped on his bed, panicking but doing his best to keep that from his Host. He spent the rest of the day masterfully avoiding thinking about his maybe-date with Logan, only for that to blow up in his face during dinner, because Logan was at dinner, and the date was after dinner, and oh god is this even a date?! Should I be wearing something different?! FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK-

“Salutations Patton, Roman. Good evening Virgil.”

Virgil’s voice cracked as he replied, “Hey!”

I’m gonna die alone.

Dinner passed relatively smoothly, Roman and Patton exchanging glances, with Patton blushing and giggling, and Roman grinning and looking Patton up and down.

Logan, as always, finished before everyone else, and Virgil still had no idea what to do, even though he had suggested they hang out!

“Virgil, would you like to hang out in one of our rooms or out in the living room this evening?”

Virgil thought about the options. My room has terrible lighting, and what if Logan still wants to read tonight? The living room might have Patton and Roman making out in it, so no.

“Your room?”

“Very well. I’ll see you after dinner.”

Virgil smiled and nodded as Logan left, screaming on the inside.

“Oooooooo do you have a date?!” Patton asked excitedly.

Virgil blushed and hunched his shoulders. “No, We’re just hanging out. It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t sound like nothing,” Roman teased.

Virgil just silently pushed his chicken picatta around on his plate.

Roman sighed. “Regardless of whether or not it’s a date, would you want it to be a date?”

Virgil looked at Roman out of the corner of his eye. He looked sincere enough…

“Dunno.”

Patton tilted his head. “You don’t want to be dating Logan? I thought it was pretty obvious you two liked each other. Is that wrong?”

Virgil felt like he got electrocuted. “Wait, what?! Logan wants to…” he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.

Patton giggled. “It’s so obvious!! He smiles so cutely at you, he acts so cute around you, he’s just so cute around you!!!”

Virgil cracked a smile at Patton’s enthusiasm. Roman squared his shoulders.

“So do you want this to be a date or not?”

Virgil ducked his head. “Dunno.” I can’t tell him I can’t tell him I can’t tell him I can’t tell him…

Roman sighed dramatically. “Such a burden is being the romantic Side.”

Patton smiled innocently up at him. “Maybe I could ease your burden tonight, my king?”

Virgil shoveled the rest of his chicken and roasted vegetables into his mouth and nearly ran out of the kitchen.

Roman raised his eyebrows at Patton. “Nice. Thought he’d never go see Logan.”

Patton stretched, Roman watching the movement. “I said that for two reasons.” Patton leveled Roman with an intentional look. They both stood and sank out to Roman’s room.

/////

Virgil stared at the pristine dark blue door in front of him, the same one he’d been staring at for 10 minutes.

Come on you coward, fucking knock on the door already.

Virgil had gone to his room to brush his teeth, just in case because what if Logan thought he always had bad breath and was disgusted by him and never wanted to see him again-

Virgil nearly hit the ceiling when the door opened.

“Hello Virgil,” Logan said, eyes warm.

“How’d you know I was out here?” Nice, smooth, great response.

Logan was unfazed. “I saw your shadow outside my door. I thought you might be nervous. Would you like to come in?”

Virgil nodded. Logan stepped to the side, and Virgil walked in the room. Everything was neat, in order, perfect. Virgil was suddenly very glad he didn’t suggest his own room.

“Is there an activity you had in mind for this evening, or would you just like to be in each other’s presences while we relaxed on our own?”

Virgil looked at Logan, studying his face carefully. Logan was relaxed, which was very different from his pinched look when he was trying to restrain emotions.

“Wanna look at stars? You mentioned you had some textbooks on that?”

Logan’s eyes got a mischievous twinkle. “I can do better than that.” He waved his hand, his room grew dark, and suddenly his ceiling was the full night sky.

“Holy shit!!!”

Virgil thought he saw Logan’s chest puff out.

“Thank you. I worked to ensure this sky is accurate. Would you like to lay down on a blanket?”

Virgil looked down, and sure enough there was a blanket. It was a blue plaid and Virgil thought he saw lavender in there, but he figured it must just be from the dim light. He wordlessly laid down, crossing his arms behind his head. Logan laid down next to him, only a few inches apart.

“If you’ll look right above us, you’ll see Cassiopeia. The constellation has a very interesting story.”

Logan went over every single visible constellation, and Virgil was enraptured. Logan explained everything in such detail and with such passion that he couldn’t help but watch Logan more than the night sky. Everything was going great, until his anxiety decided to be an asshole.

“Is this a date?” he asked on impulse. Logan’s face turned towards him as Virgil astral projected from sheer gay panic.

“Would you like it to be?” Logan asked quietly. It took Virgil a few seconds to process the question thanks to the aforementioned astral projection, but once he did he felt all of the blood leave his body, turning his skin to ice.

“I, um, what about you?”

Logan took a deep breath. “If that something that you’d be interested in, then I would like that.”

Virgil froze. Huh. Okay. That’s new. “What… what do we do?”

Logan looked unsure of himself. “It depends. Do you indeed want this to be a date?”

Oh right, I should probably answer his question. “I, uh… yeah. Yeah I do.”

Logan’s entire body relaxed. “I am ecstatic to hear that, Virgil. Now what did you mean by your question?”

Virgil felt his chest tightening with fear. “Do we have to kiss? Do you have sex on the first date? I don’t want to disappoint or frustrate or tease you or anything and-”

“Breathe darling.”

And okay, how do you expect me to breathe when you use nicknames like that?! Virgil obediently went through a breathing exercise before Logan spoke again.

“I do not personally want to engage in coitus on the first date, and I certainly don’t want to if you don’t want to. As for kissing, I would be very receptive to the act, but again, only if you want to.”

Car crashes, 40,000 deaths in America alone from car accidents per year, cows, lightning, sharks, fires, hurricanes…

Do it you coward!

Virgil surged forward and kissed Logan. Logan froze in surprise, before moving his lips and reciprocating the kiss.

Why the fuck did you do that?!

You told me to do it!

I didn’t think you’d actually do it!!

Virgil pulled back. “I’m sorry, you said you were okay with it and I wasn’t sure if we’d get another chance and-”

Virgil was cut off as Logan pulled him in for another kiss. And another. And another.

Afterwards, Logan pulled Virgil onto his chest and continued talking about the night sky. When Virgil fell asleep, he waved his hand and turned the area back into his bedroom, him and Virgil on the bed. Logan carefully covered Virgil with the blanket and put his glasses on the nightstand.

“Goodnight, Virgil.”

@xbrad-pitifulx @escalatingtoofast @falseh0od  @violetsanderssides @fantasy-loving-witchling

[moonstruckbucky]

Fool for You [one-shot]

Summary: You want Bucky, but Bucky wants somebody else.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst. Lots of angst. Some self-deprecating thoughts, insecurity. Language because my potty mouth. Bucky’s a dick. Not a happy ending. You’ve been warned.

Notes: Inspired by Linger by the Cranberries, but keep in mind it’s not a song fic! I’ve been in such a writing funk lately. I hope this doesn’t totally suck. Enjoy! x

She’s funny. Her joke has Sam wheezing, Steve snorting, and Bucky chuckling. Even Nat has quirked a small grin. They’re so busy recovering their breath that no one sees the absolutely moon-eyed look Bucky directs at her.

Nobody but you.

It’s hard to ignore the rising bitterness in your throat as you sit on the couch, once ensconced in your novel until Sam began hooting like a broken trumpet, a result of her well-timed joke. Of course she’s funny. She has just about everything else going for her, including Widow’s respect, which is a national treasure all on its own.

She isn’t an Avenger, but she may as well be since she’s in the tower so much. It makes your stomach curdle. The super soldier at her side curls a loving arm around her shoulders, drops a kiss onto her hair, and the gesture has her beaming.

And Bucky looks about the same way you feel.

Because Bucky had to go and catch feelings for his best friend’s girl.

He thinks no one knows, but you’re his best friend. Of course you know. You know because he looks at her the same way you do him. You scoff quietly.

Cliches suck.

A weight drops onto the couch cushion beside you.

Careful, Y/N. Green isn’t really your color.

Wanda. Normally you take issue with the fact that Wanda sometimes implants herself in your head, but other times, like now, you’re thankful for it. Explaining it to anyone else makes shame bubble up in your gut.

You give Wanda a single, meaningful glance before your gaze is ultimately drawn back over your shoulder. She, Cassandra, is in the middle of telling a story that has everyone’s rapt attention, Steve looking down at her fondly while it goes unnoticed that Bucky is doing the same. You’re not sure if he realizes he’s doing it, but considering he’s doing it in front of Widow tells you he isn’t.

A quick glance at Nat shows her eyes bouncing between Bucky and Cassandra. Ah, so it wasn’t missed by the scarily-observant super spy. She catches your eye next, an entire conversation being wordlessly spoken. You avert your gaze with a sigh and miss the quizzical little head tilt Nat gives.

When Cassandra’s laughter bubbles up again, you can’t stand it anymore. Wanda frowns up at you as you stand, finger tucked into your book to save your place. You leave the room, wincing as the laughter picks up again.

Inside the confines of your room, you abandon your book to sit on the floor at the foot of your bed, your back against the mattress and box spring. You never meant to be part of probably the stupidest cliche to ever exist, yet here you are. And like that stupid cliche, you have no idea how it even happened.

Somewhere along the path of Bucky’s re-self-discovery, you fell for the man he’d become. Not the Soldier, not the smooth talking ladies’ man of the 40s, but someone somewhere in between. More self-assured than he’s ever been, though not without his faults or his setbacks. Really, though, how could you not have seen this coming?

You sigh into the dark, knees propped up and elbows resting upon them so you can drop your head into your hands. It’s stupid—pathetic, really—how your mind automatically begins to compare you to Cassandra, regardless of the fact that she’s taken. It’s more so because she has Bucky’s full attention, that moon-eyed look solely meant for her that you so wish was directed at you.

You’re a teammate, his close friend, and it seems that’s all you’ll ever be to him. It hurts, coming to that conclusion, knowing you’re one of those girls unfortunately and unfairly destined to experience unrequited love. You laugh mirthlessly to yourself and shake your head, tangle your fingers in your hair and tug, just a little, just enough to ground you before your mind sucks you into a maelstrom of self-pity.

You know sooner or later you’ll have to come clean to Nat, if the perceptive redhead hasn’t already put it together. Wanda is your closest friend aside from Bucky, but Natasha’s scary wisdom beyond her years comes in handy, especially in the tough situations.

You can’t imagine a situation any tougher than this.

So it comes as no surprise as, the next morning, the Black Widow corners you in the kitchen. You don’t bother to hide; stubbornness is one of Nat’s lesser, but more prominent, qualities, and she’s patient as all get out. Instead, you lead her back to your bedroom and spill. She doesn’t interrupt, only listens intently with her head tilted in that feline manner she has.

“Well, that’s quite a predicament,” she notes when you finish. Grumbling unintelligibly, you suck down your coffee. She leans back on her hands beside you. “So I take it there is zero chance of you talking to Bucky about it?”

“Why would I?” you retort, but Nat isn’t offended. “The only thing that’ll accomplish is ensuring our friendship is toast. Burnt as fuck, crispy toast. Plus, I’m not really in the mood to be humiliated when he says he doesn’t return my feelings.”

“How do you know he wouldn’t?”

“Uh, hello, I know you of all people didn’t miss the absolute head-over-heels look he gave her yesterday.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like he’s going to act on that. Steve would pummel him, and it would probably end their friendship.”

“Regardless, I’m not having that conversation with him. I’m just gonna...keep a lid on it and act as if nothing’s off.”

Nat scoffs and you shoot her a look. “Honey, even if I wasn’t me I wouldn’t miss the looks you give him when someone’s not looking.”

You open your mouth and then promptly shut it. Releasing a sigh, you rub your temples. “Okay, so then what do I do? If I pull away he’s going to know something’s up. He’s far too much like you.”

Nat, for once, is rendered clueless on how to proceed. Then, with an actual physical shake of her body, she says, “Okay, so you pretty much have three options. Option one, continue as normal, hide your feelings, be his best friend,  and ultimately, probably spontaneously combust because you’re keeping them down instead of letting them out. Option two, tell him, risk the chance that your friendship might change or Bucky will decide to pull his head out of his ass and not make moon-eyes at a taken woman, thus eventually falling in love with you and the two of you live happily ever after. Option three, you start dating. Outside the Tower. Run the risk that you’ll find someone who completes you instead of pining for a guy who might not.”

“That’s it, huh?” you deadpan. Truthfully, none of those options sounds appealing, but more than likely you’re going for option one.

Option one, it turns out, is a goddamn pain in the ass to stick to. In order to throw off Nat’s, and even Sam’s, suspicions that he’s into his best friend’s girl, Bucky has latched himself onto you. Normally, this would be, well, normal. Now? It’s downright impossible to bite your tongue from telling him what’s been cooking up in your head, damn near inconceivable to not lean into him when he sits a little closer to you at movie night. 

The little niggling feeling in the back of your head tells you he has tricks up his sleeve, but you brush it off for now and bask in the slightly spice scent of his cologne.

Some weeks later, you’re faring no better. It’s growing even more difficult to bottle your feelings up and stow them in the back of your mind, especially when Bucky’s clinginess seems to multiply tenfold. You aren’t dumb, or naive for that matter, when you realize the only time he’s right on top of you is when Steve and Cassandra are present. When you first put it together, no words in the English dictionary are sufficient enough to describe the painful pang in your heart.

Yet you let it continue.

Nat criticizes you more than once, as does Wanda (who’s admittedly a bit gentler with her approach, but Nat was never one for beating around a bush). You promise both of them you’ll confront him soon, draw a line in the sand that he can’t use you to make his best friend’s girl jealous. 

Plus, his plan isn’t working anyways. Cassandra remains both in the dark and unaffected by what he’s doing, and she merely smiles genuinely when she notices Bucky’s arm around your shoulder or waist. As soon as she and Steve leave the room, his arm drops and his shoulders droop. It makes you angry, and it’s why you suddenly begin to dodge his advances. You stop playing along to his chagrin and befuddlement, and the fact that he’s even confused by your refusal to go along with it reignites your ire.

How dare he abuse your friendship, wordlessly expect you to go along with a pointless attempt to make Cassandra jealous? It’s callous and a little cruel of him; you thought you were friends. Friends didn’t treat each other like toys or tools to just use at one’s convenience. Even more than that, with Bucky’s sudden attention on you all the time, as superficial as it is, it only intensifies your feelings for him—both the positive and the negative.

On the one hand, a large, secret part of you revels in being pressed up against him so often, absorbing his warmth and being able to pretend, for just a little while, that his feelings for you aren’t a scheme, that they’re genuine. The smaller, more logical part of you knows you can’t let this continue, and it finally all comes to a head when Bucky asks of you something so unbelievably selfish that you snap.

“I’m sorry, you want to what?” you ask, turning your ear to him as if you hadn’t heard him correctly.

“We should sleep together,” he repeats with a careless shrug. He seems surprised when your gaze hardens and ignites all at once.

“Why? So you can continue your pointless scheme of trying to make Cassandra jealous? Is that why?” you accuse icily. Bucky takes a small step back, mouth opening and closing similar to a fish as he searches for something to say. You beat him to it. “No, Bucky, I won’t sleep with you to go along with your stupid fucking plan of pursuing a taken woman, much less the woman who’s dating your best fucking friend. I’m not stupid; I know what you’ve been doing, and I can’t even believe you would abuse our friendship like that, use me the way you have, without a second thought. Do my feelings mean absolutely nothing to you? Do you know how hard it’s been coming to grips with the fact that, while I struggle with my feelings, for you, you only see me as something to use, something to exploit?”

Bucky’s face continues to fall as you rant, unleashing every pent up thought and emotion. Your voice covers a range of emotion—anger, sadness, hurt—all in a matter of seconds that he nearly has whiplash. Bucky’s always had a strong poker face, but even he can’t hide the feelings rolling through him. The one he settles on is shame. Good.

“You...you have feelings for me?” he questions, quiet and meek.

You scoff. “Right now, I really wish I fucking didn’t. You aren’t who I thought you were, Bucky. Not even close. I was willing to let it go that you wouldn’t feel the same way for me, I’ve accepted that. What I won’t accept is being used as if our friendship means absolute shit to you.”

“No, honey, that’s not—” He stops when you shake your head, teeth clenched tightly and jaw wobbling as you fight to hold back your tears of hurt and heartbreak.

“It was what you were doing, Bucky, and I want no part of it. In fact, I think it’s better you and I don’t speak.”

Bucky looks crestfallen, regret and agony and the will to plead for your forgiveness swimming in his eyes. Bucky’s poker face was ace, but his eyes gave him away and you’d become an expert at reading them. Even if it’s not what he’d intended when he began this hairbrained plan, it’s what happened, and you had been caught in the crossfire.

“Ever?” he asks, a sob ripping from his throat while those pale eyes brim with tears. You glance away for a moment, but then you bravely meet his gaze, holding it.

“Ever,” you confirm. Your face remains stoic but inside your chest your heart splinters and cracks. It’s so painful to break off your most treasured friendship, but Bucky had taken advantage of you, whether or not he had been aware of your feelings. You voice this aloud. “I can accept you not returning my feelings, but I can’t forgive you for taking advantage of me. That’s not what friends do. Goodbye Bucky.”

The door closes softly in his face and Bucky leans his head against the wood, face crumbling as he lets himself go. How could he have been so stupid?

[discolipton]

Since Gene is from the south and it never gets cold enough for anything to freeze could you do something like Gene experiencing snow for the first time and Babe is already used to snow but enjoys being with Gene and basically dies from the cuteness. Thank you and your blog is super cool btw

sorry, this took a turn towards “angsty.” if it is any consolation, i really really liked this prompt and i’ll probably beef it up and add more cute “what the fuck heffron why is it so Gd Damned Cold” bits when i inevitabely make an ao3 post for the drabbles i get.

and while we’re on the subject of angst: i reference bastogne a few times so bear that in mind, kids.

————

Gene’s face gets pink when it’s cold. Babe knows this from Europe, and now he’s grateful that he has the luxury of looking at him for as long as he pleases. He’s so close that Babe can touch him, and if he wants to, he can. When Babe’s mind pulls him down into that greyed out memory of Bastogne, he can clearly remember Gene’s silence. How he worked that blue bandana back and forth between his fingers, turning the fraying edges into ribbons as he stared at nothing. And Babe remembers watching him do that, and wishing that he would stop looking so damn far. He remembers thinking that he would give anything to hear Gene speak then, just so that Babe could know if he was still there. If he was still within reach.

Of course, Gene hadn’t been talking because of a lot of shit entirely unrelated to the cold, and also because he is usually quiet under normal circumstances. Which is probably why he is being aggressively and uncharacteristically Not Quiet now.

“Jesus Fucking Christ, Heffron,” Gene barks as they barrel through a snow filled South Philly, “why did you bring me up here?”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Babe yells over the howling wind, his hand closed tight around Gene’s as he pulls them along, “we’re almost there, I swear.”

He hadn’t planned on there being an honest to Gd blizzard when he bought Gene a train ticket. Winter in Philadelphia may not be home to particularly pleasant winters, but they also don’t come by a lot of snow storms. It figures that the second Babe gets Gene to visit they have a record breaking cold front that would make even the most grizzled northerner say “holy shit it’s fucking cold.”

Babe has Gene wearing at least five layers, not counting the hat, scarf, gloves, and two coats he loaned him in an effort to send Gene back to Louisiana in one piece. Babe wraps his arms around Gene as they lurch closer to his building, feet sliding in the grey slush kicked up from the street and over the thin layer of ice coating the sidewalk. He can barely see right now, and the snow cuts into him like shards of glass. He almost doesn’t see the red brick of his building through the tears in his eyes.

“Come on,” he yells until his voice cracks, pulling Gene over, “don’t fall.”

“Thanks for the tip, Heffron.”

Babe manages to drag Gene up the steps and into the entryway with minimum casualties. They stomp their boots out with a few melodramatic huffs and a little blustering before making the walk up three flights of stairs. Babe has to peel his soaked gloves off to unlock the door. It takes a few tries for his cold numbed hands to finally unlock the door, and when he does they practically fall into his kitchen. Gene throws himself across the room to the radiator besides Babe’s run down mattress, shaking like a leaf as Babe fills the kettle with water and puts it on the stove. He strips off his coat and scarf. When he looks over, Gene is still bundled up and gasping against the radiator.

“Stop humping the radiator and put on some dry clothes,” Babe grits out through chattering teeth as he pulls off his sweater and pants.

His undershirt is still dry, and he finds the pair of pajama bottoms he threw across the room the night before. Gene begrudgingly strips until he’s down to his skivvies before pulling over his duffle bag and putting on the sweater and pants he takes out.

“How you survived your childhood is a mystery to me,” he groans from the floor.

“I didn’t know you could bitch so much about a little cold.”

Babe looks out the window and sees only white. And his mind does that thing, where all of a sudden he’s thinking about Europe. Or, in this case specifically, Bastogne. Where it’s loud and cold and he’s only a few feet from Julian, but he can’t quite reach. It must be the snow that’s got him like this, because all he can think about is blood, and his helmet getting pelted with slugs, and the way that the bullets didn’t stop coming even though Julian was right there and needed him. His body always gets a different kind of cold when this happens. Like the cold is coming from inside him.

“Hey,” Gene calls from the floor, “Heffron.”

Babe blinks down at him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Babe blinks back at his reflection in the fogged over window panes. “Why?”

“You’ve been staring outside for a few minutes now.”

“Have I?”

As if to answer his question, the tea kettle starts screeching. Babe turns his head a fraction to the left, blinking slowly.

“And you’re rubbing your neck,” Gene whispers.

“What?” Babe realizes that his hand is clamped down around his throat, and he lets go. “Well, ain’t that fucking weird? Water’s boiling.”

He wonders if Gene gets like that too as he pulls down a tin of tea and goes about filling mugs and dumping in leaves. Bill does. He does. But Bill, Gd love him, is insane, and Babe isn’t entirely sure what it says about him if he’s constantly getting thrown back two years every time it snows. Or when a loose manhole cover gets run over in the street. Or when he opens the register at work and smells pennies.

He sets the mugs down on the milk crate beside his bed before shucking back the covers and crawling in. Gene follows close behind. Babe stares at the chipped paint of his beige ceiling, his mind plagued with thoughts that he’d be more than happy to never have again.

“Babe.”

That gets his attention. Babe blinks and turns to look at Gene. He pulls Babe into his chest and shoves an arm under his shoulders to scratch at the back of his head. Babe rolls further into him, tucking his head under Gene’s chin. They both look up at the window next to them, watching the snow come down.

“Never thought I’d see snow like that,” Gene mumbles, “s’nothing like Bastogne.”

“Cold like it. Just as miserable.”

“Still.” Gene holds him tighter, and kisses his forehead. “Nothing like Bastogne.”

The fine knit of Gene’s dark blue sweater presses into his cheek, soft and skin warmed. Gene breathes easily above him, his fingers scratching lines down the back of his head that send a few not unpleasant shivers down his spine.

“Got a warm bed. Got hot water. Got some kids downstairs that don’t know when it’s time to go to bed.”

Babe snickers and wraps his arms around Gene’s waist, pulling him onto his side so that they can lay nose to nose. Gene’s arm is still trapped under his head, although his gentle ministrations drift from his head to his back.

“I was gonna show you around Philly,” Babe laughs, placing a hand on Gene’s cheek, “make Bill play nice and come have lunch with us. I was gonna have you meet my parents.”

“Well, damn,” Gene deadpans, “looks like we’ll just have to hole up here while we ride the storm out. Too bad.”

“Don’t sound so down about it.”

“I’ll try not to,” Gene says as he kisses Babe’s cheek, “it’s gonna be a struggle.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

Gene kisses his jaw, then his chin.

“Don’t go crying yourself to sleep over it or anything,” Babe replies as Gene slots into place over him, arms on either side of his head, “I’m sure Bill would have Frances bring him over in a wheelbarrow if need be.”

“What a relief,” Gene mumbles into Babe’s neck, kissing down to the base of his throat.

“Until then, we could probably live off of what I’ve got here,” Babe says, wrapping his arms around Gene’s shoulders, “hope you like Spam.”

Gene lifts his head and leans in so they’re nose to nose again. Forehead to Forehead. He kisses just under Babe’s eye, then down to the corner of his mouth.

“I’ve got you,” Gene hums against his lips, “and that’s about all I need.”

Call Babe a hopeless romantic, but if that isn’t music to his ears. He kisses Gene until they’re chest to chest. Gene pulls away with a breathy laugh and rolls over onto his back, Babe going with him. They rearrange the blankets around them before Babe lays his head down on Gene’s chest.

“And I do not like Spam,” Gene says.

Knobby ankles jab into Babe’s as Gene sinks deeper into the pillows. He kisses Babe’s hair.

“I think I could get used to the snow,” Gene muses.

Babe smiles so hard that his cheeks hurt. With Gene’s arms around him, Babe looks out over the quiet apartment and imagines what it would look like with both of them sharing it. Is there room on his bookshelf for Gene’s textbooks? Can he stomach all the spices Gene would absolutely foist on him under the claim of being good for clearing his airways? How the fuck would he manage to fall asleep in Gene’s arms every night and not spontaneously combust? Could he even handle being that disgustingly happy?

A future like that seems so close that Babe can practically touch it, and it makes him feel damn near toasty.

————

do you have a random fluffy prompt that you want me to ruin with angst? just hit up my ask box!

[caroline18mars]

A Man On Fire - Chapter 39

She hadn't said much on the way to the hotel, she had cranked the radio right up which made talking almost impossible, she obviously needed some time to digest some of the things that had clearly shook her to the core. They nearly didn't make it to his bedroom, she had attacked him in the elevator, pushing him into a corner while her mouth devoured his, her hands nervously fidgeted with his pants. “I'm not gonna do this here with you in an elevator” he reluctantly pulled back as the elevator dinged its' arrival on their floor, “fine” she jumped on him and clamped her legs around his waist so he had to stumble his way to the room while she kept on attacking, licking and biting his mouth, his throat. So what if they had a bit of an audience before they practically fell into the room? He shut the door with his foot and pushed her up on the small table next to it, when he finally had the chance to answer her kisses and his hands started caressing and squeezing down her body, she put her arms around his neck and sighed in his ear “hold the foreplay, I just need to feel you inside of me, just fuck me here and now”. This woman was a dream, how vocal and physical could one be about desire and lust? Well, this vocal and this physical! Every second of every day she made the huge flame inside of him that she had put there, burn higher and higher, and it was getting out of control, it was simply consuming him, red alert danger that was what this was but he couldn't stay away, he refused to. These were the happiest moments of his life, these moments with this unguided missile..he was a moth to her flame and no matter how hard he flapped..he simply had no resistance against her. Expert hands yanked open his pants and in a split second he felt himself push against her warm core, anger fuck, oh god, delirious, and she wasn't even angry at him “aahhhh” she vibrated in his ear as his hips started bucking like mad, trying to get as deep as he could, which wasn't hard because she seemed to suck and lock him inside of her. Hallelujah, fuck, mind going completely blank, he needed to fuck, that was all, he was put on this earth for doing just this, this woman he was possessing right now was gonna be the death of him, but he would die a hundred deaths for her, a thousand if needed be. “Fuck me..deeper, yeah..ooohhh” she moaned as she let her head fall back against the wall and pulled up her legs on the table that was dangerously rocking under the furious fucking he was giving her. Oh, god yeah, there it finally was, the silk veil of submission, it covered the real Harper that was hurting, and revealed another woman that was stripped from emotions and that was solely there for her man's pleasure. ”Ahh” Harper yelped in pain as he yanked her head back with a hard pull on her hair, “what did you say?” he barked in her ear, just say it, please, he didn't want to take this too far, but he felt another, deeper level of submission with her for the first time, just say you're ready for more than just spanking. “Punish me..I deserve to be punished..Sir..please..” her entire body covered in goosebumps as his hand locked around her throat, yessss, exactly the words he needed to hear, this was gonna be an interesting night.

”Drink something, babe” he walked to the bed where she was rolled into a ball and handed her a glass of cola, “thanks” she sat up a bit and downed it in one go, while he sat down caressing her hair “you're a bit dehydrated, I was too rough..” he frowned. Her finger landed on his lips “no, you weren't..” before she put the empty glass on the bedside table and pulled him down with her “just hold me” she whispered, snuggling against him. “So..wanna tell me more about what happened with your parents tonight?” he held her tight, all night there had been a pattern, the extremely submissive behavior, the anger and frustration that had tensed up her body..he hated to put two and two together. “There isn't much to tell..I already told you she sent me away” she curled up a little bit more to him, there's no ugly world outside, it doesn't exist as long as I'm with you. “Yeah, but what did her body language say? Her eyes? You know, maybe she was in shock of seeing you again, maybe she's already beating herself up about what she did” he kissed her forehead “I just can't imagine a mother pushing her own flesh and blood back out on the street”. Harper pulled back and pushed herself up on her elbow “wait..are you saying I'm lying?” a storm brewing in her eyes, “what? No! No of course not! I'm just trying to put things in perspective, I'm trying to understand”. A dramatic roll of her eyes “you don't know my mother, you weren't there”, auwtch, touché, “No..no I wasn't there..not today anyway, but I want to be there for you when you go back..somehow I just want to meet them”. Meet them? Really? But why? Why would anyone want to meet those two..idiots? “when I go back? I don't even want to go back there at all, they're a couple of fuckin' idiots” she huffed, yes she was mad as hell but she was so cute at the same time. “They may be a couple of fuckin' idiots, but those idiots made the most beautiful woman of my dreams, you might know her, she's got this really long, thick beautiful dark hair, and dark pools for eyes, she makes every red blooded man's head turn, because her beauty is out of this world, she's feisty, and she's got the sharpest mind and mouth I've ever come across..anything that upsets her, upsets me..and I don't ever want to see her sad or upset” his hand caressed her cheek while their eyes locked. “I didn't know you met my sister” she stuck her tongue out at him, “better stick to painting because comedy is so not your thing” he shut her up with a kiss. “Anyway, you and I are going back there tomorrow morning, or we'll call them to invite them for breakfast here, whatever you or they want, but we're gonna do this together, ok?” he breathed, “but what if they don't want to come? Or he loses his temper again? I know how quickly things can escalate and I refuse to have a huge row with them in front of you” she shook her head. She was crawling into her shell again, he could feel it “who says this is gonna end in a row? You said your Dad is a diplomate, surely he won't start an argument in a fancy restaurant, and that's when we have to take the advantage to start up the conversation, babysteps, you know”. Bless your beautiful heart for being so optimistic..she didn't say anything, her big brown eyes glazed over with the darkest shade of sadness “but that's all for tomorrow, right now I just want to fall asleep with you” their bodies just locked like the pieces of a puzzle, always the perfect fit.

The next morning, she woke up to a Jared getting dressed, “what..time is it?” she mumbled through a yawn, “way too early for you” he pulled his hoodie down “so get back to sleep, I'm just going for a run” fresh out of bed she was still an absolute picture. “I'm coming with you” maybe it would chase the remains of the nightmare she just woke up from, away “no, you stay right here, go back to sleep and when I get back, we'll take a long, hot shower together, how does that sound?”. Harper savoured the goodmorning kiss, even without a shower he smelled divine, “scared that I'm a faster runner than you are?” she pouted, this wasn't cool, she wanted to be with him, she hated being alone when she was feeling vulnerable. “Scared? Me? No way! Listen, I'm gonna be late, and you can't keep a personal trainer waiting..I just don't like being on the receiving end of a punishment” he grinned and stole another kiss. “Hmmm, I can recommend them though” she almost purred like a cat thinking about last night's kinky-ness and it clearly affected him as well , “I'm gonna go now or I'll spontaneously combust” a last kiss and he was gone. Instant longing, damn, she was getting way too dependent on him..impossible to get back to sleep now, maybe I should call them?..naaah, no way, not ready, will I ever be again? Probably not..mama looked lovely though, time had been kind to her..or Botox was...she still wore the same perfume, a beautiful scent unable to cover up the stench of her rotten, evil heart..nope, she didn't want to see them..she'd talk to Jared and tell him, she just wasn't ready.//Ok, their number, he quickly scrolled through his contacts, ok got it..he cleared his throat as it rang, and rang..“pronto?”, his breath hitched for a second before he replied “Hi..goodmorning, my name is Jared Leto..”. Behind her the door opened and a heavy breathing and sweaty Jared came stomping in “oh..you've showered” he looked all dissapointed, “yeah well, I couldn't get back to sleep” she shrugged as he came walking up to her but quickly dodged his mouth “uhhh, you're all sweaty, go shower..”. He watched her grab her purse “uhm, where are you going?” no way, she couldn't go, not now, “to get myself a newspaper, I'm feeling a little oldskool I guesss, I just want to read something in italian, I'll be right back”.  Just as she wanted to turn and leave, his hand locked around her arm “oh no you don't! If you want to read in italian, I'll have a newspaper brought up to the room, in the meantime you and I are gonna go completely oldskool in the shower” he grinned as he pulled her against him, giggling about her heavy disgusted protest as he threw her over his shoulder and carried her into the bathroom.

Their heavy lovemaking seemed to steam up the bathroom even more than the hot water of the shower they were doing it under, there was a loud cry of extacy before all the heavy breathing slowed down and the rocking, pumping motion of hips stilled. “I'm getting addicted to you, and that scares me” she whispered in his ear, don't let go of me, just hold me up, my back against hot, wet tiles, my legs wrapped around your waist while you're still in me, hold me like this forever. “I feel the same way, and trust me, it scares me even more” he licked the drops that rolled down her cheek with the tip of his tongue, a silence fell, there was no need to say anything else, their bodies had just said it all. Getting a bit uncomfortable with the intensity of her own feelings, it was her stomach that broke their bodily closeness, “you're clearly hungry” he grinned a sad grin, damn he would have to let her go and break the magic. “Duh! That's what a couple of sex marathons over the timespan of a couple hours do to a girl” she groaned as he slipped out of her and slowly let her slide down to her feet again. “Breakfast it is” he quickly wrapped her up in a towel, the reaction he was fearing didn't come, maybe that was a good sign, right?, “yay food, foodfoodfood yumyumyum” she tiptoed out of the bathroom, rubbing her hands in anticipation. Leather pants half tucked into a pair of combat boots, a fishnet top that had no intention whatsoever of even trying to cover up the black lace bra underneath, her outfit for the day sure was earning her a lot of admiring looks from men and a lot of dissaproving ones from their girlfriends and wives. And she didn't even notice, she only had eyes for him, holding his hand as he paraded her down the lobby of the hotel, “I thought we were gonna go and get breakfast” she looked at him with a frown when she headed for the exit but he turned left “we are” and instead walked her to the diningroom of the hotel “forgot to call and make reservations, guess I was too busy doing something else”. Oh right..she had completely forgotten about his plans..all the better he hadn't called, this was gonna be just them, niiiceeeee, just me and Mr. Leto..Sir Leto..after last night and this morning oooh yes definitely Sir Leto. Grinning from ear to ear with her inner conversation, she walked into the luscious yet elegant dining room where a waiter walked them to their table but stopped dead in her tracks when his hand let go of hers. “Mr. De Robiano D'Arcy?” he walked up to her Dad and shook his hand “I'm Jared, Jared Leto, it's good to finally meet you, sir”.

[marinette-buginette]

Slow realisation

A commission for @cheklmn . Sory for the long wait, hope you will enjoy it!

Adrien tapped his foot, more out of boredom than or out of impatience. He really didn’t understand what all this was about.

It all started with Nino almost jumping on him in the Lycée’s library. Adrie was minding his own business, working on some of his Mandarin homework when Nino came screaming. Well, not really screaming cause it was, you know, a library but he was pretty close. Adrien was almost knocked off his chair as Nino grabbed his shoulders and shook them wildly while whispering some unintelligible nonsense.

Adrien fell on the floor as if he was a rug puppet when Nino let go of his shoulders. Rubbing his lower back Adrien got up and raised an eyebrow, silently questioning his best friend’s weird behavior.

“What had gotten into you.” Adrien whispered. He wasn’t angry, but he didn’t appreciate the bruise he will get.

“I am the best friend in the world.” Nino stated proudly.

“I already know that.” for his part, Adrien wasn’t impressed. The fact that Nino was an amazing friend was no news.

“No, no, trust me, I am. And you are gonna scream it after I tell you the news. No, not scream it. You are going to tattoo it on your forehead. I can already see it…”

“Nino.”

“Oh, when we are going to the tattoo artist I want to come with you and pick the font for the tattoo and…”

“Nino!” Adrien tried to keep his voice low, but it rang a little bit louder than he intended. Luckily no one was around right now to scold him.

His friend seemed to finally snap out of his fantasy of Adrien getting the words ‘Nino is an amazing friend’ tattoed on his forehead. He cleared his throat and looked at Adrien with an excited smile. “Are you ready to hear it?

“Yes, come on. Tell me already.” Adrien leaned in, curiously. When he was preparing surprises, no one could beat Nino to it. Okay, except that one time when he was akuamtized, but Adrien wasn’t going to mention that.

“I got you a date with Ladybug.”

“You did WHAT?!”

Now if they would have been in a cartoon, Adrien was sure this would be the moment when the scene will cut to birds all around flying away because he scared them with his scream. But because it was only the real life which, sadly, had no cartoon-like emphasis scenes, the only thing Adrien managed to do with his scream was made an angry librarian come their way and scold them and tell them to take their conversation out.

Or he assumes so, he might have fainted after his brain finally processed the fact that Nino had somehow managed to get him a date with Ladybug.

Unknown to Adrien, Nino glanced down at him then gave the librarian an awkward smile.

“It is okay, madame.” he grabbed his fainted friend off the floor and started dragging him outside. “We are taking this outside, sorry for the disturbance.”

The next thing Adrien remembered was being splashed by water and waking up screaming.

So, in short, this is how Adrien found himself at Ciel de Paris, the whole upper floor booked especially for this date. Having connections in high places certainly paid off sometimes. His eyes wandered to the windows, taking in the sigh of Paris at night. For a second he wondered if Ladybug will come through the front door or through the window. If he would have a date with Ladybug while in the suit, he would certainly come through the window while doing a quadruple spin, double flip while holding a bouquet of roses in between his teeth.

Making an impression, you know?

But Ladybug was always a little bit more formal so he assumed she will just come through the door. Make it seem more serious. He wasn’t even sure why she agreed to this. Maybe Nino and Alya were pulling a prank on him.

“Monsieur Agreste, your date is here.” the voice of the waiter almost made Adrien jump out of his skin.

He turned around quickly. “ Hello, Lady… buuuuug.”

He wasn’t drooling.

Now, the thing about the suits they were wearing when they were superheroes was that… well, you couldn’t exactly change out of them. Apparently, he has been lied to by that stinking cat god he keeps feeding. Ladybug still wore a suit, but it seemed to imitate a formal red dress, with elbow length black gloves

Okay, maybe he was drooling. Just a little. A lot. Was that a puddle on the floor?

Ladybug smiled sweetly at him in a way that seemed almost familiar. Hm… it was probably because he was seeing her every other day as Chat.

“Hi, Adrien.”

“Hey,” Adrien said blushing. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Ladybug looked surprised for a second so Adrien did the only thing he could think of. He gave her finger guns.

She seemed amused. “Oh, and I thought we have a date.”

“We do. Yeah. Nino, my DJ overlord and future Cannes winner who the world doesn’t deserve, arranged it for us.” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, he insisted I add that whenever I mention his name. So uh, shall we take a sea?”

Ladybug nodded and Adrien led her to one of the tables by the window.

“You are a true gentleman, aren’t you?” Ladybug asked when he pulled out her chair.

“I do hope so.” he smiled as he took his seat.

Adrien noticed Ladybug was gazing in the distance to the skyline. “They say it is the best place for looking over Paris, but I bet it doesn’t compare to what you see when you swing around.

She simply hummed, a soft smile spreading over her lips. “Wouldn’t say so. This restaurant has quite a nice spot.”

“Yeah, all view can eat.”

Ladybug glanced at him in surprise. Then she burst into a fit of giggles. Adrien almost fell out of his chair. Finally. She finally laughed at one of his puns. While they were on a date. Today was a beautiful day. Life was worth living.

“So shall we order?”

“So are you in the mood for a snack?”

Adrien jumped up, with a shriek, the cucumbers from his face mask falling in the process. When he collected himself, he was shocked to say at least to see Ladybug hanging on her yoyo, looking at him baffled while holding a bag of something that smelled quite good.

Adrien laughed nervously. “Hi. Ladybug. I was just doing my afternoon beauty routine, but sure, you can come in.”

She swung in, putting her yoyo back at her waist and placing the package on the table. Adrien sweets senses were tingling and his cat nose was telling him whatever she brought smelled heavenly.

“Oh, are you buying usually at Tom and Sabine’s boulangerie?” he questioned once he saw the logo on the bag.

It seemed that might have set something off in Ladybug’s head as she began to fidget. “Oh, no, no, haha, see I just stumbled upon it and uh… it had great reviews! So I thought yeah, I will just drop and buy some stuff and bring it to Adrien given I am dropping uninvited in his house, you know. Heh.”

Adrien blinked in surprise. Huh, the fidgeting was really adorable. And it reminded him of Marinette. Oh, speaking of…

“My friend’s parents actually own that place. I can guarantee for their tastiness.”

Ladybug smiled. “I will take your word for it. Sorry for ruining your facemask by the way.”

Adrien simply shrugged. "Don't worry too much about it. My skin routine can survive until evening when I'm supposed to do the next one. Also, if you need any face products don't hesitate to ask I have a whole collection. And this one ocean salt scrub works wonders." Adrien stopped himself abruptly, just realizing what he was implying. "Not that your skin doesn't look amazing or anything, I, in no way, even dare to suggest that and... mph."

Adrien crossed his eyes, noticing the macaron Ladybug shoved in his mouth has a pink shade. Hm, strawberries. Really good.

Ladybug giggled. "So, I see you have a  Dance Dance Revolution Machine here." he eyed his arcade corner. "Wanna bet I will break your record in the first try?"

"Oh, it is on!"

For the last couple of weeks Adrien and Ladybug had a constant game of "which game can I get my ass kicked at today?". Well, so far he got his ass kicked at pretty much every game they played from Dance Dance Revolution to Super Mario. Of course, he also won a couple of times on his fifth or so try. Maybe Ladybug was just letting him win out of pity, but he preferred to think she didn't. Or maybe yes. It would mean she liked him enough to do so.

He has been pulled out of his train of thought by a loud crash noise.

'Ladybug wins' was sprawled in big red letters across the screen. Oh well, what else was new.

"I would say I am sorry I beat you again, but I am really not," she said with a wink.

Alright, Adrien, don't spontaneously combust now, it is okay, it is just a wink. She winks at you a lot when you are Chat. Trying to distract himself Adrien grabbed a croissant from the table and started chewing on it. Ladybug got up and jumped on his windowsill. "Sorry I have to cut this short but  need to go back home before my parents realise I sneaked out."

Adrien lifted his pastry in the way someone might lift a toast. "I hope our paths will croissant again."

He realised he fucked up in the moment when Ladybug fell from the windowsill.

“You didn’t say much since we got here.” Ladybug broke the silence that fell between them. “If you didn’t like heights… “

‘No, it is not that.” he replied quickly. “I was just taking in the sights.”

It wasn’t a lie. He always enjoyed the view of Paris from above, it was always breathtaking, no matter how used you get to it. But he imagined Ladybug got him to the absolute top of the Eiffel Tower tonight to show him a sight she imagined he had never seen.

“It is a favourite spot of mine, you know.” Ladybug’s features softened as she glanced into the distance. “Beautiful sight, isn’t it?”

Adrien looked at Ladybug, the way her hair and ribbons were fluttering in the wind, the way the lights were reflecting on her features and her sweet, content smile. He took a sharp intake of breath.

“Yeah, gorgeous.”

“So I guess you enjoy this little date, right?” she returned her attention to him.

“I am especially enjoying that you decided to share this wonderful spot with someone like meow.”

Adrien covered his mouth one second too late. Ladybug froze for a moment before looking at him with realization.

“Oh!” her gasp as so low he barely heard it. “Chat?”

He lowered his hand, and held her gaze as his lips curled into a small smile.

“Hey, Marinette.”